#specifically like. my time with the game. not actual money
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YOOOOOOO WE FUCKIN DID IT!!!! YEAHHH!! We slayed SOOO well!! EVERYONE DID!! The other sections were SO FUCKING GOOD i LOVED it!!! And like, we won first place or whatever i didnt care about that really BUT WE ALL DID GREAT!
Anyways, just got home from my pal's birthday party (more like Hang Out at the mall, we ate out) it was AWESOME! First time inside a Starbucks, and first order ALL ON MY OWN! (HELL YEAH RELIGIOUS REBELLION!!)
#rennikorambles#i dont actually KNOW if its rebellion since. i ordered java chip frappucino... and i dunno if that has coffee or anythin-#BUT EITHER WAY im so glad my first time inside a starbucks is with friends <333#i lost ALL my money <33333#worth it#i was SO jumpy and excited the whole damn time. just shows how hyped i am around my friends <3 i love those idiots so much#after eating at pizza hut we went to an arcade and I got TWO keychain plushies from the claw machines (SLAY)#one of them i gave as a bday gift to my pal LMAO the other i kept <33 a little wolfy!!!#and then after that they went to starbucks and YEAHHH it was so fun#and then we went to the department store and immediately went to the toy section (which includes games like video games on the ps4/5 etc)#those idiots got One Piece playing cards. nerdddss <33 (me staring longingly at Persona 5 Royal on PS4 for a discounted price. help)#(I CANT GET IT IM NOT A GAMER IM BAD AT GAMES AND AND)#anyways#as for the musical MAN im just so proud. in my opinion the other's did WAY better than our section in terms of song and choreography#but the only one-up we had on them was the fact ours flowed so smoothly with nearly no mistakes#they kept having long pauses when transitioning to the next sceneâ whilst we specifically focused and practiced smooth transitions#thats probably why we had less time for dance choreo and stuff... but either way!!! just SO proud it made my theater heart so happy#and! i learned something about the actual story of El Fili! mAN ITS SO TRAGIC WTF MAN.... MANNNNNN. BRUH...#anyway <333 ALIVE NOW!!! FREE!!!
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my friend just explained how the Investigations work in Wilds and I am going to start foaming at the mouth real quick-
#my game keeps Fucking Crashing in the last zone randomly which has been trying in it's own way#like any game crash is you know#but I specifically want the murder doggo armor and weapons#I love murder doggo I have been wishing for murder doggo to make a return to the series#but murder doggo Only Appears In The Last Zone#and it always runs to the one room that has without fail crashed my game almost every time I chased him there#I had a loose one on the map with a guaranteed gem on success and I Need Those for the gear#I was not aware that making the quest into an Investigation allowed you to repeat it 3 times#I just made it a quest and ran to the murder doggo and slapped him#and Then The Display Driver Crashed and The Game Went Down#so I just Lost it#no more murder doggo quest no more gem back to the 5% drop rate#another doggo wasn't going to spawn on the map for over an hour#Fucking Furious#and the likelihood of them actually releasing an optimization patch for us poor PC player is low as fuck and will likely take months#(ignore how World has been one of the most successful iterations of the game and that was the first proper PC game in the series)#(they got the Sony money so what do they care-)#also I had waited an hour doing other quests before this#I also Fucking Hate Anjanath and guess fucking who comes back!!! and then I did like 4 more hunts for monsters I don't enjoy much#and then I finally Finally get to fight the thing I want to fight the most#and the game crashes and I lose it#gnashing my teeth#Wilds Posting
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#personal#does anyone have disco elysium for free for realsies? id really love to play it#partly because ive heard so very many good things about it as a game and story anyway#and partly because i want to get back into my writing and id like to allow disco to inspire me#the writing style. the way dialogue happens. i feel i could learn a lot from it that would work specifically well with my story#im not great at dialogue. id like to learn from disco elysium because from the parts ive seen#(which is not much). the dialogue is really well done#still janky at times but very sincere and i think it could really help me to work out the middle ground for my own writing#for how to do a middle ground of stilted and expressive. im just mad that the internetarchive one was free#and working when i started downloading it but between start download and finish download the page got taken down#i would pay for the game if i could but this bitch can barely afford to feed herself so thats not an option right now#maybe one day. or ill donate to the whenever the actual developers recieve moneys ik there is/was some fuckery with that#but regardless. if anyone has disco elysium they could give me or know where i could get it for free for now#that would be super really greatly appreciated (and id probably name a character after you if youd want me to or sth)#disco elysium
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fine line ââ l. hs
âł summary ââ heesung's got two problems: (1) he can't sleep, and (2) he's addicted to the 1AM combo of instant ramyeon and coffee milk from his favorite convenience store around the corner. the only thing more consistent than his insomnia? his nightly visits for his beloved snacks (and maybe to glare at the new night shift employee, too). &Â pstt, spoiler alert: you're the said new night shift employee. and you don't know what's worse: his weird food choices or his apparent superiority complex. either way, if you have to watch him inhale another bowl like it's his last meal ever, you might lose it. but hey, you know what they sayâthereâs a fine line between love and hate...
âł pairing ââ heeseung x f!reader
âł genre ââ idol!heeseung, e2l!au, strangers to lovers!au, convenience store worker!reader || angst hehe, crack, eventual fluff
âł âá° 15.4k (gasp, she kept it under 20k????)
âł contains ââ so much bickering and banter, reader is kinda sassy and a lil crazy, heeseung is a lil weirdo at first, CRACK (this entire fic revolves around EXTRA HELL FIRE RAMEN PLS), angst, both heeseung & reader can't communicate their feelings & are stubborn as hell, tension tension tension! , deep conversations about life choices lol, cursing
âł addie's â .á ââ IM ALIVE (barely) ! i survived a global expedition (one 12 hr flight) just to come back and face an apocalypse (i got a bug infection and a cold) but dragged myself out of my deathbed (my comfy bed) to finish editing this because i told yall i would and bc i felt bad ghosting everyone for a week LOL apologies (if anyone cares,,,pls tell me u do or i'll cry rn) anyways i hope yall enjoy this one,,,this one was fun to write, it felt very sitcom-y and was lowkey based off of backstreet rookie vibes (only bc it's set in a convenience store). i hope you all enjoy & pls let me know what you think :') thank u for the support & love always <3
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Itâs simple, really.Â
Customer service voice on, a smile plastered on your face, greet the customer, scan the item, take their money, bag said item, throw in a half-hearted âHave a good night!â
And repeat.Â
Well, most of the time.Â
Occasionally, thereâs the fun of kicking out a few drunk teenagers looking for a bathroom that you definitely donât have (yes you do). But otherwise, this graveyard shift at your local corner convenience store?Â
Total dream job.Â
You get paidâas in actual, legit moneyâto sit behind a counter, scan snacks, and feast on your personal holy trinity of microwavable cheesy ramen, peach juice, and potato chips. What could possibly go wrong?Â
At least, thatâs how the manager sold it during your interview. And by interview, you mean the three-minute conversation that went something like:Â
âCan you work nights?âÂ
âYeah.âÂ
âCool, youâre hired.âÂ
No background check, no follow-up questions, not even a glance at your resume. A broke college student with insomnia and schedule flexibility? You were the perfect candidate.Â
And itâs not like youâre picky. You needed cash, and this seemed like a pretty solid deal. What can you say? College is expensive, and someoneâs gotta fund your caffeine addiction and deeply specific (and yet completely necessary, you would argue) habit of playing at every single claw machine game you stumble across.Â
So yeah. Easy work.
At least, that's what you thought.
Because on the night of your first shift, exactly at 1:09AM, the doorbell gives its friendly little ding, and in walks...something.
Someone?
Whatever it is, it's a walking shadow. Oversized hoodie. Baggy pants. A baseball cap shoved under the hood. A black face mask covering whateverâs left of his identity. You think itâs either a ninja, a celebrity in disguise, orâmore likelyâa vampire who hasnât seen sunlight since the Joseon era (youâre leaning more towards vampire).
But more than the wild theories running around in your head, something else piques your curiosity.
Because unlike the other weirdos that usually shuffle in at these ungodly hours, this one moves with true purpose. He beelines straight to the ramen aisle, snags something off the top shelf (most likely the ultra-spicy soup one because, of course, you already have the shelves memorized), and then grabs a bottle of coffee milk from the cold drinks section without even so much as glancing at it.
No hesitation. No second-guessing. Like heâs done this a thousand times before and is now on autopilot mode.
You watch, intrigued. And thenâhorrified.
Because who in the right mind pairs volcanic spicy ramen with coffee milk? Is that even legal?
Youâre barely recovering from your own appalled thoughts before heâs already at the counter, placing his borderline apocalyptic snack combination on the counter in front of you with the same eerie precision he has.
You fail to keep your poker face on when you scan his items, your face scrunching up in disgust.
âUh,â you shake it off, forcing yourself back to reality, âThatâll beââ
But before you can even finish your sentence, heâs already fishing out the exact amountâthree crisp billsâout his back pocket and holds it out for you.
Thereâs a beat of silence.
You stare down at the money in his hand for a second too long, suddenly convinced this guy practices his convenience store interactions in the mirror or something.
When you donât show any further signs of moving, he eventually gives up, placing the money on the counter with a quiet sigh, grabbing his ramen and coffee milk, and striding off to the self-service corner like he personally owns the place.
All of this. Without. A single. Thank you.
Wow. Okay. So tonightâs customer is potentially a vampire with a side gig as a professional jerk. Good to know.
You internally scoff at the entire interaction, butâunfortunately for youâyou canât look away. Because this guy? This walking shadow?
Youâre weirdly intrigued. Like when you accidentally click on a pimple-popping video and immediately regret it, but still end up watching five more.
Itâs a curse.
Out of the corner of your eye (because obviously youâre not staring, youâre justâŚhyper-aware of your surroundings), you watch him execute his ramen-and-coffee-milk routine with the precision of a man possessed.
Step one: Hot water in the ramen cup.
Step two: Ramen into the microwave.
Step three: Wait for exactly one beep before yanking the microwave door open with alarming speed, as if he's scared to even give the second beep the chance to ring.
Step four: Peel the lid back in slowlyâso painfully slow you're about to march over there and do it yourself.
Step five: Insert the straw into the coffee milkâof course, perfectly right in the center. Bullseye.
Honestly? It's all kind of impressive. Horrifying, but impressive.
And, of course, just when you think you might finally look away, because out of sight, out of mindâhe slides onto one of the bar stools by the window, right in your direct line of vision. The perfect spot for you to get a pristine view of his back, which, spoiler alert, is completely unhelpful in your personal mission in trying to see even a glimpse of what this guy looks like.
Maybe if you squint hard enough, you can make out his face in the reflection of the store window. Maybe. Just maybeâ
Nope.
All you catch is a brief glimpse of his eyesâbarely visible beneath his excessive hoodie and hat combination. Even his mask stays glued to his face and you wonder how he even plans on eating his outrageous meal.
But even so, you still canât look away. What even is that color? And why canât you look away?
Whatever. Itâs just eyes. Totally normal. Everyone has them. Not noteworthy at all.
Except it is.
Because you catch yourself still squinting, hoping the glare of the fluorescent lighting against the window hides your not so subtle mission from him. Youâre probably risking retinal damage at this point with how hard youâre trying to decode this guyâs entire identity from literally just his eyes.
You catch another short glimpse of his eyes as he shuffles in his seat and just as youâre trying to piece together why his eyes look oddly familiarâ
He looks up.
His eyes catch yours in the glaring reflection of the store's windows, and you freeze.
Abort mission. Now.
You coughâloudly, dramaticallyâand your eyes immediately dart elsewhere, your hands shuffling on the discounted candy bars displayed on the counter top, pretending to look busy and silently praying he didn't catch you looking for too long.
When enough time passes by, you risk another quick glance back at him, to see heâs now digging into his ramen, head tucked so low you canât even see his eyes anymore. Heâs gone full turtle mode.
You lift a brow.
Weirdo.
A weirdo with an ego. Slurping and sipping away at his crime-against-humanity meal as if he owns the building.
Maybe he's mute. Or a people-hater. Or a cryptid who thrives on ramen and coffee milk instead of human interaction. Maybe I'm being pranked?
You shrug it off, because no matter how hard you try to figure him out, one thing is glaringly obvious: he does not want to be bothered.
And you're not sure if that makes him more intriguing or more annoying.
Youâre in the clear. At least, you think youâre in the clear.Â
After your first weird encounter with Mr. No-Name-No-Faceâspicy ramen enthusiast and potential vampireâyouâve begrudgingly adjusted to his nightly visits.Â
He shows up at 1:09AM like clockwork, grabs his neon red Extra Spicy Hellfire Ramen (yes, thatâs the real brand name, and yes, your soul dies a little every time you even have to think about it), and parks himself in the window seat across from your counter like itâs a Michelin-star ramen barâand not your humble convenience store with a health inspection rating of B+ (donât ask).Â
By night three, youâve downgraded him from potential murderer to mildly annoying ramen connoisseur.Â
By night four, youâve decided heâs your own personal karma sent by the universe.Â
It starts off with the door chime. You donât even flinch. 1:09AM. Right on schedule.Â
You donât look up from the colorful juice pouches youâre restocking. Youâre halfway through creating a perfectly symmetrical pyramid displayâcolor-coded, of courseâbecause, clearly, youâve peaked as a human being.Â
Behind you, footsteps head straight to the ramen aisle. And sure enough, you peek over your shoulder, and there he is: drowning in black hoodie layers, hood up, mask on, the patron saint of please donât perceive me. Same old routine, same oldâ
Wait.Â
He freezes, mid-reach for his usual ramen on the top shelf, his hand hovering in the air. And then, horrifyingly, he turns.Â
And looks directly at you.Â
Your face heats upâprobably not as red as the hellfire ramen he was about to grab, but itâs close, you imagine. You find yourself clutching onto the random juice pouch in your hand as if itâs your lifeline before you clear your throat, âUhâis something wrong?âÂ
He glances from you and back to the shelf in front of him, and for the first time inâŚever, he speaks.Â
Gasp.Â
So we can cross mute off the list.Â
âTheyâre out of my flavor,â he says. His voice is deep, which isnât surprising to you, given heâs the literal human embodiment of the color black, but itâs also serious. So unnecessarily serious that you almost laugh.Â
Almost.Â
Because his tone isnât just seriousâitâs accusatory. As if you personally raided the ramen aisle and hid his favorite flavor for entertainment.Â
Excuse me?Â
Your mouth opens then closes, flopping like a fish that now deeply regrets every life choice. The fire rising in your chest is about two seconds away from erupting into a full-blown lecture on how supply chains work, but you keep it in, deciding getting fired on the fourth day probably doesnât look good on your resume.Â
Instead, you plaster on a flat, unimpressed look.Â
âUh..yeah, it looks like it,â you deadpan, inching closer to where heâs standing to investigate the shelf.Â
Leaning up on your toes, you scan the shelf for any hidden Hellfire cups, hoping some miracle will save you from continuing this interaction.Â
Nope. Itâs empty alright. Emptier than your will to entertain his dramatics.Â
âTragic,â you glance back at him, strategically avoiding eye contact, and settle on offering a shrug. âThere are plenty of other flavors. Maybe tryâŚthe regular spicy?âÂ
You grab the flavor below his usual one and hold it up as an olive branch, but he cuts you off with a tone that even convinces you that youâre deranged.Â
âNo.âÂ
You blink.Â
âNo?âÂ
âIt has to be Extra Spicy Hellfire.âÂ
You blink again.Â
You wait for the punchline.
It never comes.Â
This man is dead serious.Â
Youâre standing in the middle of a fluorescent-lit ramen aisle, at your minimal wage night-shift job, at 1:12AM on a random Tuesday, and this guy is dead serious.Â
And heâs staring at you like this is a life-or-death situation. And judging from the look in his eyes, itâs looking like youâre facing death.Â
But then, you really notice his eyes. And for a split secondâjust a split secondâyouâre derailed from your rising anger.Â
Theyâre brown. But not just any brownâthe kind of brown that makes poets write bad metaphors. Cinnamon swirls. Autumn leaves. Possibly falling in love in a Hallmark Christmas movie.Â
But then you blink again, hard, snapping yourself out of whatever ridiculous moment your sleep-deprived brain just conjured. This is not the time. Youâre literally staring at, like, three inches of this guyâs face.Â
And heâs a jerk. Get a grip, Y/N.Â
âUh, yeah,â you clear your throat, trying your best to sound professional through your disbelief. âSorry. We probably put in our shipment request late. But Iâm sure you wonât implode by going one night without it?âÂ
You tack on a small laugh and smile at the end of your sentence, hoping to lighten the mood.Â
He does not smile back.Â
Not even a flicker.Â
Instead, he continues to stare at you like you just suggested he eat plain, untoasted bread for the rest of his life.Â
You want to bury yourself into a hole. Maybe getting fired on the fourth day wonât be so bad afterall.Â
âIâm sure the regular spicy one is just as good. Whatâs the worst that could happen?â you offer weakly when he makes no sign of saying anything, and you really hope this guy doesnât explode in front of youâmainly because youâre not confident in your own ability to explain that situation to your manager.Â
âIâm not risking it,â he finally deadpans.Â
Your jaw drops slightly.Â
âYouâre not risââ you hesitate, debating whether you want to ruin your night further. But youâve come this far. âYouâre beingâŚserious?âÂ
The question lined with your clear judgement hangs in the air between you two, and no amount of fake customer service can mask the expression of disapproval on your face.Â
His eyes narrow at you as he scoffs, âYou wouldnât understand.âÂ
âOh, I understand,â you tilt your head, your annoyance slowly reaching a boiling point, throwing all professionalism out the window. All you wanted was to enjoy your juice-sorting in peace, not babysit this walking ramen manifesto. âI understand that youâre just picky.âÂ
At that, his eyes flashâsharp, unreadable. âIâm not picky.âÂ
âYou wonât eat a perfectly fine ramen just because itâs not named after the ninth circle of hell.âÂ
Silence.Â
He stares at you with the intensity of someone about to write a strongly worded online review.Â
Finally, with an exaggerated sigh, he finally mutters, âFine. Iâll take the mild one.âÂ
You blink at the flavor in your handâthe one thatâs clearly labeled in giant, blazing-red, font: Regular Spicy. Then you look back at him.Â
âYou mean regular spicy.âÂ
âRight. Whatever. Same thing.âÂ
He grabs the ramen cup from your hand and stalks off to grab his usual coffee milk, leaving you stranded in the middle of the ramen aisle, questioning every life choice that brought you here.Â
Before youâre about to mentally spiral, his voice cuts through the store.Â
âHello?âÂ
Oh. Right. Your job.Â
You scramble back to behind the register, quickly moving your hands to ring him up and get him out of here as soon as possible.Â
He hands you his three crisp bills, and before you hand him his glorified ramen and godforsaken coffee milk, you hesitate, pulling them back slightly. He freezes, his hands hanging in the air between you two.Â
âYou know,â you narrow your eyes as you look up at him, âsome people would say thank you for the recommendation.âÂ
His brow archesâor at least, you think it does. Itâs hard to completely tell under his stupid hat. Then he fires backâ
âAnd some people wouldnât forget to restock the ramen.âÂ
Your mouth falls open, your words failing you as he grabs his goods from your hands, heading to the self-serve station to continue his nightly noodle worship as if he didnât just verbally body-slam you.Â
Yeah. Itâs going to be a long night.Â
Life is unpredictable, uncontrollable, and chaotic.Â
Lee Heeseungâs life? Heeseungâs life is that times ten, with an extra sprinkle of what-is-even-happening-anymore?Â
Between back-to-back choreo sessions, recording tracks at hours that shouldnât legally exist, and navigating the emotional and physical minefield of constant shows, interviews, photoshootsâyou name itânothing about his life is consistent.Â
Howeverâ
There are two thingsâtwo sacred constantsâthat keep Heeseung from spiraling into total madness.Â
The first?Â
Insomnia.Â
Not by choice, of course. He doesnât love being awake at 3AM, staring at his ceiling and waiting for sleep to take over. But itâs a loyal companion, like a stray cat that keeps showing up at your house no matter how hard you try to shoo it away. Heeeseungâs insomnia is always there for him, night after night, ensuring he gets exactly only four hours of sleepâwith a side of existential dread.Â
And the second?Â
Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen and coffee milk.Â
Yes, itâs a weird combo.Â
No, he doesnât care.Â
This unlikely pairing is Heeseungâs personal slice of heaven he can actually control and choose in a life otherwise ruled by the rest of the world.Â
Every night, he drags himself to his favorite corner store, grabs his fiery ramen and sweet, creamy coffee milk, and plants himself in the window seat to enjoy his culinary masterpiece in peace.Â
Thenâand only thenâcan Heeseung catch a few hours of sleep, the spice-induced euphoria lulling himself into a temporary state of calm.Â
Does he have a problem? Absolutely.Â
Is he addicted? Without a doubt.Â
Does he care? Not in the slightest.Â
Because in a world that demands he change at the drop of a hat, this little routine of his is the one thing that stays consistent.Â
Well, except for last night.Â
Because last night, someone dared to disrupt the cosmic balance of his existence. Someone failed to restock his precious Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen.Â
He had stared at the empty spot on the shelf, the betrayal hitting him like a personal attack. He went home last night only a quarter satisfied from the mild spicy ramen he had settled with.Â
And the worst part?Â
He couldnât stop thinking about the someone responsible.Â
Now here he is, stepping into the corner store at 1:09AM, ready to make up for last nightâs disappointment of an outcome.Â
Heeseung steps into the brightly lit store, the familiar ding ringing behind him as he enters right on time. He continues his familiar route to the ramen aisle, but not before shooting a quick glance from below his hat toward the counter.Â
Yup, there she is.Â
You.Â
The new graveyard shift employee. The one who dared to challenge his sacred ramen ritual and stared at him like he was a walking poor life choice.Â
Youâre here again. This is five nights in a row. Heeseung wonders if you 1) are insane, 2) have no life, or 3) are purely here just to spite him.Â
But tonight, heâs prepared. His focus is razor-sharp, his mission clear: Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk. Nothing will get in the way tonight.Â
Heeseung looks up, exhaling in relief when he spots the fiery red packaging of the Extra Spicy Hellfire sitting innocently on the shelf. There you are.Â
He grabs the cup (with too much excitement that it should honestly embarrass him), cradling it like a long-lost love, before he makes his way to snag his coffee milk.Â
Perfect combo. Perfect routine. Perfect night.Â
Exceptâ
Except, of course, youâre watching him. Again.Â
He doesnât even need to look up to know it. He can feel your judging eyes burning into the back of his head like you did the other nightâlike youâre seconds away from filing a report against his own taste buds.Â
He doesnât get itâwhatâs so strange about ramen and coffee milk? Itâs not like heâs dipping the noodles in it. Why youâve made it your personal mission to antagonize him, he has no idea, but itâs really throwing him off his ramen zen.Â
Heeseung sighs to himself as he steps up to the counter, making sure you hear the sheer misery in this voiceâbecause, of course, fate has cursed him with yet another encounter with you.
âSoâŚdo you actually enjoy these together, or are you just trying to destroy your stomach lining?âÂ
He freezes. Great, youâre talking. So much for a perfect night.Â
He adjusts his cap to peer at you and that same unimpressed, judgmental look sitting on your face as you lean against the counter behind you. âWhatâs wrong with my choices?âÂ
Your eyebrows shoot up, âWhat's right with them? This combo screams, âI have unresolved issues Iâm trying to boil away with spicy and sugar.ââÂ
Okay, ouch.Â
Heeseung narrows his eyes, trying to ignore the weird pinch in his chest at how quickly you read him, whether he likes to admit it or not.Â
âI like them. Thatâs all that matters,â his voice drips with a certain sharpness, hoping the edge in his tone is enough to make you back off.Â
You, however, seem entirely unfazed.
âJust trying to help,â you shrug as you scan his items, âlooking out for your poor taste buds.âÂ
For a moment, Heeseung considers firing back, but then his gaze catches yours for a millisecond too long as you take his cash and, immediately, heâs wonderingâfor the hundredth timeâif you know.Â
Do you recognize him?Â
The thought has been gnawing at him since the first time he stepped into this store and saw you sitting there five days ago. Sure, heâs got his identity pretty much concealed under his borderline clinically insane hat-mask-hoodie combo, but stillâmost people at least give him a double take, a lingering glance. Something.Â
But you? Nothing. No flash of recognition. No curiosity. Nothing to indicate you know youâre talking to Lee Heeseungâpart idol, part insomniac, 100% ramen enthusiast.Â
And for some reason, that both annoys and intrigues him.Â
âThanks for your concern,â Heeseung mumbles dryly, quickly grabbing the ramen cup and cold drink from your hands.Â
âNo problem,â you chirp just as sarcastically, an annoying smile on your face. âEnjoy yourâŚuh, gourmet meal.â
Heeseung throws you one last glare before shaking his head and stalking off to the self-serve station. He puts the cup down on the counter with a little more force than necessary and pours boiling water over the noodles, glaring into the steam as your voice rings in his head.Â
Whatâs wrong with ramen and coffee milk? He scowls. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And I definitely donât have unresolved issues.Â
But as he steals a glance back at the check-out counter and catches you sorting bills like nothing happened, a weird unease settles in his chest.Â
He looks down at this ramen, then at the coffee milk.Â
For the first time ever, he feelsâŚself-conscious.Â
And now youâre in his head.Â
Great.Â
By night six, you donât know whether to pity the guy or stage an intervention.
The ding of the automatic doors announces his arrival, as usual, at exactly 1:09AM. You know itâs himâRamen Guy. The guy who youâre convinced single-handedly continues to keep the Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen business float.Â
You lean against the counter and subtly watch him make his usual pilgrimage to the ramen aisle, internally scoffing to yourself at the weird moment he picks up his ramen like itâs his newborn child.
Heâs so weird.Â
You wonder what kind of person he is outside this convenience store. Does he always make such objectively strange choices? Like, does he wear socks with sandals? Does he mix his cereal with orange juice instead of milk?Â
Your haunting thoughts are interrupted by the sound of his usual unholy pair of snacks hitting the counter in front of you with a soft thunk. You look down at the items before glancing back up at him with a skeptical look on your face, âYou ever think about switching it up?â
Ramen Guy, clearly expecting the snark, doesnât miss a beat, âYou ever think about minding your business?âÂ
âNot really. Boredom makes me nosy,â you shrug. âAnd at this point, youâre the only thing keeping me entertained at this hour.âÂ
He rolls his eyes so dramatically youâre mildly concerned he might sprain something.Â
âAnd Iâm starting to think you like judging me a little too much.âÂ
âWrong. I like judging everyone equally,â you scan his items, then tilt your head. âBut maybe youâre a special case. With issues.âÂ
To your surprise, he snorts. Like, an actual, out-loud laugh.Â
âSays the girl who voluntarily works the night shift.â
Your smirk falters for half a second. He catches it.
