#was wondering when this would start showing up

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Devout

Guardian Angel alternative POV, or Jason Todd is the Arkham Knight, and he can't stop himself from watching you, from clawing his way into the cracks of your life in a twisted, mangled mirror of what he used to be ~3.5k words

CW: Jason commits a few murders, some gore, stalking, some religious imagery for fun

Jason Todd shouldn't be watching you. He knows it's wrong, knows he shouldn't be perched on the shadowy rooftop across from your apartment building, staring intently into your windows.

He knows. He knows. But he's doing it anyway– been doing it for weeks.

You haven't noticed once, so wrapped up in your own life, your peace of mind that no one would break the sanctity of your own home that you don't even consider closing your blinds.

He thinks you should know better. Gotham is tainted– he is tainted– yet you never spare a glance over your shoulder when he follows you down the street, never linger on that sixth sense that screams that you're being watched.

You pick up on his presence on the rare occasion, he thinks. The days you walk home quicker or the nights you actually slam your blinds shut makes him wonder if you do know you're being watched. But then you go back to normal, brush off every sign and every lingering feeling that something isn't right.

It almost makes him angry, sometimes, that you'd be so careless with your safety. But everything makes him angry now. It's a constant, tight grasp in his chest, the righteous fury he has against the world, against the city and its filth, against Batman.

The anger makes him reckless, or maybe he's just cocky. Maybe he wants you to know he's there. Jason doesn't let himself wonder why he does it. He might just be a masochist. He might just miss you. But he opens the faulty window to your living room that he knows squeaks and never quite locks right.

The first time he breaks into– visits your apartment while you're asleep, he doesn't touch a thing. He just takes in everything that's you, cleanses his fractured soul in the space he used to know like the back of his hand. The trinkets that sit on your counters. The paintings on the wall. The color of the blankets thrown over your couch.

He doesn't touch anything the second time, either. Or the third. The fourth time, though, he picks over the photos you keep on your shelves, the books you leave lying around. He moves them, just slightly. Just to see if you'll notice.

You don't. Not really. Not until the eighth time. He doesn't know why he does this either. He just does. He picks up your keys from where you usually keep them and moves them. It's something you can't deny. Something tangible and real and clear, an unyielding truth. He was here. He exists, and he can affect your life, change it with his hands.

(It's the first time he feels like he's truly alive since the asylum, the first time there's more than just revenge and watching you from afar, even if he feels like he's corrupting something that's only meant to be seen and not touched by impure, broken hands)

If your keys being displaced affects you, well, you don't show it for more than a few moments. And that bothers him. You might not know he's here– alive– and maybe he's not ready for you to, but he's still a part of your life, isn't he?

So he gets bolder. He doesn't want to scare you, not really. But he can't help but dig his nails into the parts of your life he can change. It starts simple, innocent. You were annoyed when you left your kitchen, out of sugar, just another thing on top of everything else you have to deal with.

And he wanted to help. Like he used to. It was easy to get a bag of sugar, even easier to sneak into your kitchen. He leaves just enough for a few days, just enough to get you through the week, enough that you'll think you misremembered how much was left.

And he should have left it at that. But he's never been good at doing things halfway, especially when it comes to you. So he fixes your apartment up while you're at work. Makes sure your window doesn't squeak, your shower doesn't rattle, your oven actually heats up. All things he's heard you try to get your landlord to fix.

He makes a note to give your landlord a visit as he's looping the footage in your cameras over, effectively erasing any evidence of who he is.

Honestly, he's proud of you for finally doing something about him, it's just a shame he has the skills to outmatch your attempts to figure out his identity. Not that any pictures of him would do any good. He's still nameless in Gotham as the Arkham Knight, and if he's not wearing a mask while he's easily picking the new lock on your apartment window, his hood and ballcap do the job of hiding his face just as well.

He thinks he could let it go on like this forever, just doing things for you in the shadows, never revealing himself. At least until he's routinely following you home from work one night, and he sees you get tugged into a dark, lonely alley. He recognizes the man that hauls you off the faux safety of the streets, the one that's lifting a shaky hand and a gun to wave it, demanding your possessions.

Murphy is a nobody in Gotham, just another gambling addicted alcoholic that takes work from whatever rouge is paying the most that week. Jason more or less only recognizes him because he lives on the third floor of your apartment building, but it's clear you don't know who the man snatching your things is.

The Arkham Knight resigns himself to stealing your wallet and phone back after you've gotten home, to keep himself out of your sights for as long as he can. That was the plan.

But there's a flicker in Murphy's eyes, a consideration– a passing thought that Jason can't ignore, one he's seen a million times. Maybe it's the idea that he could get more from you, or maybe he's realizing you've seen his face and wants to get rid of any witnesses, whatever it is, Jason isn't going to let it happen.

The Arkham Knight doesn't hesitate to drop himself between you and the gun. He breaks Murphy's arm without even thinking about it, effectively disarming him as he kicks the gun away from him. The sound of his bones breaking is loud, but Jason doesn't register it as something to be sickened by until he turns and sees the nausea and horror written plainly on your face.

Honestly, maybe he should be more disgusted with himself. He's just sent a man into shock, revealed himself to you in a way that's not at all comforting. But he doesn't care. No one was going to save you. No one but him. He protected you, and it's not like Bruce Batman– it's not like broken bones are uncommon in Gotham.

You take a step back. He steps towards you, drawn to you. He can't help it. He shouldn't. But his head is spinning, and he hasn't been this close to you since before the asylum. You look tired, older, but no less beautiful than he remembers.

"Who are you? What do you want," You snap at him.

Jason wants to praise you for your bravery, as fake as it is. It's a good tactic, to try and get him talking. He doesn't understand why you look so uneasy of him, though. He got you out of a bad situation, even if he's wearing military-grade armor and a mask that glows in the darkness of the alley, shouldn't you feel grateful? Safe? Happy?

He tilts his head, trying to read you. Would you feel better if he offered to walk you home? "I saved you," he tries, the modulator making his voice sound flatter than he intends to. The Arkham Knight silently curses himself. He should just leave. Should have shot your attacker from the roof without you ever seeing him. He's being emotional now, irrational under your gaze.

"You've been following me. You're the one who's been in my apartment," you accuse, eyes darting like you're trying to find an escape in the dead end alley.

He stiffens. Huh. Clever thing. You've always been too smart for your own good. A part of him wants to deny it, pretend he's just some passing good doer in a mask, pretend that he's some kind of knight, an angel here to shield you from harm.

The notion almost makes him laugh, "Have I," he prompts instead with all the air nonchalance. He wonders if you'll drop it then, actually thank him for stepping in and helping you. You don't.

"Yes," You say instead, voice low like it's a secret– a confession, "You have."

Jason finds himself impressed at your stubbornness, if not a little unnerved by your recklessness in confronting the supposed stranger you believe is breaking into your home alone. He has to give you credit for piecing it together, but who else, if not a freak in body armor, would be letting themselves into your apartment without a word just to fix what's broken?

He nods, unsure of what to do. You weren't supposed to figure it out, but you have. And now there's consequences.

The Arkham Knight turns his back to you, making a show of gathering your phone and wallet before standing and facing you again. He walks closer to you, each step measured and calculated. He holds your belongings out to you, a twisted, mirrored version of some kind of sacred offering.

He studies you as you grab at them, trying to tug them from his unyielding grip. There's bags under your eyes. He can practically see your pulse jumping under your skin.

You're less than a foot away, and Jason basks in that distance, how light he feels now that you're only an arm's reach away. He could brush his knuckles over your cheek, dip his head to take in the scent of your hair, kiss the hollow of your throat the same way he used to.

He does none of those things. Because you don't see Jason Todd. You only see a threat, a monster, some kind of demon that clawed their way out of the shadows and cracks that litter Gothams hallowed corners.

He cocks his head, letting go of your wallet and phone while greedily drinking down the color of your eyes in the dim light of the alley, "And if I have?"

"I'll go to the police," You tell him, defensive, and he wants to laugh as you shove your wallet and phone back into your pocket.

"They can't help you," he grits out, and it's the truth. No one knows who he is yet, what his plans are. Even if you told someone, whatever description you give won't be enough to find him.

"They can contact Batman," you bite out, and that does earn you a laugh. You really think Bruce can do anything? That Batman has any chance of standing between him and you? Batman couldn't even find– couldn't even save–

"He can't help you either," The Arkham Knight tells you. He gives into his desire to touch you then, partly in anger that you still believe in Batman and partly because he just misses you. He pats your cheek, but doesn't let himself linger. "Get home," is all he says before he grapples into the night.

He follows you back to your apartment from the rooftops and notes how you avoid getting too close to any more alleys. But, it's not until you're safe in your bed that he goes looking for Murphy– that he goes to finish the job.

The creep's nursing his broken arm in his dingy apartment when The Arkham Knight gets to him. He doesn't make it quick, but it is quiet. (It's difficult to scream when you're choking on your own severed tongue, after all) He brings down fire and fury and vengeance for daring to lay a hand on you and leaves nothing behind but a corpse.

Murphy's brutal death is swept under the rug by the GCPD, which Jason shouldn't be surprised by. Just another mob death, the tiny obituary in the paper reports. You don't even register the death in your apartment building. He doesn't blame you for that. Not when he knows he's scaring you.

He's getting careless, sloppy. He wants you to catch glimpses of him now, he wants you to know he's watching. It's sick. He knows that, knows it so well that it claws in the back of his throat when he breaks into your apartment to fix your fan.

He's guilty about it, sometimes. It's a pressing weight on his shoulder even when he's trying to help. So, he redoubles his efforts.

He sneaks into your room and stuffs six hundred dollars into the emergency fund you keep under your bed. He sends you flowers, fills your gas tank, finally visits your landlord, and pays off your rent for the next six months. (He's already bought you a better, newer apartment, he just hasn't figured out how to tell you that)

He knows it's all wrong, but sometimes, he doesn't feel guilty at all. He wants to do things for you, that's not a lie. He wants to do everything and anything you could ever want or ask for.

He starts letting you catch flashes of him outside your window, moves your things around just out of the sheer curiosity of what you'll do. He can't justify that, because it does nothing to protect you. But he does it anyway. The Arkham Knight needs you to know he holds a spot in your life, even if it's not as Jason Todd anymore.

He's getting bolder, much too comfortable. There's times you almost walk into your apartment as he's leaving gifts on your counter, times when you wake up and walk into your kitchen just seconds after he forces himself out your window.

He's going to get caught if it keeps going on like this. But he can't bring himself to worry or care. His plans are coming together, and while he doesn't exactly know where you fit into them yet, he knows he doesn't trust anything or anyone enough to leave you to your own devices once he unleashes his legions upon Gotham and her failure of a saviour.

He never seems to do the right thing when it comes to you, at least not since he came back. But saving you– guarding you against the vile filth of the world– that can't be wrong. He'd do anything to keep you as you are, untouched by all the cruelties Gotham has to offer. It's an unwavering, righteous mission he has commanded unto himself.

It's why he reacts the way he does when three men break into your apartment.

He was late. He always seems to be late when you're involved. He had just finished overseeing the arrival of tanks and men into Miagani Tunnel, just dragged himself halfway across the city for the slightest chance to catch a glimpse of you in your apartment, when he catches sight of it.

Your window– open. You never keep it open. Dread washes down his spine, and when he gets close enough to see the man pointing a gun towards the floor– towards you– he just reacts.

He shuts down, becomes nothing but instinct, and he brings hell on to Earth in your name.

He's clinical. He doesn't hesitate to shoot the man aiming a gun to your head through his temple. If the man were alone, he would have shot the gun out of his hand, but there's two other targets, and he needs to eliminate any threats to your life first.

He climbs through your window with the ease of a man who's done it hundreds– thousands of times. You haven't moved to get up. It concerns him, but he's angry right now, so, so angry he doesn't even consider ending this quickly.

Everyone tries to take something from him. He keeps losing. If he didn't come to watch– see you tonight, he would have lost you too. The very thought makes his vision blur red, his ears ring.

It's not a fight, what happens next. It's a death penalty. The Arkham Knight is a weapon, and he proves it with each hit. He's efficient, brutal, and purposeful with each movement. He doesn't flinch at the blood that splatters on his armor, doesn't stop even when fluids and flesh start to stick to the knuckles of his gloves.

He doesn't stop, doesn't slow, until the only hearts left beating in your desecrated apartment are his and yours.

Then, and only then, does the blood pounding through his veins start to cool. It's only then, does he turn to look at you. He expects to meet your terrified gaze, but you haven't moved, still laying on the floor. It makes his heart clench. What's wrong with him? He just– while you–

He shakes his head, slowly tugging his gloves off and stuffing them into his belt. He walks over to you, kneels carefully to your side, and watches you breathe. He matches the slow rhythm of your shoulders rising and falling, and then he helps you sit up.

You're responsive to that, at least. The Arkham Knight presses his hands to your face, waiting for something. He doesn't know what, just anything. Some kind of sign. A message of what he's supposed to do. How he can make this all better.

When you finally open your eyes, they're hazy, not quite reactive. It makes him angry all over again. You got hurt. He wasn't here.

"Saved me again," you murmur, and his throat tightens. He failed you. Yet here you are, spouting words that make it sound like he's done something good.

He runs his thumb over your cheek, savoring the feel of your skin, soothing himself and you as he reassures himself that you're still here– still alive. But you aren't safe.

It's all he can think about. He saved you, but how long until you're in danger again? What if he's not quick enough this time? What if he's not there? What if– what if– haunts him. It weighs heavier than the nightmares that plague him when he finally has to succumb to sleep.

He makes the decision then and there to take you away from here, away from the rot and the fester to some place where it can never touch you again.

He picks you up, cradles you to his chest like you're made of shattered, stained glass and tarnishing silver, but nonetheless precious. You're talking, and he's answering, but he hardly registers what either of you are saying. His mind is working over plans, where he's going to take you, the guards he'll need to recruit to watch over you when he can't, which ones he trusts the most.

Jason only tunes back in when you point out that he could hurt you. It's funny, in a way. After everything he used to be to you, after everything he's done for you, he could still hurt you. He tips his head down to really look at you, the cloudy, exhausted look on your face, the heaviness of your eyes as you struggle to keep watching him.

He can't find it in himself to lie, so, he tells you, maybe he could hurt you. He tells you that he wouldn't like it. (And it's the truth)

Maybe you recognize that, because you drop your head to his shoulder and let your eyes fall shut. The Arkham Knight never wavers in his steps, mapping the path to the apartment he'd purchased in your name in his head. It's not perfect, not filled with everything you deserve quite yet, but it'll do the job for now.

Something in him simultaneously softens and hardens when your breathing goes even and slow against him, and he curls his fingers tighter into your skin. You're weak. Weaker than him. Too naive and too soft for what's going to come.

There's no other fate for you than this now. He'll have to take care of you, protect you from it all, from all the evil that festers in Gotham, even if that includes him.

He lets the mission engrave itself into his heart– into the fabric of his very soul and right next to his revenge. You're going to be safe. He is going to keep you safe, and he'll throw himself into fire to see it done.

[burningembers91]

Sleeping With the Enemy - Hwang Jun-Ho x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Synopsis: tasked with taking down the most ruthless gangster in Seoul, Hwang Jun-Ho didn’t know he’d fall for his target’s wife in the process.

Please note that this storyline will deal with situations depicting domestic violence.

A/N: Did I come up with this idea at 1am when I couldn’t sleep? Yes. Did I also get up at 5am to write it as it was etched into my brain? Yes. Am I very tired? Also, yes. But this storyline is gonna be juicy as heck.

It was you who called the police. You, who in your wedding vows had sworn to love and protect you husband, just has he had sworn the same. He hadn’t bothered to keep his promise though, so why should you? The man you married was a ruthless tyrant, taking whatever he wanted with little regard for the devastation his actions caused. The police had been after him for years, desperate to catch the ruthless gangster who tormented the good people of Seoul. You’d be so young when you married him, swept up in the glitz and glamour of the high life he showed you. He’d promised you the world; you just hadn’t realised it would come at a cost.

You weren’t sure you’d ever loved your husband, and you knew he’d never loved you. You were an accessory on his arm, something necessary to bring along to meetings and parties, adorning you in the highest quality clothes and shoes for his colleagues and competitors to admire. He’d started hitting you shortly after your wedding, started showing his real colours when he was confident you couldn’t escape. You’d spent years cowering in his shadow, meekly accepting the designer gifts he bestowed upon you as an apology for treating you like dirt. You weren’t living anymore; you were simply existing.

Hwang Jun-Ho was assigned to your case, tasked with keeping the beautiful wife of the city’s most dangerous gangster safe. He’d been warned that you couldn’t be trusted; that this whole thing could be nothing more than a ploy to send the police off chasing their tails. But Jun-Ho knew from the moment he met you that you weren’t doing your husband’s bidding. You were stunning, dressed in Dior, Prada and dripping in Cartier diamonds. But those high end brands couldn’t mask the fear in your eyes. Just like the makeup couldn’t mask the bruises on your face. At first, he’d been sure this case would be the one he needed to skyrocket him to greater things. But one meeting with you and the boost this would give to his career was no longer his priority; you were. He’d been in this job for long enough that not much fazed him, but your stories had kept him up at night. Tales of your husband’s beatings, his drug deals, his human trafficking, Jun-Ho wondered how you’d endured it all. How you’d kept your wits and sanity while married to the devil himself.

He tried to keep things professional, tried to keep a distance, but you pulled him in like a moth to a flame. You were so fragile and yet so strong, so beautiful, so meek yet so brimming with confidence that it floored him every time. You’d meet in secret, when your husband was out of town on business, slowly giving Jun-Ho the evidence he needed to bring down the man you’d pledged your life to.

