#next-station-sm

[honeyvenommusic]

❗️NEWGLASSANIMALSGLASSANIMALSGLASSANIMALSGLASSANIMALSGLASSANIMALSGLASSAN-

[shvdowsdrowned]

Can you tell what side of Illinois I'm in? 😭😭

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 NOBODY KNOWS kim minji x reader

👛★ ͘ ⴰ ever since summer 2022 new jeans has been at the top of the world surpassing and creating records and getting biggger and better every month but then SM Entertainment drops a new girl group stardom out of knowhere on everyone’s heads “surpassing and creating records” just like a certain group, causing a rivalry in the media and between the groups behind closed doors.

in which behind the secret of rivalry between stardom and new jeans, there’s an even bigger secret between their leaders.

PARING — kim minji x idol!reader

last. masterlist. next

★ ͘ PAGE#2 attention — ❝drop the question, drop the drop the question want attention ❞

“tell me tell me, t-t-t-t-t-tell me,”

before the rivalry between new jeans and stardom was established by the media, there was a small moment that lasted about a week or two where the two groups really admired each other.

minji raised a brow, her gaze flickering to hyein, who was singing her heart out to the song blasting from the radio.

seemed like every station, every playlist, and every corner of the industry was saturated with something from the new sm group. they were everywhere, their voices unavoidable, their presence undeniable.

yet, despite the growing buzz and competition that was bound to follow, minji couldn’t deny the tiny flicker of admiration that sparked every time their music played, especially towards a certain member that caught her eye.

she nodded her head to the beat, her phone tucked discreetly in her hand as she scrolled through articles about the leader of the new hit girl group.

yn, huh? the name was everywhere lately. from what she’d read, yn was the third oldest in the group, just a year younger than minji herself. oh, and she was jang wonyoung’s cousin?

minji huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. guess charm really does run in the family.

to be honest, minji couldn’t quite pinpoint why this girl had captivated her so completely. maybe it was because they had something in common, they were both the anchors of their groups, the ones everyone leaned on.

or maybe it was something else entirely, something she didn’t want to name. was this... some sort of celebrity crush? the thought made her groan softly, burying her face in her hands.

she’d even gone on a deep dive last night, scouring the internet to see if yn had some kind of private instagram account.

and now, knowing there was a very real chance of bumping into stardom today, minji felt her stomach twist. the thought alone made her knees weak, her heart racing in a way that was entirely out of her control.

minji wiped the sweat from her forehead as she stepped off the festival stage, still caught in the adrenaline of their performance. so distracted, she didn’t even notice hyein coming to an abrupt stop in front of her until she stumbled into the younger girl.

“oh my, watch it—” she started to complain, but the words caught in her throat as her attention shifted. her group members stood ahead of her, bowing politely to five girls making their way onto the stage.

minji’s breath hitched when her gaze locked onto the one person she’d been simultaneously dreading and hoping to see.

yn.

her eyes widened in surprise, and she quickly bowed, a nervous laugh slipping out before she could stop herself. her heart raced as yn’s smile was as sweet as the photos no, sweeter and somehow even more captivating in person. her heart pounded harder as yn returned the bow, maintaining eye contact for just a moment longer before she turned and walked toward the stage, her members following close behind.

the roar of the crowd as stardom stepped into the spotlight jolted minji back to reality. she blinked, still feeling the lingering effect of yn’s smile, when hanni’s confused voice cut through her haze.

“what’s up with you?”

“nothing,” minji mumbled, though her flushed cheeks and the way she quickly looked away said otherwise.

hanni wasn’t buying it, glancing between her and the stage with suspicion, “okay…”

meanwhile, minji’s gaze drifted back to the stage despite herself. yn was front and center now, her presence magnetic, her smile dazzling under the spotlight. minji’s pulse quickened again, her thoughts a jumble of admiration and frustration.

how was it possible for someone to look that good after just walking onto a stage?

“it’s nothing,” minji repeated more to herself, finally managing to tear her eyes away. she turned to her group, her face flushed as she tried to act normal.

danielle appeared, gently placing a hand on minji’s shoulder. “we should head back to the green room,” she said, her tone calm “we should relax before it’s time to leave.”

relieved for the distraction, minji nodded quickly. “right, let’s go.”

as the festival wound down and the final performances wrapped up, the girls gathered their things and prepared to leave. minji, however, felt a sudden urgency tugging at her.

“i’ll be right back,” she mumbled, slipping away from her members. hanni called after her, but minji didn’t stop. her mind was elsewhere, her nerves still buzzing from the day’s events. she told herself it was just the adrenaline, but deep down, she knew better.

wandering the maze like halls backstage, she searched for the washroom, her thoughts a jumble. she turned a corner too quickly and collided with someone, nearly losing her balance.

“oh!” she exclaimed, stepping back in surprise, and then froze.

standing in front of her was the very person who’d been living rent free in her mind all day. yn.

yn smiled at her, the kind of smile that could light up an entire room or in this case, make minji’s heart skip about five beats. “sorry about that,” yn said softly, her voice even more melodic in person. “I didn’t mean to bump into you.”

“n-no, it’s fine,” minji stammered, her cheeks heating up instantly. she was suddenly hyper-aware of everything, her messy hair, her slightly sweaty face, her awkward posture. she felt like a complete mess in front of someone who looked effortlessly perfect.

yn tilted her head, her smile widening just a little. “by the way, your group’s performance earlier was amazing. you really know how to command the stage.”

“oh, uh, t-thank you!” minji said, her voice a pitch higher than usual. she cleared her throat, trying to act composed, but her awkwardness only made her feel more flustered. “y-you guys were great too. I mean, obviously. the crowd loved you.”

“thank you,” yn replied, her voice warm and genuine. there was a moment of silence, and minji felt like she might spontaneously combust under yn’s gaze. but then yn continued, her tone a bit more hesitant. “actually, I been wanting to talk to you.”

minji blinked, her heart racing. “me?”

yn nodded, looking almost shy for a moment. “yeah. stardom just debuted, so everything’s been kind of overwhelming. i’ve been trying to make some friends in the industry, and... well, I was wondering if it’d be okay to exchange numbers?”

minji’s brain short circuited. yn wanted her number? she opened her mouth to respond but no sound came out. she was like a fish out of water, gaping awkwardly.

yn let out a soft laugh, her smile turning playful. “is that a yes? or...?”

“y-yes!” minji blurted, nearly dropping her phone as she fumbled to unlock it. “yes, of course. let me just—uh—here.” she finally managed to hand her phone over, her fingers brushing against yn’s. the touch was brief, but it sent a jolt through her, and she quickly pulled her hand back, feeling like her entire face was on fire.

yn took the phone with a small, amused smile, typing in her number with ease. “there you go,” she said, handing it back. “now I have yours too.”

“great,” minji said, her voice cracking slightly. she cringed inwardly, clearing her throat again. “I mean, that’s great. really great.”

yn chuckled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “you’re cute, minji,” she said casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

minji froze, her eyes widening. “c-cute?”

“mm-hmm,” yn said with a wink before taking a step back. “i’ll text you later. don’t ignore me, okay?”

minji could only nod, her brain too scrambled to form an actual response. yn gave her one last dazzling smile before turning and walking away, leaving minji standing in the hallway, clutching her phone like it was some kind of lifeline.

as yn disappeared around the corner, minji exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. her heart was still pounding, and she felt like she might melt into a puddle on the floor.

“what just happened?” she whispered to herself, her lips curling into a small, involuntary smile.

and that was the beginning of yn and minji’s relationship, a quiet spark that turned into something neither of them could ignore.

it started with innocent texts that turned into late-night calls, which led to moments where they’d sneak away during events just to talk without prying eyes. before they knew it, they weren’t just friends they were something more.

minji sat on a park bench, bundled up in a hoodie and a cap pulled low, her heart racing as she spotted yn walking toward her. yn had insisted on meeting somewhere lowkey, and the park was perfect. as yn approached, she held up a bag of snacks with a grin.

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I got a bit of everything,” yn said, sitting down beside her.

minji laughed softly, her shoulder brushing against yn’s. “you didn’t have to do that.”

“of course I did,” yn said, handing her a packet of gummies. “i’m trying to impress you, remember?”

minji’s cheeks flushed, and she tried to hide her smile by looking down at the snacks. but yn noticed, leaning closer with a teasing glint in her eyes. “is it working?”

minji’s voice came out barely above a whisper. “maybe.”

they were backstage another festival , tucked away in a quiet corner where no one could see them. yn had stolen minji away during a break, her excuse being “to show her something.”

“you’re going to love this,” yn said, pulling out her phone and showing minji a goofy video she’d saved.

minji laughed, covering her mouth to muffle the sound. “why is this so bad, but so funny?”

yn grinned, leaning in closer. “because you secretly have terrible taste.”

“excuse me?” minji gasped, playfully shoving yn’s shoulder. yn just laughed, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

it was pouring rain, and minji had just finished practice when yn showed up outside the building, holding an umbrella that barely shielded her from the downpour.

“what are you doing here?” minji asked, rushing to her.

“I missed you,” yn said simply, her hair damp from the rain. “I figured you’d need some company.”

minji stared at her, speechless, before breaking into a soft smile. “you’re crazy, you know that?”

“crazy… I was crazy once,” yn joked, earning an eye roll and a laugh from minji.

they were just about ready to be open about their relationship, to tell their members the truth when it happened.

the article dropped like a bombshell: “stardom and new jeans: the battle of the biggest girl groups.” it praised stardom’s rapid rise, noting their dominance in brand deals, chart success, and social media presence despite debuting only a few months prior. the piece compared the two groups relentlessly, fueling a brewing rivalry that neither group had asked for.

what started as subtle shifts turned into something more. hanni and yuri exchanged sharp glares whenever they passed each other, and side comments became a common occurrence during events.

the media picked up on the tension, and headlines screamed about a feud between the groups. only hyein seemed immune, much to minji’s amusement though she suspected hyein might secretly be stardom’s biggest fan.

now, minji found herself in the stardom dorm, the quiet hum of the heater filling the room. yn was curled up on her lap, her arms wrapped loosely around minji’s shoulders. the dorm was empty, giving them a rare moment of peace.

“we definitely need to keep this a secret,” yn said softly, her fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of minji’s hoodie.

minji sighed, resting her chin on yn’s shoulder. “I know. your members don’t like me—or any of us, really. and my members, except for hyein, definitely don’t like you or your other members.”

yn chuckled lightly, though there was a hint of sadness in her voice. “yeah. yuri would probably lose her mind if she knew you were here right now.”

“and hanni…” minji trailed off, shaking her head. “let’s just say it wouldn’t go over well.”

they sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their situation pressing down on them. but then yn leaned back, her eyes meeting minji’s. “we’ll figure it out,” she said with a small smile.

minji nodded, her heart swelling at yn’s optimism. “yeah, we will.”

for now, their relationship would remain their little secret, tucked away from the world, and from the people closest to them.

[empresskylo]

I don't know if you take requests but I would love a fic where Ghost returns hurt badly and the doc tells him not to make any effort, so in return reader needs to ride him during ✨️their time✨️

I would really appreciate it 🫶🏻 love you and your writing 🫶🏻🩷

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 sure can. thank u for this because i am now obsessed with the idea of a hurt ghost who wants you so desperately that he doesn't even care about the pain and lets you ride him slowly 😩

⋆｡°✩CONTENT WARNINGS | afab!reader, feminine pet names used, smut! 18+ (2k words)

cod masterlist | main masterlist

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖

“Come’re,” Simon mumbled towards you. You came to sit beside him on his bed where he’d likely be stationed for the next week or so given the extent of his injuries.

His large hands brushed over your hips and tugged you towards him. You giggled, letting him pull you against him, trying your hardest to avoid putting any pressure on his shoulder wound that had fresh stitches just begging to rip.

“Simon, be careful,” you muttered into his chest as his arms wrapped firmly around you.

He hummed into your hair, his fingers stroking the soft skin of your upper arm. He didn't care about the pain, he just missed you and wanted your body against his.

You played with the fabric of his dark grey t-shirt, relishing in the way the man that was usually strapped to the nines in military gear was stripped almost bare. His mask had been forgotten, all his tactical gear tucked beside his bed. He had on black sweatpants and a t-shirt. That was it. His hair was disheveled from being locked away in his mask and then promptly shoved against a pillow while repairs were made to his arm.

Simon wasn’t usually the most touchy person, but something about being injured made him want to have you all over him—probably the drugs—and he was desperate to have you. He didn't care if his arm groaned in pain.

His hand wandered lower on your body, the faint glow from the hall subtly illuminating the two of you alone in the infirmary for the night.

“Simon,” you warned as his hand gripped your ass.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he said smoothly.

You titled your head to look up at him, his dark eyes still smudged with black paint.

His face was stoic but you could see something kindling in his eyes. You shifted your arm to stretch across his stomach and felt your hand brush against something hard…

“You don’t want your stitches to come out,” you said softly, knowing where this was going. Leave it to Simon to be horny only hours after returning from a brutal mission, his shoulder wrapped and bandaged from a bullet wound.

“Hm?” He hummed pretending not to heed your warnings. His arms tried to hike you up closer to him, wanting you to straddle his waist, when you heard him grunt in frustration.

You rolled your eyes, sitting up on your own. “Stop moving. The doc said you needed rest,” you said with a grin forming on your lips.

Simon relaxed back against the pillow and watched you curiously as you shuffled on top of him, a knee on either side of his hips. His arms couldn’t stop themselves as he reached out and gripped your exposed hips, your shirt riding up.

“Let me take care of you for once,” your voice was barely above a whisper, sending a chill up Simon’s spine. He was always the one to take control. He liked being the one in power. Liked to toss you around and make demands. But now, with his arm injured, you were going to be the one in command tonight.

His fingers aimlessly traced circles on your hips as you leaned down and connected your lips to his. The kiss started sweet and gentle before you both fought for dominance, his tongue swirling yours, his teeth grazing your lips, one of his hands coming up to pull your head further into him.

You desperately reached down between your bodies and palmed Simon through his sweatpants eliciting a groan from him that you quickly swallowed.

"Fuck, I've missed you," he said with a husky breath before kissing you again. You smiled against his lips.

"Mmm," you hummed against him. "What did you miss the most?" You slowly worked him above his pants, his hips ever so slightly rocking into your hand.

"Your scent," he grumbled.

You pulled away, breaking the kiss to look at his dark eyes that somehow managed to look black. You were caught a bit off guard, a small laugh escaping you. "What?"

He used his good arm as his hand slid up your side and pushed the hair that he had messed up behind your ear. "The way you smell. I didn't realize how much I loved the way you smelt like rain and goddamn sugar cookies until I was surrounded by Soap, Price, and Gaz for weeks, in the middle of fuckin' summer."

You giggled again, running your hand through his hair as he stared at you, his gaze never wavering.

"And that laugh. God how I missed hearing that." His hand slid over to your breast, gently groping it in his hand. "And your warm body tucked against mine at night. Slept like shit without you."

Your eyes fluttered closed as he kneaded your flesh, his kind words sending butterflies in your stomach.

"I fuckin' missed everything, pet."

You hummed in contentment, his hand moving back to the hem of your shirt, edging it upwards. You opened your eyes and tore your shirt off, then your bra, leaving you exposed to him. He groaned in satisfaction as he took in your bare chest. His hand gripped your neck and pulled you in for a kiss before he urged you up slightly so he could take your nipple into his mouth.

"Simon," you breathed through a moan as he sucked and nipped at you. You rocked your hips against him, his hard length feeling wonderful against your clothed center.

He released your nipple and kissed up to your neck, his hands brushing against the hem of your pants. "Need these off, love."

You obliged, shuffling your pants off awkwardly before settling on top of him again. He squeezed your ass in his hands, his teeth grazing your bottom lip.

You were very happy you decided to wear one of your less practical pair of panties. Simon slid his fingers along the tiny strap of your black and dainty thong before brushing over your clit. You mewled, burrowing your face in his neck as he rubbed his fingers up and down you.

He pushed your underwear aside and his fingers teased your entrance before you stopped him. You wanted to take care of him tonight. Not the other way around.

You trailed your hands down his chest, his shirt taut against his muscles, the hem riding up and exposing the V by his hips.

You licked your lips as you pulled him out of his sweats and underwear, his cock springing free. He watched you intently as you took the tip of him in your mouth, his hands running through your hair, gripping it in his fist when you took him in fully.

He moaned darkly as you slid your tongue around him while you bobbed your head up and down.

"Fuckin' hell, baby," he grunted in sparring breaths.

It didn't take long as you hollowed out your cheeks and let him hit the back of your throat before he pulled you off him. He had been without you for so long that he had been dreaming about being inside you. It was all he could think about. He needed you.

His thumb wiped along your bottom lip as you caught your breath. He smirked mischievously as he pulled you in for another kiss.

You reached down between your bodies and shifted your underwear to the side, too impatient to take them off. He stroked his fingers against your cunt, mumbling to himself. "Fuckin' hell, you're soaked."

He fisted his cock, using your juices for lub, and helped to line you up with him. Your hand met his as you directed him, sitting down slowly. His head breached your entrance making you gasp. You heard Simon hum while you took him in painfully slow.

By the time you were fully seated, your nails were digging into his chest and your breathing was unsteady. Simon rubbed circles on your hips where his hands rested. "Take your time, baby," he said soothingly.

You tilted your head up to look at him and he pushed your hair out of your face before hooking his hand behind your neck and bringing you down to kiss him. As the kiss deepened, you instinctively rolled your hips making him grunt.

"Shit," he grumbled against your lips. You rested your head in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily onto his skin, his good arm wrapped tightly around you, and you began to rise up, feeling every ridge of his cock inside you.

"Jesus, baby. You feel fuckin' amazing," he said hoarsely. You mewled against him as you took up speed, trying to be gentle enough to not hurt his bad shoulder

"God.. Simon.. I missed you," you said through panting breaths. Simon gripped your ass firmly in his hands, allowing you to hit slightly deeper, making you let out a startled moan.

"I missed you too, sweet girl," he breathed against your lips. You connected your lips to his and swallowed each other's moans and gasps.

You hadn't even touched yourself since Simon left so you knew you weren't going to last long. You could feel the warmth pool in your lower belly, shocks of electricity shooting up your spine and chest whenever Simon hit that particular spot inside you.

The only sound in the dark room was your ragged breathing and the slight slap of your body as you collided against him. Your clit seemed to hit his skin in the perfect way that shocks coursed through you each time you sat down.

His arm around your waist began to help hoist your down to meet his hips, making you both break the kiss in a heady gasp. "Oh my god," you breathed.

"You close, pet?"

You nodded your head impatiently, squeezing your eyes closed as you felt your entire body fill with pleasure and love.

"Look at me, baby," he said. You fluttered your eyes open to look at Simon's whose were dark and looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered to him in this world. "I wanna watch as I make you come," he said, his hand fisting your hair as he tried to control himself to not finish before you did.

You nodded again, unable to speak in coherent words.

"Fuck--Gah, fuck," he growled, feeling himself grow dangerously close. "Come for me, love. Please," he begged, not wanting to finish until he felt you clench around him.