Ramen Guy raises an eyebrow, leaning casually against the counter. âWhat? Too close to home?â
You shift in your spot, âBold of you to assume I have issues.â
He shrugs, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
You shift the attention back to him. âWhat about you, then? Why do you keep showing up here, huh?â
At that, something changes. The words in the air, and for the first time, you notice a slight shift in his demeanorâthe slight awkwardness in the way he shifts his weight.Â
Then, after a brief pause, he meets your gaze and throws the question right back at you.
âWhy do you keep working the night shift?â
You freeze, putting his items back down on the counter, caught off guard by the reversal. "TouchĂŠ. But I asked first."
There's hesitation again for a moment, his fingers tapping the edge of the counter impatientlyânervously?
"I like the peace and quiet,â he finally says, and for the first time tonight, he meets your eyes.
For a split second, youâre startled by the sincerity in his gaze and sudden shift in toneâitâs almost distracting. But you shake yourself out of it just as quickly.
"Nothing about Extra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk sounds peaceful or quiet," your voice softer now but still teasing.
"Okay, Miss Graveyard Shift," he fires back, leaning a little closer over the counter. "Why are you here every night? Do you have a thing for fluorescent lighting and cleaning up after drunk customers or something?"
You don't miss the faint challenge in his voice as you narrow your eyes at him.
Then, you settle for a shrug and take a breath, answering honestly.
"It's flexible. Pays well enough," you start, before looking back at him, and add, almost as an afterthought, "...and I like the quiet too."
Itâs an honest answer, one that seems to hang in the air between you two for a beat too long. His gaze softens ever so slightly, and you swear you see something shift underneath that stupid cap of his, but before you can dwell on it, he straightens up.
He places his three bills on the counter, grabs his items, and pauses.
âSo,â he starts, his lighter tone breaking the silence, âdo you have a name, or should I just keep calling you Graveyard Shift Girl?â
You raise a brow, amused, as you start putting his bills away, âDo you have a name, or should I just keep calling you Ramen Guy?â
For a split second, you think you see something flicker in his eyesâsomething smug, something entertained. And you donât know it, but under his mask, his lips twitch, fighting back a faint smile.
âTouchĂŠ,â he murmurs, echoing your earlier words before stepping back from the counter, items in hand, but lingers just a moment longer than necessaryâlike he wants to say something else.
But he doesnât. Instead, he turns towards the self-serve station, falling back into his regular routine.
And you should do the same.
You try to do the same. But as you go back to your usual tasksâwiping down the counter, restocking shelves, pretending to be productiveâyou find yourself sneaking glances out of the corner of your eye toward his window seat.
He just sits there, just like he always does, stirring his ramen absentmindedly as he stares out into the empty street. And yet, tonight, something feelsâŚdifferent.
Itâs nothing. You tell yourself itâs nothing.
Just curiosity. Natural, given how he keeps showing up every night, breaking up the monotony of your shift with his weird food choices and even weirder personality.
And yetâ
No matter how hard you try, you canât seem to stop thinking about himâthe way he looked at you earlier, the way his demeanor shifted even slightly.
Itâs nothing.
Still, your gaze flickers back at him, catching the way his fingers tap lightly against the table, lost in thought. You wonder what kind of things keep a guy like him up at night.
And maybeâjust maybeâyouâre starting to find his weird little habits endearing, too.
The faint sound of the storeâs music plays in the background, the clock ticks, and eventually, he finishes his ramen, tosses his trash, and makes his way toward the door.
And thenâhe hesitates.
Just for a second. A small pause, a barely-there moment where he stops, glances over his shoulder just slightlyâjust enough to look at you.
âSee you tomorrow, Graveyard Shift Girl.â
You blink, caught off guard, and for a moment, all you can manage is to stare at him. Then, as you fail to ignore the weird blooming feeling in your chest, your words slip out almost on instinct:
"Goodnight, Ramen Guy."
The next night, you do something completely out of character, entirely unprovoked, and maybe just a little bit unhingedâyou take your cheesy ramen, peace juice pouch, and bag of potato chips and plop yourself down right next to Ramen Guy and his usual window seat.Â
He pauses mid-slurp. Keeping his head low, he turns to you slowly. Suspiciously.
âWhatâŚare you doing?âÂ
âHaving dinner,â you say matter-of-factly, popping open your bag of chips.Â
His gaze drops to your meal, and then back to you. âItâs almost 1:30AM.âÂ
âOkay? Dinner, early breakfast, midnight snack, call it whatever you want,â you shrug, unbothered as you continue unwrapping your meal.Â
Ramen Guy exhales through his nose, shaking his head to himself like heâs just accepted his fate. Without another word, he turns back to his own meal and resumes eating.Â
A surprisingly comfortable silence followsâthe only sounds filling the empty store the quiet hum of the storeâs playlist, the buzz of the lights above you, and the synchronized slurp of two insomniacs with poor diet choices.Â
Then, without thinking, you tilt your bag of potato chips, holding it out between you two, âWant one?â
He stops mid-motion, as if heâd almost forgotten you were still here.
Almost.
A glance into your bag, a small shrug, and then, just like that, he grabs a chip and pops it into his mouth, moving so fast you barely catch a glimpse of his face without the mask.
âThanks,â he mutters before taking a sip of his coffee milk, still keeping his head low.
You hum in response, your fingers drumming against the counter before your curiosity wins the best of you, âSoâŚwhat kind of life leads you to seek peace and quiet in a convenience store?â
Itâs a question thatâs been on your mind since last nightâs conversation. What can you say? Youâre a creature of curiosity.
Ramen Guy shrugs next to you, âWhat do you mean?â
âLikeâŚyouâre here every night. Why at night? Why not during the day?â
He lets out a short chuckle. âYou want me to leave?â
âI didnât say that.â
âSure sounded like it.â
You exhale sharply, your fingers now absentmindedly swirling the noodles in your bowl. âLook, Iâm just sayingâmost people are asleep at this hour.â
He smirks. You can hear it in his voice without even looking. âYouâre here too, arenât you?â
âThatâs different, this is my job,â you scoff, amused, before pointedly gesturing at this meal before him, âUnless you want to call your weird habits a job. Which, honestly, I wouldnât be surprised if someone was paying you to subject your tastebuds to that every night.â
And he laughs. Itâs small, barely there, but you catch it. Then, with a quiet exhale, he finally answers, âItâs like I told you before, I like the quiet at this hourâŚI donât get a lot of that.â
You stop twirling your noodles, the air shifting into that same unspoken understanding from last night. Faint, but unmistakable.
Something unsaid hanging between the two of you, something that tells you this guy is more than just an insomniac with questionable food choices.
You tilt your head. âSo, what, you got a bunch of loud roommates or something?â
A small, almost knowing smile tugs at his lips. âSomething like that.â
You raise a brow at his vague answer but donât press. Instead, you nod towards his food. âAnd your criminal meals? That part of the quiet too?â
He huffs, âMaybe I just have superior taste.â
âRight, totally,â you laugh, the tone in your voice almost testing him.Â
Ramen Guy finishes up his meal, wiping his mouth quickly with a napkin before putting his mask back on and finally turning to face you fully.
He narrows his eyes at you, âYou think you have me all figured out?â
You mirror his actions, facing him fully for the first time tonight, folding your arms, âOh, I do have you all figured out, Ramen Guy.â
âOh yeah?â He leans forward slightly. âAlright, go on. Tell me who I am, Graveyard Psychic Girl.â
You roll your eyes but accept the challenge, leaning back in your seat.
âYouâre a creature of habit, clearly. You like consistency. Probably because your life is very inconsistent otherwise.â
Ramen Guy doesnât react, so you continue.
âYouâre a night owl, but not by choice. You want to sleep, but your brain wonât let you.â Your eyes flick down to the coffee milk. âSo, instead, you drink this, even though it probably makes it worse.â
Still no response.
âSo now, you just keep showing up here because itâs predictable,â you finish with a small shrug. âAnd maybeâŚâcause youâre kinda lonely.â
That makes him pause.
You immediately regret saying it. BecauseâŚwhat was that?
That was too much. Too deep. Too intrusive.
But to your surprise, he doesnât deflect. He doesnât scoff, or roll his eyes, or peer them at you the way he does a million times a night.
Instead, he tilts his head slightly, eyes glinting with something you canât quite place.
ââŚNot bad,â he says finally, reaching for another chip from the bag in your hands.
You blink. âWait, really?â
âI mean, kinda harsh, butâŚmostly true.â
âOh,â you donât know what you expected, but it wasnât that.
A beat of silence passes before Ramen Guy speaks up again, âSo basically, youâre saying weâre the same.â
You let out a snort, âNot even close.â
âWe both work weird hours. We both like the quiet. We both eat the same convenience store junk food.â He holds up the bag of potato chips before eating another one.
âYou just started eating those,â you deadpan.Â
âYeah, but Iâm still eating them, which means my taste is obviously elite.â
âYou literally eat coffee milk with nuclear ramen.â
âOkay, youâre the one who made it weird.â
A mischievous smile starts forming on your face as you snatch your bag of chips back from him, âSo you agree your food choices are weird?âÂ
His smirk falters as a small giggle rises out of you.Â
âWhatever you say, Graveyard Shift Girl.âÂ
The next night, Heeseung does something completely out of character, entirely unprovoked, and maybe just a little bit unhingedâheâs late. Itâs 1:30AM, well past his usual 1:09AM show-up time, and the store is Heeseung-less.
He blames late-night dance practice. He also blames Ni-ki for stealing his usual black hoodieâforcing him to spend an extra thirty minutes looking for another one. Not that the hoodie matters, he would argue (yes, it does).
When he finally steps through the door at 1:32AM, the familiar ding barely finishes echoing beforeâ
âWow,â you drawl from behind the counter, arms crossed. âTragic. Unbelievable. I was starting to think you found a new place to bother.â
Heeseung snorts, making a beeline for the ramen aisle, âYou wish. Wouldnât want you to get bored without me.â
You let out a dramatic gasp, âWow. Thoughtful and self-aware. Who knew you had layers?â
Heeseung tries to ignore you, moving to grab his coffee milk. But his lips twitch under his mask, and heâs glad itâs hiding the way heâs failing to fight the smile growing on his face.
When he finally reaches the counter, you push off from where you were leaning against the counter, hands settling on your hips. âOkay, be honest. Outside of this, do you have anything else going on in your life?âÂ
Heeseung raises a brow, completely caught off guard. If thereâs one thing heâs learned over the past few nights, itâs that youâre incredibly nosy. And for someone who claims to like working the night shift because of the quiet, youâre absolutely terrible at keeping things that way.Â
âExcuse me?â
âYou mentioned that you work weird hours yesterday,â you gesture vaguely at him. âSo, spill.â
His stare remains blank, debating if he can distract you by handing you his three bills of cash (he canât).
âI doâŚstuff.â
âStuff,â you repeat, âQuite riveting.â
Heeseung exhales, âWhy do you care?â
You shrug, taking his cash and putting it away. âYou must do something interesting. Youâre too weirdly confident for a guy who just bums around convenience stores at night.â
Heeseung scoffs. "Weirdly confident?"
"Yeah, likeâ" You wave around you. "You walk around like you have some big, mysterious purpose. But all I ever see you do is glare at instant noodles and sip milk like a sad Victorian child."
Heeseung shakes his head, letting out a breathy laugh. "Maybe that is my purpose."
Then, he simply shrugs. But thereâs something in his gazeâsomething unreadable, like heâs deciding exactly how much he wants to say.
"Itâs hard to explain,â he finally says. âI justâŚhave a weird work schedule.â
"Weird how?"
"Weird as in, I donât really get normal hours. Always moving, always working. Makes sleep kinda impossible."
You pause, taking in his words. Then, you shift slightly, crossing your arms. "Sounds exhausting."
Heeseung exhales a laugh, leaning against the counter. "You have no idea."
For a moment, a familiar and warm quiet fills the air as the two of you linger, as if waiting for the other to say something more.
And he doesnât know why, but his chest feels a little too tightâlike heâs let you stumble into a part of him you werenât supposed to see yet.
âWell,â you say quietly, your lips curving into a soft smile that sends a weird jolt through his body that he chooses to ignore. âIâm honored youâve chosen this fine establishment as your official sanctuary.â
He scoffs, reaching for his items. "Donât let it go to your head, Graveyard Shift Girl.â
He then turns to head to his usual corner whenâ
âY/N.â
Heeseung pauses, turning back at you like an awkward child lost in the middle of a store.
âMy name,â you clarify, casually returning to sorting the registerâs bills. âA lot easier to say than Graveyard Shift Girl.â
Heeseung gives you a slow nod, something unfamiliar and unplaceable twisting in his stomach as he turns back around.
And when he finishes his meal and leaves that night, he calls outâ
âSee you tomorrow, Y/N.â
And, this time, he doesnât fight the smile under his mask when he hears your voice, a little softer, call back out:
âGoodnight, Ramen Guy."
It happens the moment he steps inside.
Heeseung doesnât even make it past the threshold before a familiar melody drifts through the weak convenience store speakers and to his ears.
Familiar because heâs heard it a thousand times.
Familiar because itâs literally his voice singing the line.
His stomach drops.
Instead of his usual beeline to the ramen aisle, Heeseung turns towards the counter where youâre idly tapping on your phone, oblivious.
The hum of the melody continues, and Heeseung is suddenly too hyper-aware of how loud his own voice sounds in the otherwise dead-silent store.
Panic creeps up his spine.
He moves fast, crossing the store in a few long strides, slamming his hands down onto the counter that divides the two of you.
You jump in your seat.
âGeezââ you clutch your chest, wide-eyed as you take in his very sudden, very urgent presence. âWhat the hell?��
Heeseung ignores you, pointing above him, âDid you put this on?â
Your brows furrow as you put your phone down, glance up at him, then at the speakers heâs pointing at. You barely register the song before recognition flickers across your face.
âOhâthis? Nah, itâs the storeâs playlist,â you gesture towards the iPad behind the counter, currently playing a Current Hits playlist on shuffle. âItâs some groupâs new song. Pretty catchy.â
Heeseung just stares at you, mind racing.
You donât recognize it.
You donât recognize his voice.
The realization sends relief crashing over him, but he quickly snaps out of it with a brand-new problemâbecause now he has to decide what the hell to do with this information.
Does he tell you? Drop the act and lay it all out? Would you believe him? Would you even care?
âYou okay?â Now youâre staring at him, suspicious. âWhy do you look like youâve just seen a ghost?â
Heeseung clears his throat, realizing his stance is way too conspicuous, and slowly removes his hands from the counter to stand up straight, attempting to sound normal, âNo reason.âÂ
You squint at him.
Thenâ
âOh my god,â you gasp, eyes suddenly lighting up. âWait.â
His heart stops. Oh, shit. She figured it out. This is it.
âAre you a fan?â you blurt, leaning forward in your seat eagerly.
Heeseung blinks.
âŚWhat.
âOh, you totally are,â you continue, completely missing the way his soul is currently leaving his body. âYou came straight to the counter like a man on a mission. Oh my god. Are they, like, your favorite group or something?â
Heeseung has never wanted to laugh and cry at the same time more than he does in this moment.
âSomething like that,â he mutters, bringing a hand to rub this temple, because no way this is happening right now.
You beam brightly from your seat, âThatâs cute. Whoâs your bias?â
At that, Heeseung does laughâbecause this is now officially the most ridiculous thing thatâs ever happened to him.
âYou wouldnât believe me if I told you.â
âTry me.â
Thereâs a long pause.
And thenâafter a deep breath, a long and heated internal debate, and one last glance at your innocent, completely oblivious faceâhe finally exhales, looking you straight in the eye.
âThis guy,â he says as he hears his own voice ring out through the store. âBecause thatâs me. Thatâs my voice.â
Silence.
You stare at him.
You blink. Once. Twice.
Then, after what feels like an eternityâ
ââŚHuh?â
Then you tilt your head. "I'm sorryâwhat?"
Heeseung watches as your expression cycles from confusion to skepticism to outright disbelief. He braces himself.
"My name is Lee Heeseung," he repeats slowly. "From Enhypen."
Another beat of silence.
Thenâbecause youâre youâ
You burst out laughing.
"Okay, Ramen Guy," you snort, crossing your arms. "Very funny.â
Heeseung sighs, "I knew this would happen."
"Because youâre delusional?"
"Because you donât pay attention."
You roll your eyes, "Oh, Iâm sorry, but when in our thriving relationship have you ever given me a reason to believe that youâre actually a famous idol and not just some guy who has concerning dietary habits?"
Heeseung groans.
He regrets everything. He regrets this entire conversation. He could have lied. He could have said literally anything else. But noâhe had to be honest. And look where that got him.
"Iâm serious," he insists, leveling you with a look.
You stare back at him.
Then, something seems to click in your brain, because you suddenly lunge for your phone.
"Oh, weâre doing this," you mutter, fingers flying across the screen as you type in his name. "Letâs see ifâ"
You stop.
Heeseung watches as your eyes widen, scanning the images in front of you. Then you look up at him. Then back down at the phone.
Then back at him.
âTake the mask off,â you mutter quietly, slowly holding your phone up next to his face.
With an exhausted sigh, Heeseung does what heâs told and pulls it down for the first time in front of you.
You scan him. Then the phone. Then him.
"You've gotta be shitting me," you breathe.
Heeseung shrugs, "Told you."
You gape at him, your mouth opening and closing.
You donât know what shocks you moreâthe fact that a literal celebrity has been standing in front of you this whole time, or the realization that the once-random stranger you used to relentlessly tease has, somehow, always been this ridiculously good-looking all along.Â
"SoâŚyouâre famous?"
"Something like that."
"Something like that?" You shove your phone toward him, your screen now displaying the groupâs Instagram page. "You literally have fans. Like, millions of them."
Heeseung cringes, "Okay, you donât have to say it like that."
"Like what? Like youâre a superstar and Iâve been treating you like a regular guy who can't cook for himself?"
"Because thatâs exactly what I am?"
âUnbelievable,â you scoff, shaking your head. âSo you sing. You perform. Youâcommit crimes against humanity with your ramen choices each night.â
Heeseung groans. âOh my god.â
âOh my god,â you echo, standing up from your seat behind the counter. âSo youâre telling me that every night, an actual, real-life idol has been showing up here, inhaling a weekâs worth of sodium, and Iââ You pause, eyes narrowing. âWait. Are you even allowed to be eating this garbage?â
âAnd are you ever able to mind your own business?â Heeseung counters, now fully regretting this entire conversation.
âAbsolutely not, Lee Heeseung, because this is literally the plot of a drama,â you wave your hands in disbelief. âMystery insomniac convenience store guy turns out to be a world famous pop starââ
âOkay, letâs not get carried away.â
ââand I, the unsuspecting cashier, unknowingly roast him every night like heâs just some sleep-deprived college student instead of a millionaire with talent. Waitââ you then pause again, placing your hands on your hips, staring at him with a newfound judgment. ââyouâre loaded, arenât you?â
Heeseung pinches the bridge of your nose, exasperated, âWhy is that your takeaway from this?â
âYou are!â you exclaim, your smile widening as you ignore his suffering. âYouâre rich and youâre out here eating instant ramen every night!â
Heeseung groans again, dropping his head onto the counter in front of you, âOh my god.â
Grinning, you bend down to this level. âSo this whole time, youâve been lying to me?â
He lifts his head just enough to glare at you. "Itâs not lying. ItâsâŚselective honesty.â
You scoff, straightening up just as Heeseung does, meeting his gaze with an accusatory squint. âThatâs literally the definition of lying.â
âLook, itâs not like I planned to make a habit out of this,â he gestures to the store around him. âI came in one night, and then I came back, and suddenly, I had a thing going. Then you showed up and started running your mouth, andââ
âAnd you kept coming back anyways,â you finish, crossing your arms, a slow, amused smile tugging at your lips.
Heeseung freezes. His mouth opens. Then closes.
ââŚYeah.â
A silence stretches between youâcharged, almost personalâuntil you decide to cut through the tension with a smirk.
âWhat if I play your groupâs music over the speakers every night?â
The look on his face is deadly. âYou wouldnât.â
Your grin grows, âWouldnât I, though?â
âThis is the worst night of my life,â Heeseung drags a hand down his face and turns towards the ramen aisle. âIâm leaving.â
âAww, câmon,â you tease, calling out after him and delighting in his suffering. âAlso can we talk about how you literally just said youâre your own bias?â
âShut up.â
Youâre still laughing when he returns to the counter thirty seconds laterâExtra Spicy Hellfire and coffee milk in hand, cheeks tinged pink.
âAlright, serious question,â you say, leaning in slightly from your seat at the window barstools. âIf you had to give up either Extra Spicy Hellfire or coffee milk for the rest of your life, which would you choose?â
Heeseung immediately stops chewing, his chopsticks frozen midair as he turns to you with a look that says you just personally offended him.
âThatâs straight evil.â
âYou must choose, Ramen Guy.â
Heeseung groans, throwing his head back dramatically. âYou canât just throw life-altering hypotheticals at me like that.â
âChoose.â
He stares at his ramen. Then at this coffee milk. Then back at you.
Then back at his ramen.
Then back at you.
âI hate you, you know that?â
âAw,â you flash him your sweetest, most infuriating smile. âThatâs the nicest thing youâve said to me. Like, ever.â
Heeseung shoots a glare at you, âI hope your regular spicy ramen tastes like disappointment.â
âOh, it totally does,â you look down at your own ramen in front of you and take an exaggerated slurp, âItâs just so awful.â
Heeseungâs lips perk up into a smile at your weirdly endearing antics before shaking his head, âYouâre a lost cause.â
You giggle to yourself, taking a sip of your own juice when you hear Heeseung, barely audible, suddenly mutter:
ââŚIâd give up coffee milk.â
Itâs quiet. Itâs barely there.
Your jaw drops.
âI know, okay?â He rubs his temples as if the decision is actually hurting him. âItâs like choosing between two children. But at the end of the day, ramen is ramen.â
You nod along, pretending you understand the gravity of his heavy decision (you donât). But still, you smileâbecause you were the one who got him to betray his beloved coffee milk.
Heeseung takes a sip of it anyway, groaning as he swirls the bottle in his hand. âI hate that you made me think about this.â
âYou should be thanking me. Yâknow, character growth and all that.â
âMore like character damage.â
You grin, victorious, and he just rolls his eyes before pausing for a second to think, thenâhe nudges his ramen cup toward you.
âHere. Try some.â
You recoil immediately and look up at him with a look that tells him heâs absolutely psychotic.
âAbsolutely not.â
He raises an eyebrow. âWhy? You scared?â
âNo, Heeseung, I just have these things called taste buds.â
He scoffs, shoving the bowl between you two closer. âJust one bite. Câmon, Graveyard Shift Girl, live a little. For me.â
You hold his gaze, suspicious but faltering, becauseâdamn itâheâs looking at you like that. All smug and teasing, head tilted slightly, and it affects you.
And then he moves.Â
He picks up his chopsticks, twirls them in the bowl, and catches a perfect bundle of noodles before leaning forward, holding them up between you two. He waits.
Your breath hitches. Your eyes flicker to the steam curling from the noodles, twisting in the air between your faces, fragile and fleeting.
Heeseung doesnât move.
Neither do you.
Itâs ridiculous, really. I mean, itâs ramen. But the way the space between you suddenly feels thin, the way his grip on the chopsticks stays steady, his fingers just inches from your lips, the way his dark eyes stay locked onto yours, watching you with something unreadable flickering beneath the usual teasing glintâit feels like time slows down.
You blink rapidly, clearing your throat. Itâs fine. Itâs cool. Youâre overthinking.
Heeseung tilts his head slightly, watching. Waiting.
You let out an exaggerated sigh and slowly lean in to take the bite.
Your lips brush the chopsticks as you close your mouth around the noodles, and for a split secondâone charged, unspoken, split secondâneither of you move.
Heeseung is so close.
So close.
You can see the soft curve of his mouth, the way his gaze flickers over your face, the way his breath catches slightly like he just realized something.
Youâre suddenly painfully aware of the close proximity and it sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. Panicked, you pull back quickly and settle into your seat like nothing happened.
But then you start chewing.
And thatâs when you realizeâ
No, wait. Wait. That heat in your cheeks?
Oh.
Oh no.
Yeah. Itâs definitely not because of Heeseung (well, maybe a part of it is).Â
Because the second you swallow down the bundle of noodlesâthe embodiment of heat, pain, and suffering all slams into your mouth instantly.
You freeze.
Your brain short-circuits.
And thenâ
âOh my GODââ you choke, slamming your hands onto the counter, your body shaking as the spice courses through your veins.
Your throat ignites, your sinuses clear, and you swear you can hear colors.
Heeseung? Heeseung loses it.
His laugh bursts out of himâloud, unguarded, and completely delightful. He clutches his stomach, nearly hiccuping from how hard heâs laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners, dimples deep in his cheeks.
If you werenât literally physically dying in this current moment, youâd probably be absolutely too flustered to function at the sight.
âNo wayââ he wheezes through his laughter,ââare you actually struggling right now?â
âWHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE, HEESEUNG?!â you glare at him through the tears forming in your eyes as you desperately flail your arms around, searching for your juice pouch. âYou eat this voluntarily?!â
âEvery night, baby.â
âYouâre sick.â
âAnd youâre dramatic.â
Your hands finally find your drink and you gulp it down as if itâs your lifeline, eyes still watery, throat still burning, lungs barely breathing. But somewhere in the middle of your suffering, you catch yourself staring.
At Heeseung.
At the way heâs still smiling, like he just had the best meal of his life. At the way his eyes sparkle when he laughs, his dimples peeking out like his own hidden secrets, the way his nose scrunches slightly when heâs amusedâ
Weird.
You blink the thoughts (and your tears) away, shaking it off, and blame the spice, the delirium, and sheer trauma of what just happened.
You clear your throat, sitting back with a desperate huff.
âI hope,â you catch your breath, gesturing to his bowl, âthat when you come in tomorrow, weâre all out of this horrid flavor.â
Heeseung smirks, leaning back in his chair as he gives you a knowing look.
âYouâd still restock it for me, though.â
Damn it.
Your shoulders slump, and both of you know youâre defeated.
He knows you know youâre defeated.Â
Heeseung just grins, then, without a word, slides his coffee milk toward you in a silent truce.
