#just me messing around after not writing a story for a few years

[writing-girlie]

𝚆𝙾𝚁𝚃𝙷 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙸𝚂𝙺 ★ 𝙹𝚘𝚍 𝙽𝚊 𝙽𝚊𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Story Summary: Fate had thrown you back into Jod Na Nawood’s orbit, and despite your history with the captain, you found yourself pulled into his reckless mission. A treasure map, precious cargo, and an entire galaxy chasing after it—everything about it screamed trouble but what wouldn't you do for him. WC: 1,372 Note: I don't know if I should write more chapters so if you're interested let me know

You were on your way back home from another successful job. No matter how many times you had flown through the galaxy, you still couldn’t help but admire it. The sharp crackle of your comms interrupted your thoughts, followed by the familiar voice of one of your bosses.

"Hey, Patch." The nickname drew a faint smirk to your lips. “I’ve just had a transmission come through, and you’re the closest. Do you mind checking it out for me? They don’t know what’s wrong, so you’ll just have to figure it out once you’re there.” Your job didn’t really excite you like it did at the start; it was just another paycheck, another ship, and another faceless crew who needed you to patch up their mess.

“Sure. I can do that.”

“The ship’s called Solar Spear. I’ve sent you the location, and as always, contact me if you need something. The comms crackle back out, and the screen in front of you chimes and flashes up with coordinates. You set the course and go on your way. Once you arrive, you see that there is no active power signature, and one side of the hull is caved in slightly, scorched and crumpled as if it had been scraped by something much larger. Your brow furrows as you assess the damage the best you can. Ships like this usually limped to a station after taking hits like those, but here it was, silent and adrift.

“Solar Spear, This is RPR-18. I received your transmission for help—you’re expecting me.” You tap into their comms, hoping that they're working. It takes a few moments, but eventually a response comes through.

“Yes, we have a small docking bay at the back right. Thank you.” You pull the ship up and land in the small space. The docking bay was small—only just fitting your ship. The clamps lock it into place, and the door behind shuts, so you power your engines off and get out, leaving your tools for once you knew what you were dealing with. When your feet hit the ground, the entry doors hiss open, and a young man is standing there.

"Thanks for coming," he said with a polite nod, hands clasped in front of him. "The captain’s expecting you. I’ll take you to him."

You follow him, walking through the ship and towards the bridge. The ship then starts rumbling slightly, and you hear someone call out that the backup supply has been engaged. The bridge door then hisses open, and you step inside. The room glowed softly as systems came back online, control panels lighting up one by one. The faint murmur of the crew and the hum of technology returned. But none of that caught your attention. Not really. Because standing right there was him.

Jod Na Nawood

The years hadn’t really changed him. His coat hung loose over his shoulders, a blaster was strapped at his hip, and that same cocky half-smile curled at the corner of his mouth. His hair was now streaked lightly with silver at the temples. And then there were his eyes, locked on you the moment you stepped into view, like they always used to be.

“Sunshine” His voice was soft, as if he were testing the weight of the word, but hearing that name on his lips again was like a punch to the gut. It was from another version of yourself—one who had trusted him, laughed with him, loved him. You force down the lump in your throat and steady your breath.

“Captain Nawood” Your eyes glance around the bridge, noting how the crew kept their heads down, busying themselves with their tasks, pretending not to listen.

“Captain?” He repeated “You never used to call me that unless we were off duty.” His smirk deepened, voice laced with teasing nostalgia. He stepped closer, his body just within your personal space, the heat of him unmistakable. “I always did like how you used to say it.”

Heat pricked up your neck and onto your cheek, but despite your best efforts to not show how it made you feel, Jod caught it. His smirk stretched wider, eyes flickering over your face, down to your mouth, then back up.

“What am I doing here? You’ve got the backup supply; that should be more than enough to get you to a planet for repairs. So is there anything else, or can I go?” 

“There’s no time for that; we have important cargo that needs to be delivered quickly. Can you just have a look at the main system and see if you can work some of your magic?” Yesterday you could’ve sworn that if you saw this man again you would’ve killed him, but now, with him in front of you, that wasn’t even a thought.

“You’re telling me that you’re working for someone?” you said, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “Since when do you answer to anyone?”

“Since someone paid me well enough to make it worth my while.” He could tell from the look on your face that you didn’t believe him. “You make it sound like I’ve never followed the rules before.”

“That’s because you haven’t.” You say plainly. He laughed softly, the sound warm and familiar. For a moment anger bubbled inside of you again; you hated him—not just for the past, but for the way he could still make you feel. The bridge door hissed open, and a woman entered. She had the kind of confidence that came from being both good at her job and knowing it. Her eyes immediately found Jod, the faintest of smiles curving her lips.

“Captain,” she said smoothly, ignoring you entirely. “The cargo is accounted for and secured. Credits, jewels, a few relics—enough to turn heads.”

“So definitely not your ship; otherwise you’d know what you’re carrying,” you said, eyeing Jod sceptically.

“I never said it was. And thank you, Verya,” Jod replied with a smirk. Just as you opened your mouth to retort, she cut you off.

“It doesn’t matter who the ship belonged to. What matters is that it’s ours now, and we need to stay ahead of anyone who thinks otherwise.” Her gaze flicked to you briefly, as if measuring whether you were worth her time. Apparently deciding you weren’t, she turned back to Jod. “Anyway, we found it.”

Verya handed him a rolled parchment, her movements deliberate. Jod unrolled it carefully, the fragile paper crackling in the quiet. It was a map—an old one, by the look of it.

“What is it?” you asked, leaning in despite yourself.

“It’s a map,” Jod said flatly.

“I can see that,” you shot back, your tone sharp. “What’s it for?”

“It leads to a planet,” Verya answered before Jod had the chance, her voice steady but laced with excitement. “The stories say it’s filled with treasure. Enough to make someone the richest person in the galaxy.”

“Great. So you’re chasing a legend?”

“I’m chasing an opportunity,” Jod countered, his smirk returning, though this time there was an edge to it.

“An opportunity to do what? Get yourselves killed?” you asked, your tone heavy with scepticism.

“Some risks are worth taking,” Verya interjected, her gaze flicking back to Jod. “Especially when the reward is this big.”

“And what’s the plan?” you pressed, forcing your voice to stay even. “Hope no one else figures out what you’re carrying.”

“Oh, they already know.” Jod’s tone was maddeningly casual. “That’s why you’re here—to make sure we don’t fall apart before we get there.”

“Great. So you’ve got a massive amount of treasure in the hold, a map everyone in the galaxy would kill for, and no real plan. Sounds solid.” You clenched your jaw and pinched the bridge of your nose, resisting the urge to throttle him.

“Don’t worry. The captain knows what he’s doing,” Verya said, placing her hand on Jod’s bicep with an ease that grated on you.

“That’s debatable,” you muttered, shooting her a glare before glancing pointedly at her hand, then back to her eyes.

“I always figure it out, Sunshine. You should know that by now,” Jod said, his chuckle low and infuriatingly self-assured. His gaze lingered on you, filled with amusement.

[the-goldenbloom]

noboru never was amused by soulbonds. 

not when his parents told him about how they found each other, the black and white stencil of roses around his mother’s collarbone bursting to color when his father saved her from falling down the stairs, the winding vines around his arm matching colors. 

not when he saw his soulmark for the first time in his last year of high school, the right side of a pair of wings stretching across his right shoulder to his lower back, lines refined and sure to have a pair. 

not when college came along and everyone had a mark, wondering who’s going to be their match. 

well, almost everyone. 

mayumi, with her tired eyes and lopsided grins, with her soft words and cold hands, with ruffled hair and messy notes that somehow you can still understand, didn’t have a mark. 

and she was fine with it. 

some people don’t have a soulmate, and many of their small minority plead injustice, but some of them don’t really care.

mayumi was one of them. 

noboru didn’t really mind either, when one day, before their graduation, he starts looking at her with a sparkle in his eye and she looks back with something in her smile that he’s never seen before and he thinks,

“oh.”

—

noboru has a mark and wishes he didn’t

mayumi never had one, and has never wished she did

and both of them have a love that gathers stares and questions, and truthfully, they don’t wish for anything else

—

noboru’s right eye turns a light shade of amber four and a half years into their relationship, a countdown of a year starting to tick away, a year before he meets his soulmate. 

he looks in the mirror and decides, it’s pretty. the specks of gold complimenting the layered brown hues well. 

mayumi says it looks like the sun, says it fits him well, he’s always been the rain after all. she smiles and laughs while saying so, but noboru could see the hidden worry deep in her eyes, could hear the slight tremble in her voice and feel the near unnoticeable shaking of her hands.

that night, he holds her hand tight, holds her close, looks away from the fireworks show they came to watch, and says, “i won’t leave you.”

mayumi knows he means it

—

the sound of static in noboru’s head comes a week before he meets whoever is waiting for him. 

he knows it’ll be a melody when they meet, a song that’s never supposed to go away, a song that’s for them and them only. 

but he knows he has all he needs, the engagement ring on his finger a gentle reminder that he made his choice a long time ago. 

he just hopes it won’t hurt too much for whoever has the missing side of his wings. 

—

the moment his back collides with another in the department store, hearing a small sound of surprise from the person he bumped into, he feels it.

in the spot of his mark, in his heart, in his soul. 

he feels a spark.

he hears the static in his mind shift into something sweet and gentle, like sunshine shining through the rain.

he turns around, and he locks eyes with her, his soulmate. 

“hi,” she smiles, stumbling a little, because she must feel it too

the feeling that you've met the one.

but noboru knows that feeling, has felt the same one a long time ago.

he attempts to return the greeting, albeit with a sad smile, before mayumi pops out from another aisle, with the same lazy smile that he fell in love with years ago. 

“hey! i thought i lost you-“ she starts, but trails off, seeing the faint but ever present glow underneath the back of the girl’s shirt. her smile fades, just a little, and noboru wants to keep her so close so it never disappears again. 

and just like that, noboru’s first words to his soulmate became,

“i’m sorry.”

—

“it’s okay,” she says. 

ryo is her name, and mayumi was right, she is the sun. 

her smile is bright and so are her eyes, even when she realizes she’s been waiting for someone who won’t be hers. 

and she’s fine with it, she assures the couple so. 

she laughs a little and says, “i’m happy for you, truly.”

later that day, ryo will come home to her sister and her son that she promised to help raise and she’ll softly realize, 

“i have all that i need.”

—

noboru was never amused by soulbonds. 

not when his parents told him about how they met. 

not when he saw his mark. 

not when everyone except him was waiting for the one who'd complete theirs.

not when he met his soulmate, a sweet melody still playing in his head. 

because six years ago, he fell in love.

and that’s enough. 

[hairmetal666]

No one knows who writes the Hawkins High Tattler. It comes out every week, without fail, has for almost two decades. Everyone reads it, even teachers, even parents. It's caused more the one suspension, grounding, and even--famously--a shipping off to boarding school.

Steve's never let the Tattler get to him much. He's in it, of course, practically a new story every week. But it's just silly gossip.

Of course, Steve is also, currently, the titular Tattler, so. It's not like he's surprised when his name shows up.

It's his third year, his last year, and he knows everything that ever goes on at Hawkins High. It's pretty easy, honestly. Everyone thinks he's ditzy and vapid; nothing more than hairspray and polos. People will say anything around him, assuming he's not listening or not interested, and then bam. It's in next week's Tattler. No one even suspects him.

The confessions locker probably helps. Down by the theater, busted and unusable, the perfect place for people to leave tips, to tattle on their friends (or enemies, as the case may be).

That's what he's doing right now, checking the confessions locker. After 9:30 on a Friday night, the place silent as the tomb, perfect time for it. Pretty standard fare this week. The only thing of interest is that Eddie Munson was the person who broke all Ms. Click's pencils and left the stubs on her desk. This one, he laughs at, can't wait to publish it; can't wait to talk to Munson about it.

He gets a lot of stuff about Eddie. Most of it he doesn't publish because it's bullshit about satanic rituals--the nerdy kids he babysits play dnd, and there's no way Karen Wheeler is letting anything satanic happen in her basement--or about his sexuality, and one thing Steve doesn't do is out people.

Gathering up this week's submissions, he closes the locker with a soft clink, and he swears, swears he hears the squeak of a tennis shoe on the polished tile of the floor. He freezes, heart in his throat. Nobody has been here this late before.

Seconds pass but there's only silence. Confident he's only hearing things, he heads out, the parking lot just as empty as when he arrived.

---

He sees Eddie a few days later, when he's picking up the kids from the arcade. They typically exchange casual greetings, but as Steve waits, Eddie stands with him, offers him a cigarette.

"Read that was you who messed with Click's pencils. Good one."

Eddie shrugs, gives a little bow and a smile. "Happy to be of service."

"It was my class, when she found them. Never seen her so mad."

"No way," Eddie laughs. "Not even when Hagan drew dicks on all the textbooks?"

"Not even then, man. She was throwing pencil stubs everywhere."

"Fuck, sad I missed it." Eddie takes a drag, Steve's eyes following the movement, lingering on his mouth. Something warm and tingling builds at the base of his spine and he forces his gaze away.

"How long you in detention for?"

"I'm not. Swore it wasn't me, and Click doesn't want to admit she reads the Tattler, so. Not much they could do. "

"I've seen it sitting on her desk!"

"I know! She reads it when she has detention duty!"

They lean against Steve's car, laughing, and Steve feels good. This is good. He likes Eddie. He's funny and dramatic and smart and kind. He's not deserving of any of the mean things that get submitted to the Tattler.

The kids come streaming into the parking lot then, and Eddie stubs out his cigarette, says "see you around, Harrington," and Steve finds himself flushing for reasons he can't quite explain.

---

He starts seeing Eddie around way more. He's in school most days, smoking in the parking lot after the last bell, chatting with Steve in the hallways.

It shows up in the Tattler; big news that the King and the Freak are hanging out. Most of the submissions are about it, increasingly elaborate rumors about their supposedly deep, close friendship.

He wishes he could tell Eddie.

Eventually, Eddie invites him to smoke at the quarry. He doesn't hesitate to say yes, doesn't even bother to try ignoring the swoop in his stomach, the speed of his heart.

They sprawl out in the back of the van, Eddie's loud, raucous music pounding around them, sharing a joint back and forth.

Steve gets hazy, boneless, can't stop watching Eddie, the way his lips purse around the joint, his long hair glinting gold in the weak light of the camping lanterns, the pleased shine of his eyes every time he makes Steve laughs.

He likes Eddie so much. Everything about him, honestly. Butterflies ping in his stomach, happy and slow, and he thinks how nice Eddie's lips are, wonders how soft they must be. And he thinks--he's read the submissions, right--he knows the things they say about Eddie, and he wishes it was true, he wants--he wants--

He wants

---

Steve's running late to check the locker. Lost track of time at the diner with Eddie, and it's making him panic.

He stuffs the submissions haphazardly into the pocket of his hoodie, dancing with nerves, willing himself to grab them all and get out.

Locker emptied, he sprints towards the exit. He has a second to process someone barreling towards him in the dark, but he's going too fast to stop, can only brace himself as they collide.

It sends him sliding across the floor, Tattler submissions spilling out of his pocket like snow. He hits the ground, scrabbling for the papers, praying that whoever is here with him can't see them in the low light.

Hands grips his biceps. "Stevie, Steve, we have to get out of here" and there's a second where he's comforted by the familiar rasp of Eddie's voice before terror spikes again.

He pulls himself from Eddie's grasp, searching for any dropped submissions in easy reach. "Wha--why--what's--"

"I ran into Jason Carver and his band of idiots at the gas station. They're on their way to here to try to catch the Tattler in action."

Steve freezes. "I don't--that's not--I--"

In the deep silence of the empty school, they both hear the slamming of a door, a bitten off giggle. Eddie grabs his wrist and they run. Into the theater room, through a door Steve didn't know existed, to the backstage area of the auditorium.

"You should be safe here," Eddie says.

Panic spirals through him. "I can explain. I was just--I forgot a--I needed--"

"Harrington! I know, okay? I already know."

Steve can only blink at him, swallows rough in his throat. "What--Eddie, I--"

"I saw you. Weeks ago. Forgot my notebook in the theater room after Hellfire and had to run back for it. You were there, at the locker."

"You can't tell anyone."

"I'm not going to."

"No, Munson, you really can't. Nobody can know. Nobody--"

"Swe--Stevie, I promise. The secret's safe with me." He rocks back on his heels, chewing on his lip for a second before he continues. " I--I couldn't figure you out, you know? I saw you around with those kids and it didn't make any sense. King Steve, babysitting tiny nerds? But I saw you at the locker and..."

"You're giving me too much credit, man."

"I don't think so. You're never--fuck, Harrington--you're never mean. At least, not in the last couple years. You spread gossip, but you don't punch down, and you're funny as hell. Mean as shit too, but only to the people who deserve it."

His ears burn and he looks down. "Just because I have fucking--fucking editorial standards doesn't mean that I'm anything special."

Eddie scoffs. "Remember, Stevie, I was reading it a year before you were here. Cruel, vapid garbage. Always the most vile, pointless stories about people who couldn't defend themselves. And how many submissions have you gotten about me, for instance, that you've never used?"

Steve clenches his fists. "I would never--"

"I know. Sweetheart, I know. That's why I li--You're so fucking good, Stevie."

He laughs, ears burning. "I'm really not, Eddie. I try to write about fun gossip that can't hurt anyone too much, and nobody's found me out because they think I'm too dumb--"

Eddie reaches out then, fingers connecting softly with the edge of Steve's jaw. He can't help but lean into the touch, eyes flickering closed.

"You don't want to hurt people because you're fucking kind. You know how I know for sure? You must get submissions every week about me, and you've never once printed that I'm--" Eddie stops then, swallowing hard.

Steve's throat goes tight. He rests his hand over Eddie's, still holding his face. "Me too," he whispers. "Kind of. I like--it's both. For me."

"Oh," Eddie breathes, mouth lifting in a bright, beautiful smile that Steve can't help but return.

He's watching, sees when Eddie's gaze drifts his lips, making his breath hitch. He doesn't really think about closing the distance between them, slotting their mouths together in a tentative, gentle kiss.

"You're just full of surprises aren't you, Steve Harrington? Eddie asks when they part.

Steve blushes. "That's sort of the last of them."

"Sure. Next you'll be telling me you've played dnd."

"I have a character."

"What???"

"Human paladin. Dustin worked on it with me. Ready to get out of here?"

"Human paladin," Eddie gapes. "You know--you said--what's happening?"

Steve twines their fingers together, leading Eddie towards the auditorium exit. "Well, first we're going to walk out to my car and then we're going to my house, and we're going to look through Tattler submissions. Maybe makeout a little bit."

Eddie giggles. "What the fuck? Like. What the fuck, sweetheart?"

He turns to face Eddie, smile big and pure and bright with happiness. "If you're really nice to me, I'll let you help write this week's issue."

"Oh, oh. You're going to wreck me." Eddie mumbles, almost to himself.

"If you're lucky." Steve beams.

[bonbonly]

i keep writing collegeau!f1 drivers, and honestly that has me thinking: (carlos, charles, max, lewis, daniel, lando and oscar! and this is sfw surprisingly lmfao)

→ carlos sainz is always out playing sports with his friends, but after a quick shower he will meet up with you in the library to study. he genuinely is really good about locking in, even if it's only for a few minutes and he manages to soak up all the information pretty fast. he's always willing to help you out, even if chooses to endlessly tease you if you get something wrong. he'll point out your mistakes, giving you more practice problems or drawing something on a board to visualize it for you. and while you do appreciate his help, it's hard to focus on the board when his hair shines like that under the light. you mutter some curses under your breath and get back to studying unaware that he secretly enjoys it when you get frustrated at him.

→ charles leclerc is awfully quiet at first and only shows up to piano rehearsals if you're there. he's very shy at first about his talent, but slowly opens up and let's you accompany him to classes and even recitals! he likes to laugh to himself if he messes up some notes, and loves when you'll lean forward to correct his fingers on the piano, his face just inches from yours. he just wishes you'd finally turn around to meet his expecting gaze, lips aching to be on yours. he plans on kissing you after his first major recital.

→ max verstappen and you both game regularly on the basis. whether it's in the computer lab, or at each others' dorms. he sometimes wishes you didn't just come to his dorm to hop on a game, but he appreciates every second he gets to spend time with you. when it comes to studying, both of you start off trying to lock in but it quickly turns into the both of you talking about how awful your professors are, or some funny story that happened to his friends. he likes to see you laugh, because it's when you really are yourself.

→ lewis hamilton likes to tag along with you when you're at karaoke events with your friends. he insists he can't sing, choosing to shy away from the spotlight. but after a couple drinks, and the way your hand wraps around his arm, tugging him to your warm body, he eventually gives in. the two of you spend most of the night screaming lyrics at each other and giggling hysterically when either of you mess up a line or two while singing. lewis swears he would love to live the rest of his like this with you.

→ daniel ricciardo ends up in your cooking class that you took solely because you needed a free elective. most of the class however is spent with dealing with his antics. he's tossing the flour at you, cracking the most awful jokes while cracking eggs (don't even ask) and all you can do is sit there and groan out loud. however, after a few classes, you realize that the class genuinely was boring and daniel was the only good thing about it. you'd sometimes grab his finished dishes and munch on it, which only causes him to lunge at you and now the both of you are on the ground laughing trying to explain to your professor why your casserole is now on the ground.

→ lando norris unfortunately decided to work at the university's daycare since all his money was going down at the clubs, and you show up to help him because you knew he was going to get overwhelmed. he was currently tackling a 3 year old who refused to let go of his curls, and you laugh out loud before running over to help him. when you manage to calm down the toddler and sing a few lullabies, lando's gaze softens and he can't help but secretly dream of having kids with you after you both graduate, having a small lovely family.

→ oscar piastri sits in the front of the class besides you. it's a hobby for the both of you to listen to the answers your peers give you, and turn around to give the nastiest side-eye ever. outside of class, the two of you laugh about what some of the responses were and you sometimes ask him if he ever judges you like that. he shakes his head, and says no. deep down, he wants to tell you that he thinks the world of you, but he keeps his mouth shut for now. what if you end up judging him instead?

[yeoobiii]

hello, can I ask you to write a mini story about Heeseung, where he teaches Y/n how to kiss 🙏🏻

⋆｡°✩ 𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙙

꩜ bestfriend!heeseung x gn!reader

꩜ best friends to lovers (?), first kisses

꩜ during a game of truth or dare you admit to all your friends for the first time that you've never been kissed and that you're frankly scared you'll mess up once the situation presents itself. Heeseung sees a perfect opportinity to help you out with that.

or: Heeseung teaches his best friend how to kiss and both of you get a bit lost in it

wc: 5.1k (this has gotten a bit longer than I intended to but honestly I just went with the flow and here we are.)

warnings: consumption of alcohol

a/n: thank you for the request, anon! btw requests are open if you'd like me to write something specific, I can't promise you anything on how quickly I'll get it done or if it's something I'm up to writing but like the link is in my bio :)

I hope you like this, anon!

There’s a few things none of your college friends knew about you. Despite knowing most of them for over three years now, some things just never came up naturally in conversation. Like the fact that you’ve not had your first kiss yet.

Why make a big deal out of it? You’ve also never been in love before. You didn’t feel the urge to inform everyone about these things, especially since most of your friends have a rather active dating life. You wanted to do these things at your own pace and didn’t want anyone involved in how you could “solve that problem”. You simply never intended on telling them. That is until last weekend happened and somehow your roommates were able to convince you to participate in a game of truth or dare.

It was a Thursday night and your roommate told you that they were having a few friends over for a cozy hang out and you were definitely down to chill with them because the both of you were friends with similar people and got along great in general, so having a few drinks with your friends in your dorm room seemed like a nice way to spend the evening.

And everything went smoothly enough, people were trickling in and out, the overall vibe very casual and comfortable. That is however until your friend Sofia suggested a game of truth or dare. To be fair, the overall intake of alcohol increased as the evening was progressing. It was almost inevitable that a suggestion like that would arouse sooner or later.

Before you even properly thought about it, you agreed to play and sat down in a circle with around five other tipsy college students.

Only later on did your brain register that Heeseung was one of the few chosen ones. For a split second you even wondered when he had arrived, but then you remembered that he greeted you with a friendly embrace when he first arrived about half an hour ago.

Technically, there was nothing wrong with him participating in the same game, the both of you were friends after all.

You met Heeseung pretty much the first day college started, you were both in stats together and happened to be sitting next to each other on the first day and it’s been like that ever since. However, you guys didn’t hit it off right away, you were friendly with each other, sure, but that mostly also out of convenience and occasionally you shared your notes with each other or he was making sure you didn’t fall asleep in class. It was all really casual and you would have considered him more like a colleague than a friend.

That was the case until one particular night that was destined to shape the kind of friendship the two of you would have with each other forever.

It was one of your first frat parties, the first semester was about to end and freshmen with various kinds of majors gathered to celebrate this collective milestone. Safe to say the liquor was being poured without much hesitation.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve run into Heeseung at a frat party either. Usually you’d shoot each other the occasional nod, acknowledging the other’s presence and moving on with your night and that’s all there was to it.

However, fate had other plans for this particular night.

At one point you excused yourself from the dance floor and went out the back door into the small garden to catch some fresh air, to your surprise not many people were out there, just you and a small group of three people maybe, who seemed to be passing around a blunt.

It took you a second glance to not only see your roommate but also Heeseung being part of that group, your roommate immediately greeting you enthusiastically upon locking eyes with you and beckoning for you to sit with them.

Shortly after you were sitting on your ass, your roommate's arm interlocked with yours, being pulled into the conversation easily.

Heeseung sent a brief smile of acknowledgement your way, before taking a hit from the joint. You returned his smile and also greeted the fourth person sitting with you who was eventually introduced as Heeseung’s friend Jake.

The joint was being passed around and eventually landed in your hand as well and afterwards the conversation seemed to flow effortlessly. You joked and laughed along to whatever your company was saying but were also emerged in the more heated discussions.

At one point you were so deep into the conversation with Jake that you didn’t even realize your roommate getting up and going back inside and like ten minutes later, Jakes excused himself to the bathroom and didn’t seem to return anymore.

Which only left Heeseung and you.

Now, you’d be lying if you’d say being in such close proximity with a cute guy like Heeseung, all by yourselves in this somewhat intimate setting left you completely unaffected. You could feel yourself growing slightly flustered at nothing in particular, but you eventually catched yourself when Heeseung asked.

“So, what’s your favorite dinosaur?”

You fell into comfortable conversation after that and the longer the night went on, the more intense the topics got.

Whenever you think back to that one particular part of the evening it kinda feels like Heeseung and you were the only two things existing at the moment. Your brain didn’t register the people stepping in and out of the garden as the hours passed by. 

It was well past 3am when you checked your phone for the time since sitting down. You told Heeseung and he was just as shocked as you were at how quickly the time had passed, almost apologizing for taking up so much of your time, but you assured him you were enjoying yourself.

“It has been a while since I sat down like that and was able to talk to someone for hours about whatever popped into my head.” You admitted to him and he seemed satisfied with that judging by the smile that graced his lips.

“Me too.”

And you could swear by the way his eyes shimmered in that moment that there was something – whatever that may have been – between the both of you. Or maybe it was just the weed.

Regardless of what you guys shared was something different than what you thought it might have been, you grew close very quickly after that evening. Heeseung started to joke around with you in class, you eventually asked him for his number and social media, he started sending you memes occasionally, you started to hang out outside of class in your little friend group.

At one point you were convinced he was actively seeking you out at parties, because ever since that evening, you always bumped into each other sooner or later during the night.

And whatever there might have been that one evening, nothing came of it. However, it almost seemed like you grew closer to Heeseung than all your other friends. People in your friend group would casually call you best friends and the more time passed the more that statement became true.

All occurrences in the past have led you to playing truth or dare on a Thursday night on the floor of your dorm room with each other. And usually that wouldn’t be an issue. Heeseung and you have progressed to a stage in your friendship where you knew almost everything about each other; almost.

You could feel the alcohol running in your system and were sincerely hoping you wouldn’t say something that you’d eventually regret. You just crossed your fingers and hoped for the best.

For the most part the game did run smoothly, it was fun and you had a good time, the only dare you had to do was show them your most embarrassing dance move.

That is until your roommate asked you truth or dare.

“Truth” you chose this time

“What was your first kiss like and who was it with?”

The question in and of itself was harmless, it matched the vibe of the very easy going game they had going on, Nonetheless, you felt put on the spot and before you could stop yourself – because you can’t pull off a lie for the life of you – you blurt out that you’ve never been kissed.

None of your friends seemed super unfazed by this seeing how you’ve not dated one person since you started college but Sofia’s eyes grew double in size.

“Not even a peck on the lips or something?” she questioned a bit bewildered.

You just shook your head, seeing from the corner of your eye how your roommate gave Sofia a light nudge at even asking such a question.

You couldn’t help but risk a short glance at Heeseung and were almost a bit startled when his eyes met yours instantly. He sent you a soft smile upon locking eyes with you. Was that pity you saw in his eyes? Your stomach turned itself upside down.

You really wish you could say it didn’t bother you at all, that at the age of 21 you’ve never kissed someone before. You didn’t want it to be a big deal, it really shouldn’t be a big deal.

But you couldn’t help but think that you lacked something or were one step behind everyone. It felt like missing out on an experience that usually people have in their late teens and early twenties.

You don’t know why it hasn’t happened for you yet. It’s not even that you want it to be with someone really special, the moment has simply never presented itself before and you usually take this for what it is, but right now – Heeseung’s expression burned into your skull – you suddenly feel a bit small.

“It’s not just that” you eventually start to break the silence, not yet realizing that you were about to make this so much worse, “it’s also the fact that even if I’d want to kiss someone, I wouldn’t know how.”

It took your drunken mind a hot minute to catch up with what you just said. Something within you simply wanted to fill the silence but the fact that your filter was basically non-existent due to your tipsy state was not taken into consideration the moment you opened your mouth.

You mentally slapped yourself across the face, this time not having the courage to even glance into Heeseung’s direction.

“It’s not that hard, I can show you!” Your roommate offered enthusiastically, intentions pure.

Your face flushed at the suggestion and you cringed a bit, more out of embarrassment that you ended up in this situation in the first place than by the proposal itself.

“I’ll let you know if I ever want to take you up on that suggestion.” You reply as nonchalantly as you can muster.

It’s not like the thought of asking a friend how to properly kiss has occurred to you before, but you could never quite bring yourself to get the request past your lips.

Your friends laugh at your response and easily move on with the conversation, taking the attention off of you. And that was that. Or at least that’s what you thought…

Two weeks later you enter the lecture hall and already spot Heeseung sitting in his usual spot and just like on autopilot you placed yourself next to him and the both of you exchanged greetings, just like you usually would. You’d also catch up about your weekends and shortly after the lecture started, taking up both of your attention.

It wasn’t until halfway through the lecture that Heeseung poked your shoulder, extending his notebook to you, clearly wanting to show you something.

With blue ink he has written on the page:

“You want me to teach you?”

Your eyebrows furrow, confused at what he meant.

You write down below him:

“Teach me what?” Confusion clear on your face as you watch him write something else.

“How to kiss”

You choked on your own spit.

Heeseung chuckled next to you. You could smack him across the head right now and you made a mental note to do just that once class is over.

Once you collected yourself, you took the pen from Heeseung and wrote three question marks under his proposal.

Why would he offer to teach you in the first place and out of all the places to suggest this to you he chose the middle of your lecture? Why?

He grinned at your question marks and if you didn’t know him any better you thought he was making fun of you. Had any other person done this to you, you’d probably actually have been hurt but first of all you still didn’t know if he was serious and second of all it was Heeseung. You knew him well enough to know he’d never use such a situation to make fun of you.

At that moment the professor seemed to notice your lack of attention and decided to ask you a question directly, returning your attention to the lecture where it stayed until you were dismissed.

The topic didn’t arise again between Heeseung and you even though the whole scenario didn’t seem to be able to leave your mind. At lunch you stared at Heesung making conversation with Jake over something you did not pay attention to, trying to figure him out.

In your head the puzzle pieces were just not fitting. Why would he suggest that all of a sudden? And why was it so hard for you to find an answer to his question…

After the whole frat party thing where you originally became friends, you had developed a small crush on Heeseung that gradually developed as time went by. It’s just after some time had passed and neither of you made any advances towards the other you eventually abandoned the idea of getting with Heeseung and were left with two options, getting over your crush or having to live with your unrequited feelings.

You chose the first option. It took you quite some time but you managed to accept the fact that Heeseung was simply a really good friend and your feelings faded as seasons changed.

You’d be lying saying they ever went away completely. There’s no reason denying that Heeseung was painfully your type and that no matter how hard you tried to tell yourself that you didn’t like him like that anymore, you were attracted to him.

So, saying his suggestion to teach you how to kiss took you by surprise was the understatement of the century.

He probably just tried to be a good friend, right? Your roommate had suggested to teach you as well back then and there were no other intentions behind that, you were certain of that. So, why are you questioning Heeseung so much?

The topic didn’t come up again until one day you were hanging out in your dorm room. Just your roommate, Heeseung and yourself. It was often like that, sometimes Jake was also around but today it was just the three of you, that is at least until your roommate told you that they were heading out for dinner at around six and didn’t know when they’d be back.

Once they left, it was just Heeseung and you left.

Ever since he made his suggestion in class, you dreaded being alone with him, because you didn’t know if the topic would come up again or if you even wanted it to.

Heeseung was lying on your bed, his feet resting on your lap, while you were sitting at the end of the bed, back resting against the wall. Heeseung was scrolling through his phone when you decided to address the elephant in the room, because you figured if he wasn’t the one to bring it up, why shouldn’t you?

“Were you serious?” you simply said, not in any particular tone, just wanting to clear the haze in your head.

“Do you mean about the kissing thing?” He said without looking away from his face. The fact that he instantly knew what you were talking about indicated enough that he was aware it’s been eating at you.

You nod.

He locked his phone and threw it to the side, moving to sit up and also lean his back against the wall so that he can face you.

“I was and I still am.” He said, no trace of irony to be found.

“Why?” You couldn’t help but ask.

He shrugged his shoulders, “It seemed like it bothered you that day. You know, when you told everyone how you’re scared you’d mess up if it comes down to the real thing?”

He teased at you being so open due to liquid courage, a small smile forming on his face as you rolled your eyes at him.

“I was put on the spot and that was the only thing my brain provided at the moment to fill the silence.” You whine more frustrated with yourself than anyone else.

“So, you’re not worried about that?” He asked in return.

It was silent for a moment as you contemplated his question. You could easily dig yourself a way out of this by denying it, convincing him it was mainly the liquor talking. But you and Heeseung were never really the type to lie to each other.

“I am” you eventually admit, not meeting his eyes “I don’t know… It’s a bit silly but like I don’t know anyone my age who hasn’t been kissed before and I feel like it’s gonna be really awkward if the situation arises and I chicken out because I have no idea how to actually kiss someone.”

Heeseung listened to you and took your words in before answering.

“But you know, most first kisses are kinda awkward, I think.”

“Was your first kiss weird at all?” You asked him.

“Yeah, very.” He chuckled, sitting up more on the bed, “it was kinda too much of everything, too much teeth, too much spit, just entirely too much.”

He shuddered a bit, recollecting his first kiss.

