#these were just supposed to be studies for a bigger piece but

[toastedstencils]

i like them

[fastandcarlos]

Hickey : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: with all eyes on him, lando can't help but wonder what everyone is captured by. but when he finds out the problem, it's much bigger than he ever could've imagined

The room seemed to fall silent as soon as Lando walked in, with several glances moving in his direction. His heart began to race as he heard sniggers come from around the room, it was something that he wasn’t used to, usually greeted with wide smiles and shakes of the hand. 

It was almost as if he’d walked into a dream, it was unlike anything that Lando had experienced before. He nervously walked to the side of the room as the drivers waited to be called out for the parade, seeking comfort from Oscar and a few of his other close friends who were stood in the corner of the room. 

“What’s going on?” Lando queried as he stood between Oscar and Carlos, his eyes drawn to the expressions on their faces and how they tried their best to not smile across at him. 

“Did you have a nice evening?” Carlos innocently asked him. 

Lando nodded in confusion as a scoff came from George who was just beside Carlos. Lando’s brows knitted together as his anxiety built, hating the feeling as if he was missing out on something amongst them all.  

“Y/N’s here this weekend, isn’t she?” Oscar asked. Lando nodded, knowing that Oscar already knew the answer. “We can tell you guys haven’t seen each other for a while.” 

It didn’t take long before a couple of the other drivers joined their group, not wanting to miss out. There were a few exchanged glances amongst them all, but Lando just couldn’t piece together what they were all trying to say to each other as their eyes silently spoke.  

“Did you happen to have a look in the mirror before you left your hotel room this morning? Or did Y/N say anything to you?” Alex asked, shaking his head across at Lando. 

“She was still asleep, and I was running late.” 

No one could quite believe how oblivious Lando was as he shrugged. It had grabbed everyone’s attention as soon as he entered the room, and had probably delighted the cameras as soon as Lando entered the paddock that morning.  

“Can someone just tell me what I’m missing please?” Lando asked of them all. 

Whilst some of them continued their laughter, Charles pulled his phone out of his back pocket and opened up his camera. Lando immediately panicked when he saw what Charles was doing, brushing over his face. Little did he know though, it wasn’t something that could just be brushed off. 

“Just so you know, I said to the others that we should tell you,” Charles defended before he went to turn his phone around, at least trying to offer Lando one supportive friend. 

“Tell me what? Just tell me what’s the matter.” 

A sigh came from Charles as he turned his phone around. Lando studied himself carefully in it, but couldn’t spot anything, nothing that usually wasn’t out of the ordinary.  

“Can you really not see the issue?” Oscar asked, struggling to hold back his laughter. 

As Lando shook his head, Carlos walked over to him and pulled down the side of his hoodie. Watching on as the material moved, Lando’s eyes soon went wide. 

“Now can you see what the problem is?” Carlos sighed at him, tapping his finger just below him. “Now do you see why you’re the centre of attention this morning?” 

His heart began to race as he moved closer towards the phone, noticing just how dark the mark on his neck was. His eyes shut, knowing that there was nothing that he could do about it, dreading to think what had already happened before he even noticed too. 

“I’ve got a hickey,” Lando muttered underneath his breath. 

No one quite knew where to look as Lando looked around in panic. It was beyond anything that Lando could’ve ever imagined, almost like the things that nightmares are made of, especially when you get as much attention as he does. 

“What am I supposed to do?” He nervously asked, but no one seemed to have the answer, it was a situation that none of the drivers had ever found themselves in before. 

There was one driver though who had a bit of an idea. “What about if you paint yourself purple for the race today, that way it’ll blend in and no one will ever know?” 

“Daniel, sometimes I really just want to knock you out.” 

Whilst Lando looked unimpressed, Daniel’s suggestion earnt a chorus of laughs from many of the other drivers. Whilst some couldn’t hold back their giggles, luckily for Lando, he had a couple who could sympathise. 

“There’s got to be some merch somewhere that’ll hide your neck,” Alex suggested, throwing his arm over Lando’s shoulders. “If that fails, just pretend you’ve got a nasty stomach bug and ask to go home.” 

“I’m just going to have to own it now, I bet there’s headlines everywhere, aren’t there?” Lando asked, the silence around the room telling him everything that he needed to know. 

Of all of the boys, George cleared his throat. “I promise that the headlines aren’t as terrible as you probably think they are Lando.” 

Lando nodded, it still didn’t make him feel any better. Especially for you. You were just a few minutes from arriving at the paddock and he knew exactly what sort of questions would be sent your way upon your arrival. 

Like the media, a few of the boys couldn’t help but think about Y/N too. “Have you got matching marks or something?” Daniel quizzed, unable to stop himself messing with Lando, just like Lando had done with him many times. “Are you just letting everyone know you’re together this weekend.” 

“You can tease me all you want, but none of you are to say anything to Y/N,” Lando quickly warned them all, “she’s going to be embarrassed enough about this as it is when she gets here.” 

“I never had Y/N down for this type of person.” 

“Daniel!” Lando groaned, elbowing him in the side. “I’m being serious, if anyone says anything to Y/N then I can guarantee you right now that I know all of your weaknesses and I will happily expose you all for them.” 

It was funny watching Lando be serious, but when it came to you, they all knew just how much he meant it. He would back you all the way and defend you no matter what had happened. 

“At least we all know you and Y/N are happy together,” Carlos grinned as he tried to lighten the mood again. “Let’s worry more about covering this mess up for now seeing as we’ve got a race to get to soon.” 

“You’re all enjoying this too much,” Lando scolded, displeased by the smirks on many of his closest friends around him. “Some of you really need to get yourselves girlfriends.” 

As Lando went to walk off with Carlos, Charles quickly stopped him. Before Lando could protest, Charles used his phone to take a photo of Lando and keep it as a memory. 

“Just for the future,” he innocently smiled as Lando hit against his arm. “I think this is an important day that we might all want to remember one day.” 

“I’ve never hated a group of people more in my life,” Lando sighed as Charles slotted his phone away. “At least there’s one person who wants to help me out.” 

“I’ve got no sympathy,” Oscar shrugged, seemingly the spokesperson of the group. “You should’ve known what you were doing back at your hotel last night.” 

Lando’s eyes rolled at Oscar’s scolding, “do you think if I knew this was going to happen I would have let Y/N do this to me?” He quizzed, pointing at the mark. 

“Knowing you, yes,” Oscar couldn’t help but laugh, “anything to get a little bit of attention, we all know what you’re like with your relationship.” 

“I honestly hate you all.” 

“But at least we all know Y/N loves you though!” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[thekitsunesiren]

Dc x DP #50: Accidentally Kidnapping a (ex) Crime Lord

(I've seen that reverse trope list, so I just had to do it. I might do more in the future. But for now, here's accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss in dc x dp format) Jason awoke with a low groan, slowly lifting his head as his eyes blinked to take in his location.

It had happened so quick. So quick that he couldn't even blink.

There was word going around Crime Alley of a new stray making their way around. Which wasn't new given that it's Crime Alley and Gotham altogether, but there was definitely something wrong with the kid.

Apparently everyone who met him got some odd vibe. Like there was something wrong with him. Many said that he was a meta on the run, but there were others that didn't believe that.

And when Jason found out he was in Crime Alley, it was like something cold walked through him. Like someone was walking over his grave. Figuratively and literally. Something bigger than him was in his territory. Something dangerous. And every bit of him said that it was the new kid.

So Jason set out to look for him. He wasn't going to let the others find out about this, not when it was on his turg. And perhaps if he could figure out what he was, perhaps ask why he calmed the pits in such a way.

He looked into the kid, a Daniel "Danny" Nightingale from the looks of it, and that he was only sixteen. No talk about any parents, but there was word of an older sister, Jasmine Nightingale, that was going to Gotham University to study psychology. But other than that? Nothing. Zilch. As if the two appeared out of nowhere. LIke ghosts.

So, Jason took to tracking him physically. Trying to figure out where he went and if he met with anyone in particular that might raise suspicion. Whether it be some other thugs or a some gang of some sort. But he had no such luck. Not because he wasn't meeting anyone, it was he always lost him. Every corner he turned, he was always gone when Jason walked around to follow him. It was like the kid was a ghost. Did he know that he was being followed?

It was late one night when Jason caught sight of Danny on his own, walking down the street with his hands stuffed in his pockets. Thinking that he was either going to meet someone or head home, he decided to trail him and see if he could finally fill another piece of this puzzle that was Nightingale.

Jason was right on his heels as he turned the corner leading to another street, ready to confront him. But once again, Nightingale was gone.

And before he could even curse or question as to where he could've gone so quickly, a heavy thunk was heard as something heavy hit the back of Jason's head. The last thing he saw before losing unconsciousness was a pair of worn sneakers as as the attacker approached him.

Which lead him to here: tied up in a worn down apartment. Nightingale standing across from him in what he supposed was a threatening manner. A baseball bat with a faded glowing green sticker on its base. Jason could make out the word 'Fenton' on it and made sure to look up that name later once he was out of this mess. But for now, he had to deal with NIghtingale.

Jason turned his attention to him, but with his helmet on he doubted Nightingale could tell whether his gaze shifted to his chosen weapon or not. But the slightest movement was enough to tell Nightingale that Jason was indeed awake from his unconscious state.

But before Jason could speak or make any comment about the situation, Nightingale beat him to it.

"What do you want with me?" He asked bluntly. It was one question that Jason wasn't expecting, so he stared at Nightingale confused.

"What?" Came the robotic reply of his voice filter. Apparently that wasn't the right answer as Nightingale let out a frustrated huff and waved his bat towards him.

"What do you want with me? You've been following me for some time and it's getting annoying? What are you? A thug? A goon? Or are you another rogue trying to make it big. Gotta say; not a good start just by stalking someone if you were."

His words had shocked Jason to his core for various reasons. One: he didn't know who Jason was. Two: apparently he was skilled in knowing when he was followed and Jason couldn't tell. And three: HE DIDN'T KNOW WHO JASON WAS!

Jason let out a dry laugh as he realized that he was serious about his questions. Nightingale has been here for months at least. So how did he not know about the notorious Red Hood? His reputation usually brought fear to those. It was strange for someone in Gotham not to know about him.

"Do you seriously not know who I am?" Jason asked, his eyebrow raised in a question even though his hood covered it, he was sure that Nightingale understood his confusion. His blue eyes shining in confusion as he tilted his head.

"No? Are you a rogue already? Ancients, they keep popping up every week." He groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. And while Jason could agree to the sentiment, he needed to get to the bottom of Nightingale and what he was doing here. And whether or not he was a threat to Gotham, or at least Crime Alley.

"I wouldn't call myself a rogue. Not anymore at least. The name's Red Hood, kid." Jason answered gruffly, eyes still focused on Nightingale as he waited for his reaction.

Nightingale titled his head at the name. Recognition flashing his eyes as he heard it.

"Red Hood? But isn't that guy that runs crime alley? Why would that-"

His eyes widened in dawning horror, his already pale skin seeming to get paler as he came to a realization as he stared at Jason. More specifically, his hood.

Jason expected some panic. That perhaps Nightingale might even try to knock him out again or hightail it out of his apartment. But instead he just continued to stare at Jason in ever growing horror as he whispered,

"Oh Ancients, I just kidnapped a crime lord." Now, there was a lot that Jason wanted to unpack from this interaction, but for some reason the first thing that came out his mouth was-

"It's ex crime lord."

[endlessthxxghts]

Bend Over

Javier Peña x afab!reader || W/C: 4.8k

Summary: Your dresser craps out on you. Your boyfriend, Javier, comes with you to IKEA to buy a new one. Then, he fucks you on it.

Content/Warnings: I think you know what you guys are getting into based on the summary😗. Reader is able-bodied. Slight implied physical descriptors Javi is taller than reader, and the IKEA dresser is slightly bigger/taller than you (everything else is neutral - no size descriptions - ex. "your form", etc.). Pet names (good girl, querida, cariño, baby, baby girl, mama, mi amor). Implied that reader knows Spanish. A little allusion to our favorite contractor, Joel Miller (blink and you’ll miss it). SMUT 18+ MDNI. Public sexual activity (exhibitionism). Finger fucking. Edging. Slight undertones of BDSM dynamics. Javi’s filthy mouth. Thigh riding. Hickey/marking. P in V unprotected sex. Choking. Breeding kink (I’m not sorry). Cum play. Anal play. Brief pussy licking + rimming. Allusion to further sexual activity. I thiiiink that’s it… let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: HIII I’M BACK! I went to ikea to buy a new dresser. And the thots between @javierpena-inatacvest and I ran wild. So, this was born.👹 Also, I no longer have a tag list, but I teased this story TWICE in some WIP tag games, and a few of you were giving me so much love and wanting me to let you know when this story was posted, so I’m adopting the tag list (at da bottom) one last time to say how much I love you all. 🥹 I’m sorry this took me so long. Thank you so much. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!!

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

It was supposed to be just a trip to IKEA. It was supposed to be a productive day of building your dresser and rearranging your room. That is what it was supposed to be. 

How it ended up with you getting your guts rearranged on top of said dresser—you’re not so sure. But, considering this is Javier Peña you’re talking about, maybe you have a slight indication of why your day ended up the way it did. 

It was early this morning when your dresser decided to shit on you; all you did was slide the door open, and it completely pulled off of its hinge. Now, you don’t mind a doorless dresser, it’s modern, you tried to convince yourself, but when you pulled out the second drawer and the wood snapped in half, scattering your panties all over the ground—yeah, okay, it was definitely time for a new one. 

You called your boyfriend after you cleaned up your clothes, and asked if he wanted to come with you on your hunt for the new piece of furniture. Why are you even asking? he scolded as he saddled up into his Jeep and made his way to your place. 

He stepped out of his seat in the driver side, rounding the hood to pull you in for a lengthy kiss as he pulled the passenger side door open for you. “Well, hello to you, too, baby,” you giggle as you break the kiss for a breath of air. He leaves a slap to your ass as he guides you by your hips into the passenger seat. He even buckles you in, stealing one more kiss before you two head off. 

You thought shopping for a new dresser would be simple: get in, choose a sizable one that could fit everything your previous dresser could, and also make sure it matches the rest of your room’s theme. Simple, right? Wrong. As long as Javier was involved, he took his sweet time really studying each option you were pointing out—analyzing it to ensure it wouldn’t crap out on you like your original one did. 

“How long did you have this dresser?” He asked as he was pulling into the IKEA parking lot. 

“Mmm, I don’t know,” you thought, “maybe a few years?”

“A few years?!” Javier asked, exasperated. “Where the hell did you find that fucking thing?”

You let a beat of silence pass before you answered. “...I thrifted it,” you admit weakly. 

Javier puts the car in park, his face in utter shock at what just came out of your mouth. “Querida, what-” he starts. 

You pull him in immediately, shutting him up with your lips against his. It works, of course. “Let’s go?” you ask. 

“Y-yeah, vamos (let’s go),” he says, flustered. 

“Javi, c’mon,” you whine, feeling exhausted after his analysis on your third option since the first two didn’t pass the Peña inspection. “Since when were you a contractor? The first two were perfectly fine, baby, it’s IKEA for crying out loud.”

He scoffs. “Living on the ranch with Pop,” he replies to your sarcastic remark. “You and I are both aware I know my way around some handiwork,” he adds as he looks back to you, a shit-eating grin creeping on his face. 

You want to roll your eyes, but you can’t help the way your body ignites to the suggestion laced in his words. “Pendejo,” you mutter to yourself, fighting the heat from making it to your face. 

You walk around some more while your boyfriend opens every nook and cranny of the wooden frame, but then right as you turn your body, you find it. The dresser. HEMNES. You quickly make your way to it, running your hands along the dark brown surface, crouching down to open up and see how much space is in the drawers—which, it’s very spacious. The drawer itself is taller than your waistline, probably reaching just at your belly button. It’s perfect. “Baby, wait, come here! I think I found one!” You call out. 

Javier follows your voice, intrigued by your excitement—you didn’t show this much enthusiasm with the other ones he was looking at. He rounds the corner and is met with quite a view. You are bending over the top of the dresser, on your tippy toes, trying to feel for the depth of the dresser. He sees you settle your hands at the edges of the top and shake it a little, testing out its durability while also unknowingly wiggling your ass. Fuck me, he thinks. Quickly adjusting his pants, he makes his way to you, situating his body directly against yours as he cages you in. 

“Jav-” you softly gasp, not expecting to feel him. Immediately you’re pulling yourself up, still on your tippy toes, but your back is now flush against his chest. 

“Ay, Dios mío,” he grunts as he whispers in your ear, “Querida, please get up.” His hands are on your hips, pulling you away from the dresser. You turn in his hold, a giggle leaving your throat as you look at his stressed out expression, realizing why his reaction was so pained. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” You ask him quietly. “Saw something you like, huh?” You pull him in by his neck, kissing the side of his mouth before you pull away from him completely. Gesturing to the dresser, you ask, “Does this one pass the inspection, sir?” 

He glares at you before he replies. “Yeah, let’s get this one.”

Your eyebrow quirks up. “You didn’t even look at it.” 

“I saw enough, cariño,” he says gruff, looking at the tag on the display and taking note of which aisle the box will be at. 

You know your man well enough to know when he’s turned on, and that little unintentional stunt you pulled when making sure HEMNES was the right dresser for you—oh, it absolutely sent him over the edge. You decided to let him brew in his own arousal until you checked out your purchase, but the moment you set foot in his car again, you were set on starting something you wanted him to finish. 

“Thank you again for coming with me, baby,” you say as he settles back into the driver seat, your hand taking its seat on his upper thigh. 

The muscle twitches underneath your palm. “Mhm,” he mutters, voice wavering at your contact. Just as Javier puts the car in drive, he’s immediately pushing it back to park because your hand slides higher, closer, to the hardening bulge between his legs. His hips softly buck into your grasp; you take one look at him, and you can see the veins in his neck popping. A victory smile graces your face as his turns into a scowl. “What are you doing?”

You feign as much innocence as possible. “What am I doing? I’m just saying thank you, baby, I can’t tell you thank you?” 

“Right,” he says unconvinced. Your fingers continue to draw little shapes across the strained material of his pants. You go to cup him entirely, but the strength of his hand stops you. 

He releases your hand and gets out of the car, the car still running. He is at your side faster than you can take your own seatbelt off. He’s pulling your door open and giving you no chance for debate, his hand wraps around your jaw and pulls you into a bruising kiss—a messy yet calculated dance of teeth and tongue, and in pulling away he’s biting your bottom lip, pulling the sweetest little desperate whimper from your throat. He clocks the way your hips softly grind into his seat. 

“J-jav,” your voice shakes, “w-what are you doing-”

His grip on your jaw tightens, giving you a little shake as he speaks. “You had your fun, cariño,” he breathes. “My turn now.” 

His hand leaves your face and snakes down the front of your body, unzipping your jeans as you just stare wildly at the sight below you, your breathing erratic as your body anticipates his next move. 

“We- we’re in the fucking parking lot still, Javi!” You whisper yell at him, pissed, even though your body is doing absolutely nothing to stop him. He smirks at that fact. You want this. 

“Guess you’ll just have to keep quiet for me, yeah?” His fingers slip past your jeans, past your underwear, and you’re fucking soaked. His middle and ring finger bypass your clit, circling your entrance to gather the wetness accumulating before he comes back up to circle your throbbing bud. 

“Oh, fuck,” you yelp out, your eyes rolling back and your hips pushing into his hand as you hiss out in the pleasure. At your volume, Javi’s quick to stop his ministrations, cupping your mound and squeezing you as a warning. If the space allowed, you know he would’ve slapped your cunt. This alternative is equally as dizzying. 

“Open your eyes, baby,” he rasps. Your eyes flutter open. “You see all these people, huh? You want them to see you? See my good girl getting finger fucked in broad fucking daylight?”

“F-fuck, Jav” you whimper, much quieter this time, as your eyes land back on your man’s as you try and grind yourself on him. Javi’s fingers find your entrance then, sliding in with ease as a new wave of arousal pours out of you. 

“Oh, you like that idea, don’t you?” His fingers speed up their momentum as he adds his thumb into the mix, hurtling you much closer to your finish line than you anticipated. 

“Baby, I’m c-close, I’m- fuck- I’m gonna cum, Javi, I-” you bring your hand up over your mouth to stifle the sobs that are about to leave your mouth.

“Yeah, baby? Gonna give us a show?” He asks, his breathing just as erratic as yours. All you need is one more little push from his thumb on your clit, and then-

“No!” you cry.

Right as you were about to fall over the edge, Javier completely pulls his fingers out of you, standing up straight as he licks his fingers off. Your hips don’t realize he left you as they buck a few more times, chasing the feeling of what could have been. 

“Baby, please, I was so close,” you heave, your heart rate equivalent to that of a hummingbird. 

Javier leans down into the car, slotting his lips against yours terribly slow; your taste lingers on his tongue. He pulls away. “Sorry, mama,” he whispers. “Only I get to see you fall apart like that.” 

He zips and buttons your pants up, leaving you a stunned, aroused, wet mess as he makes his way back to the driver seat and pulls out of the parking spot, driving back to your place as if nothing even happened. 

The drive home is short, but it feels like the longest drive you’ve ever had to endure. He rests his hand on your thigh the entire time, squeezing you every now and then as his pinky leaves featherlight touches where you need him most. He talks to you during the drive—about what, you honestly have no clue, but it seemed the conversation was enough for him to sustain alone. 

You’re brought out of your daze when his hand grabs your jaw, turning you to look at him. “You okay, baby?” He asks, knowing damn well what’s got your head in the clouds. 

The throbbing between your legs remained consistent—worse, even—on the drive home, so no you’re not fucking okay. You don’t tell him that, though. “Mhm,” you hum, not trusting your vocal cords to string together something coherent. 

He pulls your lips to his—a lingering one, one that has your mind slipping further. Breaking the embrace, he says softly, “Go unlock the door, amor, while I carry the box in, yeah?” 

On wobbly legs, you make your way to your door, missing the hole a few times but eventually the key slides in with ease. You toss them into the bowl on the entryway table, making your way to the kitchen to grab yourself a glass of water to contain yourself until Javier comes inside. 

Apparently, you’re way more distracted than you thought, because one gulp down and he’s behind you—hands on your waist, mouth on your neck. You set the glass down a little harshly, its weight suddenly increasing tenfold with the way he’s on you. 

“Baby,” you whine, your head falling back onto his shoulder. “Please.”