You stare at it. Then at him.
His smile grows.
And you accept it.
Begrudgingly.
Itâs 1:20AM when you find yourself behind the counter, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes of instant noodles and bottled drinks. The store hums with its usual white noiseâlights buzzing above, soft music humming overhead, the low whirr of the coolers.Â
And Heeseung?Â
Heeseung is across the counter, perched on a barstool he dragged from across the store, doing absolutely nothing to help.Â
For the nth time tonight, he flips a soda bottle into the air.Â
And for the nth time tonight, he fails to land it upright, the bottle clattering onto the counter.
âYouâre supposed to be helping me restock,â you remind him, tossing a pack of chips at him.Â
âI am helping,â he argues, dodging the bag in time and letting it fall flat onto the ground. Great.Â
You cross your arms, scoffing, âOh yeah? What category does sitting there and flipping Diet Coke fall under?âÂ
Heeseung finally puts the bottle down on the counter and hums, tapping his fingers against the counter like heâs deep in thought. Then, he flashes you a meek smile, âMoral support?âÂ
You roll your eyes playfully, turning back to unbox another package from the pile stacked in front of you.Â
Another silence falls between you and Heeseung watches as you go back to your job before he breaks itâ
âHow do you do this every night? Does it not getâŚI donât know, tedious? Boring?âÂ
You freeze in your spot, caught by surprise at the question.
âHm,â you turn to him, head tilted as you think.
Heeseung glances up at you, intrigued. The way your lips purse slightly, how your fingers fidget absentmindedly with the torn edge of a cardboard box.Â
You exhale, leaning back against the counter, âYeah, the hours suck, pay isâŚalright. AndââÂ
You hesitate. Your gaze drifts toward the floor, fixating on a dent near the register, ââand I think, at some point, I thought I felt stuck.âÂ
Something in Heeseungâs expression shifts.Â
âI mean, Iâm a college student, for godâs sake,â you continue, a small, humorless laugh escaping you. âAnd I spend my nights serving cigarettes to barely legal teens and cleaning up after ramen spills. It kind of felt like I was justâŚwatching life pass me by, you know?â
Your voice quiets and itâs just the soft hum of the store again. You pick at the box without thinking, fingers grazing over the worn edges, and Heeseung watches you.
Because he gets it.Â
He gets it in a way that makes his chest ache a little.
Because despite the differences in your livesâdespite how heâs constantly moving while you feel stuckâyou both know the feeling of watching life slip between your fingers, of wondering if youâre ever going to feel like you belong in it.
Heeseung holds the soda bottle between his hands, rolling it back and forth, murmuring, âYeah, I get that.âÂ
You glance up at him, making eye contact, but you donât push.Â
âBut then,â you say quietly, âI started seeing this place differently. Instead of somewhere I was stuck, it became more of aâŚbreak. An escape from everything. A breath of fresh air from expectations and routine.âÂ
And thatâthat makes Heeseung look up.Â
Because deep down, thatâs exactly what all of this has become for him too.Â
He doesnât know when it happenedâif maybe it was the first night he found the store, maybe whenever you showed up, maybe all the sarcastic exchanges, or somewhere in between all of thatâbut these late-night visits, these stolen moments in a world that demands from him, have become something steady. Something his.Â
And he wonders if maybeâŚmaybe youâre the reason for that.Â
Maybe youâve been keeping him grounded in a life that never stops moving.Â
And maybe heâs been keeping you from feeling stuck.Â
Just maybe.
Itâs late. Way later than usual. And Heeseung is still here.Â
And you donât know how, but youâve both abandoned your usual spotsâhis self-proclaimed window seat and your stool behind the register.
Instead, youâre both sitting cross-legged on the floor behind the register counter, backs pressed against the shelf of over-the-counter medications that you just re-organized, with a laptop and plenty of empty snack wrappers sitting between the two of you.
âSee this is exactly my problem with this movie,â you point at your laptop screen, your voice slightly muffled by the gummy bears in your mouth. âOne idiot makes one bad decision, and suddenly everyoneâs dead! Like, be so for real.â
Heeseung scoffs, leaning back on his hands, âItâs a movie, Y/N. It doesnât have to be realistic.â
âAnd I donât have to pretend this isnât garbage,â you shoot back as the credits roll, unimpressed. âThis is objectively the worst thing Iâve seen.â
âI think I just have an acquired superior taste,â Heeseung quips, his eyes teasing. âJust like with my food choices.âÂ
âRight,â your voice drags out. âSuperior delusion, maybe.â
Heeseung shoves your shoulder with his own, and you laugh, the sound natural, unfiltered, and totally at his expense.
As you shut your laptop and start gathering the remains of your late-night snack feast, the conversation quiets for a moment into an easy, warm silence. Itâs the kind of quiet that feels good, the kind thatâs been happening more latelyâsomething you never wouldâve expected that first night you ever saw him enter the store.Â
Then, Heeseung exhales, stretching his legs out in front of him as he leans back against the shelf, âYou know, this might be the longest Iâve sat and relaxed in months.âÂ
You glance up at him, brows raised, âWhat, you donât get to laze around on the floor surrounded by junk food with your favorite convenience store worker on a regular basis?â
âUnfortunately, no,â he huffs a laugh. âBut I thought a lot about what you said the other night. And sometimes itâs likeâŚâ
He pauses and tilts his head back, his eyes following the way the light fixture above him flickers in and out, âLike Iâm moving so fast I forget what itâs like to justâŚbe.â
Something in his voice makes you pause in your actions, your hands putting down the miscellaneous wrappers between you.
âIs it hard?â you ask quietly.
He lets out a breathy chuckle from beside you, âItâsâŚa lot. Youâre always being watched, always expected to be on. And even during breaks Iâm already thinking about the next thing. The next schedule, next performance, next practice.â
You watch him for a moment, watch the way his fingers tap absentmindedly against his knee, something youâve started to notice over time whenever heâs lost in thought.Â
âBut there are moments that make it worth it,â he continues, a small smile playing on his lips. âThe music, how fun it is to be on stage, the fans. The feeling of performing and knowing people are there because they love what you do. Itâs unreal.â
Your own smile unconsciously appears as you listen to him reflect, taking in his words. You never stopped to really think about his life in-depth beforeâand it does sound like a lot. Like something people dream of but donât realize the weight of until theyâre carrying it themselves.Â
You nudge his knee lightly with yours, âFor what itâs worth, I think you deserve to just exist sometimes, too.âÂ
Heeseung turns to look at you, and for a moment, his expression is unreadable.
âYeah?â
âYeah,â you say, reaching into the closest bag of gummy bears to you and tossing one to him. He catches it easily, popping it into his mouth with a grin.
âSee, this is why I keep coming back,â he says, chewing. âGourmet snacks and free therapy.â
You roll your eyes. âUnbelievable. I take it back. Suffer.â
Heeseung laughs, popping another gummy bear into his mouth, before his fingers start tapping his knee again. Then, after a beatâ
âYou know, Iâve been thinking.â
When you look up at him, heâs already looking at you with a newâŚsomething. A newfound sincerity, maybe. Or uncertainty. Or both.
Your eyes meet, and suddenly, he visibly hesitatesâshifting almost awkwardly in his spot, as if he both rehearsed what heâs about to say and yet has absolutely no idea what heâs doing. He clears his throat, breaking eye contact.
âIâum,â he swallows hard. âIâm sorry? For, yâknow, being kind of a jerk when we first met. I think I was prettyâŚâ He trails off awkwardly. âJerk-ish.âÂ
You donât move for a second. Slowly, one brow arches.
Heeseung thinks he regrets everything.
Then, a smileâslow and sweetâcurls at your lips.
And suddenly, Heeseung realizes he doesnât regret a damn thing.
âOh, absolutely,â you say, nodding along dramatically. âYou were a menace. Like, an insufferable, grumpy, little menace.â
Heeseung lets out a noise that lands somewhere between a groan and a laugh. âOkay, I get it.â
âBut,â you continue, locking eyes with him again, âI guess I should apologize too.â
Heeseung perks up, now his brow lifting, âFor what? Finally admitting I was right aboutââ
âFor judging you and your stillâŚvery questionable choices.â
âAh, there it is.â
You giggle, nudging him with your elbow before pausing.Â
âBut seriouslyâŚyouâre, likeâŚâ you dramatically draw out the moment as if the words physically pain you to say.
Heeseung smirks, leaning in slightly, waiting for you.
ââŚpretty cool, I guess.â
A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face, âIâll take it.â
âDonât let it get to your head,â you scoff. âYouâre still a ramen-addicted jerk.â
Heeseung hums, still smiling, âMight be too late.â
Then, he tacks on, without thinking twice, âYouâre pretty cool, too, I guess.â
You laugh at the hesitancy in his voice, âOkay, that sounded almost sincere.â
He rolls his eyes, but his smile softens, âNo, but seriously, itâsâŚnice. Having someone I could talk to outside ofâŚyou know, my whole chaotic life.â
The sudden shift in the air quiets you for a moment as you look at Heeseung, noticing the slight drop in his shoulders, the way his fingers continue to drum against his leg. When you donât say anything, he continues.
âI donâtâŚreally talk to people like this,â he quietly says, as if admitting something to himself more so to you. Then, after a pause, he glances back up, eyes searching your own. âNow like how I do with you. LikeâŚI could tell you anything and everything, really.â
Your breath catches, but you keep your expression neutral, âOh?â
Heeseung shifts, looking down at his hands before exhaling a quiet laugh, âSorry. Too serious?â
You find yourself quickly shaking your head. Because although, yes, most of your interactions with Heeseung are filled with jokes and teasing, the serious conversations or shared warm silences in between recentlyâhave started to mean something more. Theyâve become an outlet, a quiet escape from reality. Itâs like the moment he steps through the storeâs doors, the door rings, the outside world fades, and for a few hours, itâs just the two of you in this shared space.
A space that feels safe, untouched by expectations, where both of you can just be.
âNo,â you say, softer this time. âNot at all.â
You hesitate for a beat before adding, âIâŚreally like talking to you too. Itâsââ you let out a small laugh, âalmost unnaturally easy, actually.â
Heeseung doesnât respond right away. He just nods, and then looks up at you from the ground and his eyes are seriousâno teasing, no usual smugness, just somethingâŚreal. Vulnerable.
Something that makes your heart beat a little too fast.
You should say something. Something light, or something sarcastic, or something normal.
But you donât.
Because youâre too busy looking at his face.
Then, without thinking, his lips.
And heâs looking at yours.
You donât know who leans in first, but suddenly, youâre close. Heâs close. Too close. Close enough to hear his quiet inhale. To see the way his lashes flutter. To feel the space between you two thinning into something dangerously nonexistent.
You should move. You should break the moment before it turns into something neither of you can take back.
But you donât.
And he doesnât.
And thenâ
Ding.
The sound of the automatic doors sliding open shatters the moment.
You both jolt apart like a pair of teenagers caught guilty, and your heart is practically breaking out of your ribcage as you scramble to your feet, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants, your face burning as you appear from behind the counter to greet the customer that was blissfully unaware of whatever was definitely not about to happen behind the counter.Â
You clear your throat as you look down at Heeseung, whoâs still frozen in his spot and trying his very best not to lose his mind, âI shouldâum. Go back to work.â
Then, suddenly, Heeseung stands too, nodding quickly as he runs a hand through his hair, his face slightly pink, very much not looking at you, âRight. Yeah. Work.â
Right when you turn back to the counter, the customer is there, waiting for you to ring them up. You plaster the most normal smile you can muster, scan their snack, take their cash, and hand them their changeâall while pretending you donât feel Heeseungâs presence still lingering behind you.
You donât turn around, and he doesnât move.
And despite the complete lack of physical contact, you still feel his warmth. The same amount of warmth as when he was only mere inches away from your own face.
The door chimes as the customer leaves.
Then, finallyâHeeseung clears his throat.
Hesitantly, you turn around, bracing yourself.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, avoiding your gaze before forcing out, in the most casual voice he can manageâ
âSo, uhâsame time tomorrow?â
You blink.
Then, finally, you let out a small laugh, âYouâre so weird.â
The tension in the air cracks just enough, and Heeseung exhales a quiet laugh, âAnd yet, youâd miss me if I didnât show up, wouldnât you?â
You open your mouth, ready to argue, exceptânothing comes out.
Because, unfortunately, you know heâs right.
And he knows heâs right.
So, naturally, instead of admitting defeat, you suddenly grab a rag from behind the counter and start aggressively scrubbing at a perfectly clean surface.
âGo home, Ramen Guy.â
Heeseung just grins, shoving his hands into his pockets as steps out from behind the counter and backs away. âNight, Graveyard Shift Girl.â
When heâs finally gone, youâre left standing there, staring at where he just was before you.
And finally, when the reality of what just happened fully settles inâ
You groan, dropping your head against the counter.
Because now he's in your head.
Great.
The clock above you ticks, a sound that usually fades into the background and becomes a part of the storeâs white noise. But tonight?Â
Tonight, itâs your biggest freaking nuisance.Â
You think if you have to hear it tick one more time, youâre taking the ladder from the backroom, climbing up there, yanking that thing off the wall, and tossing it right into the dumpster.Â
Why?Â
Because, itâs 2:21AM.Â
2:21AM, and youâre alone. Stuck in this sad, empty convenience store with nothing but your own annoying thoughts and the snacks laid out in front of you with no one to share them with.Â
Same time tomorrow, my ass, you think bitterly, aggressively straightening a stack of receipts near the register that donât even need straightening.Â
Heeseungâs voice from a few days ago still rings in your headâcompletely, and unfortunately, uninvited.
You donât even know why theyâre stuck in there, his words looping around, constantly taunting you.
The worst part?
His words had been entirely untrue.
Because itâs been three days.
Three full days since Heeseung has walked through those automatic doors, plopped down in his usual seat, and proceeded to either a) annoy you, b) argue with you over his food-related crimes, or c) make you laugh against your will.
And you donât know why itâs bothering you so much.
Frustrated? Yeah, youâre frustrated. But the real question isâat what, exactly?
Frustrated that he just disappeared without so much as a heads-up? No warning?
Or maybe youâre frustrated at the very fact that youâre even thinking about this at all.
Itâs not like he owes you an explanation. Itâs not like he belongs to this storeâŚor to you.
So why does it feel like somethingâs missing every time you glance at the entrance, half-expecting to hear the ding of the doors and see him stroll in with his stupid hoodie and even stupider smirk?
You shake your head, trying your best to snap yourself out of it.
Itâs fine. Youâre fine.
You donât care.
You donât care so much that, for some reason unbeknownst to you, your brainâyour traitorous, overthinking, hardworking brainâitches with a thought.
A stupid, ridiculous, subconscious thought.
And before you can fully even process what youâre doing, your fingers are already unlocking your phone, your thumbs moving on autopilot as you do something you swore you wouldnât.
You search up his name.
Itâs pathetic. Itâs sad. Even youâre disappointed in yourself.Â
You told yourself you wouldnât associate Heeseung with his job, with the persona that everyone else sees. Because to you, Heeseung is justâŚHeeseungâthe insomniac who bickers with you every night, who somehow turns every conversation into an argument he has to win, who sits cross-legged with you behind the register eating spicy noodles and giving objectively bad movie recommendations.
And to him?Â
Well. You thought that to him, you were just you. Just some convenience store worker he happened to befriend. Someone outside of his world, outside of the blinding lights. Someone he didnât have to be anyone around.Â
His words echo in your mind as you thinkâjust a person he could tell anything and everything to.Â
You push the thought along with their feelings down as you continue scrollingâquick, desperate, your fingers flying over your screen, swiping through posts, comments, anything that could explain his sudden absenceâ
And then.Â
You see it.
A tweet.Â
Tagging his group, followed by a message. Itâs short. Sweet. Simple.Â
Yet entirely soul-crushing.Â
âCanât believe theyâre leaving for tour already tomorrow! So excited to see them in a few days!!âÂ
Your breath catches.Â
Your eyes flicker over the words again.
And again.
Leaving. For tour.
Tomorrow.
Your stomach twists violently as you scan for more confirmation, your hands gripping your phone with a newfound frustration as you tap through articles, fan accountsâanything to tell you this isnât real. That thereâs some mistake. That you didnât just foolishly spend three days waiting for someone who was never going to show up.
But there it is. Everywhere. Right in front of you.
Confirmed dates. Cities. Posters.
Heeseung is leaving. Tomorrow.
And he didnât say a word.
You donât know how long you sit there, staring at your screen. The words all blur together, but the sinking feeling in your chest is sharp, clear, and undeniable.
And you hate it.
You hate that you feel like this. You hate that your first instinct wasnât to be happy for him, or proud, or even remotely understanding.
Instead, youâre angry. Upset. Hurt.
And what you hate the most?
You know exactly why you feel this way.
And just as that realization settles inâjust as the blur of your feelings finally sharpens into something unmistakable, something you can no longer ignoreâthe familiar ding of the automatic doors cuts through the quiet store and the screaming thoughts in your head.
You almost donât look up.
Almost.
But then you do, and your stomach drops.
Because there he is.
You blink, because at first you think maybe youâve been drowning in your thoughts for so long that youâve started hallucinating himâmanifesting his presence out of sheer frustration towards him.
But, no.
Heeseung stands there, at the entrance, hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, looking at you like nothingâs changed.
Like he hasnât been gone for days, like he hasnât left you suffering with your own emotionsâlike he hasnât been the only thing on your mind even when you really, really, didnât want him to be.
âHey,â Heeseung nods at you casually, walking over to his usual stupid aisle, grabbing his usual stupid Extra Spicy Hellfire, then reaching for his usual stupid coffee milkâall like clockwork, all like he never left.
You donât respond.
Instead, you busy yourselfâwiping the spotless corner of your counter, smoothing out a crumpled receipt, pretending youâre looking for something in the shelves beneath you.
Anything to keep yourself from looking at him.
And you might actually lose it.
Because if you have to stand here and pretend like youâre fine, that these past few days havenât felt like an eternity for youâyou might actually lose it.
Heeseung finally walks up to the counter, places his things between you, then pauses before repeating, tilting his head, âHey?âÂ
He shifts slightly, waiting for you to acknowledge him.
You donât.
A beat passes. Then another.
âYou mad at me or something?â he asks, his head still tilted, his voice light, hesitant.
You inhale, your fingers subconsciously tightening around the edge of the counter.
Then, you let out a quiet laughâan empty, humorless scoff.
âShould I be?â
Heeseung frowns, clearly confused, âWhat?â
You finally look at him. And you think it was a mistake. Because the second you meet his gazeâuncertain, searching, so annoyingly familiarâyou feel your throat close up.
He looks the same. Same stupid hoodie. Same messy hair. Same tired eyes that youâve somehow come to find comfort in.
And that makes you hate this even more.
âIs this because I havenât been showing up?â Heeseung tries again, a small, teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. âDamn, I didnât realize youâd miss me that much. Sorry, Graveyard Shift Giââ
âWhen were you going to tell me?â
Your voice is quiet, but he doesnât miss it.
And he stills.
There it is.
He shifts in his spot again, his eyes now darting down to where his fingers are tapping against the counter.
âWhat?â he says again, but this time, itâs different. Careful.
You swallow, forcing down the lump forming in your throat, forcing yourself to look at him.
âWhen were you going to tell me you were leaving?â
Itâs soft. Barely above a whisper. But lined with something raw, something vulnerable, something hurting.
And Heeseung hears all of it. He feels all of it.
He doesnât answer. He just stares at you, lips pressing into a thin line.
Somewhere in the background, the clock continues ticking, the lights overhead buzzing, a song from the speakers humming.
And Heeseung stays silent.
âYou werenât,â you murmur, the words caught in your throat. âWere you?â
Heeseung exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, âIââÂ
He stops. Starts again.Â
âItâs notâit wasnâtââ
You cross your arms tightly, more so to ground yourself more than anything.
He lets out a quiet, frustrated laugh, shaking his head.
âLook,â he gestures vaguely, between you, at the store, at the shelves, at the space youâve unknowingly carved out for him here. âThisâthis is the only thing thatâs felt normal for me in a long time.â
Your stomach twists.
âEverything elseâmy whole life, itâs allâŚchaos. But this?â He swallows, his eyes finally looking up to meet your gaze, his voice quieter now. âYou?â
His eyes flash with something new, something softer, something that lingers in the way he looks at you. The same way he has over late-night snack feasts, whispered movie nights, conversations that blended into the early mornings.Â
âYouâre the closest thing to normal Iâve had.â
And somehow, that makes it worse.
Because you get it. You know him, so you understand.
But it doesnât change the fact that he was going to leave without telling you.
You inhale slowly, your heavy gaze holding his.
âSo what?â your voice is still quiet, but now edged with a new sharpness. âYou thought if you didnât say anything, it wouldnât have to be real?â
Heeseung presses his lips together. âI thought maybe if I didnât say it, I wouldnât have to lose this yet.â
Your breath catches.
You want to laugh. You want to cry.
Heeseung didnât tell you because he didnât want to ruin this.
Whatever this is.
Whatever the two of you had built over the weeks between instant noodles and snacks, between arguments over food choices, between all the unspoken moments that made you feel like maybe, maybe, this was something more.
You let out a wavering breath, shaking your head, âThatâs not fair, Heeseung.â
âI know,â his voice is rough now, like heâs tired of saying it. Like heâs already told himself a million times and accepted it. Like he wants you to just accept it and move on.
But you canât.
âThen why didnât you just tell me?â
âBecause I didnât know how!â His voice rises in frustration, an exasperated sigh slipping out. âBecause youâthisâwhatever this is, it started feeling real. Too real. And I just didnât want to fuck it up, alright?â
The words knock the air out of your lungs.
Because suddenly, everything youâve been trying so hard to ignore, every feeling youâve been trying to convince yourself wasnât there, is suddenly painfully undeniable.
And worse than realizing how real this is?
Knowing that Heeseung knows it, feels it, too.Â
But heavier than that realization is the anger.
Not just at the situation.
Now, at Heeseung.
âSo you thought itâd be better to just disappear instead?â Your voice shakes, biting down on the thick emotion rising in your throat. âYou didnât even think to tell me.â
Heeseung steps closer, and for the first time tonight, you see itâhis own frustration bubbling beneath his surface, the barely restrained emotion.
âWhat does it matter, Y/N?â his sharp voice cuts through the heavy air lingering between you. âWhat difference would itâwould youâhave made? Itâs not like this was ever going to change anything.â
Your heart stops.
At that, you falter, and Heeseung sees it.
He sees the way your eyes move away from his. He sees the way your posture suddenly deflates, as if his words physically hurt you.
Because they do.
Because you know what heâs saying.
Heâs leaving. And youâre staying.
And no matter what, no matter the amount of realness, no matter what either of you feelâthat was always going to be the reality.
âRight,â you finally say, your voice dangerously close to giving out. âBecause itâs not like any of this really meant anything, right? At least not enough for you to acknowledge.â
Now your words hurt.
Heeseung winces. His jaw tightens. His fists clench.
Then finallyâ
ââŚI donât know,â he mutters.
The final crack.
You let in a sharp inhale, nodding once, your lips pressed into a straight line. âGot it.â
Heeseung clenches his jaw, like he wants to take the words back, like he wants to fix whatever just broke between you.
Instead, he exhales, stepping back from the counter, âI should go.â
This time, you donât stop him.
You donât say anything at all.
Heeseung hesitates for a half second, like maybeâjust maybeâheâs waiting for you to say something.
But you donât.Â
Not when you feel so utterly lost in everything youâre feeling that you canât even begin to put into words.Â
So he nods once, shoving his hands back into his pockets, turning away.
The automatic doors slide open.
The ding rings, taunting you.
Cold air rushes in.
And thenâheâs gone.
And you?
Youâre left at the counter, staring at his abandoned cup of ramen, untouched coffee milk, and the ghost of something that never got the chance to be.
Heeseung doesnât think.Â
He wasnât thinking four days ago, when the space between you two had grown impossibly smallâwhen he was this close to you, when the air felt thick with something unspoken, yet undeniable, something that made his pulse race and his breath hitch.Â
He wasnât thinking when he let fear creep in, when the weight of him realizing his own feelings sent him running, keeping him from stepping foot into the store at all. For three days.Â
He wasnât thinking when he looked you in the eye last night and told you this didnât matter. That none of it ever did.Â
He wasnât thinking when he walked out of the store, leaving you to think that you didnât matter to him. That you never did.Â
And he definitely isnât thinking now, when heâs supposed to be leaving for the airport in an hour, but insteadâhis feet pound against the pavement, tearing through the empty, quiet streets like a man possessed, like maybe if he runs fast enough, he can outrun the regret clawing in his chest.Â
The cold air stings against his face, streetlights flicker overhead, and the city hums all around himâbut none of it matters. None of it even registers.Â
Because all Heeseung knows, all he cares about, is getting to you.
Because Heeseung?
He can go months on tour without his Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen.
He can go months on tour without his coffee milk.
He can go months on tour without those, even if it means braving his insomnia.
But what he canât go without?
Heeseung canâtâhe wonâtâgo months on tour knowing you think you meant nothing to him. That you didnât bring him relief after the longest days, laughter when he forgot how to find it, comfort in a world that never slowed down for him.
That you werenât the one thing that felt real in a life that so often didnât.
And if thereâs even the smallest chance to fix thisâto make sure you knowâthen nothing else matters.
The neon glow of the convenience store sign comes into view, and Heeseungâs heart lurches in his chest as he approaches, his staggered breathing visible in the cold air in front of him, his hands clammy.
He stumbles through the sliding doors, the familiar ding barely registering in his mind as his eyes dart aroundâonly for his stomach to drop.
The counter is empty. The soft sound of your absentminded humming, the teasing lilt of your voice, the annoyed glare in your eyesâitâs all missing.
And all wrong. Too quiet, too empty, tooâŚnot you.
Instead, some guy heâs never seen before glances up from behind the register, staring at the way Heeseung just lingers frozen near the entrance.
âUh,â Heeseung swallows thickly, his voice strained from his sprint. âThe girl who usually works nights. Is she here?â
âOh, Y/N?â the worker raises an eyebrow. âYeah, she called off tonight.â
Heeseung stills.
Youâre not here.
Youâre not here.
And itâs his fault.
Because last night, you were hereâwaiting, hoping, and he walked out on you.
âOh,â is all Heeseung can manage before he feels the words getting caught in his throat.
His jaw clenches, his stomach twists. The weight of regret settles deep, heavy and unrelenting.
âRight. Okay. Thanks,â he mutters, nodding absently, then turns towards the door.
