#so. so like he can come back right. with all his memories and- and-

[orangeblossomsintheair]

HONEY YOU’RE FAMILIAR | MV33

summary : For a second, he thinks about turning around. Walking out. Pretending he never saw you, because what’s the point? It’s not like he can just waltz up to you and say, “Hey, sorry I ghosted you for no reason other than I’m emotionally constipated. Want to get a drink?”

wc : 5k

an : writing this to distract myself from my other wips? ..i would never.. 😦 also i wrote this at 12 am so let this not be a place of judgement :))

Max sometimes forgets how small Monaco is.

It’s easy to do when most of his memories of the place are a blur of fast cars and glittering parties. He spends most of his time racing through the streets during the Grand Prix or holed up in a hotel room overlooking the harbor.

When you’re constantly traveling the world, hopping between paddocks and podiums, the compactness of Monaco barely registers. It’s a speck on the map, a gilded bubble he never really bothers to think about until it’s right in his face.

But sometimes, like tonight, he’s reminded.

Monaco isn’t a city, not really.

It’s a playground. A handful of streets strung together like a necklace, choked with Lamborghinis, Rolls-Royces, and yachts so big they could be small countries. It’s a place where everyone knows everyone.

Or, at the very least, they know of everyone.

The millionaires gossip about the billionaires. The bartenders know who tips in cash and who never tips at all. Even the stray cats probably have dirt on the local royals.

It’s not just small in size. It’s tight.

Wealth wraps around this place like a noose, strangling it into exclusivity.

There are no dark corners to disappear into, no sprawling suburbs to lose yourself in.

Just a few restaurants, a few clubs, and a few streets where the same people circle each other like they’re on a carousel. If you’re here long enough, you’ll eventually run into everyone you’ve ever met.

Even the ones you’ve been trying to avoid.

Max doesn’t think about that when he walks into the bar.

He’s not in the mood for deep reflection or existential dread. He’s here because Daniel said he needed a drink, and when Daniel Ricciardo says you need a drink, you listen.

That’s how Max ends up at some overpriced lounge that smells like vodka and ambition, standing under soft, warm lighting that’s trying too hard to make the place feel classy instead of claustrophobic.

He’s nursing a beer, half-listening to Daniel tell some convoluted story about a failed date and a stolen Vespa, when he hears it.

A voice.

Your voice.

It’s the kind of thing that cuts through the noise without him even realizing why. It’s not loud or particularly distinct; it’s not like you’re screaming or making a scene. But it’s you. The way you talk, your cadence, the rise and fall of your words. It’s all so achingly familiar that it grabs him by the throat and yanks.

Max freezes. His drink doesn’t make it to his lips.

The years fall away in a blink, and suddenly, it’s like no time has passed.

He’s twenty-two again, still figuring out how to smile for cameras, while you’re draped over the back of his couch, talking absolute nonsense about whether or not the cars in Cars have insurance or not.

He doesn’t even realize he’s turned to look until he spots you.

You’re standing at the bar, laughing as you say something to the bartender. It’s loud, and Max can’t hear you properly, but he can feel you.

The way you lean casually on the counter, the tilt of your head, the way you wave your hand to punctuate whatever you’re saying. It’s so painfully, annoyingly you.

And God, you look good.

For a second, all he can do is stare. You haven’t seen him yet, thank God, because Max Verstappen does not know what the hell to do with himself right now.

You look different.

Not in a drastic way, just… grown.

Your edges are sharper, your presence more refined, like a photo that’s come into focus after years of being a little blurry. But the core of you is still the same. It’s in the way you throw your head back when you laugh, like the world isn’t slowly crumbling under the weight of climate change, billionaires, and whatever Kardashian family drama is brewing this week.

And suddenly, Max is thrown back years.

To a time when you were his person. The one he called when things went sideways, or when he won, or when he was just bored and needed someone to hear him rant about understeer.

You were his best friend.

No. The friend. The one. The only one who ever really got him. And then…Well, then he was an asshole.

He tries to tell himself that you two drifted apart.

People do that, right? It’s life. Except that’s a lie, and Max knows it. You didn’t drift; you held on like a freaking tow hook. You tried—texted him, called him, showed up to races, tried to remind him there was a world outside of 300 km/h and tire degradation.

Max doesn’t know what to do with this. With you. He’s not used to seeing ghosts in real life, and you might as well be one now.

Max debates his next move. He could just… not. Pretend he didn’t notice you. Slip out quietly, finish his drink somewhere else, and avoid whatever emotional grenade this is about to be. That would be the smart thing. The logical thing.

But Max has never been great at logic.

For a second, he thinks about turning around. Walking out. Pretending he never saw you, because what’s the point? It’s not like he can just waltz up to you and say, “Hey, sorry I ghosted you for no reason other than I’m emotionally constipated. Want to get a drink?”

But then you glance over your shoulder.

And your eyes lock.

He doesn’t have time to decide whether to stay or bolt

You see him.

And Max realizes he’s fucked.

For a split second, he thinks you might look away, maybe pretend you didn’t see him either.

He’s not sure if he’s hoping for that or dreading it. But then your face lights up, and the look you give him isn’t what he expects.

It’s warm. Familiar. Like you’re genuinely happy to see him.

His chest tightens. Max isn’t sure what he thought he’d see. Resentment, awkwardness, indifference, maybe.

But this? This disarms him completely.

You wave, and before he knows it, his feet are moving.

“Maxy,” you say as he approaches, your voice carrying that teasing lilt that could only ever be you. It knocks the breath out of him, so familiar and effortless it almost hurts. “Long time no see.”

Max freezes for the briefest of moments, the nickname hitting him like a slap and a hug all at once. Maxy. No one’s called him that in years. Not his family. Not his team. Not anyone.

No one except you.

“Yeah, uh, long time,” he manages, scratching the back of his neck in a gesture so awkwardly familiar it almost makes you laugh. He looks like he’s 17 again, shy and unsure.

Before either of you can say more, Daniel sidles up next to him, a beer in hand and an amused eyebrow raised as he glances between the two of you. “Know her?” Daniel asks, his voice dripping with curiosity.

“He does,” you reply smoothly before Max can fumble an answer. Your smirk is playful, but there’s no bite to it, just that same easy warmth Max hasn’t felt in what feels like forever. “I used to keep this one in line. Back when he was all awkward interviews and tragic haircuts.”

Daniel barks out a laugh, glancing at Max’s meticulously styled hair. “Tragic haircuts? Wait, this-” he gestures wildly at Max’s head, like it’s some architectural masterpiece “-is the improved version?”

You’re already laughing, and it’s the kind of laugh Max hasn’t heard in years.

He groans, dragging a hand over his face, though the corners of his mouth are betraying him with a faint smile. “Don’t encourage her,” he mutters to Daniel, but his tone is far too soft to have any weight.

It’s stupid how easy this feels. How natural. Max isn’t used to easy anymore.

Daniel, bless him, is soaking it all in.

“So?” he says, giving Max a teasing nudge. “Aren’t you going to introduce me, or do I have to guess?”

“I was getting there,” Max grumbles, shooting him a half-hearted glare before looking at you. For a moment, he falters. He doesn’t know what to call you. Acquaintance feels too cold. Stranger would be a lie. And friend? That feels like stepping too far into a past he’s not sure he’s ready to face.

“An old friend,” you offer, saving him effortlessly, like you always did. “And you must be the famous Daniel Ricciardo.”

Daniel grins, full of boyish charm. “Guilty as charged,” he says, tipping his beer in a mock toast. “And let me just say, I already like you. Great taste in insults.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Ricciardo,” you say, though your smirk says otherwise.

The three of you fall into an almost absurdly natural rhythm, as though you’ve all been doing this for years. Daniel’s effortless charisma bounces off your sharp wit, and Max finds himself smiling more in five minutes than he has in weeks.

Maybe months.

It’s like the weight on his shoulders has lifted, just for a moment, and he can breathe again.

You’re mid-story when he realizes he hasn’t felt this light in ages.

“So there I was,” you’re saying to Daniel, gesturing dramatically, “dragging Max out of his hotel room because he was refusing to face the world after a bad race.”

“I wasn’t refusing to face the world,” Max interjects, but there’s no real heat in his voice.

You give him a look that could level a building. “You were lying on the floor eating Haribo like it was your last meal,” you say, deadpan. “It was tragic. Genuinely tragic.”

Daniel’s cackling now, nearly spilling his beer. “Please tell me there are photos of this.”

“Sadly, no,” you reply with mock disappointment. “But the image is burned into my brain forever. It was that bad.”

Max groans, shaking his head, though the grin tugging at his lips is impossible to hide. “Why did I ever let you into my life?”

“Because no one else could handle you,” you fire back, and it’s so quick, so natural, it makes his chest ache.

Daniel takes a step back, still laughing. “You two are too much,” he says, pointing at the two of you like you’ve just performed a comedy sketch. “I’ll leave you to it. Don’t get too emotional without me, okay? I’m going to find another beer. Or maybe a Vespa to steal. Who knows?”

You watch him disappear into the crowd, still grinning. For a moment, the two of you are left standing there, and the noise of the party seems to fade just slightly.

“Daniel’s fun,” you say, breaking the silence.

“He is,” Max agrees.

When the music starts bumping up again, the two of you are faced with a whole other problem entirely.

“So, you’ve been busy!” you yell, leaning across the sticky bar top, your voice barely cutting through the bass thumping around you.

“What?” Max shouts back, leaning closer.

“I SAID, YOU’VE BEEN BUSY!”

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!”

“I KNOW! THAT’S WHY I’M SHOUTING!”

“WHAT?”

You throw your hands up in exasperation, but he just smirks, clearly enjoying this.

So you double down.

“DO YOU WANT ANOTHER DRINK?” you bellow, miming holding a glass.

“WHY ARE YOU YELLING ABOUT DRINKS?” he shouts back, baffled.

“BECAUSE IT’S TOO LOUD IN HERE!”

“WHAT?”

This back-and-forth nonsense goes on for an impressively ridiculous three minutes, the two of you getting progressively louder, until Max finally groans, shaking his head like he’s reached his limit.

He steps closer, leans in like he’s about to shout something else, then just presses a warm, steady hand to the small of your back. “Come on,” he says, not even bothering to raise his voice this time.

“What?” you yell, still committed to the bit.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he starts gently steering you toward the stairs, and you stumble a little, caught off guard by the unexpected physical contact.

“Where are we going?” you shout, craning your neck to look at him as you climb.

“UPSTAIRS!”

“WHY?”

“BECAUSE I VALUE MY HEARING!” he fires back, glaring at you over his shoulder.

“OH, NOW YOU CARE ABOUT YOUR HEARING?” you tease, but he ignores you, his hand still firm and insistent on your back as he guides you upstairs.

The VIP section is quieter, tucked away from the pulsating bass and the sweaty chaos of the main club floor. Max had slipped a word to a bouncer—who nodded in a way that made you roll your eyes—and now you’re here, sinking into the plush leather of a semi-circular booth with a ridiculous view of the dance floor below.

The second you step into the VIP area, the relative silence hits you like a warm blanket. You blink, adjusting to the sudden absence of aggressive EDM, and turn to Max, who looks much too smug for your liking.

“Smuggled into VIP like I’m some sort of black-market item,” you tease. “Careful, Verstappen. This is how egos start.”

“You’re welcome,” he says dryly.

“For what?” you shoot back. “The privilege of not getting tinnitus at 27?”

“Yes,” he replies smoothly, sliding into a nearby booth like he owns the place. “You’re lucky to know me.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you deadpan. “My life has improved immeasurably since you dragged me up here. I’ll write a thank-you card.”

“Make sure it’s handwritten,” he quips, signaling a waiter for drinks. “And don’t skimp on the stationery.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, rolling your eyes but you’re smiling, and he knows it.

He chuckles, leaning forward slightly. “Hey, if you’re going to criticize, at least admit this is better than shouting at each other over terrible music.”

You glance around the room, all dark wood and dim lighting, where a few scattered people are having hushed conversations or staring down at the dance floor with an air of superiority. “Alright,” you admit, “it’s not terrible. But the crowd up here…”

You nod toward a guy at the next table wearing sunglasses, inside, and sipping champagne like it’s water. “Is this your scene now? Bottle service bros and indoor eyewear enthusiasts?”

Max glances at the guy, smirking. “Not my scene. But I figured you deserved something better than sticky floors and overpriced tequila shots.”

You laugh. “Wow. I feel so special. Nothing says friendship like a quiet room and a drink I can’t pronounce.”

“Admit it,” he says, leaning back again. “You love it.”

“I love judging it,” you correct, grinning. “Big difference.”

Max watches you for a moment, shaking his head with an almost fond expression. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“And you’ve changed too much,” you shoot back, gesturing at his ridiculously put-together outfit. “Look at you, Verstappen. Fancy haircut, custom clothes, actual social skills. Who are you?”

“First of all, the haircut is functional,” he retorts, mock offended. “Aerodynamics.”

“Oh, of course. Wouldn’t want your hair slowing you down at 300 kph,” you say, pretending to be serious.

“It’s a real thing!” he insists, laughing now. “If you knew anything about racing-”

“If I knew anything about racing?” you interrupt, your voice rising in mock outrage. “Excuse me, I was there when you had to Google how to talk to the media without sounding like a robot. You think I don’t know the intricacies of racing, Maxy?”

“Don’t call me Maxy,” he groans, dragging a hand down his face.

“Oh, I’m definitely calling you Maxy,” you say, delighted. “I might even get a custom T-shirt. ‘Maxy’s Biggest Fan.’ I’ll wear it to a race.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “If you do that, I’ll steal your phone and delete every embarrassing photo you’ve ever taken of me.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t have backups,” you say smugly, sipping your drink.

“Unbelievable,” he mutters, shaking his head, but there’s a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

For a moment, the two of you fall into an easy silence, the noise of the club below fading into the background. You glance at Max, noting the relaxed set of his shoulders, the way he’s fiddling with the label on his beer bottle—a habit he’s had for as long as you can remember.

“So,” you say, breaking the quiet, “what’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve bought since you became all… you know.”

“All what?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You know,” you say, waving a hand vaguely. “World Champion. Multi-millionaire. Guy who smuggles old friends into VIP sections.”

He chuckles. “Ridiculous? I don’t know… probably the private jet.”

You stare at him, deadpan. “The private jet is the least ridiculous thing about you, Verstappen. Try again.”

“Fine,” he says, thinking for a moment. “I bought a sauna for my house. Didn’t use it for six months.”

You burst out laughing. “A sauna? For what? Post-race existential crises?”

He groans, rubbing his temples. “It was a bad idea, okay? I thought it would be relaxing.”

“Did it come with, like, a tiny man who throws water on the rocks for you?” you ask, grinning.

“No, but now I kind of want one,” he admits, laughing.

“God, you’re the worst,” you say, shaking your head, but your tone is full of affection.

“And you’re jealous,” he fires back.

“Of your unused sauna?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m absolutely consumed with envy.”

The two of you dissolve into laughter and the conversation continues.

Next thing you know it’s 3 am and you and Max are stumbling out of the club, too giggly for both of your sakes.

Daniel had hopped on to another place hours ago so it’s just you and him.

The cool night air hits you like a slap, but instead of sobering up, it just makes you giggle harder.

Max freezes mid-stumble, his head lolling back like he’s auditioning for Les Mis on the world’s worst stage. “Why’s the air so aggressive?” he slurs. “Feels like it’s… pushing me. Rude.”

“Why’s the ground so spinny?” you counter, stumbling sideways into him.

“'Cause you’re bad at walking,” he accuses, latching onto your arm like a barnacle while swaying dramatically.

“You’re bad at walking,” you fire back, immediately tripping over a shadow and nearly eating pavement.

“You can’t even walk straight!” Max protests, laughing as he catches you before you faceplant.

His arm slides around your waist, steadying you in the most unsteady way possible.

“You’re the one spinning,” you argue, slurring every other word. “Maaaybe you should ju- just stay still for once in your life.”

“Oh, because you’re the expert,” he fires back, wheezing as you nearly trip again. “Where- where are you even staying at?”

You squint at him, trying to focus. “Uh… good question.”

Max stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. “What do you mean good question? How do you not know?”

“I don’t rememb- ber,” you admit, cackling as if it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Max groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re just- what? Homeless now?”

“Homeless for the night,” you correct, wagging a finger at him like that somehow makes it better.

Max laughs so hard he has to pause, doubling over slightly. “How- how do you forget where you’re staying?”

“’S not my fault!” you defend yourself, leaning heavily against him. “The hotel has, like… a name! A boring one! And too many floors!”

Max groans so loudly it echoes off the buildings. “Oh my God. You’re homeless now. You’re a wandering drunk with no home.”

“I'm trying a new lifestyle,” you say, grinning. “Like… nomadic, y’know? Spiritual.”

“Yeah, okay, Buddha, let’s find you a real place to sleep before you start befriending rats,” he mutters, dragging you down the street.

“I like rats,” you say cheerfully. “They’re just misunderstood.”

“You’re misunderstood,” Max shoots back. “Come on. You’re crashing at my hotel. I can’t leave you out here to, like, adopt a possum or something.”

“I don’t wanna!” you whine, digging your heels into the ground.

“Tough!” Max barks, throwing his arm around your shoulders to keep you moving. “You’ll thank me in the morning when you’re not spooning a garbage can.”

You groan dramatically, slumping into him. “Maxxyyy, I’m tired. Can’t I just sleep on a bench or something?”

“Nooo. No benches. Benches are gross. You’ll get, like… pigeons on you.”

“Pigeons are my friends,” you declare solemnly, as if this is a hill you’re prepared to die on.

Max shakes his head, clearly trying to stay serious but failing miserably. “Okay, Dr. Dolittle, you’re not sleeping outside.”

You groan again, dragging your feet even as he starts pulling you along.

“Stop whining,” he slurs, swaying as he tries to walk in a straight line. “It’ll be like- like a sleepover! Like when we were five.”

“Sleepovers at five were better,” you mutter. “Less… you.”

“Excuse me?” Max stops, glaring at you like you’ve mortally offended him. “I’m the best sleepover buddy. I let you steal my Haribo once.”

“You hid the Haribo under your pillow!” you counter, poking him in the chest.

“’Cause you’re a thief!” he says, grinning as he pulls you toward the street corner.

“Am not,” you huff, pouting.

“Are too,” he replies, but his tone is teasing as he hails a cab.

When the cab pulls up, it feels like the world is tilted just enough that the ground might collapse under your feet at any moment. You both tumble into the backseat in a fit of giggles, your laughter echoing off the darkened streets.

It’s the kind of laughter that’s born of a little bit too much alcohol and a whole lot of absurdity. You could’ve sworn you heard a streetlight flicker in disbelief at the sound of your shared joy.

“You smell like tequila and poor decisions,” he mutters with a lazy drawl, his words slow but somehow still cutting through the haze of the night.

Max flops dramatically against you as if the very act of sitting upright requires more effort than it’s worth.

His head lands squarely on your shoulder, and for a split second, you’re both tangled in the shared warmth of a really questionable decision.

He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded, and grins like a kid who just got away with stealing candy.

Max’s eyes widen in mock outrage. “I did not!” He shoots up from your shoulder like you just insulted his very existence, but the motion sends him veering dangerously toward the cab door.

You’re already shaking your head before you even speak, the words spilling out one over the other. “You smell like someone who wore Axe in high school.”

He catches himself at the last second, gripping the seat like it’s a lifeline.

Max is practically in tears from laughing, his snort-laugh echoing off the walls of the cab as he tries to argue that Axe is, in fact, a perfectly fine product, just poorly misunderstood by society.

By the time the cab pulls up to Max’s hotel, you're both deep into a discussion about whether Axe body spray could be classified as a biohazard in certain quantities.

It’s a ridiculous debate, fueled by far too much tequila and a complete disregard for logic, but it’s the most fun either of you have had in ages.

The cab screeches to a halt, and Max stumbles out first, holding the door open for you with the kind of exaggerated flair you’d expect from someone who probably practices his dramatic entrances in front of a mirror.

As he pays the driver, his wallet slips from his hands not once, but twice, and he’s already apologizing profusely, his face flushed from the alcohol and his own clumsiness.

Finally, he gets the wallet sorted, tucks it back in his pocket, and reaches down to drag you out of the cab like you’re a piece of luggage.

You’re both barely standing, teetering back and forth on your feet as if gravity itself is conspiring to make the night even more ridiculous.

“Your palace has really ugly carpet,” you mutter, laughing as you trip over the offending fabric, your feet not quite able to keep up with your brain’s idea of where they should go.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Max says, throwing his arm out grandly to gesture toward the hotel lobby like he’s unveiling the Louvre.