You groaned, your arms going weak against him, having to use all your strength to keep bouncing up and down. "Simon," you whispered as your walls tensed around him, crushing him almost painfully. That was enough to send Simon over the edge with you, coming inside you as you babbled and whined, your walls clenching and unclenching, sending intense waves of pleasure through Simon.

"Thats it, baby," he managed through grunts. You collapsed against his chest as you lazily kept riding him up and down, his hand cradling your head, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he continued to come in spurts.

"Fuckin' hell," he groaned, stopping your hips from moving to avoid overstimulation. He held you close as you both tried to catch your breath, both of your eyes heavy, your bodies spent.

He ran soothing patterns against your back as you lay against him, smiling in contentment.

"Stay the night?" he asked in an almost plea. As if you might say no.

It wasn't long after that you were curled up against Simon, your legs intertwined with his, your head tucked under his chin, his arm gripping him closely, that you both fell asleep.

[yenyu1s]

girls never die.. underground boxer!kang sae-byeok x f!reader written by @yenyu1s ( ˶˘ ³˘(⋆❛ ہ ❛⋆)

pairing(s) : kang sae-byeok x f!reader

contents : fluff/comfort, angst if you squint, reader has a bad relationship with their parents, violence, sexual and physical assault, mild cursing synopsis : underground boxer kang sae-byeok hides her life in the ring from her brother, knowing he hates them—but it was their only lifeline. to make it up to him, she takes him out for lunch.

on the way, they spot a drunk creep harassing you. your punch wasn’t enough, but sae-byeok’s was. with one swift move, she puts him in his place and disappears into the train station, leaving you dumbfounded.

you trailed behind them, curiosity and gratitude pushing you forward—offering lunch in exchange for answers. wc : 5.02k request (dt) : @saebyeokbliss

(a/n) thank u sm to one of my fav mootie @saebyeokbliss for requesting this! i had so much fun writing teehee~ i have NO IDEA how to write fight scenes! also to all my triples wavs pls moot me

(for more, masterlist)

kang sae-byeok felt a strain in her muscles walking out into the arena. floodlights illuminating her sweaty face and slender frame. she slapped her muscles and shook of any weight she had in her body, flexing her tatted arms and back, cracking her neck, popping her knees and punching in her exposed stomach.

the crowds chanting got louder and louder by each second, frothing in anticipation. each and every one of them placing their bets on their biased boxer. a restless tide crashing against the shores of the fighters' silence.

she felt around inside the foam boxing gloves, getting used to the tight space. punching and swishing her hand in the air to break it in. her sports bra beginning to tighten around her, suffocating her.

sae-byeok glared at the woman standing in front of her. tall, lean, poised and unshaken. her crazy hair going in all sorts of directions. a sharp disgusted look painted her opponents face.

a silence stretched between them.

sae-byeok tilted her chin. perceptibly flexing her fingers as the muscles under her skin move. a silent but deadly action, sending a clear message to her opponent:

i don't fear you.

the bell rang through the thick air. there was no going back now.

sae-byeok's opponent strided towards her, covering her face with her red gloves. a jab snapped towards sae-byeok's face sending electric shocks throughout her lower jaw.

sae-byeok had barely ducked in time, taking a half-blow to her cheek.

she was not going to give up. the woman's eyes were unreadable in the dim lighting of the ring. sae-byeok saw the glint in her teeth. the subtle action of the woman smirking fueled sae-byeok's desire to win.

sae-byeok struck the woman in the nose, a trail of crimson ran down her lips. the impact sent her into a whiplash for a second before sae-byeok continued hooking on her ribs. the collision was rock solid, a satisfying crunch of leather and flesh rang throughout the arena.

her rival didn't back down, however. instead, she pressed forward, forcing the short-haired girl back with low-blows, the rhythm of the fight shifted, both fighters were relentless.

sae-byeok managed to send a punch to her underarm, disabling it from pushing her forward.

the berserk woman stumbled but didn’t fall. Instead, she spat onto the canvas, rolling her jaw with a grim, almost amused smirk.

sweat trickled down sae-byeok's spine. tracing her visible back tattoo. she wasn't going to give up now.

they were now circling each other, the back to back coming to a halt as they put their gloves up, footsteps light and calculated.

sae-byeok watched the expression of the woman creeping before her change, this made her curl her fists inside the gloves tighter. ready for any attack the woman had against her, waiting for the next strike.

the woman took two quick and heavy steps before her arms flailed into the air, ready to knock out the slender girl infront of her.

an opening.

sae-byeok ducked low before her opposition could lay a hand on her, her weight shifting onto her front foot before driving an uppercut right under the crazed woman's jaw, knocking the air out of her and snapping her head back.

with this advantage, sae-byeok gave her a low-blow. making her crash into the plush ground.

3..

2..

1..

the crowds were split in two, the roars of victory overtaking the disappointed, angry sighs and complaints.

sae-byeok sighed deeply, relishing in her triumph before looking back at her rival who was on all floors, clutching her jaw in grimaced pain.

"good game." sae-byeok taunted, her voice low, just for the woman to hear and stare daggers up at her, before spitting on the ground next to her and walking off, wiping away the dried blood on her temple.

the atmosphere at the children's home was.. serene. it was too quiet. too unusual for sae-byeok. she could hear the faint rustling of oak trees outside and the light chirping from house sparrows, circling the air.

she crouched on the small red chair of the visitor's room, her pouty lips were pressed into a line, studying her brother, cheol's mannerisms as he picked on his food, swishing and splashing the miyeokguk with his wooden spork beside her.

"stop doing that will you?.. you know, something's up with you today." sae-byeok doted, brushing off the hair that covered his cheek, revealing a freshly placed bandage.

before sae-byeok could question and pry at her brother for answers, cheol started :

"you went back didn't you?"

"what?"

"to fighting, in the place with bad people in it." cheol reminded sae-byeok. his face was stern and solemn.

"i told you i didn't like seeing you get hurt, and i don't like seeing you hurt others."

her usual apathetic expression quickly turned into a slight frown that shined in the golden haze of the afternoon.

"cheol, i've told you this a million times.. that place.. it gets us the money we need." the short-haired girl ducked to catch her brother's gaze.

when she noticed cheol avoid eye contact with her, she frustratedly ran her slender fingers through her hair.

"cheol." the north-korean cleared her throat, biting and licking on her chapped lips.

"the money that i've earned from today alone.. it could pay for all of this week's meals and necessities. it's a huge sum. if we are able to save up and spend our money wisely, i would be able to get mom out of the north, i'd be able to get you a real home, cheol. you, me, mom."

cheol lifted his gaze from the seaweed soup. his teary eyes caught sae-byeok's tired ones.

"all the kids say that you're lying. that you're just making fake promises." his voice broke, tears started to run down his puffy cheeks.

sae-byeok couldn't believe what his brother was saying, shaking her head frantically before wrapping him in a bear hug.

"don't listen to them. what they say doesn't matter, they don't know the reality of our situation."

sae-byeok could feel her brother shake under her arms. quiet sobs escaping from his quivering lips. her grip on him tightened.

her tough heart saddened at the condition of her brother. echoes of apologies directed to her brother invaded her mind.

"how about we go to that favorite night market of yours? with the kind auntie who sells tteokbokki?" the short-haired girl whispered into his ears, the mention of his favorite dish made him quirk up his head.

the pair were hand in hand. sae-byeok's left hand was holding a folded envelope full of money she had earned from the fight, her opposite hand was intertwined with cheol's tiny hand.

the streets was quieter than usual, a few cars and tour buses had passed by them, the vehicles hummed under the red traffic lights.

sae-byeok admired the horizon as she strolled. you would've thought the gradient afternoon sky was made for a humid, sunny day, but it was freezing outside. a gust of wind past by them, the cold breeze made sae-byeok zip up her jacket close.

the sister-brother duo was quiet throughout the walk to the station, they both enjoyed the silence, however.

the quietness was just a gesture of comfort and reassurance to them.

they entered the sterile looking train station, sae-byeok's boots and cheol's sneakers squeaked at the slippery floor, the noise pierced through the barren entrance of the station.

cheol was curiously admiring the colorful, tattered posters that decorated the station's wall, his eyes following the pattern of colorful posters as they walked.

the trance that cheol was in was interrupted by a long hallway of the train station coming into view beside him. a man walking behind a girl suspiciously close to her.

cheol stopped in his tracks.

the man was dressed in an all black tux, he was following behind the girl, his phone was sneaked right under her skirt.

you instinctively turned your head back, feeling somebody's presence behind you. your weary eyes met with the disgusting face of a man, maybe in his 30s, in a full tux, his saggy eyes bore unto the camera he held under your skirt.

you panicked at the man's action, quickly slapping his phone to the ground, a shatter rang through the narrow hallway.

you stumbled back as you interrogated the man, your expression grimaced.

"ya! what do you think you're doing?!" your grip tightened around your briefcase. your high-pitched yelling startled cheol, who was frantically tugging at sae-byeok.

sae-byeok eventually noticed the scene that was unfolding in the long hallway beside the pair. her eyes narrowed, finding your stiff body, backed against the wall by a drunk businessman. a feeling bubbled up in sae-byeok's chest, an ugly feeling that she's never felt before. her jaw ticked.

"noona, what's wrong with them?" cheol questioned, looking up at his agitated sister.

fear and disgust clawed your skin.

your lips that held a content smile from the great work day you had today turn into a harsh scowl.

"oh baby, don't tell me that you don't like it when i do that." the man slurred, his steps slow and wobbly as he cornered you into the cold walls of the station, kneeing you against the wall.

"go away!? seriously you people are disgusting!" your voice gruff, shoving the man away from you with your hands with a hundred percent of your power.

the force may have made the man stumble back, but it had made him even angrier, he charged towards you.

"crazy bitch!" he barked, gripping your shoulders shoving you aggressively into the wall, making your back arch in pain.

sae-byeok bolted towards the commotion, her face sour.

she stuffed the brown envelope on her hand into the pocket of her bomber jacket, replacing it with her swiss army knife, her grip on it tightened as she flicked it open, the blade reflected the white lights of the station.

her ears rang, drowning out cheol’s shouts as she walked away. each step was deliberate and heavy, the sound of her feet striking the slick floor shifting from a faint squeak to sharp, forceful stomps.

you cowered under the drunk man's grip. shutting your eyes, accepting your fate.

suddenly, you felt the weight of the man that was leaning towards you being lifted off. you gasped for air before frantically averting your gaze to a tall short-haired girl pinning the man down beside you, gripping the collar of his cheap tuxedo with her other hand handling the knife, pressing it under his chin.

"didn't you hear what she said? go away, bastard." sae-byeok's voice grumbled, threatening the sloppy man infront of her. "mess with her, you mess with my knife."

"what is wrong with girls nowadays? i can take on both of you." his croaky voice mocked you.

you were in disbelief, your mouth agape. how could someone be such a disgrace..? you thought.

with that comment, sae-byeok harshly kneed the creep's diaphragm, causing him to spasm. she grasped his shoulder blades before throwing him on the ground, a loud groan escaping his mouth.

you stared in shock at the scene, covering your mouth as you winced at every time the girl landed a punch or a slap on the man.

the man managed to violently strike sae-byeok to the ground, making her lose touch of the blade, the swiss army knife skidded away to the opposite side of the wall.

before the man could kick sae-byeok's curled up frame, you decided to help by throwing in a measly punch on his nose, you felt his cartilage shift at the force of your knuckles on his nose, making his eyes water.

you had never punched anyone before, so with the impact, a jolt of electricity ran throughout your body, making you yelp in pain, your knuckles reddened.

"gosh, that hurts!"

the punch worked, making the man trip over his own foot.

he scoured back on the ground seeing that sae-byeok had already gotten up, eyes firing with rage. the blade held firm on her hand.

sae-byeok kneeled down and reached for the man's head of hair, grasping it, making him lean his head back.

the chilling blade ran through his neck, the force wasn't enough to cut through.

you watched in fear as you saw the kneeled down girl run her knife across the man's neck as he pleaded.

was she actually going to kill him?

you closed your eyes with a heavy sigh when you watched her merely slash the knife on his cheek.

blood dripped down his oily, defined cheekbone as he winced in pain.

"consider this a warning, yeah?" sae-byeok gave him a cold, manic smile. she relished in the fear that gleamed in the man's eyes.

the man nodded frantically before scrambling and picking himself up, retreating to the other side of the station.

"noona!" cheol gasped at the sight of his sister's bloody knife and bruised knuckles. "are you okay?"

you softened at the sight of the little boy running towards the older girl, your gaze travelled upwards to find her face.

your savior.

you couldn't've imagined what would happen if she wasn't there in your defense. your heart swelled with gratitude.

your hands reached for the taller girl's shoulders, "oh my. are you okay? thank you so much for saving—"

you were cut off by the sight of the girl fully ignoring you, her expression turned cold, hastily darting around the corner with her brother.

you were at such a state of confusion that your face scrunched.

what just happened?

you wanted answers to the unsolved mystery of the girl that had saved you. you felt an unfamiliar magnetic pull towards her, it made you trail behind her, your steps light and breezy.

sae-byeok quickly noticed you following her.

the agitated feeling quickly crawled up the back of her neck again, shooting you a look that screamed : leave us alone.

but you were persistent. without a word, you followed her to the faregates. swiping your metro card to whatever place she was going to. strutting past the open gates to continue pursuing her.

cheol looked back at you, slightly worried at the sight of your determined face.

"noona, i think the lady wants to talk to you." he whispered innocently. "is she okay?"

"don't look back, cheol." sae-byeok demanded, her face grim. her subtle walking turned into long strides.

just in time, the train pulled up to the station, waves of people pool out the just barren platform and sae-byeok was quick to enter the last car.

you picked up your pace and pushed your way through the sea of people, stubbornness evident in every step.

you manage to squeeze in the last second before the train doors closed, cramped in a crowd of businessman, high school students and office workers.

you squeezed your way right in front of the tall girl. furrowing your brows as you looked up to her.

she was already staring at you as you make your way to her, her head slightly tilted upwards, expressionless. the little boy hid behind his sister, his tiny hands held the hem of the sleeves of her jacket.

"what was that?" you asked, batting your eyelashes in dismay.

radio silence.

you waved your manicured hands in front of her face. "helloo? you just saved me?"

"it was nothing."

"nothing..? oh right, nothing. now imagine what would've happened to me if you weren't there."

your words made sae-byeok stiff, she loosened the grip she had on her brother. she couldn't imagine what would've happened to you, she seethed at the thought.

you frowned at the change in her expression.

"at least let me thank you, please. where are you guys headed?" you diverted your gaze to the girl's brother, who was shyly peeking out his sister's back.

cheol looked up at sae-byeok, looking for signs he was still cowering behind her.

she gave him a look, signing him to not answer to you. but cheol being cheol, mistook it for the opposite.

"we're going to the.. uh.. street food market." cheol mumbled fixing his puffer jacket that was too big on him.

sae-byeok mentally facepalmed at her brother's response, throwing her head back, before instinctively looking through the train's windows into the abyss.

"gwangjang? the one in jongno district..?" you questioned, earning a nod from the little boy. "i live in that area, please as a sign of gratitude, let me treat you both to lunch!"

cheol looked up at his deeply troubled sister, catching her tired, narrowed eyes.

he had realized his mistake now, pressing his lips into a thin line and hung his head in embarrassment.

she took a deep sigh looking at her moping little brother, pinching her nose bridge, "if we accept would you please leave us alone?.."

"yes! yes, of course, i will get out of your hair." you smiled sweetly from victory, the taller girl's face twitched.

so with that, she looked you dead in the eye before her eyes trailed up and down your body. making you shift in your position.

"whatever." sae-byeok mumbled, too hungry to argue back.

gotcha.

you squealed internally, a wave of relief washed over you.

you turned towards the trains windows, your right hand steadily held the train car handles, you left arm cradled your briefcase, your face brightened up with a satisfied smile, pleased with the short-haired girl's reply.

sae-byeok's head was still turned towards you. observing every inch of you, the way you smiled and hummed to yourself, the way your eyes flickered from the ground then to her brother, the way you lowered your head after sae-byeok finally accepted your offer..

amongst the deep irritation inside of her towards you, there was also a sprinkle of curiosity.

why were you so determined to thank her?.. if sae-byeok was in your shoes, she would've definitely just went back in the comfort of her own home.

the north-korean rolled her eyes, not wanting her thoughts to be clouded with you. instead, she put all of her attention to cheol who was also inquisitively staring at you, furrowing her eyebrows at the sight.

like sister, like brother i guess.

the cold afternoon breeze felt comforting on your skin, even though a piercing silence went on between you and the girl next to you.

cheol skipped ahead of you both, admiring the city scene since he hasn't really had the chance to be in the city ever since he was enrolled in the children's home.

his eyes wandered around the tall buildings, the high-end department stores, worn-down shop houses and hole-in-the-wall fast food stores.

you and sae-byeok strolled right behind the boy. your eyes were fixated at his amazed demeanor, smiling at the heart-warming scene in front of you.

sae-byeok was just bitterly walking in brooding silence, deep in thought.

the silence between you two was awkward, the only thing breaking the ice was cheol's frequent "what's that building?" and "look it's tayo!" commentary.

"what's your name?" you asked gently looking up at sae-byeok, testing the waters. wondering if it's safe enough to ask questions to the stone-cold girl.

"none of your business."

"what? so do you want me to call you blade girl then?" you teased, flicking your hair.

she shot you an annoyed, stern look. "please don't."

"tell me your name then!" you whined, looking at her properly this time. your eyes lost in sae-byeok's brown ones, the shared gaze lingering for a little too long.

the taller girl contemplated, clearing her throat before she tore her eyes away from you, now looking at cheol who was speeding up his pace.

"noona, we're here!"

she looked back at you still waiting for an answer, and instead of giving you what you want, she repositioned herself next to her brother, leaving you asking more questions in your mind.

you entered the market right behind the duo, taking in the vibrant hue of warm lighting. the air was thick with the scent of mouth-watering street food.

the market wasn't as packed as it usually was, but you could see that there was still crowds of people sitting by the stalls, stuffing themselves with comfort food. the hum of conversations blends with the rhythmic chopping of knives and the sizzle of oil.

you followed the pair to a more secluded side of the street food stalls, they stopped to take a seat in a bench in front of a cozy stall, a kind-faced auntie greeted them with such gentleness.

sae-byeok looked at you, she looked hesitant, pressing her lips together before starting.

"can.. can we eat here?"

you were surprised at the sudden vulnerableness the girl had, you would've thought she'd just grab and take whatever she wants, drain out your bank account.

not that the food was that expensive, though.

"yeah.. of course." your voice softened, nodding in assurance before smiling at the boy next to her, "get anything you want, okay?"

cheol's eyes lit up, taking a seat, sandwiched between you and sae-byeok before asking the auntie for the usual and some other dishes.

sae-byeok couldn't lie, but your gesture has brought an excited expression to cheol that she has rarely ever seen, and it tugged on her heartstrings.

sae-byeok nodded in appreciation, "thank you."