It was after your fourth meeting that he fucked you in the back of his car, your moans like the sweetest music to his ears as his took you on the leather seats. From that moment on, Jun-Ho knew there was no going back; he was hooked on you. From that moment on, you would meet each week, exchange information and then make love in his apartment. You smelled like Chanel No.5, and it permeated his bedsheets, keeping him company on the long nights without you. Your lipstick left stains on his skin, marking its way down his chest and thighs. The sound of your breathy moans were permanently etched on his brain, going round and round his head like the most beautiful broken record.

He wasn’t sure when infatuation turned into love. All he knew is that he would do anything for you. He would die for you if it would keep you safe. You were both under no illusion that you were playing a risky game, one that you were almost certain wouldn’t end well.

But for the first time in your life, you could confidently say you knew what love was. Jun-Ho showed you affection and care you’d only ever dreamt of. He made you laugh, made you feel safe, and when his lips explored your body, he made your toes curls in the most exquisite way imaginable.

Yes, you knew this wouldn’t end well. Your husband was not a man who forgave and forgot. But Jun-Ho was determined to keep you safe. He would find a way to break you free of the chains the devil had ensnared you in. He’d find a way to protect you from the man who kept you in constant fear. He didn’t know how this would end, but he knew that he would risk it all for you.

[lovebugism]

miss bug I have something to ask 🙋‍♀️

i don’t know if you do sickfics but! mayhaps steve and shy!reader where she doesn’t show up for school, steve goes to her house, and she’s utterly mortified because she feels like she’s nowhere near presentable

thank u for requesting!! — king steve pays his lab partner a visit when he hears you're sick, but definitely not because he has a crush on you (shy!reader, friends to lovers | 1.6k)

bug's two year celebration ♡

Steve waits for you that morning with half a bagel and his heart in his throat.

The desks in Ms. Click’s class grow slowly full with bustling bodies — some sluggish like zombies, others too chipper for an early morning. Steve cranes his head in search of your face in the crowd. Yours never shows, which is strange for Hawkins High’s future Valedictorian.

“Where is your partner, Mr. Harrington?” Ms. Click wonders beneath the grating morning bell. She ducks her head to peer across the classroom over her sparkly, cat-eye glasses.

Steve pauses, mid-bite of his sausage-egg-and-cheese. He shrugs wordlessly, with a wad of food jutting his cheek and crumbs sticking to his mouth.

The older woman sighs, too used to King Steve’s antics. She looks past him and asks, “What about you, Miss Buckley? Where’s Carol?”

“Probably under the bleachers with Tommy Hagan,” Robin mutters under her breath, though loud enough for everyone around her to hear, causing them to bite back their subsequent laughter. Steve, himself, nearly chokes on his bagel.

“Well, you’ll just have to pair up with Steven for the day,” Ms. Click tells her.

“Oh, god…” Robin groans in a whisper.

“Get to work.”

Steve spins his chair around to face the girl behind him, who he only really knew because of how highly you spoke of her. Despite your frequent praises, Robin doesn’t even look at him, nor does she bother to make mindless small talk. She just keeps her head down and scribbles notes on a worksheet. 

Steve, in spite of their differing statuses, struggles to find the courage to talk to her.

He slouches and tilts back his chair. “Hey, do you, um—”

“We don’t have to make conversation, alright?” Robin interjects before he can even start. She keeps her head bowed but glares daggers from beneath her lashes. “Let’s just get this hour over with so we never speak to each other again.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “Well, I was— I was just gonna ask where your friend was. ‘Cause I don’t think she’s missed a day since, like, kindergarten.”

Robin’s freckled face flushes. She’d feel worse about being so short with him if he wasn’t such a douchebag. “Oh. Uh, she’s— She’s sick, I think.”

“Sick?”

His chest pinches with an immediate worry. Robin bites back a smirk at King Steve’s palpable concern for arguably the biggest nerd on this side of Hawkins. “Yeah,” she shrugs. “I figured she was just allergic to your hairspray.”

Steve laughs under his breath and turns away. Robin smiles only until he looks back at her, now with a brown paper bag in hand. It was meant to be for you — an even piece of his bagel, ‘cause he knows you don’t get breakfast yourself. He figures you’d rather not want it to go to waste.

“Want my other half?” he offers to the girl across from him, like some kinda olive branch.

Robin’s eyes dart from Steve to the paper sack and back again. It goes against every code in her personal handbook to take anything from Hawkins Royalty, but she shrugs in response anyway. “What the hell. Sure.”

—————

Finding your trailer isn’t hard. He visited there, once, for a project at the beginning of the school year. It’s the house directly across from the Freak’s. Eddie made it a point to play his guitar as loud as he possibly could, knowing The Hair was around to hear it. (Munson would never miss an opportunity to annoy King Steve, and honestly, you couldn’t blame him).

Steve decides to make his entrance through your bedroom window. Dead, unmanicured grass crunches under his sneakers as he rounds your trailer. He rises to the tips of his toes and knocks four times on the high-up window. The old glass feels strangely delicate under his fist.

He waits for an answer for several long moments. When he doesn’t get one, he lifts his hand to knock again. The window squeaks open before he can — and there he finds you, standing above him, holding a half-empty box of tissues in your hand like you plan to hit him with it.

“Whoa—” Steve flinches.

You look equally shocked to see him, fear swimming in your glassy eyes. “Oh, my god—”

“Sorry,” he grimaces with his palms splayed in surrender. “It’s just me.”

“I thought you were a burglar or something…”

“And what? You were gonna take me out with a box of tissues?” His laughter feels like warm honey compared to your splitting, icy migraine.

You take in a heaving breath and swallow hard through a stinging throat. “Sorry,” you sniffle. “Come— Come in.”

As Steve climbs through your window, trying hard not to get caught in the curtains, you become very hyperaware of your living space. It is your childhood bedroom, after all — every phase of your life is stored within these tiny four walls. Posters, trinkets, slightly dated decor. And on top of all that, you’ve been living like a total slob since you got sick over the weekend.

Your bed’s a mess, you’ve got bottled water and tissues piling in the bin, and you haven’t changed out of your pajamas in two days. It’s certainly no way to greet the king of Hawkins High, though he doesn’t quite seem to mind.

“You coulda just knocked on the door, you know?” you mumble, slightly nasally, as you swipe a balled-up tissue under your nose. “I would’ve let you in.”

Steve pants and stands to full height again, finally in your room with little to no struggle (though he’s pretty sure he’s stamped his footprint on your wall). 

“Well, what can I say? I like to make an entrance,” he jokes with a lopsided smile. The rosy expression fades when your glassy eyes glaze over with a faraway look. “…You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just…” you shake your head, which only makes the dizziness worse. “I’m just a little lightheaded. That’s all.”

Steve rushes to your swaying form without thinking. He grasps your arms in two wide, gentle hands. His honey eyes are wide and wild as they dart over your features, sufficiently bleary with whatever bug you’ve caught. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” you insist despite the obvious. “Just can’t break this stupid fever.”

“Here. Lay back down.”

He guides you the short distance to your bed, foreignly patient with your sluggish movements. He keeps a hold of you with one hand and reaches for the mussed blankets with the other, pulling them back to ease you beneath them.

“Sorry for bailing on you today,” you apologize in nearly inaudible slurs as the boy props you against the pillows. 

Steve shakes his head with a quiet smile. “You’re sick. It’s okay. Stop apologizing,” he insists and tucks the covers on top of you again. You can smell his aftershave when he leans over you, a striking minty scent that melts nicely with his deeper cologne.

“Sorry,” you repeat before you can help it.

Steve rises again and fights the urge to brush the hair sticking to your clammy cheek. “Have you had any medicine?”

“I had some… cough syrup earlier…” you slur, face half-buried in the pillows.

“What about food?” he asks with his hand on his cocked hip. “Had any of that?”

“‘M too sick for food.”

Steve laughs and fills the gloomy room with sunshine. “You have to eat, babe. So you can get your energy back. That’s, like, science or whatever—”

His eyes widen, only then realizing his use of the nickname. His heart drops to his ass. He hopes he said it so quickly that you missed it. You seem to have, as sick as you are, basically half-asleep before him.

You’d heard it, though. The word alone has your delicate heart beating with a newfound fervor. You can’t tell if it’s killing you or bringing you back to life.

Steve starts rambling before he realizes it. “I can whip you something up, if you want. I make a mean macaroni and cheese— In the microwave, obviously, ‘cause I’m less likely to burn it that way. Did you know that you can actually burn pasta in the microwave? Yeah, I had to learn that one the hard way—”

“Steve?” 

“Yeah?”

“Can you just sit with me?” you sniffle, eyes still shut. “Please?”

He nods rapidly until the words catch up to him. “Yeah. Yeah, of— Of course, yeah.”

The boy climbs into your bed with a lot less confidence than he’s used to. This is by no means the first time he’s been in another girl’s bed, but something about this one feels different. This time, he has to keep reminding himself to breathe. This time, his hands are all clammy and tingling with an anxiety he isn’t used to. This time, he feels so utterly unsure in his body that he doesn’t know how he became King Steve in the first place — let alone how he got here, next to you.

What’d an asshole like me do to deserve all this? his mind reels.

Your breath catches when the mattress dips under his weight. He sits over the covers, but still a lot closer than you thought he might, all things considered. You turn slowly onto your back to look at him without going dizzy again.

“You’re not scared you’ll get sick?” you croak, blinking up at him with sleep-swollen eyes.

Steve shrugs with his back propped against the headboard. “Not really. I mean, what’s the worst-case scenario— I get sick and have to be quarantined here with you? That doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

His lips curl into a lopsided smile that makes your chest feel sparkly. You turn away and hide your own grin in the pillow. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington,” you quip, half-muffled in the cushion.

“Yeah, I know,” he hums, never once taking his eyes off you. 

He can’t wait to kiss you when you’re better.

[mattybsgroupie]

fitting | chris sturniolo

— CONTENTS: handjob (m receiving); mommy kink; milf!reader; virgin!chris; sub!chris

— NOTES: hi my loves! sorry i’ve been a little m.i.a, some stuff happening at home and not really in my best mood BUT i’m here! you give me strenght to keep going and doing what i love. did you guys miss him as much as i did :( chris my beloved!!! inspired by this blurb, thought i’d show how shy chris was before their first time! — btw this fic is part of the milf!au but you can it on its own! — not proofread, i apologize for any mistakes. enjoy ♡

walking around the mall after a busy morning at work, you spotted a familiar figure across the alley. it was quite impossible not to recognize chris — his long hair falling over his big eyes, wearing his shabby jeans and his old converse as he typed frantically on his phone, oblivious to his surroundings.

you approached him slowly, standing in front of chris and expecting that he’d notice you soon. when he raised his head, a smile spread from ear to ear, his blue orbs sparkling. it had been over two weeks since you last saw each other due to stacy staying at her father's place, therefore, chris had no excuses to visit you.

“chris? what are you doing here?” you asked in your usual sweet tone. he scratched the back of his head, as if he was a bit embarrassed about the situation he found himself in. “huh... actually, i was supposed to meet stacy” chris admitted, tucking his cell phone back into his pocket and standing up beside you.

“but she won’t make it” he said. a puzzled frown appeared on your face. it’s true that you couldn’t always keep track of your daughter’s schedule when she wasn't at home, but she wasn’t the type to miss dates or hangouts. 

“cheer practice” he explained. you nodded, realizing that the game season was about to start. it felt so wonderful to see chris again. “well, would you like a ride home? i just have to look for something real quick and then i’m all done”

“sure, c-can i keep you company?” he asked, eager for a positive answer. “absolutely, sweetheart”

you led the way to the store you were going to visit. a lingerie shop. chris gulped when he saw the bright sign, the pink lights contrasting with the black interior and then sighed. he knew you missed him just as much.

“that’s not fair, mama” he mumbled after a while. chris had been following you like a puppy, interlocking his index with two of your fingers, as if he could lose his way at any second. 

“making me so needy” he complained again. you stopped by a red, lace lingerie set and happily brought it to your chest, turning to chris. “what do you think of this one, chris? pretty, right?”

“mhm— really pretty” chris shook his head as he sunk his teeth on his bottom lip. he looked away from you and the way the bra rested perfectly against your chest. “what’s up, baby? are you having a little trouble down there?”

“mama… don’t do this to me” chris whispered. his hands started to get sweaty and he could feel the blood rushing to his cock. he was about to get hard in public just because he thought of you in lingerie, which was ridiculous, since he had seem you naked previosusly.

“i’m not doing anything, sweetie. i’m shopping and you’re keeping me company, isn’t that right? is it my fault that you can’t hold yourself back and got all worked up just because i got some lingerie?” your warm tone sent a shiver down his spine, his chest immediatly inflating with air. “‘m s-sorry i just keep thinking… of you wearing it” chris tried to explain himself as you chuckled, enjoying his embarassement.

“yeah? you wanna see me wearing a nice set for you? which one do you like better?” you asked, handing him three pairs of bras and panties in different colors.

“the red one” chris spoke, still not daring to look at you in the ways. you walked in slow, seductive steps towards him, the sound of your heels taking over the empty store.

“c’mere,  i’ll try it on for you” you continued, undoing the first button of your silk shirt. chris got a peek of your bra, it was the leopard print that drove him insane and made him kiss you for the first time, months ago. “but first we gotta fix this, hm?” you cooed, placing your palm against his boner and applying some pressure to it.

once again, you led the way towards the fitting rooms. chris followed you obediently, holding a bunch of hangers. you gaze scanned the store and with a naughty grin, you opened one of the curtains and quickly went inside, pulling chris by his wrist.

he didn’t even had time to hang your underwear. you pushed him against the mirror, smashing your lips together in a desperate, hungry kiss. a loud groan left his throat as you moved to his neck, gently sucking on his skin. “mommy i missed you so much” chris rolled his eyes, his hands going to your hair.

“i missed you too, my good little boy” you whispered, palming his cock over his jeans. chris squirmed against you, a moan slipping from his lips. you opened a satisfied smile as you pulled away, sitting on the stool next to the mirror.

chris whined in protest, already missing how you hand and your lips felt on him. “got all hard for mama? you poor little thing” he pouted, nodding “c’mon, touch yourself for me” you instructed him.

his eyes widened in surprise — you had never asked him that. he didn’t know how to do jerk himself properly. chris was a virgin and the first time he was actually able to reach an orgasm was with your help. how was he supposed to do it on his own, and in public?

“mhm, unless you wanna go out with that pathetic boner” you teased, crossing your legs. the red heel started to slip from your foot as you finished unbuttoning your shirt, fully displaying your bra. chris whined again, silently pleading.

“mama… i n-need your help” chris spoke under his breath. “can’t cum without you”

“you’ll have to learn how to take care of yourself, chris” you said, pulling chris by his belt. you helped him to undress, freeing his shaft, almost slapping against his own tummy. you wrapped your knuckles around his length, stroking it in slow motions. “do you expect mama to be there every time you get hard? what are you gonna do when i’m not around, hm?”

“nhng— can’t— can’t be without mama” chris whimpered, more to himself than to you. he twitched inside your fist, placing both hands on the mirror to hold his weight, knowing his knees would ultimately give up.

you moved your thumb to his tip, pre-cum leaking from his slit as you circled it. his hips bucked forward as he leaned his head down, trying to hold himself. chris didn’t want to cum too soon, it was humiliating. he wanted to last long for you, he wanted to get used to the feeling your fingers around him, to the sound of your voice whispering praises and calling him a good boy, but no matter how hard chris tried, he pathetically failed.

“cum! mama, cum!” chris whimpered. you tightened your grip around his cock, pumping it faster. “please!”

“cum for me baby” you allowed him. you knew chris would need a long time to get used to your touch. in fact, it was adorable that he couldn’t even last five minutes.

chris threw his head back, moaning as he came on your hand, thick spurt messing your fingers and his jacket. you didn’t move your hand, continuing to gently stroke his wet, sticky cock.

that’s until your phone rang. you reached for your bag, quickly picking it up and seeing the name on the screen. “i think stacy is back home” you told chris, whose dick immediately became soft at the mention of your daughter’s name. “would you like to join us for dinner?”

— TAGLIST ♡⊹𑄽୧ @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @bugeyedgrl @sturncakez @riowritesitall @mattsturnswife @sturnsmia @sturnthepot @mattscoquette @conspiracy-ash @ilovemattsturn @lizzymacdonald06 @blahbel668 @fratbrochrisgf @sturnobsessedwh0re @cayleeuhithinknott @sturniolo04 @1c3b4th @mattsfavbigtitties @bellassturniolo @sturnsxplr-25 @ivammbb @shadowthesim @slutformatthewsturniolo @stefansring @teeheeomg @dystfopia @riasturns @faiyaz555 @sturnslutz @cvnntagious @alesturniolos @emely9274

chris masterlist | milf au masterlist

[floppnopikka]

〔ㅤㅤㅤKang Dae-ho X Reader ㅤㅤㅤ〕

Kang Dae-ho is seen as a bright person, the other players immediately warmed up to him because of his approachable and happy nature. A proud ex-marine who boasts his bravery to those who dare disrespect him. You, of course, developed an admiration towards the bubbly man, even when his corny jokes make you laugh, finding them funny to be completely honest.

As the game went by and people were shrinking to a number, you couldn't help but notice the way Dae-ho was.. scared. You observed that he was hiding his fear very well but you noticed the way he would flinch at the gunshots, the way he looks at the dead body with fear, and his dazed expression after the pink soldiers carry the dead body or after the gunshots.

