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fictionalsweethearts · 3 days ago

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THE COMMISSION - EPILOGUE | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

'The Commission' series: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, epilogue.

Synopsis: You've been her personal mechanic for two years, but your growing reputation in the field has earned you dozens of clients and commissions. Sevika was looking for something fresh, durable and of good quality, and when it came to her sexual appetite, she only accepted the best. So she turned to you for a special commission.

Contains: arcane!sevika, feminine reader, lesbians, lots of dialogues, arcane universe, cannon sevika, mechanic!reader, wlw, slow burn BURNING

If you're underage, be responsible and don't consume smut content. GO AWAY AND BUILD A MOTHERFUCKING SAND CASTLE, THANK YOU.

Word count: 5,217 (yeah, things ALSO happen in this chapter)

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any mistake in my writing. Enjoy!

Sevika has always been a woman who foresees situations, analyzes people, studies patterns, assumes decisions, all as a mechanism of defense to the unpredictable of her childhood and the constant reproaches of her father for not having "been ahead of the facts." However, and as much as she thought she knew everything about you, Sevika never thought she would end the year with her lying in her bed, watching you fix her mechanical arm in with only your panties on after an entire afternoon of naps and cuddles.

The room smelled of tobacco and candle oil, which formed warm shadows on the wall while Zaun's nocturnal murmur sneaked through the window, giving a cozy and certainly sensual touch to the room. Sevika found a shelter between the sheets of her bed and between your legs, on your vast chest and your fingers interlaced on her hair. As soon as she set foot at home, she allowed herself to detach herself from the impenetrable facade and stop pretending that the whole world depended on her, because soon enough she would look for you in the living room and strip off of her cape and surround you with her arms and nuzzle in your neck.

"Bad day?"

"Shitty." She would mumble. "Silco's testing my patience again."

"What do you need?"

"Silence..." she said. "And a hot bad."

"I'll get it ready." you whispered, knowing Sevika would pull you back if you dared to leave her arms right now.

She tightened her grip around you, letting out a grunt. "Not yet." She whispered.

"You always keep up with too much, Sev." You said, pulling back just enough to catch a glimpse of her gloomy expression.

"Someone has to," she muttered, her voice muffled. "The idiots down in the fissures would be lost without me."

"You have to stop taking responsibility for everybody's mistakes." You insisted. "It's burning you out."

"It's my position."

"Then your position is unfair." You insisted, letting out a sigh. "Alright, enough. You're at home now."

No business talk at home. It was a rule you'd set up early on, an agreement that when she was with you, she needed to let go of the stress and responsibilities of her role in order to not disturb the only place she felt safe in.

"...fine."

"Good." You said, placing a kiss on her cheek. "Long day, you need to unwind a bit." You added, before Sevika pulled you for a well deserved kiss.

You closed your eyes, tasting the kiss as your hands ran over her vast back, the leather of her vest and the metal of her left arm, daring to disable Shimmer's passage with a small button you placed at shoulder height.

"What are you…?

"You don't need to use it at home." you whispered.

She wanted to protest, but soon her expression softened, the tension in her muscles lessening. "No business at home," she repeated your earlier words. "And no Shimmer."

"You remembered." you smiled, leaning to kiss her again as Sevika trapped your waist with her flesh arm. Slowly her kiss intensified, shedding the stress of the day and focusing on what you had to offer her. Then, you began to push her towards the desk until the back of her thighs met the edge and you settled between her legs.

"I've never seen you like this..." she whispered, her voice filled with a note of awe. "What's gotten into you, pretty girl?"

Her grip on the desk tightened as your hands caressed her thighs, feeling the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her trousers. You leaned down to pepper kisses along her neck and jaw, your hand moving down her chest and squeezing one of her breasts between your fingers. "I'm doing my job."

It didn't take you more than ten seconds to make it clear to her that you weren't playing around. You had already unbuttoned her vest, one hand firmly on her tit as you kissed her mouth and pushed yourself between her legs. Only then, and with some impatience, you stepped back to begin unbuckling her belt.

"Baby-"

"Shh... It'll feel good, I promise." you whispered against her lips, which Sevika grunted.

Sevika frowned, studying this unexpectedly direct and assertive side of you. The first few times you slept together, you allowed Sevika to take control, knowing she was far more experienced in bed than you, allowing yourself to be explored and tasted as much as she wanted. But tonight Sevika deserved to be the one explored and you were willing to use as many tricks as she had been able to teach you in those endless nights on bed and quickies in the kitchen.

Sevika caressed the back of your neck, lifting her hips as you slid her pants and underwear off, letting you take over. Her heart was pounding in her throat, watching you kneel before her and place kisses on the inside of her thighs.

"Uh, fuck." she breathed out when you dive into her pussy with a long and gentle lap. Her head fell back, her flesh hand burying on your hair as she couldn't control such natural reaction.

Sevika liked giving better, rather than receiving. She loved the idea of giving someone else those thrills of pleasure, of hearing them moan and sigh, their legs closing around her head in search of more contact. But being the one on the receiving end felt a world of difference.

Her legs on your shoulders, you were dipping into the wetness of her pussy as you kissed and licked her folds, sucking her clit softly, just to glance at her briefly from time to time. You could see her abdomen tightening, her chest rising with each breath, and the chiseled line of her neck and jaw. You moaned, not just from feeling in control, but from finally allowing yourself to explore her. She tasted so good. Her wetness smearing your chin, the curls of her pubic hair against your nose, her musky smell filling your nostrils and making you hiss.

She was the whole damn meal.

Sevika growled, gripping the edge of the desk with her flesh hand, her fingers clenching and loosening in time with each lap and kiss. You were shamelessly slurping, sucking and kissing, and if you had just bit more of boldness, you would've spit on it just to piss her off.

"Yeah, good..." she growled, looking down at you. "Feast on it, pretty girl."

Her legs trembled, you caught a hint of a whimper coming out her mouth as you dug just a bit more into her pussy, gripping her thights apart. You didn't realize she came, an orgasm almost imperceptible until a guttural moan escaped her throat and she suddenly pulled your hair and brought you for a kiss.

"You're getting too bold." she said in a ragged whisper.

Your breath trembled, your act of daring ended as soon as Sevika claimed her position back with that phrase. Then she sighed, cupping your cheek.

"You..." she whispered, her voice hoarse. "You never cease to surprise me." She leaned in, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. "You did good, pretty girl. Really good."

The taste of recognition filled your mouth and made your stomach flutter. Nothing tasted as good as Sevika's praises. Absolutely nothing. "You said something about a bath...?" she asked then, as you stepped back.

"Yeah, yeah." You nodded. "I'll get it ready right away."

Sevika leaned back against the desk, her breath still coming in soft pants as she watched you move away. Her body was boneless, relaxed from the release you had given her, and there was a hint of a smile on her lips. Just when you left the room, she admitted how damn weak she ended up. Her legs were fucking limp.

"This goddamn girl." She muttered.

"How did this happen?" you asked, focused on the mechanical arm's malfunctions. "The joints are broken, the shimmer compartment burnt. Did you get into a fight with a damn lion or what?"

Sevika sighed, tucking an arm under her head as she watched you fix the piece from the bed. For the past ten minutes she was unable to think of anything other than your slim back and the softness of your ass. Repairing her arm half naked was quite the way to end the day.

"A fight with a lion would have been less troublesome," she finally replied, her voice a bit strained.

"So...?"

Sevika shifted, propping herself up on her elbow to watch you work. "So," she began, a bit reluctantly. "There was a bit of a disagreement with Jinx."

She grimaced, remembering the encounter. "She rigged one of her bombs to explode when I wasn't looking. Caught me by surprise, blew up my goddamn arm."

You suddenly threw down your tools, turning around with anger showing on your face. "She what?" you spat.

"Easy, easy." she said, her voice gentle yet firm. She held up her flesh arm, as if trying to placate you. "It's not as bad as it sounds. I've had my arm blown off before, remember?"

"She could've killed you!" you barked.

"I'm tougher than I look," she said, a hint of a smile on her lips. "And I doubt Jinx was actively trying to kill me. She just enjoys causing chaos."

"I don't give a damn if she's into causing chaos and shit, she'll end up killing someone." you stated, standing up. "What caused her a fit of madness this time? Silco didn't comply to one of her stupid whims?"

She groaned. "It's Jinx," she said, as if that explained everything. "The little gremlin's always been unpredictable. And Silco... Well, he's learned not to get in her way when she's in the middle of one of her episodes."

She leaned back. "I can handle her, baby, don't sweat it."

"She's a goddamn lose cannon." you hissed. "And you're fine with it? Don't be stupid."

Sevika's expression darkened at your harsh words. "I'm not stupid." she snapped, her own temper flaring momentarily. "And I have my reasons for tolerating Jinx's antics."

She took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "The undercity is a chaotic place, and the people here aren't exactly peaceful. Jinx... She's one of our own. She's a loose cannon, yes, but she's also a weapon we can use."

"An unpredictable weapon, you could say." you crossed your arms. "It's your mechanic arm today, but tomorrow could be the flesh one. You've lost your arm for the cause, there's no need to lose another, Sevika."

"I don't need you hovering over me like a mother hen," she snapped. "I can handle myself. I've been doing this long before you came along, and I'll be doing it long after you're gone."

You flinched over her distant tone, but you stood your ground again. "That's where you're wrong." you stated. "Cause I won't be gone, ever."

Sevika tilted her head, the bedsprings creaking under her weight as she sat up. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she said finally.

"And don't promise Jinx won't blow on your face if you can't keep it." you stated.

Sevika sighed, reaching out for the glass of liquor on her bedside table. "Always using my words against me."

"I'm being frank." you said, your eyes flickering to the arm on the desk. "Your arm is ruined, I need to take it to the workshop. So don't expect to have it back soon."

“You—.” she started to protest, her temper flaring once more. “You’re not taking my arm. I need it.”

"You want a piece of junk for arm, then?" You inquired.

God, she was nearly losing it tonight.

“Fine,” she grumbled, reluctantly admitting defeat. “Take it to the workshop, then. But I better get it back in perfect condition, you hear me?”

"So you're threatening me now?"

Sevika slammed the glass on the table.

"I’m not threatening you.” she grumbled. "I’m just making it clear that I expect my arm back in pristine condition. I don’t have time to deal with any subpar repairs."

"When have I ever done it wrong, Sevika?" you said, turning to look for your shirt somewhere in the room. Being naked in an argument was not pleasant and Sevika let out a huff after your breasts weren't on sight anymore.

"Never." She admitted gruffly. "Your work is impeccable."

"Then don't doubt me," you stated, pulling on your pants before borrowing one of Sevika's cigarettes. You searched for your jacket on the coat rack.

Sevika sighed, realizing you were getting ready to leave. She wasn't stopping you, though, you no longer needed vigilance since your recovery developed smoothly. "Where are you going?" She asked.

"I have work to do at the workshop." you mumbled, picking your toolbox and Sevika's prostetic arm. "Don't wait for me, you need to sleep."

She hummed. "Be back before sunrise, got it? I don't want you out and late at night."

"Sure, ma'am."

"Don't 'ma'am' me." She spat. "Just… be careful, alright? This city isn’t safe at night. Even the shadows have teeth."

"And you're the teeth." You smirked, before Sevika groaned and reached out to pull you by the arm.

"One more funny reply and you're not leaving the apartment." She snapped at you.

You raised an eyebrow, like an insolent teenager who was beginning to question the authority of her parents. Sevika didn't scare you, she stopped doing so a long time ago, and certainly after having her trembling with your head between her legs, she didn't manage to intimidate you. "I hear." you nodded.

Sevika watched you leave, her eyes trailing after you with a mixture of frustration and desire. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted to strangle you or kiss you. As the door shut behind you, she let out a low grumble and took a deep drag from her cigarette. "Stubborn little shit…" she muttered, a small smirk playing at her lips.

Rumors flew as fast through the streets of Zaun as the Shimmer. It took no more than four hours to hear that Silco's daughter had appeared in the Last Drop like a scolded puppy, strangely docile without knowing when or who caused it. But the truth is that Jinx showed up at Sevika's office and apologized to Sevika for the bomb accident, placing a new, optimized mechanical arm on the table, wrapped in a gift ribbon.

Sevika could only attribute it to you.

What the hell did you do?

Sevika walked through the dimly lit corridors of The Last Drop, her eyes watchful and searching. She was looking for only one person - you.

When she finally found you in the repair shop, her footsteps halted. “Have a moment?” she asked, her voice gruff.

You dragged on your cigarette, turning around as you removed your goggles from your eyes and raised an eyebrow. You didn’t even bother to get up from the stool, your expression impassive, almost disinterested. "I'm busy."

Sevika's jaw tightened at your dismissive tone. It was infuriating how you could look so utterly disinterested, when you had her wrapped around your little finger. She stalked closer, her muscles tensing in irritation. "I didn’t ask if you were busy. I said I need to speak with you."

You placed the cauterizer on the table and Sevika leaned against a nearby workbench, arms crossed underneath her poncho. "Care to tell me what you did to Jinx?" she asked.

"Uh... nothing?" you asked. "Why would I have anything to do with her?"

"Don't play coy with me." she growled. "The girl suddenly shows up, apologizing and dropping off a new arm? That’s not her style. You’ve been meddling again, haven’t you?"

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Did she apologize?" you inquired.

"Yes, she did apologize. She even wrapped the damn arm in a gift ribbon. It's the most polite I've ever seen her be."

You dragged out your cigarette, making the ash flutter into the ashtray, a cup. “Jinx is so much more than a crazy girl, she’s talented,” you said. “I thought she could make up for her damn mistake by making you a new arm.”

"And you thought that by... what? Whispering a few pretty words in her ear, you could get her to make me a new arm?" she questioned, disbelief coloring her tone.

"Nothing a couple of threats and some good rhetoric can't fix," you said smugly, before Sevika slammed her fist on the table.

"You threatened Jinx?" she demanded, her eyes burning with anger. "Are you out of your damn mind? She's unpredictable, dangerous and—"

"She messed with you," you interrupted her. "And since you're not going to fight back, do you think I'm going to sit back and watch that, Sevika?"

"It's not your place to handle Jinx, that's my business. Stay out of it."

You sighed, taking a look at this colorful and flashy new arm of Sevika Jinx knew how to add her touch to the piece, from the colors, the slot machine aesthetic, and the claw where the hand should be. "Did you like it?" you asked, more softly this time.

She reached out slowly, her fingers tracing over the metal and the claw. "It's… adequate." she grunted.

"Good." you smiled. "I'm glad I trusted her that."

As soon as the problem seemed to be fixed, you turned your attention to the piece you were currently working on. Sevika let out a groan, realizing you got away with it again.

Why on Earth I fell for this woman? I have enough trouble on my own.

Sevika leaned against the workbench, her eyes glued to you as you hummed a soft tune, completely absorbed in your work. It was infuriating. As soon as Sevika started looking around, her eyes fell on Shimmer's strap-on resting on the table. She had to look at it twice to realize it was the one she asked you to make four months ago. Sevika thought she had lost it; in the brothel, people tend to take things that aren't theirs.

"I thought I lost that thing," she grumbled, picking it up to examine it.

"That?" you asked, your eyes flickering to the strap. "Hell no, I spent fifty-six hours on that thing."

"What on earth took so damn long?"

"The Shimmer system; quite a challenge." you said.

At that moment, you couldn't help but look at her. A question had been floating around in your head ever since the day you handed Sevika her commission. "Did you like it?" you asked. "Did it feel good to wear?"

Sevika huffed, toying with the strap on her hand before she smirked. "Honestly, girl? It's been the best thing I've ever wore."

You smiled subtly, your attention shifting to your tools even though the tingle of satisfaction remained in your stomach. “How are the commissions going?” asked Sevika.

“Too many for so few hands and hours of sleep.” you pointed out, smiling as Sevika’s expression hardened. “I won’t use Shimmer, calm down.”

"Good," she said gruffly, leaning against the table closer to you. "You better not, or I'll kick your ass."

Despite having arrived angry, your proximity had weakened her temper. Your scent, the heat of your body, it was driving her mad. She had a strong desire to grab you, pull you close, and kiss you senselessly.

"So..." you said. "You came here to call me out for messing with Jinx or just to check how am I doing?"

"Both," she grumbled, her arms still crossed, her eyes flickering down to your lips. “You’ve been sticking your nose where it doesn't belong... again.”

"Where should I stick it in, then?" you teased her.

"Not in my business, to start." she grumbled, uncrossing her arms as she stepped closer.

Before you could even respond, Sevika grabbed you by the waist and roughly pulled you into a searing kiss. Her pent-up frustration and need for you had finally boiled over, and she couldn't deny herself any longer. You whimpered, barely adjusting to the kiss before Sevika dragged whatever you had onto the workbench and pinned you against the surface. “Hey, watch my stuff!”

"Shut up," she growled against your mouth. "I’ll buy you more tools."

Shit, she's mad.

"Sev... the door..." you panted between kisses, already spreading your legs so she could settle between them. Her intensity did not give rise to protests.

"Anyone who dares to enter will lose their eyes," she grunted, bringing your leg around her waist.

Sevika didn't let you process every kiss and bite she placed on your skin, she was unleashed by frustration and desire. You cupped her neck and sighed, her lips on your neck, her right hand wandering over your breasts and abdomen. You reached for her vest, unbuttoning it as you kissed her vehemently. The sound of her vest hitting the floor echoed through the room, as did your gasps and sighs.

You just hoped that no one had to lose their eyes that night.

You sat up, catching one of her breasts between your lips as Sevika hissed, her hand playing with your bare thighs before she felt the urge to pull that denim skirt off you. Sevika was in no mood for foreplay, her patience already exhausted and she had no intention of saving any more for you after you had challenged her authority by messing with Jinx. She growled, undoing the clasp of your skirt and sliding it down your legs until it ended up on the workshop floor.

"One of these days, you won't get a kiss but your ass whipped instead." she grumbled.

And then, you moaned over her hand sneaking into your panties, rubbing your wet pussy with unexpectly gentle fingers. Her weight pressed against you, her mouth hovering over yours accompanied by soft pants.

"A kiss or two and you're all wet for me."

"I was jerking off before you came in." you lied with that insolent smile of yours.

"Thinking about me, I suppose."

Her fingers continued to rub you, her mouth stealing any protests you might have had. She loved how you came undone under her touch, how she could make you moan and gasp.

You couldn't help but chuckle, Sevika looked fed up with your crude humor, but she didn't complain either. You watched her spread kisses down your stomach, your hip, the inside of your thighs, like a lioness coming closer to its prey, before pulling aside the fabric of your panties and giving you a shameless lick.

"Mhm... shit..." you gasped.

You covered your mouth, your gasps coming out of your nose as you tried to silence Sevika’s slurping by turning on the milling machine, which was particularly loud when it first started. By then, Sevika was having a feast between your legs, her lips sucking and kissing, licking at the wetness that was pouring out of you like a waterfall.

“Fuck.” you hissed, your hand reaching for her hair.

You still hadn't gotten used to Sevika's rhythm, she ate you out like you were her last meal, not caring about getting your slick all over her nose and chin, or the way you rubbed against her mouth to get more contact. A good dish is best enjoyed with all the senses, regardless of getting dirty in the process.

She enjoyed knowing that you liked it, that she was able to draw whimpers from your throat and break your insolent demeanor. After a while, your legs seemed to tremble and Sevika pulled away with a loud inhale, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Why did you...?" you managed to gasp before noticing that Sevika was staring at the strap-on sitting on the next workbench.

Oh, shit.

"Turn around." she commanded, her voice low and husky with desire.

"Sev-"

"Baby, trust me." she whispered, her hand cupping your cheek. "I'll be gentle."

"If someone enters..." you panted.

"No one will enter. They're all too goddamn scared of me." she replied, her hand gently grabbing your hips and guiding you to face away from her.

You could barely handle the adrenaline, your whole body seemed to be electrified, your chest against the table as soon as you bent over, raising your hips. It was happening and you were absolutely thrilled. You felt a kiss on your shoulder, you trembled when you perceived Sevika's figure behind you before a wave of anxiety crossed your body.

You've made plenty of them, but you never had tried a strap-on.

Sevika gasped then, the Shimmer compartment connecting to the matrix in her arm and thus to her system. That current of Shimmer through her veins tickled her and tinted her eyes slightly purple. Sevika saw how tense you were, and it was making her heart ache. She wanted you to enjoy this, to experience the same pleasure she had felt when she used it on Robin. So, she let her lips wander over your shoulder, down your back, as she moved her body closer to yours. Her chest pressed against you, her fingers caressing your hips.

"Don't be nervous," she whispered, her breath hot against your ear. "I've got you."

You held on to the table, Sevika giving you kisses on the back of your neck while sliding the strap between your folds, back and forward, gently stimulating you. "You made it, remember? Don't you trust your work?"

You moaned softly. "I didn't think you were going to use it on me."

Sevika held your hip. "I trust your work. Trust me too."

Suddenly you felt her slide inside you, inch by inch your lips parted and you let out a muffled moan, silenced by Sevika's kisses on your neck. Your insides opened for her, contracting around the phallus with ease, ready to take her whole. "Breathe…" she whispered.

You gasped, holding onto the edge of the table as Sevika began to thrust gently, methodically and deeply, feeling her tits press against your back, your own against the surface of the workbench. The weight of both of you made the wood creak.

Frankly, if the table broke, Sevika wouldn't give a damn.

"You're doing so well…" she whispered. "I knew you would."

You straightened up, Sevika wrapping an arm around your chest as she increased the speed of her thrusts, allowing yourself to moan louder, showing her that deep inside your body was tickling with her presence, your core had a pulse of its own. "It feels... good..."

"It'll feel better, baby, keep up with me." she growled, wrapping her bicep around your throat as she dared to slam her hips harder this time. And you whimpered.

You created that strap, you spent hours sitting at that very same workbench, trial and error to achieve a unique piece capable of pleasing Sevika and her exquisite requirements. You designed it, you took the mold in her presence, you spent sleepless nights and woke up to continue working on it. And now Sevika was allowing you to try the fruit of your labor for yourself, and damn… it was wonderful.

Sevika fucked you without pause or hesitation, methodically as if it were a task that must be done conscientiously. She squeezed your breasts, licked your ear and rubbed your clitoris with her flesh hand, making you tremble and shudder. By then, you were dizzy and extremely sensitive, Sevika could not bear to fuck you without seeing your expression twist in pleasure.

So, she quickly pulled out and turned you over, her hands grabbing your hips and lifting you onto the table, sitting you down on the edge.

"Look at me." she gasped, kissing you at the same time she slide into you. You moaned into her mouth, an arm around her neck as you caught a glimpse of her purple eyes. "Fuck, you're so pretty."

"You're so high..." you panted.

"This is the closest you'll ever be to Shimmer again." she smiled, fucking you relentlessly.

Each thrust was a dose of Shimmer, each thrust shook her entire body and sent shivers down to her core. It was addictive and mesmerizing at the same time, she couldn't get enough of how good it felt. "Oh fuck… you feel so good." she whimpered.

"Mhm, Sev..." you moaned sweetly. "Harder."

The Shimmer didn't just heighten the sensations, it inhibited the shame and brought the emotions to the surface. That's why you weren't impressed when Sevika began to pour her heart out on the act.

"I don't deserve you..." she muttered, her tone weaker than she intended to. You cupped her cheek.

"Bullshit."

"If you dare to leave me, there will be nothing left of me," she confessed, a hand on your cheek and your foreheads met. Your breaths mingled together.

"I ain't leaving."

Sevika whimpered, the scars on her left cheek glistening, her eyes seeming to sparkle and then you realized the Shimmer was taking its toll on her. "Sev, take it off." you begged, but she lunged at you, her hips never stopping. "Sev!" you insisted, even though you were reaching your peak yourself.

"I can't..." she gasped, before she placed a weak kiss on your lips. "I love you."

"You lo- Ah, ah fuck...!" you couldn't contain yourself, the sudden orgasm knocking you down like a wave before you fell back on the workbench.

And your body went numb, the sound of the machine accompanying your and Sevika's gasps, until you heard her curse and throw the strap on the table. Sevika's voice was hoarse, almost like she was choking back tears, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. The adrenaline, the Shimmer, the revelation of her feelings - it was all coursing through her, leaving her vulnerable and unsure of how to react.

You took a deep breath, rolling over to look at Sevika and notice the way she was shaking. You propped yourself on your elbow, reaching out to her. "I told you not to overuse it."

"I know..." she sighed, sitting on the edge of the table as you wrapped your arms around her. Your stomach fluttered, you inhaled her scent as if it were a fragrance you were trying to decipher, when in reality what you wanted to decipher were the words she said earlier.

All these years, this insolence and boldness just to get here. You had no regets.

"I love you too, Sev." you said softly then, every word rolling on your tongue.

She was quiet, her eyes fixed on yours as she took in what you had just said. "I know," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "And that terrifies me."

"I should be terrified of you." you smiled, noticing the way Sevika's eyes softened. You've never seen her like that. "But ever since I met you, I knew fear won't lead me nowhere."

"Most people are smart enough to stay away from me," she pointed out, her gaze dropping to the floor, before she grabbed your hand with her flesh one. "You're not smart."

You chuckled. "No, I'm not."

But Sevika knew well that no fool could get under her skin like you did; even if you had been a street rat, a Shimmer junkie and her personal mechanic.