"it was nothing." you giggled, mimicking the girl's words from before, earning an awkward, tight-lipped smile from sae-byeok.

you smiled at her sweetly before ordering a twigim platter and a glass of sikhye.

it was humid inside the market, especially in the narrow space you three were crammed in, so you took of your gloomy, grey, cropped work blazer and placed it beside you, on top of your work briefcase.

sae-byeok mimicked your actions, zipping open her bomber jacket, rolling up her black, loose t-shirt's sleeves to reveal her tatted upper arm.

your eyes widened while your cheeks flushed at the sight of the pretty red ink trailing down her arm, the girl's arm flexed as she stretched. a red dragon tattoo wrapped around her biceps, it somewhat matched the short-haired girl.

"i like your tattoo." you commented, wiping your hands with sanitary wipes before using the steel chopsticks to take a bite of tempura seaweed roll.

sae-byeok looked up from her plate of kimbap, her eyes caught yours that was reflecting the gold hue from the single bulb that hung above the stall, before shyly looking down at her arms.

"thank you." she mumbled, tying her hair into a half up half down style.

you nodded, taking a sip of your rice punch. an unfamiliar comfortable silence appeared between the group.

you'd hate to admit, but the raven-haired girl beside you was attractive. you went dry mouth when you saw her jaw tick open, taking a bite of her food. the way her freckled nose twitched at the scent of cheol's tteokbokki being cooked, the way she gave him a delighted slight smirk when he excitedly retrieved the styrofoam plate full with tteokbokki from the auntie.

"excuse me, noona?" cheol looked up at you breaking your trance, his hands hung in the air, holding a spoonful of tteok. the boy was still a tiny bit skeptical about you, but his curiosity pushed him to his limits.

"yes.. uhh?" you trailed off, quirking your eyebrow up.

"cheol.." he hummed, you nodded, "what's inside your bag?"

"oh, my briefcase?" you quipped, shifting to place the briefcase on your lap, clicking the lock open.

the brother-sister duo looked at you curiously with a similar expression on their face. sae-byeok's eyes lingering on you a bit longer as she chewed on her food.

"i study architecture, so i'd have to have my tools with me you know." you smiled, voice like honey.

your hands trailed on the neatly stored scale rulers, cutting knife case and tracing papers.

the pair's eyes followed your hands as you flipped the case over, another section of books and a colorful array of pens and pencils were revealed.

"wow! so many colors.." the little boy gasped in awe.

you giggled at his reaction, finding it cute. you slipped out your thick sketchbook and flip through the pages, bringing it close to cheol so he could see.

"mhm, i also draw from time to time, they're mostly of sceneries around me." you explained gently. sae-byeok took quick glances at you and cheol from time to time, in between bites.

she wondered how cheol was so open to talking to you, he was typically a quiet kid at the children's home, reserved. he kept to himself, if someone insults him, he'd go hard on them.

"i also really like drawing, but i don't think i'm as good as you, noona." he acknowledged. his eyes stuck on a sketch of a stray cat by a tree.

your heart swelled at the compliment, how could someone sweet like cheol have a tough-hearted sister like blade girl? you thought.

"it takes practice, you know. i could teach you if you want." you offered, his mouth curved upwards,

"really? thank you noona.." cheol's eyes crinkled at you before digging into his plate of tteokbokki once again.

the market lights flickered, casting long shadows through the plastic tarps that lined the food stalls.

occasionally, sae-byeok would glance up, as if about to say something, only to decide against it, instead nudging a piece of her kimbap towards you.

you eyed it for a moment before taking it without a word. a silent acceptance.

sae-byeok could feel her guard slipping away from her every second, but she rebuilt that wall over and over again throughout the evening.

the afternoon turned evening turned in to a warm conversation, mostly between you and cheol about your shared interest of drawing, cheol's dream of going to a public school and all of "your favorite.."s

"what's your favorite insect, noona?" cheol asked innocently.

"do you seriously want me to answer that?"

sae-byeok also joined the conversation when you asked where'd she learn self defense from, you were clearly amazed on how she handled the creep the way she did.

"so.. where did you learn how to fight like that?" you queried, swishing a prawn tempura around the styrofoam plate.

sae-byeok nudged cheol, giving him a stony glare. his mouth was already opened wide to answer the question for her but he was quickly reminded of his place, so he slumped back into his seat before he stole a single kimbap from sae-byeok's plate.

"i..i do taekwondo."

you raised your eyebrow at the odd interaction of the two strangers, but quickly shrugged it off.

to you,

there was no need to fill the space with words.

the warmth of the meal, the quiet sounds of chopsticks clinking against bowls, the soft presence of a brother and sister duo who wasn’t asking for much—

it was enough.

you thought about why did you insist on having lunch with them for a second as you sipped the remnants of your sikhye and realized that you're having the sweet indirect family time you've always longed for.

the simple act of sharing food—none of it was grand or dramatic, but it filled a space inside you that had always been empty.

you have been dismissed by your parents your whole life, they say it's to train your independence skills but that clearly did nothing.

instead, it made you deprived of social.. heck, any interaction.

but being next to the mysterious girl you had deemed your savior and her adorable little brother, they simply existed beside you, allowing you to take up space by answering your questions without asking for anything in return. they'd even spark up conversations of their own.

you stared down at your empty cup, tracing the rim with your thumb.

“thanks,” you murmured, barely above a whisper.

sae-byeok looked up, chopsticks pausing mid-air, her face still stuffed. "for what?"

you hesitated, then shrugged. "for not telling me to shut up."

she blinked, then snorted softly, her tough exterior breaking for a second. “you barely talk.”

"no, i know, it's just.." you let out a breathy laugh, trailing off.

sae-byeok shared a silent understanding that you didn't want to continue with the subject of the conversation, going back to her food, the corner of her lips twitched up ever so slightly.

"kang sae-byeok."

"hm?"

"my name."

"oh." you muttered, nodding your head, trying to fight the excitement that burned in your chest at the sound of her name.

"kang sae-byeok." you repeated, testing her name on the tip of your tongue.

the sun began to set in the horizon, the air had grown colder, crisp enough that you unrolled the sleeves of your blouse, letting the last traces of warmth from the meal linger in your chest.

sae-byeok stood up first, letting cheol intertwine his fingers with hers.

"we should go. he has curfew." the short-haired girl mumbled, "thank you.. for the food."

you nodded, remembering how cheol talking about how he was staying at a children's home while sae-byeok worked.

sae-byeok bowed lowly first, cheol following shortly after.

"ah~ no need to thank me so formally, besides, you saved my ass back then." you shook your head, deep inside, you wished time would stretch just a little longer.

"thank you, noona! i hope we can play again." cheol gave a shy smile, waving his hands.

"see you, cheol." your voice softened at the sight of cheol, waving.

sae-byeok wrapped her arm around her little brother, before looking back for the last time, pausing.

"you should head home."

you huffed out a quiet laugh. “are you worried about me now?”

she didn’t answer immediately, just glanced at you, her expression unreadable beneath the market's glow. then, with a small shake of her head, she turned. “goodnight.”

it was just one, singular word. but it held weight, something unspoken hung in the air—an acknowledgment that the time spent between three strangers together mattered.

you watched as the pair merged in to the crowd of visitors.

you sighed softly before turning your heels towards the other direction, disappearing to the night yourself. the loneliness you had grown so used to didn’t feel quite as heavy tonight.

maybe you weren't as alone as you thought.

[luvmahae]

masterlist — previous — next!

SM DOME how the fuck we feelin?

it’s motherfuckin rave day and guess where we are? sm dome baby!

what’s better than being surrounded by dudes rocking jerseys, half-buttoned shirts, or just straight up going shirtless? and the girls? they’ve got the looks on lock—tiny tops, bottoms barely covering their asses, and of course, the fishnets.

everywhere you look, there’s kandi stacked high on wrists, led gloves lighting up the crowd, and the unmistakable haze of cigarettes, weed, and a rainbow of vape flavors hanging in the air. mango, watermelon, blue razz… you name it!

outside the main doors leading to the floor, some people are already completely fucked up. the night’s still young... right? spoiler: it’s only the openers playing right now. the main section of the venue is pure organized chaos—lines snaking to the bar, the merch booth, the bathroom. and the longest line of all? you guessed it. the water stations.

and this? this is just the beginning of what promises to be one hell of a night. 

chenle leads the way to the water stations, his camelbak slung over his shoulders. you and the others follow, weaving through the swarms of people, the energy of the venue running through your veins.

“me, chenle, and jisung are in charge of water tonight.” renjun says, filling the pouch inside of his camelbak at the dispenser.

once the boys finish loading up their camelbaks, the group rallies together, heading toward the floor entrance. mark’s hands rest on Ningning’s shoulders while she clings to chenle’s hand, letting him take the lead. you fall into place behind jeno, fingers gripping his shoulders like a train of carefree, slightly chaotic college kids.*

the crowd is packed, a sea of people all swaying, talking, dancing, you name it. john summit’s final stop in seoul has brought out a massive crowd—more than you had expected, but it’s the kind of energy that gets your adrenaline pumping.

the group moves through the crowd, inching forward towards the middle, where you’ve learned from past events that the view from here is the best. as you get closer to the center, the sights become even more overwhelming—the neon lights, the lasers cutting through the air, the thumping bass reverberating through your body. the visuals are going to be insane.

“right here.” 

the group forms a loose circle, finally getting a chance to breathe for a moment before the madness begins.

“y/n you have the baggie right?” 

“oh right i do!” 

you glance down at your top, tugging on the fabric to pull out the small ziplock bag tucked in your bra. as you pass it to jeno, you notice everyone staring at you with a mix of surprise and amusement—especially the guys.

“you hid it… in there?!”

“i mean… it works out all the time. mark, do you really think security is gonna pat my boobs down?”

“honestly that’s smart as fuck.”

“i mean thank god y/n has tits!” jaemin adds, earning a playful shove from you as the laughter continues.

jeno scans the area, his eyes flicking around for any sign of security before unzipping the mini ziplock bag. 

“john summit’s set starts at 9:30, so let’s pop these now.” 

one by one, everyone pops their pills, and there’s something about it that feels weirdly intimate. you take a quick sip from chenle’s camelbak after, the cold water hitting just right against the growing warmth spreading through your body.

the opener’s set is still going as the pill starts to settle inside you, your body already humming in anticipation. the crowd roars with excitement, the opener throwing down banger after banger, turning up the energy in the venue.

thirty minutes later, the opening notes of “shiver” echo through the venue, crisp and electrifying, vibrating straight through your chest. the whole group erupts into cheers, their excitement blending seamlessly with the roar of the crowd. the lights flash brighter, neon beams slicing through the darkness as the music builds, and the energy of the night kicks up a notch.

and then, it hits.

at first, it’s a gentle wave of warmth that rolls through you, and then it intensifies—almost like the music is coursing through your veins, the euphoria spreading from your chest to your fingertips. the energy is contagious, with everyone belting out the words, hands in the air, bodies swaying to the beat.

renjun pulls out a pack of gum and starts handing it around. you take a piece, popping it into your mouth just as the familiar jaw-clenching begins to set in. the sharp, sweet flavor helps ground you, even as your body starts buzzing, every sensation heightened to an almost unreal intensity.

jeno waves a handheld fan at the group, his effort to combat the heat appreciated as the air thickens with the crowd’s energy. the sweat, the flashing lights, and the pulsing music all blur together, each sensation melding into the next. your skin sticky from the heat, the lights flashing too fast to follow, the music vibrating through your bones, every beat hitting harder than the last.

the group is fully in it now, rolling hard as ever. eyes half-lidded, jaws working on the gum, bodies swaying and bouncing to the music without a care. mark and ningning are practically bouncing off each other, moving together in perfect sync, feeding off each other’s excitement. 

“look at you guys gooooo!” chenle shouts, laughing as he jumps into the circle with exaggerated moves, making ningning double over with laughter.

you can’t help but join in, the sheer joy of the moment pulling you closer. the music, the lights, the people—it’s all blending together into one perfect, unforgettable night.

karina is the first to stumble, her eyes blinking rapidly as the effects of the pill settle over her. she stumbles back, her shoulders colliding with jeno’s chest.

“whoa, whoa- easy.” he says quickly, steadying her with a firm hand.

she looks up at him, her eyes wide and glazed over, chewing her gum aggressively. “i don’t feel so good right now.” she admits, her voice soft but shaky.

jeno, rolling just as hard as she is, grins at her, his face softening with concern despite his own euphoric state. “you’re good. i’ve got you,” he reassures her, his hands gently massaging her temples.

“renjun, water.”

renjun nods and immediately pulls the mouthpiece of the camelbak and hands it over. he flashes karina a quick thumbs-up, his attempt at lightening the moment.

“it’s all in your head rina. you got this! just have fun!”

she takes a long sip, the cool water washing down the rising heat in her chest, grounding her just enough to breathe easier. jeno fans her with one hand, his other still steady on her shoulder

“thank you.”

the overwhelming sensations start to mellow, and for a moment, she just leans into him, finding comfort in his presence.

his grin widens as he looks down at her, holding her close until she’s ready to move again. 

“anytime.”

the energy in the group builds as the music pulses through the venue, but ningning suddenly stops dancing, her eyes wide with excitement.

“can someone please give me a shoulder ride?! this is my favorite song! i need to record it NOW!”

jaemin’s grin is instant, mischievous and wide. he crouches without a second thought, patting his shoulders.

“get on!”

she doesn’t hesitate, her laughter bright as she hooks her legs over his shoulders. with a swift push, he lifts her into the air, her squeal of delight blending with the music. she wobbles for a second before steadying herself, one hand gripping his hair lightly for balance while the other raises her phone high to start recording.

“holy shit, john summit is REAL! i love you!”

“you better send me those videos later!”

“jaem don’t let me go okay!”

“i got you! just go crazy!”

“you’re seriously the best!”

he sways to the beat, effortlessly keeping her balanced as she waves her phone around, capturing the moment. his grin never falters, his energy syncing with hers as the track explodes into its euphoric drop.

jisung is completely captivated by the lasers, his eyes locked on the vibrant display, wide with awe. a grin stretches across his face as he chews on his gum, lost in the rhythm of the lights. a girl approaches him, her energy just as high as his, and they start dancing side by side.

she leans in, her voice playful. “you like the lights, huh?”

“they’re fucking insane.”

she laughs and pulls him by the hands, her body swaying to the rhythm of the music, effortlessly guiding him into the groove.

“dance with me, yeah?”

you, on the other hand, are feeling the effects a little differently. while the others are bouncing around and grinning like crazy, you feel lighter—almost like your body is floating. you sway to the music, eyes closed, your body moving with the beats like a feather in the wind.

it’s when you stumble backwards that you feel haechan’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you gently against him.

“you good?”

you smile, leaning back into him, your body relaxed in his arms. “yeah… this pill is strong as fuck, holy shit.” you admit, your voice slurring slightly, but it doesn’t even matter.

he chuckles softly, the sound sending a pleasant shiver through you. his breath is warm against your ear as he whispers, “told you.”

the music swirls around you, and in that moment, you lose your footing again. he catches you effortlessly, pulling you back into his embrace, his chin resting lightly on the top of your head.

“i got you.”

you lean into him, closing your eyes, feeling the warmth of his body grounding you in the otherwise dizzying world of lights and sound. 

“just feel the music y/n.” he murmurs, his voice soft, steady, and comforting in contrast to the chaos around you.

when the opening beats of “what a life” burst through the speakers, the group instinctively comes together, forming a loose circle. arms draped over each other's shoulders, pulling everyone close as the music sways in time with the electric euphoria filling the air.

“i love you guys soooooo muchhhh!” 

“best fucking night everrrrrr!” 

“guys i’m seriously rolling tits right now!”

“tell molly i love her too!”

“god i am literally so happy. let me kiss all of you… NOW!” 

you giggle as you stumble from person to person, planting a quick, sloppy kiss on each cheek, feeling the warmth of the crowd and the love flooding around you.

“that’s our girl. classic y/n.” chenle teases from the side, the group erupting in laughter. 

then it’s haechan’s turn. when you reach him, the kiss lingers—just a second longer than the others. you feel his skin grow warm under your lips, and when you pull back, his eyes are already locked on yours, their intensity cutting through the haze of the night.

♪ what a life, what a time to be free

as the night winds down, the group finally makes its way back to the cars. the buzz of the pills has faded, but the sense of connection remains. you walk side by side with haechan, your hands brushing occasionally as the faint hum of conversations floats between your group.

you glance at him, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “i’ve got something for you, by the way,” you say, pulling a small green beaded bracelet from your pocket.

“you made kandi just for me? cute.”

“i actually made some for the group... but i couldn't forget about you too.”

“you know what’s funny? i actually made one for just you.”

your breath catches slightly as he pulls a pink beaded bracelet from his jacket pocket. the way the beads shimmer under the streetlights makes your heart flutter, but it’s the glimmer in his eyes that really gets you.

“you know what to do,” he says, holding the bracelet out, his tone both teasing and sincere.

peace. you both raise your hands, forming matching peace signs and holding them for a beat before moving on.

love. your hands curve into hearts, the symmetry between you so natural it feels like second nature.

unity. your palms meet, warm and steady against one another. there’s an intimacy in the quiet contact that makes your chest tighten in the best way.

respect. your fingers interlace with his, soft and deliberate, but instead of letting go, he holds on. his grip is firm yet gentle, grounding you in the moment as he slips the bracelet onto your wrist with his free hand.

you slide the blue and white kandi onto his wrist in return, the action simple but so much more meaningful than it has any right to be.

he doesn’t let go. instead, his fingers stay threaded with yours as he guides you toward the rest of the group, his thumb brushing lightly against the back of your hand.

you know,” he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear, “this might be my favorite part of the night.”

you glance up at him, a soft feeling blooming in your chest as the night air wraps around you. “mine too.” you admit, the words barely more than a whisper.

and as you walk toward the others, your hand still in his, it feels like a quiet promise—something neither of you needs to say out loud.

♪ what a life, what a time to be you, and me

wc: 2.2k

notes: update on christmas day lets get it 😎 long awaited rave chapter and i am honestly.... living for it 100%. writing this made me relive the past events ive been to irl and ugh 10/10 feeling (not the comeup but everything past that YESSS!) plus im actually dying at the john summit twitter account LMFAO merry christmas and happy holidays to all of u lovely cuties!!! sending u all kisses muah. chapter is based off john summit's "what a life"! such a good song :D

taglist: @4amirwin @wonbin-truther @hearts4hee @jungaji @sundamariis @urlovelily @n0hyuck @dudekiss3r @injunnie-lemon @luvvhaechan @douqhnxtss @tynlvr @haesluvr @hcluvie @pinknjm @nanaxwi @catpjimin @slayhaechan @awktwurtle @myfavoritedelusion @stqrgr7 @t-102 @jianreadsaus @haechanhues @gomdoleemyson @hyuckmoon @haechology @mystverse @hyuckies18 @sunflowerbebe07 @jae-n0 @onlyforyoukook @yizhrt @gwookie @zzzmrk @kukkurookkoo @nightcat101 @tinyelfperson @haefelt @haechsworld @tenjyucat @worldwidecutiemaya @sunghoonsgfreal @snoopyjimin @ypoom151999 @meowtella @honeynanamin @haechanmybaechan @nctrawberries @nosungluv

[sanguineterrain]

Hiii i love your writing SO much💕, you're so good with the characterization of the boys it's crazy. I was wondering if I could request a second part of your dick x assistant fic?

thanks sm! i surely can deliver a 2nd part of these two :3 pt 2 to this.

dick grayson x gn!rogue!reader. flirting, canon typical violence, reader being a brat teehee! all fics are rb to @sanguinelibrary

****

This coffee shop is packed.