“See? And I’d have no idea about any of that.” You said almost a bit frustrated.

“Then let me show you.” He insisted, your eyes meeting.

The way he says it so casually makes you want to rip your hair out.

“It’s just a kiss, right? And it’s me! You don’t have to be embarrassed with me.” He said, eyebrows slightly raised, trying to ease your mind.

You look at him. He looks cozy in his oversized sweatshirt, his body language his usual relaxed self. It was still a bit fascinating how he could take this all so lightly but then again, it really was just a kiss for him.

And you know you shouldn’t. You shouldn’t kiss Heeseung. In fact, your head is screaming at you not to kiss him, because the risk of buried feelings resurfacing is simply too big. But you’d also be lying to yourself if you’d say you weren’t curious what his lips would feel like against yours and it were thoughts like this that’d mean certain doom for you sooner or later.

At your silence Heeseung added “Look, there’s really no pressure at all. I just thought maybe you’d like to know a few things that will help ease your mind, but of course you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

And of course he would say that. Of course he’d go out of his way to reassure you that you’re safe with him and that he respected your choice no matter what. Maybe sharing your first kiss with Heeseung wasn’t that bad of an idea after all. At least like that you could make sure it’s someone who respects you and your boundaries, someone who makes sure you feel safe and comfortable no matter what.

Maybe you could allow yourself this. Maybe having this as the memory of your first kiss wasn’t too bad.

“Like, right now?” You asked, which seemed to surprise Heeseung a little. He must have been convinced you’d turn him down.

“I mean, whenever is fine.” He responded suddenly you could see his cool demeanor crack, spotting a few hints of nervousness behind the cracks.

“I think, I’d be down.” You eventually say after contemplating for another minute.

“Really?” Heeseung’s eyebrows were almost at his hairline.

“Lee Heeseung, if you tell me right now that all of this has been a sick joke of yours after all, I’m ending this friendship right now.”

Panic flashed in his eyes.

“No! No, of course not. I was being serious. I just didn’t think…. I didn’t think you’d agree.” he admitted.

“So, how does this work?” you ask, not knowing where to even start.

“Oh, so you really want to do it right now, I see.” Heeseung mumbled more to himself than anyone in particular.

He scooted slightly closer to you.

“Well, first we gotta get closer.” He moves to sit next to you on the bed, shoulders touching.

You watch him, fascinated at how quickly his shyness has been replaced by his cool, nonchalant demeanours once again.

Heeseung and you have cuddled on more than one occasion before, but this feels different, you’re hyper aware of the place where his shoulder is bumping into yours and your tights are touching. This close, you could smell his cologne and shampoo.

“It’s not that complicated really” he starts explaining.

“If you want to just have a small, simple kiss. We’d both tilt our heads slightly as we get closer. Let me show you.”

He turns towards you, his eyes meeting yours. And you could swear there it was again. That shimmer from the first night the both of you actually talked to each other. You push that thought to the back of your head, the indications behind that too overwhelming for what’s about to happen right now.

His hand hovers above your cheek and you nod, allowing him to gently grab you by the jaw and tilt your head into one direction. The distance between his and your face shrinks as he does so, the pace of your heartbeat picking up in the process.

You could feel his breath against your lips as he spoke again.

“This is usually the point most people close their eyes and then you just… kiss.”

You close your eyes and a moment later you felt the sensation of Heeseung’s lips softly pressing against yours. All thoughts seem to leave your head the instant your lips touched, your heart basically beating out of your chest. It took you a moment to actually process the sensation and just as you were about to lose yourself in the feeling, Heeseung pulled back slightly.

“You know, this is the part where you kiss me back.” He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine and maybe it was all in your head but you could swear his voice sounded different then just a second ago; a bit deeper, maybe even a bit flustered.

“My bad” you said, making Heeseung throw his head back with laughter, making you giggle as well.

It eases your anxiety a bit that even in stations like this, you were able to just laugh with him and easing the tension so easily.

“No worries” he laughed “Wanna try again?”

Again?

What did he mean again? Wasn’t that it?

Despite yourself, you nod.

“Okay, this time make sure to reciprocate the pressure I put against your lips, got it?”

“Got it” you kept your replies fairly short, afraid your voice would fail you otherwise.

Before you knew it, Heeseung was leaning in again.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

You close your eyes and soon after you feel the now familiar pressure of his lips again, this time making sure to kiss him back. Without thinking about it, your hand found its way onto Heeseung’s neck, where your fingers absentmindedly played with hair as you were kissing him.

This kiss lasted longer than the first one, you could feel Heeseung moving against you and followed his lead. It was easier to flow into the rhythm than you’d have thought, his lips soft and gentle against yours.

You were starting to feel lightheaded as he pulled away again and you had to resist the urge to chase after his lips.

“That was pretty good” he said, slightly out of breath, his pupils slightly dilated, his gaze fixed on your lips before he looked up at you.

“Also the thing you did with your hand, it seems like you’re a natural.” He chucked.

That’s when you saw your hand still resting against his neck, you instantly pulled it away once your brain caught up to what he was saying.

“Oh, I didn’t even realize…”

For a second there was a silence between the both of you; a silence that wasn’t quiet at all. You couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of him and neither could he. You could probably cut the tension with a knife.

“And what if… what if I’d want it to get more intense, you know?”

Heeseung’s eyebrows shot up.

“More intense?” He said, knowing very well what you were implying.

“I get how just kissing someone on the lips like that might not be that hard but what if– what if it goes further?”

Heeseung cleared his throat at your words and sat up straighter.

“You mean, if you would want to deepen the kiss?” He inquired.

You just nod, looking up at him, not failing to notice the light blush that’s starting to form on his cheeks, matching your own flusteredness.

“You want me to show you as well?”

You nod. Something about how his lips feel against yours was addictive, making you throw all your previous reservations out of the window.

“It’s kinda hard to explain though. I’d just have to show you?” He said, a bit unsure.

“That’s okay.”

“Okay so, basically you start with a kiss just like we shared before. You’ll just have to let me lead, okay?”

Something about the way he said that sent a shiver down your spine, words refusing to leave your mouth so you just nod.

Soon enough, his lips were on yours again and even though you were only separated for a few minutes, you already started to miss the sensation and the tingle it made you feel in your stomach and chest. Naturally, your hand found its way back into his hair.

Suddenly, you felt his tongue brush against your bottom lip and your heart took a leap. Instinctively, you opened your mouth for him. A few moments pass and he starts licking gently into your mouth.

You actively have to suppress sounds that were starting to build in the back of your throat at the sensation.

You could also feel one of his hands pressing against your waist while the other one was busy cupping your cheek.

Without much thinking you pressed forward, wanting to match his eagerness, which led to your teeth clinking against each other to which Heeseung pulled back slightly, chuckling.

“Take it slow, yeah?” He said, his face still incredibly close to yours.

As you nod at his remark he dives back in, taking you by surprise a bit. You were welcoming the touch of lips nonetheless.

This time you tried to dial down your eagerness and gently let his tongue guide yours, your insides turning into mush in the process.

Without thinking you slightly pulled at his hair, making him hum against your lips. 

He must like that? you think to yourself. 

Your stomach did a 360 at the thought of stirring him on further.

At this point your tongues were dancing with each other gently, no trance of any kind of hesitation left, the feeling leaving your head dizzy and your heart fluttering.

The way Heeseung kept pulling you in by your jaw and how his grip on your hip was getting tighter.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a really long time.” He suddenly blurts out in between kisses and if you wouldn’t be so lost in the feeling of his lips on yours you’d stop to question his statement, but right now your heart simply leaped in your chest.

Overcome by a sudden wave of braveness, you swung one of your legs across his lap, straddling him. Heeseung looked at you starstruck, his hands instantly finding their way to your hips caressing them.

You took the time to look at him for a moment, his pupils were practically blown out and he looked so pretty with kiss swollen lips, glistering with both of your spit.

This was the first time you initiated the kiss, he easily reciprocated.

The kisses were sometimes still a bit sloppy but neither you nor Heeseung seemed to care, too lost in the feeling of each other’s bodies pressed against each other.

His hands were traveling up your sides and down your tights again and you were drowning in this feeling, of his hands touching you; exploring you. Soon enough, him trying to teach you how to kiss turned into a full on make out session.

That was until your roommate burst into the room without any announcement, making you jump off of Heeseung in an instant, cursing your body for immediately missing his closeness.

You both looked guilty and flustered as your roommate looked the both of you up and down.

“My bad, I’m just here to grab my charger. Continue with what you’ve been doing. It was only a matter of time until this happened anyway.”

They said and were gone as quickly as they had arrived.

You and Heeseung looked at each other for a second. Both of you burst into laughter shortly after.

“I think at some point we should really have a conversation about what exactly this is between us.” He gestured between the both of you after recovering from the sudden interruption.

And you were glad he brought it up because you think your heart would have been shattered into a hundred pieces if this didn’t have the same effect on him as it had on you; making your stomach flutter, turning your insides into mush, craving more.

“Better sooner than later, right?” you smile at him, hope filling your heart.

feel free to let me know your thoughts <3

[pinkmoontaco]

Melodies of Us || Lee Jihoon

Pairing: Producer-Idol Woozi x Pianist Reader Genre: Fluff, Idol romance, Childhood crush Summary: 'Melodies of Us' follows Woozi, a seventeen member, a music producer, and Y/N, a pianist, as they reconnect after years apart. Despite facing public scrutiny and the pressures of fame, their love grows stronger. After a brief separation to navigate the challenges of their careers, they reunite, learning to trust and support each other through the highs and lows, with music always being the backdrop of their shared journey. Authors note: Hi everyone! I’ve poured my heart into writing this story, inspired by the Woozi video one of you recommended. Your love and support mean the world to me, so please give it a lot of love and share your thoughts in the comments. Your feedback truly inspires me to keep creating and improving. I’d love to know what you think and hear your favorite moments from the story! Love you guys!!!

Shoutout to @am-injel for recommending the video

If you have any requests for any member or any other groups feel free to do so

The small music room at the edge of the middle school was a hidden corner where Jihoon often escaped. It wasn’t because he was shy—though he wasn’t the loudest kid in the class—but because he liked the calmness. Playing the piano, even just practicing scales, was his way of unwinding.

One afternoon, as he pushed the door open, he paused. Someone was already there.

It was Y/N.

She sat on the wobbly piano bench, poking at the keys in a rhythm that sounded more like an experiment than a song. Her uniform sleeves were rolled up, her bag on the floor, and her focus entirely on the instrument. Jihoon recognized her immediately—she was a year ahead, a popular "noona" everyone seemed to know.

“Noona?” Jihoon said hesitantly.

Y/N turned, surprised. “Oh! I didn’t know anyone else came here.”

Y/N tilted her head, “You know, I’ve seen you around. You’re Jihoon, right? The guy who’s always with his guitar.”

He nodded, surprised she even remembered his name. “Yeah… That’s me.”

Jihoon hesitated. “It’s usually empty.” He stepped inside, looking at her curiously. “Do you play?”

“Not really,” Y/N admitted with a small laugh. “I just wanted to try it. But…” She pressed a few keys randomly. “I don’t think I’m any good.”

Jihoon moved closer, his fingers twitching with the urge to correct her posture. “You’re pressing too hard,” he said. “Here.”

Without waiting for permission, he leaned down slightly, guiding her fingers to the correct placement. Y/N followed his instruction, her brow furrowed in concentration.

“Like this?” she asked.

Jihoon nodded. “Yeah, noona. That’s better.”

She grinned at him. “You’re good at this, Jihoon. Do you come here often?”

“Almost every day,” he said quietly, still a bit shy under her bright gaze.

“Then maybe you can teach me?” she asked, her voice teasing but warm.

He blinked, caught off guard. “Uh... if you want.”

A few weeks later, Jihoon was standing on the baseball field, glove in hand.

Jihoon caught a glimpse of Y/N standing near the sidelines. She wasn’t supposed to be there—it was a middle school practice, after all—but she was watching him, waving with a wide smile.

“Noona’s here?” Jihoon muttered under his breath, feeling his heart skip a beat.

“Let’s go, Jihoon!” Y/N called, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Show them what you’ve got!”

The teasing tone in her voice made him blush, with her watching, he couldn’t afford to mess up.

The game was intense, and Jihoon did his best to focus, blocking out the awkward feeling of Y/N watching him. He managed to catch the ball each time, despite his initial hesitation.

When practice ended, Jihoon walked over to her, brushing dirt off his uniform. “What are you doing here, noona?”

“I was curious,” she said with a shrug. “And I wanted to see you play.”

“Me?” Jihoon asked, surprised.

“Well, yeah. I didn’t know you were this good at baseball too.” Her grin was wide and sincere.

Jihoon scratched the back of his neck, feeling warmth creep up his face. “I’m not that good...”

“You are,” Y/N said, leaning forward slightly. “You just don’t give yourself enough credit.”

That evening, as Jihoon walked home, he couldn’t stop replaying the sound of her laughter and the way she’d called his name from the sidelines. For a boy who kept most things to himself, her presence was like a bright light in his quiet world.

And though he wouldn’t say it out loud, he hoped Y/N would show up again—at the piano, at the field, or anywhere else he could catch her smile.

A few days after the baseball game, Jihoon returned to the music room after school. He expected the usual silence, but when he opened the door, Y/N was already there. She sat on the piano bench, her fingers lightly brushing the keys, as if she were waiting for him.

“Noona,” Jihoon said, surprised. “You’re here again?”

Y/N looked up, her smile brightening the room. “Of course! I figured my teacher might show up, so I didn’t want to miss the chance to learn.”

Jihoon flushed. “I’m not your teacher…”

“Sure you are,” she teased, patting the bench beside her. “Come on. Show me something new.”

He hesitated before sitting down, careful to leave a bit of space between them. “Did you practice what I showed you last time?”

Y/N nodded enthusiastically, though the sheepish look on her face told him otherwise. “Kind of? But I think I need a lot more practice. You’re way better at this.”

Jihoon chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Okay, noona. Let’s try again.”

As he guided her through the basics, he couldn’t help but notice how close they were. Her laughter filled the room whenever she hit the wrong key, and her determination to get it right made him smile. She wasn’t like anyone he’d met before—confident yet patient, teasing yet kind.

A week later, Y/N showed up at another one of Jihoon’s baseball practices.

“Are you going to be at every game now?” Jihoon asked as he approached her during a water break.

“Maybe,” she said with a playful shrug. “I like watching you play. It’s fun seeing you so focused.”

Jihoon rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “Noona, you’re embarrassing me.”

“That’s my job,” Y/N said, grinning.

Jihoon glanced at his teammates, who were watching the interaction with curious smirks. He could already hear the teasing they’d throw at him later, but for some reason, he didn’t mind.

“Fine,” Jihoon said, trying to sound nonchalant. “But don’t cheer too loud next time.”

“No promises,” she replied, sticking out her tongue.

As spring turned into summer, Y/N and Jihoon began spending more time together. She would wait for him after practice, chatting about her day as they walked home. Sometimes, they stopped by the corner store to share ice cream, sitting on the curb as the sun dipped below the horizon.

One evening, after a particularly long practice, Jihoon and Y/N sat on the school steps, watching the sky turn shades of orange and pink.

“Jihoon,” Y/N said suddenly, her voice softer than usual.

“Hmm?” he murmured, resting his chin on his knees.

“Do you ever think about what you want to do when you grow up?”

He thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe something with music. Or baseball. I haven’t really decided.”

She smiled, tilting her head to look at him. “I think you’ll be great at whatever you choose. You’re the kind of person who works hard for what they want.”

Jihoon turned his head, surprised by her words. “You really think so?”

“Of course,” she said, bumping his shoulder lightly with hers. “You’re pretty amazing, Jihoon.”

His face grew warm, and he looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “Thanks, noona.”

As they sat there in the fading light, Jihoon realized something: he didn’t just enjoy spending time with Y/N—he looked forward to it. Her presence made the quiet moments brighter and the loud ones more bearable.

Summer break had arrived, and with it came long, lazy days and the warmth of the sun. Jihoon thought it would mean fewer chances to see Y/N, but she surprised him one morning by showing up at the school baseball field during practice.

“Noona, don’t you have anything better to do?” Jihoon called out as she leaned against the fence, waving at him.

“Nope,” she said cheerfully. “I’m on summer break too, you know. And besides…” She grinned. “You’re the most entertaining thing around here.”

Jihoon shook his head, turning back to the field. He tried to focus on practice, but he could feel her eyes on him the whole time. When the coach finally called for a break, Jihoon jogged over to where she was sitting on the bleachers.

“Did you come all the way here just to watch me?” he asked, catching his breath.

“Maybe,” Y/N teased, holding up a bottle of water. “Here, you look like you need this.”

“Thanks,” Jihoon said, taking it. He hesitated before adding, “You didn’t have to come, though.”

“I wanted to,” she said simply, her tone sincere.

Jihoon didn’t know how to respond to that. He wasn’t used to people going out of their way for him.

Later that week, Y/N invited Jihoon to join her at the park. It was a warm afternoon, and they found a spot under the shade of a large tree. Y/N had brought a picnic blanket and snacks, and Jihoon had brought his baseball glove, just in case.

“Noona, you really don’t get tired of hanging out with me?” Jihoon asked as he tossed a baseball into the air and caught it.

“Nope,” she said, lying on her back and looking up at the sky. “Why? Are you tired of me?”

“No!” Jihoon blurted out, sitting up straighter. “I mean… no, I’m not.”

Y/N laughed, sitting up and leaning her chin on her knees. “You’re fun to be around, Jihoon. Even if you’re quiet.”

“I’m not that fun,” he muttered, looking down at the ball in his hands.

“You don’t see it, do you?” she said, her voice softer now. “You’re hardworking, talented, and you care about the things that matter to you. That’s why I like spending time with you.”

Jihoon’s heart skipped a beat. He glanced at her, her expression warm and sincere, and felt the familiar flutter in his chest.

“Thanks, noona,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“Don’t mention it,” she replied, smiling brightly.

As the summer days passed, Jihoon found himself growing more and more comfortable around Y/N. She became a constant presence in his life, showing up to his practices, sharing snacks at the park, and even challenging him to board games at her house.

But one evening, as they sat on the swings at the park, Jihoon couldn’t keep the question inside anymore.

“Noona,” he began, his voice hesitant.

“Yeah?” Y/N replied, gently swaying back and forth.

“Why do you spend so much time with me?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the ground.

She stopped swinging and looked at him, her expression thoughtful. “Because I like being around you, Jihoon. You’re different from everyone else. You’re honest, and you make me feel… calm.”

“Calm?” Jihoon repeated, finally looking up at her.

“Yeah,” she said with a soft laugh. “Like I can just be myself when I’m with you. No pretending, no pressure. Just… me.”

Jihoon didn’t know what to say to that. His chest felt tight, and his hands gripped the chains of the swing a little harder.

“You’re special to me, Jihoon,” Y/N added, her voice gentle.

Jihoon’s breath caught. He wanted to say something back, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he nodded, hoping she could see how much her words meant to him.

That night, as Jihoon lay in bed staring at the ceiling, he thought about Y/N’s smile, her laughter, and the way she made the world feel just a little bit brighter.

For the first time, he let himself admit what he’d been feeling all along.

He liked her.

The news came unexpectedly.

Jihoon had always been good at music and baseball, but he never thought those talents would lead to something bigger. So when a company scout came to his school after hearing about his musical abilities and offered him a chance to audition as a trainee, Jihoon was stunned.

“Seoul?” he repeated, sitting across from his parents at the dinner table. “They want me to move to Seoul?”

His mother nodded, her expression a mix of pride and worry. “It’s a big opportunity, Jihoon. But it’s also a big decision. Are you sure this is what you want?”

Jihoon hesitated. He thought about his small town, his school, his friends. And then, he thought about Y/N.

“I’ll think about it,” he said quietly, retreating to his room.

The next day, Jihoon found himself in the music room after school, nervously tapping his fingers against the piano keys. He had texted Y/N to meet him there, and now he was waiting, unsure of how to tell her.

When Y/N walked in, she immediately noticed his tense posture. “Jihoon, what’s wrong?”

He looked up, his heart sinking at the concern in her eyes. “Noona, I have something to tell you.”

“Okay,” she said, sitting down beside him on the bench. “What is it?”

“I got an offer,” Jihoon said, his voice barely above a whisper. “To go to Seoul. To become a trainee at a company.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “What? Jihoon, that’s amazing!”

He glanced at her, surprised. “You think so?”

“Of course!” she said, grabbing his hand without thinking. “This is huge, Jihoon. You’re so talented. They’d be lucky to have you.”

“But…” Jihoon hesitated, looking down at their joined hands. “It means I’d have to leave. I wouldn’t be here anymore.”

Y/N’s excitement faltered, and for a moment, there was silence.

“When would you leave?” she asked softly.

“Next month,” he admitted. “If I decide to go.”

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions. “Jihoon, I won’t lie—it’ll be hard not having you here. But this is your dream, isn’t it?”

Jihoon nodded slowly. “I think so. But I don’t want to leave you, noona.”

Her heart ached at his words, but she forced a smile. “Jihoon, you can’t let that stop you. You’re going to do amazing things, and I’ll always be here cheering for you, no matter where you are.”

He looked up at her, his eyes glistening. “Promise?”

“Promise,” she said, holding out her pinky.

Jihoon hesitated before linking his pinky with hers. “I��ll miss you, noona.”

“I’ll miss you too,” she said softly.

The day Jihoon left for Seoul was bittersweet. His parents dropped him off at the train station, and Y/N was there, standing a little apart from the crowd.

Jihoon walked over to her, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Noona,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

“Jihoon,” she replied, her smile wavering.

For a moment, they just stood there, neither wanting to say goodbye. Finally, Y/N reached out and pulled him into a hug.

“Work hard,” she whispered. “And don’t forget to eat. You’re terrible at remembering that.”

Jihoon chuckled, though it sounded more like a sob. “I won’t forget.”

She pulled back, her hands resting on his shoulders. “You’re going to be great, Jihoon. I believe in you.”

“Thank you, noona,” he said, his voice steady despite the lump in his throat.

As the train pulled into the station, Jihoon reluctantly let go of her and stepped onto the platform. He turned back one last time, waving as the train doors closed.

Y/N waved back, her smile bright even as tears rolled down her cheeks.

In Seoul, Jihoon threw himself into training. The days were long, the competition fierce, and the pressure overwhelming. But every time he felt like giving up, he thought about Y/N’s smile, her encouragement, and the promise they had made.

He worked harder, knowing she was rooting for him from afar.

Years passed, and Jihoon’s dream of becoming a successful musician became a reality. After years of hard training, countless auditions, and endless performances, he had finally made it. As a member of the group that was taking the world by storm, his name was now known, his face recognized, and his music appreciated.

But despite the fame and the accolades, something was missing.

It had been years since he last saw Y/N. The memory of her smile, the sound of her laughter, and the warmth of her words always lingered in his mind. And so, one cold winter evening, Jihoon made a decision.

He would go back to his hometown, the place where it all began—the place where he had first met Y/N, the place that felt both familiar and distant now.

Jihoon stood in front of his old school, the place where he had once walked the halls as a shy, aspiring student. The building was quieter now, its paint chipped, and the playground that once hosted their after-school games seemed smaller than he remembered. But everything still felt... comforting.

He walked through the gates, a rush of memories flooding his mind. He could almost hear the sound of the baseball hitting the bat, the feel of the piano keys beneath his fingers. And then, he remembered Y/N.

He thought he would find her here, that she might still be in this place, still waiting to see him, just like he had always imagined.

With each step, his heart beat faster, hope rising in his chest. Maybe she was still living in the same neighborhood, or perhaps she had stayed in touch with some of their old friends.

But when he asked around, no one seemed to know where she was.

“I think she moved a while ago,” one of his old classmates said when Jihoon mentioned Y/N. “She went to college in Seoul, and after that, I’m not sure.”

Jihoon’s heart sank. He had hoped, even just for a moment, that he would find her here, in the place where it all started. He wandered around the familiar streets, searching for any trace of her.

But there was nothing.

The next day, Jihoon stood in front of the old piano at his middle school, his fingers lightly brushing the keys. The room was empty now, no longer the sanctuary it once was. It felt so different without Y/N’s presence, without her laughter echoing through the space.

“I thought I would find you here,” Jihoon whispered to no one in particular, his voice lost in the quiet of the room.

He closed his eyes, thinking back to those days when everything was simpler, when Y/N had been the one person who had made him feel like he wasn’t alone in the world.

He never expected fame to come so quickly, or for it to be so isolating. But as he stood in that quiet music room, Jihoon realized something: No matter how much time passed, no matter how many accomplishments he achieved, there was one thing he could never replace.

The feeling of being understood.

The warmth of her presence.

He missed her more than he had ever realized.

The following days were a blur. Jihoon returned to Seoul, unable to shake the emptiness that lingered in his chest. He threw himself into his work, but it was harder than ever to focus. His thoughts kept drifting back to the girl he had left behind—the girl who had believed in him before anyone else had.

He wondered if she still thought about him.

Did she remember their pinky promise?

The thought that maybe she had forgotten him haunted him, but he couldn’t let go of the hope that their paths might cross again one day.

Months later, Jihoon was at a variety show, doing an interview with his members. They were talking about their past, their training days, and their dreams. When it came time for Jihoon to answer a question, the host asked, “Jihoon, you’ve come a long way from your hometown. Is there anyone there you still keep in touch with?”

Jihoon paused, the question catching him off guard. He hadn’t really talked about Y/N in years. His throat tightened as he thought about her.

“I… I had a friend,” he began, his voice soft. “She was someone who really believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. She was always there, even when I didn’t realize it.”

The other members looked at him curiously, but Jihoon didn’t continue. He didn’t need to explain everything. His mind had already drifted back to that quiet music room, the park, the baseball field—every place where Y/N had once been.

He smiled, even though there was a bittersweet ache in his chest. He might not have found her in his hometown, but he knew that no matter where she was now, she would always be a part of who he had become.

Months had passed the group’s schedule was packed, but one evening, Jihoon’s mind was still on the past as he attended a musical performance with Hoshi.

It had been an impromptu decision—Hoshi had mentioned wanting to go see a musical, and Jihoon, needing a break from his usual routine, agreed to tag along. It wasn’t something he had planned on, but he thought a night out might give him a chance to clear his mind.

The theater was elegant, the grand chandelier casting soft light over the crowded room as they found their seats. Jihoon’s thoughts wandered during the first act, but something shifted when the curtain rose for the second.

On stage, bathed in a spotlight, sat a familiar figure—her fingers dancing over the keys of a grand piano. It was a moment of pure magic, the soft music filling the room and touching something deep within Jihoon’s heart. He blinked, certain that his mind was playing tricks on him.

But when she turned slightly, her face illuminated by the stage lights, Jihoon’s heart skipped a beat.

It was Y/N.

He sat there, frozen, his breath catching in his chest. She was performing, and she was incredible. Her fingers moved with such grace, every note she played perfectly in sync with the orchestra behind her. It was clear she had been practicing, honing her skill all these years.

Hoshi nudged him with a grin. “Jihoon, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Jihoon barely heard him. His eyes were locked on Y/N, who was lost in her music, oblivious to the audience. The whole room seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of the piano and the girl he had once known.

After the performance, Jihoon couldn’t sit still. He had to see her, talk to her, just to know that she was real, that she was still out there, living her dream.

As the crowd began to disperse, Jihoon and Hoshi made their way backstage, where they were told to wait for the performers. Jihoon paced nervously, unsure of what to say. What if Y/N had changed? What if she didn’t remember him?

But when the door opened and Y/N stepped into view, her face lit up with recognition.

“Jihoon?” she asked, her voice soft but filled with disbelief.

Jihoon’s heart thudded in his chest. “Noona… it’s really you.”

Y/N’s eyes searched his face, a small smile slowly forming as she took a step closer. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Jihoon. I thought you were busy with… well, everything you’ve been doing.”

“I… I didn’t expect to see you either,” Jihoon admitted, his voice shaky. “I had no idea you were a pianist in a musical now.”

Y/N laughed, the sound so familiar that it felt like a weight lifting off Jihoon’s shoulders. “I’ve been busy too, you know? After college, I decided to pursue music full-time. This is where I ended up.”

Jihoon smiled, his heart swelling with pride. “You’re amazing, noona. I didn’t know you were this talented.”

Her cheeks flushed a little, and she looked away modestly. “Thanks, Jihoon. But what about you? Look at you now. I saw your performance on TV. You’re incredible. You’ve really made it.”

Jihoon shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond to her praise. “I guess so. But I’ve been thinking about you a lot. About… us.”

Y/N’s smile faded a little as she looked up at him, her expression unreadable. “Jihoon…”

He swallowed, nervous. “I went back to our hometown a while ago, hoping to find you. I kept asking around, but… no one knew where you were. I thought maybe you had moved on, or that I had forgotten you…”

Y/N shook her head, her hand gently reaching for his. “I never forgot you, Jihoon. I always wondered what happened to you. But I guess I just thought you were too busy to even remember me.”

Jihoon’s chest tightened at her words. “Noona, I never forgot you. I could never forget you.”

There was a long pause as they both stood there, the years of silence between them suddenly feeling very heavy. But as Jihoon looked into her eyes, he realized that despite everything that had changed, some things remained the same. The bond they shared, the connection they had, it was still there, still burning bright beneath the surface.

“I was hoping… maybe we could catch up?" Jihoon said.

Y/N smiled warmly, her eyes lighting up. “I’d like that. I’ve missed you, Jihoon.”

Jihoon’s heart raced as he nodded. “I’ve missed you too, noona.”

Over the next few weeks, Jihoon and Y/N reconnected. They spent time reminiscing about their school days, about the late-night talks, the shared dreams, and the small moments that had meant so much.

Y/N told Jihoon about her journey into music, about how she had struggled and worked her way up to become a pianist in the musical. Jihoon shared his own story, about the hardships of being a trainee, the sacrifices he had made, and the loneliness that often came with fame.

Through it all, they never once lost the connection they had.

One evening, after another performance, Jihoon walked Y/N back to her apartment. As they stood outside the door, Jihoon hesitated before speaking.

“Noona…” he began, his voice tentative.

Y/N looked at him, her gaze soft. “What is it, Jihoon?”

“I don’t know what the future holds, but I know this—” He took a deep breath, his heart racing. “I want you to be a part of it. I don’t want to lose you again.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, her heart fluttering in her chest. She smiled, her hand gently resting on his. “You won’t lose me, Jihoon.”

Weeks passed since Jihoon and Y/N reconnected. Their lives had been different since their youth, but some things never changed—the way they talked for hours without getting bored, the way they understood each other without needing to say much. The connection they once shared had only grown stronger, and now that they were both pursuing their dreams, it felt like fate had brought them back together.

One day, Jihoon invited Y/N to visit his studio. It had been a while since they had spent time in private, just the two of them.

Y/N arrived in the afternoon, and as soon as she stepped into the studio, she was greeted by the familiar hum of creativity. There were soundboards, microphones, and instruments everywhere. She could smell the faint scent of coffee in the air and the sound of a few tracks playing softly in the background.

“Wow,” she whispered, looking around in awe. “This is incredible.”

Jihoon grinned, proud of the space he had helped create. “It’s not much, but it’s home. For now, anyway.”

Y/N laughed, sitting down on the leather couch against the wall. “This is amazing, Jihoon. I can see how hard you’ve worked to get here.”

Jihoon sat beside her, his gaze thoughtful. “It’s a lot more work than I ever expected. Some days, it’s easy to forget what I’m even working for.”

Y/N looked at him, her expression soft and understanding. “I get it. It’s hard when your dream becomes your reality, and it feels like you’re just moving from one task to the next. But I know you’re doing this because you love it. I can see that in every note you play, every song you write.”

Jihoon looked at her, the sincerity in her voice touching him more than words could express. “Thanks, noona.”

After a while, Y/N stood up and walked toward the grand piano in the corner of the room. Jihoon had made sure it was a perfect space for creativity, and now, it seemed like the right moment for her to play.

“Do you mind if I play for a bit?” Y/N asked, her voice soft as she approached the piano.

Jihoon shook his head, a smile on his face. “Of course not. This is your space too.”

Y/N sat down at the piano, her fingers hovering over the keys before she began to play a soft, intricate melody. The music filled the room, and Jihoon stood, mesmerized by the way her hands moved across the keys with effortless grace.

The piece she played was familiar to him, one she had often played back when they were younger. He smiled as the sound brought back so many memories—the late nights at their school, playing together and dreaming of the future.

“This one,” Jihoon murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I remember this.”

Y/N smiled as she finished the piece, her fingers slowly coming to a stop. “You always loved this one. We played it together when we were younger.”

Jihoon nodded, his heart full as he sat beside her. “It feels like no time has passed. Your playing... it’s like you never stopped.”

Y/N’s smile softened, a touch of sadness in her eyes. “I didn’t stop. I just... took a different path. But music is still with me. It always will be.”

Jihoon’s gaze lingered on her, the quiet weight of their shared history filling the space. “I’ve missed hearing you play.”

Y/N chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve missed playing for someone who understands.”

They sat together for a while, talking about the past and sharing their experiences. Y/N told Jihoon about her journey, the challenges of becoming a professional pianist in a competitive world, and how she had found herself in the world of musicals. Jihoon shared his own story, about the years of hard work and struggles as a trainee, the sacrifices he had made to make it this far, and the loneliness that often came with being in the spotlight.

Later, Jihoon decided to show Y/N some of his work. “Do you want to hear some of my recent songs?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Of course. I’d love to.”

Jihoon sat at the piano, playing the melody of one of the songs he’d written. Y/N listened intently, her fingers tapping the rhythm against her knee.

“You’re really good at this, Jihoon,” Y/N said after the song ended. “You’ve come a long way since we were kids.”

Jihoon smiled, though his thoughts were a bit more complicated. “You were always my inspiration, noona. I don’t think I’d be here if it weren’t for you.”

Y/N’s smile faltered slightly, but she didn’t say anything right away. Instead, she leaned back and looked at Jihoon thoughtfully. “I’m proud of you, Jihoon. You’ve made it, even when things got tough. I’m happy we reconnected. I’ve always wanted the best for you.”

Jihoon’s chest tightened at her words, and he looked at her, his gaze soft. “I’m glad we found each other again.”

The evening eventually came to an end, and Y/N stood to leave, the night air cooling as she prepared to go back to her own busy life.

“Thanks for coming today, noona,” Jihoon said quietly.

Y/N smiled warmly. “Anytime. I’ll always be here when you need me, Jihoon. I’m proud of you, you know?”

Jihoon smiled back, though his heart felt a little heavy. “I’m proud of you too, noona. I’ve missed you.”

As Y/N stepped out into the night, Jihoon stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching her disappear into the distance. He felt a sense of peace settle over him. They were both walking their own paths now, but they had found each other again. And that was all that mattered.

Jihoon couldn’t shake the feeling that their reconnection was only the beginning of something more. Days turned into weeks, and although both of their schedules were packed, they made an effort to keep in touch. Texts, late-night calls, and the occasional lunch break together kept their bond alive.

One afternoon, Jihoon found himself scrolling through his phone, looking at the messages he’d exchanged with Y/N. Her encouragement lingered in his mind, and he realized he hadn’t seen her perform since the day they met again at the musical show.