Your boyfriend is turning you around then, turning you to face him, and his mouth is on yours, licking and sucking as his body pushes you up against the fridge, your head landing with a soft thud as his mouth starts to descend down your neck while his fingers work your buttons and zipper for the second time today. 

He’s pulling your bottoms down to your ankles—they’re loose on your form, so they don’t restrict you too much from opening your legs when he slots his thigh in between you, hitting right against your core. 

His lips never leave you, biting and kissing every inch he can reach while his hands find their home at the globe of your asscheeks, securing his grip as he begins a steady pace of your crying pussy back and forth on his clothed thigh. 

“Just like that, cariño, I can feel you fluttering on me already, holy fuck,” he groans as he continues his assault on your chest, leaving pretty bruises all over the valley of your breasts. “Making such a mess, pretty girl,” he mutters into your skin. 

Your hands snake to the curls at the back of his head, yanking them as he brings you back closer and closer to the finish line. He brings his lips back to yours sloppily, one hand leaving your ass to paw at your chest, his fingers rubbing and twisting at your nipples; they harden in his touch.

Your eyes struggle to stay open, his tight jeans providing the yummiest friction against your clit. “I- I’m gonna- please, Jav, I- I need to cum,” you sob. 

His hand at your chest snakes down your body, following the path to your sex. Just as you think he’s about to slip his hands between your legs, his hand changes direction, both hands going up to grip your waist to stop you from moving. His thigh leaves your core, and you’re fighting—your hips chase his muscle, your fingers scrambling to pull him flush against you, but he doesn’t budge. It’s no use. Your high is gone again, painfully forced back to the start line as Javier bends down to grab your panties and work their way back up your legs. 

You’re a heaving mess, tears falling from your eyes as pathetic little protests fall from your lips. 

Exhausted, you sigh and finally blurt out, “Javier Peña, what the fuck are you doing?” 

You can see the faintest shit-eating smirk fall on his face before he mirrors what you did earlier: feign innocence. “Gotta go build your dresser, mi amor.” 

“I can fucking build it later.” 

“But I’m already here. I’ll do it.” 

“Yeah, but your presence is needed elsewhere,” you say, annoyed. You faintly gesture to your sobbing cunt, silenced by your soaked underwear. 

“But if I’m here, I’ll do it, so you don’t have to,” he says, placing a chaste kiss to the side of your mouth. 

“Javi,” you whine, hoping a thousand different ways of are you fucking serious right now translates to him in the tone of your sexual frustration. 

“Just sit pretty for me while I go do it real quick, okay, cariño?” 

Not giving you the chance to respond, he drags you by the wrist to your bedroom, forcing you to get settled in the reading chair you have in there—a prime spot to watch him get all sweaty as he works. Great. 

You wouldn’t have riled him up if you had known this was the kind of torturous game he had in mind. 

Twenty minutes in, and Javier is sweating alright, but it’s not for the reasons you’re thinking. Yeah, it’s a physical strain building this dresser, but this is fucking light work for him. 

No, he’s sweaty, sticky, and disgustingly hot because his dick is at his full potential, throbbing and leaking at everything you put him through—and everything he put himself through, pulling you to the brink of orgasm twice without letting you fully submit to it. He damn near always gets off when you do, and teasing you like this teases him just as much, if not more. 

He’s almost done, he just has one more drawer to put together and slide into place, but he takes a step back and uses his arm to wipe the sweat across his forehead, his breathing heavy during the action. It takes everything in you not to completely melt at what he’s forcing you to witness, a faint whimper escaping you at the sight of him. 

It takes him barely a minute to get the last drawer assembled before he attempts sliding it into place. It goes in with ease at first, but before it can fully shut, the drawer gets stuck, unable to close by an inch. What the fuck, he mutters under his breath, lifting it up and wiggling to see if it’s just a kink inside the railing. Your jaw falls a little open at the vulgarity of his mouth; you are way too wound up and everything he’s doing right now has your pussy doing backflips, somersaults, cartwheels—you name it. She’s very eager. 

Fed up with the drawer, Javier completely opens the drawer and then slams it shut, using his hips to give the drawer a full-force push. The slam of the wood is deafening, but it does nothing to hide the sweet little gasp that comes out of you, his cock twitching at the sound. 

A high-pitched, breathy squeak of an oh fuck leaves your mouth, and Javier turns to check on you. He sees your fingers skating down your front, running your middle and ring finger over your soaked center, your clit’s fire immediately reigniting at the contact. 

“¿Cariño?” He calls, a sternness evident in his tone. You know not to test that tone. Your fingers’ movements pause, your eyes meet his and they’re dark. “What do you think you’re doing?” Jesus fuck, he doesn’t even know if he has the strength to fuck you like he was planning on, the sight of you touching yourself has a fire igniting through every vein in his body. 

Your eyebrows are furrowed, nervousness written all over your face. “I…um, I-” you start. 

“Get up,” he cuts you off. 

“What?” You say softly, your brain already scrambled eggs and unable to register what he just asked of you. 

His singular eyebrow raises as he stalks closer to you, his hard gaze looking down at you as your pussy cries even more at the attention. Now his command registers, and you’ll be damned if you have to make him repeat himself. 

You remove your hand from your center, lifting yourself off your chair. He snags you by your waist, pulling your body flush against his front as he steals the breath from your lungs, your tongues meeting hungrily. You moan into his mouth, your hands slowly wrapping around his neck, but before you can grip his sweet curls, he’s pulling away from you, your surprised gasps blessing his ears as he flips you roughly but with ease towards the direction of your new dresser, already in its place secured against the wall. 

“Javi,” you whimper again for what feels like the millionth time already. 

“Dime qué quieres, cariño,” (tell me what you want) he rasps in your ear, his hands skating down your front and resuming what you so desperately started.

“F-fuck-” you start, “fuck me, Javi, please, please fuck me,” you beg, your heart stuttering as he dips his middle finger into your entrance.

He kisses your temple as your eyes fall shut, a contrastingly sweet gesture for the way he’s about to ruin you right now. 

“Then bend over.” 

Now that sobers you up a little. You start to crane your neck in his direction. “W-what?” But he’s quick to grab your jaw, bringing your eyes back to your dresser. “Go do what you were doing earlier, baby. Bend over that dresser for me,” he says, soft but stern, then he’s taking a step back, letting you get there on your own. 

So hooked on his body heat, you can’t help the shudder that leaves you, but ultimately you’re making your way to your new dresser—picking yourself up on your tippy toes to lean over the top, just like you were doing with the store’s floor model. “L-like this?” You ask, voice trembling in anticipation. You stick your ass out a little extra for good measure. 

You hear his belt buckle before you register his deep grumble. “Yeah, baby,” he tells you, slowly making his way to your backside. “So good for me,” he breathes, his fingers hooking into the hem of your underwear and letting them fall to the ground. You step out of them, knowing his next step is gonna be to nudge your legs further open—and he does, using his foot to nudge both of yours outwards. 

He runs his middle finger through your slick as he lets his jeans fall, your hips push further into his touch, chasing the pleasure you’ve been buzzing for all morning. 

“Baby, please,” he hears escaping your mouth. 

“Nuh uh, baby,” he tuts, “I told you. You had your fun already, it’s my turn.” 

He runs his fingers through your wet seam, properly soaking his digits before he brings his hand to his own arousal, covering himself in your slick. He groans at the feeling. Javier crowds himself behind you, his tip immediately mirroring the path of his fingers. He catches himself against your clit, and he smirks at the wrecked sounds of your heavy breathing. 

He pushes himself into you, slow and steady, getting you comfortable in his size. His fingertips are digging little bruises into your hips—his way of grounding himself from absolutely pummeling into you from the get go. 

You two have been together for quite some while, but Javi knows he’s big. It’s evident in the way you mewl and convulse every time he’s inside of you. Too big to get used to, yet perfect for the slight tinge of pain he knows you love. 

“Baby, please move,” you pant. 

“You sure, cariño?” He says softly, his dominant demeanor fading to make sure you’re alright. 

You reach back to grab onto his hand and drag it up your own body, settling his long digits around the base of your neck. With a squeeze of your hand over his: “Fuck me, Jav, please.” 

At your queue, he’s pushing himself into you entirely. “Yeah, baby?” He snarls. “Want me to fuck you like this?” His hips form a hard pace, your hips digging into the ledge of the dresser. “This what your pretty little pussy wants, huh? What she’s been fucking crying for, baby?”

“Fuck-” you gasp. “Fuck, yes- Javi, yesyesyes! Amor, please,” you wail, your eyes rolling back as the pressure of his fingers on your neck restrict your blood flow, filling your body with a euphoria only he can give you. 

His eyes scan down your body, taking in every inch of you with nothing but pure adoration. The sweetness fades when his eyes zone in on where your two centers meet. He lets out an audible moan at the sight, sending your pussy fluttering at the sound. “Look at you, bebita, fucking creaming on me, holy fuck,” he groans, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease.

“I- I’m close, baby, fuck-” your breath stutters. “Touch me, Jav, I- I need you,” you moan. 

“Shh, I’ve got you, mi amor.” Javi’s hand on your throat leaves you and coasts down your spine, his grip fixing itself on the globe of your ass. 

He reaches down with his thumb to gather some of your slick, dragging it up to your tight, more inexperienced hole. You gasp when you feel it, your ass bucking further into his touch. “Oh, my baby girl likes that? You like your ass being played with, cariño?” He taunts, hooking his thumb inside. “Want to me to fuck you there next time?”

“Fuck- yes- please,” you whimper, your pussy fluttering around him at his words. His other hand snakes to your front and reaches for your clit, drawing tight, calculated circles on you. “Oh, fuck-!” you yell out.

“That’s it, baby, fucking- dámelo, fucking soak me, querida” he forces out between his teeth. Your body twitches in his grasp, knuckles stark white against your dresser, eyes clamped shut as you cry out in the overwhelming pleasure consuming every inch of your body. “Fuck,” he groans, your sounds forcing his balls to pull taut. Javi’s fingers speed up along with his thrusts, hurtling you towards your long-awaited climax. 

It’s overstimulating, him fucking into you so harshly as every nerve ending in your body pops off like fireworks. Yet, you feel the way his cock twitches inside of you, the way his pace stutters for barely a second, and you know he’s close. It’s overstimulating, yes, but you want, no, need him to continue, you need him to chase his own finish line—you need him to root himself so deep inside you, you’ll feel traces of him for months on end. 

“You’re close, I can feel it,” you gasp, building your own rhythm of your hips to help him along. “Need it, baby, need you inside of me,” you pant, your voice desperate. You pull yourself off the dresser and push your back into his chest, both his hands leaving your body to grip onto the darkwood, caging you in. 

“Yeah?” you feel his heavy breath fan across your cheek. “Tell me how fucking’ bad, querida, wanna hear it,” he says, voice strained.

You look back at him as best you can in this angle, your lips ghosting his jaw as the slick sounds of you grow louder. “Need you so bad even plan B can’t help us- God- please cum inside of me, Javier Peña, fucking give it to me,” you beg, your moans echoing the walls and rattling every fibre of his being, pushing his body into a state of pure ecstasy as he begins to empty himself into you. 

“Oh…fuck,” he grunts, his hips coming to a halt as he nearly wheezes through his orgasm. Once the sensitivity calms down, Javi pumps himself in and out of you a few more times for good measure, pushing his load deep inside of you. You can feel the way he slides in with a wet ease, and it makes butterflies in your belly erupt, a small gasp of a giggle, knowing that the soaked sensation isn’t because of solely your own product. 

“Fucking perfect,” he grumbles, slowly pulling himself out of you. He takes a small step back to get a look at your used cunt, puffy and glistening. His mouth literally waters. 

Javi drops to his knees, settling his broad palms on each of your ass cheeks to keep the view of you open for him. Slowly, he leans in, the flat of his tongue running over your delicate pearl through your cum-soaked folds, a mix of you and him blessing each taste bud on his tongue. He hears your breath hitch. 

He brings his tongue back in, collecting up the salty combination, before he’s on you again, mapping out the ring of your puckered muscle before he softly peppers the area in sweet kisses, your rear slightly irritated with his repeated slamming into you. 

He pulls himself away, giving you a moment to turn around; your back is to the dresser now. He places several kisses on your thighs, giving a few more kitten licks to your center before he’s rising to his feet and pulling you in for a deep yet gentle kiss. You can taste both you and him, and it makes your heart want to burst at the seams with warmth. 

“You okay?” He asks softly as his lips break away from yours. 

“Always with you,” you offer bashfully. 

“Good,” he says firmly, kissing the tip of your nose. You hear his hand smack the top of your dresser a few times. “I guess this thing is pretty fucking durable, huh?” 

“Mmmm, maybe. I think it needs to pass one more test,” you tell him. 

His eyebrow quirks up, you can see his mustache twitch, fighting his smirk. “And what test would that be, mi amor?” 

Taking a step back out of his hold, you back up into the dresser again, grabbing onto the ledge and you jump, spreading your legs wide open for him to fit in between. 

You can see the way his eyes flash impossibly darker. He stalks up to you again, his hands squeezing your thighs before he’s back on his knees, his head immediately burying himself in your core. 

Oh, yeah, this dresser passes the test, alright. 

Tagging those who showed interest when I posted the WIP !! @honeyedmiller , @punkshort , @joels-shitty-puns , @bearsbeetsbeskar , @janaispunk , @starry-eyes-love

If you enjoyed this, come check out my masterlist for more or follow my notifs blog @endlessthxxghtsnotifs to get updated on when I post new stories! Much love💚

@pedrostories

[nextchae]

embers – choi soobin

word count: 16.4k

pairing: choi soobin x fem!reader

synopsis: After a devastating breakup in Seoul, Y/N returns to her small hometown, seeking solace in the familiar but finding her past more complicated than she remembered. As she reconnects with her family, twin brother Beomgyu, and her childhood friends Ryujin and Soobin, the unresolved feelings she has for Soobin begin to resurface. Amidst the backdrop of small-town life and the warmth of old friendships, Y/N must navigate the pain of her past to discover whether her heart truly belongs in the place she left behind—or in the arms of the person who's always been there, waiting.

genre: love next door!au, childhood friends to lovers, slowburn, fluff, suggestive themes

The train slows as it nears the station, the rhythmic clatter of the tracks gradually fading. Outside the window, the cityscape of Seoul has long since given way to the rolling hills and open fields of Gwangcheon, the small town you once called home. You haven’t been back in years, not since you left for university and the bright lights of the city. Now, the sight of it fills you with a mixture of anxiety and reluctant nostalgia.

Your reflection in the window stares back at you, eyes still puffy from the sleepless nights that have plagued you since the breakup. Seoul was supposed to be your fresh start, your escape from the confines of small-town life. Instead, it became the place where everything fell apart.

His name was Daehyun. You met during your second year of university, in a café just off campus where you both liked to study. He had a warm smile, the kind that made you feel like you were the only person in the room, and a outgoing personality that drew you in. He was different from anyone you’d ever met—sophisticated, ambitious, and completely in control of his life. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

For a while, everything was perfect. He introduced you to a world you’d only ever dreamed of—fancy restaurants, art galleries, weekend trips to places you’d never been. He made you feel special, important, like you were part of something bigger. But slowly, almost imperceptibly, things began to change. 

He became distant, absorbed in his work and his own life. You told yourself it was just a phase, that he was busy, that he still cared. But the late-night arguments started, his voice cold and cutting as he accused you of being too needy, too demanding. You tried to make it work, to hold onto the relationship that had once made you so happy. But it was like trying to hold water in your hands—the more you tried, the more it slipped away.

The final straw came when you found out he’d been seeing someone else, a girl from his work. The betrayal cut deep, shattering the last remnants of the trust you’d once had in him. You confronted him, hoping for an apology, for some sign that he still cared. But all he said was that he didn’t see a future with you, that it was better to end things now before it got worse.

You left his apartment that night, your heart in pieces, the life you’d built in Seoul suddenly meaningless. You couldn’t stay there, surrounded by memories of him, by the constant reminders of what you’d lost. So you packed your things, bought a train ticket, and left the city behind without a word to anyone.

As the train pulls into the station, you force yourself to take a deep breath. You’re not ready for this, not ready to face your family and the questions you know are coming. But there’s no turning back now. The past few months have been a blur of pain and confusion, and all you can do is hope that coming home will help you find some semblance of peace.

The station is small, just as you remember it, with only a handful of people waiting on the platform. As you step off the train, your suitcase rolling behind you, you spot Beomgyu leaning against the hood of the family car. He hasn’t changed much—your twin brother is tall and lean, with the same mischievous glint in his eyes that’s been there since you were kids. But there’s something else in his expression now, something softer, more understanding.

When he sees you, his face lights up with a smile that makes your heart ache with a bittersweet mix of relief and guilt. He pushes off the car and walks over to you, pulling you into a tight hug before you can say anything.

“Hey, you,” he says, his voice warm and familiar. “You made it.”

You nod, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “Yeah. I’m here.”

He pulls back, studying your face with a concerned frown. “You okay?”

You manage a shaky smile. “Not really. But I will be.”

He nods, seeming to understand. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

The drive through town is quiet, the silence between you and Beomgyu filled with unspoken words. The streets of Gwangcheon look almost exactly as they did when you left—small shops with faded signs, the old school building, and the park where you and Beomgyu used to play. The familiarity is comforting, but also disorienting, like stepping into a past you’re not sure you belong to anymore.

Beomgyu keeps glancing over at you as he drives, his expression thoughtful. “Mom’s going to be surprised,” he says after a while. “You didn’t give her any warning.”

“I know,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know how to tell her. Or what to say.”

“She’ll understand,” he says firmly. “She’s just going to be happy you’re home.”

You nod, hoping he’s right. You haven’t told anyone the full story—not your parents, not Beomgyu, not even your closest friends. It’s too raw, too painful to put into words. But you know you can’t avoid it forever. Sooner or later, you’ll have to face the questions, the concern, the inevitable pity.

When you pull up to the house, the familiar sight of it brings a rush of memories. It’s a modest place, with a small garden out front that your mother has always taken pride in. The curtains in the living room window flutter slightly, a sign that someone inside has noticed your arrival.

Beomgyu grabs your suitcase from the trunk and gives you a reassuring smile. “Ready?”

“Not really,” you admit, but you follow him up the path anyway, your heart pounding in your chest.

He opens the door without knocking, calling out, “Mom! We’re here!”

You step into the entryway, the familiar scent of home—lavender and something faintly floral—washing over you. It’s a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. You can hear footsteps coming down the hall, and then your mother appears, her face lighting up with surprise and confusion as she sees you standing there.

“Y/N?” she says, her voice filled with disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

You try to smile, but it feels forced. “Surprise?”

For a moment, she just stares at you, as if trying to convince herself that you’re really here. Then she steps forward, pulling you into a tight hug, her arms wrapping around you with a familiarity that brings tears to your eyes. You can feel the tension in her shoulders, the worry she’s trying to hide, but she doesn’t say anything, just holds you like she’s afraid to let go.

After a long moment, she pulls back, her hands still resting on your shoulders as she studies your face. “What happened, sweetheart? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

You swallow hard, trying to find the words. “I…I needed to get away. From Seoul. From everything.”

Her expression softens, and she nods, understanding without you needing to explain further. “You’re home now,” she says gently. “That’s all that matters.”

Beomgyu sets your suitcase down by the stairs and gives you a small smile. “I’ll take your stuff up to your room.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, grateful for his quiet support.

Your mother guides you into the living room, where the afternoon light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the familiar furniture. You sit down on the sofa, feeling the weight of the past few months pressing down on you. Your mother sits beside you, her hand resting on yours, offering silent comfort.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks softly, her voice full of concern.

You shake your head, the tears threatening to spill over. “Not yet. I just…I need some time.”

She nods, squeezing your hand gently. “Take all the time you need, sweetheart. We’re here for you.”

The warmth of her words wraps around you like a blanket, easing some of the tension that has been sitting in your chest. You lean back against the sofa, letting out a long breath as you try to relax. The house is quiet, the only sound the distant ticking of the old clock on the mantel.

Beomgyu returns a few minutes later, his footsteps soft on the hardwood floor. “Everything’s in your room,” he says, sitting down on the armchair across from you. “Figured you might want to unpack later.”

You nod, too exhausted to do much more than that. “Thanks, Beomgyu.”

He shrugs, but there’s a softness in his eyes that tells you he’s just as relieved as you are to have you home. “What are brothers for?”

Your mother glances between the two of you, her expression a mixture of relief and concern. “Why don’t we have some tea? I just made a fresh pot.”

You agree, grateful for the distraction. As she heads to the kitchen, Beomgyu gives you a knowing look. “Want to sneak out?”

You laugh, slightly taken aback before shaking your head. You’ve been away so long, too long, and it’s made you momentarily forget how much you missed your brother and all of his mischief.

When your mother returns with the tea, the three of you settle into a comfortable silence, the warmth of the house seeping into your bones. For the first time in weeks, you feel a small flicker of hope, like maybe, just maybe, things will be okay again.

You sit with Beomgyu and your mother, sipping tea in the cozy living room. The warmth of the tea combined with the comforting atmosphere starts to thaw the cold ache in your chest. Your mother chatters about the latest town gossip, the news she knows you haven’t kept up with since moving to Seoul. Beomgyu chimes in now and then, adding his own commentary that makes your mother smile and shake her head in that fond, exasperated way she always does with him.

You’re beginning to feel a sense of normalcy, like maybe you can fit back into this life, even after everything that’s happened. But just as you start to relax, the sound of the front door opening interrupts the moment.

Your father’s voice echoes from the hallway, a familiar deep rumble that always made you feel safe as a child. “Honey, I’m home! You’ll never guess what—” He stops mid-sentence as he steps into the living room, his eyes landing on you. For a second, he just stares, as if trying to process whether or not you’re real. 

“Y/N?” His voice is filled with disbelief, his eyes wide as he looks at you. “Am I dreaming, or is my daughter really sitting on my couch?”

You stand up, feeling a little self-conscious under his gaze. “It’s me, Dad. I’m home.”

He blinks a few times, then a wide grin spreads across his face. “Well, I’ll be! The prodigal daughter returns!” He strides across the room and wraps you in a bear hug, lifting you slightly off the ground like he used to when you were little. You laugh, the sound surprising you with how natural it feels.

When he finally sets you down, he steps back and gives you a once-over, his expression a mix of concern and affection. “What brings you back to our little corner of the world? You didn’t even tell us you were coming!”

Your mother, who had been watching with a fond smile, steps in before you can answer. “She needed a break from the city, that’s all. And we’re just happy to have her back, aren’t we?”