Normally, you'd say 'fuck it' and just go without caffeine. But you've stayed late for three nights in a row, and Bruce requested coffee ten minutes ago.

And because you work for the local billionaire, you have to buy from the expensive, organic, ridiculously priced coffee shop across town.

The cashier looks up. "Next?"

You step forward in relief, opening your mouth to recite the order you memorized a year ago, when a man cuts you off.

Oh, hell no.

"Hey, what the hell is your problem?" you ask, patience finally snapping. The four people behind you also express their anger at the offending cutter.

He turns around, and suddenly you're looking into blue, blue eyes. Dick smiles apologetically.

"Sorry." He turns. "Sorry, everyone! Everyone's coffee is on me."

That soothes the line completely, and a few even clap. You, however, are unamused.

"I've never seen you in this coffee shop," you say, folding your arms as Dick gets out his wallet.

"Really? I'm here all the time," he says easily. He points to you. "I'll order for them as well."

God. He thinks he can just flash his pretty smile and have you eating out of his—

"...And can I get that with no foam? Thank you," Dick says, finishing the order. He pulls out his card. "D'you mind if I pay ahead for everybody here in line?"

The cashier, predictably, is absolutely dazzled by Gotham's pretty prince, their eyes big and awed. They nod as Dick puts four fifty dollar bills in the tip jar.

"I just wanna say that that was so great, what you did for those kids in the hospital last week," the cashier says. "I live in Blüdhaven, and you're definitely our hero. I mean, wow. Between you and me? You outshine your dad, too."

Dick laughs and hands them another fifty. "Well, someone's gotta keep him sharp, right? You have a good day, okay?"

You stand there blankly until someone behind you says, "You gonna move or what?"

Gotham. City of manners.

You leave the line and walk to the pick-up area, where Dick is chatting with another customer. Good God.

"What was that?" you ask, not caring if you're interrupting.

The lady chatting up Dick begins to protest, but Dick quickly soothes her, apologizing profusely. She leaves.

Dick turns to you, cocking his head. "Hi. What was what?"

"I had to order Mr. Wayne's coffee, too. And mine! What did you even order?"

"I got both of yours," Dick says. He holds out a brown pastry bag. "And I got you a white chocolate raspberry muffin."

"I hate those," you lie.

Dick's face falls, crinkling the bag. "Oh. I thought... uh, sorry. Someone said you..."

You're suddenly hyper-aware of what a jerk you're being. What has Dick done to you, besides be a nice guy?

It's just... you know you should be wary. No guy is this nice and polite and pays for coffee and compliments your laptop stickers and laughs at your jokes and doesn't also have a secret. Dick probably goes American Psycho on the weekends, or does pig's blood sacrifices in his basement. Rich people are weirdos.

He did buy you coffee, though. And a muffin.

"Actually. Sorry. I, uh, thought you said something else. I do like those. Thanks." You take the bag.

Dick perks up. "You're welcome."

You eat the muffin, mildly humiliated but extremely hungry.

"Order for Dick?"

The barista slides a cardboard cupholder with three drinks. He smiles at Dick.

"Hey, man. Nice to see ya! Thanks for the save."

Dick waves his hand. "No trouble at all, Darryl. Take care!"

"And how do you know him?" you ask, following Dick to the creamer station. "Or are you going to tell me it's because you're in here all the time even though I've never seen you here once?"

"Okay, you got me," Dick says, smiling sheepishly. "I don't come here. I know that guy 'cause I found his dog. And saved him from a mugging. Nice guy. He's getting married in November."

"He invited you to his wedding?"

"Yeah! Not sure if I can make it, though, which is too bad. They're having it at the Botanical Gardens. I've always wanted to go there."

"What—" You stop, looking down at the cups. One is Dick's iced caramel mocha, one is Bruce's hot black coffee, and the third is your exact order. "How do you know what I order?"

Dick shrugs. "Just noticed when you bring it to work."

You thought Dick couldn't say what he eats for breakfast, much less what you eat.

"Do you stalk me?" you ask.

"What, no! I don't stalk you. I'm just... observant."

"That's exactly what a stalker would say."

"I would never stalk you." Dick raises his right hand. "Scout's honor."

"I doubt you were ever a scout," you mumble, fixing your own drink.

"You're right. I actually got kicked out of Boy Scouts. I wanted to be a Girl Scout 'cause of the cookies. My little brother was a Scout, though. Got an Honor medal. Never let me forget it."

You turn from the counter, suddenly remembering your exasperation. "Mr. Grayson—"

"Dick! Or Dickie, if you prefer. Why won't you call me Dick?"

"Because it's unprofessional," you say frostily, sipping your drink. "You're my boss' son. And I'm not calling you Dickie."

Dick leans against the counter. "But we're friends now, remember?"

"I don't think I ever agreed to that."

"Pretty sure you did! I have an excellent memory."

You sigh. "Just—"

The TV blares loudly, 'Special Report' popping up on screen.

"And in a shocking turn of events, Brendon Sommer was found dead in his apartment this morning, just two days before his trial. D.A. Colson says this is a tragedy but insists that neither he nor the police suspect foul play. Sommer was a key eyewitness to the Maroni case..."

"What the fuck?" you burst.

No. No way. You had him.

Dick squints at the TV. "This doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah, no shit! Colson is fucking guilty! That had to come out in the trial!"

He raises his brows. "I... didn't know you were following this case so closely."

Shit. Too much. Dial it back.

You fold your arms. "No, I mean, I'm not. Well, I am, but... it's just that Sommer was an assistant, so it's personal to me. The lowest rungs on the ladder are always getting stuck in the shit."

Dick's eyes turn soft and sympathetic. "Yeah. That's true. He was only trying to protect his boss."

Fat lot of good that did him. Those Fortune 500 hotshots are all the same.

You wonder what Nightwing thinks of all of this. You're sure he's full of righteous fury at Sommer's death, but what good can that do? You were at least trying to stop more little people from getting stepped on.

"I have to go," you say, taking your drink. "I have, uh..."

"Work?" Dick offers.

"Yes. Right. Work." You nod. "Thanks for the... and the... you're really, um—you didn't have to—"

Dick grins. "It's no trouble at all. I'd buy you coffee every day if you'd let me."

Seriously, what is wrong with him?

You can't manage anything but an awkward wave in response, bumping into the shop door on your way out.

You're going to the coffee shop by your apartment next time. You doubt Bruce is lucid enough to know the difference.

****

Beeeeep! Beeeeeep! Beeeeeeeeep!

You wince as the museum alarm goes off. You have maybe two minutes before the cops get here. Inept as they are, you don't want to have to slip out of handcuffs.

Hopefully, he gets here before you...

"I thought stealing diamonds wasn't your thing."

Nightwing lands three feet away from you and the display case with the special ruby on display at the Gotham Museum.

The ruby that's now in your hand.

"It's not. Diamonds are overrated. Rubies, however..."

You toss him the ruby. Nightwing catches it one-handed.

"I don't..." He sighs. "Did you do this to get my attention?"

"Not like I can look you up in the phone book, Wing Ding," you say, strutting past him. "C'mon, we have about a minute before the cops show."

Nightwing grabs your arm. "I don't think so. I have you on two counts of breaking and entering and falsified evidence."

"Wing, baby, you'd have me even if I didn't do all that," you say, patting his arm. "And as much fun as it is to be apprehended by you, I can't play with you tonight. We have serious business."

He presses his lips together, and you watch him fight the battle between doing what's right and what's good.

He finally exhales through his nose and puts the ruby back. Which is fine. The diamond necklace you swiped before he came is safely in your pocket. Just because they're overrated doesn't mean you don't have rent to pay.

"Let's go," he says, stalking out of the museum.

You happily bounce after him. "Oh, Wing, I knew you liked me! Am I your favorite thief with a heart of gold? Be honest. I can tell when you're lying."

"You certainly keep things interesting," he says, leading you up a fire escape and onto a rooftop.

"Why, Wing," you say, skipping behind him. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me. I'm choked! I'm touched!"

Nightwing stops and turns, hands on his hips.

"I don't feel good about letting you go, so start talking. What happened with Colson?"

You sober at the mention. "I swear, I don't know. He was supposed to be arrested. I laid it all out."

"You turned him to the cops?"

"Yes. I had no choice. Somebody didn't want to help me bring Colson in."

"The way you were doing it was illegal," Nightwing says.

"Yeah, well, Colson's free and Sommer's dead, so it doesn't really matter, does it?" you snap. "I couldn't even get Colson before killing Sommer."

Nightwing steps forward, frowning. "Hey. His death isn't your fault."

"No? Because I could've done anything to make sure Colson got what he deserves, and they got Sommer anyway."

You take a deep breath. You can't get worked up now. Nightwing is a resource you can use to get Colson.

"Why do you care so much about this case anyway?" he asks.

"Because Sommer gave everything, and he was still disposable. That's how all of us little folk are treated. We're just bricks in the wall."

Nightwing tilts his head. "You're including yourself in this analogy?"

Whoops. You shouldn't be giving personal information away. Dammit. How is he so good at putting your defenses down?

"Well, I do have a life outside of this, Wing."

"Really? I don't," he says, grinning.

"No? Not even a special someone?"

"Hm. No comment."

You try not to deflate at that. "Well, anyway, Colson needs to go down. He can't get away with this."

"The circumstances certainly implicate him. But we have no evidence that he was involved in Sommer's death."

You perk up. "We?"

A sigh. "I suppose we can work together, considering the time you've invested into this case. But I have rules," he says.

You grin. "Sure, Batboy. I'll go slow since it's your first time."

He ignores you. "My first rule is that you can't commit any more crimes."

"What!" you say. "But I'm so good at them!"

"Number two is that we have to do things my way, by the book. We can't rely on illegally-obtained evidence. I will help you with every resource I have, but we have to be good and honest about it."

"You're stifling me already, Golden Boy," you say, spinning around him. "Where's your sense of whimsy and joy?"

"I left it at home. Are we clear?"

You stop and heave a dramatic sigh.

"I guess. Are you really dating someone?"

Nightwing scoffs. "Is this you telling me that you're interested?"

"Well, yes. I can fight, by the way. I'll fight for you, babe."

He smiles. "Eh. They're feisty. They can probably fight better than you."

"Ouch! Who's this challenger? Can they promise a dowry of more than five goats and three cows?"

Nightwing laughs a real laugh. You beam at the sound.

"What would I do with goats and cows?" he asks.

"I dunno. Build a farm, I guess."

"I have to build a farm, too? Sounds like a lot of work."

"Marriage is hard work, Wing!"

"Sorry, my heart belongs to someone else."

"I'll court you, yet. I'm an excellent chef. I'll bring us grilled cheeses next time," you say.

He shakes his head, but his posture is relaxed. "You're unbelievable. Really. Criminal, but..."

"I reject the label of criminal. I prefer 'independent contractor.' Or 'director of joy and whimsy.'"

"Okay, Director. No more breaking into museums," he says.

"But how will I get your attention, O Wise and Beautiful?"

Nightwing gets close, breath fanning your cheek. His hand rests on your back. He tilts his head like he's... like he's gonna—

Your heart stutters.

"You've already got it," he murmurs, tongue resting between his teeth. "Meet me here on Friday. Oh, and..."

Nightwing holds up the diamond necklace you took on a single finger. Your eyes widen.

"How did you—"

He grins. "You wouldn't want these, anyway—they're overrated, remember?" Nightwing shoots his grappling gun to the opposite roof and swings away. "Have a good night!"

You watch as he disappears beyond the skyline. You try to muster anger or regret for getting caught and losing the diamonds, but you can't. If anything's criminal, it's that damn smile of his.

God. You are so screwed.

[yeosanitycheck]

can you please write a first date with ateez members😽🥺

ofc!! i hope you like this. i tried to include a good amt of detail for each member w/o being too wordy :)

first date with ateez!

*pairing: ateez x reader

*warnings!: none, this is pure fluff

*a/n: i love doing requests sm!! im open to anything :)

Hongjoong 🌶️

art gallery and vinyl store:

Hongjoong gives off that art gallery and vinyl store vibe. He takes you to a cozy, intimate art gallery, where he’s genuinely curious about what each piece means to you. As you wander through, he leads you to an abstract painting with deep blues and warm golds, and his gaze lingers on it for a moment. Finally, he looks over at you with a curious smile, eyes sparkling with thought.

“It’s strange…” he begins, studying the piece. “This one makes me think of a dream I had—but it’s hard to put into words. It’s like the artist left us a clue.” For a moment, he’s lost in the painting and the quiet of the gallery. The evening feels weighty in the best way, and you sense he’s simply happy to share this space with you. He gestures around thoughtfully. “We should come to more galleries, you know. I think we’d get along well with the art,” he muses, voice soft but earnest.

After the gallery, he takes you to his favorite vinyl store, his face lighting up as he flips through stacks of records, each album cover like a piece of art in itself. He’s in his element. “I have to play you this one!” he says, pulling out an album with a cover of swirling colors. “It’s got this dreamy guitar that just…feels like a night drive.” He slides a record into the listening station, placing one headphone on his ear and offering you the other. “Close your eyes,” he whispers.

As the music begins, you’re immersed in a warm, dreamy atmosphere. Hongjoong sits quietly beside you, letting the sound wrap around both of you, and when the song ends, he smiles, more to himself than to anyone else. “It’s timeless,” he says, voice almost a whisper. Leaving the store, he glances at you, brushing his hand through his hair, looking thoughtful. “Next time, I’ll make you a mix of songs like that. For drives, late nights…for whatever moments we want to make ours.”

---

Seonghwa 🧚

the picnic type (outside of legos ofc):

Seonghwa strikes you as the type who appreciates quiet beauty. He takes you to a peaceful hill just outside the city, where he’s prepared a stargazing setup with cozy blankets, soft pillows, and a thermos of hot cocoa for warmth. The sun is just beginning to set as you both settle in, and he starts pointing out constellations, his voice calm under the deepening twilight.

“I wanted to find a spot where we could see the stars clearly, and where it would just be us,” he says, a subtle smile playing on his lips. He pulls out a small telescope and carefully adjusts it, pointing to a bright star. “See that? That’s Vega—one of the brightest stars,” he explains, eyes lighting up. “They say it symbolizes harmony and balance. So pretty.”

He shifts his gaze to meet yours, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “If we could be like those stars, maybe our story would be worth telling too,” he murmurs, his eyes reflecting a bit of the starlight. Moving closer, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his gaze so intense you can feel the warmth radiating from him. “You’re the personification of Vega, bringing balance and light…something I didn’t realize I needed,” he admits. The silence that follows is comfortable, and as he gazes at you, his voice softens, almost reverent. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this view.”

---

Yunho ☂️

fun, amusement park kind of man!:

Yunho radiates fun and adventure, which is why he chooses the amusement park for your first date. From the moment you arrive, his excitement is infectious. His eyes gleam as he takes in the lights, rides, and sounds of laughter, and without hesitation, he grabs your hand. “Let’s do everything! The roller coaster first. Trust me, we’re about to have the best time.”

On the roller coaster, Yunho’s excitement morphs into thrill as he laughs and screams, his eyes wide with exhilaration. When you finally get off, he leans against the railing, catching his breath with a grin. “Next time, I’ll keep it cool and calm, I swear. But first…” he says, eyeing a booth with stuffed animals. “I’m winning you the biggest one here!”

Determined, he attempts the game multiple times before finally winning a massive plush dog. With a triumphant grin, he holds it up to you like a trophy. “Told you I’d get it,” he laughs, handing it over with a playful wink. As the day goes on, you ride more rides and play more games, and as the sun begins to set, he stops to take in the vibrant lights illuminating the park, a content look on his face.

“I want to remember today like this. Just us, being silly and enjoying each moment,” he says softly. After a moment, he grins, nudging you playfully. “Next time, maybe we’ll try something even more thrilling. How does skydiving sound?”

---

Yeosang🪽  

the garden boy:

As you step into the botanical garden, the colors and scents of flowers envelop you both, transforming the air into a fragrant embrace. Yeosang seems to come alive in this vibrant setting, walking slowly and soaking in every detail with a childlike wonder. He stops frequently, admiring a particular flower, his fingers brushing gently against the delicate petals as if to connect with their beauty. 

“Look at this one; it’s so vibrant. I’ve never seen such a shade of red before,” he exclaims, pulling out his phone to capture the moment with an artistic eye. He snaps photos, each shot a testament to his creativity, and then turns to you, his expression soft and thoughtful. 

“Sometimes I feel like nature can express feelings we can’t put into words. Gardens are so peaceful to me,” he muses, leaning against a nearby tree to admire you with a gentle smile. In this moment, he’s not just appreciating nature; he’s savoring your presence as if you were the most beautiful flower in the garden.

“If I could, I’d spend every day here, just us and the beauty around us… creating our own little world,” he says, the sincerity in his voice making your heart flutter. He carefully plucks a delicate flower, twirling it between his fingers before holding it out to you with a shy grin. 

“Here, something to remember today by,” he offers, his shy demeanor revealing his affection. As you walk together, the tranquility of the garden reflects in his eyes. He feels incredibly lucky to share this serene moment with you, and his admiration shines through. “This day… it feels special. The perfect moment captured in time with you,” he whispers, his love language evident in his words of affirmation and the little gestures that express his affection.

---

San🗻

Pet cafe seemed the most appropriate for him:

The moment you step into the pet cafe, San’s excitement is palpable, radiating joy as he practically skips towards the kittens and puppies. His laughter fills the air as a fluffy puppy bounds over, tail wagging furiously. He kneels down, scooping it into his arms, his face lighting up with sheer delight. 

“He’s the cutest puppy!” he exclaims, stroking the puppy’s soft fur while it licks his cheek, making you smile at the warmth in his heart. As you watch him interact with the animals, you notice how effortlessly his joy spreads to everyone around.

“You know, I’ve always believed that animals can sense good hearts. They seem to like you a lot… just like I do,” he says, glancing at you with genuine warmth. It’s a sweet reminder of the connection you both share, and his words are laced with sincerity, affirming your place somewhere in his mind and heart. 

As you both move to a corner filled with treats, he holds a tiny biscuit out for a waiting puppy. “Woo, this is your moment to shine!” he laughs as the puppy eagerly takes the treat from his hand. Watching him share his joy with the animals, you can’t help but admire how he brings out the best in everyone.

“I could spend all day here with you and these little animals. You guys just make the day more worth it,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you both settle on the floor, surrounded by playful furballs. 

