#that is to say...... feel free to message

[burrowdarling]

My MVP (18+)

Summary: You and Joe take on the NFL Honors, leading to a whole lot more.

Pairings: boyfriend!Joe Burrow x girlfriend!reader

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: descriptions of sex, masturbation, praise, definitely missing stuff MDNI

Note: I'm so proud of Joe and everything he accomplished this season. On another note, he looked so gorgeous I just had to write something.

Edit: minor changes to the end so that location makes sense

Word Count: 2.8k

Check out my Masterlist here!

Taglist: @burrowbarbie @definitelynotdomanique @one-sweet-gubler @plushkhiii @enchantedinfinity @iosivb9 @hellsingalucard18 @hotburreaux Feel free to comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the list!

You were sitting on your bed in yours and Joe's hotel room, about to put on your heels when Joe walked out from the bathroom in his suit. You stopped your actions, letting your eyes scan over him without shame. It was unique, the tie on the side different from any old traditional suit, but you firmly believed Joe could look great in anything. You moved from the exposed skin of his chest, down his legs before moving back up to his face. Your eyes caught his, offering you a smile with a wink. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Joe said with a hint of lust to his tone. 

You shook your head at him with a smile of your own, though your eyes never left his. The suit was everything, the lack of shirt underneath was a choice and a good one at that. His hair cut was a nice touch, the loosely tousled curls with the tight sides made him look handsome, you were convinced there wasn’t a hairstyle he couldn’t pull off. You were pulled out of your less than appropriate thoughts by Joe's voice. 

“Let me,” Joe said as he dropped to his knees before you. 

Your air hitched in your throat as you felt Joe's strong hands grip your calf as he slipped your heel on your right foot. So much for taming your thoughts, your feelings heightening all over again twice as hard. He strapped the heel, giving your leg a squeeze before placing a kiss to your knee and moving to the next. Joe repeated his actions on your left side, feeling yourself getting hotter by the second. 

“If you don’t stand up, I’m gonna find a way to keep you on your knees,” you said breathlessly. 

Joe chuckled, standing and helping you to your feet. He towered over you, even with your heels. Your height difference was something that you loved about your dynamic.

“You know I would never say no to that, but we’re in a bit of a time crunch here. Can you help me put my necklace on?” Joe asked.

“You? Willing putting on jewelry? I’m really doing a number on you huh?”

“Oh hush, you know you love it. I would sometimes wear jewelry before you, ya know,” Joe joked as he placed his chain in your hand, turning his back to you. 

“I prefer this jewelry right here,” you spoke as you took his hand and brought it up to your mouth. 

You swear you watched his eyes darken as you placed his hand at the front of your neck, taunting him even more than before. You knew you were being a brat, but you couldn’t help it when he looked like this. He lightly gripped your neck and pulled your face to his, resting his forehead on yours. 

“Sweetheart if you don’t cool it, we won’t even make it to the event,” Joe growled slowly, his threat sounding more like a temptation than as a punishment. 

“Oh no, having to keep you here to myself when you look like walking sex, boohoo to me.”

“If you don’t stop being fresh, you’ll have to worry about your actual punishment for later. Now please just help me out so we’re not late,” Joe said with a hint of annoyance in his tone, more from the growing erection he was getting that he couldn’t take care of. You were stood toe to toe with him, your eyes practically calling out for him to fuck you right then and there.

He had a great view of your chest from this angle, having no shame in looking at you the same way you were looking at him. You could feel the tension in the room, begging the man in front of you to undress you with more than just his eyes. 

“I can take a picture for you if you’d like, add it to your spank bank,” you replied back to his earlier comment to you.

He rolled his eyes playfully at your terminology as he turned around. He leaned down just a tad, helping you to reach his neck. The position felt odd, the roles usually being reversed. You were happy with him stepping out of his comfort zone. The pops of color of the stones against his skin looked incredible. You noticed the matching chain that went across the top of his thigh, the small detail making him even harder to resist.

Joe turned back to face you, taking a step back and gesturing in a way to ask ‘how do I look?’ You nodded your head in approval, taking a step towards him to hold him in a tight embrace. 

“I want you to know that however tonight goes, I’m still proud of everything you accomplished this season,” you spoke into his chest meaning every word despite your playful attitude moments before. 

You felt him squeeze you tighter, your words taking a few moments to sink in and register. He swayed you gently back and forth, feeling his chest rise and fall. Joe placed a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo that grounded you.

“Thank you sweetheart, I'm ready to go wherever you are,” Joe said as he held back tears of his own. You nodded softly as you  grabbed your purse and headed out the door.

You both walked the red carpet, watching Joe command the cameras he had such a hatred for. He kept you as close as he could as you both made your way through the packed crowd of people. You did your best to keep him grounded and sane, knowing the worst of it would be over soon and you;d be in your seats with Ja’Marr. He did interviews, met with some fans, and took loads of pictures. You were so impressed with knowing that this kind of thing was his least favorite. He kept a smile on his face and a positive attitude. You finally made it through, watching him fully exhale one you were inside and in your seats. It wasn’t too long after the show had begun with Snoop Dogg taking the stage. He made his comments to the NFL stars, making a comment to Joe about the Bengals defense and his batmobile, causing you to hold in your laughter.

The night moved fast, award after award being announced when it finally got to the comeback player of the year. This was the second award Joe was up for tonight, the first going to Sawuon who you felt also was very deserving of it. You held your breath as the highlight video showed all of the nominees. It wasn’t until Randy Moss had announced Joe’s name that your nerves had dissipated. You turned to face Joe, feeling overwhelmed with joy as he brought you in for a hug and placed a kiss on your temple. He took the stage, your heart feeling full at him finally getting some type of recognition for all of his hard work. Joe and Justin did their handshake, making your heart swell even more at their connection.

“Hello, I wouldn't say this is necessarily an award you want to be nominated for two times, but I'm proud of the work I've put in to come back from the injuries I seem to face each year. Fortunately  I’m healthy this year and I have my team of people to thank for that,” Joe said, finishing his speech with everyone he recognized as important to his success before thanking everyone.

Joe walked off the stage, giving you a look before turning to head off with Justin and the others. You felt the familiar pit form in your stomach. You sat back in your seat with your mind reeling from his win, though it wasn’t the award you were hoping it was. Your thoughts were confirmed of Joe’s whereabouts when you felt your phone buzz in your purse. 

Come meet me

Simple and to the point, holding so much tension behind the screen. You could feel the heat rise on your cheeks, walking to find your way behind the stage while everyone was occupied during the commercial break. You were able to get backstage, finding Joe posing with his award looking like he owned the world. It wasn’t doing anything to tell the growing wetness between your legs and the ache in your core.

When his eyes found yours, his face lit up as he strode towards you. You took a few steps to meet him, taking you into his arms in a tight hug. 

“I’m so proud of you babe, you’re so fucking amazing,” you choked out as you felt tears well up in your eyes. 

Joe took your face in his hands, swiping the forming drops before they could run down your cheeks. 

“Hey, no tears okay? Don’t wanna ruin that pretty makeup yet. That’s gonna be my job when we get home,” Joe said, saying the last part quieter than the rest. 

His words earned a small laugh from you helping to stave off any more tears. You were so overwhelmed with emotions that the only way your body knew how to cope was through tears. 

“What do you say we get out of here hmm? I wanna get you out of this dress.”

“What about the rest of the show?”

“I already know I didn’t win MVP baby, I’d much rather spend the rest of my night with you. I’ve been exhausted from all of this press shit. You know I don’t do this often, I’m absolutely beat.”

“How beat?”you asked, hopeful.

“Not too tired for you, don’t you worry,” Joe assured you, noting the relief in your shoulders from your pent up desire.

You felt a shiver creep up your spine as you made your way out of the venue, Joe's hand in yours.

“You cold? I’d give you my jacket but I don’t exactly have a shirt underneath and I don’t think I wanna deal with the media field day of me walking around shirtless.”

“But you’d look so chivalrous, but we can't have me looking better in it than you. I also know it’ll look great on the hotel floor,” you spoke as you looked up at him with a mischievous smile. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into Joe in an attempt to get whatever warmth you could. He slipped his hand out of yours and slung his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side. 

“You know you can still be my MVP tonight, except mine would stand for most valuable pe-” Joe cut you off with a hand over your mouth, sending you into a fit of laughter.

“I’m cutting you off, you better keep it down until we're not in public anymore,” Joe said, trying to hold in laughter of his own.

“Whatever you say, da-” you mumbled out, Joe pressing his hand tighter against your mouth.

Getting under Joe’s skin was your favorite when it was all in good fun. You secretly loved watching the strong vein in his neck as he tried his hardest to hold himself back. His face was bright red, that same vein bulging out from the tenson you were causing.

“It really is never dull with you is it? I guess I'll just have to make you cum until the only thing out of your mouth is my name." Joe whispered in your ear as it was your turn to go bright red.

Joe’s hand fell from your mouth with a small nod in obedience. You were aware of the thin line you shouldn’t cross, wanting to be able to function tomorrow. Instead you let your mind wander to what the rest of the night would have in store for you. You couldn't wait to get home and celebrate your MVP.

You were grateful Joe decided to drive you both to the awards, with him looking absolutely delectable behind the wheel of his porsche. His knuckles were a hint of white from his grip on the wheel, one hand reaching out your thigh without taking his eyes off of the road. You felt Joe's hand inch slowly up your leg, hiking you dress up in the process. Anytime you tried to question his movements you were met with silence. You swore you stopped breathing when his fingers brushed your inner thigh to skim your already wet panties.

“Fuck baby, you’re already soaking wet for me. I bet you’ve been thinking about this all day hm?” Joe chided, damn well knowing the answer to his own question.

All you were able to muster was a nod, unsure of your voice just from his barely there touch. Joe wasn’t having it though, wanting to hear you say it. He pulled his hand away and settled it in his lap to adjust himself.

“As punishment for your smart mouth, you’re gonna cum right here all by yourself before we get back to the hotel,” Joe said with the most even tone he’s had all night.

You were baffled, dumbstruck by his request with the fear that someone driving by would see you exposed. The other part of you was exhilarated by him, being on display for his eyes only in the damn passenger seat brought a whole new meaning to being a passenger princess.

“C’mon you don't have all night, I’ll make it longer until you cum if you don’t get to work. Either slide them over or slip them off, the heels stay on though,” Joe commanded, knowing what your heels did to him.

You didn’t hesitate, sliding your wet panties down your legs and bending your right knee to prop it against the door. The cool air against your hot center sent a wave of chills down your spine, your stomach in knots at what you were about to do and where.

You brought your right hand down to your pussy, dipping your index finger to your entrance before bringing the wet digit to your clit. You sighed out in relief at some type of friction happening, laying your head back against the seat with your eyes fluttering closed at the contact. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking sexy. Can I have a taste,” Joe groaned, trying his best to keep his eyes forward though it was hard with the sight of your bare pussy beside him.

You nodded with a hum, taking your index and middle fingers of your left hand down to your center before plunging them inside. The sensation felt lovely, but nothing compared to how full Joe’s fingers made you feel. You pulled them out, bringing them to Joe’s mouth. He pulled them in, swirling his tongue to get every last drop he could. You moaned deeply, fingers moving rapidly over your clit at the feeling of Joe’s mouth around your digits. He licked them clean, releasing your fingers with a pop. You immediately brought your spit covered fingers dwon to your pussy and began to work them in out of you, the thought that they came from Joe making things even hotter in your mind.

“You getting close, baby? I can give you a little help,” Joe spoke tenderly, sliding the strap of your dress off your shoulder to expose your chest a little more. 

Joe reached over, palming your breast the best he could. The feeling of his touch on you was enough to send you to the edge of release, seeking that one last push. As if Joe could tell, he reached over top of the fabric, tweaking your bare nipple between his thumb and forefinger. That was your undoing combined with your own movements. The string in your stomach snapped from his touch, releasing all over your fingers with a loud moan and Joe’s name falling in succession from your lips. 

You took a moment to catch your breath, looking over at Joe with a feeling of relief though you still wanted more. Joe nodded towards your fingers, knowing he wanted another taste. You brought them back to his lips, repeating his actions from before as he reveled in the taste of you. Once he deemed them clean, you took your hand back and slipped your wet panties back up your legs. You managed to finish before you pulled up to the hotel, getting there a few minutes later. You did your best to appear presentable, knowing you'd see a few people before making it to the privacy of your hotel room. Joe pulled the car up to the valet out front, walking around to your side of the car to help you out. He extended his hand out to you which you kindly took, not trusting your legs fully on your own.

“I hope you still have some energy after that, you’re gonna need it,” Joe said before his lips were on yours. You knew you’d need to brace yourself for the long night ahead of you.

[olderthannetfic]

I mean, I do feel like if someone was traumatized by their religious upbringing, helping them to recognize that as a bad thing and helping them to be free of it is arguably the right move? Yeah just telling them “god isn’t real, get over it” is most likely insensitive but arguably freeing them of their self hating beliefs is the ideal outcome?

--

Man... I was raised to despise religion, but a steady diet of nerdy youtube and really weirdly anti-intellectual takes on tumblr has forced me into repeatedly defending religion. I did not ask for this, but here we are.

Personally, I find most religion kind of dumb, but it is a key part of a great portion of humanity's search for meaning. It's the backbone of so many cultures in so many places and times. Knowing about it is useful for everything from being more politically informed to making up better fantasy world building in fiction.

When a person has religious trauma because they were told that their religion, in this context probably Christianity, hates them, telling them to ditch religion is like telling them they're not allowed to ever have a birthday party again because their abusive parents did something awful at their past ones. Ah yes, cut yourself off from major celebrations and cultural experiences, not to mention community. That's sure to fix things!

It would be far more effective at 1. making them feel better and 2. making them stop adhering to a shitty religion if we introduced them to better religion.

The history of Christianity is one of the most studied subjects on the fucking planet. There are a multitude of progressive scholars who have explored things like how the early church very possibly had major female figures that later asswipes tried to downplay and cover up. I think Religion for Breakfast has some interesting videos that at least touch on this.

There's a whole complex conversation to be had both about how the early church actually handled same-sex relationships and about why a given prescription is even in there from an anthropological perspective. Take the pork thing: it's probably about taxes. Some of the others are about differentiation from nearby groups at the time. Understanding the historical cultural context helps dismantle the idea that this or that specific prescription is a vital core part of the religion that must remain unchanging thousands of years later.

"A true Christian wouldn't have abused their gay kid" is a far better message than "Give up everything you know", and it has plenty of support from scholars who are deeply religious but not dumbass textual literalists who can't grasp that even if a holy text were the word of god, English language edition such-and-such is subject to human interference in the form of All Your Base-level translators.

If Christianity or whatever religion is the issue is a no go due to the traumatized person's past experiences, plenty of people would still be happier finding a different religion than going without.

I really, really cannot emphasize this enough: Religion is a key part of many people's lives the same way, say, sex is.

A lot of people around here seem to fundamentally not get this in the same way that you see people who haven't realized how ace they are going "But whyyyyy?" over the central role that horny plays in somebody else's life. You don't gotta get it, my dudes. Doesn't mean it's going away.

Even just understanding the parameters of what counts as religion and all the different flavors that exist out there will help put the trauma into context for many people. Your asshole parents are in a cult not because all religion is lies but because this Christianity has been perverted into a vehicle for abuse. Other religious people like the scientific method, research, logic, and evidence. It's just your church that's atrocious.

Shitty religion leads to self hate.