“Happy?” Your dad scoffs playfully. “That’s an understatement! This calls for a celebration!” He claps his hands together, then turns to Beomgyu. “Go grab that cake from the fridge, son. We’ve got something to celebrate now!”

Beomgyu rolls his eyes but grins, heading to the kitchen to fetch the cake. You can’t help but smile at your dad’s enthusiasm. He’s always been the lighthearted one, the one who could turn any situation into something to laugh about. It’s comforting, especially after everything you’ve been through.

As you all settle back into the living room with slices of cake, your dad starts telling stories from work, exaggerating the mundane until you’re all laughing so hard your sides hurt. For a moment, you forget about the heartbreak, the betrayal, and the uncertainty. Here, with your family, things feel almost normal again.

After a while, the conversation turns quieter, the evening settling in around you. You glance out the window, the sky a deep indigo as night takes hold. It’s been a long day, and the emotional toll of coming home is starting to catch up with you.

“I think I’m going to head up to my room,” you say, rising from the sofa. “It’s been a long day.”

Your mother looks up at you, her eyes soft with understanding. “Of course, sweetheart. Get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Beomgyu nods, still munching on his cake. “Yeah, you’ll need your energy for Mom’s full interrogation tomorrow.”

You laugh softly, but there’s a sadness in it, too. You wave goodnight and head upstairs, the familiar creak of the wooden steps under your feet. Your room is exactly as you left it—well, almost. There are a few changes, little signs that your mother has kept it clean and cozy even in your absence. The bed is freshly made, and the shelves are dusted, but everything else is just as it was when you left for Seoul.

You set your suitcase down and walk over to the window, looking out at the quiet street. It’s so different from the bustling chaos of Seoul, where everything felt like it was moving too fast, too uncontrollably. Here, everything is still, calm, almost eerily peaceful. You sit on the edge of your bed, the weight of the day finally pressing down on you. The ache in your chest that you’ve been holding at bay all evening starts to grow, and you can feel the tears welling up behind your eyes.

But before you can let yourself break down, there’s a soft tapping at your window.

You freeze, confused, then look over. Your heart skips a beat when you see Ryujin standing outside, a wide grin on her face, her breath fogging up the glass. She waves at you, her smile so familiar it makes you want to cry.

You scramble to open the window, and she immediately climbs inside with the grace and ease of someone who’s done this a hundred times before. As soon as she’s in, she tackles you in a hug, nearly knocking you off the bed.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here!” Ryujin says, her voice a mix of excitement and disbelief. “When my mom said she saw you coming home, I thought she was joking!”

You laugh, the sound choked by the emotion in your throat, and hug her back tightly. “I’m here. I’m really here.”

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes scanning your face with concern. “I knew something was up when I didn’t hear from you for a while, but I didn’t expect this. Are you okay?”

You shake your head, tears finally spilling over. “Not really. But being here…it helps.”

Ryujin’s expression softens, and she wipes away your tears with her thumb. “You’re home now. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You nod, unable to speak as more tears fall. She pulls you into another hug, her presence a comfort you didn’t realize you needed so badly. The two of you sit there for a long time, just holding each other in the dim light of your room.

Eventually, Ryujin pulls back and flops onto your bed, patting the spot beside her. “Come on, let’s catch up. It’s been way too long since we had one of our late-night talks.”

You smile through your tears and join her, the two of you lying side by side like you used to in high school. The conversation flows easily, like no time has passed at all. She tells you about everything that’s happened in Gwangcheon since you left—who’s dating who, the latest school scandals, and all the little things you’ve missed.

As the night wears on, you find yourself feeling lighter, the burden of your breakup and the move back home easing just a little. 

“So…have you seen Soobin yet?”

You stiffen slightly, the name bringing back a flood of memories you’ve been trying to keep at bay. Soobin, your childhood friend, the boy who lived next door. The boy who was always there, even when you didn’t realize how much you needed him. 

“No,” you say quietly, staring up at the ceiling. “I haven’t seen him yet.”

Ryujin rolls onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow to look at you. “He’s been around, you know. Helping his mom with the garden, hanging out at the old spots. I think he’ll be really happy to see you.”

You nod, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and fear. You’ve kept in touch with Soobin, but it’s been sporadic, the two of you drifting apart as you got older and your lives took different paths. But now that you’re back, there’s a part of you that’s terrified of what seeing him again might mean.

Ryujin seems to sense your hesitation and reaches out to squeeze your hand. “It’ll be okay, Y/N. He’s still Soobin, and you’re still you. Just…talk to him. Like old times.”

You nod again, but the knot in your stomach doesn’t loosen. You know you’ll have to face him eventually, just like you have to face everything else. But for tonight, you’re grateful to have Ryujin by your side, helping you navigate the tangled mess of your emotions.

As the two of you talk late into the night, you feel a little more like yourself, a little more like the girl who used to lie here with her best friend, dreaming about the future and everything it held. 

You wake up to the smell of breakfast cooking downstairs, the scent of your mother’s pancakes filling the air. The sun is just beginning to filter through your curtains, and for a moment, you feel a sense of peace, as if the world outside your window isn’t so complicated. It’s a sharp contrast to the rush and chaos of Seoul mornings, where you barely had time to grab a piece of toast before running out the door. 

You roll over, half expecting to see Ryujin still curled up next to you, but the spot beside you is empty. Her absence pulls you from the cocoon of warmth you’d wrapped yourself in. Your mind flickers with the memory of last night, the way she’d asked about Soobin, and how much his name had unsettled you. You stretch out the tension from your limbs, a part of you grateful that she didn’t push the conversation further.

After quickly changing into something comfortable, you head downstairs, following the sounds of clattering dishes and the hum of conversation. When you reach the kitchen, you find your mother at the stove, flipping pancakes with a practiced ease. Your father is seated at the table, sipping his coffee and reading the morning paper. Beomgyu, ever the night owl, is half-asleep with his head on the table, barely managing to keep his eyes open. 

“Good morning,” you say, sliding into the chair next to Beomgyu. He grunts a sleepy response, still not fully awake.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” your mother replies brightly, turning to give you a warm smile. “I was just about to call you down. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Your dad peers over the top of his newspaper, giving you a nod of greeting. “Morning, kiddo. Sleep well?”

���Yeah,” you say, though the truth is that your sleep was fitful, your mind too busy with thoughts of everything that’s changed. But you don’t want to burden your parents with that, not when they’re so happy to have you home.

Just as you’re about to ask where Ryujin went, the front door swings open with a loud creak, and she bursts into the kitchen, a wide grin on her face. And right behind her is Soobin.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, the memories of last night’s conversation rushing back. He looks almost exactly as you remember—tall, with that familiar mop of dark hair falling into his eyes. There’s something in the way he carries himself that’s different now, though—a quiet confidence that wasn’t there when you were kids.

“Look who I found wandering around outside!” Ryujin announces, her voice full of mischief. She’s practically dragging Soobin by the arm as she pulls him into the kitchen. He gives her an exasperated look, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Morning,” Soobin says, his voice warm but slightly hesitant as his eyes meet yours. You can tell he’s unsure, probably wondering how you’re going to react after all this time.

“Morning, Soobin!” your mother says cheerfully, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world for him to be here. “Sit down, I’ll get you a plate. We’ve got plenty of pancakes.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Soobin replies, taking a seat at the table. Ryujin plops down next to him, grinning at the both of you like she knows something you don’t. 

You offer Soobin a small smile, still feeling the awkwardness lingering between you, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth of seeing him again. “Hey, Soobin.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, returning your smile. His voice is softer than you remember, but there’s a steadiness to it that reassures you. The tension between you begins to ease just a little.

“Finally,” Beomgyu mumbles, pushing himself up from the table, more awake now that the smell of pancakes has fully roused him. “I thought I was the only one getting dragged out of bed this early.”

Ryujin snickers. “Oh, please, Beomgyu. You’re always the last one up. I had to do all the work to get him here.”

Soobin chuckles, shaking his head. “She practically jumped through my window to get me up. I’m still not sure how she got into my house.”

Beomgyu grins, the drowsiness now fully replaced by his usual humor. “That’s just Ryujin for you. No one is safe from her morning raids.”

“Exactly,” Ryujin says, unrepentant. She looks at Soobin, then at you, a glint of something in her eyes. “Anyway, I figured you’d want to see each other. It’s been way too long.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words, but you quickly focus on your breakfast, not wanting to let the moment become too heavy. Still, you can feel Soobin’s gaze on you, and when you glance up, he’s watching you with that same soft, almost nostalgic expression.

“Yeah,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “It has been.”

The conversation around the table soon picks up, with your dad jumping in to share some of the ridiculous stories from his job, while Ryujin and Beomgyu start bickering over the last pancake. Soobin joins in, his laugh filling the room and making you remember all the times the three of you hung out here after school, eating snacks your mom prepared while you joked around until your sides hurt.

For a while, the stiffness between you and Soobin fades, and you find yourselves slipping back into the easy childhood friendship you once shared. He teases you about your terrible aim in the old treehouse slingshot wars, and you fire back about his disastrous attempt at baking cookies that one time. Even Beomgyu gets in on it, reminding Soobin of the time he got stuck in the fence trying to sneak into your backyard.

“Oh my god, I thought we agreed never to speak of that again,” Soobin groans, his face turning slightly red as everyone laughs.

“No way, man,” Beomgyu says, grinning. “That’s one of the all-time classics. Right up there with Ryujin breaking the garden gnome.”

“That gnome was creepy anyway,” Ryujin protests, but she’s laughing, too.

You can’t help but laugh along with them, the sound coming easier than it has in weeks. It feels good, like a small piece of the puzzle that is your life is clicking back into place. The breakfast stretches longer than you expected, the food mostly forgotten as the four of you talk and joke like old times.

Eventually, though, the clock on the wall chimes, reminding Soobin that he has to go. He glances at it and sighs, reluctantly pushing his chair back.

“I should head out,” he says, looking a bit regretful. “Work and all that.”

You nod, feeling a pang of disappointment that surprises you. “Yeah, of course. Thanks for coming over.”

Soobin smiles at you, and this time, it reaches his eyes. “Anytime, Y/N. I’m really glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” you say softly, and you mean it.

He says his goodbyes to your parents, who wave him off with promises to invite him over for dinner soon. Ryujin walks him to the door, but not before giving you a knowing look over her shoulder.

Once he’s gone, the house feels a little quieter, a little emptier, though the warmth from breakfast still lingers. Beomgyu leans back in his chair, stretching with a contented sigh.

“Well, that was nice,” he says, then gives you a teasing smile. “You and Soobin seemed to get along pretty well, huh?”

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks flush slightly. “Shut up, Beomgyu.”

“Come on, he’s just teasing,” Ryujin says, returning to the kitchen with a satisfied grin. “It was nice seeing you two together again. Felt like old times.”

You smile, though there’s a lot left unsaid. “Yeah, it did.”

The sun hangs low in the sky as you make your way back home, the weight of the grocery bags in your hands grounding you in the moment. The streets of your hometown are quieter now, bathed in the soft hues of evening, and the familiarity of it all is both comforting and unsettling. You pass by houses you know so well, each one holding memories from a time when life felt simpler.

When you reach your house, you notice a familiar figure standing on a ladder just outside the front door. Soobin is there, fiddling with a light fixture, his tall frame stretched to its limit as he tries to reach the wiring. You pause for a moment, watching him, a mix of amusement and curiosity bubbling up inside you. 

As if sensing your presence, Soobin glances down and catches your eye, a grin spreading across his face. “Back already? I thought I had more time to finish this before you got home.”

“Guess I’m faster than you thought,” you reply, smirking as you walk up to the door. “What are you doing, anyway? Isn’t that light Beomgyu’s job?”

Soobin scoffs, shaking his head as he returns to his work. “Beomgyu can barely change a light bulb without breaking something. Your mom called me over. Said this thing’s been flickering for weeks.”

You chuckle, knowing all too well how disastrous Beomgyu can be with household tasks. “Yeah, that sounds about right. I’m surprised you’re the one she called, though.”

Soobin shrugs, still focused on the light. “She knows I’m good at this stuff. And I guess I can’t say no to her.”

You stand there for a moment, watching as he works. There’s something oddly satisfying about seeing him like this, so at ease with himself, even in the small, mundane task of fixing a light. It’s a stark contrast to the image of him you had in your mind all those years in Seoul, where he was just a memory, something to miss in quiet moments.

Finally, he finishes up, stepping down from the ladder and giving the light a final check. “There. All fixed,” he announces, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Impressive,” you tease, leaning against the doorframe. “But you missed a spot.”

Soobin’s eyes narrow playfully. “Where?”

You point to a random spot on the light, smirking as he follows your finger. “Right there.”

He rolls his eyes when he realizes you’re messing with him. “Very funny, Y/N.”

You laugh, pushing off the doorframe. “You’re welcome. Now, help me with these groceries.”

He obliges, taking a few of the heavier bags from your hands as you both head inside. The house is warm and cozy, the smells of dinner already wafting through the air. Your mom calls out a greeting from the kitchen, but it’s clear she’s busy with preparations.

You and Soobin head to the living room, where you set the bags down on the coffee table. The room is quiet, save for the occasional clatter of dishes from the kitchen, and it’s strange being alone with him again, after all this time.

“So, how long are you staying?” Soobin asks casually, breaking the silence as he takes a seat on the couch.

You hesitate, knowing that question has been on the tip of everyone’s tongues since you arrived. “I’m not sure yet. I guess it depends.”

“Depends on what?” he asks, genuinely curious.

You shrug, avoiding his gaze. “A lot of things.”

He watches you for a moment, as if he’s trying to figure you out, then changes the subject. “You still remember how to cook, right? Or do I need to take over in the kitchen?”

You scoff, grabbing the bag of vegetables and heading to the kitchen. “Please, I’ve been living on my own for years. I’m pretty sure I know how to chop a few vegetables.”

Soobin follows you, leaning against the counter as you start to unpack the groceries. “Just checking. You never know, city life might’ve turned you into one of those takeout-only types.”

“Not a chance,” you say, setting a cutting board on the counter and grabbing a knife. “But thanks for the concern.”

He smirks, watching as you begin slicing the vegetables with practiced ease. “I’m impressed. Maybe you have changed.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You’re the one who’s changed, not me. I never would’ve pegged you as the handy type.”

He laughs softly. “People can surprise you.”

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, exchanging banter as you prepare dinner. It feels almost like old times, the bickering and teasing coming naturally, even after all the years apart. But there’s an underlying tension, a sense that there’s more to say, more to ask.

As you chop up the last of the vegetables, Soobin clears his throat, the casual tone of the conversation shifting slightly. “So, uh… are you still with that guy? Daehyun, or something?” he hesitates when saying his name, like he can’t quite remember it, but it sounds almost as if he can exactly remember.

Your hands freeze for a moment, the knife hovering over the cutting board. You knew this question would come eventually, but you hadn’t expected it so soon, or so directly. You glance at Soobin, who’s watching you with a mix of curiosity and something else you can’t quite place.

“No,” you say quietly, resuming your chopping at a slower pace. “We… broke up.”

Soobin’s brow furrows in concern. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, forcing a smile as you set the knife down. “It was… a long time coming, I guess.”

He nods slowly, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. “What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You take a deep breath, debating how much to tell him. You haven’t even told your parents the whole truth, not wanting to worry them more than necessary. But with Soobin, it feels different—like maybe you owe him at least some of the truth.

“It just… wasn’t working out,” you say, leaning against the counter and crossing your arms. “We wanted different things. Or rather, he wanted something I couldn’t give him.”

Soobin’s gaze softens, and you can tell he’s piecing it together, but he doesn’t push. “Sounds like he was an idiot.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh. “Maybe. Or maybe I was the idiot for sticking around as long as I did.”

He shakes his head, his expression turning serious. “You’re not an idiot, Y/N. Sometimes things just don’t work out, no matter how much you want them to.”

You meet his eyes, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Yeah. I just wish I’d figured that out sooner.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence, Soobin’s presence a steadying force as you let the weight of your words settle between you. It’s not the whole story, not by a long shot, but it’s more than you’ve told anyone else. And for now, that’s enough.

“Well,” Soobin says after a moment, his tone lighter as he pushes off the counter, “if you ever need someone to talk to, or someone to make fun of, you know where to find me.”

You smile, genuinely this time. “Thanks, Soobin. I appreciate that.”

He grins, that easy, familiar smile that you’ve missed more than you realized. “Anytime, Y/N.”

As you both continue preparing dinner, the conversation shifts back to lighter topics, the tension between you easing into something more comfortable, more familiar. It’s strange how quickly you’ve fallen back into this dynamic, but it’s also comforting in a way you didn’t expect.

And you allow yourself to think for a moment that maybe being back home wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.

The next couple of weeks pass in a blur of small-town rhythms, a stark contrast to the constant noise and motion of Seoul. You find yourself falling back into old routines, hanging out with Ryujin, spending time with your family, and catching up with Soobin. It’s comforting, in a way, but also unsettling—like you’re living in a strange limbo, where everything is familiar but slightly off-kilter.

Ryujin is a constant presence, as she always was, dragging you out of the house whenever she can. Whether it’s to grab a coffee, take a walk around the neighborhood, or just sit and gossip like you used to in high school, she’s there, her energy relentless. She never pushes you to talk about why you came home, though. She’s content to let you come to her when you’re ready, and for that, you’re grateful.

Your parents, on the other hand, aren’t as subtle. Your mom, especially, hovers more than usual, her concern evident in the way she keeps asking if you’re okay, if you need anything, if there’s something you want to talk about. You deflect with practiced ease, reassuring her that you’re fine, that you just needed a break from the city. She seems to accept it, but you can tell she’s not convinced.

Soobin is around often, whether he’s coming over to help with something around the house or just hanging out with you and Beomgyu. You fall back into an easy friendship with him, the teasing and bickering coming naturally, just like it always did. But there’s something different now, a tension that lingers beneath the surface, something neither of you acknowledges but both of you feel.

It’s on one of these typical days that Soobin invites you out for dinner with some of his coworkers. “It’ll be fun,” he promises as the two of you lounge in the living room, flipping through TV channels. “They’re a good group. Plus, I could use someone to keep me in check.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Since when do you need someone to keep you in check?”

Soobin grins. “Since I started working with these guys. They like to drink. A lot.”

You laugh, but you agree to go. The thought of getting out of the house, doing something different, is appealing. Plus, you’re curious to meet the people Soobin spends his time with these days.

That night, you find yourself in a cozy, bustling restaurant, surrounded by Soobin and his coworkers. They’re a lively bunch, full of jokes and stories, and it doesn’t take long for you to feel at ease with them. The drinks start flowing almost as soon as you sit down, and before long, the whole group is in high spirits.

You find yourself laughing more than you have in weeks, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through your veins as you listen to Soobin’s coworkers tell ridiculous stories about him. Soobin, for his part, takes it all in stride, grinning sheepishly as his friends poke fun at him.

At some point, the conversation turns to confessions—nothing too serious, just silly admissions brought on by the alcohol. One of Soobin’s coworkers, a guy named Jisoo, starts it off, confessing that he once got caught sneaking into his girlfriend’s house by her parents, who thought he was a burglar. The table erupts in laughter, and soon everyone’s sharing their own embarrassing stories.

When it’s Soobin’s turn, he hesitates, glancing at you with a mischievous grin. “Alright, but you can’t judge me too harshly, okay?”

You raise your glass, already giggling. “No promises.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “Fine. So… back in high school, I had the biggest crush on someone, and I spent an entire year pretending to be terrible at math just so she’d tutor me.”

The table bursts into laughter, but the alcohol and thoughts in your mind start suddenly swirling around rapidly. Didn’t you give him algebra lessons in 10th grade? Maybe he’s talking about someone else…

“Did it work?” someone asks.

Soobin shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “I passed algebra, didn’t I?”

The laughter continues, and you feel a strange warmth in your chest, and his added comment only continues to make your mind race. The night goes on, and the drinks keep coming, until you’re all a little too tipsy, the world spinning just enough to make everything feel surreal. The drinks have taken off the edge about Soobin’s comments, for a little while at least.

At some point, Soobin leans in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispers, “You know, I really did have a crush on you back then.”

You blink, surprised by the sudden confession, but before you can respond, he pulls back, his eyes a little unfocused as he gives you a lopsided grin. “Too much to drink, huh?”

You smile softly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I guess so,” you breath out, the word increasing its spinning around you but you’re not convinced it’s because of the alcohol anymore.

He chuckles, but there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. “Maybe.”

The moment hangs between you, charged with an intensity that’s almost too much to bear. But before anything else can happen, Soobin’s head lolls to the side, his eyes slipping shut as he mumbles something incoherent.

“Great,” you mutter, half-amused, half-exasperated as you try to shake him awake. “Soobin, come on, don’t pass out on me now.”

But he’s out cold, his breathing steady as he slumps against the table. You sigh, realizing there’s no way you’re getting him home by yourself. With a resigned smile, you pull out your phone and call Beomgyu.

He answers on the second ring, sounding more amused than concerned when you explain the situation. “Of course, he passed out. Why am I not surprised?”

“Just hurry up and get over here,” you say, rolling your eyes. “I can’t carry him by myself.”

Beomgyu arrives a short while later, looking entirely too amused by the situation as he takes in the sight of Soobin slumped over the table. “Wow, he’s really out, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say, trying not to laugh as you stand up. “Think you can handle him?”

Beomgyu snorts. “Do I have a choice?”

With some effort, the two of you manage to get Soobin on his feet, though he’s mostly dead weight, mumbling incoherently as you half-drag, half-carry him out of the restaurant. The fresh air hits you like a shock, clearing your head just enough to realize how ridiculous this all is.

“This is a disaster,” you mutter, struggling to keep Soobin upright as Beomgyu does most of the heavy lifting.

Beomgyu chuckles. “It’s a disaster you walked right into.”

Before long, you realize that even with Beomgyu’s help, getting Soobin all the way back home is going to be nearly impossible. You try to be optimistic, but when Soobin starts to slip from your grasp, you realize you need reinforcements.

“I think we need to call Ryujin,” you admit reluctantly, pulling out your phone again.

Beomgyu groans. “Do we have to?”

You can’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once. “We don’t have a choice, Gyu. I can barely keep him up, and you’re not exactly faring much better.”

Reluctantly, Beomgyu agrees, and you call Ryujin, who answers after a few rings, sounding half-asleep but entirely too eager to hear about your predicament. After a quick explanation, she promises to be there in a few minutes.