The marble floors, polished to a shine, the sleek, understated furniture… none of it compares to the visual assault that is the ugly carpet underfoot.

Max snorts, his hand steadying you as you almost face-plant into a particularly gaudy potted plant. “You’re banned from the palace,” he retorts, giving you a playful shove.

You recover, and together, you stagger toward the elevator, which, for some reason, feels like an obstacle course in itself.

The elevator doors open with a dramatic ding, and Max promptly starts jabbing the wrong floor button in a series of random, very confident moves.

Each one is a miss, but he keeps at it, as if this were somehow part of the plan.

Max grumbles under his breath but finally, miraculously, hits the correct floor button. He turns to you with an exaggerated wink. “See? I told you. Genius.”

You lean against the wall, your body shaking with laughter as you struggle to breathe through the giggles.

“This is why they don’t let you operate machinery,” you manage to gasp, watching him fumble with the buttons in disbelief.

You raise an eyebrow, patting him on the head condescendingly. “Sure you are, buddy. A true mastermind.”

When the doors finally open, you both stumble out, holding on to each other uselessly.

The elevator ride is a blur of jokes and half-baked insults as you both fight to keep your composure.

Max leans against the wall with a smug look, clearly reveling in his victory over the elevator button.

“Jesus. You okay there, Einstein?” you tease, leaning casually against the wall and watching him drop the card once more. You can’t help but laugh.

At the door to his room, Max proceeds to fumble with his key card in a way that can only be described as tragically incompetent.

The key card slips from his fingers twice, and each time, he lets out a string of expletives in a garble of Dutch and English.

“Shut up,” he mutters, his voice already tinged with frustration. “Technology’s hard.”

“This bed is softer than my hopes and dreams,” you mumble, your voice muffled by the comforter as you stretch out like a starfish.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the door swings open, and Max stumbles inside with the grace of a rhino on roller skates.

He turns to face you with a theatrical sigh. “There. I did it. Happy now?”

You’re already halfway to the bed, your shoes flying off in opposite directions, one ending up by the dresser and the other getting lodged under a chair.

With a dramatic thud, you collapse onto the bed, your body sinking into the soft, luxurious comfort like it was the only thing holding you together.

“Nope,” you reply, barely lifting a finger to indicate where his side is. “Your side’s over there,” you say, pointing vaguely toward the edge of the bed, but it’s clear from the way your eyes are barely staying open that you’re not in any shape to play the “bedroom politics” game.

Max, predictably, flops down beside you with the subtlety of a sack of bricks, his arms and legs sprawling out in every direction.

“Move over,” he grumbles, his face smooshed into the pillow.

“Too bad,” Max grunts, grabbing your pillow from beneath your head and smushing it over his face. “This is a dictatorship, and I’m the dictator.”

For a brief moment, it feels like nothing’s changed at all.

“Goodnight, Haribo hoarder,” you slur, your words trailing off into nothing as sleep drags you under.

The last thing you hear before you fully fade into unconsciousness is Max’s muffled laugh, and you can’t help but smile.

—-

Max stretches, or at least tries to. His arms flail in an uncoordinated spasm, which results in a series of awkward grunts and a pop from his back that sounds like a joint trying to jump ship.

Max’s eyes snap open, and for a second, everything is blurry.

He blinks a few times, the weight of his eyelids making it feel like he’s wading through molasses.

A dull ache sits in the back of his skull, a reminder of the questionable choices he made the night before.

He groans, dry, scratchy, the kind of noise that only belongs to mornings where you regret both your life decisions and your snack choices.

He’s still in his room. So far, so good.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary... except for that persistent feeling in the air that something is off.

For a second, he considers staying perfectly still, hoping his body will remember how to function like a normal human.

But then—

There’s something warm beside him. Something... alive.

Max freezes, eyes snapping wide open. His breath catches in his throat as he tries to process what’s happening. The warmth next to him isn’t the soft comfort of a pillow.

It’s... a person.

A person in his bed.

What the actual hell?

His brain goes into overdrive, trying to make sense of the situation. His mind races through a thousand thoughts in a second, each one more ridiculous than the last.

Did he... did he end up getting a stranger drunk last night? Did someone break into his room to cuddle with him?

Max’s eyes dart to his left, and it hits him like a freight train.

The person is you.

You, sprawled across the bed, fast asleep, your hair tousled and your face peaceful, completely unaware of his mounting panic.

“I need to call Daniel..”

For a moment, Max just stares, brain failing to catch up.

How did this happen? His head starts swimming. His mouth goes dry. His first thought is that he’s dreaming..except, no.

This is far too real. He’s not that lucky.

[duck9irbl]

1

Everything is numbers. Even nothing has a number. 1 thing can change everything. Perhaps it was a moment or a memory a single action or in action of someone or something. Did or didn't do or said or didn't say. 1 out of multiple what if's.

Just like right now 1 single thought overwhelming the mind. Covered in darkness the only light in the words...

To who they belong too or who is directed at are for now unknow until we get to peck into the shadows your a monster

We see 1 man standing what looks to be 1 bed containing 2 people. The people look asleep peaceful unaware. They seem to not know the man but he knows them. I can make this quick and easy

'The chose should be easy right?' He thinks to himself. But as he looks upset from his slight frown. Yet conflicted onto what to do with the furrow of his brow and scrunched up face. From the 2 bag under his eyes you can at least tell he's tired. Again looking down.

1 sentence yet again appeared in his mind. with all of my heart and every fiber of my very being

That 1 sentence again surrounded by darkness the only light the words itself. How could numbers change everything?

1 sickness, 1 boy who escaped being the 1 survivor, 1 offer that he took, 2 brothers with 2 different paths he both took. their just kids

That 1 boy got to grow up despite- because of two brothers. That one boy becoming 1 man staring back at the two brothers. He sits their and watches over the cover of the shadows watching- like he's waiting for something to show up- rather someone. The roles revered 1 man. 2 boys. 1 sword. 1 choice he has to make. That will change everything.

1 lived 1 died. That would stay the same one would live the other would die that much was the same but the question was? Witch brother? YOU

He looks again to what he see's now are not 2 brothers fighting, 2 brothers who picked different paths to different outcomes. But right now- right now he see's 2 brothers sleeping peaceful unaware of the danger that might come. 2 children who don't know any better.

Both kids look at him seemingly awake in shock but maybe thinks is just a bad dream. He doesn't move as to not alert his brother. Their both awake but the other doesn't know that Their just kids who don't know any better

Again that same sentence pops into his mind. Growing more upset, more bitter, more painful stronger and stronger each time. It doesn't stop itself after once no it goes again and again. The same 3 words the 1 sentence repeating again and again. I HATE YOU-! Why?

Like a mantra, a silent prayer, a plea, a beg- hoping to forget. It gets so loud so overwhelming it consumes your very being. You can't hear anything else, you can't feel anything else you can't see anything else. You can't think of anything else. You just want to get rid of it. For it to get off the face of this reality to go somewhere else- anywhere else. JUST GO AWAY-! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOUI HATE YOUI HATE YOUI HATE YOUI HATE YOUI HATE YOUI HATE YOUI HATE YOUI HATE YOUI HATE YOUI HATE YOU

I HATE YOU-! it'd be so easy just to kill him

He snaps out of it with a turn of the children heads the cuddle close to each other as if trying to shield each other from this bad dream- this nightmare.

Then a thought came to mind 3 simple words so similar yet so different. Just like the two brothers. Both words each have 3 in them with the same amount of letters in each, both making 1 sentence. How can something so similar be so different?

He stares at the boys hate oozing off of his in a glare yet he can't bring himself to fully do it. His eyebrows furrowing as his eyes look distant. He looks lost. His eye bags looking darker than before as his decision finally puts the full weight on him. With those 3 distant words yet he wants to remember fondly.

I love you.

I hate you. I love you.

Both words holding so much meaning. He loves 1 of the brothers his farther figure the one who not only gave him a chance in life but a chance to love again. The other brother he hates. The monster who almost made him lose sight of how things truly were.

I love you. I hate you.

I hate you.

This supposed to be the right chose... right?

His face scrunches up as his eyebrows furrow even closer together. As as he allows himself to close his eyes to calm down to rethink onto what he's going to do. What he was gonna do. What he wanted to do. With the words echoing for now one last time.

I love him.

I hate him.

The words no longer in pure darkness with light surrounding them. Yet what frames the words is darkness.

I love him. I hate him.

Time travel swapped AU

Law and his incoming mental breakdown 🙃 He hates Doflamingo with burning passion but little Cora-san clearly loves him. What now?

[ellecdc]

I hate it here

...so I will go to secret gardens in [her] mind, people need a key to get to; the only one is mine.

prompt by @unstablereader: Potter!reader x Barty where when Barty is having a tough time mentally he uses Legilimency on reader but reader thinks about her happy memories with him. I was listening to Taylor's ‘i hate it here’ and the thought appeared

Barty Crouch Jr x Potter!reader who helps him escape for a few moments [860 words]

CW: fem!reader, use of legilimency [consensually], brief mention of Bartemus Crouch Senior/Barty's shitty childhood, escapism, hurt/comfort with fluff

“In today’s lesson we will cover a truly thrilling event: The goblin rebellion of 1752, and all of its triumph and tragedy.” Professor Binns droned on, his tone at odds with how exciting he obviously thought the goblin rebellion of 1752 to be. “But more specifically, we will address the devastating effect it had on the wizard milling industry.” 

“Throughout the many goblin battles, countless wizard cloaks were lost.” He continued, pausing before he added “Actually, we do know the number. It was six hundred and thirty two.” 

You looked down at your notes in front of you - sparse considering Professor Binns had hardly said anything of value - wondering if it was worth writing down that during the goblin rebellion of 1752, approximately 630 wizards found themselves to be cold. 

The tip of your quill touched the parchment before you, a blot of ink colouring the page when you felt a gentle, familiar presence pull at your consciousness. A tentative knock on the door to your mind.

“Treasure?” Barty’s voice asked softly. “Can I come in?” 

You looked across the classroom at your boyfriend, long having given up on pretending to pay attention to the ghostly professor's tangents; arms crossed against the table and his head nestled there atop them, green eyes sparkling in the beam of sun that settled on him, bathing him in its warm glow. 

He looked sad, though you knew why. You saw the letter arrive this morning, though you didn’t see its contents. You didn’t need to; it was from his dad, that was all you needed to know. 

You welcome him in, of course. The weight of his consciousness in yours a familiar sensation, feeling as though you could practically feel, smell, taste, and hear him even though he was sitting on the opposite side of the room as you.

You thought back to your Hogsmeade date last weekend, replaying the way he all but dragged you into Tomes & Scrolls by the sleeve of your jacket to show you that they had finally released the next book of your favourite series. Fighting against a giggle as you recalled the way his lips felt peppering kisses to your temple, ear, jaw, neck, and then shoulder. The sound of your squeals of laughter as you tried to take off down the cobblestone paths only for him to catch you by your waist and pull you back into him to continue his ‘assault’. 

You felt him chuckle at that, his melancholy aura shifting into something a little lighter.

You thought, then, of the way the two of you sat on the Astronomy tower a few evenings ago, the cool air bringing tears to your eyes but unable to break through the warming charm Barty had encompassed the two of you in.

“Just once I’d like to sit on the edge of a crescent moon.” You had mused aloud, earning you a bemused yet thoroughly amused look from your boyfriend. 

“You do know that’s not how moons work, right?” He had asked you, earning him a derisive scoff.

“Maybe in your reality, mr moon man, but in mine it makes the perfect little seat.” You responded simply, smiling up at the crescent shaped moon when you noticed Barty shake his head in your periphery. 

“I’ll get you to the moon, then, treasure. Whatever my girl wants, hm?” 

“That’s more like it.” You let out with a chuckle as you let him pull you further into his side. 

Barty seemed to take a moment in your mind to emphasise the sentiment whatever my girl wants. 

You imagined, then, summer vacation at Potter manor. Thick, fleecy blankets laid out on the grass beneath you as you spread out beside the pond, laughing as you watched Barty do a somersault off of the small dock that you and James had helped your dad build years ago. Small white butterflies fluttered around you as though they yearned to participate in the delicate balance of peace and enthusiasm the two of you had managed to breathe into your little summer oasis. 

You couldn’t blame them.

“Merlin, the water is beautiful.” Barty claimed breathlessly as he made his way over to you, shaking his wet hair not unlike a dog and covering you in tiny drops of water.

“Barty! I have my book!” You chided around a laugh, hugging your book protectively against your chest as you tried to shield yourself from his assault. 

“How could you want to be anywhere but here, Tres?” Barty scoffed, kneeling in front of you with a beaming smile; his dark hair darker from the water, his smile beaming, and his canines shining in the sunlight as his eyes flashed with excitement. 

“That never happened.” Barty commented, causing your eyes to flicker back over to your boyfriend who appeared to be sleeping for all intents and purposes, though his lips were quirked in the faintest hint of a smile. 

“Not yet.” You replied simply. 

Perhaps you’d never get to sit on the tip of a crescent moon, but you would make sure to bring Barty to the one place you knew he would be unequivocally safe and free. 

Whatever my boy wants.

[orimuraa]

ᯓ ✈︎ XO, call me - OT7

꒰ 𝔖𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 ꒱┆enhypen as your airport crush ⨾

۶ৎ ot7!enhypen x fem!reader ┆fluff┆airport crush au┆heerisma, jayrisma, jakerisma, rizzhoon, sunrisma, rizzwon, and rizzki┆ wc 1.5k

⤷ 𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐢’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i got this prompt randomly and i thought it was really cute so i wanted to write abt it! this is a longer ot7 fic so i hope you enjoy! reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!!

꒰ঌ ℬℴℴ𝓀𝓈𝒽ℯ𝓁𝒻 ໒꒱

𝑳𝒆𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈 - 이희승

you were just on your way back from a recent trip to paris when you him—the most gorgeous man you have ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on. the way his hair fell perfectly, framing his face, and how he was dressed so casual yet he looked so good. the headphones that hung around his neck added an extra touch to his vibe, making you fall instantly for him. but as soon as he caught your gaze, you felt your cheeks start to heat up, your whole body feeling very hot all of the sudden.

he takes a second to realize you were staring at him before smirking, casually making his way over to you. before you can process the situation, he’s right in front of you writing on a piece of paper. “call me,” he whispers into your ear, slipping the paper into your pocket. as he walks away, you see that grin of his before he’s walking off to his gate. oh, you’d be such a fool to not call an angel like him.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑱𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 - 박종성

the airport was bustling all around you and it was practically impossible to make your way over to your gate with how many people there were. but that’s when you bumped into him—a man so gorgeous, you felt unworthy to even be looking at him. “oh- i’m so sorry!” you manage to squeak out, immediately backing away and bowing to him. but he just chuckles, and god damn is it the most attractive laugh you’ve ever heard. “don’t worry! there’s so many people in this airport, it’s dangerous for a pretty lady like you to be all alone,” he winks, laughing at his cliché words. “here, let me walk you to your gate.” he smiles. and who are you to say no to such a kind gentleman.

once you arrive at your gate, you turn to thank the handsome man. “thank you, and i’m so sorry again for bumping into you,” you bow, the embarrassing memory coming back. “ahh~ don’t worry about it. you can repay me by calling me,” he winks. at first, you’re confused, but when he slides a piece of paper into your hand, you understand. and with that, he walks away with a part of your heart.

𝑺𝒊𝒎 𝑱𝒂𝒆𝒚𝒖𝒏 - 심재윤

it was finally summer, meaning you’re vacation to australia was also finally here. as you were sitting by your gate, you noticed someone sit down next to you. curious, you looked over at the person and your jaw dropped when you saw him. his hair was a little ruffled but it added to his look. he had the most gorgeous face and you were sure that leonardo de vinci shaped it himself. you felt your cheeks heat up the more you stared at him—despite feeling a little creepy staring so intensely at a complete stranger. “hey, if you’re gonna stare, at least gimme your number,” he smirks, a thick accent mixed in with his words.

flustered, you quickly look back down at your lap, contemplating your whole life. “hey, i’m just teasing. but if you don’t mind, i would like to give you my number,” he smiles sweetly. “i think you’re really cute.” and oh god, your heart does a whole backflip. “y-yeah, of course!” you nervously stutter, scrambling to fish out a piece of paper. handing him your number, he thanks you, standing up and promising to call you. you’re summer can’t get any better than this.

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒏 - 박성훈

you were sat at a small table inside of a cafe in the airport when the door jingled, indicating that someone else had come in. naturally, your eyes made their way over to the person who came in, who was now ordering at the counter. but oh gosh, when he turned around, you were absolutely star stuck. his visuals were insane and he looked so good in that black, leather jacket that you couldn't help but stare a lot little at him. but soon, his sharp gaze caught yours and you never looked away so fast. however, doing so, you failed to see the smirk on his lips as he took a sip of his coffee, still staring at you.

you don't exactly know how much time passed, but you wanted to just see if he was still there. glancing over your shoulder to where he was, you see that it is now empty, no random, handsome man in sight. sighing, you take your last sip of you drink before standing up and gathering your luggage. but before you can leave, a worker calls out to you, stopping you in your tracks. "a man told me to give this to you before you left," she explains, handing you a small slip of paper. you thank her and walk out, curiously opening the paper. couldn't help but stare, huh? well, i can't let such a pretty face go without giving you my number ;) xxx-xxx-xxxx -call me XOXO.

𝑲𝒊𝒎 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒐𝒐 - 김선우

as you were browsing around the duty free section of the airport, you happen to pass by a gorgeous, gorgeous man. his features reminded you much of a fox's and it made his appearance so striking. his hair was jet black and pushed up and out of his face, revealing his forehead minus a couple of loose strands. he had small freckles adorned on his cheeks and nose, making all the more perfect. you must've been staring for some time because when you finally came to your senses, he was staring right at you, a warm smile on his lips. you watch as he slowly strides towards you, unable to move your feet nor think completely straight. "hi! i noticed you staring and i thought you were really pretty so i wanted to come and chat with you!" his voice is so soft and sweet that you almost miss what he says completely, focusing more on his voice than his words. "oh- i'm so sorry about that, i just thought you were so handsome and.." you flush, catching yourself before you ramble on.

"wahh~ thank you! if you didn't mind, i would maybe like to give you my number? maybe we can get to know each other," he smile never faltering. gosh, you admired his bravery. "yeah of course! here it's xxx-xxx-xxxx," you blush, in shock that you got such a handsome man's number. "then i'll see you around!" he winks, turning on his heel and walking out. "see you.."

𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒘𝒐𝒏 - 양정원

people were rushing past you, trying to get to their gates in time but you were taking your sweet time. you made sure to get to the airport early so you weren't rushing whatsoever. but now, you were kinda regretting it as you had nothing to do for the next 2 hours while you waited for your flight. you were walking around, casually window shopping, when your eyes caught a very handsome guy. he had the cutest pair of dimples and his hair was dyed blonde and waved perfectly. he was dressed casually but you have never seen someone pull off a sweatshirt and cargo pants like this man has.

he see's you staring at him ominously, and walks over to you, a small smile on his lips the whole time. internally you start to panic because why is such a hot guy walking towards you right now when you probably looked like you just rolled out of bed. "caught ya. here's my number just in case you want it," he smirks handing you a piece of paper which you gladly accept. and within a blink of an eye, he's gone, almost as if he was all in your imagination. but the paper in your hand proves that wrong.

𝑵𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒖𝒓𝒂 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒊 - 西村 力

currently, you were sitting across from the hottest man you have ever seen and you were attempting to steal glances at him while also being nonchalant. he was dressed in a pair of loose cargo pants and a baggy white tee that defined his figure so well. his ears were adorned with silver rings and studs while his fingers had simple rings on them. he had a couple delicately placed moles on his face and features that told you he was from abroad. he was your perfect definition of "airport crush" and you weren't complaining one bit. however, when your eyes met momentarily, you suddenly felt hot and flustered as he continued to stare at you. a small smirk adorned his lips and you heard him let out a small chuckle before reaching in his bag for something.

you keep your head down, deciding that you've had enough of your fun for today. that is until a deep voice in front of you clears his throat, causing you to look up at the source. "o-oh, hi there," you blush, feeling your ears heat up again once you catch his eyes. "here, i noticed you staring and thought that you might want this," he drops a note in your lap before walking away, a satisfied smile on his lips. you're cute, give me a call when you can :) xxx-xxx-xxxx p.s. you should work on your staring, people will find it impolite.

