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jj-one · 2 months ago

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EPISODE 1: HELP! MY HOT GIRLFRIEND CAUGHT ME CRYING AFTER GIVING HEAD! (NOT CLICKBAIT)

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

jisung thought tutoring the hottest girl on campus would ruin his GPA— not his pants. one month later, he’s somehow getting called ‘pretty’ mid-thrust and offering you pocky as a post-orgasm snack.

pairing: nerd!han jisung x popular!f!reader, established relationship genre/tags: college au, smut, fluff, jisung is a loser with a capital L, humor sprinkled in bc i’m unserious asf, lots of references to anime and other dumb stuff, lowkey perv!jisung, dry humping, oral (f. receiving), piv, protected s*x, kinda subby!jisung but he’s still a whore lol words: 5.4k (wasn’t expecting it to be this long… guess i yap too much)

[ note. ] — i had to make another nerd!ji fic bc i literally cannot stop thinking about him 😣 feel free to read my other fic for more context since it’s set in the same universe but i wanted to make a smut ver so here we areeee <33 also, i will be making more parts eventually, hence why it’s labeled as ‘episode 1’ so stay tuned for more !

cross posted to AO3

Jisung thought for sure that was going to die a virgin. Not in a sad, self-loathing kind of way, but more in a “yeah, that checks out,” kind of way. The type of peaceful resignation one might have while unplugging a broken router for the eighth time before crying into a bowl of instant ramen. Because guys like him— guys who quoted Dragon Ball Z unironically, who panicked when girls sat next to them in lecture halls, who built custom keyboards for fun and screamed at League. They didn’t date girls like you.

And they most definitely didn’t sleep with girls like you.

Still, that didn’t keep him from fantasizing. Constantly, shamelessly, unhingedly.

He’d never known what it felt like to have warm walls wrapped around his cock. Never heard those broken whines girls in hentai would make— unless he counted the ones he accidentally let out when he edged himself too long. His hand was simply never enough, no matter how many times he convinced himself he could “recreate the pressure.”

The bottle of lotion and box of tissues on his nightstand weren’t even hidden anymore— they sat like holy relics beside his gaming PC, ready for immediate access the second he closed League and opened incognito mode.

Porn never fully satisfied his craving though, he always wanted more. Even the best JAV compilation or doujinshi fan dub couldn’t compare to the real sickness consuming his brain: you.

You, with the glossy Instagram that he scrolled through like it was the damn Louvre. You, wearing micro bikinis in pool selfies with captions like ‘hot girl summer’ while he rots in bed, sweating and crying at the curvature of your ass.

You, biting your glittery, gel pen in class, leaning across the desk to ask for help, accidentally flashing a glimpse of cleavage so dangerous it made him pause mid-equation like he got hit with a stun grenade. Stalking your Instagram, seeing you in the tiniest baby tees and mini skirts. It was the perfect gooner material.

He’d stroke himself under the covers while biting a t-shirt to keep quiet, muttering your name between gasps like he was summoning a spirit. Fantasies playing out in his head that ranged from soft and romantic— like kissing you breathless during office hours— to completely feral, like bending you over his anime pillow while you called him “pretty boy” and ruined his life.

It didn’t help that you flirted with him now.

That you asked him to tutor you.

That you sat so close during study sessions he could sense your perfume from a mile away and taste the salt from the fries you always stole off his plate.

You laughed at his jokes, called him cute, even once said he had “nice hands,” and he nearly evaporated on the spot. Had to excuse himself to the bathroom with a boner and a prayer.

Every night ended the same. Him, fisting his cock in pathetic desperation at the thought of your pussy swallowing him whole, whispering ‘please’ like a man on the verge of religious enlightenment.

And every night, after he came all over his own stomach, out of breath and guilt-ridden, he’d sigh dramatically and say,

“I’m going to die alone. I know it. I’ll be the guy with the Zero Two body pillow and the unopened condom pack from 2017 that he keeps in case of a miracle.”

He did not, under any circumstances, expect you to be that miracle.

Never in a million years did he think he’d actually have a chance, let alone be dating you. You were just too perfect. The literal girl of his dreams.

