#like....all this time.......its finally here | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

usedpidemo · 3 days ago

Text

Savior (aespa Karina)

“Someone help me. Please!”

“Scream as loud as you can, no one’s coming to save you, princess.”

“That’s right. So just be a good girl and give us your money.”

“Help!”

It’s at this point where, against your better judgment, you stop dead in your tracks. The damsel in distress’s right behind you, backed into a corner by two bullies. Her possessions are strewn all over the floor, purposefully kicked out of her reach. There hasn’t been much physical harm done to the girl, but she looks to be the delicate type—someone who’s bound to crumble and break after a few hits.

Looking over your shoulder, the two students spot you and turn their attention against you immediately, recognizing you as a threat. “Hey,” says the first student, stepping forward to intimidate you with his burly physique. “This has nothing to do with you. Run along if you don’t want to join this loser over here.”

“Yeah. Don’t go around acting tough just cause you got two other guys with you. Just keep it pushing,” says the second thug, lankier in figure, in agreement with his partner.

Standing your ground, you steel your resolve, having no intention to run. In fact, it’s the complete opposite: you’re down for a fight. Your two companions also follow suit.

“So you wanna be a hero? You’re gonna regret it,” the first bully says, cracking his fists, ready to swing. “Oh, you’re so gonna regret it!”

That is to say, he’s the one who’s about to regret his life choices.

Like a raging bull, the thug lunges toward you, only for you to swiftly kick his legs from underneath, sending him flying across the hallway before he violently lands head first on the ground, most certainly giving him a concussion. He’s done.

The second bully tries to throw a follow-up punch, but you stop its momentum with one hand. Twisting it sideways, the bones crack loud, immediately followed by a screech of pain from his lungs. He drops to the floor in agony, holding his bent knuckle with his healthy arm.

“Oh—oh God—oh fuck—fuck—” Tears flowing from his eyes, he grovels in extreme discomfort, unable to stand before you. “What are you—”

“Now run,” you order, and he promptly complies, hopping off the ground, then fleeing in the opposite direction.

All that’s left is the girl. She had been watching the entire time. She’s overjoyed.

“Y-you saved me,” she says, tone relieved and her spirits held high. “How can I thank you—”

“Don’t push it,” you tell her, already walking away with your companions, waving her off. You don’t help her as she gathers her belongings. “Don’t get yourself in danger next time.”

Part of you already has second thoughts saving this girl. Jimin, the name written on her ID, is undeniably pretty, but you have nothing to gain from this encounter—or from her. She’s only studying in this university on a scholarship, and it shows in her appearance: she’s not the cleanest, nor is as well dressed as everyone else on campus. At best, you’ll probably get called into the office regarding this incident, as well as getting another target placed on your back by those bullies.

None of which are worth a drop of your concern. You can study anywhere else; you have the resources and the connections courtesy of your rich family, and the two companions by your side are your trusted bodyguards that have been with you since childhood. You can honestly live out your whole life without even lifting a finger. Generational wealth is the ultimate lifehack.

And yet, you’re in college at the behest of your parents, who spend more time abroad than at home. This is you going through the motions, looking after yourself.

After the next class, right as everyone’s packing their things and exiting, you spot her again. Jimin’s natural beauty is a lovely sight for the eyes. It’s only now do you realize you’ve shared at least one class with her. Maybe more; you’re too oblivious to the world around you to really notice. You only care about the bell that rings at the top of the hour so you can finally go home.

“Hey,” Jimin suddenly calls out to you, having noticed you glancing at her every now and then. You attempt to feign ignorance, but she approaches you and seizes your hand, catching you red-handed. “Can I speak to you, please?”

She sounds too nice to turn away. You’d be in the wrong to ignore her.

Still, you won’t fully look at her, the glint in her eyes blinding. You can only pray this is a brief exchange. “Sure. But make it quick.”

“I just want to say thank you—for earlier,” she says, her voice warm and sincere. She’s shaking your hand in appreciation; you allow her. “I’m not as rich as everyone else here, as you can see.” She looks down at her modest wear, apologetic about her appearance for some reason, “So—I don’t really have much. I’m only here on a scholarship—”

“Right.” You interrupt her, trying your hardest not to sound annoyed or bothered, though some of that impatience permeates through your filter. “Anything else you wanna say?”

Jimin becomes flustered, seemingly aroused by your low voice. A brief glance reveals her cheeks flushed red, her body trembling anxiously. She can’t have her way with words, either. “S-sorry. I just wanna say if you need help with schoolwork or anything, my services are available! My grades are good, I promise! That’s all. Again, thanks and see you around!”

Before you can even say a word or call her name, she already has one foot out the door, along with her belongings.

—————

One look at the student database proves her point: Yu Jimin, nickname Karina, might be what she advertised: an academic genius.

Her grades are mostly in the mid nineties across the board, if not low nineties. She’s only a year away from graduating—alongside you. The offer lingers on your mind, positively tempting.

“Sir, this just seems like a waste of money,” your one bodyguard turned hacker tells you, swiveling his desk chair around to face you. “There are more reputable tutors with better qualifications we can fly in from across the country if you really need a personal tutor. Also, your grades are good as they are. You don’t seem to be struggling with any specific major or subject right now. There’s no reason for this.”

“Yeah, and whose money are we spending?” you reply, annoyed at his admittedly sensible comment.

“What will your family say about this?”

“Did I ask to be enrolled in this university? This course? Besides, they’ve never shown up for any of my graduations! I doubt this will be any different in a year or so. Go find her number so I can contact her.”

Sighing in defeat, he eventually acquiesces. They have to. “Of course, sir.”

—————

The next day on campus, Karina’s seated at the dining hall with her friends. Her eyes can only focus on one thing, or in this case, one man: the person that saved her yesterday.

“You’re serious? Him?” Ningning looks concerned about her friend. She’s glaring at him with plenty of skepticism. They all know who he is. Not Karina, though. “That guy’s no good at all.”

“What are you saying?” she looks at her, puzzled at her comment. “He really did save me from those bullies. Don’t you believe me?”

“Yeah, but like—he’s not a good person!” Giselle frowns at the man, hiding the bottom half of her face behind her hands. “He’s a chaebol kid. He’s seriously no good! I’ve heard he gets into fights often; that's why he has bodyguards to intimidate anyone who tries to oppose him.”

“Rumor says he’s in cahoots with some crime syndicate—or at least his dad is,” Minjeong interjects, more trepid than anything. “That’s how he got his money. Who knows what kind of evil they might be doing!”

“But he was nice to me yesterday! If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have tried to save me, you know?” Karina stubbornly pays no heed, insisting her case to them, despite their growing frustration and fright. “You guys are overthinking this way too much.”

“It’s just so he can gaslight you into believing he’s a good guy. Please, Karina, he’s not what you think he is.” Ningning implores for her to listen, but to no avail.

“We’re not saying he’s truly bad, but there are signs,” Minjeong adds, agreeing with Ningning. “We just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Look—if he’s actually a bad guy, I’m running, all right? I’m ditching him right then and there, no questions asked.” Karina reassures them, hoping to calm them down right as the man approaches their table. “He’s coming right now.”

While the others silently avoid any form of contact or communication with you, hiding their not so subtle disdain, she happily waves. “Hi. Did you think about it?”

“Yeah,” you tell her, nodding. “I’m interested.”

“Really?” Karina’s eyes gleam at the opportunity. “What do you need help with?”

“Lots. I’ll tell you after class.” Knowing her friends are evidently uncomfortable with your presence, you simply walk past her and through the cafeteria door. “See you around.”

“Bye!” she waves at you again, delighted that you’ve taken up on her offer.

When it’s clear that you’re no longer in sight, Karina’s friends turn to her in utter disbelief.

“Please tell me you’re not going to—”

“I will.”

“Oh, God dammit.”

“Karina, please.”

—————

Later that day, Karina’s waiting by the campus parking lot, holding on to the promise of you showing up. It’s been almost an hour since classes ended and there’s no sign of you anywhere nearby. It looks like you’ll leave her out to dry, until—

“Miss Karina.” A man calls out to her from inside a luxurious car. As the windows roll down, she recognizes the driver as one of your companions. One of the rear doors automatically swings open. “Please step inside.”

Without a second thought, she enters the vehicle before it drives away.

During the ride, the bodyguard asks her a question. “Does Miss Yu have a drink preference?”

She’s slowly taking it all in, flustered at how you’re treating her so generously. It’s overwhelming at times. “N-no. I’m not really a drinker. W-where’s—”

“He has already gone ahead. He’s preparing the house ahead of your arrival. When we get there, you will change clothes before meeting him. At his request, I have been assigned as your personal assistant and driver.”

“Y-you? Assistant?” She can hardly believe it. “Wow…”

Karina is rendered speechless for the rest of the ride. She’s taken aback at her sudden change in predicament. It’s a Cinderella story through and through. The only missing element is some antagonistic force threatening to end this fantasy abruptly, but that’s the least of her worries. What’s more concerning is how she’ll compose herself before you.

Especially when she sees the scale of your house upon arriving. She’s never seen wealth this exceedingly open and grand.

There’s no time to admire the opulence, however. She’s brought inside hastily by your bodyguard. Inside, a team of stylists are waiting, rushing her upstairs and into one of the bedrooms for a complete overhaul. They’re careful to measure her hair, her size, her everything. Everything is done on the spot, with next to nothing in terms of personal input from Karina herself.

—————

You hear it. The gentle, careful steps of heels clicking. Karina’s ready. So are you.

Turning around to welcome her, you’ve got this whole speech practiced and memorized, with a card hidden in your pocket for good measure. Instead, you end up tongue tied; her presence proves overwhelming to the senses. You can only stare in awe. All black dress and matching heels aside, she looks like an angel descended from heaven. Without blemish, without any sort of imperfection. She’s unreal.

Any less of a person you are and you would have fallen to your knees on the spot, groveling on the ground when Karina walks forward, ignoring how nervous she is as you. She modestly smiles, carefully twiddling her fingers. She doesn’t recognize how pretty she is.

It becomes all the more embarrassing when Karina makes the first move. “I knew you were rich, but not this rich.” Her eyes are glancing around the expansive room, admiring all the little details, thankfully dismissing how speechless you are.

“Mhm,” is all you’re able to blurt out, unsure of what to say. In her sight, you’re her hero, her knight in shining armor that can seemingly do no wrong. Meanwhile, you’re overcompensating your lack of social skills by hiding behind a shallow enigma and as much vanity as possible. “Not exactly my money, to be fair. My parents raised me like this.”

You’re trying not to look anywhere in her direction—whether that be her pretty eyes, her warm smile, or her shapely figure in that body-hugging dress. It’s the only way you can function normally without completely falling apart.

“So—you’re gonna introduce me to them?” she asks, her tone saccharine and innocent.

“I wish,” you reply, sighing wistfully thinking about their absence throughout most of your formative years. She’s unaware; you’ll let the insensitive question slide. Only for her. So you immediately change the topic. “Let’s go outside. Our dinner is waiting for us.”

You reach out your hand to her, and she takes it without hesitation. In your mind, you’re already jumping around, performing cartwheels in celebration, with fireworks blasting everywhere. For the most part, you’ve been punching up, failing to impress girls unimpressed with your wealth and are far beyond your reach. Everyone else in that campus would kill to be in Karina’s position right now, but something about her caught your eye that no one has.

The purity in this girl’s heart is something else.

Outside, a table full of hearty food is set before you two, a candle lit at its center. Sitting her down on one end before joining her at the other, it’s only background dressing for conversation. She refuses to eat, struggling to make sense of all this. The appeal behind all this luxury is wearing off at an alarming rate.

“What’s up? Not hungry?” you gently ask, already making predictions of her answer. Your designated assistant for her is on standby for anything she wants.

“Not really,” she says, her eyes staring back, wide, accompanied with her innocuous smile. A direct attack on your heart. “I’m—here for tutoring first. I don’t know what this is all for.”

“Yeah. You are here to help me,” you tell her, your mind racing with a hundred different thoughts, already in a state of panic. “I’m just—” you swallow a sudden lump in your throat, “welcoming you since it’s your first time visiting.”

“Like, I think this is really cool! I appreciate what you’re doing, but I can’t afford any of this.” Karina’s trying not to put any more pressure on you, but it’s really doing the exact opposite: you’re already seeing signs of a terrible end. “I just thought you were nice because you saved me from those bullies, you know? That’s it.”

“Yeah. I know,” you reply, looking down as the awkward air between you grows larger and larger. See, she has a point: it was never about asking for help, nor was it ever about improving your grades. It was always about her. Something changed overnight. You simply don’t know how to directly convey those feelings.

“So—let’s just keep things between us simple,” Karina proposes. She rises from her seat, walking over with a hand on your shoulder. “I’m here to help you with whatever project, research, whatever—you only have to pay for my services. Is that good enough?”

“Wait. Karina let me ask one thing,” you say, finally mustering the courage to look her directly in the eye.

“What is it?”

“Your friends,” you rapidly blink, “What did they say about me?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you that.” Her answer is delivered bluntly, straight to the point.

“They think I’m a bad guy, right?”

“N-no,” Karina stammers. That’s where you catch her. “They never said anything like that—”

Suddenly dragging her by the arm down to your level, you whisper in her ear, “Don’t have to lie, princess. I’m not gonna tell anyone. It’s only between us. Promise.”

Karina’s unsure of what to do. She’s quietly keening, lightly sweating, looking around for an out. The points her friends made are starting to make sense, but there’s nothing substantial—not yet.

After taking a moment, she folds. “They think your dad’s working with a syndicate. That’s it! There’s nothing else—”

You lightly shove her away, immediately concealing your face in the opposite direction. You didn’t expect her to catch on quickly. Karina’s utterly shocked by what you just did to her, cupping her cheek.

Empathy overrides every other thought.

“Sorry. I just—” You immediately approach her with a handkerchief, immediately assessing the damages, what little they might be. Karina takes a step back, trembling with fear.

“So, it’s true after all.” Her eyes widen. Gone is that sweet innocence; taking its place is a heightened sense of panic. “You’re really a bad guy—”

“Wait, Karina.” You raise a delicate hand, your voice as calm and little as possible. “Please give me a moment to explain.”

“Go on,” she says, cautiously wary, readying herself to run at any given moment. “But say it quickly,”

Stretching your body out to pursue her, examining her every move, every muscle. It didn’t have to end up like this. Surely, there are safer, more inconsequential ways to explain yourself. What a first date you’ve gotten into.

“It’s—not exactly what you think,” you tell her. Out of all the things to begin your justification, you’ve picked the worst possible choice.

“Really?” Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t buy it. “What’s with the reaction, then?”

Hesitating, you’re scrambling to find a believable reason, only to find just one option: the truth. “I—well—your friends are right, but—my dad doesn’t have anything to do with criminals!”

“So it’s you who’s dealing with them?” she replies, her brows furrowing, glaring at you.

“It’s nothing really serious, though. And I’m not involved with anything either! Believe me, I’m not going to get you hurt!”

Throughout this tense exchange, you’ve both made your way back to the house, one big step at a time.

“Trust me when I say: the only reason why I helped you was because I didn’t want to see you hurt,” you continue, your voice cracking. “Goddamn it—this is why I shouldn’t have stepped in, fuck—”

“You did that because—” she pauses, “you cared about me? For real?”

“I guess so,” you say, nodding vehemently, both your hands still raised high starting to ache. “I don’t do that for anyone! My bodyguards tell me to ignore what’s happening, but I just can’t stand someone as pretty as you getting hurt like that.”

“Y-you think I’m pretty?” Karina blinks, coming out twinkling and doe-eyed at the sudden revelation.

Secret’s out. There’s nothing to hide anymore.

Pausing, you admit, nodding much less energetically, silently cursing yourself spilling your innermost thoughts so casually, “Well, yes. I think you’re beautiful. All the more now.”

Karina stops moving. Her wariness is turning back to more open and willing caution. “So—this was really all for me.”

You continue to nod, this time in agreement. She still has so many questions. About you, your family, your income, your secret dealings. Clearly, her friends are onto something, whether by luck or by some past experience; not a hundred percent, but at least five to ten. It would be rash and irrational to completely trust every word you’ve said. No amount of kindness can possibly make up for the worry you’ve given her—

“Come here,” she says, lunging forward to wrap you in a sudden, tight embrace. Before you can comprehend anything else, her lips are pressed deeply against yours, sealing your fate with a passionate kiss.

That’s where it should have stopped. A better person would have pushed her away, taken things slowly, spoken her through the terms of engagement. Even Karina said it herself; this is a transactional relationship. But seeing as you’re taking lease of her back, as well as her waist, tasting her saccharine lips—it appears as if she’s reneged on her word.

You feel her tongue slip between your mouth, humming these incomprehensible delightful sounds your ears want to hear. It isn’t accidental; the taste takes you by surprise. Can’t show a little weakness, even if you’re close to buckling under the rapid growing pressure. The way she pours herself into the kiss, how she pushes you closer inch by inch—you can tell she’s wanted this. To be treated like a princess, to be treated right. It doesn’t matter if it’s coming from the wrong influence, the only thing she sees is your willingness to take her with open arms.

The only thing pulling you away from her is the ceaseless ringing from a phone.

Karina pulls a phone from her skirt pocket, her eyes tilting down, fingers moving with urgency, furiously typing on the screen. Her cheeks burn a rosy red, ashamed of having to put herself first in this situation. She’s smiling innocently at you, a sight you’ve grown to love even more. You understand if she tells you she’s leaving; you’ve already got her ride home on standby.

“Sorry,” she mutters, pressing buttons, hearing the ringer beep as the message is sent. “I’m still living with my parents, so—” Looking around, she’s shaking her arms loose. “I don’t think I can spend the night here, or come home looking like this—”

“Don’t worry about it,” you cut her off, confident, if not a little smug. “Neither of those things are gonna happen. I’ll get your ride ready and your clothes taken care of. But it’s still a little bit early,” you say, glancing at your watch, grinning at the time. It’s barely past seven in the evening.

“I told them I’d be home by around ten tonight,” she remarks, putting her phone away, her gaze returning to you.

“That’s all the time we need.”

—————

Like the gentleman she thinks you are, you escort Karina up the stairs, hand in tow, leading her to your bedroom. Once the door is slammed shut and tightly locked, you immediately drop the act, and you’re back to kissing her passionately again.

You can’t be any less patient. Only a few minutes have passed, and you’re already dreading the end. The feeling of letting her go, of having to go back to your normal life the moment she walks through that door. You can’t imagine interacting like normal students again. Most importantly, you can’t imagine being the bad guy in everyone else’s eyes.

Karina brings out both the best and worst impulses from you. Abruptly breaking the kiss, you shove her onto the mattress, issuing a simple command. “Take that dress off.”

It’s been the only thing racing through your mind ever since. This divine, angelic figure straight out of heaven—effortlessly shining, effortlessly wearing the simple piece like she’s meant to be a canvas to be painted and used.

Gracefully rising from the bed, Karina looks you dead in the eye. Taking one strap in her hand, she pulls it down her shoulder, then the other. Reaching around her back, gravity does the rest. The garment smoothly rides down her body, revealing inch after inch of her skin, until she’s reduced to only her panties.

Kicking the expensive fabric aside, along with her heels, Karina’s near naked presence demands worship.

“Fuck,” is the only thing you’re able to say, and it’s apt—fuck is the only thing you want to do to her. Hard. Fast. Without care for comfort or concern.

Your eyes have no fixed area to rest on. When it comes to Karina, every little part of her is a treat for the senses, whether it be her slim waist, her tummy, her slender legs. But nothing captures and retains the attention quicker than her well-endowed breasts. So huge, so pliable, you can only wonder in amazement at how she’s been able to keep them secret for the longest time.

“Something wrong?” Karina asks, snapping you from your mindless daze, her tiny voice a contrast to the sheer sexiness she’s radiating just by standing there in the nude. God, she’s so blissfully unaware that you’re oh so obviously focused on her tits only; it’s endearing and sweet.

“Nothing. You’re perfect, actually.” Try as you might, you can only linger on her chest, watching them stare back, inviting you to come closer. Her nipples are taut and rigid, ripe for the taking.

The comment makes her face blush brighter. “Thank you.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, your pants already halfway down, shedding them along with your boxers. You’re imagining how they would feel sandwiched between your cock; you can’t help it. You’re stroking yourself to hardness, made substantially easier thanks to the image before you. “Has anyone told you you have perfect tits, Karina?”

“I’ve heard it here and there,” she says, delivered so casually, like it’s something she hears everyday—as she rightfully should. “I guess people sometimes notice through my baggy clothing.”

Pumping your shaft till you’re fully erect, you rid yourself of the rest of your clothes. Button up shirt and coat thrown away carelessly and readily forgotten. Karina takes the hint and slips off her panties, putting you both on equal footing. Creeping toward her, you press your finger on her chin, nuzzling your forehead against hers, setting the mood with a quick peck of her lips. There’s so much you want to do, visualizing all the possibilities with a body like hers.

“I want to touch you,” you tell her, tone low, sultry. Your hand traces down her collarbones, pointing out where they want to be: on her chest.

“Go. Anything you want, but promise me one thing,” she replies, mimicking your inflection. Any request sounds so much hotter in her voice.

There’s zero hesitation. “Anything.”

“Promise you’ll pour all that cum deep inside me. I’ve been in relationships before. Just—give me a good fucking.”

“I will,” you say, kissing her passionately on the lips, your hands firmly pressed on her tits, watching Karina’s eyes close and open in slow motion. Going down, you leave kisses on her neck, collarbones, before reaching your intended destination: her chest. Burying yourself between her breasts, clamping down on her rigid nipple, forcing a sharp cry out of Karina’s saccharine lips. “I love these fucking tits, Karina. I love them so—so—much.”

“Please.” She coos up to the ceiling, grabbing you by the hair, pressing you further into them, intending to suffocate you—which is a demise you’ll happily go out on. Gasping, panting, struggling to keep herself steady, you both collapse onto the bed, allowing you to fully drink in her breasts. Darting your tongue, sucking on her stiff tits, sloppily leaving wet marks on her otherwise porcelain skin. “So—fucking—needy—”

Karina’s right. You’ve got her pinned down on the sheets like she’s prey, devouring her like a hungry animal. Giving her tits equal attention, going back and forth til you’re satisfied—which will never happen. Not with breasts as delicious as hers. Muffled by her bosom, you can only grunt and groan in appreciation, forgoing your ability to speak to keep satiating your unquenchable need. You love how her skin folds, how they crush in your hands. Squeezing them like your personalized stress balls, making her squeamish and erratic underneath you.

Meanwhile, she can only stick her head out, keening and mewling helplessly as you drown yourself in the heat of her breasts, without care for her personal comfort or yours.

It’s always been part of you—greed. It’s what you were raised on. How you selfishly desire something and will stop at nothing until it’s in your grasp, no matter how little it has in value or how many resources are wasted. Not Karina. She’s one in a million—a diamond in the rough. A treasure worth cherishing over everything else, and you’d give up everything for her without a second thought.

Kissing down her rather tiny figure, her tummy, until you reach the depths of her aching core, already in heat. Looking up at her, so wrecked, so utterly incapacitated, you sink further—and she cries out in pain and in pleasure.

Propping her thighs up in the air, spreading her legs that extra inch wider, Karina cries, cries, and cries. Your tongue sucks away at her sticky nectar, her quivering core, putting immense pressure on her most sensitive spots. Soaking up just how wet she becomes with each passing second, you’ll happily drown in her skin. You love how she clenches, how she throbs and moans a pitch higher with every pass, every lap of your tip against her pussy brings her ever closer to her end.

Had it been anyone else, you would have finished right there. Make them unwind and cum all over your face as you indulge yourself with their juices, then leave them out to dry right after. Instead, you muster up the willpower to restrain yourself, reemerging from the depths of her cunt, before kissing up the path you’ve marked along. You can never grow tired of admiring and worshipping Karina’s breasts.

Brushing loose strands of hair aside to get a look at her pretty face, glowing brilliantly even under duress. Whispering against her ear, you tell her, “Gonna fuck you right now.”

“Do it,” she says, breathless, gasping—and heaving—for air. “Please give it all to me.”

“Always.”

Slowly dragging your cock between her folds, your usually stiff expression gradually disintegrates upon vicious entry, unable to endure how tight she feels. The pulse and flex of her walls pulls you apart in every direction, her cunt threatening to snap you with one wrong move. Every little bit of resolve counts. Your fingers intertwine with hers, holding her down in place, even though she’s nowhere close to fighting back. In fact, it’s the exact opposite; she wants to be taken and used.

The cry of your name escapes from Karina’s lips, delivered like a call for help. A plea. It bounces around the room, echoing repeatedly in your head, the imagery instantly seared into your brain.

“You fill me so fucking well,” she says, breath hot and heavy, her jaw agape as you hover atop her head. Her eyes snap wide open, on the verge of tears, “Does my pussy feel good? Does it feel so tight around you?”

You’re struggling to keep yourself together, showing signs of falling apart. You’re breathing heavily, only nodding back in agreement. The inability to move your body, desiring to stay inside her warmth out of fear it’ll prematurely ruin the moment speaks volumes. It’s a clearer response than any word can ever answer.