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬: @en-diaries, @k-films, @k-nets

⚘. Perm taglist: @vmpivory, @yuvany, @seozii, @pinknjm, @greentulip, @jomisu, @nxzz-skz, @ancnymcnzjy

[fujoshirat]

Shouto Todoroki proposes with a fucking house (Be careful what you wish for ♡)

It was a Thursday night, chilly November air nipping at your nose as you walked out of the theater with your love. Shouto wanted to watch the new All Might movie, and who were you to say no to a date with your lovely boyfriend?

He seemed to enjoy it, the way his eyes lit up every time he saw his idol appear on screen. A boyish, childlike wonder present every time his eyes sparkled, he was so cute!!—wait a minute, that’s not the point!

The main point comes after this scene: after getting hot chocolate from a food stand with Shouto, you both sat down on a nearby bench. Sipping the much-needed warm drink, you let out a soft sigh.

“Isn’t hot chocolate so delicious, Shou?” Your boyfriend nods, small smile on his face as he watches your cheery expression. The cold brought a faint pink hue to his cheeks, making them rosy. He seemed contempt in the quiet moment, something you were used to with him.

But then, his gaze turned contemplative. Scooting a bit closer to you, he asked, “Can I ask you something?”

You look up at him curiously. “Sure, what’s up?”

His kissable lips pressed together firmly, like he was hesitant to say what was on his mind.

“How… do you feel about marriage?” The question caught you off-guard, and you nearly choked on your hot chocolate. “M-marriage?!?”

He nods shyly, though his expression was serious. “Yes, what do you think about it? I’ve been thinking, and… it’s something I want with you in the future—if you want that, too.” Your heart had melted at his honesty. You and Shouto have been dating for a while now, and sure, you didn’t mind marrying him, but you didn’t expect him to bring it up so casually.

Heart pounding in your chest, you turn your eyes from your drink and face him. Your breath hitches when you see his earnest expression. “Well, I wouldn’t mind marrying you, Shouto. And if we were to get married someday, I don’t want anything super fancy! I’m not into those huge diamond rings and over-the-top proposals, which all seem like a huge waste of money and a silly way to “show” that you love someone.” Shouto’s heterochromatic eyes widen at your statement, processing your words. “You wouldn’t want a ring?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, no, I’d want a ring. Just nothing extravagant, you know? I’d rather have something permanent.” Your boyfriend tilts his head confusedly.

“Permanent? What’s more permanent that a ring?” ‘Good question,’ you thought. Before Shouto brought it up right now, you never really thought about the specifics of marriage. Thinking for a moment, you decide to tease the boy and grin mischievously.

“A house,” you say proudly, half joking-half serious. No way was anyone in their right mind going to propose to you with a house oh how wrong you were babe. “I mean, it’s not something that sits on your finger until you break it or you lose it or you get too fat from aging or childbirth. It’s a place where memories are made, and…” You gently cup his right cheek with your hand, soft smile on your face, “hopefully if we do get married, it will be good memories.”

Shouto stared at you for a few seconds, as if you had just revealed the meaning of life itself. The man had already told you about his rough childhood a few years back, and you had already met his family a while ago. You knew what he feared, and you knew how to comfort him and make everything okay. Nodding slowly, Shouto gently touched the hand that was caressing his cheek. “A house,” he murmured, almost to himself.

You didn’t think of it much then. After all, it was just a silly, offhand comment that would never actually happen…

...right?

You had laughed off your “wish” not even a few minutes after you said it, and continued chatting about the movie and basking in your boyfriend’s company.

But Shouto? Shouto took it to heart. And everyone knows that Pro Hero Shouto Todoroki never does a half-assed job.

That’s why, exactly one year later, on another chilly November night, he drove you into a quiet, fancy neighborhood that you definitely had no business being in.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. You both had just finished a pleasant, fancy dinner in the heart of the city and were driving back to your shared apartment. Perhaps Shouto was just taking a detour to tour the area. Perhaps Fuyumi-san was interested in moving out to a nice neighborhood with her boyfriend? As your mind drifted away in a daydreaming cloud, the black BMW M850i pulled up to the sidewalk and came to a stop. The warm hand caressing your thigh gently squeezed it, and Shouto put the car on park. “My love,” he spoke, voice smooth and low, “Would you like some fresh air?” You quirked a brow curiously but nodded and unbuckled. Your boyfriend came around and opened the door for you, holding your lower back gently as he guided you to the sidewalk.

Curiously, you looked around at the beautiful houses around you in wonder. They were a mix of traditional and modern. It almost reminded you of Shouto’s own household, though these ones were obviously new and had a better, modern architectural design to it.

Intertwining his fingers in his, he looks down at your figure and smiles softly. “This is a new neighborhood that I wanted to show you. It was recently completed in July.” His voice was calm, a soft smile on his face—with a hint of something that you couldn’t identify. Something… deeper.

You tilted your head and looked up at him curiously. “It’s beautiful, love, but, why are we here?”

And then,

Shouto got down on one knee—

a gasp,

and pulled out a small velvet box—

another gasp,

and opened it—

revealing a delicate diamond ring.

It was simple, elegant, and exactly what you had in mind one year ago.

But before you could say anything else, he pulled something else out of his pocket:

A small, silver key.

Your jaw drops, mouth hanging wide open, as small tears prick at your eyes. Shouto smiles softly at your expression, gaze never wavering. “I remembered what you said last year and-”

“Shouto. Himura. Todoroki. You didn’t!”

He chuckles, your knees feeling week as you stared at his amused yet sincere expression.

“I did.” Warm liquid falls down your cheek before you know it, yet all you can focus on is the man in front of you.

“I know that you said you wanted something permanent, and I want to give you something permanent too.” He glances at the house that you both were in front of, and then back at you. “It’ll be a place where we can build a life together, a place where you will always be safe, a home where you will always feel loved.” Your heart cracks even further at the sound of his voice, honest and genuine and vulnerable and raw.

“My love for you is permanent, Y/N, and if you’ll have me, I want to share this with you, forever.”

Tears streamed down your face as you struggled to find words. “Shouto, hic are you— sniffle this—this house—” “I wanted you to have both a ring and a house.” Your boyfriend says that with full conviction in his voice, honesty and sincerity evident.

“Will you, L/N, Y/N, marry me?”

You nod furiously and desperately wipe some of your tears,

“Yes! God, yes Shouto!” Your new fiancé wastes no time scrambling up to his feet and sliding the ring on your pretty ring finger. Gently, he pulls you into his arms and tenderly wipes some of your tears.

“You’re sniffle incredible,” you murmur in his chest. Shouto laughs, but he is cut off by the second half of your statement. “And incredibly terrible!” He blinks, confusedly. “What? Why?”

“Shouto!” You chastize him with a huff, using your sleeve to wipe away snot that’s probably gross (Shouto doesn’t think it’s that gross). “Why would you spend 60 million yen on me!?!” (approximately $400,000 in USD)

He blinks again, confused, as if you had said something silly. “I’m a pro hero,” he says cooly, shrugging as if that and the amount of money he spent was no big deal (it really isn’t a big deal to him). “I’ve been saving, and…” Gently, he holds the hand with the ring up to his lips and kisses your knuckles gently, making your knees buckle and your cheeks even rosier.

“You’re worth it, my love. This ring, the house, nothing can compare to how happy and loved you’ve made me.” Tears well up in your eyes once again, threatening to spill over as your heart clenches. “That’s so unfair,” you murmur, voice cracking. Shouto’s lips quirk up into a smug smile, almost like a smirk, showing his blatant amusement.

“What is, darling?”

“Being this perfect,” you mutter, tears streaming down your cheeks again. Shouto laughs and presses a tender kiss to your forehead. “I’m sorry, but you deserve everything, Y/N. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure that you know it.” His eyes widen when you let out a whiny sob, burying your face into his warm chest. His left hand gently rubs circles on your back as he chuckles. A cool autumn breeze blows by, ruffling your hair. Shouto sees you visibly shiver and strokes your head.

“You must be cold, would you like to go inside?”

He watches your puffy yet beautiful eyes sparkle, and Shouto can’t tell if it is from your tears or happiness. Yet, he understands that the answer is both when you interlace your hand with his and use your free hand to unlock the door to the brand new 60 million yen home with a brand new diamond ring on your finger in the brand new luxury neighborhood with your brand new fiancé and soon to be husband. ♡

[mintmatcha]

For the first time in centuries, he speaks to the thing that made him. It comes only in the deepest of nights, when the winter air is most bitter.

"Why do you curse me like this?"

The voice tastes of forgotten pine, a species now lost. "Why do you speak in tongues I do not know?"

The language should be dead, but it rolls off his tongue as easily as it did back then. No written word, no official name in the modern tongue: a secret between him and the monster he's bonded to.

"You take her from me, life after life." He never ages, but he feels young again, angry, reckless. "You lied to me when you promised a painless life. You lied when you promised no one else would die."

The wind howls with insult. There's a moment where he can feel it there, hunched and hovering above his shoulder, maw gaped and empty.

"The only lie is the one you tell yourself."

It's gone again, nothing but a whispering voice on the breeze. Without worshippers, it no longer holds much power. Without him, it would fade into nothing, just like the other forgotten gods.

"I know your mind does not fail you. You remember your first meeting with the girl."

"In the summer fields."

"Ach. Your lie." It growls its words. "That was her second life."

He has no answer to that. No, he had met you in the fields, right after the grain had sprouted. The memory is his prized possession.

"You play your tricks again."

"You truly forget the face of the woman you sacrificed in my name?" The hiss runs a chill up his spine. "The one who you killed with your own hands? The one who's blood you drank to live for all eternity?"

Blood is always the price. He had taken a woman from the neighboring village, covered her face in cloth so he could not see the tragedy he was committing. The ritual was long, grueling, and the girl had almost died too soon multiple times, but she fought to live, fought against his hand-

"No." Those screams. Were they yours? "That's- no."

"You had chosen her to die, so you may live."

His stomach turns as he remembers the taste of your blood on his lips, the metal aftertaste as you fought with the last ounce of life-

"Now, she dies."

immortal and the human they've been cursed to watch die over and over again

[villainbait]

Lost and Found

Pairing: Sukuna x reader | Sukuna x genderless reader Rating: 16+ Tags: brief gore mention, canon sukuna behavior, angst, thriller, horror if you squint, drama, reincarnation, Summary: "I will find you." In your past life, you were Sukuna's jailer. In this one, you're simply an office worker hoping the King of Curses has simply forgotten you. Word Count: 750~ A/N: Sorry for the Sukuna jumpscare? I feel like most of you follow me for Sylus/LADS content, but I wrote this drabble as a warm up. ♥

“Hey, did you hear?” 

You half tune out the notorious office gossip, though you’d be lying if you didn’t sometimes enjoy hearing the petty drama happening within jujutsu society. The two in suits next to you were hardly attempting to keep their voices down, anyway. 

“The King of Curses is back.” 

You choke on your food. 

“Yeah man, he manifested after a thousand years inside some pink haired high school kid. Kid isn’t even a sorcerer, everyone’s shocked he didn’t die.” You took a chance and peeked at the guy sharing the gossip just in time to see him look disgusted. “I heard he actually ate the finger. What kind of psychopath just eats a cursed object, sorcerer or not?”  

Unbidden, a memory surfaced. 

“I will always find you, in every life if I must.” His four hands wrap around the bars despite the barrier and you feel the cursed energy keeping him confined shudder, but the wards hold fast as he slams himself against his cage. “You cannot escape me.”

The threat rings in your head like it was uttered yesterday, instead of a thousand years ago. 

“Get this, rumor is kid can control him.” 

You can’t help the dry snort of laughter that makes them look at you strangely but you ignore them and take a bite of your food that suddenly tastes like sandpaper as you fight the bubbling panic. 

The thought of your life being in the hands of a teenager’s control didn’t comfort you. You pulled out your phone and thumbed through your contacts, your finger hovering over Gojo Satoru’s number. Even if the head of the Gojo clan did answer your unknown call (unlikely), he was so lackadaisical that you had little hope of him taking you seriously at all.

The rest of the day ends in a blur of boring meetings and other tedious jobs that are handed down to worker bees like you and your other coworkers. Once or twice you were reprimanded by your superior for your lack of attention, but the conversation kept replaying that you had overheard at lunch; distracting you.

You tried to console yourself with the thought that Sukuna might have forgotten you, knowing full well he would never forget his gaoler. As you made your way to the train station, your anxiety eased with the realization that he didn’t know what you looked like in this century. You were lucky to have been reincarnated with a face that did not look like the original one you wore when you had met Ryomen Sukuna a thousand years ago when you had imprisoned him.

With his threat still ringing faintly in your ears, you stepped up to the yellow line and waited; your mind adrift as another long forgotten memory swirled beneath the surface.

His breath feathers across your ear and you shudder. “Beg me,” he murmurs, clawed fingertips raking across your stomach with a deceptively delicate touch. He could slice right through you, and you both knew it. “Beg me to save you.” 

“Sukuna,” you whispered his name with reverence and heard his breath catch from behind you. “Sukuna please, they’re coming.” 

“I’ll hear your explanation after,” he hissed and released you abruptly, joy splashing across his face at the prospect of a fight. It’s over before it had a chance to begin, the group of Heian sorcerers reduced to mere ribbons of flesh piled neatly on the ground. In an odd twist of fate, they had been hunting you, not Sukuna and he wanted to know why. It was clear you had intrigued him. 

“Weak.” Condescension drips from his tone, clearly unimpressed by their prowess and power. He flicks the remnants of flesh and blood from his fingers as if such filth is not worthy to touch his skin. 

He stalks towards you with the lazy ease of a prowling beast and you desperately want to run again. Not that you’d make it a single step, so you don’t even try. He reaches for you–

The announcement snaps you out of your thoughts as you’re pushed towards the entrance of the train.

“Rapid train bound for Shinjuku will be arriving at platform 3 shortly. Please stand back behind the yellow line and wait.”

Little did you know as you boarded the train, a certain pink-haired young man had been standing four rows down, staring curiously at you the entire time as a certain curse sweetly whispered convincingly to him.

[gojoidyll]

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 12 | Jing Yuan

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

want to be a part of the taglist? then pls go to taglist ^-^

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“Good evening, princess.”

Without much time to relax or breathe when Blade left to go to the Emperor, another had entered the infirmary. You recognized him easily. He was the main physician that cared for people here. Luocha.

Bringing up the blankets close to your face as a sort of barrier between you and the man, you nodded to him, “h- hello… are you… that Emperor that that guard had mentioned?”

Luocha chuckled as he came to your bedside, “no, no. I’m a doctor, a healer of sorts. Now, princess, how are you feeling? Is there any pain anywhere?”

Taking a moment to think things over, you were glad that everything was working so well so far. Though, truthfully, you haven’t once talked to Luocha before, so you weren’t sure just how perceptive he was, so the amnesia act must go on.

“A little… mainly in my legs, back, and a dull throb in my head.”

Luocha nodded, “and can you remember anything?”

You shook your head, “I- I can’t,” for more of an effective you tried to think of something sad so your eyes could start watering, and just as the tears started to form Luocha was quick to try to comfort you which was surprising to say the least.

“Don’t cry, princess, we don’t have to talk about your lost memory, alright? Let’s focus on something else.”

You nodded and just as Luocha brought out a small handkerchief, probably to wipe your tears, but before he could hand it to you, the infirmary door opened again, and Blade stepped through… with the Emperor coming in right after.

“Why is she crying,” Blade asked.

Luocha bowed, “I’m afraid it’s my fault, I asked her if she could remember anything, and I guess all the stress has finally gotten to her. My apologies.”

Without a word, Jing Yuan stepped forward and took the handkerchief from Luocha’s hand, and when he walked over to you, you couldn’t deny the fear that strikes through your veins as you scooted away, your back hitting the headboard as Jing Yuan sat on the edge of the bed and reached for you.

But all you could see was the striking arch of his blade swinging down.

However, instead of feeling that cold, electrifying metal glide straight through your body like it was made of paper, you felt a warm, calloused hand gently cup your cheek. The handkerchief cloth then lightly being applied to your dampened skin.

You trembled within his hold as he wiped away your tears. A part of you still disbelieving as he gently cleaned you up. It was such a stark contrast to your other meetings with him.

Once your tears were dried, Jing Yuan tossed the handkerchief back to Luocha, “leave us.”

Bowing almost immediately, Luocha took his leave. Though, Blade hesitated for a moment.

“That goes for you as well, Blade.”

Blade only gave a stiff nod before leaving. Your mind was a bit confused at the interaction. Blade has never done that before. He was always quick to follow Jing Yuan’s orders after all.

When you and Jing Yuan were finally alone, you half expected him to tell you to drop the act, but the words never came. Instead, his steel-like focus was solely on you, and not once were you able to stop your shaking, trembling form because of it.

His hand that was cupping your cheek moved to gently caress your face before he let his palm fall away from you.

“Princess.”

“Y- yes,” your voice wobbled slightly.

“Do you know how I am?”

“The- the Emperor?”

He smiled at your answer, “and my name?”

You shook your head, “no,” that one word was a mere quiet whisper that fell from your lips. This was way different than before. Not once had Jing Yuan ever asked anyone to leave you two alone. There was always a third-party present.

“My name is Jing Yuan.”

You nodded.

“Do you know your name?”

“I don’t… everyone only calls me by that princess title.”

Jing Yuan chuckled softly at your response and told you what your name was, and before he could say anything else, you spoke first even though that same fear still coursed through you.

“Is it true?”

“What is?”

“That- that we’re supposed to be getting married to one another?”

He hummed at that question, “we are, yes. You’re my fiancé, in fact.”

His hands moved down to your own, his fingertips lightly brushing at your knuckles as he tried to coax you to let go of the blanket, and once you did, he let his fingers slip into your palm before intertwining both his and your fingers together.

“I- I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t remember anything much less being your fiancé.”

“That’s alright, I’m sure your memory will come back in time.”

You panicked then, was he really dead set on this marriage then?! You didn’t let your inner turmoil show as you looked at your intertwined hands, “how did we end up together?”

“I met you at your father’s castle. The moment I saw you, I knew you were the one.”

You resisted the urge to pull your hand away from his.

“Did I tell you much about myself? Anything you can remember? I- I mean, if you want to tell me, of course. It’s just- it might help me remember,” you rambled a bit, your nerves quickly acting up, but Jing Yuan was quick to ease you, surprising as it sounds.

“I know that your favorite color is (color), and that you like to eat (favorite food),” he started to list off a few things, each detail surprising you more than before because… he was right on all of them, but you never told him any of this, so how-? How was it that he seemed to know you so well?!

And as your conversation with the Emperor continued, Luocha had returned at some point to prescribe you some sort of pain relief drink that you will need to take every morning and even said that you will be able to go back to your room. Which was a blessing, well, until Luocha left once more, and Jing Yuan stood up as well just as the infirmary door closed.

“Shall we?”

His hand was still intertwined with your own as you nodded. He was probably going to lead you back to your room, much to your relief. However, as you stood up the pain in your legs was way more than you previously thought as you left out a small cry of pain and stumbled forward.

Luckily, Jing Yuan had already caught you before you could fall face first to the floor, and before you could apologize, he had lifted you up causing a gasp to leave your lips as he moved to hold you in a bridal carry. Scrambling in his grasp, you hadn’t noticed that you had wrapped your arms around his neck until you turned your head to look at him, and not realizing that he was looking at you too, your lips had accidentally brushed against his own.

You reacted quickly as you pulled away, “I- I’m so sorry!”

And as you looked at him, it was like it took a moment for your words to register in his head as his eyes seemed to have a far away look in his eyes, but before you could say anything else, he smiled at you.

“You don’t need to apologize for something like that.”

You nodded as he fixed his hold on you and moved to exit the infirmary, and just as you were about to ask him if he wanted you to open the door for him, he had called out to Blade, and just as he did, the door opened. Blade seemingly had been guarding the infirmary this entire time.

“Come along.”

The walk to your room was silent and whatever you did, you just couldn’t get your body to relax within his hold. Your tension not going unnoticed by the Emperor, but luckily he didn’t say anything.

“Here we are.”

Looking towards the door and then back up at Jing Yuan’s face you asked, “do we… not sleep in the same room?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard, but he was quick to recover, “before we had agreed not to share a room until after we are married, however, maybe sleeping in the same room will hasten your memories to come back sooner rather than later.”

You were quick to shake your head as you ducked your chin down to avoid eye contact, “n- no, we can- we can wait until we’re married- if- if you still want to marry me.”

Having Blade open your bedroom door, Jing Yuan had walked in with you still in his arms. His steps easily carry you to your bed, but before he set you down, he had leaned into you. His lips pressing softly to your forehead causing you to freeze up again.

“Get some rest, I’ll see you at breakfast in the morning. Your maids will come assist you in getting ready tomorrow,” he said to you as he set you down.

