#rn I have the perfect time to get into something since I have so much free time assignments aside

[no1ryomafan]

Worst part about being in college while being unemployed ain’t even the fact I go 3 times a week now or have to be careful with my money cause I can’t buy lunches anymore, it’s the fact while the classes are easy they drain me from wanting to watch anything because for 2 out 3 of my classes all we do is watch movies.

and I just finished giant robo awhile ago so I should get to something new but next to “damn wtf do I even pick since I got a lot to watch” I have no juices to do start a new thing 💀

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

fine line ── l. hs

↳ summary ── heesung's got two problems: (1) he can't sleep, and (2) he's addicted to the 1AM combo of instant ramyeon and coffee milk from his favorite convenience store around the corner. the only thing more consistent than his insomnia? his nightly visits for his beloved snacks (and maybe to glare at the new night shift employee, too). & pstt, spoiler alert: you're the said new night shift employee. and you don't know what's worse: his weird food choices or his apparent superiority complex. either way, if you have to watch him inhale another bowl like it's his last meal ever, you might lose it. but hey, you know what they say—there’s a fine line between love and hate...

↳ pairing ── heeseung x f!reader

↳ genre ── idol!heeseung, e2l!au, strangers to lovers!au, convenience store worker!reader || angst hehe, crack, eventual fluff

↳ ✎ᝰ 15.4k (gasp, she kept it under 20k????)

↳ contains ── so much bickering and banter, reader is kinda sassy and a lil crazy, heeseung is a lil weirdo at first, CRACK (this entire fic revolves around EXTRA HELL FIRE RAMEN PLS), angst, both heeseung & reader can't communicate their feelings & are stubborn as hell, tension tension tension! , deep conversations about life choices lol, cursing

↳ addie's ✉ .ᐟ ── IM ALIVE (barely) ! i survived a global expedition (one 12 hr flight) just to come back and face an apocalypse (i got a bug infection and a cold) but dragged myself out of my deathbed (my comfy bed) to finish editing this because i told yall i would and bc i felt bad ghosting everyone for a week LOL apologies (if anyone cares,,,pls tell me u do or i'll cry rn) anyways i hope yall enjoy this one,,,this one was fun to write, it felt very sitcom-y and was lowkey based off of backstreet rookie vibes (only bc it's set in a convenience store). i hope you all enjoy & pls let me know what you think :') thank u for the support & love always <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

It’s simple, really. 

Customer service voice on, a smile plastered on your face, greet the customer, scan the item, take their money, bag said item, throw in a half-hearted ‘Have a good night!’

And repeat. 

Well, most of the time. 

Occasionally, there’s the fun of kicking out a few drunk teenagers looking for a bathroom that you definitely don’t have (yes you do). But otherwise, this graveyard shift at your local corner convenience store? 

Total dream job. 

You get paid—as in actual, legit money—to sit behind a counter, scan snacks, and feast on your personal holy trinity of microwavable cheesy ramen, peach juice, and potato chips. What could possibly go wrong? 

At least, that’s how the manager sold it during your interview. And by interview, you mean the three-minute conversation that went something like: 

“Can you work nights?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Cool, you’re hired.” 

No background check, no follow-up questions, not even a glance at your resume. A broke college student with insomnia and schedule flexibility? You were the perfect candidate. 

And it’s not like you’re picky. You needed cash, and this seemed like a pretty solid deal. What can you say? College is expensive, and someone’s gotta fund your caffeine addiction and deeply specific (and yet completely necessary, you would argue) habit of playing at every single claw machine game you stumble across. 

So yeah. Easy work.

At least, that's what you thought.

Because on the night of your first shift, exactly at 1:09AM, the doorbell gives its friendly little ding, and in walks...something.

Someone?

Whatever it is, it's a walking shadow. Oversized hoodie. Baggy pants. A baseball cap shoved under the hood. A black face mask covering whatever’s left of his identity. You think it’s either a ninja, a celebrity in disguise, or—more likely—a vampire who hasn’t seen sunlight since the Joseon era (you’re leaning more towards vampire).

But more than the wild theories running around in your head, something else piques your curiosity.

Because unlike the other weirdos that usually shuffle in at these ungodly hours, this one moves with true purpose. He beelines straight to the ramen aisle, snags something off the top shelf (most likely the ultra-spicy soup one because, of course, you already have the shelves memorized), and then grabs a bottle of coffee milk from the cold drinks section without even so much as glancing at it.

No hesitation. No second-guessing. Like he’s done this a thousand times before and is now on autopilot mode.

You watch, intrigued. And then—horrified.

Because who in the right mind pairs volcanic spicy ramen with coffee milk? Is that even legal?

You’re barely recovering from your own appalled thoughts before he’s already at the counter, placing his borderline apocalyptic snack combination on the counter in front of you with the same eerie precision he has.

You fail to keep your poker face on when you scan his items, your face scrunching up in disgust.

“Uh,” you shake it off, forcing yourself back to reality, “That’ll be—”

But before you can even finish your sentence, he’s already fishing out the exact amount—three crisp bills—out his back pocket and holds it out for you.

There’s a beat of silence.

You stare down at the money in his hand for a second too long, suddenly convinced this guy practices his convenience store interactions in the mirror or something.

When you don’t show any further signs of moving, he eventually gives up, placing the money on the counter with a quiet sigh, grabbing his ramen and coffee milk, and striding off to the self-service corner like he personally owns the place.

All of this. Without. A single. Thank you.

Wow. Okay. So tonight’s customer is potentially a vampire with a side gig as a professional jerk. Good to know.

You internally scoff at the entire interaction, but—unfortunately for you—you can’t look away. Because this guy? This walking shadow?

You’re weirdly intrigued. Like when you accidentally click on a pimple-popping video and immediately regret it, but still end up watching five more.

It’s a curse.

Out of the corner of your eye (because obviously you’re not staring, you’re just…hyper-aware of your surroundings), you watch him execute his ramen-and-coffee-milk routine with the precision of a man possessed.

Step one: Hot water in the ramen cup.

Step two: Ramen into the microwave.

Step three: Wait for exactly one beep before yanking the microwave door open with alarming speed, as if he's scared to even give the second beep the chance to ring.

Step four: Peel the lid back in slowly—so painfully slow you're about to march over there and do it yourself.

Step five: Insert the straw into the coffee milk—of course, perfectly right in the center. Bullseye.

Honestly? It's all kind of impressive. Horrifying, but impressive.

And, of course, just when you think you might finally look away, because out of sight, out of mind—he slides onto one of the bar stools by the window, right in your direct line of vision. The perfect spot for you to get a pristine view of his back, which, spoiler alert, is completely unhelpful in your personal mission in trying to see even a glimpse of what this guy looks like.

Maybe if you squint hard enough, you can make out his face in the reflection of the store window. Maybe. Just maybe—

Nope.

All you catch is a brief glimpse of his eyes—barely visible beneath his excessive hoodie and hat combination. Even his mask stays glued to his face and you wonder how he even plans on eating his outrageous meal.

But even so, you still can’t look away. What even is that color? And why can’t you look away?

Whatever. It’s just eyes. Totally normal. Everyone has them. Not noteworthy at all.

Except it is.

Because you catch yourself still squinting, hoping the glare of the fluorescent lighting against the window hides your not so subtle mission from him. You’re probably risking retinal damage at this point with how hard you’re trying to decode this guy’s entire identity from literally just his eyes.

You catch another short glimpse of his eyes as he shuffles in his seat and just as you’re trying to piece together why his eyes look oddly familiar—

He looks up.

His eyes catch yours in the glaring reflection of the store's windows, and you freeze.

Abort mission. Now.

You cough—loudly, dramatically—and your eyes immediately dart elsewhere, your hands shuffling on the discounted candy bars displayed on the counter top, pretending to look busy and silently praying he didn't catch you looking for too long.

When enough time passes by, you risk another quick glance back at him, to see he’s now digging into his ramen, head tucked so low you can’t even see his eyes anymore. He’s gone full turtle mode.

You lift a brow.

Weirdo.

A weirdo with an ego. Slurping and sipping away at his crime-against-humanity meal as if he owns the building.

Maybe he's mute. Or a people-hater. Or a cryptid who thrives on ramen and coffee milk instead of human interaction. Maybe I'm being pranked?

You shrug it off, because no matter how hard you try to figure him out, one thing is glaringly obvious: he does not want to be bothered.

And you're not sure if that makes him more intriguing or more annoying.

You’re in the clear. At least, you think you’re in the clear. 

After your first weird encounter with Mr. No-Name-No-Face—spicy ramen enthusiast and potential vampire—you’ve begrudgingly adjusted to his nightly visits. 

He shows up at 1:09AM like clockwork, grabs his neon red Extra Spicy Hellfire Ramen (yes, that’s the real brand name, and yes, your soul dies a little every time you even have to think about it), and parks himself in the window seat across from your counter like it’s a Michelin-star ramen bar—and not your humble convenience store with a health inspection rating of B+ (don’t ask). 

By night three, you’ve downgraded him from potential murderer to mildly annoying ramen connoisseur. 

By night four, you’ve decided he’s your own personal karma sent by the universe. 

It starts off with the door chime. You don’t even flinch. 1:09AM. Right on schedule. 

You don’t look up from the colorful juice pouches you’re restocking. You’re halfway through creating a perfectly symmetrical pyramid display—color-coded, of course—because, clearly, you’ve peaked as a human being. 

Behind you, footsteps head straight to the ramen aisle. And sure enough, you peek over your shoulder, and there he is: drowning in black hoodie layers, hood up, mask on, the patron saint of please don’t perceive me. Same old routine, same old—

Wait. 

He freezes, mid-reach for his usual ramen on the top shelf, his hand hovering in the air. And then, horrifyingly, he turns. 

And looks directly at you. 

Your face heats up—probably not as red as the hellfire ramen he was about to grab, but it’s close, you imagine. You find yourself clutching onto the random juice pouch in your hand as if it’s your lifeline before you clear your throat, “Uh—is something wrong?” 

He glances from you and back to the shelf in front of him, and for the first time in…ever, he speaks. 

Gasp. 

So we can cross mute off the list. 

“They’re out of my flavor,” he says. His voice is deep, which isn’t surprising to you, given he’s the literal human embodiment of the color black, but it’s also serious. So unnecessarily serious that you almost laugh. 

Almost. 

Because his tone isn’t just serious—it’s accusatory. As if you personally raided the ramen aisle and hid his favorite flavor for entertainment. 

Excuse me? 

Your mouth opens then closes, flopping like a fish that now deeply regrets every life choice. The fire rising in your chest is about two seconds away from erupting into a full-blown lecture on how supply chains work, but you keep it in, deciding getting fired on the fourth day probably doesn’t look good on your resume. 

Instead, you plaster on a flat, unimpressed look. 

“Uh..yeah, it looks like it,” you deadpan, inching closer to where he’s standing to investigate the shelf. 

Leaning up on your toes, you scan the shelf for any hidden Hellfire cups, hoping some miracle will save you from continuing this interaction. 

Nope. It’s empty alright. Emptier than your will to entertain his dramatics. 

“Tragic,” you glance back at him, strategically avoiding eye contact, and settle on offering a shrug. “There are plenty of other flavors. Maybe try…the regular spicy?” 

You grab the flavor below his usual one and hold it up as an olive branch, but he cuts you off with a tone that even convinces you that you’re deranged. 

“No.” 

You blink. 

“No?” 

“It has to be Extra Spicy Hellfire.” 

You blink again. 

You wait for the punchline.

It never comes. 

This man is dead serious. 

You’re standing in the middle of a fluorescent-lit ramen aisle, at your minimal wage night-shift job, at 1:12AM on a random Tuesday, and this guy is dead serious. 

And he’s staring at you like this is a life-or-death situation. And judging from the look in his eyes, it’s looking like you’re facing death. 

But then, you really notice his eyes. And for a split second—just a split second—you’re derailed from your rising anger. 

They’re brown. But not just any brown—the kind of brown that makes poets write bad metaphors. Cinnamon swirls. Autumn leaves. Possibly falling in love in a Hallmark Christmas movie. 

But then you blink again, hard, snapping yourself out of whatever ridiculous moment your sleep-deprived brain just conjured. This is not the time. You’re literally staring at, like, three inches of this guy’s face. 

And he’s a jerk. Get a grip, Y/N. 

“Uh, yeah,” you clear your throat, trying your best to sound professional through your disbelief. “Sorry. We probably put in our shipment request late. But I’m sure you won’t implode by going one night without it?” 

You tack on a small laugh and smile at the end of your sentence, hoping to lighten the mood. 

He does not smile back. 

Not even a flicker. 

Instead, he continues to stare at you like you just suggested he eat plain, untoasted bread for the rest of his life. 

You want to bury yourself into a hole. Maybe getting fired on the fourth day won’t be so bad afterall. 

“I’m sure the regular spicy one is just as good. What’s the worst that could happen?” you offer weakly when he makes no sign of saying anything, and you really hope this guy doesn’t explode in front of you—mainly because you’re not confident in your own ability to explain that situation to your manager. 

“I’m not risking it,” he finally deadpans. 

Your jaw drops slightly. 

“You’re not ris—” you hesitate, debating whether you want to ruin your night further. But you’ve come this far. “You’re being…serious?” 

The question lined with your clear judgement hangs in the air between you two, and no amount of fake customer service can mask the expression of disapproval on your face. 

His eyes narrow at you as he scoffs, “You wouldn’t understand.” 

“Oh, I understand,” you tilt your head, your annoyance slowly reaching a boiling point, throwing all professionalism out the window. All you wanted was to enjoy your juice-sorting in peace, not babysit this walking ramen manifesto. “I understand that you’re just picky.” 

At that, his eyes flash—sharp, unreadable. “I’m not picky.” 

“You won’t eat a perfectly fine ramen just because it’s not named after the ninth circle of hell.” 

Silence. 

He stares at you with the intensity of someone about to write a strongly worded online review. 

Finally, with an exaggerated sigh, he finally mutters, “Fine. I’ll take the mild one.” 

You blink at the flavor in your hand—the one that’s clearly labeled in giant, blazing-red, font: Regular Spicy. Then you look back at him. 

“You mean regular spicy.” 

“Right. Whatever. Same thing.” 

He grabs the ramen cup from your hand and stalks off to grab his usual coffee milk, leaving you stranded in the middle of the ramen aisle, questioning every life choice that brought you here. 

Before you’re about to mentally spiral, his voice cuts through the store. 

“Hello?” 

Oh. Right. Your job. 

You scramble back to behind the register, quickly moving your hands to ring him up and get him out of here as soon as possible. 

He hands you his three crisp bills, and before you hand him his glorified ramen and godforsaken coffee milk, you hesitate, pulling them back slightly. He freezes, his hands hanging in the air between you two. 

“You know,” you narrow your eyes as you look up at him, “some people would say thank you for the recommendation.” 

His brow arches—or at least, you think it does. It’s hard to completely tell under his stupid hat. Then he fires back—

“And some people wouldn’t forget to restock the ramen.” 

Your mouth falls open, your words failing you as he grabs his goods from your hands, heading to the self-serve station to continue his nightly noodle worship as if he didn’t just verbally body-slam you. 

Yeah. It’s going to be a long night. 

Life is unpredictable, uncontrollable, and chaotic. 

Lee Heeseung’s life? Heeseung’s life is that times ten, with an extra sprinkle of what-is-even-happening-anymore? 

Between back-to-back choreo sessions, recording tracks at hours that shouldn’t legally exist, and navigating the emotional and physical minefield of constant shows, interviews, photoshoots—you name it—nothing about his life is consistent. 

However—

There are two things—two sacred constants—that keep Heeseung from spiraling into total madness. 

The first? 

Insomnia. 

Not by choice, of course. He doesn’t love being awake at 3AM, staring at his ceiling and waiting for sleep to take over. But it’s a loyal companion, like a stray cat that keeps showing up at your house no matter how hard you try to shoo it away. Heeeseung’s insomnia is always there for him, night after night, ensuring he gets exactly only four hours of sleep—with a side of existential dread. 

And the second? 

Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen and coffee milk. 

Yes, it’s a weird combo. 

No, he doesn’t care. 

This unlikely pairing is Heeseung’s personal slice of heaven he can actually control and choose in a life otherwise ruled by the rest of the world. 

Every night, he drags himself to his favorite corner store, grabs his fiery ramen and sweet, creamy coffee milk, and plants himself in the window seat to enjoy his culinary masterpiece in peace. 

Then—and only then—can Heeseung catch a few hours of sleep, the spice-induced euphoria lulling himself into a temporary state of calm. 

Does he have a problem? Absolutely. 

Is he addicted? Without a doubt. 

Does he care? Not in the slightest. 

Because in a world that demands he change at the drop of a hat, this little routine of his is the one thing that stays consistent. 

Well, except for last night. 

Because last night, someone dared to disrupt the cosmic balance of his existence. Someone failed to restock his precious Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen. 

He had stared at the empty spot on the shelf, the betrayal hitting him like a personal attack. He went home last night only a quarter satisfied from the mild spicy ramen he had settled with. 

And the worst part? 

He couldn’t stop thinking about the someone responsible. 

Now here he is, stepping into the corner store at 1:09AM, ready to make up for last night’s disappointment of an outcome. 

Heeseung steps into the brightly lit store, the familiar ding ringing behind him as he enters right on time. He continues his familiar route to the ramen aisle, but not before shooting a quick glance from below his hat toward the counter. 

Yup, there she is. 

You. 

The new graveyard shift employee. The one who dared to challenge his sacred ramen ritual and stared at him like he was a walking poor life choice. 

You’re here again. This is five nights in a row. Heeseung wonders if you 1) are insane, 2) have no life, or 3) are purely here just to spite him. 

But tonight, he’s prepared. His focus is razor-sharp, his mission clear: Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk. Nothing will get in the way tonight. 

Heeseung looks up, exhaling in relief when he spots the fiery red packaging of the Extra Spicy Hellfire sitting innocently on the shelf. There you are. 

He grabs the cup (with too much excitement that it should honestly embarrass him), cradling it like a long-lost love, before he makes his way to snag his coffee milk. 

Perfect combo. Perfect routine. Perfect night. 

Except—

Except, of course, you’re watching him. Again. 

He doesn’t even need to look up to know it. He can feel your judging eyes burning into the back of his head like you did the other night—like you’re seconds away from filing a report against his own taste buds. 

He doesn’t get it—what’s so strange about ramen and coffee milk? It’s not like he’s dipping the noodles in it. Why you’ve made it your personal mission to antagonize him, he has no idea, but it’s really throwing him off his ramen zen. 

Heeseung sighs to himself as he steps up to the counter, making sure you hear the sheer misery in this voice—because, of course, fate has cursed him with yet another encounter with you.

“So…do you actually enjoy these together, or are you just trying to destroy your stomach lining?” 

He freezes. Great, you’re talking. So much for a perfect night. 

He adjusts his cap to peer at you and that same unimpressed, judgmental look sitting on your face as you lean against the counter behind you. “What’s wrong with my choices?” 

Your eyebrows shoot up, “What's right with them? This combo screams, ‘I have unresolved issues I’m trying to boil away with spicy and sugar.’” 

Okay, ouch. 

Heeseung narrows his eyes, trying to ignore the weird pinch in his chest at how quickly you read him, whether he likes to admit it or not. 

“I like them. That’s all that matters,” his voice drips with a certain sharpness, hoping the edge in his tone is enough to make you back off. 

You, however, seem entirely unfazed.

“Just trying to help,” you shrug as you scan his items, “looking out for your poor taste buds.” 

For a moment, Heeseung considers firing back, but then his gaze catches yours for a millisecond too long as you take his cash and, immediately, he’s wondering—for the hundredth time—if you know. 

Do you recognize him? 

The thought has been gnawing at him since the first time he stepped into this store and saw you sitting there five days ago. Sure, he’s got his identity pretty much concealed under his borderline clinically insane hat-mask-hoodie combo, but still—most people at least give him a double take, a lingering glance. Something. 

But you? Nothing. No flash of recognition. No curiosity. Nothing to indicate you know you’re talking to Lee Heeseung—part idol, part insomniac, 100% ramen enthusiast. 

And for some reason, that both annoys and intrigues him. 

“Thanks for your concern,” Heeseung mumbles dryly, quickly grabbing the ramen cup and cold drink from your hands. 

“No problem,” you chirp just as sarcastically, an annoying smile on your face. “Enjoy your…uh, gourmet meal.”

Heeseung throws you one last glare before shaking his head and stalking off to the self-serve station. He puts the cup down on the counter with a little more force than necessary and pours boiling water over the noodles, glaring into the steam as your voice rings in his head. 

What’s wrong with ramen and coffee milk? He scowls. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And I definitely don’t have unresolved issues. 

But as he steals a glance back at the check-out counter and catches you sorting bills like nothing happened, a weird unease settles in his chest. 

He looks down at this ramen, then at the coffee milk. 

For the first time ever, he feels…self-conscious. 

And now you’re in his head. 

Great. 

By night six, you don’t know whether to pity the guy or stage an intervention.

The ding of the automatic doors announces his arrival, as usual, at exactly 1:09AM. You know it’s him—Ramen Guy. The guy who you’re convinced single-handedly continues to keep the Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen business float. 

You lean against the counter and subtly watch him make his usual pilgrimage to the ramen aisle, internally scoffing to yourself at the weird moment he picks up his ramen like it’s his newborn child.

He’s so weird. 

You wonder what kind of person he is outside this convenience store. Does he always make such objectively strange choices? Like, does he wear socks with sandals? Does he mix his cereal with orange juice instead of milk? 

Your haunting thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his usual unholy pair of snacks hitting the counter in front of you with a soft thunk. You look down at the items before glancing back up at him with a skeptical look on your face, “You ever think about switching it up?”

Ramen Guy, clearly expecting the snark, doesn’t miss a beat, “You ever think about minding your business?” 

“Not really. Boredom makes me nosy,” you shrug. “And at this point, you’re the only thing keeping me entertained at this hour.” 

He rolls his eyes so dramatically you’re mildly concerned he might sprain something. 

“And I’m starting to think you like judging me a little too much.” 

“Wrong. I like judging everyone equally,” you scan his items, then tilt your head. “But maybe you’re a special case. With issues.” 

To your surprise, he snorts. Like, an actual, out-loud laugh. 

“Says the girl who voluntarily works the night shift.”

Your smirk falters for half a second. He catches it.

Ramen Guy raises an eyebrow, leaning casually against the counter. “What? Too close to home?”

You shift in your spot, “Bold of you to assume I have issues.”

He shrugs, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

You shift the attention back to him. “What about you, then? Why do you keep showing up here, huh?”

At that, something changes. The words in the air, and for the first time, you notice a slight shift in his demeanor—the slight awkwardness in the way he shifts his weight. 

Then, after a brief pause, he meets your gaze and throws the question right back at you.

“Why do you keep working the night shift?”

You freeze, putting his items back down on the counter, caught off guard by the reversal. "Touché. But I asked first."

There's hesitation again for a moment, his fingers tapping the edge of the counter impatiently—nervously?

"I like the peace and quiet,” he finally says, and for the first time tonight, he meets your eyes.

For a split second, you’re startled by the sincerity in his gaze and sudden shift in tone—it’s almost distracting. But you shake yourself out of it just as quickly.

"Nothing about Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk sounds peaceful or quiet," your voice softer now but still teasing.

"Okay, Miss Graveyard Shift," he fires back, leaning a little closer over the counter. "Why are you here every night? Do you have a thing for fluorescent lighting and cleaning up after drunk customers or something?"

You don't miss the faint challenge in his voice as you narrow your eyes at him.

Then, you settle for a shrug and take a breath, answering honestly.

"It's flexible. Pays well enough," you start, before looking back at him, and add, almost as an afterthought, "...and I like the quiet too."

It’s an honest answer, one that seems to hang in the air between you two for a beat too long. His gaze softens ever so slightly, and you swear you see something shift underneath that stupid cap of his, but before you can dwell on it, he straightens up.

He places his three bills on the counter, grabs his items, and pauses.

“So,” he starts, his lighter tone breaking the silence, “do you have a name, or should I just keep calling you Graveyard Shift Girl?”

You raise a brow, amused, as you start putting his bills away, “Do you have a name, or should I just keep calling you Ramen Guy?”

For a split second, you think you see something flicker in his eyes—something smug, something entertained. And you don’t know it, but under his mask, his lips twitch, fighting back a faint smile.

“Touché,” he murmurs, echoing your earlier words before stepping back from the counter, items in hand, but lingers just a moment longer than necessary—like he wants to say something else.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he turns towards the self-serve station, falling back into his regular routine.

And you should do the same.

You try to do the same. But as you go back to your usual tasks—wiping down the counter, restocking shelves, pretending to be productive—you find yourself sneaking glances out of the corner of your eye toward his window seat.

He just sits there, just like he always does, stirring his ramen absentmindedly as he stares out into the empty street. And yet, tonight, something feels…different.

It’s nothing. You tell yourself it’s nothing.

Just curiosity. Natural, given how he keeps showing up every night, breaking up the monotony of your shift with his weird food choices and even weirder personality.

And yet—

No matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to stop thinking about him—the way he looked at you earlier, the way his demeanor shifted even slightly.

It’s nothing.

Still, your gaze flickers back at him, catching the way his fingers tap lightly against the table, lost in thought. You wonder what kind of things keep a guy like him up at night.

And maybe—just maybe—you’re starting to find his weird little habits endearing, too.

The faint sound of the store’s music plays in the background, the clock ticks, and eventually, he finishes his ramen, tosses his trash, and makes his way toward the door.

And then—he hesitates.

Just for a second. A small pause, a barely-there moment where he stops, glances over his shoulder just slightly—just enough to look at you.

“See you tomorrow, Graveyard Shift Girl.”

You blink, caught off guard, and for a moment, all you can manage is to stare at him. Then, as you fail to ignore the weird blooming feeling in your chest, your words slip out almost on instinct:

"Goodnight, Ramen Guy."

The next night, you do something completely out of character, entirely unprovoked, and maybe just a little bit unhinged—you take your cheesy ramen, peace juice pouch, and bag of potato chips and plop yourself down right next to Ramen Guy and his usual window seat. 

He pauses mid-slurp. Keeping his head low, he turns to you slowly. Suspiciously.

“What…are you doing?” 

“Having dinner,” you say matter-of-factly, popping open your bag of chips. 

His gaze drops to your meal, and then back to you. “It’s almost 1:30AM.” 

“Okay? Dinner, early breakfast, midnight snack, call it whatever you want,” you shrug, unbothered as you continue unwrapping your meal. 

Ramen Guy exhales through his nose, shaking his head to himself like he’s just accepted his fate. Without another word, he turns back to his own meal and resumes eating. 

A surprisingly comfortable silence follows—the only sounds filling the empty store the quiet hum of the store’s playlist, the buzz of the lights above you, and the synchronized slurp of two insomniacs with poor diet choices. 

Then, without thinking, you tilt your bag of potato chips, holding it out between you two, “Want one?”

He stops mid-motion, as if he’d almost forgotten you were still here.

Almost.

A glance into your bag, a small shrug, and then, just like that, he grabs a chip and pops it into his mouth, moving so fast you barely catch a glimpse of his face without the mask.

“Thanks,” he mutters before taking a sip of his coffee milk, still keeping his head low.

You hum in response, your fingers drumming against the counter before your curiosity wins the best of you, “So…what kind of life leads you to seek peace and quiet in a convenience store?”

It’s a question that’s been on your mind since last night’s conversation. What can you say? You’re a creature of curiosity.

Ramen Guy shrugs next to you, “What do you mean?”

“Like…you’re here every night. Why at night? Why not during the day?”

He lets out a short chuckle. “You want me to leave?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Sure sounded like it.”

You exhale sharply, your fingers now absentmindedly swirling the noodles in your bowl. “Look, I’m just saying—most people are asleep at this hour.”

He smirks. You can hear it in his voice without even looking. “You’re here too, aren’t you?”

“That’s different, this is my job,” you scoff, amused, before pointedly gesturing at this meal before him, “Unless you want to call your weird habits a job. Which, honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone was paying you to subject your tastebuds to that every night.”

And he laughs. It’s small, barely there, but you catch it. Then, with a quiet exhale, he finally answers, “It’s like I told you before, I like the quiet at this hour…I don’t get a lot of that.”

You stop twirling your noodles, the air shifting into that same unspoken understanding from last night. Faint, but unmistakable.

Something unsaid hanging between the two of you, something that tells you this guy is more than just an insomniac with questionable food choices.

You tilt your head. “So, what, you got a bunch of loud roommates or something?”

A small, almost knowing smile tugs at his lips. “Something like that.”

You raise a brow at his vague answer but don’t press. Instead, you nod towards his food. “And your criminal meals? That part of the quiet too?”

He huffs, “Maybe I just have superior taste.”

“Right, totally,” you laugh, the tone in your voice almost testing him. 

Ramen Guy finishes up his meal, wiping his mouth quickly with a napkin before putting his mask back on and finally turning to face you fully.

He narrows his eyes at you, “You think you have me all figured out?”

You mirror his actions, facing him fully for the first time tonight, folding your arms, “Oh, I do have you all figured out, Ramen Guy.”

“Oh yeah?” He leans forward slightly. “Alright, go on. Tell me who I am, Graveyard Psychic Girl.”

You roll your eyes but accept the challenge, leaning back in your seat.

“You’re a creature of habit, clearly. You like consistency. Probably because your life is very inconsistent otherwise.”

Ramen Guy doesn’t react, so you continue.

“You’re a night owl, but not by choice. You want to sleep, but your brain won’t let you.” Your eyes flick down to the coffee milk. “So, instead, you drink this, even though it probably makes it worse.”

Still no response.

“So now, you just keep showing up here because it’s predictable,” you finish with a small shrug. “And maybe…‘cause you’re kinda lonely.”

That makes him pause.

You immediately regret saying it. Because…what was that?

That was too much. Too deep. Too intrusive.

But to your surprise, he doesn’t deflect. He doesn’t scoff, or roll his eyes, or peer them at you the way he does a million times a night.

Instead, he tilts his head slightly, eyes glinting with something you can’t quite place.

“…Not bad,” he says finally, reaching for another chip from the bag in your hands.

You blink. “Wait, really?”

“I mean, kinda harsh, but…mostly true.”

“Oh,” you don’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t that.

A beat of silence passes before Ramen Guy speaks up again, “So basically, you’re saying we’re the same.”

You let out a snort, “Not even close.”

“We both work weird hours. We both like the quiet. We both eat the same convenience store junk food.” He holds up the bag of potato chips before eating another one.

“You just started eating those,” you deadpan. 

“Yeah, but I’m still eating them, which means my taste is obviously elite.”

“You literally eat coffee milk with nuclear ramen.”

“Okay, you’re the one who made it weird.”

A mischievous smile starts forming on your face as you snatch your bag of chips back from him, “So you agree your food choices are weird?” 

His smirk falters as a small giggle rises out of you. 

“Whatever you say, Graveyard Shift Girl.” 

The next night, Heeseung does something completely out of character, entirely unprovoked, and maybe just a little bit unhinged—he’s late. It’s 1:30AM, well past his usual 1:09AM show-up time, and the store is Heeseung-less.

He blames late-night dance practice. He also blames Ni-ki for stealing his usual black hoodie—forcing him to spend an extra thirty minutes looking for another one. Not that the hoodie matters, he would argue (yes, it does).

When he finally steps through the door at 1:32AM, the familiar ding barely finishes echoing before—

“Wow,” you drawl from behind the counter, arms crossed. “Tragic. Unbelievable. I was starting to think you found a new place to bother.”

Heeseung snorts, making a beeline for the ramen aisle, “You wish. Wouldn’t want you to get bored without me.”

You let out a dramatic gasp, “Wow. Thoughtful and self-aware. Who knew you had layers?”

Heeseung tries to ignore you, moving to grab his coffee milk. But his lips twitch under his mask, and he’s glad it’s hiding the way he’s failing to fight the smile growing on his face.

When he finally reaches the counter, you push off from where you were leaning against the counter, hands settling on your hips. “Okay, be honest. Outside of this, do you have anything else going on in your life?” 

Heeseung raises a brow, completely caught off guard. If there’s one thing he’s learned over the past few nights, it’s that you’re incredibly nosy. And for someone who claims to like working the night shift because of the quiet, you’re absolutely terrible at keeping things that way. 

“Excuse me?”

“You mentioned that you work weird hours yesterday,” you gesture vaguely at him. “So, spill.”

His stare remains blank, debating if he can distract you by handing you his three bills of cash (he can’t).

“I do…stuff.”

“Stuff,” you repeat, “Quite riveting.”

Heeseung exhales, “Why do you care?”

You shrug, taking his cash and putting it away. “You must do something interesting. You’re too weirdly confident for a guy who just bums around convenience stores at night.”

Heeseung scoffs. "Weirdly confident?"

"Yeah, like—" You wave around you. "You walk around like you have some big, mysterious purpose. But all I ever see you do is glare at instant noodles and sip milk like a sad Victorian child."

Heeseung shakes his head, letting out a breathy laugh. "Maybe that is my purpose."

Then, he simply shrugs. But there’s something in his gaze—something unreadable, like he’s deciding exactly how much he wants to say.

"It’s hard to explain,” he finally says. “I just…have a weird work schedule.”

"Weird how?"

"Weird as in, I don’t really get normal hours. Always moving, always working. Makes sleep kinda impossible."

You pause, taking in his words. Then, you shift slightly, crossing your arms. "Sounds exhausting."

Heeseung exhales a laugh, leaning against the counter. "You have no idea."

For a moment, a familiar and warm quiet fills the air as the two of you linger, as if waiting for the other to say something more.

And he doesn’t know why, but his chest feels a little too tight—like he’s let you stumble into a part of him you weren’t supposed to see yet.

“Well,” you say quietly, your lips curving into a soft smile that sends a weird jolt through his body that he chooses to ignore. “I’m honored you’ve chosen this fine establishment as your official sanctuary.”

He scoffs, reaching for his items. "Don’t let it go to your head, Graveyard Shift Girl.”

He then turns to head to his usual corner when—

“Y/N.”

Heeseung pauses, turning back at you like an awkward child lost in the middle of a store.

“My name,” you clarify, casually returning to sorting the register’s bills. “A lot easier to say than Graveyard Shift Girl.”

Heeseung gives you a slow nod, something unfamiliar and unplaceable twisting in his stomach as he turns back around.

And when he finishes his meal and leaves that night, he calls out—

“See you tomorrow, Y/N.”

And, this time, he doesn’t fight the smile under his mask when he hears your voice, a little softer, call back out:

“Goodnight, Ramen Guy."

It happens the moment he steps inside.

Heeseung doesn’t even make it past the threshold before a familiar melody drifts through the weak convenience store speakers and to his ears.

Familiar because he’s heard it a thousand times.

Familiar because it’s literally his voice singing the line.

His stomach drops.

Instead of his usual beeline to the ramen aisle, Heeseung turns towards the counter where you’re idly tapping on your phone, oblivious.

The hum of the melody continues, and Heeseung is suddenly too hyper-aware of how loud his own voice sounds in the otherwise dead-silent store.

Panic creeps up his spine.

He moves fast, crossing the store in a few long strides, slamming his hands down onto the counter that divides the two of you.

You jump in your seat.

“Geez—” you clutch your chest, wide-eyed as you take in his very sudden, very urgent presence. “What the hell?”

Heeseung ignores you, pointing above him, “Did you put this on?”

Your brows furrow as you put your phone down, glance up at him, then at the speakers he’s pointing at. You barely register the song before recognition flickers across your face.

“Oh—this? Nah, it’s the store’s playlist,” you gesture towards the iPad behind the counter, currently playing a Current Hits playlist on shuffle. “It’s some group’s new song. Pretty catchy.”

Heeseung just stares at you, mind racing.

You don’t recognize it.

You don’t recognize his voice.

The realization sends relief crashing over him, but he quickly snaps out of it with a brand-new problem—because now he has to decide what the hell to do with this information.

Does he tell you? Drop the act and lay it all out? Would you believe him? Would you even care?

“You okay?” Now you’re staring at him, suspicious. “Why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”

Heeseung clears his throat, realizing his stance is way too conspicuous, and slowly removes his hands from the counter to stand up straight, attempting to sound normal, “No reason.” 

You squint at him.

Then—

“Oh my god,” you gasp, eyes suddenly lighting up. “Wait.”

His heart stops. Oh, shit. She figured it out. This is it.

“Are you a fan?” you blurt, leaning forward in your seat eagerly.

Heeseung blinks.

…What.

“Oh, you totally are,” you continue, completely missing the way his soul is currently leaving his body. “You came straight to the counter like a man on a mission. Oh my god. Are they, like, your favorite group or something?”

Heeseung has never wanted to laugh and cry at the same time more than he does in this moment.

“Something like that,” he mutters, bringing a hand to rub this temple, because no way this is happening right now.

You beam brightly from your seat, “That’s cute. Who’s your bias?”

At that, Heeseung does laugh—because this is now officially the most ridiculous thing that’s ever happened to him.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

There’s a long pause.

And then—after a deep breath, a long and heated internal debate, and one last glance at your innocent, completely oblivious face—he finally exhales, looking you straight in the eye.

“This guy,” he says as he hears his own voice ring out through the store. “Because that’s me. That’s my voice.”

Silence.

You stare at him.

You blink. Once. Twice.

Then, after what feels like an eternity—

“…Huh?”

Then you tilt your head. "I'm sorry—what?"

Heeseung watches as your expression cycles from confusion to skepticism to outright disbelief. He braces himself.

"My name is Lee Heeseung," he repeats slowly. "From Enhypen."

Another beat of silence.

Then—because you’re you—

You burst out laughing.

"Okay, Ramen Guy," you snort, crossing your arms. "Very funny.”

Heeseung sighs, "I knew this would happen."

"Because you’re delusional?"

"Because you don’t pay attention."

You roll your eyes, "Oh, I’m sorry, but when in our thriving relationship have you ever given me a reason to believe that you’re actually a famous idol and not just some guy who has concerning dietary habits?"

Heeseung groans.

He regrets everything. He regrets this entire conversation. He could have lied. He could have said literally anything else. But no—he had to be honest. And look where that got him.

"I’m serious," he insists, leveling you with a look.

You stare back at him.

Then, something seems to click in your brain, because you suddenly lunge for your phone.

"Oh, we’re doing this," you mutter, fingers flying across the screen as you type in his name. "Let’s see if—"

You stop.

Heeseung watches as your eyes widen, scanning the images in front of you. Then you look up at him. Then back down at the phone.

Then back at him.

“Take the mask off,” you mutter quietly, slowly holding your phone up next to his face.

With an exhausted sigh, Heeseung does what he’s told and pulls it down for the first time in front of you.

You scan him. Then the phone. Then him.

"You've gotta be shitting me," you breathe.

Heeseung shrugs, "Told you."

You gape at him, your mouth opening and closing.

You don’t know what shocks you more—the fact that a literal celebrity has been standing in front of you this whole time, or the realization that the once-random stranger you used to relentlessly tease has, somehow, always been this ridiculously good-looking all along. 

"So…you’re famous?"

"Something like that."

"Something like that?" You shove your phone toward him, your screen now displaying the group’s Instagram page. "You literally have fans. Like, millions of them."

Heeseung cringes, "Okay, you don’t have to say it like that."

"Like what? Like you’re a superstar and I’ve been treating you like a regular guy who can't cook for himself?"

"Because that’s exactly what I am?"

“Unbelievable,” you scoff, shaking your head. “So you sing. You perform. You—commit crimes against humanity with your ramen choices each night.”

Heeseung groans. “Oh my god.”

“Oh my god,” you echo, standing up from your seat behind the counter. “So you’re telling me that every night, an actual, real-life idol has been showing up here, inhaling a week’s worth of sodium, and I—” You pause, eyes narrowing. “Wait. Are you even allowed to be eating this garbage?”

“And are you ever able to mind your own business?” Heeseung counters, now fully regretting this entire conversation.

“Absolutely not, Lee Heeseung, because this is literally the plot of a drama,” you wave your hands in disbelief. “Mystery insomniac convenience store guy turns out to be a world famous pop star—”

“Okay, let’s not get carried away.”

“—and I, the unsuspecting cashier, unknowingly roast him every night like he’s just some sleep-deprived college student instead of a millionaire with talent. Wait—” you then pause again, placing your hands on your hips, staring at him with a newfound judgment. “—you’re loaded, aren’t you?”

Heeseung pinches the bridge of your nose, exasperated, “Why is that your takeaway from this?”

“You are!” you exclaim, your smile widening as you ignore his suffering. “You’re rich and you’re out here eating instant ramen every night!”

Heeseung groans again, dropping his head onto the counter in front of you, “Oh my god.”

Grinning, you bend down to this level. “So this whole time, you’ve been lying to me?”

He lifts his head just enough to glare at you. "It’s not lying. It’s…selective honesty.”

You scoff, straightening up just as Heeseung does, meeting his gaze with an accusatory squint. “That’s literally the definition of lying.”

“Look, it’s not like I planned to make a habit out of this,” he gestures to the store around him. “I came in one night, and then I came back, and suddenly, I had a thing going. Then you showed up and started running your mouth, and—”

“And you kept coming back anyways,” you finish, crossing your arms, a slow, amused smile tugging at your lips.

Heeseung freezes. His mouth opens. Then closes.

“…Yeah.”

A silence stretches between you—charged, almost personal—until you decide to cut through the tension with a smirk.

“What if I play your group’s music over the speakers every night?”

The look on his face is deadly. “You wouldn’t.”

Your grin grows, “Wouldn’t I, though?”

“This is the worst night of my life,” Heeseung drags a hand down his face and turns towards the ramen aisle. “I’m leaving.”

“Aww, c’mon,” you tease, calling out after him and delighting in his suffering. “Also can we talk about how you literally just said you’re your own bias?”

“Shut up.”

You’re still laughing when he returns to the counter thirty seconds later—Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk in hand, cheeks tinged pink.

“Alright, serious question,” you say, leaning in slightly from your seat at the window barstools. “If you had to give up either Extra Spicy Hellfire or coffee milk for the rest of your life, which would you choose?”

Heeseung immediately stops chewing, his chopsticks frozen midair as he turns to you with a look that says you just personally offended him.

“That’s straight evil.”

“You must choose, Ramen Guy.”

Heeseung groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “You can’t just throw life-altering hypotheticals at me like that.”

“Choose.”

He stares at his ramen. Then at this coffee milk. Then back at you.

Then back at his ramen.

Then back at you.

“I hate you, you know that?”

“Aw,” you flash him your sweetest, most infuriating smile. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me. Like, ever.”

Heeseung shoots a glare at you, “I hope your regular spicy ramen tastes like disappointment.”

“Oh, it totally does,” you look down at your own ramen in front of you and take an exaggerated slurp, “It’s just so awful.”

Heeseung’s lips perk up into a smile at your weirdly endearing antics before shaking his head, “You’re a lost cause.”

You giggle to yourself, taking a sip of your own juice when you hear Heeseung, barely audible, suddenly mutter:

“…I’d give up coffee milk.”

It’s quiet. It’s barely there.

Your jaw drops.

“I know, okay?” He rubs his temples as if the decision is actually hurting him. “It’s like choosing between two children. But at the end of the day, ramen is ramen.”

You nod along, pretending you understand the gravity of his heavy decision (you don’t). But still, you smile—because you were the one who got him to betray his beloved coffee milk.

Heeseung takes a sip of it anyway, groaning as he swirls the bottle in his hand. “I hate that you made me think about this.”

“You should be thanking me. Y’know, character growth and all that.”

“More like character damage.”

You grin, victorious, and he just rolls his eyes before pausing for a second to think, then—he nudges his ramen cup toward you.

“Here. Try some.”

You recoil immediately and look up at him with a look that tells him he’s absolutely psychotic.

“Absolutely not.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why? You scared?”

“No, Heeseung, I just have these things called taste buds.”

He scoffs, shoving the bowl between you two closer. “Just one bite. C’mon, Graveyard Shift Girl, live a little. For me.”

You hold his gaze, suspicious but faltering, because—damn it—he’s looking at you like that. All smug and teasing, head tilted slightly, and it affects you.

And then he moves. 

He picks up his chopsticks, twirls them in the bowl, and catches a perfect bundle of noodles before leaning forward, holding them up between you two. He waits.

Your breath hitches. Your eyes flicker to the steam curling from the noodles, twisting in the air between your faces, fragile and fleeting.

Heeseung doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

It’s ridiculous, really. I mean, it’s ramen. But the way the space between you suddenly feels thin, the way his grip on the chopsticks stays steady, his fingers just inches from your lips, the way his dark eyes stay locked onto yours, watching you with something unreadable flickering beneath the usual teasing glint—it feels like time slows down.

You blink rapidly, clearing your throat. It’s fine. It’s cool. You’re overthinking.

Heeseung tilts his head slightly, watching. Waiting.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and slowly lean in to take the bite.

Your lips brush the chopsticks as you close your mouth around the noodles, and for a split second—one charged, unspoken, split second—neither of you move.

Heeseung is so close.

So close.

You can see the soft curve of his mouth, the way his gaze flickers over your face, the way his breath catches slightly like he just realized something.

You’re suddenly painfully aware of the close proximity and it sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. Panicked, you pull back quickly and settle into your seat like nothing happened.

But then you start chewing.

And that’s when you realize—

No, wait. Wait. That heat in your cheeks?

Oh.

Oh no.

Yeah. It’s definitely not because of Heeseung (well, maybe a part of it is). 

Because the second you swallow down the bundle of noodles—the embodiment of heat, pain, and suffering all slams into your mouth instantly.

You freeze.

Your brain short-circuits.

And then—

“Oh my GOD—” you choke, slamming your hands onto the counter, your body shaking as the spice courses through your veins.

Your throat ignites, your sinuses clear, and you swear you can hear colors.

Heeseung? Heeseung loses it.

His laugh bursts out of him—loud, unguarded, and completely delightful. He clutches his stomach, nearly hiccuping from how hard he’s laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners, dimples deep in his cheeks.

If you weren’t literally physically dying in this current moment, you’d probably be absolutely too flustered to function at the sight.

“No way—” he wheezes through his laughter,“—are you actually struggling right now?”

“WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE, HEESEUNG?!” you glare at him through the tears forming in your eyes as you desperately flail your arms around, searching for your juice pouch. “You eat this voluntarily?!”

“Every night, baby.”

“You’re sick.”

“And you’re dramatic.”

Your hands finally find your drink and you gulp it down as if it’s your lifeline, eyes still watery, throat still burning, lungs barely breathing. But somewhere in the middle of your suffering, you catch yourself staring.

At Heeseung.

At the way he’s still smiling, like he just had the best meal of his life. At the way his eyes sparkle when he laughs, his dimples peeking out like his own hidden secrets, the way his nose scrunches slightly when he’s amused—

Weird.

You blink the thoughts (and your tears) away, shaking it off, and blame the spice, the delirium, and sheer trauma of what just happened.

You clear your throat, sitting back with a desperate huff.

“I hope,” you catch your breath, gesturing to his bowl, “that when you come in tomorrow, we’re all out of this horrid flavor.”

Heeseung smirks, leaning back in his chair as he gives you a knowing look.

“You’d still restock it for me, though.”

Damn it.

Your shoulders slump, and both of you know you’re defeated.

He knows you know you’re defeated. 

Heeseung just grins, then, without a word, slides his coffee milk toward you in a silent truce.

You stare at it. Then at him.

His smile grows.

And you accept it.

Begrudgingly.

It’s 1:20AM when you find yourself behind the counter, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes of instant noodles and bottled drinks. The store hums with its usual white noise—lights buzzing above, soft music humming overhead, the low whirr of the coolers. 

And Heeseung? 

Heeseung is across the counter, perched on a barstool he dragged from across the store, doing absolutely nothing to help. 

For the nth time tonight, he flips a soda bottle into the air. 

And for the nth time tonight, he fails to land it upright, the bottle clattering onto the counter.

“You’re supposed to be helping me restock,” you remind him, tossing a pack of chips at him. 

“I am helping,” he argues, dodging the bag in time and letting it fall flat onto the ground. Great. 

You cross your arms, scoffing, “Oh yeah? What category does sitting there and flipping Diet Coke fall under?” 

Heeseung finally puts the bottle down on the counter and hums, tapping his fingers against the counter like he’s deep in thought. Then, he flashes you a meek smile, “Moral support?” 

You roll your eyes playfully, turning back to unbox another package from the pile stacked in front of you. 

Another silence falls between you and Heeseung watches as you go back to your job before he breaks it—

“How do you do this every night? Does it not get…I don’t know, tedious? Boring?” 

You freeze in your spot, caught by surprise at the question.

“Hm,” you turn to him, head tilted as you think.

Heeseung glances up at you, intrigued. The way your lips purse slightly, how your fingers fidget absentmindedly with the torn edge of a cardboard box. 

You exhale, leaning back against the counter, “Yeah, the hours suck, pay is…alright. And—” 

You hesitate. Your gaze drifts toward the floor, fixating on a dent near the register, “—and I think, at some point, I thought I felt stuck.” 

Something in Heeseung’s expression shifts. 

“I mean, I’m a college student, for god’s sake,” you continue, a small, humorless laugh escaping you. “And I spend my nights serving cigarettes to barely legal teens and cleaning up after ramen spills. It kind of felt like I was just…watching life pass me by, you know?”

Your voice quiets and it’s just the soft hum of the store again. You pick at the box without thinking, fingers grazing over the worn edges, and Heeseung watches you.

Because he gets it. 

He gets it in a way that makes his chest ache a little.

Because despite the differences in your lives—despite how he’s constantly moving while you feel stuck—you both know the feeling of watching life slip between your fingers, of wondering if you’re ever going to feel like you belong in it.

Heeseung holds the soda bottle between his hands, rolling it back and forth, murmuring, “Yeah, I get that.” 

You glance up at him, making eye contact, but you don’t push. 

“But then,” you say quietly, “I started seeing this place differently. Instead of somewhere I was stuck, it became more of a…break. An escape from everything. A breath of fresh air from expectations and routine.” 

And that—that makes Heeseung look up. 

Because deep down, that’s exactly what all of this has become for him too. 

He doesn’t know when it happened—if maybe it was the first night he found the store, maybe whenever you showed up, maybe all the sarcastic exchanges, or somewhere in between all of that—but these late-night visits, these stolen moments in a world that demands from him, have become something steady. Something his. 

And he wonders if maybe…maybe you’re the reason for that. 

Maybe you’ve been keeping him grounded in a life that never stops moving. 

And maybe he’s been keeping you from feeling stuck. 

Just maybe.

It’s late. Way later than usual. And Heeseung is still here. 

And you don’t know how, but you’ve both abandoned your usual spots—his self-proclaimed window seat and your stool behind the register.

Instead, you’re both sitting cross-legged on the floor behind the register counter, backs pressed against the shelf of over-the-counter medications that you just re-organized, with a laptop and plenty of empty snack wrappers sitting between the two of you.

“See this is exactly my problem with this movie,” you point at your laptop screen, your voice slightly muffled by the gummy bears in your mouth. “One idiot makes one bad decision, and suddenly everyone’s dead! Like, be so for real.”

Heeseung scoffs, leaning back on his hands, “It’s a movie, Y/N. It doesn’t have to be realistic.”

“And I don’t have to pretend this isn’t garbage,” you shoot back as the credits roll, unimpressed. “This is objectively the worst thing I’ve seen.”

“I think I just have an acquired superior taste,” Heeseung quips, his eyes teasing. “Just like with my food choices.” 

“Right,” your voice drags out. “Superior delusion, maybe.”

Heeseung shoves your shoulder with his own, and you laugh, the sound natural, unfiltered, and totally at his expense.

As you shut your laptop and start gathering the remains of your late-night snack feast, the conversation quiets for a moment into an easy, warm silence. It’s the kind of quiet that feels good, the kind that’s been happening more lately—something you never would’ve expected that first night you ever saw him enter the store. 

Then, Heeseung exhales, stretching his legs out in front of him as he leans back against the shelf, “You know, this might be the longest I’ve sat and relaxed in months.” 

You glance up at him, brows raised, “What, you don’t get to laze around on the floor surrounded by junk food with your favorite convenience store worker on a regular basis?”

“Unfortunately, no,” he huffs a laugh. “But I thought a lot about what you said the other night. And sometimes it’s like…”

He pauses and tilts his head back, his eyes following the way the light fixture above him flickers in and out, “Like I’m moving so fast I forget what it’s like to just…be.”

Something in his voice makes you pause in your actions, your hands putting down the miscellaneous wrappers between you.

“Is it hard?” you ask quietly.

He lets out a breathy chuckle from beside you, “It’s…a lot. You’re always being watched, always expected to be on. And even during breaks I’m already thinking about the next thing. The next schedule, next performance, next practice.”

You watch him for a moment, watch the way his fingers tap absentmindedly against his knee, something you’ve started to notice over time whenever he’s lost in thought. 

“But there are moments that make it worth it,” he continues, a small smile playing on his lips. “The music, how fun it is to be on stage, the fans. The feeling of performing and knowing people are there because they love what you do. It’s unreal.”

Your own smile unconsciously appears as you listen to him reflect, taking in his words. You never stopped to really think about his life in-depth before—and it does sound like a lot. Like something people dream of but don’t realize the weight of until they’re carrying it themselves. 

You nudge his knee lightly with yours, “For what it’s worth, I think you deserve to just exist sometimes, too.” 

Heeseung turns to look at you, and for a moment, his expression is unreadable.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say, reaching into the closest bag of gummy bears to you and tossing one to him. He catches it easily, popping it into his mouth with a grin.

“See, this is why I keep coming back,” he says, chewing. “Gourmet snacks and free therapy.”

You roll your eyes. “Unbelievable. I take it back. Suffer.”

Heeseung laughs, popping another gummy bear into his mouth, before his fingers start tapping his knee again. Then, after a beat—

“You know, I’ve been thinking.”

When you look up at him, he’s already looking at you with a new…something. A newfound sincerity, maybe. Or uncertainty. Or both.

Your eyes meet, and suddenly, he visibly hesitates—shifting almost awkwardly in his spot, as if he both rehearsed what he’s about to say and yet has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. He clears his throat, breaking eye contact.

“I—um,” he swallows hard. “I’m sorry? For, y’know, being kind of a jerk when we first met. I think I was pretty…” He trails off awkwardly. “Jerk-ish.” 

You don’t move for a second. Slowly, one brow arches.

Heeseung thinks he regrets everything.

Then, a smile—slow and sweet—curls at your lips.

And suddenly, Heeseung realizes he doesn’t regret a damn thing.

“Oh, absolutely,” you say, nodding along dramatically. “You were a menace. Like, an insufferable, grumpy, little menace.”

Heeseung lets out a noise that lands somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “Okay, I get it.”

“But,” you continue, locking eyes with him again, “I guess I should apologize too.”

Heeseung perks up, now his brow lifting, “For what? Finally admitting I was right about—”

“For judging you and your still…very questionable choices.”

“Ah, there it is.”

You giggle, nudging him with your elbow before pausing. 

“But seriously…you’re, like…” you dramatically draw out the moment as if the words physically pain you to say.

Heeseung smirks, leaning in slightly, waiting for you.

“…pretty cool, I guess.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face, “I���ll take it.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you scoff. “You’re still a ramen-addicted jerk.”

Heeseung hums, still smiling, “Might be too late.”

Then, he tacks on, without thinking twice, “You’re pretty cool, too, I guess.”

You laugh at the hesitancy in his voice, “Okay, that sounded almost sincere.”

He rolls his eyes, but his smile softens, “No, but seriously, it’s…nice. Having someone I could talk to outside of…you know, my whole chaotic life.”

The sudden shift in the air quiets you for a moment as you look at Heeseung, noticing the slight drop in his shoulders, the way his fingers continue to drum against his leg. When you don’t say anything, he continues.

“I don’t…really talk to people like this,” he quietly says, as if admitting something to himself more so to you. Then, after a pause, he glances back up, eyes searching your own. “Now like how I do with you. Like…I could tell you anything and everything, really.”

Your breath catches, but you keep your expression neutral, “Oh?”

Heeseung shifts, looking down at his hands before exhaling a quiet laugh, “Sorry. Too serious?”

You find yourself quickly shaking your head. Because although, yes, most of your interactions with Heeseung are filled with jokes and teasing, the serious conversations or shared warm silences in between recently—have started to mean something more. They’ve become an outlet, a quiet escape from reality. It’s like the moment he steps through the store’s doors, the door rings, the outside world fades, and for a few hours, it’s just the two of you in this shared space.

A space that feels safe, untouched by expectations, where both of you can just be.

“No,” you say, softer this time. “Not at all.”

You hesitate for a beat before adding, “I…really like talking to you too. It’s—” you let out a small laugh, “almost unnaturally easy, actually.”

Heeseung doesn’t respond right away. He just nods, and then looks up at you from the ground and his eyes are serious—no teasing, no usual smugness, just something…real. Vulnerable.

Something that makes your heart beat a little too fast.

You should say something. Something light, or something sarcastic, or something normal.

But you don’t.

Because you’re too busy looking at his face.

Then, without thinking, his lips.

And he’s looking at yours.

You don’t know who leans in first, but suddenly, you’re close. He’s close. Too close. Close enough to hear his quiet inhale. To see the way his lashes flutter. To feel the space between you two thinning into something dangerously nonexistent.

You should move. You should break the moment before it turns into something neither of you can take back.

But you don’t.

And he doesn’t.

And then—

Ding.

The sound of the automatic doors sliding open shatters the moment.

You both jolt apart like a pair of teenagers caught guilty, and your heart is practically breaking out of your ribcage as you scramble to your feet, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants, your face burning as you appear from behind the counter to greet the customer that was blissfully unaware of whatever was definitely not about to happen behind the counter. 

You clear your throat as you look down at Heeseung, who’s still frozen in his spot and trying his very best not to lose his mind, “I should—um. Go back to work.”

Then, suddenly, Heeseung stands too, nodding quickly as he runs a hand through his hair, his face slightly pink, very much not looking at you, “Right. Yeah. Work.”

Right when you turn back to the counter, the customer is there, waiting for you to ring them up. You plaster the most normal smile you can muster, scan their snack, take their cash, and hand them their change—all while pretending you don’t feel Heeseung’s presence still lingering behind you.

You don’t turn around, and he doesn’t move.

And despite the complete lack of physical contact, you still feel his warmth. The same amount of warmth as when he was only mere inches away from your own face.

The door chimes as the customer leaves.

Then, finally—Heeseung clears his throat.

Hesitantly, you turn around, bracing yourself.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, avoiding your gaze before forcing out, in the most casual voice he can manage—

“So, uh—same time tomorrow?”

You blink.

Then, finally, you let out a small laugh, “You’re so weird.”

The tension in the air cracks just enough, and Heeseung exhales a quiet laugh, “And yet, you’d miss me if I didn’t show up, wouldn’t you?”

You open your mouth, ready to argue, except—nothing comes out.

Because, unfortunately, you know he’s right.

And he knows he’s right.

So, naturally, instead of admitting defeat, you suddenly grab a rag from behind the counter and start aggressively scrubbing at a perfectly clean surface.

“Go home, Ramen Guy.”

Heeseung just grins, shoving his hands into his pockets as steps out from behind the counter and backs away. “Night, Graveyard Shift Girl.”

When he’s finally gone, you’re left standing there, staring at where he just was before you.

And finally, when the reality of what just happened fully settles in—

You groan, dropping your head against the counter.

Because now he's in your head.

Great.

The clock above you ticks, a sound that usually fades into the background and becomes a part of the store’s white noise. But tonight? 

Tonight, it’s your biggest freaking nuisance. 

You think if you have to hear it tick one more time, you’re taking the ladder from the backroom, climbing up there, yanking that thing off the wall, and tossing it right into the dumpster. 

Why? 

Because, it’s 2:21AM. 

2:21AM, and you’re alone. Stuck in this sad, empty convenience store with nothing but your own annoying thoughts and the snacks laid out in front of you with no one to share them with. 

Same time tomorrow, my ass, you think bitterly, aggressively straightening a stack of receipts near the register that don’t even need straightening. 

Heeseung’s voice from a few days ago still rings in your head—completely, and unfortunately, uninvited.

You don’t even know why they’re stuck in there, his words looping around, constantly taunting you.

The worst part?

His words had been entirely untrue.

Because it’s been three days.

Three full days since Heeseung has walked through those automatic doors, plopped down in his usual seat, and proceeded to either a) annoy you, b) argue with you over his food-related crimes, or c) make you laugh against your will.

And you don’t know why it’s bothering you so much.

Frustrated? Yeah, you’re frustrated. But the real question is—at what, exactly?

Frustrated that he just disappeared without so much as a heads-up? No warning?

Or maybe you’re frustrated at the very fact that you’re even thinking about this at all.

It’s not like he owes you an explanation. It’s not like he belongs to this store…or to you.

So why does it feel like something’s missing every time you glance at the entrance, half-expecting to hear the ding of the doors and see him stroll in with his stupid hoodie and even stupider smirk?

You shake your head, trying your best to snap yourself out of it.

It’s fine. You’re fine.

You don’t care.

You don’t care so much that, for some reason unbeknownst to you, your brain—your traitorous, overthinking, hardworking brain—itches with a thought.

A stupid, ridiculous, subconscious thought.

And before you can fully even process what you’re doing, your fingers are already unlocking your phone, your thumbs moving on autopilot as you do something you swore you wouldn’t.

You search up his name.

It’s pathetic. It’s sad. Even you’re disappointed in yourself. 

You told yourself you wouldn’t associate Heeseung with his job, with the persona that everyone else sees. Because to you, Heeseung is just…Heeseung—the insomniac who bickers with you every night, who somehow turns every conversation into an argument he has to win, who sits cross-legged with you behind the register eating spicy noodles and giving objectively bad movie recommendations.

And to him? 

Well. You thought that to him, you were just you. Just some convenience store worker he happened to befriend. Someone outside of his world, outside of the blinding lights. Someone he didn’t have to be anyone around. 

His words echo in your mind as you think—just a person he could tell anything and everything to. 

You push the thought along with their feelings down as you continue scrolling—quick, desperate, your fingers flying over your screen, swiping through posts, comments, anything that could explain his sudden absence—

And then. 

You see it.

A tweet. 

Tagging his group, followed by a message. It’s short. Sweet. Simple. 

Yet entirely soul-crushing. 

“Can’t believe they’re leaving for tour already tomorrow! So excited to see them in a few days!!” 

Your breath catches. 

Your eyes flicker over the words again.

And again.

Leaving. For tour.

Tomorrow.

Your stomach twists violently as you scan for more confirmation, your hands gripping your phone with a newfound frustration as you tap through articles, fan accounts—anything to tell you this isn’t real. That there’s some mistake. That you didn’t just foolishly spend three days waiting for someone who was never going to show up.

But there it is. Everywhere. Right in front of you.

Confirmed dates. Cities. Posters.

Heeseung is leaving. Tomorrow.

And he didn’t say a word.

You don’t know how long you sit there, staring at your screen. The words all blur together, but the sinking feeling in your chest is sharp, clear, and undeniable.

And you hate it.

You hate that you feel like this. You hate that your first instinct wasn’t to be happy for him, or proud, or even remotely understanding.

Instead, you’re angry. Upset. Hurt.

And what you hate the most?

You know exactly why you feel this way.

And just as that realization settles in—just as the blur of your feelings finally sharpens into something unmistakable, something you can no longer ignore—the familiar ding of the automatic doors cuts through the quiet store and the screaming thoughts in your head.

You almost don’t look up.

Almost.

But then you do, and your stomach drops.

Because there he is.

You blink, because at first you think maybe you’ve been drowning in your thoughts for so long that you’ve started hallucinating him—manifesting his presence out of sheer frustration towards him.

But, no.

Heeseung stands there, at the entrance, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, looking at you like nothing’s changed.

Like he hasn’t been gone for days, like he hasn’t left you suffering with your own emotions—like he hasn’t been the only thing on your mind even when you really, really, didn’t want him to be.

“Hey,” Heeseung nods at you casually, walking over to his usual stupid aisle, grabbing his usual stupid Extra Spicy Hellfire, then reaching for his usual stupid coffee milk—all like clockwork, all like he never left.

You don’t respond.

Instead, you busy yourself—wiping the spotless corner of your counter, smoothing out a crumpled receipt, pretending you’re looking for something in the shelves beneath you.

Anything to keep yourself from looking at him.

And you might actually lose it.

Because if you have to stand here and pretend like you’re fine, that these past few days haven’t felt like an eternity for you—you might actually lose it.

Heeseung finally walks up to the counter, places his things between you, then pauses before repeating, tilting his head, “Hey?” 

He shifts slightly, waiting for you to acknowledge him.

You don’t.

A beat passes. Then another.

“You mad at me or something?” he asks, his head still tilted, his voice light, hesitant.

You inhale, your fingers subconsciously tightening around the edge of the counter.

Then, you let out a quiet laugh—an empty, humorless scoff.

“Should I be?”

Heeseung frowns, clearly confused, “What?”

You finally look at him. And you think it was a mistake. Because the second you meet his gaze—uncertain, searching, so annoyingly familiar—you feel your throat close up.

He looks the same. Same stupid hoodie. Same messy hair. Same tired eyes that you’ve somehow come to find comfort in.

And that makes you hate this even more.

“Is this because I haven’t been showing up?” Heeseung tries again, a small, teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Damn, I didn’t realize you’d miss me that much. Sorry, Graveyard Shift Gi—”

“When were you going to tell me?”

Your voice is quiet, but he doesn’t miss it.

And he stills.

There it is.

He shifts in his spot again, his eyes now darting down to where his fingers are tapping against the counter.

“What?” he says again, but this time, it’s different. Careful.

You swallow, forcing down the lump forming in your throat, forcing yourself to look at him.

“When were you going to tell me you were leaving?”

It’s soft. Barely above a whisper. But lined with something raw, something vulnerable, something hurting.

And Heeseung hears all of it. He feels all of it.

He doesn’t answer. He just stares at you, lips pressing into a thin line.

Somewhere in the background, the clock continues ticking, the lights overhead buzzing, a song from the speakers humming.

And Heeseung stays silent.

“You weren’t,” you murmur, the words caught in your throat. “Were you?”

Heeseung exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, “I—” 

He stops. Starts again. 

“It’s not—it wasn’t—”

You cross your arms tightly, more so to ground yourself more than anything.

He lets out a quiet, frustrated laugh, shaking his head.

“Look,” he gestures vaguely, between you, at the store, at the shelves, at the space you’ve unknowingly carved out for him here. “This—this is the only thing that’s felt normal for me in a long time.”

Your stomach twists.

“Everything else—my whole life, it’s all…chaos. But this?” He swallows, his eyes finally looking up to meet your gaze, his voice quieter now. “You?”

His eyes flash with something new, something softer, something that lingers in the way he looks at you. The same way he has over late-night snack feasts, whispered movie nights, conversations that blended into the early mornings. 

“You’re the closest thing to normal I’ve had.”

And somehow, that makes it worse.

Because you get it. You know him, so you understand.

But it doesn’t change the fact that he was going to leave without telling you.

You inhale slowly, your heavy gaze holding his.

“So what?” your voice is still quiet, but now edged with a new sharpness. “You thought if you didn’t say anything, it wouldn’t have to be real?”

Heeseung presses his lips together. “I thought maybe if I didn’t say it, I wouldn’t have to lose this yet.”

Your breath catches.

You want to laugh. You want to cry.

Heeseung didn’t tell you because he didn’t want to ruin this.

Whatever this is.

Whatever the two of you had built over the weeks between instant noodles and snacks, between arguments over food choices, between all the unspoken moments that made you feel like maybe, maybe, this was something more.

You let out a wavering breath, shaking your head, “That’s not fair, Heeseung.”

“I know,” his voice is rough now, like he’s tired of saying it. Like he’s already told himself a million times and accepted it. Like he wants you to just accept it and move on.

But you can’t.

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because I didn’t know how!” His voice rises in frustration, an exasperated sigh slipping out. “Because you—this—whatever this is, it started feeling real. Too real. And I just didn’t want to fuck it up, alright?”

The words knock the air out of your lungs.

Because suddenly, everything you’ve been trying so hard to ignore, every feeling you’ve been trying to convince yourself wasn’t there, is suddenly painfully undeniable.

And worse than realizing how real this is?

Knowing that Heeseung knows it, feels it, too. 

But heavier than that realization is the anger.

Not just at the situation.

Now, at Heeseung.

“So you thought it’d be better to just disappear instead?” Your voice shakes, biting down on the thick emotion rising in your throat. “You didn’t even think to tell me.”

Heeseung steps closer, and for the first time tonight, you see it—his own frustration bubbling beneath his surface, the barely restrained emotion.

“What does it matter, Y/N?” his sharp voice cuts through the heavy air lingering between you. “What difference would it—would you—have made? It’s not like this was ever going to change anything.”

Your heart stops.

At that, you falter, and Heeseung sees it.

He sees the way your eyes move away from his. He sees the way your posture suddenly deflates, as if his words physically hurt you.

Because they do.

Because you know what he’s saying.

He’s leaving. And you’re staying.

And no matter what, no matter the amount of realness, no matter what either of you feel—that was always going to be the reality.

“Right,” you finally say, your voice dangerously close to giving out. “Because it’s not like any of this really meant anything, right? At least not enough for you to acknowledge.”

Now your words hurt.

Heeseung winces. His jaw tightens. His fists clench.

Then finally—

“…I don’t know,” he mutters.

The final crack.

You let in a sharp inhale, nodding once, your lips pressed into a straight line. “Got it.”

Heeseung clenches his jaw, like he wants to take the words back, like he wants to fix whatever just broke between you.

Instead, he exhales, stepping back from the counter, “I should go.”

This time, you don’t stop him.

You don’t say anything at all.

Heeseung hesitates for a half second, like maybe—just maybe—he’s waiting for you to say something.

But you don’t. 

Not when you feel so utterly lost in everything you’re feeling that you can’t even begin to put into words. 

So he nods once, shoving his hands back into his pockets, turning away.

The automatic doors slide open.

The ding rings, taunting you.

Cold air rushes in.

And then—he’s gone.

And you?

You’re left at the counter, staring at his abandoned cup of ramen, untouched coffee milk, and the ghost of something that never got the chance to be.

Heeseung doesn’t think. 

He wasn’t thinking four days ago, when the space between you two had grown impossibly small—when he was this close to you, when the air felt thick with something unspoken, yet undeniable, something that made his pulse race and his breath hitch. 

He wasn’t thinking when he let fear creep in, when the weight of him realizing his own feelings sent him running, keeping him from stepping foot into the store at all. For three days. 

He wasn’t thinking when he looked you in the eye last night and told you this didn’t matter. That none of it ever did. 

He wasn’t thinking when he walked out of the store, leaving you to think that you didn’t matter to him. That you never did. 

And he definitely isn’t thinking now, when he’s supposed to be leaving for the airport in an hour, but instead—his feet pound against the pavement, tearing through the empty, quiet streets like a man possessed, like maybe if he runs fast enough, he can outrun the regret clawing in his chest. 

The cold air stings against his face, streetlights flicker overhead, and the city hums all around him—but none of it matters. None of it even registers. 

Because all Heeseung knows, all he cares about, is getting to you.

Because Heeseung?

He can go months on tour without his Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen.

He can go months on tour without his coffee milk.

He can go months on tour without those, even if it means braving his insomnia.

But what he can’t go without?

Heeseung can’t—he won’t—go months on tour knowing you think you meant nothing to him. That you didn’t bring him relief after the longest days, laughter when he forgot how to find it, comfort in a world that never slowed down for him.

That you weren’t the one thing that felt real in a life that so often didn’t.

And if there’s even the smallest chance to fix this—to make sure you know—then nothing else matters.

The neon glow of the convenience store sign comes into view, and Heeseung’s heart lurches in his chest as he approaches, his staggered breathing visible in the cold air in front of him, his hands clammy.

He stumbles through the sliding doors, the familiar ding barely registering in his mind as his eyes dart around—only for his stomach to drop.

The counter is empty. The soft sound of your absentminded humming, the teasing lilt of your voice, the annoyed glare in your eyes—it’s all missing.

And all wrong. Too quiet, too empty, too…not you.

Instead, some guy he’s never seen before glances up from behind the register, staring at the way Heeseung just lingers frozen near the entrance.

“Uh,” Heeseung swallows thickly, his voice strained from his sprint. “The girl who usually works nights. Is she here?”

“Oh, Y/N?” the worker raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, she called off tonight.”

Heeseung stills.

You’re not here.

You’re not here.

And it’s his fault.

Because last night, you were here—waiting, hoping, and he walked out on you.

“Oh,” is all Heeseung can manage before he feels the words getting caught in his throat.

His jaw clenches, his stomach twists. The weight of regret settles deep, heavy and unrelenting.

“Right. Okay. Thanks,” he mutters, nodding absently, then turns towards the door.

The automatic doors slide open.

The ding rings, taunting him.

Cold air rushes in.

And just as Heeseung steps out—

He sees you.

You.

Right there, walking towards the store, hands shoved into the pockets of your coat, face buried into your scarf.

You stop.

He stops.

For a moment, neither of you move. Neither of you breathe.

The neon glow of the store’s sign reflects off your face, casting a shadow over your widened eyes. A car honks in the distance. A gust of wind blows past.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Heeseung says without thinking, almost breathless.

A small laugh escapes your lips, airy and uncertain, “Yeah, well…neither are you.”

You’re right.

He should be on his way to the airport. Bags packed, schedule set, moving on.

But instead? Instead, he’s here, standing in front of the only person who has ever made him hesitate.

Heeseung takes one step forward, “I was looking for you.”

You tilt your head, your lips pressed together like you’re weighing something in your mind.

Then you take a small step forward.

“And now you’ve found me.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry.”

It comes out all at once and rushed, but utterly honest. Honest and heavy, the way it’s been aching in his chest—and he can’t hold it in anymore.

You blink, unmoving.

“I’m so sorry,” Heeseung says again, stepping closer. His voice is steady, gentle, but nervous, scared you won’t believe him. “For everything. For not telling you. For leaving like that. For being a completely fucking idiot about—”

He stops. The look in his eyes is vulnerable, genuine. Longing.

“About this. Us.”

You don’t say anything right away, just watching him carefully.

Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, letting out a dry laugh as he realizes he’s about to lay everything out bare.

“I think I was scared,” he admits. “Of what it all meant. Of what you meant to me. I kept telling myself none of it was real, that it didn’t matter. But then I walked out yesterday and, I realized—”

He swallows hard, looking at you and the way your eyes soften with something unreadable.

“It does. You do. So, so much, Y/N.”

Another pause.

Then, you let out a soft exhale, shaking your head, as if something’s finally clicking into place, “I’m sorry too.”

Heeseung’s eyebrows burrow in confusion.

“For not—,” you sigh, your hands now fidgeting with the ends of your scarf. “For not saying something sooner. Because the truth is, I’ve been denying it too. I didn’t even realize how much I—how much you meant to me until I saw you last night and…”

You trail off, your cheeks warming. Then, with a deep inhale, you take another step closer, meeting his gaze from an arm’s length away.

“I was just so angry and upset, but I think…I realized it’s only because I like you, Heeseung. So much.”

Heeseung swears his heart stops. It feels like his whole world has just shifted, and all his thoughts are tangled up in the way you’re looking up at him now.

“And…I should’ve been more understanding,” you add softly. “I shouldn’t have held it against you like you owed me something. I was just hurt, and I didn’t know how to handle it, honestly.”

Heeseung doesn’t say anything right away, not when his thoughts are running wild and his heart is beating like it’s about to fully grow legs and escape.

Then, he exhales a breath of relief.

And lets out a quiet laugh to himself.

You blink at him.

“We’re both idiots,” he says finally, shaking his head softly. 

A small, knowing smile dances on your lips, your eyes locking onto his, “Yeah. Looks like it.”

The tension eases. Just a little.

Heeseung takes a small step closer, close enough that he can feel the warmth radiating off of you, despite the cold air surrounding you both. 

“So now what?”

You tilt your head as you look up at him, eyes searching his, “Aren’t you supposed to be catching a flight soon?”

Heeseung’s breath hitches.

Because he knows he should say yes.

That’s what’s been planned all along. That’s the reality.

But, for the first time—

He hesitates.

“Maybe."

Your eyes narrow slightly, a playful glare sparking in them, "Maybe?"

Heeseung exhales a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair, his fingers lingering at the nape of his neck. "Yeah. Maybe."

The warmth in his chest spreads when he sees the way you bite back a smile, the way your weight shifts just the tiniest bit closer—like you're testing the space between you.

Then, you reach into the tote bag slung around your shoulder and pull something out. 

“Here.”

You press a small bottle of coffee milk into his hands.

Heeseung stares at it in his hands.

Then at you.

And you’re looking at him with something gentle—something that makes his chest tighten in the best way possible, something that makes the world feel just a tiny bit warmer.

“Just in case you need a reminder,” you say, your voice light and grounding. “Of what’s normal.”

Heeseung stares at you for a moment, and suddenly—everything makes sense. 

The missing piece clicks into place as the static in his mind all fades away, leaving only this—only you. 

You, standing here in front of him, looking at him with that small, steady smile, and Heeseung knows. 

He's never been more sure of anything in his life.

A laugh escapes him before he even realizes it, soft and breathless, bubbling up from somewhere deep in his chest, where warmth curls all around it, wrapping around his own heart like a quiet, undeniable truth. His heart races and his fingers tighten around the bottle in his hands—slightly trembling, not from nerves, but from the realization of something so much bigger. Something so much realer. 

And then, without even thinking, he steps forward like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and closes the small space between you before wrapping his arms around you. He pulls you in, slow but certain, with a gentleness that catches you by surprise. 

You freeze, breath catching, but only for a second. Because then—like a reflex, you melt into him, your own arms tightening around him.

Holding onto him just as much as he’s holding onto you.

Neither of you say anything.

There’s a quiet calm between you two—no need for words, just the rhythm of your heart beating against his own. Steady, calming, like it’s syncing with his, like they’ve always known each other’s pace.

Like they’ve been moving in tandem all along, even when neither of you realized it. 

And in a way, maybe that’s just how it’s always been with you two—balancing on the fine line between pushing and pulling, between sharp words and lingering glances, between pretending you didn’t care, yet feeling everything all at once. 

So easy to cross, so easy to blur, so easy to mistake for something else. 

Maybe you spent all this time thinking you were standing on opposite sides, only to realize you were always moving toward the same place.

And now, as one of his arms moves across your back, the other threading gently through your hair, holding the back of your head against his chest like he never wants to let you go, his heartbeat still steady against yours, you know for certain—

You were never meant to stay on one side. 

You were always meant to cross it. 

Life is unpredictable, uncontrollable, and chaotic.

Lee Heeseung’s life? Heeseung’s life is that times ten, with an extra sprinkle of what-is-even-happening-anymore?

However—

There are three things—three sacred constants—that keep Heeseung from spiraling into total madness.

The first?

Insomnia.

Not by choice, of course.

The second?

Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen and coffee milk.

Yes, it’s a weird combo. And no, he still doesn’t care.

And the third?

You.

And honestly?

You’re the only one he really needs.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

the end! if you made it to the end, i'll ship u some extra spicy hellfire ramen & coffee milk rn ! <3 luv u mwahmwahmwah !

<3, addie

m.list here!

tag list pt.1 (luv u all):

@xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaaah @heejamas @jiyeons-closet @sagegreenhairclip @betda @ineedsomezzz @motherscrustytoenailclippings @bussolares @soobnuuy @deluluscenarios @chrrific @vvenusoncasual @rairaiblog @mwahvvis @lveegsoi @desssss-0 @hoonkishoe @sunhyeswife @ilovbeshotaro @dearestdreamies @starry-eyed-bimbo @planetmarlowe @lovialy @ambi01 @elairah @therealmrsbahng @lov4hoon @hollxe1 @lovenha7 @ilovhoonie @coqhee @i03jae @letwiiparkjay @manuosorioh @mintysunoo @amiraazzz @renaishun @enhadd @ikeulove @starniras @heartheejake @zaycie

(bolded didn't let me tag, sorry :( )

[gangplanksorenji]

Her (Risky) Invitation.

Pairing: Chuu x Male Reader

Word Count: 4,432

A/N: Hello Orenjideul! This fic was supposed to be out as a BFH but I got busy so whatever haha. I feel like this should out in the draft hell since my folder's getting stacked and dusted (rip) but anyways, hope you guys like this pretty quick bit.

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The ebullient sounds of the audience roars around the stadium, and you contribute to it with a single percentile. The match is getting exciting at this moment, considering how a single home run changed the course of the game yet someone isn’t in the same boat as you.

“This is pretty boring, argh—” The girl is unfiltered, not giving a care on who may hear her despite her opening pitch earlier that made the crowd erupt in cheers.

“Don’t say that—a wrong word that comes out of your mouth could get you in trouble, Chuu.”

“So?” She raises an eyebrow, following a coy smile as you sigh in little disbelief.

She doesn’t care, and you couldn't care less—her pettiness is something you despise, an attitude worth removing with teaching her a lesson but that won’t even make her learn anything.

“What do you mean ‘so’?”

She brushes you off, looking at the distance, reeking with boredom, and with nothing much for Chuu to say right after, you just avert your attention back to the game where it’s getting spicy.

“You know what—whatever, I’ll go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” You couldn’t care less even if she leaves the stadium (metaphorically, you do, yet realistically, you won’t let her) knowing how you’re getting more hooked with the game in front of you.

Letting Chuu by, you nod to her as she just looks at you and flashes out of your sight, through the door, then averted your attention towards the possible climax of this stupendous game.

“Hope this delivers an exciting ending.” You hope it does, and you’re looking forward to what happens in the next minutes.

---

Almost a home run, and the waves of cheers erupt as the pitcher poises himself to throw the ball until a buzz in your phone piques your attention.

jiwooya__ at 5:58 PM - “come at the restroom rn plsss”

You at 5:59 PM - “why am i gonna go there with u?? something wrong?”

jiwooya__ at 5:58 PM - “yeah, just come over pls pls”

The ephemeral conversation sums up: her needing your help on something, an immediate call for you, and possibly another game from her—you know how this can end and whatever the outcome may be, you would welcome it with open arms because it’s Chuu and you can’t resist her.

You’re quick to get off your seat and excuse yourself, not giving a damn if the game’s getting spicy or not.

“This better not be a waste of my time...” You’re optimistic it won’t be, rather suggestive or not, you’re in positive spirits with what trick she may have up her sleeve.

---

You’re an easy bait and no one can blame you for that—like earlier, you can’t resist Chuu, not even in public places like this and you doubt anyone would care if something may happen here, the eruption of cheers that quakes the stadium says otherwise.

“It’s pretty compact here, don’t you think?”

“It doesn’t look like it—” Chuu’s eyes wander around the bathroom, sensing possible dangers to unveil such profanities. “Besides, this is the perfect place.”

It was all part of your plan, and hers—it was all an act out there, because deep inside, the both of you want to discover the thrill of the underlying threat of being observed, but you’d love to keep all of what’s bound to happen for you and you only.

You’d make it clandestine, a secret that will be locked just between the both of you.

“Can’t wait any longer~” Chuu’s tone teases you, legs uneasy as you could sense her wetness beneath such a hot pair of jeans that accentuates the fine build of her ass. You can’t let yourself die out of impatience, a cruel death that’s not worth as your hands did an audacious move—gripping her ass and pulling her closer to you.

“Me neither.” It’s simple, enough for Chuu to receive the message with clarity as your lips lock hers. An entangled mess comes right after, hungrily exchanging torrid kisses with tongues dancing around gracefully with the aim to taste each other.

She’s insatiable and you can’t wait to just do the unthinkable. Knowing her patience is running low too, she knows this isn’t the reason why the both of you are alone together in a restroom.

“Been wanting this for a while.” Her breath blesses your face, just inches away as her seductive barrage of words comes after, not without her hand finding its way onto your clothed bulge that’s growing with every second that passes.

“Elaborate, Chuu.”

“Huh, you wanna hear the things I want to do with your cock?” She chuckles as you nod, Chuu then fixing her hair and tucking it behind her ear just to whisper these words: I want to stroke your cock until it leaks all over my fingers, then, I’ll suck it sloppily just like you always wanted, and then, you’ll cum all over my face, and it’s not just going to end there, because you’re going to pound me in front of this mirror until you drain your balls into me.

You’re fucked, and you love it. Chuu doesn’t just say it all because she wants to, because she’ll mark her words and she’ll fulfill her needs whatever it takes.

“So, you in?” Simples words as a smirk paints your face, then nodded knowing how much you fucking liked the dirty talk she’s escaped.

She doesn’t need to be commanded, because it’s in her nature to know what she’s an expert at, and she’ll show you why you won’t find a girl like her—she’s just that type of girl. She drops down to her knees, dexterous fingers coming right after, unbuckling your belt and undressing what fabric that just hinders her to her deserved reward. She can undress you with her eyes closed, and with just your boxers as the last bit of defense, she exhales and drops it down with one, swift motion.

Her eyes glimmer in lust and admiration, your erect shaft in sight for her to savor for the umpteenth time. She places her hand around it and brings shivers down in you, the coldness of her hand rivaling the emanating heat of your cock.

She strokes it, you wincing with that hint of pain until she spats on her hand and continues her expertise. “Just want it slow? Give you some room?”

As much as you want to tell her to pacen up her strokes, you want to savor every second of her dexterous talent, a pleasurable drive that’s downright commendable. “Like t-that, Chuu—god, your hands are a blessing.”

“Already stuttering? Oh my, I really did turn you on, hm?” Those doe-eyes that only have innocence as its façade, begs for your answer as she continues her work until the base of your shaft.

“What do you think, hm?” It’s rhetorical and you know it as her laugh says otherwise. She averts her eyes onto your already throbbing cock, leaking such a minuscule amount on the slit where her tongue laps the gifts, making your knees weak.

“I fucking love you—and this cock, god.” Her handjobs are just the side dish, because the main course is being delivered immediately, lips enveloping on a tight snug that earns a moan out of your lips. Her strokes on your base are continuous, massaging the hardness where it stands tall yet you crumble, and it's evident with her lips venturing deeper, almost taking half of your shaft to really test you.

If she’s not careful, she’ll knock down the architecture of your legs, and she’ll pick up the pieces once she’s done. 

She just swirls around your sensitive crown, dethroning your attempts to resist her utter control. She licks with passion unwavering, moreso, her lips sucking you off like a lollipop with a suction that rivals even a vacuum. It doesn’t end there, because she’s just starting this, and she’s not even bobbing her head frantically to the point where the both of you become a mess.

Well, speaking of that, she’s fulfilling her promises, one by one.

“Shit—that feels good, Chuu.” You’re hissing, a hand cradles her head, then your fingers running through her locks as she bobs with a pace that’s moderate, yet her experience shows evidently—her absence of gag reflex, her tongue licking wherever it lands, her hands fondling your balls and her lips that’s wringing out the best bits of pleasure from you. Her bobs are in this recurring pattern to die out the inevitable building inside you—slow, fast, slow—and it’s just perfect, because you’re moaning like you mean and encouraging her that she’s doing great.

“Keep sucking—shit, you’re really a filthy cocksucker, aren’t you?” You taunt her but it falls deaf onto her ears, continuous with her pace and what she’s great at.

Saliva seeps out of her mouth, dripping onto your balls that she’s taking care of, until such a hot pursuit was hindered, ejecting out and looking at you with delight. “I am your filthy cocksucker.”

Then she continues, only this time, she’s locking eyes with you as down she goes, relentless with her oral pursuit of greatness.

Her nails are digging deeper, gripping your thighs harshly yet not enough to mark you, as she’s bobbing more furiously, the saliva staining her orange top and the puddle of worthless clothing of yours—rather rendered as worthless, the intention of the commotion says otherwise. She’s slobbering all over your length, gawking with the succulence as her actions are repeatedly dangerous and rightfully audacious—she doesn’t care if her mascara runs rivulets onto her cheeks or she messes the clothing full of saliva, because all that matters is the fulfillment of the need.

She’s just bringing you down slowly, piece by piece until you break as she’s relentless, but she knows what her limits are, and releases such warmth out with a loud pop.

“Are you close? You’ve been throbbing more than before—like my mouth that much?” She’s igniting you, words that unlock a safe that’s your reservoir, slowly filling in and nearing the end. You’re not going to be under her spell, not this time, and as much as she thinks you’re lying, there will be a single answer to her rhetorical question.

“No and yes, Chuu.”

She’s stroking, wringing it out leisurely and you inevitably grunt as she does so, a mischievous smile directed towards you as she seems appalled with your answer. “Elaborate, please?”

She knows she’s fucking you up, barely got any space to genuinely articulate a sentence, what more about a simple elaboration? Well, it doesn’t matter whether you answer or not, because your earlier reply is enough to stroke her ego, and she’s giving it all, stopping the feverish pumps and letting her mouth do the job.

Let’s be honest, with the suction Chuu provides, the plumpness of her lips and her mouth complementing the shape of your cock, you’re not going anywhere far as the inevitable builds up quick on par with her pace. Albeit the lower ground, she keeps your lower body in check, ultimately powerless to move as all you can do is embrace the warmth she brings. You’re gripping those dark locks as a leverage, not restraint and decelerating her pace because this is the outlet you have to combat the pleasure she delivers.

You want to thrust and fuck her throat just to suffice the filthiness that’s orchestrated at your end, and with those doe-eyes glimmering with lust, she’s quick to assess the situation and nods as her lips just puckers at the tip of your cock.

“Do it—” She laps the drool that dribbles onto your underside, licking fervently as she continues her verbal approval. “—fuck my face—I know you’re dying to do that.” 

With her disheveled look begging to get your job done, you know it’s the green light. She doesn’t need a breather even if you ask her to have one, because she is that addicted to your taste that she can’t bear the vision of being depraved by it even for just a second. Your pace is immediately ruthless, and you wouldn’t give such an introductory act considering how she slobbered all over your length earlier without giving a damn with the mess she can make.

The pace dictated didn’t render herself useless, being used like a toy, but instead battled against your roughness as she bobs repeatedly alongside your thrusts, which makes her falter a little, gagging onto the rapid actions of filth. Your thrust, do a couple and she gags—it’s beautiful, all that pretty countenance just to be ruined within minutes as your control dominates her. Chasing the nearing high, your hands grip a handful of her hair, a leverage to muster greater pace, skin clapping and her repeated gags reverberating around the restroom. 

At this point, someone may suspect something suspicious between the both of you, and thank god her mouth is shut thanks to you because you know how much noise she can create in such a filthy session with you.

“Fucking like t-that, hm?” You tug her hair as she looks up at you with glee beneath the dishevelment, nodding with just those eyes as you continue your assault, yet she never resisted, only carving more.

You’re dying to paint her body with your cum, you really do—nobody can blame you for that, not when her outfit perfectly accentuates a godly figure. Despite that, you can’t just do that immediately when she’s still all dressed but just a mess.

Just a mess. Well, you should really fulfill her needs and add up to the monstrosity.

You pull out as the saliva-sheathed cock is throbbing relentlessly, as Chuu catches her breath but her words contradict her visible struggles.

“Hah—hah, I c-can—can take more of it—fuck me more, please.”

Her grip on your thighs weaken and ultimately, you’ll do what you need to do. 

“But I can’t, Chuu.” Your hand raises her chin, as she smiles and anticipates what you’re about to do. What she had in mind might be right, and you’d know it’s imminent. “Stay fucking there and make me cum.”

She does what she’s told to and does it with eagerness. You’re on your wit’s end as Chuu’s fingers wrap around them and muster a velocity unparalleled, slick with her drool and messing her up. She closes her eyes as she knows what’s about to come, and she embraces it.

White, pearlescent streaks paint her porcelain skin, splattering and coating almost every feature of her face as her awaiting mouth receives plenty of her reward. She hums in satisfaction with what you’ve given her, the warmth complementing the hotness the both of you are in and the succulent taste that she’s been yearning for quite some time.

This is far from over and she knows it, but for now, you marvel at the fruit you bear—an outstanding sight, her face covered with your cum and it’s filthy in all of the right places.

She parts her lips, hitches a breath and opens her eyes just to meet yours painted with utter satisfaction. Sweat forms on your forehead and it’s worth effort, ruining her in a space where risk lingers around the corner.

Even with the marvelous sight, you’re still not done with her, and she knows that.

“Get up.”

“Why?”

“You know why.” You didn’t hesitate to outpower her, grabbing her by the wrists and flipping her over, facing the mirror. “And I’m fucking you up to get the job done.”

You meant it, and she gets herself ready.

Your eyes just darts onto her fine ass accentuated by those tight jeans (thankfully), its scrumptious volume allowing you to really test its integrity with a single, harsh spank that makes her yelp, and bite her lip. You see it in the mirror, a clear vision that she’s genuinely enjoying this and so you did another until you know to yourself that you shouldn’t play with your food.

You tug, she wiggles and you spank. It repeats for another time as the lust emanates the air the second that inviting face of hers exactly points out her reasons to fuck her—it doesn’t get any better than this and you know it, you’re damn impatient as much as she is. You undress her pants slowly, down to its ankles as your cock throbbed to the sight of a monumental wonder of nature and you’re glad to see it firsthand, nobody being blessed as much as you are. 

“Red ones, hm?”

“Like what you’re seeing? It’s your favorite shade.” Chuu knows you well, and you can’t lie. You just can’t help the fact that this looks like she orchestrated herself for you to fuck her publicly, anticipating with the right moment of the possible embarrassment to come and risk of being caught.

“You’re really a fucking slut—you did this intentionally, didn’t you? You wanted me to fuck you at this very day, hm?” More spanks wrings out cries at her end, a sweet disposal of the masked pleasure. She laughs and kept that gleeful face on hers, nodding because you debunking her sole reasons was just a piece of cake.

“You alwa—o–oh! Fuck, t-that’s great…” She grows weak, the second finger teasing the cameltoe formed onto those panties, feeling her wetness evident as her hands grasp the concrete of the sink and close her eyes.

“Keep d-doing that—oh!” 

“Grab the sink, Chuu.”

“What—ow!” You spank as your command renders deaf on her ears, the pleasure finally getting into her and she’s submitting slowly to you faster than you’ve expected.

“I’m fucking you with my fingers—be ready. Grab the fucking sink.” She does what she’s told to, gripping tighter as you plunge a finger, half with its depth and she moans in reply—that alone is the driving force to tease her, plunging another just to elicit that same, sexy moan you love hearing. 

You thrust in and out, a repeated process that orchestrates sounds in such a rhythmical and discordant pattern even with such a benign way of introducing yourself into her clit. You swipe and slowly make her descend down to her carnal desires, and your eyes sparkle with each passing second that passes, drooling with the fact how much it turns you on to see her dripping, glistening under the lights and her legs shuddering due to your own actions.

Guess you need to really start the show, for the better for both worlds.

Chuu knows you can’t contain it anymore, unleashing the beast, setting up the pace and going to “home-run” all over her backside—

“Fuck!” She swears at you, laced in goodness of what she’s feeling as your exposed lengths envelops another eventful paradise, plunging in deep and withdrawing with just the tip resting in it. The pace is sluggish, much intended for your comfort rather than hers, getting accustomed to her tightness that still surprises you until this day. You hold her hips and she holds the side of the sink tighter as your thrusts grow harsher and deeper, the profoundness driving you into insanity as Chuu spews profanities that reverberate around the puny restroom. It’s not just her dulcet tone that is an ear-candy, but also the clapping of your bodies against each other, a sound that adds to the erotic soundtrack that’s purely an abomination, your greatest creation.

She grows louder and it alerts you, so with an immediate action against it, the domination truly shows and it starts with you reprimanding her. “Shut y-yourself or we’re going to be fucked and you’re not gonna like it—do you understand?”

It’s surprising how articulate you could still be even with thrusts nigh-unbearable. Your other hand is occupied shutting her mouth up, letting her muffled screams vibrate on your hand as her eyes portray the sight of being satisfied, and it’s all shown in the mirror just to fuel you to take it into the extremes. It will be, but you’re still having the semblance of humanity left to just fuck her in a pace that she can take but if she talk right now,  you know that she’ll beg for more and she won’t break—the former, an absolute chant yet the latter can be debatable.

Thank god the cheers and the sounds outside rivals the absolute sinful cacophonies the both of you muster, and you’re thanking the blessing in disguise with that. With the climax of the game being evident outside thanks to the sounds of the audience, now brings the opportunity to bring spanks onto her butt that makes her grit her teeth in pain and pleasure.

You let go of your hand on her mouth to let those beautiful moans out for your ears to be blessed again, and she wails in pleasure with your pace and the harshness your hand makes contact with her ass. The sight of a rosy hue is the fruit of your efforts, and the events occurring in such a stingful session is a sight to see—a jiggle of her ass was enough to make you riled up even more.

You’re gripping her hips and you can foresee what can be her—

“Shit! Fuck, more, more! G-god, just fuck me real g-good…” Chuu is utterly fucked and she’ll thank you for it. She snapped and there she goes, you reading her like a book—she’s going to beg for more and with her numerous pleas that isn’t even registering in her head totally, you fulfill it anyways knowing it’s the route that you’ll inevitably pass.

“Fuck m-me—my ass—shit, more!” Your hips muster a velocity that is uncertain, but ultimately frantic and in for no-return. Her juices just stain the tiles and thank god you still have some time to discard her pants away to the sinful scene where her nectar will fall into, and at that point you know you’re breaking her apart slowly. At this point, Chuu is just blabbering with nonsensical jumbled pieces of existing words that will soon be more incoherent when you put the final in the coffin.

“You fucking like that, huh?” She nods in the mirror, those cum-glazed lips smiling after as she closes her eyes, savoring whatever that’s stimulating her and the pleasure you’re bringing all over her body.

“God, fuck! Ah, you’re crazy!” You pull her hair and make it as a leverage for you to fuck her truly. The pain stings but is translated as pleasure the second she feels it, and it’s evident because she’s been secretly talking about it and with the live reaction, oh, it’s all right there for you to hear.

You spank her and she bites her lip, you hissing at her remarks. “What did I say? Shut your fucking mouth.”

You’re vulgar and she didn’t care, even dropping the honorifics when you’re dropping her pants. You thrust repeatedly until burying it deep in her, making her moan so sultry and cry in pleasure, as lean towards her and whispered, “You want my cum again, hm?”

You slowly oscillate your hips, kissing her nape and ear as she replies an audible yes that enables the green light for the denouement of this spectacular show—spoiler: you did this before and you’ll never get tired of doing it again.

You pull yourself back, grab Chuu’s waist and run your hands towards her clothed tits, caressing it as she moans with your actions and cries once you return to your original pace. It went for possibly twenty seconds that felt like minutes on how heavenly she feels until you lean towards her again, this time, announcing the very thing she wants to hear again.

“I’m going to fucking cum, Chuu.”

You’re nearing the end and it won’t be in her pussy.

Well, here are the reasons why: firstly, you don’t want people to see your reward marked onto her pants and that would be unhygienic; second, she haven’t earned that luxury yet as per the situation the both of you are in; third, it’s a damn risk to it knowing it’s a sudden invitation by Chuu because you don’t want to risk these things; and lastly, you might just need to add up to the mess on her face you plastered all over her earlier.

Reasonable arguments, and it’s easier to be done than being said.

She doesn’t argue with your principles and wants, but eagerly obliges as she brings herself down to her knees again, stares at you with anticipation and her mouth agape. You know she really does know what she’s doing when she’s initiating the actions, stroking your cock frantically as your knees shake a little due to the pleasure her hands bring.

“Come on—cum on my face, right he—” She doesn’t need to finish her sentence when yours does, spurting strings and strings of cum on her already disheveled face, flinching whenever it gets on her forehead and savors with her hums when it gets on her tongue and lips. With the final orgasm that possibly lasted about ten seconds, she still wrings out the leftover cum in your slit, even licking it clean to savor your succulence, then smiling towards you because of the gratification.

“God, you still came a lot…” She still grips your length, admiring it as she slowly strokes it for good measure as an ending.

“It’s all your fault, Chuu.” You reply back, chuckling as the both of you exchange smiles. Chuu licks her lips and wipes her face full of your cum, the messy liquid being tasted by hers and she commends that taste, and you roll your eyes because of that.

Now, with the adrenaline diminishing slowly, the both of you are grasping the situation as the both of you get dressed up quickly, and Chuu is cleaning up the mess you’ve made on her face.

“Shit—I’m sorry, Chuu—was I too rough? Sorry if I came too much—”

“No, no, it’s fine—I can retouch and reason with them later. You got me pretty sore though.” Her bubbly smile takes effect and reassures you, and you trust what she can do to reason herself out of this mess. You got her ready and you know it’s still a risk even going out, even with the busy atmosphere around the stadium.

Chuu just smiles at you, smirking even with a single sentence that follows. “We should do these things again, I never knew it would be this fun…”

You’d be truly damned if it was to be fulfilled but you’re foreseeing the inevitable, and it’s just about when would be the next time such sin would happen.

[sanemistar]

contents ★ husband!satoru x wife!reader, fluff, established relationship, mentions of pregnancy (i kinda have a baby fever rn), satoru gojo’s birthday special. 0.7k+ wc. ﾉ author’s message: since it’s satoru’s birthday today here’s a cute little special drabble for my beloved <33 back ★ jjk m.list

satoru hasn’t ever really paid any special attention to nor cared about his birthday, it’s been just a regular day to him. nothing special to celebrate, he’d just be a year older. that’s all that is to it.

it’s been like that, until you’d stepped into the picture and changed his life entirely. ever since he got together with you and his birthday has been a day full of surprises and precious memories that he swears to himself he’ll treasure for the rest of his life. it’s all thanks to you that satoru now has a reason to look forward to his birthday every year.

satoru is away on a quick mission, so you decide to take the chance of your husband coming back home late tonight and make his birthday cake yourself. since it’s the first time you celebrate his birthday as his wife, so you wanted to make something special this year. you’re currently in the kitchen, preparing the ingredients and the things you need to make the cake. you carefully place everything on the counter as you start working right away.

once you’re done with the cake, you place it on the table before you start hanging the decorations on the wall and setting the mood. the theme is obviously blue because it’s the color you associate him with the most. when you’re finished with that, you quickly get yourself ready and dress up as you wait for your husband to get back home. you can’t help but feel so excited to see him when he gets back because you have a special gift for him this year, you’re announcing your pregnancy. you’ve only found out about it just recently so you thought his birthday would be the perfect timing for the announcement.

not too long after you’ve gotten dressed you hear the jingling sound of satoru’s keys, signaling his arrival. luckily, you manage to turn off the lights last minute.

“baby? you here?” he calls for you, but you don’t respond. he keeps looking around trying to find you when you turn on the lights, appearing in front of him with the cake held in your hands.

“happy birthday toru!” you shout enthusiastically with a cheeky smile on your face. and satoru just couldn’t help but laugh at the cute little act of yours. he thanks you before he approaches you and gives your forehead a kiss as he places his hands on your waist.

the two of you sit down and eat the cake together.

“you know, i made it myself.” you say proudly

“so that’s why this year’s cake is so special. thanks, babe. you’re the best.” he replies before taking another bite.

“the cake might not be the only special thing of the day.” you ominously tell him. you can clearly see the slight confusion and anticipation on his face.

“what do you mean?” he asks curiously, waiting to know what you’re talking about. you take his hand and place it on your stomach.

“next year it won’t be just you and me, a little one is joining us.” you grab his other hand and entwine it with your own. “i’m pregnant, honey.” you happily announce your pregnancy to your husband.

“wait wait.. for real? babe, are you sure? am i gonna be a dad?” he asks, clearly still shocked by the sudden announcement. you nod as you bring him the ultrasound pictures of your baby as a confirmation.

you’re standing there right in front of satoru, watching how he’s reacting while eagerly waiting for his response. his reaction is a bit delayed due to his brain taking some time to process the news but once it hits him he lets go of your hand only to pull you close to him in a tight hug as he spins you around.

“this is the best thing i could ever ask for.. you have no idea how much i’ve been waiting for this, to have a family with you.” he says emotionally as a few happy tears escape from his eyes.

“you’ll be the best dad ever, toru. i love you.” you rest your hands on the side of his cheeks as you gently wipe away his fallen tears. he smiles softly, his hands placed on your waist as he leans closer to you. faces are only a few inches apart.

“i love you more than anything, babe. thanks for always making my birthday a day worth celebrating, i wouldn’t have it any other way.” he says before his lips capture yours in a passionate, loving kiss.

satoru is already looking forward to celebrating his next birthday with you and his little one.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @unriding @lxnarphase @sylusdoll @itachiiwrites @itoshivy @17020 @creamflix @luv-lies @suguru-getos

[robobarbie]

I turned 30 today!!! Happy birthday to ME!!!! Here's a picture of me with the guy I've been dating. He's kinda like a mix of Toasty and Quest -- a glorious combo.

It's been a while since I posted here, so I figured a 30th birthday is the perfect time for a short little reflective post. Can't believe I'm older than all the BP LIs now -- crazy stuff!!!!

Anyway. Here's some things I recommend from experiences in my 20s.

1. Try therapy

As y'all know, I've pulled back from a lot of stuff online. I've been going through a bit of a life reset since 2022, but it started really getting better when I finally ripped the bandaid off and started therapy in 2023. It wasn't an easy start, but it's helped me actually address bad habits within myself that I thought (incorrectly) I was dealing with well on my own. It's freeing. It's humbling. It's made me excited for what's ahead.

2. Exercise

I started working out seriously in my mid-20s and went through waves of how active I was. But when I was active, I saw a noticeable difference in my mood and energy, especially when it came to managing my misophonia. It's not a cure-all, but it is a great boost that helps me through each week. I focus on weight training and love it for the challenge 💪 do whatever feels best to you!

3. Accept not being "the best"

Like many of you, I grew up pretty smart and that led to a lot of feelings of personal failure if I fucked up in even the smallest ways that made me look "lesser" (non-perfect scores on tests, failing to understand concepts my coworkers got easily, etc). This even used to bleed into game dev, where suddenly a lot of people looked up to me after BP. Learning to let go of that pressure was freeing. I am not a figure on a mountain top -- I am just me.

4. Keep your hobbies fun

I hated game dev for a while because of things like in #3. It became something I had to do to maintain some arbitrary status instead of something I did for fun. It was hard to recognize that in myself and correct it, but I'm glad I did. So, sorry Adonia AI is taking longer than I thought, but I am simply loving life too much rn!!!! And I love game dev again too, which is the best realization of all.

5. Spend time with people

It gets harder to make close friends as you get older. People get busy. Life gets hectic. You get tired. But making the effort to spend time with people is important. Study after study shows that the healthiest and happiest people as they age are those who have good bonds with other people. And I can definitely feel that.

-----------

Love y'all. Stay healthy and stay safe 💚

[ditzybeee]

❥・Jason Todd — high school bf

❥・tags: jason todd blurb, jason todd is a loverboy, jason todd is a loser, high school sweethearts, gn!reader, no use of y/n, implied dialogue, loosely based on me and my bf :3

❥・word count: 636

❥・─────────────────────

Jason Todd is crushing hard.

The two of you met freshman year and he couldn't get you out of his head since.

He, of course, went through the painful process of friends-to-lovers. Because he'd rather make sure you liked him—a lot—before considering flirting.

Not that you'd know it.

He was bad at it. He was so, so bad at it.

Stupid lines from his stupid novels. Did you even read Jane Austen?

Never mind that you thought it was cute—you thought he was cute—lucky him.

When Jason asked you out, it couldn't be less cheesy. Full bouquet of flowers—which he didn't burden you with holding for the school day—and a bunch of your favorite snacks, which you promptly shoved into your bag before your teachers questioned them.

Newly dating and he was so excited. Nervous and sweaty palmed holding your hand in his, smiling ear to ear.

He'd walk you to class, even if it's across campus.

Sure, a few tardies would damage his perfect record, but he can't afford you missing your classes.

Dates with Jason were something else. Bruce had Dick chaperone the first few—either that or the dates were at the manor. Not that he didn't trust you, but he didn't trust Jason.

And he wanted to see his second son awkwardly maneuver speaking to his own partner.

Jason shared his first kiss with you on his first non-chaperoned date. A picnic some spring day in which he kept sneezing because of the pollen, mumbling about how badly he looked.

You stared at him in awe, giggling, and helping him wipe his face.

He was so, so in love with you that he whispered if he could kiss you, and quickly did when you accepted.

As high school continued, your relationship blossomed.

Both families trusted the other to keep their child safe when they slept over, to send the two of you to different cities and states for events, and to allow trips.

Jason first said "I love you" when he saw you in your dance attire. Sure, he's seen you in formal wear before. But this? This takes the cake.

He kissed you quickly, whispering the three words into your ear before Alfred made you two pose for pictures.

This same scenario repeated every time the two of you had a dance.

Every dance, every school event, every club meeting, you and Jason were there together.

It was about junior year when he told you about Robin and how he was thinking of changing it to Red Hood once you two graduated. He took your pointers for his new costume design—after a week-long argument about him being a vigilante and how dangerous it was.

He asked you to prom in a long-winded text message—multiple questions of whether you wanted a public promposal—it was obvious he used speech-to-text, and the message mirrored his speech patterns.

The dance was great. Dinner was delicious and the night was equal parts your boyfriend and equal parts your friends.

The days leading up to graduation were full of anxiety and joy.

You and Jason would stay out well past your curfews—which were basically obsolete, as both families didn't enforce it, as long as you were with each other—and just hang out.

You'd talk about your plans after high school—college, trade school, straight to work?

He'd mumble soft praises against your skin as you ramble about your ambitions, mirroring your energy when you asked about his vigilante plans.

Graduation—Jason's eyes hadn't been dry for a single second that day. He sobbed when you walked across the stage, when you cheered just as loudly for him, and when he saw you in your graduation gown all dressed up.

Jason loves the title "high school sweethearts".

❥・─────────────────────

❥・a/n: im feelin soft for my boy rn :( obvi no trauma au if he never DIED <3 more smut soon tho! i wont have internet the week after this coming week so ill try and get as much stuff out as possible!

❥・masterlist

[bontentrio]

ATEEZ STUCK IN THE FRIENDZONE

ot8 x gn reader

summary: they are down bad for their best friend

tw: mostly fluff, maybe angst. also alcoholic drinks and being drunk in yeosang’s and wooyoung’s. parts. (+ possible spelling mistakes since english is not my first language!)

a/n: friends to lovers > any other tropes lol also requests are open rn!!

part 2: hongjoong + seonghwa | yunho + yeosang | san + mingi | wooyoung + jongho

HONGJOONG

hongjoong felt helpless. he didn’t know if you were messing with him on purpose or if you were genuinely clueless to his feelings, but he is sure he’s about to lose his mind. how much more will he be able to take of your soft touches on his skin? or how close to his face you would get when you wanted to show him something on your phone?

everything would change if he just closed the distance between you two. or if he said those three dangerous words that had been appearing in his mind every time he saw you. three words. one kiss. or both?

“joong, are you with me?” you asked suddenly, pulling him out of his thoughts. he blinked rapidly and nodded “something about buying a new laptop right?”

you hummed in response, shoving your phone in his face while scooting closer. “i think i like this pink one, it’s so very cute, but do you think it will be able to take all the digital material for class and all my sims expansions? or should i just go with the boring one that has more storage?” you asked, looking at him. it took everything in him to not kiss you right then and there, so instead, he bit his lip, pretending to think about it.

“i mean, you can always personalize it with stickers so it’s less boring” he suggested. your eyes immediately widened, not having thought about that option. “hongjoong you are a genius! i can’t believe it didn’t cross my mind”

“i know you like the back of my hand y/n” he said in a whisper, but you heard him nonetheless.

“that’s why you’re my best friend, you always complement me” you said, smiling and returning to your seat beside him, as you started purchasing the ‘boring’ laptop.

hongjoong never wanted to bang his head against a wall more.

SEONGHWA

“so he told her that she was the crazy one! can you believe that, hwa?” you asked, crossing your arms as you walked beside him. you have been rambling non stop about what happened to one of your friends and her now ex boyfriend. “bold of him to accuse her of being crazy when he was the one that cheated with her cousin” he answered, turning his head towards you and smiling.

“right, thank you! that’s exactly what i told her!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms in the air dramatically. “i swear guys are so dumb these days”

“the dumbest” he said, chuckling.

“not you of course, you are always the exception whenever i talk about men and their stupidness” you said, patting his shoulder lightly in a friendly manner. seonghwa’s heart skip a beat. he wanted to be an exception, he wanted you to realize his feelings so bad and for you to reciprocate them.

“trust me, i would not be friends with a dumb man” you continued, now grabbing his arm and leaning your head against it. “i genuinely think you are the only exception”.

he was about to start jumping from joy, were you about to realize how meant to be you both are? how you both were each other’s ‘exceptions’?

“i think you’re an exception too” he said, testing the waters as he stopped in his tracks, causing you to lift your head up to look at him. you smiled, and he swore his heart stopped beating for a second.

“of course i am! that’s why we’re best friends, hwa!” you exclaimed happily. in contrast, he internally screamed, hope slipping through his fingers slowly.

YUNHO

it was a sort of tradition to have game night every week in order to de-stress, followed by a slumber party of two. you would bring snacks and drinks, and yunho would provide the tv, playstation and games. it was the perfect arrangement.

tonight was no different: you were lying on the coach with your legs resting on top of yunho’s lap, as you quickly pressed on the buttons of your customized controller that he had gifted you for your last birthday. meanwhile, he played with his spider man joystick, silently cursing whenever he got hit by enemies.

“noo yunho i’m down! come and revive me!” you groaned when your character died. he chuckled in response “you are really bad at this game, y/n”.

you playfully hit his arm and rolled your eyes “i would be better if someone covered for me instead of running off!” you said. “i was getting supplies!” he complained, making his character bring you back to life. before he was done though, another player killed him. “what were you saying about my gaming skills, baby?” you asked, playfully.

yunho.exe stopped working, as every time you called him that nickname. he knew that you were just being friendly, but he couldn’t help how fast his heart would start beating each time. for you, it was just a word. but for him? the nickname meant everything: hope. hope that someday you will use the nickname in a way that would trascend friendship. hope that someday, you will realize his feelings and reciprocate them.

maybe if you used the word often enough, you would soon realize it.

YEOSANG

the first time you kissed was a drunken mistake. you both took one too many shots at san’s birthday party, and one thing lead to another and you ended up straddling his lap as you hungrily kissed him. despite his *very* drunk state, yeosang was over the moon, hoping this would change the direction of your friendship.

he realized how wrong he was when he woke up the morning after with a text from you that said “i hope that last night doesn’t change anything between us, i’m sorry”. he knew you were probably spiraling into the worst case scenarios, so he thought it would be healthier to just leave it there, for now at least. “we’re still friends, don’t worry” he texted back, hating himself for being a coward.

the second time was a dare at some party you attended of a mutual friend. he was the designated driver, and you knew he would have a hard time dragging his drunk friends back back to the car, so you offered to stay sober with him. he told you that it wasn’t necessary, earning a warm smile from you as you replied “that’s what best friends are for”.

the music was loud and the place was filled with drunk people, some making out in corners of the room, others engaging in incomprehensible conversations. yeosang and you were gathered in a circle with your friends as you played some sort of truth or dare game. it was mingi’s turn to spin the empty bottle of beer, having just finished his dare. to your misfortune, it landed on you.

“truth” you answered, earning groans from your friends, complaining about how ‘boring’ that option is. “y/n you picked truth last time! it’s dare time” mingi said in between giggles. “ugh fine, dare then i guess” you said, rolling your eyes as a smile creeped on your face.

“i dare you to kiss someone from this circle” he said, quickly glancing at yeosang, who immediately paled. you blushed, meditating your options for a moment before turning to your best friend. “we kissed once and remained friends. please don’t let this change”, you said, crashing your lips against his.

and he was, once again, over the moon, choosing to ignore the last part of that sentence.

SAN

“sannie!” you exclaimed, running up to him and throwing your arms around his neck. his arms immediately wrapped around you, holding you in place as he hid his face on your neck, inhaling your scent in discretion. it’s been too long since he last saw you, felt you near him. “i missed you so much, san! tell me everything about the tour”

you spent the afternoon talking about his adventures while on tour, showing you pictures of different places and telling you funny anecdotes of his members. each time he finished a story, you would smile so big and radiantly he found himself trying to control his heartbeat from racing. you also told him about how you were doing, of course! he wanted to know every new detail in your life, even though he knew many of the updates since you both regularly texted.

“i missed this” he confessed, before adding “i missed you”. your eyes softened at his words, taking his hand on yours. “i missed you too, sannie. it’s hell not being able to see your best friend every day as usual” you said. unbeknownst to you, you had just broken his heart a little with that last part. he just nodded, giving you a small smile.

on tour he felt your absence in words he couldn’t describe, always reaching for you when you weren’t there or aching to just grab his phone and call you. so, he decided he had enough of that. he was determined to tell you his feelings.

“actually, i bought something for-“ he started saying, but got interrupted by your phone vibrating beside you. “sorry, hold on” you said, before picking up. a smiled immediately appeared on your face, lighting up your whole aura as you talked back to whoever was on the phone with you. san couldn’t be more in love with you.

“sorry sannie, i have to leave. i thought my date cancelled tonight but apparently will be able to make it on time. so i have to leave right now to get ready for it” you explained.

his heart broke once again, letting go of the silver necklace he had bought for you. maybe another time, or maybe he was already too late.

MINGI

you were starting to get annoyed, and mingi knew it. you stood in front of him, crossing your arms as you looked at him questioningly. “i just don’t understand why you won’t let me read your songs”, you complained.

mingi sighed in response, leaving his notebook on the table beside him. “because it’s personal, y/n”. you rolled your eyes in annoyance, not believing a single word that came out of his mouth. “oh so now it’s personal? wasn’t it also personal when you, without my knowledge may i add, read my diary?” you argued back.

“that was different and you know it! i literally didn’t even know it was your diary” he said. “plus you forgave me for that!”

on normal circumstances, he would let you read his song notebook as many times as you wanted, hell, he would even sing/rap the verses for you. but ever since he realized that the meaning behind those songs revolved around you, about how you, his best friend, were his main source of inspiration, he decided to never let those songs see the light of day. unless until he was ready. what if you were repulsed? what if you decided he was creepy and distanced yourself from him? he didn’t even want to think about those scenarios.

“yes i did, but that doesn’t change the fact that you still read about my deepest thoughts and-“ you started saying, before your eyes widened and your voice started stuttering “wait. do you- do you actually not trust me? do you think i would leak the songs to the media?”

mingi honestly couldn’t believe what he was hearing. or worse, what you said next: “is this also why you’ve been avoiding me?”. mingi felt like punching himself, had he been avoiding you unconsciously? he knew he started keeping his distance a bit more, not replying as quick and not visiting as often as before. but he thought the changes were not noticeable by you.

you stared at him, tears forming slowly but surely on your eyes, as you tried so hard to keep them from falling. mingi was looking down, too lost on his thoughts. you waited a few moments, before muttering a low “i would never do that to you, mingi”.

he realized you were gone when he heard the door closing behind you.

WOOYOUNG

“if looks could kill, that guy would be long dead” yunho said, wrapping an arm around wooyoung as he smiled teasingly. he huffed, not taking his eyes from you and the random guy that had been keeping you entertained for longer than appreciated.

you were just getting drinks from the bar, but a random guy approached you suddenly and stole your attention before wooyoung could do something about it. you didn’t look uncomfortable, so it’s not like he could just walk up to you and steal you away. you weren’t even “his” to steal to begin with, his official title being “my bestest friend in the whole world” as you would say. a title that he, in fact, despised.

“you can always intervene you know? i mean they were supposed to get you a drink” yunho pointed out before sipping from his beer can. wooyoung looked at him. then looked back at you. his decision was made the moment he saw the man reach for your waist.

“love, what’s taking my drink so long?” he asked as soon as he approached you at the bar, stealing you away from the man and wrapping his arm around your waist instead. you turned to him, unknowing of his true intentions “oh my god woo i forgot! here it is, i’m sorry”

but wooyoung’s eyes didn’t leave the man, who immediately averted his gaze. “i didn’t know you had a boyfriend” the man said, glancing back at you. “he’s actually my best-“ you started saying but wooyoung interrupted you.

“boyfriend, yes. i think you should leave” .

JONGHO

jongho felt your arms wrap around him from behind the coach, pulling him back and stilling him in his place. he looked up at you and smiled softly, as you looked down with the same kind of smile. then, both of your attention was drifted back to wooyoung, who was dramatically telling a story about how hongjoong almost lost his laptop again.

“correction: someone stole it the first time, i didn’t lose it” hongjoong pointed out, earning a laugh from you. as cheesy as it seems, jongho truly believed that it is his favorite sound.

actually, you were his favorite everything: favorite person, favorite singer (despite only hearing you sing in the car or shower), favorite cook. the sound of your voice and laugh was his favorite, along with the way your face expressed clearly how you were feeling at the moment. to him, you were an open book, his favorite book.

the only problem was that he wasn’t sure if he was yours. yes, you were closer to him than with the rest, often confiding in him with your deepest secrets. you built an irreplaceable bond with him, one that he was truly afraid to break if he told you about his feelings. so for now, he settled with enjoying the skinship you offered.

getting too entertained by the dramatic scenery displayed in front of you, neither of you noticed mingi looking at your small, almost unconscious, interactions.

“hey how come we never get to hug you without getting kicked, jongho?” mingi asked, making everyone take notice of the way you were hugging and resting your head on jongho’s, as he traced his fingers along your arms.

“best friend privileges” you answered, noticing the way jongho flinched while he tried to think of a quick way to answer. what you didn’t know, was that your explanation made him want to scream. “oh really? isn’t it because-“ mingi started teasing, only to be interrupted by jongho abruptly standing up to kick him jokingly as he screamed, trying to block what he was trying to say.

he was willing to die with the secret that he had fallen deeply and stupidly in love with his favorite everything.

[l-starsz]

please more sex with getting caught its so hot maybe billie pounding reader from behind and they get caught

a/n: i stayed up extra late to finish writing this so i really hope its good🥲 i’m so tired that my eyes are slowly closing rn, it’s almost 5am, if there are any mistakes please please ignore them because i’m not awake enough to notice🙏 this request was so good though oh my goshhh

billie and i had been preparing for the last hour to go see her family. it always took me a while to get ready, hence why we were getting ready over an hour in advance. when it was almost time to leave, billie walked in the room. she was wearing a baggy shirt, along with baggy jeans, and she looked perfect. i groaned and reached out towards her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her against me.

"you look so beautiful, baby." i whispered.

i saw her smile as she pressed a kiss on top of my head, before speaking, "you look even more beautiful, my love. my pretty baby."

finneas and claudia were going to be there, along with some close family friends. i was really looking forward to catching up with everyone, and getting to spend time with them. i looked up at billie and smiled, until she spoke again.

"we have to leave in a minute, okay? otherwise we'll be late."

i nodded and let go of her waist, quickly finishing what i was doing before getting up to put my shoes on. it wasn't too long before we left the house. the drive wasn't too long since they lived pretty close, but the entire way there, billies hand stayed firm against my thigh. we had quiet music playing, but after around fifteen minutes, we were there.

as soon as she'd parked up, we walked straight inside and i immediately greeted everyone with quick hugs. whilst some of the people there were helping with dinner, me and billie were sat next to eachother on the sofa catching up with everyone. we had offered to help but maggie convinced us to sit down. it’d been a while since we’d seen them. the tv was playing quietly, but nobody was really paying attention to it, more interested in their own conversations.

it wasn’t too long before dinner was ready, and everyone sat around the table, many different conversations surrounding me as i joined in with a few of them every so often. the night went by super quick, and once everyone had left except for us, still talking to her parents, we realised how late it was. i stretched before nudging billie.

“we should probably head home, it’s getting kind of late.” i mumbled.

“shittt,” she groaned as she checked the time, “ugh I don’t wanna drive, i’m tired.” she rolled her eyes and shuffled closer to me, resting her head on my shoulder.

her parents must’ve overheard the conversation between us, because maggie suggested something that wasn’t a bad idea at all.

“why don’t you both just stay here for the night? it’s no bother for us, we love when you guys stay over.”

i glanced at billie at the same time she’d looked over at me. i gave her a questioning look as she nodded at me.

“that’d be great, thank you both so much! are you sure?” i just wanted to confirm, although they said it was fine, i wanted to be sure.

maggie and patrick both nodded, as me and billie thanked them. after the movie that’d been playing on tv came to an end, we went to billies old room, changing into clothes that were still in her wardrobe. what i didn’t expect to see was billie turning around to face me, with the strap attached around her hips.

“what the fuck is that doing around your waist baby?” i giggled as a smile came to her face.

“well uh- funny story.. i wanted to use it on you when we got home, so i decided it would be easier to have it on so that it was ready, but that can’t happen now.” she laughed, looking down at the ground as her cheeks turned pink.

i shook my head, still laughing as i reached over to help her take it off, whilst her hands made their way to my waist.

when we finally got into bed, we spent a bit of time talking to eachother obviously, and went on our phones. i was practically falling asleep when billie decided it was time to get up and properly get ready for bed. we did a little bit of skincare since we didn’t have our usual stuff with us, and we plaited eachothers hair so that it was out of the way while we slept, then brushed our teeth. when we finally got back in bed, we were both asleep almost immediately.

i woke up pretty early, in billies arms, my head resting on her chest whilst one of her arms was wrapped gently around me. her free hand was holding her phone, scrolling through different apps while she waited for me to wake up. i mumbled a good morning to her to catch her attention, as i buried my face into the crook of her neck.

“good morning angel, did you sleep good?” her fingers traced little patterns on my back underneath the oversized shirt i was wearing.

i nodded against her and held her tighter, before replying quietly.

“did you sleep okay?”

“i did, thank you, love. missed you though when i was waiting for you to wake up.” she almost whispered the last part.

“oh really? and what were you thinking about when i was still sleeping, hm?” i smirked, knowing exactly what she was hinting at.

“oh you knowww.. i was just thinking about the strap that you took off me last night, i mean its just laying on the floor doing nothing, just wondering if maybe we could put it to use?” she smiled, looking into my eyes as she spoke.

“right now? here? can’t you wait until we’re home bil?” i whispered, lifting my head from her neck and looking up at her.

“we can be quick baby. pleaseee, i’ve been desperate since yesterday when i put it on. you just need to be quiet for me.”

as much as i was worried about getting caught, we both knew that i needed it too. i was just as desperate as her, if not more. i thought about it for a few seconds, wondering if it was really a good idea, but i couldn’t fight the feeling. we both would’ve been unbearably horny if we didn’t do anything about in right in that moment, and that would’ve ended bad. i knew that if we waited, billie would’ve been teasing me all day until we were home, leaving me more needy.

“okay bil. but if i get too loud you need to tell me to shut up, i don’t want your parents hearing us. that’d be so awkward.” i giggled, rolling off her body and letting her get up to grab the strap, which had been discarded on the floor.

“okay, angel.” she laughed.

when she’d grabbed the strap, and walked back over to the bed, her lips almost immediately found mine. as we were making out, she slowly sat on the bed next to me, one of her hands on my cheek, whilst the other one made its way down my body, and tugged at the waistband of my shorts. her fingers snuck underneath, grazing the top of my underwear before moving back up to my stomach. i arched my back closer to her, trying to convince her to move her fingers lower again so that she could feel how wet she’d made me in such a short amount of time. it was no use though, her hand only moved higher up, moving under my shirt and reaching my boobs. she grasped at them for a few short minutes, before we were pulling away from eachother for air, and that was when it fully started.

when she looked into my eyes, her hands reached for the bottom of my shirt, pulling it up so that my boobs were on display for her. my nipples hardened as the cool air hit them, which just enticed her more. her lips wrapped around one of my nipples, sucking and slightly biting as her fingers found the other one. this continued for a minute or so before she switched sides, making sure both of my tits got equal attention.

it wasn't long before her fingers were pulling the waistband of my shorts again whilst she marked my chest. she pulled away from me to pull my shorts and underwear off in one swift motion, leaving me almost completely naked for her, the only thing left on my body was my shirt (her shirt) but that was pulled up. i was completely exposed. my cheeks heated up as i realised she could literally see all of me.

i whined and reached out for her, trying to pull at the clothes she was wearing.

“you want me to take these off, baby?”

i nodded at her, a desperate whine falling from my lips as she smirked at how needy i was becoming, all for her. she stood up momentarily, pulling her clothes off and dropping them on the floor with my shorts, forming a small pile of discarded clothes. as she sat back down on the bed, she started trailing her kisses down my body, starting at my lips, working her way down until she reached my clit. she placed a small gentle kiss against it before two of her fingers ran through my soaked folds. she moved my wetness around, spreading it everywhere until it coated my entire pussy, and my inner thighs.

when she was finally satisfied, her fingers pushed into her mouth, sucking my arousal off them, before reaching over for the strap. she took her time making sure it was attached properly, but i knew she was just trying to make me wait as long as possible. she knew the longer she teased, the wetter i’d be. while i was waiting for her, i squeezed my thighs together at the sight of her, trying to create a little bit of friction between them. as soon as she noticed this, she hurried up, rushing back over to spread my legs open as wide as possible, taking in the sight.

she carefully ran the tip through my folds, all of a sudden wasting no time. it wasn’t long at all before the strap was breaking through my walls, resulting in a loud, long moan coming from my mouth.

“sh shh, pretty girl. quiet for me, remember? don’t want anybody hearing.”

i covered my mouth with my hand, feeling billie speed up her thrusts inside me as i tightened around her. it was so obvious that i’d been so needy for her, even though i hadn’t said anything, because i was close already, and it had only been around ten minutes. her hands found my waist as she fucked me harder and harder, but right as i was ready to cum, billie must’ve realised because she very quickly pulled out. i let a whine slip past my lips, before realising it was a little too loud and slapped my hand over my mouth once again.

however, i didn’t even have time to complain because she was quick to flip me over onto my stomach, my breasts pressing against the soft, cool sheets. she grabbed my hips and yanked me up so that my back was arched for her, my pussy perfectly on display for her to see. i heard her groan as my wetness dripped down onto the bed, running her fingers through it once again before slamming the strap back into me all in one thrust. i practically sobbed out, but luckily it was muffled by the pillows and blankets beneath me. my hands grasped at them, and held them tight as she immediately settled on a fast pace, not even giving me time to adjust. all i could hear was my moans, and the wet noise of my pussy, echoing through my mind, not being able to focus on anything else at all. i couldn’t even think straight, too focused on cumming, so it wasn’t a shock when i let out a loud whine when billie abruptly stopped her movements.

i had no idea why she’d stopped. and maybe it should’ve stayed that way.

“why’d you stop againnnn?” i whimpered, moving my hips slightly to encourage her to move again since she was still inside me, but it was almost as if she was frozen.

“uh.. don’t worry about it, angel. let me finish you off first, yeah? is that what you want? then i can tell you after, how does that sound, hm?”

“is it something bad?” i mumbled, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion and worry as i felt her hand lightly glide along my back.

“of course not, baby. you don’t need to worry your pretty mind about it just yet, just let yourself cum first, alright?”

i nodded in response, the needy part of my brain taking over the worry, i was so close that i knew it’d only take five more minutes at most before i was cumming for her, then she could tell me. and i wasn’t wrong. three minutes later i was cumming over her strap with a loud moan into the sheets, drooling all over as i was back in that desperate state of mind.

“good girl. my good girl. so perfect for me.” i heard her speak in a soft tone as she pulled the strap out of me, helping me lay on my back while a small whine came from me. she walked out of the room quickly to get a damp washcloth, returning to the room as quick as she could. as she cleaned me up, my thoughts filled with what had previously happened. why had she stopped out of nowhere? worry clouded my thoughts as i was thinking so much clearer than i had been before.

when she clambered into bed beside me and gently pulled me into her arms with my head resting on her chest and fluffy blankets covering our naked bodies, i looked up with her with big eyes, as she was already looking down at me with a look of pure love and adoration.

“bil?” i whispered, carefully brushing some hair back from her face.

“everything okay, love?” she answered in the most caring tone.

“i was just wondering what happened when you stopped.. did i do something? was it me?” my voice was just above a whisper.

i noticed her laugh slightly and shake her head, “it wasn’t you, angel. you’re probably gonna kill me for not telling you when it happened but uhm.. my mom opened the door and saw everything.. you were just too fucked out though, huh? didn’t even hear her walk in then slam the door?”

my eyes widened and my jaw was practically on the floor as she giggled at my reaction.

“why didn’t you tell me before?!” i groaned and slapped her arm as she continued to laugh.

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry! it’s just that i knew how bad we both wanted it and i wanted to make sure you got to finish before you found out. i could tell how close you were.” she smiled as my face turned red out of embarrassment.

“why did she walk in?” i mumbled, “was i being too loud?”

“oh, no baby. in fact you did a really good job at staying quiet for me, she just walked in to ask if we wanted any breakfast, but she soon walked out again..”

i groaned once again, hiding my red face in her neck as she gently scratched my scalp. i’d never felt so embarrassed in my life. and knowing that we had to  go out there at some point made it even worse. i had to face maggie after she’d just walked in the room to see me with my ass in the air whilst billie fucked me. i wished i could just teleport home so i didn’t have to face her, or maybe rewind time and make it so that she never saw anything. that’d be even better.. but obviously, none of that was going to happen, and we would have to get up at some point to get breakfast, and go through the awkward encounter i was absolutely dreading.

[slutzforbueckers]

Hii Hii

I was wondering if I could request a fic with fluff prompts dialogue 12 and 17, 12 being before and when they were dating and 17 being after and they are married and are deciding that are ready for kids or that had just had baby and p is all like “I can’t believe I got to Marry you”

Also if you need a name choice for baby can I request it’s a girl and they name it “Noriega” with “Nori” for short, that’s the top name on my baby names list rn lol (iykyk)

Thank you very much

Lots of love

-Nessa🌊💕

how the time flies

♡— pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

♡— warnings: fluff

♡— synopsis: time flies when you're with the person you love.

♡— a/n: hi okay i loved writing this so thank you

❥•°❀°•༢

the sun had already started to set but you and paige were still in the park—laying on a blanket in the grass. you’d been dating for a while now, since you were 15, and you already knew she was it for you—even at 17 years old. she lit up your world if you were being honest, making you smile when you were down, telling you everything you wanted and needed to hear…she was perfect. 

paige felt the same way about you—she basically worshiped the ground you walked on. she was just as head over heels for you as you were for her and she was proud to admit it. she planned all your dates, from the moment you got out of school to the end of the night, and all you had to do was show up and keep loving her the way you do. 

it was crazy honestly—how you fit together like the last two puzzle pieces and nothing could break you apart. you’d been friends since you could remember, way longer than you’d been dating, so you knew each other like the back of your hands. 

“look at you!” you exclaimed, ghosting your thumb over the picture of her as a baby. she was holding a cherry lollipop, blue eyes wide and full of joy, smile still the same as now. you looked at her and your smile only got bigger. “you were adorable—you still are.” 

paige shrugged her shoulders as her cheeks flushed pink, her heart skipping a beat—it always did that when you were around. she nudged your shoulder with her own and held out the picture of you she was holding. “i don’t know, i think you might’ve been cuter than me.” 

you let out a breathy laugh and leaned your head on her shoulder—paige leaned into you, resting her head on top of yours. she brought your picture close to hers, holding them side by side. as you looked at the pictures together the more you wondered if the universe knew it would put her in your life even at that young age—something in you wanted to believe that was true. 

when paige looked at it all the only thing that filled her mind was images of the future—you and her in a house somewhere far away, kids running around you both like the house was a playground. she imagined they would look like you, maybe they would inherit her skills with a ball. maybe she only wanted one or maybe she wanted three—it didn’t matter how many, she just wanted them with you. 

“our babies would be cute.” she said, her mouth moving faster than her brain. paige looked at you with wide eyes because she real didn’t mean to say that out loud. when you looked at her your stare was so blank she almost thought you didn’t want that with her. “i’m sorry, i don’t—i was just—“

“you want to have kids with me?” you cut her off, voice barely above a whisper. paige swallowed the lump in her throat and slowly nodded her head, skin flushing with heat. your lips parted but you didn’t say anything and paige looked away, her eyes coming back to the pictures. 

paige let out a soft breath because you still weren’t saying anything and she figured she should say something, explain herself maybe. “i think—i don’t know—i think i wanna be with you forever, you know? get married, have a big house with lots of room for kids, maybe we’ll have a dog—or a cat, you love cats.” 

she didn’t look up the entire time she spoke, she looked anywhere but your face. you didn’t know what to say—of course you wanted that too but for some reason the words got caught in your throat. your eyes started to burn and you blinked away the tears threatening to fall. 

“oh my gosh, paige—“ you couldn’t say anything else after that. she finally looked at you and when her eyes met yours you saw it too—the house, the children, the pets, everything. you were on her before you knew it, knocking her onto her back with the force of the kiss. paige gasped in surprise and her hand flew to your waist. you pulled away after a moment, a love-sick smile on your face. 

“i want that. i wanna be with you forever, p.”

here you are 8 years later—married to the love of your life, 4 hours into a labor that was making you rethink your entire existence. paige had been at your side since your water broke, she never left unless it was absolutely necessary. she was doing everything right—telling you how good you’re doing, how perfect you are, how proud she is, stroking your hair—everything. 

the contractions hurt more than anything you’d ever felt. you denied the epidural though, you wanted to do it naturally— “take it like a champ” in paige’s words. the doctors had asked nearly every thirty minutes to check if you had changed your mind before it was too late but you hadn’t, your plan was to go naturally and that’s what you were going to do. 

“you’re doing amazing, babe.” paige spoke softly as her fingers stroked through your hair, she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. you leaned into her and let out a quiet sigh. you were tired, you’d been up all night and you didn’t even know how dilated you were. 

“i’m tired.” your voice was raspy and low. you blinked up at her as you reached for her free hand. paige interlaced your fingers immediately, bringing your hand up to her mouth and pressing her mouth to your knuckles. 

“i know—i know but you’re doing so good. just a little longer and our baby girl will be here.” she cupped your cheek with the hand that was once in your hair. you nodded your head and let your eyes close, a couple of silent tears falling down your cheeks. 

there was a soft knock on the door and the nurse appeared with your doctor. they both gave you a sad smile when they saw how exhausted you looked. the nurse pulled up her stool between your legs and your doctor came and stood by your side.

“okay, i’m going to check how dilated you are. you should be almost there.” the nurse said as she put on a pair of pink gloves. you nodded your head and pulled your legs up, turning your head to face the ceiling. you felt the nurses fingers and then following that came a soft gasp from her end. your head snapped up fast, looking at paige and then to the nurse. you thought something was wrong but then she smiled and looked between you and paige. “i can feel her head, it’s time.”

“w-what? are you serious?” you asked, your hand holding paige’s a little tighter as a wave of panic washed over you. you had gotten used to the contractions by now, you knew what to expect when they came, but this was different—you didn’t know how bad it would hurt, if you would tear, and worst of all you imagined that your baby wouldn’t cry when she came out. 

paige looked at you and saw the panic on your face, the tears starting to stream down your face. “hey, look at me. everything’s gonna be fine, okay? you got this, you’re a champ remember?” 

you tried to take a deep breath, remind yourself that your person was with you and everything would be fine. the doctor and nurse switched places and you knew it was really happening. she placed her hands on your knees and gave you a reassuring pat before lifting your gown completely. “okay mama, take a deep breath for me and on a count of three i want you to give me the best push you can.”

you nodded your head and took a deep breath like she said. she started the countdown and she reached three before you could process it. a loud cry ripped from your throat as your body started to push. everyone around you sang praises and encouragement but it all faded into just a noise as you gave birth to your child. 

paige held your hand through it all, silent tears falling down her face from seeing how much it hurt you. she wanted to stay strong for you but the second that cry rang through the room she was bawling. you opened your eyes to see your baby being laid on your chest, slimy and gross but you didn’t care about any of that. 

“oh my god–” you choked out. your body felt weak but you gained enough strength to wrap your arms around your baby. you looked at paige and that's when the waterworks came. all the memories you’d shared over the years came rushing back—from the first time you met until now. the past nine months were filled with mood swings, petty arguments, laughter as you felt her kick in your stomach, nausea, heartburn, staying up late at night picking out names—and you’d do it all over again. 

“she’s here, like actually.” paige laughed through the tears, gently cupping the back of her head. you nodded your head, smiling so big as you looked between your girls. the nurse pulled out a small polaroid camera and stood in front of the bed. 

“would you like a picture?” she asked sweetly. you and paige both nodded and moved into position. the camera flashed and captured the beginning of a new chapter in your lives, a love that would last for a lifetime and beyond that. she set the photo down so that the picture could develop. “i’m sorry but i have to take your baby girl and get her cleaned up and make sure everything is alright, do you have a name for her yet?” 

“yeah we do.” you looked at paige for a second then back to your baby. “noriega. nori for short.” 

“that’s perfect.” the nurse smiled as she moved to the side of your bed. you kissed the top of nori’s head and paige did the same before you handed her up to the nurse. she reassured you that she would bring her back as fast as she could before leaving the room. 

now it was just you and paige again—only this time you were parents to a beautiful little girl. you moved over on the bed and patted the spot next to you, silently telling her to lay with you. it was a tight fit but she made it work, wrapped her arms around you and kissing the top of your head. 

“i love you so much, you brought her into the world.” she sniffled, trying not to cry again. “i can’t believe i got to marry you.” 

you buried your head in her neck, tearing wetting her skin as the slipped down your cheeks. “i’d do it all over again, paige. right from the beginning.” 

[iidilio]

Omg! I just read your Uchiha boyfriends and how they deal with their SO's period and I loved it! Sasuke's is hilarious!

Have you seen the video of a guy's gf teaching him and walking him through tampons via a tampon and a glass of water? That's ALL I was imagining during Sasuke's...XD

So, since that would be hilarious, could I ask for headcanons with the Uchiha bfs with that in mind? Or if that's too little context, maybe the period cramp simulators with how far they go before dropping to the floor in pain/how they treat their SO after that? I love your writing, binging all you have on Tumblr rn❤️👏🏻💙💜

[ 🌸 ] Lmaaao nonnie thanks and love u for asking this 😂😂

characters: itachi uchiha, obito uchiha, madara uchiha, sasuke uchiha, shisui uchiha

genre: fluffy with a touch of comedy

warnings: none, mentions of intimate moments, mention of tampons, menstrual cups, vaginas you know things from month to month, menstrual simulators, pranks, adult men somewhat traumatized by their girlfriends

…

Also add menstrual cups to the mix because I'm in love with them :>

oh, i think this video is the one nonnie is talking about! (It was also the first one that appeared to me 😂) ⭐️

…

…

..

.

Itachi Uchiha

— Several things will happen at the same time.

— His mind will go blank as his face turns slightly pale.

— And his eyes will open a bit as he watches the cotton transform Sailor Moon-style.

— Except there are no sparkles and cute outfits.

— No.

— Not at all.

— There is an abominable thing the size of his entire hand floating in the water.

— Itachi won't look at you the same way, especially when you're in the bedroom during one of those intimate moments.

— Even though you already told him it was just a joke, the poor man will be worried.

— He'll look at your hole wondering if it's okay inside (I promise it's okay, Itachi 💀).

— For your own good and for his... don't show him menstrual cups.

— He now knows that the tampon doesn't deform when it's inside you.

— But you have to fold a cup to put it into your tight hole and when it's inside it just... puff returns to its original shape and... are you okay…?

— No, bad idea.

— Just no.

— Don't show it to him.

— As for the menstrual cramp simulators...

— Haha

— You like to see him suffer, don't you?

— Look, pretty woman.

— There's something called being human.

— Itachi, despite being a shinobi, is human (a very cute one, by the way).

— And Itachi, like any other human, feels every sensation he experiences throughout the day. Sometimes he feels more than you, he just doesn't show it due to his perfect control over his emotions.

— But all that control goes out the window when you turn up the power on the cramp simulator.

— He stays like this: "😨," but it's so subtle you don't know if you're imagining it. Meanwhile, the poor man feels his stomach contracting with pain until his breath catches a bit.

— Itachi is a shinobi, but that doesn't mean he doesn't feel pain.

— He's used to a different kind of pain, not this one, you know?

— Poor thing.

— He won't look at you the same way after this... probably not at any woman.

— He'll drink his "respect for women" before starting or ending the day.

— He also now has some fear of touching you; sometimes you won't feel his touch completely when you're on those days (you tried to touch him to see if he was okay and all because you saw he was a bit pale, and he looked like he wasn't breathing when the simulator was at its maximum power. Don't worry, the poor guy was just too sensitive from the pain and now he thinks you get like that too, haha).

— In general, he won't change much. Well, now he brings you more sweets whenever he can and also makes bigger portions of food.

— He's also grateful to you because you've now given him a new experience and opened his eyes to topics or situations that, as a man, he never would have thought about, haha.

…

Obito Uchiha

—If your vagina is a muscle and it stretches with a tampon, does that mean you're exercising internally? (I don't think that happens, but good shower thought, Obito!)

—Pretty boy

—At first, he's very excited when you told him you wanted to show him something.

—He's like a little kid when you want to show him something.

—Except now it looks like you just told him Santa isn't real while taking away his Christmas present.

—He'll say something like: “Wait, that thing gets like that when it's inside you 😦?” while looking at the glass in horror.

—Congratulations, girl, you traumatized an innocent man, lmao.

—No, but seriously.

—Obito will now be distrustful of tampons.

—He might calm down, but then he'll get alarmed when he watches videos or reads about “how to insert a tampon in ten easy steps without pain.”

—And he'll be traumatized again when he sees how far you have to insert the tampon.

—What do you mean the string hangs out..?

—And then you have to pull it out?! Doesn't that hurt?

—Oh, don't get me started on menstrual cups.

—Just no.

—Never show your man the cups.

—No.

—Please, no.

—Just don't.

—At least he was excited when you showed him the period cramps simulator.

—The guy smiled until you turned on the device and he was just like.

—He asked you what level it was on, and when you told him it was on eight, he just said: “What do you mean eight? How many levels does it have?”

—You swear he's going to start crying thinking about all the times he had to run an errand or was called by the Hokage and had to leave you.

—He'll apologize almost crying as you increase the level.

—You can ask him what he means, but I advise you not to.

—You'll make him cry like a baby while he clings to you and apologizes for leaving you alone so many times, making you suffer all this pain *dramatic music starts playing*.

—Lmao.

—Obito will feel proud of you for facing this kind of thing every month.

—He might now say something like: “That's it, babe, fight those cramps!” while you're curled up in bed trying not to cry from the pain.

—It's not out of bad intentions, he's just trying to cheer you up the best he can, haha.

…

Madara Uchiha

—He will stare at the glass intently and then at you.

—Please do not interrupt his thoughts.

—He is imagining how the whole process happens.

—“Are you telling me that piece of cotton…”, and he can no longer continue while looking at the floating cotton.

—Just like Itachi, he won’t look at your little hole the same way.

—He will stay thoughtful, wondering if it returns to its normal form every time.

—It might kill the moment.

—Lmao.

—He might also offer his help to put a tampon in you.

—Just tell him yes.

—You will make him feel like he’s doing something important.

—With menstrual cups… mmm.

—He will congratulate you… for some reason.

—It’s not a big achievement, Madara, but we appreciate your words.

—He will look at you a little worried and at the same time proud while you fold the cup to insert it in yourself and he just…

—“That’s my woman, you can do anything, darling.”

—Uhh… yes, well,

—We’re talking about a man who grew up in a time of war, and don’t get me wrong, it’s not like he doesn’t know where the clitoris is.

—He simply doesn’t know and has no idea that the vagina is elastic, xd.

—Please explain it to him before he brags to someone about how you can handle everything.

—As for the menstrual cramps simulator:

—He is a strong man.

—Who said it would hurt him?

—Clearly, they’re out of their minds, he is Madara Uchiha.

—At least that’s what he thinks before you turn on the device.

—And he’s simply like: “What do you mean this is how you feel every month?”

—Madara is not dumb or forgetful.

—He has seen your naked body when you’re on those days.

—And suddenly it makes sense why your belly looks slightly more swollen when you’re menstruating.

—For Madara, it hurts slightly or at least that’s what he wants to imply.

—Maybe he will never tell you it hurt, but that’s okay.

—At least he took this experience as a lesson to know what else to do and how to act during those days of the month.

—“Madara, darling… why are there many more pillows on the bed?” “They’re for you to be more comfortable.”

—Poor man.

—At least he’s trying!

…

Sasuke Uchiha

—His worst enemy has returned.

—The tampons *dramatic music plays*.

—Ok, no.

—Anyway.

—You're so cruel, girl.

—He swears he'll burn all the tampons in the world while looking at the abominable thing floating in the water.

—He's like...

—Do you put that thing inside and it enlarge…?

—On the outside, his face will remain moderately calm (I'm joking, he already looks disturbed), but on the inside, his face is like: “💀”.

—Even if you tell him it's a joke, he won't shake that image from his head.

—For a whole week, he thought your vagina was filled with tiny cotton residues for some reason.

—Until you explained that was impossible.

—(He still thinks that to this day). Anyway!

—Ehh, cups...! They're fun and comfortable things!

—Until you see them from a man's perspective and things change.

—No, please, no.

—He can't imagine a CUP inside you.

—Out of curiosity, he looked up menstrual cups on the internet and now swears he'd burn menstrual cups too if he could (cups can't hurt you, Sasuke).

—Anyway.

—As for the simulators...

—He might refuse at first until he starts thinking about how he could benefit from this (you know, new knowledge, more power).

—So he decides to put himself in his girl's shoes to see the whole picture.

—He began to regret it when you raised the intensity to seven.

—His face might turn pale when you explain that some menstrual cramps feel like labor pains.

—He'll stare at the highest intensity level wondering if he's ready for that.

—Spoiler: he wasn't.

—At least now he buys you more ice cream and makes you hot chocolate with marshmallows on top, even though he hates the smell of chocolate.

—He'll also start reading more about the female body, looking for ways and methods to make it hurt less.

—So it's likely he'll now regulate the amount of black foods and drinks you consume (you know: chocolate, coffee, cola, etc.), all because he read in a study that black-colored beverages and foods are a key factor in intensifying cramps during the period.

—Good luck with your boyfriend being more protective than ever ;)

…

Shisui Uchiha:

—"Do you want to show me something...? Sure! What is it?" he'll ask with the most innocent and soft voice, that you'll wonder if it's too cruel to play this prank on him.

—Poor guy.

—You do it anyway.

—Lmao, I think there's no emoji that describes the face he made in those moments.

—When he composes himself, he'll be torn between looking at you and the glass container.

—Because gosh.

—Does that thING really react like that when it's inside you?

—Before, he was fine with seeing you use them.

—He knows it's much more comfortable for you, but now that he sees it in the container...

—He doesn't know what to think.

—The guy is still terrified.

—Poor thing, his soul left his body and greeted God before returning to you.

—He might laugh a little when you tell him it's a joke while trying to act normal.

—But eventually his imagination will fly and he'll start thinking: "What if it gets stuck?" "What if the string breaks?" (It's impossible for that to happen, Shisui).

—Of course, he's a smart guy.

—He'll practically run to investigate more about tampons until his mind is at ease.

—But accidentally he saw menstrual cups and...

—"What do you mean cups are also inserted?" he half yelled into nothing.

—Oops.

—You'll have to explain.

—"Cups are friends, not enemies, Shisui..." "But what if it gets stuck?"

—You swear he's about to cry.

—Luckily!

—He'll get over it in a few days (it lasted a week and another while he tried to recap what happened, and the new information).

—The cramp simulator is great.

—It can last quite a while, you know, smiling and looking handsome as always, until you raise it to maximum power.

—You think you broke something when suddenly it falls and you think you killed it.

—Oh.

—Don't worry!

—He's just suffering and recapping how all of this happened, also about all the pain you go through month after month and... Oh, is that an angel...? (No, Shisui, it's your girlfriend trying to motivate you to get up).

—Well.

—At the end of the day he thinks the same as Itachi; you've shown him the other side of the coin and he's grateful for that.

—He'll also be much gentler with you during these days of the month.

—And for some reason, if he finds out that Sasuke is not in favor of tampons and cups, they may secretly start a group against those things or something similar, it's also possible that they'll drag Itachi by force.

—Lmao.

lmao, guess who search and watch videos about how to put tampons in her for the first time... and it didn't work 😭

[sanakimohara]

just wondering if there will be Hyunjin links as well, following the Chan, Minho and Changbin ones? 👀

Now that you mention it….dating Hyunjin has so many perks! … p*rn links!

explicit content ahead + master lists > OT8 list >

- You two have the cutest hobbies together! Everyday is something new for you when you’re with Hyunjin. He enjoys the thrill of trying new things and expanding his talents with you all the time!

- You get a first hand look at his skills in dancing coming to life. He teaches new things about your body, how it can move, and how every inch of you fits against every piece of him!

- You may or may not get an addiction to kissing him! Sometimes it’s all you can think about around him! His lips are just so perfect, so sweet, and feel so right when they’re pressed against yours. Hyunjin finds your random greediness for kisses adorable but he never lets you get away with just a quick peck. If you want them so bad he’s gonna give you the very best kind every time!

- You travel with him quite a bit. Going to new places and seeing new sights when he has the time. There’s nights and days you just cuddle up close to him in his hotel room, wanting nothing more than to just help him relax after a long day of photoshoots and social appearances. Even a muse of millions needs a little break sometimes.

- You get the opportunity to mark him up as much as you want! Hyunjin loves the nibbles and kisses you pepper across his skin, how small they are at first, but eventually darken and grow the more you bite at him. You don’t have to worry about covering them up either. He insists people see them in private and knows more than a few tips and tricks on how to cover them in public! So mark him up all you want.

- You’re admired by him in every way. Pictures, videos, sketches! Hyunjin has all sorts of depictions of you. He adores watching all the wholesome videos you two make together, admiring the faces you make, and the lovely little sounds he forces out of you! God, you’re just so pretty to him in every way!

- You get video calls from him often. Sometimes it’s just talk and help one another fall asleep better when he’s away. Other times he’s begging to hear you talk, help him get his mind off things with soft words. You’ve always got something new or neat to show him too and Hyunjin absolutely loves watching you through the screen.

- You’d never feel less than with him. Getting what you want with a simple pleading look or pout. Hyunjin spoils you often, persistent with his appreciation through the smallest gestures and sweetest words. You’re a little selfish with his love but he truly doesn’t mind!

- You’re his muse in every way he can think of. A living and breathing piece of art he can show off to anyone with pride.

MY INBOX IS CRYING RNNNN. I still have requests I haven’t answered since February?!?? 😭 send helppppp

I’m sorry I keep using Artemis’ songs but they’re so goooooooddd

[interfated]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Stages of a petty dispute ! . . . ( 西村力 )

01. Style 운명 . Story 02. CONTAINS: Angst, angst, fluff, crack if you squint so exponentially hard, talks of dieting/body image issues, ni-ki‘s dumb and oblivious, fighting, pettiness, think that’s it ! 03. wc ! 1,710

The cause

Getting your hair and makeup done was boring, but Riki came along every time (wether you asked him to or not) so at least he was there to keep you company

Riki and Jake both sat on the couch showing each other stupid things on there phones and play fighting

At one point you and Riki had gotten into a conversation Mainly complaints from you about how unfair the manager was to you about dieting, Riki being Riki took this as a chance to make a joke. "Well maybe you should stop eating so much and he wouldn’t be so tough on you" He laughed, pretty loudly despite the joke not being funny, you looked at him through the mirror, almost disgustedly, just to see Jake not laughing either.

If anything he looked just as confused as you, but despite that Riki smoothly changed the subject and started joking around with Jake again. You turned back to the mirror, not looking at anything in it, simply spacing out. Riki had never made those types of jokes about you, he always talked about your body in such a sweet way, it was shocking to say the least.

2. The start

Workday was done, you were back at the dorms, and Riki was nowhere in sight.

He was probably in his room playing video games, as you could tell from the loud gun noises. Meanwhile, you sat in your room, confused and slightly heartbroken he would say something like that.

It had been hours since the incident and it’s all you’ve thought about. Riki, out of all people should know that wasn’t funny. Joke or not. Out of all people, HE would know about your image issues HE would be the one to know about your eating habits, The phone chimed, pulling you out of thought, it was Riki

"Babbbbyyyyyy can i come lay with you

i’m tired and i want to hold you" You wanted to say no fuck off but you didn’t, that would’ve been too straight forward and you wanted to be petty and drag it out. Make sure he felt realllllyyyy bad so you texted back "Not rn, i’m studying" Dry and assertive. Not at all how you text him usually, it was perfect !! "mmm okay :("

"can i come in after?? pretty plsss" You just ignored this one

It made you feel a litttlee guilty but he deserved it for being an ass

3. The rising emotions / tension

It had been 2 days since you've started ignoring Riki (kinda)

You were only answering his texts here and there and you hadn't let him sleep with you not even once.

Sure it was only 2 days but it was too much for him, he got used to sleeping with you, and he struggles to fall asleep without you now! You even locked the door just in case he tried to come in after being ignored over the phone

Riki started to get suspicious

He presumed the worst, you fell out of love, you were cheating, he did something wrong without realizing it, he didn't know what he did, but he intended to find out

But it's kinda hard when you won't stop dodging him

Night 3 of being ignored, and it got increasingly harder for him to sleep

It was 1am and he hadn't been able to properly keep his eyes shut for longer than 5 mins so he decided to get some water

When he walked out to the kitchen he saw you, wearing only his t-shirt, some shorts and a jacket

He loved seeing you in his clothes so it was like a jab to the heart

he almost got on his knees and started begging for forgiveness for whatever he did right then and there

"What are you doing up so late baby?" You looked up to see him walking towards you "Just getting some water"

"Ohh me too" It came out kind of shaky sounding, like he was trying to make small talk with a stranger

"Here have mine" Putting the glass down you started to walk off, not noticing Riki's hand reaching out for your wrist, just barely missing you.

While you went back to your room Riki sat in the kitchen kind of hurt.

He pondered on going after you but the last thing he wanted to do was annoy you or upset you more so despite the need for physical connection, he drank the water and went back to his room.

He laid in bed for another hour before giving up and playing some video games to pass the time

Riki got a solid 3 hours of sleep that night

Riki is dying and is determined to figure out what he did

4. The climax

Day 4 of being ignored, he felt like he was going to pull all his hair out

During dance practice he thought of every thing he did that could warrent this type of reaction and every way he could fix it

After thinking for a while he came to the conclusion that he must've made you jealous, probably from talking to Danielle for 0.2 seconds regarding work things

How? He had zero clue but that didn't matter.

After practice while everyone else went to lunch, he booked back home to shower and head out. He ran to your favorite cafe, and your favorite boba shop.

By the time he got back home, everyone else, including you, were back home, and he already thought about what he was going to say when he got back; sure you had gotten jealous before but it never seem to make you this upset so he had to go all out this time.

He knocked on your bedroom door, hoping you'd actually let him in this time, "who is it?"

"Riki" There was a moment of silence that made Riki worry even more but you told him to come in so he was relieved but, you were confused when he walked in with boba and bags.

You thought maybe he was finally apologizing, perhaps he finally realized what he did and wanted to own up to it.

You put down your phone and walked over to him, as he put the boba and bags on your desk. He seemed a little more nervous the closer you got but he took a deep breath in and started talking

"I know I messed up, and you don't have to forgive me but I want to make it right." Good start good start

"I don't want anyone but you baby, I mean I barely even talk to her. It was purely for work I promise." Huh

"But I completely understand your upset, and you have every"

"What" You cut him off mid-sentence, mainly just cause you were confused

"uhh what?" Riki though, seemed more confused than you

"What are you on about Nishimura"

"Uhhhhhhhhhhhh, you're mad at me?"

"Obviously."

"And I'm trying to apologize?" He seemed unsure of himself

"Okay... for what?" He thought long and hard about his answer "Talking to Danielle the other day?..." DUMBFOUNDED

You couldn't believe that's what he genuinely thought you were upset about

"Bro I do not care about Danielle." emphasizing the "not"

Riki's eyes widened with confusion "Haha what."

"You didn't seriously think I was upset about you talking to Danielle? About work?" He gave a sheepish smile

"I'm sorry baby I really don't know what I did but I can NOT handle being ignored like this."

"The eating joke Riki. How do you not understand that, that wasn't okay." It's like the gears started turning in his head "OHHHHH"

You rolled your eyes "Oh my god baby I am so sorry."

"You laughed when other people make those jokes so I assumed it was okay..."

"No it's not okay Riki?? I only laugh because they're my bosses, I'm not allowed to be upset about it"

It took Riki a second to process and think, "I know I know, I'm realizing that now. Seriously I am so sorry baby... I clearly wasn't thinking it through and it was a horrible joke to make."

You nodded, verbally telling him to go on

"You don't have to forgive me, I know it was shitty but just know that I didn't mean it, baby."

He walked closer to you, putting his hands on your face, "You are the prettiest girl in the entire world, and I mean that. I never meant to hurt you that much baby, and I promise I won't ever make a joke like that again. And I'll think more thoroughly about the things I say, the last thing I want to do is upset you pretty."

You looked up at him, your eyes glossed over slightly.

What Riki did was wrong, but deep down a part of you knew he didn't mean it.

And he was so good at making you feel better.

You got on your tippy toes and kissed him.

It was deeper than usual, the lack of time together made it sweeter

Riki pressing into your lips and savoring every last second.

"I love you so so so so much."

"I love you too Ki. And I'm not mad at you, it just... was shocking? To say the least, I didn't expect it from you of all people, nor did I expect you to take 4 days to apologize" You smiled slightly

"But in the end, you did apologize and you took accountability so that's all that matters. Next time I'll come to you first without ignoring you for days, it was petty."

"No no it wasn't petty" He rubbed your cheek "But please don't do it again, iv got like a solid 10 hours of sleep the past few days and I almost threw myself off the HYBE building." You giggled at that, happy to hold him again

Riki went back in for another kiss which led to a long night of catching up.

Kissing, cuddling, "I love you"s, ect ect, gross couple stuff.

Riki was dumb sometimes and wasn't the best at using his words, but he always tried for you and even showed it in his own way and that's all that matters.

@taiyaakii

[starkeyisthelastname]

Okay buuut… not to be angsty about it but do pornstar!Rafe or reader ever have a moment where they’re just like “I can’t do this anymore” and they like try to not see each other but obviously that doesn’t work out… or probably last very long… I could see Rafe being emo about it and not being able to get it up for a scene and just walking off directly to your house all like “seriously what the fuck have you done to me!?”

okay so like I see this happening after their little talk, but Rafe is the one who says he can’t do it. 😭

Everything seemed good, the two of you even fucked again after smoking and talking briefly. The both of you left that the night with even stronger feelings which meant Rafe almost needed to step back for a minute. To you, it came out of nowhere and you felt rejected after reading the text he sent a few days after when you asked if he wanted to come over that night. ‘I need to focus on work rn. Agent told me I’m losing fans. Can’t do this anymore.”

It was clear Rafe was scared of something, and wasn’t going to tell you what it was. At least not right now anyway. As soon as you felt rejection, you became closed off. You didn’t even bother replying to his text, wiping the tears away over the fact you would probably be nothing more than a past fling to him. You wanted to hate yourself for falling for a guy, whose only focus was pussy and money.

For the first time when it came to a woman’s feelings, Rafe was feeling very guilty. He continued on with his week the best he could, trying to act like it didn’t bother him that he had called things off. After you left that night, he sat in his thoughts, thinking about if he really wanted to end his career for one girl he didn’t know much about. He knew the answer. He wanted you. Instead he came up with every excuse on why he should continue working, and before he could stop himself, he was sending you that message.

It was the next week when he showed up to set, pissed off at himself really, but taking it out on everyone else. You hadn’t texted him at all and he hadn’t tried to text back because a part of him felt like he had already fucked it up. He was affected by this more than he should be and for the first time, he didn’t want to film at all, not even try and fake it. As he stood trying to get himself hard, getting ready to shoot, he just couldn’t do it, which only pissed him off more. He knew he couldn’t continue his day like this without seeing you again.

You nearly cut yourself with the knife you had been using to chop vegetables when you heard the pounding on the door. You frowned, wiping your hands and quickly going to answer the door. You didn’t get two words in, before Rafe stormed in, wrapping a hand around your throat. “What the fuck are you doing to me? Huh?” He asked, blue eyes dark.

“R-Rafe what the fuck you doing?” You asked, gasping for breath. You hadn’t spoken to him since you left his house a week ago, and hadn’t ever responded to his dick of a text. You couldn’t deny that you had missed his touch, even if it had only been a week, it still felt longer than that. You craved this man, no matter how much you disliked him right now.

Within a second, he was turning you around so that his front was pressed directly against your back. “Can’t even fuckin work, because you and this perfect cunt are on my mind 24/7.” He spat in your ear. Your head spun as he continued to squeeze your throat, his other hand lifting up the little dress you had on. He chuckled to himself as he noticed your lack of panties, making it all the more easier to slam himself into you, after quickly undoing his pants. His dick was now harder than ever, stretching you open for the first time in over a week.

“R-Rafe!” You cried, only to get three thick digits shoved in your mouth.

Rafe was ashamed of himself for even considering turning you away, he didn’t even want to look at you right now, wondering why you had to be so goddamn perfect and why he had to feel this way about some girl he didn’t even know. “Shut up. Don’t wanna hear shit from you now. Just take this fuckin dick like a good whore.” His tone low, dripping like venom in your ear, while you gagged on his hand. He fucked you like he hated you, but the truth was he couldn’t get enough of you. He had found his new addiction.

[ponypuffle]

Hey! Hello! I saw that you have open requests and I would love to ask you something, Rainbow Dash x fem! reader, a pretty unicorn who is Rarity's cousin and went to Ponyville to visit her.

And Rainbow Dash is amazed when she sees her for the first time, a pretty and adorable Canterlot unicorn who likes to see pegasi fly since she has a fascination with wings, and Rainbow takes that point in her favor ;)

Pairing: Rainbow Dash x Fem!Reader

Word Count: idk im on my phone rn so i'll check when i have access to my computer l8r Warning(s): rainbow checks the reader out (idk if that's a warning but to be sure lol) A/N: tbh i gave rainbow too much rizz to the point that she managed to rizz me up from an rd enjoyer to rd simp 😔😔

As a pony who's lived her entire life in Canterlot, you knew for certain it didn't happen as often as most tourists expected, but to each their own. You certainly weren't about to stop them if it meant Canterlot's local businesses profited from their visits.

You loved Canterlot as much as the next pony, but Celestia, was it a lot. Every pony always had something to do and somewhere to be whether it be for business purposes or to simply go to a luxurious outing. Not to mention the overabundance of tourists who clambered to see the next big thing or perhaps their favorite "attraction"; a glimpse at the princess walking out onto her balcony.

All of this to say that you needed a break from Canterlot, even if it was for a moment. Every pony loved to say that Canterlot "has it all", but they all seemed to fail to consider the city's lack of peace. Hence why you reached out to family for help who then reached out to more family until you finally ended up in communications with your cousin, Rarity.

You remembered her well from the playdates and family gatherings you went to as little fillies. Unfortunately with how life goes, you'd lost touch with her. The last time you'd seen her as more than a child was years ago! Truth be told, you were excited to reunite with her. A whole week in Ponyville with your favorite cousin sounded like the perfect remedy to your Canterlot-ailment.

When the day came, you were the first to board the train and the first to exit. The moment you laid your eyes on your cousin, you rushed over with a wide grin. "Rarity! I'm so happy to see you again! Celestia, your mane is to die for! You have to tell me how you get it looking so gorgeous."

"Why, thank you, dear. We'll have plenty of time to discuss mane products soon enough." She giggled before directing your attention towards a pegasus and a little dragon. "In the meantime, these are my friends, Fluttershy and Spike."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, dear. I'm so sorry for not introducing myself sooner!" You quickly greeted the two with all the sweetness you could muster as if it would make up for your obliviousness.

The kindness was only reciprocated, much to your relief. Before you could delve into further conversation, Rarity cut in. "I'm sure you must be starving after the train ride. Why don't we go drop off your bags and we can all go out together? My treat."

"That sounds amazing." You agreed, only just realizing that you were too distracted by the trip to think of eating a proper breakfast.

"Splendid! Spike, would you be a dear and help our guest with her bags?" Rarity nodded towards the dragon.

Before you could protest, Spike had eagerly obeyed her request as he took the two travel bags from your magic that held them up. "Thank you, Spike." You smiled softly.

As the four of you walked through town, you couldn't help but be mesmerized by Fluttershy's wings. "Have you ever thought of wearing wing accessories? I saw some amazing jeweled accessories back in Canterlot that I think would look divine on you." You commented.

Rarity overheard you, chiming in with her own praises. "The ones by Nimbus Shop?"

"Yes! The delicacy of the piece would look so darling on you, Fluttershy." You hummed.

Fluttershy blushed under your compliments. "Thank you. I'd love to try it out, but I'm afraid my line of work would only dirty the jewels before I could show them off."

Rarity nodded in agreement. "It's a shame, but I respect her passion for caring for those adorable little critters."

"Oh, perhaps I could pull a few strings and get you both invitations to this garden party out in Canterlot next month. Would that be reason enough to let me buy you those gorgeous wing accessories?" You suggested.

Rarity gasped. "A garden party? Goodness, could you really do that, dear?"

Your cousin's smile was infectious as she tried to hold in her excitement. "Of course! It's no problem at all. Besides, I don't know what kind of pony I'd be if I didn't get to see such beautiful wings enhanced by glittering jewels."

"Oh, that's so kind of you." Fluttershy was beginning to buzz with the same excitement, even it was toned down.

You turned your head to look back at the little dragon behind you. "Would you like to come to the garden party, too? I'm sure they could squeeze in cute baby dragon like you."

Spike began to stutter as if he was shocked that you'd bother to ask. "Are you sure you can get enough tickets?"

"Between just us," You hushed your voice down, "Two of the hosts owe me a huge favor."

Before anypony could respond, a gust of wind swept past you with a pound against the dirt just as you neared the front door of the Carousel Boutique. A blue coated pony with a rainbow mane stood with pride, her wings spread out to frame her form perfectly. The powerful mare found eye-contact with you, but she was quickly directed towards Rarity when she scolded her for the sudden landing.

While they spoke, you crouched down to Spike's level and whispered to him, "I'll just get you that ticket, yeah?"

"Thanks!" He whispered back. "C'mon, I'll show you your room before Rainbow tries to bother us."

Spike led the way around the ponies while you followed suit. You stared at Rainbow in amusement, letting your gaze glide over those strong wings.

Unbeknownst to you, the rainbow pegasus had checked you out, her eyes glazing over your form. You were far out of ear shot when Rarity noticed the way her friend looked at you, gasping loudly. "Rainbow Dash, don't you dare!"

"What? I'm not doing anything!" She held her hooves up, feigning innocence.

When both you and Spike came back out, the rainbow pony was still there with a disgruntled Rarity and a wide-eyed Fluttershy. The pegasus stepped into your view of your cousin with a smirk. She held her hoof out for a hoofshake to which you took. "Rainbow Dash, Ponyville's resident top flier and Wonderbolt."

"Wonderbolt?" Your jaw dropped as you held your hoof to your mouth in shock.

Rainbow chuckled in pride as she flexed her wings. "Yeah, what can I say? I'm just that awesome, y'know?"

Rarity rolled her eyes, sighing in disbelief as she cut in. "Come on, dear. Rainbow Dash is coming along for lunch with us."

Rarity herded you to her side, making sure she was between you and Rainbow, but that didn't stop Rainbow from trying to chat with you. "So, Rarity tells me your her cousin and you're visiting?" She called over through Rarity.

"Oh, yeah. I live over in Canterlot, but Rarity was so kind to let me stay with her as a vacation." You explained, but the separation made it a struggle, just as Rarity intended. She took the opportunity to keep you distracted with conversation, trying to keep Rainbow away. It wasn't that she didn't trust Rainbow, but she worried that if the relationship were to end, the relationship between you and Rarity would be severed, too.

But, Rainbow Dash was determined. When you made it to the restaurant, she dashed towards the seat right by you before Rarity could even touch the chair. "Lucky me, I get to sit by the new girl in town."

"You're lucky? I get to sit next to a Wonderbolt!" Your ears perked up with excitement. "I don't even remember the last time I got to watch a Wonderbolt show."

"You like the Wonderbolts?" Her voice was laced with happiness to know that you found interest in her work.

You nodded eagerly. "Of course! You guys are so talented. I just adore seeing your flight routines."

"Well, maybe I could get you a private showing, sweetheart." Rainbow nearly purred in a low voice, causing your cheeks to heat up at the nickname.

"Or!" Rarity chimed in. "You could take us all to the next performance, no?"

Rainbow snapped her head towards Rarity, glaring at her for disrupting her game. "Yeah... Or, that."

"Wow, that'd be amazing!" You couldn't hide your grin at the prospect of watching the Wonderbolts again.

Rainbow stretched the wing nearest to you out, letting it rest on your back. Your eyes drifted to her muscular wing, skin buzzing in delight at the feeling of her slick feathers. "Think that's amazing? You're getting a VIP ticket and a backstage pass, if you're into that."

Your eyes widened in shock, jaw dropping. You never expected in your wildest dreams you'd be offered such an opportunity. Rainbow had to reach out her hoof to get your mouth to close with a little chuckle. "I'm taking that as a 'yes', then?"

"Most definitely!" Your heart thudded against your chest.

Rainbow glanced at Rarity in triumph for a moment before she met your eyes again. "It's a plan then."

The next showing was thankfully only a few days after you returned from Ponyville. By the end of the week, you'd become good friends with the rest of Rarity's pals. You wanted to offer them to stay over, but your little Canterlot apartment was hardly enough for you and seven friends. Thankfully, Twilight had reassured you that she'd be able to get hotel rooms for everypony.

You'd made plans to meet up at a cafe you frequented to grab a cup of coffee and a few pastries before you went to the Wonderbolts show.

"Wow, I can't believe I've never been here." Twilight said as she sipped her coffee in utter bliss.

"Oh, it was opened a few years back, not long after your coronation actually." You replied, taking a bite of your chocolate croissant.

Rarity pouted. "I guess we've all been too busy to take the time to explore the finer details of Canterlot."

"I'd be happy to show you guys around!" You offered, eyes brightening. "The tourist spots are great, but I know all of Canterlot's hidden gems."

Pinkie Pie lit up. "That'd be amazing! Imagine how many tasty treats I've never even tried!"

The group laughed out loud, agreeing to join in on the insider tour for tomorrow. When breakfast was done, you all made your way to the Wonderbolts Stadium.

The VIP box was luxurious, plush seats in a shaded area that allowed for the perfect view of the performance. Your coat prickled along your legs in excitement at what was to come, and it wasn't for naught.

The moment the Wonderbolts made their entrance, you were entranced. You watched each well practiced maneuver, barely staying in your seat as you leaned in for more.

The show neared its end, much to your dismay, but it didn't stop you from yelling out with a cheer.

Applejack chuckled in amusement. "You sure do love them Wonderbolts, don't 'cha?"

You looked back with a grin. "How could I not? It's just so..." You tried to find the word until it finally clicked. "Exhilarating!"

"Then, let's go say hi to them." Twilight began to lead the way. "I'm sure they'd love to meet one of their biggest fans."

You hopped towards Twilight, nearly mirroring the same energy as Pinkie. At some point, Pinkie took charge with each bounce, so you eagerly followed close behind in anticipation. While you waited outside the locker room, waiting for the Wonderbolts to ready up, Pinkie was happy to tell you all about Rainbow Dash like her famous Sonic Rainboom.

When the doors opened, you could barely keep yourself composed. Your eyes were set on whoever was closest which just so happened to be Spitfire, the poster pony of the Wonderbolts.

"Hey, kid." Spitfire looked at you through her sunglasses. "I'm guessing your Rainbow's new friend?"

You nodded with a big smile, introducing yourself to her. "You have no idea how excited I am to meet you all."

Spitfire chuckled at your enthusiasm. "We've been waiting to meet you, too. Rainbow's been talking up a storm about you."

"She has?" You blushed, briefly glancing towards the rainbow pegasus.

"Non-stop. She tells me you're real interested in the Wonderbolts."

Part of you was glad Spitfire changed the topic, much too nervous to figure out whatever feelings came of the statement. "Yeah, but it's mostly just flying that I'm so intrigued by. All of you are so talented! I can't imagine how much work goes into your performances."

"A unicorn into flying? That's a new one for me." Spitfire commented, stretching out her wing when she noticed you staring at it in wonderment. "But, yeah, we work almost everyday. Wings like this don't come from nothing."

"I imagine so." You stared at the sleek feathers that made up her large wings. It wasn't long before the rest of the Wonderbolts team came to meet you, curious to see who Rainbow Dash was so interested in.

The next day, you went along with the tour as planned. With your friends following behind, you made it from destination to destination, making sure to have fun at each spot. You didn't have much of a plan, simply deciding where to go on a whim, but Pinkie had begged you to go to a little part of Canterlot for the end of the day. When it comes to Pinkie, how could you say no?

To your dismay, Rainbow had to leave early half way through the day. She told you she had Wonderbolts practice which you respected, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't miss her presence. Regardless, the outing went smoothly and you still enjoyed yourself.

When you made it to your final stop made by you, Pinkie Pie led the group to the special location. As you neared further and further into the outskirts of Canterlot, you began to wonder where she wanted to go so badly. Every time you'd ask, she'd say something about how it's a surprise.

By the third time you asked, you decided to just trust her. As you reached the top of a grassy hill not too far from Canterlot, the sun had begun to set, creating a warm glow in the sky.

"Here we are!" Pinkie exclaimed.

You blinked, looking around in confusion. There was nothing in sight except nature. "Pinkie, why are we—"

A gust of wind flew above you, making you look up in the sky. Were those the Wonderbolts? You stood, watching the little performance with the same interest as the day before. You were beginning to wonder if it was somepony's birthday and you were simply not told.

[seiwas]

sellie!! hi!! for the writing exercise.. my first thought was Touya + hands (thought of that one insanely detailed art).. im not sure about the trope but im thinking just taking extra care of them? if there’s a trope that appeals to you feel free to go with it <33

i hope you’re doing well!

scar hello my dearest!! im so sorry im getting to this so terribly late 🥺 thank you for sending this in though 🥺

touya + hands + extra care

contains: talks abt touya's burn scars, can or cannot be set in canon, touya is emotionally unavailable and noncommittal (but we know that), every time i write touya i clutch my chest, established relationship, it's still pretty sweet i think!

touya doesn't think much of it when you slip the silver band on his ring finger.

you're well aware that marriage is a concept he doesn't believe in; forever has a price too costly, and touya is running on a small budget.

if you know him well enough (which, he's confident you do), you'll know that he is unbending in his decisions and even more with his feelings.

the way he sees it, the band can only be decorative at most.

and yet, it is the first to catch the dawn of light when he wakes up next to you—a glimmer resting on the pillow right next to your head. he squints his eyes, opening and closing his palm as if to test the way it feels.

there's little sensation that touya can feel on his hands now that they've been scarred, his nerve endings burnt to crisps. still, with what little sensation he can feel, the metal rests relatively cool against the warmth of his fingers; it feels cooler than your hands did when you put it on him last night, too.

it's the perfect size, he realizes the more he moves his fingers around—a consideration that twists his insides. things like this shouldn't fit him; he shouldn't want things like this to fit him.

you stir next to him, face scrunching as your eyes slowly blink open.

you've made touya ache since the day he first met you.

this morning is no different, with the way you mumble your "good morning" with a small smile; with the way your eyes glint like the glimmer of the ring on his finger.

there must be trouble in his gaze because your eyes follow where he's looking, following your greeting immediately with a calm, "it doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to."

and you mean it, sincerely. touya can tell because it's you.

he hums in acknowledgment.

you chuckle, used to the way he speaks (or doesn't) by now. your hand reaches for his gently, pressing your fingers into his palm in the way that acupressure course taught you. something about relieving stress, or something.

"do you like it?" you ask softly.

his eyes meet yours briefly before he fixes his gaze on it again, watching the way the sunrise hits it at different angles. he mumbles, "s'just a piece of metal."

"you're staring an awful lot at just a piece of metal."

he narrows his eyes at you, a piercing turquoise.

"why'd you get it?"

in hindsight, he should have seen it coming. there must have been some reason you started paying more attention to the dry cracks on his hands―why you began massaging them with "ultra nourishing, moisturizing hand cream" every night.

touya knows you, and he knows you don't do things without purpose.

so when you say—

"just wanted to get you something nice."

—a part of him wonders what you really mean.

it's in the way you look at him this morning and every other time he catches your gaze. it's in your smile, in the way your lips curl up in patience despite his tone of speech. it's in every day you show up when it is much, much easier to leave.

he looks at the ring now and thinks it's impossible to see without attaching its meaning to you.

a/n: fully in my feels with proposals and rings rn! so this is how it's manifesting 🥺 but this is kind of like a proposal kind of not? to me (or to touya), i just really wanted the ring to mean the reader (you), that when he'd look at it, he'd remember you and the fact that you're there and aren't going away. i wanted the line: "get you something nice" to mean more than just getting touya a precious metal. i see touya eventually interpreting that he's received you, and the reminder or "promise" that you'll be with him is what he really counts as "nice". something like that!

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 1, a familiar stranger

Masterlist Word count: 1.2 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut. No graphic content yet.

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'Did Rafayel find someone to rent my apartment yet,' Zayne questions as he puts two mugs of tea on your coffee table. You shrug in response. 

'Haven't heard anything yet, but knowing him, it'll probably be soon.' Zayne smiles at your sulking expression. He reaches out to ruffle a hand through your hair. You quickly smack his hand away and stare at him with pretend anger. 

'How have you been holding up without me?' That question is loaded, and he knows it. For the past four years, he has been your neighbor. But he has always been much more than that. 

When he noticed you were living on your own, he would sometimes bring over leftovers. Some days you would come home to a note taped on your door with a request to be quiet because he had a long shift and another even longer shift coming up. You started doing the same, but with notices if you had someone over or were doing something that could cause noise. Eventually, you two got to talking and formed a familial relationship. It always felt like you had a big brother looking out for you. 

Ever since he moved to the next city over to work in another hospital, you have missed him tons. Sometimes it hurts when you realize you can't just walk two steps from your front door and be talking to him. Meeting up is even more strenuous than it was before, and you miss him like crazy. It's not just the proximity though, no, it's also that you don't know everything going on in his life anymore. He's doing amazing things, meeting amazing people, helping to make the world a better place, and you barely know the names of his closest colleagues. 

'I'm fine,' but your voice betrays you, trembling throughout your words. Zayne's eyes look worried, and his hand moves to touch your shoulder to comfort you. 'I'm fine, really. Just getting used to being alone in the city again.' 

'You're not alone anymore. You've got Tara, and you get along alright with that new colleague of yours, right? Jeremiah?' 

'I know, it's just...' He reaches out to pull you into his chest. 

'I understand. I miss you too.' 

'I just hope the next person is nice too,' you mumble against his shirt while he gently rubs your back. All this feels so normal, so nice. You're not sure if you'll ever fully get over not living next to Zayne anymore. It was perfect, and now it's gone. You can't blame him though. This was a very important step for his career and you're glad he did it, it just makes you feel like you're stuck in the same place all over again.  

Everything just feels so stagnant, so normal. Like nothing ever changes. You can only tell that time has passed by your growing fingernails and the dust building up on your windowsill... You should really clean. It's been too long. 

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'This is nice,' Luke awes as he walks into Sylus’ new apartment. The place is completely empty and there's a bit of an echo, but he's right. The place is nice. That doesn't mean Sylus has to be happy about it. In fact, he's not even close to being done groaning and whining about being doxed for the third time. 

Sylus grumbles: 'My last place was nice.' Kieran nudges him over the threshold of the apartment. 

'Stop whining you big baby. Shit happens.' Sylus turns to him with a death glare. Kieran rolls his eyes and holds up his hands in defeat. 'Sorry man. There really isn't much else to say about it.' 

Sylus knows damn well that he's right, he's just not ready to admit it. That last place was a little bit special to him. It was the first place he moved into on his own after a long relationship. He knew his job would always be an obstacle in any relationship, but he thought she had gotten over it. She clearly hadn't.  

When his popularity skyrocketed, she left him. Told him she couldn't keep sharing him, no matter how many times he told her there was no one to share him with. She was part of the reason he started doing solo stuff. He even offered her to stop doing it. It wasn't even a big deal to him. That didn't matter to her. 

Luke and Kieran tried to get him back to who he was, yet even they couldn't ignore the fact that he became a little different. He distanced himself, became harsher, became colder. He wasn't particularly rude or anything, just a bit off-putting if you don't know him. 

'Anyway, I'm going to let your neighbor know we're moving you in this week,' Kieran states and quickly leaves the apartment. Luke gives Sylus a look. 

'What,' Sylus snaps at him. 

'Shouldn't you join him?' Sylus raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. Suddenly, he looks a lot bigger and a lot more intimidating. 

'I just got doxed. Why would I go around introducing myself to everyone?' 

Luke just shrugs. Sylus antics don't do much to him anymore after knowing him so long. 'Fair enough.' 

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The doorbell buzzes. It's ever so slightly longer than the average person would press a doorbell, and so ever so slightly more annoying. Mayorly more annoying because you were just dozing off cuddled up to Zayne on the couch. It has been a long time since that happened. 

You groan and shift, but Zayne tightens his grip. 'Don't go.' His voice is gravelly, tired, a little strained. For a little while you're considering it, but then the bell buzzes a second time. Longer this time. 

'It's just for a second,' you whisper back. He nods and his grip loosens. You get off his chest and quickly shuffle to the front door. When you open it, you have to take a few seconds to digest the picture in front of you. 'Kieran? Why are you here? Does Tara need something?' 

It seems his head short-circuits just like yours has as he takes a few seconds to answer. 'Eh, no. I didn't know you live here. I'm just... I'm helping a friend move in. I'm doing a round to warn people about the noise.' 

'Oh, good to know. Thank you. Who's your friend?' 

'His name is Sylus but he's a pretty private person, so I can't promise you he'll stop by to introduce himself.' 

'Fair enough,' you respond while you think back to how Zayne used to be. It was a similar situation. Took more than half a year before you two would even greet each other when passing in the hallway. 'Well, give Tara my best. I'll probably see you soon.' 

'I will. See ya.' 

'Who was that,' Zayne asks from the couch. 

'Friend of the new neighbor. He's moving in this week.' You grab your phone from the coffee table to check if Rafayel send anything about a new tenant, instead you see a notification from Red Crow's socials. A new post. 

"No smutty chapter this Friday. I have a busy week.   Maybe if you beg, I'll record myself getting off." 

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