Popular. Gorgeous. Cool in the kind of way that made any and everyone want to be around you without knowing why. You had that magnetic charm about you, an easily contagious laugh, a confident stride when you walk, and that dangerous habit of licking your lip gloss mid-sentence like you were in a CW drama.

And yet, somehow, here he was, currently horizontal on his bed, shirtless, breathless, with you on top of him wearing his oversized Bleach t-shirt and not much else, grinning like you’d just won first place in a science fair and a dance battle.

“Are you glitching?” You asked, poking his cheek. “Do I need to unplug you and plug you back in?”

“I- uh- w-what? No- yes? No.” He stuttered like every word had just magically left his vocabulary, he was definitely malfunctioning.

You laughed, head dropping onto his bare chest as he laid stiff as a board, arms hovering midair like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you even now. Even after dating you for a whole month.

“A month,” he whispered, still stunned by the timeline. “That’s like… thirty days of you voluntarily being seen with me.”

“Thirty one,” you corrected, lifting your head to smirk down at him. “Don’t forget the bonus day where you kissed me in front of the vending machine and the entire basketball team clapped.”

“I thought I was going to throw up.”

“You looked like you did throw up.”

Jisung covered his face with both hands and groaned.

God, he still didn’t know how this happened. When you had asked him to tutor you in stats, he assumed you were just kidding— or high. But you weren’t. You’d actually shown up. You’d flirted, sat on his lap one time when all the seats were taken at the library, and then acted like it was no big deal while his soul left his body.

And now here you were. Straddling him. Teasing him. Literally wearing his t-shirt with the anime print on it and calling him “baby” in the kind of voice that should be illegal.

“You’re so tense, Sungie,” you murmur, lightly dragging your fingers down his chest. “I know you like it when I touch you. You make these cute little gasps like a baby bird.”

“I-I don’t sound like a baby bird,” he mumbled, absolutely sounding like a baby bird.

You leaned down, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Chirp.”

Jisung squeaked.

You lost it, giggling into his neck while he covered his blushy face with a pillow. “Oh my god, stopp- why are you like this- why did you choose me,”

“Because you’re smart, and sweet, and you get all flustered when I call you hot. And because,” you sat up again, hips rolling ever so slightly and watching his pupils blow wide as you rocked against his clothed erect, “you say things like ‘This is just like my fanfic’ under your breath and then deny it.”

He groaned at the sudden friction, arms falling limp at his sides. “You heard that?”

“Babe, I hear everything. Like right now, I can hear how bad you want me to ride you.” You bit your lip, feeling your wetness growing at a rapid pace as you continuously grind on him.

Jisung whimpered. “Okay. I- this is really happening, right? This isn’t like, some kind of VR dream or like a… cursed hentai plotline where I wake up and you’re actually a sentient toaster?”

You blinked. “What the hell kind of anime are you watching?”

He slapped a hand over his eyes. “Nevermind, pretend I didn’t say that..”

You kissed him then. Slowly. Tenderly. Like you had all the time in the world and like you couldn’t believe your luck either. Because yeah, you were the cool girl, but Jisung was the first guy who actually listened when you talked. Who remembered your favorite boba order. Who’d stayed up until 3 am tutoring you and still walked you to your dorm with sleepy, nerdy affection twinkling in his eyes.

So yeah, you were gonna roast him forever— but you were also gonna ruin him tonight.

“Hey, baby,” you whispered, reaching down to tug his sweatpants lower.

Jisung was in the midst of catching his breath like he’d just run a marathon. “Y-yeah?”

“After I make you cum, will you tell me all about the sentient toaster anime?”

“…Maybe.”

“Okay,” Jisung panted, curling into your side like a baby koala clinging to its mother, “that was better than every hentai I’ve ever seen.”

You snorted into his shoulder. “High praise coming from the man who owns a $300 body pillow.”

“She was limited edition!” He quickly defends himself.

You playfully roll your eyes, kissing his flushed cheek. “So are you, Sungie. So are you.”

And yeah, Jisung still thought he was going to die a virgin once upon a time.