Seong Gi-hun and the others decided to stop the game once and for all as they planned to raid the control room and let everyone be free in this hellhole. Gunshots, screams, and thuds can be heard from above as some of us players can only sit and imagine what was happening from above. Suddenly, Dae-ho came back, almost out of breath, trembling with fear, and he seemed to be muttering something about bullets as he tried to pull out the magazines from the dead pink guards on the floor.

Everyone glanced at him, wondering why he was in such a hurry to grab the ammo from the pink guards. Park Yong-sik/player 007 slowly approached him as he also wonders what was happening.

"Dae-ho, what's going on? Why are you here on your own?" Yong-sik asked as he worriedly glanced and slowly approached Dae-ho, who was trembling from head to toe.

"Our magazines ran out, it's in their pockets. I need you to help me, okay? Quickly!" Dae-ho said as he stammered his way of speaking and almost out of breath, it was obvious how scared he is based on his tone.

Once you heard that he needed help gathering the ammo from the pink guards, you immediately started looking for it and so did Yong-sik who was obviously scared of the fact that he didn't know what was happening above and can only do what Dae-ho requested to help the others.

A few minutes have gone by, we gathered every ammo we can find to Dae-ho, you glanced at Yong-sik and his mother as they nodded to each other for support.

"That's it. We searched for everyone." Yong-sik confirmed to Dae-ho as he also contributed what he found as he nodded to us, perhaps a way for him of showing gratitude, picking it up with the jacket full of magazines he immediately wrapped it around and placed it on his chest tightly and securely as he made his way out in the room.

Once Dae-ho got out of the room, you secretly followed him even when Yong-sik's mother tried to stop you from going but abruptly stopped walking as we all heard the gunshots again as you quickly checked for Dae-ho. There he was, paralyzed in fear as he heard the gunshots, flinching and seemingly backing up from fear.

"Dae-ho!" You called out his name but it seems like he was in deep thought to notice my voice.

You slowly approach him and it was clear as the daylight that his breathing was uneven, his body trembling and his face shown in a daze... He's having a panic attack.

"Dae-ho—" you couldn't even finish the sentence as he immediately ran away inside as you followed him, Yong-sik and his mother, even the other players in the room glanced at him as he made his way on one of the bed as he dropped the magazines beside him.

You caught up to Dae-ho only to see him trembling in fear as he positioned himself like a ball, hands on his ears, whimpering and seemingly crying.

You and Jang Geum-ja/player 149 glanced at each other, understanding the situation he is in right now.

You carefully try to approach Dae-ho without scaring him and call out his name softly but no budge at all, his hands covered his ears. Suddenly, Cho Hyun-ju/player 120 came running inside looking around and yelling his name for Dae-ho if he is here.

"Dae-ho! Dae-ho! Dae-ho, where are you? Has anyone seen Dae..." Hyun-ju slowly lowered her voice as she gets the signal when Yong-sik pointed where Dae-ho is hiding.

You moved away for Hyun-ju to see Dae-ho, Hyun-ju called out his name and wondered what was going on, Dae-ho looked up and flinched back to see Hyun-ju.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" Dae-ho apologized knowing he backed down even when his comrades was fighting for their life. Hyun-ju leaned in as she asked where's the magazines but Dae-ho felt like he was useless and kept muttering apologies as he pointed where the magazines are.

The pink guards suddenly came to a view inside the room with their guns on hand as Hyun-ju was getting ready to load her gun to fight off the guards. You turned your gaze to Dae-ho who was still shaking like a leaf and his lips quivering, his hands still covering his ears, it was a pitiful sight honestly. A person who's full of life and shines like the sun, pressured and have to witness such brutality and trauma.

You lean yourself to Dae-ho for him to see you but he flinched back and looked away, perhaps because of guilt? Shame? Who knows perhaps both, perhaps for other reasons.

"Dae-ho.." you pat his shoulder lightly but it seems it didn't work on him so you try it again but nothing. He was still deep inside his memories, a PTSD episode...

You took a deep breath as you looked at Dae-ho with soft and easy eyes, you called out his name much more clear for him to clear as his trembling form and widened eyes finally gazes up to yours.

"Hey.. I'm here..." You told him, rubbing circles on his knee to calm him down.

"I-I don't want to be here anymore... I wanna go home..." He sobs and whimpers louder, like a child looking for his mother or maybe his father, perhaps one of his 4 sisters? Or all of them? Who knows and all you can do is to calm him down and bring back to his senses.

"Hey, hey.. we're going home, just a bit more longer and we'll all get out of here... I promise you that.." and you were sure as hell you'll be keeping that promise, not to him but also to yourself. You had enough of this madness and chaos, Dae-ho calmed down slightly as he grabbed your hand tightly that made you surprised.

"Please stay... I can't take this anymore, I wanna go home, home with sisters.. I don't wanna die here..." He lets out a loud sob as I immediately calmed him down and not wanting to attract the pink guards some suspicions in this area.

" I'm here, I'm not going anywhere, we'll get out of here soon, m'kay? Just a bit longer and I want you to be strong, strong for yourself, for us... for me.." I looked at him straight in the eyes to see if he understands, to see if I can trust him enough to be strong for himself.

He hesitantly nodded as his breathing calmed down and no longer ragged, you looked around and to see Yong-sik and his mother at each other's arms to hold, Hyun-ju still on guard with her gun, and everyone else in this room is terrified, horrified of what will happen next.. and so were you.

Unbeknownst, you and Dae-ho were still holding hands, too tightly, to feel each other's warmth, security, and.. to know that you both are still alive.

You hope that you're newfound friends, who you now consider a family, get out of this hellhole alive and in one piece. Eat samgyeopsal together, pay off all your debts, cheers to the victory you all achieved, and perhaps.. find love along the way. Who knows, maybe it's already the one who you felt your hands with but unfortunately grasped away from the touch of your hands as he fell asleep from exhaustion.

A/N: Hello everyone! I am very sorry for not updating for months! Writer's block got the best of me and the Christmas season happened, same goes to new year's, also, Happy New Year everyone! I hope you all enjoy the story!

[ye4gerz]

my game, your rules. — ldh part three (FINAL)

‧˚⭒ pairing: lee donghyuck x afab reader 18+MDNI ‧˚⭒ genre: brothers best friend au! fake dating! friends to lovers! humor! fluff! angst! smut! adult life au! jenos sister! flirty hc! ‧˚⭒ word count: 11k+ ‧˚⭒ cw: the beginning part is mostly angst, sorry! smut towards the end. dirty talking, raw sex, choking, etc. drinking, mentions of jaehyun, dom hc. ‧˚⭒ summary: you’re fed up with your family constantly telling you how to live your life, but what would they think if you showed up with your brother’s best friend as your new boyfriend? even worse—what happens when you realize you’re actually falling for him?

‧˚⭒ a/n: thank you for the wait everyone! i realized due to my personal life being so busy sometimes, i’m prob better off sticking to long one shots lmao. sorry i had to end it short at three parts. i'll be working on another one shot soon, thank you to everyone who engaged with the series, enjoy! (ignore any grammatical errors if any)

previous

It was one thing to pretend to be with your brother’s best friend, and another to actually be with your brother’s best friend, but what do you call it when the best friend you’re fake dating starts to feel… real?

You guessed it was whatever complicated, undefined thing you had going on with Haechan right now.

It had been several nights since the first time you’d slept together, and somehow, it had slipped into your routine without much discussion. Every evening, he was there—waiting outside your job to pick you up, a sly grin on his face as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Days and nights repeated like clockwork, neither of you acknowledging the shift, as if naming it would make it too real. Instead, you both just… enjoyed it.

“Fine, we’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Your own words replayed in your mind endlessly, and you found yourself wishing they had been a promise instead of an empty phrase, left to dissolve into the early hours of the day.

Yet, even without a label, you couldn’t deny the effect he had on you. Your stress was melting away bit by bit, the weight of work no longer consuming you like it used to. For the first time in what felt like forever, you were beginning to understand the elusive concept of a work-life balance.

As you stood in front of the mirror, your gaze traveled over your reflection. Love bites peppered your skin, faint but impossible to ignore. Each one held a memory, moments you couldn’t help but replay in your head. You smiled softly, warmth spreading through you at the thought of him.

You missed him already.

“What’s taking so long?” Karina’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, followed by a series of impatient knocks on the bathroom door.

“Sorry!” you called back, hurriedly finishing your last-minute outfit adjustments. “I’m coming out now!”

Tonight was girls night—a night you’d promised yourself would be nothing but fun, but as you opened the door and met Karina’s scrutinizing gaze, you couldn’t help but wonder how much of the night your thoughts would linger on Haechan.

“Impatient much?” you teased Karina as you slipped on your earrings.

“It’s been forever since it’s just been the two of us,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “I swear, I should sue Haechan for stealing you away from me.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “No need to worry. Tomorrow’s the night he meets my family, and soon after, our ‘relationship’”—you emphasized with air quotes—“will officially be over. I get my peace, and they get to meet someone who isn’t you for once.”

Karina leaned against the doorframe, her sharp gaze raking over you like she was trying to read between the lines. “You’re not convincing me,” she said, raising a brow. “Do you think you can hide those marks? Please, you two are so deep in denial it’s almost painful to watch.”

Her words hit like a sucker punch, and you fumbled for a response. It had nothing to do with your best friend, but all with the fact that Haechan has been a bit distant today. You didn’t want to flood your thoughts with worry, but the intensity of your underlying feelings were too much to ignore. Instead of addressing the comment, you busied yourself with adjusting the strap on your heels, your eyes glued to the floor. “Like I said, it’ll be ending soon. Can we not talk about him right now?”

Karina frowned but didn’t push further, though her knowing expression didn’t go unnoticed.

Meanwhile, across town, Haechan sat on his couch, the glow of his phone illuminating his frustrated expression. He knew you were going out with Karina tonight—you’d told him—but something about it gnawed at him. He hadn’t responded to your last text, and even when he did, it took hours because every reply felt like walking a tightrope.

The thought of you at a club, surrounded by strangers, without him, it sent his mind spiraling. What if some guy tried something? Worse, what if you met someone—someone you actually liked—and decided to drop this whole fake relationship?

“Would that be cheating?” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “Yes—no—shit.”

This wasn’t real. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself; every lingering glance, every stolen moment, and every kiss that left him breathless felt all too real. The weight of unspoken feelings hung between you both like a thread threatening to snap. He turned his phone off and on again, trying to distract himself, but the pull you had on him was intoxicating, inescapable.

Back at your apartment, Karina softened, rubbing your back in a gesture of comfort. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “It’s not my place to bring up your love life. Let’s just go have fun tonight, okay? Who knows, maybe we’ll both go home with someone new.”

Her attempt to lighten the mood made you smile despite yourself. “Yeah, let’s just have fun,” you echoed, grabbing your purse and heading for the door.

Even as you walked out with Karina, a small part of you wondered if Haechan was thinking about you as much as you were thinking about him.

Meanwhile, Haechan logged online with Jeno, hoping a few rounds of gaming would help clear his mind. However, playing with your brother, of all people, might not have been the smartest way to distract himself.

“So, are you nervous about tomorrow night?” Jeno asked as they waited for the game to load.

“Not really,” Haechan replied honestly. “I’ve met your parents before. They’re nice people.”

Jeno adjusted his mic. “Yeah, but you’ve met them as my friend. You’ve never met them as my sister’s boyfriend. Not to mention, it’s the first time she’s bringing someone home.”

Haechan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the weight of Jeno’s words sinking in. The idea of meeting your parents in this new role suddenly felt a lot heavier than it had before.

He had pitched this whole fake dating idea to help you out, to make your life easier during a time when you needed it most. He’d told himself that was all it was. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t just that anymore. Somewhere along the way, the lies stopped feeling like lies.

The hand-holding wasn’t just for show. The playful teasing, the lingering touches, the way his chest tightened whenever you smiled at him—it had all become painfully real. With each passing day, the guilt of keeping this from Jeno gnawed at him more.

He thought back to one of the nights you’d slept over. You’d fallen asleep in his arms, your breathing soft and even, while he stayed awake, unable to tear his eyes away from you. His gaze had traced the curve of your cheek, the way your lashes fanned out against your skin. Without thinking, he’d leaned closer, pressing a ghost of a kiss to your hair.

This had become his new normal—holding you, being with you. Every time he thought about what came next, a deep ache settled in his chest. What if this all ended? What if he lost you?

“Hello? You good?” Jeno’s voice broke through his thoughts, dragging him back to the present.

“Yeah, my fault,” Haechan muttered, fumbling with his keyboard. “Um… yeah, I guess I am nervous— but you’ll be there too, so not much to worry about, right?”

“Exactly, bro,” Jeno said, his tone light. “You’ve got this. Now, focus up—I’m getting mobbed over here!”

Haechan managed a small laugh, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “On it,” he replied, diving into the game.

As the action picked up, his thoughts remained elsewhere. His grip tightened on the mouse, his chest heavy with the weight of his own emotions. This was going to be a long night.

Three shots in, and you were already feeling it. You’d never been one to hold your alcohol well. While you weren’t completely gone, you were definitely teetering on the edge of tipsy and drunk. The music thumped through the club, vibrating in your chest, and the dim lighting made it easy to lose yourself in the atmosphere.

“There’s my girl! Look at you having a good time!” Karina cheered, hyping you up as you squeezed the life out of a lemon wedge after your latest shot.

You coughed, shaking your head with a laugh. “I’m getting there, that’s for sure.”

Karina plopped down on the barstool beside you, resting her chin in her hand as she watched you with a fond expression. “Not to kill the buzz or anything, but do you think you’re ready to talk about what’s been weighing on you? I can tell you’ve got something on your chest, and you won’t fully let loose until you do.”

You hesitated, your eyes drifting to the crowd behind her. That’s when you spotted him—a man dressed clean and sharp, head to toe. His neatly parted black hair framed deep, unreadable eyes, and they were locked on you. Feeling a strange flutter of nerves, you quickly shook it off, turning back to Karina as you fidgeted with the rim of your shot glass.

“I guess it’s no secret that Haechan and I have been… kind of together? I don’t really know what to call it.” You sighed, glancing at her. “I mean, yeah, we’re supposed to be pretending, but lately, it’s felt a lot more serious. No matter how much we try to keep it casual, we just keep getting pulled toward each other— and sleeping together? That’s only made it worse.”

Karina’s brow arched slightly, but she stayed silent, letting you continue.

“I’m scared this is all Haechan wants,” you admitted, rubbing your temples. “What if I’m just something to pass the time? I’m too afraid to bring it up because if I’m wrong, and I read this all wrong… what then? What if I ruin everything, and he rejects me for real? That would be awkward as hell.”

Karina’s wide eyes softened, and she reached out to rub your back. “Wow. Yeah, that’s a lot to carry around. No wonder you’ve been so tense,” she said gently. “But listen, you’ve got to talk to him. Tell him exactly what you just told me. If it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll know you tried—and hey, this whole thing has already benefited you in some ways, right? Don’t feel guilty for walking away if that’s what you decide to do. You’re not actually together, so you don’t owe anyone anything. You can do what’s best for you.”

Her words brought some comfort, and you smiled at her, feeling a flicker of gratitude. Before you could respond, the bartender approached, placing a tall margarita with a cherry on top in front of you.

“A gentleman paid for your drink and the next few shots for you two,” he explained.

“What the hell…” Karina whispered, scanning the room with wide eyes.

Your gaze followed hers until it landed on the same man from earlier. He was making his way toward you now, a confident stride and a charming smile revealing deep dimples.

“Hello, ladies,” he greeted smoothly, his voice rich and warm.

“Well, hello, handsome,” Karina replied, nudging your leg under the bar as she batted her lashes.

His smile lingered, but his eyes moved to yours, the anticipation in them unmistakable. “I’m Jaehyun,” he introduced himself, “I just wanted to say you both look absolutely stunning tonight.”

“Thank you, Jaehyun! We appreciate that, don’t we?” Karina said, looking at you expectantly.

You hesitated before giving him your name, your voice quieter than you intended. His reaction caught you off guard—he took your hand and kissed it lightly. “Wonderful to meet you,” he said, his smile deepening. “I’ll let you get back to your conversation, but if you’d like to have a good time together, well—this is for you.”

As he walked off, Karina grabbed your arm. “Wow! Talk about dreamy! What did he give you?”

You unfolded the napkin he’d placed in your hand, already knowing what to expect. Inside was a neat scrawl: In case you need another shoulder to lean on ;) – J followed by his number.

You rolled your eyes. “Great. Just what I needed.”

Karina laughed, shaking her head. “If you’re not going to use it, you can pass it my way!”

“No way,” you said firmly. “I don’t need the reminder of this awkward interaction if you end up hooking up with him.” Stuffing the napkin into your purse, you resolved to toss it later.

“Fine, but that’s a major loss,” she teased. “How about this instead: we finish our free drinks, grab something sweet to eat, and call it a night?”

You smiled at her sincerity. “Sounds like a plan.”

The plan, however, turned out to be a little hazier than expected. Jaehyun had paid for more shots than you realized, and by the time you left the club, you and Karina were beyond tipsy, stumbling into an Uber together.

After dropping Karina off safely, you found yourself standing in front of Haechan’s building instead of your own. Buzzing his apartment repeatedly, you chuckled loudly into the intercom when his tired, slightly annoyed voice answered.

“May I ask who’s obliterating my buzzer at this hour?”

“It’s meeee!” you said through a fit of giggles.

There was a pause, and then the door buzzed open. Moments later, Haechan met you in the hallway, his arms crossed as he watched you nearly trip over your own feet.

“Someone had fun tonight, I see,” he teased, shaking his head as he walked over to steady you.

