#took all the stress of the whole week away

[0wldn0]

What are the stunticons hobbies?

As whoever sent this anon probably noticed, I took my sweet time thinking about this ask FDHFD But that's only because I loved thinking about it!! Such a sweet and lovely thing!! How fun it is to think of them having favourite things they love to do!!

The Stunticons were never really able to discover such things before, like what hobbies they have, what they like to do in their free time, etc... They were stuck in between being sent off to deadly missions and the being berated for it when they do one thing wrong. It's hard to figure out anything about yourself when you're in an abusive loop like that.

After they go on their separate ways, they do start to slowly discover things they like to do. They see a glimpse of what it is like to have a normal life and just do things for themselves. Especially after everything with the Earth team is resolved, and they can live carefree on Earth for a few years, they spend more time just figuring out things they like to do! They all LOVE racing of course, but they have their own individual hobbies as well!

Deadend figures out he loves to fix things! Be it machinery or just broken furniture. It makes him happy to take something broken and discarded, and give it a purpose again. It kind of makes him heal over and over again, yknow? It's therapeutic to take something that noone sees any value in anymore, and just find the potential in it, bring it back to life. He would not invent or build new things, just fix the broken ones! ((Once on Earth, after everything is dealt with, I can totally see him seeking out anything he can fix in junkyards and such. He likes to takes his time and make them look pretty too! In the end he would have many things that he doesn't really use though, and then he would have the idea to organise a lil stand so people in need can take whatever they want and take it home! He would only watch from far while the Terrans handle all the socialising. It would make him happy to see these trinkets find homes and have a purpose again!))

Breakdown would LOVE graffiti!! He discovers that he loves doing this back when he's on Gigantion, and is asked to help paint a small area on the wall. He finds it very relaxing to watch the paint give the wall so much personality like that! He kind of gets into a trance where he forgets he's supposed to paint the wall only one solid color, and just tries out new things. "What if I blended this color here? What if I made a line here? What if there was a little shape here?" and boom, he got carried away and the whole wall is covered in different colors, writings, designs... He feels ashamed for it at first but the giants are not mad at all, if anything, they're impressed!! Do it to that wall over there too!! And that makes Breakdown so very happy! Once he is on Earth, I can totally see him just playing around with colors and shapes on an empty wall he found. It would be so intriguing for him to watch the colors just stick to the wall. Most of the time, he doesn't have anything specific in mind when he's doing this, he just likes to watch the colors. It's nice to direct your full focus on this one beautiful thing and not think about anything else for a while.

Dragstrip, I can imagine liking many different things, especially when he comes to Earth and learns about the different things humans do! Knitting, puzzle solving, cooking ((even though he wishes he could taste the food... Humans say they're delicious))... But I can see him loving reading and writing the most! Especially reading about both Cybertronian and Earth history, culture, social norms, etc etc. He likes to analyise these topics and learn about how they affect the current environment, both when it comes to Cybertron and Earth. He would definitely write theses on these topics too! He would start doing that just to infodump his brothers about the topics he researched at first, but then his brothers would urge him to start sharing these! Because damn man!! You write like a professional!! Imagine him creating a blog for himself where he just yaps about his observations and researches all the time. Eventually getting a dedicated number of followers too!! Aside from topics like these, I can also see him reading books just for fun too! And then go to the nearest brother and talk about the book, either explaining why he liked it so much OR going on a whole hour long rant about why the writing was HORRIBLE FDHFHD ((I like to imagine this hobby landing him a place in the Cybertonian council when they all are back on Cybertron, even!))

Wildrider was always an interesting one to think about, because I think, he would have a hard time living in peaceful times and just find things to do. They all are used to war, constant fighting and keeping their guards up. Peace is hard for all of them to get used to. But Wildrider especially deals with it the hardest. Peace feels... wrong to him. He doesn't like how strange it is, how unfamiliar it is. It puts him on edge, like something is wrong. This isn't how life is, it's just an illusion of a dream he can never have. I had this one scene in mind that I've been thinking about turning into a comic... He would hear fireworks go off, and of course, not knowing what they are, would rush outside thinking that gunshots are going off. He feels a sudden high of adrenaline and fear. But then he just sees these bright colors in the sky and realises that it is nothing dangerous, it is just celebration. And he does feel relieved, but deep down there's also... disappointment? Noticing that feeling makes him stop and just stare at the fireworks. Why does he feel disappointed? He basically just saw that there was no danger around and everyone was safe, then why does he feel like this? He would definitely hate himself for it, feel like he does not deserve to live such a peaceful life because for some god forsaken reason he just can't appreciate it. But it is not his fault, really, even though he fails to understand that. He has grown so used to living life on edge, that safety scares him. He is afraid that he will give into this new peaceful life, only to be thrown into another war again, to have life laugh in his face for his stupidity to believe that he can have a normal life after everything.

Wildrider would have a low mood for a long while. His brothers and Motormaster, of course, take notice of this, and they are NOT going to let him wave them off. Breakdown, Dragstrip and Deadend especially would press him strongly for any kind of explanation just so they can help him. Wildrider would not want to talk to them about this though, because he feels ashamed of the way he's feeling. Ashamed of the fact that he wants there to be carnage, and that he's scared of the way things are right now. I can see him getting angry with them because of how much they're pushing to just get answers from him, leading to an argument between them, ending with Wildrider leaving to cool off somewhere. It is Motormaster that actually gets him to open up about his feelings in the end, and she's the first one to comfort him about them. Letting him know that he is not a bad person or undeserving of peace due to these feelings, he just needs help to adjust, and he should let his family offer him that support.

In the end, Wildrider would try many things with his brothers! Give a go at all their hobbies! He would do activities with the Terrans too! Really starting to live that peaceful life! Eventually, he would figure out he really loves games! Be it videogames or real-life ones! Games are thrilling, exciting, some of them give him so much adrenaline, but in the end, it is all also so safe. It's just playing around. Losing doesn't matter, because noone will die. Winning also doesn't matter, because nothing will come off it. It's just living in the moment and having fun with it. Imagining Nightshade gifting him a gaming console that they themselves built after noticing how much Wildrider enjoys games. I think he would have a hard time holding back tears honestly. ((I know his personality makes him appear as someone who would play shooters or PVPs only, but I can totally see him playing soft things like farming simulators even! He just likes to play! Anything is fun!))

((can you tell that I've been wanting to talk about Wildrider...))

LASTLY! Motormaster! She would definitely be the last one to actually discover things she likes to do. She's too focused on her brothers' happiness, too busy making sure everything is okay with all of them. There's also a lot of self-hatred that needs to be worked on when it comes to her. Even after the Stunticons completely forgive her for her past actions, she does not forgive herself at all. This makes her really not want to think about anything regarding herself. What do I like to do? Who cares. I shouldn't be doing anything.

It doesn't help that her wish for revenge from Megatron did not end the way she planned, and she realised she was only dragging the Stunticons and Menasor along with her for her own wants and needs. So now she really does NOT want to think about herself as a person at all. She's just there to guard the Stunticons, nothing else matters.

The Stunticons do try to help her open up more, as they realise she has kind of put them all in the center of her life now. Of course she lets them live their individual lives and they never feel like she interferes with their personal business or anything, but they can see that it is not healthy for her. Unfortunately they can't really do much to change her way of thinking, as her self-hatred is only fueled more whenever she notices they feel bad for her. They should NOT worry about her, how dare she make them worry about her?!

Her healing and finding things she likes to do would be way later, when the Earth team finally has a spacebridge built to go back to Cybertron. Cybertron is free of war, and full of life now. The Stunticons all start new lives on it and she kind of is unable to keep track of them now, and she has a feeling she doesn't need to. They still spend almost all their time together, but they all got their own lives figured out too, they stick together while also doing their own things. They're "grown" and don't need her watching over them anymore. This does put her in an empty point in her life, where she just feels... lost, honestly. It takes a while to recover from such a big change in her world.

Silverbolt especially is a big help for her healing at this point in the story. ((Shoutout to @wwheeljack wink wink)) These two end up developing a very close bond. A queer-platonic relationship. Silverbolt gives her the kickstart she needs to really live her life to the fullest. She discovers she loves sight-seeing. She always have, she just was never aware of how much peace it brought her. Finally accepting and welcoming this serenity it brings her makes her appreciate sceneries even more. This would lead to her realising how much she loves travelling! Going far or not so far from home, just going to a new place! Observing everything on the way, taking in all the life. Eventually, she would share these hobbies with Silverbolt. It would be another kind of thrill to be with him as she does what brings her so much peace.

((I was also wanting to talk about Motormaster a lot FDHFD))

BONUS: Menasor!! Honestly, I think Menasor's hobby would be just existing and talking with those they care about. I can imagine Menasor just being happy to be alive and be themselves. They would lay down and stare at the sky for hours, and it's just peace in their mind. They would talk with the Terrans, Maltos, Bumblebee, for so long, and not get bored. It's just nice to be. Of course later on Superion also becomes a beloved friend, and these two become each others' worlds almost. They just love to do anything together!

I can also imagine Menasor loving to do cataloging, or keeping a journal. It's just random things they write in there. Things they see, things they talk about with others, something funny Wildrider said that day... Anything! Then reading these things they wrote every once in a while and smiling at them.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

when i was in highschool one o my biggest coping mechanisms was drawing all the kids i hated getting killed and eaten and killed. and well. time is a slowly ascending spiral. you will find patterns.(i work as a blackjack dealer. gamblers are FASCINATING

[ourceliumnetwork]

y'know. i don't often hate the way my brain is and how difficult it makes certain things for me.

i do a little today though.

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was getting my associates degree I took a Mythology class that I loved. But one of the girls in class was absolutely off the rails conservative Christian which made things… interesting.

The professor started off the class by being like, “Mythology is stories associated with religion.”

This girl. Haaaated that. She was like, “No, Christianity is true. It’s not mythology.” Mythology was delivered in the same tone as someone trying to spit excrement from their mouth.

The professor raised her eyebrows and said laconically, “Yes, most people believe their religion is the real one, that’s part of it, and the stories surrounding religion are referred to as mythology.”

The girl stewed in a hateful sullen rage. I truly don’t understand why she didn’t drop the class but perhaps it was court mandated education. We all expected her to drop the class but she dug in like a tick and derailed discussions as often as she could.

On a different occasion the professor was drawing a comparison between social constructs like gender. The girl raised her hand. The class hushed to hear her announce, “It’s just a fact that women like domestic work and even though men are awful and stinky we just have to love them anyway. It’s biology, we’re just hardwired like that.”

I was sitting next to my friend a baby gay Jewish girl and our eyes met in mutual hilarity while the professor tried to pretend she hadn’t just been stricken with a stress induced migraine while she steered the class away from that landmine.

The next sticking point was a week later when the professor informed us that many mythologies have overlapping events like floods but these didn’t necessarily happen in such literal terms. It was a metaphorical way to process and understand the world.

This girls hand shot up. I watched the professor exercise extreme self control to keep her expression bland before calling on her.

“The world did flood. And Noah saved all the animals. Before the flood all the water was in a dome outside the earth and then the dome broke and the world flooded. All of it.”

The whole class stared at her as if struggling to comprehend the overlap of her acceptance that the world was round while also firmly believing that there had previously been a barrier that held up all of the earths water before god smashed it in a fit of pique.

She raged under the attention, glaring balefully at our astonished faces.

The professor stared at her blankly, unable to form words to such a bizarre belief. I wanted to ask clarifying questions- what they’d drunk before the dome broke, if there were rivers or lakes prior, or did the dome allow some rain in somehow, but then I really looked at her.

She had the eyes of a feral, cornered animal who regarded any deviation in worldview from her own to be a physical assault on her person. Like the professor, I said nothing, and after a wretchedly long pause class moved on.

[whosmariaaa]

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6 !

college! sukuna was indeed head over heels. he couldn’t stop thinking about you. you and your attitude, the way you didn’t take his shit. and maybe the fact that you were playing hard to get.

you were actually not, because you did not want him at all, and you hated his guts more than anything. especially right now.

“are you actually being for real? sukuna, the project is due in a week! and you haven’t done shit! you told me you would!” you told him in irritation. though you were growing more stressed than irritated. this project was a really big part of your grade, and if this wasn’t done right, you were screwed.

he was looking at your face with a lazy grin, though you doubted he was paying attention to anything you were saying.

“uh huh, just chill out, y/n,” sukuna shrugged, unbothered.

“chill out? i’ve been working my ass off for my part of the project, and you haven’t done a single thing!” you rejoined.

he raised an eyebrow. “are you sure? cause i’ve seen your part of the project, and it’s fucking shit—“

SMACK!

heads turned at the loud noise, but you couldn’t possibly care less. “i’m so fucking done with you! get your shit together! you finish your part of the project in two days, or i’m kicking your ass out!” you snapped before storming out of the library.

sukuna held a hand on the cheek that was starting to go a little red from the hit he just took. he wasn’t angry, or irritated. he just watched you go with a slight smirk.

no one ever dared to hurt sukuna and get away with it. that man was menacing, and could get people begging on their knees quickly.

but you? he let you. honestly, you were the most entertainment he was getting since forever. every single little thing you did out of anger, only made his infatuation for you grow. sukuna loved the thrill he got out of you.

two days later, he told you he finished his part of the project. which took a whole lot of weight of your shoulders, because you were starting to grow grey hairs at this rate.

and honestly, something in you told you to trust him. he had phenomenal grades, after all. so, not until a few hours before the deadline did you decide to check his part of the project.

you regretted it. spelling mistakes, grammar errors, nothing on the paper made sense. it was genuinely terrible. and suddenly, you felt as if you were growing grey hairs again. you called sukuna for nth time that hour, but when it send you to voicemail once more, you took it on yourself to fix this crap.

you spend your entire evening and night in complete stress, trying to fix what you could. and you eventually had to send it in, due to the dead line nearing. anxiety was surging through you. but maybe, the professor took mercy on grading projects.

the next few days, you avoided him altogether. no matter what he did or said, you ignored him and kept walking. you were too anxious about the project’s results to even start a fight with him.

and when your grade finally came in, you wanted to die. a 49%. all that hard work, and for what? and on top of that, now you were failing this class too.

after class you confronted him, angrily. but you struggled to conceal how you really felt about all this. you felt like crying, but you kept it in.

“you look pissed. what’s up, baby?” sukuna asked, leaning down condescendingly.

“what the fuck do you think? maybe the 49% on our project? you said you did your part of the project!” you retorted furiously.

he scoffed, “so? i never said i was going to try. i told you to not expect me to give a shit, didn’t i?” he taunted.

sukuna wasn’t taking you seriously at all. he just looked down at you with his stupid, stupid smirk.

you felt your legs go a little wobbly. you felt like shit, actually. and right now, you couldn’t stop the tears either as they welled up in your eyes.

“you’re a piece of fucking shit, sukuna! i hate you so fucking much! fuck you!” you snapped, your voice breaking slightly.

sukuna went silent for a moment at the sight of the tears pooling in your eyes, “shit, baby. i didn’t think you’d care this much,” he replied, though his tone was slightly less mocking.

you couldn’t take it anymore. you wiped your tears and got out of there. you couldn’t deal with all this anymore. and definitely not with him right now.

sukuna just stood there, with a weird feeling bubbling in his stomach at seeing you cry. he was quiet, with his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“damn. what’cha do? cheat on her?” gojo chimed in, placing his hand on sukuna’s shoulder. but before gojo could react, he slammed him against the wall, and grabbed his collar.

“gojo, i told you to shut the fuck up about her. when the fuck are you going to get a hint? or should i beat the shit out of you first?” he threatened.

he felt himself get pushed off. “calm your ass down,” toji huffed. gojo just scratched his head. he was used to sukuna’s aggression, but not this kind of anger over a girl.

“whatever. watch what the fuck you say, gojo,” he warned firmly. gojo just shot his hands up in defence, “okay, okay. my bad. i won’t start talking about your girl again.”

sukuna’s eye twitched, but he sighed and just let it rest. he still felt like crap about you crying. he didn’t even know why, he made plenty girl cry before. but seeing you cry, made his heart feel heavy.

“fuck is wrong with you?” toji asked, though his tone was calm. sukuna stayed silent for a few moments.

“i fucked up,” he grumbled after a while. toji and gojo exchanged glances, not really sure what to do about all this. sukuna didn’t know either, and that made him feel even more shitty.

──★˙🍓̟!! hi babes!!!! thank you so so so much gor all the love, may God bless u all💞💞 and i’m so sorry i’m very busy with school rn i have a test week so pls forgive me if im a little slow w updates! ill also attempt to do a taglist in part 6, tysm for the patience!

[senascoop]

GET WELL SOON , P.SH !

﹙ 🍁 ﹚ ぃ ──── I KNOW IT'S MY FAULT, BUT I WANNA MAKE IT BETTER!

PAIRING: racer ! sunghoon × orphan ! afab reader.

SYNOPSIS: You’ve always considered yourself a good person—kind, forgiving, and patient. But Sunghoon tested every bit of that. One reckless, drunken drive was all it took for him to flip your life upside down, leaving you temporarily confined to a wheelchair. The inconvenience was more than just physical; it was a wound to your pride and independence. Sunghoon, however, refused to walk away from his mistake. Guilt-ridden and determined to make amends, he became a constant presence in your life—covering your medical bills, offering you emotional support, and sticking around even when you wished he wouldn’t.

WORD COUNT: 19.2K

FEAT: WONYOUNG from IVE, JAY from ENHYPEN, HANNI from NEWJEANS, + some ocs

MENTIONS OF CRIME & ACCIDENT, OVERALL FLUFF & CRACK !

MORE LIKE THIS? || MASTERLIST?

TAGLIST: @chexnluv @moonpri @wensurr @jiyeons-closet @isa942572 @jkslvsnella @woniefull @aleeza444 @capri-cuntz @vi-ri @hotteokisms @flwwon @shhth @lialaiakalaiiaia (the ones in bold couldn't be tagged)

AS YOU LAY IN THE HOSPITAL BED, the sterile scent of antiseptic in the air, your gaze drifted to the bouquet of white roses on the table beside you. A scoff slipped from your lips before you could stop it, a bitter reminder of why you were even here.

This was all his fault. Park Sunghoon.

For a second, you tried to maintain your calm, the nice person part of you struggling to hold on, but that guy—he tested all of it.

“Throw them away, please?” you asked, your voice clipped as you turned to the nurse adjusting your IV.

Before she could respond, an infuriatingly familiar voice cut through the room, smooth yet utterly exasperating. “You don't like white?”

You didn’t even need to look to know it was him. The sudden rush of irritation heated your cheeks as you whipped your head towards the door. And there he was. Park Sunghoon. Strolling in casually, hands tucked into the pockets of his expensive designer coat, as if he hadn’t ruined your entire week.

“Yeah, I don’t,” you shot back, your glare burning through him. The forced smile on your face was saccharine, dripping with the very clear message that he was definitely not welcome.

He raised an eyebrow, unfazed. Of course, he had the audacity to smirk—like always. "Sadly," he drawled, clearly enjoying himself, “you gotta keep them.”

Without invitation, he sauntered over to the side of your bed, his presence filling the room, as if his wealth and arrogance alone could smother the oxygen. You watched him with narrowed eyes, arms crossed over your chest in defiance.

“Just leave me alone, you rich jerk,” you spat, unable to hold back the venom in your tone. Your fists clenched beneath the thin hospital sheets, a reminder that you couldn’t even storm out of here like you wanted to. You were stuck—and it was all because of him.

His face faltered for a split second, the cockiness slipping ever so slightly as your words hit him. But like clockwork, he masked it, that composed, arrogant look sliding back into place.

It should’ve been satisfying to see the momentary flash of guilt cross his features, but it wasn’t enough. Not when your life had been flipped upside down, not when you were confined to this bed because of his mistake.

BUT HOW DID ALL OF THIS HAPPEN?

Well…

FLASHBACK!

Your eyes were stinging from the tears, and you clumsily wiped them away with the back of your hand. You weren’t exactly drunk—maybe two shots deep after an agonizingly stressful day—but it was enough to make your head spin. Why did it all have to be so sad?

Sniffling, you stumbled down the empty street, your shoes scuffing the pavement as you sobbed quietly into the night. The darkness felt overwhelming, like it was swallowing you whole, and even though your tears blurred your vision, you knew where you were heading—or at least you thought you did.

It wasn’t until you heard the loud, abrupt honk of a motorbike that you even realized you were standing in the middle of the street. You barely had time to turn your head towards the blinding lights before—BAM!

The impact wasn’t as hard as it could’ve been, but it was enough. The bike, thankfully, had slowed down, but not nearly enough to stop it from hitting you. Pain shot through your leg as you collapsed onto the cold, hard ground, the breath knocked out of your lungs.

You groaned loudly, clutching your leg, wincing at the sharp sting that radiated through your body. Meanwhile, the rider, who had also fallen, was busy steadying himself, dusting off his helmet as if he wasn’t the reason your entire life had just flashed before your eyes.

“THE HELL?!” you screamed, your voice cracking as you tried to shift your weight but immediately regretted it. The sharp pain in your leg intensified, forcing you back down onto the concrete. You gritted your teeth, tears stinging your eyes once again as you glared up at him.

The guy finally looked your way, lifting his visor to reveal his face. "Ma’am, are you okay?" he asked, his voice eerily calm, as if he hadn’t just crashed his motorcycle into you. Like it was some minor inconvenience to him.

Your blood boiled. “Okay???" you spat out, your voice a mix of disbelief and fury. "I’m literally bleeding! Are you dumb?!”

The guy blinked, clearly taken aback by your outburst, but remained calm. Too calm. “Alright, alright, just calm down,” he muttered, crouching down next to you, but that only made you angrier.

"Calm down?” you snapped, clenching your fists as the pain and the frustration built up inside of you. “Say that when you’re the one lying here, bleeding out!"

He flinched at your words but didn’t reply. Instead, he reached into his pocket, fumbling for his phone to call an ambulance. Meanwhile, you were still seething, glancing down at your leg where the blood was now slowly trickling down your thigh, staining your jeans. The sight of it made you dizzy, your head swimming with pain and exhaustion.

You could barely keep your eyes open, but you still had enough energy to notice him—freaking fixing his bike. He had the nerve to set it upright on its stand, making sure it was okay before coming back to check on you.

"If you even think about making this a hit and run," you rasped, your voice hoarse from both pain and anger, “I’ll haunt your entire family line.”

The guy stopped, visibly gulping as he knelt down beside you once again, clearly panicking now. "No, no, that’s not—look, the ambulance is coming, okay? Just… try to stay with me.”

Your vision blurred, your breath coming in shallow gasps as the world began to tilt. The last thing you remembered before everything went black was him leaning over, actually cleaning the blood off your thigh with his sleeve, his face a mask of panic and guilt. You didn’t know what was worse—the excruciating pain or the fact that you now hated him with every fiber of your being. Park Sunghoon.

And just like that, you passed out, your hatred for him searing into the darkness of your mind as you slipped into unconsciousness.

AND WHAT EXACTLY HAPPENED AFTER THAT?

You may wonder, but well...

Turns out, the guy—Park Sunghoon—was not just any calm, overly collected motorcyclist who’d crashed into you that night. No, he was the son of a wealthy man, one of those who didn’t have to face consequences because money speaks louder than the truth. And apparently, money really does talk, especially when you’re up against a system rigged to work in favor of the rich.