He texted her on impulse:

Jihoon:

Noona, when’s your next performance?

It didn’t take long for a reply to come through.

Y/N:

This Saturday. It’s a small recital for a local charity event. Why?

Jihoon:

Can I come?

Her response came after a pause, but it was filled with warmth:

Y/N:

Of course. I’d love for you to be there.

Saturday evening, Jihoon arrived at the venue, a cozy yet elegant hall filled with an intimate crowd. He wore a mask and cap to avoid drawing attention, but even so, a few fans recognized him and whispered excitedly. He slipped into a seat near the back, his heart racing slightly as he waited for Y/N to take the stage.

When she finally appeared, Jihoon felt his breath catch. She looked calm and radiant, her confidence shining through as she walked to the grand piano at center stage. She bowed to the audience before sitting down, her fingers poised over the keys.

The music began softly, a gentle, melancholic melody that filled the room. Jihoon could see her expression as she played, completely absorbed in the moment. Her emotions poured into each note, and he couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of admiration for her.

As the final chord echoed through the hall, the audience erupted in applause. Jihoon clapped as well, his hands stinging from the force. He was proud—prouder than words could express.

Jihoon waited for the crowd to disperse before heading backstage. He found Y/N chatting with a few other performers, her smile warm and genuine as she thanked them for their kind words.

When her eyes met Jihoon’s, her face lit up. “Jihoon!”

She excused herself and walked over to him. “You came.”

“Of course,” Jihoon said, his voice soft. “You were amazing, noona. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Y/N laughed, a hint of embarrassment in her expression. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”

Jihoon hesitated for a moment before pulling out a small bouquet of flowers he had been hiding behind his back. “These are for you. You deserve it.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Jihoon, you didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” he interrupted, his voice firm but kind. “You’ve always supported me. It’s my turn now.”

Y/N took the bouquet, her fingers brushing against his. “Thank you,” she said softly. “This really means a lot.”

The following week, Y/N visited Jihoon’s studio again, this time bringing her own sheet music.

“I thought we could try something new,” she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’ve been working on this piece, and I’d love your input.”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You want me to help?”

“You’re a genius when it comes to music,” Y/N replied, her tone playful. “Who better to collaborate with?”

They spent hours in the studio, blending her piano compositions with Jihoon’s production expertise. The room buzzed with creative energy as they worked together, bouncing ideas off each other and experimenting with different sounds.

At one point, Jihoon paused and looked at her. “This feels like old times, doesn’t it?”

Y/N smiled, her hands resting on the piano keys. “It does. I never thought we’d get to do this again.”

Jihoon nodded, his gaze softening. “I’m glad we found our way back to this. Back to each other.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she looked down, her voice barely above a whisper. “Me too.”

As the evening turned into night, Y/N prepared to leave, but before she could step out the door, Jihoon stopped her.

“Noona,” he said, his voice hesitant but determined.

She turned to face him, curiosity in her eyes. “Yes?”

“I know we’ve both been busy, and our lives are complicated, but…” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to lose touch with you again. Not ever.”

Y/N’s expression softened, and she stepped closer. “You won’t, Jihoon. I promise.”

He smiled, a sense of relief washing over him. “Good. Because having you here, in my life, it feels right.”

Y/N looked at him, her own emotions reflected in her gaze. “It feels right for me too.”

As they stood there, the silence between them spoke louder than words. Their journey had come full circle, and though they didn’t know what the future held, they knew they would face it together.

Hoshi couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. The moment he learned about Jihoon and Y/N reconnecting, he shared the news with the other Seventeen members. The group was thrilled, especially after hearing countless stories about Y/N from Jihoon during their trainee days.

“Wait, is this the Y/N noona?” Seungkwan asked, his eyes wide.

“The one he couldn’t stop talking about?” Vernon added, smirking.

Joshua leaned in, his curiosity piqued. “Jihoon, why didn’t you tell us you met her again?”

Jihoon groaned, sinking into the couch in their dorm. “Because it’s none of your business.”

Hoshi clapped Jihoon on the back, grinning from ear to ear. “Come on, hyung, don’t be like that! We’re practically family. If she’s important to you, she’s important to us.”

Mingyu chimed in, “We have to meet her. No excuses.”

“No,” Jihoon said firmly, shaking his head. “She’s not ready for that kind of chaos.”

“Too bad,” Jeonghan said with a sly smile. “We’re making it happen.”

Jihoon had barely stepped into the studio the next day when he got a text from Hoshi:

Hoshi:

We’re on our way. Don’t freak out.

Jihoon’s heart sank. He immediately called Hoshi, but the call went unanswered. Moments later, a knock sounded at the studio door. Jihoon sighed, bracing himself as he opened it.

Hoshi stood there, grinning, with Y/N by his side. Behind them, half the members were peeking around the corner, trying to stay hidden but failing miserably.

“Hoshi…” Jihoon started, glaring at his friend.

“Surprise!” Hoshi said, pushing the door open wider. “Y/N noona, meet the family!”

Y/N laughed nervously, looking at Jihoon. “I guess I didn’t have a choice in this, huh?”

Jihoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No, you didn’t. I didn’t either.”

Once inside, the introductions began. Y/N was polite and warm, but Jihoon couldn’t help but notice her slight nervousness as she met each member.

“Hi, I’m Seungkwan,” Seungkwan said, bowing dramatically. “I’ve heard so much about you. Jihoon hyung used to talk about you all the time.”

“Did not,” Jihoon muttered, earning chuckles from the group.

“Yes, you did!” Hoshi said, grinning. “You told us about how she used to cheer for you at baseball games and play piano for you when you were stressed.”

Y/N smiled at Jihoon. “You talked about me?”

Jihoon’s ears turned red, and he avoided her gaze. “It’s not like that. They’re exaggerating.”

Mingyu stepped forward, towering over both Jihoon and Y/N. “I’m Mingyu. It’s nice to finally meet you. We’ve all been curious about the legendary Y/N noona.”

“Legendary?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow.

Joshua chuckled. “In Jihoon’s words, you were his first inspiration.”

Jihoon groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Can we not do this right now?”

Y/N laughed softly, her nervousness easing as she saw Jihoon’s flustered reaction. “It’s okay, Jihoon. I’m flattered.”

The members quickly made themselves comfortable, and before long, the studio was filled with laughter and conversation. Y/N shared stories from her past with Jihoon, which the members eagerly soaked up.

“Wait, you were there for Jihoon’s first baseball game?” Dino asked, leaning forward with interest.

Y/N nodded. “I was. He struck out the first time he played, but by the end of the game, he hit a home run. I’ve never seen him look so proud.”

Jihoon sighed, his face flushed. “Can we not talk about that?”

“Why not?” Jeonghan teased. “It’s a great story!”

As the evening wore on, Y/N found herself growing more comfortable around the members. They were warm, funny, and clearly cared deeply for Jihoon. It made her happy to see him surrounded by people who supported him so wholeheartedly.

When the members finally decided to leave, Hoshi turned to Y/N with a mischievous grin. “Noona, you’re part of the family now. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Y/N laughed. “I’ll try not to be.”

After everyone left, the studio felt quieter, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Y/N and Jihoon sat together, the energy from earlier still lingering in the air.

“Sorry about them,” Jihoon said, rubbing the back of his neck. “They’re a bit much.”

“They’re wonderful,” Y/N replied, her voice soft. “It’s clear they care about you a lot. You’re lucky to have them.”

Jihoon looked at her, his gaze thoughtful. “Yeah, I am. But... I’m luckier to have you back in my life.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed at his words, and she smiled. “I’m lucky too, Jihoon.”

They sat in silence for a while, the unspoken bond between them stronger than ever. Jihoon knew that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, he wouldn’t face them alone.

The weeks after Y/N’s first meeting with the Seventeen members were filled with an easy rhythm of shared time. Jihoon and Y/N grew closer, finding moments between their busy schedules to meet. She was even starting to get used to the members’ playful teasing whenever she visited their dorm or joined them at the studio.

One afternoon, Jihoon invited Y/N to his studio again, but this time, the space was quieter—just the two of them.

“Thanks for making time to come today, noona,” Jihoon said, setting down two cups of coffee on the small table.

Y/N smiled, brushing her fingers lightly over the keys of the studio’s piano. “Of course. You’ve been so busy lately, I thought you might’ve forgotten about me.”

Jihoon sat across from her, his expression earnest. “Never. I just... needed to find the right moment. There’s something I’ve been working on, and I want you to hear it.”

Jihoon walked over to his computer, pulling up a file on his production software. He hesitated for a moment before pressing play.

The room filled with a soft piano melody, layered with strings and gentle percussion. It was a piece unlike anything Y/N had heard from him before—introspective and filled with emotion. As the music played, Y/N felt the weight of each note, as if it was telling a story only Jihoon could share.

When the song ended, Y/N turned to Jihoon, her eyes wide. “Jihoon, that was... beautiful. It felt so personal.”

Jihoon nodded, his gaze fixed on the screen. “It is. I wrote it for someone who means a lot to me.”

Y/N tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her expression. “Who?”

Jihoon turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers. “You.”

Y/N’s breath caught, and for a moment, the room felt still. “Me?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jihoon nodded, his expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. “You’ve been such an important part of my life, even when we weren’t in touch. I never stopped thinking about you, noona. Writing this was my way of expressing everything I couldn’t say before.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart full as she absorbed his words. “Jihoon... I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jihoon said quickly, his cheeks flushing. “I just wanted you to know.”

Y/N smiled, reaching out to place a hand on his. “Thank you. It’s beautiful. And... it means more to me than I can put into words.”

Not long after, Y/N found herself visiting Seventeen’s dorm again, this time at Jihoon’s invitation. The members were ecstatic to see her, greeting her with the same enthusiasm as before.

“Noona!” Hoshi exclaimed, practically bounding toward her. “You’re back!”

“You’re braver than I thought,” Jeonghan teased, smirking. “Coming here willingly.”

Y/N laughed, the warmth of their welcome making her feel at ease. “I couldn’t say no. Jihoon insisted.”

“Hyung, insisting? That’s a first,” Dino joked, earning a playful glare from Jihoon.

As the evening went on, the members bombarded Y/N with questions.

“Did you know Jihoon was this grumpy when he was younger?” Mingyu asked, leaning forward eagerly.

“Was he always this short?” Seungkwan added, causing an uproar of laughter.

Y/N chuckled, glancing at Jihoon, who was now sitting with his arms crossed, clearly unimpressed. “He wasn’t grumpy. He was focused. And for the record, he was taller than most kids his age back then.”

“Thank you,” Jihoon muttered, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement.

“But,” Y/N added, smirking, “he’s always had that little frown when he’s annoyed. It’s adorable.”

The room erupted in laughter, and Jihoon groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “Why did I even invite you here?”

As the night wound down, Y/N and Jihoon found themselves alone in the kitchen while the rest of the members watched a movie in the living room.

“Did they overwhelm you?” Jihoon asked, handing her a glass of water.

Y/N smiled, leaning against the counter. “Not at all. They’re wonderful, Jihoon. It’s clear how much they care about you.”

Jihoon looked at her, his gaze soft. “They’re like my second family. But... having you here feels different. It feels right.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed at his words, and she looked down at her glass. “I feel the same way.”

Jihoon hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. “Noona, I know we’re both busy, and I know our lives aren’t simple, but... I want us to figure this out. I want you to be a part of my life, not just as my past, but as my present and future too.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “Are you sure, Jihoon? This isn’t going to be easy.”

“I’m sure,” Jihoon said, his voice steady. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

A small smile spread across Y/N’s lips, and she nodded. “Okay. Let’s figure it out together.”

Jihoon’s heart swelled at her words, and for the first time in a long time, he felt a sense of peace.

It was late in the evening when Jihoon and Y/N found themselves in his studio again. The familiar hum of equipment and the soft glow of the computer screen filled the room. Jihoon had invited her over under the pretense of showing her a new song, but as she sat across from him, engrossed in the notes spread on the piano, his heart raced.

“Noona,” Jihoon said, his voice quieter than usual.

Y/N looked up, tilting her head. “What’s wrong, Jihoon?”

He hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with a pen. “There’s something I need to say. Something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while.”

Y/N’s expression softened, and she set down the sheet music. “You know you can tell me anything.”

Jihoon took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “I’ve liked you for a long time. Since we were kids, actually. Back then, I didn’t understand it, but now I do. You’ve always been someone special to me, noona.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. “Jihoon…”

“I know our lives are complicated,” Jihoon continued, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart. “But I couldn’t keep this to myself anymore. I like you—not as a childhood friend, but as someone I want to be with.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the equipment. Then, Y/N stood and walked over to him.

“Jihoon,” she said softly, her voice trembling just slightly. “I’ve always cared about you, too. And honestly, I’ve been scared to admit it. But... I like you too.”

Jihoon’s eyes widened, and before he could process her words, she leaned down and kissed him. It was soft and tentative, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

When they pulled away, Jihoon’s cheeks were flushed, but he couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips.

“Does this mean you’ll give us a chance?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded, her own smile mirroring his. “Yes, Jihoon. I will.”

It didn’t take long for the news to spread, thanks to Hoshi’s impeccable talent for eavesdropping.

The next morning, Jihoon walked into the dorm’s common room to find all twelve members waiting for him, their faces a mix of curiosity and mischief.

“Hyung!” Seungkwan exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You kissed her, didn’t you?”

Jihoon froze mid-step, his ears turning red. “How... How do you know that?”

“Hoshi hyung told us,” Vernon said nonchalantly, smirking.

Jihoon turned to Hoshi, who was grinning from ear to ear. “You couldn’t keep it to yourself, could you?”

“I have no regrets,” Hoshi said, laughing. “This is the best thing to happen in months!”

Jeonghan leaned back on the couch, a sly smile on his face. “So, Jihoon, when are you bringing her over again? We need to congratulate her for putting up with you.”

“Yah!” Jihoon snapped, his embarrassment reaching new heights. “Can you all not make this a big deal?”

“It is a big deal,” Mingyu chimed in. “Our stoic producer hyung has a love life! This is historic.”

Joshua patted Jihoon’s shoulder, his tone more sincere. “We’re happy for you, Jihoon. Really. You deserve this.”

Jihoon sighed, his initial annoyance fading. Despite their teasing, he could see the genuine happiness in their expressions. “Thanks, I guess. But can you all promise not to scare her off the next time she visits?”

“No promises,” Dino said, grinning.

As the members burst into laughter, Jihoon couldn’t help but smile. Their antics might drive him crazy, but deep down, he was grateful to have them by his side.

A week later, Jihoon invited Y/N to the dorm for dinner. Despite his warnings, the members were already on high alert, eager to see her again and, more importantly, to tease Jihoon mercilessly.

“Do you think they’ve kissed again?” Seungkwan whispered loudly as they set the table.

“I bet they have,” Mingyu said with a smirk.

“Ten bucks says Jihoon will get flustered if we even hint at it,” Vernon added, leaning against the counter.

“Guys, focus,” Jeonghan said, though his mischievous grin betrayed his intent. “We need to play this smart.”

Meanwhile, Jihoon and Y/N arrived at the dorm. Jihoon gave her a reassuring look as he opened the door.

“Don’t let them intimidate you,” Jihoon said softly.

Y/N laughed. “I think I can handle it.”

The evening started off relatively tame. The members greeted Y/N warmly, though their excitement was palpable. Over dinner, they chatted about everything from music to childhood stories, most of which involved Jihoon.

“Did you know Jihoon hyung used to eat instant noodles for every meal during trainee days?” Dino said, grinning.

Y/N raised an eyebrow at Jihoon. “Really?”

Jihoon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why do you all insist on embarrassing me?”

“It’s our duty,” Hoshi said, laughing.

As the meal continued, the members kept sneaking glances at Jihoon and Y/N, exchanging knowing looks whenever the two shared a private smile or laugh.

After dinner, Y/N and Jihoon retreated to the balcony for a moment of peace. The evening air was cool, and the city lights twinkled in the distance.

“This is nice,” Y/N said, leaning on the railing.

Jihoon nodded, standing close beside her. “Yeah, it is.”

He hesitated for a moment before leaning in to kiss her. It was soft and brief, but before they could pull away, the sound of stifled laughter made them freeze.

They turned to find half the members huddled at the door, their faces pressed against the glass.

“Oh my gosh!” Seungkwan exclaimed, throwing the door open. “We caught them!”

Jihoon groaned, stepping back from Y/N. “Do you guys have no boundaries?”

“Nope,” Mingyu said, grinning. “This is way too entertaining.”

“You guys looked like a scene from a drama,” Jeonghan added, dramatically clasping his hands over his chest.

“Hyung,” Dino said, pretending to wipe a tear. “You’re growing up so fast.”

“Leave us alone,” Jihoon muttered, his face bright red.

Back inside, the members didn’t let up.

“So, Jihoon,” Joshua said with a sly smile, “how long have you been sneaking kisses behind our backs?”

“Yeah,” Hoshi chimed in. “And why didn’t you tell us? We’re supposed to be your brothers!”

Jihoon crossed his arms, glaring at them. “Because it’s none of your business.”

“Hyung, come on,” Seungkwan said. “You’ve got to give us something. Were you always this romantic, or is this new?”

“I’m not romantic,” Jihoon snapped, his embarrassment only fueling their teasing.

Y/N, meanwhile, couldn’t stop laughing. “You guys really don’t let up, do you?”

“Not when it comes to Jihoon hyung,” Vernon said, smirking.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Jihoon said, standing up. “If you’re all going to act like children, Y/N and I are leaving.”

“No!” Dino said, grabbing Y/N’s hand dramatically. “Noona, don’t go! We promise to behave!”

Y/N smiled, patting his hand. “I think I’ll be back soon enough. But for now, I should probably let Jihoon calm down.”

As Jihoon walked Y/N to the door, he sighed. “Sorry about them. They’re impossible.”

Y/N smiled, slipping her hand into his. “Don’t apologize. They’re wonderful. I’m glad you have them.”

Jihoon looked at her, his expression softening. “Still, I’ll make sure they behave next time.”

“Next time?” Y/N teased.

Jihoon smiled. “Yeah. Next time.”

As she left, Jihoon returned to the living room, where the members were waiting with smug grins.

“Don’t say a word,” Jihoon warned, though his expression held a hint of a smile.

The members burst into laughter, their teasing filling the room once more.

A week after the chaos of dinner at the dorm, Y/N visited Jihoon at the studio again. This time, the atmosphere was quiet and calm—just the two of them. Jihoon had asked her to help him with a melody he was struggling to finish, knowing her insight as a pianist would be invaluable.

“You know,” Y/N said, sitting at the piano in the corner, “I never thought I’d be working on music with you like this. It feels... surreal.”

Jihoon leaned against the desk, a small smile on his face. “I’ve always wanted to share this part of my life with you, noona. It just took me a while to get here.”

Y/N looked at him, her eyes warm. “I’m glad you did.”

As she played a soft tune on the piano, Jihoon watched her intently. Her presence in the studio felt natural, like she belonged there.

Just as they were starting to settle into the work, the studio door burst open, and Seungkwan, Mingyu, and Hoshi walked in with bright smiles.

“Hyung, we brought food—” Seungkwan started, but then froze when he saw Y/N. His grin widened. “Oh, noona’s here!”

Jihoon groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Why are you guys here?”

“We thought you’d be lonely,” Mingyu said, setting a bag of takeout on the desk. “But clearly, you’re not.”

Hoshi smirked, nudging Jihoon playfully. “We didn’t know you’d have such nice company.”

Y/N laughed, standing up to greet them. “It’s nice to see you all again.”

“You too, noona,” Hoshi said, then turned to Jihoon. “Were you two working or—?”

“We were working,” Jihoon cut in, glaring at him.

“Sure you were,” Seungkwan teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

As the afternoon went on, the members insisted on staying, claiming they wanted to “supervise” Jihoon’s work. They lounged around, occasionally offering unsolicited opinions on the music and cracking jokes at Jihoon’s expense.

At one point, Jihoon leaned over to show Y/N something on the piano. She laughed at a joke he made, and instinctively, Jihoon reached out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

The moment was subtle, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Oh my gosh, did you see that?” Seungkwan whispered loudly to Mingyu.

“Totally,” Mingyu whispered back, though his voice was anything but quiet.

“Hyung, stop being so romantic in front of us!” Hoshi exclaimed, dramatically shielding his eyes.

Jihoon sighed, straightening up. “Do you guys ever stop?”

“Nope,” Seungkwan said, grinning. “This is our entertainment.”

Later, when the members finally started packing up to leave, Jihoon walked Y/N to the door. Thinking they were finally alone, Jihoon leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead.

“Thanks for coming, noona,” he said softly.

Y/N smiled, her cheeks flushing. “Anytime.”

But before they could step apart, a loud gasp came from behind them.

“You’re doing it again!” Hoshi shouted, pointing at them.

The rest of the members rushed over, their expressions a mix of shock and glee.

“Hyung! In the studio?!” Mingyu said, feigning scandal.

“I can’t believe this,” Seungkwan said, clutching his chest dramatically. “Right in front of our takeout bag!”

Jihoon groaned, his ears turning red. “Can you all leave already?”

“No way,” Jeonghan said, grinning. “This is gold. Noona, you’ve really softened our Jihoon.”

Y/N laughed, covering her face with her hands. “You guys are impossible.”

“And you still like him?” Vernon teased.

“Don’t scare her off,” Jihoon muttered, shoving Hoshi lightly toward the door.

When the members finally left, Jihoon sighed in relief, turning back to Y/N. “I’m sorry about them.”

Y/N smiled, stepping closer to him. “Don’t be. I think it’s sweet how much they care about you.”

Jihoon softened, his usual stoic expression giving way to a small, genuine smile. “They’re lucky you think that. Otherwise, I’d never hear the end of it.”

Y/N laughed, wrapping her arms around him briefly. “I’ll see you soon, Jihoon. And next time, I’ll bring snacks for everyone.”

Jihoon watched her leave, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. Despite the chaos, he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

As more fans became aware of Jihoon and Y/N’s relationship, the reactions grew increasingly varied. While many Carats supported Jihoon’s happiness, there were vocal detractors who scrutinized Y/N’s every move.

One evening, Y/N scrolled through social media, coming across both kind messages and a few harsh comments.

“Why her?”

“She’s not even that famous.”

“He seems happier, so I guess it’s okay.”

Though the positive comments outweighed the negative, Y/N couldn’t help but feel the sting of criticism. She closed her phone and leaned back, staring at the ceiling of her apartment.

Jihoon, sensing her mood during their usual phone call, asked, “Noona, is something wrong?”

Y/N hesitated before admitting, “Some of the comments... they’re a bit much.”

Jihoon’s voice softened. “I’m sorry, noona. I wish I could shield you from all of this.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Y/N said quickly. “I just… I don’t want to make things harder for you.”

“You could never do that,” Jihoon said firmly. “If anything, you make things better. Don’t ever doubt that, okay?”

Her heart warmed at his words. “Okay, Jihoon.”

The members, true to their word, found ways to show their support for Jihoon and Y/N. During live broadcasts, Seungkwan and Mingyu casually mentioned how “nice” it was to see Jihoon smiling more often.

Hoshi, on the other hand, was less subtle. In a recent behind-the-scenes video, he joked, “Jihoon-hyung has someone special cheering him on these days. It’s no wonder his melodies are even sweeter!”

Carats quickly picked up on these moments, and the majority of fans began rallying around the idea of Jihoon’s happiness being their priority.

To escape the pressures of public scrutiny, Jihoon planned a quiet getaway for himself and Y/N. They drove to a small countryside village near their hometown, where they could relax without worrying about being recognized.

The day was filled with simple joys—walking along quiet paths, visiting small cafes, and sitting by a riverbank as Y/N played a soft tune on her piano app.

“You really love the piano, don’t you?” Jihoon asked, watching her.

“It’s always been a part of me,” Y/N said. “Kind of like how music is for you.”

Jihoon nodded, leaning back on his elbows. “You’re part of my music now, noona. You inspire me.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed. “Stop saying things like that, Jihoon. You’ll make me cry.”

Jihoon chuckled, reaching out to hold her hand. “It’s the truth.”

As time passed, Y/N and Jihoon decided to make their relationship more public. They attended a charity event together, where Y/N performed as the opening act, playing a stunning piano solo.

Jihoon watched her from the sidelines, his heart swelling with pride. When she finished, the audience erupted into applause, and Jihoon was among the loudest to cheer.

Afterward, a few fans approached them cautiously.

“Jihoon oppa, Y/N unnie is amazing!” one fan said shyly.

“Thank you,” Jihoon said, smiling warmly. “She really is.”

Y/N, though initially nervous, found herself relaxing as fans expressed their support.

“We just want you to be happy,” another fan said.

Y/N glanced at Jihoon, her heart swelling with gratitude. “Thank you. That means so much to both of us.”

Back in the studio, Y/N became a frequent visitor. Though she usually stayed in the background, Jihoon would often ask for her input on melodies or lyrics.

One day, while working on a particularly emotional ballad, Jihoon turned to Y/N. “This song... it’s about us.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Really?”

Jihoon nodded. “It’s about finding someone who feels like home. That’s what you are to me, noona.”

Y/N smiled, tears brimming in her eyes. “You have no idea how much that means to me, Jihoon.”

During one of her visits to the studio, Y/N stayed late as Jihoon finished mixing a track. When he finally leaned back in his chair, exhausted but satisfied, Y/N walked over to congratulate him.

“You’ve worked so hard,” she said, brushing his hair back.

Jihoon smiled, pulling her into a gentle kiss.

Just as they pulled away, the studio door burst open, and Seungkwan, Hoshi, and Mingyu stood there, frozen in shock.

“AGAIN?!” Seungkwan exclaimed.

Jihoon groaned, his hand covering his face. “Can you guys knock?”

“No way,” Hoshi said, laughing. “This is too good.”

“I’m telling the others,” Mingyu said, pulling out his phone.

“Don’t you dare,” Jihoon said, standing up to chase him.

Y/N, meanwhile, couldn’t stop laughing. “You’ll never get a moment of peace, will you?”

Jihoon sighed but smiled, wrapping an arm around her. “Probably not. But as long as you I don't mind"

As their first anniversary approached, Jihoon found himself brainstorming ways to make it unforgettable. He wanted to show Y/N just how much she meant to him.

“Hyung,” Mingyu said one evening as Jihoon sat in the dorm’s living room, jotting down ideas. “You’re stressing out too much. It’s an anniversary, not a world tour.”

“It’s not just an anniversary,” Jihoon replied, frowning at his notebook. “It’s the anniversary. I want it to be perfect.”

Seungkwan, who was lounging nearby, chimed in. “Just be yourself, hyung. Noona already loves you. You don’t need fireworks—although, if you want fireworks, I know a guy.”

Jihoon sighed. “I’ll figure it out.”

Little did Jihoon know, Y/N was also planning something special. She knew how much music meant to him, so she composed a short piano piece inspired by their journey together. It was her way of expressing everything she felt but couldn’t always put into words.

On the day of their anniversary, Y/N arrived at Jihoon’s studio carrying a small gift bag and a folder of sheet music. She was nervous but excited.

“Happy anniversary, Jihoon,” she said, smiling as she handed him the bag.

Jihoon opened it to find a simple but elegant bracelet engraved with the words: You’re my melody.

“Noona,” Jihoon said, his voice soft. “This is perfect.”

“There’s more,” Y/N said, her cheeks flushing. She handed him the folder. “I wrote this for you.”

Jihoon stared at the sheet music, his eyes scanning the notes. “You wrote a song?”

Y/N nodded. “It’s not much, but—”

“It’s everything,” Jihoon interrupted, his voice filled with awe. “Thank you, noona.”

Later that evening, Jihoon took Y/N to a small, private restaurant he had rented out just for them. The room was decorated with fairy lights and candles, creating a warm, romantic atmosphere.

“This is amazing,” Y/N said, looking around in awe.

“It’s not much,” Jihoon said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I wanted you to feel special.”

Y/N smiled, taking his hand. “I always feel special with you, Jihoon.”

As they ate, Jihoon pulled out a small box. “I have something for you, too.”

Y/N opened the box to find a delicate silver necklace with a tiny pendant shaped like a piano.

“I thought it would remind you of how much you inspire me,” Jihoon said.

Y/N’s eyes welled up with tears. “Jihoon, this is beautiful. Thank you.”

When Jihoon and Y/N returned to the dorm later that night, they were greeted by the members, who had planned a surprise party. The living room was decorated with balloons and banners, and a cake sat on the coffee table.

“Happy anniversary!” Hoshi exclaimed, pulling them into the room.

“You didn’t think we’d let you celebrate alone, did you?” Seungkwan added, grinning.

Y/N laughed, feeling overwhelmed by their kindness. “You guys are amazing.”

As the night went on, the members took turns teasing Jihoon about being romantic, sharing embarrassing stories, and welcoming Y/N further into their “family.”

Later, as the party wound down and the members dispersed, Jihoon and Y/N found themselves alone on the balcony. The city lights twinkled in the distance as Jihoon leaned against the railing, holding Y/N close.

“This year has been the best of my life,” Jihoon said softly. “Because of you.”

Y/N smiled, resting her head on his shoulder. “I feel the same. I never imagined we’d end up here, but I’m so glad we did.”

Jihoon turned to her, his expression serious yet tender. “Noona, no matter what happens—no matter how crazy things get—I’ll always choose you.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shining. “And I’ll always be here for you, Jihoon.”

As they shared a gentle kiss under the night sky, they knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they’d face them together.

[neowinestainedress]

𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: any nct member!ghostface x detective!fem!reader 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: “horror”, thriller, yandere-ish, smut, halloween special, scream!au 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: in these past months your only goal is to find the killer that is terrorizing the town of Woodsboro, but when you get close to him and feel like you finally have the upper hand, Ghostface turns the game around again.  Or, Ghostface wants to play with you but not like he does with his victims, and you let him. 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: dark content, talks of [m*rders, sl!tting throats, v!olent stuff in general], dr*g/anaesthetic use [to make mc fall asleep but unrelated to any sexu*l act (she’s awake and willing)], mentions of [dubcon] phone s*x + masturbation, implied stalking, use of restrainers, cl!t rubbing, rough t!t/n!pple play, protected s*x turns unprotected, kn!fe play, ‘fear’ play, clothes cutting, fake sympathy, pet names used in a mocking way, degradation, rough s*x, hair pulling, spit (1), p*ssy slapping, dacryphilia, possessiveness, 1 brief talk of carving, polaroids pictures, all consensual but i’ll still put a dubcon warning just to be safe (tbh it’s more like hate sex bc the mc would rip his head off but also fuck him), reader is kinda fucked up herself. | inclusivity notes: reader has hair long enough that can be pulled (no mention of texture, type and color), no mention of body type but reader is manhandled a few times and has b**bs and *ss big enough that can be cupped, no mention of skin color, no use of y/n 𝐖𝐂: 10.662k 𝐀/𝐍: this year i had vague ideas for halloween but not even a defined good one, i had some suggestions i liked but were far too complicated, and i had no energy to write them in time. but a ghostface/scream au was an idea i had in mind for some time, the original was a ghostface cosplay, but then i went with this one, and I’m happy with how it turned out. i had 2 members in mind (johnny/haechan) for the og plot, then someone suggested jeno and jisung (as a duo) but if i unmasked him the plot wouldn’t have made sense anymore, so he’s whoever you want him to be! the other ghostface is mentioned but doesn’t appear physically in the story, you can pick who you want for him too. i never wrote blankly for the male mc so let me know if it was good. please, if you like it, leave feedback through reblogs or asks! and also let me know who you imagined behind the mask 👀 enjoy and happy halloween

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐄.

Your mother always told you to mind your business or else your curiosity was going to be the death of you one day.

It’s clear you never treasured her words, and your curiosity led you to be a private detective with only a few thrills in your life since now, nothing too exciting ever happened in your small town, until one day you received a phone call from the district of Woodsboro. A string of murders was terrorizing the town after years and all the evidence led to another psycho who thought it was funnier to kill people while putting on a Ghostface mask. 

Months have passed since that call and you have nothing concrete. It’s like he’s only messing up with you and, in the meantime, innocent people keep dying. But you have your theories, the ones you only keep to yourself, stored away in the privacy of your diary, hidden under the pillow of your bed. Your colleagues seem decent people, but with time, you’ve learned to trust nobody. 

And your secret theories led you right where you are now. In the open country, away from the small town, where a small barn grabbed your attention the first time you moved to Woodsboro. 

The barn seems empty but eerie vibes surround it. The strong smell of the grass stings your nose as your black boots walk on the muddy ground, the rain of this morning still lingering in the air and in the countryside. 

When you reach the perimeter, you squeeze your eyes to see inside, but the few tiny windows don’t allow you a big view. The more you walk around it to make sure it’s empty, the more the hold on your concealed carry with the gun inside tightens.  

It’s late October and the cold penetrates your brown leather jacket, but the temperature is not the thing that makes you shiver. 

You should’ve never followed your instinct and come here alone. You should’ve spoken to somebody else in the department, told them your theory and have some backup in this crazy plan of yours. But when your impulses take over, your smartness slips away, and you find yourself in the worst situations ever. 

Like right now. You stand in front of the wooden door and find the courage to push it open. You should feel thrilled, you found him. You found the psycho that has been haunting the town for months now, messing up with you with clues and mocks that pushed you farther away from the right path. Yet, you beat him, for once it looks like you have the upper hand now that you’re walking around the empty barn away from the town. But something doesn’t feel right, your guts are telling you something but you don’t listen, you can’t walk away now that you’re so close.

There’s not much to inspect, a few pieces of furniture, a disheveled mattress in the middle of the room, and a few chairs in a corner. It almost looks like an abandoned farm if only it wasn’t for the unnerving vibes that carries with it and for two walls that call your attention. On the right, there’s a map of Woodsboro, pins linked by a red thread, connecting all the places where Ghostface hit in these past months. Your hand quickly reaches the back of your pocket to pull out your phone and snap a picture, hoping there will also be places he didn’t go, and this time you can be faster at stopping him. 

What’s on the other side is worse. 

“What the fuck…” you mumble under your breath as you step closer to the wall. Polaroid pictures hanging from it, Ghostface and the victims, you guess, moments before they were brutally killed. You’re not surprised, one of the gifts he would leave on the scene of the crime being Polaroids, but they didn’t make much sense. “He’s a fucking psycho,” you scoff as you take another picture. 

“Surpriiise!!” 

Your phone falls on the floor with a loud thud and your heart jumps in your throat when his voice breaks the deafening silence in the room, but your reflections are swift enough to make you reach for your gun and turn around, shooting. 

“Boo, fail,” Ghostface laughs, hitting your wrist hard enough to make the gun fall on the floor next to your phone. “You’re really not as smart as I thought you were, don’t you know intruding on someone else’s property is illegal?” he points out, pushing your body against the wall, the sharp blade of his knife grazing the skin of your neck. 

You try to keep calm, deep slow breaths as you try to don’t look scared for your life. You might die today, but you won’t give him that satisfaction. 

“Don’t look so frightened, my dear. I’m quite happy to have you all to myself,” he chuckles, his hand lifts to caress your face and you struggle to avoid it, but the click of his tongue makes you stop. “I wouldn’t act too careless, it’s sharp.” 

