#why can’t I ever fall for people who actually like him

[bidisasterevankinard]

sentences sunday

I was tagged by @diazsdimples @midsummersmorn

guess what? I have sequel for this fix it mpreg (more likely 1 out of 3 sequels)

“Evan?”

His husband hums, still reading the wikipedia page, so Tommy takes the laptop from him, sitting it on his nightstand. 

“Hey, I was almost done,” Evan pouts and Tommy giggles, kissing this adorable face. 

“Sorry, babe, but I have something important I want to talk about with you while I am still brave enough.”

Evan rapidly blinks and Tommy grabs his hand, kissing Evan’s shoulder and then sitting on the bed, facing Evan and moving Evan so he faces him.

“Evan, you and Dany are the most important people to me. My greatest happiness,” his husband blushes and smiles and Tommy again asks himself how this sun hadn’t blind him yet. “For years, I was alone. Too lonely not just outside, but inside my body. Alone and scared. Scared to love and let people love me because it felt like I don’t deserve forever. Like I don’t deserve to keep happiness. Maybe not even feel it at all,” Evan nods, remembering their thousands of conversations after they got together, especially during therapy. “It took me a while to believe that you will stay. That I can keep you and Dany as long as I’m willing to work for it with you,” Tommy can’t stop himself from kissing his husband at this moment. “I have everything I wasn’t brave enough to dream and more than young, scared and pretty asshole Tommy deserved. And I promise it’s enough. But recently, I can’t stop thinking that maybe our family can have another little person?”

Evan adorably giggles, kissing his nose, “Tommy, are you asking about putting another baby in me?”

Tommy shakes his head in exasperation, but hugs Evan’s waist, “yes. I want another baby, because I think now is the best time as ever. I’m soon to be 45 and you are almost 36. I have only a year before I can go to retirement with a full pension. And my friend in the academy told me they would be happy to give me a job there. It’s a good schedule, not like shifts and I still will have good income, so money won't be a problem. Plus you think about applying for Lieutenant soon, as Bobby now actually thinks about retirement in a year or two as Athena planned hers too. And you need to study a lot for it. But before that we can grow our family and you would have time to grow in your career, studying during pregnancy, if you would want to do it again.” 

Tommy swallows, thinking if he's too selfish to add the next part or not. But he remembers he and Evan promised to have full open communication so he continues, but almost in a whisper.

“I also would be really happy to have a chance to share this experience with you,” he looks at Evan who nods to him with a sad smile. “We both know why I wasn’t here for you with Dany, and I left it behind. We left it behind, but I,” Tommy kisses Evan’s knuckles, “I really wish to have this experience with you.”

Evan, with wet eyes and one of the most bright smiles Tommy ever saw, kisses him before saying, “look at my browser history.”

Tommy frowns, but does as he is told.

And what he sees makes him chuckle with tears of joy falling from his eyes.

how to ask your husband about second baby

recommendations how to ask your husband about trying for second baby

how long it takes to get pregnant after stopping birth control

second pregnancy. what to expect

how to prepare your house for coming of second baby

how to prepare your oldest kid for coming of new one

Np tagging @powersuitup @hippolotamus @wikiangela @quintessenceofdust88 @theotherbuckley @weewookinard @queerbuck @repressedqueen @racerchix21 @typicalopposite @mmso-notlikethat @devirnis @loucifersbitch @lavenderleahy @bewilderedbuckley @bekkachaos @pirrusstuff @evansbuck-ley @desert--moonchild @actuallyitsellie @hyperfocusthusly @leashybebes @half-oz-eddie @bi-buckrights

[sinsirellaxx]

Slytherin Boys – They Hurt Your Feelings

Warning: Toxic!boys, not proofread, cheating, etc.

Enjoy!

Mattheo …

… watches you with disinterest as your eyes grow wet with unshed tears. He’d just told you that he simply forgot about your birthday and had spent the whole day with some random female students.

… shrugs his shoulders when you ask him whether he is being serious. “It’s not that big of a deal – I simply forgot.”

… groans when you start pointing out all the times he stood you up and neglected you for the sake of being with other people. “Please – not this again.”

… plays the “If I’m really such a bad boyfriend then leave”-card.

… will smirk if you decide not to leave.

… will quickly get up from his bed if you actually turn around and slam the door behind you as you rush out of his stinky teenage dorm.

Theodore …

… sits on the edge of his bed, completely unfazed when you confront him about the girl you saw him kissing. “You’re overreacting. It didn’t mean anything.”

… doesn’t try to explain himself, running a hand through his hair as if the conversation is exhausting him. “Merlin, can’t you just drop it already?”

… scoffs when your voice cracks, and tears spill down your cheeks. He is obviously annoyed by your display of emotions, “Honestly, this is pathetic. Do you have to cry about everything?”

… rolls his eyes when you demand answers. “You weren’t exactly keeping me entertained. What did you think was going to happen?”

… doesn’t even try to stop you as you storm out of his dorm, muttering under his breath about how dramatic you are.

Lorenzo …

… lets out a mocking laugh when you trip over your words in front of his friends, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Did you seriously just say that?” he sneers.

… dismisses your protests when you pull him aside after the incident. “Oh, come on, it was just a joke. Don’t be so sensitive.”

… refuses to acknowledge the hurt in your eyes as you try to explain how humiliated you felt. “If you can’t take a little teasing, that’s on you.”

… crosses his arms when you demand an apology, shaking his head. “No one else would’ve made such a big deal about this. Maybe grow a thicker skin.”

… rolls his eyes when you walk away, but for a fleeting second, guilt flickers in his eyes before he brushes it off.

Draco …

… sneers at you in front of a crowd after you tried to share your opinion during a heated debate. “Why don’t you leave the thinking to people who actually know what they’re talking about?”

… watches your face fall as you try to defend yourself, a cruel smirk playing on his face. “You’re embarrassing yourself, you half-blood.”

… doesn’t care about the tears in your eyes, cutting you off with a wave of his hand. “Oh, don’t start crying now. You’re acting like a child.”

… shrugs his shoulders when you call him an ass before storming off.

… feels the slightest pang of regret later, but he buries it deep down, convincing himself you were overreacting.

Blaise …

… snaps during an argument, his voice icy and sharp. “You’re so goddamn needy all the time. Do you ever stop to think about anyone but yourself?”

… watches as your eyes widen, but instead of softening, he doubles down. “Oh, now you’re crying? Of course, you are. That’s your solution for everything, isn’t it?”

… crosses his arms and leans back, clearly unimpressed by your attempt to defend yourself. “You always have to play the victim, don’t you?”

… rolls his eyes when you try to leave the room, grabbing your wrist. “Don’t walk away from me. We’re not done here.”

… later sits alone, the weight of his words sinking in, but his pride won’t let him admit he went too far.

Tom …

… grips your wrist too tightly during an argument, his voice low and venomous. “You will not walk away from me while I’m talking.” You had been fighting due to his treatment towards your muggle-born friends.

… shoves you backward when you try to push past him, his eyes cold and unfeeling. “Don’t test me, darling. You won’t like the consequences.”

… watches you stumble, your eyes wide with shock and fear in annoyance – you knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be his girlfriend. You knew who he was.

… sneers when you try to regain your composure, his tone dripping with condescension. “Wipe that pathetic look off your face. It doesn’t suit you.”

… takes a step closer, his shadow looming over you as his voice drops to a dangerous whisper. “Do you think they’d risk anything for you? Those mudbloods you’re so desperate to protect?”

… brushes past you with deliberate force when you don’t respond, his shoulders rigid, muttering, “You’re lucky I don’t make an example of them for your insolence.”

[evenmyhivemindisempty]

how would the Holbrook characters self-ID sexually

Steve Murphy: He’s straight, of course! Why, can’t you see that he’s married? To a woman?? Frankly, I think even if Steve was hooking up with Javi on the regular he’d still compulsively self-ID as straight. And, extra frankly, if he doesn’t want to lose his security clearance, it’s a strategic move! But I almost feel like Steve’s conception of his own sexuality is… weirdly disconnected from actual feelings of arousal, in some ways. Sure, he’s not horny for Connie, and sure, Javi gives him butterflies, but he’s not one of those publicly out San Fran gay guys, so… he’s straight! He’s just… sometimes unsuccessful at it!

Donald Pierce: Pierce actively avoids self-identifying. I think he’s more aware than Steve that he’s not straight, but he also doesn’t want to admit to himself that he’s queer. And he especially doesn’t want the people around him to know! If someone asked he’d immediately prickle and demand to know why the fuck they’re asking, are they accusing him of something?! …I think the most he’ll ever do is sort of hum non-committally if Gabby or Val (after listening to Pierce stutteringly explain his attraction) call him queer or bisexual. Progress?

Cap Hatfield: Oh, period-accurate Cap will not self-ID in any way shape or form, beyond maybe a vague comment about how he doesn’t know what being a boy/man is “supposed” to feel like, or kind of tilting his head at prettied up boy prostitutes or women in trousers and wondering to himself if they’re girls/men now. I think modern Cap, with the language to describe himself, might ID as asexual and genderqueer if asked.

Clement Mansell: He calls himself heteroflexible, with a sly wink towards Sweetie.

The Corinthian: Ha, well, Holbrook calls the Corinthian pansexual, so I assume that’s how he’d self-ID! I can also see him coyly telling someone that he’s “indiscriminate”.

Eli Klaber: Ooh this one was the hardest. I can almost imagine him off-handedly saying he’s “got a woman’s compulsions”, and not really elaborating. Definitely a double (or triple!) meaning there!

Ty Shaw: Ty is absolutely the sort to declare that he doesn’t like labels. Depending on who’s asking him though, he might wink and ask why they wanna know.

Quinn McKenna: Quinn actually HAS thought about his sexuality, and by “thought” I mean “dissected within an inch of its life”. He’s sat down with a notepad and chronicled all the crushes he can remember since his voice started cracking, and their degrees of severity. He’s analyzed the rough percentage of gay thoughts that go through his head when he’s jerking off (10% pre-meeting-Nebraska, 75% post-meeting-Nebraska). He won’t call himself queer or bisexual, but he *will* tell you where he thinks he falls on the Kinsey scale. (It’s a 1.5)

[crtter]

Why, that’s my main man Louis XVI! We all know him. You know, married Marie Antoinette, helped with the American Revolution War, lost his head during the French Revolution… Louisville in Kentucky is named after him! I like this portrait. It has him wearing his coronation robes. Very snazzy. It wasn’t painted at the time of his coronation though. He was 19 when he ascended to the throne after his grandfather, Louis XV, died from smallpox. He got a different portrait of him painted then. This is a later piece, from the 1780s, if I’m not mistaken. I think he’s in his mid-thirties here.

Anyway, his non-king name was Louis Auguste, he was born in August 23, 1754 and he has never caught a single break in his life. I mean, don’t get me wrong, in the greater scheme of things the French Revolution was a net positive for the world. Like, my country could still be a colony to this day if Napoleon hadn’t ascended to the throne and scared the king of Portugal into going hiding in Brazil. But you can’t help but feel a little sorry for the guy. Nothing ever went his way!

To start off, he was never meant to be king at all and, in his heart, he’d probably would rather have been anything else. His father was the next in the line of succession, and after him, it would be his older brother, who his family like, HEAVILY favored over him and didn’t even try to hide it. This meant he didn’t get nearly as good of an education as his brother did, getting stuck with an elderly, very conservative tutor who mostly only taught him religion and morals. But his brother would die at only nine years old (Louis was six then) from a bone infection after a bad fall from being pushed a little too hard while roughhousing with his friends. Then his father would die as well, of tuberculosis, when he was eleven, and his mother would follow a bit over a year later, having fallen into a deep depression after her husband’s death. So most of his immediate family drops dead and Louis becomes heir to the throne. Turns out he couldn’t have done so in worst circumstances: he inherited a lot of debt from his predecessors, had to deal with the repercussions of an unusually harsh winter that destroyed crops all over France and he just didn’t have a single authoritarian bone in his body.

It’s not like he was unintelligent. Much to the contrary, actually: he taught himself how to speak Italian, Spanish and English (the latter, reportedly, because he loved ships and navigation and he wanted to read Captain James Cook’s memoirs and Robinson Crusoe in the language they were originally written), had his own personal library, mastered advanced calculus and was and passionate about cartography, clockmaking and locksmithing. He was far from a tyrant or out of touch with his people either. He liked to secretly visits poor families in person and give them money that had been reserved for his own personal expenses, often took decisions that were the opposite of what was advised to him because, in his own words, “it might not be what’s best for the country but it’s what the people want and I want people to like me”, and held progressive values for a man of his time, passing or at least attempting to pass laws prohibiting the persecution of religious minorities, abolishing torture, serfdom and the death penalty.

So, why did Louis XVI die in the way he did? There were a lot of factors, of course. One of them is just because he was a symbol of the monarchy that had been plunging the country into more and more debt for the past 100 years, but a key one was that he was just awfully indecisive. It was it hard for him to make important decisions as quickly as he should and easy for him to be persuaded by other people of what he should do, which made for some pretty inconsistent, often poor results. He also hated attracting attention to himself so he refused getting statues and paintings made to celebrate his accomplishments, which made the public largely unaware of the good things he did while VERY aware of his shortcomings, real and imagined, because political cartoon artists had a field day with him and his wife. His contemporaries also thought of him as kind of uncouth and not very bright due to the fact he was shy and awkward. He was a bad public speaker, prone to going into uncomfortable silences mid-conversation and had a hard time looking people in the eye, which gave him an uncharismatic reputation. But, most importantly, Louis just… didn’t fight back. He was chronically insecure. Eager for approval. He could’ve easily thwarted the initial revolts with his personal army but he felt like raising weapons against his own people was as unforgivable as doing so against his own children. So he made a point to forbid his men from attacking the revolutionaries and to try and talk it out with them and give in to their demands, eventually even letting himself and his family to be taken into house arrest to Paris.

More things happen after that, but the gist of it is, even though Louis was technically in decent terms with the revolutionaries and on board with being stripped of all his power and becoming a constitutional monarch, even writing to his brothers to demand that they do not try anything counterrevolutionary and that he didn’t need their help, he felt like a prisoner and that his children were being mistreated. So he and Marie Antoinette decided to take a leap of faith and flee Paris to cross the Austrian border. The thing is, Louis genuinely thought that the revolutionary efforts were concentrated in Paris and that people elsewhere still liked him and would support his decision to escape. He was VERY wrong about that. They were eventually recognized and apprehended because, well. Louis’ face was literally on the money and someone eventually went “Wait a minute… don’t I know this guy from somewhere?”. The people were shocked by his betrayal and secret plotting with foreigners to escape given that he had previously seemed so cooperative. So he and his family are put in an actual prison this time, and he’s eventually tried for high treason and crimes against the state. By then he knows he’s cooked and that he’s going to be killed but he seems oddly resigned to it. I guess he just gave up.

Later on when his lawyer and former minister goes to tell him, in tears, that he has indeed, been convicted to death he just thanks him for his hard work and tells him that “We’ll meet again in a happier life!” One of the last things he said at all, on the way to the scaffold, was asking if there have been any news of the La Pérouse expedition lately. which was this version of the Captain Cook expeditions of his he had organized a few years before it all went to shit. Funny little man, he was. He was scared of cats because he got a nasty scratch on the butt from his grandfather’s cat as a child, but he dutifully took care of this very cat until the day it died after his grandfather’s passing. He liked to stealthily make his way out of windows and climb on the roofs of the palace of Versailles at night to hunt for nocturnal animals. His favorite horses were named Escargot and Desiré.

I can do this trick with some other VERY random subjects too. Someone look up “French king”, get the first picture you see out of Google Images and show it to me on this post. Don’t give me a name. Just the picture or a link to the picture. I’m going to either awe you or creep you out. No middle ground.

[cathnospam]

Bakugo makes you laugh, A LOT and it drives him insane.

“It was not that damn funny.”

You try to conceal the snickers from your mouth, but fail horribly. All he did was mutter something about Mineta being a punk ass and it had you giggly.

At first he used to take offense by it, maybe you were laughing AT him and not what he says, almost like mocking him, that wasn’t until Deku quickly explained in passing that you laugh very easily.

But you don’t laugh this damn much with anybody else but him. At this point he thought you had a similar quirk to Ms. Joke, and he nicknamed you Giggles.

You both were studying in the library like you both usually do during exam week, and Bakugo noticed you haven’t been Miss. Cackle the past few days. Not even a smile actually and you’d think it would have been some relief for him from hearing your laugh obxonious laugh, but he’s actually more annoyed.

He looks up from his book and glances at you across the table, you’re typing away, with a less that neutral look on your face. Lips somehow forming a pout and eyes looking droopy. He scoffs going back to his work, but it was an itch he needed to scratch with you..?

“Who pissed in your breakfast.”

“What?”

“You been looking like a sad lost puppy all week what the hell is your problem.”

The corner of your lips cracked upwards a bit, almost as if you were fighting to smile, but instead you shrug, “‘Nothing you needa worry about. Why.”

It was almost concerning how calm you sounded. Your voice was more tame that you didn’t even sound recognizable which make Bakugo crease his brows, “You suck at lying. Is it, because of that shitty boyfriend you have pissed you off.”

He was referring to Shindo, he wasn’t your boyfriend, but he was a guy you got close with after meeting him a few years ago, but Bakugo was half right he was part of the problem.

You had a small crush on Shindo , but overheard him tell his classmates how he isn’t into you like that mainly because you’re not his type and how much he can’t stand how loud you talk/laugh sometimes.

It hurt hearing it, when he found out you heard he tried apologizing but you didn’t wanna hear it, so since then you’ve turn self conscious about speaking and laughing too loudly for the past week to avoid anymore issues that you have caused with people.

After slowly explaining to the Blonde he rolled his eyes, “You’re ganna let the walking vibrator dictate your life too? So stupid.”

“You hate my laugh too. What does it matter.”

Bakugo stayed silent for a moment while you went back to work. Thinking how could he word what he wants to say without sounding like an idiot, “I never said that, besides you never stopped even when I did tell you your laugh was annoying. If you want to cackle like a hyena who gives a fuck—“

You break into a snicker but end up covering it with your hand. He cracks a proud smirk, he almost forgot what you looked like with a smile, “I don’t wanna be loud. Just can’t help it.”

“We know.”

You giggle at his deadpanned voice, it really wasn’t your fault, you’re just so easy to please and Bakugo knows that, “Giggly ass, and I seen you almost laugh when Denki tripped at the lecture today.”

“Becauuseee he is always so dramatic when he falls.” You whined into a chuckle, sharing a small one with him.

It was a start of many more shared laughs after studying, Katsuki even tried to be just a LITTLE bit more funnier than usual when walking back to the dorms. When you finally cracked a real loud one out he felt himself grinning at you.

“Katsuki Alexander Bakugo are you smiling?”

“Don’t you EVER say my full name like that again got dammit I will blow you the hell UP!”

You almost fall to your knees of how funny his reaction was to you, it felt so good to smile again. You missed it, and so did everybody else the next day apparently.

Mina and some others thought you were depressed, Deku assumed you were sick, Denki outwardly blamed Bakugo which got him smacked, and IIda actually missed your loud noises as well.

Your classmates enjoyed your presence more than you thought they did.

But Bakugo missed it the most.

Your laughs drives him insane, because he loves to hear them.

[hxxsxxng]

Past Wounds, Present Hearts P.SH

「Pairing」 : exbully!sunghoon x fem!reader

「Word Count」 : 10.5k

「Genre」 : smut, angst, somewhat fluff, college au

「Summary」 : you have felt resentment for sunghoon ever since the hell he put you through in middle school. now you find out he goes to your university.... and he's kinda hot?

「Warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!! mentions of bullying, lower quality of life due to bullying, self doubt, mentions of drinking alcohol, implied intoxication in some scenes, college parties, sunghoon calls reader petnames, kissing, sharing a bed, nipple play, fingering, titty sucking, handjob, sunghoon turns out to be a sweetheart, cum eating, falling asleep together, and more

「Authors Note」 : i originally intended for the story to have a different ending but i changed my mind half way though and it would have been too fast paced for the word count given, i will definitely make a part two if enough people ask! not proofread

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I hate him. The smug look on his face when I walk pass him in the main campus hall. All of the girls clawing on to his shoulder, begging for his attention without knowing what fucking loser he is. The way all of the professors are so impressed with him for doing practically nothing in class. Getting a full ride scholarship for basketball to this school. I have grown sick of it.

Park Sunghoon. The name still twists my stomach after all these years. Middle school was when my hatred started for Him. He was my middle school bully. Always teasing me in front of the whole class, or making comments behind my back. What hurts the most is that he doesn’t seem to care that he used to act this way, or maybe he thinks I have forgotten. The truth is, I will never forget. It sits at the back of my mind all of the time. The people who know me from middle school still view me as this ‘disgusting’ girl who was unlikeable, because of the things that Sunghoon would do to me.

It took years for me to build myself back up, so when I saw that he was planning on going to the same university as me last fall, I was more than worried. But this wasn’t middle school anymore. I can’t let him get away with treating me like an outcast who doesn’t deserve friends.First semester of university is always scary, I was always afraid to come out my shell and meet new people. I wanted to stay on top of acedemics. My best friend Yuqi was the complete opposite. Any opportunity she got to go out and party, she would be there. And, she would surprisingly maintain decent grades as well. Now that I think about it, I have never been a party goer, not even in highschool. Then again, there weren’t too many parties that either sounded interesting, or that I was invited to.

“Kappa Alpha is having a party this Friday, you in?” Yuqi suggested. She always gets the same response. “No, you already know I can’t, we have finals next week” I shrugged. “But Kappaaaaaa!” Yuqi whined, her voice getting higher every passing second. We were walking down the hallway towards our classes. A few students looked over, but quickly decided that they didn’t want to look any further. “I hear that Kappa Alpha has the best Christmas parties every year. You have to come” Yuqi insisted, grabbing onto my arm. I rolled my eyes. “Yuqi… You don’t actually think I’m going to attend one of their parties?” Yuqi gave me a confused stare, trying to read through my expression. “Why not?” “Sunghoon is in that frat, I’m pretty sure he lives in the frat house as well. You would catch me dead before seeing me step foot into that trashy hell hole” I explained, crossing my arm defensively. She knows how he treated me in middle school, she was there to witness it.

“What? He can’t be, out of all the parties I have gone to there, I have not seen him a singular time” Yuqi said with her eyebrows furrowed, putting emphasis into each word.. I tried to tell her that yes, he is the type of guy to hide out in the frat house and not attend, but she had no idea. After some debate, she eventually gave up asking me.

That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily above me. Yuqi's words echoed in my mind, mixing with memories I'd rather forget. The Christmas lights strung across my dorm room cast a soft glow, but they did little to brighten my mood.