Even though Sunghoon had confessed to being at fault—had told the police it was his mistake—the tests showed otherwise. Your blood test, which revealed traces of alcohol, was enough to tip the scales in his favor. You weren’t even drunk, for heaven's sake—two shots hardly counted—but that didn’t matter. The system had already labeled you as the reckless one. Your claims of innocence? Brushed off, like dust from his expensive jacket.

It was humiliating. The police barely questioned Sunghoon. His parents swooped in like hawks, ensuring their precious son wouldn’t be held accountable for such a trivial incident, and just like that, there was no investigation, no justice. Just a quick sweep under the rug, and you were left to fester in your anger, helpless against the machine that protected people like him.

Being an orphan only made things worse. You had no guardian, no family to back you up or fight for you. Your best friend, Wonyoung, was the only one who came to your side. She tried covering your hospital bills—she had offered, insisted even—but you couldn’t let her. She needed the money more than you did, and you weren’t about to burden her with your mess. But you couldn't deny her when she showed up every day with packed lunches, smuggling in home-cooked meals like they were contraband.

On one particular afternoon, you sat in the hospital bed, poking at the warm rice she had lovingly packed in a small bento box. Wonyoung sat across from you, her eyes burning with the same hatred you felt. She stabbed at her own food, her anger simmering with every bite.

“I still can’t believe him,” she muttered, barely able to contain her frustration. “How does he get to walk away from this like it’s nothing?”

You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head as you swallowed a bite of food. “Because he’s rich. Rich guys don’t face consequences, apparently.”

She nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I hate him. I hate him so much.”

You sighed, your gaze falling to your bandaged leg. It throbbed, a constant reminder of everything that had happened. “Join the club,” you muttered. “He hasn’t even tried to take responsibility. Not once.”

Wonyoung scoffed, glancing over at the sterile hospital room, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow over everything. “How does he sleep at night? Like, seriously?”

You thought about that too. How did Park Sunghoon sleep at night? Probably on some ridiculously expensive mattress in his mansion, far away from the mess he’d left you in. You clenched your fists around the edge of your blanket, biting back the urge to cry. Not again. You were so tired of crying, of feeling powerless, of being at the mercy of someone else’s mistakes.

AND AS THE DAYS PASSED, the gnawing anxiety of being kicked out of the hospital clung to you like a dark cloud. Let's be honest—you had no money. The minute the hospital caught wind of that, you were sure they’d toss you out on the curb without a second thought. It wasn’t like you had any guardian to bail you out, no family waiting in the wings to cover the mounting costs. You were an orphan—alone, except for your best friend Wonyoung, who had already done more than she needed to.

Sitting up slightly in your bed, you glanced at the nurse as she came in to check your vitals. She seemed nice—too nice—and it was exactly that thread of hope you grasped at as you hesitantly asked, “So... when do I pay the hospital bill?”

You knew the question was pointless, knew the answer would sink like lead in your gut, but you had to ask. Maybe, just maybe, a miracle would happen.

The nurse adjusted the IV drip, giving you a small smile as she jotted something down on her clipboard. “Someone already paid for you.”

Your jaw didn’t drop—not even a little—because let’s be honest, you knew who had covered it. Sunghoon’s parents. Of course they did. Anything to wipe their son’s record clean, to make sure no trace of this incident marred the reputation of their precious heir. Rich people.

“Right.” You muttered, sinking back into the pillows, staring at the plain white ceiling. It was always the same. Pay, forget, move on. No justice, just convenient cover-ups.

The nurse, oblivious to the tension building inside you, walked out of the room. You sighed heavily, closing your eyes, hoping—praying—that it wasn’t Sunghoon or one of his parents waiting for you outside. But your luck? Yeah, it never worked in your favor.

“Enjoying your stay here?” His voice was as smooth as silk, and when you opened your eyes, there he was, Park Sunghoon, standing in the doorway with that charming smile of his. It was the kind of smile that could have melted hearts—not yours, though. Not now, not when he was the reason you were lying here, stuck in this bed, smelling nothing but disinfectant and medicine.

“Yeah, it’s great,” you bit out, rolling your eyes. “A dream vacation. Smell of medicine, broken bones, IV drips—just paradise.”

Sunghoon chuckled softly, like he wasn’t standing in front of you after nearly ruining your life. You could have thrown the flower pot sitting by your bed at him—would have if the nurse hadn’t spoken up at that exact moment.

“She has a fracture in her leg and some soft tissue damage, but with rehabilitation, she should recover in twelve to eighteen weeks,” the nurse said, looking at Sunghoon like he actually cared about your prognosis.

“Alright. I get it,” he muttered, nodding as if he was taking mental notes, and you wondered why. Why was he still here? Why did he even care? He had already done his job, hadn’t he? Paid the bills, covered the mess—so why was he still hanging around?

The nurse excused herself, flashing what you swore was a knowing smile before she left the room. “Okay, then, enjoy your time with your girlfriend,” she said as she slipped out the door.

Girlfriend?! You nearly choked on your own breath. Girlfriend?? Really?! Your eyes shot to Sunghoon, demanding an explanation as you sat up straighter, the hospital blanket clenched in your fists.

“Explain,” you hissed, glaring at him with all the hatred you could muster. Your leg ached with the movement, but you ignored it, your whole body brimming with frustration.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well... my dad wouldn’t let me get involved after the accident. But I wanted to take responsibility, and the only way I could stay connected to this without the media getting involved was to pretend you were my girlfriend. That way, it looks like I’m just... you know, paying your bills because I care.”

“Because you care?” You scoffed, your voice dripping with venom. “As expected. Rich people like you don’t actually care—you just want to clean up the mess and move on. Get the media off your back. Don’t worry about me though, Sunghoon. Just stay away from me, because if you keep hanging around, I swear, I will go insane.”

You grabbed the flower pot with one hand, aiming it directly at his face. Your knuckles whitened from the grip, the tension boiling over.

“Whoa, whoa!” Sunghoon raised his hands defensively, stepping back with a sheepish smile that only infuriated you more. “Calm down. I’m going, I’m going.”

He slipped out of the room with a smile that seemed too nonchalant, like none of this was serious to him. He disappeared into the hallway, leaving you to stew in your anger.

You let out a long string of curses under your breath, tossing the flower pot back onto the bedside table with a huff. Your head fell back against the pillow, and you closed your eyes, groaning in frustration.

Why did this guy have to be so infuriating? Every time you thought about him, your blood boiled, and now you were stuck in this mess with him as the person supposedly “taking care” of you. What a joke.

You clutched the blanket tighter, trying to shake off the overwhelming mix of emotions—anger, frustration, and the suffocating feeling of helplessness.

THE NEXT DAY?

SUNGHOON WAS BACK AGAIN.

You groaned inwardly, watching him from the corner of your eye as he quietly settled into the chair beside your hospital bed. He didn't speak, just sat there, his eyes glued to you. What the hell was his deal? You were already too tired to deal with the fact that this guy, who had already caused enough trouble in your life, was now making himself a permanent fixture in your hospital room.

“Can you just go away?” you murmured, voice low and raspy, refusing to look at him directly. It was irritating enough that he was here—you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of eye contact.

He shifted in his seat, leaning forward slightly as if he were genuinely invested in whatever non-existent conversation you were about to have. “I just... I just wanted to apologize,” he started, his tone softer than you expected. “Look, I never wanted this to happen. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt, didn’t want you to get this fracture—”

“Don’t bother me with your false apologies,” you cut him off, your voice sharp as your eyes narrowed in on him. There was no way you were going to sit here and let him play the nice guy when he was the reason you were stuck in this bed. As far as you were concerned, his words were as hollow as his concern.

Sunghoon flinched at your dismissal, but his face quickly returned to that neutral, unreadable expression he always wore. Without missing a beat, he pulled out a small, elegant container from his side, opened it up, and began arranging a steaming bowl of ramen. The fragrant aroma hit your nose almost instantly—rich broth, a soft-boiled egg on the side, and a hint of spice. His personal chef’s touch, no doubt. How typical.

“Here.” He pushed the bowl towards you, chopsticks in hand, offering it like it was some grand gesture of peace.

You stared at it, the smell tempting your empty stomach. But hell no were you going to eat anything he gave you. Not after everything. It felt like taking pity food, and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of thinking he’d done something nice.

“I don’t want to eat this,” you refused coldly, crossing your arms over your chest and turning your head away as if the sight of it disgusted you.

Sunghoon blinked, clearly taken aback by your blunt rejection. The chopsticks hovered mid-air, the ramen dangling precariously off the ends. “Then... what are you gonna eat?” His tone wasn’t mocking, just confused—like he couldn’t fathom why anyone would refuse gourmet ramen made by a personal chef.

You bit back a sigh, feeling the frustration bubbling under your skin. “The hospital food,” you replied flatly, knowing full well you had no intention of eating it. Who in their right mind actually wanted hospital food? But you weren’t going to let him win. Even if it meant enduring that tasteless mush, you would.

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged, completely unfazed, and with the same calm indifference, he took a bite of the ramen himself. Leaning back in his chair, he made himself comfortable, savoring each bite like he had all the time in the world. The room was suddenly filled with the sound of his quiet chewing, and your irritation spiked.

“What the hell?” you muttered, glaring at him as he continued to eat in silence.

He glanced at you, the corner of his lips twitching as if he found this whole situation amusing. “You said you didn’t want it. So, I’m eating it.” His tone was maddeningly casual, as if the fact that you were lying there in a hospital bed while he enjoyed a meal meant absolutely nothing to him.

“I—” You started, but your words stuck in your throat. Was he doing this on purpose? You glared at him, eyes narrowing, your frustration palpable. Without thinking, you grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at him with all the strength you could muster.

It hit him square in the chest, the force of it barely making him flinch, but it was enough to get his attention.

“Just eat somewhere else!” you snapped, your voice raising a bit louder than you intended. “Not near me. You’re making me feel nauseous,” you added, feigning an exaggerated gag as you pressed your hand to your stomach, though in truth, your frustration was more mental than physical.

Sunghoon paused, chopsticks halfway to his mouth, his gaze flickering over to you. For a split second, you saw something in his eyes—something like amusement, or maybe even disbelief. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual blank, indifferent expression.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, pushing his chair back a few inches as if to placate you. He continued eating though, leaning further back, seemingly unbothered by your outburst.

You watched him in silence, your hands clenching the hospital blanket in frustration. How could someone be so infuriating? Every fiber of your being screamed to tell him off, to shout at him for being so... so... indifferent.

But deep down, you knew you couldn’t push him too far. As much as you hated it, this guy and his filthy rich family were the ones footing your hospital bills. Without them, you’d be in deep trouble, maybe even kicked out by now. You needed to be civil—just civil enough—to keep this uncomfortable arrangement going. But that didn’t mean you had to like it.

As Sunghoon continued eating, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering. Your job. What the hell were you supposed to tell your workplace? They were going to fire you for taking such a long break, weren’t they? You were already behind on rent, behind on everything. And now, because of him, you were going to lose the only shred of stability you had left.

You glanced at him again, annoyance bubbling up inside you. This was all his fault.

Every second he stayed here, pretending to be remorseful, pretending to care—it only fueled your hatred more.

After finishing up his food, Sunghoon finally stood up from the chair, and for a blissful second, you thought he was about to leave. Peace, at last.

But no. You watched in dismay as he turned toward the door, only to return moments later with another steaming bowl of food—something undoubtedly made by his annoyingly talented personal chef again. Your stomach growled involuntarily at the sight of it, but you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing you wanted it.

Just as you were about to shoot him a glare, the nurse caring for you entered the room, pushing a small tray cart with the dreaded hospital food on it. Great. She offered a brief, polite smile as she placed the tray on your bedside table. The food looked even worse today—if that was even possible—bland and unappetizing, the kind of meal that probably hadn’t seen salt or seasoning in years.

“Here you go, sweetie. Make sure you eat something,” the nurse said warmly before quickly leaving the room, clearly unaware of the ongoing battle of wills between you and Sunghoon.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you looked over at him. He was watching you, his elbow lazily perched on the arm of the chair, his hand supporting his chin. A slow, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. That damn smirk. The one that made you want to throw something at him—if it weren’t for your fractured leg keeping you bedridden.

“Thank you,” you muttered halfheartedly, reluctantly picking up the plastic spoon that came with the hospital food. You took a bite of the mushy, tasteless concoction, and immediately regretted it. It was like eating wet cardboard. You fought hard not to gag, your throat tightening as the flavorless blob slid down.

Sunghoon chuckled quietly from across the room, his eyes never leaving you. “I thought you wanted hospital food?” he teased, leaning forward just a little as if to get a better look at your suffering.

You made a face, a sickened grimace pulling at your lips as soon as the nurse was out of sight. The taste was vile. And worse yet, Sunghoon seemed to be thoroughly enjoying watching you struggle.

“Well?” he asked, raising an eyebrow, his smirk widening. He knew you didn’t want the hospital food. He knew, and that only seemed to make this entire situation even more entertaining for him.

Your pride was the only thing stopping you from throwing the tray out the window and devouring the meal he brought, but your body was betraying you. Your stomach growled again, loud enough for Sunghoon to hear. He chuckled, clearly amused by your stubbornness.

Before you could protest, he moved closer, balancing the bowl of ramen on his knee as he picked up his chopsticks. With an exaggerated nonchalance, he twirled some noodles around the chopsticks and brought them to your lips.

“Here,” he said, voice soft but teasing. “Just try it.”

You stared at the chopsticks hovering in front of you, your resolve weakening. The savory scent of the ramen was intoxicating, and before you knew it, your body betrayed you once again. You leaned forward and took a bite, unable to resist the warm, perfectly seasoned noodles. The difference in taste was almost enough to make you groan in relief.

Sunghoon’s smirk deepened as he watched you chew, his eyes glinting with amusement. “That’s a good girl,” he murmured, the words rolling off his tongue with a teasing lilt.

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, and you glared at him through a mouthful of ramen. “Don’t call me that,” you muttered, voice muffled as you chewed.

“Why not?” He tilted his head slightly, his lips quirking up in playful curiosity. “You don’t like being called a good girl?”

“It’s cringe,” you replied shortly, swallowing the bite. “Just... feed me, dude.”

He raised an eyebrow at the casual “dude” and let out a soft snort of laughter. “Don’t ‘dude’ me,” he shot back, his tone playfully offended. He twirled more noodles around the chopsticks and held them up for you again.

You glared at him but leaned in for another bite, chewing slowly, savoring the flavor. Dammit, the ramen was good. Stupid rich kids and their personal chefs.

“Why can’t you be nice to me for just one second?” he asked, his voice light but with an edge of genuine curiosity.

You scoffed, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Maybe because you literally got my leg fractured.”

He let out a low sigh, his face softening as he leaned back in the chair, one hand resting lazily on his thigh while the other still held the chopsticks. “That was a mistake.”

“A mistake that cost me my life,” you shot back, your voice laced with bitter sarcasm. You gestured to your leg, propped up awkwardly with a cast. “I can’t work. I’m stuck here. All because of you.”

He winced slightly, but it was brief, his calm expression returning just as quickly. “Yeah, but I’m paying for your bills and feeding you gourmet food. I think that counts for something.”

“Oh, wow. Thanks. I guess I’m supposed to be grateful that you’re throwing your money at the problem you caused,” you said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

He leaned in again, closer this time, his face just inches from yours as he held up the chopsticks with a piece of soft-boiled egg. “You need protein to recover,” he said with mock seriousness, as if that somehow excused everything.

You gave him a long, unimpressed stare but opened your mouth reluctantly, letting him feed you the egg. It was delicious, of course.

Your bickering continued, the tension between you palpable—part frustration, part something you didn’t want to examine too closely. As much as you hated to admit it, there was something almost... comfortable in this strange back-and-forth. Even if he was insufferable. Even if he had ruined your life. There was something about the way he teased you, the way he looked at you with that annoying smirk, that was... unsettling in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

“Next time,” you muttered between bites, “just don’t call me a good girl.”

Sunghoon grinned, eyes glinting with amusement. “We’ll see.”

A WEEK HAD PASSED,

AND SOMEHOW, THIS GUY,

PARK SUNGHOON—

Had become an inescapable shadow in your life. He was always around, lingering like a ghost in the corner of your hospital room, and frankly, it was getting on your nerves. You’d half expected him to get bored and move on, but no, he was persistent. Today was no exception, as he casually strolled in, dressed far too well for someone who supposedly had nothing better to do.

As if the universe wanted to test you even more, you suddenly realized you needed to use the bathroom. Perfect. With a fractured leg and several other annoying injuries, it wasn’t exactly a simple task to just get up and go.

Your eyes flickered over to Sunghoon, who, as usual, was making himself comfortable in the chair beside your bed, scrolling through his phone like he had all the time in the world. How does he not have work? you wondered. But then again, he was rich. He probably was the boss—no one to yell at him for skipping out.

An idea popped into your head, one so devious it made you almost grin. If you were stuck in this hell because of him, then he was going to suffer for it, too.

“I need to use the washroom,” you said, your voice dripping with forced sweetness. You shot him a smile so sugary it could give someone a cavity.

He looked up from his phone, raising a single eyebrow, his expression both confused and slightly suspicious. “And why are you telling me this?” His tone was casual, but you could tell he was wondering what you were up to.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Did he really not get it?

“Well,” you said, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly, “because you’re going to help me get there.”

Sunghoon’s face twisted into an expression of disbelief, the confusion deepening as he stared at you. His brows furrowed, and he glanced from you to your cast, clearly trying to make sense of the situation. “Can’t you just call the nurse?” he asked, his voice filled with exasperation.

You shrugged again, acting as though the answer was obvious. “The nurse is probably busy with other patients. You’re here, so... help me.”

For a moment, Sunghoon just stared at you, realizing that this was your revenge—your small, petty way of getting back at him. You could see the gears turning in his head as he weighed his options, but ultimately, he sighed, knowing full well this was his fault. He couldn’t say no. Not this time.

He stood up from his chair, slipping his phone into his pocket, and walked over to you. “Fine,” he grumbled under his breath, though there was a subtle trace of amusement in his voice. “Let’s get this over with.”

You smirked, raising your arms toward him in a silent, exaggerated demand for help. He gave you a look—one that said he knew exactly what you were doing—but he bent down anyway, carefully placing his arm around your back to help you sit up.

His movements were surprisingly gentle as he shifted you, mindful of your injuries. For a moment, you almost forgot you were supposed to hate him, but the memory of your fractured leg came rushing back as you awkwardly stood, balancing on your good leg while he held you up.

“You’ve done this before, right?” you teased, leaning a bit more heavily on him than necessary.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t answer, his grip tightening around your waist as he helped you off the bed. “Just don’t fall on me,” he muttered, his voice laced with mild frustration.

You let out a small, fake gasp. “Are you afraid of a little contact, Sunghoon?” you asked, your tone dripping with mock innocence.

His jaw clenched slightly, but he ignored your jab, shifting his weight to better support you as he guided you toward the bathroom. “Gosh, why can’t you just call the nurse like a normal person?” he groaned, sounding far more exasperated now that he was actually having to deal with you.

“Because,” you said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “this is your fault. You got me into this mess, and now you get to deal with it.”

He sighed again, clearly trying his hardest not to snap back at you. You could practically hear the patience draining out of him as he helped you into the bathroom, your body leaning heavily on his arm as you hobbled on one leg. His other hand hovered near your cast, careful not to jostle it.

Once you were inside the small bathroom, he slowly backed out, giving you space but not before shooting you a deadpan look. “You good?”

You smirked, biting back a laugh. “I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

Sunghoon closed the door behind him with a soft click, but not before calling through the wood, “Just yell when you’re finished, Your Highness.”

Leaning against the bathroom sink, you couldn’t help but smile in satisfaction. Revenge tasted sweet, even if it was petty. You knew Sunghoon didn’t want to be here, playing nurse, but it felt good to trouble him—just a little.

You took your time, prolonging your stay in the bathroom for as long as possible, savoring the knowledge that Sunghoon was waiting outside. Maybe it was childish, but it made you feel a bit better, if only for a moment.

As you lingered in the bathroom, relishing in your small, mischievous victory, Sunghoon's voice rang out from the other side of the door, his tone laced with irritation.

“You done?” he called out, his voice slightly muffled through the door.

You smirked, leaning your head back against the cool tile of the bathroom wall, debating whether to prolong this little game. But fate, it seemed, had other plans for you. In your attempt to stand up properly, your balance wavered. Your injured leg buckled slightly, causing you to slip, creating a loud thud that echoed off the walls.

“Oh God?! Did you break your leg again?” Sunghoon’s voice immediately shifted from annoyance to a surprising edge of concern. You could hear the door handle jiggle as he attempted to open it.

In a panic, you yelled back before he could barge in. “Don’t even try! I haven’t pulled my pants up!” Your voice wobbled between panic and embarrassment, heat rising to your cheeks despite yourself.

There was a brief pause, followed by a mixture of relief and exasperation in his tone. “Seriously?”

You could practically feel his embarrassment from behind the door as he rubbed the back of his neck, caught between wanting to help and this awkward situation. “Then pull them up!” he said, as though that solved everything. The sheer audacity of his tone made your eye twitch.

“Listen, boy,” you snapped, your voice dripping with sarcasm and frustration. “If I could pull them up, don’t you think I’d be able to walk out? I’m literally stuck on the floor. And it’s disgusting down here!”

His groan was audible through the door, no doubt paired with him running a hand over his face in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

The back-and-forth bickering continued for what felt like forever, with you calling out orders and him grumbling on the other side of the door. After what seemed like an eternity, you finally gave up trying to maintain any shred of dignity in this situation.

“Okay, I pulled them up! Now, help me get out of here,” you finally yelled, exhausted from the struggle.

Sunghoon let out a deep, exaggerated sigh of relief, one that almost made you want to smack him if it weren’t for your current predicament. “Phew, finally.” You could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

The door opened, and Sunghoon stepped inside with a mix of irritation and amusement. He bent down to help you, slipping his arm around your waist once more, lifting you up with practiced ease. You let out a small huff as he guided your weight against him, his warm hand steadying you as your body adjusted to standing again.

Without another word, you wobbled toward the sink, more than ready to return to the bed, but you couldn’t just ignore the fact that your hands were still dirty. Sunghoon kept his arm around you as you leaned over the sink to wash your hands, his eyes narrowing as he observed what you were doing.

"You..." he started, trailing off, his eyes slowly widening in horror. “You haven’t washed your hands yet, have you?”

You glanced up at him through the mirror, raising an eyebrow. “Obviously not. I fell, genius,” you muttered, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sunghoon’s face instantly paled, his eyes darting from his hands to yours, his expression shifting from shock to absolute disgust. He immediately let go of you, stepping back like you’d just told him you had the plague.

“You did NOT just touch me with unwashed hands,” he said, his voice a mix of horror and disgust as he dramatically recoiled. His hand hovered in the air, shaking slightly, before he rushed to the other side of the sink, furiously scrubbing his hands with soap, as though he were trying to rid himself of every possible germ.

Watching him panic was somehow immensely satisfying, a smug grin curling your lips as you watched him suffer in disgust. “Eww, eww, eww!” he muttered to himself as he scrubbed, his face twisted in revulsion.