The automatic doors slide open.
The ding rings, taunting him.
Cold air rushes in.
And just as Heeseung steps outâ
He sees you.
You.
Right there, walking towards the store, hands shoved into the pockets of your coat, face buried into your scarf.
You stop.
He stops.
For a moment, neither of you move. Neither of you breathe.
The neon glow of the storeâs sign reflects off your face, casting a shadow over your widened eyes. A car honks in the distance. A gust of wind blows past.
âYouâre not supposed to be here,â Heeseung says without thinking, almost breathless.
A small laugh escapes your lips, airy and uncertain, âYeah, wellâŚneither are you.â
Youâre right.
He should be on his way to the airport. Bags packed, schedule set, moving on.
But instead? Instead, heâs here, standing in front of the only person who has ever made him hesitate.
Heeseung takes one step forward, âI was looking for you.â
You tilt your head, your lips pressed together like youâre weighing something in your mind.
Then you take a small step forward.
âAnd now youâve found me.â
Silence.
âIâm sorry.â
It comes out all at once and rushed, but utterly honest. Honest and heavy, the way itâs been aching in his chestâand he canât hold it in anymore.
You blink, unmoving.
âIâm so sorry,â Heeseung says again, stepping closer. His voice is steady, gentle, but nervous, scared you wonât believe him. âFor everything. For not telling you. For leaving like that. For being a completely fucking idiot aboutââ
He stops. The look in his eyes is vulnerable, genuine. Longing.
âAbout this. Us.â
You donât say anything right away, just watching him carefully.
Heeseung runs a hand through his hair, letting out a dry laugh as he realizes heâs about to lay everything out bare.
âI think I was scared,â he admits. âOf what it all meant. Of what you meant to me. I kept telling myself none of it was real, that it didnât matter. But then I walked out yesterday and, I realizedââ
He swallows hard, looking at you and the way your eyes soften with something unreadable.
âIt does. You do. So, so much, Y/N.â
Another pause.
Then, you let out a soft exhale, shaking your head, as if somethingâs finally clicking into place, âIâm sorry too.â
Heeseungâs eyebrows burrow in confusion.
âFor notâ,â you sigh, your hands now fidgeting with the ends of your scarf. âFor not saying something sooner. Because the truth is, Iâve been denying it too. I didnât even realize how much Iâhow much you meant to me until I saw you last night andâŚâ
You trail off, your cheeks warming. Then, with a deep inhale, you take another step closer, meeting his gaze from an armâs length away.
âI was just so angry and upset, but I thinkâŚI realized itâs only because I like you, Heeseung. So much.â
Heeseung swears his heart stops. It feels like his whole world has just shifted, and all his thoughts are tangled up in the way youâre looking up at him now.
âAndâŚI shouldâve been more understanding,â you add softly. âI shouldnât have held it against you like you owed me something. I was just hurt, and I didnât know how to handle it, honestly.â
Heeseung doesnât say anything right away, not when his thoughts are running wild and his heart is beating like itâs about to fully grow legs and escape.
Then, he exhales a breath of relief.
And lets out a quiet laugh to himself.
You blink at him.
âWeâre both idiots,â he says finally, shaking his head softly.Â
A small, knowing smile dances on your lips, your eyes locking onto his, âYeah. Looks like it.â
The tension eases. Just a little.
Heeseung takes a small step closer, close enough that he can feel the warmth radiating off of you, despite the cold air surrounding you both.Â
âSo now what?â
You tilt your head as you look up at him, eyes searching his, âArenât you supposed to be catching a flight soon?â
Heeseungâs breath hitches.
Because he knows he should say yes.
Thatâs whatâs been planned all along. Thatâs the reality.
But, for the first timeâ
He hesitates.
âMaybe."
Your eyes narrow slightly, a playful glare sparking in them, "Maybe?"
Heeseung exhales a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair, his fingers lingering at the nape of his neck. "Yeah. Maybe."
The warmth in his chest spreads when he sees the way you bite back a smile, the way your weight shifts just the tiniest bit closerâlike you're testing the space between you.
Then, you reach into the tote bag slung around your shoulder and pull something out.Â
âHere.â
You press a small bottle of coffee milk into his hands.
Heeseung stares at it in his hands.
Then at you.
And youâre looking at him with something gentleâsomething that makes his chest tighten in the best way possible, something that makes the world feel just a tiny bit warmer.
âJust in case you need a reminder,â you say, your voice light and grounding. âOf whatâs normal.â
Heeseung stares at you for a moment, and suddenlyâeverything makes sense.Â
The missing piece clicks into place as the static in his mind all fades away, leaving only thisâonly you.Â
You, standing here in front of him, looking at him with that small, steady smile, and Heeseung knows.Â
He's never been more sure of anything in his life.
A laugh escapes him before he even realizes it, soft and breathless, bubbling up from somewhere deep in his chest, where warmth curls all around it, wrapping around his own heart like a quiet, undeniable truth. His heart races and his fingers tighten around the bottle in his handsâslightly trembling, not from nerves, but from the realization of something so much bigger. Something so much realer.Â
And then, without even thinking, he steps forward like itâs the most natural thing in the world, and closes the small space between you before wrapping his arms around you. He pulls you in, slow but certain, with a gentleness that catches you by surprise.Â
You freeze, breath catching, but only for a second. Because thenâlike a reflex, you melt into him, your own arms tightening around him.
Holding onto him just as much as heâs holding onto you.
Neither of you say anything.
Thereâs a quiet calm between you twoâno need for words, just the rhythm of your heart beating against his own. Steady, calming, like itâs syncing with his, like theyâve always known each otherâs pace.
Like theyâve been moving in tandem all along, even when neither of you realized it.Â
And in a way, maybe thatâs just how itâs always been with you twoâbalancing on the fine line between pushing and pulling, between sharp words and lingering glances, between pretending you didnât care, yet feeling everything all at once.Â
So easy to cross, so easy to blur, so easy to mistake for something else.Â
Maybe you spent all this time thinking you were standing on opposite sides, only to realize you were always moving toward the same place.
And now, as one of his arms moves across your back, the other threading gently through your hair, holding the back of your head against his chest like he never wants to let you go, his heartbeat still steady against yours, you know for certainâ
You were never meant to stay on one side.Â
You were always meant to cross it.Â
Life is unpredictable, uncontrollable, and chaotic.
Lee Heeseungâs life? Heeseungâs life is that times ten, with an extra sprinkle of what-is-even-happening-anymore?
Howeverâ
There are three thingsâthree sacred constantsâthat keep Heeseung from spiraling into total madness.
The first?
Insomnia.
Not by choice, of course.
The second?
Extra Spicy Hellfire ramen and coffee milk.
Yes, itâs a weird combo. And no, he still doesnât care.
And the third?
You.
And honestly?
Youâre the only one he really needs.
.ăťă.ăťăâăť.ăťâŤăťăăťă..ăťă.ăťăâăť.ăť
the end! if you made it to the end, i'll ship u some extra spicy hellfire ramen & coffee milk rn ! <3 luv u mwahmwahmwah !
<3, addie
m.list here!
tag list pt.1 (luv u all):
@xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaaah @heejamas @jiyeons-closet @sagegreenhairclip @betda @ineedsomezzz @motherscrustytoenailclippings @bussolares @soobnuuy @deluluscenarios @chrrific @vvenusoncasual @rairaiblog @mwahvvis @lveegsoi @desssss-0 @hoonkishoe @sunhyeswife @ilovbeshotaro @dearestdreamies @starry-eyed-bimbo @planetmarlowe @lovialy @ambi01 @elairah @therealmrsbahng @lov4hoon @hollxe1 @lovenha7 @ilovhoonie @coqhee @i03jae @letwiiparkjay @manuosorioh @mintysunoo @amiraazzz @renaishun @enhadd @ikeulove @starniras @heartheejake @zaycie
(bolded didn't let me tag, sorry :( )
#enhypen#enhypen heeseung#heeseung#enhypen x reader#enhypen fluff#enhypen imagines#lee heeseung#enhypen angst#enhypen crack#enhypen fanfiction#enhypen fics#enhypen scenarios#enha x reader#enha fluff#enha scenarios#enha#engene#enhypen lee heeseung#heeseung fluff#heeseung angst#heeseung fanfic#lee heeseung x reader#heeseung x reader#heeseung imagines#ââââ âá°.áââ
Ëâfine line!
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The Sleeves
Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Short Fem!Reader
Warnings: Quinn thinking you're hot af, so slightly mature in that sense but nothing extreme.
Summary: Jersey sleeves are just a little too long for you.
Notes: Reader is described as short but not a specific height. I, a short person, could be wrong here, but I assume the taller you are the longer your arms are hense the height focus in this fic. Also it's a 43 Hughes jersey not Quinn's own one because we're all different sizes and I don't want anyone to be unable to imagine it, y'know????
Had this idea cause my Jack Jersey has super long sleeves and it makes me feel safe and silly (I'm getting a Quinn jersey for X-mas from my brother and i'm very excited)
It's baffling actually, when you really think about it, that you'd been dating a pro-Hockey player for nearly 8 months and hadn't owned a single jersey until now. Sure, Quinn had tried to convince you to just borrow one of his, his desire to see you in his jersey practically an obsession, but half the time they were sweat stained and stinky and you kind of just wanted one designed for you and your body. So you'd gone to his games in just your normal clothes, sometimes you wore the stupid t-shirt Jack and Luke got you with Quinn's face on it for your birthday, but you'd never worn a hockey jersey.
This had seemed a shame and you'd decided enough was enough. You went to all Quinn's home games and tried to go to as many away games as possible, you thought that surely you should, as a dutiful girlfriend wear a #43 jersey. It felt wrong, somehow, not to have at least one, to wear one at least once.
So you'd bought one, taken your time considering which version to get, which size you preferred. You hadn't told Quinn because any time you wanted to buy something for yourself he always did it for you, claiming he had more money than he knew what to do with. As sweet as it was, sometimes you wanted to spend your own hard earned money. Plus, you'd wanted it to be a surprise. It was practically on his bucket list at this point, it felt like something...big.
So you'd kept it quiet, bought a #43 Hughes black skate jersey in a size just this side of too big, oversized for the comfort factor. What you hadn't anticipated was how you felt wearing it...or Quinn's reaction.
It was just fabric, just a jersey but the moment you slipped it on you felt...safe. The fabric was soft against your skin, not tight or claustrophobic and the sleeves...oh the sleeves were your favourite part. You were short, that was a fact of life, you hadn't grown upwards since you were 14 and you'd made your peace with it. Didn't really have a choice, given that you spent all your time around hockey players. Some of whom were absolute giants, Meyers came straight to mind. Quinn was considered a smaller player in the business and even he made you feel short. Being short, had the effect though of making the sleeves of your jersey gigantic.
You couldn't really describe the sheer joy you felt when the sleeves went past your fingertips absolutely swallowing your hands. You felt like a little kid again, you felt comfy, and safe. Maybe it was scratching some sort of anxiety itch in your brain or maybe it was that you'd missed this feeling from when you were a kid, the feeling of being so so small that everything else felt giant, but you loved it either way.
Your plan was to hide the jersey until Quinn's next game, ready to surprise him when he looked for you during warmups, ready for him to realise you were finally wearing his name and number. Something he'd been not so subtly pushing for months every single time he conveniently left a jersey out next to your game day clothes before he left for the rink.
The moment he left for the game after a goodbye kiss and some I love yous, you'd put the jersey he'd left on the bed away (no matter how many times he washed it it still had the lingering smell of hockey...) and reached into the back of the wardrobe, underneath a series of boxes and miscellaneous items, for your own. You'd hidden it well, so far back, it was actually a struggling to get to.
You'd slipped it on over your jumper and layers, letting the sleeves fall over your fingertips. That familiar safe, giddy feeling filling you as you twirled in a circle in front of the mirror before dropping your shoulders, closing your eyes and just enjoying it. There was something about the physical sensation that was enjoyable, the way it felt, the sense of comfort it brought, but it went past that. It felt good to look in the mirror and see Quinn's number on your arms, across your back, his surname plastered in the large font. It felt good to wear a reminder of him.
You opened your eyes after a few moments of flapping the long sleeves about, a childish joy in the flap of fabric. Your sight snagging in the mirror on the doorframe behind you, Quinn leaning a shoulder against it, kit bag at his feet. He had softest smile on his face, the sort of smile that made his eyes crinkle gently and had his teeth poking out just so.
You spin around to face him startled, not expecting him to be back. Your fingers meeting and twisting together, hidden beneath the lengths of sleeve fabric.
"Did you...did you forget something?"
It's obvious to him that you're trying to avoid the elephant in the room, the surprise he's clearly ruined. It's not his jersey, but it is and it's all he's wanted to see you in for months now...Fuck, you look good in his jersey. You've brought it in a size that's just the right sort of oversized, swallowing familiar curves under layers of black, yellow and red fabric. How you make something that hides every part of you look so good he doesn't really understand, but he thinks that maybe that just says more about how he feels about you than anything else.
Your hands are invisible, swallowed by fabric and his name and number across your back were practically searerd into his retina. A memory pressed into the pages of his mind. It's stupid, possessive, ridiculous, caveman-ish but, fuck, he likes that you're saying you're his, likes that everyone can see it. That it's his name across your back.
"My number looks good on you..." Quinn bites down on his bottom lip, tilts his head to the side as his eyes trail over you. The way he's looking at you, you'd think you were stood there naked, not swallowed in fabric. It makes your cheeks warm.
"Quinn..." You let out and embarrassed whine, hands coming up to cover your face as he trails his way closer, feet padding softly across the carpet. His gear forgotten in the doorway, the sense of urgency to get the last piece he forgot and get to the rink, gone. Game? What game?
You feel his presence first, feet stopping close to your own, his form towering over you as he wraps his hands gently around your wrists and tugs them free from your face. He's practically grinning at you, that one strand of brunet hair falling across his brow as he leans down towards you.
"The sleeves too, you look cute in it, fuck..." He tugs on the ends of the sleeves, examining the way your hands are swallowed by the fabric. The cute wiggle of them from underneath before being swallowed whole.
"This for me, pretty girl?"
You nod, feeling oddly shy in front of him as his eyes keep following your form like he can't quiet get enough. It's surreal, you've had boyfriends who didn't even look at you like that when you were dolled to the nines, you're just in a jersey, some ordinary clothes, everything covered, nothing special, "...It was supposed to be a surprise...for tonight."
"Ah," he fills in the blanks. He's ruined it by coming back unexpectedly, because he forgot his stupid mouthguard of all things. He imagines it though, being on the ice, looking for you like he always does, his eyes gravitating towards you like he's stuck in your orbit. He can see the way you'd look in the lights of the rink, his number proudly displayed. Could see the way he'd probably stop dead on the ice, probably get a bunch of shit from the guys, can see Petey shoving him with a laugh, but he'd not care at all because you're finally wearing his jersey and he's been waiting for this for months.
"Can you, uh, never take it off?" he laughs, tugging you closer, arms wrapping around you as his fingers trail across the letters making up his name on the back. Memorising the feel of it, his name on you, finally.
"Quinn..."
"What? You look...fuck, you look so good in my jersey, baby, like...unreal..." He means it and you know he means it because he's got that sparkle in his eyes that screams his feelings out loud without a single word.
"...you have a game to get to.." you mumble, face pressing into his chest, trying to hide from him because only Quinn can make you quite this bashful after this length of time together. Only Quinn can seemingly disarm you completely.
He presses a kiss to the top of your hair, cheek pushing against the crown of your head as he rocks you side to side.
"Mmm, you're not gonna take this off, right? You're still going to wear it to the game for me, baby?" There's a little slither of fear that he might have embarrassed you, that you'll hide the jersey away somewhere and he'll never see you in it again.
"...Yeah, i'll still wear it for you..."
He thinks this might just be what he wants for the rest of his life. You in his jersey, you with his name across your back, you...with the name you might one day share proudly taking up space for everyone to see.
In that moment, he realises, he's a complete fucking goner for you. He's well and truly fucked in the best sort of way.
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â
your next glow up?
note â i wasn't gonna post this now but i figured fuck it why not?! enjoy, my loves! this is for entertainment purposes only <3 take what resonates and leave what doesnât. p.s. come in my ask box and tell me what you think!




PILE ONE.
pile mf ONE, you are really stepping into a new era! when i tell you this new you is gonna turn HEADS. tuh, youâre gonna be looking like new money. nicki minajâs ânew bodyâ verse is coming to mind lol âyou ainât fuck me, you fucked the old body. you ainât fuck nicki, you fucked nicole body! ainât no miles on this here new body, off with they heads these bitches is nobodyâs.â OH YEAH OKAYYY, PILE 1. maybe youâll be hitting the gym more, switching up your diet or possibly getting some cosmetic work done?
whatever youâre doing differently, itâs gonna be noticeable. people are gonna feel like something changed with you overnight like âum when did pile 1 get so bad?â and this isnât to say you arenât already attractiveâŚthereâs just something about your energy and confidence that just amplified x1000 and people are really gonna feel and see this change in you. you might start experimenting with your outfits a little more, giving off a more seductive vibe. itâs like you're breaking out of your comfort zone especially if you usually opt for baggier clothes or a more conservative look. wait cause why am i thinking of âpretty little liarsâ when emily is talking to aria about hanna and sheâs like âhavenât you heard? sheâs the it girl now.â PERIOD, PILE ONE. giving serena page vibes from love island.
there will be a lot of talk about you and even if you donât hear it directly, trust me, people are gonna try to keep tabs on you. iâm seeing people re-watch your instagram stories tryna figure out who took you that place and who youâre doing it with â oh these people are spiralingggg. this could very well be potential suitors tryna scope out the scenery, but theyâre not sure if youâll be interested in them. they might fear rejection because you just look so damn good and it looks like youâre in such a better space in life and got your shit together; whereas they feel like they lack the resources/finances to be with you. these potential love interests see you as high value, pile 1. theyâre intimidated by your beauty and aura. youâll be more so focused on attracting a partner that can actually make shit happen.
you donât have time for the cat and mouse games. you want the real deal and i do see you getting the person that you want. you manifested this person into your life and i sense them feeling like they won the lottery with you! iâm hearing that you are sooo mesmerizing on the outside and your heart & personality makes you so much more beautiful. thereâs layers to you and i think this next glow up will allow you to really shine and be yourself unapologetically â youâre leaning into the different aspects of yourself that makes you unique. if thereâs anything youâve got your mind set on or something specific you want to do, go for it! whatever you do, youâll stand out effortlessly and be successful. say yes by floetry is coming to mind. âsee, iâve been watching you for awhileâŚyour smile and style. wanna know if i can be with you for the night, alright.â i meannnnn need i say more?!
how to tap into this energy?
listen closely to your intuition! work on your third eye because iâm hearing that youâre a powerful manifester and you donât even truly know it. even if you do know this, you start doubting yourself and limiting your own thoughts. always think big and bigger because itâs in your reach. donât get so caught up in the âhow?â because your manifestations can appear in many different ways, not just one. you have a clear vision into the future â you just gotta adjust your lens and focus on what it is that YOU want. who cares if it doesnât make sense to anyone else, as along as you see the vision then itâs a go! listen to âi want it allâ by sharpay evans lol you need to embody that song and its energy.
PILE TWO.
hey, pile 2! iâm hearing youâve been putting up with the bullshit for wayyyy too long and this next glow up is gonna be a proper FUCK YOU to all your haters! i feel like people take your kindness for weakness and you feel like you donât get the respect you deserve. you can deal with a lot of passive aggression in your relationships or friendships and people expect for you to suck it up and be okay with it. what iâm mainly picking up is that you like to keep the peace. you donât want to ruffle anyoneâs feather, but it just makes it worse for you because youâre not truly expressing yourself and your emotions. this keeps you up at night like âugh! i shouldâve said this or I shouldâve stuck up for myself and finally cussed so and so tf out.â but you donât because you know why, pile 2? youâre better than them, simple as that.
you wouldnât treat anybody how some people treat you, and the reality is that itâs so much harder to be nice than it is to be mean. anybody can be mean and say hurtful shit if they really wanted to, but to always be graceful and kind in the face of adversity and ignorance? rare af. +10000 aura points! donât let anybody make you feel less than or like you canât speak up for yourself. this next glow up youâre going to use your voice and really make it known that you are not to be fucked with, okay?! you will be standing your ground and really popping your shit in the most calm and collected way possible & people are gonna be like âwaitâŚdid [y/n] really just clock me like that?!â and youâre gonna be standing 10 toes down on it as you should. theyâll have no choice but to respect you lol. you will start to realize what is worth your time & energy and what isnât.
you might start cutting off people that donât mean you any good and really start to focus on yourself and your energy. no more walking on egg shells and sparing peoples feelings, this is YOUR life and you have a voice just as much as they do â so use it! i think youâll also be meeting new friends & a potential love interest during this next glow up. iâm hearing âhow stella got her groove backâ lol so yeah some of you might be playing the field a little bit.
some of you might just want something casual and nothing more because you just want to focus on your own healing journey. youâll start to understand why things had to happen the way that they did & why certain relationships didnât work out the way that you thought they would. youâll be able to decipher what you are and arenât willing to put up with and honestly i just see you bossing tf up and advocating for yourself no matter who doesnât like it. that tiktok ânobody loves you baby! you should only love yourself â ON MY SOUL!â just randomly came to me lmfaooo this is your âiâm focusing on what really matters aka meâ era and i think itâs exactly what you need pile 2.
how to tap into this energy?
i think you need to transmute the negative energy that people try to project on you into something positive. 12:12 on the clock, yeah. like look at this way, if people doubt you, donât respect you or donât feel like your capable of achieving great things then use that to your advantage. let them underestimate you all they want, and then BAM boss up on them and show them who tf you are. what they donât know only makes you stronger. you have the power to make some powerful ass connections and make a name for yourself so be calculated & strategic with your moves. people will be eating their words when it comes to you, pile 2.
PILE THREE.
pile 3 your next glow up is gonna be a bit of an emotional rollercoaster ngl, but very rewarding nonetheless. iâm hearing that one tiktok sound âyou gotta take the good with the bad, smile with the sad. love what you got and remember what you had.â so yeah i think youâre really gonna be figuring out how to transmute your energy and create something from it â whether that be a job opportunity, a love offer, a trip, etc. thereâs something that you really want and youâre doing the work to make it happen. you have the plan, you just need the platform lol.
for some of you, i see a major relationship coming to an end. this could be a lover or a best friend, but this person will be exposed because theyâre not who you thought they were. this person has very sneaky/deceptive energy and youâve been in the dark about this for way too long. this person/connection means a lot to you, so you will feel like this is a tough situation to completely walk away from; but my sweet pile 3âs you will be more than okay! you will be spectacular! 10:10 was just on the clock.
allow yourself to sort through your emotions and learn from the situation, donât let it weigh you down. sometimes we get too caught up in how long weâve been with somebody and all of the good memories we made with them, that makes us hesitant to move on. sometimes things just run its course and youâre no longer in alignment with that person. you canât force anything or anyone in your life that doesnât align with your highest self and that can be very hard to process when emotions are involved but iâm happy to let you know thereâs light at the end of the tunnel.
i see some of you traveling to a place youâve always wanted to go and possibly meeting a potential love interest. in this next glow up, youâll be doing things that youâve always wanted to do cause thereâs no one holding you back. youâre stepping out of your comfort zone and just taking a leap of faith â high risk, high reward. youâre gonna be making time for yourself and also prioritizing your hobbies/interests. this is beautiful, pile 3. i see you really getting in touch with who you are at the core. be kind and gentle with yourself, because you are a precious gem that a lot of people value and care about.
how to tap into this energy?
stop giving your power away. work on your throat chakra, my loves. your voice is your power and itâs one of the major keys to your success. a closed mouth doesnât get fed, so you need to speak up and communicate what it is that YOU want and not just say what people want to hear. this next glow up will really have you standing in your power. release is needed especially verbally cause you know that tight feeling you get in your throat when youâre tryna stop yourself from crying? yeah no more of that. no more walking on egg shells, pile 3. say what you feel and stand on it & watch how the tides turn in your favor. mwah!
PILE FOUR.
alright, pile 4! for this next glow up i see you moving. some of you might actually be moving into a new home or apartment and itâs gonna grant you so much peace and comfort. for others of you, this could be you moving on emotionally from a toxic relationship and/or familial bond and finally getting the clarity and peace you need to cut all ties and move onto something better. whatever the situation may be, it was weighing heavy on you and making you feel very down.
youâre gonna feel so free when you leave this situation behind, itâs not even funny. iâm hearing that you were a gilded bird in a cage. some of you couldâve been moving from place to place, not feeling quite settled or financially stable. if you feel lost right now and like you donât know what to do with your life/where itâs taking you, i just wanna say keep going â W.A.Y.S. by jhenĂŠ aiko is coming to mind. âif there's one thing that i learned while in those county lines, is that everything takes time. you have gotta lose your pride, you have gotta lose your mind just to find your peace of mind.â awww yeah thatâs your theme song for this next glow up. things might not make sense right now, but please trust me when i say that everything is going to work out in your favor & things will be better than you could ever imagine.
you will be blessed with the tools you need to get to this next phase of your life. you are the source, pile 4. whatever you put your mind to, you can surely achieve! donât let 3D circumstances throw you off, you are so abundant and prosperous you will see in this next glow up just how much of a powerful manifester you really are. youâre still trying to find yourself and figure out where you fit in in the world, but you donât have to put yourself in a box, pile 4. pave your own way and once you do others will want to follow suit. no one can see your future the way that you do, so keep doing your thing because iâm seeing that you will come across people/friends that share similar interests and niches as you. awww pile 4 youâre going to find your soul tribe.
you have this flighty energy about you (air sign energy/esp gemini) like youâre from one thing to the next and you canât figure out what you truly want to do. some of you might be in college or almost about to graduate and when people ask you âdo you know what you want to do?â youâre like uhhhhâŚ.]>|>]^>.]âŹ]âŹ]ÂŁ like you truly donât know but like thatâs okay cause actually you do know! on a soul level, you know. whatâs understood doesnât have to be explained pile 4 lol people might not get it now but when you pop out living the life youâve always dreamed of, TUH. theyâll understand then.
how to tap into this energy?
get out of your head so much and just vibe, pile 4. you can plan plan plan all you want but the reality is: shit happens! it might annoy you or make you feel incredibly frustrated when another problem or inconvenience pops up in your life, but thereâs nothing you canât overcome. itâs life. you will be greatful for these experiences in the long run because it will be another bridge that youâve already crossed and dealt with, so you wonât fold under pressure â youâll just already know what to do. you got this, pile 4. shit is about to get really good for you.