---

Mingi🩰

Nighttime vibes—def an outdoor movie type:

Mingi leads you to a local park where an outdoor movie is screening classic films. He sets up a cozy spot on the grass with blankets and snacks, the anticipation buzzing in the air as you settle in together. Leaning back on his hands, he intertwines his fingers with yours, his playful eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Alright! Let’s see how bad this movie really is. Couldn’t do a scary one for obvious reasons,” he quips, the sound of his laughter blending with the chirping of crickets. As the film begins, he leans closer, whispering witty commentary and shaking his head dramatically whenever a character makes a ridiculous decision.

“Did they really think that was a good idea? Who jumps into a dark alley like that? I mean, I would definitely jump in if you were there, but that’s beside the point,” he jokes, his words laced with affection as he playfully nudges you. Each laugh shared draws you closer, creating a tapestry of moments that feels magical.

When the film ends, he pulls you into a quieter area of the park, where the rustling leaves and distant laughter create a serene backdrop. The moonlight casts a gentle glow on his face as he glances at you, longing evident in his eyes. “You know, I really like this. Just sharing our thoughts and debating silly stuff… it’s perfect to me,” he admits, his vulnerability showing as he leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours.

This moment feels timeless, and as he pulls you in for a soft kiss under the stars, you know this is just the beginning of something beautiful.

---

Wooyoung👹 

Man loves to cook—cooking class!:

You and Wooyoung arrive at a bustling cooking studio, the delicious aroma of fresh herbs and sizzling garlic enveloping you both. He rolls up his sleeves with enthusiasm, helping you tie your apron while shooting you a cheeky grin. 

“I’m winning over your taste buds tonight,” he declares, confidence radiating from him as he dives into the cooking process. As the instructor guides you through each step, Wooyoung can’t resist adding his own flair, chopping ingredients with exaggerated precision, and shooting playful winks whenever he catches your eye.

When he accidentally adds a bit too much chili to the sauce, he winces but laughs it off. “I hope you like a little heat. You’ll just have to handle the spice,” he teases, the playful banter making your heart race. As you taste your creations, he leans in, watching your reaction with eager anticipation.

“Good, right?! I’m thinking about starting my own restaurant. You could be my official taste tester,” he grins, and you can’t help but smile at the thought. His passion for cooking and your presence fuels his excitement, creating a bond that feels warm and genuine.

As the class winds down, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, a satisfied smile on his face. “Tonight was perfect, and next time, I’m making you my special dessert. No recipe needed!” His words echo with promise.

---

Jongho🧸  

He’s built, likes activity—rock climbing: 

Jongho takes you to an indoor rock climbing gym, where excitement dances in the air. As he gears up, his eyes sparkle with enthusiasm. He hands you a harness, carefully helping with the buckles and straps, his warm touch sending a delightful shiver down your spine. “Think you’re ready for this? I’ll go easy on you… maybe,” he teases, a playful smile gracing his lips.

As he starts climbing with natural ease, he glances back to offer advice, his calm confidence a reassuring presence. When you hesitate on a difficult spot, he looks down at you, his smile unwavering. “Just take your time. Find your balance… trust yourself,” he encourages, his voice steady and filled with belief in your abilities.

When you finally reach the top, his approving smile lights up the room, and he gives you a soft high five, pride shining in his gaze. “Feels good to push the limits with you! It’s freeing,” he says, sitting beside you as you both take in the breathtaking view. The city lights twinkle below, mirroring the spark in his eyes.

As you catch your breath, he watches you with admiration. “You did great. Next time, let’s try the real thing. There’s a spot outside the city I think you’d love,” he suggests, his eagerness palpable. The promise of future adventures together makes your heart flutter, knowing that every challenge you face will only bring you closer.

--- 

[fauustic]

hi hi! i'm not very active on tumblr anymore but i came back for miguel o'hara and your snippets are what are keeping me alive at the very moment, is it alright if i request for some miguel fluff?

the prompt is that he tries really hard to keep his "touch-starvedness" unnoticeable but reader makes that very hard for him because even brushing shoulders and hands is enough to send him into cardiac arrest. it all goes to hell when reader gets genuinely concerned for him and twists into reader giving miguel the gentle touch he deserves :3

(( I loved this ask so much... I will definitely do a different concept with this idea to bring it more justice! thank you for your request, so wonderful nonetheless! ))

my requests are still open!! i didn't proofread this one so if there are any mistakes sorry!!

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

fluff. miguel, so desperately touch-starved, yearns for any touch he can’t get. you unknowingly give it to him.

warnings: jealous and slightly violent miguel, perhaps slightly suggestive? MAINLY FLUFF THOUGH!! HE LOVES YOU SM!! anyhow he’s just a little silly and painfully in love with his co-worker ..

word count: 2852

A soft bump met your shoulders, tilting the vial you held ever so delicately with much more force than anticipated from the unexpected collision. The goggles resting upon your nose slanted from the impact as the burst of color within the flask splashed onto your lab coat. A frustrated groan erupted from your lips as a light chuckle sounded from right beside you. 

“Jeez– this isn’t funny Miguel!” You couldn’t help but whine while hurriedly cleaning up your lab station before anyone from a different department of Alchemax could see your slip-up. The vial that held a mysterious substance wasn’t anything to worry about, it was a prototype for a more ecologically efficient paint alternative to further the health of citizens amongst Nueva York– but the progress being wiped away over something as small as a little bump on the shoulder almost made you fall to your knees. 

Being hired as a rookie chemist to the most successful chemical corporation in existence had you sweating bullets over your every move– not even allowing yourself to step foot in the break room in fear that you’d have to reiterate what you have done during your time here. Which was much less accomplished than your assigned veteran lab partner, who always offered to help bring your concepts to fruition– but you declined with ease because you wanted to feel worthy to the department you were assigned.

This didn’t stop Miguel from coincidentally being a step behind your movements always, despite your insistence that you had everything under control.

It was nerve-wracking, feeling his gaze study you a bit too hard as you measured how clean a sample of underground Nueva York was in the dim light of a late night shift. He’d make quips, soft against your exhausted temple while Miguel would finish the rest of your unfinished goals. Drifting off into the embrace of sleep, your eyes would crack open ever so slightly as he examined your work with a level of admiration in his gaze you've never noticed fully awake– tinkering and fiddling with whatever environmentally-productive project you had going on that shift. The last recollection of the night would be the touch of Miguel’s knuckles grazing your shoulders, a jacket wrapping around your back like a blanket. The smell of praline alongside bergamot orange stuck to your body like a shadow as you slumped awake the following morning, rushing home to shower and get ready for the shift you had the upcoming afternoon.

Following the next day, Miguel had a subtle smile upon his features as you returned his jacket with a flustered expression he’s never seen from you. Excitement bubbled against his chest like a shaken-up soda as he observed the slight bow of your head in appreciation, hands atop his scarred grasp that held onto the jacket you returned. You never caught the deep breaths flooding his lungs as the two of you separated, his jacket held tightly against his hammering heart. “I, I need to go grab a coffee–” Miguel muttered underneath his breath, leaving before you could even acknowledge his dismissal. Confusion dazed your focus, remembering the last time you asked if he had wanted any coffee he mentioned he didn’t even like the caffeinated drink in the first place. Told you it made his insomnia worse.

The both of you had grown closer ever since that experience as surprising as it was, due to his cocky yet cold attitude usually clashing against your focus. If it wasn’t for his seriousness, the two of you would be bickering like partners forced to work on a group project in grade school. Which brought you back to the present, cleaning up the mess he had technically created due to bumping into you. A frown etched upon his face, stress lines from his hundreds of late shifts growing prominent at the tip of his lips. “I was doing something important– and you waltz in and just knock it all over?”

“‘Didn’t mean to, conejito.” Miguel replied in his usual matter-of-fact tone, waving off his actions like every other time he's accidentally skewed your focus. "But I'm more than willing to fix what I did if you just stop acting like a spooked animal." It rolled off his tongue like an insult, but you knew that's just how he spoke. Short and blunt, with little quips towards anyone who annoys him just briefly. Just like every other co-worker, despite the amount of time the two of you have spent together, you always would get a taste of his attitude before you snapped right back at him.

But today, you were tired and running off of pure coffee as the sun began to set. Bickering with Miguel was something you wanted to stray away from at the time being. So you caved, giving him a gesture to come closer to you. "You can't help if you are standing seven feet away from me, O'Hara." You told him the obvious, readjusting the goggles that sat atop your nose while you went over the variables involved with your test. 

For the first time in response to your sarcasm, Miguel was silent. Seconds ticked by as you grew more invested in resuming from where you left off, the little quarrel leaving your mind as soon as it came. You thought he'd ignore you and end up doing his own thing in your shared lab, but the distinct footfalls from his leather shoes moving closer after the rare quietness proved you wrong.

Miguel slid up right beside your hunched stance, close enough that the warmth from his arms met your wrists but not close enough where his rolled-up sleeves would collide against the fabric fitted against your arms.

You stood there, measuring the exact precise measurements from before with the several natural ingredients surrounding the both of you. And Miguel just watched, at least that's what you assumed, because that burning gaze of his seeped into the back of your head and sizzled against your fingertips working painstakingly slow mixing and working against the organic compounds. Nervousness prickled your skin, goosebumps following in its wake.

Due to your posture, when you snapped your attention to him you couldn't help but look up. Miguel's features were soft, an expression that you've never seen on him meeting your eyes. He was looking down at you, breathing in sleepily while subsciously leaning his body into your space. The unusual mannerism caught your attention with haste, and you were about to question if he was feeling okay before he perked up like he got shocked.

His gaze was distant until he realized you were looking straight at him– immediately looking off towards the vials you had splayed in front of you like he was caught doing something wrong. You couldn't help but frown while you watched Miguel exhale deeply, his index and thumb meeting the bridge of his nose in a habit you've noticed throughout your time here. Miguel was stressed. 

"Hey, it's okay that you messed up." The forgiveness falling from your lips only made him curl into himself more. Worry clouded your mind at seeing him so worked up, something you were so unfamiliar with. Usually, Miguel expressed himself in abrupt irritation that you always tried to help him through– the silent loathing almost made you ask him to go home out of concern. "Mistakes happen in the lab, Miguel. Please don't beat yourself up.

Soft graze meeting his shoulder, his body tensed up at the unexpected attempt of your's that was made to comfort him. The both of you danced around each other at best, the most contact from one another would be leading his movements with your own hold onto his hands while instructing assistance. Miguel's mouth fell agape, his unusually sharp canines he kept away was brought to your attention from the dim light highlighting his features. A gasp followed as your hand met his cheek while aiming for his forehead, which he tried to cover up with a cough. 

"What are you doing–" He hissed out in a mess as the heat blooming from his cheeks set your own touch aflame. You hushed him, which he obliged without a word. Strange, you thought to yourself again. He never acts like this towards anyone, let alone get this close to another chemist within the building of Alchemax.

Palm brushing against the strands of hair blessing his forehead, you checked his temperature while his eyes fluttered close. "I'm checking your temperature, Miguel." You murmured against his jaw, boosting your height on your tiptoes in order to reach his forehead. "You've been off today, it's concerning." 

"I'm fine," He muttered into the space between you, beginning to distance himself from your touch until your free hand met his other shoulder. It was as if a weight held him into place, grounding him within your touch as he shakily dug his fingers into his black dress-pants. You hadn't noticed the subtle slices into his thighs from his claws. Miguel's resolve was failing terribly.

His breath, quick and shallow, met the skin of your ear. It tickled. Hot air crashed into your contrasting cold flesh, digging into your nerves like boiling water.

Once your skin met his temple, he pushed against your touch like you were the only thing keeping himself afloat. His grasp met your elbow while the other relied on the counter for support. "Just feeling a bit under the weather." Miguel managed to mumble, brow furrowing as if he was in pain– never once did you catch the reddened hue painting his face and flustered glint in his eye.

"I've been telling you to stop overworking yourself," you scold him softly, shaking his grasp on your elbow just to take his hands into yours. "How much sleep have you gotten recently?" The question makes him cringe, the dark circles around his eyes as prominent as ever.

"Not enough." He admitted.

"You know that's not good for you." You reminded him with a frown. Warmth blossomed in your chest as his skin, warm and marred from his work with all sorts of scientific junk, caressed your knuckles with his thumb. He had calmed down as time ticked by, a sleepiness that clung onto him as darkness painted the canvas beyond the window of your floor. A huff of air escaped his lips as he rested his cheek against the cool of the lab table, safely distanced from what you were working on. Miguel’s hand didn’t dare move from your grasp, and you didn’t think about moving either. Miguel was slowly becoming a good friend of your’s, if something so small as a little comfort was needed you were more than willing to help.

“Yeah, yeah.” Was all he said. Silence dawned over the both of you as you resumed back to fixing up his mistakes. The dim light filled words left unsaid with a soft ambience, vials clinging against each other gently while liquids poured into one another. The night ended with you successfully conjuring up an ecological alternative to whatever paint Nueva had used before, which will certainly be good on your reports– and Miguel ended up getting the rest he needed.

You had pulled up a chair for him long ago, and he took it without a word. Slumped against your lab station, each time you’d try to pull away from him he’d mumble out a little, “no, please– stay here.” with his eyes still fluttered shut. He didn’t drool or snore, in fact it was a bit concerning how quiet he was as slumber took him. Almost like a vampire in his coffin, the idea of Miguel dressing up as Dracula made you stifle a laugh against the back of your free hand. Maybe you’d have to convince him to dress up for the next corporate Halloween event, as silly as it would be.

Miguel’s brow furrowed ever so slightly, mumbling out incoherency as your hand anchored him to this world. The light reminder of success infiltrated your senses as the smell of beeswax and linseed oil– honey and lemon. You’d already be on your way back home if Miguel didn't have his fingers intertwined with yours, murmuring things you’d never imagine him to say. It made your stomach churn, a wobbly smile meeting your lips as you laughed off his sleepy nonsense.

The fun ended too quickly it felt, as he suddenly stretched and groaned– his hand pulling you a little with him. The weight on him snapped him awake, senses kicking into overdrive to clear his confusion. Once he realized he was in the safety of the lab he shared with you, Miguel visibly relaxed. When his gaze met your interlocked fingers, he almost fell out of his chair.

Miguel whispers out your name in an embarrassed mess, wrapping his free hand around his mouth in an attempt to calm himself down. But you merely hummed an automatic response, and he couldn’t help but shake the thoughts clouding his consciousness. You were affecting him in a way that almost left him frozen, emotions that felt close to a high rushed into his brain and messed with any rationality he was able to clutch. Miguel’s claws he kept at bay threatened to unsheathe into your knuckles as warmth painted his features into an unbearable heat.

By the time he had fully woken up, you were dozing off yourself. 

Elbow propped against the counter while your head rested on your hand, drool etched the side of your lips as the world of dreams scooped you up and cradled you lovingly. You were blissfully aware of the carnal gaze of your lab partner, soaking in your soft, resting expression like a full-course meal. His heart ached painfully at a small snore that escaped his lips.

When it came to you, it’s almost as if he had a bad case of cute aggression on top of the painful crush that held him in a chokehold.

Every brush of your shoulder meeting his own short circuited his every thought, shocking his cold attitude into a soft spot for you. Every graze upon his hands, with that mouth of yours snapping at him with a certain playfulness, had him melting against you like putty. And here you were, spending the night with him in the stiff chairs of the lab simply because he had told you to in his exhausted stupor. 

Miguel almost hyperventilated at how nice you were to him, grasp tightening on your hand every so slightly. He wanted all of you, he realized, as his lips came into contact with your knuckles. 

Were you as sweet as always with the others in your shared department? Did you give them a piece of your mind, but then turned around with open arms and a hug when something went right? Did you share your secrets in the comfort of being busy, finding companionship with the one helping you who wasn’t him?

Miguel kissed your finger-tips as a soft gasp escaped your drooling lips, breathing in your scent like it was keeping him from unravelling altogether. The thoughts of someone else so close to you made his skin crawl and the urge to dig his claws within flesh. An insistent voice growled in the back of his head, “protect, closer, closer, need.”

It was his voice, snarling like a devil on his shoulder whenever he was clouded with your embrace. He craved your touch like it was a necessity to live, as important to breathe. His fangs trailed your wrist and your hold tightened onto his own hard instinctively. A pleased hum rolled off his tongue, you were just like a bunny caught into a trap. Prey at his mercy.

But he pulled away before he was too into his own head and did something he shouldn’t. Miguel wanted to see your nervous, wide-eyes gaze for himself when he offered to kiss you– or practically begged you to when the time came. In no way would he allow himself to take away a moment so special between the two of you.

So Miguel swiped away the drool dripping down your chin, bringing his thumb that delicately grazed your face onto his tongue and tasted your spit for himself. It was sweet, like you had just finished chewing down a piece of pink bubblegum hours ago– and that knowledge alone almost sent him off the edge of any human thought he had left.

So he collected himself, soothing out his lab coat before bringing a palm against his hair to smooth it back out. With a light smile and a deep breath, he invaded your space with a gentleness that rivalled a melodious tune.

Shaking you awake, Miguel brought his claws to your hair and raked through the curls. The action took you both by surprise, by you couldn’t help but purr a sleepy “hello, silly,” at the sight of waking up to his sleep-ridden self. He only chuckled, a red painting his ears that you couldn’t see.

“Hello to you too, mi corazón. I’ll help you get home.”

[lovelyhan]

Hii!! minghao + "oh really?" / "yes, really." / "lying doesn't suit you, sweetheart." from the prompts enemies to lovers? :D

— rush hour ⟢

pairing: minghao x reader

summary: you used to be good friends with the newest dancer in your agency, but your competitiveness gets the better of you when he overtakes your spot as the top performer of the month—for three straight months.

word count: 6.7k words

tags: enemies to lovers, dancer au? unresolved sexual tension, smut

warnings: promiscuous behavior in public, graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: this . got really REALLY long :D like long enough to have its own header and everything LOL it probably helps that hao has been clawing his way back into my bias line these days, so the brain rot kinda just spilled out,, anyway, thank you sm for sending this in!! i hope you like it :3c

smut tags: porn with some plot ig, public sex, vaginal fingering, exhibitionism, hao is kinky as fuck, dirty talk, degradation

svt taglist: @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @minnie-mouser22 - @dreamhannies - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @gae-uls - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose - @enhacolor - @ilyvern - @woo8hao - @spk93 - @tommolex

minghao taglist: @zeenanigans - @renjunphile - @pluviophile-xxx

Saying that you hate Xu Minghao is a bit of an overstatement. 

After all, you were the one assigned to show him the ropes when he was accepted into the agency. While you’re no professional mentor, you like to think he was able to rely on you during those first few weeks. He’s been in Seoul for a better part of two years, and although his Korean can already pass as a native’s, you knew he still struggled every now and again. It’s a good thing that verbal communication isn’t direly needed in your line of work.

Minghao was an excellent dancer—one of the best you’ve seen with your own eyes. You once took pride in having a budding prodigy like him as an understudy. Whatever steps or routines you’d ask him to try out and make his own, not only will he deliver, but he’ll blow your expectations out of the water while he’s at it, too. 