She just hoped to call you wife one day.

The end.

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So, yeah, this fic is done. Do you know how much I enjoyed writing it? I really had a great time, even more so seeing your comments.

Girls, it's been an honor to have entertained you, I'll keep cooking up as many more as my delusional brain can come up with. THANK YOU ALL <3

#arcane #arcane fanfic #league of legends #arcane s2 #arcane sevika #arcane smut #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n #sevika x you #slow burn BURNING #love cofessions yass baby #some delusional shit #sapphic #wlw #sevika my woman #sevika the butch you are #some shit

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vanyzvat · 2 days ago

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A DAMN GOOD ACTOR

You're a cookie that's been sent on a mission to the Spire Of Deceit, with the intent to get close to Shadow Milk Cookie and break his heart. The plan is to leave him confused and vulnerable, so your side can have even the slightest advantage when facing him during the upcoming war against the Beasts.

Surprisingly, you've done your job of playing pretend rather well (Your acting skills may or may not have improved thanks to him, ironically), and eventually, on one particular day, when push comes to shove...

You complete your task.

Potential Warnings: Shadow Milk Cookie is kinda genuinely obsessed with you in this, but it's pretty tame compared to some of the other stuff out there.

Shadow Milk Cookie's always loved to have all eyes on him. He's a performer, that's what he does, and he's very good at it! And he knows that, too.

So when you caught his attention, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary for him. Just like everyone else that had come across his path, you didn't mean anything to him at first.

...

Keyword "at first".

But then he saw something within you.

Something you've wanted to keep hidden, and was planning to take to the grave when you inevitably crumbled.

Something darker, something sinister.

A feeling of desire, of longing for something more, to be something more. Something more than this.

So he recruited you! Duh.

...And then paid attention to you.

And then you became closer.

And then you became inseparable.

You knew how he felt- At least, you've started to suspect it. But he was never open about it, of course he wasn't.

So, on a particular day, when you finally felt the time was right... You practically cornered him for answers.

...

"Be honest for once in your life," You know you're asking for a lot.

"Am I being like Candy Apple Cookie to you?"

He lets out a laugh.

"Come on now. All this time together and you still don't trust me?"

You tilted your head, smiling as you raised a brow.

"You're not just an ordinary cookie to me, you know!" He flew over to you, making eye contact as he turned himself upside down in the air.

"Oh? How come?"

...And he suddenly cringes, backing off.

He knows what you're trying to pull. You're trying to get him to say what he likes about you.

"..."

No. Not this time. You're so close to completing your mission, you just needed that one final push.

You grab him by his ruffle collar, yanking him close again.

And for once, he's... Frozen, looking at you with a confused smile? What's, uh, what's happening...?

"How do you really feel about me, Shadow Milk Cookie?"

Ah.

He remains flabbergasted for a few more seconds, before his expression shifts to anger.

"Let go of me." He demanded.

"Answer me." You shot back.

Why isn't it WORKING. Why aren't you letting go. Even with the most serious, anger-filled expression he can muster, it does nothing to you.

You're like Pure Vanilla Cookie sometimes. He tries EVERY trick in the book on you, and yet, nothing quite WORKS. Maybe it does for a while, but you're always adapting.

It's a reaction once, then a small one, and then none at all.

That's another one of the many reasons he feels like he can't get enough of you.

He'd never admit it, of course, but perhaps a part of him was obsessed- He always had his eyes on you.

You gave him a challenge.

He wanted to terrify you, to make you laugh, to make you frown.

He hated you, he loved you.

Whereas everyone else praised or feared his influence, his power- You made him feel... Small. UGH.

You made him feel like nothing, but also everything.

After a while of you just staring at each other's eyes, he's forced to teleport to get out of your grasp.

"You really want to know?"

You gave him a singular nod.

God, you're driving him INSANE.

"FINE."

He rolls his eyes.

Suddenly, the two of you are on the top of the spire. He's leaning his back against one of the pillars, his hair dangling off the edge as he has his arms crossed.

His face? Unamused.

...

But then he hovers up to you, quicker than you can comprehend. He's flying above you as he's in a lying position, barely enough to look down on you.

You're looking at him, but not quite.

Your eyes are looking up at him, but your head remained low.

He sucked in the air through his teeth, his lying position turning to him standing, still hovering above the ground.

Still looking down at you.

He turns around for a moment, mumbling under his breath in frustration before turning back to face you.

He reaches out and gently places a hand on your cheek, causing you to raise a brow again.

His expression- It's a mix of a lot of things.

Reluctance, disgust, maybe even the tiniest hint of nervousness.

Time feels like it has stopped.

Moreso than usual.

He knows he's going to regret this... But what's life without a little bit of risk, right?!

He leans in, raising your chin up, then finally closes the gap between you.

...

It only lasts for a second.

And then he pulls away, cowardly backing off again.

You're silent. WHY ARE YOU SILENT.

He's looking at you.

He's waiting for a reply.

An action.

Something, please give him SOMETHING.

Say something, do something, ANYTHING.

PLEASE.

...

But you only keep looking at him.

Looking at him with that same blank stare.

And he...

...

He sinks into himself.

Oh.

Ow.

He practically deflates like a balloon, slowly moving downwards until his feet hit the ground.

Ow ow ow.

Ow, he doesn't like this.

Ouchy.

This is not a good type of pain.

He knew this pain- The pain of bitter truth. The pain he founded this entire new world in order to avoid.

Is this what it feels like to get your heart broken? To get rejected?

He's never gotten rejected before.

Well, that's debatable...

But never like this.

Never under these circumstances. He knew that if he said the right things and acted the right way, he could get what he wanted from anyone else.

But he doesn't want "anyone else", he wants YOU.

Was he so stupid for trying to use honesty for once? You ASKED.

What does he say now? That you'll regret this? It's never worked. And he doesn't want you to hate him, so.

Ugh, why does he even CARE.

WHY does he bother.

...

You rolled his eyes at his state.

God, he looks like a sad wet cat. This idiot...

...

But you had to do what you had to do.

You take a step forward, and for once, he doesn't notice. Seems like he's too caught up in his wittle feelies to quite look at you.

You take another step.

And then another.

And another.

Until you're in front of him again.

"Shadow Milk Cookie."

He's suddenly alert again.

"...Yeeees?"

He forces the usual facade, smiling.

But you're used to his personality just shifting like this to disguise everything underneath.

You know now.

"Did you..."

"You didn't actually think I could ever fall in love with you, right?"

"Your feelings were just another lie, right?"

Owie... . . . . .

"That's not a very nice joke, y'know!"

A joke where he's the punchline.

Karma.

"Good. I hope it hurts. Now you know how you make everyone else feel."

...He doesn't say anything.

Usually he has a comeback for this.

Little ol' him? Playing mean jokes? Never!

...

But not this time.

"I thought- I thought..."

"You thought you knew me, didn't you. So much for being the Master Of Deceit..."

You chuckled.

"How dare you" He wishes he'd say.

But he doesn't.

Deep down, he had a hunch. He wasn't THAT stupid.

But he was hoping.

Hoping for that one little chance.

...Okay, maybe he was stupid.

And now look at him.

Now, he's the silly one.

What is this.

Why does this feel different?

It doesn't make SENSE for this to feel different.

Those under his influence praised him all the time. His every move, hell, even his every breath- There wasn't a SECOND they didn't love him.

You're doing something- You're doing something to him. No, you've done something to him.

He's confused, vulnerable.

...

And your job here is done.

"That's my cue to leave."

"Goodbye, Shadow Milk Cookie."

He needs to follow you.

Why isn't he following you.

Why can't he MOVE.

He can't just let you go, you're too important.

He needs to get revenge on those who put you up to this.

He needs to get you back.

You need to be his. You have to. You...

He began clapping. Who is he clapping for? You, obviously! You're the star of the show!

"Bravo, bravo!"

"What a performance, tricking the Master Of Deceit himself! What an actor, I must say!"

He's gotten used to this by now.

He had a role to play, and he played it well.

But you knew you had gotten to him.

And that was all you wanted.

You walk away, descending down the stairs, leaving him cheering for you at the top of the spire.

Eventually, the clapping ceases.

And he exhales through his teeth.

First Pure Vanilla Cookie walked away with half his Soul Jam, and now you walked away with half his heart.

He shuts his eyes, gripping at his hair and pulling in frustration. Oh, how he wants to scream and shout.

He feels something escape and roll down his cheek. But is he going to address it? NO. Of course not.

He had done SUCH a good job building these literal and metaphorical walls so NO ONE could reach him.

But you did. Despite it all.

He can't POSSIBLY be this weak, right?

He's a Beast!

He's the world's finest playwright, poet, director, actor, clown- And, of course, everyone's most beloved trickster!

He's Shadow Milk Cookie!

...

And you really are a damn good actor.

#this was meant to be a wholesome confession fic i don't know what happened #i wanted to hurt him chat #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk crk #shadow milk cookie x reader #shadow milk x reader #crk x reader #crk x you #cookie run kingdom #cookie run #cookie reader #y/n cookie #cr kingdom #cookie run kingdom x reader #cookie run kingdom x you #crk

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fear-is-truth · 2 days ago

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PLAYER 124 / NAM-GYU as your boyfriend

warnings — kinda toxic. mention of drug use. a/n — who should i write for next…

남규

nam-gyu is the kind of partner who constantly needs to feel in control. he has a fragile ego, so he’d want to prove he’s the one in charge in the relationship, even if it means belittling you in arguments. he’s not the type to openly apologise; instead, he’d try to “make it up” by buying you gifts or doing something overly performative to smooth things over.

wouldn’t outright say “i love you” (saranghae; 사랑해) unless it’s in the middle of an argument or you’re threatening to leave. it wouldn’t be the “romantic” type of “i love you”; it’d be desperate, like, “fine, i love you, okay? is that what you want to hear?” then he’d get mad at himself for even saying it lol.

he’d have a complicated way of showing affection—instead of saying something sweet, he’d tell you, “that hoodie looks ugly as hell, but you somehow make it work.” or, “you’re lucky you’ve got me looking out for you.” it’s almost backhanded, like he’s scared of being too soft.

when it comes to physical touch, he’d only be comfortable initiating it when he’s in control. he’d sling an arm over your shoulder in public to make sure everyone knows you’re his, but in private, he’d sit stiffly until you coaxed him to relax. if you tried to cuddle him or play with his hair, he’d grumble, “stop being clingy,” but wouldn’t pull away—and if you did stop, he’d be like, “what, now you’re ignoring me?”

he’d NEVER let you see him cry. he’d bottle up everything until it spills over in a way that’s either pure rage or self-destructive. but maybe, just maybe, he’d have a mini breakdown and choke out something like, “i’m so fucking tired,” and let you hold him for a minute before he shuts it all down again and pretends it didn’t happen.

his jealousy would be off the charts. if he even suspects someone else is catching your attention, he’d immediately become aggressive and violent toward the perceived “threat.” then he’d accuse you of flirting or not appreciating him enough, even if you’ve done nothing wrong.

he’d have this really toxic habit of trying to “test” your loyalty. like, he’d say something purposely cruel just to see how much you’d put up with, and if you didn’t take the bait, he’d either feel validated or spiral into self-loathing because he’s scared you’ll leave. he’s the kind of guy who pushes people away but gets furious when they actually go.

he’s manipulative and would use your vulnerabilities against you during fights, twisting your words to make himself seem like the victim. he thrives on power dynamics, so if you’re someone with a soft heart, he’d use that to his advantage to get his way. he’s not above emotional blackmail.

obsesses over how others perceive him, so he’d put a lot of energy into making sure you’re impressed by him. even if he’s not doing well, he’d brag about some minor victory just to hear you say you’re proud of him. if you ever criticised him—like genuinely, not jokingly—it’d eat him alive. he’d act like it didn’t bother him, but he’d bring it up days later in a passive-aggressive comment like, “guess i’m just not good enough for you, huh?”

he strikes me as the guy who’d buy you expensive gifts, to prove he’s capable of taking care of you. he’d probably get something super flashy and impractical, and then get annoyed if you fawn over it immediately. “what, you don’t like it? i spent a lot of money on that shit.”

deep down, i feel like he’s terrified of being alone. he doesn’t know how to show it in a healthy way, so it comes out as possessiveness. like, he’d constantly ask where you’re going, who you’re with, and what you’re doing—not because he genuinely doesn’t trust you, but because he doesn’t trust himself to be worth staying for. if you ever left him on read, even for a little while, he’d overthink it to the point of spiraling, doing drugs etc.

has zero tolerance when it comes to anyone disrespecting you. if someone said something rude or crossed a line, he wouldn’t hesitate to fight them to defend your honour.

definitely not the type to plan cute dates or do anything traditionally romantic. instead, he’d drag you along to things he already likes—bars, shady clubs—and expect you to have fun. but sometimes, when he’s in a good mood, he might surprise you by doing something actually thoughtful, like showing up at your door with your favourite street snack or insisting on watching a movie he secretly hates just because he knows it makes you happy.

his love language would probably be acts of service, but only in an effed-up way where it feeds his own need for validation. he’d show his love by offering to “solve” your problems, but he’d expect endless praise for it. he’d remind you constantly of how lucky you are to have him.

feels completely out of his depth when you’re sad, but he can’t stand seeing you like that. instead of asking what’s wrong (because vulnerability makes him squirm), he’d focus on practical things. if you haven’t eaten, he’d come back with takeout—probably ordering your favourite without even asking because he’s memorised it by now. he wouldn’t outright express his concern, though. instead, he’d shove the food at you with a gruff, “here. eat this before you waste away or something.”

despite his flaws, when you’re sad or feeling low, there’s a small part of him that genuinely wants to help, even if he doesn’t know how. he’d sit awkwardly next to you, fidgeting with his rings, and mutter, “you’re stronger than this, you know. don’t let whatever’s bothering you win.” …. the closest thing to a pep talk he can manage.

nam-gyu is FAR from an ideal boyfriend—he’s moody, defensive, and often toxic in the way he handles his emotions. his need for control and his inability to communicate openly make him exhausting to deal with at times, especially when his insecurities get the better of him. but underneath all that mess, he knows he’s piece of work, and a part of him feels like you’ll wake up one day and realise you deserve better. this fear makes him hold on too tightly, sometimes suffocatingly so, but it also drives him to try—clumsily, imperfectly, but genuinely for you. he doesn’t know how to love in a healthy way, but he does love, and he loves deeply.

#nam gyu #squid game #nam gyu x reader #squid game season 2 #squid game s2 #player 124 #nam gyu headcanons #nam gyu x you #nam gyu x y/n #squid game x reader

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clockwayswrites · 16 hours ago

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A Hill to Die On ch2 (mostly)

ch1(ish) this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

This is most of Chapter 21, cutting out the smut. IT DOES SPICY🌶️⚠️: alludes to smut the night before and blatant talk leading into more.

Tim wasn’t in his own bed. He wasn’t in his Manner bed either. He was pretty sure it also wasn’t the spare bed at Jason’s or Kon’s bed. It wasn’t Stephanie’s or Bart’s or one of the Titan Tower beds. No, this was a stranger’s bed. That should worry him, Tim knew that, but the worry didn’t come.

Instead of worry, Tim felt calm, pleasantly satiated, and sore.

Tim knew why.

Caroline clung to him, like the heavy remnants of a dream. She was right there, pressing against the back of his mind and assuring him that this was all fine. More than fine even; she was quite pleased.

Grudgingly, Tim opened his eyes and blinked up at the nondescript ceiling. Trying to remember what had happened last night was like watching through low resolution clips of time. Things were rather clear at the start and became less clear as time went on. But he very much understood why he was sore and just how much Caroline had enjoyed himself.

Tim was sure he was blushing an embarrassing amount as he carefully sat and swung his legs over the edge of the side of the bed. Yep, sore. Right, well. Tim cleared his throat as if that would also clear up his embarrassment. How was he supposed to act after sleeping with a complete stranger?

“I thought I heard you awake, gorgeous,” the guy—Danny, his name was Danny—drawled from behind Tim. “I know it’s not the right sort of thing for you, but I put some lounge pants and a shirt in the bathroom for you if you want to shower. Pancakes will be up in about fifteen or so, but take your time.”

“Ah, thanks, that’s nice of you,” Tim said.

He waited until he heard Danny walk back off to wherever the kitchen was before he got up and slipped into the bathroom. All of Caroline’s clothing had been folded into a neat pile, other than the lacy underwear, which were washed and drying on the towel rack. Which was rather sweet.

Tim added the bra to the pile, stretching out the feeling of having worn that all night.

Figuring out how to get the shower turned on and hot was a puzzle, showers always were, but Tim managed it smoothly enough. Danny’s shower actually got decently hot too, and Tim took advantage of that to stand under the spray and just try to center himself.

Should he pretend to be Caroline?

Should he come clean?

He didn’t know what was best… or safest.

But Danny was safe. Tim hated that the certainty of that lingered in his mind, but it did. Caroline was convinced that Danny was safe, at least in these regards. He supposed she must have to lingered like this and still be at Danny’s place in the morning. Tim took a deep breath, breathing in the citrus scent of Danny’s shampoo he as using, and let it out slowly.

Okay, truth it was.

The shower had washed away the last of Caroline, which meant it was only Tim standing in the kitchen, trying not to fidget. He was better than fidgeting, he had been a Robin. But he really wanted to right then as he waited for Danny to turn from the stove.

Danny dished up some bacon onto a plate and turned the stove off before turning. “Turkey bacon,” Danny explained with a little raise of the plate before he set it on the little table which was rather full, “and we have scrambled eggs and, of course, pancakes. Take a seat and dig in.”

“That all sounds great.” Tim didn’t move.

Danny tilted his head with a little frown. “Is everything alright? If, ah, this is too much it’s okay if you just want to leave. I don’t usually… do one nightstands so if I’m breaking some sort of taboo with this I’m sorry.”

“No,” Tim said quickly, “it’s not you, it’s me. Wow, not like that. Sorry. I guess I’m just a little awkward about this. I don’t really do this either. Well, that’s not—I don’t do this. I’m sorry, I’m making an absolute mess of this. I guess, just, okay. I guess I should start by saying you should call me Lin. I’m not… exactly Caroline right now.”

He wasn’t ‘Lin’ either, but no matter what Caroline thought he wasn’t going to give Danny his real name. He was too recognizable for that.

Danny sat down slowly in the chair closest to him. “Are you… not Caroline right now because of how you’re dressed or because you’re not Caroline because you’re someone else now?”

“Oh,” Tim wiggled a handy. “Both but more of the second?”

“Okay,” Danny said, his tone careful in a way that made Tim tilt his head curiously. “Are you… freaked out by waking up somewhere different? Do we need to talk about… anything that happened last night?”

“Oh, oh no,” Tim replied quickly. “I’m mostly aware of what happens when I’m Caroline. Besides I was sort of… in between when I woke up this morning. We’re good.”

Danny shoulder’s slumped and he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back. “Okay, good. I really didn’t want—because everything last night was very, enthusiastically consensual and—”

“We’re good, really,” Tim reassured Danny. It was actually pretty sweet how worked up Danny was about this. “Caroline didn’t do anything—okay, well she does it more freely than me, but, ah, let’s just say we’re in agreement about you.”

Danny looked surprised before a frankly adorable smile curled his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, though maybe don’t get too smug about it,” Tim said with a little shrug and finally took a seat at the table. “I never said either of us had good taste.”

Danny’s surprised laughter was a nice sound. “Don’t worry, I know I’m not hot stuff. The attention is still flattering. I spent most of the night not sure how I ended up with Caroline in my bed.”

Tim rested his chin on his hand, watching Danny curiously. “Even though she’s not what she looks like?”

“Like I said last night, any combination of bits is a good combination.”

“That usually doesn’t mean… personalities,” Tim pointed out.

Danny just gave a little shrug. “Nope. But as long as I haven’t hurt her, or you, then I don’t mind this either. Is it different? Sure. And it has me curious about things, but I’m curious by nature.”

“Curiosity killed the cat,” Tim quipped.

“But boredom killed it quicker,” Danny replied, finishing the verse.

It was Tim’s turn to smile. “I can’t say I’ll want to or can answer everything, but you can feel free to ask a few questions.”

After a considering noise, Danny took a few bites of breakfast as he obviously thought about what to ask. “So since you know things that happened as Caroline, does that mean you have the same preferences about things?”

“Nope. Caroline’s go to drink is a martini. I like whiskey better,” Tim said, thinking to last night. “Or she likes eggs that are runny but I hate that.”

“Huh, okay. Does that keep going to more serious things too?”

Tim tilted his head and took a bite of the rolled up pancake he had just buttered. As far as morning after breakfasts went, this was pretty nice. “Serious like what?”

“Well, like, last night. Take… a blow job. How would Caroline like one?”

“She wouldn’t,” Tim said easily. “She might give one, but mostly to get someone worked up to fuck her.”

Danny chuckled, a low sound that made Tim want to lean in closer to where Danny lounged in the other chair. “Okay. So you know that pretty easily. But what about you? What about Lin?”

Tim tilted his head. “Lin, I mean I like blow jobs, yeah.”

At least he was pretty sure he did. He didn’t do this sort of thing much as him.

Danny smiled like he was amused. “Okay. And any preference? Leaning against a wall? Pressing me against a wall? In bed? Sitting on the couch. Right here in the kitchen with your legs thrown over my shoulders?”

Tim swallowed reflexively. If Tim was Alvin right then, he’d want Danny on his knees, back pressed against the wall while Alvin held his jaw open and fucked his face. But for Tim… “That last one, please.”

“Please as in now?” Danny asked.

“Yes, please,” Tim said, the words much more blatant begging than he had intended.

“Okay, sweetheart.” Danny drawled the pet name in a slow, easy way that reminded Tim of whipped honey. “But you gotta be good for me and let me hear you.”

[Smut goes here. Tim has a very good time.]

“No pressure, but here’s my number,” Danny said. He was holding out an actual slip of paper folded in half. He ducked his head a little. “You know, if you or Caroline or you and Caroline want to reach out.”

Tim took the slip of scrap paper, the back of some cut up sales sheet and tapped it against his fingers. “You’d want to hear from both of us?”

“Yes, of course! As long as that won’t cause any issues between you and Caroline. And, I mean, obviously I’d like a heads up who I was talking to,” he said with a shy, crooked smile.

It made Tim give a little laugh. “I bet, it would get real confusing otherwise. I can get another number for her and use it through an app. It keeps everything nice and separate for all of us.”

“Yeah? That sounds good,” Danny agreed. “And you’re sure you don’t want me to get you a cab or walk you to the station?”

“I’m sure. I’ll be fine. I’ve been running around Gotham my whole life.” Or close enough, anyways. “Besides, one of Caroline’s bracelets is a low level tazer.”

“Really? But to fit all of that in—sorry, off topic,” Danny said sheepishly. He leaned in and kissed Tim lightly on the edge of his lips. “Thank you for staying, and telling me who you were.”

“Thanks for being so great about,” Tim said. He stole a quick kiss himself before he slipped out the door. He was too tired for things to descend into another round of sex, not matter the position.

Just before he got outside Danny’s apartment building, he took the time to put Danny’s number in his phone and sent of a quick ‘and thank you for the pancakes’.

#dp x dc #danny/tim #a hill to die on #brain dead ship #dead tired ship

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the-clock-of-the-time-dragon · 20 hours ago

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[Wicked Act II spoilers]

[edited for tone and clarity of purpose, apologies for initial crudeness and frustration]

Okay, obviously I'm biased, but I'm gonna need the Fiyeraba shippers to please set a lot of your people straight about some things. I've seen way too many people trying to say that Glinda is just a selfish bimbo and that Fiyero is a virtuous and selfless figure more worthy of Elphaba's love. I'll set aside for now the idea of "worthiness" in this context. But let's start off with Fiyero joining the Wizard. Hoo boy...

Yes, he was initially somewhat less tolerant of the propaganda against Elphaba than Glinda was; yes, he was secretly trying to find her so he could run away with her or whatever. But honey: those facts DO NOT fully absolve his actions as the Wizard's top officer, or selfish recklessness throughout Act II. I see so many popular threads and posts romanticizing and whitewashing with "oh but he didn't REALLY join the Wizard, he just pretended so he could try to get to Elphie! It's all for love, and he sacrificed everything for her!" As if the literal captain of the literally fascist forces responsible for the oppression of Animals wasn't equally responsible for said oppression?? Hello? Fiyero really didn't think of seeking out Elphaba in ANY other way that DIDN'T involve becoming *checks notes*... the trusted leader of the troops committing all the abuses she's fighting against in the first place???? Like it's cool and all that he helped with Brrr, and it's all well and good that he planned on betraying the Wizard as soon as he found Elphaba (which took literal years, so I guess we're left to assume he was prepared to just keep doing fascism indefinitely if she didn't show up????), but uh... it's kind of concerning to how eager some of you are to make excuses for this dude volunteering as the head of the Ozian Gestapo??? smdh

He didn't accomplish anything from it either, by the way — like yeah, we get it, he did everything he did whilst silently fantasizing about running away with the Witch he was being paid to hunt. Fine. But I can't be the only one who doesn't buy that as an actual excuse???? Like, guys: nobody forced him to join the fascist army — even with crazy ulterior motives. He wasn't coerced into it; it wasn't his only choice or anything. Searching for Elphaba did not somehow compel him to go and volunteer to follow (or to give!) orders in the name of the dictator who was trying to have her assassinated the entire time. He could have just not done all that. (Genuinely so curious how the second film plans on covering that material tbh)

Glinda made several questionable decisions that can be (and have been) debated, but she is still very unambiguously a victim. Her position in the Wizard's regime was foisted upon her. There are things we can discuss, but I find that many folks need reminding that Glinda would undoubtedly have been disposed of (or worse) if she failed to make herself useful. I mean hell: she wasn't even supposed to meet the Wizard in the first place — she was only there because of Elphie. If she'd tried to resist, it would have immediately gotten her labeled the Witch's accomplice. As soon as she'd chosen not to get on the broom, her fate was out of her hands, and all available options were varying degrees of horrible.