“Al- alright, thank you Emper-,” before you could finish he had stopped you, his thumb pressing firmly against your lips.

“My name.”

Nodding to him, he had brought his hand away, “thank you…. Yuan.”

The shortening of his name seemed to catch him off guard again, but just as before his recovery was as swift as the wind, and he delivered his goodnight to you just as easily before leaving your room.

And once you were finally alone, you flopped back into your mattress. Jing Yuan was acting off, but you knew better. As long as you stayed on your toes and kept at it, you knew that you would be able to make it home.

“Blade.”

“Yes?”

“Has Dan Heng apprehended the maid responsible?”

“He has.”

“Good.”

“Do you want him to take care of her?”

“No, I’ll kill her myself.”

taglist pt 1

@danae-misfortune @frogsasfrogs @openthenyoor01 @zuhaine @ughlostmyotherac @joyfulnightprincess @thechibifoxcub @ceaether @satanisasofties @thetwinkims @yanrandom @honeybunbunn @superdonkeypatroleggs @ohmyfinggod @baboon-milk333 @zareri @kclremin @rains-mae @yccoffeesimp @bloomiesty @moon-taffy @superdark-soul @pinkismyfavcolor @isa-l0v3r @its-astrotea-love @reapersan @junephantom21 @erisfayred @greyrain23 @justadekusimp @uzxotic @alisstaa @avalordream @unlivingdisaster @pix-stuff @sleepyxion14 @pillows-blankets @anicega @junni-berry @niaainthere @sorachitsuki @dyingsweetmackerel @rosariymchapter @immahuman @fluffy-koalala @momoniq @orphiclueur @insightedly

[ye4gerz]

my game, your rules. — ldh part three (FINAL)

‧˚⭒ pairing: lee donghyuck x afab reader 18+MDNI ‧˚⭒ genre: brothers best friend au! fake dating! friends to lovers! humor! fluff! angst! smut! adult life au! jenos sister! flirty hc! ‧˚⭒ word count: 11k+ ‧˚⭒ cw: the beginning part is mostly angst, sorry! smut towards the end. dirty talking, raw sex, choking, etc. drinking, mentions of jaehyun, dom hc. ‧˚⭒ summary: you’re fed up with your family constantly telling you how to live your life, but what would they think if you showed up with your brother’s best friend as your new boyfriend? even worse—what happens when you realize you’re actually falling for him?

‧˚⭒ a/n: thank you for the wait everyone! i realized due to my personal life being so busy sometimes, i’m prob better off sticking to long one shots lmao. sorry i had to end it short at three parts. i'll be working on another one shot soon, thank you to everyone who engaged with the series, enjoy! (ignore any grammatical errors if any)

previous

It was one thing to pretend to be with your brother’s best friend, and another to actually be with your brother’s best friend, but what do you call it when the best friend you’re fake dating starts to feel… real?

You guessed it was whatever complicated, undefined thing you had going on with Haechan right now.

It had been several nights since the first time you’d slept together, and somehow, it had slipped into your routine without much discussion. Every evening, he was there—waiting outside your job to pick you up, a sly grin on his face as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Days and nights repeated like clockwork, neither of you acknowledging the shift, as if naming it would make it too real. Instead, you both just… enjoyed it.

“Fine, we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Your own words replayed in your mind endlessly, and you found yourself wishing they had been a promise instead of an empty phrase, left to dissolve into the early hours of the day.

Yet, even without a label, you couldn’t deny the effect he had on you. Your stress was melting away bit by bit, the weight of work no longer consuming you like it used to. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were beginning to understand the elusive concept of a work-life balance.

As you stood in front of the mirror, your gaze traveled over your reflection. Love bites peppered your skin, faint but impossible to ignore. Each one held a memory, moments you couldn’t help but replay in your head. You smiled softly, warmth spreading through you at the thought of him.

You missed him already.

“What’s taking so long?” Karina’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, followed by a series of impatient knocks on the bathroom door.

“Sorry!” you called back, hurriedly finishing your last-minute outfit adjustments. “I’m coming out now!”

Tonight was girls night—a night you’d promised yourself would be nothing but fun, but as you opened the door and met Karina’s scrutinizing gaze, you couldn’t help but wonder how much of the night your thoughts would linger on Haechan.

“Impatient much?” you teased Karina as you slipped on your earrings.

“It’s been forever since it’s just been the two of us,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “I swear, I should sue Haechan for stealing you away from me.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “No need to worry. Tomorrow’s the night he meets my family, and soon after, our ‘relationship’”—you emphasized with air quotes—“will officially be over. I get my peace, and they get to meet someone who isn’t you for once.”

Karina leaned against the doorframe, her sharp gaze raking over you like she was trying to read between the lines. “You’re not convincing me,” she said, raising a brow. “Do you think you can hide those marks? Please, you two are so deep in denial it’s almost painful to watch.”

Her words hit like a sucker punch, and you fumbled for a response. It had nothing to do with your best friend, but all with the fact that Haechan has been a bit distant today. You didn’t want to flood your thoughts with worry, but the intensity of your underlying feelings were too much to ignore. Instead of addressing the comment, you busied yourself with adjusting the strap on your heels, your eyes glued to the floor. “Like I said, it’ll be ending soon. Can we not talk about him right now?”

Karina frowned but didn’t push further, though her knowing expression didn’t go unnoticed.

Meanwhile, across town, Haechan sat on his couch, the glow of his phone illuminating his frustrated expression. He knew you were going out with Karina tonight—you’d told him—but something about it gnawed at him. He hadn’t responded to your last text, and even when he did, it took hours because every reply felt like walking a tightrope.

The thought of you at a club, surrounded by strangers, without him, it sent his mind spiraling. What if some guy tried something? Worse, what if you met someone—someone you actually liked—and decided to drop this whole fake relationship?

“Would that be cheating?” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “Yes—no—shit.”

This wasn’t real. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself; every lingering glance, every stolen moment, and every kiss that left him breathless felt all too real. The weight of unspoken feelings hung between you both like a thread threatening to snap. He turned his phone off and on again, trying to distract himself, but the pull you had on him was intoxicating, inescapable.

Back at your apartment, Karina softened, rubbing your back in a gesture of comfort. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “It’s not my place to bring up your love life. Let’s just go have fun tonight, okay? Who knows, maybe we’ll both go home with someone new.”

Her attempt to lighten the mood made you smile despite yourself. “Yeah, let’s just have fun,” you echoed, grabbing your purse and heading for the door.

Even as you walked out with Karina, a small part of you wondered if Haechan was thinking about you as much as you were thinking about him.

Meanwhile, Haechan logged online with Jeno, hoping a few rounds of gaming would help clear his mind. However, playing with your brother, of all people, might not have been the smartest way to distract himself.

“So, are you nervous about tomorrow night?” Jeno asked as they waited for the game to load.

“Not really,” Haechan replied honestly. “I’ve met your parents before. They’re nice people.”

Jeno adjusted his mic. “Yeah, but you’ve met them as my friend. You’ve never met them as my sister’s boyfriend. Not to mention, it’s the first time she’s bringing someone home.”

Haechan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the weight of Jeno’s words sinking in. The idea of meeting your parents in this new role suddenly felt a lot heavier than it had before.

He had pitched this whole fake dating idea to help you out, to make your life easier during a time when you needed it most. He’d told himself that was all it was. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t just that anymore. Somewhere along the way, the lies stopped feeling like lies.

The hand-holding wasn’t just for show. The playful teasing, the lingering touches, the way his chest tightened whenever you smiled at him—it had all become painfully real. With each passing day, the guilt of keeping this from Jeno gnawed at him more.

He thought back to one of the nights you’d slept over. You’d fallen asleep in his arms, your breathing soft and even, while he stayed awake, unable to tear his eyes away from you. His gaze had traced the curve of your cheek, the way your lashes fanned out against your skin. Without thinking, he’d leaned closer, pressing a ghost of a kiss to your hair.

This had become his new normal—holding you, being with you. Every time he thought about what came next, a deep ache settled in his chest. What if this all ended? What if he lost you?

“Hello? You good?” Jeno’s voice broke through his thoughts, dragging him back to the present.

“Yeah, my fault,” Haechan muttered, fumbling with his keyboard. “Um… yeah, I guess I am nervous— but you’ll be there too, so not much to worry about, right?”

“Exactly, bro,” Jeno said, his tone light. “You’ve got this. Now, focus up—I’m getting mobbed over here!”

Haechan managed a small laugh, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “On it,” he replied, diving into the game.

As the action picked up, his thoughts remained elsewhere. His grip tightened on the mouse, his chest heavy with the weight of his own emotions. This was going to be a long night.

Three shots in, and you were already feeling it. You’d never been one to hold your alcohol well. While you weren’t completely gone, you were definitely teetering on the edge of tipsy and drunk. The music thumped through the club, vibrating in your chest, and the dim lighting made it easy to lose yourself in the atmosphere.

“There’s my girl! Look at you having a good time!” Karina cheered, hyping you up as you squeezed the life out of a lemon wedge after your latest shot.

You coughed, shaking your head with a laugh. “I’m getting there, that’s for sure.”

Karina plopped down on the barstool beside you, resting her chin in her hand as she watched you with a fond expression. “Not to kill the buzz or anything, but do you think you’re ready to talk about what’s been weighing on you? I can tell you’ve got something on your chest, and you won’t fully let loose until you do.”

You hesitated, your eyes drifting to the crowd behind her. That’s when you spotted him—a man dressed clean and sharp, head to toe. His neatly parted black hair framed deep, unreadable eyes, and they were locked on you. Feeling a strange flutter of nerves, you quickly shook it off, turning back to Karina as you fidgeted with the rim of your shot glass.

“I guess it’s no secret that Haechan and I have been… kind of together? I don’t really know what to call it.” You sighed, glancing at her. “I mean, yeah, we’re supposed to be pretending, but lately, it’s felt a lot more serious. No matter how much we try to keep it casual, we just keep getting pulled toward each other— and sleeping together? That’s only made it worse.”

Karina’s brow arched slightly, but she stayed silent, letting you continue.

“I’m scared this is all Haechan wants,” you admitted, rubbing your temples. “What if I’m just something to pass the time? I’m too afraid to bring it up because if I’m wrong, and I read this all wrong… what then? What if I ruin everything, and he rejects me for real? That would be awkward as hell.”

Karina’s wide eyes softened, and she reached out to rub your back. “Wow. Yeah, that’s a lot to carry around. No wonder you’ve been so tense,” she said gently. “But listen, you’ve got to talk to him. Tell him exactly what you just told me. If it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll know you tried—and hey, this whole thing has already benefited you in some ways, right? Don’t feel guilty for walking away if that’s what you decide to do. You’re not actually together, so you don’t owe anyone anything. You can do what’s best for you.”

Her words brought some comfort, and you smiled at her, feeling a flicker of gratitude. Before you could respond, the bartender approached, placing a tall margarita with a cherry on top in front of you.

“A gentleman paid for your drink and the next few shots for you two,” he explained.

“What the hell…” Karina whispered, scanning the room with wide eyes.

Your gaze followed hers until it landed on the same man from earlier. He was making his way toward you now, a confident stride and a charming smile revealing deep dimples.

“Hello, ladies,” he greeted smoothly, his voice rich and warm.

“Well, hello, handsome,” Karina replied, nudging your leg under the bar as she batted her lashes.

His smile lingered, but his eyes moved to yours, the anticipation in them unmistakable. “I’m Jaehyun,” he introduced himself, “I just wanted to say you both look absolutely stunning tonight.”

“Thank you, Jaehyun! We appreciate that, don’t we?” Karina said, looking at you expectantly.

You hesitated before giving him your name, your voice quieter than you intended. His reaction caught you off guard—he took your hand and kissed it lightly. “Wonderful to meet you,” he said, his smile deepening. “I’ll let you get back to your conversation, but if you’d like to have a good time together, well—this is for you.”

As he walked off, Karina grabbed your arm. “Wow! Talk about dreamy! What did he give you?”

You unfolded the napkin he’d placed in your hand, already knowing what to expect. Inside was a neat scrawl: In case you need another shoulder to lean on ;) – J followed by his number.

You rolled your eyes. “Great. Just what I needed.”

Karina laughed, shaking her head. “If you’re not going to use it, you can pass it my way!”

“No way,” you said firmly. “I don’t need the reminder of this awkward interaction if you end up hooking up with him.” Stuffing the napkin into your purse, you resolved to toss it later.

“Fine, but that’s a major loss,” she teased. “How about this instead: we finish our free drinks, grab something sweet to eat, and call it a night?”

You smiled at her sincerity. “Sounds like a plan.”

The plan, however, turned out to be a little hazier than expected. Jaehyun had paid for more shots than you realized, and by the time you left the club, you and Karina were beyond tipsy, stumbling into an Uber together.

After dropping Karina off safely, you found yourself standing in front of Haechan’s building instead of your own. Buzzing his apartment repeatedly, you chuckled loudly into the intercom when his tired, slightly annoyed voice answered.

“May I ask who’s obliterating my buzzer at this hour?”

“It’s meeee!” you said through a fit of giggles.

There was a pause, and then the door buzzed open. Moments later, Haechan met you in the hallway, his arms crossed as he watched you nearly trip over your own feet.

“Someone had fun tonight, I see,” he teased, shaking his head as he walked over to steady you.

You clutched onto his shirt, looking up at him with glassy eyes. “Can’t have fun when I’m missing you so much,” you mumbled.

His teasing grin softened into something gentler, and he wrapped an arm around you, guiding you to his apartment. Once inside, he carefully sat you on the edge of his bed, rummaging through his drawers for some comfortable clothes for you to change into.

Haechan gently changed your clothes for you, his touch careful and deliberate. Using the makeup remover wipes you’d left at his place over the past few weeks, he softly cleaned your face, wary of being too rough as he worked around your features.

“Let me grab you some water, okay? Just get comfortable,” he said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You nodded sleepily, sinking into the pillows as he disappeared into the kitchen.

Your gaze wandered across the room, catching the faint glow from his gaming monitor. A small smile tugged at your lips as you pictured him sitting there, completely immersed in a match, his focused expression etched in your memory. You reached toward the side table, expecting to find your phone, only to remember it was still in your purse.

“Hyuckieeee!” you called, raising your voice as much as your drunk tired state allowed. “Can you bring me my phone, pleaseeee? It’s in my purse!”

“Yes, ma’am!” he replied, his voice light and playful.

In the kitchen, Haechan grabbed a glass of water before reaching for your purse. As he rummaged through it to find your phone, a folded napkin clung to the device, slipping free and floating to the floor. He bent to pick it up, expecting it to be nothing—but then his eyes caught the scrawled handwriting.

In case you need another shoulder to lean on ;) – J xxx-xxx-xxxx.

His playful smile vanished instantly. It was like the air had been sucked out of the room. For a moment, he stood frozen, blinking at the napkin as though he could force the words to change.

Who the hell was J? Why did you have his number? And why the hell did he feel like the ground beneath him was starting to crumble?

“Hyuccccck!” your voice whined from the other room, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts.

His heart pounded as he shoved the napkin back into your purse, burying it as deep as he could. Grabbing your phone, he forced himself to compose his expression before walking back into the bedroom.

“Here,” he said, his voice a little too quiet as he handed you your phone and set the glass of water on the nightstand.

You barely noticed the change in his demeanor, already distracted as you unlocked your phone. Haechan, however, didn’t linger. He walked to his desk, muttered a quick goodnight to Jeno—completely ignoring whatever your brother was saying—and shut down his computer.

“W-Wait!” you called after him, frowning when you realized he was heading toward the door. “You’re not staying?”

He paused, his back to you. “You’ve had a long night, and tomorrow’s going to be even longer,” he said flatly, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. “You need sleep, and I can’t afford for you to get distracted.”

The coldness in his tone made you sit up slightly, confused. “Hyuck—”

“I’ll take the couch,” he interrupted, not turning around. “I’ll drive you home in the morning. Goodnight.”

Before you could respond, he flicked off the light and shut the door behind him.

You blinked at the closed door, baffled by his sudden shift. However, the exhaustion weighed heavy on your body, and soon enough, your head hit the pillow, pulling you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Meanwhile, Haechan sat on the couch, your purse on the table in front of him like it was mocking him. His mind raced, replaying every moment of the night and every possibility of what that napkin could mean.

His jaw clenched as a wave of jealousy surged through him, mingling with something deeper—something more vulnerable. Was this all a game to you? A distraction? Did this J mean more to you than he did?

Haechan leaned back, staring at the ceiling with a heaviness in his chest he couldn’t shake. Tomorrow was supposed to be the big day—the day he met your parents—but now he wasn’t so sure he could go through with it.

The couch was uncomfortable, but that wasn’t the problem. You were just down the hall, sound asleep in his bed, yet Haechan couldn’t close his eyes for more than a few seconds before they snapped back open.

Your purse sat on the coffee table like it was taunting him, the folded napkin inside feeling heavier than it had any right to. He rubbed his hands over his face, letting out a frustrated sigh as he leaned back against the couch cushions.

It wasn’t real. That’s what he kept reminding himself. You weren’t really his girlfriend, so why did the idea of someone else trying to be with you twist something so raw inside of him?

He replayed the events of the night, the way you had stumbled into his arms at the door, laughing and clinging to him like he was your safe haven. The way you’d told him you missed him—it echoed in his head, warm and sweet, and he had wanted to believe it.

Then he’d seen the napkin.

In case you need another shoulder to lean on.

The words looped in his mind like a curse. He sat up, staring at the purse again, his jaw tightening. Who was this J? Why did you have his number?

You had been with Karina, sure, but what if this guy was someone you’d met at the club? What if he’d been the one to buy you drinks, to make you laugh, to look at you in a way that Haechan foolishly thought only he did?

His fists clenched at the thought, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to push the images out of his head. He had no right to feel this way, he told himself. You weren’t his. Not really.

The idea of you leaning on someone else, laughing with someone else, kissing someone else—it made his stomach churn.

The minutes turned to hours, and the city outside the window grew quieter, yet his mind stayed restless.

He thought back to the times you’d spent together recently. The way your eyes softened when you looked at him, the way your fingers would brush against his as if it were second nature. The quiet moments after the fake laughter, when it felt like everything between you wasn’t fake at all.

Could he have imagined it all? Were the feelings one-sided?

He threw himself back against the couch, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Maybe this was what he deserved. Maybe this was the fallout of blurring the lines, of letting his heart get tangled in something that was never supposed to be real.

Then he thought about tomorrow—or rather, tonight. Meeting your family as your boyfriend. Pretending to be yours in front of the people who mattered most to you. The thought had filled him with nerves before, but now it felt unbearable. How was he supposed to stand there, play the part, when he didn’t even know where he stood with you?

His eyes drifted back to the purse again. It was a small thing, insignificant in the grand scheme of things, yet it felt monumental. That napkin had shattered whatever fragile understanding he thought you shared, leaving him questioning everything.

As the first rays of sunlight began to creep through the window, Haechan sighed deeply, running a hand over his face. His body was heavy with exhaustion, but his mind refused to let him rest.

One thing was certain—if he didn’t get answers soon, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pretending.

The faint scent of coffee and something savory woke you first. You blinked groggily, your head heavy and your body sluggish as you turned toward the nightstand. There, beside a glass of water, was a small bottle of Tylenol waiting for you.

The gesture brought a soft smile to your lips. Even after nights like this, he always took care of you.

Rubbing your temples, you sat up slowly, the ache in your head reminding you of last night’s drinks. The apartment was quiet, save for the faint clinking of dishes coming from the kitchen. Pushing yourself out of bed, you shuffled toward the source of the noise, following the smell of breakfast.

When you stepped into the kitchen, he was already there, leaning against the counter with a coffee mug in hand. A plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon sat on the countertop, clearly made for you.

“Good morning,” you murmured, your voice scratchy from sleep as you pulled out a stool.

He barely glanced at you, taking a sip of his coffee before setting the mug down with a soft clink. “Eat up,” he said flatly, his tone devoid of its usual warmth. “You’re probably hungover.”

The coldness in his voice made you pause. You looked at him carefully, noting the stiffness in his posture, the way his eyes refused to meet yours.

“Thanks,” you said hesitantly, sitting down and picking at the food. You watched him from the corner of your eye, trying to gauge his mood.

When the silence stretched too long, you finally spoke. “Are you okay? You seem… off.”

“I’m fine,” he replied quickly, too quickly.

“You don’t seem fine,” you pressed, setting your fork down. “Did something happen last night?”

He let out a sharp breath through his nose, finally looking at you. His expression was guarded, but there was a flicker of something beneath it—hurt, frustration, something he wasn’t saying.