When Ryujin arrives, she takes one look at the situation and bursts out laughing. “Oh my God, I knew you two couldn’t handle this on your own.”

“Not helping, Ryujin,” Beomgyu grumbles, though there’s a smile on his face.

Together, the three of you somehow manage to get Soobin back to his place, collapsing into a heap of laughter and exhaustion once he’s safely on his bed. By then, the humor of the situation has fully set in, and you’re all giggling uncontrollably, the night’s events replaying in your minds.

Finally, when the laughter dies down, Ryujin nudges you playfully. “So, what was that about Soobin confessing his high school crush?”

Your cheeks flush, and you try to deflect, but Ryujin is relentless, teasing you mercilessly as Beomgyu joins in. It’s all in good fun, though, and you can’t help but feel a warmth in your chest, a sense of belonging that you’ve missed more than you realized.

Eventually, the night winds down, and you all head home, leaving Soobin to sleep off his hangover. As you climb into bed, you can’t help but replay the night’s events in your mind, the memory of Soobin’s confession lingering in your thoughts.

It’s been a long time since you felt this way, and despite everything that’s happened, you can’t help but wonder what the future might hold.

You wake up to a dull throb in your head, the remnants of last night's drinks still pulsing behind your temples. Your room is far too bright, and you curse yourself for not closing the curtains before collapsing into bed.

You glance at the clock on your nightstand. It’s already late morning, far later than you usually sleep, but considering the amount you drank last night, it’s a miracle you’re awake at all. Groggily, you swing your legs out of bed and stand, feeling the slight wobble in your knees as your body adjusts to being upright.

The house is quiet as you pad downstairs, the wooden steps creaking softly under your weight. The smell of coffee hits you as you enter the kitchen, and you sigh in relief. Your parents must already be up. Sure enough, you find a pot of freshly brewed coffee on the counter, a few mugs stacked neatly beside it. You pour yourself a cup, cradling it between your hands as you savor the warmth seeping into your skin.

After a few sips, you feel more human, the caffeine doing its job. Now that you’re awake and somewhat functional, you start rifling through the fridge and pantry, searching for the ingredients you need. You’ve made hangover soup enough times to know the recipe by heart, and it isn’t long before you have everything laid out on the counter.

As the soup simmers on the stove, filling the kitchen with its comforting aroma, you smile to yourself. Soobin is in for a rude awakening, but you know he’ll appreciate it in the end. With that thought in mind, you grab a spoon and taste the broth, nodding in satisfaction at the flavor.

Once the soup is done, you ladle it into a bowl, then take a deep breath and head to the house across from your own, belonging to the Choi’s. You knock lightly on the door at first, then a bit louder when you don’t hear any response. A moment later, Soobin’s mom opens the door, a surprised smile on her face.

“Y/N! What a lovely surprise,” she says warmly, stepping aside to let you in. “I didn’t expect to see you this early. How are you feeling?”

“Morning, Mrs. Choi,” you greet her with a smile. “I’m okay, just a little hungover. I figured Soobin might need this more than I do, though.”

She glances down at the bowl in your hands and chuckles. “Hangover soup? You’re such a thoughtful girl. He’s still asleep, of course, but I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

You step inside, the familiar scent of the house comforting in a way that makes you feel instantly at ease. “I’m going to wake him up now,” you say, feeling a little mischievous. “He’s had enough sleep.”

“Good luck with that,” Mrs. Choi says with a knowing smile. “He can be a bit grumpy in the mornings, especially after a night out.”

You grin. “I’m counting on it.”

Heading upstairs, you push open Soobin’s bedroom door with your hip, balancing the bowl in one hand. The room is dark, the curtains drawn tightly shut, and Soobin is sprawled out on his bed, completely dead to the world. He’s lying on his stomach, one arm dangling off the side of the bed, his hair a tousled mess. 

You set the bowl down on his nightstand, taking a moment to appreciate how peaceful he looks when he’s sleeping. But only a moment. You can’t resist. Reaching out, you grab his pillow and whack him over the head with it—not too hard, but enough to jolt him awake.

He groans, a low sound of protest, but doesn’t move. So you hit him again, a little harder this time, just for good measure.

“Soobin, get up!” you say, your voice tinged with amusement. “I made you breakfast.”

He mumbles something incoherent, burying his face deeper into the pillow. You roll your eyes, leaning down to speak directly into his ear.

“Choi Soobin, if you don’t get up right now, I’m going to eat all this soup myself.”

That seems to do the trick. He slowly lifts his head, squinting at you through bleary eyes. “Y/N? What… what time is it?”

“Time for you to wake up and eat,” you reply, smirking. “Come on, I’ve got hangover soup ready. You need it.”

Soobin groans again but finally drags himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. He looks terrible—pale, with dark circles under his eyes, his hair sticking up in all directions—but you have to admit, there’s something endearing about seeing him like this. Vulnerable, almost.

“Ugh, my head is killing me,” he mutters, wincing as he swings his legs over the side of the bed.

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you drink like a fish,” you tease, forcing him up and down the stairs. 

Once seated at the table, you pour him a bowl of soup before placing it down in front of him. “Here, this will help.”

He takes the bowl from you, staring down at it like it’s a lifeline. “You’re a lifesaver,” he says, his voice thick with gratitude.

“I know,” you reply with a grin, sitting down in front of him. “Now eat up before it gets cold.”

Soobin takes a tentative sip, then another, his expression softening as the warm broth soothes his hangover. “This is really good,” he mumbles between spoonfuls.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” you say, your tone light but with an undercurrent of truth. You’ve made this soup more times than you can count, for yourself, for friends… for your ex. But you push that thought away before it can take root, focusing instead on Soobin.

As he eats, you chat idly about nothing in particular, keeping the conversation light. Soobin slowly comes back to life, the soup and your presence working their magic. He’s still a bit pale, but at least he’s awake and functional now.

Just as he’s finishing up, you hear footsteps approaching from the hallway, and a moment later, Soobin’s mom pokes her head into the room.

“How’s our patient?” she asks with a smile, looking between the two of you.

“He’s alive,” you reply, grinning at Soobin’s unamused expression. “Barely.”

Another set of footsteps sound in the hall behind as Soobin’s father suddenly appears, his face a mix of surprise and happiness as he spots his son and yourself seated at the kitchen table. Soobin’s mom has moved into the kitchen behind you now, getting started on breakfast.

“Y/N! I didn’t expect to see you this morning,” he says warmly. “How are you?”

“I’m good, Mr. Choi,” you reply, returning his smile. “Just thought I’d check on Soobin and make sure he was still alive.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, it’s a good thing you did. He always overdoes it when he goes out with his coworkers.”

“Morning, Dad,” Soobin mumbles, reaching for a piece of toast as his mother immediately sets the plate down on the table.

“Morning, son,” Mr. Choi replies, his tone amused. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” Soobin mutters, shooting you a glare when you snicker. “Don’t think it was much for for Y/N either,” he responds, an amused smirk flashing upon his lips as he swiftly avoids your kick from underneath the table.

As you all start eating breakfast, the conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and light teasing. You’ve always felt comfortable around Soobin’s parents—they’ve known you since you were a kid, after all—and it feels good to be here, surrounded by the warmth of family, even if it’s not your own.

“So, Y/N,” Mrs. Choi says at one point, turning to you with a curious expression. “How long are you planning to stay in town this time?”

You pause, the question catching you off guard. You haven’t really thought that far ahead, and the uncertainty of your answer weighs heavily on your mind.

“Um, I’m not sure yet,” you reply honestly, forcing a small smile. “I’m just taking things one day at a time.”

Mrs. Choi nods understandingly, reaching out to pat your hand. “That’s perfectly fine, dear. You’re always welcome here, you know that.”

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely touched by her kindness. “That means a lot.”

The conversation shifts after that, and you’re grateful for it. As much as you appreciate the Choi family’s concern, you’re not ready to delve into the reasons behind your return just yet.

As breakfast winds down, Soobin stands up to clear the table, but you’re not about to let him off the hook that easily. When he passes by you with a stack of plates, you subtly stick your foot out, and before he realizes what’s happening, he trips, stumbling forward with a startled yelp.

He catches himself before he falls, but not without glaring at you, his eyes narrowed in mock anger. “Really?”

You flash him an innocent smile. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

His parents watch the exchange with amused smiles, clearly enjoying the banter between the two of you. “Careful, Y/N,” Mr. Choi says with a chuckle. “He might actually get you back for that one.”

You laugh, already stepping out of Soobin’s reach as he finishes clearing the table. “He can try,” you say, still grinning.

Soobin just shakes his head, clearly exasperated, but you can see the fondness in his eyes as he glances at you. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re predictable,” you retort, dodging under his arm as he reaches out to flick your forehead. 

The rest of the morning passes in a haze of laughter and lighthearted teasing. After breakfast, you help Soobin’s mom with the dishes, the two of you chatting about everything and nothing. Soobin joins in occasionally, but mostly, he just listens from his stance half standing and half supporting his weight on the kitchen counter, still recovering from last night’s blackout.

For a while, it feels like nothing has changed, like you’ve slipped back into the easy life you’ve always had with Soobin and his family. It’s a comforting thought, one that brings a sense of peace you haven’t felt in a long time. And one that allows you to forget about what Soobin said last night, for just a moment.

As you finish up the last of the dishes, you glance over at Soobin, who’s lounging on the couch in the living room, his head resting on the back of the couch, eyes closed.

“You okay over there?” you call out, drying your hands on a dish towel.

He cracks one eye open, giving you a lazy smile. “Yeah, just trying to recover from the abuse you put me through this morning.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re such a drama queen.”

He just grins, not even bothering to argue. “Yeah, but you love it.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips. Maybe he’s right—maybe you do love this, being here with him, with his family. Maybe, just maybe, this is exactly what you needed.

The summer sun hangs low in the sky, casting long shadows across the quiet neighborhood. You sit at the kitchen table, absently stirring a cup of tea that’s long since gone cold. The house feels still, too still, as if it’s holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. You’ve managed to avoid any serious conversations with your mom since you returned home, but time has eventually caught up to you. 

Your mom enters the room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She glances at you, then at the untouched tea, her brow furrowing slightly. “Y/N, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lie, offering her a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

She doesn’t buy it. Of course, she doesn’t. She’s your mother, after all. She sighs, crossing the room to sit across from you, her gaze gentle but probing. “You’ve been back for weeks now, and you still haven’t told us what really happened in Seoul. You left so suddenly, without any explanation. Your father and I… we’re worried about you, sweetheart.”

You swallow hard, the knot in your throat tightening. You knew this was coming, but that doesn’t make it any easier. “Mom, I just… I needed a break. Things weren’t going well, and I thought it would be good to come home for a while.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, sensing the evasiveness in your tone. “Not going well? You mean with your job? Or… was it something else?” She pauses, her voice softening further. “Y/N, was it Daehyun?”

The mention of him sends a pang through your chest, but you force yourself to stay composed. “We broke up,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. It’s technically the truth, even if it’s not the whole story.

Your mom’s expression shifts, a mix of concern and confusion crossing her features. “You broke up? Why? I thought you two were serious. You were always talking about him, about how he was the one.”

You look down at your hands, fingers twisting in your lap. “We were serious. But… things change, Mom. We just weren’t right for each other anymore.”

She shakes her head, clearly not satisfied with that answer. “What do you mean, ‘not right for each other’? Did something happen? Did he do something?”

You shake your head quickly, too quickly. “No, it wasn’t like that. We just… grew apart, I guess. It happens.”

Your mom’s eyes narrow further, the doubt clear in her gaze. “Grew apart? That doesn’t sound like a reason to just up and leave everything behind. You quit your job, Y/N. You loved that job. You loved your life in Seoul. And now you’re telling me you threw it all away because of some vague ‘growing apart’?”

“Mom, please,” you plead, your voice shaking. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

But she doesn’t relent. “You can’t just run away from your problems, Y/N. If something happened, you need to face it. You need to tell me what’s really going on.”

“I told you, we broke up!” you snap, your patience wearing thin. “I needed to get away, so I came home. That’s it.”

Your mom’s frustration finally boils over. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say? You broke up, so you threw your entire life away? You’re being ridiculous, Y/N! You had everything going for you—your career, your relationship—and you just walked away without a second thought?”

“I didn’t have a choice!” you yell, the words spilling out before you can stop them. But you can’t take them back now, and the look of shock on your mom’s face only fuels the anger burning inside you. “You don’t understand, Mom. You don’t know what it was like.”

“Then help me understand!” she shouts back, standing up from the table. “You can’t just expect us to sit here and watch you fall apart without knowing why!”

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. “I didn’t fall apart,” you say through gritted teeth. “I’m fine. I’m trying to move on, and you’re not making it any easier.”

“Move on?” she scoffs. “You’re not moving on, Y/N. You’re running away, and you’re dragging us into it with you. You can’t just quit when things get tough. That’s not how life works!”

The dam finally breaks, and the tears spill over, hot and angry. “I was miserable for so long!” you cry, pushing back from the table. “You don’t know what I went through, and you never will because I can’t—” You choke on the words, unable to finish the sentence.

Your mom’s expression softens slightly, but the anger is still there, simmering beneath the surface. “Y/N, whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m your mother. I just want to help you.”

But the anger has taken hold of you now, and you can’t stop the words from tumbling out. “I can’t! You’ll never understand what it’s like to have your whole world ripped apart by someone you thought you could trust!”

Her face pales, the realization dawning on her as she finally grasps the gravity of what you’re saying. “Y/N… what did he do to you?”

You can’t answer. The words are stuck in your throat, choking you as the pain of it all comes rushing back. You can’t tell her the truth, can’t bear to see the look of pity and disappointment in her eyes.

Without another word, you turn and bolt for the door, the need to escape overwhelming. You can hear your mom calling after you, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop. You burst out of the house, tears blurring your vision as you run down the driveway.

And that’s when you run straight into someone, nearly knocking them over. You stumble back, wiping at your eyes to see who it is.

Soobin stands there, his expression a mix of shock and concern. He’s holding a small basket, likely something his mom sent him over with, but he’s clearly forgotten all about it as he stares at you.

“Y/N? What happened?” he asks, his voice soft, like he’s afraid you’ll break if he speaks too loudly.

You shake your head, trying to brush past him, but he gently grabs your arm, stopping you. “Wait, just… slow down. Talk to me.”

You can’t. You can’t talk to him, can’t even look at him without feeling like you’re going to fall apart. But the gentleness in his voice, the warmth in his touch, it’s too much. You can’t hold it in any longer.

You sprint down the street, the sound of your mother’s angry words still echoing in your ears. Your vision blurs with tears as you race toward the park, the one that sits just at the edge of the neighborhood where you spent so many summers playing with Beomgyu, Soobin, and Ryujin. It feels like you’re running from more than just the fight—like you’re running from everything you’ve been trying to hold together since you came back home.

The park is quiet, almost eerily so. The swings sway gently in the evening breeze, the only movement in the otherwise still space. You stumble to a stop by the playground, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you collapse onto the sidewalk, your legs unable to carry you any farther. Hugging your knees to your chest, you finally let the tears fall, your sobs quiet but intense, the weight of everything you’ve been bottling up crashing down on you all at once.

You don’t hear him approaching, but you sense Soobin before you see him, the sound of his hurried footsteps catching your attention. He’s out of breath, clearly having run after you the moment you bolted from the house. He doesn’t say anything at first, just stops a few feet away, his eyes searching your face with a mix of concern and sadness.

“Y/N…” he starts softly, taking a cautious step closer. “Come on… What happened back there?”

You don’t answer right away, too overwhelmed to speak. But Soobin doesn’t push. He just sinks down onto the sidewalk beside you, his presence solid and steady, like a lifeline you didn’t know you needed. The silence between you stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s like he’s giving you the space to find your words, to figure out what to say.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you take a shaky breath and start talking. “I left because of him,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “My boyfriend… my ex. He cheated on me.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with pain and betrayal. You can feel Soobin tense beside you, his hands curling into fists on his knees. But he stays quiet, letting you continue at your own pace.

“I found out a few months ago,” you say, your voice trembling as the memories flood back. “He’d been seeing someone else for weeks, maybe longer. I don’t even know how long it was going on. I just… I couldn’t stay after that. I couldn’t be around him, or our friends, or… or anything that reminded me of him. So, I left.”

The tears come harder now, spilling down your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to block out the images of him with someone else, the lies he told you, the way everything fell apart so quickly. “I quit my job because I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t do anything without thinking about him, about what he did. I felt like I was drowning, and I didn’t know how to keep going. I didn’t sleep or eat for days at a time. I wasn’t taking care of myself and… well it was either this or me going completely under. So, I ran away. I thought if I came back here, if I was with my family, I could start over. But it’s not that simple. It’s never that simple.”

Your voice cracks, the weight of everything you’ve been carrying finally too much to bear. You can’t hold it together anymore. The sobs wrack your body, and you bury your face in your hands, feeling utterly broken.

Soobin doesn’t say anything, but you feel his arm wrap around your shoulders, pulling you close. He holds you tightly, his grip firm and reassuring as he lets you cry into his chest. His other hand rubs soothing circles on your back, his touch gentle but grounding, like he’s trying to anchor you to the present, to keep you from getting lost in the storm of your emotions.

“You didn’t deserve that,” he says quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “None of this is your fault, Y/N. You did what you had to do to survive. Don’t ever feel ashamed of that.”

You want to believe him, want to take comfort in his words, but it’s hard. The pain is still so raw, so overwhelming. But being here with Soobin, feeling his warmth, his steady presence, it helps. It makes the hurt just a little more bearable.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, the words barely making it past your lips.

“What are you sorry for?” Soobin asks, his tone soft and confused.

“For everything,” you say, your voice shaking. “For not telling anyone, for shutting everyone out. For being so weak. I just didn’t want to be looked at like that girl anymore. I don’t think I can take it.”

“Hey,” Soobin says, gently tilting your chin up so you’re forced to meet his gaze. “You’re not weak. You’re one of the strongest people I know. You’ve been through hell, and you’re still standing. That’s not weakness, Y/N. That’s strength.”

His words hit you hard, the sincerity in his eyes making it impossible to dismiss them. He means it—he really believes you’re strong, even when you don’t believe it yourself.

You nod, swallowing hard as you try to calm your breathing, your tears finally slowing. It’s not much, but it’s enough for now. Enough to make you feel a little less alone, a little less like you’re drowning.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning into his embrace, letting yourself take comfort in his presence.

Soobin just squeezes you a little tighter, resting his chin on top of your head. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m here, Y/N. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

You stay like that for a while, the two of you sitting on the sidewalk in the quiet park, the world around you fading into the background. For the first time in a long time, you feel like you can breathe again, like the weight on your chest has lifted just a little.

Eventually, you pull back slightly, wiping at your tear-streaked face. Soobin watches you with that familiar mix of concern and fondness, his eyes soft as he takes in your expression.

“Do you want to go back?” he asks gently, nodding toward the direction of your house. “Or we can stay here for a bit longer if you need more time.”

You glance around the park, the memories of your childhood flooding back in a rush of nostalgia. This place has always been a refuge for you, a place where you felt safe. And now, with Soobin by your side, it still feels that way.

“Maybe just a little longer,” you say quietly, your voice steadier now. “I’m not ready to face her yet.”

He nods in understanding, his hand finding yours and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

And with that, the two of you sit in the fading light, side by side, the comforting silence between you speaking more than words ever could.

The weeks that follow your tearful confession in the park pass in a blur of change and acceptance. You finally muster the courage to tell your family the whole story, no longer holding back the pain and betrayal you’d been carrying alone. Your mother, after her initial shock and anger, softens as she listens to the truth of what happened in Seoul. The harsh words you exchanged that night seem distant now, replaced by an understanding that’s long overdue.

Your father, though quiet during your confession, offers you a comforting hug afterward, his voice filled with warmth as he reassures you that you’re home, and that’s what matters. Beomgyu is the easiest to talk to—his playful teasing makes it easier to break the tension, and soon, you find yourself laughing with him like old times.

Telling Ryujin is harder. You’ve always been able to rely on her, but admitting how broken you felt, even to your best friend, is difficult. But Ryujin listens without judgment, her eyes filled with the fierce loyalty you’ve always admired in her. When you finish, she wraps you in a tight hug and tells you that you’re stronger than you think, and that she’s proud of you for coming home.

As the days turn into weeks, you start to accept that Gwangcheon is where you’re going to be for a while. It’s not Seoul, but there’s a comfort in the familiar streets, the warm smiles of the people you’ve known your whole life, and the gentle pace of small-town living.

With Soobin’s help, and through one of his friends, you land a job at a good company nearby. It’s not the high-powered position you left behind in Seoul, but it’s steady work, and you find yourself gradually falling into a new routine. Your days become a mix of work, spending time with your family, and reconnecting with old friends.

The more time you spend with Soobin, Ryujin, and Beomgyu, the more you start to feel like yourself again. You laugh more easily, the pain of your past starting to dull as the present takes over. You’re still cautious, still a little guarded, but the walls you built around yourself are slowly coming down.

As summer draws to a close, Ryujin suggests a trip to a nearby beach town for a late summer getaway. It’s been a while since you’ve done something spontaneous, and the idea of a weekend away with your closest friends is too tempting to resist.

The four of you—Ryujin, Beomgyu, Soobin, and you—pile into Beomgyu’s car early one Saturday morning, the air filled with excitement as you drive toward the coast. The weather is perfect, the sun shining brightly in a cloudless sky, and the anticipation of a carefree weekend ahead makes everything feel lighter.

When you arrive, the small beach town is bustling with tourists, the streets lined with colorful shops and restaurants. You check into a charming seaside inn, your room offering a stunning view of the ocean. The salty breeze and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore immediately put you at ease.

For the first day, you decide to hit the beach. You slip into a light, flowing sundress with thin straps that tie at your shoulders, the fabric swaying gently in the breeze. It’s a pale yellow, the color brightening your complexion.

The four of you spend the day lounging on the sand, swimming in the crystal-clear water, and playing beach volleyball. Beomgyu and Soobin are a hilarious team, their competitive streaks coming out in full force, while you and Ryujin try to keep up, laughing so hard you can barely hit the ball back.

As the sun begins to set, you take a walk along the shoreline with Soobin. The air is cooler now, and you’ve changed into a pair of denim shorts and a loose, sleeveless top that flutters in the breeze. Soobin, in his usual casual style, wears a plain white T-shirt and board shorts. The two of you walk in comfortable silence for a while, the waves gently lapping at your feet.