#pick a card#pac#pick a pile#p1utofairy#pick a card reading#tarot reading#pac reading#intuitive reading
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Princess â Ë・â๨ŕ§Ë



âšâ§Ëââ˘ââââŕ¨ŕ§âââââ˘â§âËâš
leon kennedy x fem!reader
Summary: Being an independent woman and a full time student is all fun and games until finalâs season. Luckily, your not-quite academic rival Leon Kennedy is there to pick you up when you fall.
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cw: Female pronouns and description used for reader but nothing detailed (no skin color, eye color, hair type, body type, etc.) This is basically just an x reader for my independent eldest daughters who do nothing but their absolute best all the time everyday and deep down want a hot guy with beefy arms to let them relax for a minute. So i guess expect the related issues that come with being an eldest daughter?
Tags/tropes: hurt/comfort, dom! leon if you squint, leonâs very touchy, leon being a gentleman!! probably ooc, i kinda struggled finding his voice :/
wc: 3.3k
a/n: wowee so iâm not rlly looking to be a full time author or anything but i could NOT get this idea out of my head and i figured i could give back to the tumblr fic community <3 hereâs to everyone who wants hurt/comfort without smut, incest, or a needlessly specific reader! hope everyoneâs recovering well from finals!
â â â§âË đ๨ŕ§
The first time it happened, it honestly, truly, was an accident. A mistake, if you will. You would never willingly fall asleep on a random guy at a party. That is all kinds of bad for a number of reasons.
However. There were some⌠extenuating circumstances.
Finals. Theyâre a make-or-break for the first semester. Mostly just a break. In the sense that you contemplated how upset your parents would be at you if you dropped out and if the subsequent disowning would be worth it.
You did finals the same way you did everything. You worked. Studied. Borderline obsessed over it. Romanticized it so you could push through when the otherâs resolve started dropping. Stayed home. Your friends bemoaned your âno-fun attitudeâ but theyâre crying over their grades and youâre not, so.
Well. Actually youâre definitely crying over your grades, almost every day in fact. But not because theyâre bad. Just because youâre tired. Really tired. The kind of tired that makes people have public breakdowns. But you canât afford to have a public breakdown because you have to succeed at college and you have to work in order to stay on top of your bills and be able to send some money home to your family and make sure you have time to call your parents and make time for your sister to call you and vent because you didnât have a you at her age and you wish you did so you have to be there for her and your friends need you to be there for them not to mention planning for how youâre going to use your degree after you graduate andâ
Most of the time you try not to think about it.
So finals were over. And everyone wanted to celebrate. And you did, you promise. Youâre totally the party girl type. Totally. (Maybe if you say it enough times itâll come true?)
You donât hate parties. You like dressing up and going out. Itâs fun! Itâs just⌠not your idea of an unwind. Not after you nearly ran yourself into the ground for a month straight for the sake of academic validation. Youâd prefer to sleep for 72 hours straight. And maybe watch a movie at home in the sweatshirt you cried over your textbooks in. Maybe over a glass of wine? Youâre not really sure. Relaxing never really goes well for you. Itâs either depression-bed-rotting or full productivity.
Needless to say, you werenât exactly thrilled to find yourself at this party. Youâre not really sure how your friends convinced you.
But youâre here, in makeup and an outfit you like (youâre thankful this isnât one of the âput on a tight dress and danceâ parties) and you just honestly want to go to bed. Itâs a house party, so itâs not nearly as crazy as some of the other parties youâve been (read: dragged) to, but still.
Youâre on the couch, ignoring the smell of alcohol in the air and pretending the pounding baseline of the music coming from the speaker in the kitchen isnât starting to give you a headache.
Ada Wong, a girl youâve hesitantly dubbed your party friend, is sitting on your left, while the guy you can never quite tell what he is to her, is sitting on your right.
Leon Kennedy.
On a good day, Leon Kennedy is a smart, brooding, annoyingly capable guy who you share some of your classes with. On a bad day, heâs the bane of your existence. On a really bad day, you fantasize about all the ways you could kill him and turn the experience into a really good term paper.
Itâs complicated. Youâre smart. Heâs smart. You tend to clash because neither of you like backing down from a challenge.
But right now, in this moment, at this party, the only thing you can think about is how fucking tired you are and how warm he is.
The music is so loud it drowns everything out in your brain. The few thoughts that make it through the overwhelm of sound are fuzzy and staticky. The cling and slip around in your head like syrup. The worst parts about parties are, funnily enough, working to cancel out the main reason you canât fall asleep in your own bed at night: overthinking.
That and the fact that you havenât sleep in forty-eight hours. An energy drink and an iced coffee count as a full nights sleep, right? Youâre sure the heart palpitations are normal.
You manage to keep up with the steady flow of the group conversation, but as the night wears on, talking becomes harder and harder and just plain processing the words being said slowly turns into an impossible task. At some point, someone else squeezed onto the couchâ you think it might be Chris? Ada did say he was coming lateâ so now youâre pressed against the one and only Leon Kennedy, and heâs radiating heat like a furnace.
Like you, he opted for a slightly more casual approach to the house party. Of course, heâs a guy, so his wardrobe was probably never that big, but still. Itâs nice to see someone else in a sweatshirt and jeans.
You at least put on your favorite jeans! You call them your hot jeans, for self explanatory reasons. So what if youâre wearing an oversized sweatshirt? Itâs cold!
You jolt in place, not realizing your eyes had slipped close and the conversation had continued on without you. Something prickles in the back of your head. An instinctual sort of thing.
Donât fall asleep in public places.
Donât fall asleep at someoneâs house you donât know.
You know the owner of the house, you think. Youâve been here once or twice. But you donât know everyone at the party and where your friends have gone because theyâre not in the group talking here and you should probably stand up soon, to wake yourself up, donât let your friends down, donât be that girl who falls asleep at the party, donâtâ
You jolt again.
Wake up. You tell yourself. Leonâs looking at you out of the corner of his eye, but you ignore it.
It feels like a record skip. Youâll blink, and the conversation isnât the same as when you first closed your eyes. The song isnât the same. Were the lights always this bright?
âWhew!â Ada whistles from above. When did she stand up? âSomeoneâs got finalâs exhaustion written all over their face!â
The group laughs and you do too, but it sounds different. Leon doesnât. Why isnât he laughing?
You jolt again. Harder this one. A full body shake. You wince as your knee knocks into Leonâs.
âSorrââ
âStop that.â He grumbles, and oh. A warm, solid hand snakes around your waist and pulls you closer. Closed to that warm, stupidly comfortable side.
This is wrong. Itâs Leon. Itâs Leon. You canât. And this is a party, and your friends are hereâ
âStop being stupid,â You can feel his chest rumble from where your cheek is pressed flush against it, and when did that happen? He picks up your left arm and drapes it across his stomach, then picks up your right arm and wraps it around his lower pack. âSqueeze.â
You listen, and wow. Who has time to go to the gym this much and be an academic rival? You feel like youâre slacking. Maybe you need to make time to get someâ
âI can hear you thinking,â He says, voice deep and rumbly. Itâs honestly a miracle you can hear him over the music. Itâs probably because your face is pressed against his chest. If you strain, you can feel the dull thud of his heart.
âYou have a heart?â You say, half-delirious with exhaustion. It comes out more as a question than a statement
âMhm,â He rumbles. âI am in possession of one. Great observation princess.â
You frown into his chest. âWhy are you always so mean? You call me that stupid name. Iâm not a princess.â
âIâm not mean. Whoever said princess was a mean nickname? You decided that on your own.â
âThen how come you call me that?â
âBecause,â He huffs, repositioning to a more slouched position thatâs more comfortable for your neck. The arm tightens around your waist.
Itâs nice. Itâs possessive. Protective. No oneâs ever really done that for you before. Usually itâs you doing the protecting.
You donât want to relax. You canât. You canât.
âBecause,â He continues, âPrincesses need to be taken care of. Especially smart, stubborn princesses who never pause for one second. Not even when they should.â
You should get up. Apologize for how weird youâre being. Have another coffee or energy drink. Join the party. Do something that isnât this.
âGo to sleep,â He says, his voice like a warm blanket settling and slipping into your mind. âNothingâs going to happen to you while Iâm here. No one is going to be mad at you for sleeping. And if they are, Iâll kick their ass. Go to sleep.â
Itâs easy to give in after that.
You sag, boneless. Like a puppet with itâs strings cut. You inhale deeply, breathing in the deep, rich scent thatâs distinctly Leon.
Just for a few minutes. Because Leonâs watching. He wonât let something happen to you. Just for a few minutes. Youâll get up soon. You will.
He tucks you closer to him. âSleep.â
Youâre out like a light.
â
âNo way, sheâs actually asleep?â
âHoly shit Leon, did you drug her?â
âI did not.â
âWell, thanks, for whatever weird magic-spell you cast. Seriously. Weâre all starting to get worried about her. She doesnât take any breaks and she doesnât let anyone help. Last week a librarian found her asleep on the printer. Fully standing.â
âHmm.â
âIâm going to start inviting you to our apartment if it means sheâll actually get some fucking sleep. Itâs unsettling finding her in the same position as when I left like, six hours beforehand.â
âDonât worry. Sheâs in good hands.â
â
Itâs horrific, running into him in the library.
What makes it more horrible is the fact that youâre ugly crying silently in the English textbook section, because itâs always empty. Youâre ugly crying in the English textbook section of the university library and Leon Kennedy just walked into the aisle.
You sniff, lifting your head from your knees to stare up at him from the ground. He has a knack for finding you at your lowest, it would seem.
âWeâve got to stop seeing each other like this, princess.â
âOh?â You sniff hard, running a hand across your face as if that will clear up your red rimmed, puffy eyes, the tear tracks on your face, or the flush on your nose. The action at least wipes away the snot. âI wasnât aware you ever fell asleep on me at a party. Did I ever find you crying in the English textbook section of the library?â
He tilts his head. âWhy the English textbook section? Itâs one of your best subjects.â
âItâs the emptiest section. Plus, anyone looking for an English textbook at this hour isnât going to bat an eye at me.â You wrap your arms around your legs and hug them to your chest. âWhat are you doing here?â
âOne of your roommates called Ada. They said you havenât been home since this morning. They thought you mightâve been at hers, or with me.â
You snort. âItâs like they donât even know me.â
He rolls his eyes. âI think they were hoping youâd be there. I think anyone who knows you knew youâd be here.â
âCrying in the English section?â
âIn the library, dumbass.â
He stalks forward, leaning back against the bookshelf across from you and sliding his hands into his sweatpants pockets.
âTell me. Is your pathological avoidance to asking for help conscious or not?â
You kick out, one shoed foot catching him in the shins. âDick.â
He shrugs. âJust want to know. I canât exactly gloat over scoring two points above you if youâre not in top form. I want a fair fight.â
âIs that what you're here for?â You ask suddenly, everything in your body going rigid. âYou think this is funny?â
âNo,â He says calmly. âIâm here because youâre being stupid again. You know whatâs not healthy, or smart?â
He gestures to you. You, sitting on the floor, tears drying on your face. âThis. Going out to parties to make your friends happy when you should be at home, sleeping. Studying for so long you end up looking like your boyfriend of eight years just broke up with you. Come on, princess. Whereâs those brains you brag about?â
âTheyâre up here,â You tap your forehead. Against your will, your eyes burn, tears welling up, your face tightening. âAnd theyâre tired.â
You drop your head into your hands, forgoing your silent crying of earlier in the place of open mouth sobbing. You canât help it. Youâre just so tired. So done with it all. With trying to keep up, with trying to make space, with trying to make time. With doing your best and it not being enough. Youâre tired of being tired.
âAnnnd there it is. Come here.â
He lowers himself to the floor next to you, tucking you close in a similar fashion as that night at the party.
âCome on, same thing as before. Hold onto me. Give yourself a minute.â
You wrap your arms around his middle, same way as last time, burying your face into his shoulder. Someone could see. Someone you know might see you crying and thinkâ
He reaches a hand up and pulls the hood of your sweatshirt over your head.
âThere. Now no one can see your face. Stop worrying. Just cry, princess.â
You sniffle. âIâm getting snot on your sweatshirt.â
âItâs had worse on it.â
âGross.â
You can practically feel the eye roll. âCan you stop being dirty-minded and focus on something productive? Like crying? Or not crying, if that would make you feel better.â
You shift, so your head is lying against his shoulder instead of smashed into it like before.
âWhy do you care if I feel better?â
Why do you care?
He shrugs against you.
âTold you,â He pushes your hood back a bit, tapping you on the forehead with his pointer finger. âMy competitionâs no fun if sheâs not taking care of herself. How else is she gonna kick my ass?â
âI can take care of myself just fine. I donât need you to swoop in here, Leon.â
âMhm,â He says. âAnd iâm sure you do great at it, considering youâre still alive and kicking my ass at those stupid socratic seminars. Consider this⌠self-care. In the face mask, getting your nails done way.â
âWho taught you self care?â
âAda. We have face mask nights.â
You jolt up. âIs sheââ
âSheâs not my girlfriend, weâre not fucking, no sheâs not going to be upset or care in any way about this. Calm down.â
You begrudgingly settle back against him.
âIf anything,â He continues. âSheâll be excited to see you at more parties in the coming months.â
You frown. âI never saidââ
âYou only go to parties if your friends physically drag you or when you feel confident enough in your grades and the general state of your life. Itâs really easy to tell which version of you shows up to the party. Itâs the way you dress.â
âHow so?â
He shifts slightly. Guilt twinges in your stomach as you realize how uncomfortable he must be.
âYou wear your pick-me-up pants when youâre dragged there. The ones that make your ass look great.â
You sit up with a gasp. âMy hot pants?â
He raises an eyebrow. âIs that what you call them?â
Your brain catches up to the rest of what he said. âHold on. Did you just sayââ
âI said what I said. Iâm assuming thereâs a reason you call them your hot pants.â
He smirks, and you flush.
âMoving onto more pressing matters,â He tilts his head at you. âYou have two options this evening. Either I take you back to your place and you sleep in your own bed, or you come to my place and we binge watch the Oceans movies until you fall asleep.â
âHow did you know I like theââ
âThe icebreaker for club thing. You said they were your favorite movies.â
You look up at him. âYou remembered?â
âYou were wearing your hot jeans.â
âYouâre the worst.â
He scans your face for a moment, eyes sparking with mirth and a little something less innocent. âMaybe.â
You sigh and lean back against him, exhaustion from all your crying hitting you at once.
âNuh-uh, no sleeping here. You gotta pick one. My place or yours?â
You frown into his shoulder. âUgh. Fine. Yours, but only because I wanna watch the Oceanâs movies. You better not have a disgusting frat house.â
âI do not. I do have popcorn and ice cream.â
âAda bought those, didnât she?â
âNope,â He says, nudging you with his shoulder to stand. You clamber in gracefully to your feet, your head starting to pound. âChris likes to have movie nights. It pays to be well stocked.â
Your cheeks warm as a large, steadying hand finds its way to the small of your back. âHow many of my friends are you friends with?â
âI was friends with them first.â
âAss.â
He chuckles incredulously. âFor having friends?â
âYes,â You say, letting him pull you to his side while you walk to your table where you left your stuff. Probably not the best idea to leave your entire net-worth unattended, but whatever. You were going through it. âHow dare you.â
âMmm. I see. My apologies, princess. Iâll tell Chris and Ada.â
âYou get on that.â
You canât help but smile as he helps you pack up your things, passing you items across the table and carefully zipping up your pencil case.
âDonât touch my papers, I have a system.â
âIs the system absolute chaos?â
âShut up.â
Once everything is packed up, you zip up your backpack, but before you can sling it on, Leonâs arm darts out and snags it right out from under you.
Your expression grows pinched. âI can carry my own bag, Leon.â
âI know you can.â
âGive me my bag.â
âNo.â
You groan. âWhy do you want to carry my bag?â
âSee, thereâs this thing called chivalryââ
âOh my god, shut up. When have you and chivalry ever been synonymous?â
He shrugs. âEver since I met the girl in the hot jeans who regularly kicks my ass academically.â
âYouâre ridiculous.â
âMmm,â He hums, wrapping an arm around your waist and walking you towards the doors to the library. âAnd youâre stubborn. Come on. Brad Pitt and George Clooney are waiting for you.â
You sigh dramatically, hiding a small smile in your hand.
Maybe you could get used to this.
masterlist | next part
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#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#hurt/comfort#leon kennedy fanfic#leon kennedy fanfiction#dom!leon#again if you squint but just know i was trying to subtly convey it#soft leon kennedy#heâs being sweet#can u tell i have a thing for his arms#and a man taking care of me without invalidating my strengths#itâs so hot when a man is a man actually#resident evil#leon x reader#leon s kennedy#not me forgetting tags#re4 remake#re4 leon#resident evil 5#resident evil 4#resident evil 3
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The morning sun filtered through the curtains of your shared apartment with Atsumu, casting a warm glow across the hardwood floors. You had just returned from your morning run when you noticed a sleek black package sitting innocently by your door. The distinct white Chanel logo made your heart skip a beat.
"No way..." you muttered, picking up the package with trembling hands. Just last week, you had casually mentioned how beautiful that new Chanel collection was while window shopping with Atsumu. You specifically remembered telling him, "It's gorgeous, but please don't even think about it. I'm happy with my regular bags!"
But as you opened the package, there it was â the exact same black leather bag you had been admiring, complete with its iconic chain strap and quilted pattern. Your jaw dropped at its beauty, but immediately after came the familiar exasperation.
"ATSUMU MIYA!" Your voice echoed through the apartment.
You heard shuffling from the bedroom, and soon enough, your boyfriend appeared in the hallway, wearing his MSBY Black Jackals training shorts and a plain white t-shirt. His blonde hair was still slightly messy from sleep, but there was a telling glimmer in his eyes that he was trying hard to suppress.
"Mornin', what's with all the yellin'?" he asked innocently, leaning against the wall with that signature smirk of his.
You held up the bag, your eyes narrowing. "Care to explain this?"
"What? That's a nice bag ya got there. Secret admirer?" He scratched his head, playing dumb, but the slight pink tinge on his ears gave him away.
"Atsumu," you said firmly, though you couldn't help but feel your heart warm at his thoughtfulness, "who else would send me a Chanel bag?"
"Maybe it was Bokun? Ya know how he gets when he's shoppin' for Keiji-kun, might've got carried away and bought ya somethin' too!" His explanation was so ridiculous that you couldn't help but laugh.
"Bokuto-san, who panicked last week because he accidentally bought premium rice instead of regular rice, bought me a Chanel bag?"
Atsumu's facade cracked as he let out a chuckle. "Okay, okay, ya caught me." He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. "But before ya lecture me about spendin' money, just hear me out."
You sighed, letting your head rest against his chest. "Tsum, we've talked about this. You don't need to buy me expensive things."
"I know," he said softly, his Kansai accent thickening with emotion. "But ya work so hard, and ya never ask for anythin'. Ya even pack my lunches for away games and come to every match ya can. Let me spoil ya a little bit?"
"Butâ"
"Plus," he interrupted with a playful grin, "ya should see yer face whenever we pass by that store. Yer eyes light up like when ya watch me serve an ace."
You couldn't help but blush. "That's different! Your serves are actually impressive."
"And my girlfriend deservin' nice things ain't impressive enough reason?" He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I got money to spend, and I wanna spend it on the love of my life. Sue me."
You looked down at the bag, running your fingers over the smooth leather. "It is beautiful," you admitted reluctantly.
"Just like ya," he said, and even though it was cheesy, your heart fluttered. "Now, are ya gonna model it for me or what? Gotta make sure my investment was worth it," he teased.
You playfully swatted his arm but couldn't hide your smile. "Fine, but this is the last time, okay? No more surprise luxury gifts."
"Sure, sure," he agreed too quickly, making you suspicious.
"Atsumu..."
"What? I didn't say anythin'!" He raised his hands in surrender, but you could see him already planning his next surprise in those mischievous brown eyes of his.
"You're impossible," you sighed, but reached up to kiss him anyway. "Thank you for the bag. I love it... and I love you."
His resulting smile was brighter than any designer purchase could ever be. "Love ya too, even when yer yellin' my name through the apartment."
"Only because you deserve it!"
"Worth it," he grinned, pulling you closer. "Every single time."
â¸kiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !
tag : @haechansbbg
#ââ°âď¸ kieâs writes#haikyu fluff#haikyuu x you#hq fluff#haikyu smut#haikyuu fic#hq x reader#hq smut#haikyuu angst#hq atsumu#atsumu angst#atsumu smut#atsumu fluff#atsumu miya x reader#miya atsumu x reader#atsumu x reader#haikyuu atsumu#atsumu miya#atsumu fanfic#miya atsumu#atsumu x you#msby atsumu#atsumu x y/n#atsumu smau
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Ëâ¡ ÍÍÍÍâłâĽ in which luke has some plans for the two of you during the 4 nations tournament break
Ëâ¡ ÍÍÍÍâłâĽ pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader
Ëâ¡ ÍÍÍÍâłâĽ wc: 3.1k
Ëâ¡ ÍÍÍÍâłâĽ warnings: reader is a nail tech !!! slight swearing,nsfw content read at your own risk, not proofread
Ëâ¡ ÍÍÍÍâłâĽ started listening to old money by lana del rey about half way through writing this, im sure you'll be able to figure out what part...
Ëâ¡ ÍÍÍÍâłâĽ reader's instagram is public !!!
"so, you talked to mom for next week?" jack asked luke from besides him on the plane. the team was currently on their way back from pittsburgh after a short two game roadtrip. the 4 nations tournament was less than a week away, meaning luke had 2 weeks where he could finally get his mind off of hockey for a while.
more importantly, he got two spend 2 whole weeks with you and only you. he had been looking forward to february since the announcement of the tournament, having a feeling he wouldn't get picked for team usa because it was only his second year in the league. meaning he had had almost a whole year to plan these two weeks he'd get with you.
luke had almost forced to take your two weeks of vacation off during those specific weeks, and you were quick to alert your boss about it. the two of you had been together for a year and a half now, having met during luke's short stay in new jersey at the end of the 2022-2023 season. you had decided not to go to university, opting to attending cosmetology school. you eventually focused nails, your parents letting set up a small salon in their garage. you had met luke when you were shopping for supplies, the boy looking lost as he looked around himself and down at his phone constantly.
as a native new yorker, it pained you to see someone looking as clueless as he did. most people covered it up well, walking with confidence but having no clue where they were going. him on the other hand, he looked like a lost puppy. you decided to approach him, hoping you could help him.
đ˘đ¸
"lost?" you asked as you approached the stranger, a couple of bags in your hands. the stranger turned his head slightly, looking down at his phone quickly, before his head snapped up towards you. his eyes stared into your for a moment, his jaw dropping slightly before snapping back to reality.
"y-yeah, a bit." he mumbled, suddenly finding himself pushing his shoulders back, fixing his posture slightly. you tried your best to hold in a giggle as he then ran his hand through his hair a couple of times.
"where you going?" you asked, stepping a little closer trying to take a peak at his phone. luke leaned his hand towards you, letting you get a better view, but all he could focus on was you.
"meeting some friends... and my brother."
"visiting?"
"uh... just moved. i actually live in new jersey, we all do, but they insisted we come here so..." he explained, his soft gentle as his eyes stayed glued on you. you looked up at him as you figured out mentally where to send the boy. you hadn't noticed just how much taller than you he was.
"work?"
"something like that, yeah."
"head up that way, about three streets down turn left, you'll see it right away. its got a bright neon sign, hard to miss." you instructed him with a smile.
"you'd think phones would be better at directions by now." he joked awkwardly, making you smile slightly. you finally took a good look at his face. he was cute, a lot cuter than any boys you had seen in a while. "i'm luke, by the way."
"y/n." you smiled at him.
đ˘đ¸
luke had kindly asked for your number before making his way to meet his friends. the two of soon started talking almost everyday, luke had been glued to his phone all summer, making everyone around him a little curious by his sudden change. his brothers eventually figured that he had been talking to you the whole time, but failed to convince him to let them meet you.
when luke had gotten back in new jersey in september, he was quick to asked you to be his girlfriend. you didn't have to think twice as the word "yes" slipped from your mouth before your brain even registered what he had said. you were now nearing your year and a half mark, and luke couldn't be anymore in love with you than he already was.
"oh, uhm. i made plans with y/n/n." luke answered his brother, making jack looking over him.
"she can come too, you know. ma would love for her to be there too."
"the uh, plans, their not plans in new jersey."
"make a detour to montreal?"
"i mean, we'll be there for the games in boston, but we're uh, going away before." jack was now very confused as to what luke was saying. never had his brother, or you, mentioned the two of you taking a trip. for all he knew, you had been talking about how excited you were to explore montreal.
"what do you mean?"
"just, i planned a little something special for her, that's all. non-refundable and all."
"where you guys going?"
"i'm not telling you." luke scoffed, making jack look at him with a fake hurt expression.
"why not?"
"'cause your shit a keeping a secret. and she doesn't know yet, so i'm not telling you." luke explained, making jack scoff slightly before putting in his headphones. luke shook his head at his older brother's childish behaviour before texting you. the two of you had agreed to meet up for lunch between two of your clients, and he wanted to make sure there was no delay within your schedule.
đ˘đ¸
"so, baby, i know you're excited and all about montreal-"
"oh, luke, it's gonna be amazing! we're gonna shop, we're gonna explore. go to that cool thing cole keeps talking about." you said with a smile before taking another bit of your plate. you had met cole the previous summer, when you had flew to michigan to visit luke and his family for a couple of weeks. thankfully you had met his brothers and parents, so the only knew people were their friends.
"about that... we're not going to montreal, babe." luke watched as your smile dropped, and he cursed himself for his words.
"what do you mean? what about jack, and quinn, and all your family?"
"we'll go see them, in boston. i was, uh, hoping you'd wanna take a trip with me. get away from everyone, just you and me. and i'm really hoping you say because it's not refundable, so..." he muttered, scratching the back of his neck slightly.
"o-okay, yeah, that's... that's fine. where are we going?" you were glad you had decided not to schedule any clients during luke's two week break, seeing as he had been talking about this moment since the beginning of the season.
"a lot of places, places you're gonna like. took of everything, housing, transport, it's gonna be amazing, love." the boy said with a grin on his face.
"where?"
"europe."
đ˘đ¸
"oh, my gosh, this place is amazing!" you gasped as you walked the streets of london. your plane had arrived early in the morning, and the two of you waisted no time explore the city. your hand was holding on tightly to luke's, his smile matching yours.