It doesn’t help that he knows his own body well enough to channel each movement with passion that makes him look alluring to everyone who dares to watch any of his performances. Minghao isn’t vain or conceited or anything like that, but he’s completely aware of how attractive he is, and that’s a trait that’s further amplified by his dancing. 

You suppose the funniest part about this senior-junior relationship you have with him is how he always asks for your input about his routines. Even if Minghao has long proved that he doesn’t even need a pseudo-mentor like you, he still takes the time to hear out whatever you have to say—eager eyes always shining every time you indulge him with an answer.

Another thing that inevitably brought the two of you closer is the fact that you both take the same train and get off at the same station. Your apartment is in a different neighborhood from his, but you find comfort in the newfound company you’ve been given since Minghao’s arrival. Though he doesn’t talk much outside discussions about work and other dance-related topics, having someone familiar to sit right next to you on the train is more than enough to quell the day’s fatigue.

Your other colleagues sometimes voice out their envious comments jokingly—saying that you’re extremely lucky to have such a hot guy as constant company. Almost always, you respond with a vigorous shake of your head before insisting that things between you and Minghao aren’t at all like that. Besides, you know better than to nurse a romantic relationship between your colleagues. You wouldn’t even let yourself have a crush on any of them. 

What they don’t know, however, is that on very rare occasions when your body feels just a little too heated, and your sheets a few threads too thick, it’s Minghao that flits into your mind as your hesitant fingers reach between your thighs. 

You touch yourself to the thought of him taking you in one of the dance studios. Specifically, in front of the full-stretch mirrors as he fucks you from behind. You imagine him whispering how good you are for him, how you’re taking his cock so, so well. 

Subverting the mere image of the kind man who constantly seeks your validation for his performance has you creaming on your own fingers within minutes, and if you weren’t such a terrible person, you would’ve felt bad for thinking about him in such an obscene light. 

Then again, what Minghao doesn’t know won’t kill him.

His first month in the agency comes and goes like the changing seasons. Next thing you know, it’s time for monthly evaluations again. 

While others would usually dread these assessments, you looked forward to them. You know that they’re less a measure of talent, and more a measure of hard work. Sure, talent could be one of the main driving factors of getting a high score, but you know better than anyone else that talent is nothing if you don’t work hard enough to cultivate it. 

That’s the kind of mindset that always landed you in the top of the rankings for every monthly evaluation.

And it’s the same mindset that puts you immediately beneath Minghao. 

The agency is always prompt with the release of the results. They’d post the typewritten scores next to the dancers’ names in the bulletin board at the ground floor cafeteria for everyone to see two days after the monthly evaluation.

It was a bit of a challenge to squeeze past the other dancers to get a good look at this month’s results—the crowd being more chatty than usual. Your closer friends insisted that you’d be number one as usual, and that you didn’t have to check at all. 

Part of you wants to believe them, but the unsettling feeling that pools in the pit of your stomach doesn’t let you become complacent. It doesn’t help that everyone around you seems like they’re sneaking glances your way—only to look away when you try to catch their gaze. 

When you finally make it to the front of the board, you notice that Minghao is already there—already dressed to kill for today’s sets and routines. His black hair is still damp like he just got out of the shower and rushed straight to work, eyes glued to the bulletin board. You would’ve let your gaze linger a bit longer on his gorgeous face, had it not been for the surprise that awaits you on that single sheet of paper plastered right in front of you.

1. Xu Minghao — 100 points

Your vision tunnels in, white noise ringing in your ears. 

You could vaguely make out the characters of your name just below Minghao’s, and just a few points from a perfect score. But you didn’t care about that. All you could focus on was the fact that you’ve been kicked out of a spot that’s been yours for as long as you can remember. 

No wonder the others were buzzing amongst themselves, flashing you brief looks before whispering their thoughts on the matter to the nearest willing ear. Not a single soul has ever garnered a hundred fucking points from monthly evaluations. The evaluators cut no corners when it came to assessing their dancers’ level of skill and technique, and seeing how they deigned to give Minghao, a complete newbie, a perfect goddamned score—

“Congratulations, bro!” 

“Minghao, you’re a fucking beast! How long did you even practice?”

“That’s so cool. No one’s ever gotten a perfect hundred before.”

“You’ve gotta tell us the secret, please!”

Like a bunch of bees, the collective of dancers start to crowd Minghao—giving him congratulatory gestures and greetings alike. Your understudy simply gazes at them as if in a daze, but ever-so slowly, a smile cracks through his typically stoic demeanor. 

“Uh, thank you…?”

He’s whisked away to the cafeteria before you can blink, and you can only watch in shocked desolation as they all usher themselves away from the board.

Away from you. 

You don’t miss the way Minghao tries to catch your gaze in the midst of it all, the smile he showcased for everyone to see falling the moment he realized you’re still rooted in place. Yet he doesn’t try to break free from the crowd, nor does he attempt to call your name out loud. 

Not that you have any plans on answering if he did.

It’s only after today’s session has concluded that Minghao manages to pull you to the side for a conversation. You’re already halfway out of the building when he catches you, and you can tell that the sheer euphoria of knowing you came out on top is still humming in his veins. 

It pisses you off.

“Thank you,” he says simply. 

“For what?” You try not to sound too gruff, but the pensiveness in your voice comes out anyway. “Letting you take my spot?”

Minghao’s grin dips into a grimace—mirroring his expression from earlier. “What? I meant to say thank you for showing me the ropes. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have—hey!”

You’re probably being immature. No, you’re definitely being immature. Instead of accepting Minghao’s gratitude like a normal fucking person, you continue brisk-walking to the building’s entrance without letting him finish. Of course, he chases after you, asking if he did anything wrong or if you’re simply in a bad mood or both. 

You don’t answer him even when he continues pestering you on the way to the train station, and he doesn’t stop despite the lack of responses from your end. It’s beginning to get on your nerves, too, because he was never this goddamn pushy during all those times you went home together. What’s stopping him from being the quiet companion he’s always been?

“Can you just shut the fuck up, Hao?” you end up snapping at him when you finally get off at your shared station—earning yourself a bunch of questioning looks from nearby commuters. “You don’t have to fucking rub it in anymore than you have. I already know the results, okay?!”

“Rubbing what in?” he asks, exasperated. “I’m just asking you what’s wrong because you don’t normally act this way. Is it so bad for me to worry about my friend?”

“Friend?” you echo mirthlessly. “No fucking friend of mine takes away what belongs to me.”

This time, when you storm off, Minghao doesn’t follow you.

Fortunately, that all happened on a Friday. It takes you the entire weekend after that heated encounter at the train station to realize that maybe you went a little overboard with what you said to Minghao. 

As you replay your conversation in your head, you’re filled with a crippling sense of embarrassment. The top spot for monthly evaluations belongs only to the best—you know this better than anyone else. The only reason that the evaluators deemed you as a second placer is because Minghao is that proficient in his dancing. 

You’re one of the people who was able to watch him closest. You’ve seen the work he put into practice firsthand. You even called him a prodigy. 

So why did you make a fool out of yourself by having a meltdown at the fact that you got beaten by someone who obviously worked harder than you did?

Hard work beats talent any day. But Minghao has both honed to perfection. 

If you’re going to reclaim your rightful spot on the top, crying about it is the last thing you should do. You’re going to have to put in double the effort to call yourself worthy.

As expected, Minghao has started to distance himself from you after that spat. You don’t blame him. As much as you wanted to apologize for your behavior that night, you wouldn’t want to remain friends with a sore loser if you were in his shoes. 

But as his second month in the agency breezes past, you notice that, not only has he distanced himself, but he’s become somewhat…hostile.

He treats everyone else the same way since he came in—stoically with a few words of affirmation here and there. You, though? It’s almost like he’s forgotten all about the time you were assigned to look after him. There’s always this cockiness lingering in his eyes that grates at your nerves more than you thought it would. He’d throw you haughty glances whenever he catches you flubbing some parts of the choreography from the corner of his eye. 

The worst part is that Minghao is more vocal now compared to when he first came in—not seeing any problem with pointing out how you’re starting to slack off during practice. 

“How are you expecting yourself to take back the crown when you’re already breathless after such a simple routine?” he gloats when he catches you lingering by the water fountain, lips curved into a smirk.

You glare at him while you take a sip from your water bottle. “Fuck you. I’ve been rehearsing all fucking day. Who wouldn’t be tired?”

“People who rank first in monthly evals,” he says boredly. “Oh, but you wouldn’t know about that, now would you? At least, not anymore.”

You’re so fucking close to tearing his face off with your own fingernails that you’re slightly grateful that Minghao gets called back onto the dancefloor to polish his group’s routine. Minghao’s constitution changes in a flash—that arrogant look he reserves for you alone making way for his usual aloof expression while he makes his way back. 

He always looks cool and amicable to others, but when no one’s looking he makes sure you catch the patronizing tilt of his lips whenever he pulls off some high level choreography with zero mistakes. As if to remind you that you’re never going to take back what he stole from you. Not in a million years. 

Okay. Maybe you do hate Xu Minghao. 

You hate him a fucking lot.

…

Minghao proves that the results he reaped from his first month in the agency are no fluke.

For three consecutive months, you’re forced to stand in front of the cafeteria’s bulletin board with his name plastered on the very top. If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve thought that the evaluators were only editing the month indicated on top of the sheet with how stagnant the results always are. 

The agency’s rising star consistently comes out on top with little to no effort, while you’re desperately clawing your way back to glory at second place. 

You didn’t know what the fucking deal was. You worked your ass off twenty four-seven. Even if you weren’t in the studio, you made sure to study all sorts of routines and choreographies so your body would remember the movements deep into your bones. 

But then you remember that even if hard work beats talent, you can never beat a man who has both at his disposal.

You’re at your wits’ end at this point—so close to giving up on the title you thought would always belong to you. Your evasive behavior did you no favors in maintaining a good reputation among your colleagues either. If you listened to their hushed conversations closely enough, you’d catch them saying how pathetic you’re being. Ostracizing yourself all because you’re insecure that your understudy became your adversary. 

The only reason you hate what they’re saying about you behind your back is because all of it is true.

Your usual group of friends doesn’t sit with you at your usual table at the cafeteria anymore, but you don’t really mind that—learning this late into your career that silence can be more beneficial than it seems. But every time you see Minghao laughing at a joke told by one of your colleagues, you can’t help but feel that familiar bite of resentment you’ve come to associate with everything he does.

If only he didn’t overtake you during his first goddamn month here. If only he wasn’t the one assigned to be your understudy. Maybe the blow to your pride wouldn’t have been this bad. Maybe you wouldn’t be licking your wounds in your loneliness. 

Maybe you wouldn’t have lost a friend you actually liked having around.

…

With an upcoming dance competition, it’s no surprise that the dancers at your agency often stay behind to polish their performances to perfection. Usually, practices would adjourn hours before the sun even sets, but these days, you find yourself exiting the building no earlier than nine PM. 

The excessive practice time has been taking a toll on you—this much you know. Your muscles have been sore for days, and no amount of painkillers and Salonpas can easily cure your affliction right away. So for tonight, you decide to take it easy—packing up once the clock hits six o’clock. The last thing you want is to accidentally pull something you shouldn’t, thus rendering your participation in the competition null and void.

But as you walk towards the train station, you realize that perhaps staying later was a smarter move after all. All around you, commuters of all ages and walks of life brush past you in their haste—the need to arrive home as soon as possible like a cloud on everybody’s heads. The closer you got to the station, the more it dawned on you.

It’s fucking rush hour.

You’ve always avoided going home during this time for two reasons. The first is the influx of commuters that’s literally and figuratively too suffocating to deal with, especially when your physical constitution isn’t in the best shape. 

The second is…because you noticed that, ever since your platonic breakup, Minghao has started leaving the studio at this hour. Later than your previous commutes home, but earlier than your new work-yourself-to-the-bone schedule. Sure, he’s still the biggest fucking prick to walk the earth whenever he feels like taunting you during practice, but he doesn’t seem interested in working overtime. 

If you’re being completely honest, you’re over the monthly evaluation results. Honest! You’ve just come to accept that nothing is ever set in stone.

Things change all the time. Humans used to believe the earth was flat. The Athenians once thought of Plato’s bullshit as the gospel truth, and—

You dared to assume you’ll be on top of the world forever.

What happened months ago was a reality check, and slowly but surely, you’re relearning the difference between ambitious and obnoxious. It’s a humbling experience that you’re honestly grateful for happening because…if it weren’t for that harsh reminder that there’ll always be someone out there who’s better than you, then you wouldn’t strive to improve at all.

You let out a quaint sigh when you settle into the train. As expected, tonight’s commuters have filled it out to complete capacity, and you wouldn’t have caught the last available space near the doors if you hadn't sprinted like a madman. Though your aching muscles practically scream in complaint, you comfort yourself with the promise of a long soak in your bathtub the moment you get home.

The smooth tone of the announcer’s voice rings from the overhead speakers, telling all passengers to step away from the doors, as the train is about to leave. Not that any of you can help it. You’re all packed like sardines in what’s usually a pretty spacious train car if you came in just an hour earlier or later. 

All of a sudden, you find yourself missing those days where you’d sit on the side where you could see the sunset breezing past the windows—listening to the stories of someone you can’t even hold a civilized conversation with anymore. But before that train of thought can progress any further, you shake your head as if the mere gesture alone can dispel your longing.

You try to press yourself back to avoid getting crushed by the automatic doors, muttering a quiet apology to the person behind you since you ended up subsequently squeezing him further into the crowd of cramped passengers. When the doors finally close, you hear him say a quick it’s okay, back at you, you’re forced to whip around in the limited space with your mouth agape.

Right behind you is Xu Minghao, looking just as distressed as you are.

He’s changed out of his usual practice clothes—having exchanged it for an oversized crewneck and sweats. His expensive headphones hang unused around his neck, and you wonder if you wouldn’t have noticed each other if only he was blasting music directly into his ears…

The urge to take back your courteous apology is strong, but you would much rather not give him any more of your energy than you already have. You’d take all his insults and badmouthing head-on in the studio, but it’s been a really long day, and you don’t have enough fire going to extend his hostility inside a crowded train in the middle of rush hour. 

“Why’re you out so early?”

You can feel gooseflesh prickle the skin of your shoulders when you feel Minghao’s breath next to your ear. A glare settles between your eyes as you jolt away from him in the limited space that affords you to do so. 

“Watch it, asshole. You’re way too close for comfort,” you hiss. “And the time I go home is none of your business.”

Minghao shrugs. “I dunno, you always stay late to practice. Is it so bad to be curious?”

“Yeah, because if it hasn’t occurred to you yet, I actually hate your guts, and I don’t appreciate you talking to me like we’re friends.”

He falls silent for a moment, and in the next moment the train lurches into motion—nearly catching you off balance. You’re quick to brace a hand against the door, but you startle again when you feel a large hand around your arm, touching you in a way that’s meant to steady. You spare Minghao another glance, but there’s less vitriol laced in your gaze and more confusion.

“Are we…” he whispers, gaze shied away from yours as he maintains a steady grip on your arm. Then, he gulps. “Are we not friends anymore?”

Again, you scowl. 

Is he being real with you right now?

“Dude, I am completely over the monthly evaluations if you think that’s the reason I’m being the way I am with you,” you hiss. “I was going to apologize after I said all that hurtful stuff in the past. But then you went ahead and started writing your very own villain arc. So, ask yourself: were you even my friend at all, Hao?”

The sound of that nickname making its way past your lips is familiar yet foreign at the same time. During these past few months, you’ve never once called Minghao anything else but asshole, dick, jerk, self-centered punk, and other variations of those words. You don’t want to admit it, but calling him by something that’s close to an endearment makes you feel like there’s cotton sticking to the roof of your mouth. 

Minghao doesn’t respond yet again, and you force yourself to face forward—leaning your head against the glass of the door so you wouldn’t have to look back at him anymore. You’re pretty sure the salaryman right next to you has been eavesdropping on your conversation this entire time, but it’s not like he has any other choice given the circumstances. 

You let the constant whir of the train engine lull you into a calmer disposition, heartbeat finally equalizing after everything you just shot at Minghao. That’s probably the most you’ve said to him all month, and to say that you’re not the least bit embarrassed about how you admitted wanting to apologize for a past transgression is a blatant lie. 

But what’s done is done. You’re just going to have to accept the fact that the man you once thought of as a good friend; the same man who’s now the main antagonist of your life and career, is standing behind you in your rush hour commute. Just twenty minutes more, and he’ll be out of your hair soon. 

Much to your delight, Minghao keeps his mouth shut until the train pulls over at the next station. The doors open with a mechanical ding, accompanied by the announcer's voice yet again. You’ve heard the monologue thousands of times, but you don’t quite hear it over the throng of passengers rushing to get off the train. 

You make way for them by scooting towards the back of the car, and Minghao does the same. But instead of shuffling away from you the moment there’s more room to move around like you thought he would, he lingers closely to your form. 

However, the amount of people that got off on this station is quickly replenished by a new horde of passengers—quickly filling in the space you thought would last for at least a few more stations. Once again, you find yourself slowly being squeezed closer to the corner of the car, but for some reason, Minghao wedges himself between you and the unassuming college boy whose wireless earphones are plugged in as he scrolls through his phone. 

When you realize what he’s trying to do, you say, “You don’t have to protect me or anything. I’m fine on my own.”

Minghao rolls his eyes. “You obviously didn’t see how you looked like you’re about to get crushed. Just thank me and we’re good.”

A biting retort is already resting on your tongue with how passive-aggressive that response of his sounds like. What the hell is his problem? It’s not like you asked for him to shield you from the other passengers. 

And yet…

“Thanks, I guess.”

You watch him visibly stiffen at your words, and you feel your heart slamming into your ribcage the moment you utter them. Did you really just thank the same man who’s been making your life at work a living hell for months?

The train starts to pick up speed again before you can answer that yourself.

You practically glare at the corner you’ve been forced into the entire trip to the next station. Minghao is right behind you, but you can’t be assed to worry about that when you’re chewing your lip out of frustration. Part of you feels relieved that you swallowed your pride and thanked him, but the part that’s been receiving the brunt of his antagonism for the past half year hisses in disagreement.

He’s an asshole. He’s a self-centered prick that uses people as stepping stones. He’s—

“...Sorry.”

You refuse to turn around. You refuse to believe that he’s actually—

“I’m sorry for being a jerk to you,” Minghao murmurs, and you feel his fingers graze your shoulder as if to emphasize the words with the sincerity of his touch. “I just… I didn’t know how to act when you lashed out at me back then. Y-You were my only friend, and I thought you’d be proud that I achieved something after working so hard for an entire month.”

You’re at a loss for words, completely stunned by the honesty in his voice. You’ve only known Minghao for a short while—been on good terms with him for even shorter—but you can always tell whenever he’s lying. 

This is not one of those times.

“A…friend of mine told me that I tend to act based on how I’m treated,” he continues. “I know that doesn’t excuse how I’ve been acting around you for so long, but… I guess when I got the hint that you hated me, the only way I could cope with that is to hate you right back. Even if I really didn’t.”