That's not the case with Fiyero. He went to the Wizard all on his own; no one ever cornered or forced him into it. Thinking Animals are people, and having a crush on Elphaba, simply did not stop him from carrying out the regime's orders — for years. It's not clear exactly how long he's been captain at the start of Act II, but the clear implication is that he's been a soldier for most of the time skip. I've seen Fiyeraba accounts with headcanons about him acting as a double agent, secretly doing stuff to help Animals — and that's a great idea, it would indeed serve to make a lot of his actions way more palatable — but until we actually get to SEE some of that (maybe they'll add it for the movie version of Act II; we'll have to see), there is nothing in the story to suggest that. He certainly didn't do a damn thing for all those Animals who were enslaved and caged in the Wizard's palace — and we don't see a single other Animal outside of there in Act II, so as far as we know Fiyero has participated over those years in the near-total removal of Animals from Ozian society. In the name of "finding Elphaba". Not fighting for her cause. Just finding HER. For HIMSELF.

It's fine to have a ship you like, obviously — and there is genuinely a lot to like about Fiyeraba, I don't dislike the idea of them as a couple or as friends — but come on guys: please stop those out there idealizing Fiyero as somehow a clear "morally-superior" alternative to Glinda, lol. The dude had power, access, and opportunities, for years, that he could have wielded in any number of really selfless, revolutionary ways. He didn't. And I propose (apparently controversially): he simply didn't want to. And that — at the end of the day — is (much as some would like to deny it) true to his character. He always WANTED to be self-absorbed and shallow, and all his actions are consistent with that. Elphaba saw depth and discontentment in him, yes: but (and I cannot stress this enough) when given the chance, he channeled that in the wrong direction. He didn't confront that and become a better person — for the most part he just displaced and projected it onto Elphaba as an object of obsession, and put on an even thicker pretense than before.

All his actions — regardless of the complexity he has deep down — are those of a man who never gives one fuck about anything or anyone, except (kinda sorta) Elphaba. But even then: at no time does the care he has for her seem to extend to caring about any of her wants or needs outside of sexual validation from him, or how she might feel about his actions, or indeed the impacts of those actions upon her, her cause, or anyone or anything else. I don't think it should be all that controversial to say: he doesn't think through the wider repercussions of anything he does — thoughtlessness is just one of his core character traits. He doesn't think ahead or see meaning in anything outside of what can temporarily excite him, in the moment. I think people place a little too much weight on Elphaba clocking him with regard to his internal pain, and seem to expect (understandably of course) that she is not only right, but moreover that he will grow from that in a positive direction, based on her influence.

But he doesn't. If anything, we get a surprising inverse: he pretty much proves her wrong. Not to say he didn't have hidden depth and all that, like she said: but his hypothetical heart of gold proves not to really amount to much in practice. He doesn't grow out of his shallowness and his self-centeredness: he grows into it in a way that he hadn't quite yet in school. Where once he was only masking an internal listlessness, after he's been cracked open by Elphaba he decides to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow, not just coasting by. He performs in new ways — as a soldier, eventually as a "fiancé", etc. — but by Act II we meet a Fiyero who has staked the last remaining shred of humanity in him on the vain pursuit of the only object of his desire that has ever been unavailable to him, and firmly chosen to say to hell with everyone and everything else.

When put to the test, Fiyero sacrifices Glinda, the Animals, and all else that Elphaba actually cared about, to pursue his own unresolved crush from college. Mostly to get in her pants, really — as harsh as I'm sure that sounds. But let me be frank: that is literally all he ever accomplishes in the show. He gives her dick one time, and one of his castles, and that's it. That's the culmination of his years trying to find her — years in which he actively worked as one of the stormtroopers (or even the one commanding them) committing untold crimes against Animalkind (who, again, it seems have been all but erased from Oz by Act II): y'know, the very crimes Elphaba sacrificed her life to try and stop????? He spent the most important time of his life — of his own free will — being a fascist soldier, but he "did it for her" somehow, so according to some, it's perfectly fine. Heroic, even. Yikes??

But let's make something very clear (since my original version of this post caught a lot of flak, including slurs and other rudeness):

I like Fiyero. I find his role extremely interesting (I could do a whole dissertation on him, but I'm especially a fan of the way his proving Elphaba's assessment of him wrong presents a fascinating parallel and contrast with Glinda, which I think is lost on a lot of people). But PLEASE stop with all the misguided Glinda slander and idealization of Fiyero. By all means, thirst! But don't give me all this bullshit about him deserving Elphaba more, or being super deep, or being really principled or noble or whatever else. He does have layers, and quite intriguing ones, but his insides are straw — he isn't meant to have some deep, overwrought emotional core or motivations; he has passions that he acts upon when given the chance. That's it. And that's fine. Actually kind of refreshing in a story rooted in simple children's fantasy but rife with intensely complicated personalities. Fiyero makes it his mission to represent denial of depth and embrace of raw, spontaneous desire — and I for one love that, and wish others appreciated it.

And in all seriousness, shipping wars aside: by the end of the story, it's Glinda who is ultimately vindicated, and has — for all her faults — made the necessary choices to fulfill Elphaba's wishes, bring down the regime, etc. And all that despite herself. She's miserable: not just because of the mistakes she made, but because of her correct moves as well. Fiyero is simply not — and could never be — that person. And that's okay! Like I said: I am not anti-Fiyero. Fiyero's willingness to throw it all away for the sake of sheer, overriding passion is a huge part of what people like about him, of course — and it's an obvious factor in the attraction between him and Elphaba, because she has her own flavor of that impulse as well — but I'd actually argue that it's not romantic, it's his fatal flaw. And thematically that's fantastic! But I just don't believe that it somehow means he "deserves Elphaba more" because he "gave up his life for her" or whatever. In part because NOBODY truly "deserves" Elphie tbh, not 100% (and I question anybody who claims otherwise), but ultimately because I don't accept the idea that his fleeting acts of passion make up for all the shit leading up to them (or even proceeding after them tbh). At least Glinda managed to do what Elphaba always wanted in the end — but I would die on this hill even if Gelphie didn't exist.

You don't have to agree with my analysis of Fiyero and his choices, relationships, etc. — that's fine. What isn't fine is trying to portray Glinda as some kind of spineless traitor whore for the Wizard and Fiyero as a conscientious hero who earned Elphie through self-sacrifice. That's just not the story that was written. It's WAY messier and more interesting than that.

#wicked #gelphie #elphaba thropp #elphaba #glinda x elphaba #glinda upland #wicked movie #elphaba x glinda #glinda #fiyeraba #fiyero #fiyero tigelaar #elphiyero #gliyeraba

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earthtoharlow · 3 days ago

Text

HIT THE LIGHTS

Sequel to Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights & Don’t Like The Lights first to understand

Series Masterlist

1. I Didn’t Mean to Fall in Love

Maryse stirred awake, stretching her arms above her head before turning over to face Jack, who had gotten home late the night before from a business trip in New York.

She blinked sleepily at him, ready to say good morning, but before she could, he pulled her closer, a sly grin on his face.

He gently placed a finger to her lips and whispered, “Do you hear that?”

Maryse frowned slightly, her ears straining to catch whatever sound he was talking about. “Hear what?” she whispered back.

He leaned in, his voice low. “Exactly. The babies are still asleep for once.”

Her eyes widened as realization dawned, and she let out a soft laugh. “Wait… no crying? No babbling? No toys getting thrown?”

“Not a peep,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s like a miracle. A small, peaceful miracle.”

Maryse giggled, burying her face in his chest. “Don’t jinx it. They’ll probably be up any minute now.”

Jack laughed quietly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re probably right. But for now, let’s enjoy the silence. It’s rare these days.”

She hummed in agreement, nuzzling closer to him. Jack grinned, pulling her even closer as he rested his chin on top of her head. “You know, you could just skip that meeting and that interview today and stay in bed with me all day. Like we used to. No meetings, no emails—just us.”

Maryse laughed softly, tilting her head back to look at him. “Oh, yeah? And what about the twins? You think they’re just gonna let us lounge around like we’re on vacation?”

He shrugged with a smirk. “They’re still asleep. We’ve got at least… fifteen more minutes of peace. Maybe twenty if we’re lucky.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And when they wake up screaming for breakfast, then what?”

He leaned down, brushing his lips against hers. “Then I’ll handle it. Diapers, bottles, the works. You just stay here and relax.”

Maryse laughed again, shaking her head. “You really think we can just pretend we’re not parents for a day?”

“Why not?” he said with mock seriousness. “I’m pretty sure they owe us for all those sleepless nights.”

She playfully swatted his chest. “You’re impossible. I can’t skip the meeting or that interview, and you know it.”

He sighed dramatically, flopping onto his back like a kid who didn’t get his way. “Fine. Go be responsible and productive. But I’m telling you, one of these days, you’re skipping everything, and we’re staying in bed all day. No excuses.”

Maryse leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Deal. But until then, welcome to parenthood baby daddy.”

She started to stretch again, she paused and turned to him, resting her head on her hand. “How was your meeting yesterday? You didn’t say much about it last night.”

Jack shrugged, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on her arm. “It was good. We talked about the next era, ideas, plans. I’m excited… but I don’t know. I feel like I’ve made some great music, but I still don’t think I’ve dropped anything incredible yet. You know, something that no one can argue about.”

She frowned slightly, shifting closer to him. “What are you talking about? People love your music. You’ve had plenty of hits. Why are you so hard on yourself?”

He sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m proud of everything I’ve done. I really am. But there’s always that little voice in the back of my head saying, ‘You can do better.’ I want the next era to be undeniable. Like, no debate—it’s legendary.”

Maryse reached out, cupping his cheek and turning his face toward her. “You’re already legendary to me. And I know whatever you do next will be incredible because you don’t settle for anything less.”

He smiled softly, leaning into her touch. “Thanks, babe. That means a lot.”

She smirked, brushing her thumb over his cheek. “Now, since I’ve boosted your ego, you can get up and make me tea before I have to get ready.”

He chuckled, pulling her into a quick kiss. “Anything for my number one fan.”

****

After getting showered and dressed, Maryse heard the unmistakable sounds of childish screams and giggles echoing from the kitchen. She smiled to herself, knowing the twins were up and in full swing, and Jack was likely handling their breakfast routine.

When she walked downstairs, her heart melted at the scene before her. London was bouncing happily in her baby bouncer, squealing every time she swung forward. Across the room, Jack was seated at the kitchen table with Noah on his lap. Noah was holding a slice of apple in his tiny hands, gnawing at it while Jack rapped quietly to himself, his phone in one hand as he quickly typed lyrics with his free fingers.

Maryse leaned against the doorway, soaking it all in. The sound of Noah’s laughter and London’s squeals, coupled with the soft cadence of Jack’s voice, filled the kitchen with a warmth she adored. Mornings like this were loud and chaotic, but they were everything to her. She almost didn’t want to leave for her meeting.

Jack glanced up from his phone and caught her watching. He gave her a lopsided grin, his voice softening. “You just gonna stand there and stare, or you gonna come say good morning?”

She walked over, pressing a kiss to Noah’s chubby cheek before running a hand through Jack’s hair. “Good morning, my favorite boys. What’s on the breakfast menu today?”

Jack laughed, nodding toward the half-empty plate of apple slices as Maryse walked over to London to give her kisses. “Apples and vibes. We’re keeping it simple.”

Maryse shook her head with a laugh. “I almost don’t want to leave.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, his grin turning mischievous. “Then don’t. I told you, skip the meeting.”

She giggled, kissing his forehead before slipping on her blazer. “Tempting. But duty calls.”

Maryse gave herself one last look in the mirror when she noticed London in the background, who was still bouncing around when something caught her eye—the tiny shoes on her feet.

Her eyes widen as she takes in the shoes: they’re miniature versions of the New Balance sneakers Jack recently designed. She crouches down and gently lifts London’s tiny foot to get a better look, her heart melting at the sight.

“Jack, when did you get these?” she asked him, her voice tinged with surprise.

He looks up from his phone, grinning. “I had them made a couple weeks ago. Wanted the twins to be rocking the best, you know?”

Maryse shakes her head with a laugh, her eyes still glued to the tiny sneakers. “They’re so adorable. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he says with a shrug, leaning back against the kitchen chair. “Look at them, though. Don’t they look fly?”

“They do,” she agrees, her voice softening as she gazes at her children. “Too cute for their own good.”

She leans in and kisses London on the cheek, then ruffles Noah’s hair before standing up. “Alright, I really have to go now, or I’m going to be late.”

Jack watches her grab her bag, a playful grin on his face. “Last chance to stay here with us today

Maryse rolls her eyes with a smile as she heads toward the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

***

Maryse was in the bathroom stall, changing her outfit after she spilled tea on the shirt right before her video interview with The Breakfast Club. The door swung open, and two women walked in, their voices bouncing off the tiled walls.

“I just don’t get it,” one of them said, her tone dripping with judgment. “Have you noticed he never posts the kids’ faces? That’s probably because he’s embarrassed.”

Maryse’s heart dropped, and her grip on her bag tightened.

“Exactly,” the other woman chimed in. “I mean, he’s this huge rapper, and now he’s stuck with twins? He’s probably second-guessing everything. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame him. She’s the one who trapped him.”

She shook her head in disbelief, her jaw clenching as their cruel words filled the small space. She knew exactly why she and Jack didn’t post the twins’ faces—it was to protect them from people like this. People who were so judgmental, invasive, and downright rude.

“And the thing is,” the first woman continued, lowering her voice, “it’s not like she’s some stay-at-home mom. She’s always off doing something. Does she even spend time with them?”

“I don’t know,” the second replied with a sarcastic laugh. “Maybe that’s why he doesn’t seem in any rush to marry her. Can you imagine all the baggage she’s bringing?”

Maryse bit her lip, willing herself not to react. She refused to give them the satisfaction of knowing they had gotten under her skin.

When the women finally left, their laughter echoing behind them, Maryse stepped out of the stall and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was full of frustration and hurt, but mostly anger. She freshened up her makeup, trying to shake off their cruel words.

She reminded herself of why they made the choices they did—to protect their babies from this exact type of negativity. And while she knew it in her heart, it still stung to hear strangers twist their lives into such ugly narratives.

As she stepped out of the bathroom, her manager, CoCo was waiting just outside, scrolling through her phone. When she glanced up and saw Maryse’s face, her expression shifted immediately.

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” her manager said, concern etched into her tone.

Maryse forced a small smile, hoping it would be convincing. “I’m fine. Just… a lot on my mind, I guess.”

Her manager gave her a skeptical look but didn’t push. “Alright. Well, the room’s ready for your interview. You sure you’re good to go?”

Maryse nodded quickly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

As they walked toward the empty office room, she focused on steadying her breathing and keeping her emotions in check. She didn’t want CoCo—or anyone else—to sense how rattled she was by what she’d overheard.

She watched as CoCo set up her laptop on the desk, glancing at the clock. The interview with The Breakfast Club was about to start. Taking a deep breath, she adjusted the camera angle, brushed her hair back, and tried to focus.

The hosts greeted her warmly as the video feed connected. “We’ve got Maryse Monet in the building—or, well, virtually, but you get the idea,” Charlamagne said with a grin.

Maryse smiled, offering her own warm greeting, though the hurt from earlier still simmered under the surface. They started with lighthearted topics—her music, her kids, and balancing work with motherhood.

But then Charlamagne shifted gears. “So, there’s been a lot of chatter online lately about you and Jack Harlow,” he began, his tone slightly more serious. “Specifically, people talking about the fact that y’all have two kids but no ring yet. What’s your take on that?”

Her heart sank. It was almost as if he’d been in the bathroom earlier. For a split second, she considered brushing it off, but she knew she couldn’t let the narrative continue without addressing it.

Sitting up straighter, she kept her voice calm but firm. “You know, I think people are way too invested in things that have absolutely nothing to do with them,” she said evenly. “My business with Jack is just that—our business. We’re both happy, we’re both blessed, and we’re raising two amazing kids together. That’s all that matters.”

DJ Envy nodded in agreement. “That’s a great perspective. Social media really does have a way of making people feel entitled to your personal life.”

“Exactly,” Maryse replied. “We’ve got a beautiful life, and we’re doing things on our own terms. People should focus on their own happiness instead of worrying about ours.”

As the interview progressed, Jess Hilarious leaned forward with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Alright, so you said it’s your business, and I respect that. But I gotta ask—have you and Jack talked about marriage? You guys have been together for three years now..”

Maryse paused, her heart skipping a beat. Of course, Jess had to be messy—it was her signature style. She took a slow, calming breath, refusing to let the question rattle her.

“Jess, you’re really good at asking the questions no one should be asking,” she said with a playful but pointed smile. “But honestly, we talk about a lot of things. What we decide to do about marriage—or anything else—is between us. We’ve built a beautiful life together, and that’s what’s important.”

DJ Envy chimed in, trying to diffuse the moment. “I mean, two kids and two amazing careers. That’s as solid as it gets.”

“Exactly,” Maryse said, nodding. “We’re building something real, and we don’t feel the need to rush into anything just because people think we should. What matters is that we’re happy, and our kids are loved.”

Jess raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough, fair enough. Just had to ask!”

Maryse laughed softly, her calm demeanor unwavering. “Well, there’s your answer. You and fans can stop speculating now.”

The conversation shifts back to lighter topics, but as the interview ends and she logs off, Maryse takes a moment to exhale deeply. It wasn’t easy keeping her emotions in check, but she feels proud of how she handled it.

CoCo stepped over, shaking her head in frustration.

“I swear, I hate The Breakfast Club sometimes,” she said, crossing her arms. “They’re so invasive, always fishing for drama. But you—you handled it perfectly. Seriously, you answered those questions like a pro.”

Maryse gave a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Learned from the best,” she murmured, standing up and gathering her things.

CoCo’s expression softened as she looked at her. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been a little off today.”

She hesitated, her hand tightening around the strap of her bag. “Yeah, I’m good,” she said with a forced lightness. “Just tired, I guess. It’s been a long day.”

CoCo didn’t seem entirely convinced but decided not to press. “Alright. Just let me know if you need anything, okay?”

Maryse nodded, offering a quick smile before heading out. As she walked to her car, the weight of the day finally started to settle on her shoulders.

***

While Maryse was gone, Jack was at home with the twins when his phone buzzed. Seeing his mom’s name on the screen, he smiled and answered.

“Hey, Ma,” he greeted, balancing London on his hip as Noah sat nearby, playing with a stack of blocks.

“Hey, baby,” she replied warmly. “Just calling to check on you and my grandbabies. How are they?”

“They’re good. London’s all clingy today, and Noah’s tearing through these blocks like a little bulldozer,” he said, chuckling as London babbled in his ear.

“Sounds about right,” she laughed before her tone shifted. “So… when are you going to marry that girl, Jack?”

Jack nearly dropped the phone. “Whoa, Mom, where’d that come from?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she said, her voice light but firm. “I know you two are happy, but you’ve got two babies together now. What are you waiting for? She’s been more than patient, and you know she deserves it.”

He sighed, setting London down gently next to her brother. “It’s not that simple, Mom. I’m trying to make sure everything’s right—our lives, our careers, everything. I want to give her the world when that time comes, not just a ring.”

His mom wasn’t letting up. “Jack, that girl loves you, and she doesn’t care about all the flashy stuff. She just wants you. You’re not waiting for things to be perfect, are you? Because life is never going to be perfect.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, leaning against the counter. “I hear you, Ma. I really do. And trust me, I think about it all the time. I just…” He trailed off, trying to find the right words.

“You’re scared,” his mom said knowingly.

Jack didn’t reply right away, but her words hit home.

“Listen,” she continued. “You’re already living like you’re married. You’ve got your little family, and she’s out here holding you down. Don’t let fear stop you from doing what you know in your heart is right.”

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “I get it, Ma. I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay son, I’m not telling you what to do. Just want to give you something to think about.”

“I know.”

“Good,” she replied. “Now go kiss those babies and think about what I said.”

“I will, Ma. Love you.”

“Love you too, baby.”

As he hung up, Jack glanced at the twins, who were now playing together. His mom’s words echoed in his mind, stirring emotions he wasn’t quite ready to unpack. But one thing was clear—he needed to start seriously thinking about the next step.

Do I really need to rush into this? he thought, running a hand through his hair. He kind of liked the way things were now—comfortable, happy, and stable. They had a rhythm, even if it wasn’t always perfect. He and Maryse were building something solid, raising two amazing kids, and balancing their careers. Did they really need to add the pressure of a wedding to all of that?

Of course, he wanted to marry her—one day. He gave her a promise ring for Christ’s sake. But was now the right time? Between juggling music, parenting, and their lives being constantly under public scrutiny, he wondered if Maryse even wanted to get married right now. Maybe she was just as happy with how things were.

She’d never pressured him or dropped hints, and they’d never had a serious conversation about it since having Noah and London.

As he sank deeper into his thoughts, he felt a block hit his lower leg. Turning around, he saw both Noah and London giggling mischievously, clearly proud of themselves, and he couldn’t help but smile despite the sting.

“Alright, alright, I get it. No overthinking,” he said, getting down on the floor with them, both of them crawled towards him immediately. Noah reached him first, reaching up to grab his face this time, and he held him close, thinking about how lucky he was to have this life. Maybe his mom was right—life didn’t have to be perfect to take the next step. But for now, he decided to let the idea sit, focusing instead on the moment in front of him.

The rest of the day went by smoothly. By the time Maryse came home, the twins were fed, bathed, and put to bed with a little teamwork. Jack felt a sense of peace settling over the house, but as the quiet evening stretched on, he realized Maryse had disappeared.

Curious, he wandered through their home, checking room by room until he heard the soft, melodic sound of the piano drifting from the music room. He stopped in his tracks, drawn in by the familiar voice singing a song he hadn’t heard before.

I didn't mean to fall in love

Now that I need you, baby

Tell me we'll never be apart

Leaning against the doorframe, Jack watched her. She was seated at the piano, her fingers moving gracefully over the keys as she poured her heart into the lyrics. Her voice was raw, full of emotion, and he felt every word as though she were speaking directly to him.

He didn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt the moment. Instead, he crossed his arms and stayed quiet, letting the song wash over him. It was rare for him to see her this vulnerable—just her and the music, unfiltered and honest.

Jack’s gaze dropped to her hands on the keys. That’s when he noticed it—the promise ring, back on her finger. She’d worn it as a necklace during her pregnancy when her fingers were too swollen, but now it was back where it belonged. The sight stirred something in him, the faintest twinge of guilt for the thoughts that had been weighing on him all day.

When she finished, her hands lingered on the keys, the final note fading into the room. She looked up and noticed him standing there, his face unreadable.

“Didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” he said softly, pushing off the doorframe. “What was that?”

Maryse shrugged, her lips curving into a small, almost shy smile. “Just something I’ve been working on.”

“It’s beautiful,” he said, stepping closer. “You okay?”

Her eyes flicked to the piano keys for a moment before meeting his gaze. “Yeah. Just had some things on my mind.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

She hesitated, then leaned into him. “Maybe. Later.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Take your time. I’m here.”

Jack’s arm stayed draped over her shoulders, his thumb absentmindedly tracing patterns on her sleeve. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “I missed you today,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

Maryse tilted her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I missed you too.”

He nuzzled closer, his lips brushing her ear as he added, “How about we go to bed, my Kentucky bad girl?”

She froze for a second before bursting into laughter, wrinkling her nose in playful disgust. She pushed his shoulder lightly. “Please don’t ever say that again.”

He grinned, amused by her reaction. “What? You don’t like it?”

She shook her head, still giggling. “Absolutely not. I’m a New Yorker at heart, remember? No ‘Kentucky bad girl’ nonsense for me.”

Jack threw his head back with a chuckle, clearly enjoying himself. “Alright, alright. I won’t say it again. But you can’t deny you’ve got a little Kentucky in you now.”

She rolled her eyes, standing up from the piano bench and stretching. “Unfortunately.”

Jack immediately pinched her sides making her giggle pulling her back down for a quick kiss.

“Let’s call it a night.”

She smiled, letting him lead her toward their room.

Hours later Maryse laid awake in bed, the soft sound of Jack’s breathing steady beside her as he slept peacefully. She scrolled through her phone, reading the flood of comments from her interview earlier.

While some were supportive, praising her for standing her ground and protecting her privacy, others weren’t as kind.

“She’s just gonna be his baby mama forever.”

“That promise ring? Just a way to keep her quiet.”

“He doesn’t actually want to marry her—if he did, he would’ve done it by now.”