You clutched onto his shirt, looking up at him with glassy eyes. “Can’t have fun when I’m missing you so much,” you mumbled.

His teasing grin softened into something gentler, and he wrapped an arm around you, guiding you to his apartment. Once inside, he carefully sat you on the edge of his bed, rummaging through his drawers for some comfortable clothes for you to change into.

Haechan gently changed your clothes for you, his touch careful and deliberate. Using the makeup remover wipes you’d left at his place over the past few weeks, he softly cleaned your face, wary of being too rough as he worked around your features.

“Let me grab you some water, okay? Just get comfortable,” he said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You nodded sleepily, sinking into the pillows as he disappeared into the kitchen.

Your gaze wandered across the room, catching the faint glow from his gaming monitor. A small smile tugged at your lips as you pictured him sitting there, completely immersed in a match, his focused expression etched in your memory. You reached toward the side table, expecting to find your phone, only to remember it was still in your purse.

“Hyuckieeee!” you called, raising your voice as much as your drunk tired state allowed. “Can you bring me my phone, pleaseeee? It’s in my purse!”

“Yes, ma’am!” he replied, his voice light and playful.

In the kitchen, Haechan grabbed a glass of water before reaching for your purse. As he rummaged through it to find your phone, a folded napkin clung to the device, slipping free and floating to the floor. He bent to pick it up, expecting it to be nothing—but then his eyes caught the scrawled handwriting.

In case you need another shoulder to lean on ;) – J xxx-xxx-xxxx.

His playful smile vanished instantly. It was like the air had been sucked out of the room. For a moment, he stood frozen, blinking at the napkin as though he could force the words to change.

Who the hell was J? Why did you have his number? And why the hell did he feel like the ground beneath him was starting to crumble?

“Hyuccccck!” your voice whined from the other room, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts.

His heart pounded as he shoved the napkin back into your purse, burying it as deep as he could. Grabbing your phone, he forced himself to compose his expression before walking back into the bedroom.

“Here,” he said, his voice a little too quiet as he handed you your phone and set the glass of water on the nightstand.

You barely noticed the change in his demeanor, already distracted as you unlocked your phone. Haechan, however, didn’t linger. He walked to his desk, muttered a quick goodnight to Jeno—completely ignoring whatever your brother was saying—and shut down his computer.

“W-Wait!” you called after him, frowning when you realized he was heading toward the door. “You’re not staying?”

He paused, his back to you. “You’ve had a long night, and tomorrow’s going to be even longer,” he said flatly, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. “You need sleep, and I can’t afford for you to get distracted.”

The coldness in his tone made you sit up slightly, confused. “Hyuck—”

“I’ll take the couch,” he interrupted, not turning around. “I’ll drive you home in the morning. Goodnight.”

Before you could respond, he flicked off the light and shut the door behind him.

You blinked at the closed door, baffled by his sudden shift. However, the exhaustion weighed heavy on your body, and soon enough, your head hit the pillow, pulling you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Meanwhile, Haechan sat on the couch, your purse on the table in front of him like it was mocking him. His mind raced, replaying every moment of the night and every possibility of what that napkin could mean.

His jaw clenched as a wave of jealousy surged through him, mingling with something deeper—something more vulnerable. Was this all a game to you? A distraction? Did this J mean more to you than he did?

Haechan leaned back, staring at the ceiling with a heaviness in his chest he couldn’t shake. Tomorrow was supposed to be the big day—the day he met your parents—but now he wasn’t so sure he could go through with it.

The couch was uncomfortable, but that wasn’t the problem. You were just down the hall, sound asleep in his bed, yet Haechan couldn’t close his eyes for more than a few seconds before they snapped back open.

Your purse sat on the coffee table like it was taunting him, the folded napkin inside feeling heavier than it had any right to. He rubbed his hands over his face, letting out a frustrated sigh as he leaned back against the couch cushions.

It wasn’t real. That’s what he kept reminding himself. You weren’t really his girlfriend, so why did the idea of someone else trying to be with you twist something so raw inside of him?

He replayed the events of the night, the way you had stumbled into his arms at the door, laughing and clinging to him like he was your safe haven. The way you’d told him you missed him—it echoed in his head, warm and sweet, and he had wanted to believe it.

Then he’d seen the napkin.

In case you need another shoulder to lean on.

The words looped in his mind like a curse. He sat up, staring at the purse again, his jaw tightening. Who was this J? Why did you have his number?

You had been with Karina, sure, but what if this guy was someone you’d met at the club? What if he’d been the one to buy you drinks, to make you laugh, to look at you in a way that Haechan foolishly thought only he did?

His fists clenched at the thought, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to push the images out of his head. He had no right to feel this way, he told himself. You weren’t his. Not really.

The idea of you leaning on someone else, laughing with someone else, kissing someone else—it made his stomach churn.

The minutes turned to hours, and the city outside the window grew quieter, yet his mind stayed restless.

He thought back to the times you’d spent together recently. The way your eyes softened when you looked at him, the way your fingers would brush against his as if it were second nature. The quiet moments after the fake laughter, when it felt like everything between you wasn’t fake at all.

Could he have imagined it all? Were the feelings one-sided?

He threw himself back against the couch, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Maybe this was what he deserved. Maybe this was the fallout of blurring the lines, of letting his heart get tangled in something that was never supposed to be real.

Then he thought about tomorrow—or rather, tonight. Meeting your family as your boyfriend. Pretending to be yours in front of the people who mattered most to you. The thought had filled him with nerves before, but now it felt unbearable. How was he supposed to stand there, play the part, when he didn’t even know where he stood with you?

His eyes drifted back to the purse again. It was a small thing, insignificant in the grand scheme of things, yet it felt monumental. That napkin had shattered whatever fragile understanding he thought you shared, leaving him questioning everything.

As the first rays of sunlight began to creep through the window, Haechan sighed deeply, running a hand over his face. His body was heavy with exhaustion, but his mind refused to let him rest.

One thing was certain—if he didn’t get answers soon, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pretending.

The faint scent of coffee and something savory woke you first. You blinked groggily, your head heavy and your body sluggish as you turned toward the nightstand. There, beside a glass of water, was a small bottle of Tylenol waiting for you.

The gesture brought a soft smile to your lips. Even after nights like this, he always took care of you.

Rubbing your temples, you sat up slowly, the ache in your head reminding you of last night’s drinks. The apartment was quiet, save for the faint clinking of dishes coming from the kitchen. Pushing yourself out of bed, you shuffled toward the source of the noise, following the smell of breakfast.

When you stepped into the kitchen, he was already there, leaning against the counter with a coffee mug in hand. A plate of scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon sat on the countertop, clearly made for you.

“Good morning,” you murmured, your voice scratchy from sleep as you pulled out a stool.

He barely glanced at you, taking a sip of his coffee before setting the mug down with a soft clink. “Eat up,” he said flatly, his tone devoid of its usual warmth. “You’re probably hungover.”

The coldness in his voice made you pause. You looked at him carefully, noting the stiffness in his posture, the way his eyes refused to meet yours.

“Thanks,” you said hesitantly, sitting down and picking at the food. You watched him from the corner of your eye, trying to gauge his mood.

When the silence stretched too long, you finally spoke. “Are you okay? You seem… off.”

“I’m fine,” he replied quickly, too quickly.

“You don’t seem fine,” you pressed, setting your fork down. “Did something happen last night?”

He let out a sharp breath through his nose, finally looking at you. His expression was guarded, but there was a flicker of something beneath it—hurt, frustration, something he wasn’t saying.

“I’ll start getting ready,” he said abruptly, brushing past your question. “You should eat and get some rest when you get home. We’ve got that big dinner tonight.”

You reached out instinctively, your fingers brushing against his arm to stop him, but he yanked it back before you could get a firm hold.

The motion was reflexive, but it felt like a slap. The shock of it lingered in the air between you, and you froze, your hand hanging in the space he’d just pulled away from.

“Did you just pull away from me…” your voice trailed off, your words caught somewhere between disbelief and hurt.

“I didn’t mean—” he started, his voice sharper than he intended. When he saw the look on your face, he cut himself off, turning away from you entirely.

“No, talk to me,” you said, standing now. The frustration bubbled up in your chest, and you didn’t care if your head was pounding or if your voice cracked. “What’s going on with you? You’ve been weird since last night. Did I do something?”

He clenched his fists at his sides, his shoulders rigid. “It’s nothing. Just drop it, okay?”

“Nothing?” you echoed incredulously, stepping closer. “You won’t look at me, you won’t talk to me, and now you’re pulling away like I did something wrong. If it’s nothing, then why are you acting like this?”

“Because I’m tired!” he snapped, spinning around to face you. His voice was sharp, the anger in his tone startling you; but beneath it, you heard the cracks, the weight of something deeper. “I’m tired, okay? Of this, of pretending, of…” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair as if trying to physically push the words back down.

“Of what?” you pressed softly, your heart thudding in your chest.

His jaw clenched, his gaze dropping to the floor. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “I just think you should go home, get some rest, and be ready for dinner tonight. That’s it.”

You stared at him, frustration and confusion swirling in your chest. He wouldn’t look at you, wouldn’t explain himself, and the distance he was putting between you felt suffocating.

“Fine,” you said quietly, the word laced with hurt. “If you want to push me away, then that’s on you.”

He didn’t respond, didn’t look up, didn’t move as you turned on your heel and headed back toward the bedroom to grab your remaining belongings. The door clicked shut behind you, and for a moment, all you could hear was the pounding in your head and the ache growing in your chest.

Whatever was going on, whatever he was holding back—it felt like it was slipping through your fingers, and you didn’t know how to stop it.

Meanwhile, he stood frozen in the kitchen, staring at the spot where you’d just been. His chest felt heavy, and the words he hadn’t said echoed in his mind, louder than anything else.

You stormed out of his room, grabbing your things with shaky hands, your chest tight with frustration and hurt. The air between you had been tense and suffocating, and you couldn’t stay another second in that apartment.

“Wait—” he called after you, his voice laced with urgency.

“I don’t need a ride home, and I don’t need a pity breakfast,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended as you reached the door. You turned back for a moment, your heart aching but your pride keeping you standing tall. “I’ll see you tonight, and then after that, whatever this is will be officially done.”

Before he could respond, you slammed the door shut behind you, the sound reverberating through the hallway.

The cold morning air hit your face as you made your way home on foot, each step heavy with unspoken emotions. The weight of everything pressed down on you, but you pushed through, your pace quickening as if moving faster would stop the thoughts from racing in your head.

When you finally reached your apartment, your hands were trembling as you unlocked the door. Once inside, the silence of your room felt deafening. You tossed your bag to the side and collapsed onto your bed, the weight of the morning and everything leading up to it crashing over you.

And then, it all came out.

Tears spilled down your cheeks, hot and relentless as you buried your face in your pillow. The ache in your chest felt unbearable, and no matter how much you tried to quiet yourself, the sobs broke free, filling the room.

The sound must have carried through the walls because moments later, a soft knock came at your door.

“Hey,” Jeno’s voice called through the wood, cautious and concerned. “Are you okay? Can I come in?”

You froze, your breath hitching as you quickly wiped at your face, trying to compose yourself. “I’m fine,” you croaked, but your shaky voice betrayed you.

“Please,” Jeno insisted, the worry in his tone clear. “Let me in.”

Reluctantly, you reached over and unlocked the door. Jeno pushed it open gently, stepping inside and closing it behind him. His eyes immediately found you on the bed, your tear-streaked face buried in your hands.

“Hey,” he said softly, walking over and sitting at the edge of your bed. “What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

You hesitated, your throat tightening as you tried to find the words. “I… I don’t know if we should even do the dinner tonight,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Jeno frowned, tilting his head in confusion. “Why not? What happened?”

You swallowed hard, debating how much to tell him. For a moment, you considered brushing it off, but the weight of everything you’d been holding inside was too much.

“I—” you started, hesitating before letting out a shaky breath. “I need to tell you the truth about something.”

Jeno’s brows furrowed, his expression soft but cautious. “Okay… I’m listening.”

You sat up slowly, wrapping your arms around your knees. “Haechan and I… we’re not really dating,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, letting you continue.

“We started fake dating because you and Mom and Dad wouldn’t get off my back about finding someone. I thought it would just be for a while, to take the pressure off, but…” Your voice cracked, and you rubbed at your face, frustrated with yourself.

“But what?” Jeno pressed gently.

“I fell for him,” you admitted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I don’t know when it happened, but it’s not fake for me anymore. Now he’s barely talking to me, and I don’t know what I did wrong or what’s going on in his head. I feel like I ruined everything.”

Jeno stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he let out a sigh and reached over, pulling you into a hug.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice full of genuine regret. “I didn’t realize how much pressure we were putting on you. I never meant to push you into something like this.”

You buried your face in his shoulder, the warmth of his embrace soothing some of the ache in your chest.

“I think you need to talk to him,” Jeno said after a moment, pulling back slightly to look at you. “You’re never going to get answers if you don’t. If he doesn’t feel the same way, that’s on him, not you. You were just trying to protect yourself, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“What if it makes things worse?” you asked, your voice small.

“Then we deal with it together—or not at all,” Jeno said firmly. “But you deserve to know the truth. Don’t let him leave you in the dark.”

You nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in.

“What about me moving out and finding someone? Isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that what Mom and Dad want? To push me out?” you scoff, the words spilling out as your mind flashes back to the way Haechan pushed you away earlier.

Jeno’s reaction is immediate, his tone sharp with hurt. “What are you talking about? You think that’s what this is about? That I want to kick you out?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him. Instead, you nod slowly, wiping the tears off your cheeks with trembling hands.

Jeno starts to say something but stops, his chest rising and falling with a deep breath as he forces himself to calm down. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, steadier.

“I love you,” he says firmly, his words cutting through the silence. “You’re my sister, and you’re the only one I’ve got. It’s just you and me here, besides Mom and Dad back home. I don’t want you to leave. You’re my real best friend.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten, and you blink back fresh tears as he continues.

“I just want to see you happy,” he says, his tone gentle now. “I want to see you live your life, not bury yourself in work or stress. You put so much pressure on yourself, and it kills me to see you overwhelmed all the time. I thought… maybe having someone close to you, someone new, might give you a sense of peace.”

He pauses, running a hand through his hair before sighing. “And listen, I know you said you and Haechan schemed this whole thing, but it’s obvious there’s something between you two. Anyone with eyes can see it.”

Your sobs come back harder, and Jeno instinctively moves closer, rubbing soothing circles on your back. His touch is warm, grounding, as his words wrap around you like a protective shield.

“I’ve always just wanted the best for you,” he says softly, leaning his head closer to yours. “I want you to be happy and healthy, and if that means staying here as long as you need, then stay. I don’t care how long it takes. I’ve got your back. I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t welcome. That was never my intention, and I hate that I made you feel this way. I don’t want to push you away.”

You collapse into his arms, burying your face in his shoulder as your sobs come freely. His embrace is strong, steady, as he holds you like he’s anchoring you to the ground. For once, in a while, you felt wanted by your own blood.

“Thank you, Jen,” you manage between cries. “For everything. I’m so sorry I lied to you. I love you.”

He pulls you closer, his chin resting on your head. “I love you too,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “No more lying, okay? I’ve got your back, no matter what.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, the weight on your chest lifts just slightly, enough for you to breathe. You stay like that for a moment longer, letting yourself cry until the tears run out, until the warmth of your brother’s hug melts away the worst of your pain.

Jeno gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before standing. “Thank you for opening up to me. I’ll give you some space. Just let me know if you need anything, okay?”

As he left your room, you could hear him muttering something under his breath. A moment later, the sound of his voice carried through the apartment as he tried to get a hold of Haechan.

“Yeah?” Haechan answers after the third ring, his voice tense.

“Meet me in front of my building in ten minutes,” Jeno says, his tone tight as he tries to keep his anger in check.

“So, she told you?” Haechan asks, his voice low.

“Yeah,” Jeno replies curtly.

Haechan pulls the phone away from his mouth, letting out a desperate sigh as his eyes fix on the ceiling, silently pleading for something—anything—to save him from what’s coming. After a long pause, he exhales sharply. “Okay, I’m on my way.”

Jeno stood outside the complex building, the afternoon sun casting long shadows across the sidewalk. The air was crisp, but it didn’t stop the tension from coiling in his chest. His hands were shoved into his jacket pockets as he waited, replaying the conversation he’d had with his sister earlier.

Her tears, her shaky voice—everything about it had gutted him. Whatever had happened between her and Haechan, it needed to be resolved. Jeno wasn’t the kind of brother to let things like this slide, not when it was so obvious how much she was hurting.

Finally, he spotted Haechan approaching from a distance. The usual lightness in his step was gone, replaced by a slower, heavier gait. His hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of his hoodie, his head tilted down, as if he already knew what was coming.

When Haechan reached him, Jeno didn’t waste time. “Do you love her?”

The question hit like a punch, straightforward and impossible to dodge. Haechan froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly before his gaze darted to the ground.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady. “I do. I have for a while now.”

Jeno’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but his expression remained firm. “Then what the hell happened?”

Haechan let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. “I… I don’t know, man. She came over last night after the club, and everything was fine until I found this note in her purse. It was from some guy—‘J’ or whatever—and it just… messed me up. I didn’t know what to think.”

Jeno frowned, his brows furrowing. “A note? From who?”

“I don’t know,” Haechan said, his voice rising slightly. “It was just some number and a message about being there for her. It made me think—what if I’m not enough? What if she’s keeping her options open?”

Jeno’s jaw tightened, his frustration bubbling. “So you let your jealousy get the better of you and pushed her away instead of talking to her?”