I rolled onto my side, hugging my pillow close. Why did Sunghoon have to be here, at my university, in my space? It wasn't fair. I'd worked so hard to leave that part of my life behind, to become someone new. Someone stronger.

But was I really stronger if I was still letting him dictate my choices? I grabbed my phone, thumb hovering over Yuqi's contact. She was probably out somewhere, living it up like she always did. I envied her sometimes, her ability to just… exist without all this baggage.

"Maybe I should go," I whispered to the empty room. The words felt foreign on my tongue. Me? At a Kappa Alpha party? It was absurd.

I sat up, running a hand through my messy hair. Yuqi would be ecstatic if I went. And isn't that what college is supposed to be about? New experiences, stepping out of your comfort zone?

But then I imagined walking into that frat house, the pulsing music, the crowded rooms. And somewhere in there, Sunghoon. Everybody loving him not knowing the kind of cruel person he is on the inside. My stomach clenched at the thought.

"This is stupid," I muttered, flopping back onto my bed. "I don't need to prove anything to anyone."

But even as I thought it, I knew it wasn't true. I did need to prove something - to myself. That I could face my past, that I could exist in the same space as Sunghoon without falling apart.

I picked up my phone again, this time opening my messages to Yuqi. "Hey," I typed, then paused. Was I really doing this? My finger hovered over the send button as doubt crept in. But then I thought of Yuqi's excited face, of the possibility of actually enjoying myself for once.

Before I could change my mind, I quickly typed out the rest of the message and hit send. "Hey. About that Kappa Alpha party… I think I might go after all." I set my phone down, my heart racing. What had I just agreed to?​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​Yuqi didn’t see my message until the morning, but I can only imagine her physical reaction after reading her written one. “Really???? I never thought this day would come. I promise you will love it!!!” my screen read. Her overuse of punctuation was telling enough about she felt. It was Friday morning, meaning that the party was going to be later in tonight. If I plan my time correctly, we can leave my dorm around 8pm, and I would have had all of the studying done that at I needed to do for the night.

I couldn’t help feeling nervous at the thought of attending a party with Sunghoon, but I decided that this may be the perfect chance to get to know him better. Okay, not ‘get to know him better’ but maybe this could finally give him a chance to clear the air between us, to apologize properly for everything that he did to me. But the chances of him apologizing are slim to none. When I see him in campus he seems to be the snobby type, unable to admit that they are wrong. Trust me, I have heard the stories going around campus.

I spent the rest of the day in a fog, my mind drifting between lectures and study sessions. The impending party loomed over me, a mix of dread and nervous anticipation.

By the time I returned to my dorm, the sun was already setting. I sat at my desk, attempting to review my notes, but the words blurred together. My phone buzzed - another excited text from Yuqi about outfit choices. I sighed, closing my textbook. There was no point in pretending to study anymore.

~~~~~

At 7:00, a knock at my door announced Yuqi's arrival. She entered with her usual whirlwind energy, arms full of clothes and makeup. "Okay," she said, dumping everything onto my bed. "Let's make you look amazing."

I eyed the pile warily. "Yuqi, I'm not trying to impress anyone. Especially not Sunghoon." She paused, giving me a soft look. "This isn't about him. It's about you feeling good about yourself. Now, let's start with this sweater."

For the next half hour, we sifted through outfits. Yuqi was patient, letting me veto anything too revealing or flashy. We finally settled on a soft, cropped sweater and high-waisted jeans - comfortable, but still party-appropriate.

As I changed, Yuqi chatted about her day, her excitement for the party. Her casual banter helped ease my nerves, reminding me why I'd agreed to this in the first place. This was about spending time with my best friend, not about Sunghoon.

We left my dorm at 8:15, the cool night air a welcome relief for my flushed cheeks. The walk to the frat house was short, but with each step, the butterflies in my stomach intensified. Music pulsed in the distance, growing louder as we approached.

Outside the house, we paused. Yuqi squeezed my hand. "You okay?" she asked, her voice gentle.

I took a deep breath, nodding. "Yeah. Let's do this."

We stepped inside, and I was immediately overwhelmed. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol and too many bodies in too small a space. Yuqi leaned close, "I'm going to get us some drinks. Will you be okay for a minute?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice. As she disappeared into the crowd, I stood there, taking in my surroundings. Groups of people clustered around, laughing and dancing. I recognized a few faces from classes, but no one I knew well.

And then, across the room, I saw him. Sunghoon, leaning against a wall, surrounded by his usual admirers. He was laughing at something someone said, his head thrown back. For a moment, I was transported back to middle school, hearing that laugh directed at me, mocking and cruel.

Our eyes met for a brief second, and I swear I saw something flicker in his expression. Surprise? Recognition? But before I could process it, someone bumped into me, breaking the moment.

I turned away, my heart pounding. What was I doing here? This was a mistake. I was about to head for the door when Yuqi reappeared, pressing a red cup into my hand.

"Here," she said with a smile. "It'll help you relax." I took a small sip, the unfamiliar burn of alcohol hitting the back of my throat. As we stood there, Yuqi chatting animatedly about the people around us, I felt myself slowly start to unwind. Maybe agreeing to come here wasn’t too bad of an idea.I was just starting to relax, the music and Yuqi's chatter creating a comfortable bubble around us, when I saw him approaching. Sunghoon, weaving through the crowd, his eyes fixed on... us? No, it couldn't be. But it was.

He stopped right in front of us, that infuriatingly perfect smile plastered on his face. "Hey, Yuqi," he said, his voice smooth as ever. Then his eyes slid to me. "And Y/N,… it's been a while, hasn't it?" I felt my body tense, my grip tightening on the red cup in my hand. Yuqi glanced between us, her eyes wide with surprise and a hint of concern. "Sunghoon," I managed to say, my voice coming out colder than I'd intended. But then again, why should I care? He seemed unfazed by my tone. "I didn't expect to see you here. You're not usually the party type, right?" The casual way he said it, as if he knew me, as if we were old friends catching up, made my blood boil. How dare he act so nonchalant after everything? "People change," I replied curtly. "Not that you'd know anything about that." I avoided eye contact. I saw Yuqi wince beside me, but I couldn't bring myself to care. Sunghoon's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of... something passing across his face. Confusion? Hurt? Good.

"Right," he said, recovering quickly. Looking down at the ground with a half smile, he takes ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​my snarky response as a que to leave. “I’ll see you around, (Y/N)” he scoffs and walks away.

“He is such an asshole” Yuqi complains, rubbing my back as a way to try to comfort me. “You responded well” I watched Sunghoon's tall, muscular figure get lost in the crowd, a mix of emotions swirling inside me. Part of me felt satisfied with how I'd handled the encounter, but another part felt... unsettled. I took a long swig from my cup, hoping the alcohol would dull the conflicting feelings. "Thanks," I mumbled to Yuqi, grateful for her support. She gave me a reassuring smile, but I could see the concern in her eyes. "Do you want to leave? We can if you're not comfortable." I considered it for a moment. The idea of going back to my dorm, burying myself in my blankets and pretending this night never happened, was tempting. But then I thought about how that's exactly what the old me would have done. The me that let Sunghoon's actions dictate her life.

"No," I said, surprising myself with the firmness in my voice. "I'm not leaving. I have just as much right to be here as he does." Yuqi's face broke into a wide grin. "That's my girl!" she cheered, linking her arm through mine. "Let's mingle a bit, shall we?" As we made our way through the crowded room, I couldn't help but notice Sunghoon's gaze following us. Every time I glanced in his direction, he looked away, but not before I caught a flicker of... something in his eyes. It wasn't the cruel amusement I remembered from our school days. It was something else, something I couldn't quite place.

Yuqi introduced me to a few of her friends, and I found myself actually enjoying the conversations. It felt... normal. Like maybe I could do this whole college social scene thing after all. But then, over someone's shoulder, I saw Sunghoon again. He was looking right at us, his expression unreadable. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I felt a jolt of... something. Before I could analyze it further, he quickly averted his gaze, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. Wait, was Sunghoon blushing? I shook off the thought. It was probably just the alcohol playing tricks on my mind.

As the night wore on, I found myself relaxing more and more. The alcohol helped, but it was more than that. Every minute I spent here, laughing with Yuqi and her friends, was a minute I was reclaiming for myself. Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every so often, I'd catch Sunghoon looking in my direction. But it wasn't the mocking stare I was used to. There was something almost... wistful about it. Once, when our eyes met, he even offered a small, hesitant smile before quickly turning the other way. I don’t understand why he is trying to smile at me. It was confusing, to say the least. This wasn't the Sunghoon I remember. The Sunghoon who had made my life miserable. This Sunghoon seemed... different. Unsure. Almost vulnerable. As Yuqi and I were preparing to leave, I excused myself to use the bathroom. On my way back, I quite literally bumped into Sunghoon in the hallway. "Oh, sorry," he mumbled, steadying me with a hand on my arm. The touch sent an unexpected jolt through me. "You okay?" I nodded, unsureness in my voice. We stood there for a moment, an awkward silence stretching between us. "Listen, Y/N," he started, then paused, running a hand through his jet black hair. "I... I'm glad you came tonight. It was good to see you."

Before I could respond, he quickly walked away, leaving me standing there, completely baffled. It wasn't until much later, as Yuqi and I were stumbling back to our dorms, arms linked and giggling about nothing in particular, that I realized something. For the first time in years, I'd spent an entire evening in the same space as Sunghoon without letting it ruin my night. And more than that, I was left with the strangest feeling that maybe there was more to Sunghoon than I'd allowed myself to see. As I collapsed onto my bed, exhausted but oddly content, I couldn't help but feel like something had shifted. I wasn't naive enough to think one party had erased years of hurt and resentment. But maybe it was a start.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

~~~~~

The next morning I woke up disoriented, borderline hungover. Roll over to the side to check the time on my phone. 11:09AM? It honestly felt like I slept for three days with how many drinks I consumed. I look further down the screen to see the notifications:

1:18 AM: @prksnghn02 started following you!

1:19 AM: @prksnghn02 Liked your post!

I must have fallen asleep to quickly too see this last night, but that was definitely right after we left the party.

I scroll through the conversation, smiling slightly at the messages

2:11 AM: @prksnghn02 Hey! You still here?

2:11 AM: @prksnghn02 I get it if you don’t want to speak to me.

Why was he messaging me. What gives him the right? I igonore the message and delete the message request. All that before my thumb hesitantly hovered over the follow button on his profile, eventually turning it grey. I spent the weekend as usual, going to my job at night and studying in the mornings. Though I had the awkward interaction with Sunghoon at one party, I think that I could see myself going with Yuqi to another party some time. Not soon though because finals start on Monday and I have to pass to keep my financial aid. That’s another thing that pisses me off. I work day and night to pay for my schooling by myself, and Sunghoon gets it all handed to him for being okay at basketball. He teased me for growing up less wealthy than him, but if he were in my shoes, he wouldn’t have thought it was so funny.

Monday morning I was walking through the main hall on campus, where they have to coffee shop that I occasionally stop by. Of course this time when I went, Sunghoon was standing at the bookstore across the walk way, talking to his girl-toys. It took everything in me to not make things awkward by looking in his direction, but for the split second I looked that way, he was already eyeing me down. I pretended to not notice, continuing into the coffee shop line as I would do normally. The line was fairly short. I looked down at my phone to distract myself until it was my turn to order. “I am sorry (Y/N)” a familiar voice says behind me, him lightly grazing my shoulder.

My eyes immediately snap to the owner of the voice. His brown eyes were staring directly into mine as if he could tell exactly what I was thinking just by looking at me. And I know he can. ‘Hey’ he seems to say, flashing me the smallest of smirks as his hand rests on the counter to my left. I scoff in disbelief. He really is serious now isn’t he. I try to ignore him and continue with my order, but Sunghoon stops me in my tracks. My heart starts hammering harder in my chest as I glance around to make sure no one overheard. “Hey (Y/N),” he repeats, giving me his infamous smirk. “I really am sorry” he continues. He’s watching me with a curious tilt to his head as he waits for my response.

“Can I buy you a drink? Maybe we can talk some more?” For a fraction of a moment, it’s hard to believe what’s happening.

“Whatever you are trying to do, I don’t want any part of it” I said sternly, trying to shoo him away. I know he could see the annoyance on my face but that wasn’t enough to get him to leave. “Please, I want to make things right” he begged with a hint of charm in his voice. He reaches out to hold my wrist but this time instead of swatting him away, I let him. If anyone deserves an apology it should be me. He takes a step closer to me, tilting his head slightly. “Fine I guess, but do not expect to get anything out of me” I agreed hesitantly. His facial expression completely changed from worried to… relieved? We ordered together in line while I tried my best to ignore him. His scent was a distraction. It was captivating. It was comparable to mohagany and mint. Admittedly, he is tall and handsome, even when we were in middle school he had always been cute. But I would never say that out loud. Eventually, his named was called and we both went up to grab our drinks. “Thank you Sunghoon” I said while looking down, trying to get out of the situation as soon a possible. “Wait” he says before I get to far away. “I will text you” he added. I half way smiled and walked away.

~~~~~

At lunch, I found myself leaning against Yuqi as we sat at one of our tables outside. “How do you feel?” she asked. “Better” I admitted. “It’ll take some getting used to, but I think I’m doing better” She nodded, seemingly satisfied by my reply.

“Yuqi?” I spoke again once I had my full attention back on her. She turned her attention towards me expectantly.

“Why don’t you give him another chance?” she sighed, rolling her neck around. “I mean, he seems like he is genuinely trying to make it up to you.”

“Yes he is putting in the effort now, but the pain that he put me through doesn’t just go away in an instant, it will take time for me to trust him”

“I understand” she muttered.

~~~~~

A few days had passed but I had never received a message from Sunghoon. Maybe he forgot or maybe he was scared…. I don’t know. But I can’t help but to think that I was maybe looking forward to that message. Yuqi was right, maybe he does deserve another chance. The library was my number one studying location. It was quiet, I could focus, and nobody bothers me. I actually have some time to myself. I have tested out every study area here and the to floor is by far my favorite. I press the 5 on the elevator control pad, and as the doors start closing, someone’s hand is placed between the doors, causing them to shoot back open. It was Sunghoon. I awkwardly scoot to the edge of the confined space to make sure there was more than enough room between us. His eyes light up when he realizes I was the one in the elevator.

“Would it be a problem if I rode with you?” he asked hesitatingly with an awkward smile.

“No, why would there be a problem?” I replied quickly. There was an awkward silence for a few seconds after my answer, and then I heard the elevator ding and the doors slowly start closing again. God, being around him gave me mixed emotions. His aura is so captivating, but his personality is the opposite. And not to mention that mohagany scent again. We rode to the fifth floor in total silence and exited the elevator once it stopped. When we both made way out of the elevator to walk our own directions, He gently grazed my shoulder and said “Good luck with finals” and walked the other direction.

-

Later that same evening while I was still on the library, my phone pinged with a new notification.

prksnghn02: Hey are you available?

prksnghn02: I know I said I was sorry but I really want you to know how I feel. I can’t do it over text.

I think this is the message that I have been waiting to see. I would appreciate to see him and have him fully apologize, though I don’t think this is the right time. It’s the middle of finals week and lord knows I am already struggling as is. I look up from my phone, observing my surroundings, and spot Sunghoon across the almost empty room lounging on a library bean-bag. Alone. That’s a first considering his royalty equivalent status on campus. He was clearly looking at me when I opened his message.

yourusername: Hey, sorry. I really need to study for this Sociology final. I can definitely carve out a time to meet next week.

I look up at him and point at my phone, making a frowny face and his expression mirrors mine.

prksnghn02: Who is the professor? I aced my sociology class I took over the summer. If you need any help lmk.

He looks at me with a thumbs up. His offer seems tempting, but what would I do? Sit there and hear him lecture me? It would already be hard enough to pay attention given how his arms are looking in that black fitted top.

yourusername: I will think about it.

I try to focus on my sociology notes, but my eyes keep drifting back to Sunghoon. He's still lounging on the bean bag, but now he has a textbook open on his lap. Every so often, he glances up, catching my eye before we both quickly look away. The tension is palpable, even from across the room. I sigh, running a hand through my hair. This is getting ridiculous. I'm here to study, not to play this weird game of cat and mouse with my former bully turned... what? Potential friend? The thought makes me uncomfortable. I make a split second decision on impulse and grab my phone, maybe regretting my decision later.

yourusername: Okay fine, come help me.

I witness Sunghoon look at his phone and shoot up out of his seat within the span of 3 seconds. Impressive. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs as Sunghoon practically skidded to a stop in front of my desk. It was a stark contrast to his usual nonchalance. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and for a moment, I was back in middle school, his laughter echoing in the halls, the same laughter that used to sting.

“So, sociology huh?” he said with the most awkward tone possible. “What do you need help with” he continues, signaling his hand towards my messy notes. My notebook has definitely seen better days. I sighed, shoving my phone into the abyss of my backpack.

"Everything feels like gibberish. Professor Ramirez throws these massive lectures at us, and it all just blends together." Surprised laughter rumbled out of him.

"Ramirez? Yeah, he can be a bit much. But trust me, sociology isn't actually that complicated. Let's see your notes." Tentatively, I slid my well-worn notebook across the desk. He flipped through the pages, his brow furrowing in concentration. The silence stretched, broken only by the soft rustle of turning paper. I snuck a peek at him. His features were softened by a focus I wouldn't have expected. "Okay," he finally said, looking up. "This isn't so bad. You've got the basic concepts down. I think you're just getting overwhelmed by the details."

Relief flooded me. Maybe I wasn't completely incompetent after all. He settled into the chair across from me, his arm brushing mine for a moment as he reached for a pen. He continued to sort through my notes, trying to piece together what I may not be understanding. He was surprisingly patient with me, and even created examples for me to try and understand better. Not to mention that I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him as he spoke. His black hair falling loosely in front of his dark brown eyes and black glasses was so sexy.

"So basically, social stratification is like the ranking system within a society?" I summarized, feeling a flicker of accomplishment. Sunghoon grinned, a genuine smile that reached his eyes. "Exactly! See, you were getting it all along." He paused, then reached for a specific page in my notes.

"Now, let's talk about power structures and how they influence social mobility…" Time melted away as Sunghoon patiently guided me through the sociological knowledge. I peppered him with questions, surprised by my own comfort level.

He answered them all with good humor and a surprising depth of knowledge that made him seem worlds apart from the bully I knew in middle school and the jock he is now. I looked at his face once again, admiring the way he furrowed his eye brows when he concentrated. I am snapped out of my trance with

“What?” Sunghoon questioned me, tilting his face to the side. I couldn’t even comprehend what had happened until a second or two later.

“Nothing! It’s nothing. Go on with what you were saying” I averted my eyes towards the table to try and hide the blood in my cheeks. “Heh, Okay….” he chuckles fiddling with the ring on his finger. He pauses for a few seconds and picks up with “You should get home soon. You don’t wanna have late nights, right?”

He looks me dead in the eye as he says this, a hint of playfulness in his gaze. I glanced at my phone, startled to see it was already 1 AM. We'd been studying for hours without realizing it. The library, usually bustling with stressed students, was now eerily quiet.

"Oh wow, I didn't realize how late it got," I mumbled, hastily gathering my notes. Sunghoon stretched, his shirt riding up slightly. I pretended not to notice.

"Yeah, time flies when you're having fun with sociology, right?" he said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my lips. "Right, because power structures are just a barrel of laughs." As we packed up our things, Sunghoon hesitated, then asked, "Hey, um, would you like me to walk you back to your dorm? It's pretty late." I paused, considering. The old me would have immediately refused, not wanting to spend an extra second with him.

But now... "Sure," I found myself saying. "That would be nice." We stepped out into the cool night air, the campus very quiet around us. For a moment, we walked in silence, the only sound our footsteps on the pavement.

"So," Sunghoon started, breaking the silence. "Did you find the study session helpful?" I nodded, surprised by my own honesty.

"Yeah, actually. You explain things... differently than I expected." He raised an eyebrow.

"Different good or different bad?"

"Different good," I admitted. "You're more... patient than I thought you'd be." Sunghoon chuckled softly. "Well, don't sound so surprised. Im not just a handsome face ya know.” I felt a retort forming on my lips, but bit it back.

“Yeah yeah, don’t flatter yourself.” As we walked, I couldn't help but sneak glances at him. In the soft glow of the street lamps, he looked... different. Softer somehow. Less like the arrogant boy I'd built up in my mind and more like... well, just a guy. "You know," he said suddenly, his voice quiet. "I meant what I said before. About being sorry." I felt my body tense. "Sunghoon, we don't have to-"

"No, please," he interrupted, stopping in his tracks. I turned to face him, surprised by the earnestness in his eyes. "I was a jerk in middle school. More than a jerk. I was cruel, and I've regretted it for years. I just... I want you to know that. I am sorry." I stood there, stunned. This vulnerability was so at odds with the Sunghoon I thought I knew.

"I... thank you," were the only words that were able to come out of my mouth. - I turned to face towards him as we reached the enterance of my dorm building. “Okay, I guess I can take it from here” I said, grabbing my key card out of my backpack.

“Goodnight, Sunghoon.” I entered the building and the door was already halfway closed before Sunghoon grabbed it and called out behind me, "Wait!” I stopped mid step and turned to meet his curious gaze, confused by what he could possibly want to say. I gave him a questioning look as he approached me slowly. His hands fidgeted nervously, and he took one last glance around, making sure no one was watching before reaching up to touch my cheek hesitantly. His thumb brushed the area under my eye lightly, his hand moving downwards slowly until he rested his palm flat on my jaw. I was somehow okay with this, despite the butterflies in my stomach.