Her chest tightened as she read comment after comment, the words cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. She turned off her phone and set it on the nightstand, staring up at the ceiling.

The weight of the comments clung to her, making her question things she hadn’t doubted before. Did people really see her like that? Did they think her relationship wasn’t enough just because they weren’t married yet?

She glanced at Jack, his face relaxed in sleep, and thought about how much love he showed her and the kids every day. She knew their relationship was strong, but the doubts stirred by strangers still lingered in her mind.

She sighed softly, shifting onto her side and pulling the blanket tighter around her. “Fuck it,” she thought.

“Why should I care what strangers think?” she whispered to herself, though the question felt hollow.

Maryse picked her phone back up and scrolled her camera roll finding the photos Urban took of them after she got home from the hospital.

Her finger hovered over the “post” button for a moment, and then she whispered, “Yeah, Fuck it.”

LIFEOFMONET

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LifeOfMonet: my whole entire world

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user: ahhhhhhh

Latto: BIG MAMA FR 😍

user: they’re so little 🥹

user: who cares where’s the music

user: Maryse were you even in the room they look just like Jack

saweetie: AUNTIES BABIES!!!! 😍

user: finally showing their face lol

user: we gotta get you a ring next girl

dojacat: hot mom era

As soon as the post went up, she immediately felt guilty she knew she should’ve discussed it with Jack first—they’d agreed to keep the kids off social media for the most part—but something in her needed to push back against the negativity.

Sliding her phone onto the nightstand, she settled back into bed, telling herself she’d deal with the fallout tomorrow.

The next morning, Jack woke up early, lying in bed with his arm draped across Maryse’s waist as she slept. He reached for his phone, and called Urban who picked up almost immediately.

“Yo, what’s up?” Urban said.

“I was thinking,” Jack began, his voice low so he didn’t wake Maryse. “I wanna take a trip to New York to shoot a video for this freestyle I’ve been working on…”

“You already know I’m in,” Urban replied. “When you thinking of heading out?”

“Soon, maybe next week. I just—”

“Aw, Maryse finally posted that photoshoot I did of her and the twins, huh?” Urban interrupted, chuckling.

Jack furrowed his brow, sitting up straighter. “What’re you talking about?”

“The one we did after the twins were born,” Urban clarified. “You didn’t see? It’s all over my feed. She posted it last night.”

Jack’s jaw tightened slightly as he quickly opened Instagram. Sure enough, Maryse’s post was there, front and center: the photo of her holding the twins.

He stared at the post for a moment, his emotions conflicted. On one hand, the picture was beautiful, he had that exact photo as his screensaver since Urban sent it to him. On the other, they had agreed to be cautious about sharing too much of their kids online.

“Yeah, I see it,” he finally said.

“That shot of her and the twins is adorable,” Urban added.

“Yeah… it is,” Jack admitted, his voice softer.

He hung up a few minutes later and laid there, phone still in hand, staring at the photo. He knew Maryse must’ve been feeling some type of way to go against their usual decision. With a sigh, he leaned over and gently kissed her temple, whispering, “You’re gonna make me work hard to stay mad at you, aren’t you?”

Maryse stirred awake, feeling Jack’s gaze on her. She opened one eye and saw him looking down at her, his face relaxed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“What a beautiful sight to wake up to in the morning,” she joked, her voice groggy as she stretched.

Jack chuckled. “You don’t sound so sure.”

She laughed softly and leaned up to give him a kiss, her hand resting on his chest. “Good morning to you too.”

He smiled against her lips, pulling her closer for another quick peck before leaning back slightly. “So… how’d the meeting go yesterday? We didn’t get to talk about it.”

Her stomach tightened at the question, but she forced a small smile and nodded. “It was fine. Nothing crazy, just the usual.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Fine, huh?”

“Yep, totally fine,” she said, her voice a little too cheerful.

“Uh-huh,” he replied, his tone skeptical. He let it hang for a beat before adding casually, “Oh yeah? So why’d you post the twins last night?”

Maryse froze for a moment, her lips parting in surprise before she let out an exaggerated yawn and turned over. “Hmm? I’m sorry, I think I’m still asleep. Can’t hear you.”

Jack laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, so now you’re asleep, huh?”

She didn’t respond, burying her face into the pillow dramatically.

He leaned over and pinched her sides, making her yelp and squirm away. “Answer me!”

“Okay, okay!” she squealed, swatting at his hands. “I just… felt like posting it, that’s all.”

He gave her a look, clearly not buying it. “At two in the morning?”

She sighed, sitting up and running a hand through her messy hair. “I don’t know. I was in my feelings or something. Can we just leave it at that?”

Jack studied her face for a moment, his expression softening. “You sure that’s all it was?”

She nodded, her smile small but genuine. “Yeah, I promise.”

“Alright,” he said, leaning over to kiss her forehead. “But next time, just talk to me before you post something like that, okay?”

“Okay,” she murmured, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“Good, ’cause now the whole world knows how cute our kids are,” he said with a grin, making her laugh softly as the tension eased between them.

“And I know you’re not telling me the whole truth,” he said gently.

Maryse’s heart skipped a beat, but she kept her face neutral, avoiding his eyes.

“I’m not gonna push you,” he continued, his tone reassuring.

A small smile tugged at her lips despite the knot in her chest. “Okay,” she murmured.

Maryse couldn’t ignore the guilt tugging at her heart. This man loved her so deeply, so unconditionally, and yet here she was, lying to him—keeping something that clearly affected her bottled up.

She thought back to the incident in the bathroom and the interview right after. She knew she should probably tell him, let him in on what had her feeling so unsettled. But every time she thought about it, the words of those women replayed in her head, stoking her insecurities.

What if he thought she was pressuring him to marry her? What if he thought she cared too much about what people said? She didn’t want to seem weak or like the comments had shaken her. And the last thing she wanted was for him to think she didn’t trust his love.

Her fingers absentmindedly traced the promise ring on her hand as she wrestled with her thoughts.

She looked up at him and managed a small smile. “I love you.”

He smiled back, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Thank God. ‘Cause I love you more than anything.”

She nodded, holding onto his words, even as her inner turmoil continued to churn. She wasn’t ready to tell him yet, but she knew deep down that she couldn’t keep it from him forever.

***

AN: Flashing Lights is officially a trilogy crazyyyyy!! Tell me what you think and thank you for reading

Tag List

(message me if you'd like to be added or removed)

@harlowsbby @heavyhitterheaux @harlowcomehome @https-harlow @hoodharlow @gazebotori @jackmans-poison @itsyagirljaz @cosypinky2 @theyoganarrative @ann2sno @bugheadfanatic @umicornlove @venice-bxtch @muli-wam @jackharlow502 @aga21 @iknowdatsrightbih @theboujeestofboujee @babygirl-htx @chantelaustingunn @wabi-sabi1090 @dstark-0706 @kkrenae @hufflewhore128 @jackiehollanderr @katiaw2 @firepuma @easternparkway

#jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow reader #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow x you #jack harlow fanfic #flashing lights

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sunsetsover · 22 hours ago

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looking back at kantbison's relationship and specifically kant's relationship with submission throughout the show after episode 8 has really put a lot of things into perspective for me.

bc like. it's complicated. i'm not gonna pretend that it's not. there's too much there in kant's character to ever really be able to isolate one thing he says or does before like. episode 6 or so. and be able to say 'this was exactly what he meant, this was his sole feeling and/or his sole motivation here' bc everything's far too intertwined to ever pick apart properly.

that said though. i always felt there was a sense of reluctance in kant when it came to giving bison power over him and specifically the bdsm thing. and i could never quite figure out bc i didn't particularly get the impression that he disliked it either but there was just something that was off about it that i could never quite put my finger on, but i think i've finally figured it out. and it's really not that surprising, bc as this show's gone on it's become increasingly clear that with kant all roads lead to the same place, and that's the issue of choice - or lack of choice, in kant's case.

submission was never really the issue i don't think. kant knows how to submit, is good at submitting - at the end of the day, isn't that what he does with christ? submit to his will, follow his orders? isn't he collared and chained to him? isn't he such a well behaved dog for him? kant knows very well how to submit. but the thing is is that it's not a willing act of submission where christ is concerned. kant submits because, like with pretty much every other facet of his life, he has no other choice. he behaves because he has to.

and then the next thing kant knows there's bison, outright telling him that he'd like him to submit. to let bison take charge and have kant bend to his will, to follow his every whim. and bison wasn't pushy about it - if anything it was the opposite. he was reluctant, assuring kant that it was fine, that he didn't have to, that actually maybe it was better that they didn't. he gives kant the choice. but it's not a real choice. kant's answer is already laid out for him.

and i think that's where the dissonance entered. you see hints of annoyance and frustration before then, but the much more subtle 'off' feeling that i felt started around then. and i think it's bc for all intents and purposes kant was already completely submitting to bison's will. he was already going along w whatever bison wanted bc he had to, bc he needed bison to trust him, bc saying no to anything thrown his way wasn't (and had never been) an option.

but ofc bison didn't know that. he just wanted to dom his boy. but i think he could also feel the reluctance and the confusion around it all. bc despite what he said and did to reassure bison that he was into it and wanted it too, kant was always subconsciously resisting. and as i said i think there's a lot in that too, it's not simply one thing - bison is a murderer at the end of the day, and dom/sub dynamics are supposed to be built primarily on trust, and kant didn't trust bison not to hurt him too much or go too far. it was also clearly a new thing to him considering he didn't even know what a safeword was. and it was maybe even some weird sense of loyalty to christ. you know what they say: you can't serve two masters. and kant already had one. he was already collared and chained, already submitting. and kant's current master had an awful lot of power over him. he knew what kind of punishment awaited him if he disobeyed.

but above all else kant knew he couldn't really say no. and he hated that.

and so we're back to choice again. the one thing kant has never had. here he is getting forced into submission again - not by bison, but by circumstance. and so no matter what he says or does or how into it he really does seem, there's always this subtle reluctance that rolls off of him. there's always just something off about it all. (which, thinking about, may have been one of the reasons why so many people were turned off by kantbison, bc there was just something not quite right in the vibes, but i digress)

but obviously things change. kant accidentally falls in love with bison, despite his best intentions. and, maybe even more importantly, bison falls in love with kant. and that love changes bison - bison, who needed power so desperately when they first met that he turned nearly every interaction they had into a game of tug of war. bison who, despite not necessarily needing kant's submission, would also never ever give in to kant's will, not even a little. but that same bison falls for kant, and he begins to yield. starts to let himself just be, and by extension let kant just be too. bison begins to settle, become a little docile. he lays on kant's chest and kisses his feet. he rolls onto his back and lets kant loom big and dominating over him, despite how desperate he once was for power. and kant is clever, he knows that's what bison wanted. that's why he gave into him all the time. but by letting kant maintain some of the power in their relationship without a fight, he's basically telling kant i would like you to submit to me, but i don't need it. i just want you. and kant hears that. and that changes things. because without knowing it or even really meaning to, he's given kant a choice.

and we all know what kant chooses.

and to be clear, for the most part i think this is all happening on a subconscious level without either really realising it or thinking about what's happening. but the choice is conscious. it's his. and kant chooses the master that gives him the option to choose. that choice changes everything for kant. everything. it recalibrates his whole world view, his whole life. and the minute he chooses (chooses!) bison, he submits himself to him wholeheartedly. he puts the collar on himself.

but we don't get the reality of what that means until ep 8 bc of yknow. all the stabbing and kidnapping and manipulation and retraumatisation and scheming such. but then we do see it. and we see just how deep it goes for kant, that ease of submission, and his desire for it. how he doesn't run despite having many, many opportunities to do so. how he doesn't eat even when bison's nowhere to be found and he has freshly cooked food in his hands bc bison hasn't said he can. how he doesn't untie himself despite being able to bc bison tied him up for a reason. and sure, all of that is love too, and it's also playing nice bc he desperately wants bison's forgiveness. but this is all also an active form of submission, the same way a dog submits to their owner when they say sit, down, stay, wait. a good dog doesn't eat until it's given permission. and ultimately doesn't the fact that kant safewords tell us exactly what kind of state of mind he's in? what he thinks about their situation and their relationship? (and i won't go over it bc i've already talked about in length here but the act of safewording truly said so, so much)

and yknow, thinking about it really it shouldn't even be surprising bc we were literally shown who kant was back when they first met. and what did he do? went when bison said to go, came when bison said to come back. bison said you're not doing this alone and kant sat still and let bison ride him to his heart's content. it was very subtle, but he really was submitting to bison in little ways all the way back then! the signs were there!

and the beautiful thing about it to me is that in episode 8 there is not a single moment of dissonance between kant and bison. there's no more weird vibes. there's just kant and the first choice he's ever got to make. kant and his chosen master. kant and the hand at the end of his leash. kant and bison.

#the heart killers #kantbison #thk meta #i literally could keep going about the bison of it all btw. how fucking special it is that after kant has submitted to bison all day #and proved himself and his honesty and his loyalty that we're shown BISON laying in KANT'S arms.#how bison clearly needs comfort and reassurance and how he trusts kant to give him that. how despite everything he's giving kant #his own kind of reassurance by continuing to yield and give up power to kant. telling him that that's not all they have to be #kant doesn't always have to submit to him. bc bison likes submission but it's not necessary #he just likes kant. loves kant. wants kant. whatever that means. whatever that looks like. however it ends.#lauren be normal about kantbison for one singular day challenge FAILED

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sustiawan-author · 2 days ago

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The Path Untedious - Neil Perry . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

This was lightly inspired by the two Neil asks I've received in my mailbox (including one with black!reader). Here u go sweetcheeks ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ this isn't tooooo according but hey 😌

Your husband was a hard-worker — taking longer shifts in the hospital just for the sake of it, noting down whatever was necessary to get his job done and get patients discharged. It was what his father wanted, but you understood best how it exhausted him so. It brought good money, of course, and the soul-fulfilling duty of being a modern healer was priceless in its own — but it would be ignorant to deny the stress and challenge of the career itself.

Tonight he came home at the usual hour, but he had taken an earlier check-in because of a mixup at the emergency room. It wasn't like Neil to decline, but it also wasn't like him to do the job and not be a total baby to you afterwards.

"My swordsfighting maiden," Neil propped his briefcase on the couch before pecking your cheek, "how are you?"

There's a tiredness in his tone, a loving gaze set in his hooded eyes. They were in tandem with the sleepy howls of the dogs outside and the hooting of owls just outside the window. You dimmed the desklight and stood up to greet your lover. Nimbling your fingers upon the knot on his chest, you undid his tie and folded it along with the jacket.

"Fine," you reassured in a gentle voice, "settled everything today. How's work?"

He blew a raspberry and gave you a look — that look. An expression that read 'people piss me off there, but I'm just glad we're together.' You whistled lowly, putting his dirty laundry away.

"Challenging much?"

"Everything needed to be done, this and that, money and — ugh!" Neil fell to the bed dramatically, an arm covering his face. You giggled,

"Must've been so frustrating."

He pouted at you like a sorry puppy, but you were far too busy tidying up his things for him. Neil stared at the ceiling, pretending there were vines for him to hold onto — to save him and yourself away from this life, a life others chose for him. A life where his real interests were kept hidden and astray, shared only with you in the haven of your home. It just wasn't fair.

But you were so patient and so kind, so loving to his impatient mind and young heart that he would do anything to have you live a life of peace. You were his own anyway.

"Did you do what you love today?" he croaked, voice strained from a day of exertion. If it were possible, your ear would've quirked.

"Let's see," you turned to him in thought, finally, greeting him with your freshly blushed cheeks and rose-glossed lips, "I baked some gooseberry pie, cleaned the oven, prepared your dinner then sewed up some dresses."

Neil reached for your nimble hand and you let him, admiration and awe exuding off of him.

"And," he pondered, searching your face, "did you like that?"

You smiled sweetly, nodding in honesty.

"Why?" he asked in painful disbelief, suddenly feeling a lump in his throat. He coughed it off, glad you didn't seem to notice.

'Wasn't it tedious? ' he thought, 'Didn't I bore you?'

You shrugged as if you could hear what tmhe thought, the satin robe he bought you slipping from your shoulder, "I like it. I like serving you. I like... doing what I love. I love love, so I love this. I like you, Neil — like, like you. It's not something I'm forced to do. I hope to God you don't feel that way either."

"No, goodness no," Neil grasped your fingers, kissing them with insistence as he mumbled, "no, never."

You brushed those brunette strands back, hearing Neil sigh in relief as you did.

"Then what is it?" you whispered.

"It's you," he shook his head, "just you."

You stifled a grin, averting your gaze as bashfulness overtoom you. It always did, always will when it came to Neil. He noticed, of course, and pivoted your chin so you'll meet his eyes.

You'dstay like that forever if you could.

𝚍𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘:

@someone-sss @sorazki @tofallatlastbutfair @shemisseshome @yournormalidiot @anderperry-soliloquies @unfortunately-lilith @heyyyloverr @theduckwithafroghat @marzcrx @dpspolaroid

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srovtl · 2 days ago

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(Tea Etiquette Lecture) Figaro SR Card Story Translation

The answer is two-sided? - Episode 1

Figaro: Hey, Bradley. Do you want more tea? I'll pour you some.

Bradley: What? I want nothing from you.

Figaro: Don't worry, I didn't put anything weird in it. Here you go.

Bradley: Ah, hey… aaand, he poured without listening.

Figaro: Okay. Now that we've set the stage for a chat… Bradley.

Figaro: The game we all just played earlier. "Tell each other what we like about each other" game. Why don't we do it with just the two of us this time?

Bradley: Can't.

Figaro: Why not?

Bradley: Because there's not even a single thing I like about you. I can list tons of stuff I hate about you though.

Figaro: Then let's go with that. "Tell each other what we don't like about each other" game.

Bradley: Why, exactly...

Bradley: Anyway, there's no way you, with your high pride, could handle this game.

Figaro: Don't worry, I'm the kind doctor from the south. And this game does have its merits.

Figaro: A lot has happened between you and me... but as long as we are both sage's wizards, we need to get somewhat along or else Master Sage will be in trouble, right?

Figaro: So if I ask you what you hate and fix it if necessary, maybe we can build a more friendly relationship.

Bradley: Hah, you're still as articulate as ever. Bet it's just a way to kill time anyway.

Bradley: ...You were the one who brought it up, you better not snap at me no matter what I say.

Figaro: Of course. Well then, let's get started. You go first.

The answer is two-sided? - Episode 2

Bradley: …….

Bradley: I hate the way you pretend to be a good guy. Your nature is arrogant and cold-hearted, but you act all silly and call yourself the doctor from the south.

Bradley: It's the same now. It's creepy that you'd go out of your way to pour me tea.

Figaro: Creepy? How mean.

Figaro: The current me is the kind Doctor Figaro. I can't just leave someone be alone at a party.

Bradley: Hah, I say this, you say that. You should fix that cunning part of you too.

Bradley: Learn from the simplicity of the people in the north and Oz.

Figaro: ...Haha, I see.

Figaro: Now I understand how you see me. Thanks for letting me know.

Figaro: Well, I think I'll go back to the others.

Bradley: Hey, what about your turn? Since when are you the type to just accept getting told off.

Figaro: I'm fine. Even if I told you, you wouldn't change anything...

Figaro: And now I know what you like about me.

Bradley: Ha?

Figaro: You know, they say that hate is the opposite of love. In other words, you like me when I act like a northerner, don't you?

Figaro: Plus, you think of me as special among the wizards you know because I am the only one who can match you in conversation skills.

Bradley: You...

Bradley: Gotta fix that part more than anything.

Figaro: Hmm, I don't think that's possible.

Figaro: When I see this face on you, I don't want to fix it anymore.

Tell me what you like about me - Card Episode

Figaro: Master sage, the game we played at the tea party the other day was fun, wasn't it?

Figaro: You know, the one where we tell each other what we like about each other.

Akira: You mean the one Arthur suggested! I got embarrassed a little, but it was fun.

Figaro: I wish I could have asked you what you like about me, Master sage.

Akira: Huh, what I like about Figaro?

Akira: Hmm...

Figaro: Oh, you have to squeeze one out?

Akira: Ah, sorry! No, not at all.

Akira: Actually, there's a lot I like about you, so I'm not sure where to start...

Figaro: I see. I want to hear everything then. I'll wait as long as you want, so just tell me about it all.

Akira: Very well. Umm... I like how you're always calm and dependable...

Akira: Also, when I'm feeling anxious, you notice right away and gently listen to me.

Akira: Also, you always keep a close attention to your surroundings, and give me advice on things I haven't noticed, and also...

Figaro: ……

Akira: Hm, is something wrong?

Figaro: Sorry, it's nothing. I just never thought you'd praise me this much.

Figaro: Thank you. For me, I like how you can praise others so honestly, Master Sage.

Homescreen voiceline

I was wondering if there was ever a person who can bring this group of a little too colorful personalities together…. Master Sage, seriously who are you? Haha, just kidding. Thanks as always.

#mahoutsukai no yakusoku #mahoyaku #mhyktl #mhyk #card episode and homescreen line is also included #figaro garcia #bradley bain

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daflangstlairde-art · 2 days ago

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"A Noble Occupation" Chapter 2, 7936 words

Summary:

The shame burned. Dream felt as though everyone knew. Knew that he was a failure, that he needed something additional to work (and he was already worse at his work than he'd like). Knew that he wasn't the beacon of happiness and hope that they believed in, that they needed, that they loved. That he was something flawed, which felt sorrow and exhaustion and shame. — Dream acquires a new coping mechanism. It's not a very good one.

Credits, warnings and additional info on ao3.

—

It… became a habit, as shameful as that was.

On lighter days, when his emotions weren't exhausted enough and therefore reached him, Dream would… well, first he would busy himself. When there was nothing obvious that needed him (uncommon occurrence), he sought out how to be helpful, how to be of use. When there was little of that (very rare occurrence), he trained with his teammates, or made preparations.

When that ended and he was home, Dream still looked for ways to make his time worthwhile. Even cleaning was better.

But when he was at a loss on how to do that, and he was thinking and feeling things the Guardian of Positivity shouldn't be… he drank.

The experience didn't get more pleasant, but he grew accustomed to it. The same way he'd learned to bear wounds. The same way he'd learned to bear his own bad emotions.

Go to the store. Internally writhe in shame as he got a bottle of alcohol (wine, since he was most familiar with it). Sometimes he lied that it was for a friend or a gift. Go back home.

Drink it all as fast as possible.

Get hit with the effects all too suddenly.

Feel miserable. Throw up. Go to bed. Sleep like a log.

He learned to keep a glass of water at his night stand. He learned to set an alarm so he wouldn't sleep until noon. He learned to take headache meds in the morning so his functionality wasn't impaired.

It wasn't a big deal, really. It rarely happened, once every several weeks at most.

It helped him sleep, when he did it. It helped him, well, drown his sorrow — make it dull and fuzzy, allowing him to wake up the next day and pretend like none of it existed in the first place, because it shouldn't have existed in the first place.

He was a Protector of the entire Multiverse. If this made him better at his job, at giving the people what they needed in a way that didn't affect them negatively at all, what's the harm in it?

—

Dream should get a mat or something. For his bathroom. The floor tiles were cold.

At some point, he figured it was easier to just drink in his bathroom, since he was inevitably going to end up throwing it up.

The floor… wasn't particularly comfortable, but that's fine. Dream just had to sit here for a bit. Knees pulled to his chest, breathing steadily. Waiting for the alcohol to kick in properly, for the nausea to really rear up. Everything was already fuzzy and tilting, so it was on its way.

And then his phone rang.

Dream winced. He felt his metaphorical heartrate pick up, because it was late, and today had been easier, so this had to be an emergency, and he was a useless mess–

"Hey Dream!" Blue's voice came through.

"Blue?" Dream swallowed. Oh, he hadn't yet… experienced talking to anyone in this state. And he knew alcohol changed the way people spoke. Stars, he really hoped Blue wouldn't pick up on it. He really, really hoped that.

Blue was one of his best friends. One of his teammates. He was… so nice. He genuinely… cared about Dream, not just– about what Dream could do for him, not just about Dream's role. Blue was a good person.

What would he think of Dream? Would he be disappointed?

Dream would not be able to handle that.

He couldn't let Blue know.

"–always for some emergency or another, soo I thought I'd just… you know… call to chat! Just as friends," Blue spoke. His voice was… calm and cheerful. No emergency.

His words caught up to Dream. He wanted to… chat. As friends. That was important. Dream… didn't want Blue to feel like they're just co-workers. They were friends. Blue mattered a lot to Dream.

He was right. Dream had to make more time to spend with his friends. As friends. The last thing he wanted was for them to feel like… like he didn't care about them because he spent all his time helping other people instead.

(He had to have learned from his mistakes. He had to.)

Dream exhaled through his nose, trying to string together a coherent reply. Come on, he wasn't that drunk. Liven up!

"Yeah," he agreed, nodding even if Blue couldn't see. "I– I also… I'd enjoy spending time with you too. As friends,"

"Yay mweheheh!" Blue exclaimed, and Dream huffed in mirth at his endearing laughter. "Unless you're tired, that is– oh no, did I wake you up? I should've asked if you were available to talk first, gah, please prioritize your rest–!" he rushed out.

Dream shook his head. "No, no, I'm available," he spoke slower than the other. It's like the words were fuzzy in his mouth. It was weird. But it didn't sound weird, at least not to him.