“I didn’t push her away,” Haechan argued weakly, though the guilt in his voice was evident. “I just… I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Jeno shook his head, exhaling sharply. “She loves you, Hyuck. She told me everything—how you two started this whole fake dating thing because of me and our parents. Only, it’s not fake for her anymore. She’s scared you don’t feel the same, and now she’s in her room crying because she thinks you don’t care.”

Haechan blinked, his breath catching. “She… she said that?”

“Yeah, she did,” Jeno said firmly. “And let me tell you something—you’re one of my best friends, Hyuck. You’re a good guy, but if you care about her, you need to prove it. You can’t keep shutting her out every time something scares you.”

Haechan swallowed hard, the weight of Jeno’s words sinking in.

“You’ve been a great friend to me,” Jeno continued, his voice softer now. “I know you’re the kind of person who would go to the ends of the earth for the people you care about. So if you really want to be with her, if you see a future with her, then you need to go upstairs, talk to her, and fix this. Don’t let one very stupid misunderstanding ruin everything.”

Haechan’s hands clenched at his sides, his heart racing as he processed everything.

“What if I screw it up again?” he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jeno placed a firm hand on his shoulder, his expression both serious and reassuring. “Then you keep trying. Relationships aren’t perfect, but they’re worth it when it’s real—and this? I can tell it’s real for both of you. So don’t waste any more time.”

Haechan nodded slowly, the resolve in his chest growing stronger. Without another word, he turned toward the building, his legs carrying him toward the confrontation he both dreaded and needed.

Jeno watched him go, letting out a deep sigh. For the first time all day, he felt a glimmer of hope that maybe—just maybe—things would turn out the way they were supposed to.

You had finally managed to calm yourself down after a long, warm shower and curling up under the covers of your bed. Yet, no matter how hard you tried, your mind kept replaying the events of the morning. Every sharp word, every look, every lingering feeling—it all circled in your head like a storm you couldn’t escape.

A sudden knock at your door interrupted your spiraling thoughts.

“Yeah?” you called out, assuming it was Jeno checking on you again. The door creaked open slowly, and when you looked up, it wasn’t Jeno.

Haechan stood there, hesitating in the doorway, his hand gripping the frame as if he needed it to steady himself.

“Hey… Can I come in?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, almost cautious.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that you’d fought so hard to push down. Fidgeting with your hands, you nodded. “Sure.”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him gently, as though he was afraid of shattering the fragile air between you. He moved to the corner of your bed, sitting down hesitantly, his posture stiff and uncertain.

“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice tinged with guilt. “For the way I reacted this morning. I was upset, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You gave me every chance to talk, and I just… didn’t.”

You stayed silent, watching him from the head of your bed, the weight of his words making your chest tighten.

“Truth is,” he continued, rubbing his hands together, “I found that napkin in your purse last night. You know, the one with the note.”

Suddenly, everything clicked.

“I got jealous,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “At first, that’s all it was. However, the more I read it, the more frustrated I got—not because some other guy was interested in you, but because I realized it was more than that.”

He sighed, his hand running through his hair, tugging at the strands in a way you recognized as his tell when he was struggling to get the words out.

“I like you,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “A lot. I like you a lot more than like, actually.” He let out a small, nervous laugh, shaking his head as his eyes dropped to the floor.

“Ever since we met, I’ve liked you,” he confessed, his voice quieter now. “At first, I didn’t say anything because you’re Jeno’s sister. What kind of friend would I be if I got feelings for my best friend’s sister, right? Then, it turned into something so much more than that. You became my best friend, too. The first person I think about when I wake up, the last person I think about before I fall asleep, and the only person in my dreams. You’re everywhere in my head.”

Your breath hitched as his words sank in, tears spilling down your cheeks before you could stop them.

“I know,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “It was my idea to start all of this. At first, it was just pretending, but then it became real. For me, it became so real. And that note? That stupid, meaningless note? It wasn’t even about the guy—it was about me. I hated that a complete stranger had the courage to tell you how he felt when I couldn’t, even after everything we’ve shared. I let my pride and my fear get in the way, and I hurt you because of it. I’m so sorry.”

This time, he looked up, his eyes locking with yours. They weren’t cold like they had been this morning. They were warm, soft, familiar—filled with the Haechan you knew and cared for. Slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against your cheek as he wiped away your tears.

“I’m truly sorry, love,” he said, his voice trembling slightly but full of conviction. “If you’ll let me, I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t want this to be fake. I want us—you and me—to be real. Please, let’s make this real.”

His words hung in the air, each one wrapping around your heart and tugging at it. You stared at him, your lips parting slightly as you tried to process the raw sincerity in his confession. The way his eyes bore into yours, the vulnerability etched across his face, it all broke down every last wall you’d built to keep your feelings hidden.

Slowly, your body moved on its own. You crawled across the bed, closing the small space between you and Haechan before throwing your arms around his shoulders. His warmth engulfed you as your head nestled against his neck, and for the first time all day, you allowed yourself to melt into him.

Haechan’s arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you even closer as he let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your hair. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never do that to you again. I promise, I’ll never hurt you like that again.”

His voice cracked with emotion, the words tumbling out over and over as he held you. His hand ran soothingly along your back while the other cradled the back of your head.

You stayed like that for a moment, soaking in his warmth and the steady beat of his heart. When you finally pulled back, your hands remained on his shoulders, and you found yourself looking into his eyes—those deep, soulful eyes that were filled with nothing but regret and love.

“The note,” you started softly, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “It was from some random guy at the club. He handed it to me, and I shoved it in my purse so I could throw it out later. But… we got drunk, and I completely forgot it was even there.”

His expression shifted instantly, from shock to embarrassment, and finally to guilt. “So it really didn’t mean anything?” he asked, his voice almost timid.

You shook your head firmly. “Not a thing. I didn’t even remember it existed until just now.”

Haechan exhaled a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “I’m an idiot,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “I overthought everything, and I pushed you away when I should’ve just asked you.”

You gave him a small, tentative smile, your fingers absentmindedly smoothing over his shoulders. “You’re not an idiot,” you said gently. “You were scared, and honestly? So was I.”

His brows furrowed slightly, his gaze softening as he tilted his head in curiosity. “Scared?”

You nodded, your cheeks warming under his intense gaze. “Scared because… I like you, too. A lot. Maybe more than a lot.” You let out a nervous laugh, your hands dropping to your lap. “I think I’ve been trying so hard to convince myself that this was just pretend because I didn’t want to ruin anything between us. But the truth is, I don’t want to pretend anymore either. I want us to start over—for real this time.”

His eyes widened at your words, and for a moment, he just stared at you, completely still. Then, as if something clicked inside him, his expression changed. The regret and guilt melted away, replaced by something so raw, so full of love and passion that it took your breath away.

Haechan reached for your face, his hands cradling your cheeks as if you were the most delicate thing in the world. “You mean that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded, your smile trembling as tears welled in your eyes. “I mean it.”

That was all he needed. In an instant, he leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that was both passionate, real, and impossibly tender. His lips moved against yours with a reverence that made your heart ache, as if he were pouring every unspoken word, every hidden feeling, into that single moment.

Your hands found their way to his chest, clutching at his hoodie as you kissed him back, matching the intensity of his emotions. It was like the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you, tangled in each other and the overwhelming feelings you’d kept buried for so long.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and his thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away the tears you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice trembling with the weight of his confession.

Your breath hitched, and your lips curved into a smile as you looked into his eyes. “I love you, too,” you said, your voice steady and full of truth.

The smile that broke across his face was radiant, and he pulled you into his arms again, holding you like he never wanted to let go. For the first time, there was no doubt, no pretending—just the two of you, finally on the same page.

The evening had finally arrived, and the three of you—Jeno, Haechan, and yourself—stood outside your parents' house. The warm glow of the porch light illuminated the path, casting a comforting hue that did little to calm the nerves buzzing in your chest. Haechan stood beside you, his hand brushing against yours, and when you glanced at him, he gave you a small smile, his own nerves barely hidden beneath his confident exterior.

“You guys ready?” Jeno asked, breaking the silence.

You nodded, inhaling deeply as you stepped forward.

When the door opened, the familiar warmth of your parents' home enveloped you. Your mom greeted you with a tight hug, her smile as radiant as ever. Your dad stood just behind her, his eyes lighting up as he welcomed all of you inside.

“Come in, come in! It’s been too long,” your mom said, ushering everyone inside.

As you stepped into the living room, Haechan gave your parents a polite bow, his usual charm already working its magic. “Thank you for having us tonight,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with warmth.

“Of course, Haechan,” your mom replied, smiling at him. “It’s nice to finally have you here as more than just Jeno’s friend.”

Your dad raised an eyebrow, a curious look passing over his face. “Oh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

This was it. You glanced at Haechan, and he gave you a reassuring nod, his hand discreetly finding yours. Together, you both stepped forward, standing side by side in front of your parents.

“Well,” you began, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. “We wanted to let you know that Donghyuck and I… we’re together now. Officially. He’s my boyfriend.”

Haechan’s smile widened as he looked at your parents, his voice filled with pride and sincerity as he added, “It’s true. I care about your daughter a lot, and I promise to always treat her with the love and respect she deserves.”

Your parents exchanged a quick glance, their expressions softening.

“Well,” your dad said after a moment, his voice warm, “if our daughter is happy, that’s all that matters to us.”

Your mom’s smile was beaming now as she stepped forward, squeezing you into a hug first before turning to Haechan. “Welcome to the family,” she said, patting his shoulder affectionately.

Behind you, Jeno let out a low whistle, crossing his arms as a smug grin spread across his face. “I told you they’d approve,” he said, clearly enjoying the moment.

You shot him a playful glare, but the warmth in his expression softened your teasing.

As the night unfolded, the five of you gathered around the dining table, the smell of your mom’s cooking filling the air. The conversation flowed easily, laughter punctuating the clinking of silverware. Haechan charmed your parents effortlessly, sharing stories of how you two had grown closer and subtly leaving out the “fake dating” part of your history.

Jeno leaned back in his chair, watching the scene with a satisfied look. His best friend and his sister were happy, his parents were smiling, and for once, everything felt exactly as it should be.

Your dad clapped Haechan on the back after dinner, laughing at one of his jokes. “You’re alright, kid,” he said. “Take care of my daughter, okay?”

“Always,” Haechan replied, his voice full of conviction.

By the time dessert was served, you felt a weight lifting from your chest. Sitting beside Haechan, with his hand resting comfortably on your knee under the table, you realized this was the first time you’d truly felt free. No more hiding, no more stress, no more pretending—just you and him, together, surrounded by the people you loved.

As the night wound down and your mom started clearing plates, Haechan leaned over to you, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “I can’t believe this is real.”

You turned to him, your smile soft. “It is, we don’t have to hide anymore.”

He grinned, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” you replied, feeling the words settle warmly in your chest. Finally, you weren’t scared to say it.

As you glanced around the table, seeing the joy on your parents’ faces and Jeno’s approving nod, you knew this was the start of something beautiful. A life where you and Haechan could love each other openly, honestly, and fully—just as it was always meant to be.

BONUS

Months had passed since that dinner with your parents, and your relationship with Haechan had only grown stronger. Gone were the days of pretending and sneaking around. Now, you could openly love each other, and you savored every moment of it. Tonight was no exception.

The neon lights of the club bathed the group in a kaleidoscope of colors. Music thumped through the air, and laughter echoed as you, Haechan, Jeno, Karina, Mark, and Chenle occupied one of the larger booths. Drinks lined the table, and everyone was in high spirits, swaying to the rhythm of the music or yelling jokes over the pounding bass.

“Here,” Haechan said, sliding a glass across the table to you. “One for the prettiest girl in the room.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, taking the drink. “You’re shameless.”

“You love it,” he teased, leaning in to steal a quick kiss before anyone could interrupt.

“Hey!” Karina exclaimed, pointing her straw at the two of you. “We agreed to keep the PDA to a minimum tonight!”

Haechan shrugged, throwing an arm around your shoulders as he smirked. “What can I say? I can’t help myself.”

You nudged him, trying to suppress a laugh as Jeno and Chenle made exaggerated gagging sounds.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Mark said, grinning as he tipped his drink toward you both. “At least try to make it through one night without making the rest of us single people feel bad.”

“Who’s single?” Karina piped up, earning a round of laughter from everyone at the table.

As the night went on, the group gradually dispersed onto the dance floor. Haechan stayed by your side, his hand never leaving yours. You danced with him among your friends, his playful energy infectious as he twirled you under the flashing lights.

At one point, you found yourselves back at the bar, catching your breath and sipping on water.

“You know,” Haechan said, his tone suddenly lowered as he leaned closer, “you look absolutely stunning tonight.”

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze. “You’ve told me that about three times already.”

“I’ll say it a hundred more times if I want to,” he replied, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at him. “Careful, Donghyuck. You’re laying it on a little thick.”

He grinned, leaning in so his lips brushed your ear. “If you think this is thick, wait till I get you alone.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you pushed him lightly, trying to hide the flush on your cheeks. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re irresistible,” he quipped, finishing his drink and setting the glass down. “Come on.”

“Where?” you asked, watching as he grabbed your hand and started leading you away from the bar.

“Somewhere we can actually hear each other,” he said with a wink, weaving the two of you through the crowd.

It didn’t take long before you found yourselves in one of the quieter private rooms tucked away in the back of the club. The walls muffled the music just enough, creating a more intimate atmosphere. A small couch and a dim overhead light added to the cozy vibe.

Haechan shut the door behind you, turning to face you with a smirk that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Now this,” he said, stepping closer, “is more like it.”

You laughed, backing up until your legs hit the couch. “So, what’s your plan now that you’ve dragged me back here?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he pulled you into his arms, swaying gently to the faint rhythm of the music that still seeped through the walls. His hands rested on your waist as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Dance with me,” he whispered, his voice soft.

Your breath caught in your throat, but you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. The two of you moved slowly, completely lost in your own little world.

As the song in the distance changed to something slower, Haechan tilted your chin up, his eyes locking with yours. “You know,” he said, his voice barely audible, “I think this is my favorite place to be—with you.”

Your chest tightened at the sincerity in his words. “Hyuck…”

Before you could say anything else, he closed the gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both tender and electric. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, leaving you breathless.

The world outside faded entirely, leaving only the two of you wrapped up in each other. His fingers traced gentle patterns along your back, and when he pulled away just enough to whisper, “I love you,” his voice was steady and sure.

Your heart swelled, and you cupped his face, your thumbs brushing against his cheeks as you whispered back, “I love you too.”

Haechan grinned, his eyes lighting up with pure joy before he kissed you again, his movements more urgent but still filled with the same passion.

Getting lost in not only the kiss but in his touch you find yourself breathing heavier the closer his lips moved down your neck.

"W-What are you doing?" you asked, a low chuckle escaping your lips despite the tension in the air.

"My girlfriend," he murmured between kisses, his voice low and filled with desire. In that moment, the world beyond the locked door ceased to exist.

With skilled hands, he slipped the straps of your dress off your shoulders, letting them hang low and exposing your already hardened nipples. His eyes raked over you, taking in every detail as though he couldn't believe you were real.

"I'll never get tired of this," he whispered, his voice dripping with awe as his mouth latched onto your left breast, his tongue swirling against your sensitive skin.

A loud moan escaped you, echoing faintly in the private room, but the thundering bass of the music outside was loud enough to drown it out.

"Get loud for me, baby," he urged, his voice teasing and commanding all at once. "I wanna hear how beautiful you sound for me."

His hands slid to your back as he unzipped your dress, letting it pool around your ankles. Without hesitation, he positioned you on the sofa, one of your legs resting over his shoulder as his dark eyes zeroed in on your glistening core.

"Barely did anything, and you're already begging for me," he teased, slipping two fingers inside you with ease, the smirk on his lips widening when your sharp gasp filled the air.

"Haechan... please," you pleaded, your hands gripping the fabric of the couch as your body trembled beneath his touch.

"I'm not done, babe," he murmured, his fingers curling inside you, expertly hitting that sweet spot that made your back arch.

His tongue flicked out, meeting your needy clit as he lavished every inch of you with attention, his lips and tongue working in perfect harmony.

Your moans grew louder, your hips bucking against his mouth as your hands tangled in his hair. He groaned into you, the vibrations driving you wild as he watched you lose control, grinding yourself against him with abandon.

Haechan's free hand wandered to his hardened bulge, brushing over his strained cock that twitched with every sound you made. He bit back a growl, desperate to feel you fully but savoring every moment of your unraveling.

When your release finally washed over you, your scream of his name echoed in the room. Your body shuddered as your juices dripped down his chin, his tongue greedily lapping at everything you gave him.

As you lay there, trying to catch your breath, Haechan rose to his feet, unfastening his belt with swift hands and tugging his pants down to his ankles.

Your eyes widened at the sight of him, your lips parting in awe as you noticed his hard cock, his tip red and aggravated with precum.

He leaned down, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist before gripping your hair gently but firmly. His dark, hungry eyes bore into yours as he spoke, his voice dripping with authority. "You're going to take me right here, right now. I don't want you holding back those pretty moans of yours. Got it?"

You nodded quickly, barely able to speak before he lined himself up and thrust into you with a deep, powerful motion. A low growl escaped his lips as he buried himself to the hilt, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"So fucking tight for me," he groaned, his voice rough in your ear. "Always so tight."

His pace started slow but deliberate, each thrust pulling moans from you that sent heat coursing through your entire body. His eyes locked onto yours as he noticed the outline of his protruding length against your stomach.

Grinning, he grabbed your hands and pressed them to it.