You stop moving. You are smart, and you can get yourself out of this situation. “Do you want to play a game, Ghostface?” You ask, ignoring his taunts, the irony in your voice is clear, just like it’s blatant in the slow bat of your eyelashes, but your words only make him laugh. 

“Oh, that’s not how it works, detective. That’s my line. You didn’t study the script?” 

You scoff, trying to take time to free yourself. “We’re switching roles. Do you want to play a game? It’s called you turn yourself in and I put you in jail.” 

He snickers, and his head tilts to have a better look at your face. He’s had many people in this position before and never saw so little fear in their eyes. “Now you want to act like you don’t love the chase?” 

“Fuck you, I don’t love it,” you spit out, narrowing your eyes, desperately trying to get a glimpse of anything under the mask. Another failed attempt. 

He laughs darkly, so deep it hits you to the core and makes you shiver — in fear or excitement, you’ll let this decide to your better judgment. “I know you do,” he coos as his thumb covered with the black glove caresses your lips. “Enjoy the little clues I leave you around? You were interested in the pictures, I knew you loved them, that’s why you get the prettiest ones. I tell you so much, but you don’t understand me,” his voice is calm, scarily calm, and full of sarcasm filled with a sweetness that feels like a slap across your face. “I was a bit mad it took you so long to find me.”

Rage shoots up inside of you, but you instantly push it down, you can’t lose your composure. “So, what are you going to do, kill me?” Your voice drops of a tone, and your eyes turn into a teasing gaze, making him chuckle. 

“Talking about death so nonchalantly with me, mmh… are you brave or dumb? Because if you ask so nicely, I just might let the knife sink in.” 

You laugh lightheartedly, putting up the best performance of your life before your eyes flutter seducingly at him. “No, please don’t kill me Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel,” you coo, lips in a pout and innocence in your eyes, until you hit him with a swift, strong kick between his legs, the distraction of your performance giving you time to slip to the side, causing just a bit of your skin to cut and bleed. 

“Bitch,” he mutters under his breath as he kneels to the ground. You reach for your gun, but barely have time to grab it before he pushes you on the floor again. “We were having so much fun, you just have to ruin everything.” 

You’re waiting for the worst when he traps you on the floor with his body on yours, but his arms don’t lift to stab you in your chest or stomach, the last thing you see before passing out is his hand lifting in the air and the sting of a needle pushing past your skin. 

The white light of the room feels like staring directly at the sun when your eyes blink repeatedly as you try to come back to earth and push away the hammering of your headache. You groan hoarsely, trying to adjust to the light, but the biggest discomfort comes from your shoulders, pushed behind your back and around the chair you’re now sitting on. 

“Sorry, I had to tie you up, but you’re a bit feisty today. Didn’t want you to get hurt,” Ghostface replies to your silent questions — not so silent, considering how loud you’re groaning and struggling on the chair, trying to break free. He’s standing in front of you, but a chair is right behind him so you guess he was sitting there before you woke up. 

“You can’t even take one down without a fight? Need to kill me without breaking a sweat?” You taunt, eyes dark and a deep frown on your forehead. 

But your teasing seems to leave him unfazed as he walks toward you with a glass in hand. “Drink.” 

You scoff, staring at him. You hate that you can’t see him, not even because you want to find out who’s hiding under there, but also because you feel like you can’t confront him well enough. “You think I’m so stupid to accept a drink from a psycho?”

His head rolls back followed by an annoyed sigh as he stops right in front of you. His black boots bumping against yours. “You know that’s not how I move, no fun in killing with these shortcuts. Drink. I would never want you to pass out here,” he coos while his free hand pushes your hair out of your face. You can’t see behind the mask, but you know he has a shit-eating grin on his face. He moves the glass to your lips, but you turn to the side, he doesn’t give you a choice when he strongly grips your chin, pushing your lips open, and forces the water down your throat. “Oops, it spilled all over, you’re so messy, detective,” he snickers when water drips on your chin and shirt. As if he didn’t do it on purpose. 

“Asshole,” you mutter, eyes closing into fissures while you look at him. His head tilts, “Oh, brave. I could slit your throat right now, add you to the collection.” 

You chuckle darkly, shaking your head. “You won’t,” you say firmly. “You’ve never had someone quite as fun as me.” 

A low laughter escapes from the mask. “So, you are at least a bit smart?” His hand places on your thigh and you try to move away, but the chair screeches on the floor, and his hold only tightens. 

“Don’t play games now. Don’t fake it,” he groans, hand moving up on your blue jeans. “You enjoyed our last conversation,” he whispers, the mask close to your face, so close you can almost see his eyes behind the blackness of the two holes. “Had shivers run down your back when the phone rang in the middle of the night, haven’t you? You sat up straight in your big bed, all alone, and felt fear take over. Never answer unknown numbers. That’s what they say, that’s what you say, running around town, warning everyone about me,” he laughs deeply. “And then look at you, picking up that phone call, eager to hear my voice on the other side.” 

“You’re a psycho,” you spit out, struggling against the restrainers. But once again it is an act; he is a psycho, but you are starting to fear you aren’t much different. 

He chuckles darkly. “Oh, I am, never denied that. But don’t act better than me. You stood right in front of that window, stripping for me, touching yourself for me, moaning for me. How fucked up that is?” He snickers. “You have fucked up fantasies, my pretty detective, but I’m not one to judge. I’d gladly help.” 

You laugh quietly, trying to look confident but it comes out shaky from your throat, “If you want to help, take the mask off and show me who you are.” 

“Wow, wow, darling. Not so soon, I’m not one to burn stages in a relationship. What next? Want to meet my mom?” 

You inhale sharply, and spit on him, “God, you’re insane.” Your eyes snap open when he pulls out of his back the sharp knife, your breath is stuck in your throat and fear runs all over your body. And once again you regret how impulsive you are. You did well all these past years of training and then on the first real-life experiences at pushing this side of you in the cage, but it looks like it’s coming out like a beast that’s been trapped too long.  

“Don’t be so scared,” he huffs, the fake sympathy in his voice should make you mad but it triggers something else inside of you, and you hate to admit that he might be right, you’re enjoying this more than you should, you’re enjoying this entire chase more than you should. It’s like a game, but it’s not when real people are dying. “I would never hurt you,” his voice is raspy, slightly muffled by the ghost mask he’s wearing, and the knife sits on your sternum. “I hope you didn’t like this shirt too much, detective.” 

You don’t have time to react, the steel cuts your shirt neatly, the sound bouncing in the small room and the sharp tip brushing your skin. You shiver, gulping hard and closing your eyes, already feeling the sensation of it cutting through you, but it doesn’t happen. 

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head disappointingly. “You truly don’t trust me. I’m offended, and I don’t like when people offend me. Just like I don’t like when they hang up the phone while we’re playing. If people were respectful, I wouldn’t have to kill them, you know?” You stare at him with a furrow on your face, you’d like to take the mask off and see his eyes, not really to find out who’s hiding underneath that mask, but to see if his gaze is as insane as you imagine it to be. 

“Let me go,” you say, the skin of your wrist bruised from the pressure you’re applying against the ropes.

“Don’t struggle too much, it turns me on,” he warns, kneeling at your level. He smiles softly and thinks it’s a pity you can’t see it, you’re just so pretty, with your beautiful face filled with different emotions and your eyes looking at him with a gaze that wants to be threatening but it’s all the opposite, almost making you look like a lost puppy.  

“Why?” 

“Why? It’s funny to see the victim beg for their life, it makes you feel powerful, you could show mercy, but you don’t,” the smug smile on his hidden face can be heard in his voice and you shiver at how cold he sounds, the shrug of his shoulder is just the cherry on top to his unhinged behaviour. 

“So, you’re just going to keep me here?” 

“No, I want to play with you. Do you want to play a game, detective?” 

Your gaze falls on your thighs where his hand is placed again, the black gloves preventing it from leaving traces behind, as it slowly moves closer to your heat. 

You snicker, pretending to play it cool, but your breath twitches at the contact. “’Cause if I said no you would stop?” 

“Hey, I’m a killer, not a rapist,” he defends, shrugging. Yet, you still don’t reply, and he doesn’t like that. “So? I’m not so patient when I ask people if they want to play with me, so don’t test me.” 

You swallow hard, swiftly looking around to see if you can pull a move on him. Damnit, it’s your chance to get him and throw him in jail but instead, you’re seriously thinking about his proposal. You fool yourself that you’re only doing this because maybe he could slip, maybe he could say something in the heat of the moment that could give you a clue, or he could leave his traces on you somehow, maybe his mask could fall, but you know you’re feeling something else. Attraction. 

“I said,” he mutters, his face comes closer to yours, making you pull back, and the knife pushes flat in the hollow of your chest, “do you want to play a game, detective?” 

“Yes, yes, I do,” you mutter, starting to breathe again when he pulls the knife away. 

“Good, I love playing with you.” His fingers move to unbutton your jeans and then pull the zip down, you look at him attentively. “Lift your hips for me, love?”

You glare at him at the pet name but he only chuckles deeply. “What? If I’m rough with you, you get mad, if I’m sweet with you, you get mad. I can never win, can I?” 

You huff, deciding it’s better to not reply and just do as he says. Your pants are quickly at your ankles and suddenly you feel even more trapped than before now that you can’t even move your legs, but his touch on your naked skin takes you away from that thought. 

“Pretty panties just for me?” He coos, tilting his head to the side as he stares at your burgundy panties with the lace trim. “Were you hoping to find me here so we could finish what we started on the phone?” 

“Shut up, this is not for you,” you retort, your forehead creasing with a furrow. 

“And who is it for?” He asks, cupping your pussy, watching your body shiver. “Oh, no, please don’t tell me there’s a boyfriend I’m not aware of. I’d hate to kill him.” 

You bite your lips and keep the contact with the mask, but words struggle to come out when his index finger starts rubbing on your clit, moving from the slit —where you can feel you’re starting to get wet— to your sensitive nub. “It’s not for you,” you repeat, trying to don’t show how much his touch is affecting you. 

“Well, you want me to work so hard too, I’ll have to find out on my own if someone is playing with what’s mine,” he replays nonchalantly. “I know where to find you, maybe I’ll come visit again.” 

“You talk so much for someone who wants to play so badly,” you retort, a teasing grin curling your lips. 

“Sorry, I didn’t know my princess was so eager,” he replies, saccharine voice filled with mockery, before a harsh slap lands on your pussy making you jolt and whimper. “Want my fingers?”

The glare you give him would be enough to kill him; isn’t this pathetic enough? How much more does he want you to humiliate yourself? 

He rolls his head back and then the knife is against your neck again. “Do we have to do this every time I ask you a question? Do you want my fingers, detective?” 

“Yes,” you whisper. Your body relaxes momentarily before tensing up with excitement again, but it quickly shifts to disappointment. “What are you doing?” You ask when his covered fingers press against you again. 

“Oh, you’ll get the gloves too, I’m not dumb, you know? Don’t leave fingerprints on dead bodies, won’t even leave them on yours,” his voice is smug, all the confidence of someone who didn’t make a wrong move and somehow was always ahead of you and the police department. 

You hate him. You hate he’s so much better than you at this. And you hate him even more now that he has you fighting whimpers and moans. 

“Are you seriously going to pretend you don’t like this while your hips are bucking up?” He taunts, clicking his tongue in a mock. “Think moaning is more pathetic than humping my fingers like a bitch in heat?” 

Your mouth opens to retort but you can’t deny the evidence; your hips are rolling against his hand, chasing for more, your panties are darkening as your wetness leaks through the fabric and your chest is heaving in erratic motions.  

“Look at me,” he sings, hand moving up to graze your neck, thumb pressing on your carotid, making your head snap up. “You listen so swiftly when you fear for your life. It’s funny, you know, because I truly would never hurt you.” 

You chuckle, shaking your head, trying to pull away from his hold when his hand moves up to caress your jaw. The gentleness of his touch is even scarier than when he has his knife pointed against you. “Is this what turns you on? The fear in their eyes?” 

His head tilts to the side, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “Partially. But not in your case, what turns me on with you it’s the chase, and the fact I always win.” 

You scoff bitterly, struggling in his hold but his hand quickly grips your chin and pulls you closer. “Didn’t you see the movies? The villain always dies.” 

“If the heroine is not busy getting fucked by him,” he mocks, squeezing your face harder and moving his fingers faster on your clit. Your head rolls back and so do your eyes while a chocked moan leaves your lips. “See, I doubt you will shoot me in the head if you keep moaning like this.” 

You groan angrily, you’re madder at you than you are at him. You want him and it’s so wrong that you do, but there’s not even a siren ringing in your head, telling you to make this stop. 

“No, shh, shh, angel, it’s fine, this will be our little secret,” he whispers to your ear, the mask rubbing against your face, and when your eyes turn to look at him, you can see small dots of blood on the white varnish. “We could play another game: one secret for you, and one secret for me. If you behave, maybe I’ll reveal myself to you, if you promise to keep it to yourself.” 

Your teeth sink into your lips harder when he delivers another harsh slap on your clit before resuming his quick movements. “Just — just tell me if I know you,” you mumble. You know he will never reveal himself, but maybe you can get something more, anything to complete the missing pieces of the puzzle. 

He chuckles darkly, staring at a spot behind you as he pretends to think. “Mhh, we’ve met.”

You frown and your heart jumps in your throat for a moment at the thought you’ve seen him. “Only met?” 

“We talked,” he adds, finally letting go of your face, making you breathe normally again. 

Your eyes widen while your brain hurts as you try to quickly connect the dots, and find out who’s hiding underneath the mask, you just have to put a face on a voice — even if distorted, but you can’t. And suddenly realization slumps on you.

“Will it — will it break my heart?” 

He snickers under his breath as he looks into your sad eyes, you’re looking at him like a dog when it’s being scolded, but in this case, you’re also silently praying he’s not someone close to you. He has no idea why that would make you feel better, if you care more about Ghostface or whoever is hiding under the mask, but it doesn’t matter, and he mocks you again, mimicking you in a high-pitched voice. “Will it hurt if I was someone close to you? A colleague? A friend? A lover?” 

Your breath gets faster. Will it? Would you turn him in or defend him? And you can’t stand you’re even questioning it, of course you’ll turn him in, that’s your job, but most importantly, your duty. But will you? You could be doing it now, and you’re not. 

“See? It’s not as funny if you know me,” he laughs at your face, your thoughts so loud he could get a headache. “It’s not as exciting, you love the thrill of this too, more than you like to admit.” 

“Fuck,” you curse when his other hand cups your covered breast, it’s a harsh tug and the leather feels weird on your skin, yet, it makes you clasp your thighs and forget what was tormenting your morals, again. 

“They’re so perfect, I can’t believe you always keep them hidden under those ugly clothes,” he pouts, giving it another hard squeeze. “Sorry.”

“For what — what the fuck?” You scream when he cuts your bra with the knife, first the middle and then the straps, the matching burgundy bra falling in pieces on the bottom of the chair. 

“It was getting in the way, and I don’t like things that get in my way. I cut them off,” in his voice lingers a hysterical laugh that makes you shiver, and in times like this, you’re glad you can’t see his face.  

You gulp and automatically close your legs. 

“Not you,” he reassures you, forcing your thighs open again with a smack, “you entertain me. And you suck at your job, so it’s clear you also don’t get in the way.” 

“I’m good at my job and I will get you and put you behind bars —” 

“Uh, uh,” he clicks his tongue, knife under your jaw before you can even finish the sentence, silencing you in an instant. “We were having so much fun, don’t ruin it, babe.”

You swallow and look down following the path he’s tracing with the knife, goosebumps bloom on your skin and you hold your breath when it gets closer to your neck, only releasing it when the blade sits in the hollow of your chest. 

“It’s so funny how you shake like a leaf, I’m a professional,” he says, sounding almost offended. And you furrow, is he talking about the knife or his fingers? “Both, love.” 

Another groan leaves your lips before he moves the crotch to the side and the cold air of the room hits your burning core. You’ve never been so ashamed your entire life, you shouldn’t be an open book to him, you shouldn’t be so malleable in his hands, it’s pathetic and humiliating. 

“You’re so fucking wet. I’m quite pissed I can’t run to the police department and let them know how much I turn you on. I can already see the disappointment on their faces,” he taunts, the slick sound of his gloves against your dripping pussy burns your body in shame and excitement.  

“Don’t you dare,” you spit out, but you don’t sound so menacing since your voice breaks, and a pathetically high-pitched moan rolls from your tongue right after.  

“I said I’m not going to, I keep my promises,” he kneels to the ground, one hand keeping you spread more and the other is still busy taking care of you. “Maybe if you promise you won’t shoot or put me in handcuffs right away when you’ll find out who I am, I can eat you out. I bet you let out the prettiest moans when you have someone between your legs.” 

Your head rolls back, and you hiss. “You wish,” you retort through gritted teeth, but a part of you dies to know what that would be like. “I will never give you the satisfaction.” 

He laughs mockingly. “Maybe I should blindfold you and do it now, will you recognize me by that?” At those words your body tenses up, head standing straight again as you look down at him with terror in your eyes. “What?” He asks in a giggle, surprised by your reaction. “You’re fucking with me right now, I still have blood on me. Would that be the most problematic thing? Having fucked with me before? Without this mask?” 

“You’re just messing with me,” you mutter but your brain is trying to think, the list of the people you’ve been with is not that long, he can’t be so stupid to out himself like that, right? 

“Maybe… I love it when I can see you think,” he whispers. “Usually, you have your hands in your hair, pulling at it even if you just washed it or spent hours styling it, and then you nervously bite your right thumb, somehow there’s always a hangnail to pull until it bleeds, oh, and you also nervously walk back and forth, two steps forward, two steps back. It’s cute, really. You have no fucking clue how to stop this, but you look so into it, chasing after me… well, so you think because, let’s be honest, you’re only chasing after your tail.” 

You can’t believe he knows all of this, how close to you is he? And a few names start popping into your mind, but for each face that you see, your only answer is it can’t be. 

“Why are you surprised? I told you, I love watching you,” he says, voice scarily soft even through the distortion of the mask. “You’re very pretty, detective. When you work hard to catch me, and even more when you screw it all up to moan for me.” 

“Ugh,” you groan through gritted teeth, wrist rubbing against the rope keeping you in place and hips bucking up, anger and pleasure mixing like a drug in your brain. You hate to admit it, but you’re close and you doubt you can push back your climax any longer.  

“It’s alright, love, I told you, I won’t judge you,” he hums. He studies your face for a moment, admiring how your teeth trap your lips in the vain attempt to don’t truly show how much you’re enjoying this, but your eyes are filled with lust, lightly glassy, and your cum is painting his gloves white. “Now, will you come for me?” 

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, your body shutters as the orgasm washes over you, the quick movements of his fingers on your sensitive clit making your nails dig into the palm of your hands while your moans slip out of you freely. Your morality disappears, getting dragged away with the orgasm that consumes you before leaving. 

You forget where you are for a moment, or to be more precise, with who you are with, as you let your head roll back, close your eyes and take deep breaths, waiting for the high to pass. 

The thing doesn’t bother Ghostface, though, he sees enough fear in people’s eyes, he likes it better when you stop pretending and relax around him. That’s the thrilling thing about you, you are the most entertaining game he has ever played. With all the others he knows how it will end, their lifeless bodies laying in a pool of their own blood and the sirens of the police going off in the background as he blends in with the crowd, but with you? It’s unknown. Like a Russian roulette. 

He’d love to shred all your clothes off, but he knows you’d have to spill your guts (not literally) if you walk out of there completely naked, and he’s sure the version you would tell the police would add another crime to his name. So, he takes your shoes off and then pulls your pants down. 

Your laugh makes him raise his face and stare at you. “What’s so funny, dollface?” 

You shrug, wetting your lips. “You scare me more when you act all sweet, you know?” 

He scoffs, standing up again, and caressing your face. “You want me to hurt you so badly. I could carve a heart right here,” he presses the tip of the blade next to your heart, tracing the shape of a heart, causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. “It would look so pretty on you, and you will always carry me with you. Isn’t it nice? Couple goals.” 

You raise a brow at him, he doesn’t even realize it, but he’s giving away so much of his personality, even if you don’t find it out now, you’re pretty positive all of this is leading you somewhere. You shake your head quickly, trying not to show how hard you’re thinking about your plan. “I only want one thing from you, and you know what it is.” 

He chuckles, leaning next to your ear. “My dick.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” you curse, accidentally kicking him now that your legs are free to move. You suck your breath in, fearing your move, even if involuntary, might piss him off.  

He hisses but doesn’t do anything else. “Don’t get all bratty here, doll. You said you wanted to play a game, and we’re going to play it until the end.” 

When he cuts your panties and balls them in his fist, saying “keeping them as a souvenir,” with a grin that can be heard in his voice, you only reply with an “asshole.” 

Once again, he doesn’t pay your insults any mind, and you wonder why he’s so nice to you. Should you fear it? Will you be his last victim, getting the worst death of them all because he needs to put on a show? “Now I will untie you, if you play any trick on me… you know how it ends.” 

You nod quickly, watching him disappear from your view as he stands behind you. You inhale when the knife places against your neck again and roll your eyes back. “You don’t have to do this every time, you know?” 

“It turns you on,” he retorts firmly. “And I need to make sure you don’t do any funny business.” 

Your eyes roll back again but you try to relax anyway and keep still when your wrists are finally free. Your shoulders are in a more comfortable position again as you subtly roll them to ease up. “Get up,” he orders, and you follow, moving carefully because the blade is still close to your body and you don’t want to end up dead on the floor. “Good, now lay on the mattress.” 

Your face twists in disgust when you’re reminded of the mattress on the floor, but he pushes you forward. 

“We didn’t kill anybody there.” 

You stop, turning around swiftly, and his reflections are rapid enough that he doesn’t push the knife into your chest. “We?” 

“Oh… it didn’t click yet…” He laughs darkly at your expression, the whole world falling on your shoulders as you wonder how could you be so stupid to not realize it. “Sorry, love. But hey, aren’t you happy I helped you out?” 

You glare at him but then bring your hand to your hair and your thumb to your lips. Of course, there are two of them, that’s the only way they could always be so headed of you. 

“Not the right moment to think about that,” he warns, voice dropping lower, making you stop your nervous ticks. “Get on the bed.” 

You turn around again, suddenly aware that he’s completely covered and you’re bare. That thought makes you seek the cover of the mattress more, and swiftly you’re laying where he wants you. But it also turns you on, being so exposed to him while he’s giving you not even a peak of who’s under the mask and the clothes send chills down your body and more cum drips out you.

“Promise you’ll be good? We can play cat and mouse later if you want to,” he asks, the blade running flat on your boobs, making him chuckle darkly when your nipples harden at the contact and your hips buck up. “You promise, detective?” He repeats with urge when you don’t reply, too busy watching the knife move on your body as he pins you down. 

“Promise,” you reply, looking into the blackness of the eyes of the mask. 

He chuckles under the mask, and you watch him unbuckle his pants. You could easily grab the weapon that’s on your stomach and stab him, you could even un-mask him, but you lay still, almost mesmerized. And the conscience inside of you likes to remind you how fucked up you and your morals are, but you brush it off, shaking your head quickly. 

“Turn around,” he orders, but you hesitate. That’s too much vulnerability. It’s clear he doesn’t like your hesitation when he groans, grabbing the knife and pushing it aside. “God, I have to do everything with you,” he sighs as he forcefully flips you on your stomach before his legs trap you again. This time you can’t do anything even if you want to, but once again, you don’t want to. 

“Fuck,” he moans, hands cupping your full ass and squeezing hard, the firm hold eliciting a moan from you. “Look at you, so fucking pretty. Keep your head down, don’t try to even get a peak,” he warns, and your immediate reaction is to turn around to understand what’s going on, but you know better, so you press your face into the pillow and only when you hear the loud sound of a spit and a glob of saliva drip between your folds you understand what happened. “Not that it was needed, you’re dripping. But you know, I like to get messy at times.” 

You turn your face around, resting your head on the pillow, and bite your lips. The smugness and insanity of his voice causing more cum to ooze out of your pussy.  

“I want to feel you so bad,” he hums, spreading your cunt, making you feel so exposed, “but will you run to the police? Will you tell them ‘oh no, I had to fuck Mr. Ghostface to have a bit of his DNA and save the town from this psycho’?” he mocks with a high-pitched voice, it doesn’t sound like you at all, more like a hopeless, brain-dead, blonde girl that dies within the first minutes of any horror movie. 

You snicker. “You underestimate me, I could say I got those traces from somewhere else.” 

“But will you? Also, I’m pretty sure they will find traces of you too. How humiliating would that be? Come on, honey, I won’t blackmail you, but you will screw yourself over? That’s not very smart of you.” 

He’s right, you hate that he’s right. You will have to out yourself in the process of trying to turn him in. “I — I won’t.” 

Deep down he knows you won’t, there’s no way they won’t trace it back at you too, and he also knows you won’t try to play the victim when you’re not, but he needs to be conscious, one wrong step and you could turn the game around. As much as he likes to mock you, he knows you’re smart and have been close to discovering them a few times, it was a matter of luck, and they were extremely lucky. 

“Better safe than in jail,” he chuckles darkly, you don’t even try to peer around, and only listen to the plastic of the condom rip. 

You whimper when you feel the tip against your slit, and you hide your face in the pillow as if that could change the reality of what you’re willingly doing. You’re too excited to be so ashamed of your actions, but, even if some may argue your morality is nowhere to be found, it still feels like a big balloon hovering over you. 

You shiver when you feel the mask rest on your shoulder, “Nah, ah, angel, no being ashamed now. I told you I don’t like rude people, so don’t be rude and ask me nicely to fuck you.” 

The urge to slap him is stronger than anything else, but once again your greed makes him win. “Please… please fuck me.”

“Not what I want to hear, you know what I want. We practiced the other night, haven’t we?” He reminds you, a hand creeping around your neck, holding tight enough to make buzzes of fear run through your bones. 

You close your eyes, inhaling as deeply as you can while trying to find the courage to humiliate yourself one last time, but then the words slip out, “Please, fuck me, Ghostface,” and the air gets knocked out of your lungs when he pushes into you. It’s a strong, deep thrust that fills you to the brim and knocks you over. Your head falls against the pillow again while his loud groan fills your ears, “Fuck, it sounds so good from your lips.” 

“Oh, fuck,” you curse through gritted teeth when he starts moving right away, barely giving you time to adjust to the feeling, thick dick grazing your insides and strong hands wrapping around your waist tightly. 

“Is it too much for you, detective? My sweet little angel can’t take it?” 

A groan slips past your lips, you try to stand up on your elbows, but he pushes you down. His body presses against your back and you feel trapped again. “Don’t move. I will fuck you so deep into this mattress that I will feel your scent for days after this. I want your face smashed against the pillow, I want it to be wet with your ruined makeup and tears, got it? ” 

You nod quickly, shoulders dropping as you slump against the mattress. His breathing next to your ear makes you shiver, and you wonder if that’s the last thing the non-so-lucky people have met him heard before dying. But you push it away, for the sake of your sanity, you have to fool yourself that you’re not so attracted to a bloody murderer, that your morals are still intact, and that you are a good person. 

It’s pathetic how all the anger you feel disappears with each calculated thrust, pleasure getting to your brain so quickly you stop holding back. Soft whimpers and moans roll out of your tongue and unconsciously your ass grinds back into him.  

“Fuck, that’s what I want to hear,” he hums, standing up while his hands wrap around your waist. He never wanted to burn those gloves so badly, feeling the urge to feel your burning skin and mark you with his bare hands, but he can’t risk it. That doesn’t mean he can’t leave marks in other ways. One hand leaves your hips and cups your boob, eliciting a broken moan from you. “Have I told you they’re so pretty?” 

“Mhh,” you mumble, eyes closing as he pinches down on your nipple. You wish you could say it hurt you but instead, it makes you clench hard around him, cum leaking out more with each pinch on your delicate, sensitive buds. 

“Shit, you really are into pain,” he comments, there’s mockery in his voice —like always— but there’s also a genuine surprise. “Who would’ve thought, my innocent detective is way more fucked in the head than I thought.” 

“I — I’m not,” you retort, groaning and forcing your eyes open, but the deep chuckle that rumbles in his chest makes you quiver, and your attitude drops in a moment. 

“Honey,” he slurs, voice dipped in honey, “you’re letting Ghostface fuck you dumb, you are fucked in the head.” 

You shake your head quickly, but he’s had enough of your lies. The rough tug at your hair makes you let out a choked gasp as your head is lifted from the pillow. “I know you better than anyone else, angel,” he groans, mask pressed against your hot face. “I know your dirty, little secrets. I know what runs into that dirty, little mind of yours. You can’t lie to me,” he almost purrs, a low chuckle making shame fire up inside of you, “and I can feel you, princess. Squeezing me, barely allowing me to pull out to fuck back into you. Fuck — I should feel you right now, no stupid rubber between us.” 

Another broken moan slips from your lips when he roughly lets go of the hold on you, your fingers clench hard around the thin sheet under you, and your hips jerk up even more. It’s like you want to feel him more, to have him imprint himself deep into you, so far under your skin that you won’t be able to wash him off, and you don’t even know why you feel like this. Why it made you feel like this a week prior too, all the hesitation and fear as you picked up the phone and heard his breathy, distorted voice, flying out of the window the moment he started ordering you around. But was it truly an order when your only hesitation came from the fear of judgement, and you could only feel your body tingle with excitement? Sitting in front of the window, having no idea where he was hiding, putting on a show for the killer you swore you hated and making yourself come the hardest you’ve ever done. 

“It makes you feel special, doesn’t it? The way you’re the only exception. The only one I would never hurt.” His voice is lower, hitting you to the core, making your toes curl and your breath falter in your chest. “You’re like a daisy in a garden of bloody, red roses.” 

“Please,” you breathe out, choking on your tongue, eyes fluttering open shyly. 

“Want me to stop?” He coos, head cocking to the side as he lands a sharp slap on your asscheek that makes you hiccup on a whimper and then another to your boob that drags a louder cry out of you. “Don’t want to hear how special you are?” 

But that’s not what you meant. Your pleads were about something else, something you struggle to confess. 

A deep laugh resonates in his chest as he looks down at your already wrecked face. You’re so precious, he can’t believe you sometimes think he could hurt you. His prettiest game, his wildest fantasy. The thrill he feels in his bones every time he’s close to you, so, so near to being discovered and yet always safe. It’s exciting, getting to his brain so much he can hardly hide how much it turns him on. But you’ve never been this close before. He dreamed about fucking you, having you pressed under him, begging, moaning and crying as his dick hit deep into your sweet pussy, pounding into you over and over again until you were nothing but mush in his hands. He wanted to strip you down completely and leave nothing of the women he sees and admires every single day. He dreamed of having all this power over you, watching you get weak on your knees and let him do anything he wanted, watching your body convulse in pleasure and your brain empty. And here you are now; wet, fucked-out eyes looking up at him while your pretty, plump mouth opens and closes as your shut-down brain tries hard to find the words. 

“Speak up, princess. I don’t like to wait.” 

“Please, wa-want to feel you,” you slur in a whisper, eyes blinking lazily as you try to hold onto what’s left of your sanity. 

He chuckles, his thrusts coming to a stop that makes you whine in disappointment. “You want me to fuck you raw, detective?” 

You hum, nodding slowly, not for the lack of enthusiasm but for the amount of shame that’s looming over you like a tornado. But Ghostface doesn’t like your silences, he doesn’t like it when you hesitate, that’s not what turns him on about you. It’s your impulses, the way you jump into things headfirst without thinking, for some it may be dumb, but to him, it’s just that sprinkle of insane bravery that makes life exciting. Your head is yanked up again with a rough pull of your hair, but his hold quickly moves to your neck. “I thought we were over the phase where I have to drag the words out of your mouth, detective. I’ll ask nicely one last time, do you want me to fuck you raw?” 

You swallow your pride and reply meekly, “Ye-yes.” 

He chuckles, pulling out of you almost completely before sinking in again with no warning, knocking the air out of your lungs, air that’s already struggling to fill them as his hold on your neck doesn’t loosen up. “See? It wasn’t that hard, was it? Even your stupid brain could put two words together.” 

You gasp for air when he finally lets go and your face sinks on the pillow again. 

“I’d love to, but I won’t risk it. Maybe next time, maybe if I’ll ever feel like telling you who I am,” he replies, and you groan in disappointment. Not only he doesn’t give you what you want but he also mocks you, reminding you why you’re here and how your mission flushed down the toilet as you let him play you like a violin. 

“Then — fuck — please, fuck me harder,” at this point you want him to fuck you so hard your brain will just unplug and your superego can stop nagging at the back of your mind. You don’t want a single thought in your brain, just pleasure and lust. 

“That I can give it to you,” he hums happily, and in a second, he complies. His hips start snapping against you at a fast speed, his tip hitting you deep repeatedly as he keeps you arched back with one hand around your waist and the other one wrapped around the makeshift ponytail he made with your hair. 

You can already feel the orgasm build up at the tip of your stomach, but it only worsens when Ghostface roughly pulls you flat against him. Your head falls behind on his shoulder, eyes rolled far in your skull as your lips hang open to let out desperate moans and suck in as much air as possible. 

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he moans, his thumb rubs against your neck and jaw while his right hand squeezes and pulls your boobs hard before pinching the nipples. “Listen to those pretty sounds you make,” he snickers, “and you still want to pretend you’re innocent and pure? You’re fucked up just like me, baby, that’s why I like you so much,” he slurs. 

You blink, once again adjusting to the light is uncomfortable but you make out just in time the fact he’s holding a Polaroid camera. “Smile for the camera, babe,” his voice rings in your ears but doesn’t reach your brain and before you know it, you’re coming just like that. The look on your face is not a smile but an expression of blissed pleasure, the exact moment as the climax explodes inside of you, making you clench around his dick and shake in his arms, your arm twisting back, letting your hand claps on his bicep and sink your nail in the thick fabric of the black cloak.  

Ghostface would like to say he’s disappointed and scold you for misbehaving, but he can only stare at you with amused disbelief written all over his face. But you only see the constant expression of the mask and once again, you fear for a second he’s mad at you. Truth be told, he could even kill you right now, you wouldn’t mind much or even notice, too lost in the pleasure that’s still looming on your body. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, hips slowing down until they stop completely, “you just gifted me the most precious pic in my collection,” he whispers. You feel like the edge of mockery is still persistent but at the same time something genuine lingers in it, it doesn’t make it less creepy, but the ‘fuck me harder method’ worked because you don’t question his, and yours, fucked morality and just smile dumbly. 

And that smile, united with the slow bat of your wet eyelashes, is what he needs to lose it. 

“Oh, fuck it, I’ll clean you up once we’re done and if you’ll try to turn me in, I’ll find out, so you better keep your promise, alright?” 

You don’t get what he’s talking about right away, too fucked out as you lay on the mattress waiting for his next move, but when he pulls out of you and swiftly pulls the condom out, you get it. You bite your lips in anticipation and swing your hips in invitation. 

The sight would be enough to make him come right there, and he damns himself because out of all people, you can’t be his biggest weakness. It got to be some fucking joke of destiny. “Will you go to the police?” 

“No,” you mumble.  

“Good girl, because these little games are just for us, me and you, you can’t use what we do here to help you with your case.” When he sinks inside of you again, he feels like he could lose it all for the way your wet, warm walls wrap around him. “Fuck, fuck,” he curses, voice even more distorted now that he murmurs through gritted teeth, “you feel so fucking good.” 