"Oh! Okay then, great! Anyway. I'm making dinner!"

Dream hummed. "What're you making?"

"Vegetable cream soup!!!" Blue exclaimed.

That simultaneously sounded really tasty and made Dream remember the upcoming nausea.

"Sounds lovely," he focused on.

"Uh-huh! I hope so. You can try it tomorrow! It's a bit pot. I'm making it with the usual ingredients — you know, carrots and onions and potatoes, but I also decided to add cauliflower because I quite enjoy cauliflower–"Blue started rambling. He enjoyed cooking, as was characteristic of many versions of Papyrus. Funnily enough, Dream had caught him and Horror discussing food prep in the middle of a fight once or twice. It was bizarre. Dream wasn't against it though.

He didn't… think hating Nightmare's gang would solve anyone's issues. He wished he could help them instead. They… hngh. People hated them for ruining and destroying, which was understandable. Dream also, well, highly disapproved of their actions. But they were people, too. And, occasionally, he could feel their hurt. And there's no way being with Nightmare helped.

He exhaled. Maybe someday, he'd figure out a way to help them too. If he tried harder. If he was better.

…Ah, he wasn't listening to Blue. What a friend he was. How could he help Nightmare's gang if he couldn't even be enough for one of his best friends?

"–with an egg, and then it's going to be all done. What about you, what are you up to??" Blue asked curiously, because he was a good friend.

Agh. Dream would have to lie again. He felt… ashamed and guilty. What should he answer?

"I was… cleaning earlier," he answered. He did clean just a little.

"Cleaning? Tsk tsk tsk Dream, I told you to go home and rest," Blue said, light-hearted, more teasing than anything. Though there was soft, disguised concern in his words.

Dream winced. He swallowed. He almost reached for the bottle again before he remembered it was already empty. It was really getting to him. As always, it left him feeling odd. Fuzzy at the face. Nauseated.

"Sorry," he said, sort of by reflex.

"N– it's alright," Blue was quick to assure, and then he paused for a moment. "Are… you alright, Dream?"

Oh no.

Good going, Dream, you couldn't even compose yourself enough for one phone call. Blue just wanted to spend time with you, and now you're making it all about yourself and your problems which you shouldn't be having in the first place. Selfish.

Ugh, and the wine wasn't helping him at all. Dream felt… messy, when he should be the pinnacle of put-togetherness. He couldn't cry now. He couldn't.

"I'm okayy," Dream tried to put a sincere inflection to it. He'd mastered that long ago, except now, it fell oddly, drawing out the end of the word just a bit. Dammit.

Blue was quiet for another moment. Dream had to fix this.

"…Dream, you can ta–"

"I'm just a bit distracted, sorry," Dream lied, "Planning. You know how it is. …Sorry for interrupting you," he winced.

"…Right," that didn't sound like Blue believed him. Dream hunched in on himself. He felt sick. "Just–" Blue took a breath, "–don't stay up all night planning, okay? …Take care of yourself. Please. You don't have to– …You… you'll need the strength, so we can, uh, help people the best we can!"

Right. He was right. Dream was so selfish to be doing this.

"…You're right," he agreed softly. "Thanks for the chat, Blue. I really enjoyed it. Can we… I… I really appreciate you as a friend, you know?" he swallowed. "We should… hang out more. I'm sorry we don't hang out more. I'm s– I… I think I'm gonna go to bed now," he finished on a bit of a lame note.

"I'd love to hang out another time," Blue said all warm, and Dream knew he meant it. "But right now, you going to bed will make me even happier! Good night, Dream! See you tomorrow!"

"Good night," Dream returned quietly. After a beat, the call ended.

Dream let his hand down, blinking bleary at the wall. The silence lingered. He was alone.

He shuffled over to the toilet to throw up so he could go to bed.

—

He was growing too accustomed to the alcohol. One bottle wasn't making him as sick. He had to get two.

…He was finding more varied places to get the alcohol from.

—

Several days later,

"Dream!" Ink grabbed him by the shoulders.

"Ink?" Dream was immediately aware, "What is it, why did you call me, are you alright?" did Error go too far again, did Dream need to heal him? Was an AU being destroyed?

"Oh I'm great," Ink waved a hand, and then once again grabbed Dream, "But I really really really need your help!"

"Yes? Of course!" Dream would always help his friends.

"I need you," Ink said gravely, "to have a beach day with me."

Dream stared back at Ink's intense stare.

He resisted the urge to sigh. That'd be rude. And he wasn't really irritated with Ink anyway. Both because he didn't feel irritation, and also because it was Ink, Ink was like this.

"Come on pleeasee! It's really important!" Ink shook him a little. "It's for one of my stories! It has to be realistic. I stayed up all night thinking of plot points to put to the test,"

It still often baffled Dream how Ink could use up his time and energy for fictional stories like this. Then again, he'd… learned Ink perceived real people as fictional too. And besides, he wasn't Dream. Other people needed breaks and hobbies to function and to feel alright, so it was justifiably important. Even if Dream, personally, wouldn't dare.

"…Right," he replied carefully. "How long is this going to take…?"

"Uhhhmmm about a day, less even, so it's basically nothing," Ink shrugged. "We'll leave if there's an emergency, too, I promise,"

Okay, that eased some of Dream's worry. And it's not like this was the first time Ink hauled them away to do stuff relating to his stories. Last time was a few months ago, a camping trip in the mountains. Blue enjoyed that one. Dream did too. He held the memory fondly.

"Okay," he relented with a sigh and a smile. He'd rather be used by his friends.

"YES!" Ink threw his hands up.

And so here they were. Having a beach day.

It wasn't some private beach — there were a bunch of monsters around, but it was very far from crowded. It made Dream feel less like everyone would be looking at him and disapproving of this unearned leisure.

They'd already gone into the water, which wasn't awfully cold. And either way, the sun was high up and hot, seeping warmth into Dream's bones. The air held a gentle breeze that smelled of salt and sand and seaweed.

"Ink, pass it!" Dream hollered, grinning.

"Incomiiing!" Ink laughed, turning so he could pass the ball to Dream. With a running start, Dream jumped to dunk it past the net.

Blue laughed loudly at that, whistling. Error couldn't be assed to rush to catch the ball, even if he was literally a few paces away from it.

Blue had the idea that they play beach volleyball, but they'd needed a fourth person. Ink ended up nagging the Destroyer until he finally agreed, though he wasn't exactly passionate about it. Still, it was really fun. Error made up for his lack of involvement by cheating. This was the third ball Ink had drawn, haha.

And honestly?

Dream was having fun. Even with just the four of them, he was having a great time. All those fighting skills turned out to be useful — agility and precision and team coordination. Both teams were about evenly matched, making the game just engaging enough. Though weirdly, Dream didn't feel drained by all the movement and emotions.

The other monsters around the beach were relaxing, wafting off pleasant contentedness. Blue and Ink were as cheerful as ever. Even Error, as much as he complained about the sand, didn't seem to loathe it too much (likely because he was sort of friends with Blue and was familiar Ink).

It all left Dream collapsing onto his towel with a grin that was so big it ached against his face and a pleasant buzzing in his bones. This was yet another memory he'd hold near and dear.

("Thank you," Dream said to Ink quietly, but from the heart, as they all were sat to eat lunch during a brief break.

Ink chuckled, sharing a brief glance with Blue. "Anytime," he nudged Dream with an elbow.)

…Unfortunately, Dream remained a mess.

He was trying to sleep, he really was. He'd gone to bed over half an hour ago and he'd stayed there. Feeling lighter after a fantastic day. Calmer. More put together. Hopeful, the positivity inside him fresh and sincere, braced to live.

But he just… couldn't sleep. Which, to be fair, was far from new. Actually, he struggled to sleep most of the time. Which wasn't ideal since he got to bed, hm, maybe once every three days, but he was still fully functional so it must be all he needed.

Dream sighed, rolling on his side. Purple teddy bear held to his chest as always.

He wanted to sleep. Bad dreams or not, selfish or not, he was tired and he needed energy to bring his best for the Multiverse. Simply laying around certainly wasn't better.

He didn't understand why he couldn't sleep. He felt so cozy and comforted after the day at the beach. Filled with an unmarred warmth.

…Maybe…

…Hm. Did he need to drink an entire bottle every time? Maybe… drinking only a little would be fine. Just enough to dull his hyperawareness. What's so different to using melatonin pills?

Carefully, still a little ashamed, Dream got out of bed.

His head didn't even hurt in the morning, so it must've been fine.

—

It's really not that bad. Dream remained Dream, the Guardian of Positivity, member of the Star Squad, Protectors of the Multiverse. He was just as reliable, endlessly and gladly inspiring hope in everyone around him. Everyone knew how Dream was. Dream helped and asked for nothing in return. Dream always saw the best in people. Dream determinedly kept his stance in the face of terror and destruction. Dream embodied goodness, in everything he did, everything he was. Always smiling sincerely, reaching out his hands. Dream and all that he was belonged to the people. He served his role dutifully, humble and dedicated, glad and proud.

After years, he'd eventually settled into this balance. Always outputting as much productivity as he could, and always looking to do it more. A worn routine.

This was just… another… tiny part of said routine. He never dared to overdo it — he never drank around people, the same way he never cried around people. He never did it two days in a row, never even did it twice in the same week. He was always very careful that he wasn't needed when he was… uhm, in that state. He didn't… always drink himself to sickness, some nights it was just to help him sleep.

No one was noticing. So it was fine. Dream was ensuring he was highly functional and stable. He could get out all these unwanted emotions and thoughts, flush them down the toilet, and then continue as if it wasn't needed in the first place.

Until he was taken off-guard.

His phone was ringing.

Dream picked up immediately, desperately hoping this was just Blue or Ink wanting to chat. Because here he was once again. Dressed in pajamas, on his bathroom floor. Staring at the swirling and swimming tiles with over one bottle of alcohol in his system. Waiting for the sickness to come and pass, as usual.

"Yeah–?"

"Dream, emergency," Blue's alarm was audible over the line. Dream's rolling stomach sank. "Nightmare and his gang attacked–"

"On m' way, give me– minute," Dream hauled himself to his feet, and promptly regretted it as sharp reflux burned his throat. He pushed it down.

To his credit, his awareness sharpened a bit, as he listened to Blue give him the details of where to go and what state they were in. Ink was already there, and he heard Blue go through one of his portals. At that point Blue had to hang up to engage in combat as well.

In the meanwhile, Dream tried to gather himself into something semi-functional. He knew he looked terrible when drinking, and he was far from dressed for fighting, he had to hurriedly put on more combat-appropriate clothes so he wouldn't earn himself unnecessary wounds or impede his movements. He also took barely a few short seconds to splash his face with cold water.

As always, his mind kicked into habit as soon as he heard 'emergency'. Settling into familiarity. Forcefully jammed into strategy and pragmatism, away from sorrow and pain and all those distractions.

In about a dozen minutes, he arrived at the described location, more specifically in a version of Waterfall. The teleportation made his stomach do uncoordinated flips but Dream barely even noticed it, because he spotted Killer and Dust both engaging Blue in combat and jumped in to deal with at least one of them.

"Dream!" Blue exclaimed in relief.

"Here," Dream called back, parrying the swing of Killer's knife with his staff. Sometimes Killer preferred regular ranged attack bullets, but it seems today (or, tonight, according to the Omega Timeline's cycle) he was more for close-ranged combat. Which was fine because Dream was experienced in both.

"Well look who deigned to join!" Killer spat laughter in Dream's face, gladly engaging him in a fight. He was as vicious as ever, relentless and dirty with his attacks. Dream was used to him and knew to keep his guard up at all times, responding with fast, precise blocks and attacks of his own so as to not allow him openings to abuse.

Or… he was used to Killer.

But as they fought, and Killer kept taunting him as he usually did, Dream was… having a harder time than he should be.

It felt like he was reacting on time, except again and again, Killer managed to steal hits from him that Dream should've been perfectly capable of handling. His reflexes were… fuzzier than he'd like. In a normal fight, they would still hold up, but again, this was Killer. Nightmare had picked out the members of his gang for clear reasons.

Everything was just a little uncoordinated. Just a little unstable, like they were fighting in shallow water even though they were still on dry land, like Dream couldn't manage his footwork. Each hit that landed jarred Dream, even though the pain was muffled as well. Dream was lacking.

…And Killer was catching onto it.

"Heheheee did we catch you off-guard, dreamboy?" he jeered as he slammed his blade against Dream's staff once more, undistracted by his own words. "Are you losing your spark?"

Dream didn't reply, focused on matching him beat for beat as much as he could. Though that wasn't uncommon. He wasn't much for mid-fight banter. That was more Ink's thing. It's why Killer liked fighting Dream specifically. He wanted to crack his composure.

"You're sloppy," Killer hissed, grinning, dodging and slashing in the same movement, "Not usually your style, Mr. Perfect!" he mocked.

And he was right. Dream excused the rushing of his metaphorical heart on the adrenaline.

"This is who our enemies are? Pathetic," Killer successfully managed to slam the hilt of his blade against Dream's wrist, which weakened the grip on his staff, allowing Killer a wide swipe that landed despite Dream's attempt at dodging. Dream registered absentmindedly that, thankfully, it wasn't a lethal wound.

"What is up with you?" Killer crooned. "Am I scaring you, sunshine? Was this a bad time? Or…" he paused, in a dangerously considering way.

Dream's gut wrenched. His eyes widened, just the tiniest bit that people usually would not notice.

But this was Killer. Killer, when he wasn't drunk on violence and pain, could be terrifyingly observant. He was like a shark sensing a single droplet of blood in the water.

Killer barked out a hysterical laugh.

"Are you drunk?!" he loudly marveled.

Dream was too late to catch the wince he made at that. It was just the confirmation Killer needed.

"Oooohohoho oh this is incredible!" Killer laughed, fiercely back to attacking. "Your Guardian, everybody! A drunkard! I knew I could smell something familiar!" he declared it all loudly, even if there was nobody here to hear except the two opposing groups. And the echo flowers.

But even though there were no civilians here to hear, Dream was violently cringing inside. Please, no, he begged, please just let me handle this and go back home.

"What, got sick of living the life anyone else would kill for?!" Killer mocked, abusing his new knowledge to gain the upper hand in their fight. Dream was even sloppier, struggling to keep up with him, backing up as Killer pushed onwards. "I'm embarrassed to even fight you, Dream! Tsk tsk tsk!"

Usually, Dream mentally shielded himself from Killer's and Nightmare's and everyone's negative remarks as much as he could. Usually he knew the point of their words was to get to him, him specifically. To weaken his resolve, to hurt.

So why was it getting to him now?

Horrifyingly, Dream realized he wanted to cry.

All Killer needed was for him to stumble for a moment, and then Dream cried out as a knife was plunged directly into his chest. Killer seized the opportunity, shoving him towards the wall with it so he could push the blade in up to the hilt.

As soon as he accomplished it, he twisted the knife, Dream letting out another highly pained sound, and then ripped his knife out to let him bleed.

Dream, uncoordinated, sloppy, hurting, overwhelmed, slid down to the ground, trying to at least breathe. Everything was spinning, and the back of his throat stung sharply and discontentedly.

Dream didn't even process Killer lifting his knife and summoning four blasters with the same gesture, laughing hysterically above him. He flinched and cowered pathetically as a second shape jumped between them, and it was the final push as he leaned forwards and retched on the ground. Or… he aimed for the ground but didn't quite make it. The humiliation burned as he saw he caught the bottom of his pants and his shoes and it was gross and he wanted to cry. He was shaking.

"–eam are you okay?!" Blue's worried voice floated in from beside him, and Dream squeezed his eyes shut, pulling his knees closer in, hiding his face in them.

He was collapsing in the middle of a fight. His friends needed him. He was letting them down. He was letting everyone see his composure break. He was broadcasting his weaknesses, his wrongness to their enemies. What was wrong with him? Why was he like this? Why couldn't he just work?

Adrenaline and shame and sheer overstimulation wracked him inwardly and he felt sick, he felt so sick, he was going to throw up again.

"Dream, hey, hey, listen to me, it's okay, focus on my voice," Blue spoke. He was– he was kneeling next to Dream, blocking his view of the rest of the fight. If both of them were dealing with Dream's mess, then Ink had to be handling the rest on his own. And Ink was strong and incredibly capable, he was creative and didn't let things get to him, but Dream was letting him down.

They were both going to be disappointed in him. The thought felt like getting stabbed in the chest again.

Dream– Dream couldn't do this. He was a disappointment. He was a useless. A mess. He was a failure.

In barely a flash, he was back in his bathroom, bending forward to throw up into the toilet. Everything was spinning, and he clutched the bowl to stop the shaking of his hands. His face felt hot with shame and the blubbery tears breaking out of their prison.

Dream was struggling to breathe. It felt like his rib cage was made of stone, and he couldn't breathe in right. He was– he was trying to gasp in air but every inhale got cut off sharply, he couldn't breathe, everything was vibrating like pins and needles.

Dream let his forehead thunk down on the toilet seat, the cutting breaths starting to sound more like hiccups, like sobs. He couldn't get himself under control, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't even think. It was all just a barrage of emotions he shouldn't be capable of even having, uselessness and panic and sorrow and self-hatred and guilt and disappointment and shame shame shame. He was a ruin. He felt so damn sorry the Multiverse depended on this thing.

Suck it up. Pull yourself together. Handle this. Be better. Be better!

But he couldn't. He couldn't. Every desperate attempt to pull himself together only made him more overwhelmed, only made him feel more incapable. He wanted to claw out the emotions. He wanted it out.

It hurt as he retched into the toilet again, acidic magic trailing down his chin. It was gross, it was so gross, he hated it. He hated the way his uncontrolled sobs echoed in the bathroom. He hated the way he couldn't even get up, trembling and weak and aching all over. He hated hating, he shouldn't even be capable of it.

How was he going to sleep like this? How was he going to look his friends in the eyes like this tomorrow? How was he going to look at anyone? Maybe they wouldn't know how much of a useless disappointment he was, if Nightmare didn't broadcast it to the whole Multiverse, but Dream would know. It would be in the background of all his actions, following him, never allowing him to forget because he had to remember his mistakes, he had to learn from them, he had to be better.

Who would need– who would want a Guardian of Positivity who wasn't even positive?

He tried to reign in the sobbing, he tried, he swore he tried. He always tried so, so hard but it was never enough. He was never enough. People always needed more, there was always more to do, he always had to be more. He couldn't even stop crying, when he shouldn't be crying in the first place.

Dream raised his hands, slamming them into the sides of his head. Just stop it. Just stop it. You're the one that messed up, you're the one who always messes up! It's your fault! It's always been your fault! Why are you crying? How dare you feel sorry for yourself you useless thing? People suffer constantly, and here you are, sniveling!

"I'm sorry, 'm sorry," Dream blubbered incoherently, not even sure to who. It was just– instinct, deep inside him. Sorry that he was wrong, sorry that he wasn't enough, sorry sorry sorry.

The tears didn't stop coming. It's like every tear he'd ever repressed was coming back for him with vengeance. He just kept crying and crying and crying, like he was trying to hold back the tears with his own hands but they just kept slipping through. How was he supposed to calm anyone else's tears when he couldn't even deal with his own?

He was made to help people, it was the definition of his existence to exist through others and for others. If he couldn't be theirs then he was nothing, he was as good as de–

"–shh, shh, it's okay,"

Dream jumped as a hand was placed on his shoulder, no, no, what? There wasn't supposed to be anyone here, he was alone, he–

"Dream, it's okay, it's alright," Blue was kneeling next to him, keeping up a stream of reassurances, and the sudden shame Dream felt, like someone had grabbed his nonexistent intestines and squeezed.

"Blue– you– n– m– I–" he stammered, words slurred in a way he hated.

"It's okay," Blue insisted, "Look, look at me, hey," his hands came to cup Dream's face, and Dream felt borderline scared as he looked at Blue's gaze. It was gentle, but sure. "You're okay. Everything is okay. Stop thinking, just– breathe with me, please?" he said.

More tears bubbled into Dream's eye sockets because he couldn't, he couldn't–

"I need you to remind me how we did it, please? Please? How did we do it? How do we breathe deep?" Blue tried desperately.

He needed Dream. He needed Dream's help, and that's all Dream's shattered thoughts could focus on. His friend needed him.

Dream forced himself to gasp in air even as it burned, his chest and his throat.

"There we go, that's right," Blue encouraged, still holding his face, keeping Dream's eyes on him. "I think I'm remembering, keep showing me, okay?"

Dream gasped for air again, and Blue followed, inhaling deeply. Much more steadily than him. Dream tried to hold the breath but it burned and escaped him, and Blue held and exhaled with him, although slower.

Dream was still shaking with sobs but he pushed through, hands clutching tightly onto nothing, forcing himself to breathe in, hold, breathe out, hold, repeat. Blue following him beat for beat.

They barely spent a few minutes that way before another presence joined them and Dream flinched, his already unsteady rhythm knocked off again.

"It's just Ink, it's okay," Blue reassured quickly. "He's got some medical supplies–"

Dream's eye lights snapped back to Blue in alarm, "Who's hurt?" he asked immediately, still struggling with cohesion.

Blue's face saddened, and that only panicked Dream more. There was someone injured who needed his help and he was sitting here freaking out–

"You are," Ink said next to them and flicked Dream's head with two fingers. Dream startled at it. He saw Blue send Ink a look at that, but he sensed no regret from Ink.

His mind grappled to process the words.

He was? He was what? Hurt?

…Oh wait. Yes. He was hurt. Killer stabbed him in the chest, he was still bleeding from it.

And then– then he'd–

More tears and shame pricked at his face. He shook his head insistently, though he wasn't sure what he was trying to convey.

"Dream, please let Ink help," Blue pleaded, worry lacing every word.

Dream hated to make him worry, especially over him, so in guilt, he relented.

With shaking hands, he removed his capelet and his shirt so it would be easier for Ink. Looking at it now, the wound was bad. It wouldn't kill him, it would take a lot to kill him, but it was bad. His blood dripping down from his severed ribs. It'd soaked into his clothes. It explained the burning of his breathing only partially.

"It's going to be okay," Blue lifted his face up again. "Just let Ink heal it, it's going to be okay Dream,"

He shouldn't be the one reassuring Dream. Ink shouldn't be the one cleaning his wound carefully to heal him. Dream should be the one taking care of them, not the other way around.

"I'm sorry," he whispered through hiccups, not even flinching as Ink gently cleaned his wound out with rubbing alcohol.

However the smell reached up to Dream's nose and nausea rolled in his stomach.

He shoved himself away from Blue to gag, pressing a hand to his mouth because he'd hate himself even more if he threw up on his friend.

"Whoops, sorry about that," Ink said casually, assuming he'd done something wrong.

"Not– not your fault," Dream reassured him, struggling to breathe through the nausea.

"Oh, I thought that's what we're doing? Apologizing for things that aren't our fault?" Ink said with a mischievously innocent smile.

Blue whacked his shoulder. Ink showed no regret, chuckling.

Dream was trying not to throw up again. He didn't usually vomit this much, but he usually stayed in his bathroom with little physical strain too.

He really, really wished they didn't see him like this.

"Oh, you still feel sick?" Ink spoke again, pushing himself to his feet, "I'll be back in a mo, keep an eye on him," he told Blue and then disappeared through a swipe of inky magic.

"Okay–" Blue exhaled through his nose, picking up the cotton and the rubbing alcohol, "I'll treat your wounds for now then, is that okay?"

Dream stared at the plastic bottle of rubbing alcohol. Just the thought of the smell made him feel sick and ashamed and guilty, like he wanted to hide under his blanket.

"Oh–" Blue looked down at the bottle and then put it down.

"No, no, it's fine–" Dream was quick to reassure. His words were slightly clearer even though everything still felt like pins and needles. He was still intermittently hiccuping and sobbing, breathing shakily. And bleeding.

"No, we'll think of something else," Blue insisted, and Dream cringed. He couldn't even give it to them to not be a difficult patient. Way to burden your friends with what shouldn't even be their job, Dream.

He reached for the plastic bottle. He could patch his wound up himself, it was far from the first time.

Blue grabbed his wrist.

"Dream." he said sternly, and Dream couldn't help but hunch in on himself at the tone.

"Sorry,"

Blue breathed in and out in a measured manner.

"It's okay, I'm not mad at you," he said gently, and Dream could feel he wasn't. Mostly, he felt– frustration, worry and care, and sadness.

"Are– are you okay?" Dream asked. He didn't want Blue to feel frustrated and sad and all.

The frustration reared up at that, and then Dream felt it get intentionally shoved down.

"'S okay to be frustrated," he reassured, hand reaching up to Blue's shoulder in sloppy comfort.

"I'm–" Blue exhaled, "I'm not frustrated because you've done something wrong," he explained, "I just– I want to help you but I don't know how, and I'm... frustrated you're not letting us,"

Oh.

"Sorry," Dream mumbled, "I'm– I'm alright,"

"You're not," Ink reappeared, and Dream saw Blue wince at the bluntness. "Maybe this will help though?" Ink crouched down next to them, holding out a blister pack to Dream.

Dream let go of the rubbing alcohol, so Blue let go of his wrist. He accepted the blister pack, reading the name on the back.

'DETOX' and underneath, in smaller letters, 'active charcoal'.