"You feel that, baby?" he said, his voice husky. "Soon, I'll fill you up right there. Is that what you want?"

Your sweat-slicked skin glistened as you bit your lip, nodding feverishly. "Yes! Please, Donghyuck, I want you to fill me up with every drop!"

His thrusts quickened, each one deeper and more relentless as his free hand trailed up to cup your throat. "That's my girl," he praised, his voice thick with desire as he watched you fall apart beneath him.

When your walls began to flutter and clench around him, his groan turned into a deep growl. "Donghyuck!" you cried out, your nails digging into his back as your release crashed over you.

He wasn't far behind. His hips stuttered as his grip tightened, his eyes rolling back as he spilled himself inside you, his body trembling with the force of his climax. Even as he came, he rocked his hips, ensuring every last part of him stayed buried deep within you.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the sounds of your labored breathing.

Haechan's forehead rested against yours as his hand moved to brush damp strands of hair from your face.

"Round two at my place?" he asked, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.

Your laugh echoed softly as you cupped his face, your gaze filled with warmth. "Only if we manage to sneak away without getting caught."

"Say less." He grinned, standing to pull his pants back on before helping you dress. His hands lingered a little too long on your hips, his touch still filled with the passion of the moment.

Hand in hand, the two of you slipped out of the private room, sharing whispered laughs and conspiratorial smiles as you made your way through the club and out into the cool night air.

You felt completely free, the chaos of the night left behind as you escaped into a world where it was just you and him. Together, you'd already won a lifetime of love

‧˚⭒ taglist: @jaeminnanaaa17 @scoobysnackszoo @1800-jigglemywiggle @karmasbestie @cathamada @yoursyuno @oneeew @serenedreamscape @moryymor @yesohhsehun @dnihyuck @doyotint @kodasity @rainverry

[cissy0writes]

Little Matchmaker

Part 1

(Jinx x gn!reader)

Summary: The little girl you've been taking care of for a few months stopped showing up one day. A few days later she's on your doorstep once again, but this time she isn't alone... (angst & fluff)

Warnings: mentions of violence and death, selfloathing thoughts, suicidal thoughts, probably ooc Jinx

Wordcount: 1.3k

A/N: Sorry for the delay, my weekend was way more hectic than I originally anticipated. And I worked two double shifts the last two days... This is still not finished, but I decided to cut it into two parts so I could at least post this, it's super short and Jinx only appears at the end, sorry for that... I was super tired while writing this (and as I already mentioned in my last post, english is not my first language), so I apologize for every mistake I didn't correct. I hope it's still enjoyable to read.

The first night she didn't show up, you didn't think much of it. Sure, there was that nagging feeling of worry in the back of your mind; but she was a smart kid- surely she was alright. By the third night, however, you were a complete mess. Your whole body was filled with nothing but anxiety and guilt.

You had looked for her, of course, you had. Day and night you made your way through the lanes, searching for the little girl to no avail. You started dreading the worst, she was dead, she had to be that was the only logical explanation. It's not like it was far-fetched either, Zaun was a dangerous place, and children died daily... You just didn't think she would.

You barely knew her for two months, but it was enough time for you to develop maternal feelings for her. You took her in, kept her well-fed and entertained, and even changed the whole room arrangement in your small house to give her a little space of her own. You planned on raising her to your best abilities and you failed. You failed her, you didn't protect her, you let her wander off... Her blood was on your hands and the guilt was eating you alive.

You always thought it was fate that led her to you, but now you weren't so sure anymore. Would fate be really that cruel? To give you a new purpose, a reason to stay alive, just to rip it from you again?

Perhaps this was fate's way of showing you that you had no reason to stay. Maybe you weren't meant to live a happy life, maybe you weren't meant to be alive at all.

That's all you could think about as you sat in front of the small window of your bedroom. You stared out onto the empty street, the undercity painted in the darkness of night. Your head was pounding- curtsy of the last three sleepless nights, and your eyes burned from the many tears you shed over the last days. You felt absolutely miserable, your mind showing you memory after memory you made with her over the last two months.

You were about to close up your shop when you heard the clashing of metal cans. With a frown you made your way to the window, peeking out of it with squinted eyes. That's when you saw her, a small girl covered in dirt and grease sitting between the trashcans with a pout on her young face.

Her brown hair looked matted and was covered in knots, her clothes dirty and ripped, and goodness did she look thin- like a single blow of wind would knock her down. You quickly made your way outside, wondering where she came from, if she still had parents, or at least somebody to look after her.

Once you reached her and crouched down in front of her with a frown, she looked up at you- face scrunching up in fear and started scrambling backwards until she hit the wall. You carefully held up your hands in front of you, showing her you were no threat. "Hey, hey... it's okay. I won't hurt you." You kept your voice as gentle as you could, and her rapid breathing started to slow down again.

She still looked skeptical of you, and honestly, you didn't blame her. Who knows what she faced, what she went through? You looked her over more carefully, searching for any wounds, but besides a few bruises on her knees and palms, she seemed unharmed.

You bit your bottom lip and looked up at the sky for a moment, it was starting to get dark. The girl's gaze followed yours and she let out a sound close to a whimper, which caused you to look down at her again.

Taking her inside was an easy decision. She was scared, hungry, and all alone; what else were you supposed to do? So, with a small sigh, you got up from your crouched position and held out your hand to her. And after a moment of hesitance, she took it.

She held your hand the whole time. From getting inside, closing the shop, and making your way upstairs to the small flat you lived in- she didn't let go once. It surprised you, how quickly she decided to trust you, but you supposed you were the first person to offer her at least some sense of safety.

As the two of you sat at your tiny kitchen table, a plate with hot porridge placed before her, you decided to ask her the question that's been on your mind since you noticed her.

"Hey kid," was all it took for her to look up from her plate, spoon held midway in the air, and a curious expression on her face. "Do you have a family? Anyone?"

Even though you alredy expected it, the shake of her head still sent a wave of sadness through your body. In that moment, you knew you would keep her around.

The first time you met her...

The memory caused you to break down in tears again. Your shoulders shook with every sob and you felt like you couldn't breath. Why did you let her go outside on her own? Why did you prioritize a stupid sale over playing with her? No money in the world was worth loosing her, and you would give anything to have her back.

You were tired, so damn tired, but you wouldn't allow your body the rest it so clearly needed. You were punishing yourself, why should you let yourself rest? You clearly didn't deserve it. You wiped at your eyes and tried blinking your vision back to focus. But the sight on the street caused your heart rate to pick up; this couldn't be real, you were hallucinating from exhaustion.

You frantically rubbed your eyes and leaned closer to the window, your nose almost pressed against the glass. But it seemed like your mind didn't decive you, she was still there, walking towards your shop.

Isha.

She was alive!

You pushed yourself up, the chair you were sitting on falling backwards and landing on the floor with a dull thud. Then you ran, you ran as fast as you could, outside the room and down the stairs. You pushed the door of your shop open, the door swinging harshly against the wall.

"Isha!" You screamed as you ran towards her small figure, tears still running down your cheeks at a rapid pace.

She looked at you with a smile, oblivious to the worry she caused you, as she picked up her pace.

You fell to your knees in front of her and pulled her tightly against you, pressing your cheek against the top of your head and closing your eyes. Your sobs slowly died down and you took shaky breaths to calm yourself.

Isha was alive, she was safe and unharmed in your arms. Where has she been? Did you even care? Not right now, you decided. Now you were just going to hold her for a while. She was alive. nothing else mattered.

The call of your name from an all to familiar voice, a voice that still haunts your dreams, caused you to snap your eyes open abruptly. You hadn't noticed that Isha wasn't alone, you were far too relieved to see her, so you blocked anything else completely out.

But as if your poor heart hadn't been through emotions already, you were now faced with the very person who broke it. Your eyes widened as you stared at her, her gaze looking almost haunted as her violett red eyes met yours.

Jinx. She was right in front of you, and now you were vividly picturing the last time you saw her in your mind.

[everythingspokenfor]

𝓜𝓻. & 𝓜𝓻𝓼. 𝓑𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓰𝓸𝓾

Pairing: Bakugou x reader. All characters are aged up 18+. MDNI Summary: Arrange marriage doesn't seem so 'arranged' when your fiance does everything that makes you fall in love with him...

Fiance!Bakugou who starts picking you up after work once you both get engaged, initially to learn the roads in your work commute but eventually because he wants to ensure that you are engaged and soon to be married, to a particular guy at your work place that had been bothering you.

Fiance!Bakugou whom you invite over for dinner as an act of gratitude, to thank him for helping you.

Fiance!Bakugou who stands bemused, watching you hop around the kitchen to try and make him some dinner. Who finds your eagerness to cook for him and your nervousness to not mess up, endearing.

Fiance!Bakugou who eats the slightly burnt and somewhat salty meal you prepared irrespective of how much you claim that it was bad and you'll just order.

Fiance!Bakugou who teaches you, how to cook not because he expects you to cook when you are married but because cooking is an essential skill, and he wants you to be able to cook more than noodles for yourself when he isn't around.

Fiance!Bakugou who doesn't berate you when the vegetables are chopped unevenly but does berate you when you cut your fingers, doesn't suckle on your finger like those movies instead he cleans it up and puts a bandage on it. He does however kiss your finger then your forehead and ask you to sit on the counter next to him.

Fiance!Bakugou who despite his wish doesn't barge in when his mom is helping you try on the wedding dresses, he either goes to agency or works in his home office. Mind still wondering to what you would look like in the wedding dress.

Fiance!Bakugou who helps you move into his penthouse, a month before your marriage, just so you could settle in and get comfortable there. Get used to his presence, form a routine with him.

Fiance!Bakugou who introduces you to his friends, staying behind and watching you mingle with them.

Fiance!Bakugou who pulls you into the kitchen, making sure you are doing good with the crowd, asking if his friends are too much or if you want to end the night.

Fiance!Bakugou who develops the need to constantly touch, his hands always searching for you, holding your hand in a crowded train station, holding onto your elbow in a busy grocery store, hand on the small of your back when showing you around the agency.

Fiance!Bakugou who gets giddy as the wedding approaches, getting his suit tailored, matching with your dress, buying bedsheets and cutlery that you chose. Tries to add things to the penthouse that match your vibe, installs bookshelves around the house because he knows that you love to read.

Fiance!Bakugou who stands at the end of the altar, waiting for you, excited to finally call you his wife, excited to be finally addressed as your husband.

Husband!Bakugou who pulls you into a kiss when the officiator announces you husband and wife, who pulls away from the kiss to pull your into a tight embrace.

Husband!Bakugou who insists on helping you change out of the wedding dress into your reception gown, but Mina pushes him out stating how he has you for the rest of your lives but for now you'll stay with her.

Husband!Bakugou who makes you feel comfortable at the reception, a hand respectfully placed on your back, guiding around the crowd.

Husband!Bakugou who ensures that you don't get overwhelmed interacting with all the people at the reception venue, who makes sure that your voice doesn't get lost amongst the crowd.

Husband!Bakugou who still keeps an eye on your figure, when Mina whisk you away into 'girl's corner', shoves a large gift bag in your hands, "wear it tonight", she whispers in your ear, voice breaking into giggles.

You politely smile at her, talking along with other girls in the group, you absent-mindedly look around the crowd, eyes unintentionally locking with your husband.

His title making your belly flutter, despite only knowing each other for a year and a half, he has proven to be such a good man. You hope you would be good enough for him too.

Husband!Bakugou that struts towards your group, gently placing a hand against your back, fingertips hovering as to not startle you.

"Hopefully you didn't give My Wife a hard time," He spoke, other hand reaching to take the gift bag from your hands, effortlessly carrying all the bags that the girls had gotten you. He kisses your forehead, when you try to reach back for it.

"They were just talking." You move a little closer to Bakugou, head bowed down, fingers fidgeting with the lace of your evening dress, too shy to look your husband in the eyes.

"Well, sorry to interrupt but it's time for us leave." Bakugou announced, let you go to bid farewell to your girl friends. Pretending to look away, when they tease him, telling him to go easy on you.

Husband!Bakugou who helps you walk out the reception venue, one hand holding the gifts you've received all night the other holding your hand. Both of you reach the car and he helps you sit in the passenger seat, closing the door being mindful of your dress.

"What did the girls give you?" He questioned, starting the engine.

You flushed at the question, you weren't really aware of what the content of the bag were but you had a gist of what it could be. "It's just some clothes Mina picked out, I think." You answered.

"Well we'll find an occasion to wear fancy clothes again." He swayed the car out of the parking, completely oblivious to what kind of clothes you both were talking about.

"I don't think I could wear those in public." You mumbled, he looked over to you, but you avoided his eyes.

It barely took him a moment before he figured what Mina could have possibly gifted you. "Ah, it's lingerie, isn't it?", He confirmed.

"Don't say it out loud." You press your hands against your heating face, warmth spreading down your neck.

"Why are you shy? Husband and Wife can talk about lingerie." He teased, finding amusement in your shyness.

"It's just surreal, you know," you turned towards him,"the whole wedding, I mean, till yesterday I was dreaming about marrying you and told I married you." You sighed happily, the tiredness of the finally settling in.

"You were dreaming about marrying me, huh?" Bakugou teased, butterflies swarming his belly at the thought of you being just as excited to marry him.

"I was, you are too good, had to put a ring on it." You giggled, teasing him back, Bakugou looked at you with a glint in his eyes, scanning your features before turning back to the road.

It didn't take long before you both reached home, Bakugou parked the car in the garage, got out of the car and jogged towards your side, opening the door he helped you get out.

Instead of walking into your home, Husband!Bakugou pulls you towards the main entrance, confused you ask him, "Are we going somewhere?"

Bakugou looks at your face, before he dips and lifts you up, carrying you effortlessly, "Am carrying my wife home."

You giggled loudly while Bakugou walked inside the house, carrying you, ready to start your lives together.

[celestiamour]

since you asked for hyun-ju ideas, here am i 🙂

Imagine being her girlfriend and finally managing to hype her up to wear something more feminine for a date (like a dress or a skirt), only for that confidence to be shattered by some strangers on the street ;((

so, after a bit of comfort, you just need to prove how they were wrong, and show your sweet girlfriend how nice you think she looks on that outfit *wink wink*

ft. cho hyun ju x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ hyping her up to go out wearing a skirt for the first time┊0.7k words

contains: fluff with suggestive content at the end!! gender dysphoria & insecurity but mainly euphoria, established relationship, reader is shorter

➤ author's note: i went off prompt and didn’t do smut for this one because i really just wanted to focus on her gender euphoria moment, so sorry (also this is my first time writing for a trans character centered around gender identity! my knowledge mainly comes from having an ex girlfriend who was trans and told me about her experience, but if i got anything wrong or need improvement for something, please tell me so that i can improve and do hyun-ju justice!)

she stared at herself in the mirror, almost in disbelief at first at the reflection looking back at her. it’s insane how a little bit of makeup and stylized outfits could completely transform her appearance, the magic being something she’s heard about plenty of times but has only been able to witness at this moment. her fingers nimbly adjusted her hair, brushing it back before pushing the front stands forward to frame her face, and then flying to her pleated skirt to straighten it out. her heartbeat was all over the place, both from the happiness of finally feeling like herself and from the anxiety of planning to go out in public like this.

hyun-ju paused at the thought of that, looking back at herself and suddenly focusing on all of her insecurities again— the more masculine features that other people would point out and whisper about from her face to her frame. she looked at her bare legs and found the contrast with the dainty piece of cloth too stark to ignore, finding herself crossing her legs and wondering if she should just wear pants like she usually did.

self-consciousness started to consume her entire being and thoughts about it not being enough raced across her mind, taking in a deep breath and considering just taking it all off to stay in for the night. the last thing she wanted was to get harassed by some assholes on the street just for trying to be herself, especially when she knew you would yell back at them and a fight was very much possible as it happened in the past before ending with you in the hospital for a broken wrist (the other guy was in a much worse state, but she still didn’t like the idea of you getting injured or possibly even arrested for her behalf).

“babe, are you finished changing?” you called out and broke her out of her thinking, but you entered before she could say anything. she cringed slightly and closed her, feeling embarrassed until she heard you gasp in pure delight, “oh, you look so beautiful!”

the heat radiating off her cheeks from being sheepish quickly changed to that of being flustered, “r-really?”

“of course!” you took her hands into yours, spinning her around like she was a princess wearing the most luxurious ball gown ever crafted even though it was bought at a local mall, “i knew this outfit would look good on you, it really is your color!”

“right, i was just worried it looked weird…” she felt a little stupid expressing her concerns, but she knew you were understanding, “i just feel like… i don’t know, i feel like i’m too tall to wear something like this…”

“being too tall isn’t a problem! personally, i would kill to be your height and to have your legs, and i know plenty of other people would too. it’s a trait that lots of top models have, so you don’t have to worry about anything!”

your words made her crack a smile, feeling the initial confidence flood her and your arm wrap around her waist as her gaze returned to the mirror once again with both of you admiring her beauty. seeing herself in your light was always enlightening like she was a completely different person in the best way possible, and she was so grateful to have you as her girlfriend to pull her out of her negative thoughts. 

“well, we better get going. if we stand here always just staring at how pretty you are, i might not be able to control myself and we’ll be home all night,” you teased, standing on your tip-toes and kissing her carefully on the lips so as to not mess up the tinted gloss.

“i don’t think i would mind that…” 

“don’t tempt me now…” the fluffy atmosphere became charged with a familiar tension with your touch lingering on her skin, one of your hands traced up her thigh with sinful ideas forming on how you could mark up the unblemished skin and ruin the makeup you wanted to preserve a mere few seconds ago.

after a few seconds of heavy silence, you finally pulled her to join you on the bed, all teasing smiles and lust, “well, we can just order an uber instead of walking, we can spare ten minutes. that’s all the time we need, isn’t it?”