You can pick another religion.

[vettelsvee]

LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE | Sebastian Vettel

High School History Teacher!Sebastian Vettel x Primary School Teacher!Reader ↳ Teacher AU ⋆ Part of CLASSROOM GOSSIPS

SUMMARY: Seb is stressed because his students did pretty bad in their latest History exam, but he gets more stressed and grumpy when Y/N, the cutest Primary School teacher according to Seb, arrives to the teacher's lounge to "annoy" him, but the truth is that there's more than that ↳ BASED ON THIS POST I MADE THE OTHER DAY!

WORD COUNT: 3099

WARNINGS: LOTS OF GRUMPY (Seb) X SUNSHINE (Reader), some bad words, cursing, nothing else but wait till the end because I assure you you're gonna love it!

TAGLIST: @koalapastries @vampsarereal @gracie23x @cutelittlefakejourneys @scopeiguess @hoziersfrancesca

VEE'S NOTES: I ABSOLUTELY adored writing this, and I hope you like it as much as I do! This goes all the way up to the top of my fave fics written by me. Also, a toast to you because you liked all this Teacher!Seb thing a lot 🥹 I'd love to read your opinions on this, so feel free to leave me a comment, an anon message or reblogging since it helps us creators a lot. Thank you so much for reading, and hope you like it! <3 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST | BUY ME A COFFEE

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

“How can you say that World War II ended with the fall of the Berlin Wall? My God...”

“It makes no sense at all, but if you ask whoever told you that, they’ll give you a convincing enough answer to make you pass their exam.”

Sebastian lifted his head, even though he didn't need to in order to know who was speaking.

Y/N Y/L/N, the second-grade teacher who is the pure representation of the sunshine itself. Your smile, always revealing your teeth, and your energy, isn’t exactly contagious to him, and even sometimes that'd be enough to make someone want to throw up.

You were standing in front of him, holding an absurd amount of papers. Seb couldn't avoid looking at you. No matter how much you might irritate him at times, he found you more than fascinating. He admired you in every single aspect and, somehow, that made him pretty angry with himself. You took the opportunity to silently show him some drawings of bees. Bees. Happy bees. Sad bees. Damn it, there were even bees wearing party hats and surrounded by confetti, and other baking and having coffee.

Sebastian said nothing. Instead, he ignored you and continued grading exams, but you didn't take it personally since you know how stressed he had to be with his class.

It didn't take long before a series of increasingly loud bangs started to get on his nerves.

When he looked up again, he saw you struggling with the printer, which seemed to have decided not to work.

“Why is it that every time I come here, this stupid, useless piece of junk decides to stop working?” you huffed, nearly shouting. “It’s like… like it’s out to get me!”

“Maybe it’s because you make too many copies every week,” Vettel replies.

“I have to give my students a quality education, Seb. And a quality education includes, among other things, making as many copies as I need to teach the contents properly!”

“And does your quality education include printing an entire colony of bees?”

You shrugged, offering no further explanation. Instead, you grabbed a nearby chair and dragged it until it was next to Sebastian. To his utter surprise, you sat down beside him, placing your absurdly thick stack of papers on top of the ungraded exams.

If you didn’t leave in the next few seconds, Seb swore he'd have a heart attack.

“My kids need all of this, Seb,” you said again, showing him those ridiculous drawings once more. “They’re learning about pollination, and what better way than by coloring little bees and then putting them all over the classroom to represent how they work?”

“I’m currently questioning whether I’m a complete failure as a teacher so, to be completely honest with you, the last thing I need right now is you showing me this... nonsense.”

You scoffed, knowing he didn’t mean it. He was just too stressed. His students failing with embarrassingly low grades didn’t mean his skills as a teacher were declining, but it did mean he’d have an army of parents breathing down his neck, demanding explanations for why their children’s performance was so poor.

“Stop saying things like that!” You smacked his shoulder, and his patience wore even thinner when he noticed a red pen mark on the exam he was grading. One that, knowing all too well his students and their thoughts, they’d probably say looked like a penis.

“You’re not a failure. Teenagers are just… idiots.”

“Is that your opinion as a professional in the education field?2

“Of course!” you shouted, waving your hands dramatically. “Why do you think I teach Primary school? Little kids are way cuter, and they think I’m a genius just because I can spell difficult words without getting any help.”

Seb tried not to, but a small smile started creeping onto his face. He quickly bit his lower lip and shifted in his seat, attempting to maintain his composure even though sitting next to you made him more nervous and, especially, more entertained, than he would have liked to admit.

“Look at you! I made you smile!”

“If I admit that you're almost funny, will you leave me alone?”

“Let me think about it… No.”

Sebastian didn’t even get a chance to answer before you suddenly jumped out of your chair and rushed toward the printer again.

“I just remembered why I came here! Oh my god, why do I have to be sooooooo forgetful?”

“I suppose that’s to make my life more miserable,” the German replied, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s just a bonus, Seb,” you turned to him, still smiling. “So, yeah, this printer isn’t working because… Well, I don’t know why. But I really need to make these copies, so I guess I’ll have to go back to the Primary school teachers' lounge…”

Sebastian stared at you, unsure of what to say.

Was he misunderstanding things because of stress, or he understood that you had actually walked all the way to the High School section, which was not anywhere near the Primary one, just to make copies, despite having a perfectly good printer in your own area?

“Did you come all the way from the Primary section to the High School one just for… some photocopies?”

“Yes!” you nodded enthusiastically.

“You're perfectly aware that there's a much better printer over there, right?”

“Well, that’s debatable if you consider…”

“Y/N, cut the bullshit.”

You pressed your lips together, unsure of how to tell him that your free period, and your desire to see him, was the real reason you had come all this way, even if it had earned you a few questioning looks and whispered comments from some of your colleagues in the upper grades.

“Well… Maybe I also decided to come here to see you,” you admitted.

Vettel had no idea how to reply to that. He tried to think of something friendly and lighthearted, but his stress seemed to take over before he could filter his words.

“I'm this close to kicking you out, Y/N.”

You only laughed, placing a dramatic hand over your chest and letting out a fake gasp. Seb loved when you acted like this, but right now, he hated it more than ever.

“Oh, please, you wouldn’t dare. I’m your favorite person out of all the people in this school.”

“Funny, because right now you happen to be exactly the opposite,” he muttered.

“You didn’t mean that. I know you didn’t.”

Seb shook his head and buried himself back in grading exams. Of course, he hadn’t meant it. No one was perfect, but somehow, you came pretty damn close without even trying.

“Stop making that weird face, or you’re going to get wrinkles ahead of time,” you teased. By now, you had sat back down beside him and were carefully cutting out flower-shaped drawings with impressive precision.

“You are insufferable, Y/N, really,” Vettel shot back as he meticulously corrected a student's answer about the causes of World War II.

“And yet, you still haven’t told me to shut up.”

Seb frowned. He wanted to do it. He should do it. But he couldn’t. You were too kind to him for him to snap at you… just like what was happening now.

He cursed himself mentally and swore that, from now on, he would grade exams at home to avoid this kind of altercation. Though, deep down, he also knew he would do it because, maybe, it would give him a little more time to spend with you.

Suddenly, you moved closer to him, too close, and took his chin. Your eyes locked, and for a few seconds, neither of you could say anything, let alone voice everything running through your minds about each other.

“You need a break, Seb.”

Your hand instinctively moved to his cheek, caressing it with a kind of affection that neither of you expected. He swallowed hard, trying to stay calm, but his heart only pounded faster and faster, and he couldn’t see it as anything other than a betrayal of his feelings for you.

“Why do you always have to be a threat to me, Y/N?”

You simply smiled before leaving a kiss on his cheek and standing up.

“You can keep pretending all you want, but you know you love it,” you said, grabbing your things and heading toward the door, though not before turning back to him.

Sebastian knew exactly what you meant by doing that. He let out a deep sigh and carefully gathered all the exams, placing them in his briefcase along with his pencil case and phone.

“If I go with you wherever you’re going, do you promise to shut up?”

“Nop, there’s no way I’m doing that,” you replied cheerfully, taking his arm the moment he was beside you and dragging him out of the teachers’ lounge with no real destination in mind.

The German was beyond exhausted. He felt his head throbbing more than usual, which he knew was a sign of an oncoming migraine. He felt drained, frustrated, and more plagued by imposter syndrome than ever. It wasn’t the first time he’d had bad results on an exam, but it was the first time they had been this awful.

He decided not to dwell on it and did his best to push his intrusive thoughts aside, focusing instead on the woman beside him.

You couldn’t stop talking. First, you told him about how your kids, as you called your second-grade students, had made Christmas cards for you and even brought you a gift after the holidays. Then, you talked about how, today, your favorite student (because, according to you, yes, teachers had favorites) had dropped a piece of her sandwich on the floor, and you had to give her your own breakfast but it was worth it since she was more than happy to be having Ms. Y/L/N handmade cheesecake.

Now, you had launched into an explanation of the biodiversity project you were preparing for your students, focusing specifically on the importance of bees in the ecosystem. You even showed him some pictures of what you had been working on at home because you wanted it to turn out so well that you couldn’t just work on it during school hours.

“So…” you said after finishing your explanation. “What do you think about my project so far?”

Sebastian kept walking, trying to process the flood of information you had just given him in such a short time. While some of the pictures looked like pure chaos, something completely opposite to him, the embodiment of perfection, he had to admit that it was good. Really good, actually.

“Well… it looked fun,” he admitted.

“Are you serious!?” you squealed, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

He gave you a shy smile.

“Yes, of course, I mean it.”

“Oh, look at him! Grumpy Seb handing out compliments so easily!” you shouted again, now bouncing on your feet, earning a few disapproving looks from the teachers passing by. “This calls for me to get you a coffee!”

“Y/N, I don’t feel like having coffee. I already had one this morning, and I don’t think it’s the best idea, considering how nervous I—”

“That’s nonsense!” you interrupted, marching toward the Primary school section. “You’re going to have coffee with me, no matter what, and you’re going to thank me because I’m convinced my coffee is way better than that vending machine garbage you drink daily.”

“I’ll thank you the day not a single one of my students fails one of my exams,” he told you.

The Primary school teachers' lounge was empty when you both walked in. You didn’t say much, just offered Seb a seat and told him to make himself at home while you headed to your locker. The German pulled out the stack of exams once again, ready to continue grading them, if you didn’t annoy him again. As he kept marking the papers, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. Not only were you making him a cup of coffee, but you also seemed to be decorating it. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, you were writing something on a piece of paper.

When you returned, you placed the mug in front of him. It had “Bee positive” written on it, and it was decorated, of course, with a little bee making a heart with its tiny hands. As if that wasn’t enough, you had somehow managed to create an impressive amount of cream, topped with a smiley face that looked like it had been made with cinnamon.

Then, as you took a seat beside him, you slid a note his way, the one he assumed you had been writing earlier.

“Even if you’re having a gray day, remember that you can always make the sun shine! Sincerely, your very own little Miss Sunshine,” followed by a heart and, unsurprisingly, a bunch of smiley faces.

He didn’t know what to say. His eyes, however, when they met yours, seemed to say everything.

“You know, maybe all you need is just a new approach.”

Your sudden change of topic, spoken as you took another bite of your chocolate cupcake, threw him off a little. But he preferred it over the uncomfortable silence you both knew was bound to settle in.

“I’ve already tried, Y/N.”

“Have you tried bribing them?”

Seb narrowed his eyes, impressed and clearly not convinced by what you had just suggested.

“I’m not going to bribe my students, Y/N.”

“Not even by making them work in teams and offering extra credit?” You widened your eyes in surprise. “Have you considered bringing cookies and handing them out? That works incredibly great as a positive reinforcement, trust me”

“I’m not giving my students cookies or anything else,” Seb stated firmly. “I don’t know what to do with them, and that’s what worries me the most. What if I start acting like, no offense, a Primary school teacher, when they’re only two years away from university?”

You shook your head. It annoyed you that Sebastian was so… rigid, so unwilling to change. But what annoyed you even more was that you couldn’t seem to find the right way to help him.

“If you help me with the biodiversity project and actively participate in it, I promise I’ll find a way to make sure all your kids pass the remaining exams this year,” you proposed.

“And what exactly does a primary school teacher know about teenagers and History?”

“First of all, stop being so grumpy with me… I’m just trying to help you!” You huffed, crossing your arms. He wasn’t expecting that answer, and honestly, neither were you. Sebastian straightened in his seat, a bit uncomfortable. “Second, I happen to have a few tricks up my sleeve, but I’m not sharing them until you agree with helping me with the project.”

“Y/N…”

“What is it? What you don’t like: bees, seven-year-olds, or me?"

“I don’t like bees that much, I love being around little kids, and I’m completely captivated by you.”

That was what Sebastian wanted to say. Instead, he stayed silent, absentmindedly playing with the coffee spoon while staring at the note you had written for him.

“You do realize how many exams I still have to grade, right?” was all he managed to reply.

“Seb, you need to relax. I’ve told you before, but I’ll keep saying it as many times as necessary until you actually listen to me.”

“I can’t relax,” Vettel muttered, furrowing his brows. “Do you have any idea how painful it is to read that…?”

You didn’t let him time to finish speaking. You approached him faster than you’d planned, took his face in your hands, and kissed him. At first, Seb was completely caught off guard, but then he placed his right hand on your neck, pulling you closer and making sure the contact between you didn’t break.

Sebastian wondered why he hadn’t done this sooner, while you were more than happy to finally have the courage to take the initiative, especially since it seemed like your work crush was responding with a lot of enthusiasm.

The lack of air forced you to pull away. You readjusted yourself in your seat and couldn’t help but laugh when you saw your lipstick smeared all over Seb’s mouth.

“Did you just…?” Seb tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“Yes, and I don’t mind doing it again,” you kissed him once again, but this time it was shorter. “Sebastian Vettel, I need you to stop worrying about those fucking exams and take a break.”

Now, Sebastian couldn’t stop smiling, and that’s exactly when you knew you had won that battle.

“You’re so lucky you’re too cute and beautiful and you’re keeping me at my feet somehow, because I swear I wouldn’t stop talking and be annoying just for you to shut me up by kissing me.”

Your eyes lit up at his tease, and your mouth opened in surprise at what Seb had just confessed.

“Sorry, did you just call me cute and beautiful, and also say you want me to shut you up by kissing you?” you pressed him.

Seb didn’t know what to say. His cheeks started to turn red out of embarrassment.

“If I’d known this was going to happen between us, I should’ve asked you to work together waaaay sooner!” you shouted, jumping up in excitement and sitting on his lap. If he hadn’t grabbed you tightly around the waist and balanced the chair, you would’ve ended up on the floor. “Say it again, come on!”

“No way I’m repeating that, Y/N.”

“Please, Seb,” you pouted, then kissed him all over his face. “Just one more time, please…”

“No.”

“Please…”

“Y/N…”

“Seeeeeeebastian.”

“You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met,” Seb started, “but, somehow, you’re also my very own Little Miss Sunshine.”

You smiled brightly at his words, but you knew this wouldn’t be the end of things between you.

“I’m not your Little Miss Sunshine yet. At least, not officially,” you teased.

“Oh, really?”

You shook your head.

“I’ll be when you finally have the courage to ask me on a date,” you replied cheerfully, wrapping your hands around his neck and kissing him once more. “I’ve taken the first step and kissed you not once, but twice, so now it’s your turn. We’ve got to work as a team, Seb. Haven’t you learned that all these years working as a teacher?”