My heart thudded loudly against my chest as I stared at his hand resting gently on my skin, unable to tear my gaze away from his. There was something magnetic about the way his eyes bore into me with an intensity I have never felt. “Have a good night, (Y/N)” he said softly, grazing my bottom lip with his thumb. He leaned down slowly while gazing into my eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips. My breath hitched as he brought his other hand up and cradled my cheek, brushing some loose strands of hair out of my face. “You too, Sunghoon”

~~~~~

The end of finals week had finally come and I am not exaggerating when I say that this is the most relieved I have ever been in my life. I was lounging on my bed scrolling through tik tok and I saw a message pop up at the top of my screen.

prksnghn02: Hey! A few of us are having a small get-together at the frat house to celebrate surviving finals. You and Yuqi should come.

I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. A month ago, I would've immediately declined. But now… things were different. The study session with Sunghoon, our late-night walk, the way he'd touched my face before saying goodnight - it all swirled in my mind, a confusing mix of old resentment and new… something.

yourusername: Let me check with Yuqi. What time?

His response was almost immediate.

prksnghn02: Around 8? It's just a few people, nothing crazy. Promise it won't be like last time.

I couldn't help but smile at that. The last party had been a turning point, in a way.

yourusername: Okay, I'll let you know.

I rolled over, dialing Yuqi's number. She picked up on the second ring.

"Please tell me you're calling to drag me out of this post-finals funk," she groaned.

I laughed. "Actually, yeah. Sunghoon invited us to a small thing at the frat house. You in?"

There was a pause on the other end. "Sunghoon, huh? You two seem to be getting along better."

I could hear the smile in her voice. "We're… working on it," I admitted. "So, you coming or what?"

"Obviously," she said. "I'll be at yours in an hour. We need to talk about this Sunghoon situation, by the way."

I groaned. "There's no 'situation', Yuqi."

"Uh-huh. Sure. See you soon!"

She hung up before I could protest further. I flopped back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling.

An hour later, Yuqi was sprawled on my bed, watching me rummage through my closet.

"So," she said, drawing out the word. "You and Sunghoon, huh?"

I threw a shirt at her. "There's no 'me and Sunghoon'. We're just… I don't know. Not enemies anymore, I guess."

Yuqi sat up, her expression serious. "Look, I know he was awful to you in middle school. But people change, you know? And he seems to be really trying."

I sighed, sitting down next to her. "I know. It's just… complicated."

She bumped my shoulder with hers. "Life's complicated. Doesn't mean you can't give it a chance."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Yuqi always had a way of cutting through my defenses.

"Now," she said, her tone lightening. "Let's find you something cute to wear. Just because it's not a 'situation' doesn't mean you can't look hot."

I rolled my eyes, but let her pull me back to the closet.The frat house was quieter than I'd ever seen it. No pulsing music, no crowds of people. Just the soft murmur of conversation and laughter drifting from the back patio. Sunghoon met us at the door, his face lighting up when he saw us. "Hey! You made it." he said, ushering us inside. His eyes lingered on me for a moment, and I felt a flutter in my stomach. "Drinks are in the kitchen, we're all out back."

As we followed him through the house, I couldn't help but notice how different he seemed here, in his element. Relaxed, open, a far cry from the popular Sunghoon I was used to seeing on campus. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt and jeans, but somehow he made it look effortlessly attractive. The back patio was strung with fairy lights, casting a warm glow over the small group gathered there. I recognized a few faces from classes, but it was indeed a much smaller crowd than the usual frat parties.

Yuqi immediately gravitated towards a group she knew, leaving me standing awkwardly by the door. Sunghoon appeared at my side, two red cups in hand. "Here," he said, offering me one. "It's just punch, but fair warning - Heeseung made it, so it's probably stronger than it tastes." I took a sip, the sweetness masking the unmistakable burn of alcohol. "Thanks for inviting us," I said, surprised by how much I meant it. Sunghoon's smile was soft, almost shy. "I'm glad you came. I wasn't sure if you would." "Honestly? I wasn't sure either," I admitted. He nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Well, I'm glad you did. Come on, let me introduce you to some people." As the night wore on, I found myself relaxing more and more. The punch was indeed strong, but the warm buzz it provided was pleasant.

Sunghoon stayed close, always making sure I was included in conversations, laughing at my jokes, his hand occasionally brushing against mine in a way that seemed both accidental and deliberate. I found myself studying him when he wasn't looking. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the gestures he made when he was explaining something he was passionate about. It was hard to reconcile this Sunghoon with the boy who had tormented me in middle school. At some point, Yuqi caught my eye from across the patio and gave me a not-so-subtle thumbs up. I rolled my eyes at her, but I couldn't help the smile that subtly appears on my face.

As the night progressed, people started to drift away in twos and threes. Yuqi had gotten into an intense discussion about some TV show with a guy from her psych class, leaving Sunghoon and me alone on a small bench near the edge of the patio. The fairy lights cast a soft glow on his features, and I found myself staring longer than I should have. "You know," Sunghoon said, his words slightly slurred, "I never thought we'd be here like this." I raised an eyebrow. "What, drunk on your frat house patio?" He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "No, I mean... talking. Like friends."

His hand found mine on the bench between us, his fingers intertwining with mine. The touch sent a jolt through me, but I didn't pull away. "I was such an ass to you in middle school," he continued, his voice dropping low. "I... I didn't know how to deal with how I felt about you back then." I froze, my heart suddenly pounding. "What do you mean?" Sunghoon turned to face me, his eyes intense even in their alcohol-glazed state. "I had the biggest crush on you," he admitted. "But I was too stupid and insecure to know how to handle it. So I lashed out instead." I sat there, stunned.

The Sunghoon I knew in middle school, the one who had made my life miserable, had a crush on me? It didn't make sense, and yet... "That doesn't excuse what I did," he continued, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. "Nothing excuses that. But I want you to know how sorry I am. And how glad I am that you're giving me a chance to make it right."

I looked at our intertwined hands, then back up at Sunghoon's face. The vulnerability in his expression took my breath away. "I... I don't know what to say," I whispered. "You don't have to say anything," he murmured, leaning in slightly. "I just wanted you to know." We sat there for a moment, the air between us charged with possibility. Then, without thinking, I leaned in, closing the distance between us. Our lips met softly, hesitantly at first. Then Sunghoon's free hand came up to cup my cheek, deepening the kiss.

It was sweet and a little clumsy, tasting of punch with a hint of alcohol. His lips were softer than I'd imagined - not that I'd been imagining it, of course. When we broke apart, I could feel the heat in my cheeks. Sunghoon's eyes were wide, a mix of surprise and something else I couldn't quite name.

"I... wow," he breathed, his thumb gently caressing my cheek. Before I could respond, the patio door slid open and Yuqi's voice rang out. "Y/N? You out here?" Sunghoon and I sprang apart, but not before Yuqi caught sight of us. Her facial expression completely changed, a knowing smirk spreading across her face.

"Sorry, am I interrupting something?" she asked, her tone teasing. I stood up quickly, nearly losing my balance. Sunghoon steadied me with a hand on my arm, the touch sending another jolt through me. "We were just... talking," I managed to say, knowing how unconvincing it sounded. Yuqi's grin widened. "Uh-huh. 'Talking.' Got it. Well, hate to break up this... conversation, but it's getting late. We should probably head out." I nodded, suddenly feeling very sober. "Right. Yeah. Let's go."

As we made our way back through the house, I could feel Sunghoon's eyes on me. At the front door, he caught my hand. "Text me when you get home safe?" he asked, his voice low. I nodded, words not being able to leave my mouth. He squeezed my hand once before letting go. - The walk back to the dorms was quiet, Yuqi mercifully holding back her questions until we were safely in my room. "Okay," she said, flopping onto my bed. "Spill. Everything. Now." I sank into my desk chair, my mind replaying the kiss over and over. "I... I don't even know where to start," I admitted.

Yuqi's expression softened. "Start at the beginning. And don't leave anything out."

~~~~~

Going over to Sunghoons frat house became a frequent thing over the winter break. About twice a week I would go with Yuqi and kick back with a few of his friends, the same ones that were there the first time.

During those times, we'd always end up hanging out in Sunghoons backyard, or playing in his pool. He definitely acted a lot different around his friends than I expected. More relaxed, open, less guarded. In turn he opened up to me a bit too.

“If I beat you in a round of pool, you have take a shot with me” Sunghoon said chuckling, nudging his elbow against my arm. “Come on, that’s fair!”

“I guess, but what do I get it I win?”

Sunghoon narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You know what, I can think of something…” He moved closer to me, the tip of his nose inches away from mine. A shiver ran down my spine as I tried to resist the urge to pull away. Instead, I remained still, watching nervously as his mouth slowly drew closer and closer. “I think you might like it” he said teasingly.

“I guess I should just let you win then” I sighed sarcastically, trying to ignore the butterflies built up in my stomach.

He scoffs “I promise, sweetheart, I don’t bite” he said, moving back just enough so he could meet my eyes. His voice was low and husky, sending a ripple of heat through my body.

“So, what kind of shot?” I asked lightly, trying to ignore the way my voice shook as I spoke.

“I think I have some Don Julio” he mused, running a hand along the back of his neck.

Sunghoon it first to break all of the pool balls apart, declaring him as solids. Drinking beer between each of our turns and chatting about family and work, Sunghoon was a lot better at pool than he originally let on, because soon enough he had only 2 solid balls left, while I still had 5 stripes.

I was expecting him to have already won at this point. When he set his cue on the edge, lining up to hit one of the solids into a hole, the 8 ball shoots across the board, into the hole closest to me.

“Aw shit, I guess you won” He said with a fake defeated look.

I laughed, setting my bottle aside. “Looks like it. Thanks for letting me have a couple extra rounds” I said, winking at him. I missed my cue stick by mere centimeters, but didn’t care. My eyes were locked on Sunghoon; his hair stuck up everywhere, his skin glistening with sweat after his game, his shirt clung tightly to his frame.

A loud bang echoed off the walls, making us both jump slightly. Sunghoon’s eyes snapped towards the window behind me, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Someone just slammed the garage door shut” he whispered. “Did they close up for the night?”

We had spent so much time playing pool, we didn’t realize that slowly, one by one, people started to go home. This meaning that Yuqi probably caught a ride home with someone and the only people left here are the 3 frat guys staying in the house over the break.

“It’s getting late, I should probably call an Uber” I said, rubbing my eyes for focus.

“Why leave so soon? Doing Uber this late at night could be dangerous, you never know what kind of people could be out there.”

“What other option do I have? Yuqi went home already” I replied, grabbing my phone.

“You can stay here, you can sleep on my bed and I will set up a bed on the floor” he offered.

“I don’t know if that is the best idea” I muttered, staring at my feet.

“Just sleep here. Don’t waste money on an Uber, and I promise I can take great care of you.” he urged me, placing his hand under my chin so that I would finally look at him. “Do you really believe that I would let you get into a strangers car right now?”

I hesitated before nodding. “Fine, but only because I trust you.”

~

We pack up all of our stuff from outside, including my purse and all of the extra alcohol. There are so many room in the frat house and I have never been upstairs, I have no idea which one is Sunghoons. As the two of us climb the stairs up to his room, we both silently agree not to mention the previous events from the other night.

Sunghoon doesn’t know why I kissed him, And I don’t know why he kissed me. Even though he did tell me a little about the reason behind our relationship, it wouldn’t matter, he was too far gone for it to change anything anyway.

The moment we step into his room, he tosses his backpack onto the floor and gestures to the large queen sized bed sitting in the corner of the room.

“I didn’t bring anything to sleep in, I can’t sleep wearing jeans and a tank top” I said, gesturing to my jeans.

“Don’t worry about it, I can lend you something” he said, walking over to a laundry basket of clothes lying on the floor near the wardrobe. “I haven’t gotten the chance to put up my laundry, let me find something” he explains, rummaging through the basket.

He pulls out a large black t-shirt and some basketball shorts. “Here, try these on” and walked over, handing them to me, a slight smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

“Look away!” I playfully shouted while waving my hand to shoo him. “

“Oh my gosh, okay” he covers his eyes like a cartoon character.

Luckily I was wearing some spandex shorts and a sports bra underneath, so even if he did sneak a peek, which I’m sure he did, nothing too important would have been exposed. On him the clothes look normal size, but on me, the shirt fit like a dress and the shorts touched half way down my shins. “I guess I have no choice” I shrugged.

I crawl into his bed while he went to fetch an extra blanket for me out of his closet. At this point, he was already in his sleep attire. No shirt and some basketball shorts. It was hard to concentrate when he was standing there wearing nothing but shorts. I admit that maybe I was staring a bit longer than appropriate.

“You like what you see?” he says in a cocky tone, chuckling at my embarrassment.

“Shut up, you are so annoying” I scoff and roll my eyes, laying back down on the bed.

“Haha okay…” he smirks as he stands up from the closed with the blanket in his hand. “Hopefully this will keep you warm enough” he said, covering me with the big piece of fabric.

“Thank you, Sunghoon” I said, turning over to attempt to catch some sleep. He set up a little bed on the floor with a blanket and a pillow right next to the bed and layer down as well.

After sometime of just listening to the sound of the crickets outside, the quiet noises of the street, cars passing by, the occasional chirp of a bird. The atmosphere was rather peaceful, comfortable almost. I couldn't help the small smile forming on my face as I lay my head on my arm.

My brain kept drifting away from sleep, my thoughts constantly drifting back to Sunghoon. My heart rate was rising with every second that passed, I tried desperately to calm myself down, not wanting to give any indication that I was starting to get aroused. The more I listened to the sounds outside, the more I felt the overwhelming desire to be wrapped up in his arms. Just to feel him hold me.

I sigh deeply, rolling over onto my side and facing him. The soft glow of moonlight illuminating the entire room, casting light patterns on his sleeping features. If this was any other day, I would definitely stare at him until dawn, taking in every minute detail of him.

I scooted over to the edge of the bed, just close enough for me to nudge Sunghoon with my foot. “Hoon, are you awake” I whispered.

His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the brightness of the moonlight leaking through the blinds. “Yeah” he clears his throat. “Why?”

“Can you lay with me?” I whispered again.

He stared at me for a second, trying to understand what was going through my mind. Eventually, he crawled onto the bed, lying down next to me. His body was hot against mine, making goosebumps erupt throughout my skin, but the feeling was comforting nevertheless. We laid like that in silence for a few moments, simply enjoying each other's presence.

Eventually, it became too awkward and I had to move closer into Sunghoon, cuddling up next to him. “I like this” I say quietly, resting my head in the crook of his neck, inhaling his faint scent. He chuckled slightly, positioning himself to where his fingers could comb though my hair.

I mumble, wrapping my arm around his torso. His fingers stopped their ministrations then, hesitating for a moment. I looked up at him from my position on his chest, curious as to what made him stop. I met his deep brown eyes that were focused solely on me. His gaze was soft, yet intimidating at the same time. Slowly, carefully, he lifted my head off his body and held it between his hands. Then he brought his lips to meet mine softly.

He pulled me in closer, gently running his fingertips along my jawline, making my heartbeat pick up in pace. His kisses were slow and sweet, the most tender kiss I've ever had. After several seconds of pure bliss, he pulled away slowly, watching me as if waiting for some sort of reaction. When my eyes fluttered open I met with his eyes, gazing deeply into each others’. A smile formed on my lips, making Sunghoon lean in to reconnect our lips again.

He placed his hands on the sides of my neck, holding me close to him, deepening the kiss, our tongues intertwining in a passionate dance. Our bodies pressed closely together, moving together rhythmically. His hands lifted up my oversized shorts and began roaming across my bare thighs, tracing up the hem of my shirt. We kept getting tangled in each other’s clothing as we continued kissing.

He reached my breasts, pushing up my sports bra to give them an affectionate squeeze, causing me to gasp in response. My hands moved down from his shoulders and ran up the backs of his arms to his neck, pulling on his short hairs slightly. Pulling on the strands of hair caused him to release a low growl and deepen the kiss, pulling his tongue into my mouth. Suddenly I felt his teeth graze my bottom lip, causing me to whimper slightly at the unexpected pain. When he released my lower lip, he sucked on it, sucking on it harder and harder with his sharp canine teeth. “Fuck…” I moan, gripping tightly onto the ends of his dark brown locks.

He took the opportunity to slide his hands under my shirt, rubbing his thumbs over my nipples lightly, causing my stomach muscles to tense up involuntarily. A slight smirk crept onto his lips as he noticed this, but then he proceeded to push the crop top further up on my shoulders before placing soft gentle kisses along my collar bone. He sprinkled kissed on my shoulders and chest and then moved down towards my waistline, placing soft soft kisses along my belly button. His hand started to work its way downwards, slowly caressing the insides of my thighs.

He latched one of my nipples into his mouth, gently suckling the tight swollen bud of flesh with his teeth and tongue. As his hand reached down and slid his middle finger along the underside of my left thigh, causing me to grind against his hand.

He trailed his hand back up to the bottom of my shirts and bunched it up in his hand “Can I take this off?” he leaned next to my ear and whispered. My breath hitched at how sensual he sounded.

“Please” I managed to speak out. He didn’t reply immediately, only gave me a reassuring smile before pulling it over my head, only leaving my bra. His lips found their way back up to mine, sending a surge of electricity through me. His hands worked their way to bottom of my bra, lifting it up and throwing it to the side as well. The cool air on my bare stomach and chest suddenly sent tingles all over my body, sending shivers down my spine and goosebumps all over my skin. He smiled at my reaction, continuing to caress my inner thigh.

“Is it okay if I take these off too?” he whispered, grazing the waistband of my shorts.

I let go of his arms and nodded my head yes, watching his expression change from relaxed to excited. I watched him pull those off and discard them as well, leaving only my thong on. “I hope this is okay” he smiled. He was still looking at me with those intense eyes, making it difficult for me to breathe properly.

He removed the last piece of clothing from me, both my spandex and the shorts he gave me, revealing my beautiful skin and perfectly plump curves underneath. He took a few seconds to appreciate every inch of my body before sliding his slim fingers between my legs. Instinctively my knees fell apart slightly, allowing him access to my core which caused his eyes to darken even more. As he gently traced circles around my bud, sending me into complete ecstasy, I moaned loudly, moaning in pleasure as my hips began grinding into his finger tips.

“God, you’re so pretty” he whispered, trailing kisses along my cheek. I bit my bottom lip to suppress the moans coming out of my mouth as he continued to stroke the wetness inside of my thighs. “So perfect.”

He spread my wetness all over his fingers and slid one finger inside of my desperate hole. At first, he started slowly, his thumb circling my clit while his middle finger slid in and out of my warm opening, slowly increasing the amount of pressure until I was gripping down onto his fingers with all of my strength. He increased the speed of his movements, adding another finger, pumping them hard into me. I closed my eyes and arched my back, trying my best to keep a good grip on his fingers.

“Shit, you’re so wet angel” he groans. He took his hand away to pull off his own shorts, with his boxers. His dick spring free, tip raging and dripping with precum. It was big, a lot bigger than I had expected.

I take all of his length into my fist as he continues contact with my folds. “Fuck, that feels good, baby” he says under his breath. I collect spit in my mouth and layer his tip and slide my hand up and down slowly.

I feel a familiar knot forming in my stomach as he keeps a consistent pace pumping his finger into my gushing pussy. “Agh yess” I moan on his cock, feeling the burning sensation building up. He leans down to place a tender kiss on the back of my shoulder, his warm breath fanning my sensitive skin, causing my back arch even higher. "Let go babygirl"he murmurs against my shoulder.

I let my hand rest against his erection, stroking him slowly, feeling the tip get longer by the moment. Soon enough, I can no longer contain myself as I let the orgasm rip out of me. His name came spilling out of my mouth, followed by a loud moan “Fuck Sunghoon, just like that.” I continue to hold on to him as the wave of pleasure takes over me, feeling my muscles start to seize up and my vision starting to blur.

As I'm regaining my composure, he pulls out of me, bringing his fingers up to his mouth. “You taste so good, princess” he praises, with sweat droplets forming in his forehead.My face turns red with embarrassment. I cover my face with my palms as I try to control my breathing. Sunghoon chuckles and grabs my wrists, pulling my hands away from my blushing face and places them on his cheeks instead. “Don’t be embarrassed, babygirl. That was hot” he says. My blush gets stronger by the second.

“Let me get you cleaned up” he suggested, getting out of the bed to go to his bathroom where he kept his extra cloths. He came back with a small smile on his face. He runs the rag between my legs and said “I am really happy you decided to spend the night”

“Me too Sunghoon” my smile only visible by the moonlight. He went back into the bathroom to put the cloth into the dirty clothes hamper.

“Now come here…” He brings his lips to meet mine once more. He wraps his arms around my sore body, making my face bury into his chest. Our bare skin resting against eachother was so relaxing. His skin was soft, and he was perfectly toned to my liking. He runs his fingers through my hair and begins to massage my scalp, making my whole body tremble. “It’s really late, sweetheart, let’s get some rest” he whispers and kisses my forehead, then rests his chin on the top of my head. As I lay there in Sunghoons embrace, feeling the warmth radiating off him, my eyes gradually fall shut.

-

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[villainbait]

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Pairing: Sylus x MC / fem!reader Rating: PG-13 Tags: who did this to you, hurt, comfort, hurt/comfort, injury, implied violence, brief violence mentions, angst, canon sylus behavior, blood mentions, kissing if you squint Summary: You barely survived a night on your own in the N109 Zone without the watchful gaze of certain Onychinus leader, but at what cost? Word Count: 1.5k

The dull sound of your door closing was like the snap of a final curtain call falling into place and you slumped against it, relieved to be safely in your own apartment. You had survived a night in the N109 Zone on your own, but it had been a near miss. One you wouldn’t be repeating, especially since the intel you wanted had been a bust, anyway. 

You touched your side, your breathing uneven, and you wince. You definitely have a cracked rib. You try to take a deep breath and pain radiates from your chest into your stomach, making you a little nauseous. Okay, maybe two.

You were trying to psych yourself up to move and trudge into your apartment to give yourself much needed medical attention when the reverberating shock of someone's forceful knock bounced you against your door-frame. You consider not answering the insistent caller on the other side, but a muffled, familiar baritone floats through the door.

"Open the door, sweetie."

A sigh left your lips at the demand and you tried to stifle the pathetic, painful whimper that your exasperation cost you. Of all the people on the other side of that door, Sylus was the most unexpected. Or maybe not, considering he boasted that he knew everything that went on in his territory. Maybe that’s why he was here and if it was, he wouldn’t leave until his curiosity was satisfied.

The door cracks open and you stare up at him through the hole you made, reluctant to allow him entrance and to partially block his view of the damage those thugs had caused when they mugged you in the alleyway earlier tonight. However, Sylus’s easy smile is nowhere to be found and the frown lines on his forehead are the deepest you've ever seen them. His large hand wraps around the door-frame so you can’t close it again and he pushes gently against it, but you don’t budge. 

"Who did this to you?" His tone is dangerously low.

You ignore his question, instead poking your head out to look down the deserted hallway of your apartment building. "Why are you here? It's dangerous." It was risky for Sylus to wander around Linkon City normally, even if he claimed many people didn't know what he actually looked like. However, the Hunter’s Association did and your building was crawling with employees at all hours of the day and night.

"You didn't answer your phone, so I got worried."

Oh right, you had forgotten they had taken that too. You sighed again, the pain of having to replace everything beginning to give you a headache. That key charm Zayne had given you for your birthday was perhaps the worst thing to have lost, maybe more than the phone itself.

"Let me in, kitten." Sylus’s voice is gently cajoling and you concede because you're too tired to argue with him tonight. So you open the door and  try to act normal, but your voice is far too lighthearted for how heavy your legs feel as you trudge into the apartment. 

“You know, if you keep frowning like that you’ll get wrinkles and people really will think you’re an old man.” 