“I’m glad you came,” Soobin says quietly, breaking the silence. He glances at you, his expression soft in the fading light. “I’ve missed this… missed us hanging out like this.”

“Me too,” you reply, your heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his voice. “It’s nice to just… be. No pressure, no expectations. Just us.”

There’s a pause, and then you both stop walking, turning to face each other. The tension between you has been growing stronger with each passing day, and it’s undeniable now. You notice the way his eyes linger on you, how his hand brushes against yours as you stand there, the space between you shrinking with every breath.

“Soobin…” you start, but you don’t know how to finish the sentence. You’re not sure what you want to say—what you need to say.

He looks at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a small smile, he reaches out and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your cheek. The touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel your heart racing in your chest.

“I’m here, Y/N,” he says softly, his voice steady and sure. “Whenever you’re ready, I’m here.”

The moment is so charged, so full of potential, that it feels like time has stopped. You find yourself leaning into him, drawn to the comfort and warmth he offers, but before anything more can happen, Ryujin’s voice calls out from the distance, breaking the spell.

You both step back, the tension between you still thick in the air, but the moment has passed. You force a smile, trying to shake off the nerves that are buzzing under your skin.

“We should head back,” you say, your voice a little too bright. “They’re probably wondering where we are.”

Soobin nods, and without another word, the two of you start walking back toward the inn. But even as you rejoin Ryujin and Beomgyu, the electricity between you and Soobin doesn’t fade. Instead, it lingers, a constant undercurrent that makes your heart beat just a little faster every time your eyes meet, every time your hands brush against each other.

That night, after a dinner filled with laughter and more teasing from Beomgyu and Ryujin, you find yourself sitting on the inn’s balcony with Soobin. The others have already gone to bed, exhausted from the day’s activities, but neither of you seems ready to end the night.

The stars are bright in the clear sky, and the sound of the waves is soothing as you sit together, wrapped in a shared blanket to ward off the evening chill. You’re wearing a soft, oversized sweater, and Soobin has a hoodie on, the two of you huddled close for warmth.

For a while, you talk about everything and nothing— jobs, childhood memories, the places they’d like to visit one day. But eventually, the conversation drifts to more personal matters.

“So… what’s next for you?” Soobin asks quietly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Now that you’re settling in, do you have any plans?”

You hesitate, not because you don’t know the answer, but because you’re afraid to voice it. “I’m not sure,” you admit. “I’ve been thinking about staying in Gwangcheon for a while, maybe longer than I originally planned. It’s… it’s starting to feel like home again.”

Soobin smiles at that, a warmth spreading through you at the sight. “I’m glad,” he says. “It’s good to have you back, Y/N. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you reply softly, your heart swelling with emotion. There’s so much more you want to say, but the words get caught in your throat. Instead, you lean your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath under your cheek.

Soobin’s hand finds yours under the blanket, his fingers lacing with yours in a way that feels both familiar and new. The touch is comforting, grounding you in the moment. You sit like that for a long time, neither of you saying anything, just content to be close.

But as the night wears on, the tension between you becomes harder to ignore. Every time you shift slightly, your legs brushing against his, it feels like a spark of electricity zips through you. The quiet, intimate atmosphere only amplifies the connection that’s been building for weeks, and you can’t help but wonder if he feels it too.

Finally, you turn your head to look up at him, finding him already gazing down at you. The intensity in his eyes takes your breath away, and for a moment, you think he might kiss you. Your heart pounds in your chest, anticipation coiling tight in your stomach as you tilt your face up, waiting…

But just when it feels like something monumental is about to happen, Soobin pulls back slightly, his expression conflicted. He lets out a slow breath, breaking the moment. “We should get some sleep,” he murmurs, his voice husky.

You’re disappointed, but also relieved. You may have felt something for Soobin during your youth, but you had not expected any sort of remaining spark between the two of you upon moving back. It’s a mixture of conflicting feelings: comfort, fear, desire, and enough more to dizzy you.

But even as you part for the night, there’s an unspoken understanding between you— that this moment isn’t an ending but rather just a momentary pause.

The next morning, the four of you wake early to catch the sunrise on the beach. The air is crisp and cool, the sky painted in hues of pink and gold as the sun peeks over the horizon. You feel a sense of peace, standing there with your closest friends, the tension from the night before easing into something more hopeful.

As you pack up and head home later that day, you can’t help but feel like this trip was a turning point. For the first time in a long time, you’re looking forward to the future. And though you don’t know exactly where things with Soobin will go, you feel both compelled and terrified to find out. 

The weeks after your beach getaway with Soobin, Ryujin, and Beomgyu pass in a blur of cozy evenings and lingering touches. The tension between you and Soobin has become almost palpable, an undercurrent that hums beneath every interaction. You find yourself gravitating toward him, seeking out his presence in ways that feel both natural and inevitable.

It starts with late-night talks, the two of you sitting on the porch of your house or his, wrapped in blankets as the night air grows cooler. The conversations are deep, touching on everything from your childhood dreams to the fears that keep you up at night. Soobin listens with a quiet intensity that makes you feel heard in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. Sometimes, when the conversation drifts to a comfortable lull, his hand will find yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin, and the simple touch sends shivers down your spine.

As fall begins to creep in, the annual town festival is the talk of Gwangcheon. It’s a tradition that dates back decades, a celebration of the harvest season with food stalls, games, and music that bring the whole town together. Despite Soobin’s protests about it being the “same old thing every year,” you manage to drag him along with you, promising that it will be fun.

“You say that every year,” Soobin grumbles as you walk through the festival grounds, his hand intertwined with yours. The evening air is crisp, carrying the scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider. “But it’s just a bunch of food stalls and cheesy games.”

You roll your eyes, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “You’re such a grouch. Admit it, you secretly love this stuff.”

He huffs, but you catch the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Maybe I just like watching you get excited about it.”

You smile, your heart warming at the admission. The truth is, you do love the festival, not just for the nostalgia it brings but because it feels like a part of your roots—a reminder of the simpler times before everything got so complicated.

The festival is in full swing by the time you arrive. Strings of warm, twinkling lights hang overhead, and the sound of laughter and music fills the air. You and Soobin wander through the crowded streets, stopping at various stalls to sample local treats and play a few games. You end up with a small plush bear from a ring toss game, a prize that Soobin wins for you after several failed attempts.

“See? Told you this would be fun,” you say, beaming as you hug the bear to your chest.

Soobin just shakes his head, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watches you. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, but there’s no bite in his words.

As the night goes on, you run into Beomgyu and Ryujin near the center of the festival grounds, where a makeshift dance floor has been set up. The four of you spend some time chatting and catching up, reminiscing about past festivals and sharing updates on each other’s lives. The atmosphere is light and joyful, a perfect escape from the weight of everything else.

At one point, Ryujin drags you into a dance, the two of you twirling and laughing while Soobin and Beomgyu look on in amusement. It feels good to let go, to simply enjoy the moment without any worries.

Eventually, you and Soobin find yourselves walking hand in hand again, wandering away from the crowd to a quieter part of the festival. The lights are dimmer here, the sounds of the festivities fading into the background. You can feel the warmth of his hand in yours, the closeness between you more pronounced than ever.

“So… what’s the verdict?” you ask, glancing up at him with a teasing smile. “Still think the festival’s boring?”

He looks down at you, his gaze softening. “Maybe it’s not so bad,” he concedes, his thumb rubbing slow circles on the back of your hand. “But only because you’re here.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the tension between you thickening as you come to a stop. The moment feels charged, like something is about to happen, and you find yourself leaning in closer, your breath hitching as his eyes flicker to your lips.

But before either of you can move, a voice interrupts the moment, shattering the intimacy between you.

“Y/N?”

The sound of your name, spoken in that familiar, deep voice, makes you freeze. You turn slowly, your heart dropping into your stomach as you see him—your ex-boyfriend, standing just a few feet away.

He looks almost the same as he did the last time you saw him, tall and handsome with that same confident aura that used to draw you in. But now, all you feel is a cold dread pooling in your chest.

“Daehyun…” you breathe, barely able to get the word out.

His eyes flick from you to Soobin, who is still holding your hand, his expression hardening as he takes in the sight. There’s a tense silence, the air between the three of you crackling with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

“So, this is why you left Seoul?” Daehyun’s voice is sharp, accusatory, as he steps closer. “To play house in some small town with your high school friend?”

Soobin stiffens beside you, his grip on your hand tightening. “Watch it,” he warns, his voice low and dangerous.

But Daehyun ignores him, his gaze fixed on you. “I thought we were going to work things out, Y/N. But instead, you just… ran away?”

You feel a pang of guilt, the old wounds reopening at his words. But then you remember why you left in the first place—the lies, the betrayal, the hurt he caused you. The memories flood back, and with them, a surge of anger and resolve.

“I didn’t run away, Daehyun,” you say, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “I left because you fucking cheated on me! Last time I checked, you didn’t want me anyway. Why are you even here?”

Daehyun’s expression falters, the confidence slipping for a moment. But then he scoffs, shaking his head and entirely avoiding your question. “You’re really going to throw away everything we had for… this?”

Before you can respond, Soobin steps in front of you, blocking Daehyun’s view. “She doesn’t owe you an explanation,” he says, his tone firm. “So why don’t you leave her alone?”

Before you can respond, Beomgyu and Ryujin arrive, their expressions shifting from carefree to protective in an instant as they assess the situation.

“Is there a problem here?” Beomgyu’s tone is light but laced with an underlying threat as he steps up beside Soobin, crossing his arms over his chest. Ryujin moves to your other side, her presence a comforting shield as she glares at Daehyun.

Daehyun scoffs, turning his attention back to you. “You’re really going to let them speak for you now? Is this what you’ve become?”

���Leave her alone, Daehyun,” Ryujin snaps, her eyes blazing with anger. “You’re not welcome here.”

For a moment, Daehyun looks like he might argue, but the combined glares of Soobin, Beomgyu, and Ryujin seem to weigh on him. He shakes his head, muttering something under his breath, and reluctantly takes a step back. “This isn’t worth it,” he mumbles, his gaze flickering to Soobin. “Have fun Y/N.”

With that, he finally turns and walks away, disappearing into the crowd, leaving a suffocating tension in his wake. 

As soon as Daehyun is out of sight, the energy shifts. The air feels heavy, charged with everything left unsaid between you and Soobin. He stands there, his hand still resting on your shoulder, but the warmth that once comforted you now feels like a burning reminder of the distance that’s crept between you in just a few short moments.

You search his face for some kind of reassurance, something to tell you that everything is okay between you. But all you find is a flicker of something—regret, maybe?—in his eyes before he steps back, dropping his hand to his side.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he says quietly, his voice barely audible above the festival noise. He’s looking anywhere but at you, his usual confidence and ease replaced by a discomfort that twists painfully in your chest.

“Wait, Soobin, you don’t have to—” you start, reaching out to stop him, but he’s already shaking his head, taking another step back.

“I need to go,” he mutters, the words clipped and hurried. “I’ll… I’ll see you around.”

And with that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with your hand half-raised, the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. You watch his retreating figure, your heart pounding in your ears as the reality of what just happened sinks in.

When he disappears from sight, the weight of it all crashes down on you. Your knees feel weak, and you stumble to the nearest bench, dropping onto it as the tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over. You bury your face in your hands, the sobs wracking your body as the emotions you’ve been trying so hard to keep in check burst free.

You’re so caught up in your grief that you don’t notice Ryujin and Beomgyu returning until Ryujin’s voice cuts through the fog of your thoughts.

“Y/N?” Ryujin’s voice is laced with concern as she kneels beside you, her hand rubbing gentle circles on your back.

Beomgyu stands awkwardly to the side, his usual playful demeanor replaced by a worried frown. “Y/N, you don’t have to cry over him,” he says, trying to sound comforting. “Daehyun’s not worth it.”

You shake your head, unable to find the words to correct them. They think you’re crying because of Daehyun, that seeing him brought all the pain of your breakup to the surface. But it’s not Daehyun you’re crying over—it’s Soobin. It’s the way he looked at you like he couldn’t bear to be near you, like something had shifted irreparably between you, and the way he just left without a second glance, leaving you feeling more alone than ever.

But how can you explain that to them when you’re just now understanding it yourself? 

The realization hits you like a truck and you suddenly jump up, slightly unsteadily on your feet. But it’s not really a realization after all. It’s something you’ve known deep down for a while. Forever, it feels like.

The world feels like it’s spinning, your thoughts tangled in a whirlwind of panic and desperation. You can barely hear Ryujin and Beomgyu’s voices through the haze of your own mind, their concerned words just background noise to the single, overwhelming thought that suddenly consumes you.

You need to find Soobin.

The tears are still streaming down your face, but you don’t care. The only thing that matters right now is reaching him, before this suffocating tension between you turns into an unbearable distance.

“Y/N, where are you going?” Ryujin calls after you, but you’re already running, your heart pounding in time with your frantic footsteps. 

You don’t answer her, your feet moving faster than your thoughts. You’re driven by pure instinct, by the gnawing need to fix this before it’s too late. Before you lose him.

His house isn’t far—it never has been—and it’s that familiarity that drives you faster. The image of his retreating back is burned into your mind, propelling you forward through the dimly lit streets of the neighborhood. The sound of your breath is loud in your ears, mingling with the rapid beat of your heart as you round the final corner and see his house come into view.

His house is dark except for the porch light, and a flicker of doubt crosses your mind. What if he doesn’t want to see you? What if he won’t even open the door? But you can’t stop now, not when you’re so close. You run up to the door, and without hesitation, you start banging on it with all your strength.

“Soobin!” Your voice cracks as you call out his name, your fists pounding against the wood, the desperation in your voice echoing through the quiet night. “Soobin, please, open the door!”

For a moment, nothing happens, and your heart sinks with each second that passes. But then, you hear the sound of footsteps inside, followed by the slow creak of the door opening.

When Soobin’s face comes into view, your breath catches in your throat. He looks surprised, his hair slightly disheveled, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. His gaze immediately locks onto your tear-streaked face, and the shock deepens.

“Y/N?” He frowns, his eyes flicking over your smudged makeup and tear-stained cheeks. “What are you—are you okay? Did… did he do something else? I thought he left.”

His voice is soft, laced with worry, and the way he’s looking at you—like you’re fragile, like you might break at any moment—only makes the tears well up in your eyes again. But it’s not because of Daehyun. It’s because of him.

You shake your head, trying to find the words, but they all come out in a frantic rush, jumbled together with your raw emotions. “No, it’s not—it’s not Daehyun, Soobin. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your words, but you don’t give him a chance to respond. The words pour out of you, all the things you’ve been holding back for so long, spilling over in your desperation to make him understand.

“I don’t care about Daehyun,” you continue, your voice trembling with the force of your feelings. “I never did, not the way I care about you. I dated him because I was trying to get away from these feelings, because I was scared of how much I liked you, because I thought… I thought maybe if I was with someone else, it would go away. But it didn’t. I just made everything worse.”

Soobin’s expression shifts from confusion to something softer, something that almost breaks your heart all over again. He opens his mouth to say something, but you’re not done yet.

“I thought I could just… run away from it, from you, by moving to Seoul, by throwing myself into a relationship that I didn’t even really want, but it was all a lie. Everything with Daehyun was just a distraction, a way to pretend like I didn’t want to be with you. But I did. I do.” You take a shaky breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you finally say the words that have been eating away at you for so long. “Soobin, I like you. I like you so much it hurts, and I’ve been pretending that I don’t for so long that I almost convinced myself it was true.”

There’s a silence that follows your confession, the kind that feels like it stretches on for an eternity. You can’t bear to look at him, to see the rejection you’re sure is coming, but you can’t look away either. 

Soobin doesn’t speak right away, his eyes searching your face, and you wonder if you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life. The silence between you is thick with tension, every second that passes weighing heavily on your chest.

Finally, he reaches out, his hand hesitating just inches from your cheek. When he finally cups your face, his touch is so gentle that it sends a shiver down your spine. His thumb brushes away a stray tear, and when he speaks, his voice is soft, almost disbelieving. “You… like me?”

You nod, unable to find your voice, your heart beating so loudly that you’re sure he can hear it.

For a moment, he just looks at you, his expression unreadable, and you brace yourself for the worst. But then, slowly, a small, almost tentative smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“You idiot,” he murmurs, his tone affectionate, even as his words make your breath hitch. “You really thought I wouldn’t feel the same?”

Before you can even process what he’s saying, he’s pulling you inside, the door shutting behind you with a quiet click. The next thing you know, his hands are framing your face, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart stutter.

Then, without another word, he’s kissing you, and it’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more. The kiss is desperate, hungry, like he’s been waiting for this moment just as long as you have. His lips move against yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulls you closer, as if he can’t get enough.

You respond with equal intensity, your hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between you. Every pent-up emotion, every unspoken word, every lingering touch that you’ve shared over the years is poured into this kiss, and it’s overwhelming in the best way possible.

His hands slide down to your waist, gripping you tightly as he deepens the kiss, his lips and tongue exploring yours with a desperation that mirrors your own. It’s like everything else fades away—Daehyun, the fight with your mom, all the pain and confusion you’ve been carrying with you. All that matters is Soobin, his touch, his warmth, the way he’s holding you like you’re the most important thing in the world.

Soobin doesn't waste any time. His hand finds yours, fingers lacing together as he pulls you deeper into the house, the intensity between you building with every step. His other hand never leaves your waist, his thumb brushing back and forth in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

Your heart pounds in your chest as he leads you through the familiar hallway, your breaths coming faster with each second. The anticipation crackles between you, a living thing that makes your skin tingle and your pulse race. His grip on your hand tightens when you reach his room, and without breaking the kiss, he pushes the door open, guiding you inside.

The moment the door shuts behind you, his lips are on yours again, more desperate this time, as if he can't bear to be apart from you for even a second. He walks you backward toward the bed, his hands sliding from your waist up to your shoulders, then back down to your hips, pulling you closer until you're pressed against him.

Your back hits the edge of the bed, and he nudges you down onto it, his hands cupping your face as he hovers over you. His kiss is relentless, stealing your breath away as he leans in closer, his body pressing against yours with just enough weight to make you feel grounded in this moment.

You respond eagerly, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as you arch up into him. Every touch, every kiss, is like a spark of electricity, igniting something deep within you. His lips trail down to your jaw, then to your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he presses soft, lingering kisses there. Each touch makes you melt further into the bed, your hands roaming over his back, feeling the solid muscle beneath your fingertips.

Soobin's breath hitches as you slide your hands up under his shirt, your fingers tracing the lines of his toned body. He pulls back just enough to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before his lips find yours again, his kiss more heated, more urgent than before. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that makes your toes curl, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every inch of you as if he's been waiting for this moment forever.

You lose yourself in him, in the way he touches you, the way he whispers your name against your lips like a prayer. The world outside his room fades away until it's just the two of you, tangled together in a mess of sheets and emotions. Every touch, every kiss, feels like a confession, an unspoken promise that this is just the beginning of something more.

“No more running,” he murmurs against the crown of your head, breathing in your scent he only could dream of being able to fully take in.

A smile curves its way onto your lips and you smile against his gentle touch, nodding as though there was not a single better thing he could suggest. Because there is nothing you would rather do than stay right here, the very place where a piece of you has always been and where you’ve always belonged.

thank you for reading! <3

[coralinnii]

❋ Crushing on a game character ❋ ↳ bonus: he kinda reminds you of your bf feat ⎸Leona ⭑ Azul ⭑ Jack ⭑ Kalim genre ⎸fluff, humour note ⎸no pronouns used with reader, established relationships, reader is kinda oblivious and scatterbrained. 

part one

Ugghh, the disgusted looks this man would give. Stop, I can’t handle the judgemental stares! 

Jokes aside, Leona’s not really going to care too much. It’s your life so you can like whatever you want so long as it doesn’t bother him. 

He may look like he isn’t listening to you as you gush about your ult fav, but he’s listening enough to get the gist of this fictional character that seems to capture your attention. 

“He sounds like a real jerk. You got some weird taste” 

“He’s actually a good guy, I swear!” 

“Well, for a good guy he sure acts like an as-“ 

Am I getting too meta on this?

Despite his supposed indifference, he pays enough attention to notice some similarities appearance-wise between him and your favorite character and of course he had to point it out at any given chance. 

“Can’t get your mind off of me, can ya?”

He can sleep through your gaming and your giggling well enough, and at the end of the day he’s the one that gets to have you in his arms as you fall asleep after a long gaming session.

But soon, you started buying some merch. At first, it was just some photo cards and keychains so it’s nothing too crazy. He almost can’t believe that people would actually spend time and money collecting those kinds of things. But when he realized that he could quell your anger a lot better now by handing you merch he made Ruggie get, he can’t complain about an easy out. 

Then the bigger stuff started coming in, and Leona starts to notice that this fictional bastard is taking more than just space in your phone. He doesn’t like sharing what’s his, fictional or not.

“You can’t be serious” 

Your lips curled into a pout as you glanced back at your new purchase that somehow offended Leona for some reason. “What? It looks cool, doesn’t it?” 

Leona doesn’t agree as he stood face to face with the monstrosity sitting on your desk.

A giant figurine of a certain character he’s starting to think he’s seeing way too much of.

It was a detailed piece with decor and props surrounding the character, showing off more of its 3D splendor. The smug expression on the figure, regardless if simply painted on, made Leona growled under his breath as it rubbed him the wrong way.

Your beastman boyfriend was waiting for you in his bedroom when the school day was done, expecting some quality time with his mate. Instead, he was practically left forgotten when you heard that a package was dropped off for you and you were excited to unbox your long-awaited splurge. Leona finally got your attention when he unceremoniously burst through your bedroom doors to find you rearranging your desk to fit your new figure.

“The damn thing is takin’ up your whole desk,” Leona sneered down at the piece of clay as though it offended his honor. “And it’s ugly as hell” 

“How dare you! He’s a masterpiece!” Leona felt a vein tense on his forehead. Did you really have to call it a he? “Besides, I still have space on my desk and just looking at him while I study relaxes me” 

As if to prove your point, you bent down to gaze at your new figure and a fond smile immediately found its place on your face. You playfully tapped the top of your character’s head, giddy as you took in the well-crafted design of the model. 

Leona on the other hand, can only feel a headache forming as he has to watch his lover go gaga over a cheap piece of clay (cheap to him, maybe!). It’s one thing to have your attention away from him when you're gaming, but he’s not gonna fight with a freaking toy for your loving looks outside of that. He’s the boyfriend here. 