[olderthannetfic]

Hi OTNF and everyone,

I am finding that it's harder and harder and harder to get into anything - book, show, movie... most things seem, you know, to just not be doing it for me, be it fanfic or original stuff.

In part, I think, it's a general restlessness and that it's become harder to give anything enough time to get into the stories, the characters, the settings, the narrative voices... I guess you can call it attention deficit on my part, just a need for stories to deliver those sweet, sweet hits quickly, but they're not.

I'm not currently ficcing but I did for years (might again in the future, who knows), and it's made reading, specifically, harder. It's like I've become more aware of what goes on behind the scene, I guess? I feel like I can see the writer giving up on a sentence, skipping a scene because fuck this, trying hard to not repeat a word although it's the only one that fits, etc.

Or maybe it's just the *everything* around us in the world that is weighing on me too much? I could say it's adult life, but then again I have more free time than most (and boy do I need hours of doing nothing to survive the other hours), and no family/partner (all that would put even more pressure on me): what is wrong, to make everything so UGHHH?

I feel like I'm stuck in a rut with a brain moaning feed me, feeeed me, and whatever I try to give it, it spits everything out. (Yes, I've tried hobbies, and nothing sticks there either. I've never really found rewards or satisfaction there, so...)

Decades ago as a kid, I was a voracious reader, although studying literature took the pleasure of it away from me. It took time and discovering fanfic that brought me back to reading, but at the time the internet was starting to be a thing, too, and it can't have helped the attention thing. AFAIK I'm not ADHD but then again, I couldn't get a proper diagnosis (the therapists I saw were either dismissive or just about The Talking, which was pointless for me).

I just wonder how it all disappeared, you know? Sometimes I find something that catches my attention for a while - a book (but I read quite quickly when motivated), a fandom... but it's been a while now, and it's just so frustrating! When is it going to come back? Will it ever? *gulp*

I know that books were escapism when I was a child, and then fandom was escapism, but at the moment I find myself grabbing at air and my empty hands are mocking me. Give me my escapism baaaaack!

So, uh. Anyone here with me?

--

Yes.

I felt like that during part of lockdown. Anhedonia is common in those kinds of circumstances.

Getting your mojo back is certainly possible, but you may need to go see a professional about depression and have some chemical assistance (yes, even if you don't feel sad per se), or you may need to change your lifestyle to one that doesn't have the thing causing you to need eleventy billion hours of downtime.

Aside from serious interventions like that, you can consider a social media detox. Remove every source of doomscrolling and time wasting of that type. When the attention span is zero and nothing brings joy, the tiny and useless hits from finishing a game of solitaire or seeing one more instagram post become very attractive. This is a trap. It will suck what little energy and joy you have and make your muscles flabby for the work of getting into an in-depth book/hobby/experience.

I know the feeling of being able to see how the sausage is made, but... well... first, being in a better mental state will make that matter less, and second, reading prose that is more competent will make that less of an issue. A lot of mainstream tradpub genre fiction is not, in my opinion, very well written these days. Obviously, people are still enjoying it, and that's fine, but if you're noticing writers fumbling around, it might be time to check out some literary fiction or some other category known more for prose quality than anything else.

It's also important to have some structure and some things to look forward to. Even if you feel tired, overwhelmed, and busy, sometimes, the answer is to do more... But it must be things that are distinct and significant and that get you off of the couch, like going to one museum every weekend.

I saw some advice once about this kind of thing that phrased it as "One big adventure; one small adventure."

Every week, you should have those two things to look forward to that matter. Check out a new coffee shop. That could be the small one. Go to an event: a gallery opening, a concert, whatever.

Physical exercise and doing some things that aren't as verbal and conscious thought-involving is important too. Painting is a better hobby for zoning out than writing is. Taking long walks in nature is good for most people.

--

The kind of intense, obsessive love I had for reading as a child and that I sometimes have for fandom requires a lot of attention and some time. It's escapist, but that masks how much work it actually was. It didn't feel like work only because we were in training.

If you've filled your brain and your day up with a thousand petty annoyances or minor and useless attempts to feel something, you won't have the capacity for those deeper things.

Because you are already at a point that's equivalent to a bad sprained ankle, trying to get back to running right now won't work. You have to stay off of the ankle for a bit, then build your strength and stamina back up.

[natsuminmin]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆ WHITE LIES -> michael kaiser fic !!!

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOW PLAYING . . . ILYSB - STRIPPED by lany.

synopsis; in which you wonder when and what made kaiser want to propose to you, his darling partner cw: fluff, mentions of marriage/engagement, unproofread + lowercase, slight spoilers for his backstory, implied f!reader but can be interpreted as gn!, self-indulgent, perhaps ooc kaiser (lmk if i forget something!!!)

"ain't never felt this way . can't get enough so stay with me"

silence had fallen beneath your shared bedroom as you found yourself staring at the glinting sapphire on your ring finger, a sign of his devotion. had he been staring at you instead of the book he was reading, he'd see the gears turning in your head as you spoke:

"micha, why did you propose?"

"what?" kaiser turned to face you, the book forgotten as he placed it on the bedside table. when he processed your question, he scoffed.

"that's a stupid question. because you love me and i love you, obviously."

"No, duh! I meant like…what made you want to propose now?"

"oh, you should've worded it properly then, schatzi."

"don't be a prick, micha. well? the answer?"

a cocky grin graced his lips when he heard your snappy retort. he was silent for a while as he reminisced, his fingers sneakily trailing downwards to wrap around yours.

─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───

the reason he proposed wasn't something exceptional, he thought.

it was on a random night, where the both of you were sitting in a comfortable darkness in the living room. his eyes trailed to your adorably scrunched up face as you tried to figure out how to share the screen of your phone to the tv so you could watch the show you had picked for movie night.

"this is stupid," you muttered under your breath "why does this site ask for so much…."

then you reached out for him, tapping on his shoulder and begrudgingly asking for his help. he recalled how badly he had wanted to release such a snarky remark, but held it back in the form of a nasty smirk. he didn't want to ruin movie night before it even started.

you had looped your arm around his without so much as a warning, as he messed with the buttons on your phone so he could get it connected. finally, he succeeded, bristling proudly as he set your phone down the table and turned his attention to the sappy romance movie you picked.

safe to say, he quickly got bored of it. so instead, he trailed his eyes downwards to you.

you, who was oh so engrossed in the movie, didn't even notice the intense gaze he inflicted on you. his gaze flickered to the lack of space between them, noticing the way your arms had interlocked with one another.

"wait...when did she..?"

he wasn't one to be unaware of what was touching his skin. he was an alert man, any single piece of physical contact never flew past his head. 'to hurt or be hurt,' he's learned at least that much from his scumbag of a father.

then it dawned on him.

he didn't notice because he didn't have the sinking feeling of nausea that always made itself known whenever someone touched him. your innocent caresses no longer triggered his fight-or-flight.

Instead, he felt...normal? Normal as in the way a whipped lover would feel when his partner flustered him. he felt his heart racing, but not from anxiety. it was from embarassment that a simple touch from the person he loved had him this riled up. He felt.....

...comfortable.

At that moment, kaiser made up his mind. he was going to put a pretty little ring on your finger, something that highlighted how precious you were to him (perhaps a blue stone...yes, he'd love to see his favorite color on you every single day), and marry you for good.

─── ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ───

he would never tell you that.

he didn't realize how badly he spaced out when you snapped your fingers in front of him.

"yo, kaiser. cat got your tongue?"

he clicked said tongue with irritation at your casual tone, wrapping his arms around your waist as he buried his nose between the crook of your neck.

"don't call me that. you know that's going to be your last name too, right?"

"please quit trying to change the subject, love. "

"fine, but only because you asked so nicely, schatzi." he murmured softly against your skin as he began recounting about some random date you had at the beach; blabbing about how the sun hit your hair perfectly, he got jealous of all the other couples proposing, its about time anyway, the view was pretty and so were you, all that cheesy stuff. he felt slightly guilty for not telling the truth, but he'd like to keep his sweet little revelation all to himself.

Besides, a little white lie never hurt sometimes.

"oh, my heart hurts so good . I love you, babe, so bad"

a/n: aaaaaaa first fic ?! thank uu so so much for reading! honestly, don't think so much of this lol, i wrote it at 3am while i was 'studying for finals.' i hope someone noticed in the middle of the fic but this was heavily based on brooklyn99 when peraltiago got engaged AHHH also i feel the title white lie was so fitting because....white = marriage usually...heh...get it...

[littlcdarlin]

dbf!Joel headcanons

warnings: big, though unspecified age gap, 18+ (as always)

note: Uni has been kicking my ass, so I’ve only had time for some headcanons lately. This Joel is very sweet, but I’m open to writing sleazy or dark Joel, too! If you have requests for any headcanons, I will be able to write them even during this stressful time. Full fics will take me a while longer. Enjoy reading, my loves <3 and feel free to add stuff!

He doesn’t really know how to cook well and mostly eats his faves every day but when you stay over more and more he makes an effort to learn and actually finds out he really likes it

Whatever pressure your parents put on you, he relieves it by accepting it rather than trying to fix it for you — you can just exist around him without expectation

He worries the age difference means you don’t have much to talk about, so he watches your favourite show that you mentioned and although it certainly wouldn’t have been his first pick, it lets him unwind. He likes watching something he knows you’ve watched and loved when you’re not around, it makes him feel closer to you

When he first starts looking at you differently he blue balls himself so as not to disrespect you — when he has sex with someone to relieve himself, he accidentally says your name to them

He keeps a polaroid of you in his wallet and cashiers wonder why he smiles at his debit card so much

He finds it hard to stay friends with your dad, because it makes him feel weird about this dynamic with you. He distances himself from your parents after they react badly to the news of your relationship, not because of guilt or cowardice, but because he doesn’t tolerate how they treat you

He thought he would hate the gossip after the two of you go public, but when you do, he finds himself imagining knocking you up just so everyone knows what he does to you. He opts for lots of hickeys until kids might be a possibility, but that doesn’t stop him from pretending you don’t have an IUD when he finishes inside of you

He loves when you wear his clothes, but when you forget your scarf at his place he wears it and enjoys that just as much — it smells like you and he likes the idea of people being able to tell it’s somebody else’s

When he figures out how much you like him talking to you during sex, he starts using the same voice/phrases in public to get you flustered & wet for him

He keeps everything that reminds him of you, like parking tickets etc. He doesn’t do anything with those things, doesn’t put them in a box, so they linger around his house, reminding him of you the way photographs would, except more privately

He starts “putting in an effort” for you when you start dating: styling his hair & wearing clothes he thinks you would prefer, until you tell him you like nothing more than his flannels and band tees and jeans, and although he doesn’t tell you, he’s beyond relieved. He realises you like him for him

When you tell your parents, Joel asks your father to hit him because “he knows he deserves it”. With time he learns he also deserves your kisses and smiles. Those things coexist within him, he thinks both are true

Despite completely supporting you in your pursuit of a degree & career, he likes when you’re on holiday, waiting around for him in his house wearing nothing but a pair of panties he bought for you & one of his hoodies. During those lazy weeks, he fucks you morning, afternoon, and night: before he leaves, when he gets home, and right before you go to sleep

He buys you a ring during the first week of dating because you mentioned how much you like it. He doesn’t give it to you until he knows you feel certain about him — he doesn’t want to freak you out. Still, even before that, he sometimes looks at it in its little black box and envisions it on your finger

During your first couple of “public dates” (neighbourhood barbecue where your parents are present etc.) he refrains from touching you much, although everyone knows about your relationship. You have to take his hand and initiate small touches for him to feel more comfortable

It takes him a short while, but then he loves being able to touch you in front of people: a hand on your lower back, an arm across your shoulder, his fingers lacing through yours, him pulling your back against his front and wrapping his arms around you. People stare sometimes (your Dad breaks one or two wine glasses in his hand), but Joel stops caring when he sees how happy it makes you

He tells you that you can change things about his home, that it should feel like your place, too and asks if you want to go shopping for “candles and stuff”, but you love being in a space that feels completely like him. It’s not how your apartment looks, but it makes you feel at ease, like you’re somehow living inside of him

Before he tells you he loves you, he whispers it in your ear when you’re sleeping, hoping your subconscious will somehow pick up on it. When he does tell you while you’re awake for the first time, it’s during breakfast. You stub your toe, and let out a string of curses you must have picked up on from him, and while he presses ice against your foot, kneeling in front of you, he smiles up and tells you: I love you.

The first time you sleep over at his house after he spent the night in your apartment, two brand new bottles of the shampoo and conditioner you use are in his shower. You thank him and jokingly ask why he didn’t buy your shower gel, too. He kisses you and tells you he likes when you smell like him.

He likes making you come more times than you thought you could — something about moving in and out of you while you tell him you can’t do it again, that you’re done, and then watching you fall apart on his cock anyway, thrills him to the bone. It makes him feel powerful, but part of it is knowing you let him fuck you without expecting an orgasm, that him being inside of you is enough for you to feel good

He doesn’t tell you, but he adds your name to his car insurance, so that you can drive it whenever you want

When you figure it out you give him road head every time the two of you drive somewhere — until he almost crashes the car and he forbids you to tempt him while he’s behind the wheel

He’s so nervous he asks Tommy for help when picking out a birthday gift for you — Tommy goes overboard and the gift turns out to be something completely ridiculous like a pair of huge earrings you would never wear. You tell Joel you don’t need a big fuss to feel loved by him. At night, he gives you a present he’s been wanting to give you for a while: he plays you a song he wrote for you on his guitar. It’s quiet and simple and so perfect you cry for half an hour

He doesn’t sleep well when you’re not around, and loves being close to you at night. If he could, he’d sleep nestled inside of you after a round of lazy midnight sex every night

As much as Tommy annoys him, it makes him happy to see how well you two get along. When you become actual friends with Tommy and hang out with him on your own, he’s more than pleased: the two people he loves the most in the world have become close

He would never ask it of you, but when you tell him you have stopped masturbating because he fucks you so often, it pleases him deeply. He likes being the only source of your pleasure. When you are apart for a while because of work/collage etc., he buys you a toy he can control from his phone

He tells Tommy he thinks he’s going to marry you during the first month of dating, which you find out about only on your wedding day during Tommy’s speech

[ropebunnykant]

alright, we're on the third and FINAL part of me picking the boat scene to bits. you can find part one here and part two here

where we last left off, kant was going towards jumping in the water but he stopped and then we get this question from bison.

and the thing that gives me chills about this moment, aside from the absolute terror and pain on kant's face, is how softly bison asks this. almost like it's a genuine question. like he's offering help because kant is in a tough spot. but it's not a genuine question because he's trying to help - it's a threat. he's telling kant if he doesn't jump, bison will push him.

however, it's also quite an interesting question when you think about it in the context of love and their relationship. i talked a little bit about the setting choice in comparison to the fadel and style confrontation scene already, but lauren @sunsetsover once again had some wonderful additions which you can find here. basically, the difference in locations represents a lot of things, like openness and their intentions, but it also has to do with wants. bison wants love, has always wanted love, and he wants kant to prove to him that it wasn't all fake - even if right now he believes it was. so the question of if you want to jump or fall, it can also go back to how this all started for kant. he fell for bison, against every one of his intentions and instincts, he fell for him anyways. no matter how much he fought it, no matter how much he tried to stop it, he couldn't stop himself from falling for bison. but now, in a way, he's getting a chance to actually choose it. he's getting a chance to jump into love, to let himself die and prove to bison he did love him.

and he's going to, god he wants to do this one final thing for him, but he looks at the water and all he sees is himself, drowning as a child, crying out for his parents. and you can SEE IT in the last screenshot, you can see that kant is not THERE, he's not looking at the water in front of him, he's seeing the water from when he was a child and was drowning and it's HEARTBREAKING. you have to watch the scene yourself again and look at the sheer terror and heartbreak on his face in those few seconds because got it's just. it's so painful.

but bison doesn't know, or he doesn't care, and he wants kant to jump, so he yells at him, he shouts at him to do it. he's so angry and hurt and he needs to see kant do this.

so kant goes again, but he hesitates again and he looks at bison, like he's begging for him to change his mind. but it only takes a second for him to know, to realize he won't. that he will have to do this. that doesn't have any other choice. that this is the only way to prove himself and to try and make it up to bison, if he even can.

there's a moment of silent communication where bison nods his head towards the water to once again force kant to jump in.

so kant braces himself, pulls every ounce of courage he has left in him, and he climbs up, bison still yelling at him, and he jumps.

i'm gonna link you to a giftset the last few moments of the scene here that jay @kantpattanawat made because i think everything with bison in it is MUCH BETTER seen in motion and i also don't wanna run out of image space again sdkjsfdf

but kant jumps. terrified out of his mind, he jumps. for bison, for himself, because he thinks he deserves it, because he doesn't think he can save himself anyways. because at least this way he can show bison he chooses him. that he does love him. because bison threw his heart into the ocean and kant is going to sink to the bottom with it.

but bison didn't actually think he would. you can even see it on his face, right before kant jumps, that he's questioning if he actually will. and when he does, you can see the panic in his body language because holy shit kant actually jumped. and he shouts after him, like he's an idiot for it, and maybe kant is! but he did it for bison didn't he? because bison asked? and isn't that what bison's always wanted? someone that loves him enough to choose him, to listen to him?

so bison will jump in and he'll still make kant prove himself again, but i think this is the moment bison really forgives him. this is the moment he realizes kant was serious back in the hospital. that maybe it wasn't all lies. this is the moment their love story can really start.