No. This isn't real. You’re dreaming. This is probably a side-effect from all those late hours you’ve spent in the studio—

You let out a soft squeak when you feel him rest his forehead against the back of your head, sighing so deeply, it makes you wonder how long he’s been thinking about apologizing properly. Minghao grips your arms again, not to help maintain your balance, but more to anchor himself onto his own. 

“I don’t care if everyone else in the studio looks at me like I’m some sort of god on the dancefloor,” he admits, voice so quiet, you could barely hear him. “The only person I’d want to look at me is you.” 

Your breath hitches, and you’re sure he hears it. 

“Can we please go back to normal again?” Minghao pleads. “I miss hearing your comments about my dances. I miss going home together.

“I miss you.”

The sincerity in his voice singes through you like a red-hot iron poker. You don’t know what to say, what to feel. All you can focus on is the stuttering breaths Minghao takes from behind you. 

If you’ve ever imagined reconciling with him, this certainly isn’t the most optimal venue. But now that he’s bared his defenses, you don’t see any benefit to keeping up your own.

“I’m…sorry and I missed you, too,” you admit somewhat sheepishly, thanking the higher deities up there that he can’t see the way your blood rushes to your cheeks. “But I don’t really know how to—”

Your sentence is cut off mid-way when the train abruptly runs into a bump on the tracks, forcing Minghao’s body against yours when he momentarily loses his footing. It’s an accident, and you wouldn’t have minded since some turbulence in this part of the city isn't rare at all. But that split second where Minghao got thrown against you from the impact made you all too cognizant of how thin the material of both your skirt and his sweatpants are.

“Sorry, sorry,” Minghao sighs before bracing an arm towards one of the walls to your left. The rustle of his clothes gives rise to the scent of his cologne wafting to your nostrils—a fresh, not-too-musky aroma that makes your head spin despite.

Just your luck, the train pitches to the side and you feel Minghao’s groin brush against your ass once again. This time, you’re not strong enough to hold down the soft whimper that tumbles out of your lips, and you don’t even feel ashamed about it.

Suddenly, you remember a time from back then where you’d spend your nights getting off to the same man who’s unknowingly sparking your arousal in the unlikeliest of places. You’ve once fucked yourself to the thought of him, so what’s the use with getting embarrassed now? As long as he doesn’t know, you should be fine.

Except Minghao isn’t deaf, and he definitely picked up on that suggestive little noise you just made.

Experimentally, he lets one of his hands dip lower and lower until his fingertips brush the hem of your skirt. That sinfully short skirt that keeps riding up your thighs every time you do a rather bold move during practice. His eyes are completely trained on you even if you’re still facing the corner, and when he feels you shiver, all the blood in his system rushes down south.

“You’re into this?” Minghao chuckles, bracing his hands on your hips before sliding his growing arousal against the ridge of your ass. “My… I didn’t think mending our friendship again would go this swimmingly. How about I take you out to dinner first?”

“Hao!” you chastise him with a poisonous look, but from the way you subtly rock your hips in time with his movements, Minghao can tell that dinner is the last thing on your mind right now.

He chuckles softly, keeping one hand steady on your hip while the other dips beneath your skirt again. When his fingers immediately press down against the gusset of your underwear, Minghao has to bite down a groan because of the wet patch that’s already accumulated at the center. 

“Not only did you ditch your shorts, but you’re already this wet? From a little grinding?” he hisses into your ear. “Needy fucking slut.”

You can’t help the way your pussy clenches at the harsh name he just called you. It’s all so strange. You never once reacted this way whenever he called you a bitch or anything similar, but you suppose when you’ve made amends with a friend you’ve secretly been wanting to fuck since you first laid your eyes on him, there’s no use keeping up any charades.

“Your hatred was all just an act, isn’t it?” he laughs, nudging your underwear to the side so he can get a feel of just how wet you areas you spread your legs to accommodate him. “Do you rile me up on purpose because you can’t deal with the fact that you actually want me?”

"You're delusional," you bite back.

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really."

Another low laugh rumbles in his chest and you swear you don't get wetter with each hum of it as he presses closer to your ear. "Lying doesn't suit you, sweetheart."

You’re about to answer him when the announcer’s voice rings from the speakers yet again, saying that the next station is approximately five minutes away. This promptly rips you out of your lustful haze as you realize you’re very much still in public, where dozens upon dozens of passengers still share the same car with the both of you. Minghao seems to pick up on your split-second realization, but doesn’t seem fazed by the idea of getting caught doing this in the presence of strangers.

“Lots of passengers are going to get off at the next station, but not a lot are going to get on like the last one,” he whispers before plunging two of his fingers into your sopping cunt without warning. 

You have to physically cover your mouth with your hand to keep yourself from gasping out loud. When you turn to look at Minghao again, eyes ablaze with disbelief, he simply flashes you an evil smile.

“If you want to come on my fingers, do it in five minutes, whore.”

The sensation of his long, slender digits curling inside you forces you to brace yourself against your tiny little corner of that train car. Your skin prickles everywhere as Minghao grinds his half-hard cock against your backside, all while he works between your pussy lips as if he’s thought about it dozens of times before. 

His digits dip in and out of your entrance like he doesn’t know what he wants to do first. Poke and prod at every inch of sensitive flesh there is or fuck you until you’re a moaning mess for everyone to see. Either way, you’re panting all while Minghao maps the expanse of your pussy with his touch alone, and every time those sinful fingers brush against your clit, you jolt in response.

“Shh,” he coos. “Don’t be too obvious, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want the entire train knowing how much of an impatient fucking slut you are—whoring all over my fingers ‘cause you can’t wait to get off the train.”

You involuntarily clench at his filthy words, begrudgingly unearthing a kink you didn’t even know you had. But at the mere mention of the other passengers, you let your eyes frantically pass over those nearby. You don’t know if they’re really preoccupied on their phones or pretending not to notice the act of indecency that’s happening right beneath their noses. The college boy that almost crushed you earlier is still banging his head to whatever song is playing on his phone, and you take that as a sign to let yourself go.

“Now that won’t do,” Minghao tuts before sliding his fingers back inside you, nudging your thighs even further apart before curling his digits just so. “How can you come in five minutes if you’re so distracted?”

“F-Fuck,” you whine as quietly as you can. “Hao, f-feels so good.”

“Yeah?” he laughs softly and your vision goes black for a moment when you feel his thumb graze your clit with just the right pressure. Just how dextrous can he be? “Then focus on my fingers, sweetheart. If you can’t come before the train arrives at the next station, maybe I’ll just go back to hating you tomorrow after all.”

You nearly choke on a moan when he starts to rub your sensitive nub in varying pressures and speeds, nearly robbing you of your ability to speak. “You’re a f-fucking asshole, you know that?”

“You’re a fucking bitch, but see where that got you now?”

It’s almost like you’re hard-wired to rebut everything he says, and you have all those months of shared antagonism to thank for it. But when Minghao crooks his fingers at a slightly different angle, your already sore legs nearly give out when his fingers hit you deep enough to make stars dance in the seams of your vision.

“Oh?” He sounds so smug, you actually want to hit him. “There it is.”

You can hardly believe it. You can barely find your own g-spot even on good days if you don’t put your back into using your toys right, yet Minghao got it in less than five minutes, inside a train full of passengers, no less?

Your brain has all but fizzled out when the pads of his fingers start to massage that sweet, sweet spot inside of you again—milking your body for all those lovely reactions you’re so willing to give to him. Minghao’s cock is an ever-present weight against your ass, but this isn’t about him. It’s about you, and how badly he wants to feel you come apart on his fingers right here, right now.

“You liked being fingered on the train, sweetheart?” Minghao rasps into your ear, relentless in his movements as tears start to line your lashes. “Like it when you supposedly hate the man that’s doing this to you? That’s made you this fucking wet?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You’d let him stick his dick into you right now if he wanted, but you know that Minghao isn’t going to risk that just yet. So instead, you focus on the sensation of those skillful fingers—the same ones you’ve dreamt about a long time ago—coaxing out a high you never thought you’d achieve outside the four corners of your bedroom. 

You can think about his stroke game later. Those powerful thighs as he thrusts into you. Not to mention how euphoric it would feel to come around his cock, milking him for that white-hot release until it dribbles down your thighs and he inevitably fucks it all back into you—

The stimulation of Minghao’s dexterous digits coupled with the thrill of being caught are the main players for today’s debauchery, but it’s that particular fantasy that pushes you over the edge. 

One moment, you feel like you’re on top of the world again, and the next you can taste blood in your mouth with how hard you bite against your lip to muffle your moans. A gush of slick coats Minghao’s fingers as he helps you ride out of your orgasm, peppering the side of your face with butterfly kisses.

“Pretty little whore, coming in record time,” he chuckles.

You can barely just start taming your breathing when Minghao takes his fingers out of your panties—tugging your skirt down back to semi-decency before prodding those same fingers against your lips. Still dazed from the high he just let you experience, you open your mouth, lathering your tongue against each digit as the tangy taste of you fills your tastebuds. 

“Good fucking girl.”

The train eases into the next station, and just as Minghao predicted, the car frees up just enough for you to get comfortably seated by the windows again. He sits right next to you the whole time—hand never straying from yours as he holds it firmly in his. For some reason, that gesture of his flusters you more than the stunt he just pulled five minutes ago.

When you both get off the vehicle, the awkwardness begins to settle in your system. You don’t know what you’re supposed to say to him after all of...that. Is there even a protocol to follow after getting finger-fucked on public transportation?

“Hey.”

You startle when Minghao breathes out while the two of you make your way out of the station. It’s the first time he’s broken the silence since arriving, and your heart pounds in anticipation of what he’s about to say next.

“I really am sorry for all the shit I said to you these past few months,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his head like he’s just as clueless about what to do as you are.

You blink up at him. “Um, yeah. You already told me, Hao.”

“I just figured it was worth repeating.”

“Giving me a mindblowing orgasm is a good enough apology on its own, you know.”

He stops walking for a moment, and you look back at him with brows raised.

“Really now?” he asks, and—there’s that smirk again. That no good smirk. “I don’t think I’ve received a ‘good enough apology’ from you yet, sweetheart.”

One glance at his sweats, and sure enough, the evidence of his own raging arousal is still up for grabs. You feel your pussy tingle at the mere thought of what’s to come once you voice out your agreement, even if your overworked muscles are begging for a break.

Oh, well. Might as well stock up on more painkillers on the way.

⟢ end notes: i really really REALLY went overboard on this one and there isn't even any piv sex in action holy fucking shit LMFAO TT to lovely user yourfavoritefreakyhan, i hope i didn't scare you off with the word count JSHFD I REALLY JUST GOT CARRIED AWAY AHAHS hao has been testing me for DAYS and it manifested in this . anyway, pls don't expect every request from my ask game to turn out this fucking long bc this rly was just a heat of the moment creation AJSDHSJHF

[moralesluvr]

high maintenance gf x earth 42 miles and how he would literally spoil her sm!! and everytime she gets her hair, nails, etc done he always wants to see them #SoCute🤭

take care of my woman ft. miles morales

♡ pairings & aus: earth42!miles morales x black!fem!reader ♡ summary: your boyfriend loves keeping his girl spoiled and happy, and he especially loves to see what he does for you ♡ warnings: one swear! just sum' good ole fluff ♡ a/n: thanks for your request!! we love the softie side of mr morales ♡ got a request? | masterlist ♡

MILES MORALES DEFINITELY SPOILS YOU. Every chance he can get, he's finding reasons to provide for his girl or finding ways and outlets to get you what you want. On this particular day, you were sitting in a hairstylist's chair after Miles caught you scrolling through different hairstyles on your Pinterest feed.

"You want that one, hermosa?" He had asked you earlier when he saw you save a picture of some goddess braids to your hair inspiration board. You didn't even bother to lie and say no, because you knew he could tell if you were lying, so you just nodded and watched as he sent you three hundred dollars to go and get your hair done. As you stood up and got ready to go, he came up to you and pulled his car keys out his pocket, "Take my whip. I'll see you later, okay? Love you."

Grinning at him, you had kissed him and left his house to go to your favorite hairstylist, Monica, who has never done you dirty in the years she's been doing your hair. You were sitting comfortably in her chair, catching up on the latest neighborhood gossip as your phone charged next to her hair station. She heard it buzz and she tapped your shoulder, "Girl, your man is texting you."

"Hand me the phone, please." You requested, the device getting placed into your palm as you felt Monica start on your next braid. You swiped your phone open and clicked on your boyfriend's text.

from [mi novio <3]: hey amor from [mi novio <3]: what yo hair lookin like? lemme see

You giggled at his message, "Yo, Monica, can you take a picture of the back of my head and send it to Miles?"

Monica snorts, "You do know this big 'ole ponytail ain't finish yet, right? I'm jus' starting the third row."

"Just take it." You urged with a laugh. You heard your stylist snap the picture and click send, and within seconds, your boyfriend was texting you back.

from [mi novio <3]: yikes bae from [mi novio <3]: thats the end product? from [mi novio <3]: u need some more $$ ??

to [mi novio <3]: no u idiot, she ain done yet to [mi novio <3]: i think imma get blonde ends whatchu think?

from [mi novio <3]: get 'em, youll look cute in that

to [mi novio <3]: wait crap i dont have enough money

MI NOVIO <3 HAS SENT YOU $100 DOLLARS.

from [mi novio <3]: here u go ma from [mi novio <3]: txt me when u done from [mi novio <3]: i love u

You grinned at your phone and set it down, slumping back in the chair as you waited for Monica to finish your hair up. You couldn't wait to get home to your boyfriend and show him.

After what seemed like an eternity, your braids were finally finished, dipped, and your scalp had been moussed. You swiped your (more like Miles') card and smiled at Monica, who wished you a good day and slipped a free hair oil in your bag. You made your way outside and quickly drove back to your boyfriend's place, excited to show him your new hairstyles.

You unlocked the door to his crib once you arrived. You saw him sitting on the couch, manspreading with his hands behind his head, watching something on TV that you would probably have little to no interest in. You grinned and squealed when you saw him, plopping down next to him, "Look at my hairrrrr!"

He smiled at you, kissing your cheek, "Lookin' so fine, déjame hacer una foto."

You watch as your boyfriend takes out his phone and takes a picture of your hair, saving it to some folder. You peek over with a smile as you see the name,

my woman and the shit i pay for.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 ☻ thank you for reading!

𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓🕷️: @queenesther996 //@sukunas-slutty-bitch // @c3f21 // @wydney // @rinnyisnothere // @brieryann // @moisttowllet // @Dee-m-cee // @liliummz // @starhrtz

𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ✎: @Dee-m-cee // @euphorichappiness10

[howlett-variants]

"I've got you"

a/n: I love Charlie Kenton sm, he deserves more love. Also, I haven't written an X reader fic in like 10 years forgive me.

Prompt: Charlie gets his ass kicked, thankfully he has you to patch him up! Words: 2,975 Tags: gn!reader, post movie, hurt/comfort, Charlie is very dog coded to me and I don't know how to tag things anymore

You could have never guessed your day to go like this. Work had been boring as all hell. The only thing keeping you going was the thought of getting to hang out with those you cared about most over at Tallets Gym. Bailey was basically your closest friend at this point. She was kind and caring but could always match your energy- especially if that energy was being angry with Charlie. Speaking of Charlie, seeing him was always one of the best parts of your day. Even when he was being an idiot, or impulsive, or both- he always knew how to put a smile on your face. Which was much needed after a boring day at work. You even looked forward to seeing Max most days. The kid was the spitting image of his father when it came to personality, which definitely had its downsides. Max was probably the most independent eleven-year-old you’ve ever met- he was always determined to do stuff by himself. Even if he ended up asking you or Bailey for help in the end. Things were never boring with the Kentons. 

Today would be no exception.

Your phone rang mere moments before you were about to park in front of the rundown gym.

“Hel-” You started, but were quickly cut off by the sound of your good friend Bailey in a panic.

“Charlies hurt.” “What?” “Max just called, and he’s freaking out-” You could hear her voice quicken on the other end. 

“Slow down Bail, where are they?” “Some gas station twenty minutes outside of town, they were on their way back from a fight and-” She gave you a few more vague responses, clearly not sure of the situation herself, but that was okay. You could work with that. There weren’t that many gas stations on that side of town, plus it would be hard to miss Charlie’s massive green truck. 

–

Ten minutes, and a few potential road laws broken, later- you finally spotted the truck. You pulled up next to them, attempting to not fully slam on your brakes. Your panic had slowly grown over the last few moments, and panicked driving is not a good idea. 

Tossing the door open in a quick motion, you stepped out and ran over to see Charlie sitting on the tailgate of his truck. Max was next to him, holding a makeshift ice pack to his face. 

“How’s he doing?” You plant your feet in front of them, doing your best to keep your arms at your side to not fret over him. At the sound of your voice, Max looked over with a smile. Charlie attempted to look at you, but winces the moment he tried to open his eyes.

“I’m fine- just a black eye.” Charlie replied weakly, still unable to fully open his eyes. 

“He might need stitches this time.” Max’s smile fades, returning to a worried expression. 

“Let me see.” Max nods before jumping off of the tailgate, making room for you to take his place. You carefully move to sit next to him, close enough for your legs to touch. You reach a hand up to his face, slowly peeling away the ice pack. It took everything in you to not visibly tense at the rather nasty wound on his face. Whoever beat him up this time actually used a weapon, brass knuckles, if you’d have to guess. He had a large gash right next to his eyebrow, reaching almost to his ear, as well as a black eye and numerous other bruises all over his neck. You can only imagine the amount of bruises he was hiding on the skin you couldn’t see. “Yeah…that’s going to scar. Where’s your first aid kit?”

“Don’t have one…” He mumbled.

“Come again?” You can’t help but sigh, “With how much you get beat up-”

He avoids your glare and refuses to respond, which is Charlie for ‘You’re right, but I will not admit it’. With a slight roll of your eye, you reach into your back pocket with your free hand and take out your wallet to hand to Max. “They should have bandages, or at least some cotton balls I can use to stop the bleeding. Grab what you can- if nothing else, your dad can save it for later.”

The kid nodded as he took your wallet before running back into the gas station. It probably wasn’t your smartest idea to just hand your wallet to an eleven-year-old, but you knew Max would at least grab what you asked- even if he came back with a few extra snacks.

Seconds after he left your eye-line, you heard Charlie suck in a sharp breath. The sound caused your full attention to turn back to the man next to you. He was no longer sitting upright, but instead leaning on the side of the truck as if the metal wall was the only thing holding him upright. You were quick to notice the stiffness in his shoulders was far worse than a few seconds ago, and you didn’t have to ask why to know what was going on in his head. 

“Char, the kid just watched you get your ass kicked- again. You don’t have to act all tough. Hell your face is bleeding like some kind of horror movie victim. He knows that you’re not alright.” It broke your heart to see him like this. He was always putting on a front of the big strong unfeeling douchebag, but you knew better. You also knew better than to question it. Max was a strong kid, but he was still just a child. No kid should have to watch this dad getting beat up as much as Charlie did. You moved your hand from his face to his shoulder, using your thumb to rub soothing motions in a small attempt to comfort him. 