You felt yourself pulled back by your collar, making you fall backwards unceremoniously onto your bed. You wanted to get up but Leona immediately joined you, trapping you as he laid his body atop of you, wrapping both his arms and his tail to keep you in his hold. He didn’t say anything but you could see his flattened ears and a sour expression across his face. 

“Do you really not like it?” You asked him, carefully caressing his head in hopes to ease his tense ears. Leona tried to ignore your question but one glance at your worried look just wouldn’t let him. 

“It’s fine… now stop talkin’ and just sleep already.” Quickly snuffing the conversation, Leona pulled you close to rest his head on you, being lulled by your heartbeat. Leona isn’t gonna tell you to stop if you really like this stuff, but his time with you is not negotiable. 

His first thought was how obsessi- I mean passionate you must be. 

Though, having been around Idia and even Jade long enough, Azul wouldn’t be that surprised as he assumed that this sort of infatuation with such a trivial thing is not something uncommon. Not something he would do but not surprised if you have something you like to such an extent. 

Azul would be curious and have many questions about your fixation. What’s enticing you so? How is it addicting for you? How can he possibly market on this- 

Being a doting partner, Azul would let you play your game in his office while he works on some paperwork. But Azul would secretly listen to you as you gush about the game and your favorite character. 

And I mean, ACTUALLY listen. He remembers your expressions as you ramble about that character’s favorite food or how good he looks in his new “skin” as you call it. He’s very attentive and he does find your goofy smiling very cute. 

But if this goes on, Azul might start to get worried. Is this character perhaps your ideal type all along? This suave and admittedly well-designed game character better suits your fancy than anything or anyone else. 

Azul would start comparing himself to this fictional character and wondered…is that who you wanted? 

You were starting to worry about your boyfriend so you made your way to his office. He seemed to be a lot busier lately and you noticed there were more papers on his desk than the usual contracts and bills. However, whenever you near him Azul was quick to hide certain things on his desk from your sight which you tried to convince yourself that something like that should be expected considering the confidential documents he may have as an owner of an establishment. But the way he forces a tight-lipped smile when he does so…it leads your mind to upsetting thoughts.

Working to dispel those thoughts, you knocked on his door but there was no response. That was strange since Jade assured you that the Housewarden was in his office and Azul would always respond back from beyond the door. 

Your worries deepened, you carefully opened the door just slightly in case Azul was actually preoccupied with a client. Thankfully, you saw no one on the guest seats and when you pushed the door further, you noticed your fair-haired boyfriend slouched in his seat pouring over some papers, mumbling to himself. 

“Azul?” 

Your voice startled the merman as he flinched out from his trance, his hands accidentally scattering his papers off his desk and close to your feet. 

“Ah no, wait!” Azul yelled in panic but you already took a good look at what was printed on the sheets of paper. 

It was your current favorite from the game you’ve been playing, with facts taken from the game lore as well as from fan theories. There were also pictures of his CGs with special dialogues catered to the players. 

Upon closer inspection, you soon noticed written memos and certain sections highlighted on these fact sheets, all in Azul’s intricate handwriting. 

Light-colored attire… prince-like aesthetic 

Skilled with swords…athletic appeal? 

Potential date sites? Food-sharing ideas….Hand-holding opportunities…

Littered all over the papers were scribbles as such which made you initially assume that it was for research purposes only. However, between these notes were details about you which made you rethink that assumption. 

You saw your personal interests, your food preferences, whether you would enjoy such date scenarios. Notes pondering if you would enjoy such a thing or if you find this attractive on Azul. 

Your boyfriend must have gone through so many websites, forums, and postings to find this much information without playing the game. Heck, you recognized some of these CGs from mini events that weren’t promoted as much as others. All this detailed research…you smiled at how adorably Azul-like of him. 

Azul eventually built his courage to break the awkward silence. “I can explain, my dear” 

You raised your brow but nodded. “Ok”

“I became intrigued by your fixation of this game and decided on checking on myself the appeals of this game” Azul pushed his glasses to cover his nervous countenance. “I must say, I am quite impressed with the details this company puts into their characters. Perhaps I can find some way to implement these elements into Mostro Lounge as a limited time event” 

You couldn't help but chuckle seeing Azul trying to compose himself, but the flushing of his pale skin betrays him. “I see. Well needless to say, I agree with your thoughts from what I can see, especially the date scenarios”

Your tease successfully flustered your Azul even more, but you want to fluster your cute lover further “While I do like the aesthetic of the handsome, princely type…” 

Azul watched you approach him at his desk, wary of the cheeky look on your face. Smiling, you proceeded to surprise him with a kiss on his face, teasingly close to his beauty mark. 

“…I like the very cute and clever merman better” 

How skilled you are to turn an octopus boiling red without fire.

Very confused. He understands that people have their own preferences and interests but he’s just…so, so confused. 

He supports you and your passions but you will have to explain the concepts like “simping” and “biases” to him. Very much a normie, but a supportive one. 

He makes sure that you balance your gaming life with your personal life, which means no late night gaming, no 3AM game check-ins, and he paces your grinding sessions with breaks. 

We don’t deserve him 

He would notice that your favorite character seems to be a beastman like him, but doesn’t connect the reason why you would be so infatuated with this silent wolf-like character in particular. 

Such a coincidence they look similar to each other, huh… 

He would chastise you if you get too absorbed into the game but he does respect your dedication and your gaming knowledge. 

If you offer, he wouldn’t mind trying out the game you love so much just so he can understand your interest better. 

“Ughh, I lost” 

You laughed as you watched your tall boyfriend groan, ruffling his hair in frustration. Jack decided to finally try out your new obsession and after a quick crash-course explanation from you, Jack tried his hand at the battle portion of the game. It ended unfortunately in his defeat as all his players died and the screen on your phone darkened. 

“You were really good for your first time, though” you tried to cheer him up. “Sometimes it just comes down to luck” 

You could tell however that Jack was still bummed about his loss, his tail slowly flicking around and his ears flattening on his head. 

“This is actually pretty tough” Jack grumbled under his breath, not realizing how complicated the game mechanics were. “I always thought you were amazing with how good you were at this game but wow…” 

“This man, complimenting me like it’s nothing…” 

Trying to cover your flustered expression, you crawled over to your boyfriend who was currently sitting down. Gently, you pushed his arms in order to climb onto his lap, your back resting against his chest which flinched upon your touch. You took back your phone from Jack’s hands. 

“Here, I’ll show you some stuff to boost your chances” you looked to your boyfriend, who went suspiciously quiet…quieter than usual. “Jack?” 

You could feel how Jack immediately stiffened at his name before he slightly yelled out his response “Right, got it!” 

Stifling your laugh, you made yourself comfortable as you continued with your gaming. Although, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling when you felt a pair of muscular arms wrapping around your waist, and a fluffy tail resting on your legs.   

Another clueless but supportive partner. 

Kalim’s really glad you have something you really love and is happy to hear you talk for hours about anything and everything related to the game and your favorite game character. 

“He can do that? Wow!” “What? That’s such a sad story, poor guy!” 

He understands why you would like this character, seeing how jovial and sweet-natured your ult fav seem to be. 

“What a real nice guy, you must really like these types of guys, huh?”

“Yea…guess I do” 

He’ll go to conventions with you, even wait in long lines with you, and listen to fan theories while not understanding a single thing, all because seeing you so happy is worth it.

You will have to be the one with self-control because the moment Kalim finds out there’s merch out there, he’s buying them without hesitation. 

Even the less…subtle merchandise out there 

“Kalim…where did you get this?” 

“Do you like it? I saw this while searching for stuff you might like” 

You questioned what Kalim thought of you if he assumed that this would be something you like, because you’re faced with a large body pillow of your bias character laying on your bed, with your boyfriend joyously showing it off. The picture printed on the cover showcased your favorite character in a cute pose, which you were honestly grateful for because you wouldn’t know the best reaction to have if Kalim bought a less than school-friendly image. 

“It’s…wow” despite the insanity of the situation, you started to smile in amusing absurdity “I mean…I never thought I would have the chance to hold a body pillow, let alone have a cute looking one” 

Kalim, oblivious as ever, grinned as he assumed you were happy with his purchase “Right?! I heard from some people at the convention that pillows like these were really popular!” 

Ah, so that’s where he learned about this side of the fandom. Kalim is such an easy guy to talk with so he would occasionally start conversations with other convention attendees despite being a “normie”, so to speak. 

“I managed to get one commissioned with the fluffiest pillow I could get.” Grabbing the pillow, Kalim proudly held it out in front of you. “Here, feel it!” 

You did what your boyfriend asked, and your eyes widened at luxurious sensations under your fingertips. “Holy crap, this is so soft! And the picture quality is super good too” 

Any experience or expectations you had about body pillows is now blown out of the park as you can’t imagine anything ever beating the softness and quality of this body pillow. Heck, your regular pillows can’t be compared to the feeling of heaven you’re feeling. 

Kalim grinned at you, satisfaction and joy clear on his cute face. Gently, the tanned man pulled you onto your bed, making you lay onto the mattress with your boyfriend and your new body pillow. Wrapping his arms around you, you were now sleeping between the Housewarden and your printed-out ult bias. 

“See, even if I can’t be here, you still have something with you when you’re tired” Kalim’s ruby eyes shined with affection. “Though I don’t ever want to leave your side, I wanna make sure you’re never alone even if I can’t be with you”    

Internally screaming, you swore to protect this cinnamon roll.

[thisismeracing]

Charlieverse | CL16

― Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader ― Word count: 2.1k ― Warnings: mentions of alcohol and Halloween costumes (clowns, werewolves, and others).  ― Summary: When Yn decided to go to a Halloween party with her best friend, Charles Leclerc, she did not consider that some of the fantasies would be so close to reality that they would terrify her. But one thing Yn had no idea about too, was Charles’ feelings for her. All Hallow’s Eve is not the most romantic scenario to confess your feelings, but it might be just the perfect one for them.

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There are many sayings about how sharing is caring, and how life feels bigger and better when you do so.

Charles knew this all too well.

He was used to sharing everything with you since he was a kid.

It all started after you forgot your snack at home. He was only five years old then, but he had two brothers so he knew exactly what to do. Little Charles offered to share his bag of colored goldfish and grapes with you. The next day you shared your coloring pencils with him. It started with simple things, and it grew as you both grew older. All through the school years, Charles and you were inseparable, even with his crazy racing schedule. You would take notes for him, he would bring you stories, and you would study together until late hours. You shared your fears, deepest feelings, and even the shame of being underdressed when invited to a party such as now.

“I had no idea people would go this hard,” you state, watching as the Taxi driver came to a halt in front of the big doors. Gathered in front of the mansion were people dressed as all kinds of gore Halloween beings, some of the makeup seeming too real to your liking.

“We can go back home and change if you want,” there’s Charles' tranquil voice. He is always the one to keep his patience even if the world is ending, and you love that about him.

You shake your head, “We would never find something else in time, plus, we’re together, so… here’s to another good story,” you point to your matching costumes, and Charles smiles.

You’re both wearing Spiderman costumes. Though it felt like the best choice, the easiest one, you should have guessed it was too easy and, therefore, not ideal.

Charles gives you one last wink before putting on his mask. You do the same just as he opens the door for you, and hand in hand you walk through the crowd into the house. You cling to your best friend’s arm trying to stay as far away as possible from some of the costumes.

“You sure you’re ok over there?” Charles asks when you’re halfway to the kitchen, and you tighten your grip on his hand.

You nod, “Yeah, just.. That werewolf costume seems too realistic.” And there’s no need for you to explain to him. He knows you like he knows the back of his hand, his favorite track, his most played song. Charles knows that someone planted a seed of fear about some creatures when you were little, and some of the stories have stayed with you even after you grew. It is a bit curious how despite your fears, you still love Halloween, at least the kind of parties you go to where people will dress in a way that clearly shows that they are human beings and meant no harm.

Were you supposed to guess that a certain crazy clown costume was a mere costume after seeing people being killed by those?

You wouldn’t stay to answer that question.

When you finally reach the kitchen, both of you take off the mask to your friends, hugging and making your rounds. Charles grabs you two a drink and you choose to stay there instead of mingling and risking bumping into scary figures.

“Can you get me another of these?” You mouth to Charles pointing at your empty cup. From across the kitchen, he nods, and a few seconds later he’s in front of you with a full cup.

“They were out of ice, is it ok if we share this one?” he asks over the music and you nod. You’re sitting on the counter, and when Charles turns to your friends he stands right between your legs. One of your hands goes to his shoulders, and you keep talking about your costume as if your heart weren’t hammering inside your ribcage, almost coming out from your throat the second his hand finds your knee, holding it so your anxious bounce can cease.

You gulp trying to keep your attention on whatever your friend is talking about because all your mind can focus on is your best friend’s hand on you, his body radiating warmth into yours. And not that it is unusual for Charles to touch it, quite the opposite, he loves to hug and kiss those he cares about, but it’s just lately your heart seemed to wish for a different kind of sharing.

It wants to share the secret touches. It wants to claim hungry kisses, tears of happiness, loud silences, and whispered mysteries. It is as if your heart created a reality where you had all of this with Charles.

Your own Charlie-verse.

The party keeps going in full swing, and Charles never leaves your side for over thirty minutes. He comes and goes always checking if you’re ok and if you want to go with him, but you choose the safety of the counter and your crowd of friends. The conversation is good, and so is the booze, from the kitchen you can see a bit of the living room and the pool area through the glass doors.

And it’s only when part of the girls decide to go dancing that you hop off the counter, and grab Charles’ hands following him in the direction of another crowd of friends. You’re tipsy enough to lace your fingers with his and to tighten your grip when you pass people dressed as clowns, werewolves, and with fake open wounds.

You end up in the pool area in front of Charles, he holds your body protectively against his, while his other hand has a cup you’re still sharing. The conversation is between the group, but every once in a while something will catch his attention and he’ll whisper about it in your ear, to which you’ll slightly turn your head, chuckle, and then answer him.

Though you felt a bit out of place at first with how everyone’s costumes seemed so extra compared to yours, you and Charles have had a lot of fun. So much so that you have given up going back home and decided to share a cab to his apartment.

Half of the ride a tipsy Charles is lecturing you with his “I told you so” about how he suggested you slept at his place and you denied it before the party. You just rest your head on his shoulder and pretend you are listening to his non-stop rant.

As it happens, the driver seems a bit uninterested in Charles’ rant because he turns the music on, and the last song that starts playing when he makes the curve into Charles’ street is Michael Jackson. You shriek and start jumping on the car seat.

“Chérie, it’s late,” your best friend tries to reason, but you just giggle.

“You have soundproof walls.”

“But not windows,” he tries again, and you playfully roll your eyes before getting out of the car wishing the driver a good night.

“Annie, are you okay?” you start to sing as you reach the elevators, and Charles just fakes a sigh, holding you close by the waist.

“So, Annie, are you okay? Are you okay, Annie?” you sing loudly until you reach the penthouse.

“Love, that’s not Smooth Criminal’s dance, that’s Thriller…” Charles holds back his laughter when you start a made-up choreography in his living room. “Oh mon dieu, you’re so precious.”

You giggle, smacking a loud kiss on his warm cheeks. While you make your track to the bathroom Charles goes to the kitchen.

“I’m using the guest bathroom! Go shower on the main one, you stinky!” you scream from the corridors and you hear his scoff, almost able to picture his eye roll.

You go through your shower on autopilot, brushing your teeth, and reaching for one of Charles’ shirts that are on the guest bedroom bed. Your visits have been so frequent you have everything you need there, but tonight you didn’t want one of your pajamas, you want to indulge in the daydream that your mind is harnessing.

When you reach your favorite Monegasque bedroom you can hear the shower still running, so you settle in the middle of his bed, staring at the ceiling. Somewhere in your head, there’s still music playing and your body seems to have kept a bit of the buzzing from the party. The distant noises coming from the open windows, along with the wind hitting the curtains lull you into a soft slumber, that only goes away when a door closes, you guess it's his closet, you smell his body wash and shampoo before he steps close to you.

There’s too much happening inside your head, so you choose to stay in silence while your best friend watches you attentively, eyes finding yours in a beat.

Charles, on the other hand, doesn’t have much in his head. He only has you. Your smell, your laugh, your voice, your body on his bed wearing his shirt.

“You’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen,” his mouth works faster than his brain does, and just like that you’re staring at him in confusion.

It’s like his brain is shortcircuited.

Charles gets up from the bed.

He walks to the door, then turns around and comes back to your side. There’s a crease between his brows and you have known him long enough to identify it as worry.

“Sharls, what’s going on?”

“I’m not drunk ok? Before you say anything, I’m not drunk, I’m just tipsy like you,” he starts and you nod from your spot on the bed. “I am so sorry, but I have to tell you this, and I’ll completely understand if you don’t feel the same, but I have to take this out of my chest, Yn.”

Sensing how serious the situation is you sit up, legs crossed one over the other, hands tucked under them.

“I- uhm… See- It’s like this, I-”

“Charles,” you call.

“I’m in love with you,” he spills in a single sentence, but then he keeps going. “I love you so fucking much it’s starting to hurt the fact that I’ve been keeping it from you. And I don’t even know when it started, but I’m so used to sharing everything with you, I just.. I wanted us to share more. I wanted to share my bed with you, and my clothes, and-” he points with his fingers before you could say something, “And I know we already share those things, but I want to do it differently. I want to share romantically. I want to share my heart with you, Chérie, all of it. But I’ll understand if you’re confused or overwhelmed by my outburst, in fact… shit… I should have waited in case you wanted to go home right? Please, tell me that if you don’t feel the same you’ll at least get the farthest guest bedroom, I promise I won’t bother you, we’ll pretend it didn’t happen in the morning and I-”

“No,” you interrupt.

“Pardon?”

“I said no, I won’t sleep in the farthest guest bedroom.”

“Oh- then let me drive you, just…– fuck I can’t I drank… uhm I’ll–”

“No, Charles, stop,” you get on your knees on the mattress and reach for his arm, bringing his body close to yours.

“No, I’m not sleeping in the guest bedroom because we’re sharing a bed tonight. No, I’m not mad about your admission, I’m sharing my heart with you too. Romantically,” you confess.

His shoulders drop in relief, and you giggle, threading your fingers on his soft strands. Charles mutters something you can’t understand because you’re too focused on how his face seems different from this angle, after all the confessed words. He’s still your Charles, but he’s also a new Charles, and this knowledge brings a new feeling to your heart and stomach.

When his lips find yours, soft and warm, a contrast with his cold hands on your jaw and waist, he presses your bodies closer and hums in pleasure. You smile, unable to contain your happiness. He kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before, and when the air has made itself scarce, you part the kiss, foreheads still touching.

“So, Charlie, are you okay? Are you okay, Charlie?”

Charles throws his head back and laughs.

He knows how insufferable you could get once a song gets stuck in your head.

“I was struck down. You’re such a smooth criminal, Chérie. Stealing hearts around so easily.”

It is your turn to laugh.

“That was cheesy, but I loved it,” you mumble before pressing a kiss to his jaw. “I love you.”

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, lovelies! I hope you liked the piece, I wanted to add a huge shout-out to Delia (@struggling-with-delia on Tumblr) for proof and beta-reading this <3.  Let me know your thoughts on this piece *mwah*.  

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘

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©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.  

[malarign]

minimalistic life

contains: bf!Heeseung x gn!reader | genre: fluff | tw! none | wc: 0,3k

author’s note: i didn’t intend to post this one,, at first it was supposed to be very neutral: no names, no genders assigned. but because life has been pretty hectic recently, i decided to post it as a belated birthday present for our ace heeseung! ALSO huge thank you to @welcometomyoasis for beta reading!! <3

You never truly needed more than one piece of anything. You didn’t have friends who you would drink coffee with, so no second mug was a necessity. Neither was the second pillow since you needed only one to sleep comfortably.

Your apartment was almost empty since your stuff didn’t take up much space. You didn’t really mind, since you didn’t spend much time at home. Usually after lectures and other classes you studied some more in the cafe next to your university or read books in the library.

Somehow, you never felt the need to try and find your person. Being intimate has always been something very mysterious for you, if not even mystic. Especially since you never shared your life with another soul. It was always just you, in your minimalistic apartment, living your minimalistic and peaceful life.

That was until someone had appeared in your life. A very special someone.

At first, it scared you. You were doing just fine alone, but now there’s another person to take care of. Wouldn’t it be too much for you?

The answer was very simple: no. Because loving Heeseung is and always will be easy for you. All those small things made such a drastic change in everything that surrounded you.

Another bigger pair of shoes next to the front door. Another mug that never experienced being filled with something other than a strong coffee he loves. Another two pillows since one is not enough for him to sleep comfortably. More spices that you never thought of using. More clothes that you could wear, especially during cold winter nights.

Thanks to him, your minimalistic apartment became lively with warm laughter, the smell of his favorite meals, and soft music to which you danced every evening.

All while your minimalistic life was finally filled with love and anticipation of coming back home and seeing another pair of shoes near the entrance.

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

taglist: (open) @nicholasluvbot, @en-chantedtomeetyou, @skzenhalove, @kpoprhia, @redm4ri, @yenqa, @heesitation, @edensgardenn

[moossings]

drawn in

the f1 mafia au that no one asked for and won't leave my brain at all. mainly charlos, but featuring most of the grid and ex drivers. i've been worldbuilding with @5ainz (bless for bearing with me) and in between drawings and character sheets, i ventured to write this tiny snippet to hype myself (and be less scared of writing). if you read this, thank you and enjoy! ✨

-

“You shouldn't be here.”

Carlos’ eyes don’t move from the painting. The Death of the Virgin, by Caravaggio. He smiles to himself, shaking his head. He wouldn’t expect less from the Rosso Corsa, always proud and ready to show off their legacy. Come to think about it, everything in his life was linked to red somehow. And at the same time, inevitably, to the wounds it left.

“Are you going to kick me out, altezza reale? Like a bad behaved dog?” He does turn his head then. His tone is supposed to be mocking, but the moment brown eyes meet green, his resolution falters.

Charles Leclerc, composed as ever, stands on the door, as if he had just closed it. Carlos swears he hears the lock turn as well, but his mind is rather busy tracking every single hair out of place, from the top of his head to the strands scattering on his forehead. His gun feels heavy where it rests in its holster under his jacket.

“And aren’t you the most loyal one? Fernando must be proud.” Charles leaves the door to stand next to Carlos, shoulders almost brushing but not close enough. It’s their thing, throw knives and dodge, push and pull. The Inspector’s little prince and the right hand of the Spanish Samurai.