"i'm glad your enjoying this, love." the boy spoke as your eyes looked over at him. you bit your bottom lip as luke softly smiled down at you.
"you're amazing, you know that?" you asked the boy as he threw his arm over your shoulders, bringing you close to his side. he chuckled slightly as he pressed a kiss to your temple before answering your question.
"i try." he whispered sweetly before the two of you entered a shop. you spent the rest of day walking around london, getting snacks from almost every food place luke's eyes landed on, eventually sitting down for dinner, and finally making your way to your hotel room.
"we got an early morning tomorrow, babe, get some sleep." the boy mumbled as your mouth trailed down his neck. luke was laying on his back, with you snuggled to his side.
"what are we doing?"
"we're getting on a train." his answer made you look up at him, your mouth leaving his skin as you gave him a weird look.
"a... train?"
"yes, y/n/n, a train." he giggled.
"where to?"
"france." he shrugged with a proud grin as a gasp left your mouth.
"we're going to paris?" you exclaimed, fully pushing yourself so you were straddling luke's lap.
"we are."
"oh my god, luke!" you said before throwing your arms around him. you had been dying to visit paris since you were a little kid, and the want grew even stronger over the summer as you watched the olympics.
16 hours later, you found yourself sitting in a restaurant near the eiffel tower. the night had set, the tower lighted up, people roaming the busy streets of the city, people were talking, laughing, yelling, so much was going. but all you could focus and think about was the boy in front of you.
"you're starring."
"i am." you answered with a smile. luke flashed you his lopsided grin before taking another bit of his food.
"your food's gonna get cold."
"i don't care." you answered, making luke sigh slightly before placing his fork down.
"alright, what is it?"
"nothing... nothing i just, i love you, you know. a lot. this trip... it means a lot." you stuttered, suddenly feeling like a school girl again. luke's hand reached for yours across the table, rubbing you skin softly with his thumb.
"i know, and i love you." he answered, making you blush as you looked down at your lap. you nodded slightly before finally starting to eat your dinner. the two of you ended your night by the eiffel tower, your camera roll getting filled with pictures of the tower itself, you in front of it, luke in front of it, selfies taken together, and pictures a kind stranger took for the two of you. you then made your way back to a hotel near by, the two being seen from your window.
"baby... baby, slow down." luke mumbled as your hands attacked his button up the second the door closed behind the two of you. your lips quickly connected with his neck, making him throw his head back with a groan. luke's hand found their way to your waist, before pushing you up against the wall. you pulled away slightly, looking up at him with a grin as you arched your back, pressing yourself into him.
"no." you answered sweetly before connecting your lips together. luke felt like he was floating up in the clouds at this moment, your hands pushing his button up off of his body before you hands started touching every single part of his upper body.
"you drive me crazy, you know." the boy stated as your hands squeezed his biceps, which were flexed from his grasp on your waist. they quickly moved to find the hem of your shirt, pulling it off in one swift motion, leaving you topless in your lace bra. another groan left his mouth as his lips attached themselves to your neck.
"i know." you said, smirking as your hands now found luke's belt. another groan. just as you were about to undo his belt, you felt luke's strong arms pick you up, and suddenly you were over his shoulder. your giggle echoed through the room as luke dropped you softly on the bed, before crawling over to you.
"i'm so in love with you." he mumbled as he approached you slowly. you were resting on your forearms barely holding yourself up as luke's large figure towered over you. his hands were resting right next to your arms, his forehead inches away from you.
"i'm crazy in love with you, lukey." you mumbled before the boy quickly reached down and connected your lips together, the two of you smiling into the kiss as luke softly pushed you down on the bed.
"luke..." you whispered as his lips slowly trailed down your neck to your chest, his hands locking with yours next to your head.
"yeah, baby?"
"please." you begged as luke pulled your bra down, his lips quickly attacking your boobs as you bit your lips. it had been so long, too long, since the two of you had been completely alone without jack being in the room next to you. it had been so long since the two of you had been able to take your time and truly enjoy yourselves.
"i got you, m'love. don't worry, just wanna take my time with you, show you how much i love you." he whispered as his lips moved further down your body. as he approached your waist, his hands found your skirt, pulling it down along with your panties. you were now fully bare underneath him.
luke pushed himself back on his knees. his eyes admiring your body as he rid himself of his belt and pants, leaving him in only his underwear. "you're so perfect, y/n/n." he whispered as he kneeled back down, his lips kissing your inner thighs softly as he came closer and closer to where you needed him the most.
the rest of the night was filled with soft i love yous, passionate kisses, intense eye contact, your bodies tangled as one, the night was filled of love. luke had fallen asleep first, his arms holding you close to his chest as his chin rested on your head. your face was stuffed into his neck, his cologne being the only thing you could focus on.
it had taken you almost an hour to fall asleep, not because you weren't tired, but because your brain couldn't stop thinking. thinking about how lucky you were, how happy you were, and how grateful you were to have luke in your life. he was the man of your dream.
you still couldn't wrap your head around the fact that you were currently laying in a hotel bed in the middle of the city you had been wanting to visit since you were a kid. that you were laying next you the man who made your dream come true, laying the man who had completely stolen your heart.
and you honestly could not believe this was your life. never in a million years did you think that approaching who stranger who looked completely lost in the middle of new york lead to you laying in his arms in the city of love. it felt like a dream, one that you never wanted to wake up from. luke was everything you ever wanted in a man. he was caring, always want out of his way to make you happy, even if it meant just stopping by your salon to give you coffee in the morning, or just to see you for a short 10 minute before your client came. he was perfect. you never had to worry about if he was out cheating, simply because he could never stop texting you and sending you pictures of his teammates blackout drunk when he was out. you were all he could think about, and he was all you could think about.
it was almost like you were scared you'd fall asleep, and wake up all alone in your bed back in new york, and there was no way you wanted that. but the loud snore coming from luke quickly brought you back to reality. this was real, this was your life now, and you couldn't be happier about it.
đ˘đ¸
it was now wednesday, you had taken a flight to barcelona, where you arrived in the early afternoon. you spent your day exploring the city, it wasn't the hottest, but compared to the weather you were having back home, this was way better. the two of you had decided to stop by a couple of local shops, finding the objects perfect to bring back as souvenirs. after your dinner, the two of you had taken a walk on the beach, after you begged luke for the whole dinner to go. he was going to say yes, of course he was, but the way you would always pass pity comments about it always made him laugh. so, he pretended to be hesitant the whole time, but he knew even before you landed in the city this how your night would end.
then early on thursday morning, the two of you flew to rome. you repeated the same process as always, spend the day exploring the city. only this time the two of you got onto another flight that evening, landing in split in croatia. you knew this city. you had been seeing tons of videos on tiktok about it lately. sadly, it wasn't exactly peak beach season, but luke had promised you that you'd eventually come back the summer.
the two had gone to bed right when you arrived to the hotel, the clock nearing morning hours. and when you woke up the next morning, you were all alone in bed. your eyes wondered around the room, only to land on luke standing at the small round table in your room. you let out a groan as you stretched your arms, making your boyfriend look over at you.
"good morning, baby." the boy mumbled as he walked over to you with a smile. he was wearing a robe, and his hair was slightly damped, and you could only guess he had taken a shower recently. he sat down on the bed next to you, his hand reaching for you.
"hi." you smiled, your eyes struggling to stay open. this was probably one of the comfiest bed you had ever slept on, and you did not want to get up right now.
"how'd you sleep?"
"amazing!" you exclaimed, trying to shove yourself deeper into the mattress. luke smiled at you before leaning down and pecking your lips.
"breakfast." he whispered, his head nodding over to the table. his words quickly made you sit up, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. just as you were about to pull aways, luke's hands, which were laying on your back, made their way to your thighs and picked you up, standing up from the bed. you squealed as he walked over to the table before placing you down, but keeping his arms around you.
"happy valentine's day, my love." he whispered before kissing your lips. you had completely forgotten that was today. all you had been thinking about was this trip, and the days started just blending one into the other. you smiled as you pulled the boy down, kissing him harder.
"you're amazing!" you exclaimed, bringing the boy into a thigh hug as your lips parted, luke chuckled as he let his head rest on yours.
"when i saw that we had a break this week, knew i had to make it the best valentine's day ever."
"you're amazing!" you repeated, and luke took it as an answer that you loved it. "this is amazing, luke!"
"i'm glad you like it-
"i love it! almost as much as i love you."
"sap."
"shut up." you whispered before connecting your lips again. "i don't ever wanna stop loving you."
"good, 'cause i plan on loving you forever."
đ˘đ¸
- feb 11, 2025 -
youruser
đ london, uk
liked by lhughes_06, jackhughes and other
youruser yesterdayđđ
đĽ lhughes_06
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lhughes_06 đŠľ
lhughes_06 obsessed with you
user485 he brought her to london omg đĽšđĽš
jackhughes so this is where you two snuck off to
friendsuser so so cute
user5459 may a love like this find me
user234 the booth photos omg
_quinnhughes where was my invite?
youruser @/_quinnhughes lukey said no :( lhughes_06 @/youruser woah now don't make me the bad guy
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- feb 12, 2025 -
youruser
đ paris, france
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youruser dream come true đŠľ
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lhughes_06 anything for you đŠľ
jackhughes @/lhughes_06 oh ew đ¤Ł
user869 WERE THEY NOT IN LONDON YESTERDAY??
user927 @/user869 man said "i got a week and im making the most of it"
_quinnhughes still no invite?
youruser @/_quinnhughes lukey is still saying no :( lhughes_06 @/youruser do you really want him here after last night 𤣠jackhughes @/lhughes_06 OKAY THAT'S JUST GROSS
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- feb 14, 2025 -
youruser
đľ call it what you want - taylor swift
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youruser so in love with you đŠľ
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lhughes_06 my girl đŠľ
lhughes_06 i love youuuu
jackhughes GROSS GROSS GROSS
friendsuser im so obsessed with you guys
user0194 oh.my.gaush. đ
user847 she won the lottery frfr
_quinnhughes i would've lovedddd to go to europe to
youruser @/_quinnhughes no.
_quinnhughes so much kissing đ
user6749 when is it my turn...
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#bri writes#luke hughes#luke hughes fic#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes imagine#luke hughes blurb#luke hughes fluff#luke hughes fanfic#luke hughes smut#luke hughes insta edit#insta edit#jack hughes#quinn hughes#new jersey devils#umich hockey
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BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader
Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni
Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients youâll never know. Itâs only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. Thatâs what youâre promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.
Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.
CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.
WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!
AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.
Series Masterlist || My Masterist
I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.
Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.
The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who donât tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time youâre with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing.Â
If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore youâd stop doing have been much more productive. Youâve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that heâs well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin.Â
One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They donât actually mention him by name but thereâs advice on what he likes and doesnât like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club.Â
 The club. Fuck, Jamie wasnât kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about.Â
Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, itâs hard to say what is and isnât true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; itâs highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if youâre married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You canât just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You canât stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met.Â
The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joelâs, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and itâs like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; theyâve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isnât always about orgasms or pleasure; itâs helped her build confidence, and sheâs found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud.Â
After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didnât speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but itâs really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.
As a firm believer of âeverything happens for a reason,â it all comes together for you. You arenât even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow Iâm going to ask him to teach me.Â
On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joelâs instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but itâs never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesnât come home.Â
Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, âThanks -JMâ neatly written along it.Â
Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again.Â
Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, itâs feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldnât complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if heâd just fucking talk to you.
Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You canât explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. Itâs rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, âIâm sorry. I just canât have you here, this is on meâ. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.
  When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like itâs a live bomb or like itâs going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. Youâd probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. Itâs a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily. Â
You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone.Â
Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste.Â
Joelâs office isnât attached to the club, itâs in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joelâs receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, sheâs probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe sheâs part of the community too. Youâve done copious amounts of research; kink isnât just for young people, and you suppose Joel isnât exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time.Â
She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. âGo on in, sweetheart. Joelâs ready for you.â
You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950âs style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldnât have worn such a short dress, but itâs an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement.Â
You see his lips move, but you canât hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joelâs silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, âWhatâre you doinâ here?â
The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, âI want you to teach me.â
His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you donât move he harshly says, âSit.â
You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.
âYou want me to do what?â He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. Heâs in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that heâs wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.
âI - umm, I want you to teach me.â
The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, âNo.â
Your face falls, âJoel, please. Iâve been doing research and Iâve decided that, well, that I want to beâŚthat.â
He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants.Â
âYou canât even say it.â He challenges.Â
You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions youâve had with Joel, more often than not, itâs been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. Itâs infuriating, but not this time. No, this time youâre going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and theyâre all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive.Â
âI can too!âÂ
He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, âSay it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?âÂ
You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks donât flush as you finally admit it out loud. âI want to learn how to be a submissive.â
âNo.â One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.
âPlease!â You plead, âI want to learn how to be a sub.âÂ
Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh âfuckâ under his breath and then whispers your name, âI canât do this with you.â
Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, âPlease, Mister Miller?âÂ
Joel âYour-Consent-is-Most-Importantâ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and heâs easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name heâs asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.
His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, âI said not to call me that. You canât evenâŚYou canât.â He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, âNo, I ainât doinâ this with you, sweet girl.âÂ
You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. Heâs terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, âPlease, Joel.âÂ
He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. âLemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettinâ him a drink at that poker game.â
âI remember,â you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You canât let that self-doubt creep in now, not when youâre this close. You look back towards his broad back. âBut I really donât want anyone else.â
âWhy?â He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. Thereâs absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man youâve ever seen.
You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, âI trust you.â
âYou donât even know me. I could be a horrible guy.â
You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. Heâs right, you donât know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. âYouâve never given me reason to think I couldnât trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.â
Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. âHow old are you?â
âTwenty two,â you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, âAlmost, I turn twenty two on Friday.â
 âI canât do this.â He croaks and you canât help but feel a little bad. Youâve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated.Â
âPlease. I always felt I needed more but,â you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. âButâŚI didnât know what more was and I - I think itâs this.â You audibly swallow pleading, âPlease. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.âÂ
He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesnât trust himself, not here, not with you. âJusâ let me set ya up with Tommy. Youâre his type.âÂ
Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You arenât that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, âyouâre going to have no skin left soonâ sheâd lecture, but you canât help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and youâve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle.Â
Itâs silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask, âAm I not attractive enough for you?â
âNo!â He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, âThatâs not it. I just - Iâm sorry. I jusâ canât do this, sweetheart.â
You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you donât have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, âWhy?âÂ
ââS not a good idea, sweet girl,â he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours.Â
His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. Heâs saying no, but thereâs a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. Youâre not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. âBecause Iâm not your type?â
He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. âThatâs the problem, youâre exactly my type.â
Hearing that youâre this beautiful man's type should feel like youâve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. âI - then why?â
He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, âI ainât havinâ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.âÂ
âYouâve made it clear that Iâm not a submissive,â you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, âHave a nice night, Mister Miller.âÂ
Joel
The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didnât think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.
His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs heâs imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream.Â
Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so youâre completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties theyâd be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. Youâre practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.  Â
His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you donât fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees. Â
His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. âDo you feel what you do to me when you call me that. Iâve asked you not to. Multiple times.â
Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; heâs sure if he pressed his lips to it heâd feel how hard your heart is racing. âBut I donât want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you havenât stopped.âÂ
Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. Heâs aching for you in a way he hasnât felt for years.Â
âYou infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,â he mutters. âMakes me absolutely insane. I canât stop fucking thinking about whatâs underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples⌠fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good theyâd look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Canât stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.â
Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what heâs doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things heâd like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo.Â
âThat what you wanna hear?â Joel continues. âHow fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I canât do this because once I startâŚI ainât gonna be able to let you go. Ainât gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. Itâs just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.â
Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesnât look back, he canât look back or heâll fucking crack. Heâll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. Heâll show you everything right now and he wonât stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him.Â
YouÂ
You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. Youâre painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. Itâs just you, sweet girl, only you. Itâs like itâs been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night.Â
Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesnât have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamieâs name across your slightly cracked screen. âHey!âÂ
âAre you ok?â her voice is thick with concern.
Your chest feels tight, âYa, why?â
âYou sound like you're out of breath.âÂ
You laugh a little, âOh. I was..â fuck, what was I doing. âI mean I am walking. Like on a walk.âÂ
Even a toddler wouldnât be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isnât either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, âWere you having sex?â
âNo! God no!â Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. âIâm on the street, canât you hear the cars.âÂ
âOk. You do need some sex though,â she laughs.Â
âJamie,â you sigh, âI have to get to a study group. Whatâs up?âÂ
She giggles devilishly. âWellll - Itâs your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.â
âUmm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?âÂ
âPromise you can keep your top on this time, prude.â She says teasingly and you laugh. âItâs called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!â
You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, âOk. Letâs do it.â
âGood, because I already invited the girls.â You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamieâs computer dings on the other end. âOh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Werenât you just there yesterday?âÂ
Joel. You say dreamily in your mind.Â
âThatâs shitty,â Jamie continues, âThatâs your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.âÂ
âNo!â It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. âI mean, no, thatâs ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!âÂ
âText me when youâre done with your study group and weâll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didnât get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -â
âHey!â You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.
âYa ya, I know,â her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, âThe master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?â Even without being able to see your best friend you know sheâs dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes.Â
Friday rolls around quickly, and you arenât sure what youâre looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. Youâve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer. Â
Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and heâs asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. Heâs never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesnât cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops.Â
You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself.Â
The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, sheâs smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.
As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. Thereâs a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joelâs eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile.Â
Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her momâs lap; the woman doesnât seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except itâs a college graduation photo.Â
As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you havenât managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. Thereâs a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, thereâs a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and heâs obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didnât know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man.Â
You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. Thereâs an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, itâs tempting but decide you are right to not read it. Itâs none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning.Â
Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isnât being his girlfriend. Youâve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you canât have a future with him, that heâs done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you donât want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. Thatâs the goal, the only goal. Â
From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. Thatâs the plan, itâs always been the plan.
Once youâre in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says âHappy Birthday, sweetheart.âÂ
You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, youâre too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says âBeginner Submissiveâ and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joelâs reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Yearâs Eve.Â
On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. âAssigned Dominantâ and âLimits and Waiversâ. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, heâs going to do it.Â
Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read âAssigned Dominant: Tommy Millerâ.
When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, âTommy Millerâ. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? Youâre sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that thereâs anything physically wrong with Tommy. Heâs definitely attractive, but heâs not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear.Â
After you shower you've decided youâve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And itâs not about pleasure or attraction, itâs about the escape, and more importantly, itâs about having someone to push you and help you grow.   Â
You click the âLimits and Waiversâ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if youâve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all âhighly interestedâ, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.
You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff youâre more interested in.Â
Spanking, five.Â
Whips and Crops, five.Â
Paddles, five.Â
Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point.Â
Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five.Â
Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but itâs Tommy, not Joel.Â
The little box to click if youâve done those things remains unchecked. You arenât a virgin, but the small handful of college boys youâve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied.Â
Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. âLetâs get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!â
You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, âFuck, you scared the shit outta me.â
âOh god, you were watching porn again werenât you?â She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, âWe gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.â
âYeah yeah yeah,â you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.
A few hours later and youâre all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosĂŠ and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours.Â
âWeâll test that tonight on drinks and men,â Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.
Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.
The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. Youâre just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. âHey babes! Iâm Jade, letâs get these bottles going! Hereâs the menu.â
Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. Itâs her, the girl from Joelâs desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, âOh hey! Good to see you again.â
A chorus of, âagain?â and âhow do you know each other?â comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.
âWe donât really,â you rush. âJust a mutual acquaintance really.â
Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. âWhat are we getting to drink ladies? Iâve heard itâs on the house so pick something expensive!â
You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so youâre not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you.Â
âLook, I just want to say that Iâm sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if youâre in my section at the club I work at then Iâm not really breaking any rules.â Sheâs even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. Itâs just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why heâd pass you along. You canât compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call.Â
âNo, itâs ok. Iâm actually learning to be a sub soon.â You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy thatâs threatening to choke you.
âNo way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but youâre going to love it.â Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy donât mix well with RosĂŠ and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears.Â
âHe actually set me up with Tommy,â you croak, âSaid Iâm more his type.â
Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, âLetâs go girls!â. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs.Â
Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller.Â
His eyes are locked on yours; heâs wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly itâs feeling like itâs the best decision youâve ever made.
âIâll be right back,â you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel.Â
âQuite the show you put on up there,â he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.
âYou didnât seem to mind.â You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. Youâre definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you donât want him to know that.
He grabs for your waist to steady you. âCareful, youâre drunk.â
âIâm not. And even if I was, Iâm celebrating, so Iâm allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.â His eyes darken and you know youâve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but youâre at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really donât care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.
âYou sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?â He practically growls.
âIâm not your sweetheart, Iâm Tommyâs,â it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, âLetâs dance.â
As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course heâs keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?
The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like youâre some sort of toy, like heâs a caveman coming to take whatâs his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.
Even though youâre happy to go with him, you canât let him know that. âJoel, stop it. You canât kick me out of here too.â
He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. âI own half this place, baby. So I can.â
You twist your arm free from his grip, âYouâre the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.â
âWhy havenât you filled out your app yet?â
You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. âAre you stalking me?â
âDonât flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.â
Shit, all those menus that you just clicked âAccept Allâ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. âYouâre not my dom!â You state.
Joel rolls his eyes. âI know. Tommy told me you hadnât filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why havenât you filled out the app?â
You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. âItâs none of your business.â
âSweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.â
This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, âBecause I donât want Tommy. I donât think Iâm going to fill it out anymore.â
Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, âPlease. For me, can you just fill it out?â
âFor you? You made it clear you don't want me. Iâm filling it out for Tommy.â
He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if heâs not careful heâs going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that youâd mind.
âThatâs not what Iâm sayinâ and thatâs also where youâre wrong. Youâre fillinâ that out for you. If youâre fillinâ it out for anyone else, then youâre doing this for the wrong reasons.â
You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, âIâm not.â
His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old whoâs had tequila. âOk, youâre not. So then why do you want to be a sub?â
He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, thereâs a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. âBecause Iâm exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. Iâm always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,â your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, âThen I do it all over again the next day. I canât shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and thereâs no escape.â
You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder thatâs forming in your throat, âI donât think Iâm good enough. Or strong enoughâŚSmart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,â you sigh heavily. âFor once I just want someone to tell me how well Iâm doing.â
Joelâs eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, âFill out the app.â
You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, âI donât want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.â
Joelâs forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. âCan you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?â
âKiss me,â you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.
He stiffens under your touch. âWhat?â he asks dumbfoundedly.
âKiss me and Iâll go home right now and fill out the app,â you whisper, inching your lips closer to his.Â
âYouâll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.â Itâs not a question, itâs a deep command.
Now itâs your turn to be confused as you say, âWhat?â
He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. Youâve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but itâs almost like heâs transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. âIf you want to convince me to be your dom, itâs not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. â
The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.
He continues, his voice just as commanding, âIf I give you this kiss, youâll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.â
Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.
âAsk me nicely.â He murmurs.
âP-pleaseâŚkiss me, Joel.â Butterflies assault the inside of your stomach.
You didnât think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere heâs touching you.
âAsk me again using that name I told you not to call me,â He knows heâs playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesnât care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips.Â
âKiss me, Mister Miller. Please?â Itâs airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you canât get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you.Â
âWhy?â he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway theyâd be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.
Your back arches instinctively into him. Youâre safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. âBecause I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kissâŚthen Iâll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.â
Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you donât have any panties on.Â
His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently.Â
âNo,â he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. âSay it again.â
He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. âI need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.â
With that he slams his lips against yours. Itâs a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question youâre stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools youâve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you youâre not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives.Â
You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; heâs so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, itâs going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.
Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though itâs not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isnât a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging.Â
His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, âPut your number in my phone, sweet girl.â
He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. âGo get your stuff and go home now, baby. Thereâll be a car waiting for you out front.â
He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table.Â
âWhere have you been?â Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.
You wave her off, âI think Iâve had too much. Iâm gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.â
It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that youâll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club thereâs a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, âGood Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?â
You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing thatâs ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then itâll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.
You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms.Â
You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.
âYour Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Millerâ
Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you canât believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joelâs name has replaced Tommyâs. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you donât have saved. You click on the message app.
âNo coming until I say so, I know you werenât wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.â
Next Chapter
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal#joel miller tlou#joel the last of us#joel tlou#joel miller fanfiction#joel x reader#pedrohub#joel x f!reader#joel x y/n#joel x oc#joel x you#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfic#joel miller x you#the last of us hbo#tlou fanfiction#joel miller x original character#joel miller x y/n#joel miller x oc#dom!joel miller#bdsmaid
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Little Things - Sylus x Isekai Fem Reader
Summary: When your consciousness somehow ended up in the LADS MCâs body right as Sylusâ character was released. You went through what the MC was supposed to do in the game and while waiting for the next update, youâve gotten closer to Sylus that he treats you with everything you couldnât have in your world
A/N: I canât help but make a fic where you took over the MCâs body and became the MC. Though in this fic, Sylus already knows that youâre not exactly the MC yet heâs also not complaining about your company and even started to open up to you and even allow you to use his money but heâs confused as to why youâre not spending as much as he thought
I was inspired by a fic that I read on Tumblr by @atoltia
Sequel: Welcome to My World
Disclaimer: I do not own the images nor the characters or you (the MC). All images were taken from Pinterest.
Warning: will be using MC instead of (Y/N) as itâs easier for me, fluff, slight angst (no character death), overthinker MC, soft Sylus
âYou go talk to himâ Luke nudged his twin brother who stared back at him thinking that he was crazy
âAre you crazy? Iâm not talking to him. Have you seen how heâs been the past few weeks? Heâs been on his phone, checking something out almost every day unless heâs with MCâ Kieran replied back as both he and Luke were eyeing Sylus who was in his study, wearing some comfortable clothing and glasses while scrolling through his phone
âDo you think that heâs planning to do something for MC? Like maybe propose to her? I mean. ever since their first meeting, heâs been different? More attentive towards MC. He even gave her the brooch which is the direct access to the N109 zone. He even let her drive his cars and do whatever she wanted with the place though I like her style. It feels more homey nowadaysâ Luke pointed out and Kieran agreed with his twin
The twins kept on talking in front of the study room until Sylus had it and called the twins inside. âI know you both are out there. Either come in and report what you want to report or leave before I stop letting either of you peek aroundâ
Immediately, the twins walked into the study where they saw their boss still not looking up from his phone. The twins looked at each other before agreeing to speak at the same time.