"Charcoal?" he frowned.

"Yup!" Ink exclaimed. "It helps draw out, uh, bad things from your digestive system! Like food poisoning. Or alcohol,"

Dream stiffened, deeply uncomfortable and ashamed. Maybe they'd just heard Killer. Maybe they'd connected the dots. The two bottles still remained in the bathroom, after all, which is where they were sitting right now.

"I, I–" he scrambled.

"You don't have to explain yourself," Ink cut him off with a raised hand. "If you think that'll help, take it. You can even take two, it's not dangerous," he pointed at the active charcoal pack Dream held.

He hesitated.

"...Okay," Dream accepted, popping two out and swallowing them dry. It didn't taste like anything. He was thirsty. He felt completely drained, which didn't help the shaking and the wooziness.

"Wanna know what would help right now?" Blue spoke, and Dream looked at him hopefully.

"What?"

"Telling me how this upsets you so I can think of something else?" Blue pointed at the bottle of rubbing alcohol tentatively.

Dream cringed again. He should just tough it out. He was making things needlessly complicated, when he should be the person that makes things easier.

...But... Blue said it would help.

Dream took a wobbling breath in, then let it out. He was still blinking tears out of his eyes. Even though they weren't wracking through him anymore, he couldn't stop them.

"It's– the smell," he admitted quickly.

"Oh! Psh, well that's not a problem," Ink said easily, for some reason unraveling his (very long and thick) brown scarf that he loved. And then, bizzarely, he started wrapping it around Dream's neck, pulling it up so it rested over the lower half of his face too.

When Dream breathed in through his nose, all he could smell was Ink's natural scent, ink and paint and cloth.

"I– but what if I throw up again?" he looked up at Ink, voice small, eyes wet.

Ink stood with his arms crossed, smiling.

"You realize I throw up when I get overwhelmed, like, half the time, right?"

...Oh.

They were being… so nice. Showing him so much care, even though they shouldn't. But because they… wanted to?

It made him want to cry all over again, expression wobbling. They were so nice, and warm. He could feel their care.

"Thank you," he said softly to both of them.

"Anytime!" Ink beamed. "So is it gonna work?"

"I– yeah, I think so," Dream nodded, raising a hand to press the scarf to his face.

When Blue brought a cotton swab soaked in rubbing alcohol to try cleaning his stab wound again, the smell didn't hit Dream's nasal cavity, it didn't make him want to bend over and retch.

They spent some time in the quiet like that. Blue and Ink cleaning up his wound, healing it, and dressing it in a practiced manner. There were still tears half-heartedly streaming down from Dream's eyes, no matter how much he wiped them away with his hands and tried to hold them back.

He could feel the ache of the wound settling in, sharper now that it wasn't covered up by alcohol and adrenaline, but it wasn't more than what he could handle. His metaphysical stomach felt desolate, and he was so thirsty, but he worried he'd just throw it up again. Exhaustion tugged at his limbs and his eye lids, from the amount of energy he'd wasted in throwing up and freaking out.

And in the middle of a fight, too. And his teammates had rushed after him to help him, oh stars.

"What about Nightmare's gang?" Dream suddenly piped up in alarm.

"Oh don't worry," Ink waved a hand, "I ditched them at Error's," he cackled. Blue snorted.

Oh. Okay then.

"Good job," Dream praised them both. He really couldn't ask for better, more capable, more reliable teammates. Friends. "And… thank you. And– I'm–" his mouth wobbled more, and he tried to breathe the uprising tears away. "I'm sorry, I... I just– this–" how could he explain this? How could he justify himself?

He didn't want to lie to them. He hated lying. Especially to his friends.

"I thought it would help," his voice broke against his will. He stared at the floor, starting on the damned crying again. Get a hold of yourself, Dream. "I was trying to– I thought it would–"

Wordlessly, Blue reached over and dragged him into a hug. A second later Ink flopped into the embrace too, both of them sandwiching him like endearing annoyances.

Dream was… a bit stupefied. Here he was, drunk (post-drunk?), having botched a fight. Vomited magic dried on the bottom of his pants (he'd kicked his shoes off). Sitting with his best friends on his bathroom floor, an undignified mess in all ways.

And they just… hugged him.

Blue's arms around him were solid and strong, an unflinching aura of care. Ink had a steady calm presence, for all his hyperactivity, never overwhelming Dream with emotions due to their artificial nature.

They were… so warm.

Dream pressed his face to Blue's shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut painfully. Blue rubbed his back, as much as he could with Ink there at least.

"It's okay," Blue comforted him gently. "You're okay. Everything is alright. You didn't do anything wrong, alright? You can let it out,"

Dream shook his head.

"Heeyy! There's room for only one emotionless Protector!" Ink whined, "Don't infringe on my copyright!"

Dream laughed wetly at that.

"I'm– but it's wrong," he argued, daring to voice his inner turmoil. Uncertain how exactly to describe the way he felt about it to someone else. "I– I wasn't made to cry," he tried.

"I mean, you can cry though, right?" Ink pointed out. "Sounds to me like you were made to do it, then,"

And… and Dream couldn't really argue with that. He was left speechless.

"Come on, what do you always tell other people?" Blue guided. "What do you say when someone's crying?"

Many things. But among those things,

"That it's... normal, and... healthy," Dream replied, quiet, uneasy. "But I'm not– it's not the same,"

"Why not?" Blue exclaimed. "Didn't it feel nice just now? Letting it out? Everything that was built up?"

…Miserably, Dream had to admit it did. Like there had been a dam accumulating inside of him, turbulent and heavy, metric tons of tears built up. And finally, he'd let some of it out. He was exhausted, and ashamed, but he did feel… eased, in a way.

"You're allowed to cry, Dream," Blue insisted softly. "Heck, you of all people should get to cry!"

"Don't worry, we won't tell anyone," Ink said in a jokey tone, "It's going to be a Star Secret,"

"Yeah, Ink will probably forget in a day," Blue teased.

"Heeyy!" Ink complained with no upset behind it, instead amused. "Maybe you should forget it too, did you consider that?"

"Nope! I'm a magnificent keeper of secrets, mweheheh!"

Dream giggled wetly. They were so nice. He sobbed again, muffling it into Ink's scarf. He loved his friends so, so much.

"There we go," Blue encouraged, amused but sincere. Patting his back gently. "Do you still feel sick? Do you think we can move to your room–?"

"Yeah, it's alright," Dream swallowed.

"Dream,"

"No– it is, it really is, I– I want to change my clothes," he insisted, it was the truth.

"Alright, Ink, move a little please,"

Ink complained and there was a bit of shuffling. Dream also got ready to disengage from the hug, but instead he was taken off guard as Blue lifted upwards, still holding him. Easily picking Dream up, making him yelp. Jeez, he sometimes forgot how much sheer physical strength Blue had.

Blue cackled, having definitely done that on purpose.

Dream sighed in feigned annoyance, but considering how tired he was, he honestly appreciated the lift to his bed where Blue deposited him. Ink happily trailed after, and flopped down right beside him.

"Do you need anything else? Where are your clothes?" Blue hovered, still on his feet.

"I can get it," Dream pushed himself up.

"Noooooo," Ink complained, wrapping around him like a squid.

"Guys,"

"Dream,"

"Just–" Dream sighed, "please? I swear I'm better," either from the DETOX or he'd thrown it all up, or both. And from the sheer comfort and positivity of his friends. He was just… tired. So tired.

But… not in a hopeless way. Rather in a really sleepy way.

Blue was visibly unsure, but relented, sitting at the bed. Dream smiled at him. Ink unlatched from him, letting him get up. He got into pajamas, brushed his teeth because yuck, and also went to get himself a glass of cold water from the kitchen. He drank it slowly and crossed his fingers, hoping he wouldn't throw up again.

He lingered in his kitchen for a moment, just… breathing. His body was tired. Heavy and dragging. It was so much more than simple lack of sleep. It felt like he'd bled out. Not just literally. A part of him dreaded how this would all crash down on him tomorrow.

And he was still highly in danger of crying.

…But…

…Maybe, he was made for it. Maybe, it was good and healthy for him. That's what Ink and Blue thought. And Dream both trusted them and trusted their view. They were some of the most truly kind, capable, honest, caring, dedicated– ah, he could go on. Point was: he appreciated them. Maybe... maybe he should take them as a guide instead.

It was a bit terrifying? Because what if he was wrong? What if Dream was daring to go against everything that'd kept the multiversal balance intact this far?

…But he hadn't been enough, this far. So... clearly something wasn't working. It was time he tried to change things up Just a little. For the sake of goodness.

(And maybe, just a little, for his own sake.)

Dream refilled the glass, taking it with him. Pattering back to his bedroom.

Ink and Blue were still laying there, their collective aura easy and light and warm, though with mix-ins. They were chatting about something. Ink was holding up the purple teddy bear, making it move as though it was acting out their conversation.

Dream passed by and primly snatched it out of his hands.

"Heeyy!" Ink protested, and then his mental track switched as he grinned, "Oh I'm so happy you kept him!"

"Of course I kept him," Dream rolled his eye lights. "He's a gift from you doofuses,"

"Mweheheh!"

"I like his ribbon," Ink pointed out. "Purple and yellow, complementary colors,"

…Yeah.

"Dream. Bed. Sleep. Don't make me make you," Blue threatened.

"I dare you to try," Dream grinned.

"Oh Dreamy Mr. Guardian," Ink clasped his hands together theatrically, making his eyes big and sparkling, "I need aid remembering how to get into bed, can you please show me–!"

Blue mercilessly whacked him over the head, making Ink kick his feet and laugh loudly.

Blue sent Dream a glance, but Dream was laughing too. He wasn't particularly offended. Partially because it was Ink, but mostly because Ink was... pretty accurate with it, haha. Oh stars.

Oh so benevolently, he flopped into bed, laughing quietly as he got dragged in for cuddles. Holding the plushie close.

Tomorrow, the shame and guilt would crawl up his spine. Tomorrow, he was probably in for… difficult conversations.

Tonight, instead of alone, Dream was held by his teammates, his friends, listening to them chat and breathe, and he felt... alright. Tonight, instead of lying, Dream had cried and it was alright. Tonight, Dream slept alright.

27 notes · View notes

doujinshigirlai · 14 hours ago

Text

Closer than ever <3

It's been a while 😭🫶🏻✨

Sypnosis:

Pairing: ot7!enhypen x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, acquaintances to lovers

Warnings: none!!!

Enjoy my pookies 🫶🏻✨💞

⋋⁠✿Lee Heeseung✿⁠⋌ You’re standing by the vending machine in the office break room, staring blankly at the rows of snacks, your mind too cluttered to decide on anything. The soft hum of the machine is drowned out by the sound of a familiar voice behind you.

“You’ve been eyeing that granola bar for the last two minutes. Is it really that good?”

You turn around to see Heeseung, his signature playful grin already tugging at his lips. You’ve known him for a few months now—he joined your department not long ago. Though your conversations have mostly been surface-level, there’s something about his relaxed confidence that always gets under your skin.

“It’s not about the granola bar,” you reply with a sigh, pressing the button for a random snack. “I’m just... distracted.”

Heeseung tilts his head, his eyes softening. “Work stress?”

“Among other things,” you admit, clutching the snack as if it’s a lifeline. You’re not sure why, but you feel a strange urge to confide in him, even though you’ve barely scratched the surface of who he is.

“Here,” he says, leaning against the vending machine. “I’ll trade you five minutes of bad jokes for a smile. Deal?”

You scoff, shaking your head. “You really think your jokes are that good?”

He smirks. “I think I can make you laugh. And I’m not leaving until I do.”

True to his word, Heeseung starts spouting the cheesiest, most ridiculous puns you’ve ever heard. It’s impossible not to crack a smile, and by the end of his impromptu comedy routine, you’re laughing so hard you nearly forget why you were stressed in the first place.

“See?” he says, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction. “Mission accomplished.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest lingers. “Fine, I’ll admit it. You’re not the worst company.”

“Wow,” he teases, pretending to clutch his heart. “The highest praise I’ve ever received.”

From that day on, Heeseung seems to pop up everywhere—whether it’s during lunch breaks or late nights at the office. The more you talk, the more you realize how easy it is to be around him. He has this uncanny ability to make you forget your worries, to make you feel seen.

One evening, after yet another long day, he walks you to your car. The cool breeze carries the faint scent of his cologne, and for a moment, the world feels a little less heavy.

“You know,” he says softly, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I never thought I’d look forward to work so much... until I met you.”

You freeze, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. His usual teasing tone is gone, replaced by something deeper, something that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Heeseung—”

“I mean it,” he interrupts, his gaze meeting yours. “You make everything better. And I think... I think I want to be the person who does that for you, too.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. For once, you’re at a loss for words, but the way he looks at you—with so much hope and vulnerability—tells you all you need to know.

So you take a step closer, letting your walls crumble just a little. “You already do.”

His smile is slow, genuine, and when he takes your hand in his, it feels like the start of something you never saw coming—but everything you’ve been waiting for.

Rest of the members under the cut ✨✨✨

⋋⁠✿Park Jongseong✿⁠⋌ It starts on an ordinary Tuesday, with you standing in line at the campus coffee shop. The line is slow, and the cold draft from the door doesn’t help your mood. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, checking the time. You’re already running late.

“I’d suggest the caramel latte,” a smooth voice says behind you. You turn to see Jay, his dark eyes studying the menu as if he hasn’t memorized it already.

You know him in passing—a friend of a friend, someone who’s always in the background of your social circle but never quite in your orbit. He’s polite, even charming, but he’s always been... distant.

“I don’t think caramel’s going to fix my morning,” you reply with a sigh, crossing your arms.

Jay glances down at you, a small smirk playing on his lips. “No, but caffeine might.”

The barista finally calls your turn, and as you step up to order, Jay leans casually against the counter beside you. You don’t know why, but his presence is oddly calming.

“You’re not going to cut me in line, are you?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Relax,” he says, his tone amused. “I’m just here to keep you company.”

You scoff but can’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. After you order, Jay steps forward, surprising you by paying for your drink before you can protest.

“Jay—”

“Consider it my good deed of the day,” he says, his smirk softening into something almost kind. “You look like you could use one.”

You don’t have time to argue, nor do you have time to dwell on it. But from that day on, Jay seems to be everywhere. In the library when you’re cramming for exams. At the park when you’re trying to clear your head. Always there with a witty remark or a quiet offer of help.

At first, it’s annoying. Then it’s comforting. And somewhere along the way, you stop questioning it.

One night, after an exhausting week, you find yourself sitting with Jay on a park bench, sipping on hot cocoa he insisted you needed. The stars are out, the air crisp, and you can’t remember the last time you felt this... at peace.

“You’re different than I thought,” you admit, breaking the silence.

Jay raises an eyebrow. “Oh? What’d you think I was like?”

“Arrogant. Unapproachable. Too perfect to be real.”

He laughs, a low, rich sound that makes your chest tighten. “And now?”

You shrug, looking away. “Still too perfect, but... I guess I was wrong about the rest.”

When you glance back, Jay is watching you intently, his expression unreadable.

“You don’t realize how often I’ve thought the same about you,” he says quietly.

Your breath catches. “What do you mean?”

He leans closer, the space between you shrinking. His gaze flickers to your lips for just a moment before returning to your eyes.

“I mean, I’ve been waiting for an excuse to get closer to you. And I’m tired of waiting.”

Before you can process his words, he closes the gap, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so gentle it feels like a question. Your heart races, your hands instinctively gripping the edges of your coat, but when you feel the warmth of his hand against your cheek, the world around you fades.

It’s Jay who pulls back first, his breath mingling with yours in the cool night air. “Too perfect now?” he murmurs, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “No. Just... perfect enough.”

And as he takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, you realize you don’t need coffee, or cocoa, or anything else to fix your day. Because for the first time in a long time, everything feels exactly as it should.

⋋⁠✿Sim Jaeyun✿⁠⋌ The late summer evening breeze sweeps through the campus courtyard as you balance a stack of books in your arms, cursing yourself for not grabbing a bag. You’re halfway across when a familiar voice calls out from behind you.

“Need some help there?”

You turn to see Jake, his golden hair catching the fading sunlight. He’s leaning casually against a nearby bench, his ever-present hoodie slung over one shoulder. You know Jake well enough to say hello in passing—your mutual friends ensure that your paths cross more often than not—but your interactions have always been polite, nothing more.

“I’ve got it,” you reply, adjusting the books.

Jake raises an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “You sure about that?”

Before you can respond, he’s already stepping forward, taking the top half of the stack from your arms. His fingers graze yours briefly, and the contact sends a jolt through you that you quickly dismiss.

“Really, I was fine,” you insist, trailing after him as he starts walking toward the library.

“Clearly,” he teases, glancing over his shoulder. “You looked totally at ease, struggling not to drop an entire semester’s worth of reading.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no bite to it. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Didn’t need to,” Jake replies smoothly.

The two of you walk in silence for a moment, the tension between you both oddly palpable. It’s not the first time Jake’s gone out of his way to help you, but something about this moment feels different—like the weight of unspoken words is pressing down on the air around you.

When you reach the library, Jake sets the books down on a nearby table, brushing his hands off on his jeans. “There. Crisis averted.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.

Jake doesn’t move, his eyes studying you like he’s debating something. Finally, he takes a step closer, the playfulness in his expression replaced by something more serious.

“You know,” he begins, his voice lower now, “you’re really bad at asking for help.”

You cross your arms, trying to mask the way your heart is suddenly racing. “I don’t see why that’s any of your business.”

“It’s my business,” Jake says, his tone firmer now, “because I care about you.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and unmistakable. Your breath catches, and you’re not sure if it’s the way he’s looking at you—like he’s been holding this in for far too long—or the fact that your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest.

“Jake...” you start, but he shakes his head, cutting you off.

“No, let me say this,” he insists, his voice softening. “I know we’re not close. I know I’m just that guy you see in passing, the one who cracks jokes and never seems to take anything seriously. But with you... it’s different. You make me want to be better. You make me feel like I can be more.”

You’re frozen in place, your mind racing as you try to process the sheer weight of his confession.

“I’ve been trying to tell myself I’m fine just watching from a distance,” he continues, his voice almost breaking.

“But I’m not. I’m not fine, and I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way about you.”

The tension between you is electric, the air so thick with emotion that it’s almost suffocating. Jake takes another step closer, his hand hovering near yours, as if he’s waiting for permission to close the gap.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs, his eyes searching yours. “I just... I needed you to know.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. “Jake, I—”

But before you can finish, the librarian’s voice cuts through the air. “Excuse me, but this is a quiet zone.”

The moment shatters, and Jake pulls back slightly, his lips curving into a sheepish smile. “Guess we’re causing a scene,” he mutters, scratching the back of his neck.

You shake your head, a small laugh escaping despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. “Yeah, we are.”

Jake looks at you for a long moment, his eyes still filled with unspoken words. “I meant what I said,” he whispers, just loud enough for you to hear. Then, with one last lingering glance, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with your heart in your throat and your mind spinning.

And as you watch him disappear into the stacks, you realize that whatever this is—whatever it could be—you’re not ready to let it slip through your fingers.

⋋⁠✿Park Sunghoon⁠✿⁠⋌ It’s late, and the campus quad is eerily quiet except for the sound of your boots crunching against the frosty grass. You pull your coat tighter around yourself, regretting your decision to stay in the library until closing. The dim glow of the streetlights casts long shadows, and you quicken your pace.

"Walking alone this late?” a familiar voice calls out from behind you.

You turn sharply, heart skipping a beat, only to see Sunghoon leaning casually against a nearby lamppost. His breath forms a faint mist in the cold air, and his hands are shoved into the pockets of his black coat.

“Sunghoon?” you say, your voice tinged with surprise.

He straightens up, falling into step beside you. “Relax. It’s just me.”

You’ve known Sunghoon for a while now, mostly through shared classes and mutual friends. He’s always been polite, reserved even—though his quiet confidence and striking looks have earned him more than a few admirers. Still, your interactions have always been brief, nothing that would explain why he’s here now.

“What are you doing out so late?” you ask, glancing at him.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he counters, his tone light but his gaze sharp. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s dangerous to walk around alone at night?".

You roll your eyes. “I can take care of myself, thanks.”

“Maybe,” he says, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “But now you don’t have to.”

The two of you walk in silence for a while, the tension between you humming like a live wire. There’s something about the way Sunghoon moves—so self-assured yet unassuming—that makes it hard to look away.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” you say after a while.

“Do what?”

“Play the hero,” you reply, glancing at him.

He stops walking, and you’re forced to stop too, turning to face him. His expression is unreadable, but his dark eyes hold yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken.

“You think I’m doing this to play the hero?” he asks, his voice low, almost dangerous.

You hesitate, suddenly unsure of yourself. “I don’t know. Aren’t you?”

Sunghoon takes a step closer, closing the distance between you. His presence is overwhelming, and you find yourself rooted to the spot.

“I’m here,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “because I wanted to see you. Because every time I see you, it’s harder to walk away. And I’m done pretending that it’s not.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the weight of his words hitting you like a tidal wave.

“Sunghoon...” you start, but he shakes his head, silencing you.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his gaze flickering to your lips before returning to your eyes. “If this isn’t what you want, tell me, and I’ll walk away.”

You don’t say anything, your mind racing, your heart pounding. And then, instead of speaking, you step closer, bridging the gap between you.

That’s all the confirmation he needs. Sunghoon leans in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s both soft and electrifying, like the first rush of a winter storm. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his touch warm against your chilled skin, and for a moment, the rest of the world ceases to exist.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cold night air.

You smile, your heart still racing. “What took you so long?”

Sunghoon chuckles softly, his eyes glinting with a mixture of relief and something deeper. “I guess I needed to know you wouldn’t push me away.”

You shake your head, your smile widening. “Not a chance.”

And as the two of you stand there under the dim streetlight, the frost on the grass glittering around you, it feels like the start of something neither of you can—or want to—turn back from.

⋋⁠✿Kim Sunoo⁠✿⁠⋌ The campus is quiet, the kind of stillness that feels unnatural. You’ve been in the library for hours, buried in notes and textbooks, your mind drifting in and out of focus. It’s been a long day, and you’re ready to head home, but as you step out of the building into the evening chill, you’re met with an unexpected sight—Sunoo, sitting on a bench under the dim light of a streetlamp, his eyes trained on the starless sky.

You stop in your tracks, unsure if you should interrupt him. You’ve never been particularly close, and yet, for some reason, you always find yourself caught in his orbit. He’s always been kind, that easy smile never far from his lips, but there’s something about him that feels distant—a warmth that’s almost unreachable.

He notices you standing there, and his expression shifts, that usual playful grin softening.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask, your voice breaking the silence.

Sunoo looks up, his gaze locking with yours. “More like couldn’t stop thinking,” he replies, his voice quieter than usual.

You hesitate, moving closer to the bench. “About what?”

Sunoo shifts to make room, patting the spot next to him. You sit down, careful not to let your shoulder brush his, though it feels almost impossible not to.

“It’s... complicated,” he says after a long pause, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve.

You turn to face him, the tension between you thickening. You know he’s been quieter lately, as if something is weighing on his mind. There’s a softness to him now, an unspoken vulnerability that draws you in even more.

“You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready,” you offer gently.

Sunoo smiles faintly, shaking his head. “No, I think... I think it’s time I said it.”

You wait, your heart beginning to race as he looks down, as if trying to find the right words. His usual confidence is replaced by uncertainty, and it’s unsettling to see him like this.

“I’ve been holding back,” he starts slowly, “because I didn’t want to make things complicated. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way.”

You swallow, unsure if you want to hear what’s coming next. The air feels charged, like something big is about to happen, but you're unsure if you're ready to face it.

“I think I’ve liked you for longer than I realized,” Sunoo confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I was scared. Scared of what it would mean. Scared of ruining whatever we have.”

Your breath hitches, the words sinking in deeper than you expected. You open your mouth to respond, but no words come out. It’s almost too much to process. Sunoo, always the cheerful and outgoing one, the guy who can make anyone laugh, is standing there—vulnerable and open in a way you’ve never seen before.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he says, looking at you earnestly. “I just... needed you to know.”

The weight of his confession presses down on you, and you can feel the tension between you like a palpable force. His eyes are wide, searching yours for a reaction, and for the first time, you realize how much you’ve been holding back as well.

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly.

Sunoo nods, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. “You don’t have to say anything. I just needed to tell you.”

You both sit in silence, the night growing colder around you, but you don’t move. The quiet between you now feels comfortable, as though you’ve just crossed an invisible line that neither of you can go back from.

Finally, Sunoo stands up, stretching his arms above his head. “I’ll see you around,” he says, his usual carefree tone returning, but there’s still a tenderness in his eyes.

You nod, watching him walk away, your heart a tangled mess of emotions. But as the silence settles in once more, you realize that his confession has changed something between you. It’s not just the words; it’s the way you feel the truth of them, how everything suddenly feels clearer, even if it’s still uncertain "I like you too!!!", you shout. He turns, grinning widely and genuinely.

And maybe, just maybe, it’s the beginning of something that neither of you are ready to define yet—but both of you know will be impossible to forget.

⋋⁠✿Yang Jungwon⁠✿⁠⋌ The early morning sun casts a soft golden light across the campus as you step out of the dorm, a cup of coffee in hand to start your day. The campus is quieter than usual, the early risers having already started their routines, and the air is crisp with the promise of a new day.

