#why would I have to ask if it was okay to offer that??

[fgumi]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LOSER IN A HOT MAN'S BODY

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, school!au, headcanon, WC; 2.8k, A/N; i love losers that love that girlfriends entirely too much but, at the same time, not enough. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso }

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ part two is up!

loser!heeseung was never the first one to get chosen for anything. well, he did get chosen first for musicals and solos! he had a beautiful voice and there was no denying that. but, for anything else? nope. it wasn't until you transferred over to his high school that he got picked willingly (and not because you guys were the only two left). you approached him in gym class after your teacher said to partner up for conditioning. "hey! i'm y/n. do you think we could be partners today?"

heeseung just blinked at you and then turned to see if someone was behind him. when he verified you were talking to him, he turned back to see you with a bemused look, a slight crease forming right between your brows. "you are talking to me, right?" he asked nervously.

a wry smile formed on your lips as you nodded. "there’s no one else around."

heeseung couldn't believe it. someone who wasn't a part of the theatre department was talking to him! so, he agreed with only a moment's hesitation. by the time sit-ups came around, heeseung knew about your basic interests and one secret: you were big on anime. you explained to him, during his sad attempts at pushups, that you loved anime but remained closeted because the boys at your last school made it weird. heeseung was careful not to let his excitement show; he didn't wanna scare you off before he really got to know you. eventually, after all the hellish exercises your teacher put you through, heeseung shyly asked you why you wanted to be partners.

"you looked like the type that doesn't judge people for struggling," you replied after drinking your water. you wiped the droplets of water that trickled down your neck and then offered heeseung some. "i don't have cooties. promise."

he gave you a faint, unsure smile, his hand reaching out slowly, half expecting you to pull it back and say psych! but you didn’t. you just patiently waited for him to take it. honestly, he just looked like a spooked deer to you, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing. after class was over and it was time for lunch, heeseung deflated. it was nice talking to you while it lasted.

“heeseung! wait up!”

he turned to you with round eyes, watching you rush over, a backpack draped over your right shoulder. you were freshly showered, water still dripping off the ends of your hair. you looked... happy? you slowed to a stop right in front of him.

“do you mind if we eat together?”

you wanted to eat with him? a cool girl like you wants to eat with a certified loser like him?

“it’s okay if you already have plans! i think i can find somewhere else to sit.”

no! you jumped a little. heeseung retracted into himself, rubbing the back of his neck. he’s never had someone ask to eat with him. he just sort of sat with his theatre classmates—not even friends. they all thought he was weird. you gave him a puzzled look.

“are you sure? you don’t have to pity me just because i’m new,” you pouted. gosh, was it just him or did everyone find you adorable?

“i’m sure. i was just hesitant since i’m not known for being, you know, popular.”

rolling your eyes, you clapped a hand on his shoulder. “as if that actually matters.” you tugged him along, linking your arm with his. thank goodness you were busy looking for the cafeteria because heeseung was struggling to keep the blush off of his face. as much as heeseung didn’t want to get his hopes up, he hoped that you guys would become real friends.

loser!heeseung loved his hobbies. he could talk about them for hours; they were his passion. he loved playing maple story, league of legends, team fight tactics, going to the renaissance fair, studying the metrics of trot (this one was a little too niche to really talk about though). none of these passions were greater than his passion for you. this man was dedicated to learning everything there was to know about you now that you were friends. you teased him about how stalkerish he sounded. almost immediately, he apologized.

the way his shoulders shrunk and eyes drooped down, you were definitely the asshole. when he stopped talking, you panicked. so, you didn’t think. you kissed his cheek. you blinked. he blinked. you blinked at each other. you know that ouran high school host club scene where tamaki realized haruhi is a girl and she complimented him? you’d bet your whole house that’s how red you were because you could feel the heat radiating off your face.

heeseung’s mind was still white noise. any sounds that were supposed to reach his ears were muffled, like he was underwater. was he underwater? was he dragged down into the depths of the styx river only to be lost forever? was he dreaming to cope with the harsh reality of his death? was he—

“heeseung?” you meekly called. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that without your consent. that was—”

he must’ve called upon achilles’s guidance and invincibility because he didn’t know where he got this courage otherwise. what courage you may ask? well, the courage that planted heeseung’s lips on yours.

your lips were so soft. they tasted like strawberries. he wondered if strawberries were your favorite fruit. he could kiss you forever. oh crap, he was kissing you.

anxiety crept up his spine, invading his every nerve; it was telling him he had to pull away or else you’d leave him forever. except, when he started moving away, he noticed you followed, reluctant to end the kiss. your eyes were closed too. he could’ve sworn they were open from shock.

heeseung could feel his back creaking in protest at the odd angle; he would’ve fallen over if it weren’t for you clutching the front of his shirt. huh? oh! maybe, you liked the kiss! you liked the kiss, like he did! oh, but now he couldn’t breathe. what should he do? he didn’t want the kiss to end.

he pressed back, holding out until the last possible moment. but you pulled away first, gasping for air. a blush dusted your cheeks and heeseung could guess that he was red too—probably not as pretty of a shade as yours though.

“s-sorry,” he stammered as you caught your breath. “i don’t know why i—”

you shut him up with another kiss (but this one was too short for heeseung’s newfound thirst for kissing you). when you pulled away, his big eyes tugged at your heart. they looked so sad that you moved away. it made you giggle—this whole situation. for someone that was trying to learn everything about you, he sure did miss your huge crush on him.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how he got so fortunate. was he a luck domain cleric in real life? he felt like he was rolling nat 20s continuously. he managed to ask you out (though, he was stuttering the whole time and nearly tripped on top of you—it was a whole affair that he’d rather forget) and be dating you 3 years later? he was one lucky man. and, some might say even luckier as time went on.

you got more confident once you guys got to college and, thus, you got hotter. you found your sense of self and your fashion reflected it. heeseung wasn’t doing so bad either. he found people that he got along with and could proudly (read: shyly) call friends. he found beomgyu in the league discord server that the university had and jeongin in d&d club! he’d meet up with them every once in awhile whenever they all felt like they needed to touch grass. of course, his friends knew you came first. you were heeseung’s everything. what they couldn’t wrap around their heads was how heeseung was your everything.

“you’ve been dating for 3 years!? no way, man.” “are you secretly rich? the son of some big conglomerate?” “all offense, she’s hot and you’re… not.”

heeseung didn’t let that bother him. his friends were idiots that had never felt the touch of a woman. plus, you trained him better (you told him to stop talking about himself like he was your pet, but he refused). you loved him so much without any strings attached. you were patient with him and listened to him ramble about how league kept nerfing his favorite character with every update. you never tried to change him and you told him it’s because you fell in love with him for how he was. but, there came a day when he wished you did. he happened to overhear a conversation between you and your friends.

“girl, there’s no way you’ve been with heeseung for 3 years and he hasn’t picked up a single thing about fashion from you.” “the face cards are mismatched, ma. you’re up here and he’s not even on this plane.” “don’t you ever get embarrassed whenever you guys go out? i mean, he dresses like he’s stuck in his mom’s basement.” “i hope he compensates in other ways because he’s not doing it where i can see.” “how are you okay with someone that much skinnier than you? doesn’t your body dysmorphia get triggered?”

you stopped talking to those girls after that. however, it didn’t stop heeseung from getting hurt by it. it was true, in heeseung’s eyes. you deserved much better than what he was giving you. how is it that you loved him even though he looked the exact same as he did 3 years ago? there were so many hot guys around and you never so much as turned your head to glance. there was nothing to support his insecurity about being hot enough or being enough in general. nonetheless, that horrid conversation sparked something in heeseung.

“baby, i’m heading to the gym. i’ll be back later to cook us dinner, okay?” if your brows raised any further, they’d merge into your hairline. “the gym?” heeseung nodded firmly. “gotta start working out to combat all the ramen i eat.”

“hee, you haven’t gained weight since we started dating, despite you eating my leftovers and your food. you don’t need to combat anything,” you laughed. when you saw heeseung was still tying the laces on his shoes, you let it go, thinking nothing of it. you kissed him and reminded him to stay hydrated.

thus began heeseung’s gym journey. it was difficult. muscle barely stuck even though he was eating well over 3000 calories. but, he could see his body getting toned, more cut, so he was happy. maybe people would stop looking at the two of you like you were wrong.

his wishful thinking remained at that. despite getting noticeably more fit, people still talked. they talked about his fashion, his haircut, and his hygiene (he thought this one was unfair considering he always did skincare with you and loved doing your nightly routines).

so, on the day you told him you were going thrifting, he asked to tag along. you were taken aback. heeseung never came with you; he didn’t see the point when he had perfectly good clothes at home. but you let him come along. you thought he’d just peruse with you or be there to make sure you paid with the card he gave you (he made a lot of money from his internship and begged you to use it for anything you wanted), but he didn’t. he asked a lot of questions.

“do you think this would look good on me?” “do these go together?” “are these good quality?”

you were excited. going thrifting was one of your favorite hobbies and to see heeseung taking such an interest in it was thrilling. you gave your opinions, always with a disclaimer that fashion is up to preference. he nodded along, processing your words. by the end of your thrifting trip, heeseung went home with a bundle of clothes to wear. the next day, he’d wake up earlier than normal to try and piece his new clothes together. he knew he wasn’t good at it. his friends let him know without reservations. hell, your friends let him know with their skeptical looks. it wasn’t until he talked to sunghoon in the gym that he got some actual constructive criticism.

“you’re taking an interest in fashion?”

“nothing crazy,” heeseung muttered, kicking the dust on the floor. “i just hate the comments y/n gets whenever her friends think i’m not listening.”

sunghoon looked at his gym buddy in pity. “look, man. if everything you’ve told me about your relationship is true, i don’t think y/n cares what you wear. she hasn’t in 3 years. what makes you think it’ll change all of a sudden?”

nothing. he didn’t doubt you. he just got sick at the thought of you having to listen to all those criticisms. so, sunghoon helped him. he showed him his pinterest moodboard and made heeseung swear to never tell anyone that’s how he chooses what to wear. after that informative session, heeseung got to work. he used your instagram feed as a reference, wanting to match your aesthetic, and created a moodboard inspired by it. using his pinterest board, he went thrifting by himself. he recalled the countless videos he watched while sorting through the clothes. cotton, not polyester. depending on the stain, you can get it out. tailoring is always an option when you find something that is a little too big!

he was very serious about his transformation. he even digitally scrapbooked the pictures of him in different clothes so he could be like cher in clueless. since then, his fashion started improving. your morning routines together changed ever so slightly with you telling him to spin for you. his heart warmed with every compliment you gave him.

“who is this diva?” “i feel very underdressed. i’m changing.” “are you getting dressed by law roach?” “you’ve been taking dress to impress a little seriously these days.”

heeseung’s confidence soared. now, he wasn’t ashamed to go out with you. your friends weren’t ashamed to be seen with him either. they even went as far as to compliment him! score! he’d gotten brownie points with your friends.

“finally, he’s dressing like a boyfriend fit to be with you, y/n.”

oh, that made you pull the brakes real fast. it completely escaped your mind how much your friends dissed your boyfriend (because you brushed them off as stupid comments). come to think of it, heeseung always did manage to miss the moments where they talked about him, but only by a minute or two. what if… what if he did hear those comments?

curious and worried, you asked him during your nightly routines. “hee, did… did you start dressing up for any particular reason?”

uh oh. heeseung hated lying to you; it physically pained him. so, he confessed. “i heard what your friends think of me and i didn’t want you to have to keep hearing them say things like that.”

“oh, baby, i’m so sorry you heard that,” you cooed. “i didn’t tell you because not even an atom of me agrees with them. i love you as you are, uni tees, basketball shorts and all.”

heeseung put down the moisturizer and looked down. “i know… i just wanted people to stop thinking we’re wrong for each other.”

you frowned and pulled him into a hug. “well, we know we’re perfect for each other. i’ve known it from the moment you started talking about the metrics of trot. i remember just nodding along and thinking how beautiful you were.”

heeseung blushed at your words. you always knew how to make him feel better.

“you don’t have to dress up for anyone but yourself, okay?”

he shook his head with a small smile. “i like matching with you. it’s fun.”