“Serves you right,” you quipped, leaning back against the wall, watching him frantically rinse his hands as though his life depended on it.

“You’re disgusting,” he shot back, glaring at you through the mirror, but the corner of his mouth twitched as though he were trying hard not to smile.

"Don’t act like I planned to fall, Sunghoon,” you retorted, crossing your arms as you continued to lean on him for support, your smirk never faltering. “But seeing you in pain—this... disgust—I gotta admit, it feels kinda good.”

He shot you a look, half exasperated and half amused, running a hand through his hair. “You’re something else,” he muttered, shaking his head as he helped you back toward the bed.

As much as you wanted to hate him, there was something oddly... endearing about his reaction. The tension between the two of you simmered beneath the surface, a strange mix of frustration, amusement, and something else you refused to acknowledge.

“I know,” you said, smirking as you let him help you lie down on the bed again. “I’m the best kind of trouble.”

Sunghoon scoffed, rolling his eyes, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—something that made the air between you shift. For a moment, the banter fell silent, replaced by an unspoken tension. You both looked away at the same time, the quiet hum of the hospital room filling the space where your words had been.

It wasn’t hatred, not anymore—not exactly. It was something far more complicated than that.

AGAIN,

The next week went by in a haze of frustration, playful revenge, and shared irritations. What had started as your deep-seated hatred for Sunghoon for causing your fractured leg evolved into something less easy to define. It became a bizarre game of you tormenting him with every small inconvenience, while he reluctantly dealt with the trouble, almost as if he believed he deserved it. You had no idea why he kept coming back, why he hadn't just left you to the hospital staff—yet here he was. Every day. Helping you.

And today? Today, you were bored out of your mind, sick of the sterile walls of your hospital room and the bland hospital gown clinging uncomfortably to your skin. The thought of sitting in that stiff bed for another minute was unbearable. Naturally, you decided Sunghoon should suffer the consequences of your boredom too. After all, he was the reason you were here in the first place.

“Take me out for a walk,” you’d said earlier, putting on your best guilt-trip face. “It’s the weekend, you have time. I’ve been stuck here for days.”

Sunghoon, standing at the foot of your bed with an exasperated sigh, had rubbed his temples as if debating whether to throw you into the wheelchair himself or just walk out. But he didn't. With a reluctant grunt and a muttered “Fine, whatever,” he agreed, grabbing the wheelchair from the corner and helping you into it.

Now, as he pushed you down the hospital hallway, your eyes gleamed with mischief. Your fractured leg was propped up awkwardly, wrapped in thick layers of bandages, and your body was still healing, but you were reveling in making him work for it.

"The garden!" you demanded, pointing outside through the glass doors like a queen giving orders to her servant.

Sunghoon, visibly tired from both the physical effort and the mental strain of dealing with you, gave a long-suffering sigh. “You enjoy this,” he muttered, his voice barely hiding the annoyance beneath. It wasn’t a question. He knew you were having way too much fun making his life difficult.

You didn’t answer him. Instead, you leaned back in the wheelchair with a smug grin, watching the trees and flowers of the hospital garden come into view. The warm sunlight kissed your skin, a far cry from the cold hospital walls. This, oddly enough, felt freeing. And it was even better knowing Sunghoon was stuck with you through it. He owed you, after all.

As you rolled along the garden’s paths, you caught sight of something from the corner of your eye—flashes. The unmistakable click of cameras. Paparazzi.

Your smile widened. You remembered the lies Sunghoon had told the nurse—how he had casually, with that infuriating confidence, claimed you were his girlfriend to save face. He was wealthy, privileged, and undoubtedly terrified of the media catching wind of the real story—that he was the one who crashed into you and got you in this mess.

A WICKED IDEA BLOOMED IN YOUR MIND.

Without warning, you let out a loud, exaggerated sob, your shoulders shaking dramatically as you hid your face in your hands. The sound echoed across the garden, loud enough that even the photographers several feet away perked up, their lenses immediately focusing on you.

Sunghoon immediately froze, halting the wheelchair in confusion. “What are you doing?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he moved to your side, kneeling down beside you. His eyes darted around, realizing the attention you were drawing.

But you didn’t stop. You cried even louder, your voice cracking as you spoke, “It’s because of you! You ruined me! You ruined my life!” Your words were over the top, a dramatic sob story for the cameras.

Sunghoon’s eyes went wide with panic, his expression a mix of horror and disbelief as the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He glanced over at the paparazzi, whose cameras were now flashing like crazy, capturing every tear, every quiver of your voice. “You’re kidding, right?” His voice was low, trying to keep his cool but clearly rattled.

You shot him a look through tear-filled eyes that could have won you an Oscar for Best Actress. “I can’t believe you did this to me,” you sobbed again, clutching your leg for dramatic effect. “All because you weren’t paying attention!”

He leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper as he desperately tried to contain the situation. “Please, don’t do this,” he pleaded, his eyes darting nervously between you and the flashing cameras.

But you weren’t done. Oh no. You were just getting started. “I should’ve never trusted you!” you wailed, loud enough for the photographers to pick up every word.

Sunghoon’s jaw clenched, panic flooding his features as the paparazzi moved closer, their cameras capturing every second of your breakdown. He looked desperate, and it was almost... satisfying. Watching him squirm under the weight of his own lies felt like sweet revenge.

You were just about to spill the whole truth—about how he’d been the one to hit you with his motorbike, how he’d been pretending you were his girlfriend to save his reputation—when Sunghoon, clearly sensing what you were about to do, suddenly placed his hand firmly over your mouth, silencing you in an instant.

Your eyes widened in shock as his palm pressed against your lips. Without saying a word, he grabbed the wheelchair handles with his other hand and started pushing you back toward the hospital entrance, ignoring the flurry of camera flashes now going wild as the paparazzi captured the scene.

You muffled against his hand, glaring at him furiously as he practically ran down the hospital pathway, steering you out of sight from the media frenzy.

He didn’t stop until you were back inside the hospital, away from prying eyes. When he finally removed his hand from your mouth, you gasped, shooting him a withering glare.

“What the hell, Sunghoon?!” you yelled, still breathless from the intensity of it all.

He turned to face you, his expression a mixture of frustration and something you couldn’t quite place. “What the hell? Are you insane?! You were going to ruin me out there!”

“I should ruin you!” you shot back, crossing your arms as best as you could in the wheelchair. “You deserve it!”

His face softened for just a split second, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. “Yeah, maybe I do,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But don’t think for a second I’m going to let you drag me down that easily.”

You stared at him, caught off guard by the sudden tension between you—something beyond the irritation, beyond the bickering. Something you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge.

He turned away, gripping the wheelchair handles once more as he moved you back toward your room in silence. And as much as you hated him, you couldn’t help but feel something else too.

As Sunghoon pushed your wheelchair back into the hospital, you couldn’t help but notice the other patients scattered throughout the halls. Most were older, their faces worn with the kind of wisdom you only get from enduring the passage of time. You saw them glance your way, eyes lighting up with admiration, clearly assuming that you and Sunghoon were some kind of tragic but loving couple, destined to overcome hardship together.

Ha. As if.

There wasn’t a drop of love here. The very thought made you internally cringe. If only they knew the truth—that Sunghoon was the reason you were in this wheelchair in the first place. That this whole ‘boyfriend-girlfriend’ facade was just a cover-up for his recklessness. But, no. To them, he was probably some knight in shining armor, dutifully pushing his beloved around the hospital.

You caught a glimpse of an elderly woman giving you a soft smile, and you had to suppress the urge to roll your eyes. This wasn’t a fairytale romance—it was a mess. A tangled, ridiculous mess.

Sunghoon finally maneuvered you back into your hospital room, the wheels of the chair squeaking as he parked it beside your bed. He bent down, his fingers curling around the handles of the wheelchair as if ready to help you out. For a brief second, you could see the faint lines of stress etched into his face, the way his jaw was clenched just a little too tightly.

Before he could do anything, though, his phone buzzed. He glanced down at the screen, eyebrows knitting together in a frown. He hesitated, clearly debating whether or not to answer, but eventually muttered, “I’ll just take this real quick.”

He stepped away, answering the call with a curt, “Yeah?” His voice was low, tense. As the conversation unfolded, you heard snippets of his replies: “I know better,” and “I’m an adult,” followed by a string of sighs. You couldn’t hear the other person on the line, but you could guess. It was probably one of his parents, likely lecturing him for spending so much time around you. After all, why would the rich, polished Sunghoon waste his precious time with some girl he’d accidentally injured?

But the truth was, Sunghoon couldn’t just up and leave you. Oh no. The media was already onto you both, snapping pictures every time you were in public together. If he suddenly disappeared now, they’d think he was the kind of guy who bailed on his girlfriend just because she got injured. His reputation would plummet faster than you’d hit the ground earlier.

Still, was it the truth? That Sunghoon didn’t want to be around you?

The reality was more complicated. You couldn’t even imagine calling him a friend, let alone anything more. This was a weird, temporary arrangement—nothing else.

“I’ll be back,” Sunghoon muttered under his breath, still distracted by his phone. Without a second glance in your direction, he hurried out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he disappeared.

Wait. What?

You blinked, staring at the empty space where he had been just moments ago. Did he seriously just walk out without helping you get back into bed? Your mouth fell open in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me?” you whispered to the empty room.

You waited, expecting him to come back any minute now, to walk in with that same frustrated expression and a sarcastic apology on his lips. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Fifteen. Nothing.

An entire hour dragged by, and still—no Sunghoon. The nurse was nowhere to be found either, probably off on her rounds, leaving you completely and utterly alone.

The frustration boiled inside you. There was no way you were going to stay trapped in this wheelchair any longer. It wasn’t comfortable, and the bed—despite being stiff and unwelcoming—looked like heaven compared to the cold seat you were stuck in.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to do it yourself.

Carefully, you placed your hands on the armrests, trying to hoist yourself up. Your fractured leg protested immediately, the dull ache turning into a sharp pain, but you ignored it. You couldn’t afford to fall, not now. You just had to get onto the bed.

One step. Then another.

You winced as your good leg took the brunt of your weight, wobbling unsteadily. It was like trying to walk a tightrope while holding a stack of plates. Your body swayed, arms trembling as you gripped the bed frame for support. Almost there. You could feel the edge of the mattress pressing against your fingertips.

And then—your foot slipped.

With a sickening thud, you fell face-first into the mattress, your body collapsing awkwardly against the bed frame. Pain shot through your leg as you let out a sharp gasp.

“Damn it!” you cursed under your breath, your voice muffled by the bedspread. “Sunghoon, this is all your fault!”

You lay there for a moment, too stunned and too furious to move. How could he just leave you like that? The idiot was probably off taking some important call while you were stuck in this miserable situation. Your hatred for him simmered again, bubbling to the surface like boiling water ready to spill over.

With a groan, you tried to push yourself up, your muscles straining as you fought to get into a proper position on the bed. Your face burned with embarrassment and anger. All you could think about was how Sunghoon was going to get an earful when—if—he ever came back.

But, despite the frustration, there was something else gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. Something you didn’t want to acknowledge. Something about the way his expression had softened just before he left, like he wasn’t entirely indifferent to you. Like there was something there, beneath all the sarcastic quips and exasperated sighs.

No. You shook your head, refusing to entertain the idea. This wasn’t some cliché hospital romance where the guy who ruined your life suddenly became your savior. Sunghoon wasn’t some misunderstood prince charming. He was just... Sunghoon. Annoying, frustrating, and absolutely the last person you wanted to deal with.

Still, as you lay there, face buried in the hospital bed, you couldn’t help but feel that gnawing frustration twisting into something else. Something far more complicated.

THE NEXT DAY PASSED IN A HAZE.

And the day after that.

And another day.

Each one crawled by, dragging itself through hours that felt like days. But Sunghoon didn’t return. Not a text, not a call, not even a shadow of his presence outside your hospital room. You didn’t want to admit it, but his absence gnawed at you. Was he sick? Had something happened? Why the hell were you even wondering about it?

You shouldn’t care.

You didn’t care.

In fact, you should be overjoyed if he had caught some miserable flu. Or—better yet—if he had gotten into trouble of his own for once. You’d be happy. Relieved, even.

Right?

Except, you weren’t. Something unsettling tugged at the back of your mind. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t said a word before disappearing. But the more you tried to push the thought away, the more it latched onto you.

And then the door to your hospital room creaked open, a slow twist of the knob announcing a presence you hadn’t expected.

In walked a woman.

Her aura screamed wealth, a kind of quiet, effortless opulence that you recognized instantly—the tailored coat, the way her silk scarf draped perfectly over her shoulders, and most notably, her glasses. You had never seen anyone wear glasses that looked like they cost more than your entire hospital stay.

She didn’t spare you much of a glance at first, too busy taking off her glasses with a dismissive flick of her wrist. But as soon as her eyes met yours, you felt the air shift. Her gaze was sharp, calculating, and instantly made you sit up straighter in bed, pressing your back against the headboard.

Was this Sunghoon’s mother?

The question popped into your mind, but the answer came without you having to ask. Her next words confirmed everything.

“So, you’re that girl,” she said, her voice clipped as her eyes flickered over you. It wasn’t even a question, more of a statement. You were that girl—the one her son had dragged into this mess. You shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, but somehow managed to muster some sarcasm.

“Yeah, the girl your son fractured the leg of,” you shot back, the words leaving your mouth with a little too much venom. But, realizing this was probably not the time for jokes, you cleared your throat.

The woman didn’t look amused. Instead, she merely hummed, clearly not interested in exchanging pleasantries.

“I’m here to talk,” she said flatly, ignoring your tone entirely. Her eyes, sharp as ever, stayed fixed on you, not even bothering with an introduction. You could hear some faint commotion outside the room, likely the nurses eavesdropping, curious about the sudden appearance of such an elegant woman.

“Okay…” you replied, scratching the back of your neck nervously, your mind already racing. What could she possibly want?

Without a hint of hesitation, Sunghoon’s mother stepped closer to your bed, pulling something out of her bag—a cheque. She laid it on your blanket-covered lap with a kind of quiet authority that made it clear this wasn’t a negotiation.

“Take this,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “And leave my son.”

You blinked, staring at the cheque in disbelief. Was this really happening? It felt like a scene ripped straight out of a cheesy drama. Your mouth opened to respond, but before you could, she continued, her tone icy and business-like.

“If the media says anything, tell them the two of you broke up because of something you did.”

The words hit you like a slap. So this was it, huh? A payoff. A quick exit plan for the inconvenience you had become. Without thinking, you picked up the cheque. Shamelessly, even. You weren’t going to pretend like you weren’t curious. Your eyes widened slightly as you glanced at the amount.

It was a lot.

Enough to cover an expensive surgery. Heck, enough to completely change your life—your face, your identity. Maybe even start fresh. Your heart raced for a moment, but then a sneaky idea popped into your head. Maybe you could push this a little further.

“I can’t take this,” you muttered, putting on your best ‘reluctant’ act. You hoped it came off as genuine, like you were too noble to accept a bribe. You glanced up at her from under your lashes, waiting to see her reaction.

For a split second, her eyes narrowed, and then—without a word—she reached into her bag again, pulling out another cheque. This one was double the amount of the first.

Your internal grin nearly split your face in two.

“I’ll take it,” you replied immediately, the words leaving your mouth faster than you could process them. You grabbed the second cheque, abandoning any pretense of hesitation. This was too good to pass up. Who cared about Sunghoon? You weren’t even his girlfriend. You didn’t owe him anything, and this was way too much money to let go.

Sunghoon’s mother arched a brow, a small smirk curling at the corner of her lips. “You’re smart,” she said, her voice dripping with a patronizing kind of approval. Before you could even react, she patted your head like you were some kind of obedient puppy. The gesture made your skin crawl, but you forced yourself to stay still, biting back the urge to snap at her.

With that, she turned and strode out of the room, her heels clicking against the tiled floor in a rhythm that oozed confidence and control. You watched her leave, the door closing with a soft click behind her.

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the distant chatter outside the door. You glanced down at the cheques in your hands, the weight of them sinking in.

You couldn’t help but laugh under your breath. This was it. After years of living in that godforsaken orphanage, of scraping by, of enduring the endless bullying—you were finally getting a break.

Who knew a fractured leg could be this profitable? If this was what came from one little accident, maybe getting hit again wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

At least you knew one thing for sure: money beats boys. Every time.

YOU EXPECTED TO NEVER SEE SUNGHOON EVER AGAIN. In fact, you had made peace with it—or, at least, you thought you had. But that didn’t stop the daily ritual that had developed between you, Wonyoung, and Hanni.

They sat on either side of your hospital bed, a swirl of indignation and venom, bitching relentlessly about the guy who had caused all of this—Sunghoon.

At least you had your friends. They were here, taking time out of their lives to be by your side, and if that wasn’t love, you didn’t know what was. Wonyoung sat perched on the edge of the hospital bed, her legs crossed with effortless grace, while Hanni lounged at the foot of your bed, absently stroking your hair like you were a cat. They had barely paused for breath since they’d walked into the room, diving headfirst into their favorite topic: how much they despised Sunghoon.

"I mean, the guy just fractures your leg and disappears without so much as a note?" Wonyoung scoffed, her voice dripping with disbelief as she flung her arms in the air like she wanted to strangle him. She shot you a look that said how could you have possibly put up with this idiot?

“And let’s not forget,” Hanni added, leaning forward conspiratorially as if Sunghoon might somehow hear them through the walls, “he’s probably just out there living his little rich boy life while you’re stuck in here, waiting for your leg to heal.”

She shook her head in disgust, fingers still lightly grazing your scalp. “Rich bastards are always like this,” she muttered under her breath, giving you a soft pat like she was reassuring you that you weren’t alone in your suffering.

You could feel a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, watching the two of them fuel each other’s fire. Neither of them had actually met Sunghoon, but they hated him with the burning passion of a thousand suns, and honestly, it was kind of hilarious to watch.

“I know, right? Like, how dare he?” Wonyoung continued, practically vibrating with indignation. “Does he think just because he’s rich and pretty, he can just act like that and not have any consequences?”

Her eyes narrowed, lips pulling into a thin line, as she mimicked slapping someone in the air. “If I ever see him, I swear to god I’m going to knock some sense into that stupid, spoiled—”

“Oh, please,” Hanni interrupted with a snort. “If you ever saw him, you'd probably get distracted by how disgustingly handsome he is and forget all about punching him.”

Wonyoung blinked at her, feigning innocence. “Me? Never. I’m immune to pretty boys.”

“Sure.” Hanni teased, rolling her eyes. “Tell that to your last crush.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at their bickering, the sound surprising you. It was strange how comforting their presence was, even though all they seemed to do was rip into Sunghoon. Not that you minded, of course. They were right—he deserved it. Completely.

…Right?

You listened as they went back and forth, each taking turns trashing him for his ghosting act. The more they bitched, the more venomous their words became, but somewhere deep down, you couldn’t help but feel a small, annoying tug of… something else.

Sure, you hated Sunghoon. You absolutely detested him. He had caused this whole mess, fractured your leg, and then vanished into thin air without so much as a “Sorry, hope you’re doing okay.” The guy didn’t even have the decency to send flowers. Who does that?

But… still. A part of you—a very, very tiny part—missed him. Even though he was infuriating. Even though he’d probably caused you more stress than anyone else in your life. You couldn’t shake the strange pang of absence, the way the hospital room felt oddly emptier without him awkwardly hovering around like your personal nurse. Maybe it was the fact that, for a few fleeting moments, you’d been able to annoy the hell out of him and enjoy watching him fumble over basic hospital tasks. There was a twisted kind of satisfaction in making a guy like him—a spoiled, oblivious rich boy—take care of you.

But more than that, you missed having someone to direct your frustration at. As much as you enjoyed watching Wonyoung and Hanni tear him to shreds on your behalf, it wasn’t quite the same.

“Seriously, though,” Hanni said, dragging you out of your thoughts, “I bet he’s out at some fancy restaurant right now, eating caviar or whatever rich people eat, without a single thought about you.”

Wonyoung huffed, leaning back on her elbows. “Probably. You know, I bet he’s never even eaten instant ramen. Can you imagine?”

You snorted. “Yeah, because the moment he tastes anything less than five-star cuisine, his delicate palate might collapse.”

Wonyoung laughed, but then her expression grew more serious. “It’s just messed up, though. He leaves you here to rot, and for what? Did he even like you?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone light. “Who knows? I think I was just a… distraction for him.”

“That’s even worse,” Hanni said, crossing her arms. “Honestly, you should’ve asked for more when his mom came by with that cheque. They owe you a hell of a lot more than just money after all this.”

Wonyoung’s eyes widened. “Wait, his mom came here? And gave you money?”

“Oh, right. I forgot to mention that part,” you said, suppressing a grin as you leaned back against your pillow. “Yeah, his mom basically bribed me to stay away from him. Two cheques, actually.”

Hanni’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was,” you replied, the grin breaking free. “Apparently, I was such a nuisance that she wanted to pay me off to disappear from Sunghoon’s life for good.”

Wonyoung let out a low whistle. “Damn. You should’ve held out for a third cheque.”

“Honestly,” Hanni added, shaking her head in disbelief. “Rich people are something else.”

You laughed, a bit more genuinely this time, as they continued to bitch about Sunghoon and his high-society family. But despite the humor and the camaraderie, there was still that nagging feeling. That tiny, irritating itch in the back of your mind.

You didn’t miss him—not exactly. But maybe, just maybe, you missed the chaos that came with him. And, unfortunately, chaos had a way of finding its way back.

You just didn’t know it yet.

“Woah, I didn’t expect you to bad bitch about me the second I disappear,” came a familiar voice from the doorway, smooth and dripping with sarcasm. You didn’t even have to turn your head to know who it was. The all-too-familiar dramatic hurt expression was already imprinted in your mind—the same one Sunghoon wore whenever he wanted to be the center of attention, which was, frankly, all the time.

You snapped your head in his direction, and there he was—leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed as if he hadn't just walked in unannounced, with that smug smirk plastered on his ridiculously perfect face. His brows were raised in mock disbelief, his lips twisted into an amused pout, as if he'd caught you red-handed in the act of a crime. How dare you talk about me when I’m not here? his expression screamed. But it wasn’t just that. No. Sunghoon looked… annoyingly good.

The worst part? He knew it.

Hanni and Wonyoung, who had been enthusiastically leading the charge in your anti-Sunghoon crusade just moments ago, froze mid-rant, their jaws practically hitting the floor. The air thickened with awkward tension, the kind that made your stomach do a weird flip. You glanced at your friends, fully expecting them to keep up the bitching. Surely, they wouldn’t back down now—not after all the trash-talking they’d just unleashed on his name, right? But when you turned to look at them, all you saw were wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

Wait a minute. Were they… shy?

Hanni was the first to break. Her voice, usually sharp and unfiltered, faltered as she stared at Sunghoon like he had descended from the heavens. “Were we talking about him?” she whispered under her breath, as if you hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes cursing his existence. She blinked, clearly taken aback by his presence. So handsome, so— you could practically hear her thoughts scrambling for coherence.

Wonyoung, on the other hand, was shamelessly gawking. Gone was the fire-breathing dragon ready to rip Sunghoon to shreds. Instead, she was wide-eyed, as if she’d never seen a human so beautiful in her life. “Uh…” She trailed off, her brain short-circuiting under his gaze. So much for being immune to pretty boys.