As you make your way toward the main building, you spot Jungwon sitting on one of the benches by the fountain. The sunlight catches in his hair, giving him an almost ethereal glow, and for a moment, he seems completely absorbed in the world around him. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his jacket, and his gaze is focused on the morning sky, his features soft and contemplative.

You pause for a moment, unsure if you should interrupt his peace, but then you find yourself walking toward him anyway.

"Jungwon?" You call out, voice hesitant

He blinks, looking up with a slight surprise before his lips curl into a small, genuine smile. “Hey, you’re up early,” he says, his voice still carrying the remnants of sleepiness but also warmth.

You offer a small smile in return, shrugging. “Yeah, I’ve got a busy day ahead. I thought I’d grab some coffee before the rush.”

“Smart choice,” he says, patting the space beside him on the bench. “Want to sit for a bit?”

You sit down beside him, wrapping your hands around the warmth of your coffee cup. There’s a calmness in the air now, the world slowly waking up around you. And for a moment, you simply sit in silence, the sound of birds chirping and the faint rustle of leaves the only noise.

“You’ve been quiet this morning,” you remark, glancing at Jungwon, who’s still staring off into the distance.

He shifts slightly, as if he’s just now realizing how still he’s been. “I guess I’ve just been thinking a lot,” he admits, his voice softer than usual.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “About what?”

Jungwon’s gaze drifts to the ground for a moment, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his jacket. There’s a hesitation there, a vulnerability in his posture that you don’t often see.

“It’s... about us,” he says quietly, his voice carrying an honesty that you’re not used to hearing from him.

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “Us?”

He turns his head slightly to face you, his eyes catching yours. “Yeah,” he says, his voice low. “I’ve been thinking about you. A lot more than I should, probably. I wasn’t sure if I should say anything, but... I think it’s time I do.”

You feel a knot form in your stomach, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. Jungwon, who’s always been so composed and in control, now seems different. There’s a vulnerability to him now that makes your heart race.

"I don’t want to make things complicated,” he continues, his voice almost a whisper. “But I can’t keep pretending like I don’t feel this way. I think about you all the time, and I just... I need you to know that.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say. Jungwon has always been the calm and collected one, the friend who makes everyone feel at ease. But this side of him, the side that’s unsure and uncertain, catches you off guard.

You turn to face him, the warmth of your coffee forgotten in your hands. “Jungwon, I—”

Before you can finish, he’s already leaning in, his eyes searching yours for a hint of whether you’re okay with this. There’s no hesitation this time, no second-guessing. Jungwon closes the gap between you, and his lips meet yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. It’s soft, barely there, but it holds so much meaning. A confession in the quiet of the morning, the warmth of his lips lingering even after the kiss is over.

When he pulls back, there’s a faint blush on his cheeks, and he looks at you with wide, uncertain eyes. “I hope that wasn’t too much,” he says, his voice soft, like he’s afraid of pushing you away.

You take a deep breath, your heart racing in your chest, and smile softly. “No, it wasn’t. It’s just... I’ve been thinking about you too.”

His expression softens, a genuine smile slowly spreading across his face. “Really?” he asks, his voice filled with quiet relief.

You nod, feeling the warmth spreading through your chest. “Really.”

Jungwon lets out a breath of relief, his smile widening. “I’m glad. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but this is definitely better than I thought.”

You laugh softly, feeling the weight of the tension between you ease. “I think we’ve both been a little unsure of how to handle this, huh?”

“Yeah,” he admits, chuckling lightly. “But I’m glad it’s out there now.”

And as the two of you sit together on the bench, the sun rises higher in the sky, you both realize that whatever comes next, it’s the start of something new—something neither of you were expecting, but both of you are willing to embrace.

⋋⁠✿Nishimura Riki✿⁠⋌ The morning sun spills through the windows of the campus café as you sit by the large glass wall, the warmth of the light casting a soft glow over your book and coffee. You’ve been coming here a lot lately, needing a quiet escape from the chaos of classes and the constant buzz of campus life.

Today, however, something feels different. You glance up from your book as the door chimes open, and in walks Niki. His usual carefree energy is a little more subdued today, and the way his eyes scan the room before locking on you is enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Niki doesn’t usually come to this café in the mornings; he’s more of an afternoon kind of person, where his energy seems boundless. But today, he steps toward your table, hesitating for a moment, like he’s trying to decide whether to say something.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, his voice quieter than usual. You notice the way his eyes avoid yours for a split second, a hint of uncertainty in his usually confident demeanor.

“Of course,” you reply, your heart inexplicably racing. You shift your things aside to make room for him, and he sits across from you, his usual grin missing, replaced by a soft, thoughtful expression.

For a few moments, there’s an awkward silence between you. You’re used to Niki being playful, always cracking jokes, always full of energy, but today, he seems almost... hesitant.

“You okay?” you ask, unable to ignore the change in his vibe.

He looks up at you, his lips curling slightly, but it’s not his usual carefree smile. It’s almost as if he’s considering something deeply before he answers. “Yeah, just thinking about stuff.”

“Stuff?” you raise an eyebrow. “What kind of stuff?”

He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze dropping to the table as he seems to lose himself in thought again. “Just... everything, I guess. People. Life.” His voice is softer now, like he’s choosing his words carefully. “And you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you can feel the shift in the air. Niki doesn’t usually speak like this, especially about you.

“Me?” you repeat, trying to keep your voice steady, but the way he says it makes your heart race even faster.

He nods, his gaze lifting to meet yours again. This time, it feels like he’s looking at you in a way that’s different—more intense, more meaningful. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot recently. About how you’re always there, and how I’ve always been able to talk to you. You’re... different, you know? I think I’ve started feeling more than just the friendship thing.”

Your stomach flips, and your words get caught in your throat. You’ve always had a soft spot for Niki—his charm, his humor, his way of making everything feel effortless. But this... this confession feels like it’s pulling you into something much deeper than you expected.

“You’re telling me this now?” you ask, trying to keep your voice light, but your heart is pounding in your chest.

Niki looks at you for a long moment, as if he’s debating something in his mind. Then, he leans forward slightly, his hands folding on the table. His usual playful demeanor is gone, replaced by something more raw, more vulnerable.

“I know I’ve always acted like I was the one who had it all figured out,” he says, his voice quiet, but his eyes focused on you. “But the truth is... I’ve been a little scared.”

“Scared?” You lean forward, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. “Scared of what?”

“Scared of how much you mean to me,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Scared of how I might mess things up. I don’t want to ruin what we have, but I can’t ignore it anymore.”

The air is thick with tension now. You feel your heart beat faster, not from fear, but from something else—something electric.

“Niki, I—”

But before you can finish your sentence, he reaches across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. The warmth of his touch is enough to make your pulse spike, and your words falter as you meet his gaze.

“I don’t want to hide this anymore,” he says, his voice steady but full of the emotion he’s been holding back. “I like you. More than just as a friend. And I had to tell you, even if it’s scary.”

You sit there for a moment, the world around you seeming to slow down. Niki, the guy who’s always been the center of attention, always so full of life, is now sitting in front of you, vulnerable and open in a way you’ve never seen before.

And in that moment, you realize that maybe, just maybe, you’ve been feeling the same way.

You don’t need words anymore. Without thinking, you reach for his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. It’s simple, but it feels like everything you’ve been too scared to say is being communicated in this single, quiet touch.

Niki’s eyes soften, and a slow, genuine smile spreads across his face. “I was worried you wouldn’t feel the same,” he admits, his voice a little breathless.

You smile, squeezing his hand gently. “I think we’ve both been scared of the same thing.”

And as you sit there, hands locked together, the morning light shining through the window, you realize that this is the start of something new. Something that doesn’t need words, but something you’re both willing to explore together.

HOPE YOU ENJOYED POOKIESSSS 💞✨💞

Taglist: @fangirlingobsessed @ilovebtsomgie @ayakananodesu @leftx1imaginesrenji-yanagirebel @axxftergl0w @astro-des @han-doolsetnet @ssungiverb @itsanaaa22 @bonsai-maze @graciiwestlake @lezleeferguson-120 @sovlidago @callistomk @ottokenta @ikeulove @fredneo17 @dprvivi @emisoftly @puppymyunjae @gven-takn @whitediamond778 @leipforggy

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pugh-bug · 1 day ago

Text

Tease

Art Donaldson x reader

Part 1 of possibly 3

You’re Patrick’s unofficial girlfriend but Art Donaldson can only find it in him to care so much. You’re everything to him.

Warnings for this chapter: none

First fic of 2025, hope everyone’s January is going good. Let me know if you wanna be added to my Art tag list 🫶🏻

——————————————————————

Art’s life mission was to please you, it had been since you’d first met. It didn’t matter that you were Patrick’s on again off again ‘not really serious’ girlfriend and not his. It didn’t matter that you had plans to move away after graduation and would likely never return and it didn’t matter that he was supposed to be practising. With you near nothing else mattered.

“Why’d you stop?”

You cocked your head at your friend who didn’t look tired - in fact he’d barely broken a sweat - but wasn’t moving. Pat served again with a fresh ball, flashing you a ‘what’s with him?’ look which you shrugged at. Art caught the ball in his hand. “Just don’t feel like playing anymore.”

“Because I’m winning?” Pat grinned.

More than you know, Art thought in dismay. His best friend, his only true friend and yet he was harbouring feelings for you. Naively he’d assumed they’d disappear after a few dates with the many nice girls who asked him out between matches but nothing had worked. Not avoiding you entirely, not trying to see you in a bad light and certainly not sex. All he thought of when he made some girl cum was you: what you’d look like, how you’d taste and what your moans would sound like.

“Art? Help me carry this would you?”

He was tortured.

That Spring he trained almost daily with Patrick and a few other tennis friends winning half of his matches, always losing with you present. Once Spring turned to Summer the three of you were together everyday, you being in your gap year had free time, and everyone knew something was off. Even you knew after one particular game.

The sun was cooking the court and you found yourself surprised you could stand at all, let alone speak. It was Patrick’s turn to serve, he locked eyes with Art whose attention was on you and your unsteadiness.

Thwack

You watched with half lidded eyes as the pair battled it out for three sets. Your skin felt on fire, melting under the oppressive rays you couldn’t evade. Shade was out of reach. The water bottle in your hand felt cold for only moments before it heated in your sweaty palms. Patrick and Art were still playing but you only knew from the sounds. Your vision was blurring. Everything turned to static and the bench you were perching on no longer supported your body as it sank and sank and sank…

“Y/N!”

Were you underwater?

Who was speaking?

“Y/N wake up, it’s ArTh! Please wake up, can you stand - can you stand Y/N? Open your eyes. Please…”

Someone placed a bottle of ice water in your hand and something squishy, rounded off at the edges. You opened your eyes to see Patrick passing you fruit pastels whilst Art’s eyes checked you over for signs of life. The boy looked distraught, as if you hadn’t just fainted but instead had been hit by a truck or something more traumatic he didn’t want to imagine. Patrick frowned at his doubles partner, narrowing his eyes before rubbing your back and asking if you could stand. His voice was steady, he’d seen you faint before.

Once you’d downed some sprite and more sweets, you focused your eyes to see if they’d recovered. The buzzing, muffled sounds had ceased and Patrick and Art no longer looked miles away. You were okay. “Right,” Patrick exclaimed rather suddenly. “She’s fine, let’s just call that a draw.” Before you could interject Patrick pulled his friend to one side. What you then heard was whispered.

“Are you okay?”

They both shot you frantic glances you caught but pretended not to in the corner of your eye. Art looked at Patrick with glassy eyes, fearing the worst.

“Patrick I-“

“Can you control yourself?”

Art didn’t respond.

“Don’t get me wrong it’s entertaining and look…I get it but just chill out a bit.”

He flashed Art a charming smile and patted his shoulder. You didn’t have time to mull anything over much before the three of you were on your way out but one thing was clear: Art Donaldson was no friend.

——————————————————————

The following day you ran into Art whilst shopping, staring at the cheese aisle to calculate the best offer holding a lot of items. Too many. Your bare arms were coated in goosebumps from the intensity of the fridges’ air. He watched you and glanced round for a moment but saw no sign of Patrick.

“Y/N?”

You almost dropped the cheddar you were holding.

“Jesus Christ!”

Art had feather light footsteps, it was a gift for tennis and apparently also sneaking around. His eyes were wide at your reaction but he quickly adapted a facial expression that better suited talking to someone he adored. “Sorry.”

You exhaled deeply, returning your attention to the aisle of cheese. “We should get you a bell.” Art blushed at the immediate image of you adorning him with a collar and using it to pull his face towards yours.

“Art?”

He looked out of it - he was out of it.

“Should have gotten a trolley…” You mumbled, struggling to hold everything. At your words Art snapped into action, marching all the way to the entrance to fetch you the cleanest trolley available. He came back with an eager look on his face which you were growing fonder of every-time you saw it. “Thanks,” you smiled, a laugh playing on your lips.

Art stayed by your side, despite having only wanted a cereal bar, for your entire shop. He placed any item you looked at in the trolley for you and he pushed it tirelessly when it got heavy. Never patronising but always helpful. You tried your hardest not to take pleasure in his incessant helpfulness but failed. Especially when he paid.

“Art no, it’s my food I’m paying.”

Unconvinced, Art swiped his own card and bagged your groceries for you with the intensity of someone late for a wedding. Your lips parted at the sight, you were no longer breathing through your nose.

“Where are you parked?”

He followed you, bags in hand, to your humble Fiesta at the end of the lot. It wasn’t until he’d finished placing each one into your trunk that you offered him a lift home. “Or wherever you’re going.” Art was supposed to be going to a house warming party but he was already late.

“Yeah just going home, no plans today.”

His phone vibrated, flashing with messages of ‘where are you’s and question marks but he ignored each one to ask what your plans were. “Movie night. Patrick said maybe a Scream marathon.” Your eyes were fixated on the silent road in front of you whilst Art found himself wishing there’d be traffic. His mind played images of Pat sitting beside you, arm snaked around your waist and a sultry look in his eye. He tried not to picture the two of you clinging to each other, sharing popcorn and the occasional kiss that might turn into more. He tried and tried and tried.

Truthfully the three of you only ever spent time apart when Patrick was missing…certain aspects of his relationship with you. Everything else you did together, including movie marathons. Art spent the entire red light wondering if he was allowed to come now he’d ruthlessly cancelled his own plans.

“You into scary movies?” You asked, eyes shifting from the old lady at the crossing to the cyclist hurtling past. Every movie marathon the three of you had had covered every genre but horror, even on Halloween when Pat insisted you watch ‘The Meg’. It had ‘big shark’ as he had so eloquently put it.

“Not massively.”

Art didn’t want to tell you how easily scared he was, especially by the supernatural. It wasn’t that he believed in ghosts and demons as such but the idea of an otherworldly being that wouldn’t conform to physics terrified him. How could you defeat something not bound to logic? When his friends had made him watch ‘It’ he’d had to leave the theatre early. Clowns on top of his psychological fears had been too much to sit through.

“We weren’t gonna watch anything disturbing.”

Art watched you watching the road and smiled, suddenly feeling hopeful. “Like I said I have no plans.”

——————————————————————

1 hour into ‘It: Chapter 2’ you found yourself slumped against the cushions with Patrick’s shoulder digging into one arm and Art’s knee against yours. None of you had paying much attention, just talking and shovelling in popcorn at record speeds when Pat exclaimed “Fuck!”

He jumped off the sofa like a spooked cat and raced to his bedroom before returning with his keys. “I was supposed to cat sit for James I was meant to be there an hour ago. Shit!” Art raised an eyebrow, wondering when Patrick had last done anything for James that wasn’t beating him at tennis.

“Keys, wallet…”

As you watched your boyfriend grabbing tirelessly at every object in the room Art focused on how close the two of you now were without him.

“Bye!”

Door slam

“Jesus…” You breathed, trying to take in the chaos of what had just happened. “I hope they’re not too hungry when he gets there.” They Art thought, having no idea what animals James even owned. He chewed on the inside of his mouth as you took a swig of water. “I can’t imagine having cats at our age,” You played with a piece of hair that was hanging in the wrong place. “It’s like having an actual kid.”

“You don’t want kids?”

“Patrick doesn’t.”

Art took in your solemn expression for a moment, before leaning closer to you.

“And what do you want?”

Your throat felt blocked as you struggled to swallow a breath. How long had it been since you’d been asked that? Relationships were so difficult for you. Not only did you entangle yourself so disastrously with anyone who showed interest but you rarely separated your needs from theirs. You thought back to your parents questioning why on earth you were taking a gap year after always saying you knew exactly what career and degree you wanted. Patrick, it was always Patrick. His apartment, his University, his interests and his tennis dreams.

“I know it’s not really my place-“

“It isn’t.”

You’d said it without thinking and your voice, in an attempt to conceal the emotion, had sounded harsh. Cold. Art retreated into himself, turning the movie volume up to fill the room with something other than his regret.

He left as soon as it finished.

Patrick ended up cat sitting for three consecutive days that month, leaving you lost. It wasn’t that you missed his jokes, his kisses or even his company as much as you missed someone filling the silence. You hadn’t heard from Art since he’d left post credits. No texts or missed calls.

Like an unplugged appliance you dragged yourself uselessly from one shop to the other not buying anything. Aimless, directionless like you so often were. You cursed yourself for not having made more of your own friends, instead of absorbing Patrick’s to keep him happy. When it grew dark you swallowed your pride.

Hey are you busy?

Delivered 9:48pm

What’s wrong?

Delivered 9:52pm

You stared at Pat’s empty apartment, the unwashed dishes, the pile of recycling and the black screens playing nothing.

Bored

Delivered 9:53pm

The fridge groaned in tune with your stomach. There was nothing good in either.

Wanna come over?

Pizza?

Delivered 9:54pm

I’ll be there

Delivered 9:55pm

——————————————————————

Masterlist

Permanent Art taglist: @theynothem @amorisxx

#challengers #pughbug #challengers fandom #challengers art #art Donaldson #art Donaldson x reader #art Donaldson fanfic #art Donaldson reader insert #challengers fanfic #art x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson series #sub!art donaldson #sub art donaldson #men yearning #x reader

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luvashli · 5 hours ago

Text

THE BET

Synopsis -> Heeseung, the campus heartthrob known for his charm and devil-may-care attitude, makes a bet with his friends: he’ll win you over in just one week. However, as he spends more time with you, his cocky facade starts to crack. What starts as a game becomes a test of emotions neither of you expected.

PAIRING: nonidol!heeseung x fem!reader

GENRE: oneshot, College au, romance, angst, slowburn, drama

STARTED: 1/21/2025

STATUS: complete

The whispers about Heeseung started the first day you set foot on campus. “The guy’s a legend,” someone had said during freshman orientation. “He can charm anyone.”

You hadn’t paid much attention then. Sure, you’d seen him around—leaning against his car in the parking lot, laughing with friends as if the world was his playground. He was tall, undeniably handsome, with the kind of effortless confidence that made people gravitate toward him. But you didn’t like people like him. People who lived their lives on autopilot, coasting on good looks and charm.

You prided yourself on being different. Confident, independent, and no-nonsense, you had no time for boys who thought they could play games with your heart. Your focus was on your studies, your goals, and your small circle of friends who valued authenticity over popularity.

But everything changed on a rainy Wednesday afternoon in the campus library.

“Let’s make it interesting,” Jay said, smirking as he leaned back in his chair.

Heeseung rolled his eyes, already tired of his friend’s antics. They were hanging out in one of the campus lounges, killing time between classes. Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, and Sunoo—all of them notorious for their friendly but reckless behavior—were egging him on as usual.

“You’ve won over every girl on campus,” Jake added. “Except for her.”

Heeseung frowned, glancing across the room where you sat, headphones on, flipping through a thick textbook. You looked focused, completely unaware of the world around you.

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

“She’s untouchable,” Sunghoon said with a shrug. “I heard she turned down three guys last semester, all of them way more charming than you.”

Heeseung smirked, leaning back. “Is that a challenge?”

“It’s a bet,” Jay said, his grin widening. “Seven days. You get her to fall for you, and dinner’s on us for a month.”

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on you. He wasn’t sure why, but something about you intrigued him. You were different from the girls who usually threw themselves at him. Confident, uninterested, completely in your own world.

“Fine,” Heeseung said, grinning. “Seven days. Watch and learn.”

Day One

The rain had started to pour outside, the steady rhythm tapping against the library windows. You were lost in your reading, trying to make sense of a particularly dense paragraph in your sociology textbook, when a shadow fell across your desk.

“Mind if I sit here?”

You looked up, and there he was—Lee Heeseung, in all his cocky glory.

“Yes, I mind,” you said curtly, turning back to your book.

He didn’t leave. Instead, he pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, a lazy smile on his face.

“Y/N, right?”

You narrowed your eyes. “How do you know my name?”

He shrugged, leaning forward slightly. “I have my ways.”

You rolled your eyes, already annoyed. “Look, I’m busy. Whatever game you’re playing, go play it somewhere else.”

But Heeseung didn’t budge. Instead, he spent the next hour pretending to study, stealing glances at you and making small comments that made you want to scream.

When you finally packed up your things and left, he followed you outside.

“Hey, wait,” he called out.

“What now?” you snapped, turning around.

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, his usual confidence faltering. “Let me walk you home. It’s raining.”

You stared at him, trying to figure out his angle. But in the end, you let him.

Day Two

The sun had barely risen, casting a warm, golden glow over campus as you settled into your favorite corner of the coffee shop. It was your sacred morning ritual—black coffee, a half-eaten muffin, and your notebook open to a page of neat, organized notes. The world outside could be chaos, but here, with the hum of coffee machines and quiet chatter, you had control.

Heeseung, however, seemed hellbent on disrupting that control.

You didn’t even notice him at first, too engrossed in highlighting an important section of your notes. It wasn’t until you caught the faint whiff of cologne—something subtle but maddeningly alluring—that you glanced up.

“Morning,” he said, already sliding into the seat across from you as if he belonged there.

You narrowed your eyes. “Do you make a habit of invading people’s mornings uninvited?”

Heeseung leaned back in his chair, a lopsided grin on his face. “Only when they look like they need company.“

“I don’t,” you replied flatly, going back to your notes.

He didn’t move. Instead, he leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand as he studied you. “You know, you’re kind of infamous around here.”

You paused, raising an eyebrow. “Infamous?”

“For being the girl who doesn’t fall for anyone,” he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of genuine curiosity. “It’s impressive.”

You rolled your eyes. “Let me guess. That’s your opening line for every girl you’re trying to charm?”

“Not every girl,” he said with a smirk. “Just the ones who don’t seem to like me.”

Despite yourself, you felt the corner of your mouth twitch upward. You quickly masked it with a sip of coffee, trying to remind yourself that Heeseung was nothing but trouble.

“What do you want, Heeseung?” you asked finally, your tone sharp.

“To get to know you,” he said, his voice softening.

You weren’t sure if it was the sincerity in his tone or the way his eyes seemed to hold yours for a moment too long, but something about his words caught you off guard. You shook your head, determined not to let him get under your skin.

“Not interested,” you said, closing your notebook and standing up.

Heeseung watched as you gathered your things, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. Just as you were about to walk away, he called out:

“See you around, Y/N.”

You didn’t turn back, but his words echoed in your mind long after you left the coffee shop.

Later that day, you found yourself replaying the encounter in your head, annoyed that he had managed to occupy even a fraction of your thoughts. Heeseung was just another cocky guy who thought he could charm his way into anything. You’d seen it a thousand times before.

So why did the memory of his stupid grin make your chest tighten?

Heeseung’s pov

On the other side of campus, Heeseung sat with his friends, half-listening to their conversation while his mind wandered back to you.

“She’s different,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Jay raised an eyebrow. “You’ve only talked to her twice.”

“Yeah, but…” Heeseung trailed off, unable to find the right words. You were a challenge, sure, but it was more than that. The fire in your eyes, the way you held yourself like you didn’t need anyone—that was what fascinated him.

“Just don’t screw it up,” Jake said with a grin. “You’ve got five days left, and she’s not going to make it easy.”

Heeseung smirked, but inside, he felt the first pang of doubt. This wasn’t just a game anymore, and he had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.

Day Three

You told yourself you were overthinking things. Heeseung was just another guy trying to get your attention, and if you ignored him long enough, he'd eventually get bored and move on. But when you walked into the campus library that afternoon, the last thing you expected was to find him there—leaning against a bookshelf in the fiction section, skimming through a book like he belonged there.

You froze for a moment, cursing your luck. He glanced up almost immediately, his face lighting up when he saw you.

“Well, look who it is,” he said, closing the book and tucking it under his arm. “Didn’t take you for a library kind of person.”

You rolled your eyes, clutching your notebook tighter against your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he said innocently, though the smirk tugging at his lips said otherwise.

“Do you just… follow me around campus now?” you asked, your tone sharp.

Heeseung laughed, shaking his head. “Believe it or not, I have other hobbies besides annoying you.”

You stepped closer, trying to find the book you came for. Heeseung didn’t move, his presence radiating far too much confidence for someone standing in your way.

“Do you mind?” you asked pointedly, gesturing toward the shelf behind him.

Heeseung glanced over his shoulder, then back at you. “What are you looking for?”