Karina lightly rolls her hips forward, the friction far too great to remain still. You can only draw back in painstakingly slow motion, as if pulling a piece out of a collapsible tower. Even so, the feeling leaves you dizzy and lightheaded, the suffocating sensation quickly overwhelming the rest of your functional senses.

This little push is more than enough to set you snowballing further down. Thrusting back inside her heat, her fresh wetness allows you an easier passage in and out of her quivering pussy. Between calculated, deep breaths, you watch Karina take every inch of your cock without any resistance, letting these profanities and praises slip from her lips instinctively, punctuated by the growing echo of your skin slapping skin.

It becomes effortless rather quickly. The slide in and out of her heat. The pace more than enough to let all the ecstasy sink in. How she immediately relinquishes any semblance of control to you. Karina’s glued to the bed by your hands, her body rocking with every stroke, her tits jiggling in a hypnotic rhythm that captures your eyes. So perfect. So right.

Unknowingly, she’s driving you mad. A little bounce isn’t gonna satiate you at this point. One poorly timed blink and you’ll be punishing yourself for it. There’s no going back. You needed more of her.

As the bed violently creaks below, so does Karina’s tiny figure. As quickly as you’ve found the perfect rhythm to pound her, you just as quickly abandon it. Something about her brings out the best and worst in you, and you clearly see why. It’s the bounce—that damned ripple of her breasts, swinging up and down forcing your hips harder against her, threatening to break her. Her words turn to loud cries—of pleasure, of pain, and everything else in between.

“More—oh, baby, please—” she keens, her eyes still completely shut, her lips twisting and contorting, struggling to find her words. Freely offering herself to you no strings attached, she takes it—and takes it all. “Harder—I’m so fucking close—please—”

It’s a request you’re more than eager to oblige.

Taking purchase of her back with one hand, lifting her slightly, and grabbing her breast with the other, you’re hammering away at her hot cunt, gasping. Squeezing her flesh, hearing her whine, turning her usually pale flesh red while her arms find solace on your shoulder—anything to keep your rapidly dwindling resolve from dissolving entirely. The end is imminent; you can only delay it by mere moments, minutes at best.

Karina is so dangerously close, as she said—and as much as you hate to admit, so are you.

It’s a race that you don’t want to win. As much as you want to keep it together for longer, your body says otherwise. You can’t stop fucking her, no matter how hard you wish to try—and even if you did, why would you even contemplate the idea; your thoughts mostly comprise of how incredibly good she feels around your cock, how they pulsate and grip you with every thrust. Moving inside her is second nature at this point. You eventually lay her back down, only so she takes every inch of you when it eventually happens.

“Don’t stop—don’t ever stop—” she pleads, as if your own mind wasn’t enough to invalidate the idea. Her nails cling to your scalp and neck, barely hanging on for dear life. She’s trembling, uncontrollably jerking beneath. Even she herself doesn’t want it to end. “So good—oh God—”

A handful of thrusts later, Karina cums, with your cock buried in the crevice of her cunt.

Once again, her voice shoots up to the sky upon impact, screaming your name, her head tilted far back as the sheets allow her to. Jaw widely slack, her neck and collarbone exposed, she can’t stop trembling through her climax. Writhing in your grasp, she lets out a prolonged moan till her vocal cords flame out, her chest heaving for much needed oxygen.

It doesn’t stop you from pounding into her pussy, even as it overflows with her slickness. If anything, it only accelerates your own demise. The wetness overload coating your cock proves to be overbearing for what little spunk you have left.

“Me too, Karina—” you blurt out, hammering into her, gasping, bracing for impact as well. “I’m gonna—oh fuck—”

Your own peak overtakes you, rendering you speechless. Everything comes to a standstill. All you can do is bury yourself inside the absolute depths of her pussy, make her take every load, every drop.

Filling the air with a harmonious moan as it hits you, your cock throbbing achingly, full of all that repressed need, and then—release.

Spurt after spurt of hot, sticky cum you pour into her womb, not wasting a single drop. Karina cries and moans with every shot, while you can only groan a deep groan from your lungs. She takes it up, milking you of all your worth till you can’t anymore. Even as she drains you empty, you can’t stop pounding into her cunt, slowing your movements back to a grinded out pace till your orgasm dies, and so does your strength.

“That’s it—that’s all I needed—so, so good—”

Karina sighs, her fingers digging deep into your neck, dragging them across your shoulders, then sliding down your arms right after. She can barely open her eyes, only to find you slowly crashing into her, leaning your head to the side so you can rest beside her. Even your hips stop moving. You only have enough energy to wrap an arm around her tiny frame before you finally collapse under your own weight.

“You still have to take me home,” she whispers, mindful of your ear directly next to her, delivered in that oh so saccharine tone.

“I know,” you mutter through the sheets, eliciting a gentle chuckle from her. Karina’s the one coming out of this in a better state.

“Can you do something for me? Please?”

She didn’t need to say the word, but it certainly helps her case tenfold.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I need you to drive me home.” Karina dips her head at an angle to face you. “Not your bodyguards. You.”

Tilting upward to get a good look at her, you lift a curious eyebrow. “I don’t mind—but why?”

“I just—” she faces away, pausing, breathing heavily. She’s about to say something she’ll regret. “Think it would be safer, yeah? Besides, I wouldn’t wanna be caught by my parents just being dropped off by people in suits.”

“Oh right.”

“I mean this is nice and all but—” Karina stops again, lightly brushing your arm away. A reminder that wealth does not equate to relationship. “I think we’d be better off if we kept things strictly professional. You didn’t have to do all this. You were kind to me and that’s more than enough.”

You roll onto your back, staring up directly at the ceiling. You can only hope Karina is doing the same. She shouldn’t see how deflated you look—after you fucked her, no less.

“Karina, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

You don’t know exactly what to say. You’re only thinking about the what ifs and the what could, expecting the worst. So you look away, unable to face her a second longer.

Moments later, you feel the sudden tug of her embrace, a leg wrapped around yours. The softest kisses on your shoulder. You can feel her soft smile pressed against your neck. She’s cuddled up on you, intent on never letting go.

“Just keep being kind.”

—————

In the days ahead, it was about saving face.

Karina’s wish has seemingly been lost in translation and disregarded, as you’ve been putting distance from her. Any little sign that she’s around is your signal to leave. It helps when you have two extra pairs of eyes keeping watch and alerting you at once.

All this to reinforce the same statement you’ve heard from her friends: that you’re no good whatsoever.

Cautiously eavesdropping on their conversation through your unassuming bodyguards, you hear Karina’s distress over your earpiece, lamenting to her sisters about your absence in her life.

“I seriously don’t understand you. Are you deaf? Are you stupid?” says Ningning, vindicated about her stance. “He ghosted you. They always do that! Not just him! Believe me, I’ve been through worse.”

“Please trust us. Rina, we’re worried about you,” adds Giselle, her tone showing more empathy and concern. “There’s no use in worrying about a man after you did—that.”

“No no. I want to believe,” Karina replies, insistent on you, ignoring all the red flags being waved around. “He really appreciates the affection I gave him. I have to. He seems like a good person in heart—”

“Ugh—here we go again with that good guy shit,” interjects Ningning, frustrated at her friend’s stubbornness. You hear a powerful thud, presumably from a table getting slammed in anger. “He isn’t a good guy! God, Karina, this is why you get bullied—”

“Hey, Ning. Let’s not go that far,” Giselle interrupts, her tone low. “Everyone’s looking at us.”

Dead silence follows, seemingly lasting an eternity. And then—

“Good job, Ning. She left and you made us look bad in front of everyone else,” Giselle adds, breaking the vast stillness, huffing before the audio goes quiet again.

“All the girls have left the cafeteria,” says your first bodyguard, the one you’ve assigned to Karina the first time.

“That’ll be all. Great work,” you tell them over the earpiece before disconnecting.

You’re not hiding anywhere inside campus. In fact, you’ve been resting in the comfort of your own home the entire time. On your phone’s screen is Karina’s number, having been registered in your contacts since last week. Not once have you bothered messaging her, let alone call—yet you constantly return to it. With each passing day, the temptation to press that button grows stronger and stronger.

You place your phone down on the desk, as if that’s gonna change anything. Seconds later, it’s in your hand, still on those 10 digits. Calling to you, as if her very voice is somehow playing through those tiny speakers. It’s all in your head, yet it feels vivid through your senses.

It all but confirms your own feelings: you can’t move on, and neither can she.

You’re looking around, even though not a soul’s in sight, convincing yourself to turn back before you fall further down. Seeing as there’s not a form of opposition, whatsoever, you pull the trigger, consequences be damned.

In the few seconds between calling the number and her imminent responding, you’re hoping she doesn’t answer. That she sees her friends’ points, to prove that you’re in the right by leaving her to dry.

All it takes is a few key words.

“Hey. I missed you.”

—————

There’s a lot to take in, but first—you swallow your own pride. This is your own doing, after all.

Looking out the window from your couch, it’s already night. Last time you checked, the sun had only begun setting; that was four hours ago, apparently. Meanwhile, Karina lies flat on the bed, every part of her mindlessly used, mindlessly fucked. Her skin gleaming, blemished in a sea of fiery red and sticky white. Her clothes scattered all over the house, their purpose rendered obsolete the moment she walked back in. You were standing there—waiting, expecting. Along with her body, came a simple request, in her words:

“Take me like you fucking missed me.”

Delivered straight to the point, Karina is something else. She’s twisted and cruel in her own way. To make such a demand in the sweetest voice possible—you can only chalk it up to witchcraft. And to think she was the one who wanted to keep things professional.

Any intentions to study and help with projects and research was a complete lie—it was more of a roundabout way for you to get inside her, over and over again. If anything, her body was the primary object of interest.

All the ways you can fuck her, how she wants it—anything to get you to cum in her pussy. And that’s exactly what you did.

Spearing your hips against her frame, you find that Karina is so flexible, malleable to your every whim. How she complies without complaint or moment of hesitation, propping herself in whatever position your mind thought of in the moment, and there’s a few you were dying to try. On her fours, with her legs spread wide, on her knees, making an example out of her. So utterly shameless.

And God, she takes it all quite effortlessly, like it’s second nature to her. Milking you dry with her cunt, with her mouth, making you cum with some friction from her tits—everything is a little too easy. Taking just one look at her perfectly sculpted figure, it makes a lot of sense. Yet, Karina has to explain to everyone else why she can’t walk properly in the morning.

A week’s worth of repressed desires and wanton needs, completely gone in a few short hours. It may as well have been a year, maybe two, since you last met.

You can only watch from a distance, from your couch, as everything falls apart. Even a single second that you’re at arm’s length and she’d be burying your grave deeper. As if it’s gonna change tonight’s outcome.

Like a reanimated corpse coming back to life, Karina rises from the bed, assessing the damage. It’s quite a lot. She’s an absolute wreck.

“I think I may have gone too far in some places,” you remark, observing her take your cum into her mouth with her finger.

“I don’t believe that,” she says, taking another scoop and savoring the taste, flashing her pasty white tongue. You instinctively avert your gaze, much to her amusement.

“Christ—Karina, what happened to setting boundaries?” you ask, genuinely concerned. Even if it’s for one night, that’s all it takes for everything to snowball out of control. “I don’t think we can do this on the regular, even if I wanted to.”

“True,” she tells you, matter-of-factly, before stepping on the ground and pacing towards you, limping, barely recovering, “But I got nothing else except you.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why not? You’ve genuinely changed my life,” she says, propping her hands to her knees to lean forward. “No one bullies me anymore. Because they think I’m your girl. I’m your possession.”

The way Karina calls herself yours gives you goosebumps. Your eyes widen in disbelief.

“This is what you’ve done to me,” she continues, tracing a finger down her drenched core, splayed and ruined—your handiwork—before rubbing her slick against your arm, eventually pushing it between your lips. You allow her. Her voice turns a pitch lower with each sentence. “I can’t express how much I need you right now.”

Sinking further back into your seat, you slowly tilt your face towards her, greatly alarmed. “You’re scaring me a little, Rina. We really should—”

She places that same finger between your lips, now to shut you up. Pressing herself forward, straddling on your lap, she makes sure her cum-soaked tits are directly in view of your face, threatening to smother you between them. Her smile is the cherry on top, inviting you to relax the senses and let yourself go in that familiar lust once again. “We can talk about this—on the other side.”

And before you know it, Karina’s riding you hard, with your face buried deep between her chest, worshiping her. You had no chance.

The next time you gain awareness, you’re back in bed, cuddled beside her. With her back against yours, she’s soundly asleep, despite the repeated calls from her phone and your supposed agreement to have her home by ten.

It’s already half past midnight.

“Goddammit, Rina,” you mutter, eliciting a light shudder as your hot breath tickles her skin. “I can’t.”

“Just for tonight,” Karina tells you, as if you aren’t gonna be doing this again tomorrow—and the next night, and the one after. “My parents aren’t home,” she adds, clearly lying through her teeth.

“We seriously need to talk about this,” you tell her, rolling out of bed, scrambling for a fresh pair of clothes from the nearby closet. Meanwhile, Karina remains lying on your bed. She has no intention to leave. You have to reiterate again, “What happened to setting boundaries?”

Even the simple act of propping herself up draws your attention, more so in the nude, especially when she’s glistening in your sheen. The question amuses her; look at her teasing expression, ready to fire back. “You’re the one who called me here. So—”

“Jesus, Karina,” you sigh, working around the clock to get everything in order. Car’s ready, her clothes are in the wash. God willing, she’s actually telling the truth. “Why are you like this—”

She laughs—heartily.

—————

The next day on campus, you make it official. Sort of.

Karina’s friends are seated across the hall, their wary, foreboding gazes singling you out of the whole room. Intentions aside, you have no fight with any of them; it’s nothing personal. After all, it’s her choice. You’ll let them judge. You’re on your own for this one; you’ve told your bodyguards to leave you alone so as to make yourself look approachable in their eyes—even if there’s a negative chance they’ll ever buy it.

Then she enters the room, giving each one a kiss and a hug, as if they’re about to part ways for a long, long time. They’re overreacting; it’s not as though you’ll whisk her away and isolate her in some lonesome high castle.

You get a good look at her when she finally walks over. She’s wearing the new clothes you gave her last night. She makes your heart race with delight.

When she takes her seat directly opposite yours, you can’t help but silently remark, “They really don’t like me.”

She lightly chuckles. “Trust me. I’ve tried.”

“Yeah, I’m not asking them to like me,” you tell her, smiling from ear to ear, reaching out your hand, which she accepts. “I’m just—hoping they’ll see me one day as you do.”

“Sure they will. I believe deep down, you’re really a sweet guy.”

You lower your head, unable to face her, but your face tells it all.

“Just to be clear, you’re not gonna make me actually sign a contract?” Karina asks, puzzled about the need to meet up on campus specifically to set your boundaries. The truth is, anywhere else that wasn’t school would be a distraction.

“Of course not,” you say, baffled at the idea yourself. “Dad usually did the paperwork, and that seems really weird.”

“So is having sex shortly after saving the damsel in distress,” she says, smirking through each word, mentally patting herself on the back for that remark.

Shaking your head in disgust, she laughs at your annoyed expression. That never gets old.

“Right—so what are we then?” Karina leans forward, grabbing your stretched out hand, her eyes widening. She’s looking to kiss you—at least that’s what her face is doing.

Ruminating through your next words carefully, occasionally giving the corner behind her a glance, her friends running through your mind, you reply, “Let’s just say I’m your benefactor for now. I don’t really want anyone to get surprised, and let’s just say, I’m not ready to handle everything just yet. But I want to stay close with you.”

“So we’re friends?”

“Yeah, if that’s how you want to see it.”

“Then there’s no need for this. Aren’t we already close?”

“Well I’m giving you money and clothes, in addition to letting you come over to my place once a week, so—”

Karina tugs your hand forward, interrupting you. “I don’t really need any of this. I just want you to treat me like anyone else. Like a friend. Just do that.”

You end up choking on your own words. Even when she’s admonishing you, Karina remains gentle in tone. And she knows how to bring the conversation around gracefully.

“So, what do you say we go out and have a snack later? After class?”

With a lovely face and smile like hers, you’d be foolish to refuse her offer.

As the bell rings, you’re nodding in agreement when everyone stands up in unison, heading off to their next class. Karina leaves to regroup with her friends, but not without giving you a kiss goodbye as she walks through the door. You can only stare back—smiling.

Then you get a notification on your phone. A text from an anonymous number, seemingly demanding something urgently in all caps. Something about delayed shipments, but that’s the least of your concerns right now.

Paying no heed to the message, you’re cancelling your plans for today to make room for your first date with Karina.

—————

(A/N: Thank you for the commission! Was supposed to drop around Christmas, but then the holidays got busy, and then literally the day after Christmas, my dumbass just had to get food poisoned and hospitalized. Oof. Just poor timing all around, damn.

Fun little prompt, I was feeling a little edgy writing this, not gonna lie. Definitely left some clues for when I wanna revisit it. Karina is unfathomably hot, and I'm starting to like aespa a lot lately. They've probably had the best year of any girl group, and it's well deserved. Thank you for reading!)

#kpop smut #aespa smut #karina smut #aespa #karina

935 notes · View notes

creamecafe · 1 day ago

Note

hii could u write something for Dae-ho set in the mingle game and its basically just him protecting reader and always keeping them at his side. 🫶🫶🫶

"As long as I'm here, no one can hurt you"

Summary: What the request says

Pairing: Dae-Ho x GN!Reader (No pronouns used)

Warnings: fluff, comfort, pining

Word Count:

Author's Note: Thank you so much for requesting. I hope you enjoy!

Want a request for a Squid Game character like this one? Check out my latest post, read my request guidelines and send a request!

Read on Wattpad & AO3 here

It's a miracle that you have made it to the third game. You were sure you were going to die in the second game, but thanks to the team you had, you were more than determined to still stay alive

Out of all them, there was one that you kept looking at. Dae-Ho. You couldn't help but find him cute. This certainly wasn't the place to have feelings as you could die before telling him.

It was the same for Dae-Ho, trying to make sure everyone is ok and that the team survives. But it was something with you.

He felt safe with you, and wanted to protect you. Even if it meant giving his life for you.

The announcement for the third game came, you were worried, but wanted it to be over it. Dae-Ho noticed you being anxious and asked if you okay

"Are you okay?"

You stopped zoning out and looked at him with your heart pounding.

"What? Y-yes I'm ok thank you." Nodding trying to reassure yourself.

"I think this might be the last game I play in." You chuckled knowing deep inside you dreaded the idea

"Hey look at me."

You did as he said. "Don't say that, you have us."

He held out your hand to hold it. You looked at it and hesitated putting your hand out but you held it. A tight squeeze was given but not too rough. It was a sign of reassuring.

He gives you a smile and you did too not of full happiness but someone is here to care about you.

All of you guys were called for the game. You got up and stayed close to Dae-Ho. He looked back at you and nodded. You did the same.

It was the same, climbing up those colorful but dreading stairs to the next game. Every minute or two, Dae-Ho made sure you were right behind him.

You finally reached the game and saw a carousel in the middle with horses and so many doors of different bright colors for a Pre-K setting.

"Welcome to your third game." The woman's voice from the previous games you heard came on the speakers.

"The game you will be playing is Mingle. Let me repeat. The game you will be playing is Mingle."

Turning your head to look at Dae-Ho, he's already looking at you.

You quickly look away not to make the situation worse. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable as well.

"All players, please step onto the center platform. When the game starts, the platform will begin to rotate, you will hear a number. You must form groups of that size, go into the rooms, and close the door within 30 seconds."

"Oh this game? We used to play something similar on school trips. We formed groups by hugging." Jung-bae exclaimed.

"Yeah. Instead of hugging, we go into those rooms" Dae-Ho mentioned.

"If the number is bigger than six, we'll get the additional people we need." Gi-Hun

And if it's less than that? You thought in your mind

"But what if it's smaller than five? Like three or four

You turned your head to Dae-Ho. It's like he read your mind exactly.

"No matter what happens, don't panic. Let's stay calm," Young-il nods. "We'll make it out together. Here."

Those words echoing in your mind, there wasn't enough time to doubt if your group would stick with you.

You've seen how quickly people are to turn against each other especially in the Red Light, Green Light.

But you're more than determined to stay alive, just to see Dae-Ho's face every chance you get.

Young-il puts the back side of hand out to form a truce. One by one, everyone is putting their hands on top of each other. You were the last one.

"Y/N. Are you in?" Gi-Hun asks.

Dae-Ho looks at you with worry in his eyes. You had no choice and no knowledge of trusting others in this game, so you put your hand out on top.

Dae-Ho becomes relieved at this.

"One, two, three. Victory at all costs."

Sighing at this with relief, you guys begin to spread out. The carousel is starting to spin

People scream out in fear. Lights go out and the light in the middle where horses out lights ups and music plays.

Children are singing about holding hands and ringing around.

Dae-Ho holds your hand lightly. He grazes your hand with his thumb. You don't look at him, as you fear you'll die doing so.

It suddenly stops. The number is 9. People are running out frantically pairing in groups of 9. Dae-Ho doesn't let go of your hand.

"We need 3 more." You said. Your group ran looking for 3 more.

A old lady, her son and another woman goes up to you guys.

"Are you guys 3?" Young-il asks

"Yes we're." The old lady nods frantically.

"Quickly we got to get into a room" Gi Hun exclaims

Your feet were starting to move, but the grip of Dae-Ho holding your hand made you move even faster.

All of you guys rushed into a room and closed the door. The room was filled with heavy breaths. There was a click on the lock meaning that the room was closed and nobody can get in or out.

Right now, you have never been more grateful to be alive in playing a game

It wasn't long before you heard gunshots, and it was safe to assume it was those who didn't pair up or get into rooms in time.

Now that you're safe, you look at Dae-Ho and he does too.

"Is everyone ok?" Dae-Ho asks

There was a lot of yes. That answer might change throughout the game seeing how long each of us might last.

The door lock clicked and you guys were allowed to come out. There were bodies on the floors and blood splattered. "Take off your mind off those bodies or you'll be one of them" Your mind was telling yourself.

"We got this" Dae-Ho talks to you

"We do" You smiled. Don't know how many smiles it will take to keep going, but you're ready to prove his point.

The game started again and the carousel spins. You hold out to Dae-Ho's hand.

Now the number was 4. Young-il grabs Jung-Bae and goes to find two more people. That's left Gi-Hun, Jun-Hee, Dae-Ho and you left.

There was no time to waste. All four you ran to a room and locked yourself in. Gi-Hun was looking around for Young-il. You pulled him back in.

The gunshots came again. The lesser the number, the more likely people will betray each other.

How long this game will last, you don't know. All you know is that you have people here to help you. Even if it's just one person, it makes all the difference.

The doors clicked and it was time for another round. The panic and adrenaline of it all keeps coming back. But Dae-Ho is making sure you're by his side, even if he may die in the game as well.

Six the group was. Dae-Ho said you and him were going to go and find another group. Luckily you did and you managed to still be alive locked in a room.

Now it all came down to the very last game. There were less people than the game started. You wanted to finish this for once and for all. While the carousel was spinning and music playing, you place yourself in movement ready to run and holding Dae-Ho's hand.

"2" The voice said.

It felt like time was going slow once it announced the number. Everybody is rushing to get into a room. Time's running out.

You felt a hand pull you back and you fell to the ground. Dae-Ho heard your scream and saw someone trying to stop you from going into a room. Someone else was already in the room that you guys were planning to go into.

Dae-Ho could go into the room and that would already make it two. But he's made it too far to leave you.

He ran and punched the guy that pushed you. He put you back on your feet and dragged the other guy out. He slammed the door shut and the timer just came to zero. The guy on the other side begs and bangs on the door.

A pink guard shoots him and the noises stop.

"Are you ok?" Dae-Ho rushes to you.

Still shaken at what happened, at the fact you almost died if it wasn't for him to save you, you nodded.

"Yes I am. Thank you."

There was a moment of silence between you too as you were catching your breaths.

The door clicked and you both came out.

"Y/N! Dae-Ho!" Both of your names were being called

Gi-Hun, Young-il, Jung-Bae and Jun-Hee run up to you guys and you all hug each other.

"I'm so glad you guys are ok." Jun-Hee smiles

You're also relieved that everyone else is fine and made it out alive. You could return back to the dorms.

Walking down back the stairs and into the dorms, everyone was mostly silent but some talked.

You ran up and tapped Dae-Ho on the shoulder.

"Hey Dae-Ho?"

"Yes Y/N?"

"You could have gone into the room where the other guy before you dragged him out, why didn't you?"

Dae-Ho took a pause before responding.

"I have lost many people when I was a marine, seen people get killed in front of me. I can't let it happen to you."

He starts to become close to you but not too close.

"As long as I'm still alive, I'll make sure you're fine. That's a promise I tend to keep Y/N."

Those words stuck with you. You could die in the next game, but right here at this moment is a reason to keep going.

Navigation | Main Masterlist | Squid Game Masterlist | Kang Dae-Ho Masterlist | Join my taglist!