[insidekatmind]

Deal-Cho Sang-Woo

Wearning: +18,smut

Request: yes!

Cho Sang-Woo didn't feel guilty about ending the lives of most of his teammates. While Gi-Hun, his childhood friend, had shown a sense of compassion and had given up the money he had won to donate it to the families of the dead players., Sang-woo wasn't happy that he gave up the money, causing him to lose too.. The next months were filled with attempts to regain his financial stability, but he failed, as usual. That was until he received a card, the same one that had invited him to the ‘Squid Game’ a year ago.

This card was different. It was black, with golden figures unlike anything he had ever seen. Sang-Woo studied it, wondering whether it was worth reaching out to them again. His desperation pushed him to make the call. What they offered him left him in disbelief: they didn’t want him as a player, but as a guard. The message explained that he had been under secret surveillance by the organizers and that they believed he was suited to participate in the game from the other side, in the highest rank.

Sang-Woo returned to the island, now in a new role:his mask bearing the symbol of a square. Everything had changed. He had access to things he never had before. As the games began, he couldn’t help but notice Player 424:you. Sang-Woo was sure that you were destined to win these games.

It was a night like any other, and you, like everyone else, were condemned to live in constant fear and hope. The games of Squid Game had turned each day into a fight for survival. Yet, that evening something strange was happening. When they were escorting you to the bathroom, one of the guards stopped you and ordered the others to leave you alone.

You had never seen this particular guard before, but his appearance left no doubt: he was one of the highest-ranking, with the square mask indicating his position. His face was emotionless, but you knew he wasn’t there for a simple check-up.

"424," he said, his voice filtered through the mask, as the bathroom door closed behind you. "We need to talk."

His words hit you like a sudden blow. The tone was authoritative, but also curious. It wasn’t a request; it was an order. You felt vulnerable, but also trapped in the situation. You had no choice but to listen.

"You’re not like the others," he continued, his voice now harder. "I’ve been watching your behavior. Your determination. I... I can help you."

He paused for a moment, as though weighing every word he was about to say. You, unsure of what to expect, waited in silence, trying not to show your fear.

"These games aren’t just a test of survival," he finally said. "They’re a test of corruption. And I’m willing to make you win, if you accept my conditions. You just need to follow the rules. Because this time, those inside the game can also control it."

His gaze, hidden behind the mask, seemed even more threatening. You knew this proposal wasn’t free; something was about to change drastically. You had heard stories of alliances, betrayals, and deceptions, but never of someone willing to put everything on the line like this. Your life, as always, depended on a decision.

"Do you accept?" he asked, his voice low and relentless.

It was a difficult choice, but you knew this could be your only way to win. The question hung in the air, and you, aware that time was not on your side, answered in your own way, ready to find out just how far you'd go in the heart of the game.

You look at the guard in surprise. "What do you want in return?" you whisper. The guard's gaze was fixed on your face. Even though you couldn't see his expression through the mask, you could feel his satisfaction with your immediate question.

He moves closer to you, touching your lip with his thumb.“Nothing but your total loyalty.” He replied in a firm but calm voice. "Total obedience." he continues to say as he continues to play with your lip “and you give me pleasure ” he whispers possessively.

Before you has the opportunity to respond, he grabs you by the hips and pushes you against the sink. He was now standing in front and between your legs, bringing his body even closer to yours. You could feel his heat through his clothes, as his gaze remained glued onto your face.Sang-woo leans down and whispers in your ear. "You'll do what I say and I will get you out of this game. Simple enough to understand."

You nod at his words. "To be clear, what do you mean by 'that I have to give you pleasure'?" you whisper. He chuckles at your question, still having your body pinned down against the sink. "I like how your mind works right away." He starts to play with the hem of your shirt, his fingers lightly brushing against the skin of your abdomen.

His voice was barely a whisper, but you could feel the heat of his breath against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine."When I say that you have to give me pleasure, I mean every type of pleasure I decide." He runs his nose across your neck, breathing you in.

He lifts his mask.Sang-woo slowly starts placing soft kisses along your jawline, moving his lips to your ear, his touch leaving a trail of hot, tingles on your skin. He takes your earlobe into his mouth, licking and biting lightly before continuing to whisper."You'll give me anything I want. Any type of pleasure I need." He says against your ear, his words both a statement and a demand.He moves backwards, giving you a little space. You could see his eyes staring at you from behind the mask. He reaches up and slowly starts to lift the mask from his face.

You're left speechless for a moment, as you see his face for the first time. He's beautiful, there is no denying it. His features are sharp, yet oddly delicate. He has soft brown eyes that are staring at you with such intensity that you feel frozen in place, his gaze pinning you down more than his body ever had.

Sang woo reaches for your chin, making you look up at him. He slowly presses his thumb against your lip, almost like he was trying to memorize the feel of your skin. "Do we have a deal then?"

He asks slowly, his voice now clearer without the mask.Sang-woo leans his face down even closer, his eyes fixed on yours. He looks almost predatory, but you can also feel a hint of excitement within his gaze.His hand was still holding your chin and he gently caresses your cheek, his touch unexpectedly tender.

“Yes,” you whisper, looking at him, taking in his face. He nods, still looking at you intently. A small sly smirk appears on his lips as he hears your agreement.

"Good," he says, his voice still a low, husky whisper.He runs his hand down your neck, his fingers trailing over your collarbone and down your chest. His touch is light but possessive, as if he was marking you as his property.Sang-woo moves even closer to you, his body pressing against yours.His hand is on your side now, slipping under your shirt and against your skin. You can feel the heat of his touch as he starts to move further up."I'm going to enjoy having you." he whispers, his voice a mix of excitement and satisfaction.His lips brush against your neck again, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

You moan softly and cling to him. He hums against your neck in response, feeling your hands holding onto him. He seems pleased with your reaction and becomes even more bold, his kisses turning into soft, gentle bites along your skin. His hand that was on your torso moves even higher, sliding over your stomach and then back down, his touch leaving a trail of tingles on your skin he explores your body.

His fingers dig into your waist, his grip on you tightening as he pulls you even closer. His body is flush against yours, the heat of his skin mixing with yours.He continues to kiss and bite along your neck and jawline, each touch leaving you even more breathless. He starts moving lower, his mouth tracing a path down from your neck to your collarbone, and then down to your chest.

He pushes your shirt up a bit as his lips find the exposed skin. He pauses to look at you, his eyes now dark with desire. He then moves back to your neck, his teeth gently biting your earlobe before he speaks."My pretty thing..." he whispers, the possessive tone clear in his voice. He pushes a leg between yours, his thigh pressing against you.

You moan again looking at him. He can see the lust in your eyes as he looks back at you, his own gaze equally intense. His leg is still pressed between yours, and he leans in to whisper in your ear again."You like this, don't you? The way I touch you, the way I claim you as mine?" He says, his voice a low, gruff purr against your skin.

You nod, your breath catching in your throat as he presses closer, his body fully against yours. His thigh presses against you even more, and he chuckles softly at your reaction."Good," he whispers, his hand sliding up to your jaw, turning your face towards his. "Because I'm going to take you completely. Every inch of you."

You moan, clinging to him even tighter. He leans down, capturing your lips in a deep, demanding kiss. His hand grips your chin tightly as he kisses you hungrily, his tongue exploring your mouth. His body presses against you even tighter, his thigh still rubbing against you.

You moan into the kiss, moving your hips for more friction. He feels your movement, and he growls against your lips, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. Sang-woo moves his hand down towards your hip, gripping you possessively and guiding your movements. He wants you desperate and needy against him.

His kiss becomes rougher, his tongue teasing yours, as he pushes you more firmly against the sink. With every movement of your hips, he increases the pressure between your legs, his own arousal growing. He breaks the kiss, panting against your mouth."You're mine," he whispers, his voice thick with desire. "All mine."

"Yours, all yours" you murmur near his lips and then kiss him again. He kisses you back hungrily, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hand moves up your thigh. His grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your skin possessively, as he presses you even harder against the sink.

"That's right," he growls against your lips. "You're mine, and I'm going to take you every way I want." He starts to push your shirt up, wanting to feel more of your skin against his. His hand skims over your hip and then moves to your stomach, his touch light but confident. He continues to kiss you, his mouth moving down to your neck, and then your shoulders as he starts to undress you even more.

He finally pulls away, his gaze roaming over your body, taking in every inch as if he was claiming it as his own. His breathing is heavy, his eyes still filled with desire."You're beautiful," he whispers, his hands tracing over your body, his touch possessive and firm. "So soft, so mine."

He pushes you against the wall, pinning you there with his body. He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks."I'm going to own every part of you," he growls, his voice low and rough. "And I'm going to make sure you never forget who you belong to."

He pulls down your sweatpants and panties and then pulls down his sweatpants and boxers and then enters you and grunts seeing how tight you were. He pauses for a moment, feeling how tight you were. He gently grabbed your ribs with his strong waist and strong touch. He pressed hard against your body and his breathing became heavier. His lips left your ears and moved to your neck and shoulders. He moved away from your neck and rested his head on your cheek. you can feel it.

Sang-woo whispers "Mine" and his hand squeezes tighter around your ribs. "All mine" he mumbles again and he starts kissing your neck while continuing to move with you. You moan, scratching his back from the pleasure you were feeling. "So good".

“Mmm,” he hums softly at the feeling of your nails scratching his back. He lifts his head from your neck, wanting to look at your face.His eyes dark and lustful as he stares at you, taking in the expression on your face as he continues to move rough with you."You're so good to me," he whispers. "So perfect."

You moan softly and look up at him before capturing your lips with his. He deepens the kiss, his hand sliding up to your face as he kisses you back hungrily. He pushes closer to you, pinning you against the wall as he continues to move with you. His body feels hot and strong against yours, and his grip is tight and possessive.

Sang-woo pulls away slightly, his lips hovering near your ear. His breathing is heavy, and he can't help but let out a soft moan, his enjoyment obvious."You're so good," he whispers. "So sweet."His hand slides from your face down to your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he continues to move.

“I’m coming” you whisper looking at him. He looks at you, his eyes dark and intense, and his grip on you tightens.

"Come for me," he whispers, his voice a low, rough growl against your ear. "Let me feel how good you are." He starts to move a more faster, his body pressing against yours."That's it," he whispers. "You're doing so well for me."

You moan and he comes, clinging to him more. Sango woo pushed himself two more times and came inside you. He let out a low moan as he finally let go, his body trembling against yours.Sang-woo held you close, his face burying in your neck. His breathing was ragged, and he leaned into you, his grip on you still tight.“You’re amazing,” he murmured against your skin. “Absolutely perfect.”

You give a lazy smile resting your head on his chest. "May I know your name?" You murmur softly. He hums softly, his hand slowly moving up and down your back.

"It's Cho Sang-woo," he says softly, a slight smile on his lips. "But you can call me Sangwoo." He gently lifts your head up so that you're looking at him.

"And what's your name, darling?" he asks, his voice now softer and a bit more tender. “Y/N” you reply softly.

"Y/N," he repeats softly, as if testing it on his lips. "That's a pretty name."

He reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear."I want to hear you say my name, Y/N," he whispers, his eyes dark and intense as they locked with yours. "Can you do that for me, darling?" he continues, his voice low and seductive. "Say my name, just like I'm yours."

You nod softly looking at him. “Sang-woo,” you whisper. He hums, a satisfied smile playing on his lips."That's it." he murmurs, his fingers tracing lightly along your jawline. "Good girl. I like the way my name sounds on your lips."

[rosiecosy]

too close for comfort୨ৎ

(vernon x idol!reader)

the first time it happens, it’s just a message.

"be careful. someone’s watching you."

at first, you brush it off as a prank. your manager tells you not to engage, and vernon agrees. "don't give them a reaction. that’s what they want."

but the messages don’t stop. different accounts. the same warning. and then—photos.

at first, it’s just pictures of you at public schedules. but then, one is taken outside your dorm. another from your latest hotel stay. the timestamps are recent.

whoever it is, they’re getting closer.

and then one night, they do.

—

you’re alone when it happens.

it’s late, and you stayed behind at the studio to practice. your members left hours ago, and the building is nearly empty. the halls are quiet—too quiet—as you pack up your things, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

your phone buzzes. a message.

"it’s just us now."

a chill runs down your spine. your fingers tremble as you grip your phone tighter. you look around, scanning the dimly lit hallway. nothing. no one.

but suddenly, you don’t feel alone anymore.

you take a deep breath. they don’t know where i am. they’re just messing with me.

then—another message.

"turn around."

your blood turns to ice.

slowly, you do.

and there—just a few feet away, standing in the shadows of the stairwell—is a figure.

hood up. hands in their pockets.

watching you.

your breath catches. your body goes rigid. you want to scream, to run, to do something—but fear pins you in place.

the figure steps closer. you instinctively back up.

"you’re so much prettier in person," they murmur. their voice is soft, almost gentle. too gentle.

your heart slams against your ribs. "who… who are you?"

they don’t answer. instead, they take another step forward, and this time, you move.

you spin on your heel and bolt down the hall, shoving through the door to the stairwell. your bag is heavy, slowing you down, but you don’t dare stop.

behind you, footsteps follow.

they’re chasing you.

you nearly stumble as you take the stairs two at a time, heart hammering so hard it hurts. you fumble for your phone, hands shaking, and press the first number on your speed dial.

vernon.

"pick up, pick up—"

"hello?"

"vernon," you gasp, nearly sobbing as you reach the ground floor. "someone’s here. they’re following me—i don’t know what to do—"

a noise from behind you. a door slamming open.

you don’t think. you just run.

"where are you?" vernon’s voice is sharp now, alert.

"the back entrance—"

"stay there. i’m coming."

you reach the exit and shove the door open, stumbling outside. the cold air bites at your skin, but you don’t care. you sprint into the parking lot, eyes darting around frantically.

and then—you feel it.

a hand grabbing your wrist.

a sharp, painful grip.

you scream.

"shh," the voice murmurs, breath warm against your ear. "you shouldn’t have run."

you thrash wildly, twisting your body, your heart pounding in sheer panic. you try to rip your arm away, but their grip is too strong.

then—tires screeching. a car speeding into the lot.

vernon.

the second he spots you, he doesn’t hesitate. he throws the car into park and bolts out, eyes wild, fists clenched.

"let. her. go." his voice is low, dangerous in a way you’ve never heard before.

your attacker stiffens. you take the split second of hesitation to move, yanking yourself free and stumbling toward vernon. he catches you, his body solid and warm, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

when he looks up, the figure is already backing away.

a sick smile curves on their lips.

"this isn’t over," they whisper. then, they turn and disappear into the night.

vernon holds you tighter. his breathing is ragged, his hands shaking as they clutch at your jacket. "are you okay?"

you nod, but you can’t stop trembling.

"i was so scared," you whisper.

vernon’s grip tightens. "i should have been there sooner."

"you were," you say, voice breaking. "you were."

he presses his lips to the top of your head, arms still locked around you, his entire body tense. "we’re getting security. we’re making sure they never get this close again."

but even as he says it, the words from before echo in your mind.

this isn’t over.

and somehow, you know—they mean it.

[theonottsbxtch]

FREE NOW PT 2 | OP81

an: someone requested this a while back but i didn't feel inspired at the time, after having spent xmas in london, i was reinspired so please enjoy

wc: 5.2k

HER PHONE BUZZED, the screen lighting up with a single word that might as well have been a thunderclap: Hello.