[accio-victuuri]

Xiao Zhan Portrait Magazine Interview 📝

🎤: xiao zhan, we actually filmed a cover back then in 2019, and then in interview video, we also filmed a five year video. the last sentence in that video is what do you expect xiao zhan to look like in the next five years. five years have passed now, i want to know what kind of person xiao zhan has become.

XZ: just now, during the filming process they showed me an interview from five years ago and then when i saw the ending — i think it's amazing. at that time five years felt like a long time, at that time i thought i didn't know where i would be in five years, and then what i will become. now five years have passed in the blink of an eye, i feel like something has changed but it also feel like nothing has changed. it seems like everything has undergone an subtle changes but in reality it seems that nothing has changed. it's a wonderful feeling. i can't use words nor statements such as "change" and "unchanged" and then describe it.

🎤: in those five years there will be a lot of growth. i actually want to know what do you think is your biggest growth.

XZ: i feel calm and composed. i feel like i have became a little more self-reflective.

🎤: compared to oneself — what does this self refer to?

XZ: because i have always believed in the words "self" and "freedom" i think those are very neutral word. my former self words is that we will consider all aspects to visual. as i mentioned in my previous interview — i am very concerned about how other perceive me, i care a lot about how others' opinions about me. but perhaps over the past five years we have walked slowly along the way so now i think it's more about asking oneself, and then based on one's own opinions

🎤: you will have a persistence, so to be honest whether it's five years or something else do you think you have something firm that it won't change from you?

XZ: of course there will be.

🎤: what is it?

XZ: i remember i said this before — i remember a friend of mine told me "you may don't have to know what you want, but you must know what you don't want" i think this has never changed.

🎤: what do you not want?

XZ: there are many things i don't want.

🎤: can you share with me an example?

XZ: for example — something are luxurious but uncomfortable, or something that i feel not suitable for me.

🎤: i see, because i actually meet you now there are also quite a few changes. one them is starting to exercise now right

XZ: yes!

🎤: and over the five years i actually want to know if have there been any changes in the control of your own body or some changes perception of body?

XZ: actually i have been working out all along. for the past exercise i may have been more pursuit to be a little thinner so there are used to be a lot of aerobic work done before, but now it's actually more about stability, to be more calm, so more importantly i did some strength training.

🎤: i feel that sometimes the passage of time also means that we grow up or even get older, so sometimes you may suddenly realize that your control over your body or your own experiences are little different from before.

XZ: just like when i just watched the interview video from five years ago then in the middle of conversation i just saw myself in the mirror i feel like it's a plus version from the past then now. is it a widened version or narrowed version. i can't say for sure. i don't know where are the subtle changes have occurred — maybe it's about appearance, then it could be the body shape or it may be a state. in every aspect i feel the person in the mirror is a plus version of myself that i just saw in the video. then if we talk about mentality, i think there have been many changes.

🎤:what you say — maybe five years about the body you just mentioned. i want to know if you have had a moment of spiritual freedom in the past five years.

XZ: the most spiritual freedom moment?

🎤: yes, the most spiritual freedom moment.

XZ: actually i feel that i have been relatively free and relaxed for a period of time. it was during joining the filming crew. on the contrary when i was on the set. i don't think it's like a job but more like creating a work — creating a character, the process of creating a character so i am actually very invested.

🎤: so you may feel that speaking of a relative freedom it's when you completely immersed yourself in this character. is it to some extent of isolation from real life. let's said like that?

XZ: it can be said like that.

🎤: i actually remember the reason why you referred to five years as it back then it's because from an ordinary person no matter what or rather entering the entertainment industry as a non actor and then during 2015 and now 5 years have passed. you have actually been in the entertainment industry for 10 years. will there be any changes in the perception of the entertainment industry.

XZ: woah it's been 10 years?

🎤: we can have a 5 years term of 15 days which is 10 years.

XZ: what changes have occurred? — i don't think there has been any change. there hasn't been any change. i think it's relatively achievable, their scope is relatively simple…yes relative simple.

🎤: do you remember the last time i asked you a question? if you are not an actor what would you do. do you remember your answer?

XZ: it's to open a bakery.

🎤: yes. be a baker. i also want to ask this question now. if one day you don't work as an actor anymore what could be your next career? or what do you want to do?

XZ: perhaps…there will still be to opening a bakery. although there may be many practical problems encountered but i still really want to (open a bakery) because i think it's a very happy thing.

🎤: and if we talk about now. does 33 years old xiao zhan have something special? for example the so-called moment of collapse? or it could be a regretful breakdown of the realm.

XZ: i think it might be when acting there are really…i don't think it can be considered a breakdown but i think it's the hurdle. you may not be able to step over but you and i will try every possible way.

🎤: you want to do it better.

XZ: yes, when encountering some obstacles during acting it may make me feel a bit overwhelmed at the moment like — "why can't i do it…" when that hurdle remained insurmountable, it's something that makes me feel a little overwhelmed.

🎤: is there a so-called moment of compromise.

XZ: i don't think it can be considered a compromise right? but i'll do as much as possible. probably the final result may not have been achieved by you today. perhaps it will be resolved by looking back at the present after a few days.

🎤: actually i think something speaking of adults is actually a process of constantly recognizing boundaries as you just said, actually sometimes the so-called compromise is also a process of recognizing the boundaries. do you have that feeling of like you suddenly realized that in all aspects you actually has boundaries there?

XZ: of course i think this can be considered a rule. you can understand it this way.

🎤: if we actually said that five years have passed what will the next xiao zhan look like? have you ever thought about what kind of xiao zhan you hope to be in five years? at that time you will be 38 years old.

XZ: what do i hope xiao zhan looks like? i hope he can have a great time.

🎤: that’s all? is there or what kind of actor will he become?

XZ: no no no…i don't hope much…i just want him to be happy, to have a very happy life.

🎤: do you still dream frequently now? what was your most recent dream?

XZ: i haven’t had a dream for a long time.

🎤: do you often suffer from insomnia?

XZ:: there might be just a little time to sleep, there is bit of difficulty.

🎤: because we often say everyone actually has their own memory building i want to know in your memory — is there a moment that leave you with a recurring memory or could it been repeatedly reminded to you.

XZ:: the last time i dreamed was probably about the place where i used to live when i was a child. it's an old residential building and then our house is on the fifth floor. i remember what the aisle looked like.

🎤: seems to have gone back again

XZ: yes, and then it's really amazing, the structure of the room, and then the people. my parents and grandparents both. everyone is still stuck in that time because it was when i was still a child.

🎤: have you ever wondered why you keep dreaming about that repeatedly?

XZ: this might feel strange but maybe to me it's bit like a safe house. yes, a safe house. this kind of existence may occur when i feel tired or unhappy. maybe, i just want to go back.

🎤: your case reminds me of my previous interview with zhu deyong. he is a taiwanese cartoonist — he said that every time he felt unsafe he will go back to his childhood house in his mind, and he will go patrol room by room then use his memory to build the entire house. he can even see the most delicate table, the chair, and all the vivid memories.

XZ: i was like this in my dream. the kitchen at home, then the restroom, the living room, the two bedrooms, the structural cabinets of the balcony, at the time even the exhaust fan that never replaced. it's either a range hood or a wonderful one — all the details are clear and precise.

🎤: will that make you feel at ease?

XZ: i don't know either but instead of getting up…after waking up there will be a little feeling of loss and melancholy.

🎤: your childhood was particularly happy.

XZ:: my childhood…it's very happy.

🎤: so to some extent that’s also a way for you to nourish yourself.

XZ: yes

🎤: because i know you were actually a designer before and then you can also draw. so do you sometimes draw things about it? for example are you still drawing now? can you draw your childhood house?

XZ: no..but you reminded me. i can give it a try

🎤: it's because i feel like you will rebuilding your memories, some kind of similarity. it is also a very good feedback for yourself.

XZ: it's very good.

🎤: actually it's been five years to some extent…family members also aging. do you have this feeling? like i feel like my parents are getting older?

XZ: i do. but every time i try to stir up emotions then do it with them and message them they will immediately jump out and say "i'm playing ball now" so i don't have time to tell them otherwise my mom and i are out on a road trip again. she will says just be good to yourself, you will feel better okay? they are…very happy.

🎤: they are doing well, so they actually don't have the anxiety of aging at all.

XZ: they are full of power. so i think they are the object of my learning.

🎤: have you asked them why do you think they have no such anxiety at all? like they should think of it.

XZ: i have no idea. so i envy them very much. i really envy them. i learn from them this mentality.

🎤: we just asked our photographer. he has had a lot of contact with you in the five past years he says he will feel your current sense of security or rather your sense of relaxation is gradually increasing especially this year. so i don't know yet if it's a cue do you think there will be something this year that will make you suddenly feel this kind of openness or relaxation?

XZ: i think it’s very subtle because i believe life is not a novel not a movie, not a script. i didn't have a suddenly awakening point right? i think it't a long process, it’s a gradual accumulation then slowly and slowly some changes occurred. so you are asked me when it all started at which moment which i don't really know. but i can only feel like i'm here right now, i don't care that much, maybe it will be better.

🎤: i remember asking you back then 'are you smiling when you're happy' you said "i can't say i'm happy but i'm lucky”

XZ: i also feel very happy now, i am very lucky now

🎤: if you say so then i was also very happy it was a perfect five years. i think if you say so are lucky and happy in five years this show you have actually gone very far in the past five years. how to say this..you may not always gone so smoothly but you really is. so it's better to it to go smoothly. i hope the next five years will be smoother.

XZ: yes, just like what i do every year. people will ask me what kind of blessings do you have for yourself in the new year or give it to someone who likes you? i will says "safe and smooth" people may think that being smooth and healthy is so simple but let's think of it carefully it's not that simple at all. it's again a wish, a blessings.

🎤: so if you want to say something to everyone in 2025…

XZ: it still the same sentence "safe and smooth" i think it's safe and smooth for now then other will come follow naturally.

🎤: alright that's all for now. i have no other questions left. i am looking forward to the next five years with you.

XZ: thank you

[maruflix]

05: how much i like you ⎯⎯ prev | masterlist

you are a promising new member of the third division who, for some reason, is always given a hard time by your vice-captain. to vent your frustrations you decide to reply to a twitter fanbase’s anonymous confession, only to find out that your post was not so anonymous after all...?!

Soshiro couldn’t believe his eyes.

His trembling hands almost dropped the phone when he hears three sharp knocks on his bedroom door, followed by a voice he knows all too well.

“Vice Captain? Sorry to bother you..”

Your voice is muffled slightly as he scrambles to his door, heart thundering against his ribcage, the realization finally dawning upon him. You’re actually here to see him.

You. The person he spent months pining, daydreaming— it’s not fair, you invade all his dreams, you won’t even let him sleep in peace.

“Vice Captain, are you there? Huh, I guess he’s asleep..”

Soshiro immediately slams his bedroom door open, revealing you, standing in front of his door with a shocked expression. “Uh— ’m still awake. Hi, Y/N.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, blushing scarlet.

“So...” you start, glancing up to sneak a peek at him. “you weren’t kidding, huh? You really l-like me?”

Soshiro raises his head and shifts his weight on one leg. You make him feel so self-conscious. He wonders if he looks okay with just a shirt and his uniform pants on. His hair is already messy— why did you have to come at such an hour?

“If you want to hear me make a fool of myself, come inside. I’ll be glad to tell you just how much I like you.”

You blink furiously, cheeks warm at the invitation.

The answer is obvious: you step inside his room, greeted by the warm air of his heater. Stacks upon stacks upon stacks of books litter his desk, papers folded neatly. His uniform jacket is splayed over his chair.

Soshiro closes the door with a click and you’re suddenly aware of the fact that it’s just the two of you together in one small room.

“I’ve been... quite childish, I admit.” Soshiro is oblivious to your flustered state, “I apologize. I shouldn’t have been such an intolerable pain in the ass. Looking back, I guess it wasn’t the best way to get your attention in the way I intended...”

His apology seems so clumsy and yet so well thought out, like he’s practiced it several times. You can’t believe that the great Hoshina Soshiro is actually fidgeting nervously in front of you.

“I’ve already forgiven you.” Smiling, you bravely reach for his hand, giving them a gentle squeeze.

Soshiro’s eyes shot up to meet yours, gleaming in surprise.

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t also have a tiny crush on you, because I do.” You ramble on, ”Okay, it’s actually a pretty huge crush. I have a huge crush on you.”

Soshiro couldn’t believe his ears. His hands tremble once more, squeezing yours with equal ferocity, rubbing circles on the base of your thumb. “You do?”

You giggle and nod. “Mhm.”

He pulls you into a hug, engulfing you in the scent of his cologne. He’s breathless when he buries his blushing face in your hair. “You do.”

Gently, his hands rest on your waist as he looks down at your smiling face.

You inch yourself higher, inviting him for a kiss.

And he kisses you on the lips, deeply, backing you to his bed to push you down. His hands are tangled up in your locks, bringing you closer to him. He tastes sweet, his tongue exploring every crevice of your mouth.

Your own hands make their way to his hair, tugging on them playfully. He groans, pulling away to give you a wolfish grin. Smiling, you peck his cheek. “So.. how much do you really like me? Because Narumi Gen told me you’re absolutely lovesick.”

Soshiro raised an eyebrow before biting your neck playfully, eliciting a surprised yelp from you. “Don’t say another guy’s name in my presence. As for how much I like you...” his hands wander further down, eyes twinkling up to you mischievously, “how about I show you?”

note: thank you for reading my first smau series! it’s been a good run, see you in the next one 🫡

taglist: @o-sachi, @iamjellyfish, @vashyuu, @yuudofu, @moon-cakiie, @17020 @nyxypoo @kichiyosh1 @lunavixia @ryescapades @er1kaaaaa @swivi @lumiambrose @equkki @kaoiyeva @tsubaki3192 @riceballsandanime @hibiscy @theauthorunicorn @4acoffee @sunarins @lxkeeeee @kimsangie @queencybow

←　wrong account　╱　hoshina soshiro

[melosliving]

kelvin harrison jr x pregnant!reader

warning : overly cuuute husband kelvin (I need him)

husband!kelvin who knew he wanted you to be the mother of his kids after y’all kissed for the first time.

husband!kelvin who couldn’t help but smile every time he would see you running towards every kid you would see at a family function.

husband!kelvin who chokes with either his drink or his spit when asked about a baby with you.

"Damn you be in my business ?"

"Well.."

"Don’t do that." he would laugh.

husband!kelvin who overtime develops the cute habit of caressing your belly when cuddling with you before sleeping.

husband!kelvin who annoyingly starts to sing random lullabies, which leads to you being pissed off because the songs are now stuck in your head.

husband!kelvin who quietly snaps pictures of you each time you find yourself with a baby in your arms, gushing about how beautiful you look.

bestie!aaron who tells kelvin he has a baby fever, which makes him wonder if you actually wanted to have kids with him.

"bro, look how cute she looks !" he said, showing aaron a picture of you holding your cousin’s son.

"you would make cute babies, that’s for sure."

"huh ?" he asked, dumbfounded. "you think she wants to have kids with me ?" he seriously asked aaron.

"brother, I don’t think she would’ve accepted to get married to you if she didn’t want your babies." aaron simply answers.

"You right ! hum.. baby ?" kelvin said, now searching for you.

husband!kelvin who when he finally finds you in the kitchen, feeding one of your brother’s kid, definitely knows he wants to have kids with you. Now.

"you would make the best mother, you know that baby ?" he says, coming behind you while circling his arms around you.

pregnant!reader who is a mess after actually finding out she was indeed pregnant and immediately calls Kelvin’s mom.

husband!kelvin who laughed in your sister’s face when she congratulated him, not knowing he didn’t know you were pregnant.

husband!kelvin who cries in your arms when you told him you were pregnant. He never let you go after that.

husband!kelvin who decided to buy a camera and record every little thing you would do. From the first sonogram, to the first clothes you bought for the baby, etc.. at every end of the day he would film himself saying good night to the baby.

"okay, so today we’re finding out if you’re a boy or a girl ! What are you thinking mama ?" He says, turning the camera so you would be seen on the screen.

Sitting pretty in the passenger seat, you put your sunglasses on, smiling. "I think it is a girl," you say, caressing your 4 month belly. "I do too actually !" Kelvin nodded.

husband!kelvin who can help but feel bad for you every time you would throw up and crave weird things such as ice with pickles (wtfff) but would nonetheless give you anything you desire.

husband!kelvin who can’t help but worship the ground you walk on everyday. His eyes would glisten each time he would see you wear whatever that made your pretty bump visible.

"smile for the camera mama !" he would say.

soon-to-be-father!kelvin who would jump out of the bed when you told him that your water broke, freaking out already.

soon-to-be-father!kelvin who holds your hand through it all, looking at you with concern as he watched your face contorting in pain. he would do anything to ease your pain : ice chips ? He got you. Hand ? Take it. Need him close ? he would do anything to be in your skin.

Soon-to-be-father!kelvin who is so proud of you for going through all of this and handling it like the champ you are !

"You’re doing so good baby, I’m so proud of you." He would whispered in your ear, still holding your hand. He would then kiss your forehead as you pushed. "c’mon you got it, the baby is almost here mama."

Soon-to-be-father!kelvin who would be nosy as hell, trying to see the baby coming out of you in live, almost pushing the doctor and nurses just so he could see.

girl dad!kelvin who waited a whole 9 months to be able to sing to you "your pum pum bring life ! your tight pum pum bring life !" While holding y’all daughter.

"You’ve got so much hair my love ! Yeah, you’re so pretty.."

@ melosliving 2025