#creamecafe #kang daeho #daeho #squid game #squid game spoilers #squid game x reader #squid game season 2 #squid game s2 #kdrama #dae ho x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #squid game fanfic #kang daeho x reader #pining #slow burn #jang x reader #mingle squid game #please reach the right audience

488 notes · View notes

euthymiya · 2 days ago

Text

GOJO SATORU : ADVANTAGE

female reader ; mentions of alcohol and hooking up ; friends to lovers ; getting together (sort of) ; your typical clingy, annoying, and slightly shameless satoru

There is a boy in your bed.

That’s the first thing you notice when you wake up. The second thing is that his arms are curled around your waist. The third is that you’re both rather bare…which is the most mortifying part of it all. You have no recollection of what happened the night before to land you in such a scandalizing predicament—just that one drink turned into one too many.

So, with pretty limited options, you lay painfully still, trying to figure out what you should do. Should you leave? (No, this is your own home, after all). Should you wake him up? (That might make things a bit awkward, though). Should you pretend to sleep until he finally wakes up and leaves himself? (But that might take too long and your anxiety might kill you first). You weigh your options, still careful enough to stay still—at least, you try.

He suddenly pulls you closer, and you flinch against your will.

“Oh, you’re up!” He chirps instantly.

Everything stops as soon as you hear the voice. The world stops spinning. It might have even shifted from its tilted axis. Your blood runs cold. Your heart stops beating. You think maybe even for a moment, your soul may have left your body.

Satoru.

“Satoru?” You turn around quickly—and then, just as quickly, you give a small, panicked gasp and pull the blanket to cover your chest.

He eyes you in amusement as he causally says, “I already saw everything, so you don’t really need to bother with all that.”

How shameless. Which, of course, is pretty on brand for him. But still, how shameless.

“You’re unbelievable,” you hiss, glaring at him, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You invited me here,” he grins. It’s too wide for your liking. You’d mistake it for smugness if you didn’t know him a tad bit better—no, it’s purely gleeful.

“I did not,” you sputter.

“Oh, but you did,” he all but purrs. And then, much to your horror, he takes on a mockingly high-pitched voice and replicates what you assume is your drunk, alcohol-induced invitation from the night before. “Where are you going, silly? Come inside. Oh Satoru ~ you feel so good. More, Satoru—please! Satoru, you—”

“I do not sound like that,” you screech, glaring at him as one hand still protectively holding the blanket over your chest while the other moves to give him a harsh shove.

He chuckles, flopping back against your mattress as he holds his arm out for you. “No point in bickering over the specifics now. Come here.”

“For what?”

“Weaponized incompetence only gets you so far,” he clicks his teeth, “come, come. We’re going to cuddle before—”

You cut him off firmly. “We are not cuddling. You are going to get dressed while I close my eyes and then you’re going to walk yourself out the door and go home.”

He pouts, giving you a dramatically pathetic look as he murmur, “after I showed you such a good time? Don’t you think that’s a little rude?”

You don’t even remember the time that he supposedly showed you—although, it’s pretty evident that it happened. Very evident, in fact. The clothes on the floor. The slight soreness of your body. The faint bite marks on his collarbone (did you really do that?) and the beginnings of scratches starting at his shoulders.

It’s all….so obvious. So painfully clear that somehow, after a series of events, you’ve fallen prey to the charms of a boy you happen to know pretty well. Unfortunately for you, you also happened to get to know him a little better than you would have liked—and you don’t even have any memory of it.

You glare at him for a moment before muttering, “you should not take advantage of a drunk girl.”

His mouth opens for a second—and it just stays like that. Speechless. It might be the first time you’ve seen him that way, too. (It’s a shame you don’t get to appreciate it more given the circumstances—not a lot of people can say they’ve witnessed Satoru of all people have nothing to say).

“Maybe you took advantage of a drunk guy,” he retorts, huffing, “you know how I get after a drink or two. How do you know you didn’t prey on me?”

“You’re in my bed!”

“Only because you insisted your place was closer!”

You sigh exasperatedly, lying back against your pillow as you rub your temple. He shuffles closer, inching little by little in a comically unsubtle manner until he’s pressed against your side. He’s warm. His skin is soft and something about it feels good enough that you don’t immediately flinch away.

“This is weird,” you whisper. Still, you don’t move. You can’t. It’s hard to pretend like it’s not sort of nice getting to feel Satoru like this—so close and near and yours.

(Is he yours? Maybe not. But getting to pretend for just a moment doesn’t feel all that wrong).

“It’s not so bad,” he murmurs, quietly into the room as he looks around, a foreignly soft look in his eyes.

Just to be annoying, you feign being confused and ask, “what, my interior design?”

“Us,” he purses his lips, glancing at you, unimpressed. “It’s not so bad when it’s just us.”

“I think the alcohol made your brain permanently damaged,” you hum.

He rolls his eyes, scoffing lightly as you try not to smile. Gently, in a way that’s careful and delicate that Satoru usually is not, he snakes an arm around you and pulls you close. And just as carefully, before you can scold him with an undignified scowl, he pulls the blanket up to make sure you stay covered.

You stare at him cautiously, and he leans closer.

“I hate to break it to you, but I’m pretty sober right now. And hungover, so I don’t appreciate you adding to my headache.”

“Rude,” you gasp, shoving at his chest again. He grins, one arm still wrapped tightly around you as he keeps you nice and flush against him.

“What say you to a nice brunch without any alcohol—just you, me, and maybe some coffee.”

Your heart skips a beat. You force yourself to pretend like you hardly care as you shrug and say, “I’d say you’re just trying to ease your guilt for taking advantage of me.”

“Actually,” he says pointedly, “you have to say yes to ease your guilt of taking advantage of me.”

“I say it’s all about perspective,” you crack a grin.

“Well, to put it into perspective for you, we’re getting brunch,” he says firmly, burying his nose into your shoulder.

You ask cheekily, “it’s on you, right?”

“Oh, sure. I guess you’re already perfectly fine with taking advantage of me a second time, huh?”

One night stand with ur friend satoru but the sexual tension has always been so thick it’s easy to cut with a plastic knife

#—rivistyping!#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

435 notes · View notes

dollishmehrayan · 1 day ago

Text

# “IS IT NEW YEAR’S YET, I’M GETTIN’ BORED, SO CAN WE SKIP AHEAD?” ── .✦. ( a drabble of celebrating with batboys new years with batboys !! )

a/n: it’s 2025 oml, this year has been filled with ups and downs and many tears, many smiles, I wish that I live longer enough to enough plenty of years in peace, for 2025 my New Year’s resolution is to expand my interests && meet new people and friends and to be kind, understandable, happy, and positive and poetic !! Tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Dick insists on going out for New Year’s Eve. He loves the energy of the city and wants to celebrate with you in style.

He takes you to a rooftop party with the best view of Gotham’s fireworks. He’s that guy pulling you onto the dance floor and spinning you around until your cheeks hurt from smiling.

When the countdown begins, he gets super excited, holding your hands and hyping up the moment like, “This is it! Best year yet, babe!”, “it’s just new years dick calm down.”

At midnight, he gives you a movie-worthy kiss, dipping you slightly for dramatic effect.

After the party, you both grab late-night street food and walk around the city, talking about your hopes for the new year.

JASON TODD ── .✦

Jason prefers a quieter New Year’s Eve at home, but he doesn’t mind doing something small if it makes you happy.

He sets up a cozy evening with your favorite snacks, drinks, and a movie marathon. “This is better than overpriced parties and sweaty crowds, right?”

As the clock nears midnight, he’ll make a sarcastic comment like, “Think 2024 will be the year Gotham finally gets its act together?”

At midnight, he gives you a sweet kiss and mumbles, “Here’s to another year of putting up with me.

If you want to do something fun, he might take you to a rooftop to watch fireworks. He holds you close and pretends it’s just for warmth, but he’s smiling the whole time.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim’s ideal New Year’s involves a mix of productivity and relaxation. He plans a cute night in where you can both reflect on the past year and set goals for the new one.

He buys a journal or a vision board for the two of you to fill out together. “Okay, what’s your most unrealistic goal for this year? Let’s make it happen.”

He struggles to stay awake as midnight approaches, though. You catch him dozing off during a movie, and he grumbles when you wake him. “I’m not asleep I’m resting my eyes.”

At midnight, he kisses you softly and murmurs, “Thanks for making this year better.”

If you want to go out, he’ll humor you with a cute date to a low-key café or a small gathering with friends.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian treats New Year’s as a time to improve himself. He’s not into big parties, but he’ll indulge your preferences to make you happy.

If you want to stay in, he sets up a fancy dinner for the two of you with candles and elegant dishes he helped Alfred prepare. “We’ll celebrate properly, without the chaos.”

He rolls his eyes at New Year’s resolutions but secretly sets a few for himself, especially involving you. “Fine. I resolve to… be more patient with you.” (You tease him for that.)

At midnight, he gives you a shy but heartfelt kiss and says, “I’m glad you’re in my life this year.”

If you convince him to watch fireworks, he’ll grumble about the noise but eventually relaxes when you lean against him.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce makes New Year’s a classy affair. He takes you to a gala or hosts an elegant party at Wayne Manor.

He’s by your side the whole night, introducing you to important guests and making sure you feel like the most important person in the room.

At midnight, he’ll find a quiet corner to steal a private moment with you, giving you a soft, lingering kiss and whispering, “Thank you for making this year so much brighter.”

If you prefer something low-key, he’ll cancel all plans and spend the evening with you at home. You’ll share champagne by the fire, reminiscing about the past year.

He’s the type to surprise you with a meaningful gift at the stroke of midnight, like a bracelet engraved with the date or a key to the Manor if you don’t already live there.

365 notes · View notes

r2b2grady · 2 days ago

Text

For anyone who's interested in this sort of vibe, I highly recommend the Cosmere setting by Brandon Sanderson. It's a big setting, but you can jump into any of the series without having to read a bunch of preceding stuff. Each series is mostly self-contained, with only subtle threads linking them together, so you can enjoy them on their own or as part of a larger whole, whichever suits your fancy.

If you want to get into it, I suggest starting with one of the following:

Elantris – A standalone book (for now). A princess arrives in the capital of the country with which she was to forge bonds by marrying the prince, only to be informed that he has died and she is a widow already. She is soon caught up trying to defend her new home from machinations by other nations, as well as seeing to the needs of those struck with a mysterious ailment... which has its roots in ancient secrets, and hides its own secrets more recent.

Warbreaker – Another standalone, which is available under CC BY-NC-ND 3.0 here. He released several of his drafts on his website, along with the final version, so fans who wanted to write could see his process. From the Goodreads blurb: "Warbreaker is the story of two sisters, who happen to be princesses, the God King one of them has to marry, the lesser god who doesn't like his job, and the immortal who's still trying to undo the mistakes he made hundreds of years ago."

Mistborn: The Final Empire – The first of the Mistborn series, currently composed of two trilogies. For one thousand years, the Lord Ruler has reigned with an iron fist. Ash falls from the sky, and no flowers bloom. A street waif becomes embroiled in the schemes of a group of rebels, who seek to overthrow the Lord Ruler, led by the only man who ever escaped from the Lord Ruler's deepest prison.

If you'd rather go for something massive, with a slow buildup and continent-spanning scale at times, go for The Stormlight Archive, which starts with The Way of Kings. It's much longer (the first book is 1,001 pages, and it only increases from there), but has to be my favorite of all of them for the sheer scale and oomph factor.

I love the idea of dead gods. Not in the sense of “hey i killed something supernaturally strong” but in the sense of “i killed it and it’s still a god.” It is still worshipped. prayers are still answered. miracles are performed in its name, even as it lies pierced by a thousand swords and burning with chemical fire. even as it drifts through vacuum, decapitated and bleeding molten rock. in cosmic spite of being shot through each eye and hurled into a plasma reactor, it still radiates the power of the divine in a way that primitive death cannot smother. the nature of godchild is not so simple as to be tied to the mortality, or immortality, of any living being.

#cosmere #Brandon Sanderson #The Stormlight Archive #Mistborn #Elantris #Warbreaker #book recommendations #dead gods #godfall #whalefall #fantasy whalefall

100K notes · View notes

mimikittysblog · 3 days ago

Text

♡08:00♡

Pairing: poly! Husbands! Yunsan x Fem! Wife! Reader (mentions of Poly! Ateez, takes place in The Princess universe)

Genre: Fluff, smut

Warnings: It’s a poly! Story so FxMxM, Vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex (f receiving), threesome, minor choking. ⚠️MDNI⚠️ Thats all honestly. If I forgot anything please let me know also not proofread.

A/N: ITS HERE! Yay! I am.. not good at writing smut so this might be shit 💔 I apologize dear friends. Hopefully you’ll still be able to enjoy the dynamic of Yunsan here cause theyre so Aksjsojsksjsksjs. Thank you all for always enjoy my works! It really does mean the world to me! Love you all!

Tagging: @stay-tiny-things @jaerisdiction @bee-gremlin @gae-ping-boosay @faeprincess777 @starygw3n @pinkpearlstar @sweetinsaniiity (if you’d like! You can join my Taglist!)

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

Sunshine just started to seep into the room where 2 of the 9 lovers were cuddling. Here one of them started to flutter his eyes open. Right in front of him, the oldest of them all still sleeping peacefully and so beautifully. San smiled and let out a soft sigh. Relieved he finally gets to wake up in the arms of any of his loves again.

He leans in close and softly kisses Seonghwa on the lips before sitting up and stretching. He then carefully gets out of bed then tucks Seonghwa back in again. He puts on his slippers, boxers and fur coat before quietly leaving the room.

As per his lovers wishes he had started dressing like this more often. It was kind of a freeing feeling so he really didn’t mind. He soon made it to the kitchen where he finds you making their cups of coffee.

“Good morning princess.” He smiles.

“Good morning Sannie.” You reply back still turned away from him.

“Oh? How did you know it was me?” He asks amused before hugging your waist and pulling you to his warm chest.

“You think I wouldn’t recognize my husbands schedules, footsteps and voices?” You say cheekily.

“..I understand schedules and voices but footsteps??” He laughs.

“You all walk a certain way and pace! I’ve been with you for.. wow almost a decade now! I think I should recognize the sounds of your steps by now. And I do!” You giggle.

You then turned around softly and handed San his mug. He then thanks you with a kiss on the head before taking it.

“Almost a decade huh? Feels like longer. Feels like we’ve been together forever.”

“I know what you mean. Well we get to spend forever together now.”

“Hmm. Shall we go on vacation for our anniversary?” He asks wiggling his eyebrows.

“I always say we don’t have toooo but you all never listen so sureee” You say with a sigh.

He can only chuckle before taking a long sip of his coffee that you made to perfection. He then sighs content.

“I’ve said this a million times but I really missed this.”

“We know.. we missed you too our love.” You smile softly kissing his jaw as your fingers lightly traces the hickeys and marks left behind by Seonghwa. “Oh my, he really did a number on you.”

“Hmm you should see how I left him.” He chuckles.

“Owh don’t make me jealous now.”

“Oh?” He quirks an eyebrow as he sets his mug down. He then picks you up by the waist and sets you on the counter.

“No need to be darling. Just say the word. And I’ll do it all to you too.” He whispers against your lips.

“Please.”

“Good girl.”

He then quickly captures your lips in a searing passionate kiss. You pulled San even closer wanting to feel his touch all over you. You moan against his lips as he softly grinds against your clothed core.

“Take me to my room please?”

“Anything for my princess.”

He then picks you up and carries you to your room. There he lays you on the bed as he sheds his fur coat once more.

“I’ve missed you, my beautiful wife.” San groans as he kisses you again. Then begins to trail his kisses down. Leaving marks all over you like he said he would.

“I’ve missed you too Sannie. So so much. I’m so glad you’re home again.” You moan out softly as San begins taking off your robe.

“Me too.” San mumbles as he kisses the valley between your breasts before giving each some attention. Your yelps and whimpers are music to San’s ears.

“Have you gotten more beautiful while I was away darling?” San chuckles as he softly kisses down your body even more. Gripping onto your thighs before slowly taking off your soiled panties.

“I don’t believe so. Why would you say that my dashing husband?” You ask before running your fingers through his hair.

He kisses the top of your pubic bone as he feels your grip his hair. Groaning into your flesh.

“Because my heart is racing much more than it used to.” He says before giving your slit a kiss and a long lick. You moan out loudly before looking back down at him.

“Hmm must be just because you missed me too much.” You giggle.

“Maybe.” He starts before giving your clit a soft kiss. “But honestly, you really do get more beautiful whenever I look at you. It happens even whenever I blink. Like I blink and wow, you’re ten times more beautiful.” He chuckles before feeling you push his head into your awaiting cunt.

“Hush.” You giggle.

“Impatient.” His voices one last time, muffled. He then doesn’t waste another second before eating you out like how he always does. Like a starving mad man that hasn’t eaten in weeks. Which he probably is as this is the first time he’s tasted your pretty cunt in weeks.

Your loud moans and the sound of his tongue lapping you up are the only sounds that can be heard in your room.

“Ugh you’ve gotten so much sweeter too. God my wife truly has the best fucking cunt.” He groans out as he goes even faster and his tongue reaching even deeper in you. Before going back to suck on your throbbing clit.

You could barely hear him as unbelievable pleasure courses through your veins. You could only reply with a whimper anyway.

“Mmm. Well isn’t this a sight.” A voice suddenly sounds from the doorway.

Your head snaps up to see Yunho leaning against the now closed door.

“Y-yunnie..! Mmm! Good morning!” You giggle, completely ignoring the fact that your cunt is being eaten right now.

San simply hums to acknowledge he heard Yunho. Not even pulling away and continuing his ministrations.

“Good morning princess. I see San gets to have his breakfast early.” Yunho says as he walks up to you.

“First come first serve.” San muffles out. The vibrations causing you to moan out louder.

“Fuck sannie!!! My love I’m gonna cum!”

Suddenly without warning, you were being choked. Yunho leans down and kisses your ear as his hand stays on your throat.

“Cum for him.”

So you did. You almost screamed in pleasure as you came straight onto San’s tongue. The boy lapping up everything, swallowing what you gave him happily before pulling away. Kissing your core one last time.

“Fuck she’s so sweet..”

“Mmm let me have a taste.”

The hand on your throat quickly changes target. Yunho pulling San to him, smashing their lips together. Yunho hums satisfied, your taste and the natural taste of San’s lips coating his tastebuds.

“Yunho… fuck.. me…” San moans out as Yunho’s hand tightens around his throat.

“Aw? Princess and Seonghwa weren’t enough for you baby?” Yunho chuckles.

“You know I can’t get enough of all of you! And those weeks in that disgusting mansion was practically hell now both of you please! Just fuck me?!”

“No need to tell us twice.” You breathe out. Tugging onto San’s hand, you pull him on top of you once more.

“Is this okay sannie? Me under you and Yunho from behind?”

“Yes yes please!” San moans out desperate especially now he feels Yunho’s hands rubbing on his ass cheeks.

“Prep?” Yunho asks softly as he kisses San’s back.

“N-no.. I’m sure my night with Seonghwa is enough.”

“Okay, I’ll still go slow baby.” Yunho says as he quickly strips and gets some lube from your drawer. Rubbing some onto his dick to make sure he doesn’t hurt his husband.

“Sannie put it in..” You whine, also getting desperate.

With a groan, San positions is dick by your entrance before pushing in slowly.

“Oh fuck!” He groans even louder, dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

“Ready for me Sannie?” Yunho asks one more time, kissing San’s spine.

“Yes Yunho baby please! I’ve missed your big cock so much please!” San whines out.

Yunho can only chuckle before slowly inserting himself into San’s hole. Making him sigh out in relief.

“I’ve missed your tight ass too baby.” He whispers into San’s ear before thrusting sharply. Immediately hitting San’s spot.

“FUCK! God yes!” San screams out before both men started moving in a fast pace.

Soon enough a rhythm between you three were formed. Heightening your pleasure immensely. San thrusting in you, as Yunho does the same to San. It really couldn’t get better.

“God fuck! Yes yes!! Ngh I’m so fucking close already!” San groans. Hearing that you claw into San’s shoulders before starting to grind your hips up to meet his thrusts. “OH YES!! Fuck me like that both of you fuck keep fucking me like that!”

“Shit I’m also close!!” You whimper.

Yunho groans and you both know he isn’t far behind.

“C-cum for us Sannie! Please come for us! Show us how you missed us yeah??” You say into San’s ear.

“Shit!! Yes! Ugh I’ve missed you all so fucking much! Ugh!! I’m cumming!! Yes!!” San screams out before giving you one last thrusts and paints your insides white with his warm cum.

The feeling of his dick twitching in you and his abuse on your clit makes the coil in your stomach snap. Your eyes roll back into your head as you scream out in pleasure cumming all of his dick. As finally the pure pleasure on your face and the feeling of San clenching does it in for Yunho.

“God!! F-fuck I’m cumming to shit! Fuck I’m cumming!!” And with that he pumps his cum into San’s hole.

You all take a breather before the men pull out and flop onto the bed. Still panting, you slowly roll over to snuggle up into San, as Yunho des the same on his other side.

“I love you both..” San pants.

“We love you too hubby.”

“I’m glad you three had fun.”

As you three look up, you see Yeosang standing by the door.

“Hi honey. Morning!” You exclaim.

“Good morning princess. Now all of you rest a bit, then go and take a bath. I already set it up for you in the master bathroom.” Yeosang explains.

“Oh how sweet of you darling. Thank you.” Yunho pants out still exhausted.

“No worries baby. Now rest up, after your bath come join us for breakfast. Also Sannie, my room tonight?” Yeosang asks with a smirk.

San laughs out a bit before giving his husband a wink. “Wait for me.”

Yeosang’s smirks widens and he blushes a bit before closing the door.

“Rest well my loves.”

.✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ✧.

385 notes · View notes

shadowbriar · 2 days ago

Text

Bucky Barnes — Dishwasher

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x (she/her) wife!Reader Word Count : 1.5k Warning : None? Synopsis : Bucky knew that he was a man out of time, but never would he expect that this world no longer accepts home appliances as presents. Notes : If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

Bucky’s palms were starting to sweat. He knows when she’ll return home, down to its minutes, but he still couldn’t shake the jitters that were brewing up his spine. He has more than enough window to finish his quest, perhaps even sparing himself a good other hour to clean up any possible mess and wipe the apartment clean before she could smell anything amiss, but with the ticking of the clock taunting on him, agitation was starting to pool a little thicker in his gut.

He taps on his watch, wondering where the technicians that were supposed to be here half an hour ago might be at. The drive from the store to their apartment shouldn’t be that complicated. He’s written in bold font the address and their unit number. There should be no issue for them to find it.

He was just about to ring the store when the doorbell rang.

“Mr. Barnes?” one of the technicians asked, looking at the clipboard in his hand “You ordered a dishwasher, Sir?”

“Yes,” Bucky answers with a slightly annoyed grunt “I’ve been expecting you.”

The technician shows a corporate disinterested smile, walking in the apartment as his partner wheeled the boxed item.

“Where do you want us to install it, Sir?”

“Right here,” Bucky says as he pulls the cabinet door that hid their old dishwasher “Could you bring the old one with you? I’d rather not leave any trace of mischief for my wife to find.”

“Of course,” the technician says as he begins to unbox the appliance “Wait, you didn’t make this your wife’s Christmas present, right?”

Bucky frowns, shaking his head with his brows knitted, “No, why?”

“Cause the guy at the last house did and that was a bad scene, man,” the other guy finally speaks up.

“Bad scene, why?” Bucky’s arms were folded to his chest now “They didn’t like the dishwasher?”

“No,” the first guy snorted with his laugh “They didn’t like it, alright.”

“The wife was insulted. Said home appliances don’t count as a gift,” the second guy further explained as he begins to take out the tools to install the item “She said it’s not fair that she always gets ‘gifts’ that are just things that their household needs to function while he gets all the niche personalised presents.”

“Not going to lie, I felt bad for the lady,” first guy chimed in “It was a bloodbath there, man. She was yelling and crying by the time we finished installing the dishwasher. Poor woman, I hope the husband found her something better for Christmas.”

Bucky could only nod in agreement. The crease on his forehead only gets deeper as the technicians continue their story. A new sense of guilt and anxiety brewed in his stomach. Perhaps the dishwasher wasn’t a great idea, afterall.

At first, he thought giving out a lie to a random technician about whether or not the item was his Christmas gift for her wife would never bring any harm. These men are just strangers that need not know any of his business, anyway. But now that they’ve told the story of their last customer, Bucky wonders if he should’ve just answered truthfully and see if these men have any better ideas for a replacement gift.

In his defence, the dishwasher was something she said was listed in her wishlist. He got her the very one she pointed at when they went to the electronic store the other day, down to the very colour that she said was her favourite. He thought that this would be the grand gift to reveal for her, the grandiose early Christmas present that would get her jumping and squealing in excitement, but having the story sinking into his brain now, such fantasy might not be the reality he’ll witness.

Bucky knew that he was a man out of time. That the world has progressed in ways that his mind couldn’t catch up still, but never would he expect that this world no longer accepts home appliances as presents. Perhaps he needs to whip out that notebook of his again and relearn the rules of gift giving in the twenty-first century.

—-

“Doll,” Bucky starts while his fingers cut through the meat of his dinner, trying his best to act as nonchalant as he could “I have a proposal to offer.”