He follows you in with a small chuckle, his eyes bouncing around the room as if the perpetrators could be hiding in the shadows. When you grabbed the first aid kit and sat down to tend to your injuries, Sylus was suddenly there, kneeling in front of you. His hands push yours out of the way and he silently takes over the job of nurse, and you think about fighting him as you watch him roll up his shirtsleeves but realize you were just too exhausted to care. 

“What happened?” He asks eventually and you realize you will have to tell him something. Lying won’t work, he’ll find out if he didn’t already know. 

“What often happens when you end up in the wrong place at the wrong time in the N109 Zone, Sylus.” You offer with a single shrug, doing your best to sit still while he cleans the wound on your arm. “You know that better than me.” 

“Were you wearing–” he was referring to the brooch that signified your status as protected. 

“They took that too.” His hands stilled on the bandage he was applying on your forearm. “Did they, now?” he murmured silkily and you saw a muscle in his jaw tick, though his expression was partially obscured by his unruly hair. “After all that trouble I went through, too.” You tried to make a joke to ease the tension which earned you a soft amused twitch of Sylus’s lips. He was too angry to truly smile and you could feel it radiating off of him in waves. Despite that, his hands were painstakingly gentle as he touched what was clearly a blossoming bruise around your wrist. Sylus’s tender touch lingers on your injuries and he checks each one with a thoroughness that feels as if he’s memorizing exactly where you were hurt. 

He orders some of your favorite food, helps you get cleaned up, and tucks you into your bed. He points to the notepad you kept by your bedside table that you sometimes scribble notes on when you took calls. “Make me a list of what they looked like, and then go to bed. I’ll take care of the rest.” Before you could protest, he left the room abruptly. You picked up the notepad and stared at the print of the cute little animals dancing around the top. You’d bought it on a whim after seeing how cute it looked in a stationary shop window near one of your mission sites. It seemed too obscene to write what would virtually be a hit list on such charming paper. 

Instead, you scribble all of the reasons you’re grateful for today. Right at the top was that you had survived all on your own in the N109 Zone and you were able to see the infamous Onychinus leader kneeling at your feet. The list grew as you included the tasty food you ate earlier, and the glimpse of a suspiciously familiar crow you saw on your way into work this morning. The page was halfway filled when the pain medication Sylus had convinced you to take started to kick in and you felt your eyelids drooping. 

Drowsily, you snuggle down underneath your covers and clutch the plushie Sylus and you had won at the arcade last weekend. When you hear the distant muffled click of your door opening, you try to rouse yourself but you felt so warm and your body felt so heavy that you couldn’t manage it. That doesn’t stop you from trying until a large hand gently smoothed back your mussed hair, and the sensation of soft knuckles trace the curve of your cheek. “It’s just me,” the familiar voice murmured and you tried to speak but he shushed you. “Sleep, kitten.” 

You swear you felt the ghost of his lips on yours before he was gone, but maybe it was just part of the hazy dream you had of crows, violence, and enchanting sanguine eyes. 

Sylus returns to the N109 Zone and finds himself staring at the “list,” a bemused smile on his face. He shakes his head and tucks the cutesy page into his pocket. You were far too adorable and it made what he was about to do that much more satisfying, sauntering into the abandoned warehouse where your phone had last pinged; deceptively calm. The screams and stench of death shuddered throughout the N109 Zone tonight, serving as a violent and bloody reminder to all that no one should dare to touch what was his lest they face the consequences. 

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, your fingers fumble for your buzzing phone and land on the familiar outline of the brooch, both in their normal places as if yesterday was just a bad dream. Through your sleepy daze, you realize your other hand is occupied–as is your bed. Turning, you’re surprised to find Sylus is fast asleep next to you, his hand intertwined tightly with yours. There’s deep circles under his eyes, but his normally furrowed brow is smoothed out in sleep. With a sleepy smile, you curl back up to let him rest a little while longer, tucking your joined hands against your chest, cuddling his arm.

You both doze off together, and you’ve never felt so safe.

[twoa-plus]

dipper & mabel aren’t 1:1 parallels of stan & ford - sure, it might be easier to spot similarities between dipper & ford and mabel & stan, but there are some really important traits that dipper & stan / mabel & ford share

one of the biggest ones for me that i wish people talked about more is their inherent attitudes towards trust

ford is not a naturally paranoid person, doesn’t have much experience with other people, and is a really bad judge of character. that���s a big part of why he was so easy for bill to manipulate - bill could just show up and be like “i’m a muse !!” and ford would believe him, because that’s the type of person he is. i don’t think he ever actually got better at figuring out who’s trustworthy and who’s not, either - “trust no one” is just an inverse of “trust everyone” born of trauma

mabel is, in practice, the same way. i can’t really give a particular reason that ford is so trusting - it just seems to be part of his personality - but for her it’s that she sees the best in everyone, no matter who they are or what they’ve done

stan & dipper are the opposite. they’re both inherently distrustful of other people. again, they have different personalities and different reasons for this - stan is a professional conman and is fully prepared for anyone he speaks to to be the same way, while dipper is more like “what if they’re actually 4,000 termites in human clothes” - but the end result is the same. they’re significantly less likely to take things at face value than their twins

anyways in relativity falls mabel should be the one who built the portal i said what i said

[synqiri]

ALL MINE.

or, you find out he adores it when you call him yours.

PAIRING: wanderer x gn!reader

WARNINGS: chocolate

WORDCOUNT: 0.8K || CONTENT: slight crack, fluff, sappy af, same yn from “you have a lover?!”

NOTES: I LOVE HIM SM

you are smacked in the arm by a box of chocolates, and you barely react in time to catch the tiny thing before it clatters to the ground. 

“hey,” you complain, glowering at him as he sticks out his tongue. “can’t you hand it to me nicely?”

wanderer sniffs. “the fact that it wasn't aimed at your face is generous enough.”

you make a face at him, mimicking his words. then, with a click of his tongue, you duck with a yelp as he swats at the back of your head. you won’t forgive him this time, you grumble to yourself. you pout. he’s always so mean to you.

the chocolates are your favourite kind, you realise as you’re unwrapping the box. perfectly bite-sized too.

“i take back everything i just said,” you tell him eagerly, a grin splitting your face wide open. “darling, you’re the best.”

to that, he only huffs in reply.

you wonder just how exactly his fans could afford to buy these types of things so regularly, especially for a guy who would never like them back. these chocolates were expensive. you pop a piece into your mouth, but before you can offer one to wanderer, you find him already stalking off down the street.

archons, he can be so temperamental sometimes. for a second, you wonder why it is him of all people you choose to like. well, whatever the case, you wouldn’t change a thing.

dashing up to him, you fall into step with him easily. 

“i love your fans,” you tell him cheerily. “they always buy the best chocolate.”

“huh, how amusing. i wonder just who was the buffoon running around spreading that rumour about how i loved chocolates?”

you wave his words away with a flap of your hand. “let’s not worry too much about the details. i love chocolate and you love me, so that means you love chocolate by extension.”

he sighs, utterly weary of your nonsense. still, he does not say a thing in objection, and you count that as a win. 

“anyway, who was it this time?” you ask. 

“eh,” he says, a brow raising. “merely a classmate of yours. why? jealous?”

“you wish.”

oftentimes, you feel incredibly lucky you aren’t the jealous type. coupled with the fact that wanderer is undeniably, irrevocably yours, you’re rarely ever bothered by the amount of attention he gets. if anything, it’s a damn compliment, considering that of all people, it is you who he has entrusted his heart. 

if you were jealous every single time he receives a confession, you’d have imploded not a week into your relationship. you laugh a bit at the thought.

wanderer is the jealous one in the relationship, you think. while he may not be entirely free with his affection, he is certainly open with his possessiveness. you are his lover, his heart and his fool, and though he’d never admit it, you know he loves when you call yourself his.

he’s probably scared away about five people who have or were planning to confess to you.

“you have so many admirers,” you declare dramatically, sighing woefully. “what do you want little ol’ me to do?”

tossing the now empty box of chocolates into a bin, you sling an arm around his shoulders, causing him to stumble. he makes a soft, grumbling noise of disapproval, but that is something you’ve long learnt to ignore. he’d tell you outright if he actually hated something.

you almost smack a big, fat kiss to his cheek, but you decide not to overdo it for now. 

“it's not as if i can go track down every last one of them and tell them to stop, can i? it wouldn't stop many from trying their luck with you anyway. also, the gifts are always tasty.”

“every last one of them is an idiot,” he harrumphs cockily. “as if i would spare any of them a single shred of attention.”

dropping your arm from his shoulder, you move to take his hand in yours instead.

“of course you wouldn't,” you say confidently. “you're mine. who else would you give your attention to but me?”

“you don’t own me, fool.”

you laugh. he says that, yet the grip he has on your hand only tightens, and the smirk on his face has melted into a smile sweeter and true. he glances away, embarrassed though he will admit it not. 

this time, it is you who smirks, raising a brow in the same fashion he usually does. “yeah? that's weird, ‘cuz here i was, thinking that i did.”

he throws his head back with an incredulous laugh. “you’re utterly ridiculous.”

“you love me,” you quip. 

you bring his hand up to your lips, giving the back of his palm a lingering kiss. when you steal a glance at his face, you find it flushed a dizzying pink, creeping from the apples of his cheeks to the tips of his ears. 

you sigh dreamily. “i can't believe you're all mine.”

“believe me,” he says, rolling his eyes. his gaze is soft, contrasting the sharpness in his tone. “i can hardly wrap my head around it either.”

[msfcatlover]

Thinking back to that one post about how every batkid needs to pick a persona they get to swear in. I would like to expand it.

Dick swears all the time, but he does it in other languages. He picks a language for each persona to swear in and sticks to it. He did still do his whole “Aw, fiddlesticks!” routine as Robin, mainly just to watch everyone’s faces when he did it. (But everyone remembers the time Robin’s leg was broken and he just screamed “FUCK!” so loud that the entire battlefield turned around in shock.)

Jason knew that thanks to classism, people would assume he swore even if he didn’t. So like, why bother restraining it any more than he absolutely had to? As Robin, he didn’t swear even when he really wanted to, though sometimes he slipped up when caught off-guard or when chatting with someone who knows him in both identities. (On one very memorable occasion, Robin got so mad he actually shoved his fist into his own mouth to muffle the screaming rant of obscenity he needed to express.)

(As the Red Hood, Jason doesn’t really give a fuck, but he still falls back into his old habit of cleaning up his language when in costume. It’s very funny to hear him say something like, “Well, golly! You’ve gotta be shitting me.”)

Tim Drake is a proper young man who doesn’t swear, even when he’s hurt (he has totally stolen that biting-my-fist move from Jason.) Robin swears like a fuckin’ sailor all day every day, to the point where not a single goddamn hero in the entire caped community that has ever worked even adjacent to him has not heard, “Ask me if I fucking give a shit,” muttered under Robin’s breath directly into the com line when someone tries to correct him on something. He will switch languages to insult you in the one you best understand, too. His friends have a running bet about how many of those languages Robin actually speaks, versus how many he just learned how to cuss people out in (when asked, Robin just smirks and says, “How fucking many do you [always a swear from a different language, usually one they haven’t heard before] think?”)

Damian mostly sticks with old-timey faux-Shakespearean insults, mainly because it’s very funny when adults can’t figure out what to punish him for when he sasses them. As Robin, Damian likes using animals in place of swears, and just telling people to go fuck themselves—it keeps them on their toes.

Steph does not fuckin’ care.

Duke canonically swears both in & out of costume, and I love that for him.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: nsfw, omegaverse, poly

gn reader

Thinking about Betas and how lost they are navigating the world of Alphas and Omegas. Betas, with no second gender and none of those primal instincts, who has to listen to all this mating and bonding drama without ever participating in any of it. Betas, who often find Omegas cute and Alphas hot but who feel kind of left out of the running. Betas who make great clueless friends…

“So, do you like—take suppressants for your heats or?” he asks during lunch.

You knew it was coming. You’d just had a special guest lecture about heats and ruts, and all your friends, the entire two of them, were both betas—so it was mostly all new to them.

“Dude! That’s so personal!” your other friend berates, jabbing his side and casting him a glare before throwing you an apologetic smile on both of their behalf. But you could tell he was burning with the same curiosity, he was just polite enough to look it up on his phone instead.

“M’sorry, but teach didn’t explain it well,” he apologizes while rubbing his side clear of the definite bruise left there. “Like��” He almost pouts, picking at his lunch. “What do heats actually do? Like—does it compel Alphas to—uhm… have sex with you? Or?”

“Dude!” the other all but shrieks.

“It’s fine,” you declare with a little laugh. Though it’s true what he says that it’s personal, you wouldn’t really mind disclosing some of the basics. Especially if it meant killing off a few rumors.

Though you regret it a bit once both of them end up staring at you wide-eyed and waiting.

“Uhm…” You swallow thickly—you didn’t realize it was that interesting. “So, it’s really… just a faint scent that’s caused by pheromones.” They don’t even blink as they listen, lunches all but forgotten in front of them. “All it really does is let people know when I’m—or an Omega—uhm… is most fertile.”

“Right…” One of them nods respectfully.

But the other, as usual, has more questions to ask. “So why take suppressants if that’s all it is?”

You blush. “Well, it’s kinda embarrassing to walk around letting people know such a thing…” That’s half of it. “But, uhm… well—heats don’t affect others more than it affects Omegas themselves. It’s kinda like… having a fever—but also having swallowed a lot of cough syrup. And well…” You’re really blushing now. Lowering your voice almost to a whisper. “There’s the horny aspect of it too.”

The other two blush as well. The more mature one had gone silent a while ago, but even so, it didn’t stop the other from continuing. “So, like a drug then?”

That wasn’t the worst way of putting it, so you nodded. “I guess you could say that.”

He smiles then, widely. “Sounds kinda fun!”

And the other jabs his side once more. “Dude, shut up already.” 

You didn’t think a Beta could ever do the job of an Alpha—but lucky you had two of them.

You have one of them in your mouth, suckling sweetly, hooded eyes glossy with your heat, looking up at him—your well-mannered Beta friend who barely dares touch you but is absolutely falling apart by the way your tongue swirls around his shaft, trailing veins as you take him as far back as your uvula. He’s biting his lip hard, keeping it tucked so as not to moan out the way his friend is.

He isn’t afraid to touch—or he couldn’t hold back even if he were. He’s squeezing the fat of your haunches hard enough to leave bruises, keeping you in place as he pounds you hard from behind. Unabashed groans and moans leave him, along with the slick squelches of your hole soaking and sucking him in.

“Fu-uck, can’t believe it—it’s so fucking wet—” He’s drooling and sweating, eyes misty and glued to the sight of where he’s drilling the juice out of you. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen. Not that he has too much experience, but he’s never wanted to cum so badly in his entire life. “You’re so tight—squeezing me so hard!” he rambles while continuing his downright desperate pace.

“Shut up…” the other mutters under his breath but doesn’t take his eyes off you. You’re bewitching him with your gaze—round doe-eyes, blown wide with pleasure. He wonders if you even know what’s happening or if it’ll be like a blacked-out hangover in the morning. He ought to have asked more questions when he could. But he can’t seem to bring himself to care. In any case, you seem to be loving the taste of his pre, and the thought is making every part of his body buzz with warmth. You’ll probably drink his cum with the way you’re drooling and mewing around him.

It nearly brings them both to tears—it’s like the wettest dream come true as they both fill you up—one deep into your womb as he bottoms out tightly and the other down your throat with your lips wrapped all the way down at the base.

They both collapse afterward. One lies on his back and the other on his stomach—bodies stippled with sweat—both heaving.

You pout, looking at them. They must be out of their minds if they think that’s all it takes. You straddle the one on his back, both your hands around his softening dick, rubbing it back into hardness.

“Hey, hey, hey—hey, wait!” he stammers, shooting up and stopping you—both hands wrapping around your wrist to try and pry you off without prying his dick off while at it.

“No!” you whine. “Not done.”

The look in your eyes is sore enough to make any man fall to his knees.

“Please? I need more… please give me more…”

If he was blushing before, he’s full feverish now. Panning from your pouty face riddled with desperation down at his fellow Beta friend who looks back up at him with a similar expression.

We're in trouble.

♡ BNHA – ShinKami, KiriKami, KamiSero, KiriBaku, TodoDeku, loserboys ShigaDabi or DabiHawks ♡ JJK – ItaFushi, loserboys SatoSugu ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka, ♡ CSM – AkiDen

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: I Want to Retire - Idia Shroud x reader

You write a novel that reads like a dumpster fire and while trying to delete the draft, you accidentally get isekai’d into it. Now, as the villainess you have to get Idia Shroud on your side as well as survive high society. You have your work cut out for you.

Series Masterlist

You’ve lived a life. A noble life, full of honor, glory, and caffeine-fueled late-night writing sessions.

You're an aspiring author.

An aspiring author who, unfortunately, just created the most stupid novel plot of all time.

At least, that’s how it feels. You sit back, staring at your screen, utterly defeated as your latest creation flickers mockingly before you.

You’ve named it: "The Battle for Genius Prince Idia’s Hand" (working title, don’t judge). And wow, it’s a mess.

Here’s the breakdown of your disaster:

You’ve got your heroine—a girl so sweet she’s practically made of sugar, like one of those cookies that look good but crumble the second you bite into them. Naturally, she’s fighting for the affection of your male lead, Prince Idia, who is a socially awkward, genius mechanic prince (because you thought it’d be fun to make him hot and bad with people).

Then there’s the villainess. Ah, the villainess. She’s smart, sharp-tongued, and has enough sass to level a small city. Her entire personality? Sabotage. And she’s also after Idia—because apparently, that’s the only thing women in this story care about. (You regret this immensely.)

But oh no! Plot twist! Idia gets kidnapped by some unnamed evil force (you’ll figure it out later). The heroine? Well, instead of rescuing him, she falls for some Bland Prince. You don’t even know why. You think his name might be Greg. Or Gerald. Honestly, he’s that unremarkable.

Meanwhile, the villainess doesn’t even care anymore about Idia. Instead, she’s full-on dedicated to ruining the heroine’s new, bland romance because… well, that’s her whole schtick.

It’s… awful.

You sit back, hands in your hair, groaning aloud. “What is this? Who would even read this?”

You glance at your notes. They’re a chaotic mess of random scribbles: “Idia = genius, but hates people,” “Villainess needs more fire,” and “Heroine? Too boring. Spice her up. Maybe dragons?”

Yeah. This isn’t working.

You slump in your chair, utterly defeated. The characters are good, great even! But the plot? Oh, the plot is a dumpster fire. No, worse. It’s a flaming dumpster floating down a river of bad decisions. You can’t believe you spent hours writing this.

That’s it. You’re scrapping the entire thing. You’ll keep the characters, sure. But the story? Gone. Deleted. No one needs to suffer through this mess.

Determined, you crack your knuckles and reach for the keyboard, ready to hit the big red “DELETE” button on your disasterpiece.

“Say goodbye to this trash heap,” you mutter, “and hello to some actual good writing.”

But, alas, the universe has other plans.

Just as your finger hovers over the delete key, the worst possible thing happens. Your elbow, as if possessed by the forces of chaos itself, nudges the precariously balanced coffee cup on your desk. The liquid inside, which you had so carefully placed right next to your laptop like a ticking time bomb, tips. In slow motion, you watch the dark, caffeinated doom spill over the edge and land directly onto your keyboard.

“No, no, no, no, NO!” you shout, lunging forward, but it’s too late.

The coffee floods your keys like a tidal wave of misfortune. Your laptop makes a sickening little noise, a soft bzzt, and the screen flickers ominously. You sit there, frozen in horror, watching your computer sizzle as if it’s been cursed by the gods of terrible life choices.

And then—just when you think it couldn’t get worse—it gets worse.

There’s a small, but very real, spark. You flinch back, because nothing good ever comes from sparks. The screen flickers violently, the keys start to buzz, and then—before you can even process what’s happening—you feel it.

ZAP!

Electricity courses through your body. Your vision flashes white, your muscles seize, and in one horrifyingly comedic moment, you realize you’re being electrocuted by your own laptop.

You’d scream if you could, but all you manage is a high-pitched whimper before everything goes black.

Dead. You’re dead. Killed by your own coffee and a poorly thought-out novel. Fantastic.

You blink your eyes open, your head pounding like you’ve been hit with a ton of bricks—or, more likely, an electrical charge. Slowly, your vision clears, and you find yourself… staring at an unfamiliar, ornately decorated ceiling.

Where the hell are you?

You sit up with a groan, and that’s when it hits you: the bed. It’s massive, plush, and absurdly luxurious—definitely not your usual ratty mattress. Panic sets in, and you scramble out of bed, only to catch your reflection in a nearby mirror.

It’s not your reflection.

Oh.

Oh, Shit.

Staring back at you is her. The villainess. The sharp-tongued, drama-fueled antagonist of your novel. The one with a penchant for ruining lives and stealing the spotlight. The one you made up.

You gasp, gripping the sides of the mirror. “No. NO.” You stare at the dark hair cascading over your shoulders, the perfectly arched brows, and the terrifyingly intense smirk that seems to have a life of its own. “Why am I her? Why this of all characters?”

You step back from the mirror and slap your cheeks, half hoping that’ll wake you up from this fever dream. It doesn’t. You’re still stuck in the body of the villainess, and with each passing second, reality—or whatever twisted version of it this is—sinks in deeper.

“Of course,” you mutter, throwing your hands up in frustration. “Of course this is my life now. I write the dumbest novel in existence, and this is what I get.” You pace in front of the mirror, ranting to no one in particular. “Who even thinks it’s a good idea to make me the villainess? Me?! I didn’t sign up for this!”

After a few minutes of thoroughly berating yourself—and by extension, the cosmic forces that brought you here—you finally stop, resting your hands on your hips.

“Okay. Fine. FINE. I’ll play your stupid game, universe.” You throw one last glare at your reflection. “But I’m not tormenting the heroine. Nope. She can have her stupid one-sided rivalry for all I care. I want nothing to do with this mess.”

The decision made, you shake your head and take a deep breath. “Alright, what’s next?” You glance around the villainess’s extravagant room, trying to figure out your next move. And then, a lightbulb goes off in your head.

Prince Idia.

In your novel, he’s socially awkward, reclusive, and definitely doesn’t deserve to get caught up in this disaster. He’s just collateral damage in your sorry excuse for a plot, and honestly? You feel kinda bad about it.

You snap your fingers. “That’s it. I’ll find Prince Idia. Save him or something. Maybe I can even get a reward for rescuing a royal!” You’re feeling pretty good about this plan—much better than sticking around and causing drama with the heroine, at least.

With a dramatic flourish (you are still the villainess, after all), you head for the door, ready to track down Idia and redeem yourself in whatever twisted way you can manage. Who knows, maybe this whole situation won’t be as bad as you thought.