But now, wrapped in your arms with kiss marks littering his neck and your laughter still echoing in his ears— he was just really, really glad that he’s been proven wrong.

The moment you straddled Jisung and kissed him again, something shifted in the room.

And not just him having an outer-body experience for the sixth time in an hour.

You pulled back from his lips to look around, and the first thing you said was, “Okay, I have to say it- your room is the most aggressively virgin-coded space I’ve ever been in.”

“I told you not to look too closely!” He whined, burying his face into your neck as you giggled and craned to inspect the chaos surrounding you.

“Let’s see…” you started ticking things off on your imaginary list. “Anime wall scrolls? Check. Neon RGB light strips that make your room look like a gaming dungeon? Check. Is that Hatsune Miku in a glass case next to middle school spelling bee trophies?”

He groaned. “They’re collector’s items—”

“You were runner-up in 8th grade and you framed it.”

“I peaked early, okay?!”

You laughed so hard you fell forward onto his chest. “I love you.”

He froze. “Wh-what?”

You blinked. “I said I love you.”

He looked like you’d just offered him a lifetime supply of ramen and also stabbed him in the heart.

“…I love you too,” he whispered, barely getting it out before he hid under the covers.

You tugged the blanket back down just enough to see his red face. “Hey. Don’t hide. I wanna see you. Look so pretty when you blush.”

“PRETTY?!” He yelped.

You nodded in confirmation, brushing hair off his forehead. “Mmhm. Prettiest boy I’ve ever seen. Especially like this- messy hair, pink cheeks, all breathless under me…”

He made the most broken noise you’d ever heard.

His hands gripped your hips like he didn’t know what to do with them, like he was trying not to crush you or himself with how desperate he felt. His eyes were dark now, glazed and locked onto your every move as you slowly ground against the bulge in his sweats.

“This is real, right?” He meant to ask that in his head but blurted it out instead, voice slightly cracking. “This is really happening?”

You kissed the corner of his mouth. “Feels pretty real to me, baby.”

At this point Jisung was spiraling.

Not just emotionally. No, that happened daily.

This was a full-system shutdown.

You’d tugged your shirt off without warning and smiled down at him like it was the most casual thing in the world, and now his hands were hovering awkwardly mid-air like he wasn’t sure if he had permission to touch you or if he was being Punk’d by the gods of horny delusion.

Your skin. Your smile. Your fucking tits.

And worse— worse— as your fingers brushed through his messy brown locks and your thighs shifted over his hips, his brain suddenly screamed,

‘I can’t believe I’m about to get pussy before Jeongin.’

Jeongin, his slightly cooler, slightly taller, still-a-virgin roommate who had three rotating Discord kittens and a suspicious amount of cologne but somehow still never scored.

Jeongin, who walked around shirtless after push-up sessions and said things like “it’s not rizz, it’s charisma” unironically. Jeongin, who once said “I want my first time to be passionate and respectful” but also accidentally downloaded a virus trying to pirate a hentai dating sim.

Jisung had always assumed if one of them was gonna make it out of virginhood first, it’d be the guy with the Uzumaki clan symbol tattooed on his ribs and a social life.

But no.

It was him. Han Jisung. The guy who owned a limited-edition anime titty mousepad and squeaked like a kettle when a girl touched his arm. And now? You were grinding up against him slowly, teasingly, and he was barely clinging to reality.

“Y/n,” he whimpered, clutching your waist like you’d float away. “Can I- can I eat you out? Pleasepleaseplease.”

You blinked rapidly.

“…You wanna—?”

“So bad,” he choked. “I think about it all the time. Like in class. And when I watch those ‘how to’ videos online. Like, the diagram ones, not the porn ones, though I watched those too- but like educationally! For science!”

You stared blankly.

He was sweating.

“Okay,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “You’re really cute when you beg, y’know that?”

He nearly ascended.

You barely had time to giggle before he flipped you gently onto your back, hair falling into his eyes as he ducked down between your thighs like a man on a mission from God. His hands trembled as he slid your shorts down, breath hitching at the sight of your soaked panties.