She nods, chewing her food, “I’m listening.”

“Since you’re pretty busy with work and I have the whole month off from missions, why don’t I take the kitchen duty? I’ll cook our meals, make our coffee, wash the dishes, everything that’s involved in the kitchen, I’ll take care of it.”

Her head darts up to face him, an impressed smile tugs on the corner of her lips, “Okay..? Why?”

“Just wanted to take some of the burden off your shoulders,” Bucky lies through his teeth, shrugging “I’ve seen just how tired you’ve been lately. It’s the least I could do.”

“You’re very sweet,” she replies as she places a small kiss to his forearm “I’ll take the laundry duty, then.”

Bucky smiles, nodding in agreement.

His brain has been wiring since the technicians left their apartment. He wonders what he could get for her that would match the brilliance of the dishwasher that he thought would have been. He tries to squeeze the essence of his memory, trying to find anything that she might have mentioned that he could get for her, but everything she’s ever told, he’s bought, and he still wasn’t sure if there would be anything bigger than the dishwasher.

Now priding himself as a good husband, how could he not know what his wife wants most?

—-

In his defence, a twenty minutes longer sleep was something he earned for all the hard work he’s done in the kitchen for the past week. Bucky has made every meal, every coffee and every snack that he’s promised to make. He’s taken out the trash without being asked and has done all the dishes before the grease could even set on their plate. Now he might be a supersoldier, alright, but waking up early to brew some coffee and make breakfast was still something he’s not accustomed to and letting his eyes rest a little bit longer feels like a reward he’s very well earned.

So now he finds himself buried under the many layers of their blankets. The fluffiness of their pillows and how the scent of her shampoo still lingers on them made him drown in the pool of comfortness. He snuggles tighter to the pillows, burying his face on the softness of its fabric, before slumber was abruptly yanked off of his feet.

“Good morning,” she says after jumping right on top of him, now sitting on his stomach with a teeth-rotting grin “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sweetheart,” Bucky grunts, smiling through the regret of his lost doze “You’re up early.”

“No, I woke up on time. You’re just taking a little more nap than usual,” she answers as showers his jaw with kisses “When were you going to tell me?”

His eyebrows knit, trying to understand her words with a brain that’s still partially asleep, “Tell you what?”

“That you got me the dishwasher.”

Bucky’s eyes shot wide. His blue fraught-filled eyes were clashing against her fevered ones. He studies her face, trying to find any trace of disappointment or anger, but the only things he could find were the lovely creases around her eyes and the big grin that he thought must’ve ache her cheeks after a while.

He sits up, leaning against the bed frame as he tries to assess his situation better. Wrath was devoid from her face. She was jumping a little, evidently excited upon unravelling his confidence. Something that he wasn’t sure how to react to now.

“You’re not mad?” he asks instead.

“Why would I be mad? You got me the dishwasher!” she exclaims, placing another kiss to his lips “I was planning to get it next week after my Christmas bonus is in, but here you are playing Santa. You’re quite literally crossing wishes off my list. I love you.”

“I love you,” he answers “But— You’re sure you’re not mad?”

She sits up, studying his attentive manner with a raised brow, “Why would I be mad?”

“Because the technicians said home appliances don’t count as presents anymore,” Bucky answers, looking further lost “They said dishwashers don’t count as Christmas presents.”

“Sure, they do! Home appliances or not, a present is a present,” she argues “It’ll only be an insult if all your gifts are home appliances. That wouldn’t count as Christmas presents. But that’s not what you’re doing. You’re giving me something that I want, which so happens to be a dishwasher.”

Bucky closes his eyes, letting out a sigh, “I am so confused right now. I thought I ruined your Christmas.”

“On the contrary, you’ve just made my Christmas,” she beams, pampering his face with little kisses “I love you, thank you.”

“I love you, Doll,” with his eyes still closed, Bucky pulls her face to his chest, trying to tame her excitement a little so he could recollect the drowsiness that was slipping off his fingertips “Does this mean I can forfeit from kitchen duties, now that you’ve found the surprise?”

She looks up, resting her chin to his chest with a satisfied laughter, “Yes, baby, we can get back to our usual schedule now.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes scenario #bucky barnes scenarios #bucky barnes x oc

337 notes · View notes

deonsx · 2 days ago

Note

Hellooo! I was wondering if u could make a fic or headcanon (its up to u tho!) about seishirou fake dating? I think the reason would be bcs the girls in his school would stop chasin after him or smthing like that? And ofc eventually they like each other. I hope ur doing well! take ur time and have a great day!

Heyaa!! The request box is pretty full these days, I'm moving as fast as I can, have a nice read!!

Fake Dating With Nagi Seishiro

Seishiro is fed up with the constant attention he gets from the girls at school. No matter how politely he turns them down they just won’t stop chasing after him. It is tiring and it is starting to interfere with his focus. Finally he comes up with a plan. He needs a fake girlfriend. Someone who can convincingly pull it off and won’t actually fall for him

That is where you come in. Maybe you are a friend or maybe you are just someone who seems reliable and disinterested in him romantically. One day after class Seishiro corners you with his usual calm and collected demeanor intact “I need your help” he says crossing his arms and leaning casually against the wall “Pretend to be my girlfriend. Just for a while. It will get them off my back”

You blink at him surprised “Why me??” you ask skeptical “Because you are the only one who won’t make this weird” he replies with a faint smirk “And you are also the only one who doesn’t seem interested in all the attention I get” After some hesitation you agree “How hard could it be” you think. A little hand holding here a few staged moments there and it will all be over soon enough

But as the plan unfolds things don’t go quite as planned. Seishiro who is always calm and cool starts to act differently. At first you think it is just part of the act. Like the way he suddenly gets protective when someone teases you or how his smiles feel more genuine when it is just the two of you. But then you realize it is not just an act anymore

And maybe you are not just pretending either

At first, Seishiro would approach the fake relationship like a task. He remains composed and distant, treating the whole situation as a formal arrangement. Holding your hand or placing an arm around your shoulder would feel mechanical, done only when necessary to convince others

However, he takes the role seriously. If someone questions the authenticity of the relationship, Seishiro defends it without hesitation. He might casually say “She’s my girlfriend. Isn’t it obvious?” His confidence leaves no room for doubt, making the act even more convincing

As time passes, Seishiro’s demeanor starts to shift. Initially, every small gesture like walking you to class or standing closer than usual feels calculated. But soon it starts to feel natural. The way he looks at you, lingers a bit too long. The way he laughs at your jokes feels a little too genuine for an act

You on the other hand, are nervous in the beginning. Agreeing to the fake dating arrangement seems simple at first, but being the center of attention feels strange. When someone asks “When did you two start dating?” you might panic stumbling over an answer

Over time though you start questioning your feelings. Is this really just fake? Or have you started to care about Seishiro more than you’re willing to admit?

Together, your interactions change. What began as staged hand-holding turns into moments that feel genuine. A hug in public doesn’t stop as soon as people stop looking. A playful argument about what to eat ends with him smiling in a way that feels far too intimate for a fake boyfriend

Then there’s the jealousy. Even though the relationship is fake, you both start to notice how uncomfortable it feels when someone flirts with the other. It’s subtle at first Seishiro’s narrowed eyes when someone gets too close to you, or the way you feel your chest tighten when another girl compliments him

Eventually, these small moments lead to something bigger. Maybe one night, after a particularly convincing moment in public, you find yourselves alone. Seishiro looks at you, a rare vulnerability in his gaze, and asks “If this is supposed to be fake, why does it feel so real?”

Enjoy!

219 notes · View notes

surielstea · 19 hours ago

Text

Breaking Point

Pairing: Poly!Bat boys x Fem!Reader

Summary: After a petty arguement Reader gives the three males the silent treatment, they use their best efforts in getting her to break.

A.Note: Finally another bat boys smut, sorry it’s taken me so long!! Just as a reminder everyone is consenting, may seem a bit dubious due to the fact that reader is choosing to be silent but I promise you she is very much into it.

6.5k words.

I stepped into the house, the familiar sound of my mates bickering reaching me before I even closed the door. Kicking off my heels, I padded toward the sitting room, curiosity already piqued as their voices rose and fell.

Leaning against the archway leading to the foyer, I paused, catching sight of them. Cassian sprawled lazily across the couch, Rhys perched like the picture of regal authority in his armchair, and Azriel sat back with his arms crossed, shadows coiling lazily around him.

"Obviously, I'm the favorite," Cassian declared, his tone smug and entirely self-assured.

"Remind me," Azriel countered coolly, "which one of us has the largest wingspan?"

"That's completely irrelevant," Rhys drawled, looking between them with barely veiled disdain. "Everyone knows it's the charm that matters. And mine is unmatched."

I blinked, taking another step forward, the wood creaking beneath my foot and giving away my presence. Three heads swiveled toward me, hazel and violet eyes locking onto mine as I tilted my head and crossed my arms.

"What are you three arguing about now?" I asked, exasperation lacing my tone as I moved closer. I stopped beside Azriel's chair, resting my hip against its side and arching a brow at them.

Cassian grinned up at me like a cat who'd just found the cream. "We're debating who you love most."

Azriel and Rhys shot him withering glares, clearly not impressed with his confession.

I frowned. "You know I love all three of you equally."

"Sure," Rhys purred, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "But you must have a favorite."

"And it's me," Azriel added, his rare grin making his dimples flash. My heart softened at the sight—until the smugness in his tone caught up with me.

"No," I said, my frown deepening.

"Ha!" Cassian crowed, slapping his thigh. "You hear that, Az? Not you."

A flicker of something like hurt passed over Azriel's face, and I instantly regretted my tone. I opened my mouth to explain, but Cassian cut me off.

"C'mon, sweetheart, you don't have to lie. We all know I'm the favorite."

"No!" I said, louder this time, frustration creeping into my voice. "I love all of you equally. It's not a lie."

They exchanged looks, disbelief written all over their ridiculously handsome faces.

"You three know how I feel," I pressed, my voice softening as I tried to make them understand. "There's no competition. It's impossible to have one of you as a favorite when I love all of you for entirely different reasons."

Cassian, ever the instigator, grinned. "It's just a little fun, sweetheart."

"It's not fun for me," I said, my tone sharpening.

"Darling, relax," Rhys soothed, ever the diplomat. But then he ruined it with, "Some of us are just more lovable than others."

My anger crested.

"Relax?" I repeated, my voice dangerously calm. "You know this is a sensitive subject for me. Yet here you are, turning it into a joke."

"Love, we didn't mean—" Azriel began, but I cut him off, stepping back when his hand reached for me.

"No." I shook my head, my resolve hardening. "If you're going to keep this up, then leave me out of it. None of you will be joining me in bed tonight until you sort yourselves out."

The room erupted in protest.

"Sweetheart—"

"Darling—"

"Love—"

I held up a hand, silencing all three of them. "I don't want to hear it. I'm going to bed. Alone."

The protests followed me as I turned on my heel and marched down the hall, a smug little smile tugging at my lips despite my irritation. By the time I reached the bedroom, the sounds had faded, and I closed the door behind me with a decisive click.

Stripping out of my work clothes, I pulled on a soft set of pajamas and slid into the massive bed built for me and three oversized Illyrian warriors. The empty space on either side of me was glaringly obvious, but I pulled the blankets up to my chin and resolutely closed my eyes.

If they wanted to fight over who was my favorite, they could do it without me.

Tomorrow, they'd crawl back with apologies. They always did.

And maybe I'd make them work for it.

None of them had come to bed last night—or at least they'd found somewhere else to sleep. That was just as well. It saved them from my wrath this morning.

Still, as I woke up in the emptiness of our shared bed, I found myself missing the familiar sensation of warm, strong arms around me. Missing their presence, their scents lingered on my skin.

I huffed, pushing the thought away as I sat up, rubbing at my eyes. The ache in my chest wasn't their problem—not yet. Not until they earned it.

Slipping out of bed, I grabbed a soft robe, tying it loosely as I shuffled toward the door. My hair fell free around my shoulders as I walked down the hall, the faint sound of sizzling drawing my attention. My steps slowed as I turned into the kitchen, where Azriel stood at the stove, shirtless, his shadows lazily curling around him.

The sight was enough to make my breath hitch, but I schooled my expression, crossing my arms as I approached silently.

"Good morning," he said softly, his dimpled smile appearing the moment he noticed me. He leaned down to place a kiss on the crown of my head, his hand finding the small of my back like it belonged there.

I raised a brow at him, pointedly ignoring the way my skin warmed at his touch.

"Breakfast is ready," he murmured into my hair, his hand slipping lower, brushing the curve of my hip.

I stepped back, breaking his contact, my lips sealed shut.

His smile faltered, just slightly, but he recovered quickly, turning his attention back to the pan. "Decided on silent treatment?" he asked, his voice as smooth as silk, a teasing lilt in it. "You know we're sorry, love."

I moved to the counter, ignoring him entirely as I reached for a mug and poured myself a cup of tea.

"Come on," Azriel tried again, leaning one hip against the counter as he watched me. His hazel eyes glimmered with amusement—and a hint of something darker. "You can't stay mad at us forever."

I lifted the mug to my lips, meeting his gaze over the rim as I took a slow sip.

His dimples appeared again, this time edged with a trace of mischief. "You're not even going to tell me if you want more sugar in your tea? No?" He sighed but was far from giving up, turning back to the stove.

I pushed off the counter and retreated to the dining table, plate and mug in hand. Settling into my seat, I found Rhys already there, watching me like a predator sizing up its prey. His violet eyes sparkled with intrigue as he leaned forward, resting his chin on his knuckles.

"Won't speak to us, darling?" His voice was rich, a purr meant to coax me. "How cruel."

I arched a brow at him, picking up my fork and taking a bite of my food.

"Really? Not even a word?" He tilted his head, his smirk deepening. "You're killing us, you know that? Utterly heartless."

Cassian strolled in a moment later, his hair rumpled, his shirt half-buttoned, and his grin wide. "Ignoring us I hear?" He plopped into the chair beside me, sliding an arm across the back of my seat. I didn’t want to know how Cassian had already found out—Rhys’a daemati powers never ceased to make me shiver. "That's fine. I've got other ways of making you talk."

I ignored him too, stabbing another piece of food with my fork.

"Cold as ice," he muttered, shaking his head with mock disbelief. Then his grin sharpened as he leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear. "Don’t worry, we'll thaw you out, sweetheart."

Azriel appeared then, refilling my half-full mug with a quiet precision that belied the smirk tugging at his lips. He set the carafe down and crouched down beside my chair, resting his forearms on his knees as he looked up at me.

"Love," he murmured, his voice low enough to send shivers down my spine. "You can punish us however you like. But you're making it very, very hard not to make you put that fork down and remind you just how much we adore you."

I swallowed, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Rhys chuckled softly, the sound rich and knowing. "You're stronger than I thought," he mused, his fingers drumming against the table. "But let's see how long you last."

The three of them exchanged glances, something unspoken passing between them.

Cassian's hand brushed my thigh beneath the table, his grin wolfish as I shot him a warning glare. Azriel's shadows curled around my ankles, cool tendrils dragging up my calves. And Rhys, well Rhys just leaned back in his chair, his smirk promising retribution as his violet eyes burned into mine.

I was determined to hold my ground.

But with these three? That resolve was bound to be tested.

It’s been days and I have not cracked. I refused to speak unless absolutely necessary. It started as a petty game, but after a while, I was beginning to enjoy the yearning in their eyes, the professions of need they spoke into my skin. It was cruel, and I would’ve stopped it a long time ago if I knew some sick part of them didn’t enjoy it too.

I found myself curled up in the library, attempting to lose myself in the pages of a novel. The silence was comforting—until it wasn't.

Azriel's shadows had found me first, curling along the edge of my book and brushing against my fingers like curious cats. A moment later, their master appeared, leaning against the doorway with that infuriatingly calm expression.

"Figured I'd find you here," he said softly, stepping inside. His steps made no sound on the plush carpet as he approached.

I ignored him, my eyes fixed on the words in front of me.

He crouched down beside me, his head tilting as he studied me. "Still nothing?" he asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You're stubborn, I'll give you that."

I turned a page, though I couldn't have recited what I'd just pretended to read.

He shifted closer, his shadows swirling lazily around us. "I've never minded the silence," he murmured, his voice low and intimate. "Allows me to think about things I’d prefer not to be distracted from."

One shadow darted forward, brushing the sensitive skin of my neck, then lower, tracing the line of my collarbone. I held perfectly still, refusing to react, though my heart raced as another shadow slid up my leg, curling just beneath the hem of my dress.

"Oh, sweet girl," he murmured, leaning in so close his breath ghosted over my ear. "I can hear your pulse. I can see the way your chest rises a little faster. You can't hide from me, love."

I turned another page, my expression neutral.

Azriel sighed, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. "You're really not going to give me anything?" he asked, his dimples flashing as if he found this amusing. "Fine, I'll be seeing you at dinner then." He leaned closer and pressed a lingering kiss to my neck.

He rose gracefully, his shadows retreating as he disappeared into the hall, leaving me alone with a racing heart and the lingering brush of his touch.

When I finally left the library, I found Rhys waiting for me in the sitting room, lounging on the couch like he owned the place—which, of course, he did.

"There she is," he greeted with a dazzling smile, patting the spot beside him. "Come sit with me, darling. Let's talk."

I raised an eyebrow, folding my arms as I leaned against the doorway as if to say he’d be the one doing all the talking.

"Still not speaking?" he asked, his smile softening into something more mischievous. "You wound me, truly. But I have a feeling I know how to fix this."

He snapped his fingers, and suddenly the entire room was filled with the soft strains of music.

"Dance with me," he said, holding out a hand. "No words required."

I stared at him, unmoving. This was a new thing he’s been doing. Finding new elaborate ways to spend time with me that didn’t include talking, or sex, which was limited—but it was cute.

He sighed dramatically, rising to his feet and closing the distance between us. "I know you're angry," he murmured, his hand brushing against mine. "And you have every right to be. But I'm going to make you forgive us, one way or another."

Before I could step back, he tugged me into his arms, one hand slipping around my waist while the other cradled my hand.

The music swelled, and Rhys began to sway, his movements smooth and effortless as he led me into a slow, intimate dance.

"You're not even going to react?" he asked, his violet eyes locking onto mine. "No little smirk? Not even a glare?"

I remained stoic, though the corner of my mouth twitched despite my best efforts.

His grin widened, and he dipped me suddenly, his nose brushing against mine as he whispered, "That's my girl."

He dipped closer, his lips pressing against mine. For a moment I melted into it, relishing in the familiar sensation that I hadn't experienced in only a day but it somehow felt like years.

But just as he leaned in I was pulling away. I pushed against his chest, breaking free of his hold as I turned and marched out of the room, refusing to let him see the smile threatening to break through.

By the time dinner rolled around, I was determined to keep my composure. Cassian, however, had other plans.

He cornered me in the kitchen, his broad frame blocking my path as I tried to reach for a glass of water.

"Not so fast," he said, narrowing his brows as he looked down at me. "You've been avoiding me all day, sweetheart. It's starting to hurt my feelings."

I brushed past him, grabbing the glass and filling it at the sink.

"Oh, come on," he groaned, leaning against the counter. "You're really going to ignore me? After everything we've been through?" Cassian was the first I mated with, it was just me and him for a long while. For him to pull this card was unfair, then again I was being unfair just as well.

I took a slow sip of water, my gaze fixed on the window.

His grin turned wicked. "You know, I've been thinking. Maybe the silent treatment is your way of admitting you can't resist me."

I rolled my eyes but said nothing, setting the glass down and turning to leave.

He caught my wrist, tugging me back against him with a playful growl. "You can't walk away from me that easily."

His hands slipped to my waist, and before I could react, he hoisted me over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

I writhed, kicking my legs as he laughed, the sound deep and rich. "Keep squirming," he teased. "Still not talking, let's see if I can change that."

Cassian carried me through the halls like I weighed nothing, his arm hooked firmly around my thighs as I lightly smacked his back. My protests were silent, but the swat of my hand made him chuckle all the more, his laughter echoing through the house.

"You've got fight in you, sweetheart," he teased, adjusting his grip on me. "But I think it's time we settled this like adults."

I didn't bother rolling my eyes again—he couldn't see me, anyway. I let my arms dangle, feigning defeat, though the corners of my lips twitched as I fought the urge to smile.

We entered our bedroom, where Azriel and Rhys were already lounging, both looking up in unison at the sound of Cassian's boots hitting the floor.

"Look what I found," Cassian announced triumphantly, setting me down in the center of the room. His hands lingered on my waist as he steadied me, his hazel eyes bright with mischief. "She's still not talking, but I figured you two might want a chance to plead your case before we make her.”

Azriel's brow lifted, his shadows curling lazily around his shoulders. Rhys leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, his expression unreadable—but his violet eyes gleamed with something that looked suspiciously like guilt.

"Darling," Rhys began, his voice smooth and soft as he rose to his feet. "We owe you an apology. All of us."

I crossed my arms, letting my gaze flick between the three of them as I arched a brow.

Azriel was the next to speak, standing and stepping closer, his wings rustling as he moved. "We shouldn't have joked about something we know is important to you," he said, his tone quiet but sincere. "It was thoughtless, and we're sorry."

My lips pressed into a thin line, but I didn't waver, keeping my expression neutral.

Rhys took another step forward, his hands open in a gesture of peace. "You've always made it so clear how much you love us, and we let our own egos get in the way. We didn't mean to hurt you, darling."

I glanced at Cassian, who was watching me intently, his earlier playfulness replaced by something more earnest.

"Sweetheart," he said softly, his voice dipping into that gentle tone he used only when it was just the two of us. "You've given us so much of yourself, and we've never once doubted your love. Not really. We were out of line, and I'm sorry."

The sincerity in their voices tugged at my resolve, but I stayed silent, letting the weight of their words settle in the room.

Rhys ran a hand through his hair, glancing at Azriel and Cassian before turning back to me. "We don't deserve you," he said, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "But if there's anything we can do to make it up to you, just say the word."

Azriel's wings shifted, his shadows curling around my ankles like an embrace. "Anything," he murmured, his golden eyes locking onto mine.

Cassian reached for my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles as he tilted his head, struck by my silence. "Please, sweetheart. Just tell us what we can do to fix this."

Their pleading was almost enough to break me, but I couldn't resist drawing this out just a little longer. I gave them a small, pointed shrug as if to say, You'll have to figure it out.

Rhys groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Please, love. Don't torture us," he muttered, though there was no real bite in his tone.

Azriel's lips twitched in what might have been a smirk, his shadows flaring. "She's enjoying this."

I remained silent, my expression unyielding as I tilted my head to glance at him. The playful gleam in his hazel eyes deepened into something darker, something more determined.

"Alright, then," Casisan murmured, his voice a low rumble. "You leave us no choice."

Before I could react, Cassian swooped me into his arms, lowering me onto the plush mattress with a gentleness that belied the heat in his gaze.

Cassian leaned over me, his hands bracketing my hips as he smirked down at me. "I swear to you, we’ll have you screamin’ by the end of the night."

His lips claimed mine with a fervor that left no room for hesitation, his hands tugging my legs apart so he could settle between them. He kissed me like a storm, his tongue sweeping into my mouth with a hunger that made my head spin.

When I refused to make a sound—even as his hand slipped beneath my shirt, brushing over my ribs and upward—his smirk deepened. "Stubborn as ever," he muttered, nipping at my lower lip.

His mouth trailed down my neck, his teeth scraping lightly against my skin before soothing the marks with his tongue. His hands gripped my thighs, spreading me wider as his lips moved lower, leaving a scorching path over my body.

"Still nothing?" he asked, his voice a low growl as he paused just above the waistband of my shorts. "I'll have to try harder."

I didn't get the chance to see Cassian's next move before Azriel stepped in, his shadows swirling around me as he knelt beside the bed. His golden eyes burned as he leaned in, his voice a dark whisper against my ear. "Let me show you what silence gets you, love."

His hands were everywhere—sliding over my hips, gripping my waist, tugging me toward him. The shadow singer's touch was as relentless as the teasing flick of his tongue against my pulse, his teeth grazing the tender skin.

"You can keep quiet all you want," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down my spine. "But I'll make you beg if I have to."

Rhysand was the last to approach, his movements slow and deliberate as he lay at my side. His violet eyes were molten as he cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing over my lips. "Darling," he murmured, his voice like silk. "You've punished us long enough. Don't you think it's time to let us make it up to you?"

He tilted his head, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth, then another to my jaw. His hands were a gentle contrast to the sharp edge of his teeth as he bit down lightly on my neck, his lips curling into a satisfied smile when my breath hitched.

"Ah," he purred, pulling back to meet my gaze. "There it is. That little sound you just made—it's a start."

The three of them surrounded me, a seamless symphony of touches and teasing that left my body trembling, and my willpower dangerously close to crumbling. Cassian's strong hands gripped my hips with an unyielding possessiveness, his lips blazing a hot, open-mouthed trail along the sensitive skin of my thighs. His stubble raked against me, the contrast between rough and soft making my breathing falter. Each kiss he pressed lingered, his tongue flicking out to taste my skin as he traveled upward with excruciating slowness, teasing me with the promise of more.