Or… maybe it’ll be even worse. But you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.

After what feels like hours of arguing with your stubborn, uptight butler—who is absolutely convinced that your decision to head straight for the abandoned palace at the edge of town is the worst idea you’ve ever had—you finally break free.

“If anyone was kidnapped, that’s where they’d be!” you shout over your shoulder as you march toward your carriage, ignoring his protests about "safety" and "reckless behavior."

Butler or not, you’re on a mission. And after a bumpy ride to the palace, here you are, standing at the entrance, waiting for the traps or menacing guards to pounce.

...Nothing.

It’s strangely anticlimactic, actually. You push open the door, expecting maybe a cackle or some ominous fog. But no, just dust and an eerie silence. You frown, stepping cautiously inside.

“What kind of royal abduction is this? Budget cuts?”

Just as you’re about to chalk this whole thing up to a monumental waste of time, you hear it—a low curse, followed by the distinct sound of tinkering. You freeze, listening closer.

Definitely someone messing with something.

Your hand instinctively reaches for your trusty gun (bless past-you for deciding guns belonged in this novel), and with practiced ease, you pull it out and slam open the nearest door.

"Hands up!" you yell, pointing the barrel directly at—

A very, very scared Prince Idia, crouching beside what looks like a half-assembled mechanical gadget. His wide, shocked eyes meet yours, and he lets out a startled yelp, nearly knocking over the tools scattered around him.

"Wh-What the hell?!" you blurt, lowering the gun slightly. This was not the daring rescue scene you imagined.

Idia flinches, awkwardly raising his hands. “I—uh, I don’t know who you are, but how did you even find me?!” he stammers, looking at you like you just kicked his favorite gaming console.

"How did I—? Are you kidding me?" You gesture dramatically with the gun, still in shock. "I’m one of the people you were supposed to choose from! Remember? The whole ‘Battle for the Hand of Prince Idia’ thing?”

He blinks at you, deadpan. “Oh… Oh, no,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “Absolutely not. I’m not going back. I staged this whole thing for a reason.” He crosses his arms, stubborn. “I’ll just stay here with my gadgets. You can go back to… whatever you do.”

You stare at him, flabbergasted. “What do you mean you staged this?” You glance around the dusty, decrepit palace. “This is your brilliant escape plan? Hiding out in the palace equivalent of a haunted IKEA?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, it’s quiet, it’s out of the way, and no one bothers me here. I didn’t get kidnapped, okay? I just—didn’t want to deal with all the royal court nonsense.” He shrugs, as if staging a fake kidnapping is the most logical thing in the world.

“You do realize that Ortho is still at the palace, right? Your little brother? Alone? Without you?” You raise an eyebrow, watching the slow dawning horror creep across Idia’s face.

“Yeah, so?” He huffs. “He’s the Crown Prince now. I’m sure he’s fine—"

“Bro,” you interrupt, “have you seen high society? Ortho’s gonna get eaten alive. Not to mention the other princes aren’t just gonna let him waltz around with a crown on his head without making his life miserable.”

Idia’s eyes go wide, his brain clearly working overtime as the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. “Oh… Oh no. I didn’t think of that.”

You nod sagely. “Yeah. Big oops.”

He stares at the ground, looking like he’s physically shrinking under the weight of his own bad decisions. And then—something unthinkable happens.

“Help me,” he says, his voice desperate. He looks up at you with pleading eyes. “Please. I’ll—I’ll make you anything you want, build you gadgets, whatever you need! Just help me navigate high society while I… hide in the shadows or whatever.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you… Are you asking me to pose as your fake fiancée?”

Idia flushes crimson, his hands flailing. “N-No! Well, maybe? Yes. I mean, yeah, but it’s not like I want to—" He groans, burying his face in his hands. “Just… ugh. Yes. Please.”

You cross your arms, tapping your chin. “Hmm. Fake engagement, huh? Alright, but only if you give me a beach house when this farce is over and Ortho officially takes the crown.”

Idia looks up at you, blinking in surprise. “A beach house? That’s your condition?”

You smirk. “Hey, I know what I want. So, do we have a deal?”

He hesitates for a moment, but then sighs, defeated. “Fine. You get the beach house. Just… make sure no one talks to me. Or atleast, you have to handle almost all the talking.”

With a satisfied nod, you extend your hand. “Deal.”

Idia, still red-faced and awkward, shakes your hand. You can’t help but wonder what sort of chaos you’ve just agreed to—but at least you’re getting a beach house out of it.

Sneaking Idia back to your manor wasn’t the most glamorous affair. He insisted on wearing a cloak, “for dramatic effect,” even though the streets were practically empty.

"You know, for a guy who's supposed to be a genius, you're real bad at blending in," you deadpan as he stumbles over his own cloak.

"It’s supposed to make me inconspicuous," Idia mutters, pulling the hood down further. "People see a cloak, they assume you’re some weirdo and leave you alone. It’s basic stealth mechanics."

“Uh-huh. And tripping on it helps too?”

“Shut up.”

Once inside the manor, you sit him down to discuss the details of how you’re going to spin this whole ‘rescue’ thing. Idia, now a little more at ease, starts fiddling with some gadget he pulled from one of his cloak’s hidden pockets. You can't tell if he's actually paying attention, but you figure you’d better get started.

"Okay," you say, leaning in like you’re about to hatch the greatest scheme of your life. "We need a story. Something grand. Heroic. Full of intrigue, mystery—"

“Or we could just say I, uh, got lost?” Idia offers halfheartedly. “And you happened to find me by accident. That sounds more plausible.”

You shoot him a look. "Idia, this is high society. No one ‘just gets lost for 3 months.’ We need something more exciting. Like, I fought off a band of rogue kidnappers—"

“Did you now?”

“And there was this epic battle—"

“With what? Your sense of direction?”

You glare. “Focus. We need an alibi."

Idia sighs. “Fine, whatever. Make it sound cool, but not too cool. If it’s too impressive, people will start thinking I owe you something.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I already have an idea of what you owe me,” you say, smirking.

His eyes narrow in suspicion, but you move on.

"Alright, so I 'bravely' tracked you down to the abandoned palace—"

"Because obviously that's where I'd be hiding," Idia interrupts sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"—and I singlehandedly defeated a gang of ruthless kidnappers, saving you from a life of captivity. You, overwhelmed by my gallantry, are forever in my debt—"

Idia snorts. "Forever in your debt? Yeah, right. You're more likely to find me dead than in your debt."

“Just go with it. It’s a good story.”

Eventually, you both settle on a suitably ridiculous tale where you, after days of tireless investigation, heroically rescued him from an evil plot to overthrow the royal family. It's unnecessarily elaborate, full of conveniently absent witnesses and a dramatic escape from a non-existent dungeon. The whole thing’s so ridiculous, you almost feel bad for making anyone listen to it.

“Right,” you say, standing up. “Now we just need to sell this at court.”

When you arrive at the palace, Idia hangs back while you step forward, playing your part as the "heroic rescuer." Ortho’s the first one to spot you, and when his eyes land on Idia, they widen with shock and excitement.

“Brother!” Ortho shouts, practically flying over to tackle Idia in a hug. “I knew you’d come back!”

Idia, not really one for public displays of affection, awkwardly pats Ortho’s head. “Yeah, yeah, don’t make a big deal out of it,” he grumbles, though you can see the tiny smile tugging at his lips. “I was, uh, working on some top-secret stuff. Y’know, important genius-level projects.”

Ortho beams. “That sounds just like you!”

You have to hold back a snicker. Yeah, real “top-secret.” Like avoiding social interaction at all costs.

Soon, you’re ushered into the royal court. The king—who clearly knows something is up—doesn't look remotely surprised by the "revelation" that Idia was never actually kidnapped. But, because royal politics are weird, he plays along.

“So, Prince Idia,” the king says, raising an eyebrow, “I suppose you’ll want the Crown Prince title back now that you’ve returned?”

Idia freezes, panic flashing in his eyes. "Uh, absolutely not. Hard pass. Nope. Ortho’s got it handled, right? He can keep the whole… crown… thing.”

Ortho nods eagerly from behind him. “I’ve got it covered!”

The king sighs but nods. “Very well. And what about you?” He turns to you. “Surely, a brave soul such as yourself deserves a reward.”

Here it comes. You’ve rehearsed this with Idia, but now that you’re on the spot, you can’t help the dramatic flair in your voice as you clasp your hands together and say, “All I ask… is for Prince Idia’s hand.”

The king looks thoroughly amused, while Idia, beside you, is turning a very interesting shade of red.

“What?” Idia hisses under his breath. “That was not the line.”

You grin, leaning closer. “Yeah, but you have to admit, it’s funnier this way.”

To his credit, Idia doesn’t collapse on the spot, though he does look like he’s reconsidering his life choices.

Meanwhile, from across the room, you catch the third prince—your so-called "male lead"—glaring daggers at you. He looks like he's about to burst a blood vessel, while the heroine next to him is scandalized beyond belief.

“B-but Idia’s hand was supposed to be won!” she protests, clearly flustered.

You tilt your head innocently. “Oh? Not satisfied with the third Prince?” you ask, batting your lashes at her.

Her face goes red, and the Bland Prince—whoever he is—looks equally scandalized.

Next to you, Idia quietly high-fives you behind his back.

“Nice one,” he whispers.

As you both walk away from the court, Idia glances over at you, his usual sarcasm softened by relief. “You know, I really thought I’d end up hating this whole scheme, but you’re not bad at playing the part.”

You chuckle, nudging him. “Told you it’d be fun. And now I get a beach house, so it’s a win-win.”

Idia sighs but can’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make me go to any more parties, okay?”

“Deal.”

You’re sitting across from Idia in the study, supposedly "spending time together" to prove to the world how deeply smitten you both are. In reality, though, you’re plotting out your beach house retirement plan, while Idia is hunched over his latest gadget, muttering like a mad scientist.

"Okay, so if I tweak this—boom, self-repairing AI drone. Easy. The idiots at court would never get it," he whispers to himself, eyes glued to the wires and gears he's fiddling with.

You’re busy doodling floor plans of your dream beach house, adding an extra pool for fun. “Yeah, totally, sweetheart,” you mumble, pretending to listen. This fake relationship thing is going swimmingly.

That’s when the door flies open, and in waltzes the male lead—of course he doesn't knock. The guy practically drips entitlement as he saunters in, admiring himself in the reflection of a spoon he’s for some reason carrying.

Without missing a beat, you and Idia scramble to look like actual lovers. You slide closer to him, casually tossing an arm over his shoulders, and he—already flustered—just stiffens like he’s been caught in a trap.

“I see you two are enjoying each other’s company,” the male lead says, not even looking up from his spoon reflection. “I came to invite you to the tea party. You know, with all the nobles. The whole ‘Idia’s too traumatized to socialize’ excuse isn’t gonna fly anymore. It’s been three months.”

Idia’s eyes widen, and you can practically hear his soul leave his body. You give him a reassuring nudge.

“Don’t worry,” you whisper. “I’ll do all the talking. You just have to sit there, sip tea, maybe nibble on a pastry, and nod at Ortho. I’ve got the rest covered.”

Idia doesn’t look convinced, but he nods anyway. “Sure, sure, as long as I don’t have to, like, interact.”

The two of you arrive at the tea party, and the moment you step into the garden, you realize you're absolutely screwed. It’s not a tea party at all—it’s some weird medieval Olympics with archery targets set up, and a bunch of nobles are taking turns shooting arrows while their wives cheer them on.

“What… is this?” you whisper, horrified. “Why are there archery targets at a tea party? Is this... a misogyny power trip?”

Idia looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. He’s already backing away slowly, trying to make his great escape, but you grab him by the back of his cloak before he can bolt.

He shoots you a look like you’ve just committed the ultimate betrayal. “This... is not a tea party. You said tea and pastries. Where are the pastries?!”

“I didn’t know!” you hiss back. “I thought we’d just sip tea and gossip about whose cousin married whose horse!”

Before either of you can make another move, the heroine spots you and immediately latches onto your arm, dragging you to the tea table. At the same time, the male lead grabs Idia and hauls him over to the archery side.

"Wait—no—uh—" Idia stammers, but he’s already been thrown into the testosterone-fueled chaos of nobles trying to outdo each other.

Thinking fast, you impulsively declare, “I’ll be the one doing the archery! For my fiancé, of course. You know, because those thugs that kidnapped him? They had bows too!”

Idia, catching on, immediately puts on his best terrified expression. “Y-Yeah! Bows! I’m… I’m still traumatized! Please don’t make me relive it.”

The crowd collectively gasps, and you inwardly pat yourself on the back. Nailed it.

Somehow, despite knowing absolutely nothing about archery, you end up winning the whole thing. Turns out, none of the nobles have actually seen a bow before. You didn’t even hit the bullseye—you just got the arrow near the target, which was apparently enough to impress them.

The prize? A complex-looking mechanical device, something straight out of Idia’s dream workshop. You look at it, completely clueless, before handing it over to him.

“Uh, here. I have no idea what to do with this.”

Idia stares at the device, his eyes wide in disbelief. “You’re… giving it to me?” He looks touched but also suspicious. “You’re not gonna ask for some crazy favor in return?”

You shake your head. “Nah. It’s all yours. Consider it a thank-you for not leaving me to deal with this disaster alone.”

He blinks, clearly not used to receiving gifts without strings attached. “Well… uh, thanks. And… good job on the archery. You, uh, really sold the ‘traumatized fiancé’ bit.”

Before you can respond, the rest of the nobles start talking about "true love," and you can practically feel the heroine’s eyes boring holes into you. She’s fuming, glaring at the male lead—who, by the way, didn’t win—and looks like she’s about five seconds away from tearing out her hair.

You shoot her a smug grin, thoroughly enjoying her frustration. Idia, who’s been watching the whole thing with mild amusement, lightly bumps you with his elbow.

“Thanks for… you know, saving me from whatever that was. And for giving me this… thing,” he says, holding up the device.

“No problem,” you reply, smirking. “I think we’re pulling off this whole ‘smitten lovers’ thing pretty well.”

Idia snorts, trying to suppress a smile. “Yeah, well, if you keep dragging me to ‘tea parties’ like this, we’re gonna need to come up with a better plan. Preferably one where I don’t have to socialize with archery-obsessed nobles.”

“Deal,” you laugh. "Next time, I'll find a real tea party."

"Please don't."

You’re lounging on a comfy chair, lazily chatting with Ortho, who’s happily explaining some new contraption he and Idia worked on. You’re half-listening, more focused on sipping tea and enjoying the rare moment of peace in this chaotic castle.

That is, until Idia suddenly appears in front of you, looking unusually determined. He stands there, awkwardly shifting his weight, before thrusting his hand out in front of you.

Without thinking, you blink up at him and, in your confusion, place your chin on his outstretched palm. You give him a questioning look, waiting for further instruction.

Idia’s face immediately flushes a deep red. “W-What are you doing?! That’s not—I didn’t—gah!”

Ortho’s trying not to laugh, but it’s clear he’s barely holding it together.

“What?” you ask innocently. “You held out your hand, so I thought…”

Idia runs a hand through his hair, clearly flustered, before spluttering, “I—no, I was asking for your gun!”

“Oh. Right.” Without hesitation, you hand him the trusty weapon you always keep on hand, because at this point, you’ve learned to never question what Idia needs. It’s always better that way.

“Thanks,” he mutters, grabbing it like he’s on a mission and rushing off to whatever secret lair he retreats to.

You glance at Ortho, who’s giggling to himself. “Do you think I should be worried about that?”

“Nah,” Ortho says with a cheerful shrug. “He’s probably just making modifications. He’ll be fine!”

The next day, your luck runs out. Just when you were hoping for another peaceful afternoon, the heroine arrives for a surprise visit, dragging along her little posse of noble followers. You’re seated in a stiff parlor chair, forced to endure the barrage of small talk and fake smiles, feeling as if the universe is punishing you for all the nonsense you wrote in that novel.

One of the heroine’s cronies leans in with a sickeningly sweet voice, “Oh my, Lady Heroine, I just love your new gown. You look positively radiant. Unlike some people who seem to… dress for comfort, I suppose.”

You shoot her a withering glare, but it’s hard to focus when the heroine herself joins in, adding with a falsely sympathetic tone, “It must be so difficult for you, pretending to fit into high society. I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be, keeping up appearances.”

You’re just about to snap back when, suddenly, the door bursts open. In comes Idia, holding your gun, looking both determined and completely out of his element. For a brief, terrifying moment, you wonder what kind of chaos he’s about to unleash.

Before you can ask, he walks straight over to you and hands it to you, his expression serious. “Here. I finished the modifications.”

Your jaw drops as Idia starts rattling off a list of improvements. “So, I increased the firepower by 30%, added a cooling mechanism so it doesn’t overheat, and now it’s got an auto-targeting system that can scan multiple threats at once. Oh, and I swapped the trigger to be more responsive, so you won’t have any lag—”

You can’t help but notice how animated he looks. His usual deadpan expression is replaced by a lively spark in his eyes as he talks about all the intricate details. He’s completely in his element, and you find yourself enchanted by the way he speaks. It’s rare to see him so passionate, so alive.

The moment is shattered when he finally notices the others in the room. His face drains of color, and he gives a forced smile that screams I don't want to be here. Without another word, he turns on his heel and flees the room. But you notice something strange—he had been holding your hand the entire time. His grip, tight and warm, leaves a lingering sensation even after he’s gone.

You’re left holding your newly modified gun, your face heating up as you process what just happened. The heroine's entourage are all staring at you with wide eyes, as if they’ve just witnessed the most romantic moment of the century. Even the butler, who’s usually the epitome of professionalism, is grinning like he’s just uncovered the secret to eternal happiness. The maids nearby are giggling behind their hands, clearly entertained.

You glance down at the gun, then back to where Idia disappeared. Great, you think to yourself. How am I supposed to survive this?

As if reading your mind, the heroine gives you a smug smile. “It seems your fiancé is quite… attached. How charming.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the sudden rush of blood to your cheeks. “Yeah, he’s a real romantic,” you mutter sarcastically.

But even as you try to brush it off, your thoughts keep returning to that sparkle in Idia’s eyes, the way he had held your hand, and the way his enthusiasm had made your heart skip a beat. Maybe this royal con is going to be more complicated than you expected… but also, maybe not as bad as you feared.

Dragging Idia to get fitted for the imperial ball is like trying to drag a cat into a bathtub. He’s actively resisting, feet planted as you haul him toward the tailor with all the enthusiasm of a man being led to the gallows.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” he groans, leaning back so far you think he might just throw himself on the floor in protest. “An angel loses its wings every time you make me do this. Do you want heaven to be wingless? Is that what you want? To singlehandedly destroy heaven?”

“I’m aiming to open a black market for wings, yes,” you say, deadpan, yanking him forward. “The profits will be incredible.”

“You’re a menace,” he mutters, shuffling along behind you, still resisting like a particularly stubborn mule. “Just put me in a broom closet with a bag of chips and leave me there. I don’t need to go to this ball. No one wants to see me.”

“I do,” you quip. “I’m dragging you into society, one unwilling step at a time.”

By the time you actually manage to get him dressed, you feel like you’ve aged five years. But when you take a step back to admire the result, it’s worth it. Idia looks stunning, even if he’s fidgeting like his clothes are secretly made of fire ants. He’s basically the human version of a rare collectible: usually hidden away, but absolutely jaw-dropping when you finally get to see him.

“Alright, Prince Drama,” you say, exhaling, “I’m going to get dressed. Try not to set anything on fire while I’m gone.”

When you return, you immediately notice something’s up. Ortho’s whispering something to Idia, and whatever it is, it’s causing a nuclear-level blush to spread across his face. He’s stiff as a board, and when he turns around and sees you in your ball attire, he goes straight from “mildly panicked” to “catastrophic system error.”

Without warning, he chucks a flower at you. Just full-on throws it like it’s a projectile weapon.

“Here,” he croaks out, his voice cracking halfway through.

You blink, catching the flower mid-air with one hand. “Uh, thanks? Were you... trying to plant this on me?”

Idia’s face somehow manages to get even redder. “No—I mean yes—I mean—” He looks around for help, but Ortho just gives him an unhelpful thumbs up from the corner.

You grin, deciding to help the poor guy out. “Why don’t you pin it in my hair instead?”

His hands shake as he fumbles with the pin, and you’re pretty sure he’s using every ounce of self-control not to stab you in the scalp. You bite your lip, trying not to laugh, but the whole situation is just too funny. Especially when Ortho gives you a conspiratorial wink from behind Idia’s back like he’s this close to winning a bet.

The ball itself is, as expected, a social hellscape. You and Idia survive by sticking together like conjoined twins, fending off the waves of nosy nobles and fake smiles. You can practically see the stress radiating off of Idia, his expression one of pure misery.

And then, the king makes his grand address, signaling the start of the first dance. You feel Idia stiffen beside you.

“Oh no,” he mutters, “Oh no. This is where it all goes downhill. I’ll trip, I’ll break my leg, and then they’ll throw me in the royal dungeon for embarrassing the family.”

“Relax,” you say, squeezing his hand. “It’s just one dance. I’ll lead, you follow. Easy.”

“I hate this,” he mumbles as you drag him onto the floor. “I hate everything about this. I should have just set myself on fire and gotten out of it that way.”

But despite his protests, you manage to lead him through the first few steps of the waltz. To your surprise, he’s not completely hopeless. He stumbles a little at first, but with you guiding him, he starts to get the hang of it.

“You’re doing great,” you say encouragingly.

“Stop lying,” he grumbles. “I’m one misstep away from taking us both out like a bowling ball hitting pins.”

The music continues, and with every turn and spin, you notice the room around you fading into the background. For a moment, it’s just you and Idia, navigating the intricate steps of the dance together. He’s still anxious, but he’s keeping up, and more importantly, you can tell he’s starting to trust you. He’s letting you take the lead, and for someone like Idia, that’s huge.

From Idia’s perspective, this entire ball is a waking nightmare. He’s completely out of his element, surrounded by people he’d normally go to great lengths to avoid. But then there’s you. You’re handling everything with this... ease, this grace that he can’t even begin to comprehend. You’re not just dancing with him, you’re actively navigating the minefield of court politics like it’s no big deal.

And you don’t need to do this. This isn’t your problem—it’s Ortho’s succession, not yours. But you’re here, by his side, going all out to make sure Ortho’s future is secure. Idia’s heart twists in his chest. He doesn’t get it. You’re way too cool for this. Too cool for him. You wink at him mid-spin, and he feels like his brain’s short-circuiting.

"Oh no. I like them. Like, really like them. And soon, they’ll be gone. This whole engagement is just for show. After Ortho’s investiture, we’ll go back to our separate lives, right?"