“I’ll start getting ready,” he said abruptly, brushing past your question. “You should eat and get some rest when you get home. We’ve got that big dinner tonight.”

You reached out instinctively, your fingers brushing against his arm to stop him, but he yanked it back before you could get a firm hold.

The motion was reflexive, but it felt like a slap. The shock of it lingered in the air between you, and you froze, your hand hanging in the space he’d just pulled away from.

“Did you just pull away from me…” your voice trailed off, your words caught somewhere between disbelief and hurt.

“I didn’t mean—” he started, his voice sharper than he intended. When he saw the look on your face, he cut himself off, turning away from you entirely.

“No, talk to me,” you said, standing now. The frustration bubbled up in your chest, and you didn’t care if your head was pounding or if your voice cracked. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been weird since last night. Did I do something?”

He clenched his fists at his sides, his shoulders rigid. “It’s nothing. Just drop it, okay?”

“Nothing?” you echoed incredulously, stepping closer. “You won’t look at me, you won’t talk to me, and now you’re pulling away like I did something wrong. If it’s nothing, then why are you acting like this?”

“Because I’m tired!” he snapped, spinning around to face you. His voice was sharp, the anger in his tone startling you; but beneath it, you heard the cracks, the weight of something deeper. “I’m tired, okay? Of this, of pretending, of…” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair as if trying to physically push the words back down.

“Of what?” you pressed softly, your heart thudding in your chest.

His jaw clenched, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “I just think you should go home, get some rest, and be ready for dinner tonight. That’s it.”

You stared at him, frustration and confusion swirling in your chest. He wouldn’t look at you, wouldn’t explain himself, and the distance he was putting between you felt suffocating.

“Fine,” you said quietly, the word laced with hurt. “If you want to push me away, then that’s on you.”

He didn’t respond, didn’t look up, didn’t move as you turned on your heel and headed back toward the bedroom to grab your remaining belongings. The door clicked shut behind you, and for a moment, all you could hear was the pounding in your head and the ache growing in your chest.

Whatever was going on, whatever he was holding back—it felt like it was slipping through your fingers, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

Meanwhile, he stood frozen in the kitchen, staring at the spot where you’d just been. His chest felt heavy, and the words he hadn’t said echoed in his mind, louder than anything else.

You stormed out of his room, grabbing your things with shaky hands, your chest tight with frustration and hurt. The air between you had been tense and suffocating, and you couldn’t stay another second in that apartment.

“Wait—” he called after you, his voice laced with urgency.

“I don’t need a ride home, and I don’t need a pity breakfast,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended as you reached the door. You turned back for a moment, your heart aching but your pride keeping you standing tall. “I’ll see you tonight, and then after that, whatever this is will be officially done.”

Before he could respond, you slammed the door shut behind you, the sound reverberating through the hallway.

The cold morning air hit your face as you made your way home on foot, each step heavy with unspoken emotions. The weight of everything pressed down on you, but you pushed through, your pace quickening as if moving faster would stop the thoughts from racing in your head.

When you finally reached your apartment, your hands were trembling as you unlocked the door. Once inside, the silence of your room felt deafening. You tossed your bag to the side and collapsed onto your bed, the weight of the morning and everything leading up to it crashing over you.

And then, it all came out.

Tears spilled down your cheeks, hot and relentless as you buried your face in your pillow. The ache in your chest felt unbearable, and no matter how much you tried to quiet yourself, the sobs broke free, filling the room.

The sound must have carried through the walls because moments later, a soft knock came at your door.

“Hey,” Jeno’s voice called through the wood, cautious and concerned. “Are you okay? Can I come in?”

You froze, your breath hitching as you quickly wiped at your face, trying to compose yourself. “I’m fine,” you croaked, but your shaky voice betrayed you.

“Please,” Jeno insisted, the worry in his tone clear. “Let me in.”

Reluctantly, you reached over and unlocked the door. Jeno pushed it open gently, stepping inside and closing it behind him. His eyes immediately found you on the bed, your tear-streaked face buried in your hands.

“Hey,” he said softly, walking over and sitting at the edge of your bed. “What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

You hesitated, your throat tightening as you tried to find the words. “I… I don’t know if we should even do the dinner tonight,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Jeno frowned, tilting his head in confusion. “Why not? What happened?”

You swallowed hard, debating how much to tell him. For a moment, you considered brushing it off, but the weight of everything you’d been holding inside was too much.

“I—” you started, hesitating before letting out a shaky breath. “I need to tell you the truth about something.”

Jeno’s brows furrowed, his expression soft but cautious. “Okay… I’m listening.”

You sat up slowly, wrapping your arms around your knees. “Haechan and I… we’re not really dating,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, letting you continue.

“We started fake dating because you and Mom and Dad wouldn’t get off my back about finding someone. I thought it would just be for a while, to take the pressure off, but…” Your voice cracked, and you rubbed at your face, frustrated with yourself.

“But what?” Jeno pressed gently.

“I fell for him,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I don’t know when it happened, but it’s not fake for me anymore. Now he’s barely talking to me, and I don’t know what I did wrong or what’s going on in his head. I feel like I ruined everything.”

Jeno stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he let out a sigh and reached over, pulling you into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice full of genuine regret. “I didn’t realize how much pressure we were putting on you. I never meant to push you into something like this.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, the warmth of his embrace soothing some of the ache in your chest.

“I think you need to talk to him,” Jeno said after a moment, pulling back slightly to look at you. “You’re never going to get answers if you don’t. If he doesn’t feel the same way, that’s on him, not you. You were just trying to protect yourself, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“What if it makes things worse?” you asked, your voice small.

“Then we deal with it together—or not at all,” Jeno said firmly. “But you deserve to know the truth. Don’t let him leave you in the dark.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in.

“What about me moving out and finding someone? Isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that what Mom and Dad want? To push me out?” you scoff, the words spilling out as your mind flashes back to the way Haechan pushed you away earlier.

Jeno’s reaction is immediate, his tone sharp with hurt. “What are you talking about? You think that’s what this is about? That I want to kick you out?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you nod slowly, wiping the tears off your cheeks with trembling hands.

Jeno starts to say something but stops, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath as he forces himself to calm down. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, steadier.

“I love you,” he says firmly, his words cutting through the silence. “You’re my sister, and you’re the only one I’ve got. It’s just you and me here, besides Mom and Dad back home. I don’t want you to leave. You’re my real best friend.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and you blink back fresh tears as he continues.

“I just want to see you happy,” he says, his tone gentle now. “I want to see you live your life, not bury yourself in work or stress. You put so much pressure on yourself, and it kills me to see you overwhelmed all the time. I thought… maybe having someone close to you, someone new, might give you a sense of peace.”

He pauses, running a hand through his hair before sighing. “And listen, I know you said you and Haechan schemed this whole thing, but it’s obvious there’s something between you two. Anyone with eyes can see it.”

Your sobs come back harder, and Jeno instinctively moves closer, rubbing soothing circles on your back. His touch is warm, grounding, as his words wrap around you like a protective shield.

“I’ve always just wanted the best for you,” he says softly, leaning his head closer to yours. “I want you to be happy and healthy, and if that means staying here as long as you need, then stay. I don’t care how long it takes. I’ve got your back. I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t welcome. That was never my intention, and I hate that I made you feel this way. I don’t want to push you away.”

You collapse into his arms, burying your face in his shoulder as your sobs come freely. His embrace is strong, steady, as he holds you like he’s anchoring you to the ground. For once, in a while, you felt wanted by your own blood.

“Thank you, Jen,” you manage between cries. “For everything. I’m so sorry I lied to you. I love you.”

He pulls you closer, his chin resting on your head. “I love you too,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “No more lying, okay? I’ve got your back, no matter what.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, the weight on your chest lifts just slightly, enough for you to breathe. You stay like that for a moment longer, letting yourself cry until the tears run out, until the warmth of your brother’s hug melts away the worst of your pain.

Jeno gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before standing. “Thank you for opening up to me. I’ll give you some space. Just let me know if you need anything, okay?”

As he left your room, you could hear him muttering something under his breath. A moment later, the sound of his voice carried through the apartment as he tried to get a hold of Haechan.

“Yeah?” Haechan answers after the third ring, his voice tense.

“Meet me in front of my building in ten minutes,” Jeno says, his tone tight as he tries to keep his anger in check.

“So, she told you?” Haechan asks, his voice low.

“Yeah,” Jeno replies curtly.

Haechan pulls the phone away from his mouth, letting out a desperate sigh as his eyes fix on the ceiling, silently pleading for something—anything—to save him from what’s coming. After a long pause, he exhales sharply. “Okay, I’m on my way.”

Jeno stood outside the complex building, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the sidewalk. The air was crisp, but it didn’t stop the tension from coiling in his chest. His hands were shoved into his jacket pockets as he waited, replaying the conversation he’d had with his sister earlier.

Her tears, her shaky voice—everything about it had gutted him. Whatever had happened between her and Haechan, it needed to be resolved. Jeno wasn’t the kind of brother to let things like this slide, not when it was so obvious how much she was hurting.

Finally, he spotted Haechan approaching from a distance. The usual lightness in his step was gone, replaced by a slower, heavier gait. His hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of his hoodie, his head tilted down, as if he already knew what was coming.

When Haechan reached him, Jeno didn’t waste time. “Do you love her?”

The question hit like a punch, straightforward and impossible to dodge. Haechan froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly before his gaze darted to the ground.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady. “I do. I have for a while now.”

Jeno’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but his expression remained firm. “Then what the hell happened?”

Haechan let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “I… I don’t know, man. She came over last night after the club, and everything was fine until I found this note in her purse. It was from some guy—‘J’ or whatever—and it just… messed me up. I didn’t know what to think.”

Jeno frowned, his brows furrowing. “A note? From who?”

“I don’t know,” Haechan said, his voice rising slightly. “It was just some number and a message about being there for her. It made me think—what if I’m not enough? What if she’s keeping her options open?”

Jeno’s jaw tightened, his frustration bubbling. “So you let your jealousy get the better of you and pushed her away instead of talking to her?”

“I didn’t push her away,” Haechan argued weakly, though the guilt in his voice was evident. “I just… I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Jeno shook his head, exhaling sharply. “She loves you, Hyuck. She told me everything—how you two started this whole fake dating thing because of me and our parents. Only, it’s not fake for her anymore. She’s scared you don’t feel the same, and now she’s in her room crying because she thinks you don’t care.”

Haechan blinked, his breath catching. “She… she said that?”

“Yeah, she did,” Jeno said firmly. “And let me tell you something—you’re one of my best friends, Hyuck. You’re a good guy, but if you care about her, you need to prove it. You can’t keep shutting her out every time something scares you.”

Haechan swallowed hard, the weight of Jeno’s words sinking in.

“You’ve been a great friend to me,” Jeno continued, his voice softer now. “I know you’re the kind of person who would go to the ends of the earth for the people you care about. So if you really want to be with her, if you see a future with her, then you need to go upstairs, talk to her, and fix this. Don’t let one very stupid misunderstanding ruin everything.”

Haechan’s hands clenched at his sides, his heart racing as he processed everything.

“What if I screw it up again?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jeno placed a firm hand on his shoulder, his expression both serious and reassuring. “Then you keep trying. Relationships aren’t perfect, but they’re worth it when it’s real—and this? I can tell it’s real for both of you. So don’t waste any more time.”

Haechan nodded slowly, the resolve in his chest growing stronger. Without another word, he turned toward the building, his legs carrying him toward the confrontation he both dreaded and needed.

Jeno watched him go, letting out a deep sigh. For the first time all day, he felt a glimmer of hope that maybe—just maybe—things would turn out the way they were supposed to.

You had finally managed to calm yourself down after a long, warm shower and curling up under the covers of your bed. Yet, no matter how hard you tried, your mind kept replaying the events of the morning. Every sharp word, every look, every lingering feeling—it all circled in your head like a storm you couldn’t escape.

A sudden knock at your door interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

“Yeah?” you called out, assuming it was Jeno checking on you again. The door creaked open slowly, and when you looked up, it wasn’t Jeno.

Haechan stood there, hesitating in the doorway, his hand gripping the frame as if he needed it to steady himself.

“Hey… Can I come in?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, almost cautious.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that you’d fought so hard to push down. Fidgeting with your hands, you nodded. “Sure.”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him gently, as though he was afraid of shattering the fragile air between you. He moved to the corner of your bed, sitting down hesitantly, his posture stiff and uncertain.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice tinged with guilt. “For the way I reacted this morning. I was upset, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You gave me every chance to talk, and I just… didn’t.”

You stayed silent, watching him from the head of your bed, the weight of his words making your chest tighten.

“Truth is,” he continued, rubbing his hands together, “I found that napkin in your purse last night. You know, the one with the note.”

Suddenly, everything clicked.

“I got jealous,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “At first, that’s all it was. However, the more I read it, the more frustrated I got—not because some other guy was interested in you, but because I realized it was more than that.”

He sighed, his hand running through his hair, tugging at the strands in a way you recognized as his tell when he was struggling to get the words out.

“I like you,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “A lot. I like you a lot more than like, actually.” He let out a small, nervous laugh, shaking his head as his eyes dropped to the floor.

“Ever since we met, I’ve liked you,” he confessed, his voice quieter now. “At first, I didn’t say anything because you’re Jeno’s sister. What kind of friend would I be if I got feelings for my best friend’s sister, right? Then, it turned into something so much more than that. You became my best friend, too. The first person I think about when I wake up, the last person I think about before I fall asleep, and the only person in my dreams. You’re everywhere in my head.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in, tears spilling down your cheeks before you could stop them.

“I know,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “It was my idea to start all of this. At first, it was just pretending, but then it became real. For me, it became so real. And that note? That stupid, meaningless note? It wasn’t even about the guy—it was about me. I hated that a complete stranger had the courage to tell you how he felt when I couldn’t, even after everything we’ve shared. I let my pride and my fear get in the way, and I hurt you because of it. I’m so sorry.”

This time, he looked up, his eyes locking with yours. They weren’t cold like they had been this morning. They were warm, soft, familiar—filled with the Haechan you knew and cared for. Slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek as he wiped away your tears.

“I’m truly sorry, love,” he said, his voice trembling slightly but full of conviction. “If you’ll let me, I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want this to be fake. I want us—you and me—to be real. Please, let’s make this real.”

His words hung in the air, each one wrapping around your heart and tugging at it. You stared at him, your lips parting slightly as you tried to process the raw sincerity in his confession. The way his eyes bore into yours, the vulnerability etched across his face, it all broke down every last wall you’d built to keep your feelings hidden.

Slowly, your body moved on its own. You crawled across the bed, closing the small space between you and Haechan before throwing your arms around his shoulders. His warmth engulfed you as your head nestled against his neck, and for the first time all day, you allowed yourself to melt into him.

Haechan’s arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you even closer as he let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your hair. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never do that to you again. I promise, I’ll never hurt you like that again.”

His voice cracked with emotion, the words tumbling out over and over as he held you. His hand ran soothingly along your back while the other cradled the back of your head.

You stayed like that for a moment, soaking in his warmth and the steady beat of his heart. When you finally pulled back, your hands remained on his shoulders, and you found yourself looking into his eyes—those deep, soulful eyes that were filled with nothing but regret and love.

“The note,” you started softly, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “It was from some random guy at the club. He handed it to me, and I shoved it in my purse so I could throw it out later. But… we got drunk, and I completely forgot it was even there.”

His expression shifted instantly, from shock to embarrassment, and finally to guilt. “So it really didn’t mean anything?” he asked, his voice almost timid.

You shook your head firmly. “Not a thing. I didn’t even remember it existed until just now.”

Haechan exhaled a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’m an idiot,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “I overthought everything, and I pushed you away when I should’ve just asked you.”

You gave him a small, tentative smile, your fingers absentmindedly smoothing over his shoulders. “You’re not an idiot,” you said gently. “You were scared, and honestly? So was I.”

His brows furrowed slightly, his gaze softening as he tilted his head in curiosity. “Scared?”

You nodded, your cheeks warming under his intense gaze. “Scared because… I like you, too. A lot. Maybe more than a lot.” You let out a nervous laugh, your hands dropping to your lap. “I think I’ve been trying so hard to convince myself that this was just pretend because I didn’t want to ruin anything between us. But the truth is, I don’t want to pretend anymore either. I want us to start over—for real this time.”

His eyes widened at your words, and for a moment, he just stared at you, completely still. Then, as if something clicked inside him, his expression changed. The regret and guilt melted away, replaced by something so raw, so full of love and passion that it took your breath away.

Haechan reached for your face, his hands cradling your cheeks as if you were the most delicate thing in the world. “You mean that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, your smile trembling as tears welled in your eyes. “I mean it.”

That was all he needed. In an instant, he leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that was both passionate, real, and impossibly tender. His lips moved against yours with a reverence that made your heart ache, as if he were pouring every unspoken word, every hidden feeling, into that single moment.

Your hands found their way to his chest, clutching at his hoodie as you kissed him back, matching the intensity of his emotions. It was like the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you, tangled in each other and the overwhelming feelings you’d kept buried for so long.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of his confession.

Your breath hitched, and your lips curved into a smile as you looked into his eyes. “I love you, too,” you said, your voice steady and full of truth.

The smile that broke across his face was radiant, and he pulled you into his arms again, holding you like he never wanted to let go. For the first time, there was no doubt, no pretending—just the two of you, finally on the same page.

The evening had finally arrived, and the three of you—Jeno, Haechan, and yourself—stood outside your parents' house. The warm glow of the porch light illuminated the path, casting a comforting hue that did little to calm the nerves buzzing in your chest. Haechan stood beside you, his hand brushing against yours, and when you glanced at him, he gave you a small smile, his own nerves barely hidden beneath his confident exterior.

“You guys ready?” Jeno asked, breaking the silence.

You nodded, inhaling deeply as you stepped forward.

When the door opened, the familiar warmth of your parents' home enveloped you. Your mom greeted you with a tight hug, her smile as radiant as ever. Your dad stood just behind her, his eyes lighting up as he welcomed all of you inside.

“Come in, come in! It’s been too long,” your mom said, ushering everyone inside.

As you stepped into the living room, Haechan gave your parents a polite bow, his usual charm already working its magic. “Thank you for having us tonight,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with warmth.

“Of course, Haechan,” your mom replied, smiling at him. “It’s nice to finally have you here as more than just Jeno’s friend.”

Your dad raised an eyebrow, a curious look passing over his face. “Oh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

This was it. You glanced at Haechan, and he gave you a reassuring nod, his hand discreetly finding yours. Together, you both stepped forward, standing side by side in front of your parents.

“Well,” you began, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. “We wanted to let you know that Donghyuck and I… we’re together now. Officially. He’s my boyfriend.”

Haechan’s smile widened as he looked at your parents, his voice filled with pride and sincerity as he added, “It’s true. I care about your daughter a lot, and I promise to always treat her with the love and respect she deserves.”

Your parents exchanged a quick glance, their expressions softening.

“Well,” your dad said after a moment, his voice warm, “if our daughter is happy, that’s all that matters to us.”

Your mom’s smile was beaming now as she stepped forward, squeezing you into a hug first before turning to Haechan. “Welcome to the family,” she said, patting his shoulder affectionately.

Behind you, Jeno let out a low whistle, crossing his arms as a smug grin spread across his face. “I told you they’d approve,” he said, clearly enjoying the moment.

You shot him a playful glare, but the warmth in his expression softened your teasing.

As the night unfolded, the five of you gathered around the dining table, the smell of your mom’s cooking filling the air. The conversation flowed easily, laughter punctuating the clinking of silverware. Haechan charmed your parents effortlessly, sharing stories of how you two had grown closer and subtly leaving out the “fake dating” part of your history.

Jeno leaned back in his chair, watching the scene with a satisfied look. His best friend and his sister were happy, his parents were smiling, and for once, everything felt exactly as it should be.

Your dad clapped Haechan on the back after dinner, laughing at one of his jokes. “You’re alright, kid,” he said. “Take care of my daughter, okay?”

“Always,” Haechan replied, his voice full of conviction.

By the time dessert was served, you felt a weight lifting from your chest. Sitting beside Haechan, with his hand resting comfortably on your knee under the table, you realized this was the first time you’d truly felt free. No more hiding, no more stress, no more pretending—just you and him, together, surrounded by the people you loved.

As the night wound down and your mom started clearing plates, Haechan leaned over to you, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “I can’t believe this is real.”

You turned to him, your smile soft. “It is, we don’t have to hide anymore.”

He grinned, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” you replied, feeling the words settle warmly in your chest. Finally, you weren’t scared to say it.

As you glanced around the table, seeing the joy on your parents’ faces and Jeno’s approving nod, you knew this was the start of something beautiful. A life where you and Haechan could love each other openly, honestly, and fully—just as it was always meant to be.