Azriel's shadows slid over my skin like liquid silk, cool tendrils ghosting across the places left untouched by his hands. They tugged at the hem of my dress, easing it upward until it bunched around my waist. His scarred hand palmed my breast beneath the thin fabric of my gown, his thumb brushing over the pebbled peak before pinching it lightly. My body arched instinctively, the sharp jolt of pleasure making my breath catch. He rolled the sensitive bud between his calloused fingers, his grip firm but not rough, as if he was savoring the feel of me.

Rhysand, ever the orchestrator, claimed my lips in a kiss that left me utterly breathless. His mouth was warm and insistent, his tongue sweeping across my bottom lip before dipping inside to tangle with mine. He kissed like he fought—with precision and control, leaving no inch of me unclaimed. His free hand slid into my hair, cradling the back of my head to tilt my face up to his. I could feel the smirk against my lips as he pulled back slightly, his teeth grazing my lower lip before sucking it into his mouth.

Azriel's scarred fingers worked my nipple mercilessly, the sensations sharp and electric. I clenched my eyes shut as Rhysand's mouth moved to the sensitive column of my neck, I bit down hard on my lip to keep from moaning. He nipped at the skin, his teeth grazing the delicate flesh before his tongue licked over the spot to soothe the sting. His lips latched onto the base of my throat, sucking hard enough to leave a mark, and I couldn't stop my back from arching into him. My hand found its way into his midnight-black hair, threading through the soft strands as if I needed something to anchor me.

Below, Cassian was relentless. His large hands slid down my thighs, spreading them wider as he knelt between them, his broad shoulders keeping me open for him. I felt the heat of his breath against my core, and then he was there—his tongue delving between my folds with a hunger that left me gasping. The first swipe was slow, deliberate as if he was savoring the taste of me. He groaned low in his throat, the vibrations sending a shiver up my spine.

"Already so wet, sweetheart," Cassian murmured against my pulsing core, his voice thick with desire.

He latched onto my clit with a fervor that made my head spin, sucking harshly before flicking it with his tongue in quick, teasing strokes. The pressure was perfect, just enough to push me closer to the edge without letting me tumble over. My hips bucked against his mouth, seeking more, but his hands tightened on my thighs, pinning me in place.

Not an inch of me was neglected. Azriel's lips replaced his fingers, the heat of his mouth closing over my nipple as he sucked and flicked his tongue over the sensitive peak. His shadows coiled around my wrists and ankles like silken restraints, adding to the sensation of being completely surrounded. The combination of his rough hands, his soft lips, and the ghostly touch of his shadows made my skin tingle with a heightened awareness.

Rhysand's teeth scraped along my pulse point, his tongue following the path of his bites as he painted my neck with evidence of his attention. Each mark he left sent a fresh wave of heat pooling between my legs, the sensation only amplified by the wicked curve of his lips against my skin. His voice, a deep, seductive purr, wrapped around me like a velvet caress.

"Still so quiet, darling," he murmured against my ear, his breath hot and teasing. "But for how much longer?"

Cassian's tongue thrust into my entrance, and my breathing stopped, halting the desperate cry that threatened to escape. He worked me with an intensity that had my body trembling, his tongue swirling and lapping at me with a precision that only years of experience could bring. The scrape of his teeth against my clit sent sparks of pleasure shooting through me, my legs trembling as I fought to keep my composure. I clamped my lips shut, determined not to give them the satisfaction of hearing me cry out.

Azriel's shadows tightened around my wrists, holding me in place as his free hand trailed down my side, his touch sending shivers across my heated skin. His lips left my breast, his golden eyes dark and heated as he watched me struggle.

"Let it out," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "We want to hear you."

I shook my head stubbornly, even as my body betrayed me, my hips grinding against Cassian's mouth. His deep chuckle rumbled against my core, the sensation pulling another muffled sound from me. Rhysand's smirk was audible in his voice as he tilted my chin up, his violet eyes glowing with wicked delight.

"Stop holding back, darling," he teased, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. "We’ll break you sooner or later, might as well give us what we want."

Cassian's tongue worked me mercilessly, his grip on my thighs unyielding as he kept me spread wide for him. Each stroke of his tongue and suck of his mouth sent me spiraling higher, the coil of tension in my core winding tighter and tighter. Azriel's mouth had moved to my other breast, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak before soothing it with his tongue, while his free hand slipped lower, his scarred fingers skimming over the slick mess Cassian was drawing out of me. Rhysand was still at my neck, his teeth marking a trail up to my ear, where his breath fanned hot against my skin.

My body trembled, overwhelmed by the three of them, every nerve alight with pleasure. The room blurred at the edges, the sensations crashing over me like waves, but still, I clung to my silence, refusing to let them have the satisfaction of hearing me break.

"You're so close, aren't you, darling?" Rhysand's voice was a low purr, dripping with smug satisfaction. His hand slid up my side, his thumb brushing against the swell of my breast, slickness left there from Azriel’s mouth.

I clenched my eyes shut, biting down harder on my lip to keep the desperate moan building in my chest from escaping.

"Not yet," Azriel murmured, his voice rough and amused as his tongue flicked over my nipple. "She can’t come until she begs."

Cassian hummed against my core, the vibrations making my hips buck against his mouth. He pulled back just enough to speak, his lips glistening. "You taste so good, sweetheart," he rumbled, his voice deep and gravelly. "I can feel how close you are. Why don't you use your words and ask for it?"

I shook my head, my breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

Rhysand chuckled darkly, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "Oh, love, you should know better than to deny us," he said, his fingers tilting my chin up so I was forced to meet his gaze. His violet eyes were blown with lust, and before I could shield myself, I felt his presence slipping into my mind.

He was using his daemati powers, to show me the lewdest things imaginable. Azriel behind me, his shadows binding my wrists as he thrust into me with that ruthless precision that left me shaking, Rhys beneath me, simultaneously meeting those thrusts as both of them worked me in sync, and Cassian, his head tilted back as he shoved his cock down my throat, hand in my hair, guiding me down inch by inch.

Each vision was more vivid than the last, the sensations blurring with reality until I couldn't tell where the images ended and their touches began. My hips bucked wildly, my body desperate for release as the coil in my core tightened to the breaking point.

"These visions, they can be a reality," Rhysand murmured, his voice soft but teasing. "Just use that pretty voice of yours, yeah?"

Cassian's tongue flicked over my clit in a maddening rhythm, his fingers pressing into my thighs to keep me still. Azriel's teeth scraped over my nipple again, his hand continuing its torment, circling my puffy clit, his shadows trailing over my stomach like phantom touches.

I was on the edge, my body trembling violently as the pleasure built and built, but they held me there, refusing to let me tip over. Cassian pulled back just enough to look up at me, his lips curved in a wicked smile. "Just one word, sweetheart," he said, his voice rough with desire. "Say it, and we'll give you everything you need."

The coil in my core tightened impossibly further, my body arching into their touches as my lips parted, a desperate plea hovering on the tip of my tongue. But still, I held back, clinging to the silence even as I teetered on the brink of shattering.

My willpower crumbled under the weight of their teasing, my need outweighing my pride. My voice was hoarse and breathless as I finally broke.

"Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Cassian paused, his grin triumphant as he leaned closer. "Louder, sweetheart. We need to hear you."

"Please," I gasped, my voice louder this time, my body trembling with need. "Please, I need you. Let me come."

The three of them stilled for a moment, their gazes dark and heated as they exchanged a silent, satisfied look. Then they moved as one, their touches no longer teasing but possessive, determined to give me exactly what I'd begged for.

Cassian wasted no time after my whispered plea. His wicked grin turned feral as he tightened his grip on my thighs, dragging me closer to the edge of the couch until I was back on that brink. His broad shoulders wedged between my legs, and his breath fanned over my slick folds, teasing and hot.

Azriel's hands held my upper body steady as I arched into Cassian's touch, his lips capturing my nipple again, teeth scraping lightly. His shadows coiled around my torso like ribbons, pinning me in place even as they caressed my flushed skin. Rhysand leaned in close, his fingers tangling in my hair as his lips brushed against my ear.

"There's our good girl," Rhys purred, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. "So loud for us."

Cassian's tongue worked me mercilessly, alternating between plunging deep into my core and swirling over my clit in maddening circles. His hands gripped my thighs tighter, holding me open for him as he devoured me like a feast. His nose pressed against my sensitive bundle of nerves with every movement, and I could feel the growing pressure inside me building to a breaking point.

I pulled at my restraints, needing him impossibly closer. "Cassian," I whimpered, my voice breaking as he sucked my clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking over it in rapid, devastating strokes.

"That's it, sweetheart," he growled against me, his voice rough and ragged. "Come for me. Let me taste all of you."

The coil in my core tightened, snapping with a force that left me gasping. My release crashed over me, waves of pleasure tearing through my body as I cried out, trembling uncontrollably. Cassian groaned in satisfaction, his mouth never leaving me as he licked and sucked, drawing out every last shudder of my climax.

"Look at her," Azriel murmured, his voice thick with desire as he watched me fall apart. "So perfect."

Rhysand's grin was wicked as his thumb brushed over my parted lips. "She's exquisite when she lets herself go," he said, his voice low and reverent.

Cassian finally pulled back, his lips glistening as he looked up at me with a triumphant smirk. "Sweetest thing I've ever tasted," he said, his voice rough with satisfaction. "And I'm not done with you yet."

Azriel and Rhysand exchanged a knowing look, their hands already moving to shift me into a new position, their gazes dark with intent.

"You want that vision, darling?" Rhysand asked, his tone teasing but filled with promise. "Want all three of us at once?"

I looked up at him, legs still shaky as I nodded my head with bright eyes.

The three of them wasted no time shifting me into position, their hands working seamlessly as though they had done this a thousand times before, making quick work of discarding their pants as well as the rest of their clothes.

Rhysand guided me onto my hands and knees, his strong hands gripping my waist as he positioned himself beneath me on the mattress cover. His violet eyes sparkled with mischief and raw hunger as he pulled me astride him, his hard length pressing insistently against my slick entrance.

Azriel knelt behind me, his shadows curling possessively around my body, brushing over my skin like phantom hands. His warm, scarred fingers traced the curve of my hips as he pressed his chest against my back, the heat of his cock brushing against my back entrance.

Cassian stood at the edge of the bed, before me, his thick member already glistening with arousal. He stroked himself slowly, his predatory gaze locked on my face. "You've been holding out on us all day, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice deep and commanding. "But not anymore. Let's hear every single sound you've been hiding."

Rhysand grasped my chin, tilting my face toward him for a slow, sensual kiss. "Let go for us, darling," he whispered against my lips, his tone dripping with authority. "We'll take care of you."

I barely had time to nod before Rhys lifted my hips and thrust into me, filling me completely with one fluid motion. My moan was immediate, loud, and unrestrained as my head fell back.

"There she is," Rhys purred, his hands guiding my hips to roll against him. "So good for us."

Azriel pressed his cock against my other entrance, his fingers spreading me open with slow, teasing strokes. "Relax for me, love," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. "Let me in."

I gasped as he pushed inside, the stretch making me tremble as he filled me. The sensation of both of them moving within me was too much, my body tightening around them as pleasure ignited every nerve, a burning sensation ran its way through me.

After not having them for a week, gods it was like the first time again.

"Fuck," Azriel growled, his hands gripping my hips as he thrust slowly, building a rhythm that matched Rhysand's. "So tight, so perfect for us."

Cassian stepped closer, his hand tangling in my hair as he guided me toward his thick length. "Open up, sweetheart," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "I want to feel that pretty mouth."

I obeyed without hesitation, taking him into my mouth and moaning around him as his taste flooded my senses. He groaned, his hips rocking gently as he set a steady pace, his hand tightening in my hair.

The three of them worked in perfect harmony, their bodies moving against mine as I moaned and whimpered, unable to hold back the flood of sounds that spilled from my lips. Rhysand's hips snapped upward, his cock hitting that spot inside me that made stars burst behind my eyes. Azriel's thrusts grew deeper, his growls vibrating against my back as his fingers dug into my skin.

Cassian's hand cradled my jaw, his thumb brushing over my cheek as he pushed deeper into my mouth. "That's it," he murmured, his voice thick with praise. "Take all of us, sweetheart. Let us hear how good we make you feel."

The overstimulation was overwhelming, the constant assault of pleasure pushing me over the edge again and again. My body shook with every orgasm, my moans turning into cries of ecstasy as they drove me higher, their touches unrelenting.

"Look at her," Azriel rasped, his shadows coiling tighter around me. "She's perfect like this, falling apart for us."

Rhysand's grin was wicked as he rolled his hips, drawing another scream from my throat. "Ours," he declared, his violet eyes dark with possession.

Cassian thrust deeper, his cock filling my mouth as he growled, "She's lovin’ every second of it."

My cries grew louder, my body writhing as they pushed me to the brink again and again, their movements synchronized to keep me hovering on the edge of bliss. The floodgates had opened, and there was no stopping the torrent of pleasure and sounds they pulled from me, each one more desperate and raw than the last.

I was theirs completely, and they were determined to claim every inch of me.

Comment or reblog with a “💙” to be added to the general taglist!

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @hufflepuff-pa55 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @cumuluscranium @adharanotfound @azrielsmate3 @aelincaddel @hiddlestonspassionsackx @dee-writes-angst @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @pit-and-the-pen @mybestfriendmademe @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @circe143 @bubybubsters @joshysloshy @username199945 @ivy-34 @notsarareallynot @vixenshiftsvrs @aurorab99 @pey2618 @loving-and-dreaming @mmg777 @andreperez11 @thatacotargirl @123345566 @one-big-fangirl @moonslitluna @imyherondale @salvawhxres @bookishbabyyyy @anuttellaa @breadsticks2004 @azriels-human @mamita-vera @demetercabingreen-thumb @lorosette @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tothestarsandwhateverend @ahaha0246 @mellowmusings @mythicalcookie

188 notes · View notes

thewertsearch · 1 day ago

Text

The two last trolls alive, blood of rust and royalty, will make each other pay for the crimes against their race. Their payment will be mutually dealt in the currency of punishment and reward at once. The Condesce will be rewarded with the power and immortality her new service entails, and punished by the grueling slavery for which it is synonymous. And you, young lady, are to be punished by death at the hands of your replacement. And so too will this be your reward.

As a villain speech, this goes pretty damn hard.

There’s also a smug air of detached satisfaction to it. Scratch is the one who really deserves to pay. He’s the one who's been perpetrating crimes against their race since its inception. But he’s completely untouchable, so he’s free to sit back and narrate the fight he goaded them into.

It also illustrates another parallel between Scratch and Hussie. Technically, Hussie is the ultimate cause of all the suffering in this comic – but at the same time, he can’t be ‘held responsible’ for it. That wouldn’t make any sense.

Similarly, if Scratch was called out, he’d say that he’s not causing any suffering, he’s simply 'facilitating the inevitable'. It wouldn’t make any sense to blame him, would it? He's only the narrator of Homestuck's plot, after all.

...speak of the devil.

I've been watching Hussie's progress through the mansion, but he hasn't done anything noteworthy so far. He did refer to the Ancestor backstory as ‘fanfiction’ at one point – but for my own sanity, I’m going to assume that was just a tongue-in-cheek meta joke.

Perhaps you wish to know the history of the clock, and how I came to possess it? Yes, I can see the sparkle of curiosity in your eye. It's a marvelous tale, one almost as long as it is verbosely told. Where do I even begin…

Looks like Hussie’s about to attack Scratch before he can explain the clock’s backstory - which isn't quite as bad as if he'd interrupted the Ancestor lore, but I was still hoping to learn about the origin of this artifact. A God Tier resurrection monitor seems like it’d be useful to have around.

If I have to put up with one more smug meandering interlude in my own story I am going to crack your head open and serve you a heaping bowl full of your downy soft puppet ass. How do you like that for hospitality, Doc?

...I’m having a little trouble interpreting what’s happening here.

What does it mean for a story, when the metaphorical author is accosted by the actual author? Is this just Hussie’s way of signaling that the Scratch Narration Arc is over, and we’re going back to regular programming?

Furthermore, is this even a ‘real’ event? Is Scratch’s grand plan seriously being foiled by Hussie, and not the actual characters of Homestuck?

And what the fuck does Kid Handmaid think about all this?

How do you react, when your invincible, immortal abuser is finally brought low by some random alien who appeared out of nowhere, ranted about puppet ass, and proceeded to dance a little jig?

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #s174 #4071

186 notes · View notes

carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 2 days ago

Text

it's the next best thing - part one

part two || part three

Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson || ~22k, complete || phone sex || accidental love confessions || there was only one bed || getting together || mutual pining || porn with plot || smut || wet & messy || friends with benefits || oral sex || rimming

This is my gift for @eyesofshinigami for @steddieexchange! This is part one of three, as it got a little long for a Tumblr One-shot. I hope you like it!

It’s been hours since Robin clocked out, and Steve’s barely hanging on. He misses spending entire shifts sitting behind the counter as Robin threw balled-up receipts at the back of his head, squabbling like children over who gets to pick that night’s movie. But Keith’s all up in a tizzy over their labor numbers, and so he’d split their dynamic duo right down the middle.

They’re like ships passing in the night now, and Steve’s bored.

The stupid bell on Family Video’s stupid front door hasn’t jingled in long enough that Steve’s begun melting into the front counter, head pillowed on his folded arms, legs barely keeping him upright. Mondays have always been the slowest night of the week, and as winter sinks its icy claws into Hawkins, fewer and fewer customers are showing up past six p.m.

Robin’s going to be mad when she opens tomorrow and finds all the tapes he’d been supposed to rewind still stacked by the TV in the back room, but sue him—the shine’s wearing off real quick on this entire job without her at his side.

When the phone rings shrilly in his ear, it’s almost a relief. He’ll take Mrs. Carruthers nagging complaints on the state of kids’ movies these days over another moment of this endless, lonely, monotony. He doesn’t raise his head as he reaches fumbling fingers across the counter to snatch the phone from its cradle, pressing it to his ear.

“Thank you for calling Family Video,” he drones out in the customer service voice he’d learned at Scoops and perfected during Friday night rushes, made worse when the new releases hit the shelves. “How can I help you?”

It’s silent for a moment aside from the staticky sound of an open line. But then there’s laughter drifting down into his ear, alternating between braying and giggly—Steve would recognize that little donkey snort anywhere.

He’s already smiling into the meat of his forearm when another voice, deeper than it usually is, asks, “what are you wearing, big boy?” before dissolving into peals of elated laughter, mixing perfectly with Robin’s own hiccuping giggles.

Steve straightens up. He catches sight of his own face reflected back at him from the dark windows and for the first time that night, he’s glad no one else is here. It’d be hard to explain the force of his grin and the way his cheeks have turned splotchy and pink even in the cold air.

Steve dutifully waits for a break in the laughter to answer Eddie’s question. “White sweater, green vest, blue jeans, white sneakers,” he lists out, the corners of his mouth twitching as he fights against himself to maintain that same droll tone.

The laughter starts up again, spurting like a sprinkler on the fritz. Something crashes over the line, and Steve knows without having to ask that it was Robin as Eddie’s laughter takes on a hysterical edge. Steve’s smiling again, face hurting with the strain of it. He wishes he could be there, sitting between the pair wherever they are, but if he can’t, this is the next best thing.

“That’s so cute, baby,” Eddie replies when he finally gets a handle on things, that same deep tone telling Steve that the bit is still going on. It doesn’t stop warmth from pooling low in his stomach as he bites his lip, the term of endearment ringing through his ears.

“Thanks,” Steve says, wincing when it comes out all breathy. He clears his throat and diverts the topic of conversation. “You stealing my best friend?”

Eddie gasps, sounding almost affronted as he replies, “of course not! We’re leaving a space right in the middle, just for you.”

“You were the tie-breaker for the movie pick, dingus!” Robin calls, voice faint like she’s a little too far away to be properly picked up by the receiver.

“You always side with Robin, Stevie,” Eddie sighs. Steve can picture it—Robin and Eddie on separate sides of the Munson’s couch, passing a joint back and forth, pausing long enough in between each hit like his ghost might want to have a pull of its own. “It’s enough to make a guy think you don’t like him.”

“I like you,” Steve blurts, wincing and closing his eyes when the words register.

The silence rings louder than any response Eddie could have given, deafening Steve in the quiet of the abandoned video store. It’s all too much, made worse by Eddie finally responding with a stilted, “I—oh.”

Steve rubs at his closed eyes, suppressing the groan creeping up his throat. God, why can’t he just stick with the joke? Why does he have to spew his stupid feelings all over everything?

“Well that’s—” Eddie starts when it becomes clear that Steve’s not going to be saying anything to make this moment any less awkward. But suddenly, he just…doesn’t want to hear what Eddie has to say.

“Uh, customer,” Steve interrupts, hoping the lack of ringing bell isn’t obvious over the phone. “Got to go, bye,”

“Oh, oka—”

Steve slams the phone down hard enough that the plastic creaks. Now, alone with his racing thoughts and poor life decisions once more, Steve drops his head down on the sticky counter with a groan.

It’s going to be a long, lonely night.

***

As Eddie listens to the dial-tone filter down the line, he smacks his head into his kitchen cupboard, the shitty door rattling loosely on its hinge as he tries to strangle himself against its plywood surface.

“Why did you let me do that?” Eddie whines, even though “let” is a strongly misleading word. Robin, ever the shit-stirrer, had dialed the number herself and shoved the ringing phone into his fumbling hands just before Steve’s tinny voice had come through the phone’s speaker.

Robin hiccups, and it sounds wet enough that Eddie finally puts the phone back on the cradle and turns around, limbs loose and uncoordinated from the pot brownies they’d burnt to a crispy charcoal but eaten anyway. She’s on the floor where she’d collapsed mid giggle-fit and been unable to get back up. But she’s all out of smiles now as tears trail down her freckled cheeks.

“’m sorry,” she cries, rubbing her closed fist against her streaming eyes, hair haloed out against the dirty linoleum of the trailer’s small kitchen. “Just missed him.”

“You saw him this morning,” Eddie snorts, but lays down next to her, resting his head against her stomach. Her clumsy hands paw at his head, fingers catching in every knot as she tries to sooth him.

“But it’s Steve,” she says, like that will explain everything. And really, it does. He is Steve, and he and Robin were surgically disconnected in the womb or something. They’re going to grow old and die together, and Eddie’s only a little bit bitter about not fitting into that same equation.

“Yeah, Robby, I know,” Eddie sighs, blinking up at the flickering fluorescent lights drilling through his skull. He can’t seem to get up, though, thoughts swirling around themselves, making useless patterns in his brain that are impossible to follow.

They’re quiet aside from Robin’s waning sniffles, her heels kicking rhythmically against the tile like she’s keeping count, fingers tapping against the top of his head like she’s practicing her fingering for one of the songs in marching band. Eddie loves her so much. He should have known to never, ever give her drugs.

“Is it just me or did he sound sort of flustered?” Eddie asks, and Robin’s fingers drop back to his head, clutching at the roots of his hair hard enough to hurt as she dissolves into cute little giggles again, knees pulling up as she curls into the fetal position around his head.

“Uh, customer, got to go, bye!” she calls, rushing it all together in her haste to mock her best friend’s fumbled sign-off.

Eddie laughs right along with her, but there are butterflies fluttering around in his ribcage, rabbiting his heartbeat up to an alarming gallop.

Steve drops from the conversation after that, and it doesn’t come up for the rest of the night. Not when the munchies get the best of them and they order a pizza, or when Robin shoves one of her stupid subtitled French films into the VHS player and they both squint at the screen, too out of their gourds to follow the confusing plot.

Robin might have forgotten the entire thing; Eddie does not.

It lingers in the back of his mind, creeping over him like mold until he finds himself in front of the phone the next night right around the same time, hand hovering over the number pad, fingers damn-near shaking with the desire to punch in the number he’d had to scour the phone book for. The one he’d written down and stuck onto the fridge with a magnet, hoping Wayne wouldn’t ask any questions when he inevitably catches sight of it.

And that’s the thing. He couldn’t even claim it was spur of the moment this time. It was premeditated. And it feels that way as he finally dials and listens to the line ring.

“Thank you for calling Family Video. How can I help you?”

“What are you wearing?” Eddie asks. It comes out of his mouth on a raspy whisper, rumbling deep in the recesses of his throat.

Steve laughs, sounding downright delighted as he asks, “Robin put you up to this?”

Eddie can almost see the smirk that must have crept across his face. He twirls the cord round and round his finger, wishing desperately he could see it in person.

“Uh, no,” Eddie says, voice three octaves higher than it had started out, feeling hot all over as he jumps up onto the counter and settles his head back against the cupboard. “Your better half has fled the coop.”

Steve laughs again, and Eddie wants to drown himself in it. Instead, he clacks his heels against the cupboards behind him, trying to keep from blurting out something stupid.

“So, it’s your idea this time?” like he knows Robin well enough to know she’d dialed the number and put the phone in his hands. He’d be jealous if he wasn’t in love with both of them in his own special way.

“All the better to make you laugh, my king,” Eddie replies, cringing at the stupid little voice that comes out of his mouth. “I would be failing in my court jester duties if I didn’t perform at my king’s behest.”

“You think you’re that funny, do you?” Steve asks around a laugh.