âWe cleaned up at the next like you saidâ Kieran mentioned
âAre you going to propose to MC?â Luke mentioned
The twins looked at each other, confused that their twin telepathy was not working when they needed it. Hearing a grunt, the twins immediately apologised and begged Sylus to not hurt them or worse; make them clean the entire penthouse.
âWhat Luke meant was how is MC?â Kieran quickly changed his twinâs wording
âYea. Thatâs what I meant. I mean, you seem to be glued to your phone boss. We assume that itâs because of MC so we were wondering if anything happened to her or if you need us to watch her?â Luke added on
âActually, perhaps you can watch her for meâ Sylus mentioned and the twins sighed of relief until they heard the next words come out of Sylusâ mouth. âIâd like to know why isnât she using my card like I expected her toâ
The twins looked at each other, confused once more. âWhat do you mean sheâs not using your card, sir?â Kieran asked
âDo you think she lost it? Or perhaps she gave it to someone and thatâs why her spending is crazyâ Luke added on and for the first time, the twins saw their boss put his phone down only to open up several holographic files; specifically transactions from his card
âNo. Itâs quite the opposite actually. She has my card. She uses it but not as much as I thought. Sheâs only spending on the daily necessities and occasionally a book or two. Never any jewellery, any new clothing. She only bought one hairdryer set and never any other hair tools except a brush and clips and even those are cheap. The most she spent was just a water dispenser and an air fryer. What, does she think that sheâs being stingy if she were to spend a lot of my money? Or perhaps she wants to seem more independent? What if she thinks that Iâm in debt?â Sylus kept going on until the twins stopped him
âUh, boss. I donât think itâs any of those reasonsâ Luke mentioned, catching Sylusâ attention. âWhat do you mean, Luke?â
âI mean. Iâve, weâve, talked to her sometimes and she just mentioned that she doesnât know what to use all the money for. I donât think that she thinks youâre in debt or feel bad about using your money. Itâs just that sheâs not used to it. Not used to having a lot of money that sheâs overwhelmed?â Luke explained while Sylus had a deep thought
âOverwhelmed? Itâs the first I heard of this. You would think that when someone has this amount of money in the palm of their hands, they would go crazy almost immediatelyâ Sylus replied
âWell, sheâs not like most people, sirâ Luke added on and thatâs what got Sylus to get up from his study room and go to find MC
Sylus looked around for you in the penthouse from the kitchen, living room, the guest bedroom where you typically like to be when youâre alone, and finally, his bedroom which is practically your shared bedroom ever since an incident that happened early in your meeting together.
As he was walking towards the master bedroom, Sylus could hear some music playing. Slowly opening the door to the room, Sylus peeked in and saw your small figure on the bed, humming to the music that was playing from your phone at the same time doing something.
Smiling to himself, Sylus decided to lean by the door as he made himself noticed by you. âSweetie, what are you doing in here all alone?â
Looking up from your hands, you looked at Sylus who put on that soft smile only for you. âHi Sy. Iâm just trying to stitch up a T-shirt of mine. Iâm almost done. Do you need help to make dinner?â you asked, finishing up the T-shirt you were stitching as Sylus made his way towards you
âNo. Iâve decided to order in for tonight. I got your favouritesâ Sylus mentioned as you hummed
âThere we go. Finally done. So, dinner?â you mentioned, placing down the T-shirt you were sewing which made Sylus chuckled
âItâs on its way, sweetheart. Which meansâŚâ Sylus grabbed your hand and yanked you towards him, laying down on the bed together as he held you close. âWe have a bit of time to ourselves before dinner comesâ
Giggling at his clingy behaviour, you accepted defeat that you couldnât fight him on this and just leaned your head to his chest, listening to his slightly abnormal fast heartbeat while feeling Sylusâ fingers going through your hair.
âSweetieâŚâ Sylus called you while you hummed, feeling a bit drowsy
âWhy do you work so hard to sew your T-shirt when you couldâve bought a new one? You know that I can find someone to make the exact same one with the same materials and everythingâ Sylus mentioned
âI knowâ you answered, drawing circles on Sylusâ chest while continuing. âI know that you could most probably buy anything I want and more. But while all that sounds good, itâs the little things, the memories that come with what I have now that matterâ
âIs that so?â Sylus asked, as if he was still unsure of your answer and the tone he used made you look up at him. âIs there something wrong with my answer? Was it not what you expected? Along with how Iâve been using your card?â you asked back which made Sylus chuckle
âYou know me so well, donât you kitten?â Sylus chuckled, caressing your cheek with his large hands now making you giggle
âI mean, Iâve been observing you longer than you observing me. But you should know, Iâm more than grateful for you giving me your card. Itâs an incredible privilege and it makes me know how much trust you have in me. Though, I donât need all that when I can do all the little things with you. Even as simple as cleaning together or moments like right now is what I cherish the mostâ you mentioned and using his hand that was on your cheek, Sylus gently lifted your face as he gave your lips one of the softest kisses you ever had whilst caressing your cheek at the same time
Pulling away, you were met with Sylusâ soft gaze and smile once again and instantly felt the heat rush to your cheeks as you questioned him. âW-whatâs with the sudden affectionâ
Smirking, Sylus pulled your smaller body with him as he sat on the bed, leaning at the headboard. âWhy not? You said you cherish the little things and moments. If you wonât accept being spoiled by my wealth then I might as well spoil you with what you actually want, isnât that right?â
Hearing those words out of his mouth made your head feel light. Throughout your life back home, you rarely get any affection from those close to you; resulting in indulging yourself with what used to be a âsilly gameâ until you somehow ended up in the silly game yourself.
You closed your eyes, worried that water that was building in your eyes would spill because of the constant worry and thought that this was all just a dream. Noticing your quiet self, Sylus grew worried and cupped your face with both his hands and saw that a tear managed to slip out of your eye. âSweetie? Whatâs wrong? Was I pressuring you?â
Shaking your head, you managed to reply to him. âNo. Youâre not. Itâs justâŚIâm, I worryâ
âWorry? About what sweetheart? Take your time. I got youâ Sylus replied
âIâŚyou know I donât belong here and yet you still spoil me. What if one day, I somehow wake up and Iâm back in my own world? What if one day when you wake up, itâs who you were supposed to meet that greets you? What ifâŚâ Sylus didnât let you continue as he immediately kissed you once again, though this time was slightly rough with a sense of urgency
âI donât want any what ifs, kitten. Youâre here. In my arms. My lips are on yours. Your body might be someone elseâs but your soul is what I care more about. Even if one day you go back. Iâll find a way. Against all odds, Iâll find a way back to you even if itâs against the universeâ Sylus stated, his grip on your face getting a bit tighter as if he was afraid that youâd slip away
âSylusâŚâ you softly called him, holding his hand that was on your face when Sylus grabbed your hand, interlacing your fingers together
âYou feel this? Itâs real. Just like me. Just like right now. So stop saying these things or do you need me to show you how real this is?â Sylus mentioned, his tone was a bit harsh but soft at the same time
âYouâre crazy you know that. Defying the universe to go to anotherâ you pouted but it successfully made Sylus chuckle
âI am. I would do that you knowâ Sylus took your hand and kissed the knuckles. âIâd do whatever it takes to find youâ
âBut you donât know what I actually look likeâ you argued
âI know your name, your age, how you actâ Sylus replies, making you chuckle
âYou really are a stubborn crow, arenât you?â you teased and Sylus leaned down to kiss your forehead. âOnly for you, sweetieâ
âCome. Dinner should be arriving. We can put on that show youâve been wanting to watch. Or we can do something elseâ Sylus mentioned, picking you up so suddenly that you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck
âCan we just chill on the sofa with some chill movie and cuddle?â you asked
Smiling, Sylus kissed you again. âAnything you want, sweetie. Weâre making the most together and appreciating all the little things, remember?â
Sylus then brought the two of you to the living room where he let you turn on the TV and ate dinner together, wrapping a blanket around the two of you as you both enjoyed the rest of the night basking in each otherâs embrace and enjoying these small intimate moments together.
A/N: OMG thank you so much to everyone who has been reading, liking, and reblogging my Sylus fics T^T I truly did not expect so many people enjoy my writing especially the fact that I'm new to the LADS space. If anyone wants to be mutuals on the game, do message me!! Otherwise, thank you for reading and hope this fic managed to brighten your day!! xoxo peanutwott
#lads#lads x reader#lads fanfic#lads imagine#lads sylus#l&ds#l&ds sylus#sylus#lnds sylus#sylus fanfic#sylus imagine#sylus x mc#sylus x reader#sylus x you#sylus x y/n#sylus love and deepspace#love and deepspace sylus#love and deepspace#love and deepspace fanfic#love and deepspace x reader
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hi! This is my first time requesting so sorry if I'm a little awkward lmao. Anyways can I request one for Reo where considering he always gets what he wants, and thinks girls like him because of his looks/money (based off my interpretation of his character + ep nagi) when the time comes he actually did like a girl (reader) he really struggles because reader showed no interest lol. Anyways, thank you!
âđđđ§đ¤đŤđŽđŠđâ
a/n: oooh iâve never written anything for our gay rich boy before. and youâre all good dw!
ngl reo reminds me of the song âwhatever she wantâ by bryson tiller (fire song btw) and âtapoutâ by rich gang
(don't know art credits sorry) he's so fine
reo mikage was used to winning. he was used to getting his way. it came with the territory â the money, the status, the looks. his life had always been an easy game of give and take. he gave a glance, a smile, a lazy smirk, and in return, he took hearts. casually. effortlessly. without even trying.Â
girls liked him. obviously. they liked the penthouse views, the sleek cars, the designer watch he wore like it meant nothing. they liked the expensive dinner dates that didnât even make a dent in his card. they liked the way he played soccer with unbothered precision, elegant and composed, the perfect balance of charm and skill. they liked everything about him.Â
so, when he met you, he didnât expect you to be any different.Â
except you were.Â
you barely looked at him. barely even acknowledged him beyond the most basic courtesy. a glance. a polite smile. a nod when necessary. nothing more. you didnât fawn, didnât blush, didnât giggle. you didnât trail after him or hang on his words. didnât care when he slung a towel over his shoulder and his shirt clung to his skin post-practice. didnât so much as glance at the stupid, limited-edition watch on his wrist that was probably worth your rent.Â
and gosh, it drove him insane.Â
at first, it was just an irritation. a minor dent to his ego. maybe you were just playing hard to get. maybe you were the kind who wanted to be chased. fine. he could play along. he was good at games. he could wait for you to crack.Â
but you never did.Â
weeks passed. then months. you were the same. cordial. friendly enough, but so completely unmoved by him, it made his eye twitch. you were kind, sure. sweet, even. just⌠not specifically to him. you treated him like he was just another guy. not reo mikage â the heir, the rising soccer star, the guy with a face and a bank account anyone would die for.Â
and it left him a little unhinged.Â
suddenly, he was the one looking for you at practice. lingering by the vending machine because he knew you always grabbed a drink there. making excuses to walk past the staff office, just in case you were there. he started trying, actually trying, to get your attention.Â
he started lingering in conversations longer, waiting for you to notice his voice. he made half-hearted jokes to hear your laugh. let out exasperated sighs louder than necessary when he was tired, hoping youâd ask if he was okay.Â
nothing.Â
when he bought new shoes, he casually asked, "you like them?"Â
you blinked. glanced at them briefly. "yeah, theyâre cool."Â
cool. cool.Â
his shoes were custom-made and flown in from italy and all you could say was cool???Â
reo was losing his mind.Â
the final straw came at a post-match event. he had just scored twice, and everyone was celebrating. people congratulated him, patted his back, showered him with praise. and then he saw you, quietly sitting on the terrace balcony, nursing a drink. he didnât think twice before slipping away from the crowd and joining you.Â
"youâre not celebrating?" he asked, feigning nonchalance.Â
you glanced over, then back at the view. "i am. just not a fan of big crowds."Â
he took that as an opening and slid into the seat next to you. surely, youâd see him differently tonight. he was riding the high of victory, practically glowing from it. girls were practically staring at him, but here he was, sitting next to you.Â
"you saw the match, right?" he asked, eyes glinting, lips quirking into that signature smirk that usually made people weak in the knees.Â
you hummed. "yeah, you were good."Â
good. good.Â
he was phenomenal. he scored the winning goal and you had the audacity to say good???Â
he didnât even realize he was pouting slightly until you gave him a funny look.Â
"what?" you asked, clearly confused by his expression.Â
"nothing," he muttered, sulking into his seat.Â
there was a beat of silence before you spoke again, your voice almost hesitant.Â
"hey⌠do you think you could introduce me to nagi?"Â
reo physically malfunctioned. he stared at you, mouth slightly open, unable to process what you just said. "what?"Â
you smiled, completely oblivious to the dagger youâd just driven through his chest. "nagi. he seems cool. i feel like weâd get along."Â
nagi. nagi. his lazy, bored, white-haired best friend. you wanted to meet nagi.Â
for the first time in his life, reo mikage was faced with the impossible: rejection. not even outright rejection, just a complete, indifferent dismissal. you werenât playing hard to get. you just⌠didnât care. you werenât interested. you didnât look at him and see wealth or status or charm. you saw some guy. just reo.Â
and as he sat there, stewing in disbelief, he realized two things.Â
one: this was new territory. heâd never actually had to try before.Â
two: he liked you more for it.Â
because you werenât shallow. you werenât there for his money, his name, his easy charm. you didnât fall for the things that made him likable to everyone else. and maybe it pissed him off at first, but it also made him want you more.Â
so, as you kept rambling about how nagi seemed fun, completely unaware of the internal war raging inside him, reo downed the rest of his drink.Â
fine. you wanted nothing to do with his wealth or charm?Â
good.Â
heâd just have to win you over the hard way.Â
Š đ¤đąđŹđđ đ˘
a/n: i donât chase, i attractÂ
#reo mikage#mikage reo#reo mikage blue lock#mikage reo blue lock#reo mikage x reader#mikage reo x reader#blue lock#blue lock x reader#bllk#bllk x reader#blue lock x you#bllk x you#bankrupt
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Almost Instinctual
Alastor x pregnant!reader
âźď¸pregnant reader, pregnancy in general, overprotective Alastor, a bit of angst, secret pregnancyâźď¸


Prompt: In where you, y/n, go to the Hazbin hotel for shelter after splitting up with your previous boyfriend. And try and keep your pregnancy a secret until you find a better solution.
Part 1 (youâre here!), part 2
(I am lazy and am writing this like itâs a bunch of facts and writing specific scenesâŚI might rewrite when I get my laptop.)
(8 weeks/2 months)
You and your boyfriend had split up about a week ago, afraid youâll run out of money eventually you decided that instead of staying at a creepy motel with no locks, youâd move to a free-helpful option.
Of course you felt a little bad for abusing the owners kindness, using the Hazbin hotel not for redemption, but instead for shelter and food.
Charlie had welcomed you in with open arms (literally, she squeezed you pretty hard.) and even introduced you to everyone except for two who were out running around hell.
Alastor was explained to you as a creepy, tall deer man who may sound rude but has good intentions.
And Charlie explained angeldust as a âwork in progressâ and told her a couple stories instead of describing him.
Charlie offered you the job of receptionist, claiming that husker wasnât exactly good with the socializing aspect of it and you happily accepted. Eyes beaming at the opportunity for a job right infront of you.
(12 weeks/3 months)
You were happily greeted with nausea every morning. The morning sickness now starting to affect you more than ever, you havenât exactly told anyone about your pregnancy and were hoping to be out of the hotel by the time you started showing.
Now working at the hotel for a bit, you noticed that probably wasnât going to happen anytime soon.
âAre you alright y/n?â Charlie peaked her head into the bathroom; a small frown on her face as you heaved a bit, nodding.
âYup- Iâm just dandy..! Mind getting me a wet towel or something love? I think I ate something bad yesterdayâŚâ Charlie let out a little gasp and nodded, running off to god knows where just to get that little thing for you.
You had actually started to get to know the patrons of the hotel more, for example. You learned angeldust was actually the pornstar you had heard about all over social media. And he adored three things.
Making people uncomfortable.
Cocaine.
And candy crush.
Husk had given you a couple of sickness remedies, saying that they would help with stomach bugs. All natural just incase you were allergic and you slowly started to warm up to him.
Charlie and vaggie had grown to be very special to you now. Their opposite personalities absolutely making you giggle everytime you hung out with them or went out for groceries.
Now, Alastor was an odd fellow. He was a bit younger than you since you were hellbotn and all but he seemed to act older than you. Calling you things like âdearâ, âCherâ, or Mon biche.
Mon biche was the most common one, and after looking it up. You realized he was calling you my doe, or just doe 90% of the time.
He definetly knew. Not letting you eat any form of âraw meatâ that would go on your plate and even specially making drinks for you so you felt like you could participate in drinking games without suspicion.
Overall, he was a total kitten. A bit emotionally stunted in areas of course..but he never failed to brighten the room.
(Unless he was threatening someone.)
(17 weeks/3.2 months)
You started showing, not visibly with clothing on but you were still showing when you sat down.
Your closet changed a bit, from nice outfits to usually a dress you had gotten or some high waisted sweats, trying to be as comfortable as possible in your state.
Alastor had beenâŚodd.
He had started to let you grab his arm when going up or down the stairs, which usually during conversations heâd just stand at the bottom waiting. And he now seemed like he was constantly watching you.
Husker had done the same. The two animal demons in the hotel knowing because of a certain change in smell, it wasnât like you didnât know it was going to happen.
Husker had promoted for just leaving you alone and stopping the mean comments, understanding that pregnant women were a force to be reckoned with. (And you appreciated that. You had been crying earlier that day for the cookie you bought not tasting like blueberryâs.)
You cried a couple times because of angel, which Alastor just stared at you as you sniffled and attempted to keep the conversation going.
You also cried about 2 days ago because Charlie bought you a pretty necklace. It was hell.
Alastor tried to be accommodating in the field of emotional intelligence butâŚhe failed. Making you cry more times than he could count and to be honest he only cared that he did because you were quite literally an angel to everyone.
Husker asked you in private one day if Mr smiles was the daddy to that little hellspawn and all you could do was laugh and blush a bit. Telling husker that he wasnât and that he was just acting that way because she was a single mother.
Husker didnât understand that, Alastor never had a soft spot for women her age.
(20 weeks/4 months)
First time you let anyone touch your stomach was during this time period, Alastor did so with adoration almost. Mentioning something about how he always had a soft spot for women with children..
You two had grown a bit closer.
Husker definitely still had his suspicions about you and the baby. He really thinks is alastors with the way he had been acting.
The red demon had gone out of his way several times to get you your weird ass cravings. One day you asked for a bite of his venison and then cried because you werenât allowed to have it
You found him coming near you more often and asking multiple times to touch your baby bump as it grew, and everytime you let him that little tail of his would wag a bit behind him. Seemingly happy with the little life growing inside you.
He got more protective as well. Way more protective. He was your puppy that followed you around basically.
(He totally got you a bunch of ice cream, or helped you out with foods and sickness with his old man knowledge.)
(25 weeks/5 months)
If you wanna talk about awkward? Everyone in the hotel basically thought you and Alastor were a thing with how weird you two were together.
You would always be caught either straightening his bow tie or dusting off his shoulders. The term doting describing the two of you around one another.
May or may have not let it slip to Charlie that âitâs not like that, Alastor has said multiple times he doesnât want to prey on pregnant women.
She asked to be the godmother.
Alastor hated the thought of that actually when you brought up that Charlie might be a good fit when he was giving you a snack. A nerve you didnât know he had.
Soon everyone knew you were pregnant and angel was absolutely infatuated with this information. Asking whoâs it is and stuff like that.
(7 months)
Alastor and you were practically a thing- he would help you out a lot and in return youâd kiss his cheek or help him out with cooking.
He practically worships the ground you walk on. Foot rubs for when they hurt, running a bath for you. Even going out of his way to compliment your outfits (even if you looked downright awful that day)
He even accompanied you to return the ring your ex gave you. Along with a couple other belongings you had from him.
Alastor may or may have not been seen with you outside , and you were mentioned by Rosie the next time.
(8 months)
Alastor and you had become somewhat official, if letting a dude fall asleep on your pregnant stomach bc he wanted to means official. Then yes( you were.
After you had a talk with Alastor about why he acted the way he did around you he simply said it was almost instinctual to take care of you. Something along the lines of him also being a gentleman.
He had invited you out to cannibal town, where you met Rosie and she was absolutely infatuated with you. Asking you questions and being so lovely towards you. Even going as far as mentioning she had her fair share of labor experience when it came to giving birth!
Alastor was very pleased to hear Rosie would help you- a bit scared she would eat the baby thoughâŚ
(Part two coming out about nine months and the actual baby?)
#hazbin alastor#hazbin art#hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#pregnant reader#secret pregnancy#slow burn#soft alastor#deer man
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Imagine watching a show with probably the most surface level potrayal of the message of "rich people suck and will use poor people for money" only to be like "hm. as the total anthesis of this message i should totally recreate this"
It's made even worse when you consider the fact that this isn't the first "IRL Squid Game" ever attempted, Netflix UK did one that was specifically based on the actual show in January 2023 called "Squid Game: The Challenge".
(I've seen people in the tags get these two shows confused, they are different - Beast Games is on Amazon, not Netflix, was filmed at the end of July this year, and hasn't come out yet).
But Netflix UK have their own scandal to answer for.
That original British Squid Game was also a disaster. "Beast Games" was filmed in the middle of one of Nevada's hottest Julys on record, hence why so many contestants suffered from extreme dehydration due to the lack of water. On the other hand, "Squid Game: The Challenge" was filmed during an unusually cold British January.
The players had been given coats, leg warmers, space heaters, and so on during the lead up to the game, only to have those warm clothes taken away before the first challenge began, because they needed to wear those paper thin canon-accurate Squid Game tracksuits. They weren't even allowed to zip them up, because the cameras needed to see the numbers on their shirts, and the fake blood spurting out when they were eliminated.
They then had to play Redlight-Greenlight in the blistering cold, holding poses, completely still, for increasing lengths of time (2 minutes at the start of the game, 30 in the late stages). Players starting collapsing from the cold, and had to be rescued by medics.
The game started with 456 competitors on Day 1, and ended up with 228 by Day 2.
Here's the Variety article: Inside Netflixâs âSquid Gameâ Reality Show Disaster: âThe Conditions Were Absolutely Inhumaneâ
TL;DR - Here are some choice quotes in case you want to read them:
âThe second time the song played, I saw in my left peripheral vision that this girl was swaying. Then she just buckled, and you could hear her head actually hit the ground,â says Marlene. âBut then someone came on the [microphone] and said to hold our positions because the game is not paused. After that, people were dropping like flies.â
Jenny, a player from outside the U.K. who had been flown in for the game, tells Variety: âIâm infuriated by the narrative that Netflix is putting out there, that only [a few] people were injuredâŚwe were all injured just by going through that experience.
âIâve never been that cold for that long a period in my life. We couldnât feel our feet or our toes. It was ridiculous,â she says. Jenny also claims that while the game was in production, restroom or water breaks werenât allowed.
âTake some responsibility for the fact that you were ill-prepared for this kind of thing, with this number of people,â continues Jenny, between tears. âThere were some things I guess [producers] didnât think about, but when they saw the weather was going to be that way, they should have made adjustments.â
All three players [John, Marlene and Jenny] say they returned to the hotel between 7 p.m. and midnight without having dinner. Dinner orders had been taken at lunch, but because the game had run longer than expected, contestants were transported back to their central London hotel without having eaten. Production had ordered pizzas for those arriving, but there wasnât enough food to go around, and some people went to bed hungry.
âIn the morning, I woke up and there was a cold hamburger from McDonaldâs and a side salad in front of my door that had been there for God knows how long,â says Marlene.
(Variety, Feb 3, 2023)
(Also, "Marlene and Jenny" are pseudonyms, because like Beast Game they signed NDAs.)
There are some other similarities with Beast Games - denial of bathroom breaks, lack of food, lack of water, inadequate medical care, and so on.
Netflix is denying these claims, or at least denying that they are as bad as contestants are suggesting, and said that while it was undeniably cold on set, "participants were prepared for that". Participants have claimed that they were, in fact, in no way prepared for that.
We know MrBeast has probably seen "Squid Game: The Challenge", because they've tried to one-up it. The British show originally had "the biggest cash-prize ever offered in reality TV" ($4.5 million), until Beast Games showed up with an ever bigger prize of $5 million.
So, it's not just "Jimmy recreating the Torment Nexus after watching the show "Don't recreate the Torment Nexus".
It's closer to "Jimmy recreating the Torment Nexus from the show "Don't create the Torment Nexus", after watching the show "This is what happens when you create the Torment Nexus".
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Back to Strangers | LUKE HUGHES





â ⥠summary | Libby Carter, a college student who has sworn off any athletes after hearing the amount of rumors of how they treat people. When Luke Hughes, a persistent hockey player, starts pursuing her as part of a bet with his friends, Libby is determined to keep her distance. But as they spend more time together, she starts to question whether his feelings are real or just part of the game.
â ⥠warnings | none (that i know of)
â ⥠word counts | 1.9k
â ⥠gab's note | hii ! im so excited to finally start writing again after a while. I finally got the energy to actually write something after months and come back to tumblr. hopefully I can post more (senior year is kicking my ass at the moment so hopefully after the semester is over I can post and write more!) I think this can potentially become a au (we'll see!) anyways im sorry for the inactiveness, but I promise to try to be more active! also I apologize for how long this is

âDude, Iâm just saying, youâre all talk,â Ethan teased, leaning across the booth at their usual hangout, a local diner near campus. The rest of the guys Seamus, Mackie, and a couple of others were clearly enjoying this way too much.
âIâm not âall talk,ââ Luke shot back, stabbing his fork into his pancakes. âI just donât waste my time on relationships.â
âThatâs because you couldnât even if you tried,â Mackie chimed in with a smug grin.
Luke snorted. âYeah, okay.â
âNo, seriously,â Seamus added, leaning in. âYou think you could get any girl you want, but thereâs one who would never go for you.â
Ethan smirked, a challenge lighting up his eyes. He gestured subtly across the room. âLibby Carter.â
Luke followed his gaze and saw her immediately. Libby sat alone at a table, curled over a thick textbook, twirling a pen between her fingers. Her long brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun, and she was dressed in oversized Michigan sweatpants and sweatshirt that swallowed her frame. She was pretty, no doubt, but there was something about her that seemed untouchable. She didnât go to parties and barely looked at guys, she was mostly in her own world.