She stared at it, the glow of the message cutting through the dimness of her cluttered apartment. Her stomach flipped, and for a moment, she thought she might be sick. It had been months. Months since she’d last seen him, since he’d left her standing in the cold outside that little café, snowflakes catching in her hair like she was some kind of tragic heroine in a story she hadn’t agreed to star in.

Oscar.

She hated how the sight of his name made her heart race, hated how easily the memory of him surged to the surface: the way his laugh felt like summer breaking through the dead of winter, the way his hand had lingered at the small of her back just long enough to make her forget how to breathe. And now, this—just hello. No context. No explanation. Like he hadn’t walked away and left her to unravel herself alone.

Her thumb hovered over the message. She should reply—shouldn’t she? Her mind reeled, cycling through questions she hadn’t asked herself in weeks: Why didn’t he want me? She’d spent night after night dissecting the answer like a broken thing she couldn’t figure out how to fix. She wasn’t glamorous enough, she wasn’t exciting enough, not compared to the champagne-soaked world he belonged to.

And yet, even as she raged inwardly, she’d watched every single one of his races. At first, she’d told herself it was just curiosity—a fascination with the world she’d glimpsed through him. But with each podium finish, with every glint of triumph in his eyes, she’d been reminded of the man who had kissed her like she was his whole world and then left her behind without so much as a second glance.

She hadn’t answered his message, not for weeks. What could she possibly say? Every possible reply felt either too brittle or too raw. So she let it sit there, a glowing reminder of the question she couldn’t bring herself to ask: What do you want from me now?

That night, she sat in her cramped living room, her laptop screen flickering in front of her, a blank page mocking her efforts to start the sequel she was supposed to be halfway through by now. The cursor blinked, impatient. She pressed her fingertips to her temples, trying to summon even a fragment of an idea, but her mind kept circling back to the message. Hello.

It wasn’t fair, she thought bitterly. He’d been the one to leave, and now he got to reach out, to drop back into her life like no time had passed at all. But as much as she hated the selfishness of it, part of her wanted to reply. Not for him—for herself. For the chance to spark something, anything, that might get her out of the rut she’d been stuck in since he’d walked away.

She picked up her phone, her fingers trembling as she tapped out a reply. It was short, cautious.

Hi.

She stared at the word for a long moment before hitting send, her heart pounding as the message left her screen. She told herself it was just a small step, a selfish one. She didn’t owe him anything, after all. But somewhere deep down, she knew: this was the start of something she couldn’t quite name yet.

And for the first time in weeks, the cursor on her screen stopped blinking.

The moment her message was marked as “read,” her heart stumbled, caught in a snare she’d told herself she wouldn’t fall into again. When his reply came seconds later, the little banner popping up on her screen, her breath hitched.

Can we call?

She swallowed hard, the question hanging in the air like a trap she saw coming but didn’t step around. A tiny part of her, the sensible part, screamed at her to say no. This was selfish—purely, entirely selfish. She wasn’t reaching out because she wanted to fix what had broken between them. She didn’t want him back. Not really. This was about her. About needing something—anything—to pull her out of the fog she’d been living in since he’d left.

She wasn’t going to catch feelings again. She couldn’t. He’d shown her exactly what his priorities were, and she wasn’t naive enough to think anything had changed. This wasn’t about him, she told herself as she tapped out a reply. It was about her.

Sure.

The moment she sent it, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. Her stomach twisted as she picked it up, hesitating before answering and lying back on her bed. She set the phone down on the pillow next to her and turned on the speaker, as though putting distance between herself and the device would make this feel less immediate, less intimate.

“Hi,” she said, her voice softer than she’d intended.

“Hi,” he replied. His voice was warm, familiar in a way that made her chest ache. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching thin between them. She was about to say something—anything—to break it when he finally spoke. “I, uh... I read your book.”

Her heart stopped. She blinked at the ceiling, her mind scrambling to process his words. “You... you did?” she managed, hoping she didn’t sound as stunned as she felt.

“Yeah.” There was a smile in his voice, faint but unmistakable. “I saw it in an airport bookstore. Your name caught me off guard. The cover looked good, though. So I bought it. I wasn’t expecting...” He trailed off, and she could hear the hesitation in his tone.

“Wasn’t expecting what?” she pressed, trying to sound nonchalant, though her fingers twisted in the hem of her sweater.

“To like it,” he admitted, a sheepish laugh escaping him. “But I did. I was... impressed. The way you captured things. Us.”

Her throat tightened, and she turned her face into the pillow, grateful he couldn’t see her expression. She cleared her throat, forcing her voice to stay steady. “Well, it’s not like you gave me much of a choice. You kind of handed me the perfect material.”

He went quiet for a beat. Then: “I shouldn’t have ended things the way I did.”

There it was. The thing she’d been waiting for, without even realizing it. She let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, covering it with a quick cough. “Oh, no worries. It worked out for me in the end. I got a New York Times bestseller out of it,” she said, aiming for lightness but missing the mark.

He exhaled sharply, and she couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or a sigh. “That’s what I mean. You turned something... painful into something amazing. And I’m proud of you for that. I just... I’m sorry for the part I played in the pain.”

Her chest felt too tight, her emotions too tangled to unravel. She reached for something casual to say, something that wouldn’t give away how much his words rattled her. “Well, if you wanted to apologise, you could’ve done it before my deadline,” she quipped, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

“That’s fair,” he said softly. “But I’m glad it worked out. You deserved it.”

His words lingered in the air, and she found herself staring at the faint cracks in her ceiling, her fingers still twisting in her sweater. This was selfish, she reminded herself. She wasn’t doing this for him. But somehow, it didn’t feel like a lie when she said, “Thanks.”

The cursor on her laptop screen blinked in the corner of her vision, but for the first time all night, she wasn’t looking at it.

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, the silence between them no longer awkward but still weighted, stretched taut with unspoken words. She shifted on her bed, her arm brushing against the phone as she debated whether to push for more or let it lie.

“Why now?” she asked finally, her voice quieter than she meant. “Why reach out after all this time?”

He hesitated. She could hear it in the way his breath hitched, in the faint hum of background noise from wherever he was calling. “Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted. “And then I saw the book, and it just... it brought everything back.”

Her chest tightened again, but this time it wasn’t anger or frustration. It was something softer, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to name. “Oscar,” she began, trying to keep her tone measured, “you walked away. And I get it—you had your reasons. But you don’t just get to walk back in whenever it’s convenient for you.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know I don’t deserve that. And I don’t want to mess things up for you. I just...” He sighed, and the sound was so human, so vulnerable, it made her heart ache despite her resolve. “I missed you.”

Her breath caught. She rolled onto her side, facing the phone as though it would help her understand the words better. “You can’t say things like that,” she said, but the anger in her voice was diluted by something softer, something closer to longing.

“I mean it,” he said. “I missed you. I miss the way you look at things, the way you see the world. It’s different. It’s... real.”

She wanted to laugh, wanted to scoff, wanted to hang up the phone just to prove to herself that she could. But she didn’t. Instead, she whispered, “And what? You thought you’d just drop back into my life and everything would be fine?”

“I didn’t know what I thought,” he admitted. “I just knew I had to try.”

The silence returned, heavier this time. She bit her lip, staring at the faint glow of the phone screen, her thoughts swirling. This wasn’t fair. He didn’t get to come back into her life and make her feel things she’d spent months burying.

But hadn’t she been the one to reply? Hadn’t she opened this door, knowing full well where it might lead?

She closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath. “You broke me, you know,” she said finally, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to keep it steady. “But you also gave me something I didn’t think I could ever have. That book—” She paused, her throat tightening. “That book saved me. Writing it saved me. So I don’t know whether to thank you or hate you.”

He didn’t respond right away, but when he did, his voice was quiet, almost fragile. “What if I said you don’t have to choose?”

She barked out a laugh, harsh and unsteady. “Oh, come on. It’s not that simple.”

“No,” he said. “It’s not. But I don’t expect you to forgive me, or trust me, or even want me in your life. I just... I needed you to know I’m sorry. For all of it.”

She closed her eyes again, her hand hovering over the phone as though she might end the call, but her fingers didn’t move. She didn’t know what to say.

“Listen,” he continued, his tone softening, “I don’t want to mess up what you have going on. You’re doing amazing, and I’m proud of you. I just... I’d like to talk. If you’ll let me.”

She swallowed hard, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through her defenses. She hated that it got to her, but it did. “I don’t know, Oscar,” she said finally. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“I get it,” he said quickly, his voice tinged with something that might have been desperation. “Take your time. I’ll be here.”

She laughed softly, bitterly. “You weren’t before.”

“I know,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “But I’m here now.”

She didn’t respond, her mind racing with thoughts she couldn’t untangle. The cursor on her laptop blinked in her peripheral vision, steady and unrelenting.

“Goodnight, Oscar,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Goodnight,” he replied, and this time, she ended the call.

For a long moment, she lay there in the quiet, staring at the cracks in her ceiling. The cursor still blinked, but the words she’d been searching for all night were beginning to take shape in her mind.

It started with an Instagram comment.

She’d posted a photo of the snow falling outside her apartment, captioned simply: Winter always comes back around.

The comment was there an hour later, buried among thousands of others but impossible to miss: Still your favorite season?

Her heart jolted, even though she knew it was coming. She’d left the door open by replying to his text, by taking his call. She told herself it didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t as if they were friends. But the comment—casual, public, and so unmistakably him—hit her differently.

And, predictably, his fans went crazy.

Within minutes, her notifications were flooded with a whirlwind of speculation: Oscar commented! Is she the girl he was talking to Lando about in that DTS episode?! Is this his gf??

She muted her notifications, refusing to be pulled into the frenzy. But when she sat down to write later that night, she found herself lingering on that comment, the question lingering in her mind like an itch she couldn’t scratch.

Winter had always been her favorite season. It was when she’d met him, after all. And no matter how much she wanted to forget, it was also when he’d left her standing alone, her lips still tingling from the kiss she’d thought would change everything.

She thought she’d ignore him after that, keep her distance. But Oscar didn’t stop at a single comment.

A week later, he liked one of her posts—a throwback photo she’d shared of a bookshop in London, the caption reading: Where it all started.

He didn’t say anything this time, but the like was deliberate, she knew it. And she hated how much she noticed. Hated how much she waited for the next small gesture, the next subtle reminder that he was still paying attention.

He sent her another text not long after: You were always good with words. I hope you know that.

She read it twice before locking her phone and tossing it onto the couch. She refused to reply, telling herself she didn’t need his validation. But a part of her couldn’t stop wondering if he meant it, if he really thought she was good, or if this was just another attempt to slip back into her life.

And then, slowly, bit by bit, he started showing up more. A comment here, a text there, nothing overwhelming but enough to remind her he was still there. It was infuriating how patient he was, how careful, as though he was trying to rebuild something fragile. She knew what he was doing. He thought she was letting him in.

But she wasn’t.

Not really.

This wasn’t about him. It never had been.

He inspired her, that much she couldn’t deny. The first book had poured out of her because of him, because of the way he’d left her raw and desperate to make sense of what had happened. And now, as her cursor blinked on a blank page night after night, she couldn’t help but think he might hold the key to unlocking that same fire again.

She wasn’t letting him back in. She was using him.

And the worst part was, she didn’t feel guilty about it.

When he texted her again a week later—Can we talk?—she hesitated only for a moment before replying. Sure.

It was late when they called, and she made no effort to mask the exhaustion in her voice. He, on the other hand, sounded wide awake, his voice warm and familiar in a way that made her chest tighten despite herself.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” he began.

She rolled onto her side, her phone balanced on the edge of her pillow. “What part?”

“All of it,” he admitted. “But mostly about the book. About how it saved you.”

She pressed her lips together, her heart skipping a beat. “What about it?”

“I think... I think you were braver than I’ve ever been,” he said, the words coming out in a rush. “You put it all out there. You didn’t hold anything back. I don’t know if I could ever do that.”

His sincerity threw her off guard. For a moment, she forgot her script, forgot the plan she’d convinced herself she was following. “It wasn’t bravery,” she said quietly. “It was survival.”

“Still,” he said. “You turned something painful into something beautiful. I think that’s incredible.”

Her throat tightened, and she hated the way his words made her feel. She reminded herself why she was doing this, why she was even talking to him at all. This wasn’t about reconnection. It wasn’t about him.

It was about the words she needed to write, the story she needed to tell.

“Thanks,” she said finally, her voice measured.

But even as she said it, she couldn’t shake the nagging doubt creeping in at the edges of her resolve: what if he wasn’t the only one being selfish?

She told herself she was in control. Letting him in was strategic, calculated. She’d let him get just close enough to keep her inspired, nothing more. But the line between “enough” and “too much” blurred faster than she expected.

The first time he asked her to meet him, she hesitated, weighing the potential benefits against the risks. He was in New York for a press event, he explained, and he wanted to see her.

“It doesn’t have to be anything formal,” he said over the phone. “Just dinner. As friends.”

“Friends,” she repeated, testing the word.

He chuckled, the sound warm and disarming. “Or whatever you want to call it. No pressure.”

The logical part of her wanted to say no, to keep the distance between them intact. But the logical part of her wasn’t writing the sequel she desperately needed. Against her better judgment, she agreed.

Dinner was simple—a small restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of Manhattan. He was waiting for her when she arrived, dressed casually in a plain tee and jeans, looking more like the man who’d taken her sightseeing in London than the global superstar she’d seen on TV.

They talked about nothing and everything: her work, his races, the places he’d been recently. He asked about her next book, and she evaded the question, unwilling to admit that she still hadn’t written a single chapter.

By the time they left, her cheeks ached from smiling, and her stomach hurt—not from the food, but from laughing more than she had in months.

“This was nice,” he said as they stood outside, the cool night air brushing against their skin. “Can we do it again sometime?”

She nodded before she could think it through. “Yeah. Sure.”

And just like that, it became a pattern.

At first, it was sporadic: dinner here, a coffee there. He’d text her when he was in town, and she’d meet him, telling herself it was harmless, just catching up. But then it became frequent. He started flying her out to races, always with some excuse about wanting to show her the world he loved.

The first time she landed in Monaco, she felt like a fraud, a tourist in his glamorous life. But he greeted her with that same easy smile, the one that made her feel like she belonged. They wandered through the narrow streets, stopping at cafes and small boutiques, and for a while, she let herself forget that she was supposed to be using him, not the other way around.

Before long, she found herself back in London, walking streets she’d once thought she’d never see again. He took her to her favorite bookshop, the same one she’d written about in her novel. She felt the weight of his hand at the small of her back as they browsed the shelves, and she told herself it didn’t mean anything.

But it was getting harder to believe her own lies.

She didn’t realise it was happening at first, the way her guard started to slip. It was in the small moments: the way she started to look forward to his texts, the way her heart jumped when she saw his name on her screen. She told herself it was just gratitude, a natural byproduct of the inspiration he’d given her.

But the truth was harder to ignore when she found herself laughing at his jokes, her walls cracking under the warmth of his smile.

One night in Monaco, after a long day exploring the harbour, they sat on the balcony of his apartment, the lights of the city reflecting off the water below. She held a glass of wine in her hand, her legs tucked beneath her as she leaned back in her chair.

“You’re quiet,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Just thinking,” she replied, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

“About what?”

She hesitated, then shrugged. “The book.” It wasn’t a lie, not entirely.

“Still stuck?”

She nodded, and he gave her a thoughtful look before speaking. “You don’t have to push yourself so hard, you know. It’ll come to you when it’s ready.”

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “That’s not how deadlines work.”

“Maybe not,” he said, his tone light. “But you’re too talented to force it. You’ll figure it out.”

His faith in her was disarming, and she found herself turning to look at him. He was leaning back in his chair, his profile softened by the dim light. For a moment, she let herself forget everything—her plans, her walls, her doubts.

And that was the moment she realised it.

She was catching feelings.

Her breath hitched, and she quickly looked away, her grip tightening around the stem of her glass. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She’d let him in enough to keep her writing, to keep her inspired, but somewhere along the way, she’d let him in too much.

And now, she wasn’t sure she could push him out again.

She was pacing her small apartment in New York when the realisation crashed fully, her hands pulling at her hair, her chest tight with a whirlwind of emotions she couldn’t seem to contain.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, each word punctuated by the sound of her bare feet slapping against the hardwood floor.

She’d been in denial for weeks, convincing herself that she could keep her feelings neatly compartmentalized, that she could use him for inspiration without letting him crack the walls around her heart. But it wasn’t working.

Every laugh, every touch, every moment they shared chipped away at her resolve, and now the truth was staring her in the face, unrelenting and cruel: she’d fallen for him again.

She stopped pacing and leaned against the kitchen counter, gripping the edge so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she hissed, squeezing her eyes shut.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, and her heart jumped, her stomach twisting as she saw his name light up the screen. Oscar.

She ignored it, letting the call go to voicemail, but a minute later, there was a knock at her door.

Her eyes flew open, her breath catching in her throat. No. No, he couldn’t be here. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

But the knock came again, more insistent this time.

“Hey,” his voice called from the other side of the door, muffled but unmistakable. “It’s me.”

Her chest tightened, panic flooding her veins. She couldn’t do this, not now. She crossed the room and yanked the door open, staring at him with wide, frantic eyes. He stood there, his hair slightly tousled from the wind, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.

“Oscar,” she said, her voice sharp, her panic bubbling over into frustration. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” he said, frowning slightly. “I just wrapped up a sponsor meeting and we fly out to Miami tomorrow morning. I called but you didn't answer.”

“Well, maybe there’s a reason for that,” she snapped, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. She slammed the door shut, her heart racing.

From the other side, he sounded baffled. “What did I do wrong?”

She groaned, pressing her forehead against the door. “You exist, Oscar. That’s what you did wrong.”

“What?” he asked, his confusion evident. “Can you at least let me in so we can talk?”

She hesitated, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Then, with a resigned sigh, she opened the door again, glaring at him.

“You want to know what’s wrong?” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “Fine. I’ve caught stupid, ridiculous, impossible feelings for you, okay? And I hate it.”

His brow furrowed, his confusion deepening. “Why is that wrong?”

“Because you hurt me once!” she shouted, her voice cracking. “You left me standing in the middle of London, and I didn’t even see it coming. Do you know how hard it was to put myself back together after that?”

His face fell, guilt washing over his features. “I know I hurt you,” he said softly. “But I thought... I thought you were giving me a chance to fix it.”

She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “Fix it? You can’t just fix something like that, Oscar. It doesn’t work that way.”

“I’m trying,” he said, his voice firm but still tinged with vulnerability. “I’m trying to show you that I’m here, that I want to be here. What else can I do?”

Her chest ached, her anger clashing with the part of her that desperately wanted to believe him. “It’s not about what you can do,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper. “It’s about what you could do. If I let myself fall for you again, you could hurt me. And I don’t think I can survive that a second time.”

He stepped closer, his gaze searching hers. “I won’t hurt you,” he said, his voice steady. “I know I don’t deserve your trust yet, but I swear to you, I’m not going anywhere this time.”

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to let him in, to let herself hope. But the fear was too big, too loud.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice breaking. “Why now?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said, his eyes locked on hers. “Because I made a mistake, and I’ve been kicking myself for it ever since. Because you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel like I’m more than the guy behind the wheel of a car.”

Her breath caught, tears stinging her eyes. She hated how much his words affected her, how much she wanted to believe them.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered.

He reached out, his hand hovering just above hers. “You don’t have to decide right now. Just... let me try.”

She looked at him, her heart pounding, her mind a storm of doubt and longing. Slowly, she nodded, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

“Okay,” she said softly. “But I’m not promising anything.”

“That’s enough,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination.

For now, it was enough.

Oscar’s hand hovered in the space between them for a moment before he closed it over hers. His touch was warm, steady, grounding.

She couldn’t hold it back anymore. The walls she’d so carefully constructed cracked under the weight of her emotions, and tears slipped free, spilling down her cheeks.

“I’m so tired of being scared,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

“I know,” he murmured, stepping closer. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He pulled her into his arms, his embrace firm but gentle, and she let herself collapse against him, her tears soaking into the fabric of his coat. He didn’t rush her, didn’t speak. He just held her, his hand stroking her back in slow, soothing circles.

When the sobs finally subsided, leaving her feeling raw and hollow, he eased back just enough to look at her. His face was open, earnest, his eyes searching hers.

“Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Before she could protest, he shrugged off his coat, draping it over the back of the couch, and toed off his shoes. He guided her toward the bedroom, his hand resting lightly on her back.

She let him lead her, too drained to argue. When they reached the bed, he pulled back the covers and gestured for her to climb in.

“You don’t have to stay,” she mumbled, her voice thick with exhaustion.

He gave her a small, lopsided smile. “I’m not going anywhere, remember?”

She crawled under the blankets, her body sinking into the familiar comfort of her mattress. He tucked the covers around her, sitting on the edge of the bed for a moment before shifting to lie beside her, above the blankets.

She closed her eyes, her breathing evening out as the weight of the night caught up with her. She drifted off quickly, her head resting on the pillow, her hand brushing against his where it lay on the bedspread.

Oscar stayed awake, watching her. The faint glow of the city lights filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows across her face.

“You don’t know how lucky I am,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Thank you for giving me a second chance.”

He paused, his gaze tracing the curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw. “I swear I won’t mess it up this time.”

He thought she was asleep, but the words slipped through the hazy edges of her dreams, nestling somewhere deep in her mind.

The following morning, she woke to the golden light of early winter streaming through the window. The first thing she noticed was the warmth of the room, the faint scent of him lingering in the air.

The second thing she noticed was her mind—clearer than it had been in months, humming with ideas.

She sat up slowly, careful not to disturb Oscar, who was still asleep, slouched awkwardly on top of the covers. His head rested on his arm, his face relaxed in a way she hadn’t seen before.

Sliding out of bed, she grabbed her notebook from the bedside table and opened it to a blank page. The words came quickly, flowing from her pen as if they’d been waiting for this moment.

Her next book wouldn’t be about him—not exactly. But the emotions he’d stirred, the hope and fear and vulnerability he’d unearthed, filled every corner of the page.

She glanced over at him as he stirred, his eyes fluttering open.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

“Morning,” she replied, a small smile playing on her lips.

“What are you doing?” he asked, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck.

She held up the notebook. “Writing.”

He grinned, his expression soft with pride. “Good. I knew you’d get there.”

She didn’t say anything, but as she looked at him, her heart ached in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

For the first time, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, letting him in again wasn’t the worst decision she’d ever made.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby@iamred-iamyellow

[harryforvogue]

harry and mia blurb. 1.8k. as always, happy reading! based on this message ... from 2021

---

The thud of Harry’s duffel bag dropping onto the floor forces Mia out of her daydreams. She stops staring at him – even though it’s well within her right to as someone so intimately occupied with him – and smiles up at the newest arrival. He’s just stepped out of the bathroom, a hoodie and sweats on, dragging the bag to the end of her bed frame so it’s no longer a tripping hazard. 

Harry’s hair is tied into a bun at the back of his head, but the strands he couldn’t avoid getting wet in the shower frame his face in cute ringlets. Harry loops his work bag over the back of her desk chair and then falls onto her twin XL bed with a grunt. Face first. 

The bed is so small, not just compared to all six feet of Harry, that his arms naturally fall into her lap. He adjusts himself then, wrapping his arms around her waist, shuffling closer to bury his face against her hip. It’s easy to fall back into the rhythm of having Harry in her space, no matter how startling it is to see him only every few months. The excitement doesn’t go away totally, but it dissipates into comfort. Evolves.

Harry sighs deeply. Mia relieves his hair of the tight bun, and then his sigh turns into a very tired hum. 

“Long flight?” Mia whispers. She walks her fingers down his neck and shoulders, pressing the backs of her knuckles into the hard flesh at the top of his spine. Harry groans and drops his shoulders.

“Worked the entire flight. I wanted to sleep,” Harry mutters. He lifts his head up and then flips over, staring at her upside down from where his head rests now in her lap. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Mia says softly, smoothing her thumbs over his forehead. “You should get some rest.”

Harry blinks. “No, I’m good. I’ll sleep at the hotel.” With yet another sound that he can’t seem to keep inside of him, he sits up and turns around, wrapping his right arm around her torso. “Come here.”

Mia happily lets him tug her towards him. His kiss is soft, always just a little bit hesitant when they meet after so long. His free hand cups her jaw, fingers curling into her own damp hair. When he pulls back, Mia swears there’s a hint of a smile on his face. The rest of him, though, still looks tired. Even his blinks are slow. 

“You can take my bed, sir,” Mia whispers, leaning in for another kiss. What she really wants to do is kiss him until she’s lost all reason, but she just feels so bad about how tired he looks. “It’s small but it’ll do the job.”

Harry drops his forehead to Mia’s shoulder. She thinks he kisses her collarbone, but she’s not too sure. The kiss is clumsy and not well positioned. Mia throws her arms around his big shoulders and goes back to knuckling at the stiff muscle, smiling when Harry shivers and spreads his large hands over her back.

“Fine,” he decides. Or maybe his body decides. “Just for half an hour.”

“Okay.” She goes to pull away. “I’ve an assignment I’ve been procrastinating anyways.”

Harry’s arms tighten. “No, sleep with me.”

It’s not a question. But it’s not an order either. Mia knows exactly how to tell the difference in tone when the statement from Harry comes as a command versus a suggestion versus – albeit rare – a joke. Right now, it’s a suggestion. He picks his head up and looks at her with his beautiful red rimmed green eyes and his pouty, tired mouth, and his red cheeks, and –

And Mia can’t say no to him.

“Yeah, all right,” she whispers, swallowing. 

Harry scoots back and pulls the duvet away. Before he buries himself into the bed, he tugs his hoodie off, giving Mia a breathtaking view of the smattering of tattoos on his arms and chest. She stops herself for a total of seven seconds before her hands are wandering over his flesh, as if it’s the first time she’s seeing them. Harry doesn’t mind, nor does he pull away. His eyes are closed, hair smushed under his cheek on her pillow. He’s taken the side closest to the wall, but even though he makes himself small, there’s so much of him. To accommodate the lack of space, Mia slinks into the warm bed and huddles close to him.

“Your roommate?” Harry murmurs against Mia’s hair. It’s a bit awkward. There’s a bit of maneuvering, and Mia ends up with her back to his chest. Still, his knees end up at her thighs and he has nowhere to put his other arm except under the pillow. It’ll fall asleep soon and cause discomfort, but Harry seems too tired to care.

“Studying in the library. Then she’s staying at her boyfriend’s dorm.”

“Did you tell her I’d be here?”

“I told her I’d have a guest.”

“Mm.” Harry’s hand slides over Mia’s skin when he snakes under her shirt. She clenches her stomach to prevent laughing out loud or jabbing her elbow into his stomach. “An hour okay? Set an alarm or something.”

“Okay,” Mia says.

She will not.

Maybe Harry will be upset with her when he ends up sleeping for a lot longer, but there’s no way a man can function like this. It’s simply not healthy. And it digs into their time together, but if Mia’s totally honest, she’s fine with just this. She’s missed Harry so much. It’s nice to be close to him, to feel his warmth against her back, his heavy arm over her waist. His presence is good for her.

Harry is out within seconds. His breathing evens before Mia actually gets comfortable.

Stupid man, Mia thinks. He overworks himself too much.

–

Later, when two and a half hours have gone by and Mia’s working on her assignment on her desk, she peeks over at him. He’s still fast asleep and hasn’t moved since he first laid down, arms where they would be if Mia was still cuddled up against him. But it’s eight p.m. now and though Harry needs the sleep, he won’t be able to rest again if he goes back to the hotel. It’ll start an annoying cycle of sleeping at the wrong hours.

He looks beautiful tucked into her ridiculously small bed. All pale skin and dark tattoos. Dark hair. She’s so happy she gets to see him in his most vulnerable state. 

Mia stands and shuffles closer. In her heart, she doesn’t want to wake him up. She leans on the mattress on her knees and carefully shakes him. “Hey. Sir, wake up.”

It takes a while to get him to give her a grunt, but when he does, he glances outside sharply and sighs at the dark night. His eyelashes stick together and there’s an imprint of her pillow’s folded edge right under his left eye.

“Amelia…”

“I know. You said to wake you up, but you looked so tired. I couldn't.”

He smells like sleep, like warmth. Mia carefully lowers herself onto him, straddling his hips, balancing herself out with hands rested on his lower stomach. Harry blinks at her a few times and then lazily looks over at his phone. The bright light illuminates his face so she has a perfect view of his furrowed eyebrows. He drops the phone back onto the bed. 

“Don’t you feel so much better?” Mia whispers. 

Harry’s fingers slide under her shirt again, holding her down. “Mhm.”

“You can stay the night, you know?”

Harry shakes his head. “Can’t.”

“You can. It’s my room and I say you can.”

It requires a fair amount of effort, but soon Harry’s sitting up, bleary eyed, rubbing his palms against his eyes. “I can’t,” he says, dropping his hands. “What time is your class tomorrow?”

“11.”

“And it’s done at–?”

“I have two classes. I’ll be done by 3.”

“I’ll pick you up at 3:45. We’ll eat in.”

He goes to move, but Mia’s hands stop him, holding him down. “Sir, you need to rest. I mean it.”

Harry’s eyebrows raise, a clear sign that he’s trying to be in charge, but the attempt melts away with his low energy. He puts his hands over hers and leans in for a quick kiss. No arguments after. He rolls her over and then heads to the bathroom to freshen up.

When he returns, she’s still sitting in her bed with her legs criss crossed, staring up at him. Before he goes to grab his bag, he leans down and kisses her hard, fingers curled around her jaw. She eagerly responds, dragging him back down by the collar so that he has to lean his weight on the mattress with a hand splayed on her headboard.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Harry’s promise is firm and resolute.He kisses her again. Pulls away. Thinks for a moment, and then kisses her once more. “It’s so very good to see you, Amelia.”

Butterflies erupt everywhere in her body. She follows his lips with her own, crawling closer when he goes to move away. “Come on. Please stay, sir.” She pouts. “You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the floor or even my roommate’s bed.” Neither of them are her first choice, but whatever. 

Harry’s answer is a quick shake of his head. “Thank you,” he murmurs, thumbing over her mouth. “But, honestly, Amelia, the issue isn’t that.” A quick upwards turn of his lips and then – “My back will kill me tomorrow if I sleep in your bed overnight.”

Mia gapes at him as he moves to grab his work bag. “You’re such an elitist!” she whisper-shouts. “My twin XL bed wasn’t cheap! I paid for it in my room and board fees!”

Harry hums with a bigger smile on his face. “Tomorrow, 3:45. I’m going to be at your door, got it?”

“If you hate my mattress so much, why don’t you buy me a new one!”

“We’re going to my hotel and we’re going to have dinner–” he says slowly.

“And why don’t you complain to the college while you’re at it!”

“And we’ll open a bottle of wine and maybe take a bath, have dessert–” Harry comes closer, a fire in his tired eyes.

“You have no right to complain considering you just hogged my blankets for two freaking hours!”

“--and I’m finally, finally,” Harry murmurs, reaching for her jaw to shut her mouth, “going to show you how much I fucking missed you.”

Mia stops. She puts down the pillow she grabbed in her frustration to hurl at him. “Oh. Okay.”

“Okay?” Harry says, amused, searching her face.

“Uh huh.”

“Good.” Harry drops his hand and lays an innocent kiss to her cheek. It seems like a reward. “Now.” He goes for the door. “Tomorrow. I’ll see you.”

“Um.”

“Goodnight.”

Mia sits there and blinks.

“Wait!” She scrambles off the bed, running to the door. “You can’t just say that and leave! Hey!” The door shuts behind Harry, but she can hear him quietly laughing. “You can’t just leave now!”

[simplybakugou]

Story Mode | Mystic Academia: Sero Hanta's Route

⋆ PAIRING: hacker!sero x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing; slight danger but nothing TOO crazy ⋆ WORD COUNT: 1.2K

A/N: the first written story mode! It’s inspired by seven’s route slightly hehe

NOTE: credits to @eraserhead-transparents for the kaminari cap

Mystic Academia: Sero Hanta's Route Masterlist

You couldn’t help but pace around the first floor of the office, glancing over at the front door every now and then after you had closed the chatroom app. Sero’s messages and warnings were concerning to say the least and waiting around for him to come over was nerve wracking. Taking a deep breath, you finally forced yourself to sit down instead of borderline running laps in your own living space. 

A knock at the door broke away the panicked trance you were in. You let out a breath of relief as you sprung up and moved towards the door. It calmed your nerves knowing Sero was on the other side and he could fix this in a way that only he could.

Just as you were about to open the door, your hand froze as your fingers barely touched the door handle. You recalled Sero’s warning from earlier in the day and how he instructed you to not open the door for anyone since he knew the PIN to the front door. 

But the feelings of doubt washed away when you heard the beeping that was echoing from the other side of the door as each PIN number was entered. The door opened slowly and you smiled. 

“Sero?” You asked, poking your head out from the ajar door. You furrowed your brows.

Behind the door was a man with a hood covering his head and a black mask covering his face. The rest of his body was adorned in black clothing and the only discernible feature you could make out were his piercing scarlet eyes.

Despite never having seen Sero in person, just going off of his profile picture in the chatroom, you knew one thing for sure.

This was not Sero.

“Aw, were you expecting someone else, princess,” he uttered, his eyes crinkling up into a smile. 

You took a step backwards, slightly frozen in shock and fear. There was no way to anticipate this happening at that moment. Even if Sero had mentioned that the hacker could break into the office, you were reassured by Sero’s desperate desire and urge to make sure he got to you to keep you safe. How naive of you.

The man took a step towards you as you slowly backed away, shutting the door and automatically locking it behind him. He pulled his mask down, revealing what looked like wrinkly and dry skin as if he had a skin condition.

“You know, it took a lot of work to get to you, Miss Coordinator.” The man continued to advance towards you until your back hit the wall. He blocked your body from moving with his own as he planted his palms on the wall on either side of your head, preventing any chance of escape. “Master said he definitely wants you on our side now.”

“W-Who the hell are you?! What do you want from me?!” You blattered out, working the nerve to confront this man.

“Oh? I see… I guess you never did get to actually speak with me. Especially since I only led you to this office through mere texts.” Your eyes widened.

It was Unknown. The man who talked to you about the apartment and M.F.A.

“Well, I’ll explain everything later. For now,” he paused for a moment as he reached down and grabbed hold of your wrist tightly. “We have to go to Paradise.”

Your eyes widened even more. This was all related to him. The weird flyer Mina and Kaminari received, another emergency security system being installed… it was all linked to this one man. 

Unknown turned his body and walked back towards the door, dragging you by the wrist behind him. You tried to pull away from him, attempting to yank yourself free but to no avail. Even pushing at his body with your free hand did absolutely nothing.

The door swung open just as you were about to lose hope and accept your faith. Both you and Unknown whipped your heads up to see who it was and you could almost feel yourself burst into tears of joy.

It was Sero. And this time it genuinely was as his dark eyes and hair matched his profile picture.

Sero panted, his breath nearly stopping as he took in the sight before him. If he was even a minute late, you would have been long gone.

“Well, well, look who it is,” Unknown muttered slowly, chuckling to himself. “It’s been a long time hasn’t it, Cellophane.”

Sero’s eyes nearly bugged out his head as he blatantly stared at Unknown. “You.”

“How sweet of you to remember me.” Unknown grinned, sending a shiver down your spine.

Although he was still stunned, Sero blinked and snapped out of the shock he was in. He looked down at Unknown’s grip on your wrist and your other hand attempting to push him away.

“Let her go,” Sero said firmly.

Unknown laughed and shook his head. “I don’t think so. We need her for Paradise. Master wants to see her.”

Sero clenched his teeth. “Fine. You leave me no choice then.” He swiftly pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed in something with one without ever breaking eye contact with Unknown.

Suddenly, an alarm blared throughout the office, emergency lights flashing and a shrill beeping sound echoing in the room. 

Both you and Unknown flinched at the sudden sound and he finally dropped your wrist to cover his ears. You did the same, looking at Sero concerningly who hadn’t moved at all. 

“What the hell did you do?!” Unknown exclaimed angrily. 

“I installed a bomb in this office for intruders. I just set it off manually and I’ll let it go off unless you leave.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Unknown groaned at the incessant and annoying sound. He waited a moment until he realized Sero was serious and he laughed. “Looks like you win this time. But this isn’t over, got it?”

Sero ignored him and the two of you watched as Unknown casually walked out of the office, his cackling laughter following him out the door. 

JOIN THE TAGLIST

[kabr0ztrousers]

What about a fem waitress/teacher/nurse/other service centered job that is being haunted by a horny exhibitionist ghost that will only touch them in public.

Bonus points if reader gets lured (either fed up with the torment or too cockdrunk to care) into releasing all of the ghost's friends for a ghost orgy

Kabr0z Writes Episode 39: Haunting

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: ghosts; public use; noncon; free use; creampie; group sex; possession; pregnancy mention

A/N: Back to requests today, and back to ghosts too, which I'm sure is welcome news to some of you

As always, if you have any requests for any situations, kinks, or revisits then please drop me a DM asking for what you want and I'll most likely write it sooner or later

###############################

The café was always a little haunted, the odd thing moving here or there, the occasional flickering of the lights, unexplained cold spots, nothing major. That was, of course, until Othello turned up.

You weren't sure what was happening at first, it was a normal shift waiting tables, taking orders, business as usual. You bent over to clean a table when a hand cupped your ass. When you turned to confront whoever touched you, nobody was there. You shrugged and carried on working, maybe you imagined it? A couple of hours later you were working the cash register and felt something squeezing your tits, pinching the nipples through your bra. That's when you realised this was probably a ghost.

You shook yourself. Whoever it is, they're probably not going to be around long, and it's hardly the first time someone's been a bit handsy with you. You do work hospitality after all.

You ran off a little of the receipt paper and jotted down your question: "Who are you?"

Setting the pen and paper aside, you got back to it. You even got a few minutes of reprieve as well before spectral hands started stroking your waist, one unclasping your bra as you walked back behind the counter. In a neat copperplate hand, the spirit had answered your question. Its name was Othello.

There wasn't time to dwell on it, the lunchtime rush was about to start.

Your first couple of tables were fine. It's amazing how quickly you adapt to the roving hands of the unqiet dead when you have to. The next one was a little trickier.

The hands started off squeezing your ass, but one slid around your front and pressed up against your pussy. You felt your skin redden as you started to trip over your words. The men on the table looked quizzically at you, but didn't say anything. The other hand started feeling your cunt too, spectral fingers parting the lips of your pussy as more lazily toyed with your clit. You dropped your pen, crouching to pick it up. Your reward was for two fingers to push inside, immediately aiming for your g-spot as the the ghost continued to abuse your clit.

You bit your tongue to stifle a yelp, only half-succeeding. The men were definitely staring at you now as you half-waddled away from their table, conscious of the arousal dripping from you, soaking your underwear and running down your leg.

You scribbled another message "knock it off, asshole" putting down the paper and walking away.

The fingers came back almost immediately. You felt a hand trace two letters on your back. "No"

The rest of the rush was a stagger, taking every measure of your composure not to give in to the insistent hands rubbing your cunt, pushing fingers into you, toying constantly with your clit. You lasted most of the way through, only one table left before you could lock the door, take a break and recover yourself. A couple of men who work in a nearby office block, one blonde, one dark haired.

You took their order, face burning up and voice quivering. You could hear a wet stirring sound coming from your cunt and smell yourself, the way they were looking at you made you think they could too. Pushing the thought to the back of your mind, you turned to ring up their order. Othello tripped you, sending you sprawling. Your concentration lapsed a moment, letting a moan escape your lips and your back arch, showing your soaked panties to the two men.

You heard them get up before you scurried away into a back room, locking the door behind you. A semi-transparent figure hung there, glowing softly in the dark room.

"What's the big idea?" You spat at the ghost "Who knows what they would've done?"

"I wanted to get you alone" His voice sounded like he was at the bottom of a deep, dry well "Look in the box"

You looked where he was pointing, the lost and found box. On the top, nested on a hoodie someone had left a month ago, was a heart-shaped silver locket. You picked it up, the smooth metal much colder on your skin than it should be

"Open it" Othello's excited voice called to you from just over your shoulder

You unfastened the clasp, the locket fell open. A faintly-glowing cloud poured from it, flowing into Othello and forming two more spectres beside him. All three of them were much more visible now: three men, each around six feet tall. One reached out and opened the door behind you as another pushed you out. The light of the café made them hard to see, but their hands were solid as they manhandled you to a table. The office workers stared at you as the ghosts bent you over the table, pulling your soaked underwear to one side and hiking up your skirt.

The first ghost lined himself up with your cunt and forced his cock inside. Their laughter filled the room as he mercilessly pounded you, each thrust forcing a yelp out of you.

You could hear the other men walking over, moving slowly as the ghost fucked you, clearly not sure what they were seeing. They stood behind you, watching as the first ghost reached his orgasm, pumping his load into you before stepping aside for the next.

The second ghost wasn't any gentler, forcing himself into you using the first one's cum as lube, pressing his fingers into your clit and rubbing you to an orgasm around him as he buried himself in you. The office workers walked around the table to where your head lay, the edge rubbing on your cheek bone.

They got their cocks out and forced your mouth open, taking turns fucking your face and groping the sides of your tits as the ghosts held you down. The second ghost finished in you and the third took his place as the two men kept your mouth busy. This ghost took his time, running his hands over your waist and your hips, feeling every inch of your skin as he rutted into you. The office workers were getting close, you could taste the precum flowing out of them as they alternated thrusting down your throat. The dark haired one held you down. You gagged as he filled your mouth with cum, thrusting down into you for good measure, despite already being balls-deep. You gasped for breath when he pulled out, only for the blonde one to do the same, roughly fucking your throat until he pulled out and painted your face with it, slathering you with a mix of spit and semen. They put themselves away and left before the ghost and finished, making sure to be gone before you could get up.

You felt the ghost start throbbing inside you, pulsing his cum into your punished womb, mingling with his friends.

They left you on the table when they'd finished. Your legs shaking, tears and cum in your eyes. Othello pulled you up from the table, holding you from behind as another placed the locket around your neck.

You felt as though you were watching a film. You could still see everything, hear, touch, taste, but your movements weren't yours any more. You watched as you removed the stained and sodden knickers from between your legs. Your body moved unbidden, leaving the café and locking the door behind you. Your lungs filled with the outside air as you watched yourself walk down the street

"Don't worry" Othello's voice sounded in your head "We'll give your body back, just maybe a little more pregnant"

#######################################

A/N: Not sure how well this one turned out, but there's certainly room to expand this if needed.

Once again, any requests will probably be written, so if you want something: drop me an ask or a DM and I'll do what I can!

[vodika-vibes]

She Could Have Been Mine

A companion piece to Sugarpop

Summary: Cody realizes what he lost.

Pairing: Background Commander Bly x F!Reader, Commander Cody

Word Count: 1086

Warnings: None? Minor angst

A/N: So, I finally wrote the sequel/companion piece to Sugarpop that so so many of you asked for. I hope you all like it.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

Loving her is easy.

She’s easy to love. Kind and gentle, warm and welcoming in a way you don’t see often outside the Jedi.

For Cody, loving her is as natural as breathing. 

And yet, he’s known from the start that she was too good for him. Someone like her deserves only the best. And Cody is far from the best.

So he does what he knows has to be done. He keeps his distance, treating her like a dear friend, almost a sister, but nothing more. He meets other women and dates them, and she always greets them with a warm smile and a baked treat.

And he ignores the way that she looks at him. The way she smiles at him. 

He ignores how her smile falters when he introduces another woman to the friend group. And he pretends he can’t see her heart breaking in her eyes every time he chooses someone else.

It’s for the best.

She deserves better than him.

When she gets kidnapped, her front door kicked in and her apartment trashed, Cody’s heart drops. He’s sure that they’re going to find her body in a ditch somewhere on Coruscant.

He gives up on her.

He can’t conceive of the possibility that she survives something like that. It’s not like she’s a soldier or anything like that. She’s just a baker. And, as much as he loves her, he can’t cling to the faint hope that she might still live. He has a war to win.

Bly…doesn’t agree.

“You have no proof that she’s dead!” Bly snaps, as he’s held back by Wolffe and Fox. Cody’s grateful for it, for all that Bly seems like an easygoing guy, he’s not sure he’d win in a fistfight against him. “You’re giving up on her even though nothing is indicating she’s dead?! What kind of friend are you?”

“I’m a realist, Bly. She’s just a baker—”

Bly rips himself free from his brothers and manages to restrain his anger with great difficulty, “I don’t think I’ve ever been so disgusted with one of my own brothers before. I refuse to give up. I’m going to find her.”

Six months later, Cody is sure that Bly must have given up. Everyone else has.

And yet, Bly sends a simple message in the group chat, “I found her. She’s alive. Will return to Coruscant when deployment ends.”

For Cody, the message is like a breath of fresh air. He never, once, dared to hope that she might still be alive.

And, for the first time, Cody starts to think that maybe he’s been going about this all wrong. Maybe, just maybe, it’s time for him to be honest with himself. 

The first time Cody sees her after her long imprisonment, he almost doesn’t recognize her. Her hair is cropped shorter than he had ever seen before, and she looks like she’s lost weight…but when she sees him she offers the same warm smile that she always gave him.

The same smile that makes his heart skip a beat. The same smile that he fell in love with all those months ago.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Cody offers as she walks over to him.

“Thank you. General Secura put me in touch with a mind healer at the temple, to help me process everything that happened to me. But…” She trails off, and looks away from him, her smile softening slightly, “I think I’m going to be alright.”

“That’s good. I’m glad the Jedi are willing to help you.”

“Well, General Secura said something about the kidnapping being half their fault? I’m not sure what she means, but she feels really guilty about it.”

Well, that’s news to him. But also, he doesn’t want to talk about the Jedi right now. Cody opens his mouth to say something, a rough plan on how he’d ask her on a date starting to form in the back of his mind.