“well, i guess we really gotta dress to impress then,” you grinned, kissing his cheek.

with that, heeseung was reassured. no more pressure. he could just dress however he wanted (which was however you were dressing). but, his glow up didn’t stop there. no, he thought about a haircut. he wanted something that would shut your friends up forever. so, after scrolling forever on tiktok, he found that he liked a mullet with some face-framing pieces. he went and got it done at sunghoon’s trusted barbershop and came out a new man. he immediately sent you a picture, to which you responded, “don’t go anywhere. no errands. no grabbing food. come home. now.”

safe to say, you loved his new haircut. he loved his new haircut. he loved it even more when his friends and your friends couldn’t manage words. good. stay that way.

loser!heeseung was still a loser but, at least, he was in a hot man’s body with his very very attractive girlfriend. he still played league. he still larped. he still took the renaissance fair very seriously. he still loved you more than anything in the world. he was still your loser.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too!

[writerdownbookworder]

I frown. "You have a therapist?"

He scoffs. "I kill people for a living. Of course I have a therapist! Pamela is completely qualified, if that's what you're worried about."

My brow furrows. "So...you want me, your public nemesis number 1, to come to your home, chill in your guest room, and chat with your therapist?"

He rolls his eyes. "That's not...actually, yeah. That's pretty accurate."

"Why?"

"I need someone around that I'm not paying to keep me company."

I think that was supposed to be a joke, but his delivery was a bit to dry, too forced. Is he...lonely? I shake my head. "But why are you offering that to me? What if I say no?"

He growls. "I just offered you mercy. Your life. And your questioning me? I threatened your life and you actually asked me to.... I don't think you're okay." He folds his arms as if to say, I win. Give it your best shot. The prick even raises his eyebrows to taunt me. Jerk.

I grit my teeth. "So you just want me to sit around your house all day? Where's the fun in that?"

He rubs a hand on his temples. "What part of 'talk to my therapist' did you not understand? I'm serious. We've been fighting over this kingdom for years, and you've always put up a fight."

I know when I've lost a fight, and this is no different. I have a feeling that even if I sit down and refuse to move, he would knock me out and take me back anyway.

I sigh. "Fine, I'll meet Pamela. She better be a good listener."

Under the mask, I think I can see a smile. "She is."

And I know I must have imagined it, but later, I could swear that he mumbled under his breath, "And so am I."

When the villain demanded that you submit or be destroyed you just apathetically shrugged and braced yourself for death. You were surprised when the villain did not kill you and instead offered you a nice, comfortable room and an appointment with their personal therapist.

[gothicfied]

Bf!Nam-gyu / Player 124 Headcanons

Pairing: Boyfriend!Nam-gyu x fem!reader (No Squid Game AU)

Warnings: Mention of drug use/withdrawal, other than that it's just fluff (maybe a teeny tiny bit of angst), not proof read (english isn't my first language)

જ⁀➴ Boyfriend!Nam-gyu.. who you met at the club he worked at during a night out with your friends. He took one look at you and knew he was in love immediately — Your makeup, your dress, your hair, that you spent hours trying to style it, just everything about you was perfect. He genuinely had to stop what he was doing for a second to get his thoughts straight.

જ⁀➴ Boyfriend!Nam-gyu.. who just couldn't help but give you drinks on the house, trying to make small talk with you. The music was loud, blaring out of the speakers not far away from the bar, but he didn't need to hear you. For him, it was enough to see you up close, to see you smile and laugh at his cheesy attempts at pick-up lines. He laughed along, trying to overplay his nervousness, which didn't quite work.

જ⁀➴ It wouldn't have been the first time that Boyfriend!Nam-gyu took a girl back home with him that he met at his work, but you were different. He wasn't staring at your body, looking down your cleavage when talking to him, no, he was actually interested in getting to know you. During your short conversation, he could just tell how kind and lighthearted you were. After all, not every girl would entertain his flirting.

જ⁀➴ After a few times seeing you around the club again, Boyfriend!Nam-gyu had secured your phone number, which you wrote down on his hand with a little heart next to it. You couldn't exactly tell why you liked him this much, hut he was weirdly charming and appreciated the fact that he wanted to take you out on a proper date some time. He was cute, you couldn't deny that, so you took up on his offer.

જ⁀➴ Boyfriend!Nam-gyu.. who stayed true to his word and texted you right after his shift, setting up a date and time for a meeting outside his workplace. He already had everything thought out in his head, perhaps even imagining little scenarios about you before falling asleep.

જ⁀➴ Boyfriend!Nam-gyu.. who could now actually introduce himself as your boyfriend after a couple of dates, long phone calls and deep talks late at night when you'd stay over at his place. The two of you had developed a strong bond in no time, finding out that you had more in common than you first thought. And, in your opinion, he was the best partner you could wish for. Nam-gyu was attentive, always noticed if you felt bad and cheered you up, funny.. what wasn't there to love about him?

જ⁀➴ Boyfriend!Nam-gyu.. who you helped get clean and also get a better job. The first few weeks of withdrawal weren't the easiest on him nor your relationship, but you absolutely made it work. You'd comfort him during a breakdown, wiping his tears away for him and hold him against your chest. Your nails would scrape the back of his neck, making him let out a shaky sigh.

"I'm.. sorry about that, baby-" Nam-gyu sniffled, taking a deep breath before looking up at you. "There's nothing you have to apologize for," you replied back, a bit shocked about the fact that he would think he needed to say sorry for crying. "I'm here for you, okay? I love you, don't forget that."

જ⁀➴ Boyfriend!Nam-gyu.. who would frequently buy you your favorite flowers. You'd always ask him what the occasion was and he'd always just shrug, claiming that he didn't need an occasion or a reason to maks you happy.

જ⁀➴ Boyfriend!Nam-gyu.. who would try to help you while baking something, but would mess everything up he was involved with. Cookies came out burnt, brownies didn't fully bake through.. whatever it was, it just didn't work out. But, you two had fun while doing it and that was all that mattered. Well, not all the time maybe (you reaaaaally wanted those chocolate chip cookies).

જ⁀➴ Boyfriend!Nam-gyu.. who kisses you awake every morning, even if you could sleep in. Whenever he has to wake up before you, he'd pepper kisses all over your face, partially to also annoy you.

You slowly opened your eyes at the feeling of Nam-gyu's lips against your, turning your head away from him. He laughed and tried to lean over to give you another, but you weren't having it. "Leave me alone!" you blurted out, eyes still closed and all.

"Jesus, can't I kiss my girlfriend goodbye anymore?"

"No."

"Why? What did I do?"

"I hate you."

"Good morning to you too, princess."

[mrsmangi]

Hello! Can I request the Spider Flower prompt for Lu ? <3

- 🪷 Anon

fries & milkshakes - luigi mangione

♡ flower prompt: spider flower - a joke about getting eloped turning serious - meaning: symbol of the willingness to start anew; an open invitation to explore the unknown. ♡ w.c.: 1.9k ♡ a/n: hi 🪷 anon! thank you so much for your request. this was such a cute piece to write, i'm a sucker for idea of eloping with a loved one. hope you enjoy!

♡ send me a flower & i'll write a drabble based off the prompt ! ↪ prompts that have been requested

You and Luigi are sitting in a cramped booth at an old diner off the side of the highway. A place you would only end up in when your plans have fallen apart. You had been driving back from a weekend getaway to Michaux. The plan was simple: a quiet two-day escape to recharge from the chaos of work and life. A little hiking, a lot of breathing space. As usual, though, nothing had gone according to plan. 

First, there was a flat tire. Then, the tow truck that took so much longer to show up than the both of you had anticipated. Finally, the rain. Not just a drizzle, but an unrelenting downpour that had washed out the hiking trail you had been so excited about.

Now, here you are–both of you soggy, exhausted, and a little more than irritated by the detour that had brought you to this roadside diner. It’s really nothing special. There’s faded red leather booths, yellowing menus, and waitresses that have permanent frowns. Still, it’s warm and it’s dry. It’s the only place you have to sit down and recuperate in.

You poke at your fries, listening to the steady drip of water from your jacket onto the tile floor. The music from an old jukebox in the back of the restaurant fills the silence. The rain continues to pour outside. You glance over at Luigi, who’s been oddly quiet for the past few minutes. He stares into his glass of water, leg bouncing beneath the table.

“This trip has been a disaster,” you mutter, breaking the quiet. You’re not really complaining, more so venting the frustration of how everything’s managed to go wrong. “We’ve barely had time to do anything we wanted to do.” 

“I mean, it was your idea to go hiking in the middle of a thunderstorm,” he says, teasingly. There’s no bite in his voice, just a weariness you find yourself sharing. 

“Okay, so yes, I may have underestimated the weather,” you admit, picking up your milkshake and swirling the striped straw in a circular motion. “But we could’ve at least had a nice dinner somewhere.” 

“Yep,” he sighs. “And now we’re here. Eating rubbery fries and soggy burgers.” 

You snort at the absurdity of it all. He’s completely right. All of it is far from ideal. “I guess it could be worse,” you offer with a half-hearted shrug. 

“You know,” Luigi says, “This gives us a great excuse to run away and get married.” He leans back in his rickety chair, fingers lazily drumming against the side of his water glass. The booth you share creaks under his weight. His tone is so casual, so offhand, that for a moment, you’re not sure if he’s joking. 

“Stop,” you say, laughing softly. You ignore the way your heart stumbles in your chest. “Luigi, that’s not something you just drop on a person in the middle of a conversation about fries and milkshakes.” 

“I’m just saying,” he replies, raising his hands in mock surrender. “We could take this as a sign. Skip the mess of planning, forget about this trip that doomed us to this inedible meal, and just leave. Fly out to somewhere sunny and warm. Forget all this nonsense. We’d just…go.” 

You can’t help but chuckle, dipping a fry into the glob of ranch on your plate. “Okay, enlighten me, then. Where would we go?” 

“Anywhere,” he says. “Vegas. You, me, one of those cheesy chapels with Elvis officiating. We could get hitched. Leave everything behind. Move to Hawai’i or California. Far from Pennsylvania.” 

You stare at him, caught between disbelief and amusement. “The west? Really?” 

“Why not?” he asks, leaning back into the cushion of the booth. “This whole trip’s been a mess. What’s stopping us from making it more memorable? Listen–” He sits up, leaning forward. “–just picture it for a second: a bad suit, a bouquet of plastic flowers, and you in some glitzy dress that you’d probably hate. But you’d look good in it anyway. ” 

His playfulness touches your heart, lingering. You hesitate, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. It’s not the first time Luigi has flirted with you, not the first time he’s thrown out a line like this, but it is the first time it feels like he might not be entirely joking. 

“Don’t say that,” you mumble, grabbing your milkshake and sipping just to have something to do. “You might make a girl think you’re serious.” 

“What if I am?” 

He says it, soft and unassuming, and you still. It’s strange to hear something like that from Luigi. The guy who always makes light of everything, always ready with a dumb joke or a clever comeback. Now, there’s no laughter in his eyes, no punchline waiting to land. You laugh uneasily, shaking your head, trying to process the shift in his tone. “Luigi.” 

His shoulders lift in a half-hearted shrug, but his expression doesn’t falter. “I mean it. You spent so much time planning our trip, planning our lives, (Name)–have you ever thought to plan, or at least think about, what our wedding could be like?” 

You pause. Of course, you’ve thought about it. Not only once, but often. You’ve thought about the way his laugh makes you smile on your worst days, the way he remembers your coffee order better than you do, the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re dozing off. The way his hand melts into yours, as if he was meant to hold it, forever. 

More than that, you’ve dreamed of what it would be like to marry Luigi Nicholas Mangione. Not in the grand, cinematic kind of way, but in a way that feels real, something that feels like you. It would be small and intimate, just the way you both would like it. Neither of you would want the chaos of hundreds of guests or the endless pressure to impress. You’ve pictured the kinds of flowers you would want–wildflowers, maybe. Simple and beautiful. The cake wouldn’t be enormous or extravagant, just enough to share a bite and maybe smear a little frosting on his cheek because you know how it would make him laugh. You’d stand in front of the people who matter the most to you–family, close friends, the people who know you better than anyone–and say the words you’ve only dared to whisper to yourself in the middle of the night. You wouldn’t care about fancy centerpieces, gold-rimmed utensils, or which fork on the table is meant for salad.

None of that has ever mattered to you, not really. All you’ve ever cared about is him. Luigi. The way he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world meant for him. You’ve thought about how his voice would sound when he finally says the words, “I do.” 

Afterward, there wouldn’t be a massive reception or an over-the-top honeymoon. It would just be the two of you, maybe sitting on the edge of a dock somewhere, with your feet dangling over the water as you laugh about how you almost forgot to exchange your wedding rings. You’d be wearing a white dress you found in the mall on a whim, something unpretentious but pretty, and he would be in a suit he’d probably complain about until the moment he saw you and forgot every reason he ever hated wearing it. 