“Well, at my count, you’re at three laughs already, your highness.” Eddie counts them out on the fingers still tangled in the phone cord, like Steve will somehow be able to see them from miles away. God help him if he can, with the way Eddie’s twiddling his fingers and blushing like a schoolgirl on her first date.

Steve scoffs, but there’s another laugh hidden beneath it, so happy and warm that it lodges itself in the recesses of Eddie’s chest. He presses the phone hard enough against his ear that the cheap plastic creaks, unwilling to miss even the smallest of sounds Steve might make.

“Fine, fine, you’re funny, Munson,” Steve says, voice lilting up like he’s still fucking smiling. “You can call your king anytime.”

“How gracious, your majesty.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, snorting at Eddie’s antics. “Now what’ve you been up to all day? Preparing your material to call little old me?”

“You’re just jealous that some of us aren’t forced to be capitalist monkeys,” Eddie replies.

“Monkeys?” Steve asks, laughing again—Eddie’s count is now up to five.

“Yeah, you know, with the whole monkey suit you’re forced to wear.”

“It’s a vest,” Steve huffs before putting on a voice that’s soft-spoken and sultry. “With how often you ask what I’m wearing, it seems like you would’ve remembered by now.”

Eddie sputters as Steve’s sibilant whisper slips down his spine, making him shiver. Steve isn’t supposed to turn the flirting back onto him. There are rules, goddammit.

The conversation segues into Steve complaining about the absentee parents barely paying attention as their kids smear candy all over the VHS’s on display, really only proving Eddie’s corporate monkey crack right. Eddie doesn’t mind—anything to get Steve not to use that voice again.

It goes on for minutes, Eddie hanging on every word, every laugh, every sound, like this is something they do. Even though this is the first time they’ve ever talked on the phone without Robin back-seat talking behind one of them. Even though they don’t even really hang out alone, always sequestered in groups.

All the better to keep Eddie’s stupid, ridiculous, hopeless crush from exploding out of him and killing everyone in the line of fire.

But, as Steve hangs up with a rushed, “customer, sorry!” this time with the accompanying sound of the bell on Family Video’s front door, leaving Eddie to listen to the staticky dial tone instead, he can’t regret calling. Not with Steve’s laughter still ringing in his ears.

He stands there clutching the dead line to his ear for an embarrassingly long time.

***

Steve means to tell Robin about it the next time they share a shift. Really, he does. But then she spends the first thirty minutes of their two-hour overlap talking about her most recent one-on-one hangout with Vickie, and Steve spends the rest of their time before the after-work rush hits, hyping her up to finally make a move. By the time Robin’s punching out, Eddie’s name hasn’t come up even once.

He can feel his window of opportunity dwindling as Robin grabs her bike from where she’d stashed it in Keith’s office that morning, wheeling her dirty tires toward the front door.

“Hey, Robin?” Steve asks, just as her hand settles on the door, ready to swing it open.

“Yeah?” she says, focused on rifling through her pockets, making sure she has her house key after one too many times making it all the way home to find her house locked up tight, and her keys dropped somewhere between Family Video’s shelves.

Steve watches her, and feels the moment pass him by. “Want a ride to work tomorrow?” he asks instead of saying, I really like Eddie, or, do you know why he keeps calling, or, do you think I have a chance? It feels more like a bathroom conversation anyway, and if Keith catches them both in there again while the front of the store remains unmanned, he’s going to fire them.

“Always,” she says, waving half-assedly toward him without turning back around.

And just like that, she’s gone, none the wiser to Steve’s inner turmoil, spiralling into full-blown anxiety the closer it gets to what he’s beginning to think of as Eddie’s usual call time. It’s just—they don’t do this. They don’t call, they don’t hang out without Robin or the kids, and they sure as hell don’t ask each other what the other is wearing in that deep, wanting tone of voice.

At least, that’s what Steve had thought two days ago. Now, he’s not so sure.

When the phone rings at exactly eight p.m. that night, Steve knows who it must be on the other side of the line.

“Eddie?” he asks, forgoing his usual customer service spiel. He’s rewarded with a bright, happy laugh that hits him straight in the sternum.

“Is that how you greet all your paying customers?” Eddie asks, smile audible in his voice.

“As if you ever pay.”

“I have!” Eddie cries indignantly. “Wait, no you threw me off! What’re you wearing?”

“This again?” Steve asks, groaning as if the question doesn’t send his guts squirming every single time Eddie’s voice drops into that suggestive register. He shouldn’t answer, should nip this whole thing in the bud before it spirals entirely out of his control.

But Eddie doesn’t break the silence—Steve can’t even hear him breathing, and Steve’s never been that strong-willed. “Striped polo, jeans, sneakers, work vest. There, you happy?”

“I don’t know, Stevie,” Eddie replies, and Steve can practically see the teasing smirk on his face as he asks, “what color are these stripes?”

“Grey and blue,” Steve says after looking down to double check. It’s his only long-sleeved polo and the store’s a bit too cold for anything else.

Eddie whistles, shrill and sharp through the phone like he’s catcalling Steve from across the street. “Jesus,” Steve cries, yanking the phone away from his ear until he can’t hear it anymore. When he presses the phone back to his ear, Eddie’s cackling. “Prick.”

“Sorry, hot stuff, just couldn’t help myself.”

“You could try,” Steve replies dryly.

“You’re not supposed to change for a relationship, Stevie.”

Steve’s breath stutters in his lungs. It’s a joke. He knows it’s a joke, but that doesn’t stop his fingertips from tingling like he’d set them on fire. The other side of the call’s gone dead silent, the words settling between them with more weight than Eddie could have meant.

So, Steve mutters, “this is more like a hostage situation,” and wonders if he’s just imagining the relief he can hear in Eddie’s answering laughter.

Steve’s heart’s always been a little too easy to snatch—Nancy and Robin perfect attestations of that. But it’d worked out okay with Robin, shifting seamlessly into platonic soulmateism as soon as the name Tammy Thompson had come out of her mouth.

Maybe he can do that with Eddie, too. If only he’d stop calling; if only Steve would stop answering. He’s off shift tomorrow, so if Eddie calls anyone, it’ll be Robin.

As their conversation ends, Steve tells himself he’s fine with that.

***

When Eddie calls Family Video like usual, it’s Robin that answers the phone.

“You’re not Steve,” he says, without thinking, cringing when that makes her snort. “Not that you’re not a delight and a treasure to us all, Buckley!”

“Mmmhmm,” she cuts in, sounding even more droll than when she’d droned out her canned customer greeting.

“It’s just that Steve’s always the one that answers, so I was starting to think he was super glued to the front counter, you know?”

Silence rings down the line long enough for Eddie to let his dangling heels smack noisily into the cupboard three times, but then Robin says, “he’s at home,” and continues before he can respond, “you do this a lot then, huh?” she asks around whatever pilfered candy she’s snacking on.

Eddie’s entire body freezes as he runs what he’d just said through his head and comes to the startling realization that Steve hasn’t told her.

“Uh, no?” Eddie asks, hating the way his voice cracks with the lie. “I mean, sometimes I want to call before making the long trek up there. Check if you’ve got anything good on the shelves, you know?”

“Mmmhmm,” she says again, sounding even more doubtful now. They both know it’s a measly six minute drive, but she doesn’t call him on it. “Well, what are you looking for tonight?”

He almost blurts out Steve’s name before remembering his stupid lie. “Uhhhh—um—what about The Fly?” he asks, wincing as Robin scoffs.

“That’s not released yet, dingbat,” she replies, like Eddie doesn’t already know that. It’s just the first movie he’d thought of, having seen its name lighting up The Hawks marquee just this morning.

“Well, call me when it is, okay bye!”

He hangs up the phone on Robin’s indignant sputtering. Because he’s the bane of his own existence, he immediately flips through the white pages and dutifully writes the number he finds listed beside Steve’s yuppy parents' names on the note beneath the long-since memorized number for Family Video.

He doesn’t hesitate to dial.

“Harrington residence,” Steve greets because he’s a bit of a yuppy himself. Eddie hates that he finds it charming.

“You always answer the phone like that, big boy?”

“If I’d known it was you, I might not have picked up at all,” Steve replies, but he sounds like he’s teasing, so Eddie just clutches the phone tighter, smiling around his empty trailer, glad that Wayne’s at work. “Now, did you actually want something?”

“Just wanted to know what you’re wearing.”

Eddie shoves his fist into his mouth and bites down to contain the whine at having said such a god awful, stupid fucking thing for the fourth god awful fucking time.

“Sweats, an old gym shirt, and some socks,” Steve replies, like that’s not enough to rewire Eddie’s whole fucking brain.

Eddie’s never seen him anything other than entirely put together—jeans stain-free, shirt pressed, not a hair out of place. He’s a man after Eddie’s own heart, curating an aesthetic with all the careful consideration that he’d use picking songs for a mixtape. But, unlike Eddie, Steve looks so put together that the thought of him messy has Eddie’s heartbeat ratcheting up.

Are his sweatpants stained? Is the gym shirt stretched out? Is his hair all fucked up? God, Eddie would kill to know, but he can’t think of a normal way to ask, so all he says is, “oh, yeah?” wincing when it comes out embarrassingly squeaky. He clears his throat and continues, “no work today?”

“Nah, it’s my day off,” Steve says, and then there’s the sound of furniture settling, a sigh, the rustle of fabric. Did Steve just lay down? Does he have a phone in his goddamn bedroom? Is he splayed out on his bed, cozy and warm. Eddie’s never seen Steve’s bedroom and god, suddenly he wants to so badly it hurts.

He wants to lay down beside him, wrap him up in his arms, see how fucked up his hair gets by the early hours of the morning. He just—wants.

“Eddie?” Steve asks, sounding frustrated, like he’d tried to get his attention a few different times. “You there?”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Eddie says before closing his eyes and bashing his head into the cupboard. Sweetheart? Lusting after Steve was one thing, but fucking sweetheart? This is rapidly becoming dangerous. “Wayne just got home, so I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Oh, oka—”

Eddie hangs up the phone. He stares at the empty trailer, heartbeat rabbiting away in his chest like he’s back in gym class trying to run the mile.

He should stop this, throw Steve’s number away and go cold turkey—hide his heart deep within the recesses of his ribcage and keep it safe.

Eddie’s never been that smart, and he knows, no matter what his stupid brain thinks, he’ll be picking up the phone again tomorrow night. And besides, he’s already got both numbers memorized.

***

It’s still Steve’s day off, but he drives Robin to work, just like he always does. She stuffs her bike in the trunk in case he’s not around to pick her up after her shift’s done, and then she climbs into his passenger seat, still looking half asleep as she pulls down his visor and uses the small mirror to messily apply her eye liner. Steve drives slow, careful of potholes and speed bumps, a part of him always terrified she’ll stab her own eye out.

She doesn’t talk to him until she’s finished both eyes and stashed her pencil securely into her bag.

“So, Eddie called yesterday,” she says, and when he looks at her sidelong, hands clenched on the steering wheel, she’s looking back, smirking as she watches her comment land. He jerks his gaze back to the road.

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, relieved when his voice comes out even.

Robin knows him though, so she just snorts, and when he looks back toward her, her arms are crossed and she’s got one eyebrow raised bitchily in a way he knows she learned from him. And now here she is, using it as a weapon against him.

Steve clears his throat, glancing away again as he pulls into the vacant Family Video parking lot. “He… calls sometimes.”

“I’ll bet he does,” Robin replies with a snort.

“Robin,” Steve whines, all sense of decorum lost as he drops his forehead down on the wheel hard enough that his horn honks, sharp and loud in the quiet morning. “It’s not like that.”

She reaches over to pat his back, all dripping condescension as she asks, “for him or for you?” before hopping out of the car and going to unlock the front door, switching the Open sign on.

Steve loiters in the parking lot for an embarrassedly long time, her words running through his head. He hits play on his tape deck to drown it out, peeling out of the parking lot like a demo-dog is on his heels.

Metallica’s Orion drills through his head all the way home.

Steve fritters away his day, wandering around his big, empty house, scrubbing floors, dusting shelves he hasn’t even glanced at in years, reorganizing the pantry, lest his anxious energy shake his organs right out from beneath his skin.

He loses himself in the monotony of scrubbing, wiping, and pilfering through cupboards until he comes out of it, covered in dust and smelling of chemicals with the little hand of the clock in the kitchen pointing damningly close to the eight.

Steve takes a shower, scrambling with shampoo and conditioner, rubbing his bar of soap roughly down his body, trying to get the smell of bleach off his skin.

When he hears the phone ring, Steve rushes out of the shower, dripping water all over the tile as he slips his way into his bedroom to snatch the phone off his desk before it rings out.

“Harrington residence,” he replies breathlessly. He tries to tell himself it’s because of his mad dash to grab the line but as he holds his breath, waiting for that familiar voice to filter through the speaker, he knows it’s a lie.

“What are you wearing?” Eddie asks.

Because he hasn’t lied yet, Steve bites his lip before hesitantly replying, “uh, I just got out of the shower, so…”

Eddie gasps, breath stuttering dramatically, and when he asks, “so, a towel?” his words come out high pitched, almost squeaky, like he’s doing one of his little voices for his nerd game. But, an idea is growing in the back of his head, infecting his every thought with a nagging sort of hope he thought he’d sworn off years ago.

Maybe, just maybe, this whole thing isn’t just a bit at all, no matter how it had started. Maybe this is Eddie’s ridiculous way of starting something. If it is, Steve can’t bear to pass it up, even if all Eddie wants is the sound of Steve’s voice whispering dirty things in his ears.

There’d been a few girls back at Hawkins High who’d liked to call Steve up, have him murmur sweet nothings into their ears as they giggled, doing things to their own bodies that they were too shy to ask Steve to do himself.

If that’s all Eddie wants, Steve will give it to him. He’ll give Eddie anything he wants.

“Steve?” Eddie asks, still like his breath has been punched out of him. Steve wants to hear how breathless he can make him.

“You actually called mid-shower, so I didn’t have time to dry off,” Steve says, voice low so he can catch any little noise Eddie might make. “I didn’t even grab a towel.”

Steve’s not disappointed—Eddie whines, high and strained before the sound cuts off abruptly enough that he can almost picture the way Eddie must’ve covered his own mouth, nails digging into his cheek to keep himself from letting anything else slip. Steve grins, blood heating up even as the water begins cooling against his skin.

“I’m dripping,” he continues, voice low and suggestive. Eddie doesn’t reply aside from the haggard edge his breathing gains. Steve hasn’t even done anything yet, and Eddie sounds like he’s on the knife’s edge of coming. “And it’s all your fault.”

“Steve,” Eddie whines.

“What?” Steve asks, “you started this, Eddie.” Eddie moans as Steve says his name. God, he’s easy.

“It was just a joke,” Eddie argues, but his breathing’s still hitching, and he doesn’t sound like he wants Steve to stop.

“I thought you’d enjoy me playing along.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Do you want me to stop?” Steve interrupts. He will, if Eddie asks, will stop playing this little game and ask him how his day was, wait for Eddie to ask him in turn. They can go back to the way things were before, no matter how much Steve doesn’t want to.

“No, don’t stop,” Eddie replies, quickly, desperately

“Oh, are you just selfish then?”Steve asks, gratified when Eddie hisses like Steve had touched him. “Don’t you want me to enjoy myself, too?”

“No, no, no,” Eddie replies in that same high-pitched, stuttering voice that he’s rapidly becoming addicted to, so desperate to please Steve. “Not selfish, not—”

“I don’t know, this is starting to seem a little one-sided,” Steve cuts in, Eddie’s protestations sputtering out into nothing. “You haven’t even told me what you’re wearing.”

“Jeans and a t-shirt!” Eddie answers so fast he can’t have even thought about not replying.

“A little overdressed, aren’t you baby?” Steve asks, making note of the way Eddie moans at the slipped term of endearment. “Why don’t you take your shirt off for me?”

“But, I’m in the kitchen,” Eddie replies, whispering like he’s imparting a secret. It snakes down the line and sends a shiver up Steve’s spine. He’s been to Eddie’s trailer before, settling on one side of the couch, Eddie on the other, with Robin playing buffer in the middle.

He can picture the Munson’s small kitchen, barely cordoned off from the rest of the trailer, the separating wall just enough to block the fridge and sink from view.

“Is Wayne there?” Steve asks.

“He’s at work, but—”

“Then what’s the problem?” Steve asks. “Afraid he’ll come home and figure out what you’re doing?”

“I’m not doing anything,” Eddie whines, but Steve hears the sound of him rearranging the phone followed by the rustling of fabric. “There, happy?”

Steve pictures it: Eddie, standing shirtless in the kitchen, phone clutched to his ear as he pants down the line. Is his face flushed with embarrassment? With arousal? How far would the pink go down? He wants to follow it with his tongue, trailing over tattoos and into his dark happy trail.

“Good boy,” Steve praises, and Eddie moans, dark and guttural.

Steve strains his ears, swears he can hear the rustling of clothes, the metallic clinking of what must be Eddie’s stupid handcuff belt that he’s dying to get his hands on. There’s a hitch of breath a moment after before it evens out. After having heard him be so loud, Steve’s got his own suspicions about what activity he’s trying to cover up.

“I thought you weren’t doing anything?” Steve asks teasingly as he finally settles his shower-damp body into his clean sheets.

“I’m—I’m not,” Eddie replies, voice still higher than he’s ever heard it.

Steve grins, settling more comfortably into his pillows, phone cord stretched just a bit in order to reach. “So that wasn’t the sound of you sliding your big, strong hands into your pants?”

There’s a clatter on the other side of the line, like Eddie’d dropped the phone before hastily picking it back up to reply. “I—Steve, I wouldn’t—”

“You’re easy,” Steve says, cutting off Eddie’s lie before he can commit to it. “Just the thought of me naked and you had to touch yourself, didn’t you?”

“Steve—”

“Or have you been doing this every time?” Steve asks, just to hear Eddie’s protests. He knows he hasn’t, would have heard the hitching breaths and stifled moans. “Calling me up at my job just to fuck your hand and listen to my voice, baby?”

“I didn’t,” Eddie protests again, but his breathing’s gone ragged.

“Was Wayne sitting in his recliner so you had to be quiet, listening for any movements from the living room while you shoved your hand in your pants, too desperate to wait?”

“No.” Eddie asserts, but he’s panting now, like just the thought of getting caught in a compromising position is getting him there. “I wouldn’t, not—not with Wayne home.”

“But he’s not here this time is he?” Steve asks. “And you’re desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Steve.”

“I bet you look real pretty like that.” Steve’s own arousal is making itself known, dick hardening as he listens to all the delicious sounds Eddie makes. “Hand moving in your jeans, all hot and bothered as you take what you need.”

Eddie’s not talking anymore, just gasping wetly down the line as Steve speaks. He doesn’t mind, he can conjure up enough visuals to work with as he grasps his own shaft and gives it a tug.

“Sound pretty too, don’t you?” Steve asks, getting an affirmative grunt that has his own hand moving quicker. “Moaning for me like you just can’t help yourself.”

He’s not even thinking about what he’s saying anymore, spewing garbage out of his mouth as he strips his dick, now lubricated enough by precome and lingering shower water to ease his way.

“I might have to stuff something else in there just to shut you up,” he grunts.

That’s apparently all it takes because Eddie’s whining turns high and reedy, muffled like he’d stuffed his own fingers down his throat on Steve’s command.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve says, talking him through what must be one hell of an orgasm with the way he’s panting. “Bet you look so pretty when you’re coming, making a mess in your stupid tight jeans.”

Eddie moans again like even when he’s spent, the sound of Steve’s voice is almost enough to get him there again. Then he’s back to panting. Steve listens to his wet, staggered breathing, closes his eyes, and pictures what Eddie must look like, collapsed on the floor of his kitchen, hand stuffed in his now-stained jeans, bangs matted to his forehead.

Steve wants to smell him, wants to lick him, wants to brush his bangs back and kiss his sweaty forehead. And that’s all it takes to send Steve over the edge. He bites his lip, suppressing any noises from spilling out of his mouth as he shakes through the aftershocks.

Embarrassment begins curdling in his gut as soon as he comes back to himself. Not at what he’d said, or the noises he might’ve let slip, no. Eddie’d liked it—he had. But, that’s not what had been Steve’s undoing. No, it was the tender, domestic thought of kissing his forehead. Horrifying.

But then Eddie starts laughing, manic and gleeful the way only the best of orgasms leave you, and Steve elects to leave that particular panic for after he’s off the phone.

“Same time tomorrow?” Steve asks, like he hadn’t just listened to one of his closest friends jack off to his voice.

“Uh, yeah?” Eddie says, sounding downright shy now that he’s coming down. Steve can’t handle it. “Yes? Yes.”

“Talk to you then,” Steve replies, hating how soft his voice comes out. “Night, Munson.”

“Night, Stevie.” Eddie whispers.

Once the phone call ends, Steve gets up to shower off more than a little dust this time.

part two

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my fic #SteddieWinterExchange

193 notes · View notes

nicotine-boi · 3 days ago

Text

So much senseless pain..

YALL I FUCK SO HEAVY WITH THIS DRAWING IT ALSO TOOK ME A LITERAL MONTH TO COMPLETE BECAUSE UNI BUT I ALSO SNEEKED (?) A LOT OF symbolism ig IN HERE AND IM LIKE. SLSJSKKSKSN

Explanation + other versions below (excuse any typo I'm writing this up on my phone at 11pm)

A.) all the different hands are from characters that he (mostly) directly impacted.

Silco [top hand] because, intentional or not, their paths were always slightly intertwined. (jinx stealing hex-plans, jayce proposing peace, even back to vik's apprenticeship eith singed and him creating shimmer for silco). He's placed at the head because he was the catalyst of basically all the events in the show.

Vi [1st left] and Jinx [1st right] because not only did he lead them to were they went in act3, but their paths beforehand were also slightly intertwined throughout the series. THEY'RE ALSO A MIRROR IMAGE OF EACH OTHER BECAUSE THEY ACCIDENTALLY MIRROR EACH OTHER (2nd season Vi mirrors 1st season jinx and vice-versa)

Isha [2nd right] because he UNINTENTIONALLY led to her death by allowing her to bond more with Vander and to see him interact 'normally' with Vi and Jinx which led to her sacrifice. She is placed under Jinx because she was her shadow, mentor, kid, etc. and her sole purpose was to emotionally wound Jinx cus the writers suck lol.

Steb [2nd left] because he was tasked with destroying his cocoon thingy in the final battle. He is placed under Vi because he befriended her at least a little while they terrorized Zaun and also as he was the one charged with awaiting for Zaunites at the bridge when it came to recruiting for the final battle.

Mel [3rd left] is here because of her involvement with everything that is Hextech. From allowing them to break into the lab to the subtle manipulation it took to create the weapons, she was there through it all. She's positioned like that in the shoulder because it feels, to me at least, slightly condescending. I'm p sure she never directly addresses him for anything and that's how the hand placement feels to me, a dismissal.

Sevika [3rd right] on the other hand (ha ha) is there because she has always advocated for Zaun. She wants what's best for them and he represents that. They might've not met, but he an important member of society that, even for a single second, coexisted within Piltover as their equal. Her grip on his shoulder is more forceful, she wants to hold on to that idea for the entirety of Zaun.

Caitlyn [4th right] is between most Zaunites because of how she barged into Zaun throughout the season. She almost willingly stepped into the role Ambessa gave her in order to weed Jinx out. The grip she has on his arm is one typically used when helping someone walk (at least as far as I've used it with my grandma) this is to show how she turned the thing that caused his illness and hurt many others into a torture device, essentially.

JAYCE [4th left] UUUUGH. HES HOLDING HIS HEART BECAUSE IT WAS AFFECTION THAT HELD THEM TOGETHER. HE ALSO BLEW HIS FUCKING CHEST OUT. HE ALSO REMOVED ANY SELF-CONFIDENCE, FAKE AS IT MIGHTVE BEEN, THAT VIKTOR HAD IN THE COUNCIL SCENE WHICH LED TO HIM AGREEING TO BECOME THE THING JUST TO GIVE IT BACK WHEN THEY WERE IN THE ASTRAL PLAIN!! HE CRADDLES HIS HEART AT ALL TIMES EVEN IF ITS UNKNOWINGLY AND VIKTORS HAND ON TOP OF HIS IS BECAUSE, EVEN THOUGH HE WILLINGLY LETS JAYCE HOLD IT, HE'S HAD HURT IT BEFORE AND VIK IS JUST CAREFUL ABT IT NOW.

Ekko [5th left] is holding him back via the leg because he never really met him but he did want to stop him, he wanted him to wait so thats what the position represents and Vandor [5th right] is almost cradling his hip because Viktor was rebuilding the family he had left by bringing his soul back, he's almost holding him like he's precious because to Vander, he was.

B.) He is partly metal tin toy, partly astral projection because of the fact that that's how the characters saw him mostly. they met the monster once during the final battle but they knew him more as he was before.

C.) Gay rune circle because I say so.