He swallows hard, trying not to freak out, but it’s too late. He’s in way too deep.

After the dance, you lead him off the floor and start mingling with the other nobles, making alliances and doing your whole “political mastermind” thing. Idia stands awkwardly to the side, trying to blend into the wallpaper, but his eyes keep following you. You don’t have to do all this for Ortho, but you are. And that’s... that’s really cool. He admires you, he can’t help it.

And then—oh no. The lower nobles. They spot him and beeline toward him like sharks smelling blood. Before he can make a break for it, they swarm around him, throwing party invitations at him like confetti.

“Prince Idia, you simply must attend our garden soirée next week,” one of them gushes, eyes sparkling.

“And our evening gala!” another pipes up. “You’ll be the guest of honor, of course!”

Idia’s face goes pale, and he shoots you a look that screams, HELP ME.

You swoop in like a knight in shining armor. “Ah, yes, well, unfortunately, Idia can’t attend. He’s... uh... allergic to sunlight.”

The nobles stare at you, blinking in confusion. Idia stares at you too, his expression a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“Allergic to... sunlight?” one noble repeats, frowning.

You facepalm. Smooth. “I mean... it’s a joke! Ha! Obviously! What I meant to say is... uh...” You scramble for an excuse. “I need a nap.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“I—uh—can’t sleep without him,” you blurt out. “It’s, uh, a couple thing.”

The nobles blink at you again, thoroughly bewildered.

You grab Idia’s arm, muttering, “We’re leaving,” and make a quick exit, practically dragging him behind you.

As soon as you’re out of earshot, you let out a groan. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I said that. ‘Allergic to sunlight’? Really?”

Idia is doubled over laughing, completely losing it. “You what?!” he howls. “You need a nap? And you can’t sleep without me?!”

“Shut up!” you say, cheeks burning. “I was trying to save you!”

“You saved me? More like doomed me!” He wheezes between laughs, clutching his stomach. “Oh man, you are terrible at this. You make me look good, and that’s saying something.”

You glare at him, but his laughter is so infectious that you can’t stay mad. And honestly? He looks free. Unbridled, even. It’s the first time you’ve seen him laugh so openly, so without reservation, that it almost makes you forget how embarrassing the situation was.

Almost.

It's finally time for Ortho's investiture, and to say you feel unprepared would be an understatement. Not for any political reason—you've long since mastered the art of navigating court intrigue. No, the issue is far more personal, far more heart-wrenching. After today, once Ortho is declared Crown Prince, Idia will no longer have any excuse to stay in the spotlight. He'll retreat, back into the shadows, probably even fake his own kidnapping to get out of any future public events. And you?

You'll finally get that peaceful beach house you’ve been dreaming about.

But the thought doesn’t feel like a reward. It feels bitter. You don’t want that beach house—not if it means losing Idia. The man who’s wormed his way into your heart with his sarcasm, awkwardness, and hidden kindness.

But you know he’s not someone you can tie down. Idia doesn’t do well with permanence. And as much as your heart begged to hold on to him, you also know he’d likely slip through your fingers if you tried.

So you do what any self-respecting person would in this situation: put on a brave face, slip into your formal attire, and prepare to smile your way through heartbreak.

When you walk out to greet Idia, he’s already dressed in his formal robes, looking every bit the reluctant royal. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you, but he says nothing, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

You muster up the strength to smile and reach for his hand. “Ready?”

He nods, but neither of you can meet the other’s eyes.

From Idia’s perspective, today should feel like a victory. He’s been planning for Ortho’s investiture for months, and now that the day is finally here, he should be feeling nothing but relief. But no—he’s filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. It’s not about Ortho. His little brother is brilliant, and Idia knows the kingdom is in good hands.

No, what he’s not ready for is letting you go.

If someone had told him a year ago that he would care about someone—want someone—so desperately, he would’ve locked them up in a mental facility. But here he is, standing on the precipice of his worst nightmare.

You, who shine in every public setting, who effortlessly charm everyone around you, are going to move on. He knows he can’t tie you down with his reclusive lifestyle, his constant desire to escape from the world. How could he? You’re everything he’s not—bright, resplendent, beloved. He can’t ask you to give up your life for him.

But when you come out and take his hand, his heart skips a beat. Neither of you are able to look each other in the eye, but the gesture says more than any words could.

The investiture itself goes off without a hitch. Ortho’s speech is flawless, full of the hope and wisdom of a ruler who will no doubt lead the kingdom into a golden age. You’re so proud of him—of the boy who’s become like a little brother to you.

But even as you smile and clap with the rest of the court, you feel a heaviness in your chest that has nothing to do with the political spectacle unfolding before you.

A few tears slip down your cheeks, and you don’t even know if they’re from the overwhelming pride you feel for Ortho or the quiet heartbreak you’ve been trying to suppress all day.

Before you can wipe them away, Idia silently hands you his handkerchief. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at you, and that just makes the ache in your heart a little worse.

You take it with a quiet, “Thanks,” dabbing at your eyes, and you both stand there in tense silence, watching as the formalities continue around you.

Once the investiture concludes and the guests filter out, you and Idia retreat to a balcony to catch your breath. The sky is darkening, and the cool evening breeze does little to soothe the heaviness you feel in the pit of your stomach.

Idia breaks the silence first. "I've, uh... already arranged the beach house. It’s in your name now."

You blink, looking over at him. His voice cracks slightly, and when you finally turn to face him fully, you realize that he looks like the very picture of heartbreak. He’s not meeting your eyes, staring out into the distance as if it’ll keep him from falling apart.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Idia... do you want me to leave?”

He freezes, still not looking at you. "I... I want you to be happy. I mean, that's the whole point, right? The beach house, everything—you’ve been wanting that for ages."

“I didn’t ask if you wanted me to be happy,” you say quietly. “I asked if you want me to stay or go.”

The silence between you stretches, heavy and suffocating. You hold your breath, waiting for him to answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“I... I don’t know what I’m gonna do if you’re not here anymore.”

That’s all the confirmation you need. Before he can say anything else, you step forward, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss. For a split second, he stiffens, shocked, but then he melts into it, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

It’s everything you needed and more—sweet, desperate, and filled with all the words neither of you have been able to say. When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily.

“Come with me,” you whisper. “To the beach house. We can... we can figure everything out from there.”

Idia lets out a watery laugh, one that’s half-disbelief, half-relief. “You really want a shut-in like me hanging around your dream house? You’re gonna get sick of me in a week.”

You smile, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “I don’t think I could ever get sick of you. So... what do you say?”

He hesitates for a moment, then gives a small nod, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Yeah... okay. I’ll come with you.”

And just like that, the weight that’s been pressing down on your chest all day lifts. It’s not the end—it’s a new beginning. One where you and Idia don’t have to part ways, where you can move forward together.

As you both stand there on the balcony, holding each other close, the world feels a little less daunting, and the future a little brighter.

The grand hall is slowly emptying out, nobles drifting away after offering their congratulations to Ortho. You and Idia maneuver through the lingering crowd, dodging overly-friendly dukes and avoiding eye contact with barons hoping to extend the festivities.

Idia clings to your arm like a cat being dragged to the vet, mumbling, “Please tell me we’re not about to be emotionally ambushed again.”

You smirk. “Relax. It’s just Ortho.”

“Yeah, that’s what you always say before things get sentimental and I have to deal with ‘feelings.’”

You spot Ortho standing near the dais, still wearing the ceremonial robes from his investiture. Despite the long night, he looks bright-eyed, waving cheerfully at some departing courtiers. When he catches sight of you two, his face breaks into the biggest grin, and he hurries over like an eager puppy.

“There you are!” Ortho beams, practically glowing with excitement. “I was worried you left without saying goodbye.”

“Us? Leave without saying goodbye?” you tease. “What kind of villains do you think we are?”

“Exactly the kind who would sneak away in the middle of a banquet,” Idia mutters under his breath. “And you know what? That plan still sounds great.”

Ortho rolls his eyes fondly. “You’re impossible, brother.”

“Only when I’m awake.”

“Anyway,” you cut in, shooting Idia a playful glare before turning back to Ortho, “we wanted to talk to you before we go.”

Ortho’s smile falters, just a bit. “You’re leaving already?”

You nod, squeezing Idia’s arm. “Yeah. We’re heading to the beach house.”

Ortho tilts his head, curious but not upset. “You’re moving there?”

“For a while, yeah,” you explain gently. “Idia and I need a break from all the court politics. But don’t worry. We’ll visit you. Often.”

Idia shifts beside you, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh... It’s not like I’m leaving forever or anything. Just... you know, temporarily escaping society.”

Ortho laughs, but there’s a softness in his gaze now. “I get it. I don’t blame you for wanting to leave all this behind for a bit.”

You take a step closer, voice lowering. “And hey... I know you’ve got a lot on your plate now. But we’re still family. If you need anything—anything—we’ll be here for you.”

Ortho’s grin returns, full force. “I know. I’m really glad you two have each other. Honestly, I was worried for a long time that Idia might never find someone willing to put up with him.”

“Gee, thanks,” Idia deadpans. “Glad my personal development arc has been so inspiring for you.”

“But seriously,” Ortho says, his expression softening again. “Thank you. You’ve done more for us than you had to. I know you could have just... gone back to your world or left things as they were. But you stayed. And you helped him.”

Oh no. Not this again. That suspicious prickle starts in your eyes, and you blink rapidly to fend off the tears. Not now. Not in public.

“You’re not... making me cry,” you insist, even as your voice wobbles. “This is just... allergy season.”

“Oh no, it’s happening,” Idia groans dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t cry. If you cry, Ortho’s gonna cry, and if Ortho cries, the nobles will definitely blame me.”

“Shut up, you big baby,” you sniffle, swatting his arm before pulling Ortho into a hug. “Come here, you. Group hug, now.”

Ortho barely has time to react before you’ve wrapped him up in your arms. He laughs, squeezing you back. You reach out blindly and grab Idia’s sleeve, yanking him into the fray.

“Wait—wait, what—!” Idia stumbles forward, sandwiched awkwardly between you and Ortho. “This is... I don’t...”

“Shhh,” you whisper, patting his back. “Feel the love.”

“This is emotional ambush!” Idia protests, voice muffled against your shoulder. “I want it on record that I was forced into this.”

“Noted,” Ortho says with a laugh, hugging both of you tighter. “But you’re not getting out of it.”

For a moment, the three of you just stand there, huddled together in a ridiculous knot of limbs, nobles glancing your way but tactfully avoiding comment.

Idia mutters into your ear, “This... this is basically treason against introverts.”

You grin. “Consider it penance for being emotionally stunted.”

“You’re both the worst,” he grumbles, but his arms stay wrapped around you.

Eventually, you pull back, wiping your eyes with the heel of your hand. “We’ll be back soon, Ortho. I promise.”

“I know.” Ortho smiles warmly, giving you one last squeeze. “And when you do, I’ll make sure you never have to attend another dull court event again.”

Idia perks up at that. “Oh. Now that’s what I call incentive.”

With one last shared laugh, the three of you break apart. Ortho steps back, standing tall and proud in his new role, though his smile still holds all the warmth of a little brother seeing his family off.

“Take care of him,” Ortho says quietly, glancing meaningfully at you.

“I plan to,” you reply, meeting his gaze with a small, reassuring smile.

“And you,” Ortho adds, looking at Idia. “Don’t screw this up.”

Idia gapes, indignant. “I—why does everyone assume I’m the one who’s going to screw it up?!”

You and Ortho exchange amused glances before both of you answer in perfect unison:

“Because you will.”

Idia groans. “Yeah, okay. Fair.”

With that, you bid Ortho one final goodbye, tugging Idia along before anyone else can rope you into small talk. As you leave the grand hall and step out into the cool night air, the weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter.

Idia sighs in relief. “Well, that’s over. Time to hibernate for the next decade.”

You chuckle, lacing your fingers through his. “Hibernation in the beach house?”

“Hell yeah.”

And with that, the two of you set off into the night, leaving the court behind—for now.

Oh, what happened to the heroine and the male lead, you ask? Let’s rewind a few months before Ortho’s investiture—back when they were still blissfully unaware of the elaborate downfall that awaited them.

You knew that the heroine and the male lead would try to make a spectacle of themselves during Ortho’s rise to power. The way they pranced around, flaunting their superficial charm and good looks like they owned the place—it was insufferable. And, of course, they were always scheming in the background, hoping to secure power and glory for themselves. You couldn’t stand it.

So, you set up the perfect trap.

It began at a lavish gala, one of those unnecessarily extravagant events where nobles gathered to network, gossip, and throw subtle insults at each other. You arrived fashionably late, as any proper duchess would, with Idia reluctantly in tow, mumbling under his breath about how every social event felt like “one of those long quests with zero rewards.”

“The rewards are emotional, Idia,” you whisper, linking arms with him.

“Yeah, emotional damage,” he mutters.

You suppress a smile, but your mind is elsewhere. Tonight is the night. You had planted the seeds weeks ago, a few well-placed rumors, some whispered insinuations, and a letter you’d accidentally left behind in a well-trafficked corridor. It was all coming together like a beautifully chaotic symphony, and now, the climax.

You spot the heroine first, her radiant smile masking the venom beneath. She’s making a grand entrance, arm-in-arm with the male lead, who, as always, looks like he’s stepped straight out of a romance novel. His hair is perfect, his jawline sharp enough to cut through glass. But you know better. They’re both so predictable.

“They’ve arrived,” you murmur to Idia.

He gives you a blank stare. “Yeah, cool, I’m just here to not die of social exhaustion. Whatever you’re planning... don’t tell me. I don’t wanna be involved.”

“Suit yourself,” you reply with a grin.

You watch them mingle, waiting for the right moment. And there it is—the heroine, attempting to cozy up to the king, laughing a little too loudly at one of his mediocre jokes. You slip through the crowd, making your way to where a certain nosy noblewoman is holding court. A noblewoman known for her love of gossip and her even greater love of ruining people’s lives with it.

Perfect.

You lean in, feigning concern. “Oh, My Lady... I probably shouldn’t say this, but I heard the strangest thing about the heroine. You won’t believe it.”

Her eyes gleam with curiosity. “Do tell, my dear.”

“Well,” you drop your voice to a whisper, “there’s talk that the heroine and the male lead are involved in some... unsavory business dealings. Something about embezzling funds from the royal coffers for their own gain? I don’t know how true it is, of course... but it would explain some things, wouldn’t it?”

You leave the rest unsaid, letting her imagination do the rest. The best part? It’s all technically true. You had orchestrated it so well, the heroine and the male lead had no idea that their “private” meetings and “innocent” financial maneuvers were anything but secret.

She gasps, her fan snapping shut. “I knew there was something off about them! Oh, the gall! I must inform the king immediately!”

And just like that, the gossip spreads like wildfire. Within minutes, the entire room is buzzing with scandalous whispers. The heroine and the male lead notice the shift, the way people start looking at them, and for the first time, they’re on the back foot. They try to smile, but their unease is palpable.

You sit back, watching the chaos unfold, sipping your wine as nobles begin to distance themselves from the pair, shooting them suspicious glances.

Idia sidles up next to you, looking around at the suddenly tense atmosphere. “What... what did you do?”

“Who, me?” You bat your eyelashes innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He gives you a side-eye. “You’re terrifying.”

“You knew that when you asked me to be your fake fiancée.”

The next day, official inquiries are launched into the heroine and the male lead’s finances, and though they try to clear their names, it’s no use. The damage is done. Their reputations are ruined beyond repair, and they’re forced to withdraw from court life entirely. A fitting end for their ambitions.

Which brings you to the present...

It’s a peaceful morning in your beach house, and you’re sitting on the veranda, enjoying your coffee while the sun rises over the horizon. The sound of waves crashing against the shore is your only company, and for once, there’s no looming political intrigue or royal drama to worry about.

That is, until Idia stumbles out of the bedroom, his hair a messy blue cloud, his eyes half-closed with sleep. He groans as he sees you, one hand on the wall to steady himself. “Why are you up so early? It’s like... the middle of the night.”

“It’s 10 AM,” you reply with a laugh.

“Exactly,” he grumbles, shuffling over to you. Without another word, he flops down beside you, his head immediately finding its way to your neck. He nuzzles into you, muttering something unintelligible, and you chuckle softly, patting him on the cheek.

“You’re such a big baby in the morning,” you tease, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

Despite being married for the past two years, Idia’s face turns tomato-red every time you do something affectionate. He blushes furiously now, burying his face in the crook of your neck to hide it.

“Y-You’re unfair,” he mumbles, voice muffled. “Saying stuff like that... it’s embarrassing.”

You grin. “But you’re so cute.”

“I’m not cute. I’m a grown man. And you’re a villain for making me get up before noon.”

You laugh, running your fingers through his messy hair. “Maybe, but I’m your villain. So deal with it.”

Idia groans dramatically but makes no effort to move away, too comfortable where he is. You continue sipping your coffee, enjoying the moment of peace, when he finally speaks again, a little softer this time.

“Y’know... you really did a number on the heroine and the male lead. They’re still laying low, huh?”

“Maybe the rumor I spread was truly a masterpiece,” you say with a smirk, remembering how perfectly everything had gone according to plan.

Idia snorts. “A masterpiece of destruction, maybe.”

You chuckle, pressing another kiss to his forehead. He sighs contentedly, the two of you basking in the quiet comfort of your shared life. It’s moments like this that remind you just how far you’ve come together, from court intrigue and scandal to peaceful mornings at your beach house.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

For the next part,

[beingsuneone]

I BET You Think About Me

SYNOPSIS: being Theo’s girlfriend is a dream… until you find out why he asked you out in the first place.

FANDOM: Harry Potter

PAIRING(S): Theodore Nott x fem!reader

RATING: PG

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Enzo, Blaise, Draco, Mattheo, Pansy, Snape

GENRE/AU: Snape’s Daughter!Reader, Asks you out cause of a bet, kind of angsty, kind of fluffy, slytherin!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.6K

WARNINGS: swearing and kissing.

A/N: agh. It’s 3 in the morning. Enjoy. May have a tiny bit of pacing issues but it’s fine

DEDICATIONS: the polls who decided they wanted Theo while I decided I was gonna post Mattheo and Rhysand instead.

CREDITS: n/a

…Six Months Ago….

——————————————————————————

“You can’t do it, Theo.” Draco says plainly. “If she’s anything like her father she won’t be able to feel that kind of emotion.”

Theo shakes his head. “She’s still a girl.”

Mattheo snorts, Enzo sputters. “That’s a bit sexist, Theo.” Enzo says, looking over at Y/n L/n.

She’s Severus Snape’s daughter and completely untouchable. Theo hasn’t seen a single guy going out with her in the whole six years they’d been at hogwarts.

That might be because of her father.

“Draco’s right.” Mattheo says. “She’ll never fall for you.”

“I’m gonna prove you guys wrong and you’re gonna owe me a shit ton of money for it.”

…. One Month Ago ….

——————————————————————————

Mattheo stares at you as you walks away. “Damn, I guess you were right.” Both him and Draco reach for their wallets but Theo waves them off.

“I don’t want it— any of it.” It felt for him wrong to take the money from the bet. Theo had fallen for you just as hard— if not harder— as you’d fallen for him.

Hell, Theo would kiss the ground you walked on if you asked him.

“What do you mean?” Blaise asks incredulously. “You won the bet.”

Theo furrows his eyebrows. “Whatever, I don’t want the money.”

They all stare at him.

One, two, three minutes of silence before Mattheo blurts out: “Oh my god. Theo fell for her.” He starts to laugh, and the other boy's eyes widen.

“Wow. That’s a little bit pathetic, Theo.” Draco teases.

Pansy slides in beside Blaise. “Wow. Famous playboy Theodore Nott fell for someone?” She snickers. “Who?”

Theo deadpans. “What do you mean who?” You are Pansy’s roommate after all, Pansy should better than anybody.

Her face falls. “You don’t mean y/n. do you?” Theo nods and she gives him an exasperated look. “Theo! You literally only dated her to win a bet!”

“Yeah, I know!” He retorts. A beat of silence, then, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“You have to tell her.” Enzo cuts in. “If you truly like her, it isn’t something you can keep secret.”

Theo nods his head absentmindedly. “I know, I know. I’ll tell her soon.”

He didn’t want his new relationship to end before it ever began.

….Present….

——————————————————————————

Today, you woke up late, stubbed your toe on your bed and then spent the ten minutes you had to get ready looking for your damned potions book.

When you’d finally found it, threw on your uniform and got your hair into some sort of presentable, you rushed out your dorm and down the hallways as fast as your feet would take you.

Your class was on the opposite side of Hogwarts and you were already ten minutes late.

In your haste, you aren’t watching for other people in front of you and run straight into someone.

“I’m so sorry!” You exclaim frantically, picking up your books as she picks up hers.

She looks familiar but you don’t know her name.

“No, it’s okay— Oh.” Her faces twists into a scowl when she meets your gaze. “You’re Theo’s ‘Girlfriend’” she airquotes as she says ‘girlfriend’, causing you to narrow your eyes at here.

You furrow your eyebrows. “Uhm, yeah, I am. Why did you say it like that?”

She crosses her arms. “Because you and I both know that he doesn’t actually like you. You’re not his girlfriend.”

“And who, exactly, are you?” You ask, annoyance settling in your chest.

She looks down at you, a cocky expression written on her face. “You should probably just stay away from him, you know that, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really, he’s going to be mine so I don’t even know what you’re doing.” She waves you off, as if she truly believes this.

You shuffle your books around in your arms and shift your weight into your other leg. “You do know that you’re not his girlfriend, right?”

“Whatever.” She shrugs, and you still don’t know her name. “Doesn’t matter if he calls you his girlfriend, it’s not like you’re a threat anyway.”

What does she mean ‘not a threat’? You feel like that’s a sentence better used to describe her considering, you’re Theo’s actual girlfriend. “What is that supposed to mean?” You ask incredulously but still relatively calm.

She gives you a mock sympathetic expression. “Oh, Sweetheart,” She starts, taunting you with each syllable. “You didn’t really think someone like Theo would settle down for someone like you… do you? I mean, he’s all parties and good times and you’re… well, you can’t even dress yourself properly.”

She looks you up and down, from your half-untucked uniform shirt to your loose tie and your unwrinkled skirt. You’re not usually this messed up. “Clearly, I do, because he did.” You pause, sigh deeply and roll your eyes. “Why am I even entertaining this conversation?” You turn away from her, preparing to tune her out and walk away.

She tuts, shaking her head. “Because you obviously know you mean nothing to him— after all when your relationship starts with a bet, I don’t think it’s ever been super stable.”

This makes you stop and turn back to her. “A bet?” You say it slowly and the words taste awful on your tongue. “What bet?”

She scoffs-laughs and smiles evilly. “Oops, did I say too much?”