You huffed, rolling your eyes at their sudden change of demeanor. Traitors.

Before you could say anything, Sunghoon took a leisurely step into the room, his presence practically swallowing the space whole. “Your mom told me to stay away from you,” you muttered under your breath, glaring at him in the hopes that it would somehow send him running for the hills. As if mentioning his mother would magically undo his annoying existence. “And by the way,” you added, “I’m not giving that money back. No way.”

Sunghoon’s smirk only widened, the infuriating bastard. “Well, yeah,” he said nonchalantly, as if discussing the weather, “she told you to stay away from me, but I’m still allowed to stay close to you. You’re not the one initiating this.” He shrugged, as if his logic was sound and you were the one being difficult.

You stared at him, dumbfounded. What? You actually had to tilt your head back to process that nonsense. Was he serious? You blinked, glanced up at the ceiling as if the answer to his ridiculous statement might be written up there, and then back at him.

He wasn’t joking.

You were about to retort—about to remind him just how absurd that sounded—when you glanced at your two supposed best friends, expecting them to jump in and tear him a new one. But instead, they were still sitting there, suddenly very preoccupied with… being shy? Their gazes darted anywhere but at Sunghoon, as if he was some untouchable, otherworldly figure they couldn’t dare criticize anymore.

You scoffed under your breath. Unbelievable.

“Well…” You tried to gather your thoughts, but before you could finish, Hanni shifted beside you—by accident, of course—and her elbow brushed against your injured leg. Pain shot through your body, and you winced, sucking in a sharp breath. “Ow!”

Immediately, Sunghoon was at your side, crossing the room in a flash, his expression now serious as he kneeled beside you, his hands hovering over your injured leg. “Are you okay? Let me see.”

Your instinct was to push him away—to tell him to back off and leave you alone. The last thing you needed was him fussing over you like he actually cared. But you were injured, and Sunghoon had the upper hand—literally. His fingers gently pressed against your leg, checking to see if you were in pain, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t stop him. You tried to shove him off, but he was stronger, and your body wasn’t exactly in fighting shape.

“Stop—” you muttered, but your voice was weak. And, truthfully, despite how much you hated him, you let him check because… well, he was good at it. Annoyingly good.

Hanni, meanwhile, had the audacity to mutter under her breath, “Should’ve brought popcorn. This is hella interesting.” She shot you a guilty look, clearly aware that she’d caused the whole thing by bumping into your leg, but that didn’t stop her from thoroughly enjoying the drama unfolding right before her eyes.

Wonyoung, who had somehow recovered from her stunned silence, leaned back and muttered, “Right.” She was watching the whole scene play out like she was stuck in the middle of some romantic comedy, her eyes darting between you and Sunghoon like she was waiting for the inevitable kiss scene.

“Weren’t you two on the #hatehim team?” you hissed, glaring at both of them as Sunghoon finally pulled back, satisfied that your leg wasn’t worse off than before.

Wonyoung blinked innocently, already gathering her things. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah,” Hanni added with a shrug, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off her jeans. “We’re just, uh… neutral parties.”

Before you could even comprehend what was happening, they both stood, gathered their bags, and exchanged quick looks like they had just silently agreed on something. In unison, they made their way to the door, Wonyoung gesturing for Hanni to follow her like they were in some secret mission.

“Wait—are you leaving?!” you called after them, your voice laced with disbelief.

Hanni flashed you an apologetic smile, but her feet didn’t stop moving. “We’ll see you later! Good luck!”

With that, the two of them excused themselves, slipping out of the room like nothing had happened, leaving you alone with Sunghoon. You blinked after them, incredulous. They had changed their minds way too fast. How the hell did that even happen? Just ten minutes ago, they had been ripping Sunghoon apart, and now? Now they were acting like he was some kind of romantic hero who had fallen from the stars to sweep you off your feet.

You sighed, sinking back against your pillow.

But even as you stared at the door, trying to figure out how your two best friends had suddenly betrayed you, the nagging worry crept back into your mind. The cheques. You couldn’t help but glance at Sunghoon out of the corner of your eye, wondering if he would tell his mom about this little reunion. You would kill him if the money got taken back.

And just like that, Sunghoon was once again at the center of your frustrations—always, always causing trouble.

THE FACT THAT THE SUNGHOON — the only son of Park Corporation—had re-entered your life wasn’t exactly a secret, nor did it stay hidden from the one person who mattered most: his mother. There was no way she’d let this slide. And just as you predicted, not long after Sunghoon's unexpected return, his mother showed up at your hospital room door once again, this time with backup.

And by backup, you meant Sunghoon's older cousin brother, Jay. A man whose only crime, as far as you could tell, was being related to the Park family. If Sunghoon was infuriating, Jay seemed like he’d rather be anywhere else but here. His discomfort radiated off him like a bad cologne—too strong, and kind of pitiful. His eyes darted nervously around the room, like he was scared to make eye contact with you. Honestly, you weren’t even sure if he knew why he was there.

Mrs. Park nudged him sharply, her manicured nails digging into his arm. “Tell her,” she hissed, clearly fed up with his lack of initiative.

Jay, however, looked more like he was preparing for a high school speech than an intimidating favor-demanding confrontation. He rubbed the back of his neck, looked down at his palm, probably reciting some mental script he had prepared on the way here, and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Uh… so…”

You raised an eyebrow. Was this really happening? The Park Corporation sent this guy? This was their best shot at trying to intimidate you? First, Sunghoon barges into your life like a hurricane, and now his cousin shows up, looking like he’s one deep breath away from fainting. Honestly, you felt bad for Mrs. Park. How did she expect these two to run a massive conglomerate? You stifled a laugh, pity almost bubbling up in your chest.

Before Jay could stumble through another word, though, the door burst open, and in walked the person you least wanted to see. Of course. Of course Sunghoon had perfect timing. He always seemed to show up when things were about to get interesting, like some messed-up alarm system that detected whenever you were about to make some extra cash off his family’s dramatics. You barely blinked before he was standing there, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe as if he hadn’t just barged in.

“Jay,” Sunghoon muttered, his tone heavy with disappointment, “You too?”

Jay immediately straightened up, as if trying to salvage what little pride he had left. “Your mom asked me to. Trust me, I didn’t want to do this.” He stepped back, throwing his hands up as though he were surrendering to the inevitable.

Sunghoon’s mother, however, had zero patience for this nonsense. She let out a dramatic sigh, pressing a hand to her temple as if dealing with two grown men acting like toddlers was giving her a migraine. “What else could I do when my son is wasting his time on this?” She waved a hand in your direction, as though you were an unpleasant distraction from Sunghoon’s otherwise charmed life. Her voice dripped with irritation, as though you were personally responsible for ruining her perfectly laid plans.

You paused mid-bite, glancing at her with an amused smirk. She had brought her son’s cousin to what? Scare you? Threaten you into backing off? You leaned back against the pillows on your hospital bed, casually spearing another piece of the expensive meal Sunghoon had brought you earlier. A luxurious spread, by the way. How thoughtful. You chewed slowly, savoring both the food and the unfolding chaos in front of you. It was like watching a soap opera, but better, because it was real. And because you were the center of it.

Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, visibly annoyed by his mother’s theatrics. “This again? Seriously, Mom?” His gaze flickered toward Jay, who was doing his best to blend into the wallpaper. “You got Jay involved in this?”

“He didn’t have a choice,” Mrs. Park snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. She stood in the middle of the room, clearly expecting to command the entire situation with her presence alone. “I can’t just stand by while you throw away your future on—” She glanced at you with disdain, the kind only a Park could muster. “This girl.”

You snorted, taking another bite of food. “This girl is sitting right here, you know.”

Sunghoon’s eyes flicked to you, briefly softening in what might have been sympathy—or maybe annoyance. Hard to tell. Either way, he turned back to his mother, exasperation bleeding into his voice. “I’m not ‘throwing away’ anything. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

His mother wasn’t having it. “You’ve been running around for days, ignoring your responsibilities for this… this situation!” She gestured dramatically toward you as if you were some scandalous tabloid headline.

You set down your fork and raised an eyebrow. “It’s cute that you think you can still control him.”

Sunghoon gave you a look that screamed you’re not helping.

Mrs. Park glared at her son, then at you, her lips pressing into a thin line. “This isn’t about control,” she said icily, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. “It’s about ensuring you don’t ruin your life over some impulsive decision.”

Jay, meanwhile, looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. He kept glancing between the three of you, clearly regretting every single decision that led him here. He took a step back, slowly edging toward the door, clearly hoping no one would notice him escaping.

“Oh, no you don’t,” you said, your voice teasing but firm, “You’re part of this mess now, Jay.”

His eyes widened in mild panic. “I—I don’t—”

But before he could defend himself, Sunghoon’s mother cut in, “Jay, tell her.” She prodded him again, practically pushing him into the spotlight.

Jay rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting around the room like he was looking for an exit. “Uh, look, I… I don’t really want to do this, but…” He paused, throwing an apologetic look your way, “Can you just… maybe think about backing off? Just… consider it? For me?” His voice was pleading, clearly not cut out for this whole intimidation thing.

Sunghoon groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this entire situation was giving him a migraine. “This is ridiculous.”

“Is it?” His mother snapped. “You’re wasting your time. There are other priorities for someone in your position.”

Sunghoon’s patience was clearly wearing thin, his jaw tightening as he responded. “You keep saying that. But you’re not listening to me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, low and quiet, as you continued to enjoy the spectacle. The three of them—Sunghoon, his mom, and Jay—bickering like some dysfunctional family sitcom, while you sat back, fully immersed in your gourmet meal.

“This is better than TV,” you muttered to yourself, watching as they tried to one-up each other.

Mrs. Park shot you a death glare, but you just smiled back innocently, because really, what was she going to do? Take your meal away?

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked toward you again, and for a moment, there was a hint of something softer in his expression. Frustration, maybe. Or something that bordered on concern. He opened his mouth to say something, but Jay, finally finding his courage, jumped in again.

“You know,” Jay said, sounding more desperate than threatening, “this would all be easier if we just… moved on. You know?”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed. “Easier for who?”

Jay hesitated, clearly realizing he was in over his head. His shoulders slumped, clearly realizing that he wasn’t getting out of this alive—figuratively, at least. His eyes darted back and forth between you and Sunghoon, probably weighing whether it was safer to keep talking or to just bolt. He ended up choosing the safer route: silence.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, was far from done. His gaze sharpened as he turned toward his mother, who was glaring at him with the ferocity only a woman scorned by her own son could muster.

“I’m serious, Mom,” Sunghoon said, voice tense but controlled. “You can’t keep barging into my life like this. It’s not going to work.”

Mrs. Park scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “I barged into your life? Are you kidding me, Sunghoon? You’re the one who keeps throwing everything away for… for her,” she spat, pointing an accusing finger in your direction.

You almost choked on your food but managed to swallow it down, raising your hands in mock surrender. “Whoa, hey. Don’t drag me into this. I’m just eating.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked back to you for a moment, his expression softening. It was brief, but there was something almost apologetic in his eyes before he looked back at his mother.

“Whatever you think is going on here, it’s not what you think,” Sunghoon said, his voice taut with frustration. “I’m not ‘throwing anything away.’”

Mrs. Park’s jaw tightened, her nostrils flaring as she crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re wasting your time, Sunghoon. You should be focusing on the company, your future, not this… whatever this is.”

She waved a dismissive hand in your direction, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. You weren’t exactly a fan of being treated like some pesky side project Sunghoon needed to get rid of, but the whole situation was too ridiculous to take seriously.

“So, what,” you said, leaning back in your bed, eyes flicking between the three of them, “You’re all here to—what? Threaten me? Make me back off? Because I gotta be honest, this isn’t working.” You gestured toward Jay, who looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole, and Mrs. Park, who was glaring daggers at you.

Sunghoon’s mother took a step forward, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “I’m not here to play games with you, girl. I’m here to ensure my son’s future. You’re nothing but a distraction.”

“Ouch,” you muttered, feigning hurt. “You really know how to make someone feel special.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair, clearly exasperated with the whole ordeal. “Mom, you’re not helping. Just… stop, okay?”

“Helping?” Mrs. Park echoed incredulously, as though the very idea was laughable. “You think I’m not helping by trying to save your future from her?”

You were starting to get a little irritated, even if the whole situation was more laughable than threatening. “Look, I don’t know what fantasy land you’re living in, but Sunghoon is the one who came to me. Not the other way around. If you’re so worried about his future, maybe start with him.”

Sunghoon gave you a look that said please stop fanning the flames, but you were past caring at this point. You’d had enough of this woman coming into your life and treating you like you were some common gold-digger. She didn’t know the half of it.

His mother, however, seemed immune to reason. She shot her son a glare. “You’re throwing your life away, Sunghoon. I raised you better than this.”

And finally, something in Sunghoon snapped. His usually calm demeanor cracked as he stepped forward, his voice low and sharp. “No, what you did was control my entire life. And guess what? I’m done. I’m not a kid anymore, and I don’t need you micromanaging every decision I make.”

His mother’s eyes widened in shock, clearly not expecting this outburst. Even Jay looked taken aback, his mouth opening slightly in surprise.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back and crossing your arms over your chest. This was getting good.

“Sunghoon—”

“No, Mom. Stop,” Sunghoon cut her off, his voice unwavering. “You’re not doing this because you care about me. You’re doing this because you care about your image. About the company’s image.”

His mother recoiled as though she’d been slapped, her perfectly manicured nails curling into fists at her sides. “How dare you—”

“How dare I?” Sunghoon laughed bitterly. “You’ve been treating me like a business deal my whole life, Mom. This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

The room fell silent, the tension so thick you could practically feel it pressing down on your chest. Sunghoon’s mother stood frozen in place, her face a mixture of fury and shock.

Jay, sensing the growing hostility, started inching toward the door again, but before he could make his grand escape, Mrs. Park turned to him, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “Jay, we’re leaving.”

Jay practically tripped over his own feet in his eagerness to comply. He glanced at you briefly—an apologetic look that almost said sorry for the drama—before scurrying out of the room behind his aunt.

Mrs. Park paused in the doorway, turning to throw one last glare in your direction. “This isn’t over.”

You raised an eyebrow, nonchalantly taking another bite of your meal. “Looking forward to round two.”

She glared, and with a sharp turn, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her. The sound echoed through the room, leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than the bickering that had just taken place.

For a moment, neither you nor Sunghoon spoke. He stood there, still reeling from the argument, his jaw clenched, shoulders tense. You swallowed the last bite of your meal, wiping your mouth with a napkin as you glanced up at him.

“Well,” you said, breaking the silence with a wry smile, “that was fun.”

Sunghoon didn’t respond at first, his eyes focused on the floor, as if trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair again. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice low.

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “For what?”

“For all of… this,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the door where his mother and cousin had exited. “I didn’t think it would get this bad.”

You shrugged, leaning back against the pillows. “I’m used to it. Your mom’s not exactly my biggest fan.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Sunghoon muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small, humorless smile.

A beat of silence passed between you, the tension slowly dissolving now that the storm had passed. But there was still something unspoken lingering in the air, something that felt heavier than the drama with his mother.

You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes. “So… what now?”

Sunghoon hesitated, his gaze softening as he looked at you. For the first time, there was no sarcasm, no playful banter. Just the weight of everything unsaid between the two of you.

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, his voice raw. “But I do know one thing.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his tone firm, his eyes locked on yours. “No matter what she says. No matter what anyone says.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the intensity in his voice, but you kept your expression neutral, not wanting to give anything away. “That sounds like a lot of trouble for nothing.”

Sunghoon stood by the edge of your hospital bed, arms crossed over his chest, his tall frame casting a long shadow over the room as the dim light from the ceiling flickered slightly. His gaze was a mix of disbelief and frustration, but there was an edge of something softer, something unreadable, as if he wasn’t quite sure whether to laugh or get defensive at your latest jab.

"Anyways, aren't you the heir?" You muttered, the words slipping out casually as you fiddled with the blanket, your tone attempting to sound neutral. But deep down, you knew exactly what you were doing. Trying to reason with Mrs. Park—despite her endless insults—wasn’t out of some newfound respect for her. No, this was a survival tactic. Sunghoon might equal trouble, but his mother? She was the gateway to all those fat cheques. You knew better than to entirely burn that bridge, even if it was hanging by a thread.

Sunghoon raised a brow at you, clearly not expecting the sudden change in direction. "You think she's worried about me?" he scoffed, almost incredulous.

You shrugged nonchalantly, refusing to meet his gaze for too long. "I just think… maybe she's concerned about your future," you muttered, your words laced with an attempt to seem logical, though your true motive lay elsewhere. You tugged the hospital blanket tighter around your legs, which still ached from the accident. A small price to pay for someone like him smashing into you.

He leaned against the wall, his stance casual but his expression anything but. "Future?" Sunghoon repeated, almost bitterly. He huffed before muttering under his breath, "I'm a racer."

You nearly choked on your own breath at that. A racer. The very notion of it was absurd, especially given how he ended up here with you in the hospital in the first place.

"No wonder she's worried." The words slipped out before you could stop them, your voice barely audible, but loud enough for him to catch. You glanced at him through the corner of your eye, noticing how his expression morphed from mild irritation to downright disbelief.

“What do you mean, ‘no wonder she’s worried’?” He demanded, straightening up, arms uncrossing as he took a step closer to you, like you’d just accused him of being some criminal mastermind.

You didn’t even try to stifle the small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. "Come on, Sunghoon. Let’s be real for a second. You're not exactly... the best driver." You gestured lazily towards your leg, which was propped up in a cast. “Even on a motorbike, you managed to get my leg broken.”

He let out a deep sigh, frustration evident in the way he rolled his eyes, muttering, “Shut up,” under his breath, though the edges of his lips twitched upwards for a second. He hated that you had a point. But there was no real venom in his words, just mild annoyance, the kind that came from knowing someone had you cornered.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze drifting from you to the small bouquet of flowers on the side table, then back to you. His posture screamed discomfort, as if he wasn’t used to being in such close proximity to his own vulnerability. After a long pause, he finally asked the question you’d been dodging for a while now, his voice dipping into something almost concerned. “But why were you drunk, though? I mean, they found alcohol in your tests that day."

Your breath hitched for a moment, but you quickly waved it off, eyes flicking away to avoid his gaze. "I just had a bad day, okay?" The words came out a little too quickly, a little too defensive, and you knew it wasn’t the full story. But the last thing you wanted was to dive into your own mess, especially not with him.

Sunghoon didn’t push further, his gaze softening slightly, but he wasn't one to leave a conversation dangling for too long. “Why were you speeding, though?” You shot back, raising an eyebrow in return. If he was going to dig into your mess, you had every right to poke at his.

The corner of his mouth twitched nervously as he chuckled, his usual bravado faltering for a split second. You knew something was up. Sunghoon never got nervous. Not like this.

"Well..." he started, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, his eyes darting away from you, unable to maintain eye contact for too long.

“Well?" You pressed, folding your arms across your chest as you waited for whatever ridiculous excuse he had to offer.

Sunghoon let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh. "My dad saw me riding," he muttered. "So I was kinda in a hurry."

For a second, you just stared at him, blinking in disbelief. "That’s it?" you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief. "Your dad saw you riding, and that made you speed? You didn't even bother to stop when you crashed into me?”

He fidgeted slightly, clearly uncomfortable under your scrutinizing gaze, but he shrugged helplessly. "I didn’t see you, okay? I was too busy trying to avoid him."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, sinking back into your pillows with a sigh. “That's it? And here I thought you were doing drug deals or something.”

The sarcasm in your voice was unmistakable, though you couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous this whole situation had turned out to be. For someone who was supposedly the heir to a powerful corporation, Sunghoon had a way of complicating the most straightforward situations.

He blinked at you in disbelief, the tips of his ears turning red. "What? Drug dealing? Really?" he muttered, crossing his arms again as he leaned against the bed frame, clearly not impressed by your comment. But his reaction only made you grin wider.

You shrugged, a smirk tugging at your lips. “I mean, with how secretive you’ve been acting, who could blame me for assuming the worst?”

Sunghoon huffed, shaking his head in mild exasperation, though the ghost of a smile lingered on his face. "Trust me, my life is complicated enough without any of that.”

“Complicated, huh?” you echoed, your gaze drifting toward him. His posture had relaxed slightly, but there was still an air of frustration hanging between the two of you. You could tell there was more to the story, more that he wasn’t saying.

But you weren’t one to push, not when you had your own secrets buried deep.

You let the conversation die down after that, the room filled with a quiet sort of tension that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Sunghoon stayed by your side, despite everything, leaning against the frame of your bed as his eyes softened, watching you finish your meal with quiet focus. And for a moment, the tension between you eased, like the storm had passed, leaving behind a fragile calm.

But even in the silence, you couldn’t help but notice the small gestures—the way his fingers absentmindedly drummed against the bedpost, the way his gaze lingered a little too long on you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. There was something between you two, a line that neither of you wanted to cross, yet both kept flirting with.

And for the first time, the thought of it didn't scare you.

THE NEXT MORNING,

Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow across the sterile white walls of the hospital room. The monotonous hum of the machines, the occasional beep from the heart monitor, and the muted footsteps of nurses outside became the background symphony of your stay. You blinked your eyes open slowly, your body stiff from yet another restless night, and as your vision adjusted, the familiar dull ache in your leg grounded you back into the reality you’d been living for the past few days.

BUT TODAY, SOMETHING WAS DIFFERENT.

As you shifted slightly, careful not to agitate the cast on your leg, your gaze fell to the chair beside your bed. There he was—Park Sunghoon, slouched in the chair with his head resting against the armrest, his mouth slightly parted as soft, steady breaths escaped his lips. His long legs were sprawled out in front of him, one arm draped lazily across his stomach while the other rested close to yours, mere inches from the side of your bed. The sight was enough to make your breath hitch.

He’d stayed. Again.

For days, he had made this hospital room his second home, despite the biting remarks and the cold distance that had defined your relationship thus far. As if it was some kind of duty he couldn’t escape, some obligation he had to fulfill for the sake of his reputation or his family. At least, that’s what you convinced yourself. There’s no way he actually cares.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder, especially in moments like this, when his face was stripped of its usual bravado, his guard completely down. He looked… peaceful. Innocent, even.

“If I didn’t know you were doing this for your reputation,” you murmured softly, barely above a whisper, “I would’ve thought you loved me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and laced with something unspoken, something you weren’t quite ready to confront. You didn’t mean for him to hear it—he was asleep, after all—but there was a strange comfort in voicing the thought aloud, even if only to yourself.

You found yourself leaning a little closer, the distance between your bed and the chair barely enough to separate you two. Your fingers moved almost of their own accord, hesitating at first, before gently tracing the sharp line of his jaw. His skin was warm under your touch, soft despite the cold exterior he often portrayed. Your heart gave a nervous flutter as your finger ghosted over the delicate curve of his cheek, down to the bridge of his nose, and finally stopping at his lips.

Your breath caught as you stared at them—soft, slightly parted, and so close. There was something about this moment that felt dangerously intimate, a line you weren’t sure you should be crossing. But before you could pull away, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, warm and firm, halting your retreat.