His thrusts now are almost primal, desperately pounding you against the mattress, keeping you pinned down with a hand on the back of your head —not that you need that, you wouldn’t be able to hold your neck up even if you wanted to— and holding for dear life on your hips with the other. You’ll probably have some bruises by the end of the night, if not colored prints on your skin, surely light discomfort at the touch will follow you for a few days. And you almost want to beg him for more, to mark you in some other ways, to leave something just for you to see and carry with you. Sick and perverted thoughts cross your mind, and you push them away swiftly. 

You bite down on your lips when his hand leaves your side to torture your nipples again, he can barely push his hand between your body and the mattress, but he has just enough space to play with your sensitive nipples, making them even harder and causing you to clench even more around him. He loves how sensitive you are there and how each rub, pinch, and slap has you easily squirming and moaning under him.

“Look at you, going all dumb on my cock,” he groans, mockingly giving one harsh slap to your tits before his fingers trace your cheek. Your skin is so hot he can almost feel it through the fabric separating you, but what he’s most fascinated about are your tears, black mascara running down your beautiful face, dying on the pillow and your tortured parted lips. “Are you still thinking about being better than me or — fuck — have you finally embraced your dark side?” 

Not a word comes out of your mouth when you whimper back, and not even a thought crosses your mind. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he grins smugly. “You know,” he breathes out, head thrown back as it gets harder and harder to contain the orgasm, but he doesn’t want it to end so soon, “you should fire yourself and be my toy, just my toy, every time I need you, everywhere I need you. You’d love that, wouldn’t you? It’d make you feel even more special.” 

You mumble a weak reply, it’s a whispered ‘no,’ but your body doesn’t deny how much the thought turns you on. Too many responsibilities in your life and your job, too much to carry daily, but right now? Nothing. Guilt will eat you alive tomorrow but not now. Something feels exciting about being on the run with him, being the one that runs, instead of the one that chases. But it won’t happen, you believe in your job, and you want this slasher to end.  

“Cause only I can get you like this, ugh,” he grunts, hips slamming faster but more sloppily against your ass, the vulgar sounds filling up the room. “No man before and no man after will make you come this hard. Nobody, love. No matter how much you’ll want to, they all will disappoint you and you will look for me in every single one of them,” he groans, each word punctuated by a harsh slam of his hips, “well, the lucky ones that will get a taste before I’ll get them and kill them.” 

You don’t reply, just lay there, looking like a mess as you try to fight another orgasm because coming again would be humiliating. 

“It turns you on, doesn’t it?” You can hear the grin on his face and his voice has the edge of insanity of the usual. “Let’s be honest, you’ve got a list of shitty partners, you would’ve been grateful if I got rid of some of them.” 

“Fuck, just — just fuck me,” you beg, your hand reaching behind to touch him somehow, but he doesn’t like it. 

He grips your hand and pins it behind your back bending your arm, you hiss in discomfort, but he doesn’t let go. “Oh, no, angel. You don’t make the rules in this game, I do. If I want to sink into your brain and get so deep into you that I’ll make sure you will never come out the same, I will. I’m the darkest side of yourself, the fucked up filth you’re too afraid to face,” he groans. “And I know you’re close again. Your tight cunt is squeezing me, and you made a mess on the mattress,” he snickers. “Imagine if they find this place, this mattress, your DNA on it,” he stops, leaning next to your ear, voice dropping lower, “or better, imagine if they find us now. What do you say, detective? Would they be disappointed? Would they just jack off at the view? You look so hot right now, I wouldn’t blame them if they’d get off to you, to us together. Kill them surely, blame them not. We’re so hot, detective.” 

You squirm under him, feeling like the room is spinning fast and you can’t ground on anything. You have a darker thought in mind, something you can’t confess to him or else he won’t stop mocking you. You want to get caught, but not by your colleagues, by his partner. What would he do if he saw you and his partner in crimes like this? Would he understand this, or would he snap? Maybe even feeling betrayed. Does he even know you and him have been playing this game of attraction for a while now?  

Your silence doesn’t make Ghostface suspect anything. You simply look totally fucked out, brain empty as you plead in soft whimpers and moans. 

“You sound so fucking good,” he praises. “Why don’t we play another little game, uh?” 

Your eyes open in surprise and you hum with no strength, “what?” 

“Beg me to save your life,” he says, grabbing the knife again and placing it close to your neck. “Come on, do it for me, I won’t ever hear you say it because I will never want to kill you. Please, detective,” he coos, hips slowing down because your pussy is fogging his brain and he’s not sure his always-perfect aim and reflexes will work right now. 

You take a deep breath and then speak. “Please, Ghostface, please, spare my life.” 

His head rolls back, and a deep, groggy moan comes out of his lips. “Fuck, yes, keep going,” he orders, hips picking up the rhythm again as he skillfully flips the blade to the lesser sharp side just to be safe. 

And you obey. You beg, choked-up words slipping from your lips that soon turn into please, fuck me harder, and then please, wanna come. You feel boneless, your body is too hot, and you feel you might pass out, you need a release and then hope something bigger than you will make you get back on your legs and walk out of there as if nothing happened, as if you never followed your guts and found his —their— safe haven. 

“Come for me, love,” he orders, throwing the knife to the side before his hand sneaks under your body to roughly slap your clit a few times, enjoying the louder moans he drags out of you by doing so and watching with pleasure as your body squirms and shakes. “And don’t forget to smile for the camera.” 

This time your eyes lock with the polaroid that he points toward your face as his chin rests on your shoulder. But it only lasts for the time of the picture, your body collapses again when he lets go of your hair and you let the pleasure pervade you from head to toe. It’s breathtaking and mind-blowing, and next time you’ll fuck someone else you’ll hate that he’s right. You will feel him everywhere, you will feel his dick deep inside of you every time your fingers will desperately try to take its place, and every time you’ll let someone in your bed, but you don’t hate that thought as you should. 

“Fuck,” he groans, giving you a few more pumps to make sure you rode your high before slipping out and then roughly flipping you over. “Close your eyes,” he orders, and you follow with no hesitation —honestly, you were struggling to keep them open in the first place. 

Your heaving chest, your parted lips still letting out cries, your wet cheeks, and your trembling closed thighs are the last drop he needs to let go. Deep moans reach your ears while his hot cum drops on your face, most on your skin but some in your mouth, and they get even louder when you shyly swallow it and lick your lips for more. 

“Fuck, fuck, you’re —” he gasps but doesn’t finish, holding onto nothing as he empties himself all over your face. “Fuck.”

He feels dizzy, the orgasm still shaking him up, but then he looks at you and has to bite back a moan. The white strings of cum are covering your blissed face, your eyelashes are clumped together by the tears, and your lips are plump and darker, he knows he doesn’t want to forget what you look like right now. “Smile one last time, baby.” 

And you do, the corners of your mouth lift and then you hear the click of the polaroid. You think for a second you should’ve told him to don’t take them, he could easily blackmail you, or straight-up get you fired, but once again, you don’t truly care, and you don’t deny how much the idea of those photos turned you on.

You should get up, grab your pants, jacket, shoes and leave. But you feel heavy and tired, you’re still shaking, and your breath didn’t go back to normal, yet. 

“Don’t worry, detective,” Ghostface whispers, something passes on your face to clean you from the mess, but you don’t know what, and only then you open them ajar, just to see he’s still wearing his mask. “I’ll take care of you.” 

The Ghostface mask is the last thing you see. 

When you wake up, you’re in your bed, wearing your nightwear, completely cleaned up, but your bones and muscles are still sore, and a terrible headache is throbbing in the left side of your brain. You turn around, rubbing your eyelids with your palms before you can fully focus on the pillow and see three things on it. The Ghostface mask, a polaroid of you two from before, his face next to yours as he pulled your hair, and a note. 

“It was a pleasure playing with you, my pretty detective. Can’t wait to see what our next game will be like♡ ” 

general taglist: @froggyforyoongi , @wingsss45 ; @tddyhyck ; @technologyculturedneo

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[enwoso]

BORROWED NOT STOLEN || alessia russo

*i have quite a few alessia fics that im working on atm but if anyone has any requests for players then lmk because im open to write for other players<3*

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"LESS! hurry up man!" you shouted across the room as you stood watching your girlfriend dawdle down the stairs. you and the blonde had been asked to film a diary room episode together — a way to document any world cup memories.

where the pair of you would sit down and basically talk about camp and other things until the media team had enough content.

watching as alessia walked down the stairs scrolling through her phone as a small smile was on her face which to you felt like years but finally after ten minutes it wasn't even two she had made it to where you were stood.

"i think i've aged about fifty years in the time it's took you to walk down fifteen steps!" you huffed as alessia looked up from her phone slotting it into her blue england shorts, smiling as you shaking her head a little at your dramatics.

"yeah? you look it too!"

you knew that was coming, rolling your eyes and smacking the blondes shoulder pushing her slightly as she held back her laugh.

"baby, i'm joking" she said while swinging her arm and wrapping it around your shoulders, pulling you closer to her as she placed a soft kiss to the top of your head as you began to walk towards where you were filming.

"your lucky i love you russo!"

you sat down first on the couch as alessia slotted down comfortably beside you, as she sat a little lower making sure her head rested on your shoulder making you look like the taller one when in reality it was the polar opposite.

"okay, you ready?" you asked the blonde after being given the run down from the camera men as the cameras began to film.

"hi guys, i'm y/n.." you smiled waiting for alessia to say her name but instead there was an awkward pause until a yelp escaped the blonde from you elbowing her in the ribs in order to get her attention.

"ow! what was that for-"

"introduce yourself!"

you cut the blonde off as she held her side dramatically even though you had barely touched her. "you said you were doing the introductions!" alessia defended herself.

you sighed, "no i said i would- oh nevermind,, im y/n and that's alessia" you smiled at the camera, pointing at yourself and then at alessia who looked confused.

filming got to a great start, and it got to the point where you actually forgot you were being filmed, "OH my fear of spiders is totally normal, at least i'm not scared of turkeys" you teased. it being your turn to poke fun of the blondes fears as she had just spent to last five minutes poking fun at your totally normal fear of spiders.

you began to recount the story of the other day, when the two of you were out on a walk in your down time in australia.

"no did you not see them, they did start and charge at us!" she defended as you gave her a side eye look, "i wouldn't say charging"

"oh i would!"

"it's was walking and minding its own business!"

"yeah.. but it did look us in the eye."

"then you began to use me as a shield as you hid behind me" you smirked, knowing the blonde was a lot taller then you and your small frame was never going to protect her from anything. "well i wasn't getting eaten by a turkey! england wouldn't have there stargirl then" she defended herself as you scoffed rolling your eyes at her cocky comment.

"oh so instead i'm just turkey bait to you,, cheers less!" you rolled your eyes as she began to plead her case of 'that's not what i meant!' as the filming carried on.

"in the eighty-" you began talking as alessia looked at you not that she was listening and you could tell.

"did you come in here with that cap on?" she asked you, making you stop your story as you looked at her with a strange look.

"yeah?" you responded as she looked at the black cap that was on your head, snatching it from your head and messing up your hair in the process and then placing it on her head instead.

she turned around, and back giving you a dramatic pose as she looked at you with a serious look trying to hold in her laughter. "do i look good?" she asked as you nodded, alessia beginning to pose more.

"here comes the vogue model!" you whispered, still loud enough for people to hear you. "think this suits me" she says to herself as your still smiling and laughing at your girlfriends antics.

"do you just want my entire wardrobe?" you jokingly asked knowing the blonde had quite a few of your clothes in her wardrobe however realistically it was nothing compared to amount of clothes you had 'borrowed' from the blonde.

"i've only got your cap!" she smiled turning to look at you, "and anyways your one to talk, there my joggers!" she said pointing to the grey joggers you were wearing. you gasped, "they are not, these are actually mine ms russo"

the blonde's eyebrows rose as she smirked pointing to the initials that were embroidered next to pocket, "AR, yeah?" she hummed a smirk on her lips as she knew she had caught you in the act of stealing her clothes once again, as you paused for a minute coming up with your next line.

"th-that means nothing, it just the brand name!" you scoffed coming up with a half-assed excuse as alessia rose her eyebrows trying her best not to burst out laughing.

"mhm, what brand?"

"oh not sure, mum bought them for me for christmas!"

you sighed throwing your hands in the air, as alessia began to laugh not being able to hold it in any longer as you rolled your eyes playfully as her.

"you've stolen my hoodies though, and it wouldn't surprise me if you were wearing my socks!" alessia pointed to the black adidas hoodie you were wearing and then to the white adidas socks you were wearing.

shaking your head as you began to plead your innocence once again, "the hoodies borrowed, not stolen." you began really emphasising the word borrowed. "and the socks are actually mine!" you smirked as alessia hummed side eyeing you.

"really?"

"yes!" you say looking at the camera but mouthing 'no' but alessia can't see as she's sat slightly behind you. "doubt that!" the blonde mumbled as you turned to her and began to laugh.

"no.. th-there actually georgia's but i don't think she knows" you say in between giggles, exposing yourself meaning georgia will definitely know because even if she doesn't watch the video on youtube, alessia will make it her mission to tell her.

"so the two huge suitcases you brung to australia" alessia began as you turned to her and slotted back into the gap at the side of her, nodding slowly unsure as to where she was going with this sentence. "what did you actually bring, because i think i'm yet to see you in your own clothes." alessia continued.

"as if you didn't bring three whole suitcases with you!" you defended yourself, as her and katie had packed enough for the two of them two move to australia as everyone else in the team had two bags.

"yeah, but i haven't been living out of someone else's wardrobe for the past two weeks like some"

"i did bring clothes! these slides are mine!" you smiled bringing your cream slides into the camera angle, as you tried to bargain your case when in reality you just liked to wear your girlfriends clothes — they were comfy and as a big bonus they smelled like her.

"your such a big dope!"

"your big dope though." you smiled looking at alessia as she too had a huge smile on her face as the blonde  brought you closer to what you thought was a hug instead she was putting you in a headlock.

"thanks for watching, i've been-"

"ALESSIA MIA TERESA RUSSO! let go of me now!”

"i've been alessia and she's been y/n!"

[lovelyhan]

— divorce child ⟢

you like to think that your most recent breakup with vernon ended on relatively good terms. there’s only one issue left to sort out: who’s getting custody of the cat you got together?

★ FEATURING; vernon x producer!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 9.2k words

★ TAGS; exes to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, smut (MINORS DNI!)

★ NOTES; 3/4 stories in the series are now up <3 i hope you like this bc i really just wanted an excuse to write something fluffy and adorable with vernon.... he's got me in my feels these past few days fr. small heads up that this fic also features a bunch of characters from again and again, the mingyu installment of the series. this story takes place a couple years after that fic, but you don't necessarily have to read that part to get the events in this one :3c

★ P.S.; this was not proofread as usual lol if you spot any mistakes, do me a favor and pretend they don't exist !

this is part of the doting on you! series.

★ SMUT TAGS; vanilla, clothed sex, wearing ur bf's clothes kink(?), unprotected sex, body worship, praise kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, the smut is just so sweet okay

★ SVT TAGLIST; @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @cheolhub - @Idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jeonghancvunt - @jyiiscool - @jinniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @emmmui - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @jkbabiey - @featmia ★ SERIES TAGLIST; @exactlygreatcoffee - @gyusbabydoll - @jeonwonhi - @ti--red

“You sure you don’t need me to pitch in for this month’s check-up? I can always wire you some cash, you know.”

As you zip the pet carrier shut, you roll your eyes despite the fact that Vernon can’t exactly see your expression. Your phone’s sitting all the way on the coffee table but you were so preoccupied with wrestling your cat, Milana into the bag that you couldn’t exactly hold it like a normal person would.

“I’m good. You already covered for me last time, remember?” You remind him before taking the call off loudspeaker before pressing your phone to your ear. “I just got her inside the carrier. Might have to patch up a few scratches before we leave though.”

Vernon laughs. “She always hates going to the vet. It’s nothing too bad, right?”

“I’ve handled worse,” you snort before grabbing a couple of band-aids you keep around various corners of the house for this scenario specifically. “How about you? I thought I remembered Jihoon mentioning that today’s gonna be shut-in day. You know, that time of the month when you guys lock yourselves inside the studio to brainstorm lyrics together. Didn’t think you’d have the time for a phone call.”

“I always have time for a phone call when Milana’s going to the vet,” he says a-matter-of-factly and you can almost picture the warm smile on his face. The thought is enough to make your chest flutter, but you push the feeling down before it can completely come to the surface. “But you are right about shut-in day though. I might have to go in a few, so if there’s anything you need, you better tell me right now or forever hold your peace.”

“Nah. I told you, we’re good,” you insist with an eyeroll before placing band-aids on the scratches that your cat affectionately left all over your arms. “I’ll drop by the company later to drop off a mix that Jihoon asked me to mess around with. But if it’s shut-in day, I doubt we’ll get to see you.”

“Hmm. I can hide his Coke Zero stash outside so he’ll be forced to go out and get it?”

“Now that’s just downright evil.”

“It is. Anyway, aren’t you going to be late?”

“I already am, but Milana’s vet adores her, remember?”

“Nari adores everyone’s pets. Mingyu-hyung told me so.”

“Shush. You talk like our baby isn’t special,” you huff as you sling the strap of the pet carrier across your shoulder. “We’ll head out now. Thanks for checking in, Vernon.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, take care on the way.”

You end the call with your heart racing inside your chest. It’s not the phone call with your ex-boyfriend that flusters you, per-se. You work in the same agency, for god’s sake. Meaning, you’d be in deep shit if talking to him throws you off just because your relationship has already come to an end. 

But whenever you jokingly refer to Milana as ‘our’ baby whenever you talk to him, it feels like you’re encroaching on something you’ve already lost a long time ago. 

Your listlessness lasts until you pull up by the parking lot. Whether Milana’s staying at yours or at Vernon’s, this pet clinic at the heart of Seoul has always been your go-to. The fact that the attending veterinarian is Mingyu’s girlfriend does wonders to your final bills—she loves giving discounts to regulars and acquaintances—and you like to think you’ve found a friend in her ever since. 

The automatic doors slide open when you walk in—Milana’s bag still slung over your shoulder. Chae, the receptionist, flashes you a bright smile before you notice the familiar golden retriever lying in front of the front desk. Old eyes flicker up to you for a moment before his tail twitches once or twice to signal his excitement. 

“Good morning, Chae. Good morning, Namja,” you coo before crouching down to pet his head. “Is Nari waiting for me? Sorry for the hold up. It was a bit tough getting this one inside her bag.” 

Chae lets out a soft laugh as she types away behind her computer. “Really? Vernon always gushes about how much of a sweetheart she is whenever it’s his turn to bring her in.”

You don’t know whether you should be surprised or embarrassed that Chae knows—or at least has an inkling—of your little arrangement with Vernon. When the two of you were still together, you always brought Milana in at the same time, but now you’re taking turns in bringing your little divorce child to the vet. 

But hey, at least you’re still upholding your parental responsibilities, right?

“Of course he does,” you scoff with a shake of your head. “He knows better than anyone that getting Lana inside the bag is a nightmare. This one’s already her third this year. I was thinking of investing in a cage-type carrier instead but Vernon said it was like we’re sending her to prison.”

Chae sighs. “Men. Always so dramatic. Oh, but Doctor Nari’s waiting for you inside.” The receptionist glances at you curiously before you start taking Milana out of the bag so Chae could measure her weight.

It’s a bit of a challenge, handing your full-grown Maine Coon over to Chae, but despite the fact that she thrashes all around before vet visits, Milana has always been tame whenever she’s at the clinic. You manage to settle inside Nari’s office once your cat’s vitals have been measured and her vet is more than happy to see a familiar face.

“Well, if it isn’t Milana and her single mother,” she chuckles. “You here for routine check-ups? Where’s the father, though?”

You roll your eyes—fully aware that she’s only teasing. “Do you ask Vernon where’s the mother when he’s the one who brings her here?”

“Maybe.” Nari smiles before getting up from her desk and receiving your big cat into her arms. “Oh. She’s gotten heavier since the last time she came in.”

“Yeah, her father has been spoiling her with too much catnip. I only found out last week,” you sigh as you settle into one of the seats adjacent to the one across Nari’s desk. “But she’s been hairballing a lot recently. She doesn’t usually groom as much as she does now. Should I be concerned?”

She hums for a moment as she puts on her stethoscope—checking Milana’s heartbeat while her free hand examines your cat’s light brown coat. “Doesn’t look like she has any fleas or mites hanging around, but I can always do a scrape for you if you want the definitive results on paper. Though the excessive grooming could also be caused by stress.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Stress?”

Nari nods before hanging her steth around her neck once more, stroking Milana’s fur with calm affection. “Cats are more easily agitated than dogs. Lots of things can stress them out. Loud music, vacuum cleaners, thunderstorms… Actually, even a switch-up in their pet parent’s schedules is grounds for stress.” 

You can only watch in silence as Nari scratches behind Milana’s ears, making your cat purr like a kitten despite the fact that her long limbs are spilling out of her vet’s arms. But regardless of how adorable she looks, Nari’s words got you thinking.

In the tail-end of the breakup, it was a topic that was brought up over and over: who gets to keep Milana? You both split half and half with expenses after the two of you adopted her at a nearby shelter. Not to mention, you both loved her in equal measure, so it was difficult to come to a decision that the two of you could soundlessly agree on. In the end, you settled with the compromise of taking turns watching over Milana because neither of you could stand not being able to see her for too long.

It’s been about three months since you and Vernon call it quits and three months since you’ve agreed on ‘splitting custody’. She stays with you on weekdays and with him on weekends—along with some exceptions for when one party isn’t available. It was also agreed that you’ll take turns bringing her to the vet every month to make sure nothing is amiss with her health.

But when you planned on paying Nari a visit today, you didn’t expect to find out that the fluctuating schedule you and Vernon made a deal out of could be a possible stressor for your cat.

“I think you should just keep her.” Nari suggests, a hint of concern creeping on her face. “You could always tell Vernon to visit Milana whenever he wants to, right? The back-and-forth travel is definitely going to take a toll on this one. Also, cats are smarter than you think. I’m sure she’s already sensed something’s off with her parents a long time ago.”

Milana heaves a deep sigh as if she understood every single word her vet just said and you can’t help the guilt that gnaws at your gut. You thought that this was the best decision you could make for both yours and Vernon’s sanity, but you completely forgot to take Milana’s well-being into account. You can almost hear Nari silently judging you, but you shake your head to rid yourself of the thought.

“We’ll… We’ll talk about it,” you reassure, swallowing the lump in your throat. “But…she’s okay, right? No serious health complications or anything?”

She rolls her eyes. “Sweetie, you’re literally the most responsible cat owner I’ve ever met. No one ever bothers to bring their pets in unless the situation’s already too severe to handle. So you’re good. Milana’s perfectly healthy. Just a little…sad, maybe.”

“Why would she be sad?”

Nari stares at you like you just asked something ridiculous, but thankfully she doesn’t dish out any half-assed remarks about it—opting to settle Milana back onto a nearby examination table to do a couple more physical exams. 

“Have I ever told you that me and Gyu used to be in a similar situation in the past?” 

You stare at Nari with a bewildered look while her gaze never strays too far from her patient. She even coos out little remarks of praise whenever Milana behaves. How can someone who’s this focused drop such a question in the middle of work? 

“Vernon told me you guys split up and got back together after almost a year,” you tell her dryly, not liking the fact that you admitted your ex-boyfriend is a big gossip, but you don’t see any point in hiding the fact that you knew. “What brought it up?” 

Nari’s lips twitch into a firm smile before she lifts her gaze to meet yours. “I just think that…you and Vernon? You’re kind of on the same boat we were in before we reconciled. It’s either the two of you are too stubborn or too afraid to see it for what it is.”

Too afraid to…? 

“What do you mean?” you ask. “It’s best that we split up, you know? Relationships between co-workers can get ugly really quickly if we forget to be professional. I don’t want us to stop doing the things we love just because of some work-related spat.” 

“Then the two of you should just learn how to segregate work from play,” Nari insists before smoothing her gloved hands across Milana’s long torso. “I’m not trying to meddle or anything, okay? It’s just that there’s virtually no reason for you to not get back together. You’re still taking care of Milana together, still checking up on each other, still working together—”

“There it is. That’s the reason why we can’t be together, Nari,” you groan at her stubbornness. “We’re still working together.” 

She huffs. “Is there a clause in your company’s contract that prohibits romantic relationships among talents and staff?” 

“I’ve never read the fine print, but I’m pretty sure there’s something along those lines somewhere in there.”

“Oh. Well, who cares? Milana needs a loving home where her parents can take care of her at the same time.” Nari then leans down to cup her face in her hands. “Isn’t that right? You need both of them to look after you, hm?”

“So you’re suggesting that Vernon and I should just get back together for Milana’s sake?” you ask half-jokingly and to your surprise, Nari nods like it’s the easiest question in the world.

“Well, I won’t make any assumptions by saying that you’re still in love with him, since you’re the only one who can say that for sure. But come on, do it for the not-so-little baby. You can just learn to love each other again in the process!” 

You can hardly believe your ears. In the quick stories that Vernon shared about Mingyu’s girlfriend, you never expected her to be this carefree about the matters of the heart. It must’ve been her six-foot boyfriend’s bubbly personality rubbing off on her. 

“Right,” you say with a shallow sigh. “Pray tell, why’d you and Mingyu split up in the first place?”

Nari’s eyes dart to the ceiling as if deep in thought as Milana nibbles playfully at one of her latex-covered fingers. The silence presses on for a few more seconds before she turns to you with a mellowed out expression.

“I thought we weren’t going to work because of how different our jobs are,” she admonishes quietly, lips spread into a thin smile. “But after being an idiot for almost six months, I realized that our jobs don’t matter. I love him. I don’t think I really stopped. Don’t think I’ll ever stop, actually.

“That’s why I was so surprised when I found out you and Vernon broke up three months ago!” Nari continues with a disgruntled look on her face. “The two of you spend so much time in the studio and at your apartment. You even have a child together!” She then gestures dramatically over to Milana. “So forgive me if it doesn’t make sense to me, why the two of you broke up. But won’t you reconsider it? For Milana?”

You shake your head. “Nari, some relationships just aren’t meant to work out. Just because you and Mingyu managed to make good on that second chance, doesn’t mean it’ll be the same with us. We’ve already…settled with what we have right now.”

“What, the endless pining and using the poor cat as an excuse to see each other?” She huffs again and, god, she reminds you so much of Mingyu now it’s actually funny. “Come on, sweetie. I’ve been in your place before, so I know perfectly well. Gosh, this must be how Seungkwan felt when I was still getting my shit together.”

Unsolicited mention of Seungkwan aside, you just don’t see any reason to pursue what Nari is convincing you to do. Nothing really changed after you and Vernon broke up. That’s one of the things you like about him—how easy it is to fall back into a comfortable friendship despite the history you shared. 

But you aren’t going to deny the fact that it kind of sucks that you can’t kiss him anymore. Can’t lean into his chair in the studio to pull him into a hug. Can’t tell him you still love him even if…

Oh. 

Oh. 

Fuck. You still love him?!

“Fine, fine. Since I have a couple more patients on the waitlist, I’m gonna let you off the hook. For now,” Nari grumbles before handing Milana back to you and taking a seat behind her desk. “Just stick to her usual vitamins and diet and she should be fine until the next visit. But if you want the stress problem to go away…”

“Nari,” you groan. “I’m not getting back together with him.”

“Hey, that is not what I was saying,” Nari rebuts with her hands up in surrender. “I was gonna suggest that you just lessen her traveling! Maine Coons are usually really active, but Milana’s a bit of a…homebody, isn’t she? Might not like all that moving around between yours and Vernon’s apartments.”

“But she’s literally with me five days a week. Won’t she have plenty of rest time then?”

“Oh, who am I kidding? Just get back together soon, pretty please?”

Yep. Mingyu’s definitely rubbed off on her.

When you get home later in the afternoon, Milana is quick to slink off to her usual spot behind the sofa to take a nap while you make a beeline for the kitchen. 

It’s always been a post vet visit ritual to get take out to eat at home—even when you and Vernon were still together. However, you opted against the practice for now because not only does it remind you of your ex, but eating all alone in your apartment will only give you more leeway to think about the things Nari told you earlier today.

If you make your own food like you are now, your mind is at least preoccupied enough that you don’t have enough thinking room to even wonder if Vernon even wants you back. 

By the time the sun sets, Milana is still dozing behind the couch and you have a potful of pasta noodles and enough red sauce to last you five days. Another thing that you overlooked whenever you cook inside the house is that you almost always cook enough servings to feed two people. Whether subconsciously or not, you can’t bring yourself to hate how your habits are still attuned to the lifestyle you had three months ago.

Before you and Vernon broke up.

“Work,” you mutter to yourself as you dump some pasta and sauce into a bowl. “If I work, I won’t think about him anymore.”

Not-so wise words from a not-so wise person because newsflash: the time that you and your ex spent in your studio is leagues more than the time you spent together in the bedroom. Vernon has already cleared out his leftover gear from your home office, but memories aren’t something he can pack up and leave with so easily.

You recall quiet afternoons where you’d bounce ideas about their group’s next song off each other—sometimes with Jihoon and Seungcheol connected to a Discord call, but more often in the privacy of each other’s company. 

There were also gloomy days where it rained all day long. Milana would curl up on Vernon’s lap while he played around with the software on your computer—sometimes using the weird sounds she makes as samples to add into the mix along with the soft drizzle pattering against the windowpane.

But it’s even harder to just forget about all the times the two of you came together intimately within the soundproof walls. You can’t even count how many times Vernon has eaten you out while you’re perched on top of your work desk—one hand muffling your moans despite the fact that no one outside the studio can ever hope to hear you. The world is none the wiser when Vernon pulls you onto his lap, bouncing you on his length until he’s spilling into you with gratuitous release.

In the present, there you are in the ear-splitting silence of your studio—the music software your ex bought for you ages ago seemingly glaring at you for spacing out again. You know you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself since it’s easier to come up with the perfect beats when you’ve got a rough draft of the lyrics in front of you—something that Jihoon and Vernon are busy getting done today. 

But still. You can’t help the frustration because you’ve been functioning normally since the breakup. Sitting in the studio didn’t usually lead to you reminiscing about the countless hours you and Vernon spent here together. Making dinner never made you miss having someone to eat across from you at the dining table. 

If only Nari didn’t breathe a word about your ex-boyfriend and all the reasons why you should just get back together. Maybe you would’ve remained rational. Maybe you wouldn’t have started considering things that are beyond your control. 

Maybe you wouldn’t be hoping so badly for something to happen.

You try to distract yourself by listening to and reviewing the mix you’re supposed to hand over to Jihoon today. The visit you planned on making to the company was canceled since neither he nor Vernon were answering their phones, which usually means they’re taking shut-in day seriously for once.

The track continues to stream through the speakers as you munch on your dinner, filling the room with a quiet melody that would make a great ballad once the lyrics are in place. But no matter how good Jihoon’s music is, no matter how delicious your cooking can be, it isn’t enough to quell the thoughts that have been suffocating you all day.

You still…love Vernon. 

If you didn’t, your apartment wouldn’t feel as lonely as it does. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have to feel so awkward whenever you bring Milana to the vet all alone. 

But part of you insists that you’re just being carried away by the ideas that Nari planted in your head. You’ve been doing fine on your own for the past three months. How is today any different?

Your senseless overthinking gets worse before it gets better. 

The next thing you know, you’re scrolling through your gallery, unearthing pictures whose existence you’ve long forgotten about. You’ve spent almost three years with Vernon—two years officially before getting Milana on your second anniversary. Tons of photos were snapped, countless memories created. 

You could’ve snapped more photos, could’ve made more memories if only you hadn’t split up. The fact that (what should’ve been) your third anniversary passed a few weeks ago, stings more than it’s supposed to. That day, Vernon jokingly asked if you wanted to celebrate by your usual spot in the park a few neighborhoods away and you jokingly rejected his offer by saying you had a sitcom to catch up on.

Part of you wishes you accepted the invitation. Maybe the joke could’ve been subverted into something real, and maybe you could’ve been back in his arms by now.

That night, you go to bed with a mild headache and a million thoughts racing through your mind. It isn’t Jihoon’s sad, mellow mix that drones on and on in your head, but a single question that you aren’t sure if you’ll ever get a proper answer to.

How can you still love someone you were so sure that you didn’t anymore?

Come morning, you wake up with a heart that’s heavier than last night and the glaring realization that Milana is missing.

Panicking isn’t usually your first instinct when it comes to your cat. Milana is fairly easy to spot because she’s built more massive than your regular neighborhood felines. But when you’ve already scoured the vicinity for your beloved Maine Coon, it becomes clearer and clearer that she’s nowhere to be found.

You ask around with your neighbors—fairly certain that they know what Milana looks like since she slinks out of the house every now and again. What makes this particular situation worrisome is that she hasn’t come bolting back inside your apartment when you brought out the goddamn catnip. So, when your neighbors begrudgingly tell you that, no, they haven’t seen an oversized house cat prancing around the area, you don’t know what to do.

“Wait, come again?”

“She’s missing, Nari,” you whine into your cell as you nervously bite down on your nails. “I… I was so sure that I locked everything last night, but when I woke up, the front door was wide open and Milana’s just gone.” 

Your friend curses at the other end of the line and from the concerned voices in the background, you figure that you must’ve called at a busy time in the clinic. 

“Sorry for bothering you,” you tell her while choking down a sob. “Just…give me a ring if ever you or Chae see her around the clinic.”

“It’s not a bother at all! I’m sorry I can’t be of more help,” Nari sighs. “I’ll keep in touch. Oh, but it’s also worth considering that cats like familiar places. If you’re going to look for her, you can start with that.”

“Alright, thank you, Nari.”

After hanging up on her, you bury your face in the palms of your hands—sticky tears matting your skin as you breathe in sharply. You’ve never had to deal with a lost pet before. How the hell are you supposed to find Milana in a city that’s as big as Seoul?

You consider calling the police to file a report, but you’re not sure if pet cats even count for a missing person’s case. They wouldn’t be of any help if it didn’t. The only thing you can do right now is go outside and look for her yourself.

You’re quick to pull on an old sweatshirt you once nabbed from Jihoon before heading out—simultaneously texting every one of your friends about the situation as you scout further out of your neighborhood. Hell, you even contacted the animal shelter you and Vernon adopted Milana from out of sheer desperation.

Thankfully, a handful of them responded right away with a promise that they’ll keep a close eye out for any Maine Coons that surely don’t belong in their areas.

But no matter where you look, you always end up back to square one. It doesn’t help that Milana doesn’t usually wander too far from your apartment, which means that you have no clue where she could’ve possibly gone.

Nari mentioned that cats like familiar places, but the only places that are remotely familiar to Milana are yours and Vernon’s apartments. 

Yours and Vernon’s…

You quickly bolt back to your place—scrambling to your car before fumbling to get the keys into the ignition. A few failed attempts and very loud cursing later, you manage to rev the engine to life. The next thing you know, you’re pulling into the street with an urgency that’s barely beating the speed limit. 