You’ve always kept those thoughts buried, locked away like a secret too fragile to see light. You had convinced yourself they were one-sided, that you were simply too young to be committed permanently, that he couldn’t possibly want the same thing you did. And now, he’s looking at you with some kind of quiet, unshakable conviction, as if he’s already imagined all of it, too.

“I don’t…think we’re even close to that kind of conversation,” you manage to say, though you sound more uncertain of yourself than you would like. 

“Why not?” he asks, tone impossibly gentle, like he knows how easily you could back off. “What’s stopping us?” 

You can’t answer. Not because you don’t know, but because now, the longer Luigi holds your stare, the reasons feel less and less convincing. Every excuse you’ve told yourself–every hesitation, every fear–feels small in the face of the truth: you’ve wanted this for so long, and now, for the first time, it feels like he might, too. 

You swallow hard, fingers tightening around the soda glass as thought it might anchor you to reality. It’s so silly–he’s proposed to elope in a greasy diner as you two sit at a creaky booth, your ranch streaked fries growing cold on your plate. But the moment feels so undeniably right. 

Luigi’s fingers have already stopped their drumming against his glass. He leans forward, his dark eyes locked on yours, and for the first time tonight, there’s no teasing grin, no mischief. Just him, completely unguarded. 

“Will you?” he asks quietly.

Your eyebrows furrow. “Will I what?” 

“Marry me.” His words are clear and unwavering, leaving no room for ambiguity. “Run away with me. Forget about everything else–what people will say, the rules, the plans. Just you and me, baby. Start out life the way we want, no compromises. What do you say?” 

The question knocks the breath from your lungs. You can’t look away from him, even as your vision begins to blur with tears. Luigi isn’t joking–he’s really asking you. Here, in the middle of this old-fashioned diner, surrounded by the smell of greasy burgers and the clatter of dishes, Luigi is asking you to choose him. 

“Luigi,” you whisper, “are you sure?” 

“I’ve never been so sure of anything else in my entire life,” he says, moving closer to you from over the table. His hand reaches for yours, warm and steady over your own. “I love you, (Name). I want you. Not someday, not at a time where everything feels perfect. Right now.” 

You tremble as the tears finally spill over, streaking down your flushed cheeks. You laugh, shaking your head as if to steady yourself. “You’re crazy.” 

“Maybe,” he agrees, smiling faintly. “So? Will you?” 

“Yes,” you blurt out, soft laughter growing in volume. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Luigi. I’ll run away with you.” 

The smile that breaks out across his face is nothing short of beautiful. Before you say anything else, Luigi stands abruptly, pulling you up from the booth. You don’t care about the strange glances you get from the people surrounding you, just Luigi and the way his hands frame your face. The warmth of his palms as he wipes away your tears with his thumbs leaves you feeling whole. 

“Say it again,” he murmurs, his forehead pressing against yours. 

“Yes,” you whisper, barely able to contain your laughter and tears mixing into your voice. “A hundred times, yes.” 

He wastes no more time. His lips find yours in a kiss that’s everything at once—gentle and urgent, tender and fierce, a promise sealed between you two. You melt into him, hands clutching the front of his polo shirt, as if you’re afraid he might disappear. But he doesn’t. He stays, grounding you in reality. Sweet, sweet reality. 

When he finally pulls back, he still has his great, big grin on his face. “That settles it, then,” he says, kissing your forehead. “I can’t wait to start my new life with you.” 

“Me either,” you say softly. 

“One last thing,” he says, grin widening, tone light. “Can we get fries to-go?” 

“Yeah,” you laugh. “We’ll get milkshakes, too. For the road, of course.” 

He chuckles, taking your hand in his and tugging you toward the counter. As you walk, his hand never leaves yours, his pinky ghosts over your ring finger. You realize it then–that this messy, unexpected, perfectly imperfect moment–is the beginning of a fresh start: your happy ending.

[seraphicloves]

𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏' 𝒊𝒕 𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏

⊱✿⊰ summary: you're in desperate need of cash and come up with a great way to get it, even if it surprises azul

⊱✿⊰ warnings: suggestive nature, calling Azul "zuzu", fem reader w boobs, reader is yuu, references to prostitutes?, azul x yuu coded, a little bit stereotypical of guys

⊱✿⊰ notes: my sister came up w this scenario so i decided to write it! Reader is very based off of a mix of me and my sister's personality so yeah @angelssbakery

Azul Ashengrotto was a cunning man. He tried his best to remain vigilant and aware of any way he could maximize profit and stay in power. So surely, he should have thought of this before you decided to waltz into his offer and …offer yourself up for him. How improper was your homeworld to make you think this is okay?

“I just want to be paid, no trickster contracts.” You said, giving him a weak attempt at looking intimidating. Really, you were nothing more than an angry puppy in terms of strength. But for some strange reason, you were frightening. Maybe because you had taken down multiple Overblotted students - including him.

“I have stopped my selfish ways, I am now only channeling the benevolent spirit of the Sea Witch.” Azul replied calmly, trying not to show you were making him feel on edge. Why was he even entertaining this idea? You would surely cause trouble if he let you into the Monstro Lounge. You were practically a tornado, leaving only destruction in your wake.

“Well, fine.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. Despite priding himself on being respectful, he couldn't help the way his eyes were drawn down to glance at your…

“Aha see!” You grinned, catching him in the act. He flushed a bright red and turned away, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It's natural. Even the most gentle of gentlemen can't help it. Look at you, Mr. Formal and all.”

“You really think…exposing yourself indecently will bring in more revenue?” Azul asked, peeking a glance at you. You looked so determined, so set in your ways. It reminded him of himself, in a strange way.

“Calm down, Zuzu.” You scoffed, calling him such a casual nickname. Absently, he wondered what your previous world was like to make you so…casual with affection. “It's not like I'm trying to be a prostitute, I just want to show a little cleavage and face.”

“Stop talking so…” Azul waved his hands in front of his face, questioning if he was about to faint due to how much blood was rushing into his head. You were so..so.. entirely confident, he didn't know how you did it.

Eventually, he gave an exasperated sigh and relented, “Fine, okay. We'll let you work one shift as a trial run. If you don't make at least 50 thaumarks in tips, you can not work here.”

You grinned at him, looking ready to prove Azul very wrong.

….

“You're letting Shrimpy work here?” Floyd asked, grinning at you. You were squirming in place, suddenly regretting your decision to work here. Would Floyd squeeze you to death if you don't make enough tips?

Azul shook his head, reminiscent of a stern parent with a troublesome child. Then again, Floyd basically is a troublesome child. He's like an overeager puppy.

The Octavinelle Housewarden said, “She is in the process of getting a job here. Today is a trial run.”

To help maximize your chances for tips, you found the perfect outfit. You had a tight-fitting shirt with a low enough neckline to show some cleavage without being indecent. And you paired it with an elegant skirt. Classy but hot enough to make teenage boys drool. Your first test subjects, Jade and Floyd, were helpful in figuring out if it would work.

Jade has shamelessly looked before moving on, and Floyd was, well, Floyd. He kept looking and commenting on your outfit and how good you looked. Azul was still trying his best not to look as though seeing your provocative outfit would make his heart explode.

“Alright, I’m ready!” You said, clapping your hands together. You had even fixed up your hair and dabbed on the makeup you scrounge up from a combination of Epel and Vil. You looked pretty damn good, well by your usual standards.

You marched right out into the main area, ready to serve some looks…and customers. A few of the Monstro Lounge regulars were there, congregating in their usual spots. Forcing your lips into a big, pearly, smile you went over to them.

And that was how you were certain you'd be able to work there. One of the boy's eyes dipped low, lingering on your cleavage before glancing back up to your face. You pretended not to notice, batting your lashes coyly.

You were about to be rich as hell.

….

Boom, bitches.” You said, slapping down the hefty amount of tips you got. These boys were sort of desperate and it was honestly amazing. Like did that one Heartslaybul guy have to tip you 80 thaumarks? No, but he did probably because he was too busy staring at your chest to look at how much money he pulled from his wallet.

Azul gaped at you in surprise, blinking rapidly as if he was finally able to process that you were now employed at the Monstro Lounge. Even Jade raised his eyebrow ever so slightly, changing his usually stoic expression.

“Damn, shrimpy!” Floyd laughed, grabbing onto your money and flipping through it, “250 thaumarks? That's good money for your first day.”

You grinned, a glimmer of pride washing through you. Despite the mistakes you had made, spilling food and being a little awkward- you still made a shit ton of money. Pretty privilege is real, even here in Twisted Wonderland.

Azul sighed, sliding his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “I can't deny it. You made more than what I required of you, so you did it. Welcome to the Monstro Lounge.”

You and Floyd cheered, with Floyd lifting you up and squishing you slightly. Even Jade smiled a bit, a slight twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

….

“You knew she could make 50 thaumarks easily, didn't you?” Jade asked, watching you and Floyd celebrate from afar.

Azul said nothing for a moment, his eyes calmly watching you. He felt his face warm ever so slightly, his lips pressed into a firm.

“You have feelings for the Housewarden, Azul.” Jade said, then he gave a slight sneer as he added, “Or should I say ‘Zuzu'?”

Azul blushed and looked away, scowling ever so much. Jade laughed with a wicked sort of glee, getting the answer he wanted easily.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[htaesan]

　ᅠ ✿　ᅠ GIVING YOU MY FOREVER　　────　ᅠ ( han taesan )

𝓹recis ⠀ : ⠀when han taesan, your boyfriend, notices you haven’t been answering his texts for the entire day, he sets out to figure out why𑁋only to find you sobbing alone on top of the hill.

　　　ᅠ 한태산 ⠀⠀◜◡◝ ⠀⠀𝒇 reader ⠀wc 0.8k ⠀ genre comfort fluff established relationship ⠀ contains mentions of family issues crying skinship ⠀ note this fic is highkey self-indulgent bc i wrote this when i was having a hard time </3 so it kinda doesn’t make sense? welp ⠀ tagging @a-dream-bookmark ,@/k-labels , @k-nets , @k-films , @sgz-net

　　　ᅠ ＞︿ 　　please leave feedbacks 　　& 　　reblog

“Hey, here you are.”

You didn’t have to look to know who it was—instead, you sigh deeply, letting the boy settle himself next to you. You throw your gaze far, letting your eyes capture the beauty of the night from atop the hill: the way the stars still shine despite being thousands and thousands of miles away, the way the city lights add a sparkle to the night’s black canvas. You take a deep breath, hoping that the smell of grass and the gentle breeze of autumn would bring some peace to your heart.

“You… okay?” you hear him ask after quite some time. You purse your lips, still not meeting his eyes, afraid all the tears might spill once you do. “You didn’t read my texts for the whole day.”

“M-maybe,” you manage. Your throat feels dry as you force your words out. “I’ll be fine.”

“You know,” he says, after a few moments. He places a hand on yours, his touch gentle and comforting. “You can tell me anything.”

You lower your head. 

Please don’t cry.

“I might not understand your pain, I might not fully understand what you’re going through,” he continues, his voice so deep and kind. “But I’m here. I’ll listen.”

“Even if you don’t want to tell me—or if you can’t find the right words to describe how you feel, I’ll be here. Always.” 

Under his hand, you clench your own. 

“I…”

“Okay?” 

You finally look up, turning slightly to meet his gaze. You bite your lower lip as you watch Taesan’s eyes widen slightly at the way your eyes fill with tears. His hands grab yours tight as he offers you a gentle smile. 

“I’m sorry,” you croak, lowering your head again as tears begin to spill. Taesan’s grasp remains firm, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. “I… I don’t know how to say this…”

Taesan smiles softly, squeezing your hands. “It’s okay. Tell me anything—just say anything that comes to mind, I’ll piece it together.”

“My parents,” you say, your words coming out one by one, in between sobs, “it’s stressing me out– I– is this my fault? Why– why are they fighting? I thought they– love– each other—”

You can’t stop it, your tears falling down your cheeks like raindrops in a storm, unstoppable and overwhelming. Your chest heaves up and down with each sob, your throat tight with a lump that makes your speech difficult to interpret. 

“Hey…” 

Taesan pulls you into a hug, causing you to hiccup in surprise. It engulfs you like a warm blanket on a winter night—you could smell Taesan: a mixture of champagne orange, passion fruit, sugar vanilla; the perfume his mother had bought for him. Immediately, your tears begin to flow down again, as Taesan’s warmth starts to become one with you. 

Taesan doesn’t let go—his embrace of you firm and comforting, telling you he’s there for you through every high and low. Taesan hugs you close, letting your heartbeat converge with his. He lets you cry your heart out in his arms, not giving a care in the world about how your tears are staining his favourite sweater. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispers, once your tears have subsided. 