“Oh my god,” he breathed out. “It’s real.”

You snorted. “What were you expecting? A hologram?”

“I don’t know!” He cried. “I was starting to believe you were some kind of high-level succubus sent to punish virgins.”

You cupped his flushed face. “Wouldn’t be the worst punishment.”

And then he locks in— eyes meeting yours as he sticks his tongue out, licking a long, fat stripe across your clothed slit. Soft. Slow. As if he was trying to memorize you with his tongue, the heat of it makes you jolt. He’s not just tasting you— he’s learning you, tracing intricate patterns with his tongue like he’s trying to decode you one flick at a time. Every motion is precise yet hungry, like he’s writing a love letter in Morse code directly to your pussy. His glasses slipping adorably down the bridge of his nose, solely focused on pleasing you.

You gasped at the feel of him against you, the pressure of his mouth sent heat curling low in your belly, it was torture. Too much and not enough. You needed to feel him without the barrier of soaked lace clinging to your folds, and he must’ve read your mind, because he groaned like he was the one being denied. He kissed your pussy like he was thanking it, mouthing over your clothed core before dragging open-mouthed kisses across your inner thighs, leaving your skin slick with spit and bites to your inner thighs. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, everything about him felt so warm.

His teeth grazed you— playful, hungry— and your hips twitched as he whispered something nasty under his breath, half to himself, half to your cunt. By the time he slid your panties down, your thighs were trembling, tossing the flimsy fabric aside carelessly, like he didn’t care where they landed, only that they were gone. Then he buried his face between your legs like you’d been starving him for his entire life.

His tongue slipped between your folds, hot and greedy, lapping up everything you gave him like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. He flicked up and down with obscene precision, wet, messy, relentless— his nose bumping your clit as he moaned deep in his throat, like he needed this, like the taste of you could make or break him. You were soaked, legs shaking, lips parted in a silent cry, and all he did was keep eating like he was trying to crawl inside you with his tongue.

You were loving the way it feels, every bit of you being hit with electricity. Your fingers tangled in his hair the second his mouth met your pussy, gripping tight, yanking just enough to make him groan into you like he was grateful for the pain. He never slowed down. If anything, it made him hungrier, tongue flattening against your slit before flicking up again, sloppy and fast and fucking filthy.

“God- fuck, you’re so messy,” you gasped, thighs twitching around his head. “You like that? Being my dirty little mouth toy?”

He moaned. Moaned. Into your pussy.

Nodding obediently, even as you tugged harder, grinding him closer. His glasses were long gone, hair disheveled, chin dripping with spit and slick as he slurred out something unintelligible against your clit. His tongue working overtime like he was trying to spell your name in cursive with every flick.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled, words caught in his throat. “I could live here.”

You threw your head back with a laugh— and then a sharp gasp as he got bolder, messier, more desperate. His hands kept you spread, his tongue curling and licking and worshipping like this was the only chance he’d ever get. He was sure that he’d jizz his pants just from giving you head— sure it’s pathetic, maybe even tragic. But he couldn’t help it. You were just too hot, too perfect, too fucking unreal, and the taste of you on his tongue, the feel of your thighs squeezing around his head, it was better than anything his fist or filthy imagination had ever given him.

Your fingers remain tangled in his hair, holding onto him for anchorage. He looked up at you with glassy, pleading eyes, the lower half of his face glistening with your arousal and rosy cheeks. “Tell me I’m doing okay? Please? I read five articles about this. I practiced on a peach.”

You gasped. “You practiced on what?!”

“Nevermind. Just- keep calling me pretty. I swear I’ll die happy right here.”

You tugged his head back down, voice ragged and ruined.

“Then make me cum, pretty boy.”

And he did.

Like a man with something to prove.

Like a nerdy little virgin who had just found his true calling.

Your eyes closed shut at the feeling, falling apart at the seams. Every stroke of his tongue making your insides tighten. You suddenly couldn’t remember how breathing worked, all you saw were flashes of white invading your vision, cumming so hard that you almost saw stars. You cried out, high and broken, hands grasping at his head as you came hard against his mouth.

Jisung moaned through it— loud and messy— tongue never letting up, licking you through every twitch, every gasp, every last jolt of overstimulation until you were tugging at his hair for dear life and gasping for air. Only then did he pull back, lips shiny, eyes half-lidded, face absolutely drenched, and smiling like he just beat the final boss of his entire life.

Somewhere in the past twenty minutes between Jisung nuzzling your thighs like a man starved and moaning like he was the one cumming, you had apparently blacked out, transcended the mortal plane, and been reborn as a puddle of girl.

Now, you lay sprawled across his unmade bed, fully clothed from the waist up and violently ruined from the waist down, chest heaving, eyes wet and glassy, one sock half-off your foot like a casualty of war.

And Jisung?

Jisung was cuddled up beside you like the world’s horniest golden retriever, chin resting on your shoulder, looking so smug and soft it was almost offensive.

You could still feel the ghost of his tongue between your legs.

“You sure you’ve never done this before?” You croaked out, blinking up at the ceiling like it had answers.

Jisung tilted his head innocently. “What, that? Nah. I just… researched. A lot. And I… uh, practiced on a fruit.”

You turned your head slowly. “Was it the peach again?”

“…It might’ve also been a mango. For tongue agility. But I named it after you, so it was romantic!”

You tried to snort, but it came out as a wheeze. “I can’t feel my legs, Jisung.”

He beamed. “Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Still taking it as one.”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek, then your nose, then your forehead like he hadn’t just destroyed your entire nervous system with his mouth.

“I feel like I just unlocked a secret side quest,” he victoriously cheered. “‘Satisfy hot girlfriend until she sees God.’ Bonus XP for oral stamina. Am I your favorite now?”

You blinked at him, still fighting for air. “I don’t even know my name right now. You’ve ruined me.”

Jisung squeaked and tucked his face into your neck, practically vibrating with joy. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“You should. I saw the afterlife. It was just a video game buffering screen.”

He laughed, then rolled onto his back with a dramatic sigh. “I can’t believe this is real. You’re real. Your thighs are real. I had a girlfriend and head privileges all in the same night. I feel like I need to call my mom.”

“Please don’t.”

“Too late. She deserves to know her son peaked.”

You smacked him lightly with the nearest pillow, still grasping for air, still dazed.

And then he smiled at you— so big, so genuine, so sickeningly in love that your tired heart clenched.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat, y’know,” he mumbled, brushing hair from your face. “Just say the word.”

You looked at him, the boy with anime figures on his shelf, lotion still on his desk, and love in his eyes, pulling him in for a kiss.

“Next time,” you whispered, “I’m returning the favor.”

Mindlessly reaching into his sweats, the second your hand wrapped around his length, you froze.

“…Jisung.”

“H-huh?”

You gave a blank expression. Looking down. Looking back up.

“This is- you’re.. how is this even—?”

“I DON’T KNOW,” he cried. “IT DOESN’T EVEN MAKE SENSE, I’M ONLY 5’7!”

You stared at him like he just told you he had a second life as a Marvel superhero.

“Oh my god, I just assumed you’d be, like—”

“Average?!” He gasped, scandalized.

“No! I just- I mean- look at you! You’re this cute little nerd with anime socks and a keyboard with cat ears.. how are you packing all this?!”

You were in utter disbelief, there’s no way your sweet, stammering little boyfriend had been walking around with a dick that big and had no idea what kind of weapon he was carrying. Just raw, untapped dick potential— XL stats on a man who still apologizes when his knees crack too loud. Poor baby had been lugging around a whole third leg, and didn’t even know the first thing to do with it ;(

He simply shook his head, fully tomato red now, flailing beneath you like he was about to spontaneously combust. He watched you like he was afraid to blink. You pumped him once, slowly, watching him shiver under your touch. His lips parted. His back arched. You hadn’t even gotten started and he already looked completely ruined.

“Can I ride you?” You asked sweetly.

He nodded so fast his head could nearly fell off. “Yes. Yes, oh my god, yes- please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” You cocked your eyebrow.

“I’ll uninstall League right now if you ask me to—”

You giggled as you rolled the condom down over him, letting his hands greedily grab at your thighs. He was panting, forehead glistening with a sheen of sweat, like his brain was overheating just from the anticipation.

Then you finally lowered yourself, sinking down onto him, gradually, feeling the way you take him so easily from being soaking wet. Jisung mumbles something illegible under his breath as your cunt swallows his cock whole. It didn’t take long for you to reach the end of him since you were already so ready for him, staying in the same position to feel all of him inside you. His cock was splitting you open so nicely, it felt like you were in utter paradise.

And he made the sound.

Like his soul physically left his body, floated into the air, and gave you a salute on the way out.

“F-fuck.. you’re tight, I can’t—” he clutched your waist, eyes fluttering. “I’m gonna die. This is it. This is how I go.” He desperately bucks into you, wanting to feel more movement from you.

You move your hips to match his rhythm as you gain your balance, pressing both hands on his shoulder blades. You bounce slightly up and down on his cock, feeling your walls being filled up by every inch of him. You shifted from grinding on him real slow to picking up your pace indefinitely. Jisung threw his head back against the pillow from the pleasure, the sound of his balls hitting against your ass with the combination of it jiggling as you rode him like a bunny was enough to make him want to burst on the spot.

You leaned down and give him a chaste kiss. “Best way to go, huh?”

He nods vehemently. “Please don’t stop. Ever. I’ll cancel my Crunchyroll subscription for you. I’ll stop buying figurines. I’ll even delete my Genshin account.”

“Okay, now you’re being dramatic.”

He groaned helplessly as you continuously rode him like your life depended on it, breath hitching with every drag of your hips. He was so sensitive, so overwhelmed with it all that he couldn’t stop moaning into your mouth, mumbling broken, incoherent things like, “You feel soso good,” and “I can’t believe I get to have this,” and “Am I still breathing? No? Cool.”

You kissed down his jaw, showing no signs of stopping. You knew this was going to be one of those moments you’d both play on loop in your heads for a long, long time. “Still pretty, baby.”

He pants out. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You simply keep moaning as you kept bouncing on his cock, he was thrusting back into you, going even deeper. Your eyes reaching the back of your skull from the way he was hitting all the right spots. It wouldn’t take long before you started screaming his name and showering him with endless compliments.

“You’re so fucking pretty, Ji.” You were a broken record at this point, nothing but your whines and his grunts filling the room. You felt tense, your clit was throbbing, the pressure build up making you dizzy. Jisung couldn’t keep his eyes off you for a second, the way your tits bounced through your shirt, the way your long acrylics dug into his skin, he wasn’t even sure how he was still alive.

This was better than any of those fake scenarios that he’d absentmindedly create in his head, better than finally beating a level that he’d get stuck on for hours. He was in pure heaven, and he felt his high approaching any minute.

“I-I think ’m gonna cum,” he desperately choked out, rocking into you like a dog in heat.

Jisung was wrecked beneath you. Hands fisting into the sheets, mouth agape, his eyes rolling back every time you sank down fully and clenched around him.

“Fuck, please- please, I-I can’t,” he whimpered, voice shaky, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. His stomach tightening with every motion, trying so hard not to lose it.

You leaned forward and cupped his face, riding him a little harder, the slap of skin soft but steady. “You said you could take it, baby,” you whispered, voice syrup-sweet. “You begged for this.”

“I know, I- just- pleaseplease can I cum?” he panted, nearly on the verge of tears. His voice was raw, wrecked, like every second you didn’t let him was a cruel punishment. “’m so close, I’m- I’ll be good, I swear, just let me.. please—”

You seal his lips with yours, just to quiet the begging, grinning against his mouth as his hands fumbled for your hips again. He moaned into the kiss, his hips twitching helplessly under yours.

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you beg,” you airly chuckled, pulling back just enough to look down at him. His eyes were wild, glazed over, the pretty sounds he made were like music to your ears.