Given that it’s still a weekend, you don’t have to come into work, which means that you have no idea what the boys’ schedule looks like right now. You’re not even sure if Vernon is in the same city, but you’d rather risk the off-chance that he isn’t in Seoul than do nothing. 

You try your best to keep an eye on the road all while dialing up your ex-boyfriend as well as doing your best to obey every Korean traffic law there is. The first call goes straight to voicemail and you would’ve crashed into an SUV that’s idling by a red light if you hadn’t angrily brought down your foot on the brakes. Why the hell isn’t he answering?!

By the time you’ve made it to the street that led to his apartment complex, you’re already shaking with anxiousness. Dozens of uncertainties flit into your mind a million miles per minute. What if he doesn’t know where she is? What if he gets mad at you for losing Milana? Hell, what if he isn’t even here? 

Shoving down all these biting questions, you park haphazardly across the street, locking your car behind you as you jog up to the steps that lead to the entrance. You don’t know how to feel about the fact that the receptionist at the counter still recognizes you—even going as far as flashing you a kind smile and informing you that Vernon is just upstairs. You wordlessly thank her for the tip before jamming a thumb on the elevator buttons. 

You tap your foot impatiently across the marble tiles. Why the hell did Vernon choose to live in a place where you have to use elevators just to get home? Your apartment’s much more accessible especially in times like this when you feel like you’re going to explode with how fucking nervous you are—

The elevator dings when it arrives at the ground floor, making your nerves jump back into focus. You’re completely ready to brush past whoever’s getting out so you can come up to your ex-boyfriend’s apartment faster, but when you meet said ex-boyfriend’s surprised gaze at the mouth of the elevator, your prior urgency comes into a screeching halt.

He’s dressed like he usually is on lazy days—ugly checkered pajama pants, a tour shirt from some Western band that he probably hasn’t listened to a day in his life, and that perpetual bedhead he always sports whenever he just rolled out of bed.  

God, he looks so good. It’s so fucking unfair.

“Hey,” he greets awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “I was just about to head out and grab breakfast… Uh, make that brunch. Did you need something?”

You don’t even dare to dawdle. “Is Milana with you?”

Vernon cranes his head in confusion and the look makes your heart sink like a stone. “Last I recall, you’re the one who brought her to and from the vet yesterday. Aren’t we missing a couple of chapters here or…?”

You meant to explain the situation as concisely as you possibly can to him. Vernon’s always been an easy going guy. You’re sure that he won’t resent you for it when he finds out that you lost the daughter you’ve been sharing custody over. Even if some irrational part of your brain insists that he will. 

But instead of coherent words, all that comes out of your mouth is a choked up sob.

The curve between Vernon’s neck and shoulder is as comfortable as you recall as you press your face against the crook of it—letting the tears run from your eyes and across his pale skin. You vaguely feel him wrap a protective arm around your frame while his free hand smooths down your hair and it makes you wonder why he’s patient enough to let you cry in his arms despite not having explained what the hell even happened yet.

He’s thoughtful enough to bring you to a more secluded corner of the lobby, calming you down by rubbing soothing shapes on your back with his hand and never letting you stray too far from his embrace. It helps that his low voice is there to keep you grounded—telling you that everything’s going to be fine and you just have to breathe, love. 

It works after a few minutes and Vernon only lets you let go when he’s sure you’re not in danger of suffocating on your own tears anymore.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” he murmurs, taking your hand in his. A small gesture that you’re too selfish to resist. “Is it about Lana?”

You nod weakly. “She’s…gone, Vernon. I have no idea where she went, but she’s gone.”

He hums in understanding and surprisingly enough, the understanding glint in his eyes never wavers. It’s a bit off-putting since you expected him to at least be shocked by the news, but it’s almost like he’s used to hearing that your pet cat just ran away. 

“Right. I forgot to tell you about this new habit of hers.” He chuckles with an apologetic smile before one of his hands reaches up to wipe the tears off your cheeks. The close proximity has heat rising to your face, but you’re too stunned to react.

“I read somewhere that it’s good for Maine Coons to wander around to stretch out their limbs. Nari also told me last month that Lana could use the exercise, so whenever she comes over to mine, I let her out without supervision. She eventually finds her way to the lobby and just waits for me to come back if I’m ever running a little late.”

You listen to every word of Vernon’s explanation with a look of disbelief. All this time, you were worried sick about how he’ll react to the news that you lost your cat, but he’s been letting her go out and about when it’s his turn to look after her?

“Then where is she now?” you ask—not bothering to pick a fight with him now of all times.

Vernon hums for a moment as if considering the options and you don’t miss how his fingers tighten around yours when he gives you an answer.

“I might have a good idea.”

When Vernon suggested for you to head to the park just a few minutes away from your apartment as he climbed into the passenger seat, you merely scowled at him. “Milana is afraid of all the dogs that go for walks there. The only dog she isn’t scared of is Namja.” 

“Just trust me,” he insists as you start the car. “Better we look there and find nothing than not look when there turns out to be something.”

His logic isn’t so flawed after all when he briskly leads you down a familiar walkway to an even more familiar location. It’s a small hill that’s got a perfect view of the river nearby. The upslope is lined with plum blossom trees that bloom even more vibrantly in spring and it just so happens that one of those trees is dubbed as yours and Vernon’s usual spot. 

It’s where you and him usually hang out when the air in the studio has gotten a bit too stale to bring forth any sort of output. The outdoors can offer all sorts of inspiration when it comes to writing and producing songs and it’s common practice to make the trip to the usual spot when either of you are suffering from a nasty bout of creativity block. 

And under the shade of the tree in the said usual spot is none other than Milana—curled up in deep slumber as plum blossom petals drift onto her pale brown fur. 

You don’t even feel bad for rudely disturbing her from her comfortable nap, immediately pulling her into an abrupt embrace as you feel the tears welling in your eyes again. Milana lets out a strangled meow—claws straining against your skin with a threat of attack if you don’t knock it off. But you can’t bring yourself to care. You’d gladly use up all the band-aids in the world after she scratches you up if it means you can get to hug her for a few seconds more.

“There she is. All cozy at that.”

Vernon’s smooth voice startles you out of your relief—so overwhelmed to see your cat again that you almost forgot that you had company.

“I told you she’d be here,” he laughs before reaching out to pet her head. “You got us worried though. Don’t go wandering too far, okay, Lana? You scared your mom shitless, you know?” 

Milana responds with a disgruntled noise but you can feel her claws retract nonetheless. Damn Vernon and the fact that he’s obviously the favorite parent…

She seems considerably happier when you deposit her into her father’s arms—nuzzling his chest with a satisfied purr as you and Vernon start to descend the hill. 

But as he showers her with affection, you can’t help but sneak brief glances in your ex-boyfriend’s direction. Vernon has always been easy on the eyes. That’s one of the reasons you were drawn to him in the first place. But whenever you see him like this—laughing goofily as he teases Milana, the high of his cheekbones dusted red with a shower of plum blossoms gliding all over…

The gods are cruel to think you could ever put up a fight.

When Vernon comes over to bring Milana back to your apartment, you don’t expect him to stay for too long. He mentioned on the way that yesterday’s shut-in session was a complete success and that they’ve got all their work cut out for them. All they need is a green light from the higher-ups before Jihoon can start handing the song samples to the company’s usual team of producers—a team that just happens to include you.

So yeah, you don’t expect Vernon to linger because he’s obviously got a lot on his plate. The man hasn’t even had breakfast or brunch or whatever. So when he surprisingly decides to stay and rummages through your fridge for the pasta noodles and red sauce you’ve been saving for tonight, it’s like you never broke up with him at all.

The sight is almost too familiar for you to bear. 

Vernon sitting on the kitchen counter, helping himself to some day-old pasta as his long legs dangled over the edge. Milana watching his feet sway around with keen eyes as she attempts to swipe at them with her claws. Not to mention you, who’s staring at the two of them like they’re the most precious things in the world.

“Hey, this is really good,” Vernon compliments with half his mouth stuffed with noodles. “You’re using that one Italian tomato sauce that I like, right? Man, I missed this a lot.” 

You will yourself to snap out of whatever trance his presence has got you in before walking closer to him with a soft laugh. You lean across the counter, grabbing a fork from the drawer where you keep your silverware to help yourself to some of the pasta that he haphazardly tossed into the microwave. 

“It could’ve been better if you heated the noodles properly in boiling water.” You shake your head. “Then again, you’ve always been impatient when it comes to food.”

“Not as impatient as Seokmin-hyung,” he snickers. “One time when we were still staying back in the dorms, Mingyu-hyung just put the lasagna in the oven but Seokmin-hyung was already yelling about when it’ll be ready to eat. Actually, he always does that even if one of us just pops something in the microwave.”

You shake your head, recalling the words of Nari’s receptionist, Chae. “Men. Always so dramatic.”

Vernon snickers in agreement. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

You fall into conversation with him so easily, it’s almost unreal. When Vernon finishes his food, the two of you eventually migrate to the living room—catching up with each other in a way that you don’t really have the time to whenever he comes over to pick up Milana from your apartment in the past. 

Speaking of Milana, your cat acts as a barrier of sorts between you and Vernon, lying comfortably in the space that the two of you left unfilled. Cuddling up to him on the couch used to be so easy, it’s almost second nature, but now that you’re nothing but co-workers that are friends at best, you’ve got a lot more reservations than you used to have.

“By the way, I’ve been looking everywhere for that sweatshirt,” he muses before pointing at the graphic crewneck you’re wearing. “I thought I lost it in the laundry or that Seungkwan might’ve nabbed it when he came over to my place.” 

“Why is he your first suspect?” you snort. “Also, what are you talking about? This is Jihoon’s.”

Vernon blinks at you, a little confused. “No, that’s mine. Jihoon-hyung must’ve borrowed it from me and let you borrow it after. When did you even get it from him?”

“Um. About a month ago?”

“That explains it then.” 

You roll your eyes. “Look, if you want your sweatshirt back, I can just give it to you.”

“No, it’s okay. You can keep it,” he insists, one hand drifting onto Milana’s head so he can scratch her ears. “You’ve always looked good in my clothes anyway.”

Silence fills the room almost uncomfortably at how easy it is for him to admit that. The sudden shift in the atmosphere occurs to Vernon a little late and the smile on his face falls when he realizes what he just said.

“Oh, I didn’t… I mean—”

“It’s— It’s okay,” you interject meekly, managing a shy smile as you tug on the sleeves of your—his—sweatshirt. “I always liked wearing your clothes too.”

You’re perfectly aware that you should know how to hold yourself accountable for the things you say. That goes the same for Vernon. So when the two of you willingly let the other hear such controversial things that co-workers-slash-friends probably shouldn’t be saying to each other, you’re not sure what to make of the situation. 

Are you reading him wrong? Or is he actually reciprocating your misplaced longing, no matter how subtle? It’s always been hard to tell with Vernon, who’s never straightforward with what he wants to communicate. Always trusting that you would understand the nuance of his every action, his every word, when all they do is make your head spin.

The sight is perfectly domestic—lounging comfortably on the sofa after a good meal, both of your feet kicked up on the coffee table, and your big baby daughter purring quietly from where she lies between the two of you. 

But even if three months doesn’t seem like a whole lot, it’s enough time for some…due changes to eventually set. 

“You know…” Vernon starts, sucking in a deep breath almost like he’s nervous.

“Do I know what?” 

His eyes flicker over to the ceiling as if praying for some sort of deliverance before forcing himself to meet your gaze again. There’s a look in his eyes that you can’t parse right away, and you wonder if you can ever understand what it is. 

“I… I still listen to that old mixtape you gave me. Do you remember? The one you gave to me when we first met?” he murmurs quietly, bringing his hands onto his lap so he can twiddle with his thumbs. “Before we have to come up on stage and I start feeling nervous, I just listen to a softcopy of that mixtape on my phone. I still do now.”

That mixtape… He still has that? Moreover, he managed to save a softcopy and downloaded it onto his phone? You would’ve asked him how on earth he managed to do that, if you weren’t so startled about his sudden revelation.

“Your voice always gives me strength. Even when we weren’t together yet—even if we’re not together anymore.” Vernon purses his lips, a sad look eclipsing the sincerity in his eyes as he strokes Milana’s fur thoughtfully. “So I’m really sorry if you think I’m overstaying my welcome today. I definitely am. But I just— I just wanted to be selfish for once.I wanted to spend a little more time with you because I know you’ll go back to distancing yourself from me once I leave.”

When he turns to face you, you know it’s the real deal. There’s a spark of determination in his eyes that scares you a little—like he’s about to say something you’re not ready to hear yet regardless of how badly you want to. 

But before he can get a chance to utter the words, your phone starts ringing on the coffee table. You’ve never swooped in to answer a call so quickly in your life.

“Hello, what’s up?” You nearly cringe at how bubbly your voice sounds as you get up from the couch.

“Hey, have you found Milana?” Nari’s voice flows into your ear, genuine concern lacing each word. “I asked Mingyu to look around with Namja, but no dice. I could contact some other friends if you—”

“It’s okay, Nari,” you interject, fingers drumming across your thigh. “We already found her.”

Your friend makes a curious noise. “Who’s we?” 

You nearly balk when Vernon plucks the phone out of your hands, pressing it to his ear with a smug grin that you don’t usually see him wear.

“Who else?” he says. “Thanks for checking in, Nari. But we’re kind of…busy.” 

The call isn’t even on loudspeaker but you can obviously hear the way Nari gasps like Vernon just unveiled some scandalous secret. “Oh my god. Are you—”

Vernon ends the call before tossing your phone back onto the couch, startling Milana out of her nap. Your cat flashes Vernon something similar to a dirty look before hopping off the cushions and sauntering off elsewhere. You just hope she doesn’t retaliate by wandering outside again.

But your cat’s newest penchant for wandering around is the last thing on your mind because even if you’re not facing him, you can sense Vernon’s towering presence directly behind you.

You don’t resist when he hugs you from behind—resting his forehead against your shoulder as he breathes out a shuddering sigh. His arms still feel like home despite being months into the breakup and you don’t know how to fucking deal with it.

“I still love you. Never stopped,” he whispers. “It was…completely stupid of me to think we’re better off as friends just because we’re coworkers. You’re too important to me. I don’t want to be your friend. I want to—”

You don’t even give him leeway to finish that sentence, whirling around in his embrace as you meet his lips in a quiet kiss.

In a split second, several things happen at once. Dying stars collide. Black holes collapse. Eternities unspool. 

And you start to realize that you can’t live without Vernon Chwe.

“Shit, Hansol, please.”

Vernon loves how his other name falls so gracefully from your lips—loves how you frame the words in such an…interesting way. You only ever call him that when you’re feeling particularly strong emotions—happiness, anger, disappointment…

Pleasure.

He heaves a long sigh as he peels himself away from the home he’s made between your thighs. You’re not sure how long Vernon has been eating you out, but your brain is close to melting and you can’t process any other coherent thoughts aside from how your cunt still tingles from the orgasm he just gave you. 

Your panties have long been discarded on the bedroom floor. All you’re donned with now is the old sweatshirt that you thought belonged to Jihoon but turns out was Vernon’s property all along. He insisted that you keep it on—emphasizing just how much he likes seeing you in his clothes before promptly robbing you of your capacity to think by eating pussy like it was his life’s purpose.

It doesn’t help that he looks so fucking delectable between your legs—big hands splayed across the sensitive flesh of your thighs as he looks up at you with a dazed expression. His lips are parted, still glossy from the aftermath of your release and the look in his eyes almost makes it seem like he’s the one who’s just been eaten out to completion.

“Fuck, ‘Sol,” you whimper, head falling back onto the pillows as you shield your eyes with your arm. You can’t even look at him without feeling like you’re about to combust. “Stop staring at me like that…”

Vernon leans down to pry your arm off your face—forcing you to meet his loving gaze before pressing your arm down onto the mattress.

“Like what?” he whispers, the blunt of his nail scraping against your bottom lip. 

“Like you want to swallow me whole.”

His eyes almost crinkle with how wide he smiles at you and you nearly writhe with anticipation when you feel his drenched fingers prodding your slicked entrance again. 

“What if I tell you that’s exactly what I want?”

Vernon’s mouth is on yours before you can even breathe, tongue bullying its way past your lips as he licks into your mouth. He slips the digits he used to tease you back into your wet channel and you delight in how he swallows your moans as he pumps them inside at a languid pace. Vernon has always been good at building your release from the ground up—never one to rush any orgasms he’s willing to give. As long as you feel good, he’ll exercise as much patience as he can.

“V-Vernon,” you gasp when he curls his fingers and thumbs at your clit at the same time, flicking your sensitive bud with just the right amount of pleasure that has your toes curling with pleasure. “Fuck, please, please—”

“Sounds so good for me,” he sighs, taking your bottom lip between his teeth before giving a delicious tug. “Wanna record all your pretty noises and use it in a song. D’you want that too, love? Want everyone to hear how nice you sound?”

The idea of him using your voice in the throes of pleasure for such a mundane thing sends a rush of heat straight to your core. You moan in reply, rubbing your needy cunt against his hand in a desperate attempt to get yourself off. Vernon chuckles against your lips and his teasing almost makes you pout, if only he isn’t so fucking good at finding your g-spot.

The first time he makes you come, it’s with his mouth and the second is after he expertly picks you apart with his fingers. But no matter how well Vernon knows your body, you still think it’s fucking unfair for him to coax orgasm after orgasm from you like it’s as easy as breathing.

“Hansol,” you whisper—brain too fucked out to segreget his two names properly. “Want you inside me. Want all of you.”

He shakes his head with an audible tut, slipping his fingers out of your pulsing hole. The action makes you mewl in protest, but Vernon brings those same fingers to your lips to silence you. 

“You have to work on your patience, love,” he murmurs, angling his face a little before his lips descend onto your neck. “It’s been a while since I’ve had you like this… I want to savor you. You’ll let me do that, right?”

All you can do is answer him with a helpless nod.

His sweatshirt is off in a split second, revealing your body to him in a way that makes you want to hide underneath the covers. He gazes at you so intensely, it makes you wonder how someone you broke up with three months ago still looks at you like it's the first time.

Vernon writes poetry onto your skin with each caress of his lips, making sure you feel everything he’s doing to you as he leaves no inch of your body untouched. Sex with him has always been intense, not because he likes to fuck hard and fast but because he likes to take his time—to sink himself into your skin deep enough that you can’t ever hope to flush him out of your system. 

That’s probably one of the reasons why you just couldn’t bring yourself to stop loving him. He’s become such a fundamental part of your life that living without him is the same as breathing without oxygen. 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs as his lips latch onto your breasts. “So fucking beautiful.” 

Vernon isn’t a man of many words. You’ve come to know this for a fact, so whenever he spills all these compliments for you to hear, it makes your heart swell inside your chest. A handful of other people have called you that in the past, but when the words come from Vernon’s mouth, it feels like the gospel truth.

Fortunately, your lover was never too cruel to you. Sure, he likes to instill the value of patience, but Vernon never found the appeal of bringing your partner to tears because of their unquenchable need for release.

He doesn’t even make you beg for his cock. Vernon simply lines up the tip with your swollen entrance before slowly pushing inside—dark eyes cognizant of every shift in your expression to make sure he isn’t hurting you. When all he sees is you whimpering from how good it feels to be split open by his cock, he knows he’s doing it right.

“I love you,” he whispers breathlessly—hoping the words won’t be lost in the midst of the mind-numbing pleasure. “I’m so in love with you.”

He ploughs you into the mattress slowly, deeply, wanting you to feel every inch of his cock as he fucks into you. Vernon is rarely vocal with his words when it comes to sex, but he makes up for it with the pleasurable sounds that escape his lips. And with how long it’s been since the two of you lied together like this, you wouldn’t blame him for feeling more unhinged than usual.

“I love you, too, ‘Sol,” you sigh but the words are eclipsed with a high-pitched keen when he amps up the pace of his thrusts. 

“I love hearing you say that,” Vernon groans, biting his lip until he can taste iron on his tongue. 

“Then I’ll keep saying it.” It’s a miracle how you manage to get the words out when he’s quite literally punching the breath out of your lungs with each stroke. “I’ll say I love you while you’re fucking me. I’ll say I love you even when you’re not.”

“I’ll say it all the time if it means you’ll come back to me.”

For a moment, the intense pace he’s set falters—eyes wide and mouth agape. You worry that you must’ve said something out of turn, but Vernon proves you wrong by pulling you forward into a tight embrace, fucking up into your tight cunt with a kind of vigor that you never would’ve associated with someone as easy going as he is.

“I’m yours, love.” he rasps against your neck, teeth grazing the skin just above the thrum of your pulse. “I’ll always be yours.”

The sudden switch in positions and the sincerity of his words is what pushes you over the edge a third time—making you cling onto Vernon like a lifeline as he continues fucking you through your orgasm. You can tell that he’s close. His strokes are more erratic, more frantic. Now that he’s brought you to the pinnacle, he doesn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t make it to that same paradise too.

When he comes, it’s a burst of white hot pleasure that singes through every single nerve ending in Vernon’s brain. You let out such an adorable little whimper as his cum coats your insides in generous spurts, filling you to the brim with his emission with the full intention of keeping it inside you for days.

But as much as he loves entertaining the idea of defiling you until everyone in the world knows you belong to him… 

He’s always put great importance in the art of aftercare.

Both of you try very hard to ignore Milana’s judgemental stare as Vernon carries you to the bathroom—propping you up on the toilet cover first as he draws a warm bath. But from the way she dismissively leaves the two of you to your own devices after a few minutes, you like to think that you’ve gotten her seal of approval.

Your no-longer-ex-boyfriend gently lays you into the tub with him, reaching out for the soap on one of your toiletry holders as he massages you everywhere you’re sore. You let out a satisfied sigh before resting the back of your head against his firm shoulder.

“How’re you going to explain to the higher-ups that you’re dating one of their producers again?” you chuckle, placing your hand on top of his as he continues to clean you up. “Maybe I should just find a job somewhere else. A place where it isn’t illegal to have an idol as a boyfriend.”

“Maybe,” he muses before placing a firm kiss on your temple. “But whatever happens, I know I’ll always stick by you no matter what.”

You turn around, arching an eyebrow at him. “Even if it’ll cost you your job?” 

You completely expect him to backtrack a little. Vernon is obsessed with you—you get that. But probably not to a point where he’s willing to breach the company’s contract just to keep being with you, right? 

But for some reason, it sounds so fucking easy for him to say it when he whispers:

“Even if it’ll cost me my job.”

⟢ end notes: this is probably the sweetest thing i've ever written bc i personally headcanon vernon as someone who loves his s/o so deeply, it consumes him (like in a good way yk). i had so much fun writing this (esp since i got to sneak in vet!reader from again and again under the name nari hehe) so i rly hope you enjoyed it! do look forward to the last part of this series, which will feature resident catboy jeon wonwoo <3

this is part of the doting on you! series.

[caitified]

Can you write a story where reader is Caitlin’s little sister by a couple years and Caitlin is like really protective of her scaring of her gfs of anyone she talks to. But reader meets Kate when she starts at Iowa and Caitlin introduces them. They hit off and start secretly dating because reader doesn’t want Caitlin to mess it up for. Though Caitlin accidentally finds out and is shocked because her best friend is dating her little sister and she doesn’t know how to react because yes it is her best friend but it’s her LITTLE sister.

little sister

kate martin x reader

warnings:none

it started off like any other day at carver-hawkeye arena. caitlin had invited you to visit campus, eager to show you around her home away from home. as her little sister, just a couple of years younger, you were used to her protective streak. it had always been there, from high school basketball games to family gatherings. if someone so much as looked at you the wrong way, caitlin was quick to step in.

“you’re gonna love it here,” she said as she led you through the athletic facilities. “but, you know, stick to hanging out with me. college guys are the worst, and the girls here… they’re intense too.”

you rolled your eyes, laughing softly at her overprotective tone. “relax, cait. i’m not here to date anyone.”

caitlin grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “good. keep it that way.”

when you entered the gym, caitlin waved someone over, her face lighting up. “oh, perfect timing! you’ve gotta meet kate.”

you turned to see kate martin jogging over, her blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, her smile warm and easy. the second your eyes met, something shifted. there was a spark, an instant connection that made your stomach flip in a way you hadn’t expected.

“hey, nice to meet you,” kate said, extending a hand. her grip was firm, her touch lingering just a second too long to be casual.

“you too,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

caitlin launched into a conversation about practice schedules and team dynamics, completely unaware of the way kate kept glancing at you. every stolen glance, every brush of fingers as kate passed you the basketball—it all left your heart racing.

over the next few weeks, you found excuses to visit iowa city more often. you told caitlin it was because you wanted to spend time with her, but the truth was, you were coming for kate.

kate, who would text you late at night with jokes or stories about her day. kate, who would pull you aside after practices to chat, her smile making you forget the world around you. kate, who kissed you for the first time one evening after a team dinner, when the two of you had stayed behind to clean up.

“i shouldn’t,” she murmured, her breath warm against your lips as her eyes searched yours. “caitlin would kill me if she knew.”

“she doesn’t have to know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

kate hesitated for only a moment before leaning in, her lips soft against yours, her hand cupping your cheek as if you might disappear if she let go. that kiss changed everything.

you and kate began stealing moments whenever you could, sneaking out for coffee or sitting together in her car, talking about anything and everything. she told you about her dreams, her worries, her life before iowa, and you opened up to her in ways you hadn’t with anyone else.

“you’re amazing, you know that?” kate said one night as the two of you sat by the river, the moonlight reflecting off the water.

“you’re just saying that,” you replied, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

“no, i mean it,” kate said, turning to face you. “you’re smart, funny, kind… and you make me feel like i can be myself.”

your heart swelled at her words, and you leaned in to kiss her, the world fading away around you.

but no secret stays hidden forever.

it happened one night after a game. caitlin had invited you and kate back to her apartment for dinner, and as usual, you and kate had found a quiet moment alone. you were standing in the hallway, your hands tangled together as kate leaned down to kiss you.

“what the hell?” caitlin’s voice made you both freeze. you turned to see her standing there, her face a mix of shock and disbelief.

“caitlin—” you started, but she held up a hand.

“are you two… are you kidding me right now?”

kate stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. “caitlin, listen. i care about her. a lot. this wasn’t something we planned, but it’s real.”

caitlin’s jaw tightened, her protective instincts kicking in. “she’s my little sister, kate. my little sister. and you’re my best friend. how am i supposed to deal with this?”

“by trusting us,” kate said simply. “you know me, cait. you know i’d never hurt her.”

the tension in the room was thick, but slowly, caitlin’s shoulders relaxed. she looked between the two of you, her expression softening just a little.

“this is gonna take some getting used to,” she admitted, running a hand through her hair. “but if you make her happy…” she trailed off, sighing. “just don’t make me regret this, okay?”

you and kate exchanged a relieved glance before turning back to caitlin. “we won’t,” you promised.

caitlin shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “you two are lucky i love you.”

kate reached for your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours as caitlin walked away, muttering something about needing a drink.

“well, that went better than expected,” kate said, her voice light but filled with relief.

“i think she’s warming up to the idea,” you replied, squeezing her hand.

kate leaned down to kiss your forehead, her smile soft and full of love. “we’ll figure it out. together.”

maybe more of this..

[iamyoursonly]

Childhood Best Friend (16/07/2024)

turns out my bakugo obsession wasn’t over so i’m writing him to feed my delusions because I saw this one line on tumblr and I had to write a whole story about it; i wrote this at 2 AM so it’s not the most creative hehe but bear with me

1.5k words — unedited

The thought of having a childhood best friend that you can keep in contact with really drives me insane, not in a bad way though, because it’s the kind of friendship that I crave. I have no idea how much time both parties dedicate to each other to maintain a relationship for this long, and I might be jealous of some of my friends because they have this and mine isn’t as ideal as I hope it was.

“Katsu?” My five-year-old self say, “Would you marry me when we grow up?”

The crimson eyed boy looked at me, holding out that ring pop he’s been eating for a while now and basically finished, “If you’ll have me that is.”

According to his mom, I went around kindergarten holding his hand and calling him “my husband katsu” for a while, and he was always around to protect me when kids doubted what I said. He’d beat them up or threaten them with his explosions saying, “You’re all just jealous that you’re not her, but too bad she’s my wife now so piss off.”

I was always around him and he was always around me, we were literally stuck to the bone.

“Katsu, someone told me I was ugly is that true?” I cried in his arms for the first time when I was six, and he rubbed my head and let me cry it out.

“Whoever told you that must have no taste, you’re breathtaking.” He says.

“What does ‘breaktaking’ mean?” I say.

“Breathtaking. It means you’re so pretty you take someone’s breath away.” He smiles, “I’m also beating them up for putting this nonsense in your head. No one messes with my wife.”

“Don’t beat them up though, please?” I look at him, and his rubs my head and nod.

This all disappeared when I had to leave to move away because my parents found a better job. I held onto his hand and begged my parents to let me stay with him and his family, he also begged, claiming he doesn’t want to be apart from “his wife”.

“Don’t forget me, Katsu.” I start sobbing, “I really don’t want to leave.”

“Can’t you stay?” He asks, red staining his eyes because of the crying he has been doing.

“I can’t, they’re not letting me.” I hold his hand harder, “Promise we’ll meet again?”

“Let’s become heroes together. I’ll become number one and you’ll be alongside me.” He squeezes my hand back. “Let’s meet at UA.”

“Promise?” I ask.

“Promise.”

We pinky promised before my parents shoved me into the car and drove away.

“Hit harder, you’re not doing it right!” My coach screams at me. “Okay, take a break you’re not thinking.”

I sit on the ground, stripping off my boxing gear then throwing them to the ground, “Fuck.” How am I going to be good enough to catch up to him? He’s gifted, hardworking and talented. It’s not possible to be on the same level as him without training harder, and I’m not even hitting right…

“I’m done, let me do it again!” I say to my coach, who’s wiping the pads I’ve been hitting. She smiles and signals me to start. I throw I few punches at her, then a few kicks, and some more punches. “That’s the spirit, young lady!” She says as I throw more kicks at her.

“Good work today,” She pats my shoulder, “See you tomorrow.”

I smile at her before packing my bags and leaving, stretching a bit before I take a taxi home to revise for tomorrow morning’s tests. I take out the small notebook I keep in my bag and start memorizing some main points from the book, “Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.” I whisper.

I manage to get a taxi, I get in and sit down and continue studying. After a while, I look out of the window, slowly rolling down the glass after getting the driver’s permission. Feeling the night air against my face, I start to feel home sick. It’s been ten years since I left Japan, and I’ve been doing everything he would just so I can get in UA. And I miss him so much.

“Congratulations! You’re accepted into UA high school, we’re looking forward to seeing you on our first day!“

I scream at this news before telling my parents and they were overjoyed also. They willingly bought me plane tickets back to Japan and even called Katsuki’s family to have them take care of me for the mean time, in which they agreed to. And all I could think about that night was how happy he would be when he sees me again.

He was not happy, at least I don’t think he is. He has this scowl over his face and he’s gotten so tall and buff since ten years ago.

“You’re that loser girl I hung out with? I literally have no fuckin’ memory of you since you’re so fuckin’ insignificant to me.”

Wow. He’s definitely changed so much.

“Katsu, I kept my promise, I got into UA and now I’m back.” I say.

“So? What do you want me to say? Congrats? Yeah no shit, everyone craves validation when it comes to me.” He says, “Congrats loser, for making the bare minimum to get in like it’s fuckin’ challenging.”

Okay he’s just rude now, where was that sweet old Katsuki I missed. So I just rolled my eyes at him and went to their guest room to settle down. In which Mitsuki welcomed me with a whole party that Katsuki was not happy about.

New school year, new me. I wear my UA uniform, ready for a new school year with more fun and joy every year. Until some weird guy stopped me and Katsuki on our way to school.

“Hey girlie, you look so fine you should be called mine. Wanna go out with me?” He winks, and I cringed at him. Katsuki full on glared at him, looking pissed.

“She doesn’t wanna fuckin’ go out with you, why would she downgrade herself for a fucker like you?” Katsuki grabbed my hand and started leaving.

He told him off for me. He cares.

“Why are you even helping that whore?” That weirdo asked Katsuki, and he glared daggers into him.

“No one can say that to her when I’m around, say that again and you’ll lose your dick.” Katsuki threatens him again and wraps his arms around my waist.

He turns to me, his face so close to mine before he says, “Let’s go.”

Since when was his face so masculine and defined. He definitely had a big glow up because how could one be so breathtaking?

“Katsu.” I say, “What was that for? Thought you hated me.”

“Still do, but only I can degrade you.” He answers.

“Possessive much?” I joke, but I could feel his grip on my waist tighten. So I just shut up and walk with him.

When we got home that day, Mitsuki made us fried chicken and some extra spicy mapo tofu (katsu’s favourite).

“Remember when the two of you got married when you were five? Katsuki gave you his ring pop after you asked him if he’d marry you and he said something like ‘if you’ll have me’? Oh goodness I remember it like it was yesterday.” She chuckled with her husband as Katsuki and I stared at each other awkwardly.

“Shut up you old hag.” Katsuki says, his ears red, “I’m going back to my room.”

Before he leaves the table, he drags me with him and we enter his room before he locks the door.

“So,” He starts, “What now?”

I look at him, “You dragged me in, you tell me.”

“It’s nothing I just needed a break from them.” He shrugged, “It’s not like I’m fuckin’ embarrassed of us or anything.”

There was a moment of loud silence.

“Katsu,” I break the awkwardness, “Can we like start again?”

“Like what, pretend that you never left me?” He says, his tone sounded like he’s hurt.

“I didn’t want to, and you know it.” I look him in the eye, and he keeps the eye contact.

“Missed you so fuckin’ much and now you’re here,” He puts his head on my shoulder, basically whispering into my ear, “I hate how you’re my weak spot and how I can’t properly get over you even though we were basically children.”

“Katsuki, listen.” I hold his face and he’s so close to me I could feel his breath on my face.

“Yeah?” He looks at me, features softening.

“Be my boyfriend, Katsuki.” I murmured softly, “For real this time. I swear the only person I’ve loved is you.”

He laughed out loud, “Thought we were married all along, wifey.”

I hug him tight and he speaks, “Don’t leave me again okay?”

“Promise.” I chuckled, “Also you need to get me another ring, I might have left the ring pop with my family.”

“You silly bitch. You’re lucky I love you.” He gently smacks me.

“And I love you too.” I smile.

…“And now, I pronounce the two of you husband and wife.”

Maybe this childhood best friend thing that I had wasn’t that bad either, seeing how we have two children together right now makes me smile at our memories together as a child. My breathtaking childhood best friend and the pro hero Dynamight that I could call my husband until the end of time.

[giveafike]

Hi can you write Elliot euphoria and YN have a camping indoors sleepover that leads to more than just friends. Extra smutty please 🤭

TLDR: Elliot and Y/N planned a "camping trip" during college vacation and well, one thing led to another and...

Word count + info: 2.1k THIS ONE IS LONGGGG! Dialogue (it’s mostly sex talk and them being silly goofy guys). Female college!readerxElliot (no specifications).

Warnings + Content Ahead: NSFW this is 18+ MDNI, 420 mentioned, biting, oral sex, no protection (smh), lotta making out and mouth stuff, thigh riding 🤭 I think that’s it!