Theo chooses this moment to walk up behind the two of your . He slides his hand around my waist, letting it rest there as he stands beside me. “Are you okay? You’re super late.” He asks, looking you over. His eyes flit over to the girl who was talking to you and his nose scrunched. “Why are you talking to Tracey?”

Tracey, that’s her name.

I don’t think he likes her too much.

Tracey opens her mouth to respond but I cut her off and begin dragging Theo away. “I don’t even know, Theo, let’s go.”

I can feel Tracey’s glare until we’re well out of her line of sight.

Jealous.

……

You can’t get Tracey’s words out of your head. You know it was a tactic to rile you up and, you suppose, it worked but you had this horrible feeling that maybe she wasn’t lying.

Asking Theo about it though? That was hard; you didn’t want him to think you didn’t trust him but you also didn’t want to get upset before you knew whether it was true or not.

You decided to ask one or two other people before Theo. Pansy Parkinson, was first. She’s been your friend since first year but she hung out with Theo’s group long before you ever did.

“Hey, Pansy.” You say airily. She looks up at you and smiles.

The bed creaks as you fall down onto it and sigh. “Can I ask you a random question?” You ask, fidgeting with the corner of your blankets.

She looks up at you expectantly but also with a good deal of worry. “Yeah, of course; What’s up?”

She shifts in her spot at the end of her bed, turning her full attention to me.

“Did you ever… I don’t know,” you stop, trying to find the correct words. “Did you ever hear anything about Me, Theo and a bet? While you were, like, hanging out with them.”

Pansy looks down at your fidgeting fingers and then furrows her eyebrows. She thinks about it for a minute, and her face drops so slightly I almost don’t catch it. “Oh, y/n…” she trails off. “He didn’t tell you?”

Every muscle in your body locks up. “He didn’t tell me what?” You don’t think you really want the confirmation now that you know it’s coming.

Pansy stands and then sits down next to you and pulls you into her in a side hug. “When Theo started trying to get with you it was because of a bet.” She stops but you just gesture for her to continue. “… I wasn’t actively apart of this conversation so I only got the gist of it but I was there.”

“What was the bet.” You say, with your eyes hot and your throat restricted. Your tone makes it seem like it wasn’t a question.

“The boys bet him that he couldn’t make the next woman he saw fall in love with him by the end of the year.” She gives your a sad smile. “I guess the next woman was you.”

What. The. Fuck. You’re gonna kill him, because he obviously won that goddamn bet already. You give Pansy a quick squeeze and then stand up. “I need to go talk to him.”

Pansy nods and walks back to her own bed, waving bye as you walk through the door.

Your vision is a bit blurry and your hands are shaking with betrayal and anger as you storm away from the girl’s dorms and right through the common room to the boy’s dorms.

When you reach his door, you knock loudly, despite it being late.

Draco answers. He looks you up and down and then turns his back halfway to you. “Theo, your girlfriend is here.”

Theo appears a moment later, an easy smile and his piercing eyes that you want to love so badly right now. He gently moves you back a bit and steps out of the dorm. “Hey, Baby, what’s up?”

You shudder at the pet name and his face drops. “Oh, I don’t know, Theo.”

He pulls you to the other side of the hall and keeps his hands on your arms, comforting both yourself and him. “What’s wrong? Did somebody do something to you?”

The worry on his face seems so genuine, you almost want to believe the bet was a lie— but you’re not that stupid.

“Yeah, Theo, someone hurt me.” You pause. “It was you and your fucking bet.”

He freezes. “Shit. Who told you about that?”

You don’t want to— no, you can’t look in his eyes. “That girl, Tracey, and then Pansy filled in the finer details.” You’re arms are crossed now and he can’t hold you like he was before. “Is that seriously the only thing you care about right now— actually, obviously it would be because I’m just a bet, right?”

He opens his mouth to speak but you don’t let him. “Actually,” you continue. “I don’t want to hear it— just, have a good life, Theo. I’d say we’re over but I don’t think we really ever started to begin with.”

You walk away before you second-guess yourself and ignore as he calls your name. He doesn’t run after you, which you’re equally glad for and disappointed by.

God, you don’t think your heart has ever hurt this bad.

…..

You haven’t seen Theo in class for the whole week after you ‘broke up’; you’ve seen glimpses of him outside, always smoking, or eating in the Great Hall but it’s like he’s intentionally missing every class you have together.

He probably is.

He shouldn't have that right. You’re the one who gets to avoid him, he doesn’t get to avoid you.

You’re the one who got played like a violin and ended up battered and bruised.

You don’t see him for most of your days, but, when you do— when you look at him, his eyes are always already on you.

As a result the other Slytherin boys glance at you while he stares, because of how intensely he does so. You can feel his eyes burning holes into you at all times.

You try your best to ignore him as you stand to leave the Great Hall.

A boy stops you near the entrance, you think you recognize him. He’s the same year as you, and pretty nice as far as you know. His name is Lucas, you’re pretty sure.

“Hey.” Lucas says warmly. “How are you?”

He’s a bit close, and you’re sort of backed into the wall. You laugh awkwardly. “I’m alright, um, how are you?”

He smiles. “About the same,” he looks behind him and then back at you, same easy-going smile that isn’t easy the way Theo’s is. “Anyways, I was wondering… since you broke up with Nott, maybe you’d wanna go out sometime? With me?”

“She doesn’t.”

Lucas’s shoulders jump at the sound of Theo’s voice and he backs away from you and spins to look at Theo, whose standing there with a dangerous look on his face.

You glare at him. “Maybe I do want to.” It’s a challenge and Theo knows it.

Lucas sputters. “You know, I actually realized I’m busy, so…” he scrambles off after that you’re left with Theo.

You scowl at him. “Theo, what the fuck?”

“He’s not good enough for you.” He shrugs like he knows what’s good enough for you. Mr. Bet-Winner.

Your heart aches in your chest just looking at him. “And how would you know what’s good enough for me, Theo? because you sure as hell weren’t.”

He scowls now. “I treated you like you were a fucking princess, Y/n, all he would’ve done was treat you like a piece of ass.”

You huff. “A princess, Theo? None of it was even real!” You spin to walk away but Theo catches your wrist and pulls you back; he slips his other arm around your waist and pulls you right to his chest. Your faces almost touch.

Your breath hitches like the traitor that it is.

He pulls your hand up to rest on his chest, where his heart beats hard and erratically. “Does this feel fake to you?” Theo’s fingers dig lightly into your waist. “Do you honestly think that all of that— everything we said and did— meant nothing?”

His breath fans across your face.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, and he’s the ice bucket that can save you— but your pride and anger are like the fires of hell; irreparable.

“You took a bet to make me fall for you, Theo, and lucky for you, you won it. How much was I worth, huh?”

He replies almost instantly. “I didn’t take any money, Y/n.” Theo breathes deeply and you feel his chest rise and fall, forcing yours to do the same.

“You— what?” You can feel your resolve cracking, the hope leaking through that somehow you were wrong.

“Let me explain the full story.” He waits for you to give him confirmation; you nod and he continues. “Yes, it started with the bet, and yes, I had never planned for it to last. It was cruel and mean, and I’m sorry. But the thing is, I didn’t anticipate that I would end up falling in love with you right back.” The words feel like a kick to the heart.

“But, on the other hand, how could I not? You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and you’re intelligent and funny, you laugh at all my stupid jokes. You love potions more than any other class and you’re really good at it too.” He stops. “Y/n, you’re perfect and I’m so, so sorry I never told you— or, even worse, that I did it in the first place.”

Your heart skips several beats. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Oh.” You’re at a loss for words.

He just looks you over, trying to assess what’s running through your mind like he always does. “Please forgive me, Y/n. I love you so much it hurts.”

You pull away from him and he reluctantly lets go, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

“You’re serious?” You ask quietly. “No bets this time? Nothing you haven’t told me?”

He shakes his head, giving you the saddest, puppy-dog look, unintentionally.

You’re silent for another long moment before, finally, you say: “you love me?”

Theo looks into your eyes. “God, yes.”

“Okay.” You say softly.

He straightens. “Okay, you’ll get back together with me or Okay, I don’t forgive you?”

You hold up one finger and he seems to understand because he pulls you back into him so quickly and presses his lips to mine; you kiss him back, and kind of stand there, kissing, for a long moment. Probably longer than you should’ve.

But you wish he never had to stop.

All content belongs to @beingsuneone , do not repost, copy or post on other platforms without my permission.

[sescoups]

favorite coworker - choi vernon

masterlist

word count: ~5.3k (i'm so sorry)

summary: vernon is your favorite. he just gets you. of course you can't resist him - not that you would ever want to.

a/n: this is definitely NOT proofread, and i'm sorry. idk i just have the fattest crush on vernon, honestly i can't be held accountable

18+, MDNI!!! warnings under the cut <3

warnings: oral (m. receiving), making out, creepy old man (he doesn't do anything, he's just a creep), mention of vomit, lmk if i missed anything! <3

“Wait so hang on, you mean to tell me you’ve never what..? Gone down on a guy?”

“Oh yell it out, why don’t you,” you groan, smacking your forehead into the counter. Thank fuck you just cleaned it.

Vernon is your coworker at the record store in the middle of the city. He’s super chill, does what he’s supposed to but doesn’t stress out or get pissy if you’re having a bad day and work slowly. He’s great. He’s just… a bit unaware of his surroundings, a lot of the time. You’re lucky only two people are in the store at the moment, or you would have simply passed away.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I just kinda can’t believe it? I mean, you’ve had sex for sure, right?”

“Yes, Vernon.” You roll your eyes and glare at an old man who is shamelessly looking you up and down. “I’ve had sex before. Just not a lot, I guess. And why is it so hard to believe?”

Had he been looking at your face, your raised eyebrow might have tipped him off to the fact that he should drop the topic and back off. Unfortunately, in typical Vernon fashion, he was doodling nonsense on a notepad, so he missed it completely.

“Well I mean, you’re hot,” he said before finally looking up at you. He started tapping his pen against the counter, leaning his weight on one hand against the counter. “You’re also pretty open about your life in general, so I just figured two plus two equals one, you know.”

“What the fu- Vernon. Think about what you just said.”

“Oh fuck. Yeah I deserved to fail math in high school.”

You burst into laughter at his words. This is exactly why you love Vernon, and why he’s your favorite coworker. You’re laughing so hard you barely manage to greet the new customer who just entered the store. Your coworker is smiling, satisfied with his ability to make you laugh.

The old man who is still eyeing you, now with extra focus on your boobs, comes up to the register just as you manage to sober up from your laughing fit. You clear your throat and turn to face him, giving him a tiny smile in the spirit of customer service. Apparently a mistake.

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” he starts, running his tongue over his front teeth in what you suspect is supposed to be a seduction attempt. “Would you mind maybe showing me some of the records you have in the back?”

The smile leaves your face immediately, and you’re about to absolutely emaciate him when Vernon cuts in to make sure you do not lose your job over some smarmy geezer.

“She cannot, sir. It’s store policy. Soz.”

You hold your snort in, but barely. The old man huffs and glares at the man next to you, crossing his arms over his chest. Honestly, you’re curious at this point. You’ve never seen Vernon handle confrontation - again, very chill dude - but you also know he is very protective over his friends.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” the old man says with an eye roll. “I was talking to the pretty young lady.”

His smile sends a shiver down your spine, and you take a deep breath. The old man watches your boobs rise and fall. Seriously, fuck this guy. You force the customer service smile back on your face because you actually really like and need this job, and decide this sack of shit isn’t worth it.

“He’s right, sir. It’s against store policy, and I’m currently on register duty. If there is a specific record you wish to see, we can look it up in the system.”

“I’ll keep looking for a while… in case you change your mind.”

The way he winks at you makes your blood boil, and it’s a wonder your teeth don’t crack from the pressure of your jaw. The man walks away, and so does Vernon. He can’t really kick the guy out unless he does something physical, so you don’t know what he’s trying to do. Soon, though, your confusion melts into amusement and glee as you watch your coworker follow the man around the store, loudly dissing his music taste whenever he picks up a record. He keeps walking just a little bit too close for comfort, and after about three minutes, the man gives up.

You take huge pleasure in the way the man skulks out, hands in his pockets and back hunched over as if he’s trying to get away from something - or someone. Returning to the register, Vernon grins to himself and resumes his doodling without a word. You shake your head in amazement before going to help the other two customers in the store.

The next time you’re working with Vernon, you have the closing shift. Usually only one person is supposed to stay back after closing and clean up, but you just received a large shipment of vinyls that need to be sorted and placed into protective sleeves, so the two of you are working overtime together.

It’s a pretty slow shift, and the two of you pass the time by playing music for one another and guessing the artist and the title. You’re much better at it than he is, but only because you’re good at memorizing things; he has a far more varied music taste than you, and would easily have won had he remembered more than two song names and five artists. As per the terms of the game, the loser has to go out to get the dinner you preordered from a restaurant down the street. It’s not far, but it’s raining, so you’re glad to be exempt.

While your colleague is gone, you close out the register and sweep the floor so you only have the vinyl sorting left after you’ve eaten. The break room smells like wet dog and Doritos, so you bring two chairs out together with the foldable table that you’re going to use to sort the vinyls. Since no one is in the store anyway, you can people watch through the windows while you eat.

Vernon comes back in just as you finish setting up, soaking wet from the pouring rain. You coo at him when he shivers, and he shoots you a playful glare. He ends up holding his glare for all of two seconds before a wide smile stretches across his face.

“I left an extra shirt here at some point, do you think it smells like teenage boy?”

You escape the break room with two plates and some utensils in hand, laughing at his question and probably unfortunate fate.

“Because of the proximity to the break room? Probably. That shit is unavoidable.”

He grimaces before taking his jacket off, hanging it on a hook behind the register. He disappears to change while you plate the food, humming to yourself. You try not to think about how he’s probably half naked right now, and turn your attention to the fact that he most likely will smell atrocious to keep your head on straight.

You do love Vernon. He’s a great coworker, obviously, and he’s a great friend too, but that’s not really the full extent of it. You’ve been battling your crush on him for months now, because it’s pretty clear that he isn’t interested in you. Besides, if you ever did date, things would get awkward at work if you broke up. No, he is one of those people who should stay firmly at arm’s length. Unfortunately.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud bang, making you jump a good foot in the air.

“What the fuck, Nonnie?”

“Sorry,” he grimaces, checking that the door he managed to fling directly into the wall hadn’t done any damage. “I tripped.”

“Only you, Vern,” you sigh. “Well, food is ready to go. Let’s eat!”

The meal, consisting of some kimchi jjigae, rice and side salad, passes by in relative silence. You occasionally hum in content, and Vernon often slurps his jjigae really loudly which prompts you to giggle. He always looks glad to have amused you, and you need to look away often in order to control your emotions.

“Dude,” he groans after his third serving, “I’m so fucking full.”

“I’m not the one who got an order for five people, genius,” you groan back, your own stomach feeling like a water balloon. “So good though.”

“So good,” he nods earnestly.

You can’t stand to look at him like this; you need something to do with your hands. So you stand up and stretch, which actually does help the food settle in your stomach a bit. Your hair, tied in a bun to avoid getting any food in it, comes down to release some of the pressure on your scalp, and then you feel ready to get started.

“Take all the time you need, man, but I’m gonna start on the first box. I want to get home before dawn, if I can.”

He flashes you a thumbs up and slumps against the table to enter into a food coma. You scoff at him and shake your head before clearing the dishes from the table. Thank God you have a dishwasher in the break room.

You bring out the first box and start sorting it, referencing the list you have as you go to take inventory. It’s repetitive work, but it’s kind of soothing, too. You do your best to make the plastic of the vinyl coverings crinkle as little as possible, wanting Vernon to rest for as long as he needs to. Three servings of kimchi jjigae would make anyone drowsy.

The first sign that he is still alive comes ten minutes later when he starts drumming a random rhythm on the table. You snort when you recognize the rhythm, pausing with a vinyl halfway into its covering.

“You can’t drum the melody to Dun Dun Dance, Vernon.”

“I can do whatever I want,” he protests weakly, cheek still pressed firmly against the table surface. “But nicely done. What about this one?” He drums out another rhythm, and now that you know it’s a melody he’s following, you recognize it quicker.

“That’s Candy by H.O.T.”

“Nice.”

“You gonna work or rest, bud?”

Vernon whines at your words and rolls his head to rest his forehead against the table instead. You wait patiently as he gathers the strength to sit up properly and kick a box of vinyls over to him when he seems more alive.

“Life isn’t fair,” he pouts, “I just did so much work eating all that food, and now I gotta do more?”

“It’s like that,” you agree absentmindedly, marking off a stack of vinyls on your list. “Can you turn on some music, please? The silence is creepy.”

He nods and connects his phone to the store speakers, choosing the playlist the two of you created together on a similar night of overtime. After that, the two of you slip into a rhythm together, unpacking vinyls, checking the list, and then putting them into a protective sleeve. It’s mostly silent aside from the music, and sometimes Vernon drums along to the beat on the table, but it’s comfortable. You kind of don’t mind spending a few hours like this.

When you’re two thirds through the stack of boxes, you both decide to take a break. Your saint of a colleague brews some coffee, and you hop onto the checkout counter to browse through your phone while your brain cells take a well-deserved rest.

“Bless you,” you say as you accept a mug full of coffee. “We’re making pretty good time today, eh?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, taking a sip and wincing at the scalding temperature. “We haven’t really been talking, so.”

“That jjigae really took you out, huh?”

“Oh yeah.”

You grin at him and blow gently over your coffee. It’s still too hot to drink, as evidenced by the steam rising from it, but the smell alone is kind of waking you up. Vernon grabs your attention by clearing his throat gently, and you turn to look at him. He’s fidgeting a bit with a pen left on the counter close to your thigh.

“I, uh… I wanted to say I’m sorry about that dude the other day. The creepy one. I probably should have kicked him out, but I didn’t know if I could…”

Your heart melted a little in your chest. It was obvious he had been carrying this around with him, mulling it over and worrying about it. About you. It was endearing, and dangerous for your heart. You bit your lip and placed your coffee mug on the counter next to you.

“It’s okay,” you say earnestly. “He sucked, and I was uncomfortable, but you still made him leave. I didn’t feel like I was in danger or anything, so don’t worry about it.”

“I just feel like it’s partially my fault, for kind of yelling about the fact that you’ve never sucked a dick before.” You’re incredibly grateful that you weren’t drinking coffee at that moment, because you definitely would have spat it out all over the floor. His bluntness never ceased to surprise you. It was unbearably adorable. “I should be more aware of my surroundings, especially when talking about something sensitive like that.”

“Well,” you start, pausing thoughtfully. “I don’t really think that man would have acted differently either way, to be honest with you. Men like that are just… like that. I also don’t really care who knows I’ve never given a blowjob before. It doesn’t matter, at the end of the day. I haven’t done it because I haven’t slept with anyone who’s dick I wanted to suck, and that’s all. I just wish I knew how sometimes, you know?”

He shuffles his weight around at your words, shifting from foot to foot. He’s still fumbling with the pen on the counter, but now his fingers are clumsier than usual. You glance up at his face only to find him staring into empty space in front of him. You figure you made him uncomfortable with your oversharing.

“Sorry. That was TMI.”

“No,” he answers quickly. “We share everything. I told you when I threw up on Seungkwan’s lap and cried because I felt bad, didn’t I?” You smile at the reminder and nod. He finally meets your eyes again. “I was just thinking, you know.”

“What about?”

Vernon’s mind is the most fascinating thing to you. The way he thinks is so out of the box and different, and so beautiful. He has shown you the lyrics he writes for his friend Jihoon sometimes, and they’re so poetic you find yourself turning them over in your mind for days afterward. And the best part about it is that he always answers you when you ask what’s going on inside his head. He grants you access to his thoughts and feelings, and it’s the greatest gift you’ve ever received.

“Well. I don’t know if this is going to come off as creepy or not,” he warns, “but I was thinking like… Maybe you should just get it over with.”

“Get what over with?” Your eyebrow rises as you ask the question, and his furrow in response.

“I just mean that you could know how to give a good blowjob, if you wanted to. You could just… pick someone to sleep with. And ask them to teach you. You know?”

“Nonnie,” you start, and your bewildered tone makes him shrink a little. “You really believe the best of people, don’t you?”

“Well- I mean yes, but I didn't mean you should just sleep with anyone. You could just pick someone you already know.”

His words give you pause. You have plenty of friends in possession of a penis, but the thought of sleeping with most of them feels kinda gross. The one exception is… Well, Vernon. And you sincerely doubt that he is offering himself up. So you do what you always do and make a joke to force your mind away from the thought of sucking on your friend’s dick until he cums for you.

“What, are you offering?”

“I mean, yeah,” he shrugs.

You stop breathing. He is actually, genuinely offering to teach you how to suck dick. More specifically, his dick. The one that has been the star of many of your more illicit fantasies. You want to say yes so badly, want to finally get the experience of being something more to him, but you also don’t want to get ahead of yourself. But…

The room is silent while you’re thinking. You feel his eyes on the side of your face, feel the way he’s cataloging every emotion that overtakes your features, and you swallow harshly. Your heart is beating out of your chest and your hands are shaking, and your brain is running a mile a minute with no end in sight.

Then Vernon places his hand on your thigh. His touch is warm but light, ready to pull away as soon as you want him to, but it’s enough to bring your soul back into your body and get a grasp on your thoughts and feelings. You bite your lower lip and breathe in deeply before letting it go. Yeah, you’re doing this.

“I uh, I’m going to need some guidance,” you say, and you almost miss the way your friend’s eyes widen at your words.

“O-Of course. And if you want to stop at any time, just like, tell me, yeah?”

You smile at the comfort his words bring you. “Yeah.”

There is silence once again, but this one is heavy with a different kind of tension. You both know what’s happening, but you don’t know what your next move should be. Technically, you should be working and saving any… other activities for your own free time, but you don’t think waiting is something you’re capable of at this point.

He is the one to make the first move, placing his half-empty mug on the counter and placing himself between your legs. His hands find a place on your waist, bunching the fabric of your shirt slightly. Sitting on the counter means you’re a little bit taller than he is, but you really don’t mind it. He holds your gaze for a few seconds before his left hand lifts to cup your face.

“Are you okay with kissing?” His voice is a bit deeper than normal, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t make heat pool between your legs. “I understand if not, but-”

You interrupt him with a gentle kiss. His lips are pillowy against yours, smooth and plump. You thank your past self for bullying him into using chapstick, because you can honestly say that this might be your favorite kiss ever.

Vernon’s hand moves from your jaw to rake through your hair, and you moan a little when his fingers catch a little in the back. He responds by stepping even closer to you and sliding his entire arm around your back, your chest pressing against his deliciously. The only thought going through your mind is the fact that you are kissing your favorite coworker, and how you really, really want to bury his cock in your throat.