Your heart stilled, the world suddenly reduced to the quiet space between the two of you. Sunghoon's eyes fluttered open slowly, his lashes casting faint shadows across his cheeks. He blinked once, twice, before his sleepy gaze focused on you, still hazy with the remnants of sleep. His grip on your wrist tightened ever so slightly, but not enough to hurt—just enough to keep you from escaping.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and raspy from sleep, the kind of voice that sent shivers down your spine. His words hung in the air, thick with confusion but also curiosity, as if he wasn’t entirely sure whether to be offended or amused.

Your mind scrambled for an explanation, anything to diffuse the tension suddenly filling the room. "There was a mosquito," you blurted out, your voice barely steady, attempting to sound casual as you tugged on your wrist, but he didn’t let go.

His brow arched in suspicion, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "A mosquito… on my lips?” he questioned, the incredulity in his tone barely masked by amusement. He pushed himself up from the chair, his hand still holding yours, and in a fluid motion, he was leaning over the side of the bed, closer—much closer—than he had any right to be.

The proximity was suffocating. You could feel his breath fan across your face, warm and steady, each exhale sending a fresh wave of heat across your skin. His dark eyes, still half-lidded with sleep, were locked onto yours, and for a split second, you forgot how to breathe. The space between you was so small, so intimate, you could practically hear the rapid beat of your own heart pounding in your ears.

Your face flushed crimson, the heat crawling up your neck as if you’d been caught doing something far worse than tracing his face. You swallowed hard, every nerve in your body suddenly on high alert, every muscle tensing under his intense gaze. "There… was something in my eye," you stammered, quickly averting your gaze as you finally pulled your hand away from his grip, your fingers trembling slightly as they found refuge behind your palms. You could feel the burn of embarrassment creeping up, your hands covering your face as if that could somehow hide the fact that you were blushing furiously.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, seemed entirely unfazed by your flustered state. He stood there for a moment longer, watching you with a mix of amusement and something deeper, something unreadable. He straightened up, stretching his arms above his head lazily, as if the moment that just passed was nothing more than a casual conversation.

But you knew better. There was something unspoken between you two, something that neither of you were ready to admit, but it lingered in the air, thick and undeniable.

"Something in your eye, huh?" he murmured, a teasing lilt to his voice as he glanced down at you, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead with a casual familiarity that sent another wave of heat rushing to your cheeks.

You peeked through your fingers, still hiding most of your face as you mumbled, "Shut up."

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, and for a moment, the tension in the air eased, replaced by something lighter, something teasing but… comfortable.

But even as he turned away, walking towards the window to stretch his legs, the ghost of his touch still lingered on your skin, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe—just maybe—there was more to Sunghoon’s presence by your side than just reputation.

The clock on the wall ticked steadily as the midday sun spilled golden light into the hospital room, brightening the sterile white space that had become your temporary home. You sat on the edge of the bed, the nurse’s soft, encouraging voice still echoing in your ears after she had just removed your cast. The air felt electric with anticipation; you could finally walk again!

Sunghoon hovered by your side, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern, his brows furrowing slightly as he studied you. “Are you ready for this?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice, but the seriousness behind it was unmistakable. You nodded enthusiastically, your heart racing with excitement. It felt like a monumental moment—like the first step of many to reclaiming your independence.

With the adrenaline coursing through you, you stood up, a determined grin stretching across your face. But as you took your first step, everything shifted dramatically. Your foot wobbled, and before you knew it, you were tumbling forward, hitting the floor with a thud that echoed around the room.

“Ugh!” you groaned, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you lay there, staring up at the fluorescent lights.

Sunghoon rushed forward, worry etched across his features, but before he could say anything, Wonyoung and Hanni burst into laughter, their giggles ringing like chimes through the room.

“Oh my god! Did you really just fall?” Hanni wheezed, nearly doubling over as she struggled to regain her composure.

“Looks like someone needs a little more practice!” Wonyoung added, her laughter infectious as she bent down to help you up, her hands extending towards you.

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at yourself as they pulled you back to your feet. “Thanks, guys,” you mumbled, trying to hide your flushed cheeks.

As they waved goodbye, still chuckling, Sunghoon remained behind, a bemused expression on his face. “That was quite the entrance,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall, a playful glint in his eye.

“Shut up,” you retorted, trying to brush off your embarrassment as you plopped back onto the bed, sulking a little. “I’m still getting used to this.”

“Come on, you can’t let a little tumble discourage you!” Sunghoon grinned, stepping closer with a theatrical flourish. “I, Park Sunghoon, will be your walking coach! Let’s do this!” He mimicked a sports announcer, waving his arms as if hyping up a crowd. “And by the end of this session, you will be the champion of walking!”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a smile. “I don’t need a coach. I just need to not fall again.”

“Too late for that! You’ve already set the bar pretty low,” he teased, a playful smirk dancing across his lips. He leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But don’t worry; I’ll help you reach new heights, or at least keep you from faceplanting again.”

With that, he extended his hand towards you, a gesture of encouragement. You hesitated for a moment, your heart fluttering as you met his gaze, but the absurdity of the situation was too much to resist. Taking a deep breath, you grasped his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours.

“Okay, Mr. Walking Coach. Show me the way,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

He positioned himself next to you, his grip firm yet gentle. “First lesson: Keep your center of gravity low. Think like a ninja! Light on your feet!”

You couldn’t help but snort at his ridiculousness, the tension of your earlier fall dissipating as you stood next to him. “Ninja? Really? You think I’m going to be stealthy when I can barely stand?”

“Exactly! You’re going to be a stealthy ninja who, like a graceful gazelle, glides across the floor!” he exclaimed, his arms gesturing dramatically as he took a step back to give you space.

With his comedic antics distracting you from your nerves, you took a tentative step forward, wobbling a bit but managing to keep your balance. “See? Look at me! I’m practically a gazelle!” you proclaimed with mock bravado, your voice tinged with sarcasm.

“Gorgeous! Absolutely majestic!” Sunghoon exclaimed, feigning applause as you took another step. “But you know, a gazelle might want to avoid falling on its face. You should really work on that.”

You shot him a glare, but a smile broke through your facade. “You’re such an idiot.”

“That’s why I’m here!” he laughed, inching closer again, still holding your hand to steady you. “Now, let’s go for round two. This time, no falling!”

With a deep breath, you focused on your balance, your heart racing not just from the thrill of standing but from the way his warm hand felt enveloping yours. You took another step, then another, Sunghoon’s encouraging words ringing in your ears, his steady presence anchoring you.

But with every shaky movement, reality set in. You were acutely aware of the gulf between the two of you—the wealth and expectations that surrounded his life, the disparity that loomed like a shadow over this moment of laughter and lightness. He was an heir, bound for greatness, while you felt like a mere accident in his world.

“Just a few more steps,” he encouraged, a slight frown creasing his forehead as he sensed your hesitation. “You’re doing great!”

With his support, you managed to make a few shaky strides, laughter bubbling up with each unsteady movement. “Maybe I’ll actually be able to walk out of here after all,” you joked, feeling lighter with each step.

“See? I told you! You’re going to be my ninja walking prodigy!” he laughed, his eyes bright with excitement.

But as the moment drew on, a bittersweet realization sank in. Once you were well enough to leave, his part in your story would fade into the background like a forgotten dream. You could already picture it—a world where he resumed his life, his responsibilities, leaving you behind like a chapter closed.

Yet here you were, the two of you intertwined in this moment, laughing and learning how to walk again, and for a fleeting second, you wished it could last just a little bit longer.

THE DAY HAD FINALLY COME,

THE ONE YOU DREADED MORE THAN ANYTHING.

Weeks had passed, and despite all the mental notes you made to remind yourself that this was temporary, you couldn’t shake the attachment you’d developed to Sunghoon. Maybe it was the routine, maybe it was the fact that he had been there every step of the way while you healed, or maybe, it was something else entirely—something more dangerous.

You watched from a distance as Sunghoon handled your final hospital bill. The cold sterility of the hospital didn’t bother you as much as the thought of walking out of it without him by your side. He paid the fees like he had promised from the start, his sleek credit card effortlessly handling the expenses that you knew would have financially crippled you otherwise.

You tried to convince yourself that this attachment, this gnawing feeling of loss before he even left, was simply because you had spent too much time with him. After all, you practically lived together for months. But even telling yourself that over and over again didn’t stop the sting behind your eyes, the prickling of tears that threatened to spill.

You took a deep breath and wiped them away quickly, just as you saw him walking towards you, his tall figure cutting through the hospital corridor with ease. His face was calm as usual, though his eyes held a quietness that made your chest tighten. You forced a smile, the same one you always gave him, but this time, it carried a weight of sadness you couldn’t shake.

At least Mrs. Park wasn’t here. You couldn’t imagine how much worse you’d feel with her scrutinizing every little move, every interaction, like she was tallying it up in some invisible ledger. But in this quiet space, where it was just you and Sunghoon, you started to believe that maybe… just maybe, he was worth more than the money she flaunted, more than the reputation you helped him protect.

He smiled back at you, but even that felt distant, as if the finality of this moment weighed on him too. His hand rested casually on your shoulder, the same way it had for the past few weeks, a gesture of familiarity that was once just for show in front of others, but now… now it felt different.

As you walked out of the hospital together, the flashing of cameras and the swarm of paparazzi waiting outside hit you like a tidal wave. They were here, of course they were. The media had been all over this—your fake relationship, the story of his girlfriend who nursed him back to health after an accident. None of them knew the truth. None of them knew that the only reason you were here was because of a fractured leg caused by that same accident. It had all been to protect him from public backlash, to clean up his image, to shield him from the criticism that would have followed.

But now, as his hand lingered on your shoulder longer than necessary, as he guided you through the crowd, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t fake at all. Not anymore.

The car ride back was filled with a silence that felt almost suffocating. You stared out of the window, watching the city blur by, your heart heavy with the realization that this was it. Your leg had healed, the bills were paid, and now Sunghoon was going to disappear from your life just as quickly as he had entered it.

You sighed, the sadness in your chest growing. This was it. The end of whatever this was, of whatever you had convinced yourself wasn’t real.

The car came to a stop at a quiet street, far from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. It wasn’t your home, not really—just the rented apartment you could barely afford. But it was where you were headed, and it was the place where Sunghoon would say goodbye.

You couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped your lips, filled with an aching sadness that even you couldn’t fully comprehend. It felt almost comedic, like the setup for some bad joke. The rich boy, the poor girl, the fake relationship—they always ended like this, right?

“You seem to not enjoy getting better,” Sunghoon’s voice broke the silence, his words light, almost teasing, but you could hear the undercurrent of something more.

You let out a short, bitter laugh, not even bothering to hide your emotions anymore. What was the point? “How could I enjoy it when it meant you would go away?” The words slipped out, raw and unfiltered, before you had a chance to stop them.

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, his hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening as he pulled the car over to the side of the road. The soft hum of the engine faded into the background as he turned to face you, his expression unreadable. His eyes searched yours, as if trying to understand the weight of your words.

And then, in one swift movement, he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I’ll always be there,” he whispered, his voice low, sending a shiver down your spine. “Wherever you are, in bad shape or sick, I’ll be there.”

“Why?” You barely recognized your own voice, so soft, so vulnerable, as if you were afraid of the answer.

His lips were so close now, his breath fanning across your skin, the space between you shrinking to almost nothing. He paused, giving you a chance to pull away, but when you didn’t, when you stayed frozen in place, his lips brushed against yours. It was barely a kiss, just the softest touch, like a promise not yet fully spoken.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, “Even when you get sick, I’ll be there. Waiting for you… to get well soon.”

His words were like a balm to your aching heart, but also a dagger to the fear you’d been holding inside. You felt a wave of emotions crash over you—relief, confusion, frustration, but above all, hope.

And just like that, everything between you shifted.

© senascoop | tumblr

[prythiansprincess]

baby, won't you be my girl?

pairing: theodore nott x reader. song inspiration: only girl by stephen sanchez. author’s note: theodore nott, the man that you are. please enjoy my favorite flirty yummy slytherin boy 🐍 part two: stop the world i wanna get off with you.

Theodore Nott was not the jealous type. 

Jealousy required emotions, which Theo found so terribly unrefined. He was a Slytherin, for Salazar’s sake. Not some hotheaded Gryffindor incapable of keeping his anger in check. But as he glared daggers at the back of some pathetic little beater who was currently flirting with you across the common room, Theo couldn’t help but feel downright murderous. 

The worst part was that he could’ve prevented all of this. If he had just manned the fuck up, Theo would’ve been the one pressed close against you, whispering his signature suggestive comments in your ear and making you smile. 

But Theo—absolute tosser that he was—didn’t realize his blunder until it was too late. 

Earlier that week, the two of you had been studying in his room. Well, you were studying. Theo, on the other hand, was smoking enough pot to sedate a hippogriff. He inhaled deeply, watching with a slight smirk on his face as you frowned into your Charms textbook. You were laying on your stomach at the edge of his bed with notes strewn all around you. The combination of your slightly unbuttoned white blouse, dangerously short black pleated skirt, and green and silver high knee socks affected him more than the drugs he was currently inhaling. 

There was something incredibly sexy about a beautiful woman laying in his bed and completely ignoring him in favor of a dusty old tome. Or maybe it was just you. To be fair, Theo found everything about you quite sexy. Even your infamous lectures regarding his drug habits, which you were due to give him in three…two…one….

You huffed indignantly, the action ruffling the feathers on your quill. “I will never understand why you voluntarily choose to put that rubbish into your body.” 

Theo shrugged, blowing a puff of smoke towards the ceiling. “It’s relaxing.” 

“What could you possibly be stressed about, Teddy?” 

He smiled at the nickname. If anyone else called him that, Theo would’ve hexed the life out of them, but he liked the way it sounded when you said it. Especially when you were a little bit annoyed at him. 

“I’ve got a lot on my shoulders, love.” He took another drag and sighed dramatically. “Being rich and handsome is incredibly tiring work.” 

You snorted. “You’re an absolute twat, you know that?” 

Theo held the blunt between his slender fingers and plopped down next to you. “A rich and handsome twat.” 

“A rich, handsome, and dead twat if you don’t get that blunt away from my textbook.” Theo smiled sheepishly before putting out the cigarette on the ashtray by his bedside table. You rolled your eyes and tapped the end of your quill against his chest. “You should really quit. That shit’s terrible for your lungs.” 

Theo turned, cocking his head at you. His watercolor eyes bored into yours as a smirk curved against his lips. “What will you give me if I do?” 

“Theodore Aurelius Nott,” you chided. Despite the blush creeping into your cheeks, you managed to keep your voice steady as you glared at the perfectly coiffed prick. “Do not make me stab you with my quill.” 

He grinned. There was nothing Theo enjoyed more than making his best friend flustered. “I’ll take a light stabbing if it means that you’ll start paying attention to me again.” You laughed at his childish pout. “What are you studying so hard for anyways?” 

“We have a Charms exam on Friday and you know how brutal Flitwick is.”

“Scheduling an exam on the same day as a quidditch game should be a crime punishable by wizarding law.” Theo complained with a groan. “A game against Gryffindor, no less.” 

“Not everything revolves around quidditch, Theo.” 

“Try telling that to Malfoy,” he said with a sigh. “The bloody git’s been running the whole team ragged. For the past three weeks, Draco’s been forcing all of us to wake up before sunrise. I’m losing my precious beauty sleep, Y/N.” 

You pouted, pinching his cheeks. “Poor Teddy bear. How will you ever recover?” 

"Smartass," Theo said with a smirk.

"Top of the class, baby." You rolled over and winked at him. "I really am that witch."

"I think I'm rubbing off on you, love."

"In your dreams, Nott."

He chuckled. "Oh, I'm definitely rubbing off on you." Theo snatched the quill out of your hands. "Enough studying. I'd rather talk about how I'm going to crush those Gryffindor brutes, which I can only do with you cheering me on from the stands."

You took the quill back, tapping its feathery edge against Theo's nose. “You know that watching all that flying makes me nauseous. Plus, I can’t even enjoy myself because I’m too worried about you taking a bludger to the head.” 

“I promise not to let anything ruin my pretty face. I know how much you enjoy the view, after all,” Theo said with a wink. “If you promise to come.” 

“I don’t know, Teddy…”

He pouted, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. “Please, Y/N. I need my good luck charm. Plus, you look cute in my jersey.” 

“My eyes are closed half of the time from sheer terror,” you pointed out. Theo watched as you fiddled with the end of your quill. “Besides, wouldn’t it be weird to wear your jersey and cheer you on?” 

Theo’s brows furrowed. “Why would it be weird?” 

“Because,” you said matter-of-factly. “Those are things a girlfriend would normally do.” 

“Well, yes, traditionally. But you’re my best friend,” Theo explained. “It’s not like that between us.” 

The minute the words came out of his mouth, Theo knew it was the wrong thing to say. You stiffened beside him, your body language turning as tense as a bowstring. 

“Right,” you said in a tight tone. “It’s definitely not like that between us.” 

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just—I mean you’re not like the other guy’s girlfriends. We’ve known each other for ages. We just don’t see each other that way.” 

Theodore Nott, idiot extraordinaire. If looks could kill, he’d be at the bottom of the Black Lake waiting to become a delicious feast for the merpeople. 

“Of course not,” you said with humorless laughter. “We’re just friends. It would be mental for anyone to think that we’d ever be in a relationship, right?” 

There was a challenge behind those words. Despite the fact that his dorm was deep within the dungeons, Theo could hear a slight ringing in his ears, like the howl of the wind as he raced past on his Nimbus, heart beating against his chest as he prepared to hurl the quaffle with all his might. Only now his target wasn’t a goal hoop.

It was you. His best friend. The girl he had been head over heels in love with since the moment you pushed Adrian Pucey into a bush at Malfoy Manor for making fun of five year old Theo’s lisp. 

He should say something, anything, but for once in his life, Theodore Nott had no witty comeback in his arsenal. Stupid, pathetic coward that he was, all he could manage was a nod. 

“Right,” he licked his lips nervously. “Just friends.” 

The disappointment in your eyes felt like a punch to the gut. Worse than when he’d broken his arm in third year. Worse than when Mattheo dragged him into a brawl with those brawny Durmstrang guys in fourth year. He would have gladly taken another meaty Bulgarian fist to the face rather than face you right now.

Theo watched helplessly as you rolled off the bed and stuffed your studying materials into your leather satchel. “Wait, Y/N. Are you leaving? I thought you wanted to study?” 

You slipped your shoes on, averting his gaze. “I do, which is why I’m gonna head to the library. I’m more focused there, anyways.” 

Theo was still utterly confused as he scrambled after you. “Let me at least walk you to—”

“That’s really not necessary,” you said, cutting him off. “I’ll see you later, Theo.” 

Theo, did not, in fact, see you later. 

If avoiding him was a sport, you would’ve won the bloody Triwizard cup. The fact that you memorized his schedule for him since he couldn’t be trusted to actually remember to show up to class probably helped. Theo didn’t realize how accustomed he had grown to having you around until you weren’t there. 

When Enzo obliviously rebuffed a Hufflepuff’s attempt to flirt with him at breakfast, Theo turned to your usual spot beside him to nudge you only to find the space empty. When Potter & Co. prattled on about whatever martyr cause they’d picked up that week, Theo found himself searching for you across the Potions classroom to share an eyeroll, but caught a glimpse of your retrieving back instead. The last straw had been when Elizabeth Burke’s portrait refused to let him into his own dorms because Theo couldn’t remember the passcode. He never had to since you always came in together.

In other words, Theo was absolutely fucking miserable. Even the team’s win against Gryffindor failed to lift his spirits. He knew that it had only been a week, but he missed you so fucking much that it actually hurt. 

The sight of you walking into the common room filled him with instant relief. For about half a second. Until he saw that you weren’t alone. 

Then, Theo had reverted back to his sulky self, choosing a shady spot amidst the raging party to drown his sorrows with a bottle of firewhisky. He had gone through at least half of the Ogden’s while chain smoking like a Hungarian Horntail. 

“Oi, what’s got your wand in a twist?” Mattheo asked while snatching the cigarette out of Theo’s mouth. He took a deep inhale and blew a puff of smoke directly into Theo’s face. “Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating our victory? Why’d you look like someone pissed in your soup?” 

“Fuck off, Riddle,” Theo muttered in response as he took back his cigarette. The smoke made the room hazy, but not enough to block you from view. 

The beater—the fucking twat—leaned in to whisper into your ear. Whatever he said made you burst into laughter, which once again filled Theo with pure, unadulterated rage. 

“Someone’s in a mood,” Enzo remarked, plopping down on the sofa beside Theo. A circle of third years hovered at the edge of their group, but as usual, Berkshire remained utterly oblivious to their presence. Bloody hell, he was even worse than Theo. 

“I bet ten galleons that Nott bashes Murdock’s head in before the end of the night,” Draco said.

“Murdock, is it?” Theo grunted. “What do we know about the prick?”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “Absolutely nothing. He’s not even worth gossiping about,” he announced dismissively while sipping his drink. Imported French wine, probably. Zabini would never partake in something as common as beer. 

Mattheo’s lips curled in amusement. “Besides the fact that he’s making a move on Theo’s girl.” 

“She’s not my girl,” Theo said defensively. 

“Really?” Malfoy drawled, raising a pale blonde brow. “So you wouldn’t mind if I asked Y/N to dance?”

“Don’t even fucking think about it, Malfoy.” 

The Slytherin boys laughed. For them, the week had been amusing as all hell. They had never seen Theo this wound up before. A few days without Y/N and their usual sassy, sarcastic mate had turned into a complete basket case. 

Pansy sighed. “For Salazar’s sake, Theo. Either man the fuck up or stand down. Y/N deserves to have a good night, too. Who she has it with is entirely up to you.” 

Pansy Parkinson was a pain in the arse, but she was also right. 

With that, Theo put his cigarette out on the ashtray and stood from his place on the sofa. It only took three strides for Theo to get to you. Four for you to startle as he casually put his arm around your shoulders. 

“There you are,” he whispered into your ear. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You froze in place as Theo pulled you close. The scent of expensive cologne and cigarette smoke enveloped you, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. 

Under normal circumstances, you would’ve flown straight into the fire that was Theodore Nott, but tonight you were in no mood to get burned. You’ve already endured enough pain and humiliation from your last conversation. 

Just friends kept replaying over and over in your head like a broken record. You felt like an absolute pillock. For years, it felt like the two of you had been teetering towards…something. All that shameless flirting, the lingering touches, the late night conversations. You had been stupid enough to believe in the possibility that Theo felt for you what you felt for him. 

But maybe it was all in your imagination. 

“Theo,” you said, slinking out of his reach. Hurt flashed in his eyes as you faced him. “Congrats on the win. Christoph said it was a good game.” 

“It would’ve been better if you were in the stands,” Theo said softly. 

“I was busy.” 

“Yeah, I can see that,” he eyed Christoph with disdain. “Listen, can we go somewhere and talk? I haven’t seen you all week.” 

You crossed your arms. “We just got here.” 

Theo was not well pleased by your use of ‘we’ as if you and Murdock were suddenly now a thing. He barely spared the sodding prick a glance. You couldn’t actually be attracted to this prat, could you? He was all wrong for you. Murdock had a stocky beater build and short blonde cropped hair. You hated beefy guys and you were definitely not a fan of blondes. Case in point: Draco.