“But… won’t you fall out of love, one day?” you ask him, resting your head against his chest. You close your eyes shut, trying to remove the memory of witnessing your parents�� fight from your mind. 

Taesan kisses the top of your head, resting his chin against it after. “Will I ever?”

“Maybe,” you mumble. 

“Darling,” Taesan says, causing butterflies to begin erupting in your stomach. He’s called you that for so many times already, yet it always catches you off guard. “If we love each other truly, we’ll always find a way to make things work, hm?”

He pulls away a little bit, and you look directly into his eyes. Taesan gives you a smile—different from his usual cheeky grin—beautiful, sincere, and ethereal. “Besides, we still have a long way to go before we get married, and before we die. We’ll have plenty of time to learn from our mistakes.”

“Married?” you exclaim, eyes widening. You smack his shoulder in an attempt to hide the blush that’s beginning to form on your cheeks.

“Yeah,” Taesan nods, folding his arms as he holds his neck from behind. “Why? You don’t like it?”

“Well… of course I love it,” you mutter, biting the inside of your cheek. After a while, you turn to him, narrowing your eyes. “But marriage is a serious matter, you know? I—”

Taesan kisses your cheek, grinning as he pulls away. “I know.”

You lock eyes with Taesan, the sparkling night around you, the gentle breeze blowing through. 

“And I love you, so seriously, to be doing it in the future. To be giving you my forever.”

― © htaesan, 2025.

[lost-in-fandoms]

Just because it’s the most unexpected promoted on the list….max is ella enchanted (28), maxiel. Have no preference as to if it’s angsty/fluffy/kinky/funny/dramatic. Just interested to see where you take this.

From here Hello thank you!!! I'm also interested to see where I take this! (I have no idea let's find out).

cw: possible implied non-con. it's not, but for a bit Daniel thinks it is.

Max is very well behaved.

It's one of the first things Daniel learns about him, even before Max becomes his teammate.

He can be a bit bitchy sometimes, sass a little, be rebellious, but as soon as someone tells him to behave, he does. He listens well, he is great at following orders, seems to thrive on being given clear instructions. And Daniel can confirm that all of that is true.

It's seems to be even more true in the bedroom.

When Daniel says kiss me, Max does. When Daniel says get on your knees for me, Max does. When Daniel says let me hear you, Max does.

It's not that Max doesn't argue, he isn't afraid of letting his opinion be loudly known, but he's just. Good at following orders. That's all. It's easy, and it makes life easier for everyone around him.

Or at least, it does until it turns Daniel's world upside down.

"Hey," Lando greets him, sitting down next to him and offering his fist to bump.

The meeting room is still mostly empty, everyone loves to run late to drivers meetings, and Daniel is comfortably lounging in one of the chairs in the back, idly kicking the seat in front of him, making the chair shift more and more forward with a screech.

"Have you heard?" Lando asks, looking at him with his eyes twinkling. Daniel knows that face. It's his I have been trusted with a secret that I am immediately going to spill face.

"Have I heard what?" Daniel asks, bored enough to not care about trying to ensure someone's trust doesn't get broken.

"Apparently, Max is cursed!"

Daniel stops kicking the chair.

"What?"

He thinks back to the morning, when Max had slipped out of his room looking very much normal, trying to imagine what might have happened in between, and why would Max not text him about it.

"Is he okay?" he asks, already pulling out his phone to get into their message thread.

More drivers are starting to trickle in, but no Max, so Daniel thoroughly ignores them all. He can apologise later. Maybe.

"No no, it's not new!" Lando still sounds gleeful about sharing the gossip, and it's possible Daniel is going to punch him.

"What the fuck do you mean, it's not new? And who told you this?" he snaps, maybe too harshly. His text to Max isn't even getting delivered, meaning that either Max's phone is off or that someone truly hates Daniel's guts and wants him to suffer.

"I don't know, people are saying! And it's since birth!"

Daniel relaxes slightly. If it's since birth it can't be something too serious, or it would have been picked up already. He still wishes he could reach Max, or that Max would just show up, but he's not as desperate as ten seconds ago.

"Okay, fine," he relents, when it's clear that Lando knows more but won't talk unless he gets asked. "What's the curse?"

"It's incredible, mate! He has to follow orders!"

And then Lando laughs. As if it's funny, maybe already thinking about all the prank opportunities this could turn into.

While Daniel's brain slowly collapses.

"Any order?" he asks, voice faint to his own ears.

Any order means any order. It means tell me the race strategy. It means shunt your car.

It means be a good boy and suck me off.

Daniel doesn't even apologise when he throws up on Lando's shoes.

--

"Max, Max, fucking pick up."

Daniel paces around the room, phone pressed to his ear, trying to call Max for what feels the hundredth time.

He can't stop shaking.

Max hadn't been in the drivers meeting. Not that Daniel had been either, he'd run out as soon as he had stopped puking on Lando, but he hadn't been in the Red Bull garage either. He hadn't been in Daniel's hotel room, or in his own.

And he wasn't answering his phone.

Daniel can't stop thinking about it. Max is well behaved. Max is well behaved. Max likes orders. Max is well behaved.

He feels like throwing up again.

The call rings out, and Daniel simply presses the call button again, fisting his hand in his hair.

"Fuck, fuck, fu..."

The door beeps as a card is used, and then swings open, letting a very tired looking Max Verstappen in.

Daniel drops his phone on the floor.

"Fucking hell, Max, what the fuck!"

Max jumps, taken aback, his eyes widening at Daniel's wild appearance.

"Daniel? Are you okay?" he asks, taking a step forward, hesitant.

Daniel laughs, feeling crazed, stomach rolling. Is he okay? Is he fucking okay?

"I am great, mate! My boyfriend is cursed, didn't tell me about it, and then fucking disappeared! I am great!" he snaps, laughing again, hysterical.

"Daniel," Max says, in that soft voice he uses for his cats, walking forward with his hands slightly raised. "I am of course okay. I am sorry if I worried you, but we had an emergency meeting about it, and..."

"Did you even want it?" Daniel interrupts, unable to keep it inside anymore.

Max frowns, confused.

"Want it?"

"All the times I..." Daniel swallows, feeling the taste of vomit in the back of his throat. "Did I force you? Ever? Into something you didn't want?"

It takes a second for Max to understand, but then his face softens, and he comes closer, settling his hands on Daniel's arms and then, when he doesn't fight it, dragging him into a hug.

"Do you remember the first time that we kissed?" he asks, lips brushing against Daniel's messy hair.

Daniel would prefer if Max just answered the fucking question, but he'll be damned if he ordered it to him. He just shakes his head, too distressed to think about it properly.

"I kissed you," Max tells him, half a smile in his voice. "And I asked you if I could suck you off."

Daniel remembers now. How bold and shy Max had been, flushed cheeks and wandering hands.

"I have never felt forced with you," Max says, and Daniel almost collapses into him, the weight on his shoulders partially lifting.

"How can I be sure?" he asks instead, voice choked with tears.

When Max pulls back there's a twinkle in his eyes, a smirk on his lips.

"You can order me to tell you, of course. I cannot lie."

[oceanarcaneum]

okay so the "fake out lujanne-lissa" scene/plot is egregious for a lot of reasons, but actually, my BIGGEST complaint with this one isn't even the hypocrisy, but rather what a MISSED OPPORTUNITY it was for a deeper, more complex exploration of the SIBLING dynamic between claudia and soren.

when terry says "i think there's one person who can put those pieces back together," and soren asks, "what are you getting at?" i was absolutely flabbergasted when he followed it up with "your mom," because i was completely, 100% expecting him to say soren.

terry's whole argument here is that everything claudia does, she does out of love for her family. why would he think of lissa OVER soren - lissa, who, as terry seems to know by now, hurt claudia so badly when she left, and who claudia hasn't seen in fifteen years? who claudia has barely even spoken of outside of talking to ezran about how hard it was for her being asked to choose between her parents? she talks to viren multiple times about doing things for "our family," but lissa ostensibly hasn't been a part of that family since claudia was very young.

the show even makes a point of drawing a parallel between soren and lissa in season three, when soren chooses to leave viren's side after his takeover of lux aurea, and claudia pleads with him "don't ask me to choose, soren - not again." and then refuses to say goodbye to him, because she can't bear accepting that her brother is leaving her. if the writers really wanted to go with the angle of "her love for her family is the only thing that can stop her" why not use soren instead - whom claudia clearly hasn't resolved her issues with, who's a much fresher example in her mind of being abandoned or left behind?? (AND with all the focus put on terry making them PROMISE not to hurt her, it feels like it was the perfect setup for soren to actually TALK to her, and for the story to explore their relationship in more complexity.)

i just feel like it would have made so much more sense for soren to be the one to try and stop claudia by genuinely connecting with her - a real attempt at reconciling with her and offering her a true path back, instead of the weird manipulative choice to try and trick her with an illusion of her mother (who, again, broke claudia's heart last time she saw her and has caused her emotional trauma that's stuck with her for years of her life. like????? UGH.) vs soren, who claudia clearly still loves - in the final scene with her, she still labels herself as his sister that he should love and be unwilling to kill, and refuses to kill him because she's "still herself" - inherently saying that he's still her brother, to her, and she doesn't want him dead, even when she already considers herself as being abandoned by him.

soren is, by now, the only living & present family that claudia has left. it just feels so much more intuitive and believable that he would be the only one who can connect with claudia where she is now and offer her a way back home.

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

Eddie munson x reader fic based on this?

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTYTgsBwR/

cute!! thank you for requesting <3

BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER

Pairings: Eddie munson x fem! Summary: your best friend's little brother has a crush on you, which you use to your advantage. Warnings: a kiss

──── ୨୧ ────

you entered the Munson Trailer with a bag full of movies you rented from Family video.

it was friday night, which meant you watch shitty movies and get fat with your best friend.

you were immediately greeted with a bunch of muffled screaming from the room down the hall, Eddie's room, your best friend's little brother

although, he wasn't really little anymore, and he was only 2 years younger than you. so was he ever really little?

you frowned and looked over at your friend, Beth, wondering what was going on

"oh, yeah, Eddie invited his band over. I told them to be quiet" she sighed with a smile as you took off your jacket

"i don't think they listened" you laughed

she shook her head "no, they definitely didn't"

you got settled on the couch beside her after digging in the fridge for a drink.

"oh, yeah. i ordered Pizza but they were like, super early, the boys took it from me as soon as they smelt it. good luck if they even give you a peice, if there's any left" she snorted

she usually didn't give a fuck about her brother, unless he really pissed off or tried to get your attention during your hangouts

which raises the idea in your mind.

from the very start of your friendship, you noticed Eddie and his attempts to drag you away from Beth.

and it wasn't until you were 16 and him 14 when Beth told you he had a major crush on you

she told you the whole story of going in his room to find a drawing of you in his sketchbook while he was out.

her telling you made it so awkward when you's came over, you noticed every shy smile and glance he'd give you when he thought you weren't looking.

you'd notice when he'd go out of his way to do things for you.

when you'd come over, he would rush out of his room at the sound of your voice and offer you a drink

"Can I get you anything? we have pretzels, and coke" he'd ask

you declined every time, feeling a small pang in your chest, watching the smile of his face falter as he backed up into his room

"okay... just call out to me if you need anything!" he'd say before shutting his door

in highschool, he would go out of his way to say hi to you, but frown everytime you'd brush him off, looking at him like everyone did, like he was a freak.

Eddie gave up on liking you for a while at that point, the poor 16-year old's heart was broken, but it's not like he ever thought you'd like him back.

you were just so pretty.

he was so heartbroken he had put everything he made for you away in a box and put it under his bed, long forgotten by now.

every lyric sheet of a song he made for you, every trinket that made him think of you, everything you'd leave at the trailer that he was able to swipe before anyone noticed.

it wasn't until you graduated that you began to be nice to him again. now, 4 years later, his crush on you was known by everyone, and he knew that you knew about it.

at 20 years old he had finally grown a little more confident when around you, sending you little comments of flirtation or winking at you. though, he'd miss the way you'd blush as you rolled your eyes.

he wants you to know. he's definitely not shy about letting you know.

which is why you stand up and smile

"I have a feeling they'll let me have some" you speak confidently

you walk up to his room down the hall and knock

"first one to get me a slice of pizza gets a kiss!"

you giggle and look back at Beth when you hear screaming and rustling on the other side of the door

"BACK OFF! MOVE! GIVE ME THE PIZZA, GIVE IT!" you hear Eddie scream at the others.

it's silent after a few seconds before the door slowly opens.