Azzie Notes ✚: Chat we are so back! sorry I took so long bro, IRL has been soo fkin messy atm but I just needed to write and get back on here. Why is my inbox ovulating so hard tho 😭  guys lets be demure too (kidding I need dom more than ever before now that Dominic has gone MIA)I hope u enjoy it's been a while! I also mentioned Euphoria like,.. the actual word and geeked out a bit go try n find it and geek out w me

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When It Rains, It Pours - D.F.

“Oh, dude you’ve got to be fuckin' kidding me” He huffs.

There you both were, like two idiots holding hamper baskets with blankets, snacks, rolling papers, and small pillows, staring out the glass door into the backyard as rain poured down heavy, the sound of wind whistling as the drops hit the windowed door hard.

You and Elliot had spent many summers “camping” in his backyard since High School and since college had separated your time together, what better way to reunite than kicking off summer in your hometown by camping? Only this year, you both promised to save up and go somewhere this time, but alas, it was just you, Elliot, his empty house and, the torrential rain outside. You both stood in matching tartan shorts and your graduation grey t-shirts from high school like a bunch of losers.

You sigh as you set down your hamper. “So much for that camping trip, huh?” you smirk, biting a smile down.

He sets his hamper basket down too and rummages through it to find his rolling paper and his little bag of weed. “Can’t believe our fuckin’ luck man” He murmurs angrily as he fumbles his papers up.

You sigh and reach over, grabbing his now crumpled paper, and, plop yourself down on the beanbag by the door before rolling his blunt for him. He sighs and sits on the floor between your legs, placing his chin on your knee before looking up at your face, and tucking some hair behind your ear.

“I missed this- I mean I missed you, ya know? Seeing your Instagram Stories and FaceTiming isn’t the same, you even look different. I really wanted to have something to remind you of me, like old times sake sort of thing, whatever that shit means” he mumbles, before pressing his cheek onto your knee, avoiding eye contact.

Your eyes widen at his confession and you stop in your tracks, your fingers moving away from the paper to his face, bringing his eyes back to look at you. Elliot had a lot messed up but one thing was for sure; he always had your back and was always there whenever you needed him.

You both were messed up together, he was your first kiss accidentally, you accidentally smoked weed together, and you both accidentally spent the night in a jail cell after trying to joyride an old car, only to end up crashing that same car within the span of a few minutes since neither of you could drive. Something about those accidents made your heart flutter and kept you around Elliot closer rather than push you away, even though your parents didn’t exactly take it well. Now, after spending almost 8 months away, you were worried Elliot felt like he was slipping away.

“Elli, you’ll always have me, you know that right? Like, you’ve fucked me up so bad that we have a trauma bond, you can’t expect me to slip away, dude. A-And remember one time it rained like this and we made an indoor fort? How ‘bout we do that then, yeah? We have all the stuff for it, the weed and all.” You smile, hoping to get a small laugh out of him as you hold his head, his eyes boring into yours while your fingers coil around his blonde-tipped hair.

He sighs and closes his eyes softly, before nodding, grunting as he gets up. He looks down at you before you lift your head to meet his gaze. Elliot lowers himself to plant kisses on your forehead with an overwhelming tenderness that sends shivers down your spine. It turns almost possessive as he trails it down to your cheek and peppers it with long kisses. Your breath hitches and you feel like melting under his touch. You had never felt a simple kiss to be so sensual but here you were, shivering with your breath hitching. He brings his mouth to your ear, his breath slow and almost ragged.

“If you left me, Y/N, I don’t know what I’d do...” His breath is ragged against your skin as he nips at your earlobe before abruptly standing upright again. He digs into his pockets as he walks over and attends to unpacking the hampers, acting nonchalant despite the raw passion still coursing through him. Elliot has kissed and touched you before, albeit while high, but something felt so different, so desperate at this moment.

You try to shrug it off as you roll a few more blunts before crawling inside the now-built fort Elliot had made. He sits on his knees as he puts up some string lights and fluffs up some pillows before resting on his elbows and leaning back. You sit in front of him, holding a blunt between your lips. He can’t help but smile as he brings his old lighter up to you, setting it alight and bringing his face close. The first hit in your lungs feels like home as you exhale with a giggle, blowing the smoke directly into his face. His eyes narrow playfully as he leans in, not breaking eye contact. Instead of simply taking the blunt, his lips brush against yours—soft, lingering—before catching the blunt between them. The kiss is brief but electric, the blunt slipping from your mouth to his as his lips hover close, teasing. For a moment, his face stays just inches from yours, the warmth of his breath mingling with the haze of smoke.

It’s like you’re in his pocket and he’s in yours, both of you wrapped around each others’ fingers. Your back is almost pressed to his, your face tilted up to look at his while his hands wrap around your waist, under your shirt and the waistband of your shorts feeling your smooth skin. It must’ve been 20 minutes when you decide to put the blunt to the side on a small tray and reach up to his face, this time parting his mouth for a kiss. It’s lazy and relaxed as you shift your body to straddle his thigh, your tongue slipping in. Elliot moans into the kiss, holding your hip with one hand and gripping your hair tight with the other.

You grind and gyrate on his thigh, your hands pulling at his curls; you knew he went crazy for hair tugs. His lips trail your neck, his tongue and teeth trailing and gnawing as he laps the length from your collarbone to your earlobe. You let out a whimper as you continue to buck against his thigh, desperate for more. You pull away, pressing your forehead to his.

“Elli, please… don’t hold back” you murmur, pleading as you heave.

He doesn’t answer, instead, he nods and takes his hand under your t-shirt to lift it up and over your head in one swift motion before connecting his lips back to yours. You gasp as you feel the cold air hit your naked torso, the sensation fresh with the sound of you making out with rain noises in the background and the smell of marijuana burning away. It all feels so right, so real.

His head dips between the valley of your breasts, suckling while holding eye contact, lazily moving his mouth over your breast, gliding the tip of his tongue in painful slow circles before taking your nipple between your teeth. His eyes look into yours with pure innocence and attentiveness, as you moan and hold his head there, roaming his curls as you continue to rock back and forth on his thigh, desperately trying for some friction for your now soaking core. You roll his t-shirt up and take it off his torso, throwing it to the side.

Elliot holds you and places you down on the pillow and the mess of bedsheets covering the wooden floor. He leans down, planting soft kisses from the nape of your neck to the edge of your waistband. He perks up to look at you with those sweet eyes you can never get enough of.

“You’re stunning, you know that, Y/N? You always have been.” He whispers shyly before tugging at your waistband looking for approval.

You nod and lift your hips up as he pulls your shorts and underwear off in one swift motion, discarding them outside of the fort. Elliot almost groans at the sight of you completely naked, his eyes filled with desire and admiration. He grabs the blunt placed on the tray and takes a long drag. Smoke billows from his lips and drifts towards your glistening center, making you shiver with anticipation. You moan at the sensation, feeling a wave of heat rush through your body. His head dips down while he kisses your inner thighs, licking softly. He kisses your core, right on your bud making you gasp. Elliot gently spreads your lips, taking one long lick up, circling over your bud. Something about how easy and purposeful he was being had made this all the more arousing, loud moans and encouragement rolling out from your lips begging him to keep going.

Elliot eats you out as if it's his sole duty, his purpose in life, and takes his sweet time to savour you, to thrust his tongue in and out of you, to drink you up until it brings your next orgasm, and then do it all over again. His hand thumbs your breast, the other holding your hips down as you continuously buck up for each wave of pleasure he gives you that ripples through your body. Elliot reaches down to free his member as he carries you through yet another orgasm, this time jerking himself off in slow, lazy strokes, dedicating himself to you first.

As you come down from your orgasm, you feel like you’re seeing stars, everything is flowing perfectly and harmoniously for the first time in a long time. You prop yourself up on your elbows as you watch him gently guide himself to your wet core. Elliot rubs his head up and down before thrusting in, watching your face for any sign of discomfort or displeasure. You grab his shoulder with one hand and bite your lip, nodding to ask him to keep going. He pushes in further, bottoming out inside of you entirely. Your tight hole twitches around his member, adjusting to his size as he slowly moves out, before pounding back in.

It doesn’t take much for Elliot to lose control and find himself relentlessly thrusting into you, roughly gripping a hand to your breast as he moves at a furious pace. You let out provocative giggles and purrs, further fueling his intense desire as he thrusts in and out of you. The fort feels humid, the sound of rain and skin slapping filling the room. Your body craves this, needing more and more as every thrust sends a wave of pleasure through your entire body. Elliot's red eyes are locked on yours, his face contorted with pure passion, your name spilling out like a prayer. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him to go even deeper. His breath hitches as he pounds into you, his hips bucking wildly. The smell of sweat and sex fills the air as he continues to pound, his name echoing from your lips with every thrust.

As you near the edge, you can feel yourself tightening around him, squeezing each time he slams into you. Elliot grabs your hips, holding you tightly as he thrusts faster and harder, his eyes locked on yours. His face is a mix of passion and desperation, knowing you are about to shatter beneath him. And then it happens. You both reach your peaks, sending a jolt of euphoria through the both of you before collapsing, rocking together in one final attempt to ride out your highs. Your nails dig roughly into his shoulder as Elliot bites down on yours, your arms holding him as he lies on top of you before he pulls out and falls to your side. You both breathe out with your mouths dry and skin slick with sweat as you stare up at the bedsheet lined fort ceiling covered in string lights.

Elliot sits up to lazily grab the blunt from the tray, accidentally brushing past one of the fort supports. He pauses for a moment, before exhaling and lying back, taking a drag before handing it to you, smiling.

“You know, for a second there I thought I fuckin’ ruined the momen-” He’s cut off by the fort caving in, entangling you both in sheets. You can’t even be mad at him, he just accidentally crashed his own fort after making your legs shake. God knows how the rest of the night goes, but at least it’s spent with good, old Elli.

[ma1dita]

Duddee, now you gotta write luke proposing to trouble, you simply cannot now IBHBHKK

the perfect weekend

a ‘partners in crime’ alternate universe installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

alternate universe masterpost

words: 1.2k (this was too cute the word count escaped me)

summary: alternate universe - the perfect weekend with your perfect boy, even if he thinks otherwise

a/n: happy luke happy luke happy luke FIANCE LUKE 

(posted 2/4/23 unbetad and written on caffeine)

—

This weekend felt like a dream.

Luke took you to your favorite spots that you’ve both carved memories out of in Westport, buying you and his mom gorgeous fresh flowers from the farmers’ market, and he let you drag him around his hometown, spending hours in tiny antique shops and the record store on Main Street. He couldn’t get over how you always found fun in the simple things— even going to the pharmacy to pick up his mom’s medication felt like going to Disney World with you. He couldn’t be more sure of his decision, it was almost inconceivable to spend another day without you being his fiancee.

But luck wasn’t known to be on his side, after all (yeah, thanks dad). Luke’s always had to work harder to get what he wants, and he’s spent the past few years trying to prove himself to your dad—though deep down, he thinks Mr. D doesn’t mind him as much as he makes it seem. (Asking him for his blessing last week over a bottle of wine and a bone-shaking hug scared the wits out of him. He pretended to not notice the god cry.)

Luke just wants to give you what you deserve. And if he needs to spend the rest of his life working on it to prove it, he ought to do it with you by his side.

But he couldn’t think of how.

He tried proposing over dinner last night, with the smell of burnt cookies in the air, but that wasn’t romantic at all, and his hands were shaking so hard he knocked a glass over, prompting you and his mom to fuss over the mess and giggle over his silliness. You both chatted deep into the night, Luke sitting quietly and nodding at two of his favorite women babbling about who knows what (Sometimes he’s still convinced you like his mom more than him, but the way you both take care of him makes him tear up if he thinks too hard about it).

When you went horseriding this afternoon, he set up a picnic for lunch, which was romantic. Chocolate-covered strawberries and sandwiches made by mom, sparkling cider twinkling in the sun. Luke was sure it was going to be great timing— until he realized the ring box fell out of his pocket again, and he slipped in manure trying to rush you back to the house (The sound of your laughter at clumsiness made his heart warm though, and it almost made up for the three hours he looked for the stupid box in the grass that night when you fell asleep with his tiny Star Wars-themed flashlight).

He woke you up early before the sun rose, carrying you out to the car still bundled up in his old Toy Story throw blanket that you wouldn’t let him toss out when he brought it to college (The faded pictures of Buzz and Woody kept a smile on your face, and the memories it brought make you feel connected to 9-year-old Luke). The drive to the beach was short, a sleepy smile on your face as you felt Luke grab onto your hand, sand getting between your toes before he laid out a blanket and the both of you sat down.

Cracking open a redbull for the both of you to sip on, you leaned against his muscled frame, legs hanging over his lap as he wiped the sand off your feet, holding you close as he smiled.

“Good morning, handsome,” you grinned, leaning up for a kiss. Luke obliged, savoring the taste of you mixed with sleep and artificial peach. Your noses nudge against each other before he mumbles a reply, “Good morning, pretty girl.”

“Y’know? I could die happy just like this. I can’t think of anything else that would make this weekend more perfect.”

Luke hummed in contemplation, “I could think of a few things,” he said, as a laugh bubbled from his lips. A noise of confusion rose from you as you reached up to dust lint off his shirt before your knee nudged something hard in his pocket, and your eyebrow raised in mischief.

“Dirty boy, you get me out of your mom’s house and you’re already excited?”

And he laughed the stress off until it freed itself from his bones, pure elation radiating off of him before Eos even had a chance to spread her first rays of light into the sky. 

He’s never needed perfect.

He just needs you.

His hands dug into his pocket, pulling out the ring box that’s caused him so much trouble this weekend. But a life with you should’ve already prepared him for that—and the shock on your face became funnier when you launched yourself on top of him, kicking up sand and taking the air out of his lungs.

You both hit the ground with a loud thud, your nose buried in his chest as he chuckles at your scream. Why was he even worried to begin with? 

“Wait, wait, I still have something to say trouble, don’t jump ahead of the script!”

His hand rubbed your back in gentle strokes as he popped the box open to reveal a delicate golden band with two diamonds juxtaposed against each other sitting pretty on top.

“It’s always been you and me. And I’ve spent hours thinking of what to say, days trying to figure out when the time would be right, months working for a pretty ring that’s perfect for you, years loving you… and well… I want more. I want this, you and me spending the rest of our lives together because I can’t comprehend a future without you. I’d do anything for you trouble, and I don’t believe in much, but I believe in you. Us.”

You’ve cried so hard by this point that you’re convinced it’s so goddamn ugly but Luke smiles at you like he’s been promised immortality. And perhaps he has, with the future you two will have scrolling through his mind like an old film, a house on a hill, kids, a dog, shit—whatever you want as long as he’s with you it’ll be the closest thing to forever he’d have.

“Are you sure?” you said sniffling, and your boyfriend wiped your tears away like he has countless times before, though happy tears are something he’ll have to get used to.

“I literally ruined your proposal, I just thought you were horny, oh my gods…” Whining loudly and laughing, you held your shaking hand out as he sat up to put the ring on your finger.

“Well, we can fix that later. I still have a question to ask, after all.”

Luke grinned when your head nodded rapidly, finally shutting up so you wouldn’t interrupt him again.

“Will you,” he says so surely now, saying your name before continuing, “let me have the honor of spending the rest of our lives together as your husband?”

“Gods, yes. Fucking hell angelface, did you really think I’d say no?”

The both of you laughed through tears and snot as he placed the ring on your left hand, and still, it couldn’t be more perfect.

“A life with trouble is the life for me,” he mused, laughing as you covered his face in kisses before the both of you fell back into the sand a tangle of lips and lust and love.

You jolted up from your fiance’s embrace just as he thought he was going to get lucky, almost emptying your entire wallet of drachmas into the sand-covered blanket to Iris message your friends.

---

(pics are not representative of reader's appearance or gender just a lil visual for funsies)

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[fluff-lover]

The one that got away | Wolverine x fem!Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend broke up with you. Luckily your neighbor and good friend Wade is there to cheer you up. And his good looking roommate is a bonus.

This is based on this Reddit story

Warning: mature language, heartache, bad writing (does that count?), fluff!

This is my first fanfic on Tumblr, and English is not my first language, so please be gentle :P

You've never cried this hard in your life. So hard it left you completely drained, wondering if people could really die of a broken heart. Your head was pounding, your face was red and puffy, your hair was a mess because you couldn’t muster the strength to do the most basic things like taking care of it for the last week.

You felt defeated knowing that you were about to walk into an empty home. You unlocked the door and took a deep breath before looking into your apartment. Everywhere you looked you saw bits and pieces of him. Him. The man you shared the last few years of your life with, the man you thought you would marry.

Just as you were about to step inside, you heard the door next to yours open.

“Hey babycakes!” your neighbor said. “I haven’t seen you around lately.”

You took a deep breath and forced a smile, barely looking his way.

“Hi Wade.” You said softly. “Just been busy.”

One of the things Wade appreciated about you is that you weren't the type to look away from him. In a world where people looked at him with disgust, he appreciated and befriended those who wouldn't look away. So when you avoided looking at him, he knew something was wrong.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what's going on? Did you see someone kick a puppy or something?”

You didn't even bother trying to contain yourself, you were just too tired.

“Ben dumped me.” you managed to choke out as you slumped on the door frame.

Wade’s demeanor changed entirely. You two were good friends, even if sometimes you felt like you couldn't fully understand him. He was a mutant. He was THE Deadpool, the merc with a mouth. His sense of humor was more inappropriate than it was funny, and you couldn't relate to most of the things he went through, but you were still there for him, you still treated him like a person.

You were his friend, and one of the few people he fought so far to save the world for when the TVA threatened to shut your whole timeline down.

“What in the ass?” Wade said before walking to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You cried on his shoulder harder, only now realizing how lonely you felt in the past few days. “Come here.” Wade gently guided you to his -blind Al's- apartment and sat you down on the couch.

“What's going on?” a gruff voice said. You looked up to see Logan walk into the living room with a confused look on his usually frowned face. You wiped your tears with embarrassment. You hadn't known Logan for long, just a few weeks after he moved in with Wade and Al. So the fact that he saw you cry made you feel a little bit awkward.

“I'll tell you what's going on.” Wade said as he walked to the kitchen. “We're gonna have a girls’ night in, and she’s gonna tell us all about the fuckface that made her cry. And then Imma go fuck him up because no one messes with my family.”

Logan growled lowly at the “girls’ night” part, but didn't make an attempt to leave. Instead he sat down on a chair backwards to your left. When Wade walked out of the kitchen he was carrying a pizza box and a six pack.

“Oh Wade, no… I don't want to bother you. Either of you.” You said shyly.

“Nonsense.” Wade said before sitting down on the couch next to you. Logan quickly opened three beers with one of his claws and placed them on the coffee table. “You were there for me when Vanessa dumped me. Now I'm gonna be here for you. Start from the beginning, what happened?”

You took a deep breath and gripped your own knees in an attempt to ground yourself.

“A few weeks ago Ben ran into his ex. They were highschool sweethearts, and all throughout college, but after college they went their separate ways. So when he ran into her and told me he wanted to catch up with her after so many years I didn’t think much of it.” You shook your head, lips trembling. “But a couple of weeks later I came home to Ben packing his things. He said that he had been reconnecting with her and that he realized that he regretted ever letting her go. She's the one that got away. He told me he didn't mean to hurt me but life's giving him a second chance with her and that he had to take it.” You said and sobbed.

“He sounds like a real idiot.” Logan said before taking a sip of his beer. Meanwhile Wade handed you a napkin to wipe your tears away.

“I'm the idiot.” You said sadly. “I shouldn't have let him go meet her.”

“Hey, now, don't say that.” Wade said. “This is not your fault, you hear me? He made a stupid choice, he's a moron. What does this girl have that you don't have? Beer flavored nipples?”

“Ben did say she was prettier.” You replied, your heart breaking as you remembered that painful conversation.

“So he's a blind idiot.” Logan said. His comment made you feel better.

“When did this happen?” Wade asked.

“Last Thursday, why?”

Wade gasped dramatically.

“Buttercup, today is Tuesday! Why didn't you tell us sooner?”

“I didn't want to bother you.” You repeated.

“We could've spend the weekend eating trash food, getting drunk, building snowmen-”

“There’s no snow.” you pointed out.

“He means cocaine.” Logan said.

“Oh…”

“-watching reruns of Golden Girls.” Wade carried on ignoring the two of you.

“I don't do drugs.” You felt the need to clarify to Logan. He just shrugged and sipped his beer. Wade's weird comments didn't faze him anymore.

“...We could've slash his tires, steal his cat.” Wade carried on with a dreamy look on his face as he looked far away, in his own world.

“He doesn't have a cat.” You said confused.

“... and all of that, if you had come to me sooner, babycakes.” Wade finished dramatically. “You didn't have to go through this alone, I'm right next door.”

You couldn't help but smile a little bit at that.

“I know. Thank you, Wade.”

“Where's the guy now?” Logan asked and your shoulders’ dropped.

“I think he moved in with her.”

Logan arched an eyebrow, looking unimpressed.

“Do you want us to kick his ass for you?” He then asked. You were shocked by his offer. You would’ve expected it from Wade, but not from the Wolverine. Your breakup surely was the least of his problems. But at least you felt less alone.

“Thank you, but no. I’m sure karma will get him eventually.”

“Are we talking about luck, or the mutant named Karma?” Wade asked and then laughed. “Never mind, either way he’s fucked.”

-

Life didn’t get any easier the following days, you were still heartbroken, but at least you didn’t spend the evenings completely alone. Instead of going home after work, you would stop by your neighbor’s and hang around for a little bit. Blind Al told you that of all the motherfuckers in the building, she liked you the most -you weren’t sure that was compliment-.

Wade… well, he was Wade. But you knew his heart was in the right place.

And Logan… he didn’t talk much, obviously, but at least you could tell he didn’t entirely hate you. He would tell Wade to fuck off whenever he crossed a line with his dark, twisted sense of humor at your expense. He offered you a drink when you were around, even if it meant sharing his precious bourbon. Overall he wasn’t the killing machine Wade made him to be.

Even Vanessa stopped by one day by Wade’s request to take you out for some shopping and ice cream. You liked Vanessa, she was badass but kind. Beautiful, but not arrogant. And despite life’s hardships, she was very sweet to you. You didn’t tell her but deep down you were hoping she and Wade would get back together.

A day out with another woman was just what you needed to feel a little bit better. Maybe a man broke your heart, but you still had friends in your corner, and that meant you didn’t live a loveless life.

-

You paced around the apartment nervously, your front teeth chewing your thumbnail as you tried to pull yourself together.

Ben had just texted you to tell you he would be picking up the rest of his stuff in a few minutes, and you just wanted to pull out your hair and scream. You weren’t ready to see him. You weren’t ready to talk to him.

Just as you were about to panic, you heard heavy steps down the hallway and some odd grunting. Then there was some cursing. When you looked outside your door you found Logan trying to open his door with one of his claws.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah…” Logan said tiredly. “Fucking Wade took my key without telling me and now I can’t get in.” He growled at the keyhole as it had personally offended him.

“I have a spare key, hang on.” You said before retreating into your apartment to retrieve said key. Logal walked to your door, and without stepping into the apartment, he looked around. When you returned you found him eyeing a couple of boxes by your door.

“You movin’ somewhere?” He asked.

“No, these are Ben’s. He’s picking them up in a little bit.” You replied while offering him the key.

Logan went to grab it, and you could’ve sworn he took his sweet time running his fingers down your hand to take it. Suddenly something changed, the air was charged with some sort of static that ran across your skin. Time seemed to stop, and you didn’t realize but the two of you stared at each other for what felt like years.

Only then you noticed how sad his eyes were.

Wade always went on and on about him being grumpy and having a murderous look on his face, and while you could agree that Logan was the serious type and you had yet to see him laugh, you never noticed the sadness in his eyes. You knew there was something behind said sadness, Wade had warned you that Logan’s past was traumatic and violent, and that he was on a long road to recovery that he may never reach. You never asked questions, but now you wished you did.

You also noticed how handsome he was. Rugged and manly, so different from Ben, who had this boyish charm to him.

Eventually, after what felt like a century, Logan looked away.

“Thanks.” He said lifting the key in the air. “Are you fine with him coming here?”

Your first instinct was to say yes, but your mouth moved faster.

“No, not really. I’m not sure I’m ready to see him yet.” You replied and wrapped your arms around yourself, embarrassed by your own weakness.

Logan simply looked at you up and down before stepping into your apartment and walking past you. You blinked and closed the door behind you.

“I’ll stay, make sure you’re okay.” Logan said, as if that was enough of an explanation.

“Oh, you don’t have to…” you started.

“I’m not asking.” He said before taking his jacket off and sitting down by your kitchen counter.

“Um… alright…” You walked to the fridge. “Would you like something to drink? How about a snack?”

“I’ll take a beer.” He replied. So you took two cans from the fridge and handed him one.

“How did you know I’d have beer?” You asked jokingly.

“Wade talks about you a lot, I just picked a few things here and there.” He said with a shrug and then took a sip.

“He talks about you a lot too.” You commented. Again, something shifted in his eyes. For a second you thought he looked panicked. “All good things.” You added.

Logan turned his face and looked away.

“Right.” He mumbled.

“I mean it.” You pressed. “He worships you, in his own weird, Wade-like way.”

Logan looked back at you and saw the sincerity in your eyes.

“So, if you’re not ready to see your ex, why is he coming to pick his shit now?” He quickly changed the subject.

“He didn’t give me much of a choice. He just announced he was coming over.” You shrugged.

“And you didn’t tell him to fuck off?” Logan scoffed.

“I mean… I wanted to. But he has the right to collect his things… right?” You said unsure. Logan arched an eyebrow.

“I don’t think he has the right to anything after what he did to you. He’s lucky you’re sweet and kind, anyone else would've told him to go fuck himself. Personally I would’ve burnt his shit.”

You smiled and tilted your head.

“You think I’m sweet and kind?” You said teasingly.

“Shut up.” He replied before downing his beer.

Wade was right, Logan did have that whole “don't get too close, I'll only break your heart” vibe going on.

“Sometimes I wish I could tell him to shove it, I do.” You confessed. “I want him to hurt too, to hurt as much as I do. But…” you looked down.

“But that’s just not you.” Logan concluded. Looking at him through your eyelashes, you nodded your head.

You stared at him and again you could see the sadness behind his eyes. You were both broken, unable to put yourselves together, but wishing you could help the other.

A knock on the door made you jump on your skin and break the little bubble you were in.

Logan got up and squared his shoulders.

Suddenly he seemed taller -even taller than he already was-. Is like all of a sudden he could look a thousand times more intimidating than he did moments ago. He wasn’t just Logan. He was the Wolverine.

“I’ll take it, bub.” He said before walking to the door.

“What?” you asked confused

“Just stay there and let me handle it.” He told you and you watched frozen as he took off his plaid shirt.

You couldn’t help but stare at his muscular torso in nothing but a white wife beater.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t want blood on my shirt.” He replied.

You opened your eyes widely.

“WHAT?!”

“Relax.” He smirked. “I’m just messing with ‘ya.” he chuckled before opening the door.

The look on Ben’s face when he saw a tall, brooding, muscular man opening your door was priceless.

“The fuck are you?” Logan asked, pretending not to know already.

“I-I’m Ben.”

“Okay Ben.” Logan said annoyed. “What the fuck do you want?”

Ben looked around the hall confused.

“Did I get the wrong apartment? Is this 3B?”

“Yeah.” Logan replied.

“I was supposed to pick up some boxes…”

“Hey, gorgeous!” Logan called out loudly before turning to look at you over his shoulder. “You know this kid?” He asked in a condescending tone.

Ben’s face went red as the situation got more and more awkward.

“Um yeah…” You walked to the door, playing along. “Logan, this is Ben. Ben, Logan.” You introduced them quickly. “Your boxes are right there.” You added pointing to the side.

“Right. Good. Okay.” Ben stumbled on his words. “I got some of your things too.” He went to pick up your box, not without any struggle. “Careful, is heavy.”

Logan took the box easily with just one hand.

“I’ll take this.” He said before turning around. “Don’t take long, gorgeous.” As if Ben’s manhood wasn’t wounded enough, Logan spanked your ass playfully, like he had some sort of claim on you. You jumped a little bit, surprised by his bold action.

Looking back at Ben, you could tell he didn’t want to be there. Poor thing looked like he was ready to run for the hills. He quickly picked up the two boxes.

“So you… um…” He didn’t know what to say. “You and him?”

His question made you angry, and for the first time you decided to put your foot down.

“You lost the right to ask questions long ago Ben.” You said before slamming the door on his face.

When you turned around you found Logan looking damn pleased with himself. He had a cocky smile on his face.

“You did that on purpose.” You accused him, with no real anger in your voice.

“Do what, exactly?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

“You know exactly what.”

“You said you wanted him to hurt, right? Trust me, no man wants to walk to his ex-girlfriend’s door and find another man.” He said proudly before downing the rest of his beer.

“Especially not one as handsome as you.” You added. Clearly he wasn’t expecting that, because he choked on his drink.

You could be bold too.

“Aaaaanyway…” You said before putting the box on the table and opening it as if calling him that was the most natural thing ever.

Logan watched you pull out your things from the box as you checked everything was there.

“Toothbrush, shampoo, pijamas…”

“Um…” Logan cleared his throat as he picked something from the box.

Your eyes almost popped out of your skull when you saw him holding a lace red teddy you once bought to wear for Ben.

“Jesus!” you snatched it from his fingers, your face warming up due to the embarrassment, and threw it back into the box.

“That guy really don’t know how lucky he was it until he fucked up, uh?” Logan said playfully.

“Not really.” You said shyly. “He didn’t like it.”

Logan stared at you for a moment.

“What kind of man doesn’t like a beautiful woman in lingerie?”

As if your face wasn’t hot enough already, you thought it would explode when he called you beautiful.

“I dunno. He said I looked silly in it.” you shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal. But it was a big deal. Huge! You remembered wanting to do something special for one of your anniversaries, and you wanted to look sexy, since after a few years together your sex life wasn’t as fulfilling as it was during the first few months of your relationship. It really hurt when Ben didn’t look interested, saying you didn’t need silly outfits to get him to bed. Ben thought he was complimenting you, but you took it as a hit to your self esteem.

There was a long silence as you kept looking into the box. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, you just were trying to look busy. You could feel Logan’s eyes burning the side of your face as he stared at you.

Then his hands found yours and he stopped you. You looked up at him and your heart jumped at the intensity he was looking at you with.

“I know that right now it doesn’t feel like it because you're still hurting, but I assure you it’s a good thing you two aren’t together anymore. You deserve better. You deserve a real man that knows he’s the luckiest motherfucker on this earth, and every other earth, for having you.”

You were speechless.

“Logan…” you whispered.

You saw his eyes flicker down your lips and you could swear he was leaning in…

“Knock Knock! Are you there, babycakes?” You heard Wade call from behind the door. “I just saw Ben at the stairs, he looked like he was about to burst into tears. Did you finally tell him to choke on a dick?”

Logan closed his eyes and took a deep breath, frustrated and annoyed at his friend.

“Fucking Wade…” He shook his head and looked back at you. “I guess I don’t need the spare key anymore.”

You put some space between the two of you and smiled awkwardly.

“Keep it. Something tells me this won’t be the last time Wade will lock you out.”

Logan chuckled. He had the most beautiful pearly white teeth, and a breathtaking smile. How come you didn’t notice before? Every time you went to Wade’s apartment, this god-like man sat close to you and you never took a good, long look at him? Clearly your love for Ben and your heartache blinded you.

And now you can finally see.

“Is that Wolvie I hear in there?” Wade said.

When Logan opened the door he found his roommate still there, waiting impatiently. Wade gave Logan a once over, seeing him in his wife beater, his plaid and jacket in his hand, and a satisfied grin on his face.

Wade then looked at you, then back at Logan, then back at you… and so several times, before taking his hands to his face.

“Oh… my… God… the two of you?!”

Logan just walked past him, sending you a wink before he disappeared into the hall. Wade just stood there, looking at you.

“I ship it so hard.” He whispered.

[jazeswhbhaven]

THE PURPOSE OF THAT TALISMAN | Zagan L-card React | Summary

Alright ya'll it's the first react of the year! I'm finally getting around to going over this sweet devil's L-card!

I'm happy he was the first one to get this opportunity because he's actually the first noble I fell for during the launch! I was intrigued by his bunny ear horns and he's selectively mute.

With that being said, because this is a Nightmare Pass exclusive, I of course cannot give you EVERYTHING that's inside the card in order to keep within the wishes of PB's content rules, but as I did with previous NP cards, summaries with heavy paraphrasing with a few screenshots are the best I can do~

I'd like to thank my friends/mooties for sharing their cards with me so I can continue doing these reacts <3 Ya'll are amazing

💙Summary💙

At the local pub in Gehenna, all the devils are gathered together in order to view a popular convention in Japan (they call it Cumiket in the game but iirc it's Comiket, right?)

There's rumors that it's Paimon who went down to Earth to whisper about the devil's lives in Hell to influence a few humans to make a game about it and well...MC asks Paimon to confirm or deny that and he gives a "Maybe I diddd <3" answer (love this)

So while MC is chillin' at the VIP table consisting of Sitri, Leraye, Paimon and Zagan (Ppyong too) they wait for the results to come in

Funny mention is that the citizens of Gehenna totally do not know where Abyssos is, and I find it funny that it seems to carry throughout the story that the other local citizens have nothing but general ideas and rumors to go off of on how each country acts, but the Kings and some nobles are knowledgeable and for good reason.

It's also cute to me though that the nobles that were in the lead for the popularity contest were Foras, Bael, Sitri, and Zagan. All the devils from all over Hell were tuned in to see who would win.

It's then...that the winner is revealed! Zagan!?!?!

The winner gets to be a model for Phenomenon, similar to when we saw him for all of the selfie cards. This time though we meet two new characters Usako, and Nesagi. (I really love their designs) it appears that they are Pheno's assistants!

Also, we see that Phenomenon threatens and literally beats up(and stabs) his assistants for the smallest of things, it's funny because we were just seeing him getting bent over and turned into a pretzel in Asmo's selfie card, but in this story he's pretty much a strict, abusive boss. 💀 Usako and Nesagi seem to not mind.

It was also important to note, that MC was also chosen by Pheno to join Zagan in the photoshoot. And it's not just any normal photoshoot. We are aware of Pheno's preferences when it comes to photography and he wants to capture a whole new side to this devil thinking MC can help with that

It turns out, that yes...MC can help and Zagan is more than willing to show a new side of himself in front of them. With the help of talismans.

The smut is actually pretty well written for Zagan's personality. He's calm, confident, and at the same time so needy for MC's touch. You also notice that during this entire time he's been speaking to MC in longer sentences and opening up.

There's also a pretty strong power bottom vibe that comes from him. Because even though MC is on top of him, he's calling the shots from below. He even writes the amount of times MC came on his thigh. (w h y is he so hot? fcuk)

So after he pretty much fucks MC into a messy fluid puddle, Phenomenon starts takin' photos like crazy as he's finally satisfied with his subject now. He completes the magazine cover and MC gets their own private VIP photos of them having sex. There's a cameo of their clothes on the cover too.

and that's pretty much the entire card

💙Screenshot Highlights~💙

He's so goofy, I love him.

Pheno and his assistants. They are so damn adorable! I love the mask designs too, I might mess around and find myself wanting to cosplay one of them.