D.) Hex patterns in the other bg because. because ^^

And now more versions because pretty

217 notes · View notes

nerdycheol · 2 days ago

Text

Sunsets In December

🎄Pairing: architect major!mingyu x literature major!f reader

🎄Word count: 10k

🎄Genre: college au, strangers to friends to lovers, romance, fluff

note: Finally here!! My first time writing this big of a fic. Exams were on my head so this is heaviiiiiily unedited. Hope you guys enjoy.

reblogs and feedback is appreciated

taglist: @eyearebee @woo-yuli @gyuguys @syluslittlecrows @reiofsuns2001 @archivegyu @jkslvsnella @minwonwoozi @minvxq @somber-reads @caibeauchicfashion

The winter landscape appeared like a symphony veiled in frost, with everything shimmering beneath the moonlight. Clouds piled upon each other, painting a picturesque scene. However, your current sentiments were far from appreciating its beauty.

You stuffed your hands deep into the pockets of your padded jacket, feeling the warmth slowly seep into your fingers, easing the tension from the cold. A frosty breath escaped your lips as you quickened your pace toward the entrance of your dorm, your mind already set on finding solace under your covers.

As you pushed the door open, the familiar buzz of your roommate Minjeong’s voice greeted you. She was wrapping up a phone call, her tone unusually animated. “She’ll be there,” she said, hanging up just as her eyes landed on you. A wide grin spread across her face. “My girl has arrived!”

You narrowed your eyes, suspicion bubbling up. Dropping your bag on the bed, you asked cautiously, “Why are you so chirpy? You’re never this chirpy. What’s going on?”

Minjeong’s grin turned downright mischievous as she stepped closer. “You know Mingyu, right?” Your nose scrunched involuntarily at the mention of his name. “That architecture major? Yeah, he’s impossible to avoid. It’s like he’s everywhere—always talking too much and smiling like he’s on a toothpaste commercial.”

Minjeong let out a laugh, waving off your complaints. “He’s not that bad...” she said, dragging out the words, clearly softening you up for something. Your arms crossed over your chest. “Why are we talking about him? What’s he done now?”

Her grin grew wider. “So, Jihoon told me Mingyu’s been pestering him to set you two up. And, well... you have a date!”

“No.” You didn’t hesitate, pulling your blanket over your head and cocooning yourself. “Oh, come on!” Minjeong tugged at the blanket, her voice brimming with excitement. “He’s been waiting for ages to meet you properly!” “That’s his problem, not mine,” you muttered from beneath the covers.

“But I promised Jihoon!” she argued, yanking the blanket halfway off, leaving your legs exposed to the cold. A shiver ran down your spine, and with a groan, you peeked out. “When?” “Tomorrow,” she said brightly. “I have class.” “It’s Saturday,” she countered, looking way too pleased with herself. It hit you then—she had planned this all along.

You sighed, burying your face in your pillow. “Fine, I’ll go. But don’t expect me to like him or enjoy it. This is all on you.”

____

The next morning, the sound of your door slamming open woke you from a restless sleep. Minjeong entered, armed with an array of clothes and a sparkle in her eye. “Rise and shine! We’ve got work to do!”

You groaned, rolling over to face the wall. “I’m not in the mood, Minjeong.” She wasn’t having it. “You’re going. And if you’re going, you’re going to look fabulous.”

“I’ll wear jeans and a hoodie,” you replied flatly, still hoping she’d drop the whole thing. “Absolutely not,” she said with authority, dragging you out of bed. “You’re meeting the Mingyu. At least pretend to make an effort.”

You rolled your eyes but allowed her to shove various outfits into your hands. As you tried on each one, you dismissed them with a bored shrug. “This is pointless. He’s not going to care what I wear, and I don’t care either.”

Minjeong crossed her arms, her lips twitching with amusement. “You’ll care when you see the look on his face.” “Yeah, sure,” you muttered, trying not to imagine Mingyu’s dumb, overly cheerful expression.

An hour later, after much convincing, Minjeong had settled on an outfit for you—stylish but simple enough that you wouldn’t feel out of place. “Now for makeup!” she declared, presenting an arsenal of brushes and palettes. “Minjeong, I don’t even want to go. Do we really need to do this?” you asked, watching her with growing exasperation.

“Yes,” she replied firmly. “If you’re going to suffer through this, you might as well look good doing it.”

As she worked on your face, you couldn’t help but sigh. The brush tickled slightly as it swept across your cheeks, and the faint scent of foundation lingered in the air. “This better be worth it,” you grumbled, earning a soft laugh from her.

“Oh, it will be,” she replied confidently, adding the final touches.

When she was done, you had to admit she had a point. The reflection staring back at you in the mirror looked polished yet still very much like yourself. “Alright, let’s get this over with,” you muttered, grabbing your bag.

Minjeong grinned, pulling you into a hug before you left. “Have fun! Or don’t. But I need details when you’re back!”

As you stepped out, dread settled deep in your stomach. Mingyu wasn’t your type—always too loud, too present, and frankly too much. But you couldn’t say no to Minjeong. Hesitantly, you dragged yourself forward, already counting the minutes until you could come back and hide under your blankets again.

------

The café was cozy, with warm lighting and the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. You sat at a small table by the window, fingers wrapped around your cup of tea, trying to stave off the nervous energy that had settled in your chest. This was supposed to be just a simple date, but your mind kept racing with thoughts of how awkward it was all going to be.

Mingyu arrived fashionably late, as usual. He flashed a bright, eager smile as he slid into the seat across from you. "Sorry I'm late! I got caught in traffic," he said, a bit out of breath but still radiating energy.

You simply nodded, offering a polite smile. You didn’t have the heart to explain that it didn’t matter, as you’d been sitting there for only a few minutes. "No problem," you said softly, trying to keep the conversation light.

He didn't seem to pick up on your lack of enthusiasm. "I’ve been wanting to meet you for so long. I kept pestering Jihoon—god knows how irritated he is when I’m around him now?" His words came out in a rush, and you could already feel the pace of the conversation picking up faster than you were ready for. You laughed half-heartedly, not sure how to continue this conversation.

"You major in literature, right? You must be super creative, huh?" he asked, offering his hand for a handshake, his other hand already grabbing the menu. His eyes sparkled with genuine interest, but his voice was almost too enthusiastic, too loud for your liking.

You nodded, trying to smile without overcommitting. "I guess. I mean, I enjoy reading," you said, your tone more reserved than you’d like. You could already feel the disconnect—his high energy clashed with your more laid-back nature.

You paused when the waiter brought his coffee.

Mingyu didn’t seem to notice. “I totally get that! I mean, I like reading too, but I love movies better—especially action-packed ones. Ever seen that one with the building that—” His words were cut off by a loud splat, and you watched in horror as he knocked his coffee cup over, spilling it all over his shirt.

"Ah, shoot!" he exclaimed, jumping back slightly, but only succeeding in making the mess worse. He tried to clean it up with a napkin, but all it did was smear the coffee further, leaving a dark stain across his chest.

You bit back a smile at the sight of his flustered expression but quickly masked it, feeling guilty for finding it amusing. "Are you alright?" you asked, your tone softening slightly.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m good!" He laughed awkwardly, standing up to get more napkins. "Just, uh, classic Mingyu move, right? Always a disaster in the making."

You glanced at him, unsure if you should laugh or not. "It’s fine," you offered, trying to comfort him, but it didn’t seem to make things any less awkward.

The conversation fell into a lull. You both sat there for a moment, the noise of the café around you filling the silence. Mingyu looked a little embarrassed, but his infectious energy didn’t falter for long.

"So," he said, clearing his throat, "how about we go somewhere else after this? I know a cool spot nearby, really chill vibe, perfect for unwinding!"

You glanced at him, not sure how to respond. His enthusiasm was overwhelming, and you didn’t exactly feel the urge to go along with it. "I actually have to head back soon," you said, offering a polite but firm smile.

He blinked, clearly taken aback by your quick refusal. "Oh… okay. I understand." His smile faltered a bit, and he reached for his drink again, taking a large gulp.

The rest of the date passed in an awkward haze. He tried to keep the conversation going, but his words felt like they were hitting a wall. You couldn’t muster the energy to match his enthusiasm, and he seemed to pick up on the distance between you two.

When the check arrived, neither of you said much. You paid for your tea, giving a polite smile as you stood up. "Thanks for meeting me," you said, a little unsure how to wrap up the evening.

While walking out of the café, you stumbled slightly, adjusting your heel. Mingyu noticed your discomfort but didn’t say anything.

Standing beside you, his face flushed from the chaos of the date, he offered a shy smile. "Yeah, no problem. Maybe… we could try again sometime?"

You hesitated, looking at him for a moment. "I don’t think so," you said, the words coming out more bluntly than you intended.

He seemed surprised, but he quickly recovered. "Right. Well, it was nice meeting you, at least. Take care."

You nodded and turned to leave, feeling the weight of the awkwardness settle behind you. As you stepped out of the café and into the chilly night air, you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. It had definitely been a first date to remember—but not in the way anyone would hope.

As you parted ways, Mingyu watched you walk away. Just as you turned the corner, he suddenly ran into a nearby convenience store.

You were halfway to your dorm when you heard someone calling your name. Turning around, you saw Mingyu jogging toward you, slightly out of breath.

"I—I noticed your heel was bothering you earlier," he said, holding up a small pack of band-aids. "These can help with... the shoe bite."

Surprised, you watched as he kneeled down. "You don’t have to—" you started, but he was already gently slipping the band-aid onto the back of your heel.

“There. Better?” he asked, looking up with a small smile. You nodded, taken aback by his thoughtfulness.

The moment lingered, quiet but comfortable, as the faint sounds of the bustling campus filled the background. Mingyu glanced at his watch and hesitated before speaking again. “Can I walk you back to your dorm? It’s late.”

You blinked, surprised by the offer, but the genuine concern in his voice made you nod. “Sure, that’d be nice.”

As you walked together, the chilly air wrapped around you, but Mingyu’s steady presence felt like a buffer against the cold. The conversation was light, dipping between small observations and moments of silence that didn’t feel awkward but instead comforting.

When you reached the entrance to your dorm, you turned to him, pausing for a moment. “Mingyu, thank you for the band-aid. And… I hope to see you again,” you said softly, the sincerity in your tone surprising even yourself.

Mingyu’s face lit up. "You mean that?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips.

As you stepped inside, he pumped his fist in the air and muttered, "Yes!" under his breath, walking away with a newfound spring in his step.

A week had passed since the awkward coffee date with Mingyu. You hadn't expected to see him again, and honestly, you weren’t sure if you wanted to. Yet, as you walked to the library that Saturday afternoon, there he was, standing outside the entrance, his tall frame unmistakable.

Mingyu spotted you almost instantly. His eyes lit up, and he waved enthusiastically. "Hey! What are the odds?" he called out, jogging up to you.

You paused mid-step, caught off guard. "Oh... hi," you said, your voice uncertain.

"Studying?" he asked, gesturing toward the building.

"Yeah," you replied, clutching your bag a little tighter. "It’s quieter here than at the dorm."

He grinned. "I get that. Mind if I join you? I have some work to finish too."

You hesitated. The memory of your last meeting flashed in your mind, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for another round of Mingyu’s boundless energy. Still, his hopeful expression made it hard to refuse.

"Sure," you said finally, leading the way inside.

The two of you found a quiet corner near the windows. Mingyu pulled out a sketchbook, surprising you. He caught your curious glance and held it up towards you with a smile. "We’ve got a big project due soon, so I thought I’d get some work done." he explained.

You nodded, slightly intrigued. As you opened your notebook, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at him. He was focused, his pencil gliding across the page with surprising precision. It was a stark contrast to the clumsy, overly energetic version of him you’d seen before.

"Are you working on a story?" Mingyu’s voice broke the silence.

You blinked, realizing he was looking at your open notebook. "No, just notes for class," you said, quickly flipping to another page.

"Literature must be so interesting," he said sincerely. "Do you write, too?"

"Sometimes," you admitted, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze.

"That’s cool. I’d love to read something you’ve written."

You laughed lightly. "I don’t think it’s your kind of thing."

"Try me," he said, his tone playful but curious.

Before you could reply, his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at it, frowning slightly.

"Everything okay?" you asked.

"Yeah, just Jihoon being Jihoon," he said, brushing it off. "He says I’m procrastinating too much."

"Is he wrong?" you teased before you could stop yourself.

Mingyu laughed, the sound drawing a few annoyed glances from nearby tables. "Probably not. But hey, I’m here now, right?"

The conversation flowed more easily after that. You found yourself relaxing, even laughing at some of his stories about his friends and their antics. He had a way of making you forget your initial awkwardness, his warmth and enthusiasm proving to be infectious in small doses.

As the afternoon turned to evening, you packed up your things, feeling lighter than you had in days.

"Thanks for letting me crash your study session," Mingyu said as you both walked out of the library. "You weren’t too bad," you replied, surprising yourself with the playful tone.

He grinned. "High praise coming from you."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile.

"Let me walk you back," he offered, falling into step beside you.

This time, you didn’t hesitate.

-------

A week had passed since your second meeting with Mingyu at the library. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something about him lingered in your thoughts—his unfiltered enthusiasm, the way his face lit up when he talked about his projects, and, oddly enough, how easily he seemed to brighten the atmosphere wherever he went.

It was late afternoon when Minjeong barged into your dorm, her usual whirlwind of energy filling the room. She dropped onto your bed with a dramatic sigh, tossing her bag aside.

"You won’t believe this," she started, grinning mischievously.

"Believe what?" you asked, glancing up from your laptop.

"Jihoon’s taking me to some event on campus tonight. And guess who’s coming?"

You frowned, already suspecting the answer. "Mingyu?"

"Bingo! He’s been pestering Jihoon to invite you too," she said, sitting up with a sly smile. "You should come. It'll be fun!"

You hesitated, unsure if you wanted to see Mingyu again so soon. "I don’t know... I’m not great with crowds."

Minjeong rolled her eyes. "It’s not a crowd. It’s a small gathering, and I’ll be there. Besides, it won’t kill you to socialize a little. Think of it as a chance to loosen up."

Reluctantly, you agreed, though you weren’t sure why. Maybe it was the faint curiosity about Mingyu or simply the inability to say no to Minjeong’s persistent cheerfulness.

_____

The "event" turned out to be more casual than you’d expected—a small group of students gathered in a common room, chatting, laughing, and sharing snacks. Mingyu spotted you almost immediately, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning.

"You came!" he exclaimed, weaving through the group to reach you. "I didn’t think you’d show up."

"Minjeong convinced me," you said, trying to downplay the awkwardness of the moment.

"Well, I’m glad she did." He grinned, holding out a cup of juice. "Here. No coffee disasters this time, I promise."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, taking the cup. "Thanks."

As the evening went on, you found yourself drawn into conversations more easily than you expected. Mingyu had a way of pulling you into his orbit, his excitement infectious as he introduced you to his friends and shared funny stories.

At some point, you noticed him fiddling with a small notebook, jotting down notes or sketches whenever he had a moment to himself. Curiosity got the better of you.

"Always working, huh?" you teased lightly, nodding toward the notebook.

He looked up, slightly flustered. "Oh, this? Just some ideas I didn’t want to forget."

"Can I see?" you asked, surprising even yourself.

He hesitated for a moment before handing it over. The pages were filled with intricate sketches of buildings, detailed floor plans, and even small doodles in the margins.

"You’re really talented," you said genuinely, flipping through the pages.

Mingyu scratched the back of his neck, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. "Thanks. It’s just... something I really love doing."

As you handed the notebook back, you realized that his passion for architecture wasn’t just about work—it was a part of who he was. And for the first time, you found yourself wanting to know more about him.

----

Later that night, as you walked back to your dorm with Minjeong, she nudged you playfully. "You seemed to have a good time tonight."

"It was... better than I expected," you admitted.

She smirked knowingly. "Mingyu has that effect on people. You like him, don’t you?"

You rolled your eyes. "I barely know him."

"Maybe, but it’s a start," she said with a wink before disappearing into her room.

As you lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t shake the thought of Mingyu’s sketches and the way his smile had seemed so genuine. Maybe Minjeong was right—maybe it was a start.

The days following the gathering had been surprisingly uneventful. Mingyu hadn’t reached out, and you found yourself wondering why that bothered you. Minjeong, of course, had her theories.

"You’re just not used to someone like him," she said over breakfast one morning, munching on a piece of toast.

"Someone like him?" you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"You know, overly friendly, a little clumsy, but so sweet that you can’t help but like him," she said with a grin.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. It was hard to deny Mingyu’s charm, even if you tried to convince yourself otherwise.

---

That afternoon, you were sitting on a bench in the campus park, a book in your lap, when a shadow fell across your page. Looking up, you found Mingyu standing there, holding two cups of coffee.

"Hey," he said, smiling sheepishly. "I wasn’t sure if you liked coffee, but I figured it was worth a shot."

You blinked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I was passing by and saw you," he admitted, handing you a cup. "Figured I’d say hi. Mind if I sit?"

You gestured to the empty spot beside you. "Go ahead."

As he sat down, he glanced at your book. "What are you reading?"

You held it up, showing him the title. He nodded thoughtfully, though you doubted he recognized it.

"Looks... deep," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

You chuckled. "It’s not. Just something for class."

He sipped his coffee, his gaze wandering over the park. "I like this spot. It’s peaceful." You nodded, surprised by the calmness in his voice. For once, he wasn’t bubbling over with energy, and it made the conversation feel easier.

"Do you come here often?" he asked after a moment.

"Sometimes," you admitted. "It’s a good place to clear my head."

He smiled. "I get that. There’s a rooftop near my dorm where I like to sketch. It’s quiet, and the view’s amazing."

You glanced at him, intrigued. "You sketch outside?"

"Yeah. The light’s better, and it helps me focus. Maybe I could show you sometime?" he offered, his tone casual but hopeful.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the invitation. "Maybe."

He grinned. "I’ll take that as a yes."

---

The conversation shifted to lighter topics—favorite movies, embarrassing childhood memories, and the quirks of your professors. To your surprise, Mingyu was a good listener, genuinely interested in what you had to say.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, you realized how much time had passed.

"I should probably get going," you said, standing up and brushing off your jeans.

Mingyu stood too, looking a little reluctant. "Can I walk you back?"

"Sure."

The walk was quiet but comfortable, the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled. When you reached your dorm, he stopped at the bottom of the steps, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Thanks for letting me crash your reading time," he said with a lopsided smile.

"It wasn’t so bad," you said, surprising both him and yourself.

His smile widened. "I’ll see you around?"

"Yeah," you said softly before heading inside.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe Minjeong was right—maybe you were starting to like him, just a little.

-----

It was a couple of days before you saw Mingyu again. Between classes and assignments, life had been hectic, but a text from him caught you off guard one evening.

Mingyu: "Busy tomorrow afternoon? Got something to show you."

You stared at the message, debating your response before you typed back:

You: "Not busy. What is it?"

Mingyu: "You’ll see. Meet me outside the library at 3?"

----

The next day, you found Mingyu leaning against a lamppost near the library, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He looked up and grinned when he spotted you.

"Right on time," he said, pushing off the pole.

"I’m curious about what’s so important," you replied, crossing your arms.

"Patience," he said, leading you toward the dorm buildings.

You followed him, confusion growing as he guided you to a side entrance. After climbing a couple of flights of stairs, he pushed open a door, revealing the rooftop he’d mentioned.

The ascent up the stairs was challenging, but it was all worth it. The view was breathtaking. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the campus. A light breeze rustled your hair as you stepped closer to the edge, taking it all in.

"This is where you sketch?" you asked, glancing at him.

"Yup," he said, pulling out his sketchbook and a pencil. "Told you it’s a great spot."

You watched as he settled down, flipping to a blank page. His expression shifted, becoming more focused, and you were struck by how different he seemed in this moment—calmer, almost serene.

"Want to see?" he asked, noticing your gaze.

"See what?"

"What I’m working on," he said, holding up the sketchbook. You sat beside him. The page showed the beginnings of a building, its lines sharp and precise. Even unfinished, it was impressive. "This is amazing," you said sincerely.

He smiled, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Thanks. It’s for a project we’re working on in class. Still a long way to go, though."

"You’re really talented," you said, meaning it.

"Thanks," he said, glancing at you. "You know, I was nervous about showing you this."

"Why?"

He shrugged, looking back at the sketch. "I don’t know. I guess I wanted you to like it." Your breath caught at the sincerity in his voice. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

"I do like it," you said softly.

The two of you fell into a companionable silence after that, the only sounds coming from the scratch of his pencil and the occasional rustle of the wind.

---

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Mingyu set down his pencil and leaned back, stretching his arms above his head. "Thanks for coming," he said, glancing at you. "It’s nice having company up here."

You nodded, surprised at how much you’d enjoyed the afternoon.

"I should probably head back," you said reluctantly, standing up.

"I’ll walk you," he said immediately, packing up his things.

The walk back to your dorm was quiet but comfortable, the kind of silence that felt natural. When you reached your door, Mingyu hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something.

"Hey," he said finally. "Would you… maybe want to grab dinner sometime? Like, just the two of us?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the question.

"I mean, no pressure," he added quickly, scratching the back of his neck. "I just thought it might be fun."

You considered him for a moment before nodding. "Sure. Why not?"

His face lit up, and he smiled so brightly that you couldn’t help but smile back.

"Great," he said, stepping back. "I’ll text you!"

As he walked away, you leaned against the door, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness.

You didn’t think much of it when Mingyu texted you early in the morning the next day: “Are you free today?” You replied with a quick, “Depends. Why?”

Moments later, your phone buzzed again: “Meet me at the art museum. 11 a.m. Trust me, it’ll be worth it 😉.”

You stared at the message, debating if you wanted to spend your Saturday surrounded by centuries-old paintings and sculptures. But the thought of Mingyu’s excitement—and his likely terrible attempts at interpreting art—was oddly compelling.

When you arrived at the museum, he was waiting outside, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. His face lit up as soon as he saw you.

“You came!” he exclaimed, jogging over to you.

“You told me to,” you said, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck. “So, what’s the plan, art connoisseur?”

He grinned, stepping aside to reveal two tickets in his hand. “There’s a special exhibit on architectural influences in classical art. Thought it might inspire both of us—me for my designs and you for your writing.”

You blinked, pleasantly surprised. “That’s… surprisingly thoughtful of you.”

“Surprisingly?” he repeated, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know, I’m always thoughtful.”

“Sure, Mingyu,” you said, rolling your eyes but following him inside.

The museum was quiet, the kind of serene atmosphere that encouraged hushed conversations and slow, deliberate movements. You walked side by side through the exhibit, pausing to admire the intricate details in the paintings and sculptures.

Mingyu’s commentary was as expected—part insightful, part ridiculous. “That statue over there?” he whispered, leaning closer. “Definitely inspired by me. Look at those proportions.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “The statue is of a Greek god, Mingyu. Not everything is about you.”

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “I think there’s a resemblance.”

Despite his antics, there were moments when his genuine passion for art shone through. He spoke with animated gestures about the structural elements in the paintings, pointing out the use of symmetry and balance in ways that made you see them differently.

“You’re really good at this,” you said as he finished explaining the perspective in a Renaissance piece.

He tilted his head, grinning. “Good at what? Being brilliant?”

“Good at making things interesting,” you clarified, smiling.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at you with that same soft expression he’d been wearing more often lately. It made your stomach flip, though you didn’t let it show.

The exhibit ended with a large installation—a series of sculptures arranged to create the illusion of movement when viewed from different angles. Mingyu stood beside you, his gaze fixed on the display.

“It’s amazing how art can feel alive, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

You nodded, watching the way the light played across the sculptures. “It’s like it tells a story without words.”

He turned to you, his voice softer. “Kind of like us, huh?”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was joking. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… we’re figuring out our own story,” he said, his usual bravado replaced by something more sincere. “And I think it’s turning out pretty great.”

For once, you didn’t hesitate. You smiled, meeting his gaze. “Yeah. I think so too.”

The moment lingered, and you were acutely aware of how close he was standing, the warmth of his presence cutting through the chill of the museum.

“So,” he said after a pause, his playful grin returning. “Ready for the next part of the day?”

“There’s more?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Always,” he said, winking. “Come on. You’ll love it.”

_______

Mingyu didn’t give you much information about the “next part” of the day. He just kept walking with an air of mystery, glancing over his shoulder every now and then to make sure you were still following.

“Mingyu, where are we going?” you asked for the third time, narrowing your eyes at his broad back.

“You’ll see,” he said with a mischievous grin, turning a corner.

When he finally stopped, you found yourself in front of a quaint little café tucked away in a quiet alley. The smell of freshly baked pastries wafted out as Mingyu held the door open for you.

“You brought me to a café?” you asked, stepping inside.

“Not just any café,” he said, guiding you toward a table near the back. “This place is special.”

You looked around. It seemed ordinary enough—warm lighting, cozy décor, soft chatter in the background. “What’s so special about it?”

Mingyu sat down across from you, pulling a small menu from the holder on the table. “They have a rooftop garden. Great view, amazing vibe. Plus…” He hesitated, suddenly looking sheepish.

“Plus what?” you prompted, amused by his sudden change in demeanor.

He cleared his throat. “Plus, I wanted to spend more time with you. Somewhere quieter.” It was rare for Mingyu to say things like that without a teasing edge, and you weren’t sure how to respond.

Before you could say anything, the waiter arrived, and Mingyu quickly ordered for both of you—a couple of their signature drinks and a plate of pastries.