Eddie's head pops out from his room and gives you a smile

he opens the door wider and bows down in front of you, presenting a paper plate with a slice of pizza on it

"One slice of pepperpni pizza for the fair lady" he smiles cheekily

you smile and take the plate

"thank you, kind sir" you curtsey and take the plate. you turn around and go to walk back to the livingroom when he clears his throat

you looked back as see him still standing there, his eyes wondering around the room, his hands behind his back as he rolls on the heels of his feet.

you blush when he puckers his his lips like a child ready to have his first kiss with his girl crush.

you roll your eyes "oh how could I forget, I apologise" you speak in the same way he did a few seconds ago

you walk back over to him and lean up on your tippy toes. he looked at you happily when he leans in.

you swerve his lips and connect you mouth with his cheek, right on his dimple, wiping your thumb over the lipstick mark as you pull away

he looks at you lazily as you back away, a dumb smile on his face as he backs up into his room

"pleasure doing business with you" he says before shutting the door.

you walked back to the livingroom, taking the pizza into your mouth, taking a bite when you see Beth roll her eyes.

as you sat down next to your best friend, you could more screaming and cheering

"he's such a dork" Beth mumbled

you look down the hall, where his bedroom door was shut and shrugged

"he's cute"

Beth's head snapped to the side to where you sat "what!?"

your eyes went wide when you realise what you said "what?"

──── ୨୧ ────

[katiehwang]

Okay I know I’ve been real silent in the fandom lately (can you blame me?) and I’m probably not coming back until Gosho do something about the main plot, but I just randomly remembered this scene:

I just— can you imagine how Heiji was feeling? Other detectives were questioning his method, basically calling him out on his character the same way his own father did ( I think Heizo did mentioned he’s too hot-headed).

Thus, in this situation he asked Shinichi, his bestfriend — and probably his idol too in detective work — if he was the wrong one. And Shinichi, Shinichi, he’s just so good to Heiji. He had never doubted him, there was no hesitation in his answer. He did not offer Heiji comfort, and did not even defend him, but when Heiji asked, he answered with confidence and with that smirk. (I love that smirk it’s basically him saying he’s right).

I did wonder why Shinichi did not defend him earlier. However, even if he did, what good will that do? Hakuba was set in his own way, Shinichi was stuck in a body of a child, and I wonder if he did not bother at all because he did not think Heiji needs it? Just like Hakuba was set in his own method, so was Heiji. He is hot-headed yeah but it never was to the point where he endanger someone’s life or disrupt the crime scene. We all know he’s a good detective, Shinichi knows it, and Heiji knows it too.

I just love how Shinichi’s confidence in him probably assured Heiji a little bit (or a LOT, that’s his bro there). There was never any “I do agree with you but I guess you could have done it differently…” etc. Heiji asked if what he did was wrong and Shinichi smirked his all-knowing-smirk and said “Nope, not at all.” . That’s like the best assurance you can hear from the bro you look up to. Oh and let’s be real if Hakuba saw how Shinichi conduct his own investigation he would be frothing at the mouth too.

In conclusion, this scene is so OLD yet it suddenly hit me with feels and I love this two so much I just had to share my thoughts on it XD.

[bots-and-cons]

Can I please have some Cybertronian!Reader comforting Starscream after a nightmare? Possibly after the Predacons Rising ending cause that's gotta be traumaTM

A/N:I’ve been having quite a lot of bad dreams lately, so this fits the theme too I guess lol. I honestly don’t remember much about the movie, so I didn’t base this on it. Screamer isn’t my favorite even though he’s grown on me over the years, and this might be a bit (or a lot) OOC, and Idk if it ended up very good but I don’t care. I’ve been trying to write this for over two weeks so this will have to do

You’d been on a mission, but when you got back to the habsuite you shared with Starscream, he was already recharging. You smiled gently as you looked at him, but as he turned in his sleep you saw he had a pained look on his face. You sat on the berth next to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, hoping to wake him up gently.

Starscream sprung up from the berth the second you touched him, and before he even realized what he’d done, he had shot at you. He was just standing there, pointing his blaster at you with a panicked look in his optics.

“Star, it’s me, it’s me” you said calmly as he was still pointing his blaster at you.

You’d dodged his shot, just barely, but you were much more worried about him than you were for your slightly fried audial fin.

“(Name)?” Starscream asked with a wavering voice.

He looked at you, then his blaster and then back to you, before putting his blaster away and sitting back down on the edge of the berth. He was hanging his head, refusing to look at you.

“Another nightmare?” you asked, slowly reaching your hand towards his.

Starscream just nodded as he let you take his hand. Your presence calmed him and your touch even more so.

“Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine” Starscream said a bit dismissively. He would much rather not talk about it.

He’d always had quite frequent nightmares, but it had gotten a lot worse recently. You weren’t really surprised, he had enough trauma for multiple lifetimes. It would have been a miracle if he didn’t have some bad dreams. It wasn’t very often that he had this bad of a reaction to being woken up. You knew he didn’t mean to hurt you, but you were always prepared to dodge a blaster shot or block a hit.

“Star, please be honest with me. I can see you’re rattled by whatever the dream was about”

“Why must you always insist? Why do you always pry into things?” Starscream hissed.

“You know why. It’s because I love you and you need to talk it out. It’s gonna keep bothering you otherwise”

Starscream outwardly disliked your prying, but he loved the fact that you cared so much, he loved that you cared for him. Not that he would have ever said that out loud. Love was something that was certainly not abundant among the decepticons. There might have been a flicker sometimes, but certainly not towards him, nor from him. Starscream hadn’t known much of it in his life in general, not before he met you anyway. You were the first person to ever care about him, for who he was, not for what he could offer. The first person to ever comfort him after a nightmare, to stay by his side until he fell into recharge mode again when he had calmed down. The first one to hold him with love, instead of some ulterior motive or with violent intentions.

“Pry again later. I would like to rest now” Starscream stated tiredly.

“Fine, I will. I’m tired too, so we can just recharge together” you sighed in defeat.

You knew there was no point in trying to argue with him once he’d made up his mind, so you didn’t. You would just have to pry more later.

Starscream might not have shown it or said it, but he did appreciate all you did for him. He loved you, even if he only rarely actually said it to you. Maybe one day, if you were still with him, the nightmares would be a thing of the past. No Megatron, no war, no running or fighting for your lives, just you and him. Perhaps that day would come one day, but for now, it was time to rest, hopefully without more nightmares.

[fandomobbsessedb]

Your Favorite Player’s Favorite Player

Chapter 1 : Prologue.

Warning: Swears, fire, mob like guys, stressful situation, weapons, there may be some age inaccuracy but who the hell cares. It’s entertainment.

“Where have you been?”

I leaned my head down thinking I had my way past him. My snitchy ass older brother Gi-Hun. He’s always in my business. Even though he’s older by like, psh, 30 years at least, he’s always in my business, like he has to take care of me like a parent.

“I wasn’t anywhere oppa” I rolled my eyes at him going to walk past his much taller, lankier frame in the doorway.

“You weren’t wearing the shirt when you went to your friends house this morning, did something happen.” He asked crossing his arms. Knowing he had a soft spot for me, I turned off my attitude and turned on the theatrics. With a sigh I dropped my shoulders.

“Y/N, did something happen?” He asked again, his voice still sounding accusing. I rolled my pack off of my shoulder and pulled out the shirt I had this morning, my friend had offered to pour her juice on it so that I could leave the store wearing the shirt I wanted. Turning around with an upset face I held it out to him feeling his tough calloused hand take it from mine.

“(F/N)’s baby brother spilled his juice all over me earlier so she offered me her shirt to wear in the meantime.” I kept my gaze on the floor. I knew I would laugh in his face if I had to look at how stupid he was.

“Mhm, okay. I’ll just get this washed for you then.” He said with a softer tone.

“Thanks” I quickly turned away ready to shut myself in my room and empty my backpack when he just had to stop me again.

“Where’s F/Ns shirt from? It looks really good on you.” He said. Kissing my teeth I turned back around and shrugged.

“It looks like it’s from Nohant, and it was 50,000 won. Wow.” He added, causing me to whip around to face him, he was closer to me now, holding a ripped tag in his hands. With a surprised face he looked back at me. “At least that’s what this tag says” he pointed to it.

“Ugh, go away Gi-Hun.” I protested in his face, taking my shirt back, when he grabbed at my arm.

“Your stealing again aren’t you?! Damn it Y/N what did we talk about just a few months ago.” He shouted at me, keeping a firm grip on my arm.

“Let me go weirdo.” I struggled against him.

“No y/n, I care about you to much to let you go down this path.” He said harshly, rolling my eyes I met his with scorn.

“And why is that huh? Why DO you care so much, your not mom, you have your own issues, I’m just getting ahead my own way.” I spat in his face before he finally released me to my room.

I slammed my door shut and threw my bag down to start looking at the loot my friend and I had split. I heard a sigh from the door before he spoke up.

“Because, your life hasn’t even really started yet and you’re already sinking.” I heard him say before his footsteps receded into our creeky old house. I shrugged and started trying on jewelry we had snagged today.

Now as I look at myself getting ready for work in the mirror, I still don’t think what I was doing was wrong, because I’m still getting away with it, I mean, it’s not stealing if you don’t get caught.

And Gi-Hun wasn’t even around to catch me. Gi-Hun hadn’t been home for about a week, ever since he went missing for a week three years ago he hasn’t stopped going on about this game he thinks he played where 455 other players all died and he had won 45.6 billion won. Since then he’s been trying to find it again and stop it. I wonder when his cop buddies will give up on him and drop him off at home with a dementia diagnosis.

—— a few hours later——

There was only a few downsides really when your working at one of the shitier hotels in Seoul, Korea. Mostly the pay and the people, we have crooks and wrong doers staying all the time, even some working there. Myself included. When cleaning up one guests room while he was away, my eyes just so happened to meet the shiny watch and wallet sitting right there…. Right on the desk…….. I’ve been needing a new wallet, and that one looks like it would do just nicely.

Another upside is the five finger discount you get on “local” merchandise.

I quickly stashed the pricey looking objects into my bra before I grabbed my cart and left, assuming nobody had seen. However I failed to notice there were two guests staying in the room…. And one was using the bathroom when I came in.

I entered the elevator the next day ready to check into work, when a hand grabbed at the door, stopping it from closing, I went to step out of the way when the same hand grabbed around my throat.

My back was shred up against the wall of the shitty elevator as the thug jumped me. A handful of others walked in creating a shield around the sight. I heard them press a button for the highest floor. As the elevator made its way up, his hand slowly got tighter and tighter.

“Are you sure this is her?” He asked looking over his shoulder to another guy, wearing the clothes I remember dropping off from dry clean just the other day.

“Oh I’m sure, all the maids shoes look the same except hers, she’s got that cute little buckle on the ankle” he said lighting up a cigarette and kicking at my thrashing feet. I clung to his hands trying to pry them away from my neck only to fail miserably.

“Where’s my wallet bitch?” He asked picking my head up using my throat and slamming it on the wall again.

“What wallet, I have no idea-“ as soon as the strangled words left my mouth I felt a cold hard barrel push into my side.

“Need a reminder?” The goon asked close to my ear, I could feel the moisture coming off his breath as he get personally familiar with the tissue of my outer lobe.

I thrash again to get him away only to hear the cock of the gun. “Okay! Okay! I pawned it.” I cried out shakily as the grip on my throat got tighter.

“There’s no need to make this so hard you two.” A voice from behind spoke up. Just as I saw small dots in the corners of my eyes I was let go and kicked to my knees, the fall caused my tights to rip right at my inner thigh, when I tried to scramble away a loafer stepped on the tip of my tights causing my pull to bust even more of the seams. A well dressed man attached to the foot inside the shoe bent at his waist down to my level.

“I’m to assume you pawned it recently then correct? Must’ve given you a pretty sum in return, it was brand new too.” He softly spoke in my face taking my cheek softer than the other man had taken my neck. I nodded fearfully as my lip quivered.

“Knowing a pretty little thing like you has probably never seen that big of an amount in her life I’m going to assume you didn’t know what to do and just have it locked away at home right?” He asked. I nodded again my body growing shakier.

“Then I’ll tell you what, you go and get that wallet back, and this whole thing will have never happened.” He replied with a stoic face standing back up, releasing my tights. Nodding I leaned back against the wall.

“Until then however-“ he got cut off as the goon with the gun yanked my purse from me, “We’re going to hang onto this for some insurance” he said holding his hand out to the man to look through it. Opening my wallet they found my debit card, and a small picture of my brother and I from when I was little on the inside.