The silence between them is not awkward, but it feels tense in the same way the air is charged right before a storm. They look at the painting, but the details they recollect are not the brushstrokes or perspective of the piece. It’s the subtle hints of cologne coming off Charles’ skin when he tilts his head, following the lines of the old wood on the frame instead of the ones of Carlos’ perfectly tailored suit. It’s the flex on Carlos’ clenched fists as his mind repeats over and over how very not good it would be to reach and find out how Charles’ hands feel with their fingers laced.

“Did you know,” Carlos says, his voice almost a whisper. “This painting was rejected by the patron who commissioned it. No one had ever painted the actual death of the Virgin, it was a dogma, and Caravaggio depicted her as mortal: pale, bloated and devoid of spirit.” He sighs and looks sideways at Charles, from under his lashes. “It is also said that Caravggio painted her after a prostitute, so maybe that was the real reason.”

Charles tries to school his features, to stop the smile from being evident, but those sweet dimples betray him. Time to stop pretending, it seems. “I didn’t know you were interested in art.” He turns to face Carlos fully, carefully studying the strong features he usually only catches in glimpses. He is setting the ground for truce, building the bridge.

Carlos chuckles, and it sounds tired. “Really? Don’t tell me Sebastian didn’t include it in my file. He used to be more thorough with his research, he is starting to slip.” But he still faces Charles, willing to meet him halfway. “There is a lot more that you couldn’t possibly know.”

“What if I wanted to find out? What would it take?” Charles takes a step forward. Carlos lets him.

“Stupidity. Recklessness. Naivety.” He counts with his fingers, brows furrowed but playful smirk. Charles can’t really tell which one he actually means. “Trust.”

“That sounds like a challenge, Sainz.” And Charles has never backed up from one. Today is not the day he’ll start.

He extends his hand and, in seconds, a warm bigger one takes it in a firm but soft grip.

“It’s Carlos.” A smirk draws up the corners of his full lips. “You are in for a ride, cariño.”

[plaest2k]

hey, im a young nz artist too and i like making comics/want to do something bigger when im older, and i think your stuff is genuinely so fucking cool. i love it so much. i was wondering how you pursued art after highschool, like did you go to art school? if so, where and what was that like, and if not, how’d you find the time to continue doing it? its always felt like my opportunities for a career in art specifically seem smaller living in nz, but idk your stuff inspires me to think otherwise. thank you :)

kia ora!!

thanks so much for asking, it's truly so flattering that a young nz artist would ask me for advice! <3 sadly i might not necessarily be the best person to ask...

First of all, it's been a loooooong time since i've been a young artist hahaha I'm 32. After high school, I studied architecture at university because, as you're probably aware, we don't really have art schools like our peers do overseas. But after studying for a few years, I had a major depressive episode and dropped out. After that, I ran away to Korea to teach english for a year before coming back to work in cafes for about 6 years. Back then I was pursuing a career in editorial illustration cause that's what all my favourite artists were doing but I didn't realise that it was a dying industry at the time and there weren't exactly lot of full-time professional artists here who could have warned me...

So after about 10 years of trying to piece together some kind of profession in illustration, I ended up looking for a tattoo apprenticeship which was looking pretty promising but my bosses turned out to be not-so-great people. I tried to keep tattooing on my own but that was around the time COVID hit which wasn't (and still isn't) great for a job that requires you meet face-to-face with a lot of people. So, since the pandemic began, I've just been subsisting off of jobseeker, chipping away at comics and the occasional illustration gig.

The whole experience had me perpetually burnt out for the past ~15 years and made me realise that art as a career really just shouldn't be a thing. Under capitalism, it requires either an embarrassing level of compromise, privilege or luck to pursue. All the household-name artists you know in NZ either come from privilege or got unbelievably lucky. I don't say this as a value judgment or anything, most of them are truly wonderful people, it's just what I've learned about them as colleagues who've worked together a few times over the years.

I don't fault anyone for wanting to pursue that, but if you want to make uncompromising art that makes you feel fulfilled, you can't stake your livelihood on it. Art is supposed to be a by-product of life well lived, not content to be sold.

It's why I'm making plans to go back to uni next year to switch careers into a cushy office job because, as you've observed, even if you still want to pursue this as a full-time career, opportunities for artists in Aotearoa is extremely limited.

Having said all that, there's still a lot of nuance to this whole thing that would take me too long to cover in a tumblr post, so if you'd like me to elaborate or anything or have more questions, you're more than welcome to contact me through my email: plaest2k@gmail.com!

And this offer extends to literally anyone who might be looking for advice or just wants to talk about art <3

Final thing: the thought of studying something else at college/ university and keeping your art as a hobby might sound bleak when you're young, but life is so much longer than you think. You might feel like you have limitless creativity and ideas at the moment but when it becomes your entire life, you burn through it all faster than you'd think. It's because you need fuel to inform what you make and you can't get that from just making art. Like I always say, art is a by-product of a life well lived; You need life-experiences; You need to love, hate, care, be hated and loved to make art and you can't do that if you're too busy to do any of that. Those 3 years you spend on a bachelors is nothing in comparison to a lifetime of staring at a blank page, agonizing over what to make next.

[dreaisgrayte]

Temptress

His hands were big, almost bigger than your chest. It was surprising the first time you looked at them, really looked at them. He was just sitting there, hand splayed out behind him to support his lean as he chatted with surrounding friends. His fingers added to the length, but the way the muscles made his hand look like a piece of art was something you’d never noticed about anyone else. Then, he’d glance over at you staring at his hands, curiosity getting the better of him. He noticed the way your eyes were half lidded, almost as if you were in a daze. 

“Y/n?” He felt his mouth say your name, but he didn’t mean to say it so loud. Now everyone was staring at the two of you. Your attention was now on his eyes, how vibrant they looked in the sun. A mix of red and yellow haze. 

“Yes?” You smile innocently, like you weren’t just thinking mostly devious thoughts about your friend’s hands. He glances at the small crowd and then back to you. 

“Would you like to come with me to get some snacks for everyone?” He gets up to stand, stretching out his arms in front of you. Was he always this built? 

“Uhh…” Your brain stops working as he smiles at you, a smile that lit up places that weren’t usually supposed to feel this way. “Sure…” You finally reply. His smile grows as he starts to walk toward the inner hallways of the building. You follow silently behind him, observing the way his stride was longer than yours. He suddenly stops and you nearly walk into his back. 

“Y/n.” He states firmly, turning to look at you. You’re confused now. What could he want?

“Yes?” You watch as he lifts his hand in front of your face. 

“Why were you staring at my hands so much?” He questions. You blink, then blink again. Huh? He noticed? Fuck.

“Well, uh, heh.” You glance to either side, wondering if you should just book it away from him. He almost seems to sense what you’re thinking of because he closes the distance between you. “What are you-?”

“I bet you I can take a guess.” He whispers. You furrow your brows, shaking your head slightly. He couldn’t possibly-no, he can’t know what you were thinking of. Right? You laugh awkwardly, trying to cover up how hot your body was getting. 

“You don’t need to do that-”

“You, y/n, are very vulgar.” He studies his fingers one by one and then moves his middle and ring finger down, meeting your gaze over his knuckles. A small gasp escapes your lips. “Do you want to tell me specifics, or should I make up my own story?” He smirks, stepping even closer to you. 

“Kyojuro…” At first you want to deny him the pleasure, but did you also want to deny yourself? “Meet me at my place later, then I’ll tell you exactly what to do.” 

“As you wish, temptress.”

[goest-and-fuckest-thyself]

✨Not Without You✨ No.4

🔥warnings🔥

All my works are 18+ I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR FAKE PAGES AND/OR RESPONSIBLE FOR ANYONE WHO READS MY CONTENT!!! LEGAL USERS BE ADVISED, I SHALL NOT BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR FALSIFICATIONS OF AGE ON THIS SIGHT! PLEASE DO NOT REPOST I DO NOT GIVE MY PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED ON OTHER SITES. SHARE ALL YOU WANT ON TUMBLR

CW: General adult themes, strong language, cursing, sexual themes and innuendo, mental health struggles, characters going through pain (a lil fluff for you guys this time🥰)

WC: 3,904

As much as Butcher refused to admit it, until we could figure out Birdie’s new mind control shit, we were on lockdown. We had barely made it back to the building before Hughie was skirting around us, keeping his distance like we were lions looking to eat his dumb, twink-ish ass.

Carrying Bird up the stairs and to the couch was easy enough, but as soon as I set her down, I heard the clicking. I sighed, making sure Bird would stay put on the cushions before turning to see Hughie with the Geiger counter pointed right at me.

The clicking hastened itself as my jaw clicked with tension and my fists balled themselves up. I could feel the flush of my face, turning pink with my rising anger. The fuck was wrong with this kid? Was me going off the rails all he could think about?

“Quit that shit,” I stalked forward, snatching the device out of Hughie’s hands and smashing it to the ground. The boy gave the broken pieces a wide eyed stare before his eyes shot a glare back at me. “We have bigger things to worry about besides my chest nuke.”

“That’s the problem, mate,” Butcher grumbled, coming to stand at Hughie’s side, “we weren’t supposed to have bigger issues.”

I rolled my eyes, taking a moment to turn in a small circle. Before I faced the men again, my eyes lingered on Birdie, her chest rising and falling steadily from her place on the couch. He had a point, we were supposed to help these assholes, and they’d let us live our lives. But now? With Butcher’s attitude toward us supes, I was sure he just added her name to his list. I rubbed my temples and turned back to give him a knowing look.

“She’s not on the list, Butcher,” I snapped, pointing an authoritative finger at him.

“Then you gotta get your girl under control, cause if she does that around a bunch of civilians and can’t control it,” his eyes flashed to Bird behind me, a glance so short if I blinked I would’ve missed it. “We don’t have a choice.”

I suppressed the growl that formed in my throat, unable to do anything about the sneer that formed on my lips. I jerked around, stomping away from him so I didn’t break his ass in half. I could smell the Temp V in his system, so maybe it would take some effort, but I needed him and his team to get my revenge. Our revenge.

I slumped down onto the coffee table, gently running my knuckles over Bird’s cheek. I heard Butcher climb the stairs before I studied her sleeping form. Her face had reappeared after she’d destroyed the sanctuary compound, back to that snowy skin dotted with a few beauty marks here and there. Birdie’s powers were telekinetic, not whatever psycho bullshit that was; it made me worry. If the Ivans could put a nuclear reactor in my chest, what could Vought have done to her? She said she didn’t remember, though now I suspected that was a blatant lie.

“You think she’s gonna be okay? She seemed really rattled earlier,” Hughie asked, looking down at Bird from behind the couch. I looked up momentarily to see his eyes holding a genuine concern before continuing my petting.

“I don’t know what the fuck they did to her, and I don’t think I will unless she tells me. I’ve never seen her like that…”

I could feel the boy’s eyes on me before he let out a small sigh and earned my attention again. He leaned with both arms lazily on the back of the couch, giving me that ‘gotta be honest’ look. “I know this is gonna sound rude at first, but you gotta hear it, man. You’re both a mess.” I rolled my eyes, leaning away from Bird and crossing my arms over my chest as he continued.

“But you’ve been more calm since she got here, I haven’t had to use the counter since the motel. I only did it tonight because I see how worried you are over Liz. The only time she wasn’t antsy and bitchy yesterday was when you showed up. You haven’t told her yet, have you?”

I scoffed at the kid, standing to round the living area and pour myself a drink from the bar cart in the corner. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about kid, but if you don’t shut it, you won’t be going on about much else.” He let out a sigh before coming to stand in front of me again.

“You think we can’t see it? We ALL see it, Ben, you love her. It’s been, what, 94 years of knowing her, and you still haven’t said it?” He chased me with his argument as I walked back toward the coffee table, rolling my eyes as I sucked down my whiskey.

“Why’s that any of your business, asshole?” I finally shot back at Hughie, “I’m here to take out the team, and fuck off back to Philly where she and I can be at peace. Whether that’s together or not.”

The boys eyes widened slightly at me before softening and giving a thoughtfully amused smirk. “You don’t know if she feels the same!”

My jaw clenched, and I rose my glass to point a finger at him, “Shut it,” I growled through grit teeth. As Hughie was about to counter, his words were left in his throat as Birdie let out a soft groan from her place below us.

I instantly crouched down, depositing my whiskey glass on the table behind me. Birdie’s eyes fluttered open, only to clamp them closed again with a wince as the light hit her eyes.

“You okay, sweetheart?” I asked lowly, barely above a whisper. She shook her head.

“Everyone needs to stop thinking so loud,” she mumbled, swiping a hand down her face before she squinted back up at me. “I can hear you all in my head.”

“Vought must’ve screwed with your DNA, mutated your genes to allow the brain to-“ my eyes shot to Hughie, cutting him off with a glare as he started to explain science-y shit for the millionth time this week. “Sorry. I’m gonna head to bed, hope you feel better Liz.”

The boy took his leave, also climbing the iron stairs to the bedrooms. As soon as I heard the door click shut, my hand was grasping for Bird’s.

“The fuck happened back there, Birdie? I’ve never seen you be so… cruel,” I asked gently, searching her blue eyes for any sign of that green energy I saw before.

“I-I don’t know. It’s been happening all week, since I met the team. I thought it was just the migraine, some whispers here and there. But yesterday, I heard full sentences come out of Hughie without him even opening his mouth. It all just compounded when we got to countess’ place,” she explained, just as lost as I was. “I blacked out as soon as her right wrist snapped.”

I sighed, hanging my head and squeezing her hand in my own. We had to figure this shit out before Butcher did it for us. What was I gonna do with her? I was always the fuck up, the gigantic mess that she had to follow after and clean up. I was the one that got us into trouble as kids, Birdie always coming up with clever lies and excuses to get us out of it. I couldn’t even make an excuse for her with this; I didn’t even know how.

I finally looked back up to see her eyes were welled with tears, a whimper being held back in her throat. “It hurts,” she finally whined, eyes clamping shut as the tears finally rolled down her cheeks. My heart squeezed as I watched her curl in on herself, gripping my hand like a lifeline she was afraid to let go of.

“I know, I’m sorrry,” I moved to sit next to her on the couch, pulling her into my lap. She finally let out a sigh, turning into my chest as I slightly rocked us back and forth. “I’m here, ya know. I’ll be here forever if you want.”

I didn’t have to look down to feel her nod against me, her small hands now clinging to my chest plate as she let her tears come in waves, sucking in shallow breaths and whimpering into my shoulder. I squeezed her just a bit tighter and leaned back into the cushions. We stayed there quietly, sniffles coming from Bird every once in a while before her breathing finally steadied. She closed her eyes and rested against me, letting me close my eyes and rest as well.

My body relaxed into hers, yet my mind raced with ten million questions, plans, and scenarios. How was I gonna help her? I could barely control myself. What happens if Butcher doesn’t hold up his end of our deal, and she gets fucked over because of it? What if-

“Ben,” Birdie’s tired British lilt snapped me from my heavy thoughts. Without opening her eyes, she reached up to my temple with her right hand, “Stop worrying. It’s really loud.”

As she said the words, I felt my mind quiet. All feeling of doubt and worry suddenly vanished with her touch, a sense of complete calm washing over me for the first time since I’d woken up. I turned to look down on her, jaw slightly slacked and eyes a tad wide. Bird finally opened her eyes to look up at me when she let her fingers fall away from my face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” she mumbled sheepishly, looking away from me to fiddle with her fingers and hide her gaze. I shook my head, my left forefinger and thumb coming to lift her chin to face me once more.

“No, it’s nice. Thank you,” I breathed, gazing down into those beautiful ocean blue eyes. I couldn’t help the turning of my head as Birdie stared back up with that confused expression I adored so much. It was innocent, one of quiet shock that made her eyes widen and her chest inflate with a deep breath. She looked almost concerned as I pressed my forehead to hers, breathing in her breath.

There was now only one thought in my head, the singular thought I was never able to control, not since my 21st birthday in nineteen forty. Not since Birdie raised a toast to me, praising all I’d done and how our friendship meant the world to her. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking that thought from the time she pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek, bidding me goodnight when I walked her to her apartment door. Since that night, I’d had one perpetual thought in my mind, and now, I knew she’d heard it.

“Ben-“

“You don’t have to say anything,” I practically pleaded with Bird, never leaving my place pressed against her. “You don’t have to…”

I couldn’t help myself, bringing my lips forward and taking hers in a gentle kiss. Instantly, my head filled with voices, hers, mine, others I didn’t recognise. A fire lit within my chest as I felt her press into me further, her delicate hand coming to clasp around my neck softly. I felt like I would melt in that moment, my whole body catching on fire and being doused in ice all at the same time. Finally, as Bird pulled away, taking a breath, the voices quieted, all except the ringing of my own. She then gazed back up to me.

“I love you too,” her unspoken words reverberated through my mind, quieting everything else once again.

My lips twitched upward in a wide smile, placing my forehead to hers once again with a contented sigh. I hadn’t felt this calm since before I got the V, a feeling I missed terribly. Now, my mind was quiet, nothing bustling around or causing a ruckus in my skull. Even some of my pain had subsided.

“I’ve wanted to say that since-“

“Your birthday at the Waldorf,” she giggled, gently brushing her nose against mine, arms now slung over my shoulders. “I heard you, just now.”

I leaned back, just to take her cheeks in my hands and stare into her eyes. “You’re my girl, always have been. No matter what or who I’ve done in the past, you’ve always been my number one.” She gave a small nod and leaned up to kiss me again. This one was languid and long, full of passion I’d only seen from her when she was writing.

“It’s quieter when I’m focused on you,” she whispered as she pulled away, laying herself back into my hold against my shoulder, sighing once again.

“Then focus on me,” I offered, rising from the couch with her draped over my arms. “You can focus on me as long as you need.”

I didn’t have to hear her answer to know she would agree, letting her lean into me fully as I opened my bedroom door. Bird giggled as I plopped her on the bed, earning a smile from me before I closed the door and locked it. She watched intently as I worked my armour and uniform off of myself, keeping only my black boxer briefs intact on my form. Her eyes went a little wider as I neared the bed, scanning up and down my abdomen and back to my face.

“What?” I asked, slipping into the covers before reaching for her shoulder and unclipping her fibulae.

A rose hue springs to her cheeks, hiding her gaze as I began taking her dash from her body, placing it on the beside table behind me. “I’ve never gotten used to how good you look without a shirt on,” she admitted abashedly. I chuckled and let a smirk form on my lips as I reached for the French zip at the base of her skull.

“I look better in nothing, I assure you,” I mused, noticing her heartbeat increase as she let me slide the zip down, down her spine, all the way to her tailbone.

My own breathing became heavier as I longing stared at the bare skin below her black suit. My fingers moved before I’d even given them permission, ghosting from her pelvis all the way back to the nape of her neck. Bird let out a shutter, her eyes fluttering closed as her spine curved into my touch. I could practically feel her pulse beneath my fingers as I slid them under the suit, pulling it off of her right shoulder.

“Wait,” her own hand came up to stop me before I could lower it any farther than her right collarbone. “Not tonight, please. I’m not in the best form to be-“

“Okay,” I cut her off, giving a small smile before giving a small peck to her shoulder blade and moving from the bed. “I’m sorry, I just don’t feel too well.”

I plucked another black shirt from my dresser and rounded the bed to hand it to her, taking her face in my left hand and gazing down on her seriously. “I’ve waited 83 years, two months, twelve days, and sixteen consecutive hours, baby. I can wait some more.” That furious blush once again flushed to her face and she turned away with a giddy smile, fidgeting with the shirt in her hands. “The bathroom is just across the hall.”

I placed a chaste peck to the crown of her head like I always did, letting her nod and rise from the bed to change. I could hear the water from across the hall as I laid back into the bed, lighting up a joint as I rested against the headboard. Finally, I heard the door and lights of the bathroom click shut as Bird made her way back to my room. I winked at her as she closed the door, exhaling a puff of smoke. I couldn’t help but stare as she rounded the bed to crawl in at my right, her plush thighs barely covered by the too long for her black shirt. I licked my lips as she crawled into the bed beside me.

“You keep thinking about fucking them and I’m gonna have to do the quiet thing to your brain again,” she pointedly told me, reaching for the joint between my fingers. I let her take it and exhaled once again.

“You’ve got the best pair of legs I’ve ever seen on a broad. Especially those skinny models they have nowadays. Ever since Twiggy the girls have been too thin,” I told her in earnestness. I only earned an eye roll from her as she inhaled the smoke from the spliff.

“You just like something to grab and you know it. You’ve always been handsy, you know,” she exhaled as she spoke.

I shrugged and took the joint as she passed it back, ashing it in the tray on my lap. We stayed quiet for a moment, the silence comfortable before Birdie sighed a deep, heavy sigh, shuffling to lay facing me beneath the covers.

“I do want to go back to Philadelphia with you, Ben. If you’ll have me,” her eyes practically pleaded up at me as she said the words. So, she could hear me while she slept. Not that I minded.

I ashed my joint completely, setting the ashtray down on the table to my left before I snuggled down into the bed just as Birdie had.

“I’ve always wanted to take you back home one day, retire,” I told her my old plans I’d made almost a lifetime ago, caressing her soft cheek. “Go back to that summer house my parents had at the lake. Make it ours.”

Birdie’s full lips pressed together in a thoughtful smile, the apple of her cheek swelling beneath my fingers as they did. “Then let’s go; when we’ve done our part, I want us to leave, get out of the business and just live. Finally get to be ourselves again.”

I nodded, knowing she was right. All she had to do was say the word, and I’d give her anything with in my power that I could. I’d burn the whole world for her, fuck everyone else. Birdie was my girl, now officially. I’d never let her slip from my grasp ever again.

@ladykitana90 @weaponxgames @tmb510 @criminalyetminimal @lamentationsofalonelypotato

[nerdygaymormon]

Hi, I'm a young queer mormon living in Utah who finished their first year of college and decided halfway through after lots of prompting that I should serve a mission. The choice brought so much joy into my life and reconnected me with the church, my family, my beliefs, and my self. I felt really lost and unfulfilled at school, and the decision to put my schooling on hold for the next two years or so and bring the joy I felt from the gospel to more of God's children has felt so right every step of the way. I've have my call since March now, and I leave in a couple weeks.

But this new church announcement (the transgender policies) has absolutely shaken me. Obviously from a young age I have struggled with the church's stance on queer identities, and many more aspects. But my heart always felt that Christ cared not about these things and wanted only for us to try and be better and accept his atonement into our life. I also felt like the community of a ward or a church was one of the best parts of the gospel, and so many people need it and could benefit from it even if they did not wish to or choose to carry out sacred ordinances or covenants.