“Wait, how do you know what I want?” you asked after the waiter left.

He leaned back in his chair, smirking. “I pay attention.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

After a few minutes, he led you upstairs to the rooftop. The view was indeed stunning—the city stretched out before you, lights twinkling against the evening sky. Small fairy lights were strung around the garden, casting a warm glow over the space.

“Okay, I’ll admit,” you said as you sat down on one of the benches, “this is pretty nice.”

“Only pretty nice?” Mingyu teased, sitting beside you.

“Don’t push it,” you warned, though your smile gave you away.

For a while, the two of you just sat there, sipping your drinks and enjoying the quiet. It was a stark contrast to the usual chaos of your interactions, but it felt… natural.

“So,” Mingyu said after a while, breaking the silence. “What’s something you’ve always wanted to do but never had the chance to?”

You tilted your head, caught off guard by the question. “That’s random.”

“Humor me,” he said, his tone light but his expression serious.

You thought for a moment. “Well… I’ve always wanted to go on a spontaneous trip. Just pack a bag and leave, no plans, no schedule.”

Mingyu’s eyes lit up. “That sounds awesome. We should do that sometime.”

You laughed. “We?”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “Why not? You pick the place, I’ll take care of everything else.”

“You’re serious?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Dead serious,” he said, leaning closer. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little adventure.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, winking.

As the night wore on, you found yourself relaxing more and more in his presence. There was something about the way he made everything feel easy, like you didn’t have to put up walls or second-guess yourself.

When it was time to leave, Mingyu insisted on walking you back to your dorm.

“Are you sure?” you asked as you stepped onto the sidewalk. “It’s out of your way.”

“It’s fine,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I like walking with you.”

You didn’t argue, falling into step beside him. The streets were quiet, and the cool night air carried a hint of winter.

“Thanks for today,” you said after a while. “I didn’t think I’d enjoy myself this much.”

“Is that your way of admitting I’m fun to be around?” he teased.

“Don’t push your luck,” you said, nudging him lightly.

When you reached your dorm, he hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, then added with a grin, “Goodnight, ___.”

“Goodnight, Mingyu,” you said softly, watching as he turned and walked away.

As you stepped inside, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Whatever this thing between you and Mingyu was, it was starting to feel a lot less complicated—and a lot more like something worth holding on to.

The sharp winter air nipped at your cheeks as you stepped out of the lecture hall, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck. Snow had started to dust the campus grounds, crunching softly beneath your boots as you descended the steps.

At first, you almost didn’t notice Mingyu, bundled in a thick coat and leaning casually against a lamppost just outside the building. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, but his grin was as warm as ever when your eyes met. He straightened up, holding out a steaming cup of coffee toward you.

“Surprise,” he said, his breath visible in the crisp air.

You blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d save you from the freezing walk to the café,” he replied smoothly. “Your professor doesn’t seem like the type to end classes early, so I figured you’d need this.”

You hesitated, keeping your hands buried deep in your coat pockets. “You waited out here in this cold?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m practically a human heater,” he said, flashing a toothy smile and giving the coffee cup a little shake. “Go on, take it. It’s your favorite.”

The warmth seeped into your fingers as you accepted the cup, and you couldn’t help but smile. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible in a charming way, right?” he teased, falling into step beside you as you began walking.

You smiled at him, and before you could respond, your phone buzzed. Glancing at the screen, you saw a message from Minjeong. “Minjeong just texted. She wants to meet at the café. Want to come?”

“Lead the way m’lady.”

The café was bustling when you arrived. Jihoon and Minjeong were already seated in a cozy corner. Minjeong waved enthusiastically as you approached, while Jihoon offered a small nod, his usual reserved self.

“Took you long enough,” Minjeong teased as you slid into the seat beside her. “Were you two busy planning your next cute outing?”

You rolled your eyes, though a slight blush crept onto your cheeks. Mingyu, ever unfazed, leaned back in his chair and smirked. “Maybe. What’s it to you?”

Minjeong grinned, leaning into Jihoon’s side. “Nothing. Just curious. Right, Jihoon?” Jihoon glanced at her, his expression softening. “Sure.” He reached for her hand under the table, a subtle but affectionate gesture that didn’t go unnoticed.

The conversation flowed easily, Mingyu’s boisterous energy balancing Jihoon’s quiet demeanor. Minjeong’s playful remarks kept everyone laughing, and you found yourself relaxing even more, enjoying the warmth of the group.

At one point, Minjeong leaned closer to you. “You know, Jihoon’s been working on a new song. He won’t let me hear it yet, though. Says it’s a surprise.”

You glanced at Jihoon, who looked uncharacteristically sheepish. “Is that true?” you asked, curious.

Jihoon shrugged, avoiding your gaze. “It’s not ready.”

Minjeong beamed. “He’s so modest. But I know it’s going to be amazing.” She squeezed his hand, and he finally met her eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Mingyu, not one to miss an opportunity to tease, leaned forward. “Wow, Jihoon, you’re setting the bar high for the rest of us. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

“You could start by not spilling coffee on yourself,” Jihoon retorted, earning a burst of laughter from the table.

As the afternoon wore on, the four of you lingered, the café’s warmth and camaraderie making it hard to leave. When it was finally time to go, Minjeong linked arms with you, pulling you aside as the boys walked ahead.

“You and Mingyu seem close,” she said, her tone light but knowing.

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Good. He’s a good one. Just don’t let him talk you into any crazy ideas.”

You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the winter air. As you rejoined the group, Mingyu turned to you, his smile as bright as ever.

As you rejoined the group, Mingyu turned to you, his smile as bright as ever. “Everything okay?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his breath visible in the cold air.

“Yeah,” you replied, glancing at Minjeong, who gave you a subtle wink before slipping her arm back through Jihoon’s. The two of them walked ahead, their laughter blending with the gentle hum of the evening.

Mingyu fell into step beside you, his hands buried in his coat pockets. “So,” he began, his voice softer now that it was just the two of you, “what crazy ideas does Minjeong think I’ll talk you into?”

You laughed, the sound light against the winter air. “I don’t know, but knowing you, it could be anything.”

“Anything, huh?” He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it manageable. No mountain climbing in the snow… yet.”

“Yet?” you repeated, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievable in a charming way, though,” he countered, nudging your shoulder playfully.

You didn’t respond immediately, your gaze drawn to the snowflakes drifting lazily from the sky. Mingyu slowed his pace to match yours, the comfortable silence between you more telling than any words could be.

Ahead of you, Minjeong and Jihoon paused near a small park bench, the snow-covered scene illuminated by the soft glow of a nearby streetlamp. Jihoon pulled Minjeong closer, brushing a stray snowflake from her hair with a tenderness that made you smile.

“Those two,” Mingyu murmured, his voice low. “It’s nice to see them so happy.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, watching as Minjeong tilted her head up to Jihoon, her laughter bright and clear even from a distance.

Mingyu turned to you, his gaze lingering for a moment before he spoke. “You know, seeing them makes me wonder…”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Wonder what?”

He hesitated, a rare flicker of uncertainty crossing his face before his usual confidence returned. “Just… how some people make it look so easy. Like they already know how to fit into each other’s lives.”

His words hung in the air, delicate and unspoken yet heavy with meaning. You didn’t know what to say, so you opted for honesty. “I don’t think it’s about knowing. I think it’s about trying, about showing up for each other.”

Mingyu studied you for a moment, his expression softening. “You’re pretty good at that, you know. Showing up.”

A flush crept up your cheeks, and you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or his words. Before you could respond, Minjeong called out, waving you both over.

“Are you two coming, or are we leaving you behind?” she teased, her voice carrying easily through the crisp air.

Mingyu chuckled, stepping closer to you. “Guess that’s our cue.”

You nodded, letting him walk slightly ahead before glancing back at the lamppost where he’d waited for you earlier. The memory of his grin, his thoughtfulness, and his presence stayed with you as you followed him and the others into the evening.

_________

The next few days flew by in a flurry of snow and assignments, but Mingyu’s presence became an increasingly regular—and welcome—part of your routine. Whether it was his casual texts asking if you’d eaten or his sudden appearances outside your lecture hall with coffee in hand, he had a way of brightening even the coldest winter days.

One evening, after a particularly grueling study session in the library, your phone buzzed. You glanced at the screen to see Mingyu’s name.

Mingyu: Look outside.

Your brows furrowed, but you pushed yourself up from the desk and walked over to the window. There he was, standing in the snowy courtyard below, waving like a dork.

You: What are you doing here? It’s freezing!

Mingyu: Rescuing you from your books. Let’s go for a walk.

It was hard to say no to him, especially when he was grinning like that. Grabbing your coat and scarf, you met him outside. The snow was falling heavier now, the flakes catching in his dark hair as he offered you a mischievous smile.

“Don’t you have assignments to finish?” you teased as you fell into step beside him.

“Probably,” he admitted. “But I’d rather hang out with you.”

The campus was quiet at this hour, most students tucked away inside to escape the cold. Mingyu led you toward the park near the edge of campus, where the snow blanketed the trees and paths in a serene, untouched layer of white.

“This is my favorite spot in winter,” he said, gesturing toward a bench beneath a towering oak tree. The branches were heavy with snow, and tiny icicles glimmered in the faint light of a nearby lamppost.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, sitting down beside him. The cold seeped through your coat, but Mingyu’s presence seemed to offset the chill.

For a while, you sat in comfortable silence, watching as the snow fell around you. Then, out of nowhere, you spoke.

“You know,” you began, exhaling a cloud of misty breath, “I’ve always wanted to go on a trip in winter. Somewhere quiet, with snow-covered mountains and cozy little cabins. Just… get away from everything for a while.”

Mingyu turned to you, his eyes bright with interest. “Why haven’t you?”

You shrugged, playing with the edge of your scarf. “Too busy, I guess. There’s always something—classes, work, responsibilities. It feels selfish to just drop everything and leave.”

“Selfish?” Mingyu repeated, frowning. “Wanting to take care of yourself isn’t selfish. If anything, it’s smart. Everyone needs a break sometimes.”

You looked at him, surprised by the conviction in his tone. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” he said firmly. Then, a grin spread across his face. “Besides, a trip like that sounds amazing. If you ever decide to go, let me know. I’ll carry your bags.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine. “You just want an excuse to escape your own responsibilities, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a wink. “But mostly, I just think it’d be fun to go with you.”

The walk back to your dorm felt different, though you couldn’t quite put your finger on why. Mingyu’s hand brushed against yours more than once, and each time, it sent a jolt through you. When you reached your door, he lingered, shuffling his feet like he was debating something.

“Goodnight, ___,” he said, his voice unusually hesitant.

“Goodnight, Mingyu,” you replied, though part of you wanted him to stay.

As you turned to go inside, his voice stopped you.

“Wait, ___.”

You spun around, your heart thudding in your chest. He looked nervous, his hands stuffed deep in his coat pockets.

“I just… I really like spending time with you,” he said, his words rushing out in a single breath.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden confession. But as the warmth of his words sank in, a smile spread across your face.

“I like spending time with you too,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing.

The relief on his face was almost comical, and he let out a soft laugh. “Good. That’s… good.” With one last smile, he turned and walked away leaving you standing there in the cold with a heart that felt anything but that.

The room was quiet, the soft hum of the heater lulling you into a deep sleep. That was until Minjeong, with her boundless energy, shattered the peace.

“___, get up! We’re going on a trip!”

You groaned, burying your face deeper into your pillow. “Minjeong, it’s four in the morning. What are you talking about?” She tugged at your blanket, her voice insistent. “No time for small talk. Get up! I’ve already packed your bags.”

That jolted you awake. You sat up, blinking at her in disbelief. “You what?”

“Come on,” she urged, pulling you to your feet. “We’re burning moonlight!”

Despite your protests and half-hearted grumbling, Minjeong dragged you out of bed and out of your dorm. The crisp winter air hit you as you stepped outside, and you spotted a car parked nearby. Jihoon and Mingyu were already waiting, the latter leaning casually against the car door with a wide grin.

Jihoon, on the other hand, looked like he’d been dragged out of bed against his will—because he had. His messy hair and scowl said it all. “I still don’t understand why this couldn’t wait until daylight,” he muttered.

“Because spontaneity is fun!” Minjeong chirped, shoving your bag into the trunk before hopping into the backseat.

You hesitated, glancing at Mingyu. He tilted his head toward the passenger seat, his grin softening. “Come on, ___, it’ll be fun. Trust me.”

Still half-asleep and bewildered, you climbed into the car. Mingyu started the engine, and with Minjeong and Jihoon bickering quietly in the back, the four of you set off into the night.

The drive to the cabin was quiet at first, everyone too groggy to speak much. Jihoon had dozed off, his head leaning against the window, while Minjeong hummed softly to a song playing on the radio. Mingyu glanced over at you every now and then, his smile growing when he caught you staring out the window, mesmerized by the view.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he said softly.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. Where exactly are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he replied cryptically, his eyes twinkling.

_____

By the time you reached the cabin nestled in the heart of a snow-covered forest, the sun had just started to rise, painting the sky in hues of pale pink and gold. The sight was breathtaking. The cabin itself was picturesque, with a rustic charm that made it feel like it had been plucked straight out of a winter postcard.

“Wow,” you breathed as you stepped out of the car, the crisp air filling your lungs. Snow crunched beneath your boots as you tilted your head back to take it all in.

Minjeong, carrying a bag that looked far too big for her, nudged you. “Told you it’d be worth it.” Even Jihoon, who had been complaining for the better part of the ride, seemed impressed as he surveyed the scene, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets.

“This is… really nice,” he admitted reluctantly, earning a triumphant grin from Minjeong.

Mingyu emerged from the driver’s side, stretching his arms over his head and exhaling a cloud of visible breath. “Wait till you see the inside,” he said, jingling the keys. “I promise, it’s even better.”

The interior of the cabin was just as cozy as the exterior. A roaring fireplace was already lit, filling the space with a warm glow. Plush couches were arranged around the hearth, and a long wooden dining table sat in the center of the room, laden with snacks Minjeong had apparently packed.

“Dibs on the couch,” Jihoon called, flopping down dramatically and closing his eyes as if he were already done for the day.

Minjeong rolled her eyes. “You can rest later. We’ve got plans.”

“We have plans?” you asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Of course we do,” she replied, hands on her hips. “But first, breakfast. I’m starving.”

Mingyu walked past with an armful of blankets, pausing to glance at you. “Make yourself comfortable. This is going to be a weekend to remember.”

And as you stood there, the warmth of the cabin enveloping you and your friends’ laughter echoing around the room, you couldn’t help but feel like he was absolutely right.

After breakfast—a hearty spread of eggs, toast, and Minjeong's insistence on making everyone try her overly sweet hot chocolate—the group settled into the cozy living room. Mingyu had taken charge of stacking more firewood by the hearth, his movements natural and unhurried. Jihoon, predictably, had reclaimed the couch, wrapped in one of the blankets Mingyu had brought out, while Minjeong scrolled through her phone. You were sitting cross-legged on one of the armchairs, the warmth of the fireplace lulling you into a rare moment of complete relaxation.

“Okay, listen up!” Minjeong’s voice cut through the calm. She jumped to her feet, brandishing her phone like a baton. “I’ve come up with the perfect itinerary for our weekend!”

Jihoon groaned audibly. “Please tell me it doesn’t involve anything before noon.”

“Relax, sleepyhead. Today’s all about taking it easy,” Minjeong reassured him, earning a relieved sigh. Then she turned to you with a sly grin. “But tomorrow, we’re going sledding.”

“Sledding?” Mingyu echoed, his brows raising in surprise as he tossed another log onto the fire.

“Yeah,” Minjeong confirmed, her excitement infectious. “There’s a perfect hill just a short drive from here. I already looked it up.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” Minjeong said with a dramatic flip of her hair. “I don’t do things halfway. Besides,” she added, her gaze softening, “I wanted this to be special. For all of us.”

Jihoon cracked an eye open, his expression unreadable for a moment before he muttered, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Minjeong beamed and threw a pillow at him, which he caught with ease, his small smile betraying his amusement.

Mingyu straightened up, brushing his hands together as if to clear the dust. “Well, if sledding’s on the agenda, we’ll need to build up some energy tonight. How about a hike before dinner? There’s a trail right behind the cabin.”

“That sounds perfect,” you said, the idea of exploring the snowy woods bringing a flutter of excitement.

The group spent the rest of the day settling in, laughing over card games and teasing Jihoon when he inevitably lost. As the sun began to dip behind the trees, Mingyu and Minjeong led the way out to the trail.

The hike was breathtaking. Snow blanketed the ground, and the trees stood tall and bare, their branches etched against the deepening blue of the sky. Mingyu walked beside you, his presence steady and reassuring as the two of you fell into an easy rhythm.

“Not bad for a spontaneous trip, huh?” he asked, his breath visible in the chilly air.

“Not bad at all,” you agreed, your voice quiet as you took in the beauty of the moment.

Minjeong and Jihoon were ahead, their banter floating back to you. Minjeong’s laughter echoed through the trees, and you caught glimpses of Jihoon’s rare, soft smiles when he thought no one was looking.

“You know,” Mingyu said suddenly, his tone thoughtful, “I’m glad we did this.”

You turned to him, your footsteps slowing. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that made your heart skip. “It feels… different. Being out here. Like we’re all exactly where we’re supposed to be.”

His words lingered in the air between you, heavy with a meaning you couldn’t quite place but didn’t feel the need to question. Instead, you let yourself smile, your cheeks warming despite the cold.

As the trail looped back toward the cabin, the glow of its lights visible through the trees, you felt a quiet kind of joy settle over you. This trip wasn’t just a break from reality—it was a reminder of how much these people, this time, meant to you.

_________

The next morning, you were woken not by Minjeong’s voice or the sound of Jihoon grumbling but by the distinct aroma of coffee wafting through the cabin. The sunlight streaming through the curtains painted the room in soft golden hues, and for a moment, you simply lay there, savoring the quiet.

A gentle knock on your door broke the silence.

“___?” Mingyu’s voice came through, low and careful. “You awake?”

Your heart fluttered at the sound. “Yeah, come in.”

The door creaked open, and Mingyu stepped inside, holding two mugs of steaming coffee. His hair was slightly tousled, and he wore a hoodie that looked far too warm and inviting for someone as effortlessly charming as him.

“Thought you might want this,” he said, handing you a mug.

You took it, the warmth seeping into your fingers. “Thanks. What’s the plan for today? Sledding, right?”

He nodded, leaning against the doorframe. “Minjeong’s already got Jihoon outside helping with the sleds. Not sure how she convinced him, but he’s doing it.”

You laughed softly, picturing Jihoon’s reluctant expression. “She has her ways.”

“True,” Mingyu said, his smile widening. “But I wanted to check in with you first. You okay with all this? The trip, the chaos… the early mornings?”

You looked at him, surprised by the question. “Yeah, I’m more than okay. I’m glad we’re here. Feels like a break we all needed.”

He seemed satisfied with your answer, his eyes softening. “Good. Let’s head out, then. The snow’s perfect for sledding.”

The hill was alive with laughter and the occasional shriek as the sleds raced down the slope. Minjeong was relentless, challenging everyone to see who could slide the farthest. Jihoon, despite his earlier reluctance, proved to be surprisingly competitive, much to Minjeong’s delight.

“Come on, ___!” Minjeong called out, waving you over. “You’re up next!”

You grabbed the sled, Mingyu appearing at your side almost immediately. “Need a push?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

“I can manage,” you replied, though your grin betrayed your excitement.

Mingyu crouched beside you, his hands steadying the sled. “Alright, but don’t blame me if you lose to Jihoon.”

“I won’t lose,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes.

The moment he let go, you felt the rush of the wind and the thrill of the descent. The world blurred around you, and by the time you reached the bottom of the hill, you were breathless and laughing, your cheeks aching from the cold and your smile.

Mingyu was already sliding down after you, his sled slightly off course but his expression triumphant. When he finally stopped beside you, he rolled off the sled dramatically, lying in the snow and grinning up at the sky.

“Okay, that was worth the early wake-up call,” he admitted, his voice light and happy.

You flopped down beside him, the snow cold but not unpleasant. “Told you so.” For a moment, the two of you lay there, the world quiet except for the distant laughter of your friends.

“This feels right,” he said softly, turning his head to look at you.

You met his gaze, your breath catching. “What does?”

“Being here. With you….all,” he replied, his voice faltering.

You didn’t know how to respond, but Mingyu didn’t seem to mind. He smiled, his expression unguarded and genuine, before sitting up and offering you a hand. “Come on. We’ve got a race to win.”

You took his hand, the warmth of his touch lingering long after he pulled you to your feet.

Later that evening, as the group gathered around the fireplace, Minjeong was regaling everyone with a dramatic retelling of her sledding victories. Jihoon sat beside her, his arm resting casually around her shoulders, his soft chuckles a quiet counterpoint to her boisterous storytelling.

Mingyu leaned closer to you, his voice low so only you could hear. “I think Jihoon’s smiling more than usual. Must be Minjeong’s influence.”

You glanced at the couple, your heart warming at the sight. “They’re good together.”

“Yeah,” Mingyu agreed, his tone thoughtful. “Kind of like us, don’t you think?”

You turned to him, your eyes widening slightly. But before you could respond, he grinned, his expression teasing. “Relax. I meant in a totally platonic, best-team-on-the-hill kind of way.”

“Sure you did,” you replied, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips.

Three days passed in a blink of an eye. The final night of the trip had arrived, and the cabin hummed with quiet excitement. Outside, a gentle snowfall added a magical touch to the wintry landscape. The four of you were gathered on the front porch, sparklers and firecrackers in hand, ready to ring in the new year. The snowfall outside had eased, leaving a soft white blanket over the ground, reflecting the flickers of light from the sparklers Minjeong twirled in her hands. She jumped around, her giggles cutting through the quiet hum of the winter night. Jihoon stood close to her, arms crossed, looking as if he were above all the chaos but unable to suppress the slight tug at the corner of his lips.

“Jihoon! Help me light this one!” Minjeong called, waving a firecracker in his direction.

“You’re going to get yourself hurt,” Jihoon muttered, but he moved to help her anyway, his hands carefully guiding hers.

You stood near the porch steps, holding a sparkler of your own, the fizzing light barely matching the warmth that spread through you. Mingyu was nearby, but you felt his presence before you saw him. He was quiet, uncharacteristically so, and when you turned to glance at him, you found him watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite place.

“What?” you asked, feeling self-conscious under his steady gaze.

“Nothing,” he said with a soft smile, stepping closer. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

He hesitated, looking up at the bursts of fireworks lighting the sky before meeting your eyes again. “Stuff. Us.”

The weight of his words settled between you, and your heart picked up a nervous rhythm. You lowered the sparkler in your hand, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. “What about us?”

Mingyu ran a hand through his hair, his usual confidence giving way to an almost boyish nervousness. “I’ve been trying to find the right time to say this, but… I guess there’s no such thing as perfect timing, huh?” He let out a small, awkward laugh, shoving his hands deep into his coat pockets.

Your curiosity spiked, but before you could speak, he stepped closer, his tall frame towering over you in a way that somehow felt protective rather than overwhelming.

“I like you, ___,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “Not in a casual, ‘you’re-my-friend’ kind of way. I mean, I like you. A lot. More than I probably should.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, all you could hear was the crackling of the sparklers Minjeong had forgotten on the snow.

“And I know we’ve been spending more time together,” he continued, his words tumbling out now, “and maybe I’ve been too obvious about it, but I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. I just needed to tell you. Even if you don’t feel the same, I—”

“Mingyu.”

He froze, his face panicked. “You don’t have to answer me now, okay? I don’t want to make this weird, and if you don’t like me back, we can just forget I said anything, and—”

“I like you too.”

The words came out so naturally that it surprised you both. Mingyu’s eyes widened, his lips parting as if he needed a moment to process what you’d just said.

“You… you do?”

You nodded, a shy smile creeping onto your face. “Yeah, I do. I just didn’t think—”

Whatever you were going to say was cut off as Mingyu let out a breathless laugh, his whole face lighting up in a way that made your stomach flip. He reached up, hesitated for a brief second, and then brushed a strand of hair from your face.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me,” he murmured, his voice so soft you barely caught it.

The two of you stood there, the world around you fading into the background. Mingyu’s hand lingered near your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin as he tilted his head slightly.

“May I?” he whispered, his voice tinged with both nervousness and anticipation.

Your answer was a subtle nod, your heart pounding in your chest as he leaned in. When his lips met yours, it was everything and more—a kiss that was sweet and full of emotions he hadn’t been able to put into words.

The sound of a particularly loud firecracker made you both pull away, and you glanced over to see Minjeong jumping up and down, her sparklers lighting the space around her like a scene from a movie. Jihoon stood beside her, looking half-annoyed but undeniably endeared, his arm loosely draped around her shoulder.

“They’re going to tease us, aren’t they?” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Probably,” Mingyu replied, his grin mischievous as he reached for your hand. “But I don’t care. Let them.”

As the night sky lit up with dazzling fireworks, you felt a warmth bloom in your chest, not from the cold or the firecrackers, but from the boy whose hand you held—steady, grounding, and impossibly right.

388 notes · View notes