“Don’t let this take too long, otherwise- we’ll have to hold something else for insurance.” He quietly spoke, leaning really close to my face with the picture before using his lighter to catch the corner. I heard the bell ring signaling the top floor they where staying on. As all his men retreated from the door, right before the man followed he took one last look at me and dropped the now flaming picture onto the floor.

He pressed the button to shut the door and quickly jumping out of the way of the closing door as the machine once again descended.

With an aching sigh I sat up hugging myself. What was I going to do? I had spent the money. I used it to pay off some personal bills and previous expenses, it was only enough to chip at it though and if I didn’t have the money back from the wallet and its contents… it might just be easier for them to kill me.

Changing out of my work outfit back in the housekeeper locker room, I quickly left the building for the train station to go home. To try and figure out a plan.

When I got there I sat down on a bench far from the entrance and other riders. As I sat waiting, I took out my phone and considered… texting my brother…. I don’t know how he got all that money but he had it, I could borrow some from him just to pay off those guys or to buy the wallet again and give it back. But then I would owe Gi-Hun, I didn’t need that added stress right now. I felt a soft hand on my shoulder before I looked up.

“Miss is everything okay?” He asked, he had slicked back hair and a nice suit on, thinking he was a goon from before I jumped away from him grabbing for my pocket knife.

“Who are you, where you with those guys in the elevator,” I rushed out wielding my knife at him. Making a shocked face he simply smiled at me and said…

“I just wanted to ask if you might play a game with me. How does a game of ddakji sound?”

After having lost one too many of an easy kids game I felt a need for redemption. I stared at the number on the back of the card as I walked home. Was this that thing Gi-Hun was talking about before? I doubt it that was one measly kids game, almost half a hundred dozen people couldn’t have died from just that.

Walking into the house I sat at the table with a sigh as I cradled my face in my hands, thumbing at my sore throat. I stood to grab a bag of ice for my neck when I heard a creek from behind me. Whipping around and seeing nothing, I quickly shoved the card into my purse and quietly slunk to the counter to grab a kitchen knife. I quietly creeped towards the halls entrance as I heard the creeks of the one floor board getting closer and closer. When a body flushed past me at the entrance I swung out the arm with the knife only to be grabbed at my wrist.

“It’s just me Y/N.” Taking a glance at his starchy brown eyes in the soft light from the kitchen, Jun-ho released me and took the knife into his own hand.

“Oh, you had me worried” I sighed out resting my hands on my hips, “I thought some creeper had gotten In.”

“Is everything okay?” Gi-Hun spoke from his doorway making his way to meet us in the hall. With a groan I turned around to grab my purse from the table.

“I stand corrected” I mumbled hoisting my heavy purse over my shoulder once again.

“What happened to your neck y/n?” Gi-Hun asked me looking down at me concerningly.

Shoving him away from me I grabbed my purse from the table and walked to my room.

“Nothing” I mumbled trying to breach past him, only for him to gram my arm again, with a sigh I did the only thing I could think of.

“Really oppa, I’m fine.” I said again clearer, playing on his soft side, hoping he would just drop it. Luckily for me he sighed as well and released me. I big my goodbye to Jun-Ho giving my brother a small hug on his arm in goodbye, before he could hug back though I quickly left.

Later that day once I heard the both of them leave the house, I picked up my purse once again and dialed the given number.

“Do you wish to participate in the game? If you wish to participate, please state your name and birthdate…”

AN: AH OKAY THIS IS CHAPTER 1 what do ya’ll think? Too long? Too short? HOPE U ENJOY!! Stay tuned for chapter 2!!!!!

Yours truly

~ FandomObbsessedB

TAGLIST: @jamiewritesfanfiction-blog @blacksnape123 @newtsniffles @missmollya

[respectthepetty]

Hi, I read your post about Joong/Est & Dunk beef and I wanted to give you more information as I felt like you were missing some-- and bc I got to know them just 2 months and followed them on twitter and the things have been really insane? wild? and I just need to share.

So after Joong posted the tweet about him & Dunk not being on good terms right now, New(!) posted a reply to it "Is this okay?" (I assume he means is it okay to post such a thing?"). And after that Joong's tweet, I saw many fans who were unaware things have been weird btn JD finding out the two weren't getting along well. I'm not against actors sharing their feelings, but it really felt like a bad PR to me that hurts their branding. I was honestly wondering why GMMTV does not give their artists PR training when Joong suddenly posted a selfie of him & Dunk smiling with moustache filter and Dunk also posted a pic with him & Joong & P'tha who is CEO of GMMTV. AND Joong also deleted his tweet about the beef.

Now my unconfirmed theory is that after Joong posted that tweet, things got a bit out of hand and reached the ears of P'Tha and he made them sort of make up or at least ordered them to act more like usual, and for Joong to delete the tweet. In the event they had the next day, they were doing some fanservice too. It was very jarring to see the whole thing unfold tbh, especially Joong's emotional subtweets and retweets of shady quotes that lasted for weeks made me a little worried if he is mentally okay. I'm not sure JD are even on good terms right now (I don't think they are) - I don't know about Joong but Dunk seems to be trying to reach out like wishing him safe flight... but I sure do hope they can keep their working friendship or recover from whatever they are going through right now bc it would be really sad to see it end.

For Est/Joong, there seems to no visible movement for that side as far as I know except for both of their fans fighting each other like twice a week. They got into fight again today bc Joong doesn't even acknowledge or promote ThamePo even though he guest starred in it. The fan communities have been so toxic and weird and I just honestly feel so bad for the actors.

Anon, I turned off reblogs to this post except for the people mentioned within it because I just learned I could (look at this old dog learning new tricks!) and I hope this encourages you to come back to my inbox, anonymously, and offer more discussion without it getting muddled with others' thoughts.

Because I have a question.

But first I want to solidify one key point - I am invested in whatever happened between Joong and Est and, by extension, Joong and everyone else including Dunk. I just want to make that clear, so you don't think I'm trying to claim some level of emotional superiority with my following question because I'm not. I'm interested in everything you wrote because I'm nosy for no good reason, so I want to know what happened and all the details simply because I want to, and I want to make that clear before I continue.

Now, my question:

Why do you perceive Joong's behavior for the past few months as mentally unstable?

It was very jarring to see the whole thing unfold tbh, especially Joong's emotional subtweets and retweets of shady quotes that lasted for weeks made me a little worried if he is mentally okay.

You are not the first to write this. I have seen this sentiment in various spaces raised here with @waitmyturtles and @simysaru43, and on Reddit, so based on your comment, why do you think his behavior equates to him not being mentally okay? Regardless if he is or isn't, I want to know why YOU think that? And please know that I am genuinely asking anyone who has expressed this thought because I truly want to know others' perspective since I think his behavior is a suitable response to what is happening, whatever it might be (which, once again, I want to know what *that* is because I am soooo very nosy).

Joong is no longer friends (friendly?) with Est, yet they work at the same company; therefore, they must be around each other in a professional capacity. He doesn't seem to be friends (friendly?) with Daou anymore either. Yet Dunk, his work partner, hung out with them outside of work, so why can't he be bothered by that? People have stated it seems immature that he would dictate someone else's behavior, but I think we are underestimating the demands of their jobs and the unstated obligations they must abide by within their working relationships. Joong is an actor in a genre that is known for its (toxic) fans, so I am also surprised that GMMTV doesn't have a stronger grasp on any of its actors' social media presences, but Joong is also human, so having emotions, even public ones, is part of that.

So is the worrisome part of his posts that they focus on his emotions? Does it worry you that his posts are rooted in him publicly revealing his feelings? I'm not in the practice of defending men or their behavior, but I don't like the implication that a man feeling is cause for concern. That's why I'm asking why you are worried about him because I don't want to assume this is where you are coming from. I'm not asking for you to defend yourself or your comments because this is not a battle. I'm kindly asking for your perspective because my background (Mexican, Black, American) tells me this is messy behavior from a man, but my ideologies (feminist, anarchist, lover) tell me to be proud that he is allowing himself to display his feelings on a public forum.

But I might be missing something, culturally, generationally, or a third item I haven't thought about. Which is why I'm asking why his behavior is unsettling to you? I truly hope you respond, and if you want, I won't share your response.

Either way, let's discuss this further.

[scrollonso]

Cinnamon — Strollonso (2) (prev)

After hours of enduring his friends' teasing and half-hearted attempts at studying, Lance finally found an excuse to slip away. The air outside the study hall was cool and crisp, a welcome relief from the stuffy room. He shoved his hands into his MIT-branded jacket pockets and took a deep breath, his mind swirling with thoughts of Fernando — though they should've been swirling with thoughts of his meche final project due by the end of the month.

He hadn’t even made it halfway down the dimly lit corridor when he spotted him.

Fernando was leaned casually against the wall, phone in hand as his bag of teaching supplies at his feet, as though he’d been waiting there all along. His dark eyes sparkled with amusement when they locked on Lance.

“Studying hard?” Fernando asked, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down Lance’s spine.

Lance stopped in his tracks, his heart pounding. “You could say that.”

Fernando pushed off the wall, walking toward him with slow, deliberate steps. Lance’s pulse quickened with every step Fernando took. There was something about the way he moved — confident, sure of himself — that made it impossible to look away.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Lance murmured, his voice quieter than he intended. "I figured professors went home pretty early."

“I was hoping to run into you.” Fernando’s lips curved into a smirk. “Thought you might need a ride home.”

Lance blinked. “You… what?”

Fernando shrugged. “It’s late. Thought it might be safer.”

Safe. Lance swallowed hard. Nothing about being near Fernando felt safe — it felt exhilarating, electric, dangerous.

“I don’t think my dad would love that idea,” Lance said, though he didn’t make any move to decline the offer. Lawrence had known Fernando for decades — from their shared classes in university, from business dealings, from god knows where else. Lance could only imagine his father’s reaction if he found out his son was falling for the man he’d once called a friend.

But right now, Lance couldn’t bring himself to care.

Fernando chuckled, the sound warm and teasing. “Are you worried about what your father would say? Or are you worried about what you want?”

Lance bit his lip, his gaze flickering to Fernando’s mouth. “I don’t—”

“Come on, Lance.” Fernando said softly, tilting his head toward the door. “I’ll take you home.”

Lance hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Okay.”

They walked out into the night, and Lance found himself acutely aware of how close Fernando was — his arm brushing against Lance’s, the scent of his cologne lingering in the air. By the time they reached Fernando’s car — Fernando's white Mustang — Lance’s chest felt like it might explode.

As Fernando opened the passenger door for him, Lance paused. “Why are you doing this?”

Fernando leaned closer, his gaze locking onto Lance’s. “Because I care for my students, do you wish for me to have ulterior motives?”

Lance’s breath caught in his throat. The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken possibilities.

“Get in,” Fernando whispered.

Lance slid into the car, his heart pounding like a drumbeat in his ears. Fernando circled around to the driver’s side, and as he started the engine, Lance couldn’t tear his eyes away from him.

The drive was quiet, the tension between them palpable. Lance’s fingers curled into fists on his lap, his mind racing with everything he wanted to say — everything he wanted to do.

When Fernando finally pulled up outside the Strulovich home, neither of them moved to get out.

“Lance,” Fernando said softly, his voice laced with something vulnerable.

Lance turned to him, his heart hammering in his chest. “Yes, sir?”

Fernando’s gaze dropped to Lance’s lips. “I’m trying to be good.”

“Don’t,” Lance whispered, his voice barely audible.

That was all it took.

Fernando closed the distance between them, his hand cupping Lance’s cheek as he kissed him — slow, deliberate, and devastatingly gentle. Lance melted into the kiss, his hands tangling in Fernando’s hair as every thought about his father, about what was right or wrong, about what he believed was ethical, faded away.

All that mattered was this moment.

Fernando's lips moved against his with an aching softness, like he had all the time in the world. It wasn’t rushed or hurried, and that made it all the more overwhelming. Lance clung to him, fingers tightening in Fernando’s subtle curls, pulling him closer.

Fernando sighed into the kiss, his thumb stroking Lance’s cheekbone, grounding him. The world outside the car fell away — the late-night traffic, the shadows of the streetlights, the distant sound of footsteps on the sidewalk. None of it mattered.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard. Fernando’s forehead rested against Lance’s, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.

Silence settled over them again, but it was warm, comfortable. Lance traced the curve of Fernando’s jaw with his fingers, marveling at how natural this felt.

“I don’t know how we’re going to do this,” Lance admitted, his voice quiet. “My dad—”

"Lawrence doesn’t scare me,” Fernando interrupted, his tone firm but gentle. “This… you… it’s worth the risk.”

Lance’s chest tightened at those words. He’d spent so much of his life under his father’s shadow, constantly trying to live up to expectations. But with Fernando, everything felt different — he almost felt ridiculous but he couldn't help but be reassured by the older man's presence.

“I want this,” Lance whispered. “I don’t care what anyone says.”

Fernando smiled, leaning in to kiss him again — softer this time, more lingering. “Good.”

The sound of a car passing by broke the moment, and Lance pulled back, glancing out the window. His nerves prickled with the realization of where they were.

“Do you want to come inside?” Lance asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Fernando studied him for a long moment, his gaze intense. “Are you sure?”

Lance nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Fernando turned off the engine and got out of the car, waiting for Lance to join him on the sidewalk. As they walked toward the building, Lance’s hand brushed against Fernando’s. After a brief hesitation, Fernando took it, intertwining their fingers.

The gesture sent a thrill through Lance, but it also filled him with a strange sense of calm.

As they stepped inside the house, Lance couldn’t shake the feeling that he was standing on the edge of something life-changing.

Fernando glanced around the space, then turned to Lance, his expression softening. “You’re nervous.”

“A little.”

Fernando’s hands slid around Lance’s waist, pulling him close. “You don’t have to be.”

Lance looked up at him, his heart in his throat. “I’m not scared of you.”

Fernando’s eyes darkened with emotion. “Good.”

Fernando’s lips pressed softly against Lance’s, coaxing him into a kiss that felt both tender and consuming. Lance melted into it, his hands sliding up to grip Fernando’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Every thought, every doubt melted away under Fernando’s touch.

Without breaking the kiss, Fernando walked Lance backward, their steps slow and unsteady as they moved through the house. Lance’s fingers tangled in Fernando’s hair again, pulling him down deeper into the kiss, as if he couldn’t get enough.

They stumbled slightly near the stairs, Lance’s back hitting the wall with a soft thud. He let out a breathless laugh against Fernando’s lips, his cheeks flushed and eyes shining with something Fernando couldn’t quite put into words.

“You okay?” Fernando murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from Lance’s face.

“Yea, yeah.” Lance’s voice was soft, but there was a glint of mischief in his gaze. “I’m more than okay.” He felt a rush of adreneline risking everything like this.

Fernando smirked, leaning in to kiss him again, slower this time — more deliberate. His hands slid down Lance’s sides, anchoring him in place as he kissed him deeply, like he was savoring every second.

Lance let out a soft sigh, his fingers trailing down Fernando’s chest, tugging at the hem of his jacket. “Upstairs?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Fernando’s gaze flicked toward the staircase, then back to Lance. “Lead the way.”

Lance grabbed Fernando’s hand, lacing their fingers together as he guided him toward the stairs. Their footsteps were clumsy, their lips finding each other again and again as they moved. At the first step, Fernando pressed Lance against the railing, his hands on either side of him as he leaned in for another kiss — deeper, more urgent.

Lance let out a soft gasp, his head tilting back as Fernando’s lips trailed from his mouth to his jaw, then down his neck. His breath hitched, his hands fisting in Fernando’s shirt, pulling him closer.

“You’re gonna drive me crazy,” Lance murmured, his voice trembling.

Fernando chuckled against his skin. “Good.”

They stumbled up the stairs, laughter and soft gasps filling the air between kisses. Lance’s heart raced, his pulse thrumming in his ears as they reached the top of the staircase. By the time they made it to his bedroom door, his nerves had faded, replaced by a burning desire that left him breathless.

Lance pushed the door open, pulling Fernando inside. The room was dark, illuminated only by the soft glow of streetlights filtering through the curtains.

Fernando shut the door behind them, his gaze never leaving Lance. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

Lance nodded, stepping closer until they were chest to chest. His fingers brushed over Fernando’s cheek, lingering at his jaw. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

The moment the words left his lips, Fernando surged forward, capturing Lance in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was hungry, desperate — a kiss that spoke of everything they'd been holding back. Lance stumbled slightly, but Fernando caught him, his hands firm on Lance's hips as they moved together with reckless urgency.

Lance's back hit a wall — again — the force knocking a framed picture of Lance with his father at his bar mitzvah askew, but neither of them cared. Fernando's lips were on his neck now, his teeth grazing sensitive skin, making Lance gasp as he fisted his hands into Fernando's hair, pulling him even closer.

"Bed," Lance managed to gasp out between kisses, his voice shaky with need.

Fernando pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, the Canadian's lips swollen and both of them breathless. He nodded, grabbing Lance's hand and guiding him to the bed.

Lance laughed breathlessly as his legs hit the mattress, but Fernando didn't give him a chance to steady himself. He pushed Lance back onto the bed, following him down without hesitation, their bodies tangling together as they landed in a heap of limbs and laughter.

Lance reached for Fernando again, pulling him down into another kiss — messy, rushed, teeth clashing before they found their rhythm again. His hands slid under Fernando's shirt, desperate to feel skin against skin. Fernando groaned into the kiss, hurriedly undoing the buttons of his white top and shrugging it off.

Lance’s fingers trembled as they trailed over Fernando’s chest, savoring the warmth of his skin and the firm muscle beneath his touch. He let out a shaky breath, eyes flicking up to meet Fernando’s gaze. The intensity there made his heart race — dark, smoldering, full of desire and something deeper, something Lance couldn’t quite name.

Fernando leaned in, his lips brushing along Lance’s jaw, then down to his neck, leaving a trail of slow, deliberate kisses. Lance tilted his head to give him more access, his hands sliding down to grip Fernando’s waist, pulling him closer.

“God,” Lance whispered, his voice catching as Fernando nipped at his collarbone before soothing the spot with his tongue. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Good,” Fernando murmured against his skin, his accent thick, his voice low and rough. “Because you’ve been driving me insane since the moment I met you.”

Lance’s heart skipped at the confession, his fingers tightening their hold on Fernando. Their kisses grew slower, more deliberate, every touch electric. Fernando’s hands slid under Lance’s shirt, pushing it up, fingertips brushing over his ribs and making him shiver.

“Off,” Fernando whispered, tugging at the fabric.

Lance quickly complied, pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it aside. Fernando’s eyes raked over him, his gaze lingering on every inch of bare skin — though his eyes caught notice of the thin hebrew lettering just to the side of Lance's nipple. It made Lance’s cheeks flush, but he didn’t look away — couldn’t look away.

“You’re beautiful,” Fernando said softly, reverently, as if the words were a secret just for Lance.

Lance swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling with every breath. “So are you.”

Fernando smiled, his lips quirking up at the corners before he leaned in again, capturing Lance’s mouth in another kiss — deeper this time, slower. His hands wandered, exploring every curve and dip of Lance’s body, as if committing him to memory.

Lance arched into the touch, gasping when Fernando’s lips found his neck again, kissing and biting just enough to make him tremble. His fingers threaded through Fernando’s hair, tugging gently, earning a low groan that sent shivers down his spine.

Time seemed to blur — the only things Lance could focus on were Fernando’s touch, his warmth, and the way every kiss made him feel like he was falling, completely and utterly consumed by the man in front of him.

Lance’s fingers traced the lines of muscle on Fernando’s chest, marveling at the way his skin warmed under his touch. Fernando watched him with quiet intensity, his hands resting on Lance’s hips, thumbs stroking the exposed skin just above the waistband of his jeans.

"You’re staring," Lance whispered with a shy smile.

Fernando’s lips quirked into a smirk. "Can you blame me?"

Lance leaned down, pressing another kiss to Fernando’s lips — slow, lingering, full of unspoken emotions. He felt weightless, like the world outside didn’t exist. It was just them, tangled together in his bed, lost in each other.

Until the front door slammed.

"Lance? You home?"

Lance froze, his eyes wide with panic. "Shit. My dad!"

Fernando sat up quickly, steadying Lance with a firm grip on his waist. "Calm down."

"Calm down? Fernando, if he sees you —" Lance scrambled off the bed, grabbing his shirt and pulling it on in a hurry. "He’ll freak the hell out!"

"Language," Fernando stood, slipping on and buttoning his shirt with calm precision. "We’ll handle it."

"Handle it?" Lance hissed, pacing the room. "You’re my professor! He’s already skeptical about me bringing you up so much. If he sees you here —"

Fernando crossed the room in a few strides, placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder. "Trust me."

There was a knock at the door. "Lance? I heard you moving around. Are you okay?"

Lance swallowed hard, looking to Fernando, who gave him a reassuring nod before slipping into the closet. Lance took a deep breath and opened the door, forcing a smile.

"Hey, Dad. Yeah, I’m fine. Just… studying."

Lawrence raised an eyebrow. "Studying? You’ve never been this enthusiastic about your classes before."

Lance laughed nervously. "Business ethics is really… compelling."

Lawrence gave him a skeptical look before stepping inside, glancing around the room. "What’s that smell?"

Lance’s heart raced. "Uh… scented candle. Helps me focus."

Lawrence narrowed his eyes, clearly not buying it, but thankfully, he didn’t push further. "All right. Dinner’s in an hour. Don’t be late."

"Got it," Lance said quickly, ushering his dad out of the room.

The moment the door closed, Fernando stepped out of the closet, straightening his shirt. "That was close."

Lance groaned, collapsing onto the bed. "Too close."

Fernando chuckled, sitting beside him. "He’s gone. You’re fine."

Lance peeked up at him, still flushed. "What if he figures it out?"

Fernando leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Lance’s forehead. "I'll figure it out, I've got you Lancito."

Lance’s heart swelled at the words, and he couldn’t help but smile. "You really mean that?"

"I’ve already taken the risk. You’re worth it." Fernando’s eyes softened before he started up again, "Also, you've mentioned me to your father?"

"Nando I— Sir—" Lance stumbled over his words, obviously embarrassed at the topic being brought back up.

Fernando couldn’t help but smirk at Lance’s flustered state, watching with amusement as the younger man sat up, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to compose himself.

"You called me Nando," Fernando teased, his voice low and warm. "And Sir? Interesting combination."

Lance groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I can’t believe this is happening."

Fernando chuckled, reaching out to gently pull Lance’s hands away from his face. "Relax, Lancito. I’m only teasing."

"But my dad—" Lance started, his brows furrowed with concern.

Fernando shook his head, his expression calm and confident. "Your father doesn’t scare me."

Lance snorted. "He scares me."

Fernando laughed softly, his thumb brushing over Lance’s cheek. "That’s because you are his son. He wants the best for you."

Lance sighed, leaning into the touch. "Yeah, well, I don’t think he’d consider this the best for me."

Fernando’s gaze softened. "Maybe not at first. But he’ll see it eventually."

"You really believe that?" Lance asked, his voice quiet.

"I do." Fernando tilted Lance’s chin up, their eyes locking. "And even if he doesn’t, it doesn’t change how I feel."

Lance’s heart raced at the sincerity in Fernando’s gaze. "How do you feel?"

"I have an hour to show you."

Lance’s eyes widened, his breath hitching at Fernando’s words — he couldn't seem to breathe normally around Fernando. The boldness of the statement sent a shiver down his spine. His lips parted, but no sound came out.

Fernando smirked, leaning in to brush his lips against Lance’s ear. "Unless, of course, you’re too scared."

That was all it took.

Lance grabbed Fernando’s collar, pulling him into a heated kiss. It wasn’t cautious like before — this was urgent, desperate. They didn't have time to waste. Their mouths moved together in perfect rhythm, all their pent-up tension finally unleashed. Lance’s hands slid down Fernando’s chest, feeling the muscle beneath his shirt before tugging it off again.

Fernando’s hands roamed Lance’s body, finding their way under his shirt and tracing over every inch of his skin. "You’re so fucking perfect," he murmured between kisses, his voice husky.

Lance blushed but didn’t stop. "You’ve got an hour, right? Better not waste it."

Fernando chuckled, his teeth grazing Lance’s lower lip before gently pulling him toward the bed. "Oh, I won’t."

They stumbled onto the mattress, Lance straddling Fernando as their kisses deepened. Lance’s shirt joined Fernando’s on the floor, followed quickly by the rest of their clothes, until nothing was between them but heat and skin.

Fernando’s fingers trailed down Lance’s spine, making him shiver. "I want to remember every inch of you," Fernando whispered, his lips brushing over Lance’s jaw, down his neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake.

Lance’s head fell back, a soft moan escaping him. "Then don’t stop."

Fernando didn’t.

He traced every curve, every freckle, every scar with his lips and hands, committing Lance to memory. Lance’s hands tangled in Fernando’s hair, tugging gently as their bodies moved together, finding a rhythm that was all their own.