No, you liked tall sarcastic brunettes with messy hair and a slight nicotine addiction. 

You liked him. 

So Theo stayed put, meeting your gaze with equal intensity. There was no way in hell he was backing down. 

For good measure, he pouted slightly and fixed his eyes on you. “Please, Y/N.” 

He saw the exact moment when your resolve broke. Your expression softened and your shoulders relaxed, slumping in defeat. You sighed before turning over to Murdock. “Do you mind giving us a moment?” 

Christoph nodded. “I’ll fetch us some more drinks.” 

Theo watched him walk away, or rather, he glared at his back until Murdock was out of sight. 

“Really, Y/N?” Theo asked incredulously. “You're slumming it with that benchwarmer?” 

You wheeled towards him, eyes blazing with fire. Oh, he was truly in for it now. “First of all, I’m not ‘slumming it’ with anyone and even if I were, it’s none of your bloody business. Second of all, Christoph is actually a really nice guy.” 

Theo scoffed. “Yeah, because you’re suddenly into really nice guys now.” 

“Well maybe I got tired of hanging around pricks.” 

Ouch. That one definitely hurt. Even if it was well deserved. 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me all week?” Theo asked, stepping closer. “You’ve been busy with Murdock?” 

Merlin’s beard, Theo was ridiculously tall. He towered a good foot over you, cornering you against the wall. His eyes were stormy and dark like a predator watching its prey. 

“Careful, Theo,” you warned, meeting his gaze. “You almost sound jealous.” 

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Neither one of you were backing down from this little standoff. Theo braced himself against the wall, his face inches away from yours. 

“What if I am?” He challenged, his eyes dipping to your mouth. “What if I told you that it’s taking every ounce of self control I have not to rip Murdock to shreds?” 

A shiver skittered down your spine. Theo wasn’t a violent person. Sure, he’d been in a fight or two, but that was mostly Mattheo’s doing. Your best friend wasn’t the aggressive type, so to hear him threaten Christoph took you by surprise. 

“You have no reason to be jealous, Theo.” You countered. “After all, we’re just friends.” 

“No, we’re not,” he said. “We’ve never been just friends, Y/N.” 

“Then why did you—”

“Because I’m an idiot and a coward,” Theo said with a sigh. “Because I had a beautiful girl in my bed and I had no idea how to tell her that I’ve been in love with her since I was five.” 

All the anger and hurt you’ve been carrying around for the past week instantly dissolved. A little smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “You’re in love with me?” 

“I thought that much was obvious, love.” 

“Hmm,” you hummed in response. “Theodore Nott, infamous playboy and shameless flirt, is in love with me. What an interesting development.” 

Theo groaned. “Now is not the time to be a smartass, Y/N.” 

“I think it’s the perfect time—” 

You didn’t get the chance to finish your sentence. Suddenly, Theo’s lips were on yours. He tasted like peppermint and whiskey, and he kissed you like his life depended on it. You sighed into his mouth, melting against his touch as he cupped the side of your cheek. This was definitely not a just friends kiss. It was a butterfly inducing, head in the clouds, sweep you off your feet kind of kiss. 

Theo's hands snaked around your waist as your fingers found purchase in his shaggy brown hair. He pulled you flush against him like he couldn't get enough. Merlin's pants, Theo really knew how to kiss. His lips were soft against yours, but there was a roughness in his actions that told you that his restraint was hanging on by a thread.

Like he'd been waiting for this for far too long.

You knew the feeling all too well.

"Darling, if you keep kissing me like that then this party will receive a show they didn't ask for."

You stuck your tongue out at him. "You started it."

"Shall I end it too, love?"

"You're an absolute twat, Theodore Nott." You rolled your eyes, kissing the tip of his nose affectionately. “A rich, handsome twat that I'm in love with."

Somewhere across the room, the hoots and hollers of your friends ignited a deafening cheer. Mattheo and Enzo clapped Theo on the back. Blaise raised his glass in approval. Draco smirked and exchanged galleons with Pansy. You didn’t even want to know what that was about.

“Fucking finally,” Mattheo remarked. “Notty boy here has been impossible to deal with this entire week. I never noticed how much of a wanker he can be when you aren’t there to balance him out, Y/N.” 

You chuckled. “It couldn’t have been that bad.” 

Enzo grimaced. “You weren’t on the receiving end of his quaffles,” he said, eyeing Theo. “He nearly took my head off.” 

That only made you laugh more. “Teddy bear wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“No, it’s true. Nott went absolutely mental.” Draco confirmed, draping an arm around your shoulder. “I’ve never seen him play like that. He wiped the floor with those pathetic Gryffindors. You should ignore him more often, Y/N." 

Pansy wrinkled her nose. “Please don’t. Looking at his miserable face put me off my meals for an entire week. I couldn’t even bear to eat any of my special Belgian chocolates. I missed out on Belgian chocolates, Y/N!” 

“You lot are overexaggerating,” Theo said, pulling you in by the waist. “I wasn’t that bad.” 

“Please, you were an absolute mess without Y/N,” Blaise added. 

“More like an absolute wanker,” Mattheo supplied. 

“An absolute supreme mega wanker,” Draco agreed. “Even by my standards.”

“It was pretty brutal,” said Enzo. 

Theo glared at all of them before taking your hand. “Let’s go, Y/N. I’d rather not stand around and get insulted all night.” 

“Sure thing. But I should probably tell Christoph that I’m…indisposed.” 

Mattheo grinned mischievously. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Murdock.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What did you do, Riddle?” 

“I didn’t do anything,” he said innocently. “The boys and I just let him know that he should set his sights elsewhere.” 

“We also might have implied that we’d turn him into a horned bullfrog if he ever hit on you again,” Enzo said with a smile.

“The audacity he even had approaching you is frankly insulting,” Malfoy remarked. “Everyone knows you’re off limits.” He smirked. “Unfortunately.” 

Theo fell right into Draco’s bait. “Don’t hit on my girl, Malfoy.” 

Blaise raised an amused brow. “Oh, she’s your girl now, is she?

“Of course she is,” Theo said. He linked his fingers with yours and flashed those pretty eyes at you. The perfect mixture of blue and green, just like the ocean during a storm. “If she’ll have me.” 

You smiled, wide and bright. “Come on, Teddy. Your girl wants to dance.” 

[sleepy-little-stars]

andy speaks: caleb and the what r we thing cuz i wholeheartedly believe he's so down bad that he forgets to ask u out n just start planning ur wedding .. happy new years post in march 🫶

“get out of there. now.” 

after being apart for a long time, caleb was looking forward to finally spending new years with you again. it’ll be just like before! except, the two of you are well past the friends stage. long story short: upon reunion, he kissed you like it’s his last day on the planet and days and weeks after that, he doted on you every minute of every hour. he was always there tailing you like a puppy. you’re hungry? he’s already cooked your favorite meal and it’s waiting there on the table, still warm. bad day? he’s already at the door with his arms wide open for you to step into. need a distraction? no worries, caleb will never pass up on a chance to devour your lips (and soul) just so you can forget all your stress and worries.

all of those actions are really sweet of him. but there’s just one tiny problem. 

caleb has never officially asked you out. 

but here’s another problem. caleb already thinks the two of you are dating. you already do what lovers do, exclusively doesn’t that make you two.. well, lovers? while he’s out here thinking up your marriage and honeymoon place, you’re out here on the verge of crashing out because just what the hell are you two? you can’t just ask him outright, “caleb, what are we?” no, no. you don’t have enough backbone for that. is everything just casual? no, you can’t let chappell roan get into your head. but.. what if he’s just being friendly? a little too friendly. you’re confused, you're going insane, and you just wanna cry.

so what’s the best solution to your lovelife problems without confrontation and just the perfect timing of new years?

eat grapes under the table at exactly midnight in hopes that the romance aspect of your life flourish and prosper. in other words, finally have a boyfriend this year. or to be more specific, finally have caleb as your boyfriend this year.

which leads us to now. you shoving grapes into your mouth under the table, choking and cursing whoever started this tradition because who thought it was a good idea to make someone finish 12 whole grapes in one minute or else your wish ticket is void. 

“you’re going to choke to death.” caleb kneels down, tall frame bent and trying to fit under the table with you. when you retched on your eighth grape, caleb took away your cup and made you spit out on his hand. 

“why are you even eating grapes— choking on grapes? are you trying to start the year off with a bang?” he chuckles, his hand rubbing your back in circles. 

“i'm trying to get a boyfriend this year.” you replied between breaths. you take the cup of water from him (when did he get that? you don’t know) and gulped it down. 

caleb's brows furrowed, “a boyfriend? don’t you have me already?”

you look at him and sighed. “i'm trying to get you as my boyfriend this year.”

his brows furrowed even more, “.. are we not dating? i thought i was already your boyfriend?” he tucks hair behind your ear, hand lingering on the side of your neck.

“you haven’t asked me out yet.”

“do i have to ask you out?” he hums. “i could've sworn i was already too obvious.”

caleb leans in, lips grazing your cheek and a grin painted on his. “so, can i?”

“can you what?” 

“be your boyfriend, of course.” and there it is, that handsome boyish smile of his that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. instead of a verbal answer, you closed the gap between you two. 

guess that grapes already worked. despite you only being able to finish seven. oops.

bonus: 

“see, pip. grapes are more delicious if you eat them one by one.” he places a piece on your mouth. you chew with a grumble. “shut up."

“yeah? shut me up, then." he smiles, already bending down to nip at your shoulder.

"caleb!"

[sweetshuga]

「 𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝑴𝒚 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑨𝒘𝒂𝒚 ✧ 𝑪.𝑺 」

𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔: 𝑨𝑵𝑮𝑺𝑻! ⬩ mentions of breaking up ⬩ arguing ⬩ crying ⬩ sum fluff at the end + more. Happy ending!

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟒 𝒌

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: I had already started writing this since way back in January (procrastination took over and I only finished it now lol), but I saw @throatgoat4u’s post and tweaked it to fit her post more. I’m not the best at writing angst, but I hope you enjoy this, love you<3

𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝑰𝒏 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒅: English is not my first language!

𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: You’ve been in an 'on & off' relationship with Chris for years since middle school. It was a losing game, but neither of you were ready to end it.

Act 1: Typical him

It was the same shit every other week.

Chris would break up with you after telling you that you were being too much, too jealous, but he would be back after a few days or a week, telling you how sorry he was and making up with you through sex.

You let him walk all over you just because you loved him.

Which, in fact, is stupid, but now you’ve finally – and thankfully – decided to end the whole mess that has been dragging on since middle school. Hence, the search you’re doing around school to find and talk to him. You were nervous to say the least, anxious even, but you knew you had to do something to save you both from the stress.

You sighed heavily, clutching one strap of your backpack as you walked, trying to find Chris in the crowded hallway of your high school. Your eyes searched the sea of students, trying to find his fluffy brown hair or his piercing blue eyes.

A familiar laugh overpowered through the loud chattering.

Your gaze snapped to the lockers on your right and there he was, leaning against one of the lockers, a stupid grin on his face as he chatted up a curvy blonde—undoubtedly an upperclassmen. You rolled your eyes, muttering under your breath about him being a player as you walked towards him.

"Chris-" You were immediately cut off by his laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he playfully nudged the girl with his arm, not even acknowledging your presence even though you were only a few feet away.

Ouch, that stung.

You blinked slowly, not sure if you should call out to him again or stand there like an idiot. None of those options sounded ideal and you didn’t want to look like a desperate ex. Therefore came the decision to just walk away awkwardly, but it was for sure better than embarrassing yourself further.

You told yourself that seeing him laughing so genuinely with someone else didn’t bother you one bit, but your quick strides, tense shoulders and clenched jaw betrayed your denial. The ache in your chest told you enough; you were definitely not unbothered.

You plopped on your bed, having come home alone because you were too stubborn to swallow down your jealousy and talk to Chris. 'What the fuck is wrong with me?' You thought, turning to lay on your stomach as you groaned loudly into your pillow. 'Sulking over some guy?' That was unlike you, even when you were together you never used to care this much.

Hell, you’re not even dating Chris anymore. You had broken up with him two days ago, but here you were, getting all worked up over him talking to a pretty girl even though you were planning on telling him that you wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

"Well, he isn’t just any guy, unfortunately..." You sighed, mumbling quietly to yourself as you turned back around to face the ceiling. Suddenly, your phone vibrated with a call. You sighed, again, and took the call without looking at the caller.

"Why’d you go home without me?" Chris’ voice filled your ear and you sat up so abruptly that you swore you saw static for a second before you closed your eyes, putting a hand on your head and taking a few seconds before opening them again.

"What?" You mumbled dumbly, eliciting a sigh from the other end. "You said we were gonna talk so I asked your friend where you were and she said you went home-" "And I wonder why." You immediately shut yourself up, cursing under your breath.

You did not want to start another stupid argument.

The heavy silence on the other end added to your nerves before a scoff was heard. "Fuck you mean by that?" Chris clicked his tongue audibly—blatantly showing his growing irritancy.

"Well-" you paused, lips pressing into a thin, bitter line before you spoke again, "-you looked awfully happy talking to that blonde girl so I didn’t want to interrupt you guys." You purposely dragged out the 'happy', rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see it.

Another, heavier, sigh reached your ear, followed by a quiet mumbling that you didn’t quite catch, but you knew it was anything but good. "Are you being for real right now? Like dead serious? We’re doing this again?" Chris sounded exasperated, probably rolling his eyes too.

"I am and I seriously have nothing else to say to you." "Wha-" You ended the call before he could say anything else, putting your phone on dnd to make sure it won’t buzz with calls before getting your notebooks out from your backpack to do your homework.

You tried your best to distract yourself, but the tension lingered. Your thoughts were plagued by him, by scenarios of him with another girl, happier than he was with you and a heavy sigh left your lips before you closed your textbook.

"This is a fucking disaster." You chuckled to yourself, but there was no amusement behind your laughter—it was almost bitter in a way.

Your gaze lingered on your phone, debating whether or not to just text him about it, or simply block him, but you opted to tell him in person to show that you cared enough—is what you told yourself, but you knew it was because you wanted to talk to him one last time even if it meant more heartbreak.

What is he doing to you?

Act 2: Confrontation

The next day at school, you were grumpier than usual, jealousy still lingering from yesterday. You walked towards your locker, only to find Chris leaning against it, hands in his pockets in a relaxed, casual gesture. A little too casual like he was trying hard to act normal.

His eyes snapped up from the floor and locked onto yours, his stomach doing a small backflip at the sight of you. His tongue darted out to wet his lips in a blatantly nervous gesture that betrayed whatever nonchalant act he was putting on. He pushed himself off the lockers when you approached, taking his hands out of his pockets and running one through his messy locks.

"About yesterday-" "It was nothing." You cut him off before he could finish his sentence, but you knew what he was going to ask you. What was that yesterday? You knew that would be his question. After all, Chris cared a lot, even if he actively tries his best not to show that he did—which only served to make you more distant and half-hearted whenever you were back together.

"Oh..." His voice became significantly quieter, but he didn’t back down just yet. "You still didn’t answer my question though." A small smirk made its way onto his lips and God did that smug look irritate you as much as it turned you on.

"What question?" You asked back curtly, not even looking at him as you rummaged through your locker. "The question from yesterday-" he searched your face for any signs that you remember before speaking again, "-you know, I asked you why you went home without me."

Your hands halted before resuming their search for your books. "I did answer, or was my response just not important enough for you to remember?" His eyes widened by a fraction, barely keeping himself from stumbling over his words in nervousness. "I, well-" "It’s fine, whatever." You cut him off, again, with an obvious 'I’m mad' reply, making him sigh heavily.

"Look, I get you’re probably pissed off because I was- I dunno, talking to some girl, I guess? But you have to understand that I won’t just drop everything to talk to you." His words weren’t meant to hurt, but they did anyway and damn did they hurt like hell.

"And you know, it’s not like we’re dating anymore — we’ve broken up and it’s kinda annoying how involved you are with everything I do." He paused, knowing he may have hit a nerve when he saw how quiet you were.

You saw his sudden pause and scoffed, making his eyebrows furrow, his expression starting to harden. Chris was becoming increasingly annoyed with your attitude.

"Why are you so quiet all of a sudden? Go on, keep talking bullshit." You blurted out before you could stop yourself, too embarrassed and angry to try and understand his point of view. Chris’ jaw clenched, a muscle in his cheek visibly twitching as he looked down at you, wearing an expression that clearly told you that he was getting pissed off by your words.

"What I’m saying is not bullshit! Don’t you fucking get it? We are not dating and I can do whatever the fuck I want- stop acting like a fucking jealous bitch — no wonder nobody else wants you, you’re a fucking nightmare." He hissed through gritted teeth before he could think twice.

Ouch.

"Whatever, I’m sorry and you’re right, you can do whatever you want, so sorry for being such a jealous bitch." Your words flowed freely as if his jab broke a dam of emotions you were desperately trying to keep at bay.

"And the reason why I’m acting like a "jealous bitch" is because I had something important to say, something important to talk about than just the idle chatting you were doing with that chick." You kept going, spurred on by his silence.

"That yesterday? Was a fucking wake up call like it’s so pathetic that I actually hoped you would at least talk to me after I said I had something serious and important to talk about-" you paused, your anger dissolving into a brief pang guilt for snapping at him, but you couldn’t stop now.

"You know what? Let’s end this shit and I mean like seriously fucking end this on and off. I don’t want anything to do with you anymore." You turned your heel and walked away quickly, completely ignoring Chris’ voice calling out to you.

Chris watched as you walked away, a heavy sigh leaving him as he rubbed his face roughly with his hands. "Why do I always have to mess it up." He groaned in annoyance, mostly to himself but also towards your stubbornness that he couldn’t help but be attracted to. "And why are you always this fucking stubborn." He mumbled, another frustrated sound leaving his lips.

"Fuck!" He punched the lockers beside him, the dull sting it gave did nothing to help get rid of the whirlwind of emotions inside him.

You arrived home and immediately plopped on the couch, satisfaction oozing from your whole being as your body sank further into the soft, plush cushions of the couch. You stayed like that for a minute, just basking in the comfort of your home before opening your phone to find so many missed calls and texts from Chris.

i’m sorry for what i said at school

i didn’t mean any of it i swear

it’s so fucking hard to let you go

i miss you

fuck I love you

please baby

talk to me

ᴿᵉᵃᵈ

You scoffed at the texts, even as it tugged at your heart. It was something new—the texts this time around sounded more desperate than his usual "I’m sorry, baby, let’s start over again?" ones.

Maybe he was finally seeing his fault. Maybe, just maybe, he sincerely wanted to make things better, but you chalked it up to you being delusional and him wanting easy lay.

He was surely just trying to get in your pants again, right?

Meanwhile, in Chris’ room:

Chris, on the other hand, stared at his phone nervously, staring at the small 'read' sign at the bottom of his last text. You were obviously ignoring him, having seen his messages but not replying to them. His heart squeezed a tiny bit, disappointed and embarrassed that he hoped you would at least respond.

He couldn’t handle the embarrassment he was feeling and shifted his frustration to you instead, mumbling things he definitely didn’t mean, things that sounded forced even to his own ears.

"Good riddance." He huffed, before continuing in a quieter tone. "Ha, she’ll probably text me back and we’ll be back together by tomorrow." He threw his phone on his bed before walking out of his room and to the kitchen to get something to eat. He told himself that he was just being paranoid, even as his expression flickered with doubt.

You’ll text him back, right?

A few – too many – hours went by and still no response from you. The faint 'read' at the bottom of his message was a stark reminder that you weren’t buying his apology, that you probably meant it when you said that you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

Chris shook his head subtly, as if that’d get rid of his – very much real – fears.

"I’m just overreacting, that’s all, overreacting." He tried to convince himself, but it fell on deaf ears as he glanced at his phone for the nth time tonight, hoping for a text from you.

He debated whether or not to just delete everything he wrote or send more messages, but decided against both options and instead went to take a shower, hoping it’ll help him get rid of his anxiousness.

About half an hour later, Chris emerged from the bathroom, small droplets of water hanging off the ends of his hair and clad in only a pair of black boxer briefs as he walked towards his bed before plopping down on it. He took his phone from the place he left it on the bed and opened his messages just to get disappointed when he saw that you still hadn’t texted him back.

A few minutes of staring at the one sided messages, Chris just couldn’t take it anymore. "Fuck this." He groaned out loud as he stood up from his bed, putting on a hoodie and jeans, not even caring if his hair was still damp from his shower as he pocketed his phone and quietly sneaked out of the house.

He was going to talk to you face to face.

As he walked to your house in the cool night air, he failed to stop his eyes from tearing up, but he blamed it all on the wind being a little too harsh tonight. Well, that was an obvious lie. In reality, he was afraid. Afraid that maybe this break-up actually meant something, that maybe you two were done for good.

That thought terrified him.

He hastily wiped away the tears beginning to fall from his eyes, taking deep shaky breaths as he walked to your house, determined to make things right.

Act 3: This is it—the end

It wasn’t such a surprise when you heard a knock on your window that night—despite your room being on the second floor, and you immediately knew who it was.

You sighed, deciding to just open the window and talk to Chris since he was so persistent with his knocking and you didn’t want him to wake up your parents—that would get you both in trouble. You took a deep breath to prepare yourself for another argument, or worse, before opening the curtains and window, letting the brunette boy in.

Chris took off his shoes by your window, his hair slightly damp from a shower and dressed in just plain whitewash jeans and grey hoodie, looking every bit like his usual self. His eyes though, they weren’t like usual. His eyes were red-rimmed and slightly glossy, as if he had been crying.

"Chris..." Your voice trailed off when he looked away, his hands quickly wiping away what you assumed were tears off his cheeks. He took a shaky breath as if to compose himself before turning his face towards you again, staring into your eyes.

Chris opened his mouth to say everything he had prepared to say, but all that came out was a quiet "I’m sorry", his voice cracking at the end as he barely held back his emotions.

"I, I love you and-and I can’t live without you- like I’m not even tryna be all emotional ’nd shit but I- fuck..." Chris looked away again as he took a sharp intake of breath, clearly uncomfortable with showing so much raw vulnerability and also trying not to full-on bawl in front of you.

You were speechless, quite literally speechless as you stared at him. You had seen him cry, sure, but you had never seen him this... broken, and it stung seeing his tears. Your chest tightened painfully, your breath catching in your throat.

Chris took a few deep breaths before turning back to you, walking closer and did something that was such a surprise that it elicited a small gasp from you. He was kneeling down in front of you, his hands desperately clutching yours as more tears flowed out of his pretty blue eyes that were now red and slightly bloodshot.

"Please, baby." The pet name made the tightness in your chest grow, but you still couldn’t say a word due to your mind having blanked from the suddenness of it all.

"I’ll do better, yeah? We can, we can try again-" "Chris, we can’t." You finally found your voice and cut him off before he could say anything more. His eyes drooped slightly at your response, beginning to brim with fresh tears as he blinked rapidly, trying his best not to cry more.

"Why?" Was all he could ask, his shoulders slumping subtly in defeat, hands still clutching yours, but a little gentler now.

"Because... Because we’ve tried so many times and every time it ends the same and starts the same." You barely held back your own emotions, a painful lump forming in your throat when you felt the gentle touch of his hands on yours, but you didn’t try to take your hands away and instead rubbed small circles on the back of his hands with your thumbs—your gesture undeniably intimate despite your words.