He chases after you when you pull away slightly to catch your breath, and you don’t even mind that the oxygen deprivation is making you dizzy. You slump against him a little when he tugs on your hair again, and you move to return the favor. As soon as you pull on the hair at the back of his neck, he forces himself to pull away and gulp down some air.

His eyes are glazed over, his lips slick with a mix of your and his saliva, and his chest is rising and falling where it’s pressed against yours. It's painfully attractive. He rasps out a quiet groan and leans his forehead against yours. You love the feeling of his harsh breaths hitting your face and answer back with your own.

You feel like you’re in a bubble, because the world around you feels muted and time feels like it has stopped moving. You wouldn’t be surprised if the earth had stopped spinning.

“Sorry,” he breathes. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and inhales your scent. “I just really wanted to do that.”

“Stop apologizing,” you respond, bringing your hand onto his head to scratch at his scalp. “I liked it. Maybe a bit too much.”

Your words bring a whine out of Vernon, and he squeezes you tighter. You’re still on top of the counter, but you can feel his bulge against the inside of your thigh. It twitches against you every time you tug at the ends of his hair, and it makes you smile.

One of your hands snakes down and cups him through his jeans. He reacts strongly despite the thick material separating you. His willingness to show you how good you make him feel make you fall for him all over again. As if he wasn’t already perfect enough.

“Y/N,” he gulps when you move your hand against him, “we’re taking this at your pace, and I can go as slowly as you want to, but I think I might go insane if I don’t get these pants off.”

You giggle breathlessly as you pull away from him, and he forces himself to take a step back from you. You lean back on your hands, your knees still spread from where he was standing previously. He’s distracted for a few seconds before he finally remembers to unbutton his jeans and tugs them down his legs.

The bulge had been apparent through the jeans, but you can truly tell how hard he is when they come off. The way he twitches in his boxers is so obvious you almost feel bad for him. You decide it’s time you follow through and receive your lesson.

You hop off the counter and slide onto your knees in front of him. It’s unfair how attractive he is even from this angle, you think, and slide your hands up his thighs. You’ve given handjobs before, so it’s not exactly your first time touching a dick, but the goal is different now. This time, your hands are just the warmup and not the main event. You’re just hoping you can bring him some sort of pleasure in spite of your inexperience.

“Tell me how to start,” you whisper up at him. He blinks a few times at the sight of you before sucking in a deep breath.

“Yeah,” he rasps. His throat is already dry with anticipation. “I uh, I mean everyone is different when it comes to this stuff, so uh-”

“Just teach me what you like, Nonnie.” Your hands are massaging his thighs, nails digging into his skin every now and then. Whenever they do, you can feel him shudder.

“O-Oh, okay,” he breathes, sounding broken already. “I prefer skipping the handjob first, I guess. I really l-like the feeling of licking, especially at the tip, and uh-” He is becoming redder by the second. “One step at a time. Uhm, start by removing my boxers.”

You nod obediently and slide your hands up to his lower tummy, watching the expressions of pleasure as they take over his face. You assume you will never get to do this again, so you do your best to burn it all into your mind for later use on lonely nights spent with your vibrator. He shudders again when your nails scratch his skin lightly. Your fingers curl around the hem of his underwear and tug.

His cock is beautiful. It’s pretty long, curving slightly towards his stomach, and the tip of it is a perfect shade of peach. Your mouth waters at the thought of getting to taste it, and you eye the drop of precum spilling from the tip. You gently shuffle closer, but he stops you.

“Sorry, you’re fine, I just need something to lean against,” he explains when you look at him in fear of having done something wrong. He maneuvers you both so that he’s leaning against the counter you were sitting on not five minutes ago, and you’re in front of him.

“What now, Nonnie?” you ask, his eyes shutting and chest expanding to accommodate a deep breath.

“You should probably just uh, stroke me a few times first. Then uhm, then you can do whatever you want.” You blink at him a few times, trying to indicate that he’s supposed to be teaching you how to do this. For once, he gets the hint. “Like I said, I uh, like licking. When you take me in you just have to make sure not to like, bite me. Other than that, you can take it at your own speed and depth - for your comfort, of course, but I’m also not picky.”

You admire the flush decorating his cheeks and neck. He looks so good like this, towering over you and looking at you like you hold the answer to his ultimate pleasure. You try to convince yourself that you do, that you will be able to listen and follow his guidance well enough that this will feel good for him. You decide that you will.

Raising your right hand, you grip him tightly in your fist. It makes him suck in a breath, and you feel the muscles in his thighs tense up. You pump him a few times, going slow and using his precum as lube. It’s not enough, of course, but you will move on soon.

“Fuck…” he heaves, leaning back onto the counter even more. He looks into your eyes and swears again. “Please, sweetheart, as soon as you’re ready, I-I want-”

You cut him off by pressing your tongue against the head of his dick. The flavor is salty and a little bit bitter, but it tastes like heaven. Your eyes briefly slip closed as you continue kitten-licking at his slit, and he lets out a winy moan. You open your eyes and look at him, only to find him with his head tilted back to look at the ceiling.

“How is this?” you pause to ask, continuing before he’s had time to answer.

“Good, baby,” Vernon answers through his labored breathing. “So, so good. Keep going, you’re doing great.”

The praise bolsters your confidence, and you give a long lick from his base to his tip. The motion makes him moan again, so you repeat it a few more times. In no time at all, his cock is covered in a mixture of your saliva and his own precum. You decide it’s time to try and take him in your mouth - both because you’ve teased him enough, but you’re also too impatient to wait anymore.

His tip breaches the heat of your mouth , and you find you have to open your jaw quite a bit to accommodate him. A punched out groan leaves him, and one of his hands comes down to tangle in your hair. When a strand of it falls in front of your face, he gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail at the back of your head.

You love the weight of him on your tongue, and dare to sink down a bit lower. He hits the top of your mouth. You gag around him, and he gently pulls you off of him to check on you.

“You okay? You don’t have to keep going,” he reminds you. It only serves to make you more determined to make him cum down the back of your throat.

“What can I do better?” you ask while stroking him in your hand. You still want to improve.

“Honestly?” he wheezes, his hips jumping of their own accord. “You’re doing great.” You glare a bit at him, and he smiles down at you apologetically. “Sorry. But you are doing great. Maybe try sucking a bit more? Not just placing me in your mouth.”

You nod and sink right back down on him. His noises of pleasure are never-ending, and they only increase in volume as well as frequency once you properly suck around him. You bob up and down on him, his hand clenching in your hair as he’s doing his best not to fuck your throat. You’re making it pretty hard.

“Please, baby, I’m gonna fucking- Where do you want me to cum?”

His voice is hoarse and strained, and his grip on your hair has grown so tight it’s stinging your scalp. You savor the pain and rub your thighs together, mewling around him. You grip his ass and push deeper to signal for him to cum in your mouth, and it’s not a second too soon because he immediately spills his seed into you.

Vernon cums so much that some spills out onto your chin, but you diligently swallow what you can. He tries to keep his eyes on you, but his vision quite literally whites out as he reaches his high, so his eyes screw shut without his permission. You, on the other hand, couldn’t tear your gaze from him if you tried. He’s beautiful when he cums, his eyebrows scrunched in what almost looks like pain and his jaw slack in awe. His thighs tremble, and you’re glad he’s leaning against the counter so he doesn’t collapse onto the floor.

“Fuck, how are you so good at this,” he heaves out when his vision returns. You just smirk up at him, some of his cum still covering your chin and lips.

“I had a good teacher,” you tease back. Your voice is raspy after bobbing on his cock, and he finds it painfully attractive.

He notices the way you clench your thighs together and realizes you’re still on the floor. He’s quick to bend down and help you to your feet. As soon as you’re in front of him, he’s kissing you. He doesn’t care about the cum transferring from your chin to his, nor the fact that his softening dick is still out in the open; all he can think about is that he wants to pay you back for what you just did for him.

“Nonnie,” you breathe between kisses, and instead of pulling away it makes him kiss you harder, faster, deeper. He loves when you call him that. He reluctantly pulls away when you push gently against his chest, though. “We should finish the-”

“I need to eat you out, baby. Please, please let me.” His interruption surprises you, and so does his suggestion. He must see your confusion, because he quickly clears things up for you. “I want to, because I like you so much. I promise to ask you to be my girlfriend after this, but please, let me eat you out first.”

“Okay, but Nonnie-” you say, but he interrupts you with a passionate kiss as he mumbles thanks against your lips. “Nonnie.” He sighs and pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. He closes his eyes to stop himself from jumping you again, and you smile. “I’ll say yes right now. I want to be your girlfriend. Is that okay?”

He kisses you so deeply you lose track of where he starts and you end, but you’re just so glad to be kissing him again you probably couldn’t have figured it out anyway. You don’t talk much more that evening, and you definitely don’t get home before midnight, but at least you go home and fall into bed together. Maybe his inattentiveness was a blessing, after all.

masterlist

a/n: don't forget to like and reblog if you enjoyed this post! <3

[luveline]

—you meet Spencer again after losing out on the BAU job. he comforts you while you do your best not to flirt. bombshell!reader, 0.9k

You lose out on the BAU job to Elle Greenaway. It drives you crazy.

You work just as hard as Elle does, you’re professional no matter what Jason Gideon has to say about you, and you know you could do it. You have just as many successes as Elle does.

It makes you feel sick. You tried so, so hard.

I’m sorry, Hotch had said, and at least you’d had his support. He was kind enough to tell you in person. I can’t make the decision without Gideon, and if he thinks you aren’t right for it right now, we’ll have to wait.

Wait. As though Jason Gideon was ever going to change his mind about you.

You open your purse and take out the barrel of your sheer lipstick. Your compact is next. You hold the mirror up and angle your face in the sun, popping the lid off of the lipstick, and pressing its flat end to your bottom lip. The line you draw is perfectly precise. Your hand barely trembles.

You drop the mirror down and rub your lips together slowly. No matter what falls out of your control, you can present yourself to your liking. You can be immaculate. You—

“Hi.”

You look up from your rumination, startled. You’d been thinking so hard someone actually got the run up on you.

“Hi,” you say, tilting your head gently toward your shoulder.

Dr. Spencer Reid stands a polite three feet away from you. He’s suddenly changed. The last time you met him he was wearing his long hair in a side part. Now it’s split down the middle, just a touch shorter at the sides, and he’s wearing glasses.

(He’s wearing glasses!)

You’d thought he was pretty before.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” you say, tempted to call him baby, maybe sweetheart. He’s a sweet looking boy. His sweater vest makes you wanna hold his hand. “Thank you for asking. Why are you asking?”

You talk to him with no derision nor malice, just curiosity.

He frowns. It gives his eyes a sad shine. “I know you wanted the open position. You would’ve been great at it.”

“You think so?” you ask, surprised.

“I’ve seen some of your write ups. We’ve used your summaries in one of our profiles, do you… remember that?”

You send Hotch anything he wants to see.

“I don’t know why Gideon doesn’t like you… He’s so rarely wrong about people, but you’re…” He licks his lips nervously. “You’re– you’re smart. You’re inquisitive. I think you would be an asset to the team, and it’s a shame you didn’t get your chance.”

You’re making him nervous and it isn’t your intention. You put your hands in your lap and stop giving him the look, swapping your amicable smile for a proper friendly one. “Thank you. Is it okay if I call you Spencer? Dr. Spencer Reid is a lot to say at once.”

He laughs, still nervous. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Spencer, thank you for caring so much, but I’m okay. I think I might still have a chance one day, but with Elle gone, the sex crimes division is going to need me.” You lift your chin. If he’s sought you out to tell you he’s sorry, your premonitions about him when you met a few weeks ago were correct. He’s as kind as he is pretty. “I love your glasses. Are they for reading?”

“I always wore glasses when I was a kid, and then I started working here, and I thought it might make me seem less… childish, if I wore contacts, but they’re the worst.”

You laugh happily. He says it in such a pained voice. “The glasses suit you so much,” you say, shoving your things into your bag and standing. “Did you wanna go for coffee? I need a pick me up before I go back to the office.”

Spencer touches his wrist. “Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” you ask, again, without a drop of malice. You’re not stupid, Spencer has all the nervousness of someone who’s been mistreated before, and heartily, and it’s easy to be soft with him not solely because of it, but because he seems so sweet. You could happily be his friend. “Do you like coffee? We could get those hot donuts from the cafeteria, have you tried those?”

You close the little gap between you both and raise your hand carefully to his face. Gentle, you try to pull a stray hair from the hinge of his glasses leg without snapping it.

“You can tell me all the stuff I’m doing wrong.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Spencer says.

“Come on, there has to be something.”

His mouth gives him away. “It’s not that you’re doing it wrong, you’re just– you– you’re not looking at things the…” Your fingertip brushes his cheek as you drop your hand. “…Right way, sometimes.”

“I wanted your recommendations.” You bump his elbow with yours. “I’ll buy you a coffee and you can write me a list. Cool?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Cool.”

You’re thinking it’ll be the start of a good friendship. You and Dr. Reid make quite a pair.

[7ndipity]

Every Little Thing

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: When you overhear Yoongi talking about how clingy you’ve been lately, you decide to take a step back from your friendship to give him space. But your sudden absence goes far from unnoticed by him.

Word Count: 2k(wtf?!)

Warnings: angst, swearing, only partially proofread

A/N: Thanks so much to the lovely anon who requested this! This story, I... I don’t know what happened, I went from struggling to get it to work at all to getting waayy too carried away. I kinda had to stop myself at the end before it shifted into something else, but maybe if y’all want a part two, we can pick up from there?

Masterlist

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As you got off the elevator, you couldn’t help the faint bounce in your step as you made your way to Yoongi’s studio, your bag slung over one shoulder, a grocery bag of snacks and drinks for the two of you to share.

Ever since you and Yoongi(and in turn, the rest of the members) had become friends, The Genius Lab had become a hideaway of sorts for you. Whenever you were feeling stressed or overwhelmed, you knew you could call Yoongi, and he would tell you to come over, letting you camp out on his couch while he worked, occasionally asking for your thoughts or opinions on a specific song or line.

As you neared his studio door, you noticed it was slightly ajar, allowing the voices from inside to slip out into the hall, quickly recognizing them as Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s.

“You wanna come to lunch with me and Hoseok?” Namjoon asked.

“Agh, I can’t, I told Y/n’s we could hang out today.” You heard Yoongi’s chair creak as he stretched, letting out a groan.

“Again? That’s like the third time this week, people are gonna start thinking you’re a couple or something at this rate.” Joon joked, making your cheeks flush lightly.

“Nah, it’s nothing like that,” Yoongi replied, sounding tired. “They’re just being clingier than usual, you know what they’re like.”

You frowned at his words. What did he mean by that?

“I know it’s just cause they’ve been stressed lately,” Yoongi continued. “But honestly, it’s gotten to the point where it’s weirder for them to not be here.”

Joon chuckled. “I’m surprised you don’t find that annoying.”

“I didn’t say that I don’t,” Yoongi said. “But it’s Y/n, so I let it slide. Anyway, on that track you showed me-”

You stepped back from the door, the sudden tightness in your chest making it slightly difficult to breathe as you quietly made your back down the hall to the elevators. As the metal doors closed, you replayed what you had overheard in your head.

Yoongi had always told you that he didn’t mind you hanging around, but maybe you had started to abuse that privilege, grown too dependent on him. Was that how he really felt about you? Had you become a nuisance? And if so, why hadn’t he said anything?

Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you quickly found his number and hit the call icon, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat before he picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, are you almost here?” He answered, sounding much brighter than a few minutes ago.

“Uh, actually, I don’t think I can make it today.” You said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, concerned.

No, one of my best friends hates me. “Yeah, everything’s fine, something just came up, sorry.” You bit your lip, managing to slip out of the building without running into any of the other members and making your way down the street to the bus stop.

“Okay.” He sounded unconvinced. “Is it anything I can help with, or-?”

“No, no it’s-, it’s a work thing.” You said, the words falling flat on your own ears. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Alright.” He said reluctantly. “Bye.”

“Bye.” You hung up, letting out a deep breath.

You could tell he hadn’t believed you, but you didn’t really care at the moment. If he wasn’t going to be honest with you, why should you be any different?

Suddenly presented with the afternoon to yourself, you decided to head to the park, wandering along the river as you thought over everything.

You and Yoongi had come here together not long after you had moved to the city, the last few blooms of the cherry blossom season clinging on stubbornly to their branches. He’d promised to bring you back the next year, so you could see them in their full glory at peak bloom.

Of course, life and work had gotten in the way, as they often did, and before either of you had realized, the season had nearly passed again before he could keep his word. You’d told him at the time that it didn’t matter, you’d just been happy to spend time with him, a recurring theme for you apparently…

Had you been a bother to him back then as well? You didn’t believe so, but the earlier sting of his words had left you questioning everything, even if you knew it might be an over-reaction.

It was dark by the time you made it home, flopping down on the sofa with a tired sigh as you contemplated your options.

So you’d been bugging him lately, that was an easily fixable problem, right? Just leave him alone for a bit, it was as simple as that, wasn’t it?

You weren’t so sure as your phone suddenly buzzed on the cushion next to you, drawing your attention to Yoongi’s name illuminated on the screen. You’d forgotten you said you’d call him.

‘Hadn’t heard from you, just wanted to make sure you’re okay?’ The text read.

Now who’s the clingy one? Was your immediate first thought.

‘I’m fine, just tired. Talk to you tomorrow.’ You typed shortly before turning off your phone and going to bed, with no intention of texting him the next day unless he did so first.

For the next week, you tried to keep up with your new normal; you didn’t go by the studio, you avoided texting him unless he did first, and generally avoided his invites to hangout with vague excuses.

One place you couldn’t avoid him though was dinner with the other members. It was a monthly tradition that you usually looked forward to, but as you stepped through the door of the restaurant, you only felt a wave of nervousness, for what though exactly you didn’t know.

“Y/n!” Tae quickly hopped to his feet to give you a hug, the others all greeting you enthusiastically. You noticed Yoongi didn’t speak, only nodding to you politely, but his eyes never left you for a second, seeming to study your every move.

“Y/n, do you want my seat? I know you usually prefer to sit by Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook asked, starting to get to his feet, but you quickly waved him to sit.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to move for me, I’m fine over here.” You said, settling in the free seat next to Jimin, which happened to be directly across the table from Yoongi.

Everyone quickly settled into their usual routines and conversations, the mix of voices blurring into an almost comforting buzz, allowing you to zone out for a moment and relax, but a single low voice managed to snap you back to attention.

“I haven’t seen you all week.” Yoongi said quietly, a noticeable heaviness in his voice.

“Yeah, things have just been kinda busy.” You tried to say convincingly, but it was hard to pull off under his gaze. Luckily, Jin asked you about something from the show you’d been watching and gave you an easy out of the conversation.

You managed to get through the evening well enough, talking with the others, even making plans with Jimin for him to help you pick out some new furniture for your apartment. You’d felt Yoongi’s eyes on you all evening, but hadn’t said anything.

It was later that night when you were pulled from sleep by the sound of someone knocking persistently on your front door.

Cautiously, you climbed out of bed and padded to the door.

Who’s there?” You called anxiously, trying to remember where you’d put your old baseball bat, in case you needed to defend yourself.

“It’s Yoongi.”

You froze, staring at the door in surprise for a second before going over and peering out the peephole.

Sure enough, he was standing on your doorstep, causing a brief sense of relief that was quickly replaced with confusion and the same nervousness from earlier.

Not quite knowing what else to do, you cracked the door open slowly, taking in his slightly disheveled state; hair mussed and faint bags under his eyes. He looked the same way as when he would pull all-nighters at the studio.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“Why’ve you been avoiding me?” He responded with his own question, staring you down.

“I-, I haven’t-”

“Don’t lie.” He stopped you.

Glancing around quickly, you pulled him inside, not wanting to have this discussion in the hall.

“You’ve been dodging my texts and calls, you wouldn’t sit with me at dinner, you asked Jimin for help with furniture shopping, which you know he’s terrible at.” He continued as you closed the door. “So, tell me please, what has happened to make you start ditching me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that I was annoying you?” You snapped.

He stopped, staring at you in confusion. “What?”

“I heard you and Joon talking last week,” You said, his face falling as the memory came flooding back. “About how clingy I’ve been, and how I’ve been annoying you by hanging around so much.”

“You haven’t been-”

“Don’t.” It was your turn to cut him off. “Don’t try to tell me that it’s not true or you didn’t mean it. What I want to know is why you weren’t just honest with me?” You hated the way your voice started to shake as you spoke. “Why didn’t you just tell me to fuck off or something? Why do you put up with me if I'm such an annoyance?!”

“Because I fucking love you!” He blurted out.

You froze, staring at him in shock. “What?!”

“I-, I love you.” He said quietly.

“You love me?” You repeated, hurt and frustration still churning in your stomach, not letting you take his words to heart. “You love me, but you think I’m annoying?”

“I think everyone’s annoying!” He tossed his hands up in frustration. “The difference is that I like your annoyance!

“I like that you’re loud and weird and make terrible jokes, I like that you nag me to take better care of myself.” He said. “I like that you’re happy holed up in my studio with me. I like that you sing along to every song that you recognize, even without realizing that you’re doing it.”

He took a cautious step closer, pleading with his eyes as he spoke.

“I like every little annoying thing that you do, because they’re what make you you. I’m so sorry that I made you think anything otherwise.”

You hadn’t moved as he spoke, fighting the tremble in your lip as your eyes had misted over with tears.

“Y/n?” He asked anxiously.

You didn’t speak, choosing instead to lunge forward, wrapping your arms tightly around him in a bruising hug. He staggering back slightly at the force of the collision, arms immediately coming up to hold you in an equally tight embrace.

“I missed you.” You sniffled, burying your face in his chest.

“I missed you too.” He replied, holding you tighter, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “I’m also sorry for telling you I loved you in a shitty way.”

“Eh, it’s kinda on brand for us, honestly.” You teased, making him let out a huff of laughter.

“I guess you’re right, fuck.” He shook his head.

“You wanna try again?” You offered.

He pulled back to look at you. “Really?”

You nodded. “If you want to.”

He nodded, pulling away enough to take your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles as he pressed his lips together nervously, eyes shaking slightly as he met your gaze.

“I love you, Y/n.”

He’d barely gotten the last word out before your lips were on his, effectively shutting you both up for the next several minutes.

When you finally pulled back, his eyes were blown wide, lips swollen and red from your assault, his breaths coming out in shaky puffs.

“I love you too, by the way.” You said, grinning at his slightly dazed expression.

“Cool, c’mere.” He said, pulling you back in, making you giggle as he eagerly reconnected your mouths.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz