#the looks he's giving at her and the camera

[norrisainz33]

enemies to... || mv33

summary: y/n and max are longtime rivals and former friends who find themselves colliding on track in spain and being forced to confront the feelings they've both been burying

pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader

fc & warnings: none and angsty, bad language, suggestive if you squint

requested: nope just inspired by spain

masterlist

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

f1 has made a post

liked by user1, user2, yourbff, yoursibling, mercedesamgf1, user4, user5, user6 and 634,530 others

f1: following an on track incident with mercedes driver, y/n y/l/n, max verstappen has dropped to p10 with a 10-second penalty.

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user1: DESERVED!!!!

user2: should've been more than 10 second penalty are you kidding

user3: nah max did nothing wrong

user4: max needs to leave y/n alone i'm so serious

user5: these two are always fighting

user6: i stand with my cancelled wife (max)

✿

you took a deep breath as you shut off the engine, your hands still trembling as you pulled the wheel out of its place and put it on the car. you had just spent the last five laps screaming over the radio, accusing max of deliberately turning in on you after he’d been instructed to give the position back. the contact had nearly put you both out of the race but somehow you’d limped over the line and managed to finish 4th despite the damage you sustained.

a forceful tap against your helmet broke through your thoughts and you looked up to find george standing at the side of your car. he offered his hand, no words, just calm eyes and quiet support. you hesitated for a moment, the tension in your shoulders refusing to ease but eventually took it. his grip was firm and grounding as he helped you out of the car.

“i heard what happened,” he said quietly once your feet hit the tarmac.

you ripped your gloves off, jaw clenched, gaze locked across the parc ferme where max’s red bull was being wheeled back into the garage.

"yeah," you snapped, pulling your helmet off your head. "and this won't be the last you hear of it either."

✿

f1 has made a post

liked by user1, user2, yourbff, yoursibling, mercedesamgf1, user4, user5, user6 and 634,530 others

f1: two very different takes following the incident involving these two rivals in spain 🫢

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user1: y/n is handling this so much more gracefully than i would’ve

user2: i’d give anything to be a fly on the wall for when these two inevitably run into each other in the paddock

user3: max doesnt need to say anything! he did nothing wrong!

user4: i dont understand why people are giving max the benefit of the doubt here.

user5: y/n should be legally allowed to punt him off the track in canada

user7: ofc the big baby doesnt wanna talk about it.

usr6: y'all are so sensitive. max was just racing her! not his fault she was in the way

user8: taking it out on y/n as if she was the reason red bull had a shit strategy??? have some shame max

✿

“frankly he cost his team and himself a lot of points by pulling what he did today,” you said, voice clipped as you adjusted the collar of your fireproofs trying to keep your breathing even. “i mean i’m 4th in the race and 4th in the championship and that’s really all that matters to me.”

the skysports mic hovered just a little closer, hoping to get a good sound bite from you. “if max wants to be a big crybaby and ruin his own races... i’m all for it.” and with that, you finished out the interview with short answers about canada and your plans to not talk things out with max.

the walk back to your motorhome felt endless especially as fans called out your name and cameras flashed around every corner. you didn’t stop like you usually did... not for selfies, not for questions, not for anything. the last thing you needed was to see his smug face again so the quicker you got out of there the better. but as it usually does... fate had other plans.

you stepped into mercedes hospitality, finally exhaling, only to be met with an agitating grating voice.

“a crybaby, huh?”

you turned sharply, the door still half-open behind you. max stood with his arms folded, his jaw tight, his cheeks still red from the heat of the race and his narrowed eyes were locked onto you like a missile. “yes,” you said dryly. “an ego-driven man child with no concept of accountability.”

a couple of mechanics quickly ducked past, awkwardly pretending not to hear. you and max had a reputation especially after a few incidents last year... max stepped forward, voice low and sharp. “a man child? you’ve got to be kidding me.”

you scoffed turning on your heel. “max, I don’t want to fucking talk to you.”

“too bad,” he bit out, already following behind you, his footsteps echoing in the narrow hallway. “i don’t give a shit what you want.”

you reached your driver’s room and threw the door open, stepping inside quickly trying to shut it behind you but max caught it before it slammed in his face.

“get out!” you snapped at the dutchman.

“no!” he snapped right back. “not until you drop the ‘poor me’ act and admit you knew exactly what you were doing out there.”

“you are insufferable,” you hissed, tossing your gloves onto the couch. “you turned in on me, ignored the team and nearly wrecked both of us.”

“you dive bombed into that corner like you had nothing to lose!” he shouted.

“first of all, i did not dive bomb you and second of all, I don’t drive scared unlike the rest of the grid when big bad max comes by!”

silence crackled between you, thick and heavy, your chests rising and falling in sync as the adrenaline refused to die down. “you are the fucking worst, max verstappen,” you whispered, voice shaking with anger, frustration, maybe something else you didn’t dare name.

his eyes flicked to your lips for a half second before narrowing again. “funny. i was about to say the same thing about you.” the air between you sparked like static. neither of you moved. neither of you dared to blink.

"i hate you." he said, almost like he was trying to remind himself of it. max’s jaw ticked and for a second you thought he might back down. but instead, he took another step forward, closing the space between you. the door clicked shut behind him, whether by accident or intention, you weren’t sure.

“you think I hit you on purpose?” he questioned, voice lower now. “you think I’d throw away a podium just to mess with you?”

you let out a dry laugh, “wouldn’t be the first time you let your ego drive the car.”

he smirked, “thats so rich coming from you. you're the only person on this grid who wants to win more than they care about keeping the car on the track.”

“because I’m not here to play safe.” your eyes burned into his. “i race to win and if you can’t handle that -”

“i can handle you,” he said, stepping so close your chest brushed his. “that’s the problem. you don’t scare me, lieverd.”

the dutch slipped off his tongue like a challenge, like something heavier than an insult, something personal. your heart thudded against your ribs. “oh, you think calling me ‘darling’ in dutch is going to make me melt?” you scoffed, shoving at his chest. “newsflash, verstappen! i’m not one of your fans.”

his hand caught yours as it hit him, holding it firm between your bodies. his touch was calloused, warm. infuriatingly familiar.

“no,” he said, not taking his eyes off you or letting go of your hand despite you trying to pull it away. “you’re worse. you get under my skin and stay there.”

you hated how close he was. hated how your body betrayed you and wanted nothing more than to lean further into him. and before you could stop yourself, before logic could win over impulse... you grabbed his face and crashed your mouth against his.

it was teeth and frustration, months of tension and post-race fury unraveling all at once. his hand came up to the back of your head messing up your hair and anchoring you like he’d been waiting for this as long as you had.

a loud knock pounded at the door a short second before it swung open, "y/n/n, i wanted to check on you after -" the familiar sound of lando's voice filled the room and despite the speed at which you and max had pulled away from each other.. he absolutely saw it all. "oh wow! ok so…. you're fine i guess." he smirked.

you quickly patted down your messy hair and took a few steps away from max, "lando for the love of god you have to wait until someone replies back to your knock before barging in!!"

lando looked between you and max, completely ignoring your comment. "is this some sort of weird foreplay for you both?"

"lando," max warned. "please pretend like you never saw this."

"uhhh yeah, sure mate!" lando nodded but he was just about the least capable person you knew when it came to keeping secrets.

"i'm dead ass begging you to not tell anyone," you pleaded again.

"i won't."

✿

lando has added to his private story

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maxverstappen1: say 1 word and no more trips on air max

lando: mmmm i think id survive mate

maxverstappen1: lando im begging you. this was the first and only time this has ever happened and i think her and i need to figure out what’s going on before the whole paddock gets involved

lando: 🫣 you two are no fun!! tho i really think you both need to be honest with each other because i am fairly certain you both have a thing for the other one and i just need all this feuding to end

ynuser: you literally stepped out of the room 2 seconds ago!!!!!!

lando: and? i’m efficient

ynuser: lando you’re my best friend and all but don’t think i won’t pull a max and try to run you off the track if you leak this

lando: only if you kiss me afterwards

ynuser: UGH NO

lando: don’t worry i’m just making you both sweat i won’t explicitly tell anyone

ynuser: 😔😔😔😔 in the 15 years i’ve known you you have never once been able to keep a secret

lando: slander! i kept the secret when you hid max’s gloves in karting and he couldn’t find them

lando: now that i’m saying that … have you had a crush on him since karting?????????

ynuser: you did not keep that secret you gave them back to him and no!!!!! i don’t know!!! i don’t think so!!!

lando: ughhhhh you don’t think so?! how do you not remember girl

ynuser: i mean maybe i did! i was more focused on hating his guts because he wouldn't stop beating me

lando: sounds like a crush to me

ynuser: shut UP!! i need to process this

oscarpiastri: story time !

lando: YIPPEEEEEE

georgerussell63: TELL NE TELL ME TELLLLL MEEEEE

lando: i unfortunately can’t

georgerussell63: you’ve gotta be kidding me mate

lando: the subjects of the story have threatened my safety

georgerussell63: so the story involves max?

lando: HAHAHAHAHA

lando: it doesn’t not include max

georgerussell63: and from there i’m gonna guess it also involves y/n/n

lando: you’re too good george

georgerussell63: i’m gonna keep stewing on the rest of this story. will report back when i think i figure it out

maxfewtrell: is it even a question mate???

lando: well … no!

carlossainz55: spill the beans mi amigo

lando: technically not allowed to spill any beans but catch me in the paddock and i might whisper some hints

✿

thankfully, max’s place in monaco was only a short walk from your own. under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have minded driving but in a place where everyone had a phone and every movement became a series of photos on some fan page as it often did in moncao, the last thing you needed was to be spotted pulling up to his building in one of your unmistakable cars. if someone clocked you heading toward the max verstappen’s apartment, alone, it wouldn’t take much for the internet to piece things together.

so instead of hopping into your mercedes, you opted for stealth. you dressed down in plain athletic shorts, a random hoodie you stole from george and a baseball cap repping some obscure american university with oversized sunglasses and headphones in, you looked more like a jet lagged tourist than a world-class driver sneaking off to see her biggest rival.

each step of the 1 km walk was filled with overthinking and stress. you kept replaying the past in your head, combing over all the little things max had done through the years, things you hadn’t ever though too hard about until now. maybe lando was right even though it pained you to admit that he may know something. max had unfortunately made it obvious you just hadn't been paying attention. from the karting days when he’d chase off any guy who got too close on track, to f3 when he picked fights with anyone who so much as looked at you twice in the paddock.

and then there was your 17th birthday party, mid-f3 season, when max had looked you dead in the eyes and told you you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. you thought he was just being nice since it was your birthday and you had a pretty rough race the day before but maybe he’d been serious. maybe you’d just been too naive to see it for what it was and too busy gaslighting yourself into believe max would never be interested in little old you.

you groaned under your breath, frustrated with yourself. how could you have missed all of it? you’d chalked up his distance after the f3 season to the pressures of moving up to f1 but maybe it wasn’t just that. maybe it was you.

by the time you reached his building and knocked softly on the door, your heart was already racing. there was a beat of silence then the sound of shuffling footsteps before the door swung open.

“you’re late,” max said, eyes scanning your face and outfit with that unreadable expression of his.

you glanced at your watch. “only by 2 minutes.”

he rolled his eyes and stepped aside to let you in. “can I get you anything? dinner’s still cooking.”

you slipped off your shoes and dropped your bag onto the counter, trying to steady your nerves. “just water.”

he moved through the kitchen quietly and when he placed the glass in front of you, he didn’t say a word just went back to stirring the pot on the stove. the silence was heavy and the tension was palpable.

without turning around he cleared his throat. “so… I wanted to talk and I thought it would be better face to face. so, thank you for coming.”

you nodded, picking nervously at your nails. “yeah. no problem.”

he turned off the burner and set the pot aside before finally facing you. “first off, i’m sorry. for spain that is... i shouldn’t have driven like that.”

you raised your hands slightly, voice soft. “it’s okay. we’ve both made dumb decisions on track.”

max shook his head. “yeah, but I could’ve hurt you. and if I had… i don’t know how I’d live with that.”

there was a moment of silence as his words sank in. “my behavior’s been childish,” he admitted. “i’ve been bitter and i'm fully ready to admit that i've also been jealous. i was so very jealous of the friendship you, lando and george had and still have and of how you're always able to light up a room when you walk into it and of how you so effortlessly always get everyone to like you."

"max-" you started before he continued.

"i know it sounds pathetic but i wanted nothing more than to be your friend all through karting and through f3. i did everything i could to try and get you to like me and i got so stupidly infatuated that i ended up messing it all up in the end. i just... i don't know... i pulled away after f3 because I was embarrassed. when I asked you out at that party and you rejected me, I didn’t know how to face you again. and then when you didn’t reach out either, i assumed you didn’t want me in your life anymore.”

“i didn’t realize you were asking me out,” you whispered. “i thought you just wanted to hang out as friends which we already did. and when you moved to f1, i figured… i just figured you wouldn’t want to waste time on someone stuck in f2. you were and are so good and focused and determined that i always felt intimidated and like a silly little distraction.”

max let out a short, breathy laugh. he ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the counter, still not fully looking at you. “god, we’re idiots,” he muttered and this time you cracked a small smile despite the lump in your throat.

“yeah,” you agreed softly. “world class athletes and total emotional amateurs.”

that got a quiet chuckle out of him, and finally, he brought himself to look at you. "why did you kiss me?" he asked and you could see the vulnerability written all over his face.

"because despite our silly year long feud which we apparently could have avoided, i haven't been able to let go of the crush i've had on you since we were kids."

he pushed off the counter, slowly stepping toward you. “so then you feel the same way about me?”

you looked up at him, heart hammering in your chest. “max… i--”

“i’m not asking for you to tell me that you love me or anything like that. not right now. i just want to stop pretending like i hate you. i want to stop turning every interaction into a fight because i don’t know how else to act around you. i want to be around you… properly. at the very least just as your friend.”

your stomach flipped at his words. all the years of missed chances and misread signals crashed into you like a wave. “and if i say i want that too?” you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he smiled it was soft and hopeful, a little nervous. “then i'll do everything in my power to do it right this time. starting by actually communicating my feels instead of bottling everything up.”

you stood from the stool, your steps slow but steady until you were right in front of him. “i guess i can give you a chance,” you said, teasing gently.

max raised a brow, a smile creeping to his lips. “just a chance?”

you let your head fall back with a laugh. “don’t push your luck, verstappen.”

he grinned, and for the first time in what felt like years, the tension that had formed between you began to finally unravel.

✿

f1 has made a post

liked by mercedesamgf1, lando, yourbff, redbullracing, isackhadjar, ynuser, yoursibling, maxverstappen1, and 834,222 others

f1: looks like our two favorite rivals have squashed their beef! y/n y/l/n and max verstappen arrived to the montreal paddock for media day together 👀🇨🇦

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user1: too worried about how shes out mogging him so hard to even be able to comprehend whats happening

lando: war is over! if only anyone listened to me EVER

danielriccardo: or me!! a certain dutch lion didn't listen to me either

lando: SMH

user2: not them walking in like they didn’t try to kill each other in spain 😭

geogerussell63: confused? ynuser unlock your driver room door rn i've been knocking for 3 whole minutes

ynuser: girl i'm not in there. i'm at the briefing YOU ARE ALSO SUPPOSED TO BE IN

georgerussell63: RUNNING

user63: nah i love yngeorge duo so much i wanna be their friend

lando: apparently everyone wants to be friends with y/l/nnorussell user63

ynuser: lando keep his mouth shut challenge failed

user63: WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!

user3: we’ve entered the enemies to lovers era and i’m not emotionally prepared for this. i give it 3 more races till we get pics of them kissing behind the garages

isackhadjar: the plot twist of the century? are we being for real right now?

liamlawson31: i saw them with my own to eyes laughing together earlier

yukitsunoda0511: should we be afraid?

user4: this is why i trust slow burns. THIS is why!!!!

estebanocon: i’m scared

oscarpiastri: real

user5: now what in the fanfiction is this

skysportsf1 has posted an interview

view transcript

[reporter] “max, I have to start with the question everyone’s asking. you showed up to the paddock today with y/n y/l/n. should we be expecting fewer fireworks between you two this weekend?”

[max] “that depends. if she stops driving like shes in a demolition derby, maybe.”

[reporter] “so... not exactly a truce, then?”

[max] “we had a conversation and we’ve cleared a few things up.”

[reporter] “ok but things got heated after spain. you were both pretty vocal over the radio. what changed?”

[max] “sometimes you say things in the heat of the moment. doesn’t mean they’re the full story. we’ve known each other a long time and i think we forgot that for a while.”

[reporter] “so where does that leave things now?”

[max] “we’ll race like we always do. hard. but with a bit more respect, i think. maybe less screaming but who is to say.”

[reporter] “should we be reading into that very coordinated arrival this morning?”

[max] “you can read into whatever you want. i'm just here to win races.”

[reporter] “right, right. and if you win this weekend, will y/n be the first to congratulate you?”

[max] “she better be.”

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: i love a past friends to enemies to lovers fr. part 2 perhaps?????

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[lucinfernos]

the gang as humans cus i can't draw anything animal-related to save my life!!

some headcanons for the kids: - they're all 15 except susie, 16, who had to repeat a grade due to so many absences - susie has ARFID & PICA which is why she likes eating crazy stuff like chalk, pinecones and ice cubes. she also has PCOS! - noelle has a condition similar to vitiligo that gives her skin the deer-like light spots :) her legs are also a little bowed. - kris has selective mutism but is the loudest person in the room when they're with people they deem safe - kris's eyes always look like the way people's do when the camera flash is caught in photographs. nobody knows why, but their eyesight is great in the dark! - berdly has never thought about his sexuality and wouldn't really label it, either. he falls for the person (which... in this case is literally everyone) - berdly has a speech impediment caused by his overbite, particularly affecting his pronounciation of S and R, as well as braces (currently with blue bands). his eyesight is also abysmal. he refers to this set of issues as "having been nerfed when first spawned into the world" :p

[strwberri-milk]

Could you do one for Caleb, Sylus and Zayne, where they're S/O (who doesn't live with them) calls them during a really late work meeting or something, clearly distressed and shaken, because of something that happened (wanderer attack/almost getting mugged/or whatever else) and ran to their apartment cause it felt safer, not realising that her man isn't home atm, that she wouldn't be able to go in (since she either forgot or doesn't have a key).

Caleb definitely has some sort of remote mechanism to lock/unlock his house. He'd pick up your call the second he gets it - the only reason why he'd miss it is if he didn't see the message but he's calling and texting back the second he notices you've called. If you've left a message he'll immediately go to look at the cameras at his home, unlocking the door remotely and texting you to go inside. If you're on the phone with him he'll unlock his doors as he's talking to you, then tell you to go inside and wait for him in his room. He wants you to be curled up in his plush sheets, heading home as soon as you're calling for him. He doesn't say much as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly as you cry and sob into his arms.

Even if Sylus isn't home, if the twins are they'll let you in no questions asked. They'd also alert Sylus even if you already have, knowing that there's only so much they can do to distract you before you're missing him again. If nobody's home then he's also got a remote way to unlock his house and was probably alerted the second you set foot on his property. You don't get a chance to call before you hear his voice coming from a speaker somewhere nearby, telling you to go inside and he'll be home as soon as he can to see you.

Zayne is unfortunately the only one who doesn't have a remote lock. He sees your call and would tell you to either go home and he'll come to you as soon as he's done, or come to the hospital and sit in his office until he can go home with you. He wants to be there for you, but he also is at the mercy of his patients. He'll try to get to your side as soon as he can, but you might have to wait a bit unfortunately. After this incident though he'll make sure to give you a key to his place, just in case something similar happens in the future, reassuring you that you're always welcome in his home.

[dee-writes-anime]

OH MY GOSH,

Imagine Aizawa dating a younger girl, whos a super model!!!

For an example, he’s on patrol right. And he visits her at a meet amd greet! Cameras are flashing as reader gives him a big smooch!!! How eould 1A, other teachers/pro heros and other students react😭

Randomly came to me after listening to turn heads by dem franchize boyz

Smeared Lipstick and Flashing Lights

FEATURING Shouta Aizawa x Reader

SUMMARY Aizawa's life erupts into chaos when you decide to kiss him in front of hundreds of cameras.

CONTENT WARNINGS pure fluff guys, class 1-A being children, pure chaos, descriptions of kissing, some good old teasing between friends

AUTHORS NOTE THIS IS AN EPIC IDEA MONTY!!! I love it so much and this was such a joy to write!

Tokyo Midtown Plaza shimmered with polished marble floors and the cool hum of upscale air conditioning. Velvet ropes stretched across the gleaming lobby, separating rows of cameras and screaming fans from the raised platform where you stood beneath a cascade of LED lights and branded banners.

You’d done a hundred of these meet-and-greets, but tonight—tonight you had a feeling. Something beneath your skin itched with electricity.

You signed a glossy photograph with a flourish, smiled into the flash of an iPhone, and handed it back to a starstruck girl who could barely form words. You whispered a quiet thank-you to her and turned slightly, posing with your signature look—chin tilted, eyes soft, a touch of a smirk.

Then you saw him.

Half-hidden behind a marble column near the back of the venue, head tilted low and posture slouched like he belonged in the shadows. To anyone else, he was just a tired man in black—another body in the chaos.

But to you? He was gravity.

Aizawa stood with his hands in his pockets, capture scarf bundled neatly at his hip, dust smudged along the sleeve of his hero coat. His half-up hair framed his face in messy strands, one brow raised slightly as he watched you work.

You beamed.

No hesitation. You ducked under the velvet rope, ignoring the flurry of movement from the security guards, and stalked toward him with long, graceful strides that only made the cameras turn faster.

“Miss—wait, please—” someone called after you.

He didn’t even flinch. Just blinked once. Slowly.

The moment you reached him, you grabbed his collar, leaned up on your toes, and kissed him.

Not a polite peck. Not something demure or for show. This was shameless, deliberate. The kind of kiss that says, I know exactly what I’m doing.

The crowd exploded behind you.

You smiled against his lips as the burst of camera flashes lit up the marble floor like fireworks. Someone in the press screamed. Another person cheered. The whole venue turned into a wall of voices, rising into a euphoric frenzy.

He didn’t kiss you back at first. He just stood there, stunned—probably calculating just how badly this would go over. But then, he exhaled through his nose, a sound like a sigh and a laugh, and his hand slid up to rest gently at your waist.

“You know,” he said, barely above the noise, voice gravel-thick, “I was just here to check in.”

“And now you’re here to be adored,” you replied with a wink.

His eyes softened for just a heartbeat before flattening back into their usual half-lidded look of apathy. But you knew better. You could feel the subtle tension in his hand where it gripped your waist a second longer than necessary.

“Cameras,” he said.

“Let them look.”

He groaned quietly, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward—barely. Only you would’ve noticed.

That was enough.

The dorm was quiet. Suspiciously so.

Most of Class 1-A had retreated to the common area for snacks and late-night studying—though the "studying" part had long since given way to Kaminari and Sero attempting to balance textbooks on Mineta's head while he napped.

Mina sat cross-legged on the couch, flipping through channels in boredom until she landed on a newscast with the caption in bold white font:

"BREAKING: ERASERHEAD CAUGHT KISSING FASHION ICON LIVE AT MIDTOWN PLAZA."

She blinked.

Paused.

Then screamed.

“KIRISHIMA!!! DENKI!!! TODOROKI!!! LITERALLY EVERYONE!!! GET IN HERE—NOW!”

The boys crashed into the room like a herd of startled cattle, Kirishima wiping crumbs off his chin and Denki tripping over a power cord.

“WHAT? WHAT IS IT? IS IT A VILLAIN ATTACK?” Kirishima shouted.

“No, it’s worse—it’s—LOOK!”

She jabbed a finger at the screen, rewinding the footage.

And there he was.

Eraserhead. Grumpy, broody, nap-loving homeroom teacher Aizawa Shouta—standing in full hero gear at a public venue, stiff as a board while a beautiful, radiant woman in a black satin dress yanked him down and kissed him senseless. And not just any woman.

“Wait—isn’t that—?” “It is!” “That’s the supermodel from the Sekai spread! The one that broke the internet—” “The one who made that sheer mesh catsuit look good!” “I HAVE THAT CATSUIT SAVED TO MY CAMERA ROLL!”

Kirishima collapsed to the floor with a groan. “Bro. BRO. He pulled a woman like that?! That’s so—so manly, I don’t even have words—”

Todoroki watched with a blank stare. “He said relationships were a ‘distraction.’ I guess he meant our relationships.”

Kaminari’s mouth was wide open. “Did you see the way she grabbed him? Like—like she owned him?! That was insane! I need someone to kiss me like that!”

“You need someone to tolerate you first,” Jirou muttered, deadpan.

Uraraka was red as a tomato. “I didn’t even know Mr. Aizawa smiled. Did you see the way he looked at her after?!”

On screen, the camera zoomed in. A faint curl of his lips. A glimmer of affection behind sleep-heavy eyes.

“Mr. Aizawa is hot,” Tsuyu said matter-of-factly, sipping her tea. “We all just didn’t want to admit it.”

Midoriya’s hands shook as he scribbled furiously in his notebook.

“Notable change in public persona… possibly quirk synergy in shared lifestyle? Domestic compatibility? Hero-student boundaries?? What does this mean—?!”

“Yo, we gotta show this to Bakugo,” Sero grinned.

As if summoned by sheer will, Bakugo stomped into the room seconds later, glaring. “The hell are you losers screaming about this time?!”

The TV lit up with the moment. The kiss. The crowd. The lipstick smudge on Aizawa’s stubble.

Bakugo stopped dead.

There was a long silence.

“…That old bastard is pulling?” he muttered.

The world tilted slightly.

“I’m done,” Bakugo said, turning on his heel.

The breakroom at U.A. smelled like burnt coffee grounds and the faint tang of disinfectant. Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a sterile glow over the mismatched mugs, half-eaten rice balls, and teacher-grade exhaustion that clung to every surface.

Aizawa sat in the corner, hood up, eyes closed behind his capture scarf like he could will himself into a coma. His coffee sat untouched. He had already regretted waking up today—and he’d only been conscious for ten minutes.

He didn’t look up when Hizashi burst into the room like a man on a mission.

“SHOUTA. Shouta. SHOUTA. Dude.”

Aizawa cracked one eye open. Slowly. Like a tired cat contemplating murder.

“What,” he muttered.

Yamada slammed his phone down onto the breakroom table, screen up, the brightness blinding in the otherwise dull space. A still image of the kiss—Aizawa’s gloved hand on your waist, your lips pressed to his with the kind of audacity the internet had only dreamed of—burned across the display.

“YOU’RE A VIRAL SENSATION, BABY!” Hizashi howled, flinging his arms out. “How the hell did you not tell me you were dating her?!”

Aizawa closed his eye again. “It’s not a secret.”

“Not a secret?! Half of Japan’s on fire. You made national news during a patrol route!”

“Wasn’t my fault.”

“You kissed a supermodel—in front of cameras—during a public event.”

“She kissed me.”

Hizashi made a strangled noise. “Ohhhhhh my god you’re impossible.”

Across the room, Midnight—lounging against the countertop in leather pants and a smirk—sipped from her coffee like it was wine. “I always knew you had taste,” she purred. “Didn’t think you had game, though.”

“I don’t,” Aizawa said flatly.

“Sure,” she hummed. “That’s why you’re all over the entertainment blogs this morning. Scandalous mystery hero revealed as fashion queen’s secret boyfriend!” She tossed her phone on the table, showing the article. “They’re calling you ‘Japan’s Grumpy Zaddy.’”

“I’m going to burn the internet.”

“Too late,” came Cementoss’s low, amused voice as he entered, arms crossed and half a rice cracker hanging out of his mouth. “My daughter texted me asking if we serve caviar now that Aizawa’s dating royalty.”

“I don’t even know what caviar tastes like.”

“She said you’re her new favorite hero. She used to like Best Jeanist.”

Aizawa stared blankly at his coffee.

Then, with painful timing, All Might entered, beaming as if this was the most wholesome turn of events in modern history. “Aizawa! What a lovely surprise to see you trending for something positive!”

“I was trending?” Aizawa asked grimly.

“Oh yes!” Toshinori fumbled for his reading glasses, squinting at his phone. “There’s a fan account already! They’ve posted over twenty edits. The music choices are a little intense though. Very… sensual.”

“Please stop talking.”

“OH! OH! Is this the one where you’re like—grrr, and she’s all—mmwah?” Yamada mimed both parts dramatically, complete with flailing arms and kissy noises.

“I will end you.”

The breakroom door opened again.

This time it was Nezu, rolling in with an espresso in his paws and a suspicious twinkle in his beady little eyes.

“Well well well,” he said, voice chipper as ever. “Our dear Eraserhead. A viral sweetheart. A romantic lead. Dare I say… a public figure?”

“I’m not a public figure.”

“You are now.”

“I’ll quit.”

“No you won’t,” Nezu said, sipping serenely. “Because she makes you smile.”

A beat of silence.

Everyone turned.

Yamada’s mouth dropped open. “You SMILED?!”

“I did not smile.”

“You so smiled.”

“I was grimacing.”

“Your eyes were smiling,” Midnight said helpfully.

“God, just—stop talking. All of you.”

“You know, the students are in shambles,” said Cementoss. “Mina nearly passed out. Midoriya’s having a hero notebook crisis. I think Todoroki thinks love is a government conspiracy now.”

Aizawa groaned and finally buried his face in his arms on the table. His coffee sat cold. His life was ruined. And the worst part?

He could still feel the faint smudge of your lipstick against the corner of his mouth.

[charlvr]

- the universe's cosmic joke | Megan is not in love

Pairing. Main: Megan Skiendiel x Reader | sub: Daniela Avanzini x Reader

w.c. 5.4 k

Read the main story: here | masterlist

Megan Skiendiel didn’t really believe in love at first sight. But falling for Y/N L/N? That came pretty damn close.

She isn’t even sure Y/N remembers their first meeting. And honestly, Megan wouldn’t blame her.

Those days at Dream Academy had been nothing short of a nightmare, a memory she would rather leave buried if she could. But even in what she now calls “hell on earth,” she had met Y/N. And for that reason alone, she figures it might have all been worth it.

Looking back, she wonders if she should have known better. When she applied, Megan thought she was ready for the worst of Dream Academy. She had the experience: years of vocal lessons, countless hours of dance practice, and enough rehearsals to know how to stand in front of a camera and smile like she meant it. She thought that would be enough to keep her safe.

What she hadn’t expected was how quickly the place turned toxic. Everyone seemed to know how to be pleasant on camera and ruthless the second the lights were off. The producers bullied contestants and constantly stirred up drama for sound bites. The performances were grueling, and the criticisms sharp. And though Megan was mostly spared from the worst of it, always earning at least a polite nod or a clipped compliment from the instructors, that small grace came at a cost. It meant the other contestants saw her as a target, a threat, something to be resented. Not everyone, but enough. Enough that she started noticing how the atmosphere shifted whenever she walked into the room. How the whispers would rise just as she passed, and the stares felt less like curiosity and more like a test.

She tried not to let it get to her. Told herself she had been through competitions before, that she knew how to handle pressure. But Dream Academy was different. It wasn’t just about skill, it was about survival. It was the kind of place that made even her steady confidence feel like it was always teetering on the edge, just one misstep away from falling apart.

And fall she did.

She wasn’t sure what happened. Maybe she hadn’t slept enough the night before, or maybe her muscles had just been too tight. Or maybe she had simply been human. Either way, halfway through a routine, she missed a beat. She tried to catch up too quickly and overshot her turn, ending up flat on her back.

One moment she had been in control, the next she was staring up at the ceiling, the world gone still around her. Her breathing was loud in her own ears, every inhale too sharp, too close.

Silence. 

Then, the low, collective exhale of satisfaction. Like the room had been holding its breath, waiting for her to prove she wasn’t invincible after all. Like they’d all been hoping for it. 

Megan hadn’t been angry that day. Or even that embarrassed, really. She had just felt a hollow sort of disappointment in herself. For giving them what they had wanted. The instructor wasted no time filling the silence with a speech on the importance of what they were doing, a speech Megan could have recited herself by then. Precision, he said. Strength. Focus. All the usual hits. 

Megan nodded, eyes fixed on a loose thread in her shirt, waiting for him to stop. She didn’t interject, didn’t rush him. She just listened. Took the blows. Because that's what you did in Dream Academy. Because the only other choice was to let them see you were rattled. 

When the instructor finally turned away, Megan thought that would be the end of it. She’d get up, brush herself off, and be the hot topic on everyone’s tongue for the next few days. Nothing new. Nothing she wouldn’t be able to handle. 

What she didn’t expect was the tap on her shoulder. Light. Gentle. And she definitely didn’t expect Y/N’s face when she looked up.

“Hey,” Y/N said, leaning in with a grin that looked like it might split her face if she tried to hold it back. She was close. Maybe a little too close, and Megan wasn’t sure if Y/N even noticed, “Was it just me, or did he start sounding like a bedtime story halfway through?”

Megan blinked, her breath catching. “What?”

Y/N tilted her head, her grin growing even wider. “The instructor. He was talking and I swear my eyelids were starting to betray me.”

A small, startled laugh slipped out of Megan’s mouth, more from surprise than anything else. “You think?”

Y/N didn’t even pause. “Absolutely,” she said, her tone so sure, so easy, like it was Megan who hadn’t been paying attention. She leaned in a little closer, her voice dropping as if they were sharing something secret and just for them. “He even does this thing with his voice—like he’s reading from a textbook nobody asked for. Just blah blah blah. On and on. Like we get it! We’re lucky to be here. We should worship the ground you walk on and offer to lick your boot straps.” She paused, her eyes dancing, “But, you know, it’s usually just at me. So thanks for taking the heat today. I'm not sure I would've survived another lecture from Mr. Monotone, over there."

So-called Mr. Monotone turned around just then, as if he could sense something afoot. Even from across the room, his gaze zeroed in on Y/N like a spotlight. Testament to her character, perhaps.

Y/N just pretended not to notice the daggers in his stare.

Megan stared at Y/N for a long moment, not quite sure what to make of it all. Of this girl in front of her who spoke like there was nothing odd about how easily she closed the distance between them. Who laughed like she and Megan had been sharing inside jokes for years. Who leaned in as if there was no question whether she’d be welcome, as if Megan was someone she could speak to without thinking twice. Who didn’t seem to care about the eyes around them, or the quiet pressure that had been pressing down on Megan’s shoulders since the second she stepped into the studio.

There was something so acutely disarming about it. Something that made Megan forget, for a single breath, that she was supposed to be holding herself together, not… whatever this was.

All she could do was giggle. An unguarded, bubbling sound she hadn’t heard from herself in far too long. She let it slip out before she could catch it, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she didn’t care.

Y/N’s smile grew almost imperceptibly wider.

“Well, next time it’s your turn again,” Megan said, her voice coming out a little lighter, a little braver than she’d expected. She wasn’t sure if it was meant as a joke or a promise, but either way, it felt like something she wanted to keep saying.

Y/N’s smile dropped, all exaggerated and dramatic. “Aw man, do I have to?” she groaned, her voice pitched high with mock complaint. But even as her lips turned down, her eyes stayed bright and playful, and Megan swore she had never seen anything more captivating. “Fine, I guess if I owe you one.” She sighed and reached out her hand, the movement casual but full of quiet certainty. Megan took it, noting how warm and steady Y/N’s grip felt as she pulled her up.

“But next time, you help me up, alright?” Y/N said, like it was a promise. She waited for Megan’s nod, then gave her arm one last, gentle pat and flashed a final, bright grin before turning away and disappearing back into the music and the world around them.

Megan watched her go, feeling something warm settle in her chest. It wasn’t love. No, that would be absurd. But it was something close. Something that reminded her, if only for a moment, how it felt to laugh without thinking twice, to be herself without having to prove it.

And she thought to herself that she quite liked that feeling. 

—

After that day, Megan found herself looking for Y/N whenever they were in the same room. She’d catch herself watching the way Y/N’s smile always reached her eyes, or how she’d wave at anyone and everyone with the same unguarded energy.During meals, Megan would find excuses to sit closer, telling herself it was just because the lighting was better there, or because she liked the breeze from the air conditioning. 

And maybe she did start dancing a little better when she knew Y/N was watching. Maybe she held her head a little higher when she heard Y/N’s laughter.

It didn’t really matter. All she knew was that she wanted to see that smile meant for her. Again. And again. And again.

—

But she never really got another chance to. Not when it seemed like all Y/N saw was Daniela Avanzini. 

Megan noticed it long before anyone said it out loud. The way Y/N’s eyes would soften whenever Daniela walked into the room, like there was some unspoken understanding just between them. The way her gaze always found Daniela’s, the quiet way her shoulders would ease, like the simple fact of Daniela being there was enough to make the whole world a little brighter. It was as if Daniela lit Y/N from within, and there wasn’t room for anything or anyone else.

Megan recognized that feeling. She’d spent enough time on stage to know what it looked like when someone was watching their own personal star. And Megan, who had always known how to make herself seen, found she didn’t know how to compete with that.

Still, she tried. In her own small, quiet ways. She would think about asking Y/N to practice together sometime, or about just saying thank you for that day. She’d think of questions to ask, easy ones that didn’t really matter, like if Y/N had a favorite song or if she believed in pineapples on pizza. Something small. Something silly. Something that might be enough to see that bright smile again, even if just for a moment.

But she never did. She’d get as far as picturing how Y/N would laugh, how her eyes would light up, and then the words would catch in her throat. Because more often than not, Daniela would walk in. And in that instant, it was like Y/N forgot the rest of the world even existed.

Megan told herself she was okay with that. She thought she could be content with the small, half-stolen glances. The little pieces of Y/N she got when no one else was around. But the night of the finale made one thing clear.

She had watched from the side, heart thumping along to the music, sweat still cooling on her skin. The lights swept across the stage, and then Y/N’s name was called. Megan didn’t even hear her own name in the next breath, because all she could see was Y/N, beaming so wide it looked like it must have hurt, running straight into Daniela’s arms. Y/N looked so happy. So sure. And Megan, who had spent so long thinking about what she might say if she ever got the chance, felt the words she’d been carrying shrivel up before they even reached her lips.

It might not have been love at first sight. But it sure did sting like one.

—

Megan stopped looking for Y/N after that. 

She would show up to every rehearsal, every lesson, every group practice, of course. Did her part. But she learned to be careful with her presence. She started scheduling her private coaching sessions at different times, making sure to be out of the room before Y/N walked in. During group events, she’d find a way to keep herself walled off by the others, her smile polite but distant. If Y/N was at the center of it all, bright and laughing and easy as ever, Megan made sure she was at the edge.

It wasn’t that she wanted to give up. If anything, she would have been more than willing to try again, to see if she could win Y/N over with small jokes or half-smiles or the promise of something more. But every time she thought she might, she’d catch Daniela and Y/N together, and the idea would fade before it even really formed.

Because there was something in the way Daniela looked at Y/N when she thought no one was paying attention. Megan had seen it more than once: lingering glances across the practice room, careful, quiet, so deliberate. Daniela’s eyes would soften in a way that was almost secretive, like she was trying to memorize every small detail of Y/N’s smile. Like each glance might be the last. 

It wasn’t just admiration. It was personal. Intimate. Like she was seeing something the rest of the world wasn’t supposed to.

And it was that intimacy, the unspoken thread that seemed to tie Y/N and Daniela together, that made Megan hesitate. Because it was one thing to want Y/N’s laughter, that bright spark she carried so carelessly. It was another to try and take it from someone who already held it so carefully.

—

But then Daniela came out as straight, and Megan didn’t know what to do with herself.

She’d been watching the Weverse live because, of course, she had. Lara was on, and what kind of roommate would she be if she didn’t at least tune in? So there she was, curled up on her hotel bed, half-listening to the stream of fan questions and group banter, grateful for the easy chatter after weeks of constant performances. And then, out of nowhere, Daniela just… said it. I’m straight.

Megan had paused the video, her breath caught somewhere between disbelief and something else she couldn’t name. She replayed it once. Twice.

Daniela was grinning, Manon and Lara were cackling, the comments section was in meltdown mode, and Megan was… stunned.

She had been so sure. Absolutely sure that Daniela and Y/N were secretly in love with each other. She’d seen it in the way Y/N’s eyes would flicker over to Daniela, soft and searching. The way Daniela always seemed to be standing just a little too close, her eyes lingering a little too long. Megan had convinced herself it was only a matter of time before they admitted it—if not to everyone else, then at least to each other.

But apparently not.

She tried to puzzle it out, going over every memory like there might have been some clue she’d missed. Maybe Daniela didn’t realize it yet. Maybe she was in denial. Or maybe, Megan’s stomach gave a small, traitorous flip, maybe she’d been wrong all along. Maybe it was just… nothing.

She decided she’d ask Lara once they were back in LA. Lara always knew the full story, whether you wanted her to or not. But for the first time in what felt like forever, Megan let herself feel the smallest flicker of hope. 

—

That hope didn’t last long.

The second they landed in LA, Megan was swept into a blur of promo shoots, fittings, and endless meetings. She barely had time to drop her suitcase at home before she was whisked off again. By the end of the day, she was still clutching the lint roller from her last fitting, her mind fuzzy with exhaustion.

All she wanted was a shower and a moment of peace. Maybe she’d finally corner Lara and get the truth about Daniela and Y/N. But when she walked into her room that night, that plan went straight out the window.

Because there was Y/N. On Lara’s bed. Face down, hair a mess, shoulders hunched like she wanted to disappear. She looked up the moment Megan stepped in, eyes wide and a little guilty.

Megan froze. For a second, she couldn’t even process what she was seeing. Then, a thousand questions tumbled through her mind, with increasing urgency: Why was Y/N here? Had she seen the half-unpacked suitcases? The messy pile of laundry in the corner? Mostly Lara’s, might she add. Did she think Megan was a sloppy, unprepared, complete disaster?

Megan realized, belatedly, that she was still just standing there in the doorway, lint roller clutched to her chest like a shield. She thinks Y/N said something, but she hadn’t been paying attention. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for something, anything, to say. To fill in the silence. Finally, she managed, her voice small, “I’m just… grabbing the lint roller,” immediately wishing she could sink straight into the floor because, of course, she was already holding one.

Y/N definitely gave her a weird look. But as if on cue, Lara, calm as ever, just tossed her another lint roller from the nightstand. “Here, catch,” she said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Megan caught it on instinct, too stunned to even fumble. She stared at it for a moment, willing it to give her a better excuse or some quick explanation for why she’d walked in so suddenly. But nothing came to her. Nothing. So she just gave one more small, awkward nod and squeaked out a quiet, “Thanks,” before turning on her heel and practically fleeing the room.

In the hallway, Megan stopped, the lint roller pressed to her chest. Her heart was still thudding in her ears, her face warm in a way she couldn’t quite shake. “Okay,” she muttered to herself, trying to steady her breathing. “You played it cool, Megan. Totally cool.” She took one step down the hall before it hit her. That was her room. She had nowhere else to go. Damn it.

Realizing she had boxed herself in, she decided to linger in the kitchen for a while, fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on the countertop. When she finally worked up the nerve to go back to the room later that night, it felt smaller somehow. Lara was sprawled across her bed, propped up on her elbows with one brow raised, that familiar spark of mischief in her eyes.

“Finally remembered where home was?” Lara asked, her voice light and amused in a way that made Megan want to crawl out of her skin.

“Shut up,” Megan muttered, tossing the lint rollers onto her dresser with a little more force than necessary. “You didn’t tell me Y/N would be here.”

Lara just shrugged, her hair falling over her shoulder as she gave Megan a slow, knowing look. “She kind of just… appeared. What’s the big deal? You’d think you’d be happier to see her.”

“Not when she’s in your bed,” Megan blurted out before she could stop herself. The words hung in the air longer than she meant them to. Her face flushed the second they slipped out.

Lara’s lips curved into a slow, wicked smile. “Oh? Oh!” she said, drawing out the words like she was savoring them. A low laugh bubbled up. “So you want her in your bed?”

Megan’s face went crimson, heat blooming in her cheeks. “No! Not like that,” she squeaked, her hands flying up in a helpless little gesture.

Lara just laughed, the sound easy and amused, like she’d been waiting for that exact reaction. She pushed herself up on her elbows, shifting her weight to look at Megan more closely. “Relax, I’m just teasing,” she said, though her grin told Megan she wouldn’t be living this down anytime soon. “But what’s going on? You looked like you had something on your mind.”

Megan let out a small, shaky breath and sank down onto the edge of the bed, unsure how to start. She glanced at Lara, then away, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. “Why was Y/N even here?” she finally asked, going for the question that felt the safest. The one that didn’t lay her heart out for everyone to see.

Lara’s expression shifted, the playful spark dimming for a moment. “Daniela,” she said simply, as if that alone held the answer to everything. And maybe it did. Maybe when it came to Y/N, Daniela was the key. Megan wasn’t sure she liked that thought. 

She swallowed. “So… what’s the deal with them?” she asked carefully, the question feeling bigger than she meant it to be. “I always thought Daniela and Y/N were… you know.”

“It’s… complicated,” Lara said, her voice softer than usual, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the blanket. Megan wondered if she’d ever heard Lara sound so thoughtful. But then Lara’s grin returned, her eyes glinting like the conversation hadn’t even touched her. “But hey, clearly they’re not together. So this could be your chance, Megatron.”

The god-awful nickname dragged Megan out of her thoughts. Grabbing the nearest pillow and shoving it over her face, Megan’s words were muffled but still plenty mortified. “Don’t call me that.”

“What, why not? You’d probably let Y/N call you that,” Lara teased, her tone too smug for Megan to even bother arguing.

“I’m going to bed.” She declared. 

“Dream of Y/N for me.”

“I’m going to request a new roommate.”

“Who Y/N?”

Lara was still laughing when Megan pulled the blanket over her head. 

—

It was still on Megan’s mind the next day. The lint roller incident. Y/N in her room. Lara’s words. The way she had made a fool of herself. She’d spent the better part of the night trying to convince herself it wasn’t a big deal, that Y/N’s bright laughter and nervous fidgeting didn’t matter to her anymore. That she was over that silly little crush from long ago. But it did. And she wasn’t.  

But it wasn’t like the universe to give time to collect her thoughts before she was swept up in another round of interviews. No time to catch her breath, to quiet the little voice in her head that wouldn’t stop repeating Y/N in my room. And because fate was apparently in a particularly mocking mood, Megan found herself seated right next to Y/N. The one thing she’d been so carefully avoiding since the group formed.  

She’d tried, really tried, to see if management would rearrange the seats, but all she got was a polite smile and a dismissive wave of the hand. So she sat there, back straight, hands folded in her lap like she was at a job interview. She tried to keep her face calm, her expression neutral, even though every nerve felt like it was crackling.

She wasn’t sure it was working.

Daniela and Y/N were separated too. Megan noticed it right away. She wondered if it was on purpose, if they’d both needed the distance. Or if it was just another accident of fate, one of those quiet shifts that changed everything without anyone meaning to.

Then Y/N turned to her, offering a small, slightly hesitant smile. Said something meant to be easy, small talk that should have felt simple, if Megan’s brain hadn’t completely short-circuited. Because of course it did. She tried to answer, anyway, but her words got stuck somewhere between her throat and her heart.

I’m over this stupid crush. I’m over it.

She repeated it to herself again and again, but then she’d accidentally catch Y/N’s gaze and see that polite smile. And suddenly, she’d forget what she’d been saying at all.

But if Megan thought that the small talk was awkward, she had no idea what the rest of the interview would bring.

That night, she told herself she wouldn’t look. That she didn’t need to see what the fans were saying, didn’t need to know how much of herself had slipped through the cracks. But curiosity was a sharp, undeniable thing, and before she could talk herself out of it, her phone was in her hand.

#MegY/N was trending. 

Not just a passing mention. Everywhere. Her name next to Y/N’s in every clip, every grainy photo, every soft-focus edit. 

It wasn’t the fact that people were shipping her with Y/N that made her want to hide under her blanket, however. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel a small, guilty flicker of excitement at first. She even saved a few of the posts to her bookmarks. Just to look at later, she told herself (what, a girl can’t have hobbies?). It was the sheer thoroughness of it all. 

The eyekons had dug up everything. Everything. Every glance, every quiet laugh, every time Megan tried and failed to act like she wasn’t completely, utterly captivated by Y/N. Clipped. Edited. And compiled for the world to see. 

Wonderful. 

It was really wonderful. 

Megan told herself at least it couldn’t get any worse. She was pretty wrong. 

—

Management wasted no time. The day after the interview, they were already nudging her and Y/N together again. “Casual hangouts,” they said, like it was nothing. Like it wouldn’t send that small rush of nerves through her every time she thought about it.

But then… nothing. A few weeks of calm. Enough time that Megan almost convinced herself it had all passed. That she could slip back into the routine: quiet rehearsals, polite distance. That she didn’t need to think about it anymore. About how her chest always felt a little too full when Y/N laughed, or how her breath would catch when their eyes met. Just a crush, she told herself. Harmless. Temporary. So far in the past it didn’t matter.

She almost believed it.

Until the email from management landed in her inbox. A “friendly reminder” to get some content. A not-so-subtle suggestion that she and Y/N should be seen together again. Megan read it, closed it, and sat in silence for a moment. Then she took a quiet breath and told herself: Okay. Fine. Whatever. 

She met Y/N at the coffee shop a few days later, a place that looked like it had been ripped from some influencer’s Instagram feed. Megan was early, of course. She always was. She sat at the window, fingers tracing the cardboard sleeve of her drink, telling herself it didn’t matter. That it was just another thing to tick off the list.

But every time she pictured Y/N walking in, there was a flutter in her chest she couldn’t ignore. She hated how easily she could picture Y/N not coming at all, and how that thought made her stomach dip in a way she wished it wouldn’t.

And when Y/N finally did arrive, flushed and breathless, apologies spilling out in a rush, Megan had to fight to keep her smile steady. She didn’t want Y/N to see how her heart had skipped. She didn’t want to admit to herself how much it meant, just to see that bright grin aimed right at her again. 

The coffee shop was… fine. Polished and curated, but a little too quiet. Megan found herself fidgeting with her cup, nodding along even as her mind wandered. She was nervous, she realized. Not in a bad way. Just… that small, jittery feeling she had almost forgotten how to welcome. The kind of feeling that made her wonder if maybe it wasn’t as harmless as she’d been telling herself.

So when Y/N suggested they leave, Megan didn’t hesitate. “Yeah,” she said, relief soft in her voice. “Let’s get out of here.”

The arcade was everything the coffee shop wasn’t: loud, messy, alive. With blinking lights and the echo of clattering tokens, it felt like they’d finally dropped the careful politeness and could just… exist. Megan found herself relaxing without even trying, the nervous energy in her chest settling into something that felt almost like excitement.

She watched Y/N wander the arcade, eyes shining as she flitted from game to game. Megan felt a small, tentative smile tug at her lips. She’s so easy to be around, she thought. Before quickly shutting that down. No. None of that. PR relationship, she reminded herself. Just content.

But then Y/N stopped at a claw machine, and Megan wasn’t sure what was more ridiculous: the sad little lion plush pressed against the glass or the absolute determination in Y/N’s eyes. The faint smell of popcorn and the buzz of old-school games filled the air as Megan watched Y/N dig through her pockets for change, her hands moving fast and clumsy.

“Seriously?” Megan had asked, trying to keep her voice light over the thumping music. “You’re really going to waste your money on that thing?”

“Absolutely,” Y/N said, shooting her a grin so bright it knocked the breath right out of Megan’s chest.

And Megan… well, she didn’t stand a chance.

She watched as Y/N failed miserably, again and again. And maybe if it had been someone else, Megan would have laughed at the absurdity of it all. But Y/N was so hopeful, so earnest. She wanted to win that stupid lion so badly that Megan began wanting it for her, too. 

So when Y/N handed her the last few coins, their fingers brushing for a brief second, Megan didn’t even hesitate. She could feel her cheeks warming, a quiet vow already forming in her head: I’ll win it for her. Just for her.

Megan was going to get that damn lion.

And she tried her best. She really did. She angled the claw, did a little spin trick she remembered seeing online. But the machine was rigged. She was sure of it! The claw jerked and swerved, taunting her with every failed attempt. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck, the frustration building, “This piece of trash,” she growled, barely managing to bite back a flood of much stronger words. “Come on, you useless tin can.” She thinks she might have stomped her foot. She hoped Y/N didn’t see that. 

She didn’t even notice when she started talking to the machine, muttering little threats and pleas like it was something she could will into submission. But then she heard Y/N’s startled laugh behind her and felt her ears go pink. She didn’t stop, though. She just wanted to keep that laughter going, to hold onto that spark in Y/N’s eyes a little longer.

When Megan finally gave up, the lion was still trapped behind the glass and their wallets were noticeably lighter. A robbery, indeed.

She never did like lions anyways.

She turned back to Y/N with a sigh. “You’re really… passionate about this,” Y/N teased, a spark of laughter still in her eyes. “It’s kind of cute.”

It was obvious the word slipped out casually from Y/N, but it landed on Megan like a small, gentle shock. Her breath caught, her cheeks warmed, and her hands stilled for a beat. A single heartbeat. She’d spent so long convincing herself she didn’t want this anymore. But there it was. The way Y/N looked at her. The flutter in her chest.

“You’re weird,” Megan said softly, the words coming out almost like a confession more than anything else.

Y/N just smiled, no flinching or apology, just meeting her eyes. “Takes one to know one.”

For a moment, it felt like everything else fell away. Just like the day they had met.

Megan smiled, really smiled. Not the polite one she saved for the cameras, not the one she’d practiced giving Y/N since they debuted, but something real. Something that felt like a quiet admission: I’m not over this. Maybe I don’t want to be.

She reached out and gently tugged at Y/N’s sleeve.

“Come on,” she said, her voice light, her fingers lingering a little longer than she meant. “Let’s go find a game we can actually win.”

Y/N nodded, her smile bright.

As they moved together, Megan let herself think, just for a moment. She still didn’t really believe in love at first sight. She’d seen too much of the world to trust in something like that. And she still didn’t know what was really going on between Y/N and Daniela. Maybe she never would. But as she held onto Y/N’s sleeve, pulling her away from the claw machine and the lion still taunting them, and into the next bright game, she began to think that was alright.

It wasn’t love. Not yet. But she began to believe that maybe, it could be. 

Whatever that might bring.

—

tumblr try to not ruin the quality of my images challenger: impossible

listen to. nothing today, might sneak in a rec another day

[minxmut-cafe]

𝐻𝑂𝑀𝐸 𝑆𝑊𝐸𝐸𝑇 𝐻𝑂𝑀𝐸

Pairing : Namjoon x Reader

Word count : 777

Warning : No warning, comfort, soo much comfort, joonie is finally home

Authors Note : WE ARE BACK BITCHES OMG OMGOMGOMGOMG I CANNOT BELIEVE AFTER 18 MONTHS WE FINALLY GOT TO SEE THEM AGAINUSDHHDBDDHD THEY ALL LOOK SO PRECIOUS AND MY SHAYLA NAMJOON, I LOVE HIM SM. I wish I could heal him the way he's healed hundreds of others, and may he never go through what he went through in the military.

Synopsis : "Namjoon's finally discharged and all he wants is to go home to his girl"

The cameras are loud.

They always are, but today they feel like a storm—flashing, clicking, cheering. Namjoon smiles gently, the way he’s trained to, bowing along with Taehyung. The brass glint of the saxophone in his hand catches the sunlight, and someone’s yelling his name behind the barrier. But it’s all a haze.

He can’t hear a thing. Not really. Because all his brain is screaming is one thing, over and over:

Home. Her. Home. Her.

His uniform itches. The air smells too clean. He’s standing on the outside now, after months of dirt and orders and quiet sobs into his pillow when the dorm lights were out. After so many days when the only thing that kept him breathing was your voice—sleepy, loving, soft on the phone, like silk threads tying him back to something real.

The ride back is a blur. He clutches the saxophone the whole way.

You know he said to wait.

So you do.

You’re practically vibrating with excitement, barefoot in his favorite oversized shirt—the one, the ridiculously baggy one with the little bleach stain near the hem that you never dared wash because it still smelled like him. You cooked all his comfort food, every last bit of it, filling the apartment with the scent of home. His drink’s on the counter, ice already sweating down the glass. Your heart is racing.

Every few seconds, you check the clock. You pace. You nearly combust.

And then—

The key turns.

“Joonie—”

You don’t even let him get the door fully shut. You launch yourself at him.

The saxophone clatters somewhere on the floor, forgotten. His mouth opens in surprise and then—

“Baby?”

You’re already clinging to him, arms around his neck, legs half-wrapped around his waist, kissing any part of his face you can reach. His hair, his jaw, his cheeks, his lips—tears spilling down your face as your laughter breaks free.

“You’re really here,” you whisper, cupping his face like he’s made of something holy. “You’re really here, baby—oh my god—”

He breathes in.

You. The scent of your skin, your hair, the warmth of your body against him—soft, real, shaking with emotion.

“I'm home,” he chokes out, voice already trembling. “God, I missed you. I missed you so much.”

You laugh and cry at the same time, running your hands over his back, shoulders, hair—like if you stop, he might disappear again.

Somehow, you make it to the couch, but only barely.

He tackles you gently into the cushions, his entire body weight sinking into yours like he’s trying to bury himself inside your skin. His laugh is breathless, breaking into little sobs as he kisses you through them, your lips salty from both your tears.

“Never again,” you whisper, cupping the back of his head. “You’re home now. You’re safe. You’re mine.”

He kisses you like it’s a promise. Like he’s trying to inhale you. Like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this earth.

“I thought about this,” he murmurs against your throat, “every night. Just this. You. Laughing. Holding me. This stupid couch. I’d have given anything just to touch you—”

“You don’t have to give anything anymore,” you say, wrapping your arms tighter around him. “You already came back. That’s everything.”

And in that living room filled with the scent of home-cooked food, salt tears, and months of aching need finally met, Namjoon lets himself collapse.

Into you. Into safety. Into love.

Because after everything…

He’s finally home.

[lascvitae]

BOUT MINE ✵ LARA RAJ.

❀ ༉ ‧ ₊ ˚ alt. I BET YOU KNOW I

DON’T PLAY ABOUT MINE .ᐟ

ᝰ.ᐟ during katseye’s calvin klein shoot, a guy asks for a photo with you — and lara shuts it down before you can give a proper answer.

ᝰ.ᐟ pairing. lara x 7th member of katseye!reader ᝰ.ᐟ genre. fluff ᝰ.ᐟ warnings/tags. jealous && pouty lara, kissing

ᝰ.ᐟ wc 2.9k

ᝰ.ᐟ katty katseye x calvin klein when... also requested by anon

(🎧) now playing — bout mine by mariah the scientist.

masterlist.

THE AIR IN THE STUDIO IS THICK. you can feel the heat from the lights, hear the buzz of cameras clicking, and someone calling for more gloss. you’re standing in front of a white backdrop in calvin klein briefs and a white tank top, and the hem of the shirt just barely covers anything. it clings to your body like it knows who’s watching.

and you know who’s watching.

lara hasn’t taken her eyes off you once.

she’s off to the side, still in her solo set outfit: jeans and a calvin sports bra with one arm slung over the back of a metal stool. there’s a bottle of water in her hand she hasn’t touched. she’s just sat there the whole time, gaze fixed on you like she’s not in a studio surrounded by stylists, lighting techs, and your bandmates.

you flick your eyes toward her mid pose. she doesn’t flinch or look away. she smirks.

“lift your arms just a little. perfect. chin down, eyes right here.” the photographer says.

you hold the pose and let your mouth fall open just slightly. and still, somewhere behind all of the heat coming down onto you, you can feel lara’s stare dragging down your legs.

it’s not the first time she’s seen you in this outfit, but it’s the first time anyone else has.

you’re toweling off sweat and oil near the monitor when someone taps your shoulder.

“hey.” he says while grinning. it’s one of the male models from the joint campaign. you’ve spoken, like, twice.

“you killed it. wanna get a shot together?” he adds.

you raise an eyebrow. “a photo?”

“yeah. just us. for the campaign. you looked… insane.” he glances down your body slowly, running a hand through his hair afterwards.

then he laughs like it’s a compliment. like lara isn’t standing ten feet away.

you glance down at yourself — tank still sticking to every curve, briefs showing just enough — then back up at him.

“insane, huh?”

he smiles again. “yeah. you’ve got good chemistry. we’d kill a frame.”

your lips twitch. you’re two seconds from saying something unserious — maybe “you couldn’t handle it” — when a voice cuts in coming from just behind him.

“she said no.”

he turns slightly.

lara’s standing now.

she must’ve moved while he was talking, because she’s right there, still in her calvin sports bra and jeans, arms crossed under her chest, not smiling. her eyes flick from his face to yours and back, slow and sharp, and her expression is unreadable.

the kind of unreadable that makes people nervous.

“she didn’t say anything yet.” the model says, trying to keep it light.

“she doesn’t need to.”

he laughs. awkward. “didn’t mean to step on any toes.”

her jaw ticks. “then don’t.”

you press your lips together to hide the smile threatening to break out onto your face. you love this version of her — cool, protective, and intimidating.

the guy mumbles something like “got it” and backs off without another word.

only once he’s fully gone and out of view does lara finally exhale. her arms drop from her chest and she moves toward you with a sigh.

you tilt your head. “you good?”

she frowns at your water bottle. “you let him stand too close.”

you laugh. “you were right there.”

“he was flirting with you.” she says, voice quiet but pouty.

you smile a little. “maybe. you were watching?”

she rolls her eyes. “i always watch.”

you lean closer, hand brushing her wrist. “and?”

lara’s lips purse dramatically. “and he was touching his hair. who even does that?”

you laugh and she frowns even more, bottom lip stuck out just a bit. she shifts her weight like she’s still a little annoyed. it’s like she’s trying to be mad but barely holding the pout back.

“i didn’t like the way he looked at you.”

“i liked the way you looked at me.”

her breath hitches and you squeeze her hand. “cmere.”

she steps closer automatically and you lean in to press a kiss, soft, short, and sweet, right to her mouth.

her eyes flutter closed for just a second.

and when you pull back, her lip gloss is on your mouth and her face is just a little less tense.

“still mad?” you whisper.

lara shrugs, but it’s useless. she’s already leaning into you again.

“you’re so dramatic.” you murmur, tugging her hand.

“he was annoying.”

“you’re jealous.”

“not jealous. i just don’t like sharing.” she says, eyes flicking down your tank top like she’s lying.

you smile wider. “you don’t have to. i’m all yours, remember?”

she hums, lashes fluttering. “say it again.”

you say it softer. “i’m yours.”

she tugs the hem of your tank a little lower, like it suddenly bothers her how much skin is showing. “good. then don’t let anyone else look at you like that.”

and even though it’s barely above a whisper, you feel it all over.

taglist — @saysirhc @m00nqvv @yuyuy90

[rafeslittlepup]

“father’s day w rafey & our feral baby bunnies 🍼” tiktok

“hi bunnies 💌 it’s 6am and i’m sneaking around bc the babies and i are surprising daddy for father’s day ” she whispers into the camera

she’s in her little baby pink apron making rafe’s breakfast. thick protein pancakes, like six eggs, black coffee, bacon stacked like a tower, and steak. the kids are “helping” by throwing flour at each other.

“we tried to make breakfast but it got violent really fast”

she walks in the room holding the tray, rafe groggy in bed, shirtless. he just gives her this crooked smirk like “you really did all this huh?”

“he tried to act chill but i KNOW he got choked up ”

she gives him a little diy gift box from the boys, handmade cards, a “#1 DAD” keychain one of the twins tried to eat, and framed photo of bunny and babies at the beach

“the boys made him cards but like… i wrote them”

she packs a picnic for “daddy’s special lake day” with those glass strawberry milks and heart-shaped sandwiches. rafe is on dad duty, buckling all four kids into the car.

rafe teaching jamie to fish, rosie is cuddled with bunnywife, she’s reading valley of the dolls

“i didn’t touch a single worm. i’m just here to be cute 🐇”

family dinner at the country club, rafe is in his tan linen shirt, she’s in a puff-sleeve ivory sundress feeding him bites of cake

“he said this was the best father’s day ever!”

soft candlelight, kids asleep, rafe on the porch smoking a cigar while she puts her feet in his lap.

“happy father’s day to the man who gave me the most cherub little bunnies 🐇🍼🪽

💬

@footballhubdad84: Bro living the life fr

@colten_sucks: why does rhett look like he bites

@momsoverdosing: I saw rafe and ovulated. that’s not normal

@princessgoth: get this man off my fyp. i am spiraling

@sundaypicnicprincess: her wrapping sandwiches in lace napkins… i wanna be her so bad

a/n: i kinda hate this

[five-and-dimes]

I'll probably never actually do anything with this so I'm throwing into the void and making it public domain.

Johanna Constantine is a photographer who does a lot of boudoir photography. One day she gets a client who is doing some boudoir wedding photos for his fiancé. Hob is very charismatic and outgoing but also very self-deprecating- the large smile and laughter doesn't change his words "my soon-to-be-husband looks like royalty and I'm mister peasant over here so I figured I'd gift him some pics of me actually looking like I'm even close to the same league."

Johanna huffs and rolls her eyes as she does and makes extra sure that her client is feeling good about himself by the end, giving him a slap on the back on his way out and a gruff "if he doesn't think you're gorgeous you should ditch him at the alter."

A day or two later, she has another boudoir wedding shoot. Morpheus is stoic and poised but also tense and nervous, "My fiancé is. Stunning. Gorgeous. Like something out of a painting," he sighs sadly and looks down at his hands, "I feel like a corpse next to him. So I thought... maybe you could help make me look more...?"

Johanna has no intention of editing this man to Hell like he seems to want, and she has a proven track record of stubbornness, so she makes him go through the shoot and makes him look stunning exactly as he is. She's good at her job. And when he leaves she softens just enough to send him off with a quick "cheer up, mate. He sounds like a good fellow. I bet he sees you better than you think."

A few weeks later, she gets a frantic call from a friend- Lucienne explains that her best friend's wedding photographer dropped last minute, and while of course if Johanna is busy or cannot do it she would not fault her but it would really mean so much and her friend is loaded so she'll probably get paid extra-

Johanna will deny that she had been packing up her camera as soon as she heard Lucienne's stressed voice. It was definitely the money that got her moving. Definitely.

It is honestly a little infuriating spending hours taking photos of Morpheus and Hob- the two clients who were each convinced that the other didn't find them attractive- making absolute heart eyes at each other. Her camera roll is filled to the brim of snapshots of each of them looking at the other like the most beautiful things in the world. All love and adoration and- she would be charging extra for these pics- undisguised lust as the night goes on and the champagne starts to hit them.

It's obvious that they're made for each other. The two biggest idiots in the world they were. Both of them so blatant in their attraction and both of them completely oblivious to the other's.

She was definitely charging them extra.

[giuliannna]

EYES WIDE SHUT

inspired by this request and novacane by frank ocean

“fuck me good, fuck me long, fuck me numb — love me now, when i’m gone, love me none”

you’re laid out on hamzah’s bed, back arched, mouth parted, barely breathing.

your thighs are slick and trembling. your lip’s glossy and bitten raw. his cum is still dripping out of you from earlier, but he’s already got two fingers back inside, moving slow and deep.

his rhythm is steady. he’s working you open for the camera, not for himself.

speaking of, you’d almost forgotten that the camera’s on.

a little camera is propped up on the dresser. little red light on, shooting you, filming you, despite the fact that hamzah hasn’t said a word in ten minutes.

the only sound filling the bedroom is you around his fingers and your breath catching every time he crooks them just right. the air smells like weed and sweat and leftover cologne. there’s a movie playing in the background, muted and pointless.

you stare at the ceiling.

“hamzah?” you whisper.

he doesn’t answer.

you blink hard, trying to ground yourself, but everything feels foggy, too far away. like you’re not even inside your body anymore - just some girl with her legs spread on camera.

and he’s eating it up.

he looks at you, eyes heavy. mouth slack. you don’t know if he’s high or just gone. you don’t ask, because you don’t want to know.

he leans down and kisses your knee. then your inner thigh. then your clit, once, soft. “you good?” he asks, low and quiet.

you nod. “are you?”

he shrugs. “dunno.”

and then he grabs the camera off the dresser and brings it closer - angles it above your pussy while he pulls his fingers out and spits on you. he watches through the screen as it drips down, mixing with the rest of the mess between your legs.

you moan. you’re not sure if it’s for him or the video.

he smirks a little. just a twitch of his lip. “say you want it,” he murmurs, eyes on the screen.

you swallow. “want it,” you whisper.

he flips you over without warning, presses your face into the mattress, and slides into you from behind - slow and deep. your jaw drops. you’re already so stretched, so raw, but you take it.

his camera’s still in his hand, filming the way your ass bounces with every thrust. “fuck,” he mutters. “look at you.”

he grips your hips harder, angling deeper. you cry out, nails digging into the sheets. he moans behind you, but it sounds distant. like he’s still not really here. like he’s just watching.

“this what you wanted?” he breathes. “you like being my fucking movie?”

you nod into the pillow, choking on your own moans.

“say it.”

“yes - yes, i wanted it-”

“yeah,” he says. “figured.”

his hold on your waist is brutal now, fingers leaving bruises you’ll feel for days.

your face is buried in the sheets, your thighs shaking every time he drives back into you. your pussy is swollen, overstimulated, stretched wide around his cock - and the little red light is still blinking torturously.

you don’t even know how long it’s been by now.

thirty minutes? an hour? two hours?

all you know is your body keeps giving, taking whatever he gives you, opening up even when it shouldn’t be able to anymore.

you sob into the mattress. not from pain. not from pleasure. from everything at once.

“that’s it,” he breathes behind you, voice all low and fucked-out. “you’re pretty like this.”

he sounds like he’s watching a film. like he’s narrating your body instead of touching it.

he reaches under you, grabs your hair, pulls your head up and turns your face toward the lens. the camera catches your lips parted, lashes wet, eyes unfocused.

“smile,” he mutters.

you try. it’s just shaky. broken.

his breath stutters behind you. he leans down, presses his chest to your back, cock still buried inside, and whispers right into your ear, “you’re fucking perfect.”

you whine, eyelids fluttering. you can’t even be sure if he actually means that. he’s not in the right headspace to be saying things like that.

he starts moving again, dragging every inch out just to shove it back in harder. the bed creaks. your body jerks with every thrust. your moans aren’t even moans anymore - just wrecked little noises, sharp breaths, empty sounds trying to fill the silence.

“fuck, she’s shaking,” he mumbles, talking to the camera now. “look at her. can barely take it.”

you clench around him, thighs spasming.

“you gonna cum again?” he asks, hand snaking down to rub your clit. “just like this?”

“hamzah, fuck - i can’t, i can’t-”

“yes, you can,” he grinds out harshly.

you shatter. legs trembling, mouth open, eyes rolled back. he keeps fucking you through it, rubbing your clit harder until you’re twitching away, crying out, whole body giving out under him.

you go limp. and that’s when he cums.

with a groan in your ear and a brutal thrust that punches a moan out of both of you, he spills inside, cock twitching as he holds you down and fucks it deep into you.

you both go still, breathing heavy. the room is spinning. he finally sets the camera down and collapses beside you, burying his face in your neck. he’s hot. sweaty. shaking a little.

you’re silent.

then you whisper, voice soft, “do you feel better now?”

he exhales slow. “..no.”

the room is too quiet now. the movie’s still on. some actor is crying on screen while you lie face down, cheek pressed to the sheets, your body twitching every now and then from the aftershocks.

hamzah’s next to you, quiet, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it’s trying to say something he can’t hear.

the camera is facedown on the sheets. recording stopped. screen dark. but the image of you on it lingers in both your minds. your moans, your body, your face all numb.

he doesn’t touch you. you don’t ask him to.

your thighs are sticky with his cum. your breath’s still uneven. your heart’s not racing anymore, but it doesn’t feel steady either.

you finally speak. “was i good?”

he turns his head and looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again.

you blink slow, lashes damp. “like.. did it help you?”

he swallows. jaw clenched. “don’t ask me that.”

“why not?”

“because i don’t know.”

silence again.

you pull the blanket up over your chest. not because you’re cold, but because you suddenly feel too seen. like being naked in front of him now means something it didn’t a few minutes ago.

he turns to you, eyes tired. he looks like he wants to say something, but is ultimately holding it in. you just keep staring at the ceiling.

he leans over, grabs a shirt from the floor, and hands it to you wordlessly. you take it. pull it on slowly and try not to tremble.

when he lies back down beside you, he doesn’t touch you again - but he’s closer this time. close enough to feel the heat off his skin. close enough to pretend this was more than a fuck with a camera rolling.

you close your eyes.

xoxo giulia

taglist: @gulicore @slushedup @arroganceisherfavoritecolor @layzerzlovesu46 @babysitter19 @marixoa @starjely @viennawaiits @h-yalexaaaa @freakzah444 @anginluv @gabwilliams @sturniyolo @screamertannie @brlwla @yourstrulykiya @angelegss @hamzaholic @isathefantastic @divinesturn @forestlv4r @mayapuma20 @ottakugirl @hamzahsbestone @pulcen @rustnroll @venus-planetof-love @hamzahsn1gf @rock678 @wandas-lovey @guiltyfemcel @axetheboyboss @harrys0nlyange1 @ttlynotme @yassqueen1303 @animalcrossingshameless @opiumfidgetspinner @pictureperfectblue @slushingmynoob @vampzah @ilovezah @wh1speringstarr

[mephistostwin]

Away from Him

SYLUS X NON-MC! READER PT. 2

Part 1 Part 3

REMINDERS:

I do not own the characters, this is simply a story that I made up inside my head.

Sylus is a very green forest guy, his attitude here is very different to his real personality.

I'm not a professional in medical topics and the medical terms that I used are just based on my research.

The plot and story line does not follow the events in the game.

MC, Sylus, and other characters' personality and behavior here are not the same as what's in the game.

I'm a first-time writer so please be understanding with the wrong grammars and misspelled words.

Expect that I probably did not use tumblr correctly because this is the first time that I will post an au here.

If this is not your type of story, please scroll up and ignore this post.

Some scenes that are like the scenes from other works are pure coincidence. I never intended to copy anyone's hard work and this is based on my imaginations alone.

Please differentiate real life and the real lore of the game from this fanfic.

Open for constructive criticism but be mindful of your words.

Rafayel woke up. He had the feeling that he should visit you and invite you for breakfast in the café. He got ready and got outside his apartment to knock on yours. After what feels like forever, you still haven't open the door. He's starting to get anxious so he decided to call your number. To his disappointment, you are also not answering your phone.

He is an over-thinker and it doesn't help with the situation so he decided to go at the front desk and ask if you went outside. “Hello, good morning. Have you seen a girl go out earlier? the one that lives in 502”. The receptionist shaked her head, “So far, no one has come out yet. People usually go at 8 am and it's only 6:39 am”.

The answer does not satisfy Rafayel’s overthinking— He some what hoped that you just went somewhere to buy something or do anything. “Can I view the CCTV footage— if you don't mind?” The receptionist hesitated at first but as she look on Rafayel’s face, she knows that he's eager to find that girl— to find you.

“Are you a stalker or what? Stalking women can be punishable by law, you know?...” The woman looks at him, wanting answers before letting him see the CCTV footage.

“No! I'm her friend, here's the proof,” Rafayel showed his phone to her. There's a video that he took last night— he films the surrounding buildings as you both walk to the building of the apartment. The camera happened to capture your smiling face as you look back to Rafayel.

“Look at the date, I captured this last night.” Rafayel pleaded. The woman looks at him in a suspicious way.

“Ok... Because you live here and you showed me that video, I'll let you view the footage from earlier. But once something happened to her and there's a police officer looking for you, I won't hesitate to give your information to them... Got it?” The woman crossed her arms.

“I promise that I'm not a stalker! She just won't open the door after all the knocks I did... She's not even answering her phone either.” Rafayel tugged his shirt as panic rush to his chest.

The woman sighed in defeat and turned the rotating monitor to him. “Here’s the footage... I already replayed back to 4 am. Just click the fast forward or replay button and check it for yourself.”

Rafayel said thanks to the receptionist and he did exactly what she told him to do. After minutes of checking, he never saw you on the footage. “Something’s wrong...”.

He said goodbye to the receptionist and run to the elevator. He clicked the button of the fifth floor in a hurry. When the door opened, he did not waste time and sprinted towards the door of your apartment.

He knocked again as loud as he could but you are still not opening the door. He called for your name but he did not get a reply from you.

“This will be so embarrassing if you were just in a deep sleep but it's better for the situation to be like that than anything else bad happening.” He murmured to himself as he continue to knock.

He gave up on knocking on your door and grips his hair out of frustration. He wants to believe that you're fine and you're just a heavy sleeper but something— that he does not know— is telling him that something is not right. “I’m a very caring person but I don't act like this before... fuck.”

“I feel like I'm trespassing and invading your privacy— argh! I don't care, I'm worried!” He sighed in frustration. He did a lot of loud knocks and calls— it would be impossible for you to not wake up because of that if everything's alright.

He broke the handle of the door and barged in, eager to find you. “Y/N? where are you?” He called your name multiple times and the silence that welcomes him adds to the panic that he's receiving in his chest.

He went to the kitchen and the living room but you were not there. He continued searching for you in every room that your apartment has. One room in the end of the hallway is the last one that he has not went to yet— your bedroom.

He quickly opened the door to your bedroom— and there he saw you curled up into a ball. Your hands gripping the shirt that covers your chest that looks like you want to remove your heart. Your eyes and face are both red and puffy, you look like you cried for months.

His breath hitched as he run towards your weak body. He tried to stay calm to properly assess you but tears rushed down his cheeks.

He's a caring friend but he does not know why he's reacting like he's the other half of your feelings and situation. It's like he can feel your pain and he does not know why.

He teared up as soon as he saw your current state.

“Hey... I'm calling for you earlier... what happened?” He said as he sobs. He’s now caressing your forehead and neck, checking for any sign of fever. You are not replying— you're like dead but you still have a pulse.

He picked you up bridal style and rushed down to the parking lot to get you in his car. The receptionist saw both of you and she felt guilty for thinking that Rafayel is just a creep that was stalking you.

He went to the driver's seat after putting you in the back, making sure that you're comfortable and safe during the drive because he can't promise that he will not sprint to the hospital. He picked up his phone and dialed a number before starting to drive.

“Hey, Zayne! I'm on my way to the hospital right now, I'm bringing a friend of mine. I don't know what happened to her but I know that she's not in a great condition. Please ready a bed for her if you can— I'm panicking and I can't understand why...” Rafayel was still sobbing on the phone and he can't put his mind in ease.

“Don’t panic, it will only worsen the situation... and you're also driving. Focus on the road and drive safely. I already told the interns to prepare a bed for your friend.” Zayne encouraged Rafayel to stay calm. Rafayel— after the call— did his best to focus on the road to drive safely even when his heart feels like it's gripping itself because of intense nervousness and panicking.

You're at the backseat, still hardly breathing but only slightly conscious. Your body feels numb but your chest feels like it's being stabbed from front to the back and vice versa. Your eyes still want to cry but you already emptied out your tears.

“Raf... it hurts...” You mumbled and Rafayel heard it. It was making him hard to breathe. He does not know what hurts you but he wants to take the pain away.

“We’re near to the hospital... you'll be ok... hmm..” He tried to reassure you with a smile that you will be fine but even himself— he can barely stay calm.

Your heart hurts so bad that it pulls you into a deep sleep again.

Finally, both of you arrived to the hospital and Rafayel parked his car. He picked you up in a bridal style again and rushed towards the entrance. Three interns were already waiting for the both of you with a gurney. They quickly put you in the gurney and went to one of the hospital rooms.

Zayne was already at the room, he just finished taking care of one of the patients that he have. He immediately checked your condition while Rafayel just sits at a chair in the corner of the room. Zayne puts an oxygen mask to your nose and mouth area before turning back towards Rafayel.

“It looks like she heavily cried... Due to her heavy breakdown session, there was a lack of supply of oxygen in her body. The amount of oxygen that is in her bloodstream also reduced. This is not yet life-threatening but the emotional stress that she currently experience can trigger other conditions like broken heart syndrome.” Zayne spoke as Rafayel’s mind went blank. He's still processing everything that Zayne said. He don't know what to reply to Zayne.

“It’s better if you will bring her to a psychologist or a psychiatrist after her body and breathing goes back to normal.” Zayne said. Rafayel nodded as a response because his mouth do not know what to say.

“I’ll go to my next patient now. Just call me if you need help. I'll check up on her later.” Zayne said goodbye as he exited the room, leaving Rafayel and your unconscious body.

“What happened to you? you were just smiling last night...” He murmured as he approached a chair besides your hospital bed.

Rafayel spent hours in the hospital, waiting for you to wake up and tell him what happened to you. He did not eat for hours since morning, he lost his appetite when he saw you in that painful state. But his stomach is begging him to eat, it's making him weak.

He decided to go a nearby restaurant to take out some food for him— and also for you when you finally wake up.

He ordered his favorite dish but he does not know your favorite food so he just ordered a healthy meal that he thinks will help you to recover.

He went back to the hospital, his body can barely handle the heavy steps that he takes. He did not eat in the restaurant, he wants to eat with you— just like what you guys did last night.

“Why do I feel miserable already? I just met her last night...” Confusion is messing with his mind.

He reached your hospital room. His eyes slowly lighten up when he saw you in the bed— barely moving but clearly awake. He quickly went to the drawer at the side of your bed and placed the food that he bought.

“Hey, how do you feel? Are you alright? Wait, let me call Zayne...” He flooded you with questions before he dialed Zayne’s number on his phone.

- Meanwhile, on Onychinus base -

Sylus spent his yesterday with MC, clearly not aware that you also left N109 zone yesterday. He went to your desk to hand over the paper works— of course, he wants you to be tired.

To his surprise, you're not on your desk. Your working area is completely clear of signs of work and papers. He felt irritation build up inside his chest. He immediately called for the twins for your whereabouts because they are the ones that you are close with. Maybe you told them where you will go.

The twins barged inside Sylus' office after he called for them. Sylus is on his desk, looking furiously at his laptop. For their relief, MC is not around. They stood in front of Sylus’ desk, waiting for an order.

“Do you both know where she is?” Sylus looked at them with a hint of frustration in his eyes. The twin gulped from anxiousness. How are they now supposed to tell him about your resignation when he's clearly mad? they also thought that he is aware about this— just like when you said that it was his request.

“Boss we don't know what you're talking about...” Kieran lied. Of course they are aware that Sylus is talking about you. But the problem is, how will they tell him without facing Sylus’ anger?

“Answer me with the truth, don't lie... Where did she go?” The twin gulped again. Luke cannot hold back anymore, he told Sylus about your last encounter with them.

“We saw her the day before yesterday... She brought all her things with her and said that she'll resign because of your.... request.” It felt like a dagger is dragged in Luke’s throat as he spoke.

“That explains the resignation letter that she sent in my email.” He said while caressing his temple.

“Go and find her, she still have a lot of work to do”.

- Back to the hospital -

Zayne already checked up on you earlier. As of now, your condition is improving but you are still not fully recovered— especially, your heart.

You are now eating with Rafayel. His eyes looks a little puffy. He told you everything that happened and it touches your heart that he did all of that for you even when you guys just met last night.

“Do you mind telling me what happened? I know that something's wrong... it's not normal for someone to have a breakdown that affects their health like that...” He spoke as you guys both finished your meal. He stood to take the empty container of your meal and throw it away in the trash bin before walking to you again.

“I want to... but I don't know if I can tell you everything, it still hurts.” You hugged yourself.

“I know that it's hard and I'm not forcing you to tell everything right now because of your situation... Just tell me when you need help or you need someone to talk to, ok? You're also my friend now, and I care about my friends.” He pats your head with a warm smile on his lips.

You sighed. “I guess I'll just rant to you right now... I want to let out everything to lessen the burden that I feel.”

Rafayel did not speak, he only listen and that's what you need right now.

“I have this friend for 10 years... I worked as his secretary but I resigned just a night before I went to Linkon City. I slowly loved him because he's the only one that defends me from people that hurts me. I thought we will be more than friends because he gave me signals that he also feels the same— I guess that was a mixed signal.” You painfully chuckled. You continue to speak as Rafayel sat beside you, carefully listening.

“And just months before, he met a girl. Actually, he already met her before me... They're tied by fate in every lifetime... Five months ago, they became official. I tried to make my feelings go away because they were really nice. But that girl was two-faced, even...” You hesitated to say the name of the man that caused you this pain— but you still did.

“Even Sylus’ two assistants don't want to be near her. I really want to tell him that... MC was evil. She changed her behavior once they went official.” You don't want to remember everything that happened but you want to let out the pain.

“Sylus also changed... He promised to never hurt me— but he did. Just for MC, he threw our 10 years friendship. I actually wouldn't mind it that much if he meant it to respect MC, but he also made me suffer. He made me work late to finish the papers that was never meant for my job...”

You know to yourself that you are now hating him— you are slowly hating Sylus.

“Long-story-short, I left the company, I resigned, and flew here. It was also his wish...” You added while a potential sob is building in your throat.

Rafayel’s eyes showed a hint of empathy and anger. He should not be feelings this way but he actually cares for you...

He will do his best to never let you be near that Sylus guy again.

-Timeskip, 7:38 pm-

- Back to Onychinus base -

The twins went back to Sylus' office. MC is still not around. Sylus never left his desk, finishing the works that you are supposed to do— and it frustrates him... but it also make him feel unease.

“Boss...” Kieran softly called, careful to not trigger the irritation that is hidden in Sylus’ mind.

Sylus was always calm, his actions and words are always calculated. He is a very disciplined man— but today is different.

“She’s not in her house... We also searched the whole N109 zone but we can't find a trace of her...” Kieran hesitated to continue as Sylus slowly looked up to them with furious eyes.

Luke and Kieran gulped. They want to sprint outside Sylus’ office. Sylus’ presence and aura never felt scary and suffocating before— even when he is furious. He is very different right now.

Sylus stayed silent, he knows that there is still something that the twins want to tell him. Luke started to speak.

“However, there's a record in the airport... She flew to Linkon city. But we haven't found where she stays for now because we just got the information this evening...” Luke spoke very fast, it's like he is rapping.

Sylus wiped his face with his palm out of frustration. He fucked up but he does not realize it yet...

“Find her and bring her back here... She can't leave this place just like that. She belongs here.”

(Note: I suddenly got a flu and migraine huhu I'll make the part 3 longer, promiseee)

[eyekonvivi]

The Seventh Star - Chapter 3 - Katseye x 7th member reader

All right reserved

3,1 k

Warnings : cuteness

Notes : That's it for chapter 3 ! I tried to make it as long as possible without making it too long. I must admit that i'm really proud of this one, I hope you liked it ! 

And I wanted to thank you for your comments and vote on both Wattpad and Tumblr :) 

Two days later, We stood side by side on a velvet stage in front of flashing cameras. One of  our first press showcase. Media from South Korea, France, the U.S and beyond had flown in to see the official seven-member debut.

The room was buzzing, the backdrop shimmering with Katseye's logo in platinum foil.

Each girl had taken turns answering questions. Until now, I thought the girls' answers were very well controlled, although the questions were not necessarily very pertinent and sometimes rather embarrassing. I waited silently for my question, reassured by Megan's calm presence beside me.

Then a voice from the crowd cut through the air :

" Y/n, some fans online were surprised by your addition to the group. Some say your vocals don't match the group's overall tone. How do you respond to that?"

Every head turned.

My chest tightened. The mic in my hands suddenly felt like a weight. I opened my mouth, but the words slipped away.  Before I could form a full sentence, Megan leaned toward my mic.

"I don't know who those 'fans' are," she said, cool and confident, "but y/n's tone gives our harmonies depth. Some voices are soft-spoken until you actually listen."

There were murmurs of approval from the room.

I looked at her, stunned. Megan gave me a small, sideways wink.

Then, Sophia added, "Seven voices. Seven strengths. That's Katseye's foundation."

I found my voice again.

"I know I was a surprise to some people. But I'm not here to replace anyone—I'm here to add something. That's what music is, right? Layers."

Flashbulbs popped. The moment passed. But I could feel my hands shaking slightly even after the interview ended.

Megan bumped shoulders with me as we walked offstage.

" Welcome to the spotlight, seventh star."

" Thanks Meg, I really appreciate it " I reply, with a sincere smile.

As I feel an arm clinging to mine, Megan moves towards Daniela and I look away to Lara standing beside me, a teasing smile on her lips.

"So we're saved by her knight in shining armor, are we?" she whispers conspiratorially.

I blush slightly at her words before replying :

" She's not my knight in shining armor! She would have done it for any member of the group..."

"Sure" she replies with a wink, "Let's hurry up and get changed, Son told Yoonchae he was going to treat us to a restaurant after that awful interview."

We then head happily towards the rest of the group, who are talking half-amusedly, half-irritated in the dressing room about the absurd questions we've had to answer.

I watch with a smile on my face as Daniela's antics mimic Manon's hilarious reaction to being asked by a fan which band member she hated most during all the drama surrounding her during Dream Academy.

I change quietly, thinking about Lara's words, feeling at home in the group's chaotic atmosphere, which becomes more pronounced when Lara and Sophia decide to join Daniela in her imitations.

***

 We enter the restaurant with Son and a few members of the production team. The atmosphere is intimate, with soft light emanating from the ceiling. The tables are covered with red-checked tablecloths, and the stereotype is so overdone that it makes me let out a discreet laugh.

At least, that's what I thought, because the whole group turns to me, including Son, who questions me, one eyebrow raised : 

" Y/n ? What's so funny ?" 

" I'm sorry, it's just that this restaurant is really a stereotype of French culture as seen by Americans, I find it quite amusing " I reply shyly.

" Ok, I was thinking that maybe you didn't like the restaurant... Although Megan insisted that we go to a French restaurant to cheer you up".

" It makes me happy Son, thanks a lot "

I then turn to Megan and whisper teasingly :

"So, Meg, you're influencing Son's decisions for me now ?"

"I, I just wanted you to take your mind off the horrible interview questions, well, uh, cheer up the group and, and what better way to do that than with French food? " she tries to justify herself, her cheeks slightly flushed.

" Yes, it's true that French cuisine never fail to comfort me , thank you Meg." I put an end to her misery with a warm smile.

From the corner of my eye, I see Lara struggling to hold back her laughter. I give her a murderous look, which she answers with a wink, before moving to sit next to Manon.

As I look around for somewhere to sit, I notice that the only empty seat is the one opposite Lara between Sophia and Daniela. The latter's animosity towards me seems to have eased somewhat over the last few days, but that's probably more to do with the fact that we're very busy and our interactions are professional and on camera.

So I'm a bit nervous when I sit down.

But no sooner do I get my butt on the chair than the conversations start and the girls, with the exception of Manon, bombard me with questions about French food. I try to describe each dish as best I can, until they all go back to their own menus.

I'm hesitating between the Quiche Lorraine and the Boeuf Bourguignon when I feel a discreet tap on my shoulder, I look up and see Daniela looking at me with an awkward expression.

"Uh, y/n, I just wanted to ask you what you were going to order because I have no idea what to choose..."

"I was hesitating between these two..." I point to my two choices on the menu "but I think I'll go for the Quiche Lorraine, it reminds me too much of my childhood."

At the end of my words, she concentrates on the menu, eyebrows furrowed in a way that I must admit is rather adorable, if you forget her usual temper for a second...

She then raises her head determinedly towards me, and announces, as if it were the biggest decision of her life : 

" Okay, I will order the same thing then." 

I let out a laugh at her behaviour, followed by Manon, who was watching our exchange. Daniela's brows furrow, and she adds with a smirk.

" So if it's not good, I can always blame your lack of taste."

"How generous of you" I add, before focusing my attention on the waitress who has just arrived at our table.

The meal is punctuated by laughter with the girls, Son's improbable annectotes and, above all, Daniela's various comments on the tasting of her Quiche Lorraine and the bits of food she steals from Manon and Lara's plates.

I observe her as, with her glass of white wine in hand, she makes a whole plea to me and Lara about how the egg on the latter's Croque Madame shouldn't be legal, and how awful the mixture is. 

She actually seems to be in her element, surrounded by her friends, sharing her more childlike, fun side with me.

Maybe a friendship between us will finally be possible, or at least a proper professional relationship.

When the dessert menu finally arrives, I'm full of hesitation when I see that there's a Crème Brûlée and Macarons, both of which I really want, but I don't really want to be the only one to choose both.

Seeing my hesitation, Sophia gently suggests:

"We can share the two if you like, so you can eat both and I can discover even more about French gastronomy".

"We have a deal then" I reply with a smile. 

When our two plates arrive, I share my dessert with Sophia while quietly discussing our opinions on the different tastes of macarons.

"You should try the caramel one, I swear it's to die for ! " Sophia tells me enthusiastically.

"Okay"

Just as I was expecting Sophia to place the macaron on my plate, she hands it to me, expecting me to bite it. I do so hesitantly, looking into Sophia's eyes as I take my first bite, her eyes slightly widening, but this moment is broken when I hear Yoonchae whisper to Lara :

" They really act like a married couple."

" Yes, they do", replies Lara.

Manon and Megan laugh in response, although when I meet Megan's eyes, I realize that her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. As for Daniela, she reacts in a blasé manner, adding:

"You're not going to reduce the amount of fan fiction about girl groups..."

The laughter starts up again, and is maintained by Sophia's particularly humorous laugh, which makes me laugh out loud.

Our meal ends in good spirits with a little speech from Son, who expresses how proud he is of what we've achieved so far. I leave the restaurant with tears of gratitude in my eyes, because even if the beginning wasn't easy, I feel that things can get better with the girls.

***

The next day 

After our warm-up session, I find myself sitting on the floor, exhausted, and as Manon hands me a bottle of water, the music producer clapped her hands once, hard. 

"Okay. I'm pairing people off for the unit stages next week. I want to see chemistry, contrast, vocal risk."

The room tensed. That tone meant challenge.

She read from her clipboard. "Sophia and Lara. Megan, Yoonchae and Manon. And...  Y/n with Daniela."

Daniela's jaw shifted. I went still.

The room reacted quietly : exchanged looks, low whispers.

"Great," the producer said. "You'll be covering 'Bleeding Love' by Leona Lewis. Stripped-down version. Two microphones. One harmony, one lead."

Megan let out a low whistle. "They really said tension and tears." 

Practice was painful.

Daniela barely looked at me. Their first rehearsal was spent in near silence, except for music cues and a few comments like :

" You're late on the downbeat."

" That run's unnecessary."

"Are you even breathing properly ?"

I  tried to stay calm. Tried to focus. But the weight of the song— our lack of connection—made the performance fall flat every time.

By the third day, the producer finally paused the track.

"This isn't working," she said. " Not because your voices clash. But because you're clashing. Figure it out. "

She walked out, leaving us alone in the sound booth.

A long silence.

Finally, I broke it. "Do you hate me?"

Daniela glanced up sharply.

"I don't hate you," she said. "I just don't know how to trust someone who skipped the part where we bled for this."

I stepped forward. "I already told you that I didn't skip it. Mine just wasn't on camera." 

Daniela stared at me  "That's fair."

"Are you angry because I joined the group when I wasn't supposed to?"

"I, I kind of was at first, I was so obsessed with this idea of being a member of six with certain members in mind. But when I saw your name called instead of Emily, who I was so close to and who to me so deserved her place in the group, I don't know, it made me so angry..."

Another pause.

Then, softly :  "You have control on the bridge. It's nice. When you're not second-guessing."

I  blinked. "That almost sounded like a compliment."

Daniela smirked faintly. "Don't get used to it."

They ran the song again. This time, something clicked—not in friendship, not yet. But in rhythm. In breath. In the shared pain the song demanded.

It was a start

***

The next evening, I was in the practice studio late. Everyone else had left, but I had stayed behind to work on her choreography—alone, as usual.

Until the door creaked open.

Lara walked in.

I glanced at her through the mirror. Lara was always hard to read. Soft-spoken, analytical. Her expression was calm, neutral. 

"Couldn't sleep?" I asked, half-joking.

"I sleep fine," Lara replied, sitting by the wall. "I just watch who stays late."

I stopped stretching. "Meaning ?"

"You and I have something in common," Lara said, tilting her head. "We both live just outside the center of the group. Observers."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you think I am ? An outsider?"

Lara shrugged. "You kinda feel like one. But you still show up. That matters."

Silence.

Then, she added, more softly: " You don't perform for approval. That's rare here."

I felt something loosen in my chest. "You're not what I expected."

"Neither are you."

They didn't say much more that night. But Lara stayed for one full run-through of my dance. And when I hit my final move and looked up, Lara nodded once.

A quiet seal of recognition

***

After this late-night training session, we drive home with Lara, music blaring in the vehicle.

When we open the door, we notice voices in the dimly lit living room, bickering.

"No seriously, we've already watched Twilight far too many times for it to be legal. Why not a Disney? Rapunzel, for example. "

"We already watched Rapunzel three weeks ago Soph..."

"Yes, but it's a classic, we never get sick of it!"

"If you say so..."

After depositing our stuff in the entrance hall, we head for the voices and spot Manon and Sophia, on the sofa, bickering in front of a TV that itself seems bored with the argument.

"You're not asleep?" Lara asks.

"No, we wanted to have a movie session, but after watching Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone for the thousandth time, I thought it couldn't hurt to continue the evening on something else" Manon replies, at the peak of desperation.

"I see. Good luck with Sophia then, I'm going up to my room to call my sister. Good night girls!"

Lara gives us each a little hug before heading for the stairs.

"Do you want to join us y/n? So you can choose the movie and save us spending two hours choosing. "Manon suggests.

"Let me just go take a quick shower and I'll be right there, that'll give me time to think about the movie."

"We can make popcorn in the meantime!" says Sophia enthusiastically.

"You know how to talk to me, Sophia! "I reply with the same enthusiasm.

I hurry off to my room, where Yoonchae is fast asleep. Maybe I should go and shower at Lara and Megan's if I don't want to wake her up, she looks so peaceful. I quickly decide on this solution and grab my things as quietly as possible.

Je ferme la porte le plus délicatement possible puis me dirige vers la chambre de Lara et Megan avant de frapper doucement. 

"Lara, are you still in here?"

I hear no reply, but light footsteps approach the door. It's an adorably disheveled Megan, her head half-covered by the hood of her hoodie, who opens the door for me.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?"

" Hey Meg, I just wanted to ask if I can take a quick shower in your bathroom because Yoonchae is sleeping so soundly, I don't want to wake her."

" You're such a cutie " she mumbles, fidgeting with her fingers " Uh it's giving older sister vibe! "

"Thanks, I just try my best. So it's a yes?"

" Uh yes of course. Come in, make yourself confortable, Lara is on the balcony chatting with her sister"

" Merci beaucoup. I shall hurry if I don't want Manon and Sophia to murder me or die of boredom waiting for me, see you soon! "

"Yeah, see ya," Megan replies, heading for her bed.

I then head for the bathroom and take the fastest shower of my existence while trying to think about the film. I get dressed quickly but realize too late that I forgot to take a t-shirt. So I call Megan through the door.

"Meg? Do you have a T-shirt I can borrow? I forgot to pick one up in my hurry earlier".

"Yes, I'm coming," I hear her muffled voice.

After a few seconds, her footsteps approach the bathroom door and she knocks gently, I leave just enough space to let her hand pass through with the T-shirt and close it almost immediately after thanking her.

The T-shirt she has handed me is a large Angel City soccer jersey with Megan's last name on the back. I'm just questioning her choice when I hear Sophia calling me from downstairs.

When I finally emerge from the bathroom, Megan looks me up and down with a slightly satisfied smile. I quickly walk over to her to give her a hug and add when I'm close to her ear in a soft voice:

"Thanks for the jersey sweetie. And good night! "

I barely have time to observe Megan's flushed face before I half-run out of the room to join Manon and Sophia who are already waiting for me, three huge bowls of popcorn in front of them.

"So what did you pick ?" questions Manon.

"Uh I thought we might watch..."

"Is that Megan's t-shirt you're wearing?" asks Sophia, her eyebrows slightly furrowed.

"Yes, I didn't want to wake Yoonchae so I went to their room to shower but as I was rushing I forgot my shirt so Meg let me borrow one."

"Great, great but what movie are we watching ?" insists Manon.

"What do you think of The World of Narnia ?"

"Good idea !"

"Let's do that then."

Manon rushes to grab the telecomand as I settle between her and Sophia on the sofa.

Sophia seems in her thoughts as Manon searches for the film on the TV, concerned at her rare silence, I ask :

"Are you alright Soph ?"

"Yeah don't worry, I'm just tired".

As soon as the film begins, I grab my bowl of popcorn and devour it as avidly as Manon.

However, after about thirty minutes, I feel the effects of the training on my body and end up snuggling up to Sophia, resting my head on her shoulder before sinking into a deep sleep.

***

I wake up on the sofa, with a pillow under my head and a small blanket over my body.

But what worries me most is the smell.

The kitchen smelled like noodles and smoke.

I ran in coughing. "Is something burning ?!"

Yoonchae turned from the stove with a sheepish smile. "I forgot water boils."

I laughed. "You... forgot?"

"I got distracted trying to remix our setlist for fun," she said, waving her phone. "It kind of slaps though."

I looked at her. Yoonchae was chaotic in a way I would usually find exhausting—but somehow, with her, it was oddly comforting.

"You're not worried about all the pressure?"

Yoonchae leaned against the counter. "Pressure is a drumbeat. I just dance over it."

I grinned. " That's poetic."

"I get like that when I'm hungry and slightly choking on smoke."

We cracked the window open and ate instant noodles on the floor.  We chatted about anything and everything, sometimes in a vague English, but it was enough for us in this moment, a morning spent around a quiet laugher.

It wasn't a deep heart-to-heart. But I realized that for Yoonchae, connection didn't come through speeches—it came through shared space, laughter, and not taking the world too seriously.

I was glad that, Yoonchae, my new roomate was in this group,  I needed her young energy to keep me from slipping into the sometimes dark abyss of adulthood, and especially into the sometimes toxic environment of the music industry.

[ume17]

Memories turned sour

multi char drabble. i wasn't planning on writing anything but I saw this reel and it just popped in my head. many wips left but whatever now. I named the son. it just felt right

warnings; fluff. suggestive content.

Your husband was always recording you and your son- watching it together, years later, the footage is not what you expected it to be

You’d always see your husband recording you and your son. Day-to-day activities like having lunch, making dinner, folding the laundry together, and sometimes even brushing your teeth. What you thought was a simple attachment and a way to capture these little moments turned out to be something way, way, way- far from the truth. 

This only came to light when your son, in his late teens, decided to view his childhood pictures stored on the family pc. What you thought would be a day full of laughter and reminiscing old times turned into your husband smiling like a madman while your son looks at both of you in disgust. 

Because, pray, why is there hours worth of footage of you- a full scan of your figure (especially zooming at the rear) - backside and front- sometimes in sweats, sometimes in your old mom jeans- sometimes your hair perfectly parted to even the times you look like you need to have at least 6 baths. All under the guise of  what looks like an innocent and memorable moment between a mother and her child. 

What is worth mentioning is how swiftly the camera moves from your son to you. A small babbling child to a grown ass woman.

“ did you really have to ruin my day?” the said child groans, “ forget my day- I think you’ve ruined all my childhood memories!!”

And if there were an award for the least bothered face in humanity, your husband should have gotten it. 

“What do you mean? Those are videos of you as a child? Did you want me to take more?” he speaks as if those videos were really what they claimed to be. “We can still continue, you are our little boy at the end of the day.”

A red face out of anger? Embarrassment? Hikaru but only storms away. With muttering

“Videos of me? Or you ogling your wife?”

Even with all this, your husband only pulls you closer by the waist, whispering,

”he’s got a bit of temper right? I think it’s time we give him a little sister to calm him down.”

He has definitely hit his head. One more push towards the headrest won’t hurt him, right?

 Pushing him, and getting up, “ get yourself checked”

“To try for junior two?”

“For a mental check-up!”

 Walking towards the kitchen, you hear something along the lines of “I’ll record more videos of the younger one!!”

-Suna Rintaro, Kuroo Tetsuroo, Kageyama tobio( idc in my headcanon he is downbad for her), SUgawara Koushi, Futakuchi Kenji, Tanaka Ryounsoke, Nishinoya yu( i really can't see him as a dad tho), Atsumu Miya, Yaku?, Oikawa Toru, Matsukawa Issei, Hanamaki, Taketora, Not tendo? or tendo? i don't really read much of his fics,

blue lock- Karasu?, oliver aiku? sue me i've never read anything past s2, Reo Mikage, sae?( i see the zooming shit but he's def not gonna be so playful bout it), chigiri??

aot- connie? jean maybe ?

there's more but i'm feeling like shit rn. I'll edit this later.

[gotta-winwin]

typo and error | SHOWBIZ COLLAB

⭐ starring: joshua hong 💌 genre: fluff, angst | wc: 3.7k

💬 preview: Joshua loves his job as social media manager for The Carat Company, except for one thing: the actress he’s in charge of. you hate his guts, and Joshua swears he returns those feelings with vigor, and yet…forced to work in close proximity, Joshua’s forced to reckon with the idea that just maybe, despite all the animosity, he’s still madly in love with you. 

cw/tw: social media manager!joshua x actress!reader, mutual pining, oblivious idiots in love, enemies to lovers(?), light swearing, bit of crack, miscommunication trope, only one bed, brainrot hoshi, menace jeonghan

🪽fic rating: pg ☁️ masterlist & a/n: this is in direct correlation with @straylightdream's fic for the same collab! i feel so honoured to be apart of this wonderful community and i cannot believe it is finally time to share with you all this piece of work-- this collab was the beginning of it all for me: a thousand laughs and inside jokes, found family and forever friends. i am beyond grateful to be standing next to these wonderful writers and people. forever grateful to @studioeisa and @diamonddaze01 for being the tumblr parents i never knew i needed <3

now playing: tonight (i wish i was your boy) by the 1975

new actress y/n violet l/n looks absolutely grotesque in new photos from set. 

Joshua swears on his life and all things good that he meant to type gorgeous. 

He had half the mind to call Apple Services himself and complain about the terrible timing autocorrect had, as he sat in Wonwoo’s office, their company’s stern CEO staring at him from across his meticulously organized desk. 

“You’re telling me you managed to sour our new talent’s name in less than an hour of working her socials.”

Joshua lowered his gaze. “Yes.” 

Wonwoo pinched the bridge of his nose in a twinge of despair with annoyance swimming on his face. “Joshua, I cannot emphasize this enough. Our partnership with Ms. Y/N Violet needs to work. It has to.” 

“And it will.” Joshua nodded vehemently, trying to emphasize his false confidence in the matter. “I’ve got it, boss. Trust me.” Or don’t. Joshua didn’t really know what he was doing. 

Wonwoo sends him out with a few words that borderline as a threat. Words that sounded like don’t fuck this up, please and your job is on the line. 

Joshua swipes into Twitter and sees the amount of people who had screenshotted his mistake and posted it online. 

Poor social media guy, someone wrote. Don’t hate him for his fat thumbs! At least we got a good laugh. 

“Fuck me.” Joshua dials Jihoon’s number and prays the man picks up. “Hey, Hoon. I need a favour.”  

The actress I work for is going to hate me. 

“Hey.” 

It’s awkward when Joshua walks into your trailer on set. You’re poised on the makeup chair, your eyes closed as your makeup artist dusted pale pink shadow over your eyelids. You recognize his voice, and your eyebrows pinch. 

“Mr. Hong. You’re late.” You supposed it was unprofessional of you to still hold a grudge for Joshua’s social media mistake, but you couldn’t help it. 

“There was a hold up at the company.” Joshua tries his best to remain civil. There was just something about your face that infuriated him. It was too…perfect. Too pretty. 

He raises his camera and waits for you to pose in the perfected candid pose every actor and actress was taught. To look just the right amount of ‘caught off guard.’ Joshua snaps a few photos before throwing you a thumbs up. 

You motion for him to leave. “I need to rehearse my lines. In peace.” You add the last part pointedly, glancing at him through the mirror. 

He sits on the couch of your trailer, glasses perched on his nose that he looks at you with. He gives you a curt nod and exits. 

Ever the gentleman. 

But you knew that it was all a scheme. 

y/n violet l/n stuns in new photos captured on set. 

Joshua makes sure to double check, triple check, the caption before sending it out this time. 

He’s tried so hard to be nothing but perfect in the few months he had been working for you, as if each action could make up for the disaster of an entrance he had given you on their company’s social media page. 

Joshua made sure your favourite drinks and snacks were in your trailer before your arrival. He painstakingly edited every minute flaw from your photos. He kept eyeliner, lipgloss and a spare hair tie in his bag. He never complained when you asked him to reshoot a billion more photos. 

Yet for some reason, you were unwilling to forget the incident. It was clear to Joshua that you hated him. 

“Thanks.” You mutter as he hands you your morning cup of iced tea, stabbing the straw into the cup for you, mixing the ice just right. You pretend not to notice how Joshua has somehow learnt all your habits and preferences to a T within just a few months. 

He wordlessly hands you a napkin before you even ask. 

“Hey, Vi. You’re on set in 5.” The 1st AD pokes her head in to call you. 

“Okay, thanks.” 

Joshua takes your cup and napkin flawlessly and helps you down the steps. 

You hate how perfect he is.

He hates how he can feel himself caring about this job more than he should. 

fans rave over y/n violet’s assistant: internet calls him her prince-in-waiting. 

“I feel like you’re being underpaid.” Wonwoo says the next time Joshua finds himself in his office. “I hear from the rest of the staff that you’ve been doing other jobs.” 

Joshua doesn’t know what his boss is saying, and it’s evident on his face. 

“You’re not just Ms. L/N’s social media manager, you’re also her assistant and bodyguard.” Wonwoo explains, and Joshua realizes he’s got a point. 

“Oh.” 

“I’m surprised you haven’t come to me for a raise, Josh.” Wonwoo states quite frankly. “You’ve always been very good at advocating for yourself.” 

He shrugs. “It doesn’t really feel like a job.”

And the look on Wonwoo’s face tells him he’s said too much. 

“Really.” There’s an unmistakable smirk on Wonwoo’s face, the 5 - 9 Wonwoo peeking through the 9 - 5 Wonwoo for just a second. “Taking such good care of her doesn’t feel like a job.”

Joshua’s quick to backtrack. “No, I mean– I like my job.”

“Sure.” It’s obvious he doesn’t believe him.

Fuck me, Joshua thinks silently. 

Joshua can feel himself burning holes into the back of Jeonghan’s head as the man resurfaces from kissing you. 

“Cut!” He can hear the director yelling for the scene to end in the distance, yet all his senses are trained on you. 

How you pressed yourself into Jeonghan’s hold, melted into the kiss, let out the sweetest gasp into his lips. Joshua hated all of it. He hated how it made him feel. 

He watches Jeonghan whisper something into your ear, a hand brushing against your hair. 

Joshua glanced down only to realize he had been squeezing the paper cup filled with coffee in his hands, the contents slowly overflowing and dripping onto the floor. 

He looks back up and catches you looking at him.

“Fuck me.” 

You break away from Jeonghan as soon as you hear the cue from the director. 

“You alright?” Jeonghan’s quick to check in. 

You nod. “You?”

It’s an unspoken thing between the two of you, checking in with your onscreen counterpart in between work days and takes. “I’m good.” Jeonghan glances behind you and bites back a smile. “I’d say your social media guy isn’t though.” 

“Mr. Hong?” You flit your eyes over to the man in question. He’s standing near the side, your afternoon coffee in his hands and a scowl on his face. “Yeah, I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

“He’s in love with you.” Jeonghan says it as plainly as if he had just stated tomorrow’s weather. 

You choke on air. “What?” 

Jeonghan nears, his breath tickling your ear as he fixes your hair gently. “Look at how he tenses when I near you. How his eyebrows furrow. How he looks like he wants to murder me from across the room.” 

You look, and for a second, you see it too. 

And then you blink, and it’s gone. “You’re imagining things, Hannie.” 

Your social media guy does not love you. 

It’s the dead of night when Joshua lugs your suitcase into your hotel room. He sets it down and pats it awkwardly, scanning the room for any visible threats. He’s grown accustomed to his role in your life. He still hates how it makes him feel towards you– the feelings of love that he continues to push down until they disappear– but he’s content with his job. Wonwoo did end up giving him a raise for it. 

He was now your social media manager/personal assistant/bodyguard. The paycheck was exponentially high. 

“Of course, you forget to book yourself a room.” There’s a light tease in your tone as you stare at the one bed in the giant penthouse suite. 

“Sorry.” Is all he has to offer in response. He had forgotten, in the midst of all the press releases he had to manage with the movie trailer coming out, he had only thought of booking you a room and not him. “I’ll sleep on the floor.” 

You give him a look he can’t decipher. “No.” 

Joshua blinks. “Huh?” 

“I’m not making you sleep on the floor, Hong. We can both sleep on the bed. Just stick to your side.” 

He nods, ignoring the feeling that the two of you had just crossed into some unspeakable, unknown territory. 

He doesn’t know it, but you feel it too. 

It’s strange to see him out of his usual business attire. 

You’re trying not to stare at him from above your computer screen, but you fail, eyeing the casual wear your work counterpart has on. Joshua is concentrating on something on his phone, his lips twitching as his eyes move briskly over its contents.

“Stop staring.” 

You flinch when you’re caught. “I wasn’t.”

He laughs, and the sound startles you. “I can feel your beady little eyes on me, missy.” He teases, smiling at your insulted expression. 

“Do not insult me like that, Mr. Hong– you work for me, remember?” 

“Oh, do I now?” 

There’s a moment of silence as the two of you look at one another, sharing a secret smile before both quickly turning away. 

He swears at that moment he’s in love with you, and he hates that it’s true. 

You swear you hate him under your breath. You hate how you know it’s a lie. 

The sun begins to set as Joshua hands you your nightly cup of tea. Made just the way you like it, a dash of sugar and a spoonful of honey. 

He sits beside you and turns to look at you with determination on his face. “Can I ask you a question?” 

You frown. “Sure?” 

The question that comes out of his mouth is unexpected and a nice surprise. “Have you always wanted to be an actress?” 

“Yes.” You answer immediately. “Have you always wanted to be a…” You blank at his job title. A personal assistant? A bodyguard? Basically a boyfriend? Instead, you settle with the safest option. “...a social media manager?” 

Joshua thinks a beat too long before answering. “I guess.” 

“That doesn’t sound all too convincing.” 

“I mean– I don’t think anyone grows up wanting to be a social media manager.” 

He has a point. “What did you want to be then?”

Joshua thinks for a bit, as if the memory was already long gone and too distant to recover. “Astronaut, or something silly like that.” 

“I don’t think that’s silly. I mean–” You backtrack. “Everyone told me being an actress was a silly dream, but I’m here now.”

There’s a sour look on his face. “And I’m your social media manager.” 

“Yeah, a fucking good one.” 

He visibly brightens. “Really?” 

“I mean, you did mess up big time on that one post, but–”

“I am sorry about that.” He grimaces, and you know he really does feel bad. 

“You called me grotesque.” 

“I typed it wrong and stupid autocorrect–” 

You laugh at his indignant expression. “I’m joking, Joshua.” 

He joins in, and neither one of you notices how you had just called him by his first name. 

You look radiant in the mornings. Joshua swears on all things good and true that you cannot be real, and that you’re most certainly nothing short of an angel. 

“Good morning.” His morning voice catches you off guard. 

You turn around in bed to face him, momentarily stunned by the limited amount of space between the two of you. His hair is pushed in all directions, his eyes lazy and filled with sleep, yet– 

“Fuck me,” you think to yourself. Your social media guy was hot. But that had to just be the morning delirium talking. 

“You’re staring again.” He comments, his lips quivering into a tiny smile. “You’ve been doing that a lot.” 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

“No.” You deny it once more. “I am not staring.” 

“Sure. Sure.” He reaches a hand over and moves a piece of hair away from your face.

You blink as he moves away. “Shut up.”

The banter comes as easy as hating him once did. And as the two of you watch the sun begin to rise again, you start thinking that maybe loving him can be just as easy too. 

y/n violet l/n eats up the red carpet with new look. 

You’re dazzling on the red carpet, and Joshua spends most of his time trying to stop his mouth from hanging open. 

He raises the camera and waits for you to fix your dress. 

“Is this okay?” You look at him, fingers toying with the hem of your skirt, the bodice of your dress cinching your waist uncomfortably. Your movement is limited as you attempt to adjust the fabric of your dress down to cover more of your legs. 

Joshua wordlessly steps in to help. He moves the fabric with practiced precision, his fingers brushing against your upper thigh as he steps away again. 

“It’s perfect.” He reassures you, raising his camera once more. “C’mon, work the camera, pretty.” 

Smiling for pictures comes easy when it’s Joshua behind the camera. 

He hums contently as he studies the photos. “Perfect.” Offering you his arm, Joshua escorts you into the venue. 

Neither one of you comments on the multiple compliments the two of you received throughout the event. How every single person that walked up to you mentioned how perfect he looked by your side. 

The sky is dark and crying by the time you’re ready to leave. 

Joshua holds his coat over your head, careful not to disturb the delicate headpiece sitting in your hair. You watch him study the pouring rain, as if calculating the best way to deliver you to the car. 

“I’m going to have to carry you.” He ultimately decides.

You gape at the suggestion. “What?”

He shrugs, pointing down at your feet and the diamond encrusted heels adorning them. “Neither one of us can afford your shoes getting soaked in the rain— what are those? A billion dollars as footwear?”

He swings you into his arms effortlessly and begins the trek. 

Rain hits his back as he carries you to the car, his hair sticking to his forehead as he blinks rainwater out from his eyes. You can’t help but stare and appreciate the moment for what it is. 

“Thank you, Joshua.” You whisper, as he gently sets you into the passenger seat of your van. 

He shoots you a bright smile. “Anytime. Fasten your seatbelt, princess.” He slides into the driver’s seat, reaching over to fix the tiara sitting in your hair. 

Your stomach flips. Fuckkk. 

y/n violet l/n and her prince-in-waiting spotted in a fairytale moment after gala. 

The headlines are everywhere in the morning. 

“People think we’re together, they’re calling it some fairytale romance come to life.” Your eyes read the comments left by fans faster than your brain can comprehend them. “Are you seeing this?”

You look up to see Joshua staring blankly at his phone. 

“Joshua!” You nudge him from his stupor. “The masses think we’re in love. Do something about it!” 

He blinks. “Like what?”

“I don’t know? You’re the social media guy, don’t you guys have some kind of handbook for situations like this? Release a statement or something–” You point an accusatory finger his way. “I told you carrying me like that last night was a bad idea.” 

There’s a shit eating expression on his face that you urge to smack away. “And what if we don’t?” He tests the waters. Hook, line–

“What?”

“What if we don’t release a statement?” 

“People think we’re in love.” 

“So? Maybe they're right.”

 And…sinker. His heart threatens to jump out of his ass. 

No one had more effectively rendered you silent than Joshua had right now. “I- what?” 

Joshua stares at you for a count of three. The bravery that had overtaken him a few seconds ago was gone now, and he was trying to muster up the courage to say something– anything. 

The first two notes of Bruno Mars’s Just The Way You Are starts playing and Joshua flushes, grabbing his phone to answer the call. “Hello?” 

Jihoon’s voice crackles to life. “You know you need to report this type of shit to me, right? Your HR department? Now– I would recommend you to not date the actress you’re working for, but since that’s already been done–”

Joshua cuts him off. “What– no, we’re not dating.” He darts his eyes to look over at you. You’re pointedly avoiding eye contact. “It’s just internet gossip.” 

“Right.” 

Joshua wonders what kind of things Wonwoo was telling the rest of the department heads if Jihoon also sounded like he didn’t believe him. 

“Well, as long as you’re not dating.” Jihoon concludes the call. “Bye.” 

Joshua lowers the phone to look at you. 

The moment’s over. You both can feel it. 

y/n violet, looking ravishing on set, answers questions at Buzzfeed. 

You don’t see Joshua for the next two weeks. 

He’s still posting snippets from the press tour you and Jeonghan are currently on, busy promoting your new movie, but the man himself has gone radio silent. 

You imagine he’s regretting the last night the two of you had spent together. 

“So? Maybe they're right.” 

You find yourself spinning the conversation over and over in the back of your head, as you rehearse your answers for the next interview. You overanalyze it, again and again, until you can’t tell the difference between what actually happened and what you’ve created in your head. 

It’s the way he had so quickly shut down the idea of dating you to Jihoon that stuck with you the most. The tone. The swiftness of his words. The lack of hesitation. 

Your temporary assistant hands you your morning coffee, and you take a sip. It’s too strong, too murky, not nearly enough ice. 

You find yourself missing Joshua. You recount every little snide comment you had ever made at him and feel that wave of regret, over and over. 

But buried deep within that regret is embarrassment, and it reigns far superior. The little voice inside your head whispers seeds into your mind. He probably hates you now. You’ve been nothing but rude, and awful, and dismissive. 

Your phone buzzes to life, and you see his name on the caller ID. 

You feel like throwing up as you let it ring. 

Joshua stares at the video of your latest interview and lets out a heavy sigh. 

You’ve been dodging his calls. Joshua hates to say it, but he understands. A big time actress, being caught on social media and accused of dating her glorified butler. 

He doesn’t know what possessed him to keep calling you, but he does. Once before clocking in to work. Once clocking out. Once before bed. 

Soonyoung tells him it’s pathetic. It probably is. 

“You need to let her go, man.” Soonyoung tells him as they leave the office building. “Is she really worth all this groveling?” 

“She’s worth everything.” Joshua finds himself admitting. 

“Shit, bro.” Their marketing manager fixes him with sympathetic eyes. “You’re so cooked.” 

Joshua frowns. “What does that even mean?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Wonwoo made the whole marketing team take this seminar on the new internet codes.” Soonyoung slaps him on the back. “If she’s worth that much to you, then show her.” 

“How? She won’t even pick up my calls. And our schedules barely line up anymore.” 

Soonyoung dangles his phone between his fingertips. “You’re the social media guy, right?” 

There’s a wicked spark behind those eyes. Fuck. 

y/n violet’s prince-in-waiting steps into the spotlight: is this love or just workplace loyalty?

You’re somewhere in Singapore getting ready for another interview when Jeonghan breaks into your trailer with a manic smile on his face. “Look at this article that just came out.” He thrusts his phone into your face. 

You blink at the headline. “What–”

“Your prince-in-waiting just blew up the whole internet.” 

You blitz through the article in record speed, catching snippets and quotes from Joshua. 

Working for her was a nightmare. Violet’s spoiled, high-maintenance, an all around princess. 

You push his phone away. “I don’t want to read all that.” 

Jeonghan groans. “Don’t just glance at it, read it. Like actually.” 

Working for her was a nightmare– I was forced to confront the reality that I wasn’t just doing all of it for the paycheck, I was doing it for her. 

Violet’s spoiled, high-maintenance, an all around princess– but that was okay. I didn’t mind it. I liked maintaining her. 

And finally, the last quote in the article. 

“I suppose when you spend that much time staring at one person’s photos… falling a bit in love with them is inevitable.” 

You blink. “Ava?” 

Your temporary assistant raises her head. “Yes?” 

“I need you to get Mr. Hong on the next flight over here.” 

y/n violet takes movie premiere by storm– bringing her prince-in-waiting as her plus one. 

Despite all that has changed in your relationship with Joshua, these events still remain the same.

He still gets on his knees to take the perfect pictures of you in your dress. He still brings you drinks whenever he notices you’re parched. Still carries your heels for you when your feet start aching on the way home.

Yet some things have changed: like the fact that his hand is now placed possessively on your waist as he navigates the crowd with you next to him. 

“I still don’t like that guy.” He mutters into your ear as you both say goodbye to Jeonghan and his date. 

You laugh. “He’s just Jeonghan.” 

“He’s kissed you.” He hisses, fixing your necklace so it sits perfectly on your collarbone. “And we both know he was cuddling up to you on set just to piss me off.” 

“Maybe.” You admit. “But that’s just Jeonghan.” 

“Whatever.” Joshua throws one last dirty look at the actor before fixing you with loving eyes. “You’re mine now, anyways. Right?” 

You scrunch your nose. “Wouldn’t you like to know, social media boy?” 

He pinches your hip in retaliation. 

The banter still comes easy. And you’re pleased to find out that loving him comes just as easy too. 

[bullet-prooflove]

Elderberry Wine: John Carter x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @anna-bailey @ofsoapsuds @queenslandlover-93 @gemofspace

Summary: You come home to find John waiting for you.

Companion piece to:

Dreamer (NSFW) - John dreams of you when he's with someone else.

Little John - You try to keep John's mind off the task at hand.

The First One Is Always The Hardest - You comfort John after the death of a patient.

Forget-Me-Nots - John wakes up hung over in a strange bed and with an unexpected memento of the night before.

Speak Your Truth - John speaks his truth in the aftermath of a tragedy.

Trauma - John makes a realisation after his confession.

Fever - John gets more than he bargained for when he attends a friend's stag party in a Chicago Speakeasy.

Minx (NSFW) - John had no idea he had such a deviant little minx on his hands.

Always - You and John discuss the reasons behind your dancing.

Diamonds - John's friend and rival makes you an offer you can't refuse.

The Stethoscope - John's world is turned upside down when he finds your stethoscope in his locker.

John’s waiting for you when you get home. He’s sitting on the floor outside your apartment with his back propped up against the door and a medical textbook in his lap. Beside him is a brown paper bag of groceries, you can see the egg carton and fresh peppers sticking out of the top as he raises to greet you.

“I went to my mom’s.” You say by way of explanation as you stride towards him. “She insisted on reading my tarot cards, thought they might give me a little clarity.”

Your mom has always been a little different, new agey before it was cool. She’s been the proud proprietor of the first feminist bookshop in Chicago since the late 70s and a staunch promoter of women’s rights. There’s a photo in her shop of you barely three months old cradled against her chest in a sling on the front line of a Chicago Women's Liberation march.

“Her first one.” She had said fondly as she’d read John’s cards on a shop counter pasted with Mod Podge and news clippings of her exploits. “But not her last.”

That’s the first taste you’d given him of your world, his first glimpse into the history that made up Crys Majors.

“What did they say?” He asks, his hand squeezing your hip as he tilts his head down to look at you. Your skin is a little flush, your eyes bright. Your hair falls loose around your features in soft waves, the same way it always does when you pull out your hair tie in the aftermath of a shift.

“I have no idea.” You tell him, the edges of your mouth tipping up into a smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “Everything’s a little hazy after that second glass of wine.”

That’s the other thing about your mom. The elderberry wine she makes is so strong that that first time he’d been introduced to it he’d woken up face down in a beanbag in the children’s section surrounded by Jenga pieces. You still have the picture she took with her polaroid camera pinned to your fridge with a St Bart’s fridge magnet.

It makes sense that that’s why you’re smiling right now, despite having the shittiest day on this earth. Quality time spent with your mom and half a bottle of elderberry wine it’ll cure most the world’s ills, at least until morning.  

“Have you eaten?” He asks, his fingertips tucking an errant strand of hair back behind your ear.

You shake your head. “My mom offered but…”

“Yeah, she’s terrible.” He chuckles knowingly.

To be fair that’s not your mom’s fault. The woman is vegan so every meal she makes is bean or tofu based because it’s slim pickings in 90s Chicago. He’d almost spat out the coffee she’d made him when she was trying to sober him up because it was laced with rice milk. You’d found the whole thing terribly amusing.

“How about I whip you up something?” He says, his arms wrapping around you, drawing you close into the shelter of his firm body. “I know how much you like my omelettes. I could run you a bath, cook for you…”

“You don’t have to take care of me.” You say softly, your fingertips trailing along the lapels of his coat. Despite your words, your body language indicates something different. He can sense your need for reassurance, your desire for proximity amidst the storm that is your life. “Right now the elderberry wine is kinda numbing everything and I know it’s going to be a busy day for you tomorrow.”

It would have been a busy day for you too, he thinks as you toy with the buttons of his coat. You would have scrubbed in on the same surgery he’s observing, asked pointed questions, you would have rocked the whole damn thing.

“Are we gonna talk about it?” He asks, his mouth brushing over your temple as he cradles you against him. You sway together gently, it’s something you find soothing, he’s discovered, the light rocking of his form against yours.

“I don’t really have much to say.” You whisper, your cheek settling on his shoulder. “Mark’s clearly told you the whole story and my mom’s making a voodoo doll of the asshole. My guess is he’s gonna be experiencing some sharp pains in his dick during the next two to three hours.”

He laughs into your hair, his palm coming to rest on the nape of your neck as his thumb traces soothing circles over that tender little spot just behind your ear.

“John.” You whisper, your voice cracking as you bury your face into his chest. “You’re still gonna love me if I’m not a doctor right?”

“Oh Crys.” He murmurs, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “I’m gonna love you no matter what happens, you can count on that.”

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[v6quewrlds]

&.⠀⠀ROSE WATER⠀⋆⠀JUSTIN HERBERT.

pairing⠀⁎⠀justin herbert x vet!reader. word count⠀⁎⠀6.6k.

summary⠀⁎⠀justin and his blue polo shirt have stolen any hope of saturday afternoon peace you once held on to. forfeiting any chance of studying, you're inspired to share that hopeless insanity with him.

author's note⠀⁎⠀so i was being a little dramatic last night lol, enjoy <3 warnings⠀⁎⠀smut, 18+ mdni, some dom/sub dynamics, soft dom!justin, overstimulation, fingering, oral fixation (!), begging.

read more⠀⁎⠀justin herbert masterlist / series masterlist.

She was losing her mind, every single bit of it. It was torture, the sweetest kind of agony she’d ever felt. Justin was away in Wisconsin, playing golf for a charity event. She hadn’t thought twice about staying at his place while he was gone, not even giving him the chance to think about contacting his regular house-sitter.

She truly didn’t mean to get so worked up. But maybe she should have known better than to navigate over to her boyfriend’s Instagram profile and swipe to his tagged posts. Maybe she should have known better than to let the sight of him, gloriously tanned in a navy blue polo, stir up the butterflies in her stomach. There were videos of his golf swing, his back facing the camera, muscles flexing with each hit of the ball. His veins twisting down his arms like a road map to heaven. She should have known better than to watch that video of him smiling wide, dimple peaking through, some polite phrase leaving his parted lips.

Trying to resume studying after her deep dive was entirely pointless. She would find herself reading, rereading, and rereading the same sentence over and over again without comprehension. The only thing she could think of was the way Justin’s shirt clung to his broad shoulders in the pictures, the way his pants—pressed by her just before his flight that morning—hugged his thighs, and the way his eyes looked so vivid, bright, so full of excitement even through the screen.

Waiting to board. I’ll let you know when I’m on the flight.

His text came through, breaking through the haze of her thoughts.

Her response was simple: a selfie in the mirror, wearing a zip-up hoodie of his. The black zip-up was half undone, one side falling off her shoulder to expose a lacy, white bra underneath. It was as close to naked as she dared to be in a picture. There was no accompanying message, just her shoulder exposed, coils pulled back into a low bun at the nape of her neck, and the hoodie zipped low enough to reveal a bit of her chest.

Fly safe, I love you.

If she was aching, Justin was suffering. He had opened the text thread casually, his attention split between responding to messages and paying attention to his chartered plane's boarding announcements. He nearly dropped his phone when the image appeared on his screen. He turned his phone off, swallowing hard, and took a deep breath.

He turned his phone back on, lowering his brightness to avoid any unwelcome glances from nearby passengers. He inhaled harshly through his nose, keenly aware of how insane it was that he could get this worked up over a shoulder and a bit of lace. But it was her shoulder and her bra and just: her. He hadn’t seen her in hours, which was beginning to feel like days.

His index finger tapped against the side of his phone, contemplating a response. Knowing her, she was probably sitting as far away from her phone as possible, too anxious to watch for his reaction. But he had to say something, had to let her know that she had him hooked: line and sinker.

Hope that’s my hoodie.

He typed out quickly, hitting send just as he was called to board.

Boarding. Can’t wait to get home to you.

He shoved his phone into one of his front pockets and followed the flight attendant, his backpack slung over his shoulder.

The flight home was agonizingly slow. Every second dragged on, filled with images of her in his mind, her pretty eyes glittering with lust, her body silently begging for his touch. Justin could feel his heart beating in his chest, the anticipation of seeing her again making him restless. The moment the plane’s wheels hit the tarmac, he was up, eager to escape the confines of the aircraft and get back to her.

He pulled into the garage, grabbing his bag and making a beeline for the door. The house was quiet, but the evidence that she was there, she was still home, was everywhere. The smell of something sweet wafted from the kitchen, the faint sound of footsteps coming from his room upstairs. Just as he set his bag down by the door, the sound of paws hitting the floor announced Nova’s arrival. She wove around his legs, purring loudly, seemingly happy to see him for the time being.

“Hey, girl, where’s your momma?” He picked her up, scratching behind the feline's ears, then taking a moment to set his Callaway golf cap on the hook by the door.

She was still in that zip-up hoodie when he finally caught sight of her descending the stairs. However, now with the full view of her body, he could see the black boy shorts that matched the color of the hoodie. Her legs were bare, and her feet were tucked into a pair of fuzzy socks that matched the black and white theme of the ensemble. In one hand, she had her phone, and in the other, she clutched a mason jar of sweet iced tea. Presumably, one of the two she left behind in his cupboards and never felt the need to bring back to her rental home. She looked so innocent, so sweet, so utterly unaware of the chaos she had wrought upon him.

“There she is,” he narrated to Nova, his voice softening as he watched her approach.

She set her phone and the mason jar down on the entryway table just as Nova leapt out of Justin’s arms, landing gracefully on the floor. He reached for her, his hands sliding under the fabric of the hoodie to rest on her waist. Her arms looped around his neck, pulling him closer, her eyes immediately drawn to his lips.

“Missed you,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him softly. It was slow, the kiss, a gentle reintroduction after a day apart. Justin’s hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer until she was flush against him. He could feel the heat of her body, smell the faint scent of her perfume that had somehow permeated the fabric of his hoodie.

“I missed you more,” he hummed, pressing forward again to kiss her harder, deeper. Her arms dropped from his neck, her hands moving instead to feel the fabric of his polo. “Did you manage to get some studying done?” he asked, pulling away from the kiss, unable to hide his smile when she chased his lips.

“Some,” she replied, reaching out to play with his fingers, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth again.

He tugged her along with him, his steps slow and deliberate, leading her into the kitchen where that smell of sweetness was more concentrated. “Some?” he echoed, more so wondering aloud, pulling the oven mitts off the hook and opening the oven door.

“Some, but not as much as I should have,” she admitted shyly. Justin pulled out the sheet and placed it on the stovetop to begin the cooling process. She was trying to be subtle, her eyes tracing the line of his jaw, his neck, the expanse of his back. She knew he noticed; he could read her like a book. He hadn’t missed the way her eyes had glazed over when she met him at the door a few moments prior.

“How much is 'some'?” He removed the oven mitts and set them down on the kitchen counter, turning to face her fully, leaning against the counter.

She shrugged, resuming her fiddling with his fingers. “Maybe fifty percent? I got distracted.”

Justin released a short, breathy laugh. “By what?” Laughing once again when she chose not to respond. He knew full well by what—his own damn pictures. He couldn’t blame her; he’d had his fair share of distractions today too. But he’d be damned if he didn’t get to revel in her embarrassment a little bit. “Were you thinking about something?” He whispered, the hand in her grasp moving to find the back of her neck, his thumb stroking the soft skin of her cheek.

Her eyes flickered up to meet his, the corners of her mouth tipping up slightly. “Maybe.”

“Maybe what?” Justin prodded, his voice dropping an octave, his gaze darkening as he took in the way her breathing slowed and her eyes grew heavy-lidded. He knew that look. “Words, baby. Give me words.”

“Justin…” she groaned, her head dropping forward to press against his chest. She didn’t know how to avoid the embarrassment of telling him that she’d been thinking about him all day, about his arms, his hands, his smile.

He chuckled, his chest rumbling against her cheek. “Come on, tell me. Sent me a picture earlier, you can tell me now.” His hand remained on the back of her neck, gently guiding her to look up at him.

“I… I just… I was thinking about you,” she murmured, the honey-coating in her voice just barely audible. Her palm flattened against his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart beneath the fabric of his polo. “Thinking about how much I miss you when you’re gone, and how much I want you when you’re here…”

Justin’s smile grew, directing her gaze back up to him. He leaned down, his nose brushing against hers. “Is that all?” Seafoam green eyes searched hers, his voice a low rumble in the quiet kitchen. She could see the way his pupils dilated, the way his tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip. With every passing second, she found more difficult to maintain eye contact. He was always so intense in these moments, so demanding of her honesty.

Their mouths parted again, identical breaths leaving them both in a silent pant. Justin’s hand on her neck tightened slightly, his lips brushing against hers, and he whispered, “Should I fuck you? Does that sound like something you need?”

She nodded, her voice a squeak. “Please.”

He kissed her again, hard and demanding, his hand moving from her neck to cradle the back of her head, tilting it so he could deepen the kiss. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as she let out a soft whine. He broke the kiss, his eyes somehow even more intense as he whispered, “Good girl.”

Both of his hands moved to cup her face. Justin’s thumbs traced the outline of her cheekbones, his fingertips brushing against her ears as his tongue swept into her mouth. He could feel her body melting into his, her curves fitting against his angles like they were made for this, made to be together. His hands slid down to the zipper of the hoodie, pulling it down with a slow, deliberate motion. She could feel the goosebumps rise on her skin as the fabric parted, exposing the lacy white bra that had been taunting him for the last few hours. He groaned, his mouth moving to her neck, kissing and nibbling the soft skin there.

Her hands roamed up his chest, her nails digging into the fabric of his polo shirt. She pulled at the hem, trying to get her hands on the bare skin she hadn’t felt in what felt like an eternity. He chuckled, breaking away from her neck to kiss at her lips. His knees bent slightly, allowing him to scoop her up easily, her legs wrapping around his waist.

If she wasn’t so busy kissing him, she would’ve marveled at the ease with which he carried her up the stairs to his bedroom. Her heart was racing, her body thrumming with need, her mind swimming in a sea of desire. The bedroom door swung open, and he laid her down gently on the California king-sized bed that had seen more of her naked body than perhaps her own bed had.

Justin hovered over her, parting her thighs to make room for his frame. He kissed her again, a wet, sloppy mess of a kiss that had her toes curling and her core pulsing. His hands roamed under the hoodie, feeling her soft flesh, his thumbs brushing over the cups of her bra. “Do you want this off?” he murmured, his voice gruff.

She nodded, their parting of their lips allowing her to catch her breath. She felt his hands remove the jacket, tossing it to the side. Then he moved to the hooks of her bra, deftly unclipping it with a single hand, the other squeezing the plush flesh of her thigh, hooking it around his waist to keep her in place. She felt the cool air of the room kiss her now bare breasts, her nipples tightening to hard peaks. He leaned down to kiss her neck, his teeth grazing the skin there, leaving a trail of kisses down to her collarbone. She sighed as his mouth closed around one nipple, suckling gently.

Her hands moved to his hair, her nails scraping against his scalp as she held him to her, urging him to take more, to give her more. He chuckled against her skin, his tongue flicking out to tease the tight peak before moving to the other side to give it the same treatment. His hand slid down her body, over her stomach, and into her shorts, finding her already soaked.

“Eager, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust, as he pulled away from her chest to look into her eyes. “So fucking eager for me, aren’t you?” He slid his hand into her shorts, his fingers sliding through her slick folds, finding her clit with a practiced ease that had her back arching off the bed. He watched her face as he circled the sensitive nub, his touch light and feathering.

Her eyes rolled back in her head, her hips moving in tandem with his hand, searching for more friction. “Can I have your fingers, please?” she begged, her voice hoarse with desire. Her hands moved away from his hair, finding the sides of his face, biting his lower lip gently as she pleaded with him.

“Anything you need, angel,” Justin whispered against her skin. He pulled his fingers from her shorts, hooking his fingers into the waistband and tugging them down along with her panties. He tossed them aside, leaving her fully bare before him. Just as he always did, he took a brief moment to take in the sight of her, the way her skin glowed under the soft light of his bedroom, the way her chest rose and fell with each desperate breath she took. He leaned down to kiss her jaw, biting the junction of her neck and shoulder weakly.

Her eyes fluttered shut, a soft whine escaping her throat as she felt his lower half press further into her. She nodded, eager to please. Justin’s hands moved to her hips, his fingers digging into the flesh as he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed. His mouth found hers again, swallowing her gasps as he ground into her. She grabbed hold of his wrist, kissing the inside of his wrist, then repeating the action with each of his fingers. Her eyes didn’t shift away from his, not even when she took his index finger into her mouth, sucking and licking until it was slick with her saliva.

“Need your mouth full?” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He watched as she sucked on his fingers, her eyes locked on his, and felt a surge of lust that nearly brought him to his knees. When she was done, he pulled his hand away, bringing his glistening fingers to her center. He slid one, then two into her, her walls tightening around them. She was so wet, so ready for him.

Her eyes rolled back in pleasure, a silent moan escaping her lips. He watched her face, the swollen plump of her lips parting, the way her eyelids grew heavy. “So beautiful, baby,” he whispered, his thumb unintentionally brushing against her clit as he pushed his fingers in deeper. She responded with a whimper, her back arching up to meet him. He began to move his hand in a slow, rhythmic motion, watching her face, her body, learning her, memorizing every twitch, every tremble.

Her core tightened around his hand, her hips bucking slightly as he found the perfect rhythm. She bit her lip, trying to hold in the sounds that threatened to spill out of her. She felt the heat building, her body coiling tightly, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. “God,” she whined, her hand poised on his forearm as it flexed with every thrust of his fingers.

Justin watched her, his eyes dark with lust, his free hand bracing himself on the bed beside her. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. “That’s it, angel. Just relax for me. I’ve got you, I’ve got you, sweetheart, so good for me…”

Her breath hitched, her nails digging into his forearm. She was so close, so close to coming apart for him. And when she did, it was with a high-pitched cry, her body shaking as he continued to pump into her, drawing out the orgasm until she was boneless and panting beneath him. He talked her through it, as he always did, “That’s my girl, so fucking beautiful, baby. Just like that. Just like that…”

When her tremors ceased, he gently removed his hand from her pussy, bringing it to his mouth to taste her. “Mmm,” he groaned. “Taste yourself, baby.” He offered her his fingers, and she took them eagerly, sucking them clean, staring up at him through her lashes.

Justin’s cock was painfully hard, straining against his pants. He leaned down to kiss her, tasting himself on her lips. She wrapped her legs around him, trying to pull him closer, desperate to have him fill her. He chuckled against her mouth, breaking the kiss to remove his polo before his hands moved to undo the button of his pants.

“I want you so badly, J,” she breathed, running her hand down his chest.

“You’ve got me, baby,” he replied, indulging the way she pressed her lips to the pad of his right thumb; evidently not having gotten her fixation satiated. He pulled back, shucking his pants and boxers, his dick springing free, thick and hard, his veins twisting up the length of his shaft. She bit her lip, watching him with hungry eyes. He leaned over her, his hand moving to her chin, tilting her head up so he could kiss her again.

“Wanna make you feel good,” she purred, her back arching into him as his kisses trailed over her jaw and down to the tops of her tits. Her hips rocked against his. Her hand found the nape of his neck, her fingers threading through his hair as she tried to bring him closer.

Justin’s cock was begging to be inside her, but he held off, enjoying the sweet torture of her needy whimpers and the way her body moved against his. He kissed along her collarbone, making her squirm and moan. “Do you, baby?”

She nodded, her voice thin and breathy. “Yeah, I do. I want to suck you, feel you in my mouth, taste you, please…”

Justin groaned, his body responding to her words. “Just for a little bit, baby,” he murmured, releasing her chin and rising to his full height. He gripped the base, his hand twisting in a slow rise and fall, his tip left untouched. “On your knees,” he instructed, his voice taking on a commanding tone.

She obeyed without question, practically scrambling to get off the bed and onto her knees. She quietly watched him take a seat at the edge of the bed. From this position, her face was directly level with his crotch, his cock standing proud and erect before her. The sight of him, the smell of him, had her mouth watering, and she didn’t wait for his next instruction before leaning in to kiss his thighs, her hands coming up to rest on his knees.

Justin’s hand met the side of her face, firmly cradling her cheek. “Look at me,” he ordered softly. She did, her eyes lifting to meet his, full of hunger. He tapped the tip against her lips, smearing a bead of precum over them.

He watched her intently, his eyes hooded as she licked her lips, savoring the taste of him. Finally, he guided her forward, the signal to begin. She opened her mouth, taking him in with a sigh of pure pleasure. She could feel the heat of him, the velvety softness of his skin against her tongue. He was thick and heavy in her mouth, his skin a bit salty to the taste. She moaned around him, the vibrations causing him to tense.

Her hands moved to grip the base of his cock, her thumbs stroking the underside as she took him deeper. She knew what he liked, knew the rhythm that would make him lose control. She watched him, his eyes never leaving hers as she began to suck him off, her tongue swirling around the tip, her cheeks hollowing as she took more and more of him into her mouth.

The hand on her cheek contined to guide her, his thumb tracing her bottom lip as she worked his shaft. Justin’s breathing grew harsher, his eyes closing as he cursed under his breath. He watched her every move, his eyes darkening as she took him deeper, her saliva coating his length.

“Don’t wanna cum like this, angel,” Justin murmured, gently pulling away from her eager mouth. He didn’t want it to end too quickly, not when she was so obviously craving him. “Said I was gonna fuck you. How do you want me?”

He guided her to stand, his hands moving to her hips. She stood in between his spread legs, her own trembling slightly as she awaited his next command. He pulled her in for a kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth, tasting himself on her.

“Tell me how you want it, my love,” Justin whispered against her swollen lips, his hands roaming from her waist to her lower back, down to her ass, cupping and squeezing it firmly.

Her breath hitched as she leaned into him. “I want it from behind,” she responded, her voice a heated whisper. “With my face in the pillow.”

“Yeah?” Justin’s eyes bore into hers, the hunger in them growing.

She confirmed with a nod. Justin’s grip tightened on her hips in an affirmative squeeze before releasing her, standing to his full height. He took a step back, watching as she positioned herself on the bed, her legs spread just enough to allow him entry, her face buried in the pillow, ass up in the air. He couldn’t resist the urge to smack it lightly, watching as she jolted with the impact. She moaned into the pillow, urging him on.

“God, you’re perfect,” Justin rumbled as he took in the sight of her, all sprawled out and desperate for him. “So fucking perfect.” She was so slick and ready, he could see her wetness glisten in the dim light of the room. He brushed his tip through her folds, teasing her entrance before sliding in, watching as her body took him inch by inch. She moaned into the pillow, her hands fisting the fabric tightly.

Her tight heat clenched around him as he pushed in deeper, filling her completely. He took a moment to just appreciate the feeling of her, the way she felt so right around him. Then, with a grunt, he began to move, setting a slow, steady rhythm that had her back arching. She was so wet, so warm, and it was all for him.

Every moan and whimper from her made his blood warmer, his strokes more insistent. When he slipped out accidentally, her grip tightened on the pillow, her hips pushing back to meet him again. Justin took hold of her hips, his fingers digging into her soft flesh as he thrust back in, eliciting a muffled cry from her.

“I’m sorry, baby. So wet for me, I’m slipping out,” he murmured. He pulled almost all the way out, the head of his cock dragging over her clit before plunging back in, making her moan loudly. Sure, he was being a little mean, playing with her like this, but the way she reacted was intoxicating.

“You’re teasing,” she whined, turning her face slightly to the side so the pillow didn’t muffle her voice entirely. Justin chuckled darkly, his hand coming down to smack her ass again, rubbing the raw skin gently before moving back to her hip to keep her steady.

“You know I don’t like it when you whine like that.” He tsked.

“Taught you to use your words. What do you need?” Justin encouraged, his voice a low growl in the quiet of the room.

Her breath hitched. “Harder. Please.” Justin’s grip on her hips tightened as he gave her what she asked for, his strokes becoming more forceful, the sound of their bodies meeting filling the room. She could feel him everywhere, his cock stretching her, his hands holding her in place as he claimed her.

The force of his thrusts had the bed shaking beneath them, the headboard thumping rhythmically against the wall. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she bit into the pillow to muffle the screams of pleasure that were building in her throat. She could feel her core tighten with every stroke, the pressure building until she thought she might just shatter into a million pieces.

“Oh…” she breathed into the pillow, her voice muffled, the fabric dampening the cries that spilled from her. Her eyes squeezed shut, her body trembling as she felt the pressure build, the warmth spreading from her core to her fingertips.

Her breath caught in her throat, her eyes rolled back, and her toes curled as Justin's relentless thrusts hit that spot deep inside her that only he knew existed. She could feel herself getting closer and closer to the edge, her muscles tightening around him. One of his hands moved from her hip to the small of her back, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh as he pushed her further into the mattress.

She couldn’t think with him inside her, couldn’t form coherent thoughts as he pounded into her, making her body sing with pleasure. She was close, so close, and all she could do was whine and beg into the pillow, her voice lost to the world but not to him. He knew her so well, knew when she was close, and just when she thought she’d fall apart, he slowed his pace, drawing out her agony.

Justin’s chest was slick with sweat, his breathing heavy and labored, his heart hammering in his chest. He watched her body move under him, her ass bouncing with every thrust, her thighs quivering. He watched her fuck herself back onto his cock, even as his hips stilled for a moment. The muscles in her back rippled with each gasp, and her breath was coming in short, panting bursts.

“Mmhmm, baby, just like that,” he hummed, his eyes flicking upwards to catch the intensity with which she gripped the pillow. She was aching, he could tell, having taken matters into her own hands in the wake of the pause he’d allowed. “Look at you, so desperate to cum for me. Keep going, angel, keep taking it.”

The words were a command and a caress, pushing her closer to the precipice she hovered upon. She could feel the wetness of her own desire mixing with the sweat on her skin, making her body slick and slippery. She obeyed, her body responding instinctively to his touch, his voice, continuing to do the work of impaling herself on him even as he held back.

Unexpectedly, she grew quiet, spasming around him, but no sound of pleasure followed. Her hips circled but her torso went slack, the tension draining away. Justin paused, concerned she had been hurt. This was out of character for her, she was always vocal in some way during their intimate moments. They had been working on her ability to voice her desires and enjoyment over the course of their relationship, so her sudden silence was disconcerting.

“Angel, baby, you okay?” Justin asked, worried. He paused his movements, his cock still buried deep inside her. He leaned over her, pressing his chest to her back, lifting her head from the pillow to get a look at her face, hoping to find the answer in her expression.

Her eyes remained closed, her breathing shallow and quick. She didn’t respond, but her grip on the duvet tightened, her hips now completely still. Justin felt a jolt of panic, but just as he slowly began to pull out, she spoke, her voice hoarse and needy, the words spilling out in a bit of a cry.

“Please… please don’t stop. I’m so close to cumming. Please, just don’t stop. Baby, please don’t stop.” She sobbed out the words, her voice trembling and raw. Her eyes remained squeezed shut as she clung to the edge of her sanity.

Justin felt a rush of relief at her words. “Scared me, angel. You okay?” he murmured, his hand smoothing over her hair as he watched her closely.

She nodded, her eyes fluttering open to find him staring down at her. “I’m okay, I promise,” she panted. “Just really need you to keep going. Please.”

Justin searched her face for any sign of pain or distress, finding none but an intense, almost desperate need. He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead before resuming his steady, deep strokes. He kept a hold on her face, needing the reassurance that she was okay, that she was still with him.

“Mm, fuck, baby, okay,” Justin whispered, his eyes stuck to her face as he began to move again. His strokes were gentle at first, but soon grew in speed and power as he watched her reaction. She pushed back against him, her breath hitching with each thrust. “Look at you, so beautiful like this. Taking me so good, baby, so good for me…”

Her eyes rolled back in her head, the arch in her back deepening as she took him in. Justin’s thrusts grew more powerful, his hips slapping against her ass, the sound echoing through the room. She was still quiet for the most part. Just the sound of her panting and the occasional whine slipping out from between her clenched teeth.

“Mmhmm, baby, that’s it,” Justin encouraged, feeling her muscles clench around him as he watched her chase the elusive second orgasm. He leaned over her, one hand on the bed for balance as he fucked into her with all the finesse and power of a man desperate for his girl’s undoing. His cheek pressed against hers, his moans mixing with her whimpers.

Her hands fisted the sheets, her knuckles straining as she held on tight, her body writhing beneath his. “Yes,” she moaned, the sound clear in his ears. “Yes, yes, yes… “ her voice trailed off into a whisper.

“Justin,” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. “Please, can I cum? Been so good… I wanna cum for you…”

“Gonna cum on my cock?” Justin rasped, his voice strained with his own need.

She nodded frantically, her eyes screwed shut, her breaths coming out in panting whimpers. “Yes, yes, please, baby, let me cum for you,” she begged, her voice tight and desperate. “You feel so good, baby, I‘m so full, so close, please…”

Justin groaned, his own control hanging by a thread. He leaned down to kiss just below her ear. “Asked so nicely. You can cum, angel.”

“Thank you… oh my god,” she whined. The permission was all she needed. Her body responded immediately, tightening around his cock, her walls pulsing as the orgasm crashed over her. She was lost to the sensation, her voice hoarse as she screamed into the pillow, the fabric muffling the sound but not the intensity of her climax.

Justin felt her clench down on him and knew she was there. He didn’t hold back anymore, his hips moving with the force of his need, driving into her again and again. He could feel his own release building as he watched her come apart for him. Her body was shaking, the sight was so beautiful he could barely believe it was real.

Her cries grew louder, and he felt the beginnings of his own climax, his balls tightening as he pumped into her. He leaned down and kissed her neck, whispering sweet words of praise. “I know, baby. You’re doing so good, so fucking good. I’m so proud of you, taking all of me, giving it back so sweetly, baby. So fucking sweet…” Then, with a final, deep groan, he buried himself inside her, feeling his hot cum spurt into her, filling her up as she trembled and pulsed around him.

Once the ringing in his ears and the fuzziness of his brain had receded, Justin slowly withdrew. He made sure to gently kiss her neck and shoulder, not wanting to leave her feeling cold or abandoned after their intense connection. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the bed, her breath still coming out in gasps. He followed her down, his body heavy with satisfaction.

Justin pulled her body closer to his, his hands stroking her sweat-dampened skin. He held her close, feeling her heart pound against his chest as she tried to regain her breath. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, his voice soothing and gentle. “Did so well, baby. Thank you for letting me in like that,” he said, kissing her temple.

She was shivering, undoubtedly experiencing a drop in adrenaline and endorphins. So he surrounded her with warmth, his embrace tight and comforting. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, whispered to her, kept her awake and coaxing her to stay alert.

“I got you,” he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble in her ear. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Her body continued to shake with the aftershocks of her orgasm, trying her best to allow air to flood her lungs. Her eyes remained closed, lost in the warmth of his embrace. She could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and she matched her breaths to his, her pulse slowing with each gentle kiss he placed against her skin.

Finally, she turned her face towards him, her eyes fluttering open to find him smiling down at her. She gave a soft, tired smile in return, her body feeling like jelly. “Thank you,” she said weakly, curling into his chest with a sigh.

Justin’s arms tightened around her, his thumb brushing soothing shapes over her spine. He kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then her mouth, each one gentle, long, and filled with affection. “You’re welcome,” he whispered. “How are you feeling? Scale of one to ten?”

“I’m at eleven,” she murmured, making him chuckle. He pulled the comforter over them both, his knuckles brushing over the curve of her ass, palming it gently to pull her closer to him. Her eyes remained closed, her cheek pressing into his chest.

“Mm, that’s not on the scale, but I’ll take it.” Justin chuckled, his fingers continuing to trace patterns on her spine. She tipped her head back, making a contented noise. Her eyes remained closed, but she felt the warmth of his smile when he dipped forward to give her the kiss she was silently asking for.

His hand cradled her face, the kiss slow and tender. She huddled closer to his warmth as they kissed, vulnerability warming her skin and making her heart flutter. They separated for a moment, just long enough for Justin to whisper a gentle, “Thank you for trusting me,” before kissing her again. He was lost in her, in the feel of her body against his, in the way she melted into him as if she belonged there; as if she was meant to be in his arms, taking everything he had to give, giving him everything he needed in return.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers playing with the ends of his hair. “You feel so safe,” she responded. “Like nothing can ever go wrong when you’re here.”

Justin’s smile grew, his eyes closing as he breathed in the scent of her. “Good. That’s what I want to be for you,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to her forehead. His hand slid down her side, his thumb brushing over her ribs and stomach, tracing the line of her hip before settling at her waist. “Are these pictures gonna be a regular thing when I’m out of town?” he asked with a playful edge, his voice gravelly, resonating through his chest and into her ear.

She laughed softly, her cheek still pressed to his chest. “I think so. Is that something you’d like?” She asked, peeking up at him.

Justin’s smile grew, his eyes sparkling. “You could send me a picture of your thumb and I’d have heart palpitations, angel,” he quipped, making her laugh, the sound light and musical. He kissed her forehead again, his hand still resting on her waist. “I’ll start the shower, can I get you anything? Water?”

She nodded, her voice still a little shaky. “Yeah, water would be great, baby. Thank you.” She watched him get up, his naked form illuminated by the soft light of the light flooding in from the hallway. He was breathtaking, every muscle defined, his skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat.

She pushed herself up from the bed, her legs wobbly as she moved to the bathroom, beginning the clean-up of the stickiness between her legs. He returned to her side a few moments later, a glass of water poised in hand, Nova trailing behind him curiously, brilliant green eyes gleaming in the low light.

“Aww, did your dad lock you out?” She cooed, smiling when Nova meowed pitifully, her tail swishing. “I’m sorry, honey.”

Justin handed her the water, watching her take a grateful sip, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “I set some food out for her while I was down in the kitchen, but she wasn’t interested. Wanted to check on her favorite person first,” he said, pulling her back against his chest, his hands running over her sides.

Her laugh was soft and sweet, a sound that never failed to make his heart swell. “You spoil her, you know that?” She took another sip, her eyes half lidded as she watched him over the rim of the glass.

“I have to compete with you somehow,” Justin said, shrugging. He picked Nova up, the cat purring as he held her to his chest, tail curling around his forearm. “I’ve had her for years but you give her a check-up once and she’s all about you now.”

Her smile widened, taking another sip of water. “I love her, she’s so sweet. She missed you today, though. Caught her stealing one of your socks again.”

Justin laughed at that, shaking his head. “She’s got a little collection going on somewhere.” He set Nova down gently, the cat deciding to curl in on herself, lifting a paw to clean her fur. “Finish the water, I’ll start the shower, and we’ll get cleaned up.” He leaned down, pecking her lips before moving towards the bathroom.