“How’d you get here so fast?” He questioned, completely avoiding your concerned comments.

“Max called Bailey. Bailey called me. Here I am.” You moved your free hand up to his face, attempting to inspect the wound a bit more. Fingers lightly holding his chin, making it easier for you to move his head if needed. He couldn’t help but lean into the small touches. “I think I still have some pizza in the car. It’ll be cold by now though.”

He let out a light chuckle, mouth struggling to turn into a smile without pain. “Maybe when my face is done bleedin’ out.”

You smile at him, grateful to hear that his sense of humor was still intact. The moment he winces again, your smile falls. “What the hell happened?”

“Just some assholes that I used to owe money to, what else-” He pouts, “I would have been able to our run em but-”

“Max…”

He didn’t have to even look at you for you to understand what he meant. From what Bailey had told you in the past, getting his ass kicked out of the ring was nothing new for Charlie. He was constantly coming back to the gym with cuts and bruises, and the occasional broken bone, but ever since he regained custody of his son, he’s tried to be a lot more careful. He had always been reckless and almost uncaring when it came to what happened to him, but now he had someone to protect. Thankfully, the Atom fights had helped pay off practically every debt he had ever owed, but there were still some people who had it out for him that couldn’t give less of a shit if his son was watching or not. 

The hand on his face slowly moved to the back of his neck, before you carefully pulled him closer to you. You positioned his head to rest comfortably on your shoulder. Your other arm snaked around his back, holding him in a secure hug. “It’s okay…I’ve got you.”

Your hushed tone was all he needed to melt completely into your hold. His face hid in the crook of your neck, like it was the only thing keeping him in one piece. His arms found their way around you, holding onto the fabric of your shirt like a lifeline. Charlie Kenton was many things. He was a boxer who had seen his fair share of violence, as well as a man who routinely went to shady places for robot fights, but he was also a father who had no idea what he was doing. To him, there was nothing more terrifying than the idea of his son watching him bleed out (and potentially die). Whoever had attacked him this time didn’t hold back. He honestly didn’t know if he was going to make it out in one piece. 

He was in pain and scared shitless, but you were there. You kept him grounded, like you always knew what to do or say to keep his anxieties at bay. You were his rock, and he was yours. The two of you had this unspoken thing that not even Bailey dared to bring up to either of you. You could feel your shoulder becoming damn, from both tears and the blood from his wound- but you didn’t care. The stains would come out, and even if you ended up having to throw the shirt away, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the man quietly sobbing in your arms. 

He would never admit it, but Charlie cried a lot. Never in front of you or anyone else, but you’d always catch him silently crying to himself in the middle of the night. You knew that Bailey and Max were aware, but all three of you knew better than to mention it to him. Anytime that you gathered the nerve to ask him if he was alright in the middle of his crying session, he’d just yell at you to go away. You knew he never meant to actually yell at you. Normally he’d even apologize the next morning with a vague ‘sorry about last night’ while avoiding any actual questions about whatever he had been upset about. But right now, he didn’t care. There was nothing he needed more than you. 

—

Time passed by in a small blur. The only sound you could hear was Charlie’s heavy breathing finally beginning to regulate itself to the sound of your light humming. His arms were still wrapped around you, but the grip on your shirt had loosened. You still had one arm around his back, the other had found its way to his hair- playing with the short brown strands. 

“I got some stuff!” Max’s sudden voice startled you both. You turned your head in his direction to see that his hands were filled with an assortment of bandaid boxes, a bag of cotton balls, and a few snacks that he bought with your money (which you fully expected would happen). Charlie’s body went stiff under your arm at the sound of his son’s voice, embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable state. “This is all they had.”

“Thanks kiddo,” you smiled at him. The arm around Charlie’s middle let go, so you could reach out for the ‘medical’ supplies. He silently mourned the loss of the touch the second you let go. You placed the items next to you before your gaze returned to Max. “Why don’t you sit up front and update Bailey, tell her we’ll be back in a little bit. I’ll get to work patching up your dad’s apparently very punchable face.”

It was a poor attempt at a joke, but Max still smiled. Charlie made a mental note to thank you later for the small attempt at saving what was left of his pride. Thankfully, Max obliged and left to go sit in the front seat, giving you two a bit of privacy.

Using both your hands, you carefully lifted his head off of your shoulder. He made a small noise of disappointment as you pulled him from his safe spot. You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself. You held his face in between your palms as you examined his face one more time. His eyes were a little swollen from the crying, and he looked like he was about to fall asleep. The adrenaline must have finally worn off. 

“Okay, I’ll do what I can, but I’m taking you to actually get this checked out first thing in the morning.”

“Fine by me.” his words were beginning to slur together. Something told you that you’d be the one driving the truck back to town tonight. It would be safer to leave your old car than the massive truck holding one of the most popular boxing robots at the moment. 

Your humming continued as you cleaned up the drying blood from his cheek. There was only so much you could do with the limited items (and skill) you had, but you stayed focused. With the bleeding stopped and wiped away, the wound wasn’t as bad as you originally thought. It would still leave a nasty scar, but it was small enough that a trip to an actual medical professional could wait. As you worked, you could feel Charlie’s head become heavy in your hands.

“You falling asleep on me?” You teased lightly.

“mmmno.” It was more of a noise than an actual word. 

“Almost done, big guy. Then you’re welcome to crash on your little cot back there.” Between the warmth of your hands, the soft touches, and your quiet humming as you worked- Charlie was practically melting. Bailey and you liked to joke that he was like a dog sometimes, from the bursts of impulsive energy, to the unapologetic joy over the smallest things, and of course his mastery of the ‘puppy dog eyes’ that he often used on you and Bailey to get what he wanted. He would always scoff or roll his eyes whenever you would tease him or whenever you called him a dog. You couldn’t help it, especially at times like this- with his eyes comfortably closed and melting into your every touch. It was adorable, despite the fact that you were actively cleaning up a wound. 

“Can’t sleep yet-” His body betrayed his words by interrupting his sentence to let out a yawn. “Gotta drive back.”

“Not like this, you’re not. I’ll drive.” Driving the truck wasn’t your favorite, but you have done it before. As long as you didn’t get pulled over, you could drive it home without a problem. “C’mon, let’s get you into bed before you actually pass out on me.”

With a light pat to his cheek, he dutifully allowed you to help him stand. His head immediately seeking your shoulder to lean on again. He was taller than you, but still seemed perfectly comfortable once he found the crook of your neck again. You blamed the blood loss and the crying for how touchy he was being. It’s not that he wasn’t a touchy person. He had a lack of personal space with those he was close to, but this was different. For a second, you questioned if this was even beyond him seeking you out as a source of comfort. 

Ignoring the swirl of worry and emotions you had yet to even fully admit to yourself, in your stomach, you carefully led him over to the cot inside the truck. You gave him a small nudge to sit down. He listened with only a small sound of complaint. The disappointment was short-lived. You could almost see ears perk up the moment you returned to sit by his side. 

“Thanks…for doing all this.” Standing must have woken him a little. His voice was much clearer than it was a few seconds ago. 

“It’s not like I was going to let you bleed out.” You rolled your eyes with a small smile across your lips, as you finished putting the last bandaid on his face. It was a haphazard job, but it would do the trick- at least for a few hours. 

“I know. Glad to have you on my side is all.” Your eyes moved from the collection of bandages to his eyes, feeling a little shocked by the genuine emotion they held. Charlie didn’t have a lot of people to count on. You knew that better than anyone.

“I’m happy to patch you up anytime.” Your hands left the sides of his face where you had been diligently working, moving down to find his hands. He took the hint and intertwined your fingers, giving them a light squeeze. The two of you were bonded, neither wanting to question of risk actually talking about what that bond was. You were waiting for him to say something, and he was in between being far too chicken shit and waiting for you. So many days spent dancing around either other like this. You knew, even now, that neither of you would mention the softness and tenderness from tonight’s interaction. He’d go to sleep as you drove him, and he’d wake up not remembering much of the night in the first place. Still you sat with him, foreheads pressed together, basking in each other’s company. 

“I gotta take you home, Char.” You whispered, not wanting to leave this moment yet. His grip on your hand tightened, but he still allowed you to pull away.  

“Tomorrow, let me take you to dinner.” His voice wasn’t as quiet as yours, but it was even more unsure of itself. Speaking before thinking, as always, but looking deep into your eyes this time. “As…thanks.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the offer. The two of you went out for dinner alone all the time, but something about this felt different. You gave his hand one final squeeze and planted a small kiss on his cheek before standing up. “It’s a date.”

[sunsetsentiments]

am i the only one who thinks that elphaba's promise was cut for good reason??????

i love the scene sm but tonally it's off considering what happens next at the train station. it unloads insecurities that elphie and glinda have that are more appropriately addressed and explored in part 2. we do not have time to cover all this ground in this first movie 😭

and the dialogue,, again i love the openness and vulnerability but it's rly blunt. i like the final cut of the movie where moments are up to viewers' interpretations bc everything that glinda and elphie talk about can still be seen in the movie but through their actions and the editing ((ex. glinda being insecure over being left behind shown through the shots of her waking up in between the fiyero and elphie forest scene)). it's fun discovering the nuances in ari and cynthia's performances,, elphaba's promise also has that going on but it does spell out things too obviously.

i also think the audience doesn't need to hear elphaba make that promise ???? her actions later speak louder than words,, and it's also nice that we don't have to go back to that promise to explain elphie wanting glinda to come with her at the end. it's not just bc of a promise that elphaba wants glinda to come with her,, it's bc glinda is her best and only friend and she still desires companionship. she doesn't want to lose her. we don't need a verbal promise to understand that.

[cozage]

Hey! If it’s alright do you think you can reader having a panic attack/disassociating (whichever one you chose) and how sanji, zoro, luffy and law would try and help you? I’d really appreciate it sm🥰

Panic Attacks

Characters: gn reader x Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Law

Cw: reader having panic attacks 

Total word count: 680

Sanji

He holds you in his lap, whispering words of affirmations in your ears. 

He reminds you how much you’re loved, how important you are, and all the things he loves about you. 

He rubs your arms and holds your hands, physically grounding you to him and to the world around you. 

He’ll find things for you to do to keep your mind off of it. Even if you just sit with him while he cooks. He’ll have you measure ingredients or chop things, keeping your brain occupied but still allowing you to rest if you need it. 

If you don’t want to be in the kitchen, he’ll take the afternoon off and curl up with you or do whatever you want. 

He’ll prepare an electrolyte heavy drink, put it in the fanciest glass with the silliest straw he has, trying to keep you hydrated and energized. 

Zoro

Zoro isn’t very good at comforting or talking in the moment. It’s something he really hates about himself - he always feels like he isn’t there for you when you need him. 

He tries, though. He asks Chopper for advice after your first really bad panic attack, and Chopper gives him some pointers. 

When the next one happens, the only one he can remember is the guided breathing one. He tries his best, he really does. But he’s flustered trying to remember everything and he ends up totally botching it. He does end up making you laugh though, and that helps you focus on him rather than whatever has triggered you, so he kind of helped in his own way

He gets better with the breathing method, helping you keep even steady breaths and counting to five. He ends up having to do them with you because he's freaking out too. 

Both of you go to a quiet place and he tells you stories as you lay your head in his lap and slip in and out of sleep. 

Luffy

He sees the panic start in your eyes, and as he watches your face fall, he instantly springs into action. 

He holds your face and pushes his face close to yours, so he’s the only thing you can see. He breathes with you and just stares at you until you can talk. His face is so close it demands your attention, which is his goal.

“Focus on me,” he says softly but firmly, forcing you into the moment. “Talk to me.” 

He asks you to tell him your favorite memory of the week. He tells you his (it always involves food). 

He asks you about what island you think you’ll land at next, forcing you to look to the future instead of the past. 

Once you’ve calmed down some more, he lays with you on the deck and holds your hand, both of you looking at the clouds and pointing out animals or objects and making stories out of them. 

Law

100% methodical in his tactic. He makes you do the 5,4,3,2,1 method. It works best for him and he can tell that it helps ground you. 

He’ll hold you in his arms (if you want to be held). He lets you lead how much touch you want.

“Five things you can see?” “Four things you can hear?” “Three things you can touch?” “Two things you can smell?” “One thing you can taste?”

He remembers all your answers, and makes sure you switch it up so you don’t get in the habit of answering the same thing every time. Sometimes he switches up the amount of things each sense has. He makes sure you're actually present in the moment. 

He knows how exhausting panic attacks are, so he tucks you into bed and gets you water to drink before you doze off. 

He always offers to lay with you if you want his company. If you don’t, he stations himself outside your door to make sure nobody else bothers you. 

He learns to gauge how long you rest after a panic attack, and he only leaves your side to go prepare some food so you can have something light to eat when you wake up. 

[lowkeyrobin]

FOURTHGRADE ; dating hcs

warnings ; language, talk of substances, talk of like makeout stuff (not in great detail or anything but yk)

genre ; fluff

requested by ; @th0tblckgrl

masterlist

guys, he isn't dumb, he just lacks common sense I swear

he excells in tech classes and art stuff

math and science will be his downfall (real tbh)

always films you doing tricks and shit

has a whole vhs worth of film of raw, unedited footage of you two skating together (mostly you) and stupid cute shit he's caught on camera

he titles it "y/n/n <3" with a red sharpie too.

dyeing his hair w him

he never switches out that bleach & pink istg

it makes for good hangouts and stuff tho

you watch his gecko for hours while he's doing homework and shit

she's just so adorable omg

he likes you on top when you're making out and shit

he loves being straddled and being able to hold you by the waist and shit

he's not super clingy or anything but he loves his hand holding and cuddles

he has acne, and if you do too, oh my lord match made in heaven

he loves tracing your scars with his infamous red sharpie and it stains your face for almost a day lmao

he likes picking at your bacne just through impulsive thoughts

"ow! Jesus christ!"

"sorry! it was ready to pop, I swear"

dude Ray loves you two together sm

he's your biggest shipper <3

fuckshit constantly teases you two

I personally hc that fourthgrade is asexual so here's context for the next one

since he's ase (and even if you are two! me too twin) you guys don't take it all that sexual, and gets a little icked when the guys make jokes about you two fucking sometimes

most the time he laughs it off but other days he's just eughhh

and you instantly turn to whoever made the joke and silently shake your head and do the 'you're dead sign' with a respectful face iykwim

he likes staring in your eyes sometimes and getting lost in them

when he's writing movie scripts for fun, he uses you as a faceclaim (along with the other boys tbh) for whatever lead there is or the leads love intrest/best friend. everytime without fail

basically just fanfiction about you two

again like fuckshit, friendship before relationship

matching belts or band shirts

if you also dye your hair fun colors, he dyes it for you

movie nights every night I swear

getting high with him in the dead of night on a friday/saturday night >>>>

hugging him from behind too 💔💔💔

I'm not like trying to infantilize him, he's just a softie for u

stealing shopping carts and bringing them back to skate locations is just a tradition

a lot of times Ray and Fuckshit are busy and they leave ruben and stevie with you so you guys are basically a little family doing fun shit

skating around town, going to the public pool, chilling inside gas stations, renting movies, trauma dumping etc

you're literally just ruben and stevies parents

the ultimate comedy group too 💀

shit, you, fourth, fuckshit and ray are actually way too funny when you're super drunk/high at parties

like you'll be in your own corner watching over ruben and stevie playing uno and start talking about testicul bombs and radioactive cum??? (based on a true story)

alr that's all I got I hope u enjoyed LOL

[gottencents]

004: gay corruption

synopsis. SM Entertainment would’ve loved for FALLEN ANGELS and aespa to never share a stage — especially with Chanel possibly "corrupting" their prized “it girl,” Karina.

____________ ____________ ________ ____________

The atmosphere backstage was buzzing with energy as idols darted between their makeup stations and outfit changes. Chanel sat quietly in her chair, the buzz of her surroundings dimming into white noise as she focused on the task ahead. Her hands fiddled with her phone, scrolling aimlessly—mostly avoiding thoughts about Karina.

“Chanel,” Ariana’s voice cut through her thoughts, loud enough to pull her back to the present. “You’ve been staring at nothing for the last ten minutes. Focus.”

“Right, right,” Chanel mumbled, putting her phone down. She couldn’t help it though. Every time she closed her eyes, Karina’s face was there. Stunning, effortless, too much for her to handle.

“You’re acting like you’ve never been on stage before,” Ariana teased from across the room, adjusting her top. “And we both know that’s a lie.”

“I don’t usually get starstruck during rehearsals,” Chanel replied, keeping her gaze down as her makeup artist finished her eyeliner.

Misako rolled her eyes, finishing a curl with a smirk. “Don’t get distracted. We’ve got House of Cards next.”

The performance was intense. Chanel poured every ounce of emotion into the song, her voice piercing through the crowd. As the final notes hit, Chanel stepped back, taking a breath, feeling the rush of adrenaline coursing through her.

But as they exited, the slightest glimpse caught her attention. Karina stood near the monitor, watching the next group onstage. Even in the shadows, she looked breathtaking.

Karina, in a shimmering silver outfit, looking like she had descended from some ethereal plane. Her hair fell perfectly over her shoulders, and her face was as flawless as ever.

Chanel’s breath hitched. How is she even MORE stunning in person?

Misako walked by and smacked her lightly on the arm. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not,” Chanel mumbled, tearing her eyes away.

“You are,” Misako said, smirking as she walked off.

The lights dimmed, and Pony began to play. Chanel stepped onto the stage again, this time alone with Karina. They moved in perfect sync, their chemistry palpable. Every glance, every touch felt electric. Chanel’s heartbeat thudded in her ears, and the song became a blur.

When Karina drew near, singing in that low, sultry tone, Chanel nearly stumbled over her words.

“I’m looking for a partner …” Karina sang, her voice sending shivers down Chanel’s spine.

Chanel could barely hold her composure. Why is she so close? Why does she look at me like that?

As they finished, the applause erupted around them. Chanel exhaled, still trying to regain control of her emotions.

Backstage, the energy was high, but Chanel felt lighter. She wiped her sweaty palms on her pants, taking a deep breath.

“You did amazing,” Karina said softly, her voice low enough for only Chanel to hear.

Chanel glanced up at her, heart skipping a beat. “Thanks,” she said quickly, swallowing the rising panic.

“Hey,” Chanel continued, turning fully toward her. “You, um—want to exchange numbers? I’d love to see more of you beyond just collab stages and rehearsals.”

Karina blinked, stunned for a moment. Then she quickly unlocked her phone, Chanel heart hammering in her chest as she typed in her number.

Once the number was saved, Chanel looked up, giving a small smile. “ text me soon .”

Karina smiled back, and just like that, the tension shifted into something more… hopeful.

____________ ____________ ________ ____________

A/N: texts made to all be incoming on purpose for u to know who talking better <333

Taglist ( closed ) : @saysirhc @awkwardtoafault @yjiminswallet @gtfoiydlyj @1luvkarina @womanl0ver