Time seemed to blur as they lost themselves in each other. The world outside didn’t matter — not Lawrence, not their risks, not the consequences. Just them.

Finally, as they lay tangled together in the sheets, their breathing steadying, Lance ran a hand over Fernando’s chest, tracing the tattoo that marked his forearm as the tattoo on his back stayed in the back of his mind.

"I can’t believe this is real," Lance murmured.

Fernando smiled, pressing a kiss to Lance’s temple. "It is. And it’s ours."

Lance nestled closer, resting his head on Fernando’s shoulder. "You’re staying?"

Fernando nodded. "For as long as you’ll have me."

Lance smiled against his skin. "Then don’t go."

"I’m not going anywhere." Fernando wrapped his arms around Lance, holding him close before pulling back again, "but you're going to eat with your father."

(Next)

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

Omfg your writing is so cute !! I already requested a couple times before but I just can’t help it

Sonic x reader that admires Shadow, But Sonic misunderstands this as reader having a crush on Shadow when reader just sees Shadow as a mysterious, cool role model, so this causes Sonic to try and compete and up throw Shadow in order to gain readers affection. Only for reader to confess to Sonic and him being confused like “i thought you liked Shadow???” And reader explains that they just admire him and look up to Shadow, but Sonics the one they actually like!

Sorry if this is hard to understand but take your time!

🐛

“The Wrong Idea”

Pairing(s): Jealous Sonic the Hedgehog x Reader, background Knuxadow/Shadknux (Knuckles x Shadow)

Requested: Yes (by an anon).

Description: Sonic the Hedgehog never got jealous! At least…that’s what he tells everybody. So why was it always that faker that made him feel this way?

Notes: Wooooo, request number seven (eight?- technically the eighth one I’m posting-)! And don’t feel bad for requesting multiple! I’m having fun writing these!

(Reader will be gender neutral.)

(Not proof-read/beta-read.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

Sonic the Hedgehog never got jealous.

At least…that’s what he told everyone.

But right now, it seems like he wasn’t telling the truth.

He has no clue why, but every time he sees you chumming up with that faker, he gets jealous.

He knows it’s selfish, but he wants your eyes on him, not Shadow of all mobians.

Right now, you and Shadow were outside of Rose’s Bakery, Amy’s bakery that she set up with the help of Vanilla and Cream, eating sweets and drinking bubble tea.

Shadow had some kind of coffee-flavored one with tapioca bubbles (because of course he did), while you had a simple fruit tea with your favorite fruit-flavored bubbles.

…Not that he remembered your exact order each time you go to Rose’s…

Oh, who was he kidding. He had a massive crush on you but he was 90% sure you had a crush on the faker.

So all he had to do was one-up him, right?

Sonic zoomed off, paying for a bouquet of your favorite flowers, before zooming back over to where you and Shadow were, only to find you both gone.

His ears droop in disappointment, the flowers drooping as well in a sad yet funny irony.

“(That’s okay, that’s okay. You’ve just gotta catch ‘em next time!)” Sonic thinks to himself. “(It won’t be that hard! You’re the fastest thing alive after all!)”

The next time he sees you both, you’re on your way over to a movie theater, chatting on the way there.

Bingo!

“Hey [Name]! Shads! Good to see you guys!” Sonic says, zooming over to you both.

“Oh! Hey Sonic!” You say, waving at him with a warm smile on your face, one he always cherished.

“Sonic,” Shadow acknowledges. “What are you doing here?”

“Well sheesh, can’t a guy say hi to his friends without the suspicion??” Sonic asks. “Anyway! What are you guys up to?”

“[Name] offered to take me to see a movie in theaters, to have the “full Mobius experience,”” Shadow states, doing air quotes with his hands.

“Oh, sweet! Mind if I tag along?” Sonic asks.

“You sitting still in a theater for hours? Doubtful,” Shadow states.

“I can too sit still in a theater,” Sonic grumbles.

“Sure thing! Though, we are going to see a horror movie, just warning you in advance,” you tell Sonic.

He makes a “Pshhh!” sound, waving you off.

“Puh-lease! Horror is my middle name!” Sonic states.

“I thought it was Maurice-” you start, only for Sonic to take your hand in his, gently pulling you along.

“C’mon! We wanna get the best seats!” Sonic states.

Boy, was Sonic not prepared for this movie. Luckily (or maybe not so luckily, he hated seeing you scared), you weren’t, either, with you and Sonic clinging onto each other every time there was a scary scene.

When you all exited the theater, you were still slightly shaking.

“R-Remind me not to trust movies with holiday names in them anymore…” you mutter.

“You did say it was gonna be scary, [Nickname].” Sonic tells you.

“Would you like me to take you home?” Shadow asks, holding out a hand for you to take.

“I’ll take ‘em home, Shads!” Sonic suddenly announces, putting an arm around your shoulder. “Besides! I can get them there lickity-split!”

“I appreciate that, Sonic,” you say with a small smile, and Sonic swears he sees a light blush on your cheeks, but he brushes it off.

“Sure thing!” he tells you, before scooping you into a bridal-style carry. “See ya later, Shads! Now hold on tight, [Name]!”

You wrap your arms around Sonic’s neck and he rushes off towards your home to get you back safely.

A few days later, when you texted him asking him to meet up, he was nervous.

What if you were mad at him? What if you told him you didn’t want to be friends?

What if you were dating Shadow?!

He took a deep breath, exhaling sharply.

“Calm down, Sonic. They just want to talk with you. It’s fine,” Sonic says to himself before rushing out of his and Tails’ shared home.

Getting there in the blink of an eye, Sonic immediately notices something.

You.

You’re dressed in a really nice outfit and you have a picnic set up, hiding something behind your back.

You look-

“You look gorgeous…” Sonic mutters aloud.

Your face turns pink, and you look to the side, a bit embarrassed, but you wave him towards you, which he does, sitting on the blanket next to you.

“So…” you start.

“So…” he continues.

You clear your throat with one hand before bringing out what was behind your back; a bouquet of blue orchid flowers, Sonic’s favorites. You hold it out to him and he takes it with a shocked expression, his face tinted pink, cradling the flowers carefully.

“I- But- We- I thought-” Sonic sputters. “I thought you had a crush on Shadow!”

You blink twice before bursting out laughing, hunching back before hunching forward, wiping a few tears from your eyes.

“No, silly! I’ve liked you this whole time!” you tell him. “Shadow felt like a mentor to me. And don’t tell him I told you, but he came to me for love advice.”

“Love advice??? Him???” Sonic questions. “Who could he possibly like??”

Looking around, you cup a hand around your mouth before whispering in Sonic’s ear, and Sonic’s face quickly morphs into one of genuine shock.

“HE HAS A CRUSH ON WHO?!” Sonic yells.

“Don’t say it so loud!” you tell him, letting out another laugh.

“I just- Knuckles???” he questions. “I would’ve never thought!”

You giggle before placing a kiss on Sonic’s cheek, a smile appearing on both of your faces.

Neither of you could be happier.

[kangshxrtie]

Four | Use me

"Tell me, why'd you have to hit-and-run me? Now I'm all alone cryin' ugly" - Gone, Rosé

you and nien were acquaintances, sharing the same friends, major, and classes, yet you barely spoke. so imagine her surprise when she found you sitting in front of her door, curled up with a bottle of soju in your hand.

"y/n?" nien questioned, approaching you slowly.

you looked up, hoping one of your friends was finally home. "oh, hey nien," you greeted.

"don't mind me... just waiting for the others," you said before taking another sip of soju.

even though you two didn't talk much, nien knew this behavior was unlike you.

nien walked closer, concerned. "does anybody know you're here?"

"umm, no. my phone died because i haven’t charged it all day," you said, face-palming.

"okay, i'll let them know," nien said, pulling out her phone to text her roommates.

nien where are y'all? y/n is here

after a few seconds without a reply, nien decided she couldn't leave you out here while drunk. what if you wandered off or something happened to you?

"come on, let's get you inside," nien urged, helping you stand up and removing the bottle from your hand. she made sure to hold you upright as she unlocked the door, walked inside, and closed and locked it behind her.

"i know i said we should get closer... didn't think you would take up the offer so soon," nien joked as she helped you to the couch.

luckily, you weren't looking to take your anger out on her. "guess i just couldn't resist you."

nien laughed lightly before helping you sit down on the couch, setting your bottle on the coffee table. "stay here. i'll get you some water."

"nien," you called as she started to walk towards the kitchen.

"hmm?" nien turned back around almost immediately.

"let's drink together," you said, grabbing the bottle back and holding it up.

"i don't know if that's a good idea," nien said, noticing you were already quite drunk.

"please, i need this tonight," you pouted slightly.

nien thought it over. you did seem sad about something, and now you were in her house. what's the worst that could happen?

"okay," nien agreed with a nod.

"good. i don't like drinking alone," you said.

nien then went to the kitchen, returning with more drinks, two shot glasses, and some snacks. once she had everything, she set it down on the coffee table.

"do i get to know why you're in a drinking mood tonight now?" nien asked as she sat down on the couch opposite you.

"let's take a shot first," you said, pouring soju into the two shot glasses in front of you.

nien leaned forward to take one of the shot glasses, and you took the other, making eye contact before downing the shots together.

"she cheated on me," you slurred as soon as you placed your shot down.

she? all this time, nien thought you were straight. and cheated? she didn't even know you were in a relationship. you never mentioned dating anyone during your hangouts, at least not that she remembered.

"and it was with the girl she told me not to worry about," you revealed with a chuckle.

nien didn't know who this person was, but now she hated them. how dare they mess you up this much?

as you continued to spew nasty words about both of them, nien nodded along. but when you started crying, she didn't know what to do.

nien left her seat to sit next to you, letting you cry on her shoulder as she rubbed your back.

"she doesn't deserve you," nien told you, continuing to rub your back.

you didn't respond, only letting out small sniffles. "god, i hate this."

"do you want me to drink more so i won't remember this?" nien asked, making you laugh softly.

"would you?" you asked, not serious but curious.

nien immediately grabbed one of the bottles, opened it, and went to take a sip before you quickly stopped her. "wait, i was joking."

"are you sure? because i'm a lightweight; i'll get drunk real fast," she said.

"oh, so you finally admit it?" although you didn't talk much, whenever your group went out together, nien could never admit that she was drunk, even though she got red after only a couple of sips.

"don't tell the others," she whispered, even though nobody else was around.

"your secret's safe with me," you whispered back, playing along.

nien poured both of you shots, handing you yours. "you promise?" she held out her glass, signaling for you to clink your glass against hers.

you nodded, clinking your glasses together and downing the shots.

"by the way, did you know yunjin and chaewon are dating?" you asked after setting your glass down.

"i figured, but what does that have to-" nien paused, looking at you. "no... you're lying."

"i wish i was. i really fucking wish," you sighed.

"is yunjin the one you were dating?" nien asked.

you nodded solemnly, grabbing the bottle to take another swig, the shot glasses now forgotten.

"the crazy thing is nobody even knows about us, so i can't even do anything about it," you said.

"you should expose her. post something and get her canceled," nien suggested.

"she could deny everything since there's no proof."

"not even any couples items or pictures?" nien asked.

you shook your head. "it was a secret relationship. we—she didn't want anything that could expose us."

"i'm so stupid. of course she wanted to keep it a secret so she could date multiple people."

"no. she's stupid for taking advantage of you."

"that is true, but i should've known. she's not even famous enough to be in a secret relationship."

"don't blame yourself, y/n. i'll help you."

"what do you mean?" you asked, confused.

"you want revenge for what she did? i'll help you get it," nien said.

"how would we do that?" you questioned.

"well, do to her what she did to you."

"but i can't cheat. it goes against so many things i believe in," you said.

"you don't have to. just don't let her break your heart like this; you need to make her regret cheating on you by playing her game."

"so basically, i'm supposed to make her jealous and make it seem like i'm cheating on her," you clarified.

"exactly," nien nodded.

"but with who? i don't really talk to anybody outside of our friend group."

"use me," nien suggested with a shrug.

you raised an eyebrow at her wording.

"use me to make her jealous," nien clarified.

"what if this backfires and she makes me look bad?"

"there's no proof you two are dating," she said.

you thought it over, weighing the pros and cons. pros: you get revenge and avoid going out bad. you get closer to nien. cons: well, there weren't any, but that might be due to the number of drinks in your system.

"we have a deal," you said, pouring another glass for you and nien.

"i'll drink to that," nien said, clinking glasses with you for the second time that night, proud of what was to come.

"you're red," you pointed out, looking at nien's neck.

"shh, don't talk about it," she whined, trying her best to cover her neck.

"lightweight," you teased.

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