“None of your business,” you snapped.

“Fair enough,” he said, stepping aside with an exaggerated bow. “Go ahead.”

You ignored him and quickly grabbed the book you needed, but his gaze lingered on you as you tried to focus.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “you’re kind of fascinating.”

You sighed, turning to face him. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Nope,” he said, his grin widening. “See you around, Y/N.”

As he walked away, you couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of irritation and intrigue. Heeseung was persistent, you’d give him that. But there was something about the way he looked at you—like he actually wanted to figure you out—that made your defenses waver, if only for a moment.

Day Four

It was late in the evening, and the campus was unusually quiet. You were walking back to your dorm, lost in thought, when you heard footsteps behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, already annoyed, and sure enough, there he was.

“Are you seriously stalking me now?” you asked, stopping in your tracks.

Heeseung raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax. I was heading this way anyway.”

You narrowed your eyes but kept walking. He fell into step beside you, hands in his pockets, his usual cocky demeanor oddly subdued.

The two of you walked in silence for a while, the quiet night settling between you like a fragile truce.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he asked suddenly, his voice softer than you expected.

“I don’t hate you,” you said, glancing at him. “I just don’t trust you.”

Heeseung nodded, as if he’d been expecting that answer. “Fair enough.”

You didn’t know why, but his lack of a comeback caught you off guard. For once, he wasn’t trying to charm you or get under your skin—he was just… there.

As you reached your dorm, he stopped and turned to you. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Goodnight.”

And for the first time, you realized you weren’t entirely dreading seeing him again.

Day Five

By now, you’d started noticing Heeseung everywhere. In the coffee shop, at the library, even in passing conversations with your friends. It was like he’d found a way to exist on the edges of your world without completely intruding.

That evening, you were sitting on a bench outside the student center, flipping through your notes, when Heeseung appeared again. This time, he wasn’t smirking or teasing—he looked almost… nervous.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the space beside you.

You considered saying no but sighed instead, scooting over to make room.

He sat down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

“I know I can be annoying,” he said finally, his voice low. “But I’m not a bad guy, Y/N.”

You glanced at him, surprised by his sudden honesty. “Then why act like one?”

Heeseung chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “I guess it’s easier that way. People don’t expect much from you if they think you’re just messing around.”

You studied him for a moment, trying to reconcile the cocky persona he usually wore with the vulnerability he was showing now.

“Maybe you should stop pretending,” you said softly.

He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours as if he was trying to figure out if you really meant it.

“I’m starting to think you’re right,” he said.

And in that moment, you felt the walls you’d built around yourself begin to crack, just a little.

It was the sixth day when everything fell apart.

You were walking across campus when you overheard them—Heeseung and his friends, laughing about the bet.

“Did you really think she’d fall for it?” Jay said, grinning. “Man, you’re good.”

Your blood ran cold. You turned the corner, and there they were, laughing as if it was all just a game.

“Heeseung,” you said, your voice icy.

He turned around, his smile fading when he saw your expression.

“Y/N, wait—”

“Don’t,” you snapped. “Don’t you dare try to explain. I should’ve known this was all a joke to you.”

“It wasn’t—”

“Save it,” you said, your voice breaking. “I don’t want to hear it.”

And with that, you walked away, leaving him standing there, his heart sinking.

The knock on your door came just as you were about to turn in for the night. You frowned, glancing at the clock—it was nearing midnight. Pulling on a hoodie over your tank top, you padded to the door, already bracing yourself for some random excuse from your roommate or a delivery mix-up.

But when you opened the door, there he was.

Heeseung stood on the other side, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. His hair was a mess, as though he’d run his hands through it a hundred times, and his eyes… They weren’t cocky or playful like usual. They were wide, hesitant, and uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“I needed to talk to you,” he said, his voice quiet—almost pleading.

You hesitated, debating whether or not to shut the door in his face. But something about the way he looked, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, made you pause.

“Fine,” you said reluctantly, stepping aside.

He walked in, but his usual confidence was absent. He didn’t try to sprawl on your couch or crack a joke. Instead, he hovered near the door, hands fidgeting at his sides.

“Y/N…” Heeseung started, then stopped, as if the words were too heavy to say.

You crossed your arms, leaning against the counter. “If you’re just here to waste my time—”

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, cutting you off. His voice cracked, and it made you freeze.

“What?” you said, your tone softer now, caught off guard by the rawness in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his gaze fixed on the floor. “For the bet. For being an idiot. For… for hurting you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral. “You’re really going to apologize now? After everything?”

“I know,” he said quickly, lifting his eyes to meet yours. “I know it’s late, and I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I… I couldn’t just leave it like this. You have no idea how much I hate myself for what I did.”

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your chest tightened at the sight of him like this—so undone, so unlike the Heeseung you thought you knew.

“I didn’t mean for it to go this far,” he continued, his voice trembling. “At first, it was just… stupid. I wanted to win, I wanted to prove I could get to you. But then…” He took a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. “Then I got to know you. And suddenly, it wasn’t about the bet anymore. It was about you. And I ruined it.”

You stayed silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

Heeseung’s voice dropped, almost a whisper now. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make it right. I swear, Y/N. Just… tell me what to do.”

The vulnerability in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. Heeseung, the guy who seemed untouchable, was standing in your apartment, completely unguarded and entirely at your mercy.

“Why should I believe you?” you asked, your voice trembling despite yourself. “How do I know this isn’t just another game?”

His eyes softened, and he took a step closer, hesitating as though afraid you’d push him away. “Because you’re the only person who’s ever made me want to be better,” he said, his voice barely audible. “And I can’t lose that.”

You stared at him, your emotions warring inside you. The anger, the hurt, the lingering attraction—it all came to a head as he closed the distance between you, his hand hovering just inches from yours.

“I don’t want your words, Heeseung,” you said, your voice breaking. “I want proof.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he’d retreat. But then he stepped even closer, his breath mingling with yours as he looked at you with an intensity that made your knees weak.

“Then let me show you,” he murmured, his voice trembling.

And before you could think, before you could push him away or pull him closer, he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft or gentle—it was desperate, raw, filled with all the tension and unspoken emotions that had been building between you. His hands cupped your face, almost reverently, as though he was afraid you’d slip away.

You wanted to stay angry. You wanted to shove him back and tell him he didn’t deserve you. But the way he kissed you, like you were the only thing anchoring him to this world, made it impossible to pull away.

When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead rested against yours, and his breath was shaky.

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I mean it, Y/N. I’ll prove it to you every single day if I have to.”

For the first time, you saw the real Heeseung—not the cocky playboy or the overconfident charmer, but the broken boy underneath, desperate for a second chance.

And for the first time, you thought maybe—just maybe—you’d give him one.

It had been a few weeks since Heeseung's late-night apology at your apartment, and things had undeniably shifted between you both. What started as a tangled mess of hurt and confusion had slowly transformed into something new, something unexpected—something real.

You had no idea what would happen next. You still had questions. You still had doubts. But when Heeseung had come to you, laid bare his vulnerabilities, and shown you his true self, it was hard to ignore the connection you’d always had. Something had cracked inside you, and though the wound was still fresh, it had given way to the possibility of something more.

And so, you moved forward, cautiously at first, but with each passing day, your trust in him grew. The dynamic between you had changed completely, but it wasn’t what you expected. Heeseung wasn’t just the cocky, confident guy he once was—he was more patient now, more introspective. It was clear that he was trying to prove that he meant what he said, and you found yourself falling for him again, in a way that was different. It wasn’t the infatuation of the bet or the thrill of the game; this time, it was something deeper, quieter—something more meaningful.

He still had his playful side, of course. But when you looked at him now, you saw the layers that were once hidden beneath the surface. You saw the side of him that had always been there—the side that cared, the side that loved fiercely, and the side that wanted to make things right.

You didn’t have to say the words out loud to feel it—you could see it in the way he looked at you. Heeseung’s eyes no longer held that playful arrogance; instead, they were filled with warmth, tenderness, and sometimes, a hint of uncertainty. It was a vulnerability that you never would’ve expected from him, but it made him more real, more human.

One evening, as the two of you sat together in the common room, sharing a quiet dinner, you caught him looking at you in a way that made your heart flutter.

“You’re staring,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

Heeseung smirked, but it was different now. “I can’t help it,” he said, leaning in slightly. “You’re kind of… amazing.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. It had taken time, but it was clear now—there was no more pretense. Heeseung had let his guard down, and so had you.

But as much as you had grown closer, there were still moments where you felt the weight of the past. You still remembered the bet, the hurt, the betrayal. But Heeseung didn’t shy away from these moments; he acknowledged them, apologized again when needed, and showed you, through his actions, that he was working to be better.

It wasn’t long before the others started to notice the subtle shift in your relationship with Heeseung. They weren’t blind—how could they be? The playful banter between you two had transformed into something much quieter, something that wasn’t as easily hidden.

At first, they were confused, unsure of what had changed. They had seen you and Heeseung bicker before, but this time, the air between you both was different. It was as if something unspoken was lingering, a secret that neither of you could hide.

One afternoon, you were all gathered in the living room of their shared apartment, hanging out after classes. The guys were being their usual selves—loud, playful, and full of energy. You were sitting next to Heeseung, your knees brushing together as you chatted with Sunghoon about an upcoming project.

But Heeseung’s hand was resting on your thigh, just enough to let you know he was there, a silent reassurance. It was subtle, but it wasn’t unnoticed by the others.

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, glancing between you two. “Okay, seriously. What’s going on with you two?”

You tensed slightly, but Heeseung leaned back in his chair, his expression relaxed. “What do you mean?” he asked, a playful grin tugging at his lips. But you could see the way his eyes flicked to you, a little too aware of how the conversation was turning.

“You two are… different,” Sunghoon said slowly, his gaze lingering on the hand that Heeseung had placed on your thigh. “You’re not acting like you used to. So, what’s up?”

Jake, who had been quiet up until now, smirked. “I’m just waiting for one of you to break the silence and admit it already.”

Heeseung shifted uncomfortably, but instead of retreating, he met your eyes, as if silently asking if he should say anything. You sighed, shaking your head slightly.

“I think it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” you said, your tone casual but with a hint of amusement. “We’ve been through a lot, and we’re…”

“Together,” Heeseung finished, his voice steady, but there was a trace of something—nervousness, maybe?—lingering in his tone.

The room fell into a stunned silence. You could practically hear the gears turning in their heads as they processed your words.

Jay, who had been leaning back on the couch with his arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. “So, wait, you’re telling us that you two are, like… official?”

You nodded, but before you could say anything else, Sunoo broke in, his grin wide. “Well, it’s about damn time!”

The others erupted into laughter, but you could tell that there was a mixture of surprise and understanding in their eyes. They hadn’t expected this, not after the way things had started, but they could see the change in both of you.

“You two are cute,” Sunghoon said, shaking his head with a smile. “I guess you’re not the cocky, arrogant guy you once were, huh, Heeseung?”

Heeseung rolled his eyes, but there was a genuine smile on his face. “Nope,” he said with a mock sigh. “Guess I’m whipped now.”

You snorted, reaching over to nudge him. “Shut up,” you muttered, but there was warmth in your voice.

“Well, whatever happens, I’m glad you two are happy,” Jake said, giving you both a thumbs-up. “But seriously, Heeseung, don’t mess it up this time.”

Heeseung raised his hands in mock surrender. “I won’t, I won’t. I’ve learned my lesson.”

You chuckled softly, your gaze softening as you looked at Heeseung. There was no doubt now—things had changed, and for the better. The trust between you had grown, and so had your feelings. It wasn’t going to be perfect, and there would still be bumps along the way, but you both knew you were in this together.

And as the conversation continued, you realized just how much you had both changed since that first bet, that first moment of rivalry. You had gone from strangers to something much deeper—partners, lovers, friends—no longer bound by the past but by what you had created together.

And for the first time in a long while, you were certain that whatever came next, you were ready to face it with Heeseung by your side.

Masterlist

#kpop #kpop scenarios #oneshot #fanfic #enhypen #enha x reader #enha #enhypen heeseung #lee heesung x reader #heeseung #lee heeseung

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mcflymemes · 2 days ago

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PROMPTS FROM "THE SECRET OF US" BY GRACIE ABRAMS * assorted lines from the album, some slightly reworked to suit a roleplay format, adjust as necessary

i felt good about you until i didn't.

you got what you demanded.

i can't believe the way we landed.

we were fighting more than laughing.

they tried to stop me wanting you.

i was never meant to listen.

i felt good about you.

you felt nice for a bad decision.

you really got me thinking.

look at me now.

you said i wouldn't do it.

it didn't work out.

i'm not proud.

guess i'm just scared of you shooting it down.

you can talk.

you could be bad.

i wanna find out.

i feel like i could die 'cause you're not here.

it doesn't feel right.

god, i'm actually invested.

isn't it fun thinking i'm right when i'm probably wrong?

you'll be my favorite mistake.

i wish you could hold me.

why aren't you here in my bedroom?

it's hopelessly boring without you.

it's too soon to tell you "i love you."

i think i really want this. i'm not even kidding.

it didn't hurt.

i still hate the image of you kissing her.

it's all for the better.

is she prettier than she was on the internet?

are your conversations cool?

are you even interested?

i know what you are.

tell me if she takes you far.

they're just blowing smoke.

i'll say what they won't.

i know everything they don't.

i sleep alone. i'm completely fine.

you look stupid going out.

if she's got a pulse, she meets your standards.

i find your books pretentious now.

i was so impressed at your hotel.

i told the truth.

you didn't like it. you went home.

that's just the way life goes.

trust me, i know it's always about me.

as sick as it sounds, i loved you first.

i was a dick. it is what it is.

i tend to laugh whenever i'm sad.

what the hell was i doing?

do you miss us?

it felt like something holy.

i know. i'm a walking contradiction and it shows.

i've never craved someone's attention as much as yours.

here's to hoping you're worth all my time.

i let it happen.

it's the only thing that helps me sleep at night.

turn me into something tragic.

it's whatever, but i could die.

thank god that you're not seeing this.

i'll spare you from everything.

i hate when we fight.

i feel like i'm home.

that's just tough love.

i swear to god, i haven't thought of you in ages.

i heard that almost killed you.

i can't pretend that i'm sorry.

we could talk.

you had the wrong idea about me.

you were my worst time.

am i what you wanted?

i'm just so embarrassed now.

you got bored, and i felt used.

i sat and listened.

when did you slip through my fingers?

it's a normal thing to fall in love with movie stars.

the story you want is the story you get.

maybe that was the beginning of our love affair.

don't worry, i know i'll see you again.

now it all comes down to you.

i hope you're happy.

this isn't what you wanted.

i finally know better than to wait for you back there.

you're the saddest.

i swear that i'm not mad at you.

i was brave when i kissed you in london.

i burn for you.

you don't even know my name.

you could be mine tonight.

i'd give you everything.

just let me be close to you.

#roleplay memes #mcflymemes #rp meme #rp prompt #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay prompt #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter #sentence starters #sentence starter prompt #gracie abrams

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calypso-rt · 3 days ago

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TIDAL WAVE - PT. I

𓇼 RAFE CAMERON X F!READER | 2k

𓇼 SUMMARY: Returning to the Outer Banks after being gone for years in a new city wasn’t part of your plan: but neither was seeing Rafe again. The boy you once shared everything with, now a stranger who’s a dangerous mix of old attraction and new resentment.

𓇼 A/N: FIRST SERIES AAA im so excited I hope you guys like it! Interactions with the post are very very appreciated <3

Flashback:

You remember it like a scene from one of those old home videos your parents used to make.

Grainy edges, sunlight flaring across the lens, and the sound of waves crashing faintly in the background. You couldn’t have been older than nine, your hair still tangled from the saltwater, your sundress damp from an ill-advised wade into the ocean. Sarah was tugging you toward the porch of the Camerons’ beach house, her laugh light and easy, a perfect match for the golden afternoon.

“Come on, Y/N! We’re gonna play pirates!” she’d shouted, her hand warm and sticky from the popsicle you’d both split earlier.

You had barely stepped onto the porch when Rafe appeared, his eleven-year-old frame all angles and elbows as he leaned against the wooden railing, trying to look disinterested. You’d seen that look a hundred times.

He’d only ever pretended not to care when it came to you.

“Pirates? That’s dumb,” he said, crossing his arms. But then his eyes flicked to you, and you caught the way his face softened, just barely.

Sarah rolled her eyes. “You always say that. Go play with Topper or something if you’re gonna be boring.”

Rafe didn’t move. “Topper’s busy,” he mumbled, still looking at you. “I guess I’ll play.”

You smiled at him then, bright and carefree, and something about the way his cheeks flushed faintly made your chest feel warm.

Sarah groaned. “Fine. But you’re not the captain this time.”

He shrugged, already stepping closer. “Don’t care.”

But he did care. You could see it in the way he hovered near you, always watching, always finding reasons to include you in the game. Even when Sarah’s attention drifted elsewhere, because Sarah’s attention always drifted, Rafe stayed. He helped you find the best “treasure” in the garden, hoisting you up on his shoulders to reach the highest hiding spots. He even let you boss him around, pretending to surrender when you declared yourself the pirate queen.

It wasn’t until later, when the sun was dipping low and the grown-ups were calling everyone in for dinner, that Rafe lingered at the edge of the porch as you headed inside. You turned back to look at him, curious.

“Hey, Y/N,” he called softly, his voice carrying over the quiet hum of cicadas.

“Yeah?” you asked, pausing halfway through the door.

He hesitated, scuffing his sneaker against the wooden plank. “Nothing,” he said finally, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “See you tomorrow?”

You nodded, smiling again. “See you tomorrow.”

And even now, years later, the memory sticks with you.

The way he always found reasons to stay close, even when Sarah was the one dragging you over. Because somehow, even then, it had never really been about pirates or treasure.

It had always been about you.

...

The sound of the ocean is the first thing you hear as you step off the plane.

It’s unmistakable, that salty tang in the air, the waves crashing rhythmically against the shore like an old friend calling you home.

For a moment, you stand there, taking it all in, letting the heat of the Outer Banks wrap itself around you. It’s been years, far too many for your liking, since you left this place.

You left when you were twelve years old, to be exact.

Years since you traded this sun-drenched paradise for the cold, polished streets of New York.

And now, after what felt like an eternity, you’re back.

You never intended for this return to be anything more than a short visit, a quiet summer before diving headfirst into college. A time to reconnect with your roots, even if the landscape has changed.

And so have you.

But Kiara, always the persistent one, had other plans. When you mentioned dropping by for a few months, she didn’t hesitate for a second.

“Stay with me. Stay with the Pogues,” she had urged, voice practically oozing with excitement. “It’ll be like old times, Y/N. You, me, John B., JJ, Pope... We’ll make the summer unforgettable.”

There it was, the irresistible pull. You hadn’t seen Kiara in years, not in the way that felt real. And you missed her, you missed the simplicity of life before you became just another rich kid in the fast-paced world of Manhattan. Life had a way of getting complicated, and somehow, Kiara and the Pogues always felt like a breath of fresh air. Wild, free, and unapologetically themselves.

How could you say no to that?

So here you are, back where it all started. The same sleepy town with the same sun-kissed beaches. Except, this time, it feels different. You can feel it in your bones. The changes, the things left unsaid, the way the past lingers like an unspoken promise.

And you can’t help but wonder if some things were meant to stay in the past.

…

The shack was exactly how you remembered it: half falling apart, half filled with life. The faded paint on the exterior couldn’t hide the memories embedded in its walls, and the creak of the wooden steps felt like an old song you hadn’t heard in years.

“Y/N!”

Kiara was the first to spot you, practically launching herself off the porch. She wrapped you in a hug so tight it knocked the air out of your lungs, her hair tickling your cheek as she squeezed. “You’re really here! I told them you’d come!”

You laughed, the sound a little shaky as nerves gave way to familiarity. “Of course I came. Did you think I’d miss one last summer with you guys?”

Behind her, John B appeared, his grin as wide as the sea. “Well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence. Thought you’d gone full city girl on us.”

“Please,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “Like New York could ever compare to this.”

“Damn right,” JJ called from the doorway, a beer in hand and mischief in his eyes. He strolled over and slung an arm around your shoulders. “Our OG Kook defector back in action. You’re staying for the whole summer, yeah?”

“That’s the plan,” you said, trying to ignore the pang of nostalgia. It was easy to fall into the rhythm with them again, their laughter and teasing like a balm. As as you stepped inside the shack, your gaze flicked to the edges of the group, where Pope stood leaning against the counter, a quiet smile on his face.

“Hey, Pope,” you greeted, softening your tone.

“Hey, Y/N,” he replied, his voice as steady and reassuring as ever. “Good to have you back.”

It felt good, almost too good, to be here again. You spent hours that felt like mere minutes laughing and catching up with the Pogues. They told you about their latest escapades and some island drama full of a few familiar names here and there. But the laughter in the room dimmed when Kiara mentioned a certain someone.

“Rafe’s gonna lose it when he hears you’re back,” she said, half-laughing as she opened a bottle of water.

The room went quiet, the kind of stillness that made your stomach twist. JJ suddenly found the label of his beer bottle fascinating. John B looked out the window, lips pressed into a thin line. Even Kiara seemed to regret saying his name, her casual smile faltering.

“What?” you asked, glancing around. “What did I miss?”

Kiara hesitated before replying, her voice careful. “Rafe’s... different now. Not the guy you remember.”

Your heart sank, a weight settling in your chest. “Yeah, I figured,” you said, trying to sound casual even as the words burned on their way out. “I mean, it’s been a while.”

“It’s not just that,” Pope interjected, his tone sharper than you’d expected. “He’s gotten worse. Like, dangerous worse.”

JJ scoffed. “He was always a little unhinged, but now? Dude went straight up psycho.”

Your gaze dropped to the weathered floorboards. A part of you wanted to defend him, to argue that he wasn’t always like that. At least, not with you. But the words caught in your throat, stuck behind the uncomfortable truth that you didn’t really know him anymore.

And then there was the unspoken tension hanging in the air, the reminder that you weren’t just coming back to the Pogues. You were walking a tightrope between two worlds.

Once upon a time, you’d been the first to cross the Kook-Pogue line, dragging Kiara and Sarah into your rebellion towards the end. But now, with Kiara and Sarah firmly rooted in their anti-Kook stance, and you having been away for years, you weren’t sure where you fit in.

“You okay?” John B asked, his voice quieter now.

You forced a smile, nodding. “Yeah. Just... getting used to being back.”

He exchanged a glance with Kiara, but neither of them pushed further.

You leaned against the counter, the laughter of the group gradually resuming around you. But in the back of your mind, one thought lingered: Rafe might not remember the promises you made, the summers you shared.

And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t sure you wanted him to.

…

The porch creaked under the weight of six bodies sprawled across mismatched furniture, an assortment of stolen cushions, and weather-beaten blankets. JJ tossed a seashell in the air, catching it lazily as he leaned back on a worn deck chair.

“You missed all the good stuff last summer,” he said, smirking as his blue eyes glinted with mischief. “John B and I found the perfect treasure map. Could’ve been the haul of a lifetime, Y/N. But noooo you were too busy being a city slicker.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting a mosquito off your arm. “Right, because I’m sure it wasn’t just a soggy takeout menu you convinced Pope was a secret code.”

Pope snorted from his perch on the railing, a half-smile on his face. “I’m still mad about that, by the way. You made me spend a whole afternoon at the library decoding food stains.”

The group burst into laughter, and for a moment, it was like nothing had changed. The familiarity was intoxicating. This rhythm you all had, built on years of shared adventures and enough trouble to fill a rap sheet.

“Okay, okay,” Kiara cut in, sitting cross-legged with her back against the wall. “Let’s talk plans. It’s summer, and Y/N’s back. We need to do something epic.”

JJ perked up immediately. “Surf trip to Mason’s Inlet. Or, hear me out: night diving at the wreck!”

“Hard pass on the wreck,” Pope said, shaking his head. “The last time we went, JJ swore he saw a ghost and almost drowned me trying to swim away.”

“I did see something!” JJ protested. “Tell her, John B.”

John B looked up from where he was tying a fishing lure. “It was probably a fish, man.”

“Yeah, a ghost fish,” JJ retorted, earning an eye roll from Kiara.

“What about a party?” Sarah suggested, brushing sand off her shorts. “Start of summer, but make it end of summer vibes. We’ll invite everyone.”

Kiara raised a brow. “By ‘everyone,’ you mean Kooks too?”

Sarah hesitated, her gaze flickering toward you. “I mean, it’s not like we can stop them from showing up. This is the Outer Banks. Everyone knows everyone.”

The tension was so subtle you almost missed it, but it hung there like a low tide: unspoken, yet undeniable.

“Party sounds fun,” you said quickly, steering the conversation back. “But what about something that doesn’t involve me getting roasted for leaving?”

“Fair enough,” JJ said, grinning. “We’ll roast you on the water instead. Surf contest, loser buys beer.”

“You’re on,” you shot back, feeling the weight on your chest ease, if only slightly.

The banter continued, plans spilling out as the sun dipped lower, painting the water in molten gold. Yet, in the back of your mind, a nagging thought lingered.

Rafe.

His name had changed everything, and despite the easy banter, you couldn’t help but wonder if the bond you once shared was now lost to time.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x y/n

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