But this handbook change has made me feel like that's not true anymore. How can I stand for and represent a church that is directly excluding and prejudiced against my transgender friends? How am I supposed to tell other families and individuals to come to church when I myself can't even seem to grapple with what it stands for right now? I'm really struggling, I don't know if I should cancel my mission or push through in the hopes that more understanding will come through acting in faith. While every step of this process has brought me closer to myself and my family and brought me a lot of clarity in a confusing time, I feel that right now God is giving me a choice. I listened to Him with full faith and put in my papers and put my school on hold, but now I feel like he's telling me to choose for myself what to do next. And I have no idea what to do.

I'm lucky enough to have parents who will support my decision either way and who are also furious at the handbook change, but that doesn't take away the issues that choosing not to serve a mission brings. All the ward members who will be informed about it, all the explaining I'll have to do. If I don't go, I wish to instead use my mission funds to pay for a humanitarian trip to a place near the mission I was called, so I can still dedicate my time to bringing help to God's children, but I'm already so far in my mission process and I know there is a reason I was prompted to do all of this. But I'm so stuck.

Any advice?

Thank you for sharing all this.

I was just telling a friend that I think God's way is to have us make our own choices, especially the bigger the decision. Sometimes there's times like where you got the prompting to serve a mission, but it's still your choice. Often those promptings are making us aware there is another path available to us, perhaps one we weren't aware might be a good choice for us. However, most of the time God doesn't prompt us what to do, we have to study it out and then pray about the choice we made and ask God to affirm.

I think this way we own the decision. If we marry someone, we have to put in the work to make it a successful relationship and not just assume it will all work out because God said to do it. And when things don't go perfectly, if God told us what to do then we would blame God when it's us who messed things up.

I can see that the prompting you received helped you take a step back from a situation you were in (college) that maybe wasn't the right time for you, and get closer to the Lord. This gave you a firmer spiritual foundation on which to stand when these Handbook changes were announced.

My advice is to not ignore your feelings. If something bothers your conscience, pay attention to that.

Another piece of advice is to think about how you want to serve. A humanitarian mission perhaps is the mission you were being prompted towards, you are in a position now to make that choice because of the decisions you made based on the prompting you received. You can make a list of pros & cons, and as you think about what these different experiences will be like, the proselyting mission or the humanitarian mission, pay attention to which one brings you a sense of peace?

The Spirit is accompanied by feelings, think about how you feel when you're getting a prompting or feel that something is the right direction to go. Keep in mind those feelings when you pray about whichever decision you make.

I admire your desire to serve and to stand for goodness, and I commiserate with you in regards to these steps our church has announced.

[catreginae]

Thou Shalt Not Fall: Blessed Waters

The last time Warriors was in Twilight's era, he discovered a spring that burnt him. Now that they're back in Twilight's era, he finds a similar spring where he finally gets some answers - not just about the nature of the springs but the nature of his curse too.

TW for some graphic depictions of burns!

Anyway, I've had parts of this sitting in my doc for a long time now. Maybe close to two years? I'm very excited to finally get it out there and as of writing, it's also the third anniversary of Thou Shalt Not Fall! It's the best time to finally start this arc!

Warriors was restless.

It was one of those nights where he was awake and alert but he wasn’t scheduled for a patrol. While he was physically capable of taking a lot more patrols, he still had things to do in the evening when the sun wasn’t up. He needed to be able to hunt and he needed to be able to bathe since his skin was far too sensitive to bathe during the day. Baths were supposed to make him look nice and feel nice, not burn him.

Sometimes when he didn’t have anything else to do and he still couldn’t sleep, he would just hang out with whoever was actually on patrol. He thrived in bigger groups but sometimes, he really liked having some one-on-one time with whoever was stuck on patrol.

Tonight though, he wasn't really in the mood to chat. He was content with silence.

They were beside Lake Hylia in Twilight's Hyrule. It was a beautiful lake, especially at night when the moonlight glimmered off of the clear waters. He watched the lake for a time, watching the wind sweep just across the lake’s surface and listening to the night chorus of animals and insects. Wild was with him on watch and he was content to watch the lake too, leaving the two of them in almost comfortable peace.

Just almost.

There was always something about the area that put him on edge and tickled the more paranoid part of his brain. As pretty as it was, he was never able to fully relax. The part that annoyed him the most was the fact that it felt familiar and he had no idea why. He had to resist the urge to hiss at a sudden splash of water more than once since they ended up here. One time he actually did hiss and he got weird looks from everybody.

“I'm going for a walk,” Warriors mumbled as he got to his feet.

“Alright,” Wild mumbled. “Try to come back in one piece.”

“Even if I did come back in more than one piece, it’s not a hard fix.”

Wild laughed and at that, Warriors made his leave. He decided to leave his sword behind. If something came up, he had his fangs and claws. Usually, he wouldn't rely on those because that meant leaning into his vampire instincts more than he liked but he didn't want to feel bogged down on his walk and he doubted he would find trouble anyway.

The lake was similar to the lake in Wild's Hyrule as in it was surrounded by high rocky cliffs, though the cliffs were much steeper in Wild's time and the lake seemed larger as well. For the fifth time since they arrived, Warriors studied the rocky cliffs, looking for some sort of path weaving through them so they could get out together, but he didn't find anything. Twilight knew how to leave but for a reason that Warriors suspected wasn't pleasant, Twilight wasn't spilling the beans. Either he didn't like the method or he knew nobody else would.

Warriors was torn out of his thoughts when a sudden chill ran up his spine.

He found himself near the mouth of a cave set into the side of the cliff. Nothing about the cave, at least from the outside, seemed out of the ordinary and yet, it scared him. Something about this cave scared him and they were camping pretty close to it. He wanted to run but he held his ground. As much as whatever was in the cave made him want to run, he was also curious about what was inside because the feeling was familiar.

He took a deep breath and walked inside.

The inside of the cave practically glowed.

The cave was circular, as was the spring planted right in the middle of it, with a rocky edge that surrounded the entire circumference of the spring. Much like Lake Hylia, the spring was set lower than the surrounding vine-covered walls but unlike the lake, the spring was a sparkling teal colour. It was the same colour as the spring in Ordon that burned his fingers and suddenly, that weird yet familiar feeling made sense.

There was a bit of the edge that seemed to jut out a bit more just right across the entrance of the cave, almost like it was a platform. He approached it slowly and was suddenly blinded by a bright light that hurt his eyes more than looking directly at the sun did.

When Warriors was finished rubbing at his face, he opened his eyes to a glowing serpent towering out of the lake. Its body was a pale yellow, with pure gold coiling down its slender body. An even brighter light spilled out of its mouth. The very sight of it, a spirit composed entirely of what must have been pure light, burned his eyes again. How close was he sitting to a being that could blast him into nothing? Did the other spring have a similar being?

“O' Hero of Warriors, chosen by Hylia and cursed by twisted obsession, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Its voice rang in his head.

“You know the nature of my curse?” he asked, looking towards his feet to protect his eyes. He was sure the light serpent would understand. “And how do you know my title?”

“I am Lanayru. I exist on behalf of the goddesses, to protect the light they blessed the realm with. I recognize all who are chosen and blessed with a piece of their power, regardless of When they hail from,” the spirit said simply. “As for your curse, I could sense it the moment the rift in time appeared. I can sense the overwhelming darkness as well as the light that you carry.”

“What can you tell me about it? Neither Zelda or Lana could figure out how to reverse it.”

“Unfortunately, there is not much to be said. You will live cursed or die a mortal. You exist as you are because your ancient spirit and your curse exist in harmony, so deeply entwined that only the goddesses themselves can hope to separate them. You would not survive it.”

Warriors felt like he swallowed a stone. As much he expected an answer like that was, it was still devastating to hear his suspicions confirmed. Zelda and Lana had hope – so much hope – and that they could one day help him. They had so much hope that it gave him some hope. He didn't want to be a monster and he didn't want this permanent reminder of Cia. He wanted to be wrong. He wasn’t. His eyes stung at the thought and wiped at his eyes again as they became wet.

“Behind you, Hero.”

The warning came so suddenly that he didn't have time to react.

He felt a pair of clawed hands on his back and suddenly he was falling. He could see the lights growing brighter, reflecting in the water's surface before he broke through it.

Warriors registered the blinding white pain and almost nothing else. He squeezed his eyes shut but it was already too late. They burned like somebody poured salt into a wound and rubbed it in with shards of glass. With the way the rest of his body was burning too, he might as well have jumped into lava. The back of his left hand tingled but he barely felt it with the pain of everything else. Completely blind and burning, he struggled to find the surface. He did his best to ignore the agony as he kicked his legs and flailed his arms until he broke the surface.

He didn't hesitate to try and find a way out, swallowing the rising panic as he swam to the walls of the spring, which was easy thanks to the fact that it was circular and all he had to do was pick a direction and swim for his life.

Didn't he see vines earlier? Could they hold his weight? He only needed them to be strong enough to pull himself out. If he could just get a foot on the wall, he could support most of his weight with the wall crawl and just use the vines to guide him.

Warriors resisted the urge to pass out as wet, burnt fingers felt the cave walls. His skin felt so delicate that he was sure that even running his fingers along the rocky walls would shred whatever skin he had left. He couldn't see anything so he no choice but to try and feel for the vines, even though he could barely feel anything other than excruciating pain.

Perhaps it was luck or divine intervention but his fingers curled around the vines and while he wasn't positive that they would hold his weight, he started to pull himself out of the spring. He cried out and swore the entire time, even pausing as a violent shudder ran through his entire body. Despite that, he managed to stick to his feet to the wall and walk, keeping a hand on the vines to catch himself just in case he lost control of his abilities which was pretty likely when he was in so much pain.

Warriors was out of the water but as long as he was still wet, the water was still burning him. He felt his skin burn as water dripped from his hair and with his damp clothes, it felt like he never left the damn spring. Yet, he kept climbing.

He reached the top after what felt like an eternity of wall crawling. Warriors panted as he pulled himself over the edge. He let himself catch his breath, rolled over so he was further from the edge, and pulled the scarf off. His hands shook violently as he attempted to unclasp the belts that would prevent him from getting his tunic off but his fingers were too burnt and the fine motor function he needed to get them off evaded him.

Damn it, he was going to die if he couldn't get his clothes off and get dry.

Suddenly, his stomach clenched and he had to shift his position to give himself a spot to vomit. Judging by the fiery pain in his throat and mouth, he must have swallowed some of the water. He was burning inside and out. Hopefully, the others would at least have a body to find.

“Do not despair, Hero.”

The spirit was the last thing he heard before he lost consciousness.

Hyrule woke up to a commotion. Wild, Twilight, and Time were bent over something on the ground, and it only took him a moment to see a hand sticking out from between them. He instantly darted to his feet and ran over, nearly tripping on his own feet as he did so, looking over their shoulders to see who they were tending to. He tried his best to ignore the distinct smell of burnt flesh.

“What's going on?” he asked, watching as Time and Twilight were moving towels in a dabbing motion instead of rubbing but when he saw the flesh underneath, he could see why, and he could guess who was laying on the ground. Although he couldn't see all of Warriors, he could see second and third degree burns and somehow, the burns were getting worse. Despite it still being dark out, something was burning him. Wild was busy wrapping his face, slowly making Warriors resemble a gibdo.

“Something pushed into a spring blessed by a light spirit. Lanayru says it was a shadow, probably the one we’ve been chasing,” Twilight answered. “You think your magic can help? We're doing our best to dry him off since the water just keeps burning him.”

That was something he was going to have unpack later.

He squeezed himself between Wild and Twilight and channelled his magic into his hands, directing it towards his wounds like he did every other time. He could feel his magic being drained, almost a little faster than usual, but there was no visible improvement on Warriors' side. It didn’t seem like his magic was doing anything. However, Hyrule didn’t give up. He wasn’t sure if his magic was actually doing anything but if it was and he just couldn’t see it, then Warriors needed every little bit of it.

Hyrule looked down at Warriors’ fingertips and nearly gagged. There was little flesh left, his fingers more bone and strips of muscle than skin.

“There's a portal nearby! I think that's where that damned bastard fled to.”

Hyrule looked up to see a scowling Wind.

“We should focus on wrapping him up, then we'll go through. If there's a chance that the portal can get us to a place he can rest, that should be our priority,” Time stated. “Wind, go wake up everyone else and get started on the packing.”

It only took a few minutes for the others to wake up and break down camp. In the mean time, they covered Warriors with bandages and dry clothes that hung off his frame – must of been Time's or Twilight's – and a blanket on top of that. Twilight took Warriors into his arms and Wind guided them to the swirling portal that wasn't too far from a cave which was absolutely teeming with magic. That must have been where Warriors was when he got burnt.

At first, the other side showed nothing promising until a figure dressed in a cloak skidded to a halt in front of them, just in time for the portal behind them to disappear. Hyrule could immediately sense that was something completely off about them, how their magic was twisted, strong, and foreboding. It was dark but familiar. Thankfully, the figure didn't seem interested in hurting them, at least not yet. “Well shoot, I knew there was something weird here...” they mumbled to themselves, before seemingly focusing on Warriors. “Is that Link?”

“Depends on who you are,” Legend muttered, crossing his arms.

The figured paused for a moment. “Depends on what you know, I suppose. Do you know about his... special diet?”

“Wait... are you a vampire? Can you help him?” Hyrule asked. That's why they felt so off and familiar. It was a lot more intense than how Warriors felt but it was fundamentally the same feeling that he got from both of them.

“What happened?”

“He was pushed into a pool of light magic.”

The other vampire hissed – not in an angry way or like the way Warriors hissed when he was agitated but kind of like a weird sigh. “That's going to be tough for him, but I'm sure he'll be fine, as long as he gets a lot of blood, plenty of rest, and stays out of the sun. Our best bet will be take him back to the estate but...” The vampire paused, turning their gaze to the sky. “I don't think I have enough time to guide you to there. Unlike Link, I will die if I'm still outside when the sun rises. I’ll run and make sure he’s safe but you guys will have to find your way there yourselves. I will let the Hylians know to expect you.”

Time looked between all of them before facing the vampire. “Which way are we going?”

“Keep going north. You won't miss it.”

“Twilight.”

Twilight merely nodded and walked to the figure, letting them take hold of Warriors.

“Don't worry, we'll take good of him!”

It was well past sunrise when they finally made it to the estate and were ushered in by a bunch of Hylians who didn’t at all question why they were there. They were definitely in the right place, then. They were guided to spare guest rooms that were so fancy that Hyrule felt uncomfortable existing in them, offered food and drinks, and told to rest until one of the vampires came to collect them.

“How do the vampires live in a place like this?” Legend asked as he gazed at the floor to ceiling windows. The guest room was plenty large and fit for nobility, with large beds that two people could sleep on and probably not touch each other for the whole night, hence how they could squeeze into two rooms as to not make themselves difficult for their mysterious hosts. Hyrule was sharing a room with Sky, Legend, and Four, though only Legend was currently in the room with him.

It wasn't the first time Hyrule saw a bed with a curtain around it but he was amazed every time. He pulled the curtains open to get into bed – he was worried about Warriors but was also completely drained and he knew he would be no help to him in his current state. It was difficult to keep his eyes open, especially when the bed was surprisingly soft.

“If I was a vampire, I think I would avoid large windows, even with a canopy bed,” Legend mumbled, then let a small chuckle. Hyrule could feel hands around his ankles and then his back, then suddenly something warm was pulled over him. He was asleep instantly.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

The arranged verse hurts so good omg, the balance in angst and more peaceful moments is just perfect 🤌

"Why the checkerboard motifs?" Bruce asked, frowning at the lunch you'd neglected in favor of creating your references.

"What's life but one big game?" you counter shrugging. You don't feel like baring your soul. Or explaining.

"Hn."

Bruce walked closer to the table you were staging things on and watched- he'd learned you didn't mind being watched as long as you weren't interrupted. And as he watched you with your wooden figures, he had a sudden flash of inspiration. "Have you never taken any Live model drawing-"

"God no," you snort. "People naked? In a room of nuns and unmarried ladies? The horror."

"Even in college?"

"I studied art history not Art," you remind. "I took classes on different things when my parents permitted but not anything too... well interesting."

"God forbid you see a bare chest."

"Outside of fashion week? On the off chance, I see something remotely scintillating? Nonsense."

"That explains the anatomy but not-"

"Creative liberties mostly. Sometimes I like to twist things to see how far I can contort it before it becomes grotesque."

"Hn."

He watched wondering what the bits of ugly fabric was for- this was a bigger piece. Spread on multiple canvases. One scene flowing into the next. It blurred and warped like he was seeing it out a car window. Dabbling with impressionism? Venting your confusion?

Answers that weren't answered. Self-taught techniques and a vast knowledge of past painters and their works.

It tracked but still left him with no good picture of your internal landscape. Your own mythology and symbolism known only to yourself. He knew what the flowers were SUPPOSED to mean. He know what a lot of things were SUPPOSED to mean but what they meant to you he couldn't say.

Annoying. It left him annoyed. Batman could have gotten it out of you. But now he couldn't get any more than straight forward information. And he hated it.

[aballadforbarbatos]

inspired by a hetalia piece of mine i found yesterday. this is actually lowkey kinda long i didn’t mean to do that

mc eating solomon’s cooking

you are hungry.

you KNEW you shouldn’t have turned down satan’s offer of lunch at hell’s kitchen but you were so exhausted and you mistakenly thought there would be food in the kitchen

you should’ve known better. smh.

someone needs to go shopping because there is only a stick of butter and an identified plastic container with something purple inside

not you tho you’re dirt poor. flat broke, even. pockets empty, wallet lined with dust

your stomach growls. your eyes dart between the unidentifiable substance and the stick of butter. the idea of eating butter makes you physically gag, so you turn to the container

the container has a note with “solomon’s” attached to it, and then a bigger note in belphie’s handwriting next to it

why are you clarifying it’s yours. everyone knows. nobody is taking it. WHY IS IT IN OUR FRIDGE

you’ve never actually had solomon’s cooking before

yeah there was that dinner where the pair of you cooked different dishes from the human world, but everyone was voicing their disapproval before you could try it, so you just didn’t.

it IS solomon’s though, so you decide to have a little. just a little. he won’t even notice that someone’s been into it.

pulling the container out of the fridge, you scoop a little bit into a bowl. it’s not quite as watery as you expected- in fact, it reminds you a little of mud. a deep purple mud with stuff inside.

hey, this is capsicum (bell pepper)! where’d he get this from? okay, now you have to try it- finding such difficult ingredients must mean it’s worth eating, right? right???

do you heat it up or just eat it cold… you decide you’re in the mood for a hot meal and open the microwave, shoving the substance inside

(“uh actually the house of lamentation doesn’t have a microwave” if u don’t think they’d get one because mc mentioned it once in a conversation you’re severely wrong)

pulling it out and now it’s bubbling. but like the bubbles are so slow in popping the surface because of how thick the purple stuff is

you lift your spoon. are you having second thoughts? coward behaviour. truly a wimp. you can jump in front of lucifer on a rampage but you behave like this in front of food? cowering before what could vaguely be described as soup?

apprehensively, you put the spoon in your mouth and swallow. if you spit it out you might stain the carpet

“oh.”

a pause.

“oh, what the fuck?!”

this is GOOD.

you slurp down the rest, now rather mad. everyone else was going on about how it was the worst thing they’d ever had, and you’d just believed them?! you are NEVER making that mistake again,

you moan embarrassingly loud. thank god nobody else is left in the house because how would you explain to them that solomon’s cooking is so amazing that you are involuntarily making noises

if it was just one person, you’d think they were just lying so they could have more for themselves. but it was everyone, which is probably why you were so convinced in the first place

lesson learnt; demons and angels have weak tastebuds, because you’re going back to the kitchen for seconds.

as the microwave heats up the bowl, your D.D.D. buzzes. it’s lucifer asking about your activities- you tell him you’re having a snack before studying

he says he didn’t know there was any food left in the house

you decide to ignore this last message because the microwave beeps and you go back to scarfing it down, sating your stomach and silencing its growls

“shit.”

“he won’t even notice it’s been eaten,” - you, about half an hour ago

IT’S ALL GONE?? HOW HAVE YOU EATEN THE WHOLE THING AND NOT EVEN NOTICED??

HOW ARE YOU GOING TO EXPLAIN THIS TO SOLOMON??

well you ate it all, so the least you can do is clean it, you suppose…

later that night, when everyone is back, and someone has gone shopping, solomon comes sauntering through the door and opens the fridge

“wh- who ate my soup? did you guys feed my cooking to the rats again?”

satan doesn’t look up from his book. “yeah, like anyone would eat YOUR cooking.”

you sink a little into your chair, suddenly becoming very interested in devilgram

“mc might tolerate your petty little comments, satan, but none of that changes the fact that there is no soup in this container that i specifically put in here. look, belphie even wrote a note!”

mc might- you stifle a laugh as your favourite cat fan scowls. asmo and mammon are not quite as successful as you. belphie stirs from his sleep, and mumbles something like “get it out of our fridge…”

solomon sighs. “i’m not mad, i just wanna know. mc?”

you don’t answer. maybe he’ll move on? yes? yes?

“hellooo? mc?”

no. okay, out with the truth then

“i ate it! i’m sorry, solomon! i got really hungry and there was seriously like no food left in the house, so it was between a stick of butter and your cooking, and i thought i’d take a risk, and i only wanted a little bit but it was so good and i accidentally ate the whole thing-”

you can feel your eyes welling up with tears at the thought of solomon getting mad- or even worse, being disappointed- at you. you cross your fingers and hope that he forgives you,

you totally miss the horrified and disgusted looks from the brothers. even belphie has properly woken up at this point to stare at you in disbelief

“well, mc, if that isn’t one of the most romantic things i’ve ever been told,”

what.exe

container forgotten, he comes around to your spot on the couch. puts a hand on your cheek and just pretends the others are not there

staring into his eyes helps you to drown out mammon, who knows how he’s doing it

uses his thumb to brush away your tears, there’s a small smirk on his face but would he really be solomon without it

he kisses you quickly and gently

when i tell you. the room goes into absolute UPROAR

mammon rips him away from you, that boy is dragging him away to who knows where in the house. belphie and satan are following, you suspect solomon is going to be taught a lesson he won’t forget

“if i cook more for you, i can have more kisses, right?” he calls out- mammon’s frown grows deeper

“okay!” you call back, your cheeks warm and a giddy smile on your face that simply just won’t go away