Only he never gets the chance to speak.

“Sugarpop!” Her head turns to the side and a blinding smile crosses her face as she sees Bly standing there, “I was wondering where you slipped off to.”

Cody watches, stunned, as she turns away from him and skips over to Bly, not slowing as she crashes into him and wraps her arms around his neck. And he watches as Bly spins her around to work off some of that momentum, and then leans in to press his forehead against hers.

Oh.

Her hands come up and press against his cheeks, and a giggle he’s never heard before slips from her lips as Bly whispers something to her.

Oh.

A wry, slightly wistful, smile crosses his lips. 

He missed his chance. 

His gaze meets Bly’s for a moment, and then Cody looks away. He doesn’t want to see this. He doesn’t deserve to see this.

He hears Bly murmur something to her, and he glances at them in time to see her nod and slide back to the ground. “Are we still going to go to the—?” She trails off, her voice tinged in hope.

Bly grins at her and kisses her forehead, “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.” He takes her hands for a moment, “Wait outside for me? I’ll be just a few minutes.”

“Alright.” She turns and smiles at Cody, “I’ll see you later, Cody!”

“Yeah. Later.” Cody watches her leave the building and then turns his attention to his brother.

“You alright, Codes?” Bly asks.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because I’m not an idiot and I know you love her?”

“I’m fine, Bly. I’m not entitled to her.”

Bly sighs, “Did you think she was going to wait forever?”

“No. Of course not.” He pauses and then rubs the back of his neck, “Is she happy?”

“I like to think so.”

“Then that’s good enough for me. Just…keep making her happy, and I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Stop worrying about me, dumbass. Go to your girl.”

“Fine, fine.” Bly turns to leave the building as well, “Oh, but I’m telling Wolffe and Fox that you’re feeling sad.”

Cody huffs out a laugh, “Thanks.” Then Bly and gone and Cody takes a moment to push his hand through his hair.

She could have been his if he hadn’t been such a moron. But then, he’s not sure he’d be able to make her as happy as Bly does.

He tilts his head back, and a bitter laugh slips from him, “Force, I’m such a kriffing idiot.”

@heidnspeak

@justiceandwar98

@etod

@kiss-anon

@lonewolflupe

@silly-starfish

@msmeredithrose

@cdblake1565

@badbatch-bitch

@continous-mistakes

@falconfeather23435

@tiredbi-peach

@kimiheartblade

@clones-cyare

@cc--2224

@0revna0

@mira-loves-star-wars

@trixie2023

@rebell-ious

@padawancat97

@sweater-sloot

@bekahcurlygirl

@bb8-99

@maniacalbooper

@wax-birds

@adriennelenoir

@omegaprime18

@bad4amficideas

@bekah_curlygirl

@dukeoftheblackstar

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@arctech-fox

[darlinluxx]

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐊 ౨ৎ

pairing : saebyeok x fem!reader

fluff

warnings : none

summary : mornings with sae

if you have any requests, feel free to message me <3

𝐓he first thing you feel is the gentle weight of an arm draped across your waist, followed by the soft tickle of dark hair against your cheek. you nuzzle deeper into the warmth, inhaling the sleepy scent of sandalwood and something uniquely Saebyeok. it’s a scent you’ve come to associate with safety, with belonging. the kind of feeling that feels like a stolen moment, a secret tucked away from the harsh realities of the world.

you open your eyes, the morning light filtering weakly through the sheer curtains of your small apartment. it’s a pale, hesitant light, much like the city slowly waking up. Saebyeok’s face is turned towards you, her eyelashes resting against her cheek like dark, delicate feathers.

you trace the line of her jaw with a fingertip. a small smile plays on her lips, a secret sign that she’s awake. her breathing deepens, a low rumble against your ear. you love mornings like this — quiet, intimate, a world of just the two of you.

“morning.” you whisper, your voice still thick with sleep.

Saebyeok’s arm tightens around you, pulling you closer. “morning.” she mumbles, her voice a low, husky rasp. the word is muffled against your hair, but it’s enough. it’s always enough.

she shifts, her hand moving to gently cup your cheek. her thumb brushes over your skin, sending a shiver of warmth down your spine. her eyes, usually so stoic and cold, are soft and drowsy as they finally meet yours. there’s a depth to her gaze, a love that feels both fiercely protective and tenderly vulnerable. you could get lost in their dark depths for hours.

“did you sleep okay?” you ask, your voice a soft murmur.

she nods, her eyes never leaving yours. “yeah, better than usual.” the admission is small, but the meaning behind it resonates. it’s a testament to the fragile bubble of peace you’ve built together.

you press a kiss to her palm, her hand surprisingly warm against your lips. “me too.” you whisper.

the small smile returns to her lips, a flash of warmth against the backdrop of her usually reserved expression. you know how difficult it is for her to show affection, how cold she usually is, and the way she allows herself to be soft with you fills your heart with a love that feels both profound and sacred.

a comfortable silence settles between you, broken only by the rhythmic hum of the city outside and the gentle rise and fall of her chest against yours. you stay intertwined, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the morning, knowing that this moment, this perfect stillness, is something worth fighting for.

after a few more stolen minutes, Saebyeok finally stirs, a deep sigh escaping her lips. she pulls back just enough to look at you, her brows furrowing slightly.

“what should we do today?” she asks, the question a silent invitation to plan a day where the outside world doesn’t matter.

you think for a moment, a multitude of possibilities swirling in your head, before settling on something simple.

“maybe… we could go to the park? or just stay here and watch movies?” you suggest, your voice hopeful.

Saebyeok considers this for a moment, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. she looks at you, a soft, almost hesitate tenderness in her eyes.

“either one is okay.” she finally says, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of her lips. “as long as i’m with you.”

and in that moment, with the pale light filtering through the curtains and the warmth of Saebyeok’s presence, you know that whether the day holds, you’ll face it together. because in the end, the most important thing is the quiet, fragile peace you’ve found in each other’s arms, a love that feels both a refuge and a promise. you reach out, threading your fingers through her hair, and lean in for a kiss, a promise sealed in the soft morning light.

[independentanon]

"RESIST PROJECT 2025" Stencil - BTS

I figured I'd share a behind-the-scenes look at how I made my stencil. Feel free to use what you find in this post (and my other posts) to make your own! Just be safe, as it requires sharp blades and chemical fumes.

I started by making the following graphic:

I did my usual thing of putting the graphic onto my phone, tracing it from my phone onto clear plastic with permanent marker, then projecting the shadow onto... well, usually I'd say "foam board" here, but this time it was card stock.

I first refined the pencil trace.

I then used a strip of cereal box I cut to help me consistently add bridges to the trace so no "islands" of the stencil would be completely cut off, and to "peninsulas" so they can remain ridged. I learned from looking at other stencil fonts online that following existing edges helps to keep the final product legible, but there also needs to be a balance with making the cut stencil sturdy enough to last. Most of the bridges I made were as short as possible.

I put this card stock onto a disposable hard surface so I could cut it using my box cutter. I also bought an Exacto-Knife but the blade was shit. Cutting with a box cutter is both painful and time consuming, but this ended up being the most effective tool I had available. I did end up with a blister, though.

Anyway, here's what I ended up with:

The above image was used in my second stencil post.

I ended up making a border of duct tape for my master stencil to protect its edges and to provide a surface for tape to cling to that wouldn't break down overtime.

The idea of a "master" stencil is to have a form I can quickly trace for when I want to make a new stencil. Getting paper wet will damage and warp it over time, so keeping a pristine master stencil is valuable since the copies are disposable and making one from scratch takes a lot longer.

=================================

Okay, so from here, I needed to make a stencil copy using my newly created master stencil.

After tracing and cutting the copy, I took it out in a well ventilated area to spray paint the decal onto some foam board.

A stencil copy like this one can be used multiple times, but it's recommended that you let it dry a little before uses or it will get too wet and warp quickly, ruining it sooner than later.

This was my first test with my first stencil copy:

The above image was used for my forth stencil post.

It's important to make sure the stencil is flat against the surface you're applying the decal to in order to prevent fuzzy edges. I didn't do that and you can see that the letters are not sharp in some spots.

Lastly, I did my little test where I put my sign in a distant room with all lights off except in that room, then took a photo to see how it looked:

There are tricks online about how to flatten a warped piece of paper that I'd recommend looking into, since stencils generally don't last long and will warp pretty quickly. As for how to properly secure a stencil to a vertical surface, well... I won't go there :)

Here are the original posts:

[yasei-ji-oc]

[Another new turtle- this one about the same size as the ones taking care of you, but just a bit slimmer and taller- walks by, stopping for just a moment and looking at something in their hands.]

He pauses, pulling out his newly re-made phone and checking the map. Did it go as detailed as to say where things in each lair are? He was going to ask Dee if he had some spare parts he needed, but the other turtle wasn't in his lab. He huffs, his tail swishing anxiously. He puts his free hand in his hoodie pocket, trying to ignore how awkward he feels to just be standing here in the middle of someone else's lair. He should've asked if Raph had Dee's number. He types out a message to his older brother, but doesn't expect too quick of a response.

( @the-one-and-only-dontron )

*Yasei-ji peered out, looking at the new turtle, mewing quietly before cautiously leaving the tub, shaking the water off from their fur, and moving slightly towards the new turtle, mewing again, this time louder*

[sovietpostcards]

Good morning! This is kind of an odd ask but do you also sell Russian candy/chocolate wrappers? I went to Russia as a kid and collected those beautiful, artfully made wrappers. Sadly, my mum threw them all away before we went back home. I would love those wrappers as a reminder of my childhood...

I have a bunch left, here they are. Most are from 1990s I would say, some Soviet ones as well. I'm happy to assist in finding something particular for you, feel free to message me.

[fablesandfragments]

When Did Books Become So... Formulaic? Part 1

When did books start feeling like they had to follow a set formula to be considered “good”? When did writing become less about creative expression and more about ticking off boxes—engaging opening, structured setting, the “right” pacing? Everywhere you turn, someone is telling you how to write a book, how to make it “marketable,” how to fit it into a mold that guarantees an audience. And I get it. I’ve internalized it too.

But what even is writing? Shouldn’t it be art? Shouldn’t it be free? Shouldn’t a book be a canvas where words don’t have to march neatly in line but can sprawl, dance, or drip like paint? Who says the text has to be left-aligned? What if a story unfolded in a spiral, or if every chapter was a shape, a rhythm, a feeling? What if the structure itself was part of the message, not just a vessel to deliver a pre-approved plot?

And the thing is—people are doing this. There are writers experimenting, bending form, breaking rules, making books that are more than just books. But where are they? Why aren’t they the ones being given the biggest platforms? Why do the same kinds of books, the same kinds of authors, the same familiar beats keep getting pushed forward while boundary-pushing works are dismissed as “niche” or “too risky”?

Traditional publishing doesn’t seem to make space for them. If they want to be seen, they have to carve their own path, fund themselves, market themselves, do everything alone. And that can be exhausting. It can drain the passion out of something that was once pure expression. It can force people to conform just to survive.

So I guess my question is—why? Why do we act like writing is a machine instead of an art form? Why do we reward the safe and familiar while sidelining the bold and visionary? And what would books look like if we truly let them be free?

Let's discuss this...

I've been thinking about this and I got a lot of rambling posts on this topic.

Cuz it hit me like powe

[aquarius-johnny]

Promise? Promise. | Jeong Jaehyun

genre: smut | word count: 3.9k | deadly sins series | master list navi warnings: nonidol!jaehyun, tatted!reader, afab!reader, pet names (baby, my girl), needy jaehyun, use of sex toys, phone sex, sharing explicit photos, video sex, smut, a little fluffy summary: jaehyun so desperately wants you, only to remember you’re far away from him, so he settles for some long distance phone sex. | deadly sin: lust a/n: part of the deadly sins series. part two will be up in a few days. cr. border by @dollywons, seven deadly sins prompts by @joelsmochi

⌞ pinterest board ⌝ ≫ concept photos

Never in your wildest dreams, you’d be sending suggestive photos of yourself to a man you’ve never met, in person at least, that lives on the opposite side of the world from you. Everything that you’re doing goes against your best judgement, but you did not care. 

You tilt your head to the right, then the left, then the right again while analyzing the lingerie set you bought earlier that day. Eyes scanning the way the lace perfectly lays against your skin, the color complimenting your undertone, and how the cut flatters your body oh so well before turning to the side, slightly twisting your body to admire your ass. You give yourself an approving nod, taking pride in the set you chose yourself. 

Your text tone pulls you out of your thoughts and a smile pulls your lips after seeing who it’s from. 

jaehyun: i missed you today jaehyun: think we can talk tonight?

Your thumb hovers over your phone’s keyboard, thinking about what you should reply. Thinking on your feet, you snap a quick picture posing suggestively for the shot — you angle your mirror to face your bed, positioning yourself in view of your reflection. Your knees slightly part against your mattress and you lean forward a bit, ensuring your phone covers your face as you take a couple of photos. You reopen your messaging app, sending the best photo you took.

you: sure, feel free to call me when you can

Within seconds, you receive a new text. 

jaehyun: is that new?  you: yeah, i bought it today. you: what do you think? jaehyun: i might need a few more angles to come up with a solid opinion jaehyun: one thing is for sure though jaehyun: i want you jaehyun: so fucking badly

You giggle at his multiple messages sent back to back. You quickly shoot a couple more photos, multiple shots in semi compromising positions you remember Jaehyun saying he really enjoyed. Feeling confident in yourself, you choose your best photos once more, sending four more photos for him to add to his spank bank.

you: i really like it you: i think it’s very pretty jaehyun: i need to call you jaehyun: now jaehyun: please

Before you could reply, your phone screen lights up with Jaehyun’s contact information and cute little pouty photo he took and sent you when you took a little too long calling him one night.

“You’re a little impatient, aren’t you?” You giggle softly, hearing a door lock on his end of the line. 

You feel him smile over the phone, his voice slightly echoing on his end. “I can’t help it.” 

“Where are you?” You ask as you trace your finger against the waistband of your underwear. “Doesn’t sound like you’re home.”

“I’m not.” His voice lingers with a hint of urgency, his breathing slightly rattled and you hear the echoes of his belt buckle being undone. “I’m in a restroom. I have to be quick, my friends are waiting.” 

“Hm, you’re gonna use me to get you off and then leave me?” Your bottom lip juts out, letting out a small whimper that always sends Jaehyun into a frenzy.

“No, of course not baby,” he breathes, “Those pictures, fuck, I — I promise to call you when I get home. I want to see you. I need to see you. But right now, I need to hear you, please.” His begging ignites something in the pit of your stomach, aroused by the breathy sounds he makes. 

You slide your fingers under the fabric covering your core. “Promise?” 

“I promise,” his voice low and raspy, before he inhales sharply. “Think you can touch yourself for me?”

You smile against your phone. “Already am,” you let out. “I’m really wet,” you softly giggle, tracing circles around your sweet nub. 

A low groan escapes Jaehyun's lips. The sound of his hand slicking up and down his shaft is very prominent, the sound so enticing you let out a small moan. 

“Should I stick a finger inside?” You wonder aloud, waiting patiently for his directions. 

“Fuck,” Jaehyun growls, “please do.” He pumps his erection faster, aroused by the thoughts of your fingers dipping in and out of you.

“I wish they were yours,” you pout, your dainty fingers gently moving against your wet velvety walls. 