BONUS

Months had passed since that dinner with your parents, and your relationship with Haechan had only grown stronger. Gone were the days of pretending and sneaking around. Now, you could openly love each other, and you savored every moment of it. Tonight was no exception.

The neon lights of the club bathed the group in a kaleidoscope of colors. Music thumped through the air, and laughter echoed as you, Haechan, Jeno, Karina, Mark, and Chenle occupied one of the larger booths. Drinks lined the table, and everyone was in high spirits, swaying to the rhythm of the music or yelling jokes over the pounding bass.

“Here,” Haechan said, sliding a glass across the table to you. “One for the prettiest girl in the room.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, taking the drink. “You’re shameless.”

“You love it,” he teased, leaning in to steal a quick kiss before anyone could interrupt.

“Hey!” Karina exclaimed, pointing her straw at the two of you. “We agreed to keep the PDA to a minimum tonight!”

Haechan shrugged, throwing an arm around your shoulders as he smirked. “What can I say? I can’t help myself.”

You nudged him, trying to suppress a laugh as Jeno and Chenle made exaggerated gagging sounds.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Mark said, grinning as he tipped his drink toward you both. “At least try to make it through one night without making the rest of us single people feel bad.”

“Who’s single?” Karina piped up, earning a round of laughter from everyone at the table.

As the night went on, the group gradually dispersed onto the dance floor. Haechan stayed by your side, his hand never leaving yours. You danced with him among your friends, his playful energy infectious as he twirled you under the flashing lights.

At one point, you found yourselves back at the bar, catching your breath and sipping on water.

“You know,” Haechan said, his tone suddenly lowered as he leaned closer, “you look absolutely stunning tonight.”

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze. “You’ve told me that about three times already.”

“I’ll say it a hundred more times if I want to,” he replied, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him. “Careful, Donghyuck. You’re laying it on a little thick.”

He grinned, leaning in so his lips brushed your ear. “If you think this is thick, wait till I get you alone.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you pushed him lightly, trying to hide the flush on your cheeks. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re irresistible,” he quipped, finishing his drink and setting the glass down. “Come on.”

“Where?” you asked, watching as he grabbed your hand and started leading you away from the bar.

“Somewhere we can actually hear each other,” he said with a wink, weaving the two of you through the crowd.

It didn’t take long before you found yourselves in one of the quieter private rooms tucked away in the back of the club. The walls muffled the music just enough, creating a more intimate atmosphere. A small couch and a dim overhead light added to the cozy vibe.

Haechan shut the door behind you, turning to face you with a smirk that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Now this,” he said, stepping closer, “is more like it.”

You laughed, backing up until your legs hit the couch. “So, what’s your plan now that you’ve dragged me back here?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled you into his arms, swaying gently to the faint rhythm of the music that still seeped through the walls. His hands rested on your waist as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Dance with me,” he whispered, his voice soft.

Your breath caught in your throat, but you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. The two of you moved slowly, completely lost in your own little world.

As the song in the distance changed to something slower, Haechan tilted your chin up, his eyes locking with yours. “You know,” he said, his voice barely audible, “I think this is my favorite place to be—with you.”

Your chest tightened at the sincerity in his words. “Hyuck…”

Before you could say anything else, he closed the gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and electric. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, leaving you breathless.

The world outside faded entirely, leaving only the two of you wrapped up in each other. His fingers traced gentle patterns along your back, and when he pulled away just enough to whisper, “I love you,” his voice was steady and sure.

Your heart swelled, and you cupped his face, your thumbs brushing against his cheeks as you whispered back, “I love you too.”

Haechan grinned, his eyes lighting up with pure joy before he kissed you again, his movements more urgent but still filled with the same passion.

Getting lost in not only the kiss but in his touch you find yourself breathing heavier the closer his lips moved down your neck.

"W-What are you doing?" you asked, a low chuckle escaping your lips despite the tension in the air.

"My girlfriend," he murmured between kisses, his voice low and filled with desire. In that moment, the world beyond the locked door ceased to exist.

With skilled hands, he slipped the straps of your dress off your shoulders, letting them hang low and exposing your already hardened nipples. His eyes raked over you, taking in every detail as though he couldn't believe you were real.

"I'll never get tired of this," he whispered, his voice dripping with awe as his mouth latched onto your left breast, his tongue swirling against your sensitive skin.

A loud moan escaped you, echoing faintly in the private room, but the thundering bass of the music outside was loud enough to drown it out.

"Get loud for me, baby," he urged, his voice teasing and commanding all at once. "I wanna hear how beautiful you sound for me."

His hands slid to your back as he unzipped your dress, letting it pool around your ankles. Without hesitation, he positioned you on the sofa, one of your legs resting over his shoulder as his dark eyes zeroed in on your glistening core.

"Barely did anything, and you're already begging for me," he teased, slipping two fingers inside you with ease, the smirk on his lips widening when your sharp gasp filled the air.

"Haechan... please," you pleaded, your hands gripping the fabric of the couch as your body trembled beneath his touch.

"I'm not done, babe," he murmured, his fingers curling inside you, expertly hitting that sweet spot that made your back arch.

His tongue flicked out, meeting your needy clit as he lavished every inch of you with attention, his lips and tongue working in perfect harmony.

Your moans grew louder, your hips bucking against his mouth as your hands tangled in his hair. He groaned into you, the vibrations driving you wild as he watched you lose control, grinding yourself against him with abandon.

Haechan's free hand wandered to his hardened bulge, brushing over his strained cock that twitched with every sound you made. He bit back a growl, desperate to feel you fully but savoring every moment of your unraveling.

When your release finally washed over you, your scream of his name echoed in the room. Your body shuddered as your juices dripped down his chin, his tongue greedily lapping at everything you gave him.

As you lay there, trying to catch your breath, Haechan rose to his feet, unfastening his belt with swift hands and tugging his pants down to his ankles.

Your eyes widened at the sight of him, your lips parting in awe as you noticed his hard cock, his tip red and aggravated with precum.

He leaned down, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist before gripping your hair gently but firmly. His dark, hungry eyes bore into yours as he spoke, his voice dripping with authority. "You're going to take me right here, right now. I don't want you holding back those pretty moans of yours. Got it?"

You nodded quickly, barely able to speak before he lined himself up and thrust into you with a deep, powerful motion. A low growl escaped his lips as he buried himself to the hilt, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"So fucking tight for me," he groaned, his voice rough in your ear. "Always so tight."

His pace started slow but deliberate, each thrust pulling moans from you that sent heat coursing through your entire body. His eyes locked onto yours as he noticed the outline of his protruding length against your stomach.

Grinning, he grabbed your hands and pressed them to it.

"You feel that, baby?" he said, his voice husky. "Soon, I'll fill you up right there. Is that what you want?"

Your sweat-slicked skin glistened as you bit your lip, nodding feverishly. "Yes! Please, Donghyuck, I want you to fill me up with every drop!"

His thrusts quickened, each one deeper and more relentless as his free hand trailed up to cup your throat. "That's my girl," he praised, his voice thick with desire as he watched you fall apart beneath him.

When your walls began to flutter and clench around him, his groan turned into a deep growl. "Donghyuck!" you cried out, your nails digging into his back as your release crashed over you.

He wasn't far behind. His hips stuttered as his grip tightened, his eyes rolling back as he spilled himself inside you, his body trembling with the force of his climax. Even as he came, he rocked his hips, ensuring every last part of him stayed buried deep within you.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sounds of your labored breathing.

Haechan's forehead rested against yours as his hand moved to brush damp strands of hair from your face.

"Round two at my place?" he asked, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.

Your laugh echoed softly as you cupped his face, your gaze filled with warmth. "Only if we manage to sneak away without getting caught."

"Say less." He grinned, standing to pull his pants back on before helping you dress. His hands lingered a little too long on your hips, his touch still filled with the passion of the moment.

Hand in hand, the two of you slipped out of the private room, sharing whispered laughs and conspiratorial smiles as you made your way through the club and out into the cool night air.

You felt completely free, the chaos of the night left behind as you escaped into a world where it was just you and him. Together, you'd already won a lifetime of love

‧˚⭒ taglist: @jaeminnanaaa17 @scoobysnackszoo @1800-jigglemywiggle @karmasbestie @cathamada @yoursyuno @oneeew @serenedreamscape @moryymor @yesohhsehun @dnihyuck @doyotint @kodasity @rainverry

[nahoney22]

Congratulations on the followers! Please can I request some angsty fluff with Fox and a female reader with this prompt - 24: “Who hurt you?”

Maybe reader got attacked and he found her and tends to her wounds which leads to some feelings being shared? Thanks if you do 😊 I love your work

Medical Feelings

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female!Reader

word count: 1.8k

prompts:

• “Who hurt you?”

Plot: After a risky mission that left you injured, Commander Fox helps nurse you back to health.

Warnings: Safe for work, hurt whump, idiots in love, Reader scared of droids momentarily, needle mention, slightly injured reader, minor blood mention.

Authors note: Sorry for the wait 🩵

“How are you holding up?”

You blink, trying to focus as the voice cuts through the haze in your head. But your vision blurs and swims, the light above stabbing behind your eyes like a viroblade.

“Like someone who’s been hit in the head,” you groan, wincing as you sit up on the medbay cot. The room tilts for a moment and you feel like you may be sick but luckily it settles, and your eyes finally set on the figure perched nearby. Thire.

The mission hadn’t gone as planned. What should have been a straightforward retrieval of intel left you caught in the crossfire. You weren’t a soldier so when the fighting started, you’d been forced to rely on pure luck and very minimal training. Clearly, neither had been enough.

Your memory of the incident was weak as all you could recall was a sharp pain to your head followed by the sight of clankers looming over you before everything went dark.

“You took quite a hit,” Thire says, his voice lighter than the situation warrants as he pulls up a stool to sit beside you.

“I noticed,” you mutter, rubbing gingerly at your temple that felt sticky and as you pull your hand back, a splodge of blood painted your fingertips. A dull ache radiates from where the blow landed, and your entire body feels stiff and battered.

Recovery is going to take a while.

“You know the Commander’s going to want to see you.”

The comment makes you freeze for a beat before you force a painful shrug, hoping to look unaffected. “He’s busy. I doubt he even noticed.”

Thire snickers. “Not too busy for his favourite girl.”

You roll your eyes, already regretting letting him sit down. “Oh don’t start with all that.”

But Thire doesn’t let up, grinning like a loth-cat who’s cornered its prey. “Come on. You’ve seen the way he looks at you. If Fox stares any harder, his visor’s going to fog up.”

“Shut up, Thire,” you grumble, though a reluctant chuckle escapes before you can stop it. The movement makes your ribs ache, and you hiss softly in pain. “And no, I haven’t seen the way he looks at me. It's you lot putting that notion in my head.”

Instantly, Thire’s grin fades, replaced by concern as he notices your pain. “Should I call a med droid?”

“No!” you blurt, a little too quickly. Thire raises a brow, clearly catching on.

“Not a fan of droids, huh?”

You cross your arms, or at least try to; the motion is stiff and awkward. “I’m fine. Really. I don’t need—”

“Who hurt you?”

The sudden voice freezes you mid-sentence. Both you and Thire turn toward the door at the same time, and your heart stops.

Commander Fox. The visor of his helmet glints under the overhead lights as he strides toward you, exuding that no-nonsense authority he’s known for.

Thire shoots you a smug, told-you-so glance before rising to his feet. “This one took a blow to the head, sir. She has a possible concussion.”

Fox’s attention shifts to the datapad in Thire’s hand. “Why wasn’t this reported to me immediately?”

“I figured you had more pressing matters,” Thire replies smoothly, clearly unfazed by the irritation in Fox’s tone.

Fox huffs, the sound sharp and metallic through his helmet’s vocoder. His gaze snaps back to the datapad, scanning the details. “And why hasn’t a med droid been dispatched?”

You groan, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “I’m right here, you know. Maybe someone could ask me what I want instead of talking like I’m invisible.”

Both men turn toward you at the same time. Thire’s expression is sheepish, though it doesn’t quite mask the amusement in his eyes. Fox, however, is unreadable as always, his emotions hidden behind the stoic facade of his helmet.

Thire clears his throat, stepping back. “I’ll, uh, leave you with the Commander.” He’s gone before you can protest, disappearing through the door with a suspiciously quick pace.

The silence that follows is thick enough to cut with a vibroblade. Fox stands rigidly near the cot, his arms folded across his chest. You can hear the faint tap of his boot against the durasteel floor as he shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “How are you feeling?”

You shrug, regretting it immediately when the movement sends another sharp ache down your spine. “I’ve been better.”

His head tilts slightly, a gesture that might be concern. “You should’ve reported your injuries sooner.”

“You think I wanted to end up in here?” you counter, the bite in your voice softened by exhaustion.

Fox doesn’t reply immediately. Instead, he steps closer, his broad frame almost casting a shadow over you. For a moment, you think he might argue. But his next words surprise you.

“You’re lucky,” he says almost quietly. “It could’ve been worse.”

There’s something in his tone—a rare softness that catches you off guard, even if it is for a moment. You both seem to snap out of whatever the hold that ensnared you both and you close your eyes, leaning back with a soft agreement of his words.

Fox pauses for a moment, then steps away. You crack one eye open, expecting him to be halfway out the door, but to your surprise, he returns moments later with a medical droid trailing behind.

You suddenly sit up straighter, tension rippling through you as the AZI droid glides closer, a stim injector held in one of its arms.

“I’m fine. I don’t need a droid to see me,” you declare quickly, glancing between the droid and Fox with what you hope is a convincing look of confidence. But Fox is already standing there, arms crossed, and his helmet tilts slightly in a way that screams ‘you’re not fine’.

“The patient requires an injection to reduce inflammation and prevent complications,” the droid announces, already grating on your nerves.

Your heart skips as the droid raises the injector, the gleam of the stim making your stomach twist. You instinctively lean back, trying to put more space between you and the advancing machine.

“No. I don’t want it,” you snap, panic slipping into your voice despite your best efforts.

Fox’s gaze shifts to you, then to the droid. He holds up a hand, “Stop.”

The droid halts mid-motion. “Commander, the patient requires—”

“I’ll handle it,” Fox says firmly.

Before you can process what’s happening, he steps forward and plucks the stim from the droid’s arm.

“What are you doing?” you ask apprehensively.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead inspecting the stim injector with almost practiced ease. “You need this,” he says finally, his tone calm but resolute under the modulator. “If you don’t want the droid to do it, I will.”

Your mouth opens, then closes, words failing you as he pulls a stool closer and sits beside the cot. He’s quiet, efficient, and unbothered by your flustered state as he rolls up the sleeve of your tunic. His gloved fingers brush against your skin, sending a jolt through you that has nothing to do with the injection.

“This will only take a second,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost soothing. “Just relax.”

You nod stiffly, your pulse racing as he steadies your arm. The sharp pinch of the needle is over in a heartbeat, but the warmth of his proximity lingers far longer.

“There. All done.”

You exhale, tension slowly bleeding out of your shoulders. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice quieter than you intended.

But Fox doesn’t get up. Instead, his gaze shifts to your temple, where the bruising from the blow to your head.

“Let me take a look at that,” he says, leaving no room for argument.

You look at him, eyes wide. “It’s fine—”

“Sit up,” he interrupts, standing and motioning for you to move to the edge of the cot.

Reluctantly, you scoot forward, your legs dangling over the side as he steps closer.

Much closer.

He stands between your knees, his hands are surprisingly gentle as they cradle your face, tilting it slightly so he can get a better look at your wound.

The proximity makes your breath hitch, your heart pounding so loudly you’re begging he can’t hear it. His touch is careful, his thumbs brushing along your jaw as he examines the cut near your temple.

“This should’ve been cleaned properly,” he mutters under his breath “You clones are always too stubborn for your own good.”

“But i’m not a clone,” you mumble, your voice embarrassingly shaky even though his comment amused you.

“No,” he replies, glancing down at you for a moment. “But you’re just as stubborn.”

You open your mouth to retort, but the words die in your throat when he dips his head slightly, focusing on your injury with laser precision behind his visor. His presence is overwhelming, the sharp, clean scent of his armour mixing with something distinctly him.

“This might sting,” he warns, holding up a sterilising wipe.

You barely register the faint sting as he cleans the wound, too distracted by the way his hands move so deliberately, so gently. His thumbs brush against your skin again, steadying your head as he works, and you find yourself leaning into his touch without meaning to.

“There,” he says after a moment, stepping back just enough to toss the used wipe onto the nearby tray. His hands linger on your jaw for a second longer before he finally lets go. “That should help.”

You glance up at him, your cheeks warm, and manage a small, “Thanks.”

He straightens, his imposing frame still far too close. “You need rest,” he says firmly, though his voice is softer than before. “No arguments.”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Got it. Rest. Sure.”

For a moment, neither of you move, the charged silence stretching between you.

For a moment, you don’t think about your actions. Perhaps it was the blow to your head that made you act in a certain way. As he was about to turn and leave, you reach out and grasp his wrist.

He looks back, his helmet adorably titling to the side as you gesture him to come back by pulling his arm. And he does.

“Thank you, Commander. You’ve… you have always been kind to me.”

Then, you lean up and rest your forehead to his, eyes closed. His visor made it a little difficult but you heard his shallow gasp pop through his modulator.

But, he doesn’t move back. He lets it happen and only moves when you finally break away, a soft and nervous smile on your lips.

“Thank you.”

“G-Get some rest.” Then, with a curt nod, Fox finally steps back, his presence still lingering long after he’s gone.

And as you lie back on the cot, staring at the ceiling, you can’t decide what’s more distracting: the ache in your head or the memory of his hands on your skin.

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[the-witty-pen-name]

The Love Triangle From Hell (3)

Steve Harrington x F!Reader / Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Synopsis: Following PART TWO, Steve feels even more distant from his friends- especially you; Eddie reflects on memories he has of you two; Nancy and Jonathan work together for the paper; Robin does her best to navigate what being friends with you and Steve looks like; you seek comfort in one of the only ways you know how- calling Eddie

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: messy messy feelings; unrequited love; cursing; arguments; crying; angst angst angsty angst; allusions to violence; miscommunication; jealousy; kissing; implications of smut; horniness

A/N: You guys are literally the absolute best. I am having the best time writing this- I'm so inspired by all of you. The love you have shown this fic so far has me overwhelmed. Thank you for your kind words, you have helped me work through some serious writer's block. Your comments and reblogs are keeping me going fr

This is unedited; please let me know what you think and if I missed anything I should include as a warning.

This series with be 18+ in later chapters MINORS DNI

His hands are tangled in your hair and he’s pulling you in close for another searing kiss. He can’t catch his breath, but he’s just so desperate to stay close to you like this. Your lips are so soft against his and your mouth is so inviting as you yank him closer. You whimper against his lips and it makes him shiver. He feels weak in the knees as you feel so pliable to his touch. You melt into his embrace and sigh happily as his lips trail down your neck. 

“Want you,” you moan softly, tugging his hair. He groans at the sensation. “Need you so bad.” 

“‘M gonna take care of you,” he promises, bringing his lips back to yours. 

“Love you,” you moan.

Before he finds out  if he says it back, his alarm goes off and he’s brought back to his reality. He groans disappointedly, covering his ears with his pillow- desperate for a couple more minutes with dream you. There’s a bang at his door. 

“Steve! Turn that shit off!” Eddie calls from the other side of the door. He’s yelling but his tone is playful. Steve hits his alarm off and drudges out of bed finally. Eddie has coffee made and Steve forgets anything is wrong at the moment. 

“Did she say anything last night?” Steve asks groggily as he pours himself a cup. 

“Um, not really,” Eddie replies, taking a moment to think about it. “I mean, yes but not about anything that we don’t know already. She’s conflicted, she doesn’t know what to think or feel. She just wants time.” 

“Okay,” Steve replies, leaning up against the counter. He takes a sip of his coffee. He needs to get to work. He can talk about this with Robin when he gets there. 

When you called Eddie, you didn’t expect Steve to answer. You thought maybe he’d say something- you wanted him too. But he didn’t. You couldn’t read him anymore.

Eddie was thrilled to hear your voice. He’d missed you, and he’d missed talking to you. He wanted that piece back as soon as he could get it. He reveled in the way his name sounded coming from you. 

“I’m so sorry,” you apologize, “I didn’t mean to upset Steve- I heard the way he dropped the phone down…” 

“It’s okay sweetheart,” he says compassionately. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He’s met with a sad feeling of silence. 

“I’m happy you called,” he says gently. He hopes the sentiment makes you feel better. 