"I know." Chris whispered, a few tears rolling down his cheeks as he maintained eye contact. "I know that it’s all fucked up, but I don’t want to lose you baby." He admitted, his voice breaking at the end as a chocked sob escaped him.

"It feels like I’m fucking dying when I think of the possibility that you’ll no longer be my girl — it breaks me to imagine someone else holding you, kissing you, when it should be me instead." He closed his eyes, letting a few more tears roll down his face before opening them again.

"You’re my whole world, and baby, please, please don’t leave me- I love you so fucking much like it feels like I’m having a fucking heart attack right now." His voice dripped with desperation, each word laced with pain.

You let out a soft sigh, gently taking your hands away, but before he could even begin to think that you were rejecting his apology, you quickly tugged on his arms. "Get up." You said. Your tone was significantly softer, which made Chris stand up almost immediately, nearly stumbling over himself.

He looked down at you with watery, but hopeful, eyes. Waiting patiently for you to say something as he sniffled softly, wiping his face with his sleeves. His ears heated up, a faint flush creeping up his face and neck when he realised how pathetic he must have looked kneeling and crying all while whining about his fears, but he made no move to backpedal.

After a few minutes of silence, you sighed, your resolve completely shattering due to his unrelenting puppy dog eyes and overall 'kicked puppy' look.

"Just, c’mere." You mumbled as you pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back in slow soothing circles, and Chris melted. His body melted into yours as he wrapped his arms around you, his breath hitching as he tried not to cry again.

"I forgive you and it wasn’t just your fault you know? I never listened to you, never tried to understand you and it would be wrong of me to blame you alone when we were both in the wrong." You murmured, your voice thick with emotion and unshed tears.

"Can we, can we go back to how it used to be? Before things got complicated with the on and off?" Chris asked quietly, as if he was afraid the answer would be a no, but his worries were quickly diminished when you spoke softly, your words soothing every nerve in his body.

"Yeah, we can." You reassured, eliciting a shaky sigh of relief from him, his arms tightening slightly around you. "Thank you, fuck- I love you." He quickly said, a small watery laugh escaping him due to the overwhelming happiness he felt.

You let out a soft chuckle when he mumbled 'I love you' and 'I’m sorry' over and over again, holding you like you were his lifeline—the only thing keeping him grounded.

"I love you too baby." You cooed, your soft voice along with the sweet term of endearment made his eyes tear up again and a muffled sound escaped him—somewhere in between a sob and a whimper. His arms tightened around you, his shoulders shaking with quiet, soft sobs.

Your own tears ran down your face, unable to hold it in anymore. The moment was raw and vulnerable, but it was real. It was everything you ever wanted with him, and more. The vulnerability wasn’t so scary when he was with you, letting his tears fall freely and whispering sweet words that soothed your soul.

Your bodies swayed gently from side to side, almost as if to lull yourselves away from the previous heartaches, and in that moment you realised that maybe you were wrong this time, maybe he wasn’t after what you thought he was after.

He truly loved you and the sheer knowledge left you in awe.

You stayed like that for a bit, just hugging each other and telling each other how sorry you were, how much you loved each other.

You couldn’t have felt more happy.

You both laid in your bed, cuddling with the blanket pulled up to your chins. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, Chris turned around to face you, making you do the same, both of you looking at each other with adoring eyes like you were utterly in love—which you were, adorably so.

Chris suddenly spoke, his eyes glinting with a playful gleam as he leaned in closer. "You know, I’m kinda embarrassed ’cause I just cried like a fucking baby, kneeling in front of you ’nd all." He complained with a whine in his voice, making you giggle.

You shook your head slightly, a teasing smile on your lips. "Don’t be embarrassed, it was sooo cute." Chris rolled his eyes playfully at your words. "I know you’re making fun of me."

"Am not! And see? Nonchalance doesn’t suit you at all — you’re better off being yourself." You cooed, gently cupping his face in your hands, your smile softening when he nuzzled into them. "I love you like this — no act, no bullshit, just you." You admitted, making him chuckle softly, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Yeah? You love this cry baby?" He teased, his earlier embarrassment fading at your reassurance and admissions. "Yeah, I love this cry baby." You leaned forward and pecked the tip of his nose before attacking his face in small, quick kisses.

"Hey-" Chris couldn’t help but giggle, his hands reaching for your shoulders to try and push you away in an obviously half-hearted attempt. Hle didn’t actually want you to stop.

"You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?" You teased in between kisses, making him laugh harder before he wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you from moving so much, successfully halting your kissing assault to a stop.

"Baby, enough." Chris whined in between breathless giggles, obviously having enjoyed it even though he didn’t want to admit that he did.

A comfortable silence fell between you two again. The type of silence that made you realise how nice it was just to have him close to you like this. His presence was enough to make you happy, and it was equally as comforting for him as it was for you.

The night passed with soft kisses and sweet murmurs. I love you’s falling freely from your lips, mingling with Chris’ own words of love.

This is it—the end.

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒂

[dcxdpdabbles]

#Holiday Requests your blogs are the sole reason i visit tumblr in the first place. Thank you for feeding my dcxdp brain rot the appreciation is very much reciprocated and i’d like to humbly request a continuation for Jason’s Doll or Mr. Flavor!

After the smear campaign had been dealt with, Tim took time to carefully convince his employees that Scarecrow had somehow dosed the whole building in Fear Gas; that way, they would return to work once he gave everyone a month off with pay to "clean out the vents".

He did not want people to walk away thinking Danny the doll was by any means haunted. It would undo every last attempt to fix Jason's image, which he had carefully constructed.

In a city like Gotham, being dosed with gas was so common that no one batted an eye when Tim called them back. Many of the employees were overjoyed by the paid vacation.

The young CEO had even gone as far as to spread rumors that no one really saw the alleged doll, causing people to assume there was mass hysteria. Everyone was happier this way.

He felt like he could finally relax after weeks of meticulous planning. He went into work assuming the only stress he would experience would be the typical CEO kind.

Then Jason, needing a favor, marched into his office within the first hour.

Tim stares at the doll sitting on his office desk, feeling the blood drain from his face as his brother happily chatters.

"He usually likes to sit by windows. Don't forget to clean him with a damp, warm cloth; his clothes are machine washable." Jason said, laying out some of Danny's tea cup sets. Apparently, his brother had been shopping. "Danny usually has his tea daily at one, but if you're working, I'm sure he'll understand. He can wait."

"Jay..."Tim started feeling Danny staring into his soul. He knew a soul existed, but that didn't stop the thing from being unnerving. Was Danny made entirely of Fear Gas? "Are you sure you can't take Danny with you?"

"I want to." Jason sighed, tracing the fabric of Danny's hair. "But we aren't sure if space travel will worsen Danny's chances of recovery. Normally, I wouldn't take any jobs outside Gotham, but Roy needs help."

Danny's head jerked as if the porcelain neck of the doll had broken, the little head falling to the side, facing Jason. Familiar whispers of hell fill the air, making Tim's stomach drop.

He leans further into the plush of his office chair, wanting to get as far away from Danny as possible while Jason smiles.

"Thank you for understanding, " he tells Danny with a fondness usually reserved for lovers. Tim might have found it sweet if it had not been that he was terrified of Jason's undead boyfriend.

"Please don't leave," He whispers, uncaring how pathetic his voice sounded.

"You're going to find Tim." Jason laughs, shaking his head. "Danny says he likes you!"

Tim's eyes slid over to the doll, feeling himself jump a little when he realized he had turned in his direction. Without a sound. Without Tim, for all his training, even noticing the movement.

There was a moment when he felt like something with sharp teeth grinning at him. The sensation came from behind his left shoulder, and he jerked around, hand flying to his hidden expandable staff in his left pocket. Nothing but the cream color of his wall stares back at him.

He slowly turns back to his guest, Danny, quite suddenly right in front of him, sitting on his laptop. Its slightly watery eyes- painted with the effect- were mere inches from Tim's nose.

The sensation of being watched by a predatory grows. A whimper leaves Tim's lips against his will just as Jason checks his phone and shoulders his travel bag. "Alright, I have to head out. Artemis is on the way here to pick me up. Thanks again, Tim."

"No." He whispers, unable to look away from his own reflection in Danny's eyes. He looks petrified. "Don't leave me here with him."

"Bye, Danny. See you in two weeks." Jason grabs the doll's head in a quick one-arm hug.

A scratching wail from down the hall makes Tim nearly fall over, but Jason only blushes as he leans closer. "I love you too."

Before Tim can find the courage to throw Danny back at him, his brother is up and out the door. Soon, his office is left in utter silence as the duo observe one another.

Tim only dared move an inch once Tam knocked on his door. "Morning, Tim. You're nine o'clock is here; I sent you the required documents for the meeting, and is that a doll?"

Her voice trails off from her typical professional pitch to the one he is used to hearing when the pair reminisce about the time they ran from assassins together. It's far more casual, with just the hints of judgment that Tim can appreciate because it means she's not above calling his bullshit out.

"This...is Danny," He hears himself introduce. "Danny, this is Tam."

His PA cooks one hip, raises a brow, and gestures at the desk where the doll sits. "I thought the rumors about the haunted doll resulted from the night job misunderstanding?"

"No. I worked to cover them up."

Tam rolls the information around in her head before looking at her tablet with a wide smile. "You do not pay me enough to handle haunted dolls. I have to be in conference room 103 in five minutes. I have to check on our coffee orders."

"But Tam-"

"No." She slams the door close. The click-clack of her heels echoes as she struts away, and Tim is left staring longingly at the blurred windows of his glass doors. He looks back at Danny, who has moved again.

This time, the cold porcelain is pressing into his left cheek because Danny is suddenly there. Standing on the arm of his office chair and leaning on Tim's face.

The scream that ripped out of his throat had the security running to his office and Tam dialing the Bats in ten seconds. It didn't help that the scream had traveled through the vents, echoing into the building as every employee looked up from their cubicle with a jump.

"What was that?"

"A little girl go hurt on level seventy-four."

"Isn't that the CEO's floor?"

"Must be one of the thousands of kids the Waynes bring to those charity events."

[mariespen]

Everyone Knows It - ♥∞˚.

protective!Rafe Cameron x fem!Reader ˚. Summary: Rafe will always defend you. Warnings: descriptions of physical injury, vulgar name-calling, arguing, themes of anxiety based on this ask!

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ೀ⋆｡˚── ⋅ ⋅ ──���

“How long does this shit take?” Your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron, asked as you began to apply your favorite mascara. You looked at him, rolling your eyes playfully as he tried to stifle his own smile.

“I dunno, Rafe.” You replied with a shrug, giggling as his eyes rolled into his head out of annoyance.

“C’mon baby, we gotta go.” He said, borderline pouting from across the bathroom.

You turned away, finishing your makeup and adjusting your outfit, looking at him with a teasing smile as you walked back over. You tilted your head up, meeting him with a soft kiss as he pulled you closer.

“Not too long, hm?” You said, watching him scoff.

“Oh yeah, only two hours.” He said with a smile of his own.

Rafe dragged you to the car as you looked at him with hesitance. He had been so set on going to a huge party on figure 8 and he eventually convinced you to come with him. Initially, you were equally as excited, if not more. You’ve always loved parties, but this week had been especially stressful on the both of you, so it took some pleading from Rafe to get you up.

However, your mood quickly turned when you were talking with your best friend, Jessica, and she hesitantly told you that all three of Rafe’s ex-girlfriends would be stalking around the party. 

Of course you knew that Rafe loved you and only you. He had been dating you for two years now, far longer than all three of them combined. But, you also knew that none of them had gotten over him and all of them hated your guts.

At least to him, Rafe was blissfully unaware of your concern because you didn’t want to bring it up. Maybe it wasn’t as huge of a deal as you were making it, maybe you were overthinking the whole thing. Rafe didn’t need to know about your predicament, it shouldn’t even matter.

That’s what you told yourself, at least, as you picked your fingers anxiously while Rafe drove, his clueless hand on your thigh. The drive seemed a lot shorter than normal and Rafe was just starting to pick up on your nerves as the two of you pulled into the beach parking lot.

“Hey..” He started, putting the car in park and watching your eyes as you looked at the sunset.

“Hm?” You acknowledge him briefly, hiding the shake in your voice.

“Are you like.. okay?” He asked, sucking in a breath while trying to read your eyes and taking another look at you before continuing, “You just seem a little off, y’know?” Rafe knew how to read you like a book, but he had a strong tendency to second-guess himself. You could thank his father for that gift.

“Yeah, m’okay.” You muttered out, not wanting to concern him now, out of all times. Rafe kissed you softly on the cheek before getting out of the car. You tried to work up the courage before Rafe opened your door, offering his hand to you. A small ‘thank you’ came from your shaky lips and he nodded in recognition.

His hands were stuffed in his pockets when he checked behind him, seeing you practically hiding in his dark shadow. You felt too aware of everything, feeling imaginary eyes on your body. One of the few things you didn’t notice was his ex, Emma, watching the two of you with a hawk’s eye. “Baby-“ He tried to start before you saw Jessica and suddenly your nerves began to ease up.

“Jessie!” You called out, speed walking past Rafe to meet her as the two of you gushed out girly greetings.

Rafe smiled and rolled his eyes, keeping himself close to you while also lingering next to Topper and Kelce.

At some point, the last thing you were worried about was Rafe’s two-faced ex-girlfriends. The drinks were letting you ease up and Rafe trusted Jessica just enough to let you go off on your own, just a few feet into the dense crowd.

Everything was perfect, especially when your favorite song for the past month started playing. A smile spread across your face when you went to find Rafe in the crowd, a small dance in your step as you giggled to yourself.

That same smile faded as you saw one of his exes brushing up on him. You stood deathly still, astonished that he was letting this happen so openly. It was obvious that he wasn’t paying her any mind and even making an effort to step away a few times, but the fact that she was near him made your skin crawl. All confidence that you once had slowly disappeared when you looked to the right ever so slightly and made dead eye contact with his other two exes. The worst part? They had started to stalk closer to Rafe, inch by inch.

You nearly screamed out of jealousy before Jessica noticed the same thing and turned you around. You knew it was a weak attempt to distract you, but it inevitably worked as Jessica held your hand instead, spinning you on beat.

Things faded out again until one spin got a little too personal and you stopped yourself, dizzily looking over at Rafe. The girls were nowhere to be seen, which brightened your face. You started over to Rafe again, wanting to lean into him and to let him show you off like he always did. You were his girl, everyone knew that.

It wasn’t anything but a few steps in his direction before you felt a hand sweep you the other way, followed by two more. Confusion drained the happiness from your smile as you looked around, everything going too quick to fully make out any faces connected to the hands pulling you back and forth.

You tried to protest but found yourself silenced when they stopped and held you still.

“You’re a fucking whore.” Emma spat.

Emma, his first long-term ex. ‘Six months in hell’ Rafe would always say, rolling his eyes and kissing you to remember how victorious his escape was.

The two other girls, Natalee and Avery held you upright, nodding along with whatever Emma said. You rolled your eyes at their ‘yes-man’ mannerisms, which gained you a scoff from Emma.

“You stole Rafe from me. You fucking slut!” She yelled, getting closer and closer.

“Didn’t steal anyone..” You mumbled, making every reasonable attempt to back away but ultimately failing.

She scoffed. In fact, you heard all three of them scoff. You knew that they were jealous, and honestly, you would be too. Rafe broke their hearts and told them he ‘wasn’t ready for a relationship’ before skipping off to the next. All three of them assumed you to be another one of his heartbreak victims, but when you stuck for a little too long, the hatred naturally got stronger within the three.

You were lost in thought, trying to squirm away before you felt a faint sting on your cheek. You looked over at Emma and caught her just as her hand moved away from your face. 

Instantly, tears poured from your eyes as you felt utterly helpless at their fists. One punch landed before another and suddenly you were being jostled around with no thoughts besides the pain coursing through your face and stomach.

Your ears were ringing by the time Rafe ran over and tore you away from their hands. You didn’t hear him yelling or pulling you away. It barely registered in your head when he picked you up and carried you from their jealous screams with a worried look on his face.

The car door slammed shut and you regained a little bit of yourself, feeling hazy in the passenger’s seat. You heard the driver’s side door open and close, watching Rafe struggling with the ignition through your slightly blurred vision.

You felt his panic hit you like a wave throughout the entire car ride, feeling him try and keep your head upright. His voice cracked and his hands shook while he fought through to keep his confident facade. 

The two of you made it to Tannyhill and Rafe had barely put the car in park before he was rushing to your side. As much as he tried to seem careless and tough, you and him both knew that he couldn’t stifle his sensitivity around you.

His emotions crashed down on him while he tried to keep himself together, carrying your weakening body into the cushy living room.

“Talk to me, princess.” He whispered, laying you on the couch and pulling up your dress to look at the bruise quickly forming on your ribs.

You didn’t say anything but a groan of pain. Not because you couldn’t, but more because you didn’t have any words. Shock overtook your originally tearful face and realization set in. For the rest of the night, Rafe held you in his arms. He didn’t let you lift a finger and made sure you were okay before calling a few ‘friends,’ as he said, to take care of the three girls.

It truthfully didn’t matter to you what happened to them. Here he was, Rafe Cameron, with his face buried in your hair and leaving soft kisses as gentle reminders that he loved you more than anyone else.

You were his girl, everyone knew that.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ೀ⋆｡˚── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

[foreveradreamaway]

helmets and hats- MV33/1

summary- the stress his father put on him never left his head, and neither does his helmet. only until you turn up with his lucky cap.

yes i know max won 2021, this is for the plot don’t come for me

Abu Dhabi 2021. the ride or die race for max and lewis. both of them just one race away from being the world champion. this was one of the biggest races of maxs life. this was what he had been waiting for his whole life. everything his father had put him through was for this. he could not mess this up.

but he did.

you stood in the room with all the engineers and important people who help to ensure maxs car runs perfectly throughout the entire race. you knew how much pressure max had been putting on himself in the weeks leading up to the race. spending 10 times more time at the race simulator and even more time working his body tirelessly to make sure it was race ready. you had watched hopelessly when he would do this many times before and knew this was just how he works. no protest from you will stop him, only make him work harder. he will come to you whenever he needs that little bit of comfort and reassurance, or even just a quick kiss to keep him motivated.

it was your favourite thing. knowing that he still needed you. he could be so deep in his own mind and would still seek you out. only you. he relied on you. for some things more than others, but he still did and you both knew it. he didn't always admit it, or want to, but you both knew. you were his main source of comfort and he couldn't go a day without it. he needed you in every sense of the word. he needed your love, he needed you there to remind him to pack enough socks when he goes away, he needed you to look after him when he was ill and most importantly he needed you there for the losses.

your heart drops when they cross the finish line, further than its ever dropped before. he wanted this so bad, needed it even. he had never lost a race this big before. but you were prepared, you would do the exact same as you did every other loss.

your feet carry you over to the intern whos specific job was to hold maxs hat. it was a very important hat and needed a whole person for it. you had had many interactions with the intern, retrieving his hat every time he lost. she gave you a knowing smile as you took the hat from her hands and went to meet max at you're usual spot.

he doesn't look at anyone as he exits the car and storms off. he physically cant. he doesn't even remove his helmet as he walks over to you, something you were already prepared for. his head is hung low as he approaches you, your hand immediately finding his shoulder. his feet stop in place, keeping his head down. the visor of his helmet was still all the way down so you couldn't make out the expression on his face.

he doesn't say anything as he places his hand softly over yours that sits on his shoulder. you knew not to push him at a time like this, letting him take your comfort when he needs. you stayed like that until you felt a sob rake his body. immediately wrapping your arms around his neck. his arms stayed at his side as you just held him. it wasn't often that he cried, but when he did, he did.

you weren't sure how long you stood there until his hands found your hips. you took this as your sign to move both your hands to his shoulders, finally speaking the words on your mind.

"you did so good baby" your hands moved to the sides of his helmet, attempting to lift it over his head but his hands quickly grabbed yours and brought them down in between the two of you. your face scrunching in compassion. lots of people knew what his father was like when max was younger, you more than most. the constant badgering and abuse never left his head, sticking with him throughout his life. as much as you comforted him and told him how proud you were of him, he always did the same thing after his losses. refusing to take his helmet off.

instead, you move to lift his visor up, catching a quick glimpse of his tear stained cheeks. you didn't see them for long before he quickly swiped it back down to cover his face again. your hand, once again, went back to swipe it up. his hand repeating his previous actions. smiles appeared on both your faces as you both kept up the act. his hand returning to yours when he heard a giggle escape your lips, allowing the visor to stay up. your laugh was his drug.

your head tilted to the side when you finally got to look at him. his cheeks slightly squished from the sides of his helmet and those slightly red eyes staring back at you, full of emotion.

"let me take your helmet off max" you whispered. his eyes shut as he shook his head, dropping it down again. you rested you forehead against the helmet in front of you. hands still gripping each others.

"you're safe baby, ive got you. its just me and you here." his head still didn't rise until you pressed a kiss to the top of his helmet. "im sorry" he croaked. your arms wrapped back around his neck to provide the comfort he desperately needed in that moment. the front of his helmet rested on your shoulder causing your head to tilt to the side, when it did you caught a glimpse of his oh so special hat.

you let go of one of maxs hands and leaned slightly to be able to grab the hat. as you did max slowly lifted his head up to see what you were doing and caught you with the hat in hand. a small smile appeared on his face when he noticed. it was always the small things that he loved about you. the fact that you noticed all the little things that comforted him made him feel so seen and loved in a way that he never had before.

you made eye contact with max and he gave you a small nod, approval to remove his helmet. your hands reached up to the sides of his head and slowly lifted it off. you placed it on the table where the hat had previously sat and moved back in front of max. one hand going to the back of his neck to carefully remove his under layer. you had never seen his face look sadder.

he closed his eyes and moved his head to rest between your neck and shoulder. this time you could feel the tears that were coming from his eyes. your heart breaking even more with every tear that fell.

"im so proud of you max" you whispered gently in his ear.

"i did so bad, schatje baby" his voice could barely be heard as he just felt too weak from everything. his body was filled with emotions that he didn't even know existed. the disappointment he felt was sickening and he didn't quite know how to deal with these feelings. the only thing he could do was cry in your arms.

"no way you didn't, you drove so well my love. that race was yours, it was a split second thing. there was nothing more you could have done. ive never been more proud of you than i am now max, everyone is so proud of you" you always tried your hardest to comfort him after a loss but he was stubborn and rarely actually took in what you said.

"not my dad" his voice was low, as if he didn't even want you to hear what he said. but you did. his father always loomed in the back of his mind no matter what he was doing. his fathers voice booming through his brain.

"he isn't here, no one else matters but me and you right now. im proud of you and thats all that matters. you've given this season your all, trust me i would know" a soft smile fell on your lips, max couldn't help but stare at your mouth as you talked. "you've spent countless hours in that bloody gym at home and did everything you could to make sure the best max was out on them tracks this season. i promise you max so many people will believe that you won this race and are standing behind you" his face had seemed to calm down a little now. his eyebrows no longer scrunched and his frown was slowly become flat.

his eye fell to the hat that was in your hand, your eyes doing the same. your smile got bigger as you knew what he wanted. you quickly secured the hat on its rightful place on maxs head. hats had slowly become a comfort for max. you would hardly ever see him without one, especially on race weekends. it became a shield between him and the scary eyes of the world. all he needed to do was tilt his head slightly down and he was alone and away from the chaos.

he quickly secured his lips to yours as his hands found the sides of your neck. your hands grabbing his wrists. he needed one final reassurance from you before he had to face the horrible questions of the media.