The longest he's been talking, and these are his thoughts in battle. Goodness this is why he's one of my favorites 😩

h a w t

g i m m i e z a g a n pp

IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MEEEEEE

?????!?!!!!!!!!! And this was after he said no???????

Me everytime I read this as I imagine him saying it to me while creaming on his c a w k

Pheno was takin' pictures while MC and him were fuckin' but Zagan is so goddamn romantic....the way his mannerisms are during sex are that of a true lover that wants to be lost in you forever and he admits that. His actions are loud too wen the fun is over (he really didn't want to stop)

I wonder...if this means they will do another "model" L-card for someone else? Only time will tell.

Psssttt: Click here to see what he's packin' btw I would not hesitate to sit on it and him coming because he's being stimulated by the brush is so simple yet so hot for him?

💙Date Story/Chat Summary!💙

This is shortly after the contest is over and the magazine cover was debuted!

Zagan hadn't had any privacy since then, and with that it was hard for him to see MC. SO Ppyong makes it happen by distracting the fans, and then they meet!

Zagan is honest during the date, though still having "some" trouble expressing himself through words. There are moments where he tells MC that he couldn't wait any longer and he had to see them.

This is what I meant by that desperation and neediness mixing in with the right amount of dominance during intimacy is a perfect balance for someone like him!

Also, this date story is quite perfect for Zagan fans, as he's so fucking romantic he even takes MC to the first place they met in the main story. His expresses his feelings have never changed and it was love at first sight.

Also the term...."I'm watching you..." seems to be referring to the VIP picture they both received and yeah....spank bank material!~

Zagan is truly a cautious and cute noble. From posting boring videos of him grinding food (which honestly could count as asmr material) and not being sure how to get Satan to stop sending out the magazines to other countries in mass amounts without overstepping ranks in power, just so cute.

It also appears that his neck seems to be a private area to him which is why he prefers it covered by his hair. (I will kiss him there >:3)

We also get to see that Zagan easily gets jealous. It's not a aggressive jealously like Satan, but it's more of a "you know other men? 🥺" kind of jealously where you want to pinch his cheeks and tell him he's being cute.

Also...

yeah high-ponytail Zagan is doin' something for me (honestly I think I like Zagan so much because the white long hair reminds me of Sesshomaru and he doesn't speak much either and both of them are hot and idk i'm losing my brainnnnn to the rootttttt)

💙Overall Score: 10/10 💙

For Zagan fans this was a really fluffy and romantic card. The smut was written appropriately, and we got to see more of Zagan's personality come to light.

A major con of this though, is that in order to even get this much of lore for any characters that aren't either PB's favorites or L-grade...is behind a damn paywall. Like I get it? But at the same time I just want more info on my faves to further fuel my headcanons. That's all.

The adore mode movements are good, however his expressions don't seem to match the energy of the VA. This may have been a slight miscommunication somewhere, perhaps the VA was going off of how Zagan's personality should be, therefore personality= check, matching the sexual energy= not so check...

That's more of an observation for me but that may be a major bother for someone who was looking forward to the card's content.

Well today was pretty much the last day to try and get him so my react is late for a recommendation on if one should get it or not, BUT I will say that if you are a Zagan fan and didn't get him this time around, I suspect they'll bring him back for a future banner and you should try and snag him if you can.

But that's it from here! four days into the new year ya'll, hope it's goin' well for everyone! ^^ next up should be Luci's Blow card...so stay tuned <3

-💙Jaze

(Ppyong's fanclub holds a special place in my heart)

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part One

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Hey! First time writing for Em so I figured I'd use a side account and see how it went? Honestly this is a whole series in my mind so might add onto this first part soon! An oc character but can be read as a reader insert if you prefer:)

Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

Warnings: Lots of swearing, dark humour

Masterlist

I was mortified.

More so than I’d probably ever been, in truth. All because of a stupid video that had been taken a couple of years back when I’d had one drink too many on a holiday I’d always dreamt of.

To be fair though, the majority of the blame lied heavily on my younger sister’s shoulders, who’d found the stupid thing whilst reminiscing through old memories and thought it would be hilarious to post online. Forgetting about the millions of fans who would soon see it– and not just mine, it would seem.

No, because that just wasn’t how the internet worked, was it? And when a newly nominated artist, who had only been in the game for a couple years, was filmed rapping an old noughties classic instead of singing like expected, it was basically bound to go viral. Didn’t help that I was a Londoner through and through and had the accent to prove it, making the whole video that much harder to watch. In truth, I continued to cringe each time I was reminded of it, which was practically anytime I opened up social media or witnessed the guilty expression that continued to mar my sister’s face.

“Stop doing that.” I huffed at her later on when the worst of it still continued to storm on, almost whining actually as I looked away from my phone screen and down at the food I wasn’t really eating, just picking at. I was supposed to be mad, infuriated even, but it was proving to be a fucking chore when she kept on looking at me like that.

“Doing what?” Lottie retorted, not even attempting to wipe the culpable look from off of her face. She was currently residing back at mum’s now, seeing as how she had school and I’d only just landed back home, but I’d give it a day before she was back here again. My flight over had been strenuous, it always was when flying to and from Cali, but still I made time for her– even after the most recent stunt she had gone and pulled.

“Don’t do that either.” 

I’d meant to sound scolding but the soft laugh that escaped me truly was accidental. I couldn’t quite help it, I knew that being mad at her wouldn’t solve anything now and that she hadn’t really meant any harm by posting the video. That was just the type of person she was, she acted before she thought things through and didn’t ever think much for the consequences. Then again, she was still only fourteen and her putting the drunken moment on her Instagram story had just been one of those sibling type moments, the kind where you’d rip the piss out of one another simply because you could.

“I mean it, Lotts.” I sighed around the words, eyes flitting back to the screen and the way she was chewing on her lower lip. “It’s being sorted and, I don't know, I guess it’ll die down sooner or later. Mila reckons so anyway. We’ll give it a day or two, hey?”

A day or two did pass. And no such thing happened.

I’d been cooped up at home ever since I’d touched down at Heathrow, having jumped in the first cab available and fallen asleep the second I’d gotten in through the door. I’d been working out in LA for a couple weeks with a few other writers, just messing about with new sounds and ideas for the next album I eventually wanted to release. So I hadn’t been witness to the media catastrophe Lottie had created until later the next afternoon when Mila, my manager, had all but mowed down my front door, having called my phone three dozen times and gotten a guy she was currently seeing in the city to come buzz my intercom. It had been a wake up call and a half to say the least.

Still, she had assumed it would all die down fairly quickly, went as far to say that it could do wonders for my career– even with me being visibly tipsy– after having had the absolute gall to say that I hadn’t sounded half as bad as I thought I did. I’d cackled hysterically into the phone at that, then had somewhat of a meltdown, in utter disbelief over the apparent reaction she claimed the video had gone and garnered. Because I was absolutely not looking. Knew that if I did there would be too large a chance that I’d check myself into the nearest psychiatric unit. 

But as I said, a couple of days had passed and typically something like this would have eventually blown over when the next big story hit the headlines. White girl can spit a verse, who cared? Only then the VMA’s had happened and shit hit the fucking fan.

I hadn’t attended, shit like that had always irked me. I could perform in front of a crowd of thousands and step off feeling as high as a kite, but stick me on a carpet and force me to interact with cameras, questions, and people? That was where I drew the line.

At the start, I had tried. I’d been new on the scene and people had reasoned that I would just end up being another one hit wonder, so the label had figured it best if I got myself out there, if only to interact with other artists and producers in similar circles.

It had gone down a treat– like a cake being knocked over at the wedding of the year. Maybe even worse. I didn’t like to linger too long on it.

But I’d tried again and again afterwards, although it had only proven to worsen my mood each time and forced me to retreat, avoiding my team and the responsibilities I had lined up for a short while after. It was only following a particularly uncomfortable night that Mila had called it quits and had a contract drawn up stating that I only had to attend a certain amount of events a year. It had been at that moment that I’d realised just how fucked I would have been in this industry without her.

Even so, life still continued on without me and the VMA’s were just another show I would be mostly avoiding, only making a statement at the end of the night online for the nominations I’d been gifted.

It was around midnight when I heard the scream.

Lottie was staying with me, typical for whenever I was back in London for a few weeks at a time, and so I’d felt my heart literally drop to my feet at the very sound of her screech and legged it across the entirety of the house. At first, I’d thought she’d slipped and fallen, maybe cracked her head open on a counter. And then the thought of an intruder had crossed my mind whilst I’d gone skidding over the landing. So anyone could understand why I was so worked up when I finally threw open her bedroom door only to find her simply sat there on her phone, hand covering her mouth.

“What the hell is your problem? It’s just gone twelve, Lottie! I thought something had happened!” I rebuked her, chest heaving as I dropped the heavy bookend I’d managed to pick up somewhere on my way over down onto her desk. “Shit.”

Her eyes were wider than I’d ever seen them though when I finally did get around to catching my breath and chanced another glance back at her.

“I was literally just about to fall asleep.” Which really meant that I’d been getting into bed to scroll through my phone or read a book when I’d heard her shout. “Then you screamed as though Freddy Krueger was stood at your window.”

“Elia.” 

I blinked, Lottie rarely did that, used my entire name and not the usual shortened version or whatever other epithet that came to mind– and truly, there was a large variety, the shit I’d heard this kid come out with was insane. But I shook my head at the thought and quirked a brow at her. “What? Did someone die?”

“No,” She answered me, dropping her hand away from her face even though her jaw was still gaping, “But I just might.”

Rolling my eyes at the theatrics, I exhaled and walked over to slump on the end of her bed, figuring that something had happened between her and one of her friends, or maybe some lad she might’ve been speaking to. “And it deserved a scream like that? Honestly Lotts, just be thankful this place doesn’t have any neighbours listening in through the walls.” I told her, thinking back to my own adolescent years and the woman in the flat beside ours, “We’d have someone knocking at the door in under a half hour.”

It was her turn to roll her eyes then as she scoffed at me– like I was the one being dramatic here– before she then shook her head and shuffled hurriedly over the mattress to sit closer. “No Lia, just listen, look.”

Confused, I sighed and tilted my head when Lottie moved to shove her mobile in my face. I squinted at the sudden contrast, showing off my age and the horrific tragedy that was my eyesight, and tried to make sense of whatever it was that she was so hellbent on showing me. 

From what I could first make out, it was just a Twitter thread, but then Lotts then clicked on the main video at the top. I waited as the clip buffered for a second, then a familiar face panned into focus and I felt my brow furrow. I peered over at Lottie for a split second before her eyes were widening in retort and she gestured her chin back towards the screen.

I narrowed my own eyes in turn, but watched on.

It had to be a coincidence, I reasoned. That of all people it was him that Lottie was currently showing me.

“Well, aren’t we in for a show tonight! Eminem is in the house, people!” An interviewer started, she was a tall, leggy blonde who held a too big microphone too close to her chin. “How are you feeling?”

I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was to see him on the VMA’s carpet, not after the comeback he’d made late last year with LP 2, but I was, eyes caught on the bleached buzz cut he’d since reverted back to for the album’s release. Fuck, I’d be so pissed if it came out that he was performing tonight and I’d gone ahead and missed it.

Lottie thumped my shoulder, hard, realising fairly quickly that I hadn’t really been listening, and so I scowled in retort but gritted my teeth to keep from thumping her right back. She might’ve been my sister, but I had well over a decade on the kid and was marginally her guardian, just not in writing.

The rapper had seemingly just finished commenting on a question the tall blonde had asked him and so I forced myself to pay closer attention, brain whirling as I wondered what could have possibly been so important that it had Lottie screaming bloody murder in the middle of the night.

“I feel that!” The woman practically beamed at the rapper, head nodding along to whatever he’d just said, “But it’s good to hear that you’re enjoying being back. In truth, I wasn’t sure I’d catch you here tonight, there’s been a lot of buzz surrounding you at the moment and not just because of the album!”

My heart stuttered in my chest. Actually, I was pretty sure it had gone and fallen out of my arse, especially when the interviewer continued to press on the topic and it appeared as though the man in question understood exactly what she was getting at. His stoic facade cracked just a tad and– there! A smirk. An ever so slight crook of his mouth. I shot a startled glance over at Lottie but her gaze was fixated on the screen.

“I mean, have you seen it?” The interviewer prompted whilst he simply stood there, fisted hands clasped before him. No sign of the split second curve he’d just had on his lips. “The whole world’s been wondering about your thoughts on the singer!”

And there it was.

“I can’t,” I started to say, turning away from the phone just as a rush of nausea flooded through me, but Lottie held strong, hand coming up to catch my shoulder so that she could position her phone back in my eyeline. “Lottie–” I tried. Please.

“Just listen.” She persisted, face so serious.

Immediately I wanted to rescind my earlier statement. This was now my most mortifying moment. In fact, I wanted to hide in the nearest cupboard and never come out again. How the fuck was I going to show my face in public, not to mention at the next event, after this?

I swallowed thickly, entirely unprepared to hear a word he had to say about me. I mean, who would be? This man was leagues above a majority of the industry, me included. Never had I ever even thought that he could hear my name in passing, let alone listen to one of my songs playing in some shop he was coincidentally in or a random radio station. But here he now was, rolling his lips as he pondered over a question which concerned that stupid fucking video. 

“I hate you.” I whispered at Lottie, mostly in hopes to cover up whatever he was about to say, but also because I was embarrassed beyond belief. And this was all her fault.

In the time spent since the drunken video had first gone up and now, I had yet to even think about him ever seeing it. Because the idea was that far fetched. But this was me, so of course he had.

“I’ve heard it.” Marshall confirmed, his head dipped in a barely there nod. My throat cinched. I wondered briefly how quickly I’d be able to tie myself a noose.

“And?” The woman prodded and internally I cursed her future bloodline, hoping that she'd somehow spawn the next antichrist or that her grandchild would become a shit-headed politician.

The man in question merely hummed, hollowing out his cheeks. “I was surprised, I have to admit. But she’s good, even when wasted.”

“I wasn’t fucking wasted!” 

I hadn't even realised I’d spoken out loud until Lottie snorted on a chuckle. I turned towards her, brows raised high, “What? I wasn’t. You were there!”

I rolled my eyes when she didn’t deign me with some sort of assent but my head snapped back over to where she still gripped the phone when I heard him speak again, his voice echoing throughout the quiet bedroom.

“Then again, her shit goes hard. So it shouldn’t be too much of a surprise.”

That heart of mine that I kept on talking about? Yeah, I had zero clue as to what the fuck was going on with it now, only that my chest was wound as tight as it possibly could be and my eyes stung as I withheld the urge to even blink.

“You’re a fan?” The woman asked him, appearing genuinely surprised by the notion, even though it sounded more like a declaration rather than the question it was.

Marshall hummed, sparing a brief glance over his shoulder when a group shuffled on past them, disrupting the interview. It didn’t deter the woman though and I couldn’t blame her, no matter how much it pained me.

“So, could this mean we’ll be seeing a new featured artist on whatever you put out next?”

I made some sort of inhuman sound at that, but barely moved a muscle. And then I all but shutdown when the rapper's wide eyes flickered over to peer straight into the camera’s lens, “I mean, if she’s down.”

The next scream that was emitted once again came from Lottie, but I couldn’t think to scold her for it, not when I was hardly even functioning and wanted to implode myself. 

The girl toppled over onto me, shaking my shoulders whilst she squealed unabashedly. “If. She’s. Down!” She repeated, squealing with excitement, “El, this is insane! How are you not screaming too?”

The air I forced from my lungs came out in a breathless chuckle as I clung to the forearm that was still wrapped around my collar. In truth, I didn’t know how the hell I was supposed to react. 

“Figure you’ve screamed enough for the both of us.” I replied faintly, not really thinking but somehow managing to carry on, mostly out of sheer shock. I glanced her way, “I feel a bit sick.”

Lottie just shook me harder and when we eventually went falling down onto the duvet in a mess of limbs I wondered what I was going to do with the knowledge that I’d just been given. God. He knew who I was. The shock of it was almost like reliving my first time on stage all over again.

That night I ended up listening to Lottie rant on and on for a good while after whilst she scrolled through her Twitter feed and the rest of the internet. Mila eventually intervened, calling after having seen it too, and was as smug as ever. “Told you.” She’d said the second I’d hit the answer button and I hadn’t had the heart to play it off or act as though I hadn’t seen it either. 

After the interview eventually finished trending and stopped being posted here, there, and everywhere, I was left with a flow of new followers but also a nightmare of opinions spouting from every corner of the planet on any comment section I had to offer. I forced myself to come off most apps I had downloaded after that and resorted to gaining my daily entertainment, and any real news, from Lottie. Which seemed sad, in retrospect, but honestly? It was more than a little self-serving and I’d even managed to get a shit load of stuff done.

I worked on a couple new songs, sticking to what I did best, but my mind did end up drifting away every so often, back to a conversation I’d had with Mila and Travis at the label a couple days after the media storm had passed. It seemed they all wanted me to try implementing a few new concepts into the music I was currently working on before we started to draw up ideas for the next album. Travis reasoned that even attempting to add a couple freestyles into the motions whilst I went about writing would do me wonders later on. 

I just felt uncomfortable with it all, really. I’d never been a rapper. I mean, I loved it. It was mainly what I’d been brought up on, having grown up in an area where every kid on the estate was either attempting to become the next big thing or just blaring the biggest hits out of their car stereos. But that was just it. I listened and sang along, had even built up an extensive collection which I was immensely proud of, but the label were now aiming for this next album to make it onto a Grammy nominations list. It was all they had been fretting over since I’d somehow managed to chart the last one– although a single number one and an almost throw away making it to number seven didn’t make me all that hopeful. 

Even so, it forced me to wonder how it would all work if I started to switch things up now. I could appreciate all genres but I didn’t wanna become the next hopper just to appease the people yessing me and then fall off.

The entire concept had me confused and so I had taken to keeping my head down for a while longer.

Lottie had headed back to mum’s earlier that morning, seeing as I was due to make an appearance in Paris for Fashion Week, attending the Vogue show alongside Vivienne Westwood. An utter dream, yes, but also still an incredibly daunting reality. Even so, it was something I couldn’t quite worm my way out of even if I had wanted to– see, with that contract there still came clauses.

I’d been prepping for my upcoming early morning flight most of the day, showering later on than anticipated just so that I could pack my case and eat before I eventually climbed into bed. Hoping to somehow get a couple hours kip.

I’d thrown on a robe and kept the speakers blaring once I’d eventually jumped out from under the spray, wet hair curling at the ends as I worked on throwing something quick together in my kitchen.

It wasn't long before I went and took the bowl I’d just made out into the living room with me, simply so that I could curl up on the settee and wrap up the few emails I’d been working on earlier. I was just nodding along and humming to the next song that played through the overhead speakers when my phone started to buzz against my ankle, shooting a funny feeling up through the bone. I was quick to pick it up, wrinkling my nose at the feel and not paying much mind to the caller, figuring it had to be either Mila or Lottie.

“Hello?”

There was a short pause as I shifted the phone against my ear before a voice eventually sounded, “This Elia?”

Frowning, I casted a quick glance at the phone’s screen to find a number with an unfamiliar area code staring back at me. I let my gaze stray on over towards a clock I had hanging on the far wall only to find that it had just gone eight. 

I fumbled for a moment, “Um. It is, can I ask who’s calling?”

A low cough rumbled through the line before the same voice spoke again, I shuffled to set my laptop off to the side on the sofa, brow furrowed. “It’s Em– Marshall.”

Suddenly my head felt so very empty and my mouth was working around words that couldn't seem to find their way out. Em. The Em?? Fucking, Em?

I’d obviously been quiet a beat too long, drowning in the sudden panic that had shrouded me, because he spoke up again, “That Nas playin’?”

I shot a startled glance over my shoulder to where the fancy sound system was installed, the biggest reason I’d gone and purchased the home, in truth, and was immediately reminded of the music I had piercing through the air. Clumsily, I rolled off of the corner of the settee so that I could stumble over to turn the thing off, doing exactly that before I was forced to blink at the sudden silence that greeted me.

I winced and was quick to turn the music back on, keeping it low. All the while I still held my phone close to my chest.

“Uh, yeah. Hi!” I blundered helplessly after a moment, carding a hand through my damp hair as I stared at the empty wall before me stupidly. I wasn’t sure what to say, let alone do. I could sort of wrap my head around the interview, his brief mention of me. But a fucking phone call? It was on another level.

He chuckled though, enough so that I felt myself flush bashfully at my obvious awkwardness and forced my body to move back towards the sofa, if only so that I didn’t have to stand on shaky legs anymore. 

“Hi.” He mimicked, voice low albeit a tad amused.

I smiled. Unable to do anything but, in all honesty, as I lowered myself down onto the cushions, vaguely aware that I should probably be saying something else now that he’d gone and replied, but was simply more than a little caught off guard by everything. 

“Sorry, I– Well, I didn’t expect your call. Or anyones really.” I murmured, trying my best to shake off the nerves that were apparently wreaking havoc on my brain to mouth filter. “I just jumped out of the shower, had yet to turn off the stereo. Sorry.” How many times had I just apologised? I wanted to scream.

“You’re good.” He assured me, voice unlike what I probably would have expected and so I blinked once more at the sound of it, reminded that it was actually him I was talking to. But all that was fluttering through my head was ‘what the fuck are you doing calling me?’ “Nice choice, I gotta say. This an alright time for you to talk? I don’t wanna disturb you much.”

My eyes widened at both the compliment in song choice and well, him. Then withheld another sudden urge to scream, the hand not holding my phone clenching into a tight fist against my chest. “No, no, of course not. I mean, you’re fine! Not disturbing me at all.”

His next reply sounded more than just a little mirthful, “Sure ‘bout that?”

I willed myself to relax and took an inconspicuous breath as I pulled my legs back up under me. “I’m sure.” I told him, laughing lightly at myself for being so socially inept– or maybe it was just this entire scenario I’d been shoved into. “How’d you even get my number anyway?” 

I hadn’t meant for it to sound so forceful or abrupt, but it had been yet another question my sluggish brain hadn’t been able to find an answer to. 

“Mila?” He answered me, and I blinked stupidly at the name. “We had a mutual contact, figured I’d chance askin’ her instead of gettin’ lost in your DM’s. That cool? She said she’d let you know.”

The conniving cow, I thought to myself, though I wouldn’t have put it past her to have reasoned with herself that I would’ve probably freaked out if she had told me beforehand, before then having proceeded to just let my phone ring out whilst I stared pitifully at it. She knew me all too well. 

“She did not.” I replied through a baited breath, “But no, yeah. You’re alright, just caught me off guard is all. You’re probably the last person I expected to call, if I’m being honest here..”

When I heard him laugh once more I grinned, all too pleased with myself. It was a low gruff sound, not deep enough to be sarcastic or ingenuine, but rather warm. It surprised me.

“Oh yeah? Even after everything that’s gone down lately?”

My eyes slipped closed at the instantaneous reminder and I winced. The video. Honestly, in the whirlwind that wasn’t just my life at the moment, but this phone call too, I could have almost forgotten about it.

“I still can’t believe you saw that.”

Marshall let go of another amused huff that I figured to be a chuckle, breathing in deep enough that he forced me to wait on his next words. “I don’t lie. I meant what I said. But tell me, how many drinks d’you have in you?”

I curled my tongue against the back of my teeth in hopes to keep from grinning too hard, feeling a slight sting at the tip. “I was tipsy.” I argued pointlessly, knowing it would be a tireless venture, “I’d only had a couple.”

He hummed, seemingly not convinced.

“It was years ago, too!” I felt the need to tack on, the rosy hue the alcohol had given my cheeks sprung to mind and made me wonder. My face wrinkled as I dragged a helpless hand across it. “Who even sent it to you?”

“A couple people, actually.” Marshall ended up revealing and his words sounded playful enough that I could almost picture the curl of his mouth. “My daughter was one.”

Without thinking my hand flew up towards my mouth and I shook my head as I let it rest against my palm. “You’re not being serious.”

“Dre too.”

I let go of a hissed curse and crumpled a little bit in my seat before laughing stupidly at myself. If I couldn’t talk myself out of this then I supposed I would just have to get over it. I hoped thinking sensibly would allow me to actually follow through on that sentiment, but I very much doubted it.

Marshall laughed again, slow and easy almost as though he’d shared it with me a hundred times before. “I wasn’t kiddin’ neither. ’s why I called.”

Pulling my head from out of my hands, I wet my lower lip, mind promptly flashing back to the clip Lottie had shown me. “What’s that meant to mean?” I asked him, treading cautiously. 

“Listen.” He began, pausing only briefly to inhale before he then added, “I’m workin’ on another album–”

“No.” I interrupted, eyes suddenly wide and alert, “Already?”

A tittered snort followed the disruption but my mind was already reeling. 

“You’re not fucking with me?”

In all honesty I had prepared myself to wait a couple more years for another drop, hoping for him to feature or for someone to send for him if only so that he’d make a track in reply. I’d been obsessed with his recent work, even going as far as to add it onto the tour bus playlist late last year. It had actually been played so much the roadies and the band had threatened to rip the system out. But a new album? Fuck. I hadn’t expected it.

“Who else knows?”

There was a slight click on the other side of the line. Or scuffle. “As of right now? Like six people.”

I swallowed down the understanding that then hit me, but my stomach lurched at the very thought of it. “And I’m one?” I chuckled, holding back the hysterical laughter I felt bubble as my hand fell over my heart, “Wow, I feel honoured, Mathers.” It was teasing, the rib I meant, though my eyes still widened when I realised what I’d gone and said, not wanting him to take it the wrong way. 

I needn’t have worried. 

“As you fuckin’ should be.”

I gave a real laugh at that, almost a full-belly type shit. But could you really blame me? 

I was still smiling as I went to retort, humming with it, “God, you really just went and sprung that shit on me.”

“Hold you to keepin’ it on the low for now.” Marshall said, reminding me how paranoid the press and Hollywood had made him out to be in the past. I wondered how much truth there was in the sentiment. I mean, the man was almost a recluse– not that I could blame him, I was pulled from the same sort of cloth there– but to put a secret like that in my hands? It had to take some amount of faith.

I nodded seriously, even though he couldn’t see the gesture. Seemed he could hear the sincerity in my answer though, “‘Course.” I told him and then chewed on my lower lip for a second before a soft snicker escaped me. “That the only reason you called though? I mean, as honoured as I am to be one of the infamous six, I’m surprised you just phoned to let me in on the know. Have I just been roped into some sort of celeb elitist group? Weird initiation.”

His huffed laugh was breathy and made my mouth twitch that little bit more. 

“Nah. You always this weird though?” Marshall wondered and I bared my teeth in a light grimace, figuring I’d gone too far with that one. Or maybe.. I'd just hit the mark? I snorted lightly at the thought.

“It was an honest question! I’ve heard horror stories.” And wasn’t that the truth, events and parties weren’t all about the awards and just getting trollied. Some of those fuckers were as strange as people could come.

The man clucked his tongue, although I could hear the slight smile in his sarky response. “Uhuh. Sorry to disappoint but nah, initiation starts in the belly of LA. Gotta dissect a virgin and drink Ciroc out of their intestines. Funnel that shit down.”

The snort I gave in turn was ugly and loud enough that it forced a hand to fly up and cover my mouth, but it didn’t appear to bother the rapper none, who chuckled before clearing his throat.

“Change this shit to Facetime.” He said not a second after, swiftly cutting short my absurd amusement. “Then we can talk about the album.”

I fumbled for a moment. “I look a mess.”

“Good thing this ain’t a fuckin’ fashion show then.” He only pressed, “You think I give a shit what you look like right now?”

That struck an odd chord in me for some reason, but I didn’t want to linger much on the feeling. “No. But I do, dickhead. It’s half eight at night, I have sudocrem on my face and I look like a dog off of Lady and the Tramp.”

I was so flustered by the very thought of acquiescing to the man’s demand that I didn’t even think much of the name I’d gone and called him. 

“Again, do I give a shit? And what did you just call me?”

I paused, reeling back to whatever it was I’d just spouted at him. Upon rehashing my words I felt my tongue press between my lips to keep from laughing loudly, if Mila or Lottie had been there I’d already be strung up by a pair of metaphorical balls. 

“You heard me fine.” I brushed it off, if he wanted to call me out of the blue and act all chummy then chummy was what he’d get.

Besides it wasn’t like I’d meant the term maliciously, I used that type of endearment with everybody. Something my manager had tried and failed to force out of me time and time again.

“But back to this whole ‘seeing my mug thing’. Not happening, mate. Why couldn’t you have called like, six hours ago? I looked like an actual person then.”

“Dickhead.” He muttered beneath his breath, barely even loud enough for me to have heard him and I could only guess that he was shaking his head with it, hopefully somewhat amused. “You ain’t an actual person then?” He said in reply, forgoing the name calling for now, “Figures, you give off lizard vibes.”

“Fuck you!” My laugh was sudden, jaw having dropped a tad at the quip. “Lizard vibes, the fuck are you then? And yes, an actual person! You can’t just call people, drop a bomb, and then demand things!”

“Shit typically works.” He quipped all too quickly that it had me shaking my head around another quiet smile of my own. “Just entertain me though, for a moment.”

My head fell back against the arm of the sofa, eyes casted towards the high ceiling which loomed above. I couldn’t quite believe I was actually considering it.

He didn’t even have to goad me before I relented. I huffed, blowing a strand of hair from out of my face as I sat back up, “Fine. Just gimme a sec.” 

He hummed.

Elbowing my way off the settee I skidded over to the closest mirror, dragged a hand through my mostly dried hair and made sure that I didn’t have racoon eyes from any lingering mascara I’d had on before my shower. The patches of sudocrem would have to stay though, I deemed, seeing as he already knew about those. 

I gave up on the preening and sighed as I fell back onto the sofa, thankful for the dim lights the living room offered in that moment. It was just as I was switching the call though that a thought hit me, making me question if the reason he’d asked me to start the Facetime was due to him wanting to give me the option to turn it down or simply because he had no idea how to do it himself. “Still there, old man?”

A scoff echoed into the room before my phone screen stuttered and I was left staring at the sharp lines of his face. It wasn’t like I hadn’t actually believed it was him I was talking to, but seeing the man was another thing altogether. He was a real person and that idea alone had me reeling. 

I wrinkled my nose almost shyly around a smile when that sharp gaze of his slid away from something behind the camera to meet mine. He tilted his head to look me over, the hood of his jumper moving with the motion. 

“I was right about the lizard thing.” Was the only greeting he offered me, jutting his chin out as he feigned all seriousness. 

My mouth dropped open upon hearing him and my tongue quickly flicked out towards a canine to keep from biting back at him. There was humour written in the gesture though, even as I moved to narrow my eyes. “He’s got jokes! Reused ones, I might add, but jokes nonetheless.” I snarked, lifting my eyebrows at him in exaggeration, “Hilarious.”

His mouth curled very, very briefly, but I was quick to work out that it was all in the eyes with him. They held a certain amount of mirth as they flickered over my face. I wondered what he saw. 

“Suits you though. Even with all the…” He waved a hand over his own face, probably referencing the white dots I had littered in a few places.

With a shake of my head I raised a hand to my chest, feigning a fond appreciation for the sardonic comment. “Is that the famous charm the world’s heard so much about then? Really know how to make a girl feel special, Mathers.”

His eyes slitted but still shone with a slight glaze, he hummed deeply in retort. “Best believe it. Why d’you think I’ve gotten divorced twice?”

A low whistle escaped me before I then laughed, eyes squinting with the strength of it. “Figured you might just have a kink for courtrooms.” 

His tongue swept into his cheek at my boldness, fighting back a real smile as he glanced away and then back again. “I’m down bad for a good Judge. Spank me vibes, you know?”

I chuckled outwardly at that, amused by his quick witted replies. But that in itself didn’t surprise me, it was well known just how hilarious the man could be, his stoic demeanour only prodding that revelation further. 

That sternness his face seemed to consistently hold softened though in that next moment and I watched on as he shuffled a little closer to the camera, sat somewhere indoors with enough natural light that he could have only been in his kitchen. It hit me then how wild this whole thing suddenly was. “What’s with the last name anyway?”

I blinked, caught off guard by his ask. “Um,” I fumbled, a slight wrinkle forming between my brow, “What do you mean, me calling you Mathers?”

He hummed and I had to think about it for a second. Ultimately I ended up gifting him a shrug, “Don’t know. Just feels strange to call you Eminem or whatever.” I laughed lightly at myself, hand falling to my knee to toy with a loose thread on the hem of my robe. “What do people usually call you?”

It was his turn to shrug then, his being a singular and fluid motion whereas mine had been more thoughtless. He was watching again though, the wide eyes I was so used to seeing in old interviews where he was always playing a part were now gentler, narrowed sure, but softer and slightly wrinkled at the very edges.

I tugged on the frayed thread, wrapping it around my finger enough to whiten the skin before I had to let it go again. “Is Em okay? Or just Marshall maybe?” I queried, watching him too.

“Whatever you want.” He murmured and it was then that I noticed he’d propped his phone up somewhere in front of him because a pair of hands came to rest at the bottom of the screen just as he pressed further into the counter he was sat at.

I wrung my lips to one side, teeth biting into the inside of my cheek enough to keep from smiling much more than I already was. “Most people call me El or Lia. Elia just started to feel unnatural away from, you know, everyone else.”

It was the worlds now, as well as one of few reasons I had for the stigma I felt around my own name. 

The man jerked his head in a short nod in response whilst his fingers intertwined against a marble countertop. “So we should just slide that into the writin’ credits then? Or you finally gone take me up on that offer of a feature?”

You know that odd feeling you get when you’re on the tube or a plane and so suddenly your ears just pop and there's this ringing sound that floods the single sense? It just happens, out of nowhere, and you blink. So all you can immediately focus on is the sound. The odd feeling of it driving waves deeper and deeper into your skull. And the only way you can recover is by holding your own breath?

That was what that question felt like to me. 

“What?”

His eyes were alight, akin to a low flame of flickering amusement and perhaps hope. “You deaf now too? Know you heard me.”

Of course I fucking heard him but that didn’t mean I understood. “This is for real?”

Finally, he let go of a dulcet chuckle, almost a ringing sound in and of itself. “You gone make me repeat it? You in, or not?”

“How is that even a question?” I breathed back to him, my hand shaking against the hem of my robe. “Yes! God, if I ever say to no to an ask like that you better fucking shoot me. What the fuck, Marshall?”

That chuckle again.

It was unlike anything else, the only sound I could hear around the blood rushing between my ears. Stupidly, I pinched my thigh and released a stuttered breath when the twist of skin radiated a short snap of pain up my leg.

“That the go ahead then?”

I must’ve looked so incredibly starstruck but I couldn’t even bring myself to care, this was unreal. I nodded, almost frantically at him. “Of course that’s the fucking go ahead! Are you sure about this? I mean, I don’t know how much help I’ll be. I mostly write radio shit.”

“Your earlier stuff ain’t.” Em shot back, the quip startling me enough to snap my jaw shut because not a lot of people ever dug that deep. But he continued on before I could think to hone in on the slip, “‘sides, your lyrics are what I fuck with. That shit makes you think, has you lingerin’. Playing with words is the aim, I want people thinkin’, leachin’ onto each syllable and every phrase. You do that.”

The air in my lungs lurched.

I could only offer him one reply, “When do we start?”