“I’ve missed you,” you admit, and Eddie feels like his heart might swell out of his chest. 

“It’s hard when the two people who you talk about everything with are the people you want to talk about,” you joke, and he laughs with you. 

“You can talk shit about me,” he teases and he hears you groan. He bites his lip, holding back a smile. 

“How are you doing?” You ask, changing the subject. 

“Much better now,” he flirts. 

“How are you doing, really?” You ask again, your voice sounding more fragile. 

“I meant, honestly- not great. But not worse than anyone else is doing right now.” 

“Yeah…” 

“I miss you a lot too,” he admits. He runs a hand through his hair, and it reminds him of how amazing it felt the last time you played with his hair. He’s craving that touch so badly. 

When you both were in high school, Eddie went out of his way to make sure you always had a seat at the table. He’d notice as you stood with your cafeteria tray, waiting for Steve to realize there was no open seat for you at his table. He’d wave obnoxiously to catch your eye and he’d smile at the way you’d get shy from the attention. He’d point at the empty seat next to him, and he’d grin as your eyes light up in realization you had a spot. You’d shuffle through the crowd and take your seat next to him. You’d take a seat and ruffle his hair in your hands. 

Eddie was always a creature of habit. As much as he exudes chaos, he actually thrives in having a routine. Don’t get him wrong- it’s never been a good routine… but it’s routine nonetheless. In high school it was a lot of the same. Tuesdays, Corroded Coffin played at The Hideout. He would get home way too late and never get in bed until close to 3am. Wednesday mornings, he’d sleep through his alarm and stroll into first period consistently 10ish minutes late. Thursdays he prepped for Hellfire, and then of course, the piece the resistance was Friday. Hellfire. An epic campaign that would run several hours and ensure the most recent shit week had been worth it to make it to that moment. 

He remembers that he was paralyzed when the group proposed to postpone Hellfire one time his first senior year. It snaps him out of his thoughts, as he was so wrapped up in you- and how close you were sitting. Eddie knew that hypothetically, it shouldn’t matter if the date changes. However, he couldn’t wrap his head around change. He hated it- still does. A disruption from his status quo throws off his entire week and it will take him too long to mentally recover. He knew that he came off as a hard ass, but he prefers it than trying to explain his mind to his friends. He had felt  his jaw tighten as he tried to rationalize with himself that it can be okay to switch it up. He unclenched his fists once he realized that he was making his knuckles white unintentionally. 

“Uh yeah, no problem. Saturday’s fine,” he was able to manage through gritted teeth. He relaxed when he could look past himself and see his friends smile, thanking him and happily chatting about the campaign. He smiled when he observed that his decision made everyone happy. That for him outweighed the internal struggle. 

He didn’t really listen to the reason everyone wanted to reschedule, but he picked up on after the fact that everyone is talking about the Snow Ball. He couldn’t help but recoil back into himself as his friends talked about their plans to go- who they’re asking, what suit they’re getting, what songs would play, and whatever. He couldn’t have cared less. Unless… 

His eyes wandered to sneak a glance at you. He wondered if you had plans- maybe you're hoping someone asks you. Maybe, he’s lucky and you were hoping that someone would be him. He wondered if you had a date. Maybe you already had been asked. It’s not like you had been aware of the way Eddie’s felt about you- unrequited feelings that tugged on his focus constantly since he’s known you. You caught his eye and offered him a shy smile and he could crumble. 

Eddie immediately averted his gaze, and focused his attention back on his friends. He ignored the way his face suddenly became so warm and he ignored the butterflies that were swarming around in his stomach. He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on these feelings- he knew that there’s no way you feel the same. Who could possibly like him? 

He felt a pressure when the freshman looked at him, one of them having asked Eddie about his own plans. Eddie sees the way the kids look up to him, they idolize him. He knows they think he’s cool. He can’t let that go just yet, he loved it too much. He needed it. He wanted to have them hang on to this version of him for as long as they’d believe in it. 

So, despite his usual distaste in school sanctioned functions, he did not want to allow the kids to think he couldn’t score a date. He could only blame society so much before they realized it’s actually his own fear of putting himself out there that cramped his dating life more than anything else. He then resolves that he needs a date to this dance. He tells himself that it’s for the freshman, to keep up the cool facade or whatever. But in actuality, he just wanted to ask you because he wants to ask you out. It’s his perfect window of opportunity. 

“Oh, I hadn’t thought about it, honestly,” you said, when one of the freshmen asked you if you had plans. “I’d been so busy with the play, I haven’t had a chance.” Eddie watched as you glanced over to Steve’s table. “Steve and I usually would go to this kinda thing,” you said quickly, and Eddie could see your apprehension despite your best attempt to hide it. “We’ll probably go as friends again.” 

He said nothing. 

A few days later, you called Eddie and he could immediately tell you’re upset. You’re doing your best to hold it together but he can tell you’re almost at your breaking point. 

“Hey,” you say, your voice straining as you try not to cry. “I know this is totally not your thing, but I’m kind of in a bind.” 

“What can I do?” He asked, sitting up straight on his bed. He was getting ready to locate his shoes or his keys- thinking you’re in trouble somewhere. He’ddrop anything to come get you. 

“I know you’d probably rather do literally anything else, but um, I have two tickets to the Snow Ball and I already bought a dress…” 

“I thought you’d be going with Steve?” He asked. You sniffled. 

“Um, yeah I kind of just assumed he’d take me. I didn’t realize that he asked out Nancy Wheeler,” you choked back tears. “I mean it’s not like that,” you lied, maybe not to Eddie but more to yourself, “we’re just friends. But I still thought He and I would be going together like as friends again- you know? But, uh, yeah- he is taking like a real date.” 

“I know you’d hate it, and I will make it up to you. But, I already bought the tickets and I can’t get my money back. It’s like not a date or anything, just like a friend thing…” 

“I’d be happy to take you,” he replied, sincerely. He can tell you were expecting him to fight you on it. When would you catch on that he’s willing to do anything for you? 

“Eddie, thank you so much,” you sniffled, still trying your best to keep it cool. “I owe you one,” your voice cracks and you hang up quickly before he gets a chance to say anything. 

Eddie didn’t really understand back then why you were even friends with Steve to begin with. Eddie thought Steve, frankly, was a total douchebag. However, once he actually got to know Steve- it was a different story. He couldn’t resent Steve. He loved him like a brother now. And once Eddie got to know the Steve you’ve always known, your feelings for him made sense. But at the same time, Eddie held his tongue for all the things Steve did or didn’t do for so long. Steve was good guy at his core, Eddie understood. But his actions didn’t reflect that in Eddie’s eyes. But it wasn’t his place to tell you that. It didn’t seem right. You’d known Steve so much longer than him. 

Nancy and Jonathan invited you and Robin to go with them to watch Lucas’ basketball game. You were excited to get out of your little apartment and support Lucas. Jonathan was photographing it for The Hawkins Post. Jonathan paced up and down the court side to get photos, and you sat up in the bleachers with Nancy and Robin. You were never one to go to school things really, but it was Lucas’s senior year and it was a big game- of course you were going to be there. 

“It feels weird, Steve not being here,” Nancy whispers to you and you nod in agreement. 

“Yeah, everything just feels weird right now,” you agree. “You and Jonathan are okay?” 

“We’re good. We’re doing good, um, still working through stuff but we’re going to just work through it.” 

“That’s good.” 

“Robin?” Nancy asks, and Robin turns her head to pay attention. “How’s things with Vicky?” 

Robin’s face turns tomato red. “Fine,” she mumbles, happily. “I’m gonna hang out with her tomorrow.” You elbow her teasingly, making her blush redden. 

“How’s it feeling? Being the best at all of this out of us?” You tease. 

“I don’t know,” she’s so embarrassed, it’s so sweet. “We both just like each other- it’s not that complicated. She’s so great.” 

The three of you turn your attention back to the game at the sound of the whistle. You clapped and cheered the loudest whenever Lucas had the ball. He tried to plead with the lot of you to tone it down, casting weary looks in your direction. You couldn’t help yourselves. You felt so proud of him. 

You decide to take a walk to the concession stands and get some snacks for everyone. You order four sodas and two large popcorns- one for Jonathan and Nancy and one for you and Robin. You fish the cash out of the front pocket of your jeans, and hand it to the kid working the window. You thank him, and balance it all in your hands to navigate carefully back to the stands. 

You see a familiar face coming down the hallway, sprinting. For a moment, you can’t help the smile that forms across the expanse of your face until you remember what’s been going on. Your face falls, and you feel so stupid for being excited to see him when it hits you again all at once. 

You don’t think Steve knew you’d all be here, because he looks just as surprised to see you. He stops and his sneakers squeak across the polished gym floor. He looks at you with an expression of pure panic. He totally didn’t think you’d be here. And you’re surprised he came alone- but of course he did, he’s Steve. Of course, he’s going to show up to every game for Lucas. You shouldn’t expect any less. It still takes you back. 

“Can I help with those?” he asked, gesturing for you to pass some stuff to him. You nod, and tilt so he can take some of the things from your grasp. 

“Where are you sitting?” He asks, and you nod your head towards Robin and Nancy. His face deflates. “Ah, okay.” He walks over with you, and he passes the items in his hand off to Robin. He moves aside so you can walk back into your spot. 

“Thanks, Steve,” you offer him a soft smile, appreciating the effort despite the circumstances.

“Yeah of course,” he mutters, backing away, lingering for a moment because the seat that’s usually there for him between you and Robin isn’t there. He quickly pulls himself out of his thoughts and just heads over to the next row of bleachers, finding a seat next to a couple of his old basketball teammates that are here for their little brothers. 

Steve can’t even focus on the game,  he keeps trying to steal glances of you from his peripheral vision. He wants to know what Robin said that made you laugh like that, and he wished he could have heard your laugh- but you’re too far away from him. He watches as your jaw drops at something Nancy tells you, and he watches how you cheer so happily for Lucas. He wants to know if this is bothering you the way it’s bothering him. You look like you’re keeping it together and he wants to know if that could truly be the case. 

Even when you’re carrying so much hurt, you give off such a radiance that Steve and he’s sure everyone else is just drawn into. Your pretty smile and your bright eyes are all he can think about- he only knows when to cheer when he feels the people around him move. He smiles when you stand up and pose, pointing to Lucas- then Lucas matches it, giving it back to you. He watches as you both share that moment of just pure joy, and his heart aches. He doesn’t know if he could ever make you that happy. 

When the game was over, you looked to see if you could find Steve but there was no sign of him. You all invited Lucas to go out for celebratory pizza for his big win, but he wanted to go with his teammates. The plan fizzled pretty much after that. Robin wanted to get home so she could call Vicky and Jonathan and Nancy wanted to head home so Jonathan could start developing his photos. When you and Robin are walking out, you see a familiar van. 

“I’ll bum a ride from Nancy,” Robin assures you, pushing you in Eddie’s direction. She waves to Eddie from a distance and then jogs to catch up with Nancy and Jonathan. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask with a smile. He pushes himself off of the hood of his van and walks over to you, his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. 

“I thought you might be here,” he quips. “Plus, I had to poke my head in- Sinclair is some big shot apparently?” he jokes, “I had to check out for a few minutes.”

“He’s really great,” you agree. 

“Was Steve here?” Eddie asks. 

“Yeah I saw him. He didn’t really stay either- I mean he stayed for the game, but we didn’t talk really.” You shrug. 

“Well,” he says, trying to optimistically change the subject, “Do you wanna get out of here? I could give you a ride home or we could get food or something- or even just drive around and not talk. I’m not picky.” 

He looks so beautiful like this, you observe. The sky is pitch black but the lights in the parking lot illuminate him perfectly with a soft glow. His hair is wonderfully messy and his smile is making it hard for you to breathe. Has he always looked like this? You wonder, astonished as it hits you all at once. He’s gorgeous. Your eyes linger, taking in every little detail you’ve overlooked before. He waves his hand in front of your face to snap you out of your trance. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” he tisks. 

“Looking at you like what?”

“Like you’re trying to jump my bones,” he chuckles. Your face warms, and suddenly you realize how long you must have been staring. 

“Ha, right,” you joke sarcastically, or at least, trying to joke sarcastically. You walk past him and get into the passenger side of the van and try your best to compose yourself in the few seconds it takes for him to follow suit. 

“Okay, sweetheart,” he says, turning over the ignition, “where to?”

“Can we just drive around like we used to?” you ask- the circumstances of tonight making you feel so nostalgic. 

“Of course we can,” he hums, passing you the case of his cassettes- a familiar and welcomed sight for your tired eyes. 

You watch Eddie as he drives, and observe the way the muscles in his arms flex ever so subtly as he turns the wheel. You watch his ringed fingers tap across the top of the steering wheel and you can’t help it the way your mind wanders. You’re so wrapped up in the way his hair sways so effortlessly and the movement of his jaw as he sings, you don’t even notice that Steve was leaving the gym just in time to see you both drive away. 

After a little while of aimless driving, and hitting up the drive thru, Eddie ends up parking at Lover’s Lake when neither of you are ready to go home just yet. 

“Eddie?” You ask absentmindedly, finishing off the milkshake he got you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” he replies, also finishing his, but with an obnoxiously loud suck of his straw- determined to get every last sip. 

“Why do you like me?” you ask, cringing almost immediately. You think you sound like a middle schooler or something- you’re so embarrassed. His eyes widen for a brief second, contemplating his answer. He tosses the empty cup into the back. 

“First off,” he criticizes teasingly, “I did not say I liked you- I’m in love with you. Get your facts straight, ma’am.” 

“My apologies,” you giggle, holding your hands up in defeat.

“I mean- I love everything about you; always have,” he starts. “You’re sweet and kind. I think you’re beautiful. I think you’re incredible, and sometimes I can’t figure out why you wanted to ever be friends with me in the first place.”

“Eddie?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Would you kiss me?” 

Eddie’s a goner when you’re looking at him with those doe eyes. More than anything he wants to lunge across and close the space between you. It’s everything he’s ever wanted. It takes every fiber of his being to hold himself back..

“I don’t know if I can kiss you without knowing if I could ever kiss you again,” He whispers, but it doesn’t stop him from leaning in towards you. His hand lifts to hold your cheek and suddenly he’s so close. Closer than the two of you have ever been. His lips are tantalizingly close to yours when his forehead touches yours. A huge bang on the side of the van scares you both away from each other. 

“Give her time, my ass, Munson! Get the fuck out here! Get your fucking hands off my girl!”

Taglist:

@sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt @moonlightsolo @kyga01 @sheisjoeschateau @melaninjhs

[syverse]

i depend on you // ft. katsuki bakugou

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

bakugou can't bring himself to hate you, even after you left

warnings&a/n: if this is bad LEAVE ME ALONE PLEASE!!! got suddenly verrrry inspired by that one drawing on tiktok and maybe i misinterpreted it in the writing but shoot me who cares. this is like my first time writing something and actually finishing it i get so discouraged and give up. if you hate this i will never do this again.

In his life, there's a lot of things that Bakugou hates. He hates simple and unavoidable things like the rain, and he hates specific things like people who rely on everybody around them. He hates weak people, hates getting up too early in the morning, hates being too involved in other people's lives if he doesn’t necessarily have to be. But, as he sits alone at his desk, forced to listen to the obnoxious and overbearing sounds of society in Tokyo despite how late it is, Bakugo can’t think of anything he hates more than you. 

He spent a lot of his life loving you. He loved things like your unwavering conviction to do the right thing, he loved the look in your eyes when you stole glances from each other during class dinner back when you were both in highschool, and loved the way you whispered his name like a prayer when it was just the two of you under the covers of your shared bed. It was hard at first, but as the two of you grew together, so did his love. He learned to love through the sound of your laughter and the feeling of your gentle hands intertwining with his. Nimble fingers pressing into the palms of his hands before flipping them over and placing feather-like kisses on his fingerprints, he tries to swallow the bile that claws its path up his throat.  

Along with the symphony of nightlife outside of his agency, he can also pick out the faint sound of a news reporter being broadcasted on a billboard next to his building. Pictures of your face are shown on the large screen, along with the headline “PRO HERO TURNED VILLAIN” and Bakugou holds his breath for as long as he can. His phone lay flat on his desk in front of him, buzzing every few seconds from concerned friends and family members, but the blonde doesn’t dare to touch it. It had been at least a week since your departure from his agency, and the news had spread to all of Japan at this point, but the news and media were still eating it alive as if they were starving. 

Bakugou’s eyes glue shut as he wishes for memories of you to disappear, and for the heavy dread in his gut to fizz up and die out. He curses himself for not picking up on it sooner, the fact that you would leave. Looking back on it, he’s pretty sure he could put his finger on the exact moment when you started to fade away. When the universe in your eyes started to blur each time you looked at him, when the sense behind your touch became hesitant instead of gentle, and when your cheeks no longer touched your eyes when you smiled. He should’ve said something. Should’ve done a lot of things to at least delay your disappearance, but Bakugo was familiar with the fact that he was never good with words, and the fact that his heart was bottomless with fear of him making it worse. 

Bakugou absolutely hates you for leaving him here. He hates that he can’t throw every single I love you that came out of his mouth into a little box and set it to ashes, hates that he has to go back to home and still smell you on his bedsheets, hates that even though you’ve made it clear that you’re never coming back, he still patiently waits with bated breath to hear you whisper his name again.  So, as Katsuki picks himself off of his desk and drags himself to the elevator to return back his house, his house where you don't live anymore, he tries to convince himself to forget you, and ignores the way his tongue instinctively traces the letters of your name on the roof of his mouth.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Wrapped In Wicked Romance Part III:

Nica Schwartz - Epilogue

This is a fan translation only. Please expect grammatical errors and translation inaccuracies. This is a full translation. Creative liberties are taken for characterization and smoother translation process. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not post my translation elsewhere. Thank you for your support! ☾.

Nica: If that’s what you wish, I’ll always up for it.

The clever, sweet whispers in my ear felt like they were toying with my heart, enthralling me.

(But these aren’t his true feelings.)

I know because I’ve watched him all day.

(This guy whispers sweet nothings to everyone, and plays with their heart.)

I was surprised that he was able to make acquaintances just a few days after coming to England,

(Now that I think about it, I understand why.)

He can skillfully use words to penetrate someone’s heart,

Even if you’ve only met once, you’d remember him.

(Also, women are even more attracted to him.)

I too felt tethered to him, until I witnessed that lady killing her husband.

But, not now.

Kate: …..I don’t want to do that, because if I date someone, I want there to be mutual feelings.

Nica: Well then it’s perfect, because you like me right?

Kate: I don’t dislike you, but….

(It’s true that I’ve deepened my understanding of him by being with him for the day, but….)

(But, I still don’t know much about Nica.)

I grabbed the hand that was holding my chin, and stared him down with a strong determination.

Kate: It’s because you really don’t like me.

Deep indigo eyes ripple for just a moment like the water’s surface.

Kate: I don’t think it’s necessary to lie to yourself just to date.

Kate: Suppose I did like you Nica, and you were okay with it, I still wouldn’t date you.

Kate: Because I might end up hurting you.

Once more, rippling eyes illuminated by streetlights shimmer like waves.

His hand released my chin, and ruffled his hair with a fed up look on his face.

Nica:….You’re really weird.

The small murmur reached my ears, and the fake smile vanished.

Nica cracked his neck with a bothersome look and sighed,

Kate: ….That’s better.

Nica: What?

At least for me, I was a bit happy to see Nica’s true self.

Kate: You’re a friendly and smart guy, and that’s great, but this side of you is even better.

Nica: …..You’re a masochist.

Kate: N-no, I’m not.

Watching me deny it so quickly,

Nica: Haha.

Nica bursts out laughing, smiling like a happy child —

(Huh, so he can make an expression like that…..)

My heart squeezed as my eyes were enraptured.

Nica: Then next time, I’ll go tough on you.

Kate: You don’t have to do that.

He returned to his usual self and smiled suggestively.

Kate: I’m going home!

The clock tower in the distance signals that our relationship will end soon,

I picked up the bouquet of flowers that held today’s memories and turned to leave—

Nica: Kate.

When my name was called for the first time, I automatically turned around,

And Nica used his index fingers to lift the corners of my mouth into a smile—

Nica: We’re still a couple.

Nica: Shouldn’t there be a kiss at the end of a date?

Kate: Uh……

My eyes were fixed onto the lips that drew closer to me slowly,

Unable to break away, his breath reached my lips.

(Oh…..)

The moment his lashes grazed the tip of my nose, his scent intoxicated me —

The sound of the bell tolled, marking our end as a couple.

Nica: Ah, that’s too bad.

He stepped back, his scent dissipating, and to my relief, I returned to my senses.

(Why do I think that’s a little disappointing?)