“You have no idea how much I want that,” Jaehyun sighs, throwing his head back against the wall he’s pressed against. He twists his tip before returning to pumping himself. “Until then, fuck yourself with your fingers baby. Tell me how good it feels.” His voice is so low and raspy, you find it incredibly hot how needy and desperate he is to touch himself while thinking of you. 

“It feels so good, Jaehyun.” You groan, penetrating your finger deeper inside of you. “I’m so wet and it’s so warm.” 

“Fuck,” Jaehyun grunts. “Faster. Fuck yourself faster.”

His breathing turns rapid and you hear him sharply inhale. Your eyes shut, taking in the lewd noises you’re making that’s mixed with the sounds Jaehyun lets out every time his imagination gets the best of him. You do as he says, before opting out to rub circles on your clit knowing it’ll make you release faster. 

“Jaehyun,” you whimper. “Harder.” 

He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, biting back the groan he so desperately wants to let out. He loves the way you call out for him as you touch yourself. He does as you say, tightening his grip around his cock, pumping his hand all the way down to the base of his shaft as he imagines bottoming out inside of you. 

You press down onto your clit, picking up the pace ever so slightly to reach your high. A string of breathy mumbles leave your lips, imagining how good Jaehyun would feel inside of you. Your walls begin to pulse and your back begins to arch. Your hand doesn’t falter and Jaehyun’s sounds help you chase ecstasy. As your pace increases, so does his. His pathetic whimpers are music to your ears.

“God, Jaehyun,” you gasp. “I’m gonna come!” 

“Shit, me too,” he croaks. 

A jolt of pleasure runs through your body; your thighs tremble and your toes curl. “I’m coming,” you cry out, rubbing yourself until you ride out your high. 

Jaehyun doesn’t say a word, instead, you hear him groan and gasp into the phone. Strings of white ropes spurt out of his tip and onto his long fingers. Both your bodies go limp — you sink into your mattress and he leans into the restroom wall to hold him up. 

“Damn,” he laughs, causing you to let out a giggle as well. “Hold on, I gotta clean myself up.”

He places his phone on the counter as he tears a bunch of toilet paper from its dispenser to wipe his release off his fingers and his tip. You hear a rush of water indicating hand washing on his end. 

Soon enough, you’re greeted by Jaehyun once again. “You’re not going out tonight, right?” He asks you, unlocking the restroom door. A wave of chatter fills your phone, clearly telling you that he’s going back to his friends. 

“That depends if you’re going to call me later,” you mumble, trying to steady your breathing.

Jaehyun chuckles and all you can imagine is his dimpled smile. “I made a promise, right?” He lets out, sharply inhaling. 

“You did.”

“So I intend on keeping that promise.” Your heart swells with excitement, a small smile tugs the corners of your lips. “I’ll be home soon.”

You give him a tired hum before hearing his name get called by who you can assume are his friends. “When I call later, make sure you have those gifts I sent you, okay baby?”

Your heart flutters, excited to use the sex toys Jaehyun sent you a couple of weeks back. “Okay,” you happily mumble. “Don’t miss me too much.”

Jaehyun chuckles. “It’s really hard not to,” he smiles. “I’ll keep you updated.” 

And Jaehyun did just that. For the next two hours or so, he texted you with a ton of updates. He even sent you pictures of him and his friends as they walked the streets, eating their favorite street foods and making you slightly envious.

jaehyun: i’m heading home now jaehyun: i’ll call you when i’m inside jaehyun: i hope you have didn’t change out of that set, i can’t wait to see it

You smile at your phone, sending a picture of your point of view as you sit on your bed, back against your headboard. In front of you, you see a small vibrator and a custom dildo — custom to the size and shape of Jaehyun’s cock. Your lace underwear peaks from the edge of the picture, your focus are your legs and feet; looking silky and soft as your overhead light accentuates the smooth texture of your skin. 

A few minutes later, your phone rings — this time, Jaehyun requesting a video call. 

“Hey,” you answer with a smile, Jaehyun already smiling at the sight of you. 

“Hey,” he replies. “How was your day?”

The one thing you appreciate about Jaehyun is the fact that he never forgets to ask about your day. Sure, things between the two of you were sexually tense, but you find him to be one of the sweetest people you’ve been sexually involved with. It always feels like he truly cares about what you have to say, making you feel more like an actual friend to him and not simply someone to help him get off.

“Oh the usual — stressful day at work, so I decided to go shopping afterwards to make myself feel better.”

“Did it work?” Jaehyun chuckles. He places his phone against a water bottle in his room before taking his shirt off then proceeding to pick up the phone again. Pushing his hair back with his long fingers, he shakes his head and it falls back into place. 

“Yeah,” you grin. “I think what I bought is pretty.”

“It is.” Jaehyun licks his lips, his eyes wandering from your eyes down to the lace holding your breasts perfectly in place. “A very pretty girl in very pretty lingerie.” 

Your cheeks rush with heat, shyly smiling at his comment. “How was your day?” You ask, changing the subject quickly. 

“Oh the usual —“ he teases you, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he smiles. “Work was brutal, back to back meetings make my brain turn into mush.” You give him a sympathetic pout as he speaks. “Wished I could’ve come home to you, but you’re so far away.” 

Your brows lift in surprise. You move to lay on your stomach, phone propped in front of you, making sure to angle it in a perfect view of your ass for the man you’re talking to. “I’m sorry I’m so far away,” you sigh, resting your chin against the palm of your hand. “Wish I was there with you.” 

A toothy smile creeps onto Jaehyun’s face as he hears your words. “Maybe one day?” 

You eagerly nod, smiling like a teenager in love. 

“Promise?” 

“I promise,” you giggle at his neediness. “How was hanging out with your friends, by the way?”

“The same old stuff,” he shrugs. “They did wonder why I went to the restroom after looking at my phone.” His ears flush a crimson red, thinking back on the memory. 

“What did you say?” 

He lets out an embarrassed laugh. “I mean, I really wanted to tell them why, but I decided not to and just told them I needed to use the restroom.” Jaehyun sits at his work desk in his room, propping his phone on a stack of books ensuring you could see his body. “Not sure if they believed me, but that’s okay. I’ll let their imagination run wild.”

He leans into the backing of his rolling computer chair, looking relaxed in his position. He twisted his chair casually, your eyes catching his well defined body and how good he looked in those grey sweatpants he had on. He wasn’t doing much to excite you, in fact, he was just sitting there telling you about his day and you find the sight of it arousing. 

“By the way,” he lets out, catching your attention. “You were absolutely amazing in the restroom earlier and those pictures, fuck — they look so good. I’d give anything to hear your moans in person.” 

You blush at his compliments, biting down on your bottom lip before hiding your embarrassment. Jaehyun laughs at you, enjoying the sight of you crumbling at his words. He continues to twist his chair, letting out an amused laugh. 

“Can I see what you’re wearing?” A smile never leaves his face, but you see him quickly squeeze his length through his sweatpants. 

You sit on your knees, your screen filled with your body and that perfect little smile you had as you showed off your beautiful set. 

“Turn around,” Jaehyun exhales, eyes locked in on your body. 

You do as he says, showing him how nicely your underwear wraps around your ass cheeks. You bend over to give him a better view in hopes that he’ll think of you in this position as he jerks himself off. 

“Damn,” he mutters under his breath. He shifts in his seat, shamelessly squeezing his length a lot harder this time. “You have a tattoo?” He questions, pausing his movements and moving closer to his phone to get a better view. 

You nod your head, pointing to the little text you have on your lower back. 

“What does it say?” Jaehyun asks, eyes wide at the sight of your small tramp stamp. 

The typewriter font tattoo in the middle of your lower back had been seen only by a handful of people and within those handful of people, only one of them was a partner who was also surprised at the sight of it. Jaehyun would be the second partner to see this tattoo. “It says, unforgettable.” You share, slightly embarrassed at the spur of the moment tattoo you decided to get a few years back. 

“Wow,” Jaehyun lets out, giving you a smirk. “That’s so hot. Any other tattoos you have?” 

You fall back onto your stomach, looking at your propped up phone screen that’s leaning on a bunch of pillows stacked on each other. 

“Yeah, I have one on my inner lip.”

Confused for a second, Jaehyun opens his mouth to speak only for you to pull down your bottom lip, showing him the small text against the inside flesh of your bottom lip reading ‘kiss me.’ 

“Woah,” he breathily lets out. “And here I thought you couldn’t get any hotter. When did you get that?”

“Like a year ago?” 

“I met you a year ago, why didn’t you tell me?”

“You never asked,” you laugh at him as he has a stupidly cute grin on his face. 

“Can you turn around again? I wanna see your back tattoo.” 

You do as he asks, this time moving a little closer to the camera. You sit on your knees, slightly twisting your body to see him admiring your body before a notification of a screenshot pops up on your screen. And another one. And another one. He massages his cock through his pants as he imagines how intoxicating it would be to see you in person. 

“Jaehyun,” you whine, going back to the position you were in earlier. “You’ve been playing with yourself this whole time and haven’t even shown me it. I didn’t even get a picture in the restroom earlier,” you pout. 

“Oh,” he chuckles, smiling at your whines. “I’m so sorry, baby, I forgot to show you what you did to me. Want me to show you, now?” 

You nod your head, excited. 

“Anything for my pretty girl,” he coos, pulling his sweats down to his knees before sitting back down. His cock springs up, hitting against his abs and you eye his tip ending right above his belly button. 

“So,” you smile. “In hopes of seeing you one day,” you sigh happily, grabbing the dildo beside you and placing it between you and the camera. “I’ve been practicing giving head with this beautiful thing.” 

“Yeah?” Jaehyun croaks. “C-Can you show me?” He mumbles as he strokes his long length, already hard from the sight of you. 

You nod, holding your custom dildo at the base with your hand. Your dainty fingers slowly begin to delicately caress its shaft before you let a pool of spit from your lips fall onto the tip of the silicone toy, using your hand to spread your saliva. Jaehyun spits in his hand before following your actions, spreading the saliva against his own shaft. His eyes never leave the sight of you. 

He watches as your lips slowly part upon contact with the tip of your toy. Your head bobs up and down the silicone shaft, your hand spreading the wetness. All Jaehyun could do was watch and imagine — imagine your lips were kissing his reddened tip and your hands moving up and down, sending chills through his body. All he could do was imagine his fingers buried into your hair, guiding you as he bucks his hips up, forcing himself down your throat inch by inch. Sloppy noises heard on your end earns you a low groan from Jaehyun, his free hand running through the root of his hair, his eyes softening at the sight of you and imagining you were there with him. He silently thanked himself for getting you a replica of his own cock so you could use it during occasions like this. 

“Put it in.” He sharply intakes a breath. 

Using the back of your hand to wipe the drool off your lips, you begin to back up from the camera. You push the thin laced fabric aside, exposing your aroused hole. 

“Take it off,” Jaehyun commands, slowly pumping his rigid length, veins popping out angrily. “I wanna see that pretty pussy.” 

His explicit words cause a flush against your skin, exciting your core. You begin to remove your underwear, flicking it aside as it reaches your ankle. You plant your feet against your mattress, thighs wide open as you show your soaking heat to the camera. 

Jaehyun’s jaw drops, his hair a disheveled mess with strands stuck against his glistening forehead. “So fucking pretty,” he mumbles. His hand twists against his cock, squeezing and stroking his hardened length, slowly. 

Grabbing your dildo, you press the silicone tip against your clit before pressing it into you, slowly at first forcing out a satisfied groan from your lips. You begin to bury the toy into your soaking cunt, biting down on your bottom lip, enjoying how your toy filled you up perfectly. 

Jaehyun’s left speechless, enjoying the sight in front of him. He tightens the grip around his length, matching your pace with his. 

Your dildo slides into you ease, watching you fuck yourself through the mirror angled perfectly towards your bed. With your free hand, you grab your tiny vibrator, and place it against your sensitive nub. Jolts of pleasure run through your body and for a quick moment, you forget Jaehyun is watching you. His eyes glued to his phone screen, watching you hungrily, intimately, desperately.

“I wanna be inside of you,” he begs. “Fuck!” 

You smirk at his words. You pump the dildo inside of you, your soft walls swallowing it whole. Your moans gradually get louder, your breathing gets heavier, and sweat beads begin to form against your forehead.

You sit on your knees, your pussy still clenching your dildo as it pushes it deeper as you change your position. Holding it at the base, you ride it while it stays in place during your movements. You place your vibrator against your clit once more. 

“God, Jaehyun, I wish I could ride you,” you whine. Your hips move against your silicone toy while steady vibrations stimulate your pretty little bud, sending nothing but pleasure throughout your body. 

Jaehyun watches your hips grind, a hint of jealousy from a toy. A frustrated growl escapes and he bucks his hips into his hand, imagining he was bucking it into you as you ride him. 

“Faster,” you mutter, frantically grinding your hips. “I want you to come with me.” 

Jaehyun’s lips part slightly before his jaw falls open. Clenching his throbbing cock, he roughly jerks himself letting his imagination run rampant with thoughts of you and only you. 

“Fuck, Jaehyun!” You cry out, a feverish tingle runs through your entire body. “I-I’m com-ing!” Your voice hitches as you gasp in pleasure. 

Jaehyun releases as you call out his name. His velvety white ropes splatter against his abdomen and a liquid mess leaks from his tip onto his fingers. His face flushes a bright pink, clearly exhausted by his movements. He lets out an amused laugh, carefully wiping away his release with the tissues he had on his desk. His forehead glistens with sweat and his hair clings onto his skin before he pushes his hair back right before pulling his sweatpants up. 

You slowly pull your dildo out of you, putting it aside to clean off for next time. Grabbing your underwear, you slide them back on. “Was that okay?” You ask Jaehyun who is illuminated by his computer screen. He frantically types something, eyes scanning the words in front of him. 

“It was perfect.” He smiles at your words, quickly peaking at you before returning to what he was doing. 

“What’re you doing?” You ask, curiously, throwing your blanket over you. 

“I’m looking for flights,” he quickly responds, his fingers aggressively tapping the keys on his computer’s keyboard. 

“Flights?” Grabbing your phone, you rest your head on your pillow. “Where are you planning on going?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he smirks. “I’m looking for a flight to get your ass here.” 

You laugh at his words. “You’re ridiculous,” you let out, pulling the blanket higher up your body. 

“There’s a flight next month. Send me a picture of your information, I’ll book it for you.” 

“Wait, woah, hold on.” You nervously chuckle. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah?”

“Jaehyun, baby, I can’t just leave — not next month, anyway.”

He pauses, eyes back on his computer screen. He taps and clicks away. “Hm, there’s a flight 3 months from now. Is that enough time to get everything sorted out?” 

“You’re dead serious?” You ask, flustered at the thought of seeing him in person.

“I’ve got everything covered for when you get here,” he smiles. “3 weeks, tops.” 

You sit up in bed, your blanket sliding down your skin as you’re in deep thought. 

“I want to see you,” Jaehyun looks at you through the phone screen, his eyes soft and full of hope that you’ll agree. 

“This is a very expensive booty call,” you lightly chuckle. 

Jaehyun gives you an exaggerated pout. “C’mon, you know it’s not like that. We’ve been talking for over a year. Don’t you think we owe this to ourselves and finally meet in person?” He pauses, scanning your reaction. “Please? I just wanna see my girl.” 

Your heart swells with happiness as you hear your nickname that he’s given you. 

“Fine, I’ll send you my info,” you sigh in defeat, although your smile indicates a tinge of excitement. “After all,” you pause. “I did make a promise.”