âGood luck with that,â Mackie added.
Luke leaned back in his seat, his smirk growing. âYou guys really think I couldnât make her fall for me?â
Seamus grinned. âBet you fifty bucks you canât get her to fall for you by the end of the year.â
Lukeâs eyes gleamed with a mixture of challenge and amusement. âEasy money.â
âHold on.â Ethan raised a hand, cutting through the banter. âFall for you. Not just go on a date. Not just hook up. She has to actually like you.â
Luke thought for just a moment, the implications settling in. That was different. But his pride wouldnât let him back down.
âFine,â he said, shaking on it.
â
Libby Carter had three rules coming to college:
1. Keep your grades up.
2. Avoid distractions.
3. Never, under any circumstances, date an athlete.
The last rule wasnât some baseless prejudice. It was a fact. The University of Michigan athletics team, specifically the hockey team had a reputation of a mix of cocky attitudes, effortless charm, and just enough talent to make girls âfallâ for them before moving on like the next game on their schedule. Libby had seen it happen too many times, and she wasnât about to be another statistic.
Which is why, when Luke Hughes star defenseman, future devil player, and walking definition of temptation started showing up everywhere she went, she found it incredibly weird.
Libby was used to keeping her distance, to keeping people at arm's length, especially athletes who believed they could charm their way into anyoneâs heart. She had more important things to focus on like her studies, her future, and avoiding distractions at all costs.
But Luke was persistent. The first time he approached her, she brushed him off.
"Iâm really not interested," she said, her voice cool and detached as she glanced at him, then quickly looked away.
Luke didnât back down. "I get it, but I just wanted to say hi. No pressure."
She raised an eyebrow. "Hi? Thatâs all you came over here for?"
He nodded, smiling a little. "Yep. I promise, Iâm not trying to sell you anything."
She chuckled dryly. "Well, congratulations, youâve succeeded in being the most annoying person Iâve met today."
Luke laughed, unfazed. "Iâll take that as a compliment. Can I try again tomorrow?"
She shook her head, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "no.â
"Iâll be back." he said, grinning
And with that, he left her with a lingering sense of curiosity.
The second time, she shot him a look that could have frozen him in his tracks. But Luke wasnât one to give up easily. And when it came to proving something to his teammates, he never backed down.
"Seriously?" she said, her voice like ice. "Youâre still here?"
Lukeâs confidence wavered for just a moment, and he almost considered turning around and walking away. But he shook off the fear, his pride kicking in. He wasnât about to back down out of the bet now.
"Yeah," he replied, his voice a little tighter than he intended. "Still here. Just thought Iâd try again."
She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing to slits. "And what exactly are you trying to prove? That youâre persistent?"
"Maybe," Luke said, forcing himself to stand tall despite the sudden unease. "But Iâm also a man of my word. I said 'tomorrow' last time. Iâm just here to keep my promise."
Her gaze didnât soften, but he couldâve sworn there was a flicker of something in her eyes was it amusement? He couldnât tell.
"Youâre relentless," she muttered.
Luke let out a nervous laugh, trying to regain his footing. "I like to think of it as determination."
She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, but her stance was a little less intimidating now. "Well, donât think youâre winning any awards here."
Luke held up his hands in mock surrender, forcing a grin. "No awards. Just a friendly hello. Thatâs all."
He was still shaking off the sting of that cold look, but something told him he wasnât done yet.
â
It wasnât long before Lukeâs presence became impossible to ignore.
At first, Libby thought it was just a coincidence when she saw him in the library, a place she frequented to escape the chaos of the dorms and study in peace. Luke, the star defenseman who could have any girl he wanted, hunched over a stack of papers and books, clearly out of his element. She thought maybe he was there for the same reason quiet study time though she had her doubts.
When the pattern repeated itself, though, Libby had to admit something odd was happening. Luke showed up at the coffee shop right when she ordered her regular, a steaming caramel macchiato. He somehow ended up sitting next to her in the huge lecture hall, despite having no real reason to be there. He started bringing up random facts about in economics, as if trying to make conversation in their econ class. Libby had no patience for it, but even she couldnât deny the way he challenged her, poked at her intellectual comfort zone. And the more she pushed him away, the more he persisted.
âDo you have a reason for following me around?â Libby finally demanded one day after they ran into each other in the library for what felt like the hundredth time.
Luke looked up from his notes, a lazy grin spreading across his face. âWho says Iâm following you?â
âYou sit next to me in class, even though youâve never done it before.â
âMaybe I realized Econ is more fun with company.â
âYou donât even take notes.â libby said with clear annoyance.
âI have a great memory aka photographic memory,â Luke shot back with a wink.
Libby rolled her eyes, clearly fed up. âLook, if this is some kind of game, Iâm not playing.â
Luke leaned back in his chair, the easy smile never leaving his face. âWhat makes you think itâs a game?â
âBecause no one suddenly starts to follow around someone unless they have something they want.â
His eyebrows furrowed slightly. âand what exactly would i want?â
âyou know exactly what iâm talking aboutâ she said, narrowing her eyes at him. âGirls who donât fall for the whole hockey player charm.â
Luke hesitated, unsure how to respond. Part of him knew she wasnât entirely off base. But that didnât mean he was going to give up just yet.
âI like a challenge,â he said with a shrug, flashing her a grin.
Libby scoffed. âGood luck with that, Hughes.â
And yet, she couldnât help but notice the way he lingered just a little bit longer, his eyes never quite leaving her.
â
Luke had noticed Libby sitting alone in the corner of the library for the past few days. Her nose buried in a textbook, surrounded by notebooks, and coffee cups. She was quiet and intense.
But there he was, walking up to her table, feeling the weight of his decision with every step. His friends had dared him. They had said it would be funny if he actually pulled it off. But deep down, Luke wasnât sure why he wanted to get to know Libby. Maybe it was the challenge, or maybe it was because there was something about her that made him want to prove he could get through the wall she put up. Either way, he knew one thing for sure he was going to try.
He cleared his throat as he reached her table, leaning against the edge to keep his balance. Libby didnât even look up, her eyes scanning the pages of her book with laser focus.
âwhat do you want hughes?â Libby said clearly annoyed of his presence
"Hey, Libby," he said, trying to sound casual, but his voice came out a little more nervous than he intended.
She didnât respond. Her fingers flipped to the next page, like she hadnât heard him at all.
Luke hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should continue or just walk away. But the thought of his friends would not let him back down now. He took a deep breath and tried again.
"I was, wondering if youâd want to study together for the upcoming econ test?" he asked, unsure of what he was really expecting. The words sounded stupid even to him, but he pushed forward. "I mean, we both know this material. Thought it might be easier to go over it with someone else, you know?"
Libbyâs eyes flickered up to meet his, just for a brief second, before she went back to her book, clearly unimpressed.
"I study alone," she said, her voice flat and uninterested.
Luke didnât take the rejection well, but he wasnât about to let it go so easily. He had a point to prove, both to his friends and to himself. So, he pressed on.
"I get that. I mean, I do too," he said, trying to sound cool, like they were just two people casually discussing a study session. "But itâs just, uh, I heard youâre pretty good at this stuff. You know, the whole economic thing. And I figured you might want to go over a few things with me. Could help you out too, right?"
He could feel her staring at him, though she said nothing. He was so close now that he could almost see the tiny furrow in her brow, the slight irritation building behind her eyes. He knew this wasnât going well, but Luke wasnât the type to give up. He leaned in a little closer.
"Iâm serious. Iâm not asking for a charity case or anything," he added quickly, trying to sound more genuine. "I just thought itâd be a good way to get this over with."
Libbyâs gaze stayed fixed on him for a long moment, studying him like he was some kind of puzzle she was trying to figure out. Luke braced himself for her to turn him down again, but then, to his surprise, she spoke.
"Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Iâll study with you, but only if you leave me alone after this, especially with following me around."
Luke blinked, not sure if she was being sarcastic or serious, but he nodded quickly, trying to mask the sudden burst of excitement in his chest. "I get it. Just, you know, the studying part."
Libby gave him a curt nod. "Yeah, whatever. Weâll meet here tomorrow, same time." She turned her attention back to her notes, clearly signaling that the conversation was over.
Luke stood there for a moment, processing what had just happened. Heâd actually gotten her to agree. He had spent so much time imagining how this would go, and it had ended with Libby of all people giving in. It wasnât the most enthusiastic acceptance, but it was something. He smiled to himself, relieved that he hadnât been shot down completely.
"Thanks, Libby," he said, his tone genuinely appreciative. "I wonât let you down."
She didnât respond, her eyes now fixed firmly on her textbook as she scribbled notes with a speed that almost made Luke dizzy. He stood there for a moment longer, watching her, unsure of what else to say or do. Finally, he turned and walked away, the sound of her pen on paper the only noise filling the quiet of the library.
The next day, Luke showed up early, a little nervous but excited to see how it would go. He had never studied with someone like Libby before. She was serious, focused, and didnât waste time with small talk. It was a stark contrast to his usual study sessions with his friends, where there was always some kind of distraction or joke in the air. But Luke was determined to make the most of it.
Libby was already there, sitting in the same spot, her books spread out in front of her. She didnât even look up when he walked in, which, somehow, made Luke feel a little more at ease. He grabbed a chair, sitting down across from her, trying his best to ignore the fact that she was barely acknowledging his presence.
"Ready?" he asked, hoping to break the silence.
She didnât respond right away. Instead, she just gave him a quick glance, then sighed as she flipped through her notes.
"Letâs get this over with," she said, and Luke couldnât help but grin.
She didnât like him, but she had agreed to study. And for now, that was enough.
After a while, one study session became a whole month study session. In which both of them met twice a week to study together.
"Thatâs... impressive," he said, breaking the silence, his voice quiet but sincere.
Libby didnât look up. "Yeah, well, itâs not that hard if you actually pay attention."
Luke chuckled, leaning against the table. "I donât think Iâve ever been that focused on anything."
Libby finally glanced up at him, her expression unreadable. "Maybe you should start. Then you might pass the next test."
He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fair point. But Iâm hoping youâll be my secret weapon."
A small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I donât do secret weapons," she said, her tone a little less harsh but still firm.
Luke smiled, feeling a brief sense of connection, even if it was just fleeting. "Alright, no secret weapons. Just trying to survive here."
For a long moment, there was just silence between them again. Luke shifted awkwardly, realizing he had no idea how to keep the conversation going. He wasnât used to talking to someone who shut down his attempts at charm so easily. But there was something oddly comforting about it. She wasnât impressed by him, and for the first time in a long while, Luke didnât feel the need to prove himself.
Finally, he let out a quiet laugh. "Iâll leave you to it, then. See you tomorrow?"
Libby nodded without looking up. "Yeah. Donât make me regret it."
Luke had always prided himself on being a guy who didnât get emotionally attached. Relationships were messy. They took time, effort, and a lot of care. And that wasnât something he was interested in. Not with his career on the line and his focus on hockey. But somehow, spending time with Libby made him rethink everything.
It wasnât instant, but it was inevitable. He found himself waiting for their study sessions, looking forward to their debates in class, and wanting to hear her opinion on everything from the economy to the latest sports scandals. She was smart, sharp, and had a sense of humor that kept him on his toes. And for the first time in a long time, he didnât feel like he was just playing a part or living up to some stereotype. With Libby, he was himself.
â
It happened one night, during one of their late-night study sessions. They had finished working on their assignments, and the conversation had shifted from academic talk to something more personal.
âYou really hate hockey players, donât you?â Luke asked, his voice quieter than usual.
Libby sighed, rubbing her temples. âItâs not that I hate hockey players. Itâs just that Iâve seen how you guys treat people. You come, you charm, and you leave. Iâm not falling for that.â
Luke hesitated, the weight of her words hitting harder than he expected. âNot all of us are like that.â
Libby shook her head. âI donât know. Maybe Iâm just too cautious, but Iâve seen too many girls fall for that routine.â
Luke wasnât sure how to respond, but the sincerity in her voice made him realize just how much he was beginning to care about her. He didnât just want to prove her wrong.
There was a long pause, the tension between them thick. The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, but neither of them seemed in a hurry to break the silence. Lukeâs mind raced, but he finally said what had been on his mind for a while now.
âLibby,â he started, his voice a little steadier now, though still laced with a touch of vulnerability, âweâve been studying together for a month. And yeah, I get that you donât really think highly of me or anyone for that matter. But... Iâm not like that.â
She raised an eyebrow, not fully convinced, but she didnât interrupt him.
âIâm not asking you to change your mind overnight,â he continued. âBut Iâd really like the chance to show you Iâm different. To prove it, you know?â He took a deep breath. âAt least go on one date with me. Just one. No pressure, no expectations. Just⌠a chance to get to know each other outside of these study sessions.â
Libby opened her mouth to respond, but Luke quickly added, âIâm not asking you to fall for me or anything, just let me take you out. And if you still think Iâm just like every other hockey player after that, Iâll back off. I swear.â
There was a quiet moment where Libby just stared at him, her expression unreadable. Luke could feel his heart racing, wondering if he had just ruined everything, but at the same time, he was relieved to have said it. To have put it out there. He wasnât sure what heâd expected her answer to be, but he knew he couldnât hide how he felt about her any longer.
Finally, she exhaled slowly, shaking her head. âYouâre really persistent, arenât you?â
Luke smiled a little, trying to lighten the mood. âYou could say that.â
She considered him for a moment longer before her lips curved into a small, almost reluctant smile. âAlright. One date. But Iâm warning you, youâll have to work hard to convince me.â
Lukeâs heart skipped a beat, a mix of relief and excitement flooding him. âDeal. You wonât regret it, I promise.â
She shrugged, but there was something soft in her eyes that Luke hadnât seen before. âWeâll see.â
With that, they both stood up, packing away their things in silence, but something had shifted between them. Something subtle, yet undeniable. Luke walked away from the study session feeling lighter than he had in a long time, knowing that for the first time, he was truly starting to break through the wall Libby had so carefully built around herself.
âalright, friday then, weâll meet at my dorm and then head somewhereâ luke said before walking out of the library.
â
It wasnât until Libby accidentally overheard a conversation between Luke and his friends that she realized the full extent of what was going on.
She was walking to the library when she caught a snippet of conversation.
ââŚcanât believe you actually pulled it off,â Ethan was saying. âShe totally fell for you.â
Libby froze in her tracks. The weight of his words hit her like a punch in the gut. She stood there, just outside their line of sight, trying to keep herself hidden behind the row of books in the library. She hadnât meant to eavesdrop, but the words caught her off guard and dug deep. Her heart skipped a beat, her mind racing.
âYeah, man,â Luke replied, sounding almost too casual, like it was no big deal. âI told you itâd work. Once I show her a little attention, she canât resist.â
Libbyâs stomach churned. Once I show her a little attention she canât resist? Her pulse quickened, and she took a shaky step backward, the books in her arms suddenly feeling heavier. She wanted to leave, to run away and escape from the reality that was starting to settle on her. But something kept her frozen, something in the way Luke's voice sounded like he had no idea how much those words cut.
âIâll give it a week,â Ethan laughed. âYouâll have her wrapped around your finger by then. You know how you are.â
âYeah, yeah,â Luke muttered, a laugh escaping him. âIâll make sure she has a good time. No need to worry.â
Libby couldnât hear the rest of their conversation. She didnât want to. The words echoed in her mind like an incessant drumbeat.
Libby had thought no, hoped that Luke was different. That maybe he wasnât like all the other guys who had charmed their way in and out of her life. But as she replayed his words over and over, she couldnât deny the sinking feeling in her chest. He had played her.
A part of her felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. How could she have been so naive? She had known what guys like him were like sheâd seen it happen so many times before. The flirtation, the attention, the charm, and then, just as quickly, they moved on to the next girl, leaving behind a trail of disappointment. She had always sworn she wouldnât fall for it. And now, here she was, feeling like she had walked right into the trap.
But the sting wasnât just from the fact that heâd been playing her. It was from the fact that Luke seemed to believe it was all some kind of game something he could just turn on and off like a switch. Maybe he hadnât meant to hurt her. Maybe he didnât even realize what he was doing. But it didnât matter. She had let herself get pulled in, thinking that there was more to him than that.
She stood there for a while, trapped in her own thoughts, until the sounds of his friends talking faded away. she had decided to come to the library a bit earlier then usual for there next study session bust after that conversation she went back to her dorm ghosting lukeâs messages to see if sheâs coming. She had already read them twice but hadnât answered. Part of her wanted to tell him she wasnât showing up, but another part of her just couldnât bring herself to do it. Instead, she stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the keyboard, but no words came.
Her fingers hovered over the screen again, and for the first time, she allowed herself to fully confront the fact that the trust she had begun to build with him was shattered. She had tried to convince herself that he wasnât like the other guys the ones who came and went without a second thought. But now? She wasnât so sure anymore.
She thought back to their first few study sessions, how she had actually started to enjoy spending time with him, how she believed he might actually be different. But now, the way he had spoken so nonchalantly, so carefree made her feel like nothing more than another notch in his belt. she didnât admit it but she was starting to like him.
*What was I thinking?* she wondered. *I shouldâve seen it coming.*
â
Her phone buzzed again, this time a message from Luke. "Hey, are you still coming? iâm waiting for you. Let me know."
Itâs been a couple days since they last talked. The words felt like a punch in the gut. It wasnât just the fact that he was still trying to get her to show up it was how easy it seemed for him, like this was all a game. She had allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was something real there. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized how foolish she had been.
Libby stared at the text for a long time, not knowing what to do. She could go and face him, confront him about what sheâd overheard. But the thought of seeing him, of hearing him casually brush it off like it was nothing, made her stomach turn.
So, she made a decision. She didnât reply. Instead, she locked her phone and shoved it in her bag, the weight of it a reminder of everything she had tried to avoid everything she had hoped wasnât true.
Back in his dorm, Luke checked his phone for the third time in a row, his heart sinking a little more each time. No response from Libby.
*Maybe sheâs just busy,* he tried to tell himself. *Sheâs probably studying. She said she had work to do.*
"Man, you good?" Ethan asked, poking his head into Lukeâs room.
Luke glanced up, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just waiting for Libby. Sheâs probably on her way."
Ethan gave him a skeptical look. "You sure? i thought you said you guys were gonna meet at the library? i doubt sheâd ghost you, i mean you just asked her out.â
Luke's stomach dropped. *Ghost you.* He hated the way that sounded.
"Iâm sure she didnât." Luke said, but there was no conviction in his voice.
Ethan eyed him for a moment before shrugging. "Alright, man. Just donât let this drag on. the semester is close to ending"
Luke didnât respond.
â
It had been a few days since Luke had last heard from Libby. The unanswered texts, the quiet air between them it weighed heavily on him. His mind raced, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Was she mad at him for something he said? Did she really think heâd been playing her all along?
He tried to shake it off, but something kept gnawing at him. He needed to talk to her. He needed to fix whatever happened.
Without another second of hesitation, Luke grabbed his jacket and made his way to Libbyâs dorm. His heart hammered in his chest with every step. He wasnât sure what he was going to say, but he couldnât just sit around waiting. He needed answers.
When he reached her building, the nervousness hit him harder. *What if she doesnât even want to talk to me? What if Iâve ruined everything?* But he couldnât back out now. Not after the hard work he put in to talk to her.
Luke knocked on her dorm door, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. He waited, shifting from foot to foot, hoping sheâd answer. Moments passed, and just as he was about to knock again, the door opened.
Libby stood there, her arms crossed, her face expressionless. She looked almost distant, like she had already made up her mind about everything.
âWhat do you want?â she asked, her voice colder than he expected.
Luke swallowed hard, his nerves threatening to betray him, but he pushed them down. âLibby, we need to talk. I donât know whatâs going on.â
She shook her head, the hurt in her eyes unmistakable. âNo, Luke. We donât need to talk. You need to leave.â
His stomach twisted at the finality in her tone. âWhat? Libby, please. Just hear me outâ
âNo, Luke,â she interrupted, her voice rising just a bit. âYou donât get to do this. You donât get to waltz in here after what I overheard after what you said to make it seem like everything is okay.â
Luke blinked, confused and thrown off. âWhat are you talking about?â
âIs this how you see me?â Libby asked quietly, her voice cracking slightly. âJust another challenge for you to win? Another girl to charm, get close to, and then drop once you get what you want?â
Lukeâs breath caught in his throat after realizing what sheâs talking about. The look of betrayal in her eyes hit him harder than any physical blow.
âLibby, IâI didnât mean for you to find out like this. It wasnât like that. It was justâ
âJust what, Luke?â she cut him off again, her voice steady now, but firm. âJust a bet? A game? You think I wouldnât find out?â She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. âI heard it with my own ears. You were talking to Ethan and the others, talking about how you could pull it off. About how Iâd fall for you. About how it would be easy.â
Luke opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand to stop him.
âNo,â she said, her voice trembling now, but her resolve stronger than ever. âI donât want to hear it. Whatever it is, I donât care. I donât want to see you again, and I donât want to talk to you again. Ever.â
His heart sank. âLibby, please. I wasnât thinking. I didnât mean for you to find out like this. Youâve got to believe me, I wasnât playing you. I care about you. I really do like you.â
Libbyâs eyes softened for a split second, but only for a moment. Then she took a deep breath and looked at him with a finality he hadnât expected.
âNo. You donât. Not the way you think you do. You donât get to act like this is something you care about after everything I heard. You donât get to tell me whatâs real when youâve been lying from the start.â
Lukeâs chest tightened. He couldnât find the words, the right words to make this right. Heâd messed up. He had been selfish. Heâd been careless with her trust.
âIâm sorry,â was all he could manage to say. The words felt too small for the weight of what had happened.
âI donât need your apologies, Luke. I need you to leave.â
His heart broke all over again as he stared at her, seeing the pain in her eyes, feeling the distance between them grow with each passing second.
Without another word, Luke turned to walk away, the heavy feeling in his chest making it feel like every step he took was an effort. He didnât look back. He couldnât. He knew heâd lost her. And this time, there was no coming back from it.
Libby closed the door softly behind him, her heart aching, but relieved. The door was closed now. The distance was real. She would never let herself fall for someone like him again.
Libby didnât know what to think anymore. Luke had broken her trust. The bet was one thing, but hearing him confess his feelings so casually, like it was just some passing remark, left her feeling more betrayed than she cared to admit. Sheâd told him time and time again that she didnât want to be a part of his games, but now it seemed like that was exactly what he had turned her into.
For days, Luke tried reaching out. Texts, calls, small gestures. But Libby wasnât interested in anything he had to say. She couldnât trust him anymore, and the walls sheâd spent years building to protect herself from people like him felt taller than ever.
But Luke wasnât about to give up, not when he finally understood that what he felt for her wasnât just about the challenge.
It wasnât at a game or a party, but in a quiet corner of the campus library that Luke finally caught her alone.
âLibby,â Luke said softly, his voice a little rough. She didnât look up at first, but he didnât let that deter him. He stepped closer to her table, his presence impossible to ignore. âCan we talk?â
Libby glanced at him briefly before her gaze fell back to the book she was pretending to read. She could feel the familiar sting of hurt, but something in his tone made her pause.
âI donât have anything to say to you,â she said, though her voice lacked the usual edge.
Lukeâs expression softened. âI didnât mean to hurt you,â he began, âI should have told you sooner, but I got caught up in the bet. And I... I didnât think Iâd actually fall for you. I never expected this.â
Libbyâs lips parted in surprise, but she didnât speak.
âI like you and i know already told you,â he continued, his words slower now, more deliberate. âNot because of the challenge, not because of some stupid bet. But because of who you are. I know I messed up, and Iâm sorry.â
Libbyâs gaze lifted from the book to meet his eyes, searching for the sincerity she needed to hear. âYouâve been persistent,â she murmured, the words almost to herself. âBut Iâm not sure if you even know what youâre saying.â
Luke took a step closer, lowering his voice. âI know what Iâm saying, Libby. I donât want you to be another bet. You mean more to me than that, and Iâve messed up, but I want to make it right.â
The silence between them hung thick for a moment, the weight of his words settling. Libby looked at him, her heart torn, but the earnestness in his eyes made her hesitate.
âI need time,â she whispered, her heart racing. âBut Iâll think about it.â
Luke smiled, the tension in his body loosening just a little. âIâll wait.â
And for the first time, Libby allowed herself to believe that maybe just maybe there was a chance for something real between them after all, but she wasnât going to give in right now.
#luke hughes#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes x oc#luke hughes x you#luke hughes x y/n#nhl imagine#nhl fic#nhl fanfiction#nhl x reader#nhl x oc#nhl x you#nhl x y/n#luke hughes fanfic#luke hughes fluff#luke hughes fic#hughes brothers#hockey imagine#hockey fic#hockey fanfiction
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contains smut: âĄ
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all for you - â°
seasons of time - college au â
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look what you made me do - series if reputation inspired songs
short nâ sweet (sns)- a series inspired by sabrina carpenter songs from the album of the same name
1989 - a series inspired by taylor swift songs of the same name
love & money - ceo and or sugar daddy stories - $
my only one - stories about the boys as husbands and fathers - â
⢠three simple words - You were his first serious girlfriend and his first for many things, and he was the first boy you had ever actually loved. For some reason saying those three simple words terrified you. âĄ
⢠king of my heart - I'm perfectly fine, I live on my own. I made up my mind, I'm better off being alone. We met a few weeks ago. Now you try on callin' me "baby" like tryin' on clothes. ⥠Ⱐ(rep)
⢠meet me in the hallway (feat: wonwoo x reader x âmingyu) - They been best friends their whole life. Theyâve shared everything but they have never shared a girl. What happens when no one can keep their emotions out of this? âĄ
⢠body and soul - after a rough day the only thing he wants to do is go on a motorcycle ride with you. (can be read as a connecting story to king of my heart) ⥠â°
⢠never leave this bed - once your husband returns from a long trip you want nothing more then to stay in bed together. ⥠â
⢠across the room - caught your eye across the room. No one can feel the tension between me and you. Thereâs no need to mention all the things I wanna do. You wanna do âem too. We both know weâd be over if they knew. âĄ
⢠15 minutes - âOr you could do both. Go suck the life out of him and then tell him you like him. Youâre really good with your mouth. Your head game definitely made me emotional more than once.â He pats your back. ⥠(sns)
⢠heaven knows (wonwoo x reader x mingyu) - who knew being roommates could turn into so much more. âĄ
⢠intentions - Butterflies swirl around your stomach at his words. Itâs become very obvious that Wonwoo has also wanted this for a while. Turns out your crush wasnât so one sided. Maybe you were both just too blind to see what was in front of you. âĄ
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