A cold wind hit my painfully aching body, and I let out a sigh.

Nica: Should we head home, young lady?

お嬢サン - Here Nica is using using polite language with Kate addressing her as “Ojosan.” However, because of the katakana form of -san “サン”, it seems to indicate that he may be saying it with a foreign accent. As far as I'm aware, this is the first instance of him addressing her this way in an event.

— This is our distance.

[Transitions to the palace.]

The next day —

Kate: Harrison, Liam what are you doing here?

Liam: Oh, Kate!

I called out to them both who were at the end of the corridor, leaning against the wall and talking about something,

Harrison looked a bit perplexed.

Harrison: Can I tell you something?

Kate: Did something happen?

Liam: Actually -

According to them, it seems that the target of a mission they were assigned to was killed.

Liam: Seems like he was stabbed by his wife too.

Kate: His wife you say…..

(It can’t be that woman….?)

Even though my heart pounds, they keep speaking.

Harrison: The husband apparently purchased women through human-trafficking, and imprisoned them at his estate.

Harrison: He also raked in money by renting the imprisoned women to others.

Kate: That’s such a……

You can imagine just how the women were treated without even saying it.

Liam: That’s why we received the mission, and thanks to his death, the truth of the estate came to light.

Liam: The women were also freed, and we don’t have to go on a mission, but….

Liam tilts his head with a stumped look, and Harrison lets out a sigh.

Harrison: All the money that guy’s earned is gone.

Kate: Does that mean it was stolen?

Harrison: There’s no money at the bank or the estate, so suspicion’s falling onto the wife.

Harrison looked unsettled about it, but then a possibility popped up in my head.

(If I say something without concrete proof, it would only deepen the rift between Vogel….But, if he —)

(—Perhaps, he might’ve done it)

Kate: Ummm.

At that moment, my eyes met with a figure that appeared at the end of the corridor.

My attention was drawn to Nica who put his finger up to his lips and smiled suspiciously,

Kate: Oh.

Suddenly, a white bird flies by and I instinctively shut my eyes.

After I opened my eyes, he was nowhere to be seen, only a single white feather floating down.

(Nica Schwartz. A cunning person who likes to toy with love.)

(But, I wonder why I can’t dislike him.)

The day when my love is toyed with, may not be that far off.

[Event Master List] Dividers: @.adornedwithlight

Yes, please, I beg you Nica, please treat us more toughly next time!!!!

Tags List: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @aeyumicore @complexivelovely @drachonia

If you are 18+ and wish to be added to my tags list, please comment below specifying the IkeVil suitor, or for all translations.

[star2fishmeg]

oooooh for your 1K celebration could i request scenario 133 with jack hughes pretty pls and thank you :)

Thank you for requesting <3

SCENARIO #133 Bffs 'practising'

📞 dialling…

“Are you kidding?” Jack asked in surprise, eyes almost burst straight out of his head, pushing off his headboard to lean closer to y/n opposite him on his bed. 

“Jack, stop, it's so embarrassing.” She hushed urgently, hoping Luke couldn’t hear anything from the room next door. Heat flushed to her neck, and she buried her face in her hands. “People didn't like me like that, okay?”

He leant back again, jaw agape and mind trying to process the information. Out of all the years they’d known each other, he couldn’t comprehend how he didn't know she’d never been kissed before or how he never knew about it. What rattled him the most was that he knew guys who would have gone through the trenches for y/n back in high school, yet nothing ever came of it. His ride or die, y/n? Never been kissed?

He pushed his hair off his forehead, the locks getting longer just the way he knew she liked it, “But college? You're saying you did three years of college and nothing? I'm finding it hard to believe that someone as pretty and cool as you had nobody who wanted to kiss you, sweets.”

Her hands fell to her lap, fiddling with the ends of her pyjama bottoms, stomach flipping anxiously at all the two memories of when she almost had a kiss, but could never bring herself to go through with it. It just didn’t feel…right.

“Ah, well, my friends were more approachable, I guess. I don't even know what the fuck to do anyway, like how do you even make-out?” She chuckled, peering up to give him a quizzed look. 

Jack didn’t need to think, didn’t need to hesitate, the first thought that came to mind hit him like a brick and was a risk he was willing to take, the tightness and excitement in his chest needed relief or he would end up facing the anguish of not taking the risk.

“I can teach you.” He said, quickly with his unwavering confidence across his lips, eyes flickering to her lips. “For real, I'll teach you how to kiss. Come on, it'll be fun and it's just me. You know I won't tease you.”

“You don’t have to, J. Honestly, you don’t have to pity me.”

“It’s all good, sweets. I’ve got you, c’mere.” He patted his thigh twice, inviting her in with a confident grin on his face. She wasn’t sure if he was confident or finding amusement in the whole thing.

She exhaled, crawling towards him and straddling his lap, the new position sparking a funny excitement in her stomach, heat surging over her body. His hands held her hips, firm but not bruising, enough to reassure her that, he was sure. Y/n’s breath fell shaky, she’d been face to face with him before but not in that position, where his thumbs rubbed her hipbones gently and her hands wound around his shoulders. 

“Don’t be nervous, princess,” he murmured, “tilt your head to the left and follow my lead.” 

She did, closing the space between them. He pressed his lips to hers tenderly, slotting perfectly. In those brief, six seconds it felt as if the world burst into colours around her, butterflies swarming around her stomach and finally understanding how addicting it was to taste another. Without much thought, she slid her hand to his nape, pulling a groan from Jack’s throat.

Y/n pulled away, lips still parted but eyes searching his for any speck of mutual desire that washed through her, hands still holding each other but she felt his fingers sneak under her t-shirt with feathery touches. 

“Do…do you normally make noises like that when you kiss girls?” she asked quietly, a wild glint in her eyes, one that Jack struggled to contain himself over. He shook his head honestly, hands slithering further under her shirt but doing nothing but running his hands over her waist. “J, I think I wanna make-out with you.”

His lips quirked up in the corners and he licked his lips, “Me too. It’s gonna feel weird, but move your tongue against mine, just follow my lead, ‘kay?”

She nodded, eyes fluttering closed and leaning into him. He pressed his mouth to hers again, swiping his tongue over her bottom lip, feeling her open cautiously before sliding his tongue further. Jack was right, not that she didn’t believe him but his tongue finding hers and lapping against it was alien, yet she followed him. His hand moved up her back, the other arm still wrapped around her waist and keeping her secure to his body, lips moving in a slow rhythm, his chest fizzling at the little moans emitting from her shamelessly as they licked into each other. For someone who’d never made out with anyone before, she learned fast, ignoring the saliva drooling from the corners of mouths. 

Jack hummed when she looped her other arm around his shoulder’s tighter, unknowingly rolling her hips into his crotch, their rhythm becoming hungrier, hotter and heavier until they had to pull back, gasping for air.

Jack rested his forehead against hers, the pair falling into giggles. Twirling a strand of his hair around her finger, she smiled. “How was I?”

“Good, but I think we’re gonna have to go again just so I can be sure.”

He rolled them onto their sides, Jack propped up by his elbow with y/n tucked underneath him, kissing her hard with his hand soothing over her waist and hiking her t-shirt to her ribs. She moaned into him with a slight smile to her lips, one hand tucking his hair away from his face meanwhile her arm held onto his shoulders. Love, lust, hunger and comfort during three separate kisses, yet three attempts at showing how deep down they knew they were meant for each other.

[etherealmelodys]

Choi Su-Bong/ Thanos

NSFW Alphabet

Warning: Talks of oral, penetrative sex, squirting, dacryphilia, mentions of drugs, Thanos just being himself.

A/N: ong I'm sick of ppl writing Thanos like he's abusive, my purple haired king would never!! But tbh he's lucky he ain't real or I'd suck the skin right off his dick ykwim

A - Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Contrary to popular belief, I don't think he'd be that bad at aftercare. He's not amazing at it don't get me wrong, but he's not gonna just leave you alone with nothing. He definitely might offer you some sort of drug he's got on his roster, but I believe he'd clean you up and make sure that you're feeling okay and get confirmation that he wasn't too rough with you.

B - Body Part (Their favorite body part on you and themselves)

Nobody can tell me that this man isn't obsessed with his tongue oml. To him, it's a gift from the gods that he gets to use it to taste every part of you. From your soft lips to your breasts, all the way down to your cunt. He's an ass man oh my. He loves the way it jiggles when he fucks you from behind, how soft and smooth it is when he grips it while you ride him.

C - Cum (Anything to do with cum)

You cannot tell me this man doesn't love cumming all over your back or ass. He's obsessed with the way it slides down the curve of your ass, coating his thighs in the substance. He adores how messy the whole process is, wanting to see you covered in just him, it could get him higher than any drug he's tried.

D - Dirty Secret ( Self-explanatory)

He just wants one night where he can do whatever he wants to your tits. Whether it be playing with your nipples, leaving hickeys on them, massaging them, or more importantly squishing them together and fucking them, his tip going between your plump lips every time he thrusts up into them.

E - Experience (How experienced are they?)

Did y'all see all the people that swarmed him once they knew who he was? Imagine what it was like outside the games. He is well-experienced when it comes to fucking someone, but not having an intimate moment with another person.

F - Favorite Position (What positions do they like the most?)

He loves any position that puts him in a position of control. He loves reverse cowgirl especially because it gives him full access to the sight of your ass. He's also a fan of doggy style, again due to the sight he gets of your ass but also because of how deep he can get in that position.

G - Goofy (How serious are they in the moment? Do they tease you?)

He is teasing the shit outta you I'm so sorry. I don't think he has the capability not to tease you. It just gets him so worked up seeing your eyes well up with tears at his comments, it just makes his cock throb.

H - Hair (What’s the hair situation down there)

I honestly cannot decide with him. For one he gives off the vibes that he's bald down there, finding the hair to be an annoyance. But also I don't think he'd care enough about it to shave it and just let it grow. For the sake of the argument, I'm just gonna say he shaves his shit bald.

I - intimacy (How romantic are they in the moment?)

I feel like there are some times when he can be very romantic if you need it. Usually, he's the type to go rough and fast. But occasionally he can be slow and sensual, giving you gentle kisses and touches, treating you as if you were the most delicate thing he's ever handled.

J - Jack Off (How often do they touch themselves?)

He jacks off very frequently, about every other day tbh. I don't think he'd do it to porn often, and if he did it would be to an actor who looks like you. But most of the time he does it to the memory of you, whether it be you grinding down on his face making those pretty noises he loves so much, or him fucking into you, your whines the only thing he can hear besides the slapping of your skin against his.

K - Kinks (What are their kinks?)

You cannot tell me this man isn't into Exhibitionism. He loves the idea of you guys almost getting caught in the middle of the act, he swears he feels himself get even harder at the sight of you trying to quiet yourself down in an attempt to not get caught. He's also into dacryphilia, seeing you cry from the overwhelming amount of pleasure he's causing you makes him cum right on the spot.

L - Location (Where do they prefer to have sex?)

He would be into anything public, bathroom stalls, fingering you under a table, having you bounce on his dick in a dark crowded club, he's into it all.

M - Motivation (What turns them on?)

Seeing you in any type of revealing clothing, especially skirts, immediately gets him hard. Seeing you in lingerie is by far the sexiest thing you could wear in front of him. He'd want you to keep it on as he bends you over, pulling the lingerie to the side and eating you out to his heart's content.

N - No (What are some things they’ll never do?)

He's not really into the whole submissive role, he always wants to be the one in charge, at least during any sexual interaction. He's also not into doing anything that can seriously harm you.

O - Oral (How do they feel about oral? Do they prefer giving or receiving?)

I don't think he has a preference between the two. He loves the sight of you on your knees, trying to fit his cock in your mouth, tears in the corner of your eyes due to the brutal pace he's set fucking your face. But he also adores the feeling of your thighs wrapped around his head, unintentionally pulling him closer to your cunt. The feeling of it pulsing around his tongue when he finally makes you cum, the little whines and moans you let out from the overstimulation.

P - Pace (How fast/slow are they?)

He's fast with his pace, he swears he can't help himself. The feeling of your tight walls wrapped around his cock, practically begging him to pound you into the mattress with all the force he can muster. It's your fault for feeling so damm good.

Q - Quickie (How do they feel about quickies?)

He loves them so much! He's usually busy writing his songs or in the studio recording, so quickies are always a yes for him.

R - Risk (How willing are they to experiment? Do they take any risks?)

He loves experimenting, but he's usually the one to initiate it due to his impulsive behavior. If it’s something you're not willing to try he'd absolutely respect that. But if you brought something up? Oh baby he's down to do whatever as long as it doesn't put either of you in danger. Wanna try out bondage? Go ahead and get comfortable because you'll be tied up for a while.

S - Stamina (How many rounds can they do? How long can they go for?)

When he's not high out of his mind, he doesn't go that many rounds usually 2 will be enough to get him tired. But when he's off some? Ooh boy you better prepare yourself. This man is a beast when he pops a pill, you'll be so exhausted by the time he's finished. Expect around 4-5 rounds with him before he's all out of energy.

T - Toys (Do they have any toys? Are they willing to use any?)

I don't think he has that many to be frank, at most he has a vibrator or two, maybe a cock ring if you wanna be bold. I think he's so cocky and confident about his skills that he finds them to be unnecessary. Sometimes if you're having trouble cumming he’ll take one out and use it on you, but it always gets out of hand due to the fact that he wants to see you squirt from the toy. “Cmon baby, I know you can do it. Don't you wanna make me happy? I know it'll feel so good for you so just relax and squirt all over this toy”

U - Unfair (Do they tease you? How unfair are they in the bedroom?)

I fear this man is the biggest teaser throughout the whole show. He'd find a way to tease you about anything and everything. In the bedroom you are not getting a MOMENT of peace. This man will edge you and overstimulate you all in the same night. He’ll find a way to tease you about the noises you make, saying “Aww baby, you're being so loud! Am I making you feel that good? Don't be shy, you can admit that I'm the best at making you cum.”

V - Volume (How loud are they?)

He's not too loud when it comes to his noises, just occasional growl and grunt. He's definitely into dirty talk though, a lot of it. You'll hear him say stuff like “That's my good bitch, taking my cock up her cunt like the good girl she is. Don't worry baby, I'm gonna make you feel so good you won't know what to do with yourself.”

W - Weird Fact (Self-explanatory)

He's always wanted someone to do a line of coke off his cock while he was hard.

X - X Ray (What’s it looking like in those pants.)

He's about 5’11, a little on the thinner side, but he's still toned. I think he's a lot girthier than he is long, so about 5.7 inches, but his girth makes up for it. His tip color is a deeper pink color, around #E0676B. He has a slight curve down, with a thick vein running down the left side of his shaft.

Y - Yearning (How high is their sex drive? How often do they have sex?)

This man wants to do it with you every day. Not only is it the drugs that get him worked up, but just seeing you looking so damn sexy just being yourself, he could take you anytime anywhere, regardless of who's around.

Z - Zzz (How fast do they fall asleep after sex?)

I feel like he falls asleep very fast. After he's done making sure you're okay, he's slumped. He is not the type to wait for you to sleep first before he does.

(I've cooked with this one guys I cannot even lie. Thank you all sm for the recent support! I truly appreciate all the attention my work has gotten!)

Taglist:

@xera4170

[kinardsevan]

maybe, someday, love

oh look. i came up with a mini idea and decided to write it instead of sleeping. enjoy!

“Hey, Tommy.” 

The room smells of antiseptic and bleach, with an undertone of metal and plastic. It brings up memories of a life before, one no longer lived, left in the past, and is just the slightest bit triggering. But that doesn’t matter right now. 

Maddie curls her fingers around the man’s much larger, bandaged hand as she sniffles. Her hand isn’t even big enough to envelop all of his, but that doesn’t matter in the moment. 

“I know we didn’t talk much before the break-up,” she states, staring down at his fingers. The dried blood around his cuticles, where it was too tight in the crevices to completely wipe away stares back at her like a bloodstain on a white sheet. Her heart clenches, and she reminds herself that she needs to remain calm for the baby inside of her. 

“A-and I’d really like to change that, given the option,” she continues. The rhythmic drone of the ECG and the ventilator keep pace with each other while she tries to tune them out. She chews on the inside of her bottom lip, all too aware of the way the tissue between her teeth has become tough from repeatedly running it between her teeth in the past few days. She inhales a shaky breath as she runs her thumb over his fingers, turns his hand over and stares down at where there coud inevitably be a wedding ring at some point. 

“He doesn’t really let people call him Evan,” she says softly as she continues to stare down at his hand. “I think when were growing up, he didn’t really hear it in a loving way a whole lot of the time, and after I left for Boston…” She pauses, sniffling as a fresh round of tears hits her and run over her cheeks of their own volition. She clears her throat as best she can. “After I left for Boston, I think he felt really invisible. I don’t really know that he stopped feeling invisible until he got here. And I know there’s a wealth of weight beneath all of that—the things he did and put up with to feel just a little less invisible. 

“I think… I think becoming Buck was a version of himself where he could be someone else,” she comments. She trails her gaze up his bruised, scraped, and bloodied arm to his body, covered by a hospital gown, his neck, and then his face, just as bruised and covered in cuts and scrapes. “He said to me once that being a firefighter is the only thing that he’d ever done that mattered, and how much that drove his determination to get back to it. And I know now that he did that because it made him feel seen.” 

She pauses in her speaking, eyes trailing to the ECG and watching the continuous wave of Tommy’s heartbeat. She lifts her free hand to her throat, rubbing the sides of it a few times to try and soothe away the ache formed from the combination of crying so much, and the weight of the emotion still crushing down on her chest. 

“Until he met you,” she rasps. “And don’t get me wrong—when he said that you broke up with him, I told him to move on, but I think you know a little bit why I’d just want him to be happy. When I realized just how deep into it you two were, I was the one who encouraged him to go after you…” She pauses again, forcing down another deep breath and soft ‘whew’, squeezing Tommy’s fingers lightly. “Which makes it really hard to feel like this isn’t my fault.” 

She feels the familiar popping sensations in her stomach, alerting her that her unborn child is shifting around, and her free hand drifts to the curve, stroking gently. 

“I know that in the grand scheme of things for you, I’m basically nobody,” she comments. “But…” She sniffles, not bothering to fight with wiping the tears on her face anymore. “Evan isn’t doing so well, and… truth be told, I don’t know that he would fight to come back to anyone as hard as he would for you. I also don’t know that he would be able to find the fight without you. So please wake up. I know there are people here who love you, and people here who want the chance to get to love you. I don’t want to watch my brother only get months with the love of his life when he deserves decades. You both do.” 

She squeezes his fingers once more before releasing them and pushing up out of her chair. She walks to the door and stops she reaches it, glancing back at him and then the ECG again. It continues to beep rhythmically along with the ventilator, and her bottom lip trembles as she opens the door, stepping into the waiting arms of her husband as Hen passes her with a pat on the shoulder before walking into Tommy’s room to hold vigil. 

. . . 

“I’m so sorry,  I got out as soon as I could,” Eddie says, dropping his duffle on the floor as he reaches Chimney’s side. “Any word?” 

The older man shakes his head as he stares into the hospital room. He glances over at Eddie, takes him in briefly, before they’re both staring back through the window at Bobby, Maddie, and Evan. 

“No change,” he replies wearily. “They’re trying to wean Tommy off sedation, but it’s not going well, and Buck has seized three times. They’re saying it’s not critical right now, but-..” 

“This wasn’t supposed to be the result of Buck going after him,” Eddie murmurs. 

There’s shuffling behind them and then a ‘hey, Howie,’ that draws both fo their attention. A man taller than both of them but shorter than both Buck and Tommy walks up and Eddie eyes him curiously as Chimney gives the man a sympathetic half-smile. 

“Sal, hey,” he greets wearily, extending a hand to the other man. 

“I got off shift as soon as I could,” the other man comments. “122’s running thin right now. Have you been down the hall yet?” 

Chimney nods. “You should check in with the doctor. They’re not telling us much.” 

“I will,” Sal replies. He glances up through the window. “How’s the kid?” 

Chimney and Eddie both shake their head at him. 

“Does anybody even know what the hell they were doing up there,” Eddie asks. Chimney shakes his head and Sal shrugs when they both look at him. 

“He mentioned planning on flying to try and get out of his head, but I can’t imagine this is what he had in mind.” When both Chimney and Eddie keep staring at him skeptically, he glares at them. “No. If there’s one thing I’m sure on, it’s that Tommy would do the opposite of putting the kid in danger. He’d work directly against that to keep him out of danger.” 

Chimney looks back towards Evan’s hospital room and Eddie gulps. 

“If this is less danger, then I don’t want to know what the worst result could’ve been.”