"go do what you need to do baby, call me and ill come find you. remember, im so proud of you." you placed a final kiss to his nose and cheek before he grabbed his helmet and began to make his way out the room. "you'll always be my champion max verstappen" you winked before he disappeared out the room.

he was a champion, he didnt need a trophy to prove it.

i hope you enjoyed my first max fic, many more to come. please send me requests i love hearing them

[jenniesicecream]

I Hate That I Love You (Danielle x M Reader)

"Your ex is looking at us." Your best friend, Pham Hanni informed you. You chugged your beer down while maintaining an eye towards the mirror behind Hanni, allowing you to see the extent of the jealousy shown in the eyes of Danielle Marsh, your ex girlfriend, or you should add, your ex-fiance to be, as she broke it off just a week before you planned to propose to her.

"I know. Let's make her jealous even more shall we?" You said to Hanni, making her smirk. She then got closer to you and wrapped her hands around your neck, tilting your head allowing your lips to meet hers. Dani watched the two of you in fury, as her grip on the glass tighten. Unbeknownst to her, you and Hanni were just there, putting your foreheads against each other, just laughing and chuckling, imagining Dani's reactions while also adding some jokes, making the two of you chuckle even more.

Suddenly, you jolt backwards in surprise as you felt the fury in Danielle, watching as she pulled Hanni's hair for a few seconds. It didn't take long before you intervened, holding Dani back as you grabbed her hands and held her back. You guide her out of the bar and down into your dorm. You entered your spacious dorm and and immiediately went to the living room, putting Dani down on the sofa, with you following her afterwards.

"What the fuck was that?" You asked, watching as Dani took hard and deep breathes, trying to compose herself. "What was what?" The first words came out of Dani's mouths. "Don't give me that bullshit Dani, I know what you've been up to tonight." You told her. "If so, why did you continue it?" She said sternly, making you gulp. "B-Because.." You say, before she interrupted you again. "YOU FUCKING KNEW WHAT'S UP ALL THIS TIME AND NEVER THOUGHT TO CHECK UP?" Dani started raging at you, throwing different pillows at you.

"D, just calm the fuck down, please. Take deep breathes." You said, trying to get closer to her. "N-NO! JUST WHEN EVERYTHING IS CLOSE, MY LIFE FELL APART, AND THE WORST THING IS, YOU WEREN'T THERE TO CATCH ME!" You watch as Danielle screamed her heart out, before getting into a sobbing mess. You immediately got close to her and hug her, comforting her as she cried her heart out.

"Shhh shhhh, it's okay love, I'm here for you." You said, caressing her back and shoulders, leaving kisses on her forehead a few times. It took a while before Dani hugged you back, wrapping her arms around your torso. It didn't take any longer before the two of you got too exhausted from the stress this whole thing has created, causing you two to fall asleep in each other's arms.

(Next Morning)

"So, what should we do about them?" Your bestfriend, Kang Haerin, said, to Hanni. "I say we let them be, but before that...." You and Dani groaned, reacting to a flash that suddenly occurred, making you open your eyes. You were greeted by the sight of Hanni and Haerin waving at the two of you. However, what surprised you more was the warmth you felt across your body, as well as the arms of someone wrapped around your body.

You looked down, and your worst nightmares came true, as you saw Danielle Marsh wrapped around your arms. What's worse, is probably the fact that her eyes were wide open, staring at you. "WHAT THE FUCK!" The two of you shout at each other, before getting away from each other. The sudden noise also surprised your two friends as they jumped in surprise. "Alright, since you two are awake, I hope you two remember how much you still love each other, and proceed to make babies. Bye!!!!" Hanni said, before leaving your dorm with Haerin, leaving the two of you in awkward silence, as your so-called "bestfriend" just spilled your heart out to your ex.

"So uh, I did the talking last night, I guess now is your turn." Dani said. "Whoa whoa, why should I talk?" You ask her in disbelief, trying to stir away from the conversation which clearly states how much you still love her. "Just explain yourself you sick bastard, Hanni already spilled half of it, now's time for you to finish it." Dani said.

"A-A-Alright, fine." You said, before you sat back down on your sofa, Dani closely following you. "It was 2 months after our break up. I saw you leaving the club with Jack, making out with each other, and since then, it just got downhill. I got into a spiral, lost control of my tasks, activities, and at every point I just thought you'll catch me, but you didn't. That was clearly when it hurt me the most, and it was really the time I realized that I still love you and regret letting you go." You said, watching as Dani take in each word.

"Fuck it." You turned your head hearing her words and you were, at the very least, surprised, when you felt her lips on yours. You took a few seconds before realizing what she is doing. After you realized, you immediately replied to her kiss, kissing her even more aggressive than what she's done. She wrapped her hands around your neck, allowing the two of you to continue kissing before you grab her by her hips, lifting her up onto your lap. You helped remove her outer before throwing it away, allowing you to move your kisses down onto her neck, collarbone and exposed shoulders. It didn't take long before Dani started moaning, making you smirk as you know that your effect on her is still the same after all this time.

After a while, you felt Dani unbutton your polo, before she tried to lift it up. Knowing what she wants, you lift your clothes up and threw it to the side, watching as Dani stared your toned body down. "Get up." You told her, and she obeyed immediately. You then leaned upwards a bit, before moving your hands onto her pants. You unbuckled her belt before lowering her pants and her black Calvin Klein panties, exposing her glistening pussy. "Tell me, is there anyone as good as me?" You ask, leaning in to start kissing her thighs. You moved your kisses upwards while waiting for an answer. "N-No." You heard Dani whimper. Knowing this, you smirked before diving into her pussy immediately, earning a moan from her.

You lick the outer part of her pussy while also playing with her clit. It didn't take long before she pushed your head in, asking for more, and that's what you gave her as you start sucking the insides of her pussy aggressively. At the same time, you also played with her tits through her bra as well as rub her clit aggressively, helping her get close to her orgasm. The effect is very clear as she started leaking her juices not long after. You moved to also fingering her while also sucking her pussy even more aggressively, helping her get to her impeding orgasm as she squirt her juices out of her pussy aggressively. You lapped her juices up while also fingering her even faster, helping her intensify her orgasm.

"I bet no guy made you cum that hard before." You said, before standing up and carrying her bride-style. "Argh! And no, no one ever did." Dani said, as you carry her into your room. You laid her down on your bed before you removed your pants, while you also watch her remove her bra and throw it to the side. You were about to reach to the bedside drawer to grab condoms, but Dani held you down. "Go raw. Please." Dani begged, and you followed her wishes. You slapped your cock on her pussy a few times, before gliding it up and down on her clit, making her whine, before you thrust into her unexpectedly, making her moan.

You rested inside her for a few moments before you start fucking her, thrusting in and out of her at a slow pace, while resting your hands on her hips, as you allow her to feel every inch of your cock. Soon after, you start thrusting deeper into her, still maintaining the slow pace, making Dani whine even more. "I'm here to get railed, not get fucked by a grandpa." Dani whined.

Hearing this, you pulled out of her and flipped her around, before you raised her ass and spanked it a few times, entering her tight pussy again. "I'll show you what it feels like getting railed." You say, before you start thrusting hard and fast into her. Your tip just stayed at the edge of her pussy before you thrust into her after each thrust, allowing you to widen her pussy after each thrust. Her then-tight pussy, now already widened from your thrusts, still maintained the warmth, which got you close to your orgasm.

You grabbed her hair into a ponytail and pulled it, making her yank her head back as her moans got louder, while your thrusts got harder and deeper, allowing you to find her g-spot. You found it again and again, which was basically a cheat code in your favor, helping her reach her climax as she came again, this time not as hard as before. You rest inside her while you fondled with her tits, helping her prolong and intensify her orgasm.

After she finished cumming, you pulled out of her and turned her around, setting her on her back again you start fucking her again this time in missionary. However, unlike previously, you're fucking her to chase your own orgasm as you thrust hard and fast into her while you also held her hips, stabilizing her body. Dani also helped you by wrapping her arms around your neck and legs around your hips allowing you to thrust deeper into her. "I know you're close baby, just cum inside me, I'm safe." Dani said, before she suddenly moaned loudly, making you know that you hit a spot. Your thrusts got very hard and deep into her for a few times before you came.

"Ahhhhh AHhhhh AHhhh AHhhhh" You groaned into her ears repeatedly as you came, spurting your 2-month worth of cum into her womb. Dani moaned loudly after each spurt enter her, and seemed to never stop as you continued cumming into her. After you finished, you pulled out of her and you were about to get up, but you were instead pulled into an intense kiss by Dani. You replied to the kiss with the same passion, as the two of you kissed until you two fell asleep.

[hittmeandtellmeyouremine]

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨

pairing: older bf!rafe x gf!reader

warnings: pure fluff, mentions of an age gap.

word count: 700+

summary: rafe has a surprise up his sleeve.

a/n: trying to get back into writing. i saw an edit to 'buy me presents' by sabrina on tt (specifically the second verse) and it got my gears going. i literally wrote this in an hour. i know christmas is over but lets just pretend!

"baby, come on! we got ten minutes to be out of the house!" rafe called from the bottom of the stairs.

"i can't find my shoes!" you yelled, stress evident in your tone.

you had a specific pair of heels in mind. you had been mentally assigning them the whole week, having your outfit planned two weeks in advance.

tonight was the country club's annual christmas eve party. rafe's dad used to make them go every year and the tradition just kind of stuck. here he was, years later, bringing you with him.

this wasn't your first time going. in fact, this would be your third time going as rafe's official girlfriend. you remember the first time like it was yesterday, being so nervous about what everyone would say about you two being together. rafe was a couple years older and had a reputation that preceded him, the town had their thoughts.

"i brought them downstairs for you!" he called.

you silently thanked god for him. he was always a few steps ahead of you, making your life easier when it seemed to be the opposite.

your feet padded their way through your bedroom as you shut the lights off and made your way downstairs. you expected your heels to be by the door but they weren't. neither was your boyfriend.

"babe?" you called out, turning the corner and looking for rafe.

"i'm over here baby" he said and your eyes found him sitting on the couch.

"there's my pretty girl" he cooed, smiling as his eyes ran over you in your red dress.

"hi" you blushed, making your way over and sitting next to him. his hand found its way to your thigh, softly running up it.

"see? you were all stressed out for nothing" he smiled, easing your nerves.

"i still can't find my shoes" you frowned a bit.

"oh, that's right. here" he feigned, pulling a wrapped box from behind him.

"what's this?" you questioned, taking the box in your hands. it was wrapped in gold wrapping paper with a pink ribbon tied around it, a bow sitting on top.

"open it" he encouraged.

you hesitated, savoring the pretty bow before your fingers pulled it undone. you found an edge and began to strip the gift of its wrapping paper.

you froze when your eyes landed on a black box with a white designer logo centered on it. you quickly realized what the gift was.

"you didn't" you said, a smile threatening to form.

"keep going princess" he urged.

you took the top of the box off and revealed the heels that you had been eyeing for months. the versace ones you gave up on getting because they had sold out everywhere. you were devastated. rafe was away on a business trip and you called him crying when you couldn't get them. he had calmed you down, told you maybe it just wasn't meant to be and you would get a different pair.

"oh my god! how did you get them?" you squealed, fingers running over the shoes.

"i made a few calls" he smiled, happy you loved them.

rafe knew you like the back of his hand. the second you mentioned the shoes he had made sure he got them in your size. he acted as if he was busy on his work trip, which he was but never too busy for his girl. he even took the liberty of making sure, for one reason or another, you couldn't get them yourself.

the same way he had waited until you were occupied earlier. once you were, he hid the heels he knew you planned on wearing tonight so he could surprise you with the ones you really wanted. everything went according to plan.

whatever his girl wants, she gets.

"thank you! thank you! thank you!" you squealed, throwing your arms around him happily and kissing him.

he gladly kissed you back, arms tightening around your waist and pulling you closer.

"come on, let me put them on you"

you nodded and he took one of your legs, pulling it over his lap. he slipped the heel on your foot and made sure the straps were secure. he repeated the process to the other. you watched him in adoration, falling even more in love with him if that was possible.

he tapped your thigh, signaling you when he was done so you could get up and walk around in them. you smiled wide, admiring the new heels on your feet.

"ugh, they're perfect! i love them rafey!" you smiled, looking at them in the mirror.

"they look nice baby" he smiled, getting up from his spot on the couch to stand behind you. even with the added height, he still towered over you.

his arm hooked around your waist, fingers rubbing your side contently. you loved rafe cameron and you always would.

-

[scrimblescromble]

Hello, I'm back, with things I have noticed about Eragon that makes parts of the book very strange or funny or sad

Garrow's farm is TEN MILES OUT from Carvahall, which is already small. What the hell was he thinking??? It takes like 3.5 hours to walk that much???? And Eragon walks FURTHER THAN THAT to go hunting at 15???? Go behind you??

When hunting in the beginning, Eragon spends days just going for one doe. Which, all things considered, is not a lot of meat, especially for what's probably a 4 day hunt. For one person, it's unrealistic to carry more than that, but still.

Leading on from that, I'm led to believe that their family probably mostly ate bread and vegetables, and maybe cheese. No wonder he's pretty attached to meat.

Despite living so far away, Brom knows Eragon's knack for asking Too Many Questions, which implies this happens often.

How the hell does Brom make money? Storytelling??? There's only so much money that can get you in fifteen years, he's definitely got something on the side. He was a gardener in Morzan's estate for a while...

So far up north and isolated, Eragon DEFINITELY has a STRONG farmer's accent. Combined with his formal training with the elves, he probably has the weirdest way of talking, where it's both overly formal and casual at the same time.

Eragon is such a prodigy it's not even funny. By the time he meets Murtagh, he's a good enough swordsman after JUST A FEW MONTHS that they're literally equal. Murtagh has been doing that his WHOLE LIFE with a really good swordsman. Magic also comes pretty good to him, even if he's not always sensible with it. He learns to read well enough to read full books in a week.

Eragon and Roran are pretty similar with the dangerous stunts they pull, except Eragon's are usually with magic and Roran's are physical. They are both absurdly intelligent too, even if Eragon is known to act like a dolt sometimes. In his defence, he's stressed and like 15-17 years old. All things considered, he could be far worse.

Somehow, with his back ripped open and cursed, with his dragon crashing through the crystal ceiling which is raining on top of him, Eragon is able to not only remember to stab Durza in the heart (requiring turning around), but also shout an unnecessary spell.

Eragon probably could do magic before he bonded with Saphira. His mum wasn't a rider and had the "genes" for it, and his dad was a rider. It wouldn't be as strong, but maybe he's such a powerful spellcaster because he had some sort of baseline.

I bet that the first time Eragon wandered into the Spine, he was pretty young, and everyone kinda assumed him dead. He came out a week later with a bunch of rabbits or something

The fact that the Blood Oath Celebration made Eragon very pale implies that he's naturally the whitest boy ever and he just had a constant tan going (likely, because he's a farmer). This is just very funny to me, that in removing all injuries it took his tan.

Another point for absurdly powerful Eragon - the fact that his accidental curse had such an impact on Elva, to the point that it straight up affected her development. It wasn't even a spell! Or intentional!

I'm sorry, but Eragon casting empathy and that unintentionally killing the bad guy is so funny. He was SURRENDERING, but cut a bitch so deep that he imploded himself. Iconic.

Literally he is just so nice. Willing to run across the world, separated from Saphira, to support Orik in his campaign - when he totally could have given an excuse, or even just say the truth, which is that he's very much needed where he is. There's so many more examples, but he's just a good person.

I'm sorry, but Oramis was kinda a bitch for assigning the one hour of duelling in his training. Like, it flares up his seizures like crazy (which he ALSO SUFFERS FROM), AND he doesn't stand a chance against the elves in strength. I understand the point, but something had to give there. At the very least, reassign someone that won't actively torture him??

Adding onto that, we know that he's only able to succeed at the listening to the forest task after the transformation. I suspect that the mind is a sort of "sixth sense", and we know that elves have stronger senses; it's possible Eragon would have to have been bonded for a decent while for this to even be possible. I bet anything that human riders were usually trained by elder humans, and Oramis was struggling with a fledgeling human instead of an elf, as well as the time constraint.

Why the hell does Brom look so old? Yeah, he's old, but Galbatorix doesn't look that old? Is it something to do with his dragon being dead? The way I assumed it would be is that riders look like thirty for a verrrryyyy long time, no? Is it because Saphira died? Was he just going to perpetually age? Or does the beard age him?

Your cousin who feels like a brother goes missing, ran away, after your father's death. Soon you're leading everyone you've ever known to the rebellion in a desperate attempt to keep them safe and save the woman you love. Your cousin is wanted, even more than you are. He returns. He's different. Barely human anymore, hardly the boy you once knew. He's their last, and only hope. His war cry has been the same since he was six.

Now that I think about it, Garrow really is the odd one out in the family. His sister was the Black Hand, a highly dangerous assassin and magician. His son is Stronghammer, one of the deadliest soldiers in the country. His nephews are Eragon and Murtagh, both highly skilled swordsmen and magicians, riders, and both known as Kingkiller. Garrow is a farmer who can read.

Selena naming her son Eragon is soooo funny. "His dad - who is a secret! - is a rider, and Eragon was the first rider. It's so uncommon a name even among the elves that literally nobody will know this. My abusive husband and the evil king both know I hail from this place. He totally won't stick out in any way whatsoever!" Iconic, 10/10. It worked???

If any of these are inaccurate please remember I am going off my very deep-seated knowledge from reading the books so many times at a formative age. I haven't actually read them in years

[l0vergirlwrites]

face masks ; spencer reid

synopsis: after a stressful case, all spencer wants to do is relax. what better way to that than have you spend the night doing face masks?

warnings: established relationship with fem!reader, earlyseasons!spencer in mind, spencer being a flustered cutie, mentions of touches & kisses, few mentions of spencer being insecure & reader assuring him, few mentions of nicknames/pet names (honey, ace)

“is it going to feel weird?”.

spencer watched over your shoulder as you mixed the face mask solution together with water & the powder, eyes interested as the mixture slowly came together to form a slight green paste.

“it might feel a little cold, but that’s normal” you assured, smiling to yourself when you felt one of his slightly cold hands on your waist, his thumb slipping under your tank top a tad.

you both were huddled in front of his bathroom counter, cozy pyjamas on freshly showered skin, mops of hair still air drying. tonight was the first time you were sleeping over at spencer’s place since you made your relationship official, & the whole night just felt natural. it was nice to be in each others’ presence at the end of the day, especially after a tiresome one like today.

“will you put it on me, please?” he asked, the pleas sounding soft in your ears. you could tell he was feeling a little shy, even sheepish, & you thought it was cute.

you looked up at him with a smile, nodding to the closed toilet lid (which you cleaned prior). “of course”.

spencer pulled away from you to sit down, lightly tapping his sock clad feet against the bathroom floor tiles as he watched you follow suit with the bowl & face mask applicator in hand. “ready to relax?” you asked as you stood between his legs, noticing how his hands were itching to touch you.

with a knowing look, spencer let his hands settle comfortably on the sides of your bare thighs, thumbs moving in circles. “yes” he nodded enthusiastically as you gathered some of the face mask on the applicator, holding his cheek with one hand as you gently smoothed it on his skin.

you didn’t rush your movements, taking your time to apply the mixture evenly. spencer started to hum a gentle tune as you moved from his cheeks to his forehead, causing your lips to pull into a grin when your eyes met. as he was caught, he went silent to your dismay.

“you can keep going” you told him, more so murmured due to the closeness between you.

he slightly furrowed his brow. “it’s not weird?” spencer asked, voice matching your tone.

pausing your movements, you gave him that genuine twinkle in your eye as you shook your head ‘no’.

“i like it, it’s nice”.

you continued applying the face mask when he started humming again, the mixture cracking a little on the skin by his mouth as he smiled, allowing himself to relax. you were done in no time, taking his hand in yours to pull him to the mirror so he could see your work.

“what’d you think, ace?” you asked as he took himself in, watching as he let out a chuckle at his reflection. the nickname you had for him, resulting from a long night weeks ago of playing cards, left him feeling gooey on the inside.

he squeezed your hand. “i look a little silly, but that’s part of it right?” he turned to you, feeling warmth grow in his chest as you nodded with a wide smile of your face.

spencer took a mental screenshot of you in this moment. he wanted to remember it.

“do you wanna do me?” you asked as you grabbed the bowl & applicator from the counter, mixing the face mask formula a bit. the double meaning of the statement didn’t cross your mind, & spencer was thankful you couldn’t see how red his cheeks were.

but he knew what you really meant.

“y-yeah, i’d be honoured” he took the bowl from your hands after he helped you onto the counter, tucking a piece of hair that fell from your ponytail behind your ear once you were settled.

“hi honey” spencer breathed out as he now stood between your legs, looking at you like you hung the moon.

“hi” your hands rested on his shoulders, fingers rubbing against the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

he soon got to work, trying to apply the mask evenly without accidentally brushing some of it against your hairline. spencer knew you wouldn’t care of he did, but he still wanted to avoid that—the perfectionism inside him was taking over.

“you’re doing good” you murmured as you watched him smooth the mask over your nose with his index finger, scrunching your nose as he slightly tickled your skin.

spencer didn’t even notice that your thighs were loosely wrapped around his waist now, his focus staying on applying the face mask.

with a small ‘boop’ to your nose, spencer was finished, helping you down from the counter to stand beside him.

“i tried making it as even as possible, the texture wasn’t as bad as i thought it was” he noted as you looked at your reflection, turning to him with a bright smile as he washed his hands, drying them off with a freshly cleaned towel.

“you’re a natural” you rubbed his upper arms, letting his hands fall to your lower back.

“how long do we wait?” he titled his head to the side.

“about fifteen minutes, then we wash it off with lukewarm water & a cloth” you answered, seeing a light bulb go off in his head.

“we could sit on the couch & start a movie—only if you want to” spencer proposed, adding the last part even though he didn’t need to.

he watched as you rubbed his skin with sticky sweet affection. he secretly wished your fingerprints would mark his skin if it meant that your touch would never leave him.

“i’d love to—you can pick” you winked, leaving spencer flustered as he followed you to the living room.

within a minute, your legs were in spencer’s lap as you both settled into the couch cushions, eyes on the the tv screen after you set a timer on your phone. however, you couldn’t stop looking at him as his hands subconsciously massaged your calves sweetly, a content look present on his face.

“i’m really happy you invited me here tonight” your voice broke spencer’s gaze on the tv, his soft eyes turning towards you & how your arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“i like having you around… you being here helps me relax” he admitted, subtly letting his eyes fall to your lips. you felt love bloom in your chest, spreading all over your skin at his words.

it was like you had read spencer’s mind as you leaned forward a tiny bit to press your lips to his in a longing peck. you tasted like the mint lip balm you wore, while spencer tasted like the tea he made an hour ago.

neither of you cared if your face masks looked a little wonky after that kiss, just happy to be in each others’ company.