“Th-thank you,” he sobbed, the gratitude in his voice borderline ridiculous. “’m gonna- I’m- oh my god—”

And with that, he finally let go. Releasing every last drop of his seed into the condom, muscles tensing up, gripping you like you were his only tether to reality. He looked down to see your arousal creating a white, creamy ring around the base of his thick cock, almost about to cum again just from the mere sight alone. Your legs felt like jello, you were weightless, collapsing onto his sweaty, sticky chest as you try to catch your breath, brain all foggy in your post-coital daze.

You didn’t expect him to cry.

Okay— not, like, full sobbing. But a little misty-eyed? A little “what did I do to deserve this?” A sparkle in his gaze as you lay draped across his chest, both of you blissed out and glowing in the soft, RGB-lit afterglow?

Yeah.

He was trying so hard not to sniffle.

“You okay, baby?” You murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the curve of his jaw.

Jisung nodded, eyes wide and glassy. “I just… I thought my first time would be like, awkward. Or disappointing. Or I’d accidentally sneeze into someone’s mouth and get banned from touching boobs forever.”

You laughed against his skin. “Definitely didn’t happen.”

“No,” he grins, wrapping his arms tighter around you, “this was better than anything I could’ve ever imagined in my head. Better than my first SSR pull in Genshin. Better than when I tried the seasonal spicy chicken ramen and lived.”

You tilted your head up to meet his eyes. “That’s a pretty long list of victories to beat.”

“You’re the only victory that matters.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned playfully, “who is this smooth man and what has he done with my sweaty, anime-obsessed virgin boyfriend?”

He huffed, burying his face into your hair. “He’s still sweaty and obsessed with anime. He just… also happens to be madly in love with you.”

You smiled into his chest.

“Also,” he added, completely deadpan, “I think I saw the shadow realm.”

You snorted. “When?”

“When you said I was pretty and grabbed my—” His voice cracked. He covered his face with his hands. “Oh my god, I can’t say it. My ancestors are watching.”

You giggled, shifting to lay next to him and intertwining your fingers with his.

And for a while, it was just quiet. Safe. His hand slowly brushing over your side. Your heartbeat syncing with his. The faint whir of his PC fan still spinning in the corner because, of course, he never actually shut it down.

Then he jolted upright suddenly, as if he remembered something urgent.

“Wait.”

You blinked up at him, amused. “What?”

He slid off the bed, naked except for one, singular sock and scurried to his cluttered desk. You watched, dazed and curious, as he fumbled with drawers and cracked open a cabinet that definitely shouldn’t have had food in it.

Finally, he turned around triumphantly. Holding out a white, rectangular box.

“Pocky.”

You stared. “…Seriously?”

“I always imagined I’d give my girlfriend Pocky after her first time with me,” he said solemnly. “Like a weird little anime reward.”

You sat up and grinned. “You are a weird little anime reward.”

He climbed back into bed beside you and opened the box, pulling out one, white chocolate-dipped stick and offering it with both hands like it was a sacred gift.

You bit it gently from his fingers.

“Mmm. You’re such a good boy,” you purred with a playful smile, “giving me snacks after ruining me.”

He short-circuited. Almost choking on his own Pocky. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I hope so.”

You kissed his cheek, then his nose, and then— just to mess with him— you whispered, “Still thinking about how big you are, by the way.”

Jisung made a noise so high-pitched it could only be heard by dogs. He flopped face down into the sheets, flailing helplessly while you laughed and straddled his back.

“You have to stop saying things like that,” he muffled into the pillow.

“Why?” You asked sweetly, brushing his hair back. “You’re my pretty boy. I’m just appreciating what’s mine.”

He peeked up at you, still pink, still glowing.

“…Promise you’re mine too?”

You leaned down and pressed your lips against his, soft and slow.

“Always.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #han jisung smut #han jisung x reader #stray kids smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #han jisung imagines #han jisung scenarios #skz fluff #han jisung fluff #han smut #han x reader #han jisung x you #skz fic #skz fanfic #han jisung oneshot #stray kids oneshot

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i-dreamed-i-had-a-son · 12 days ago

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So much of my impression of Reed Richards as autistic in the new Fantastic Four movie comes from Pedro Pascal's delivery. The way he chooses to say these lines makes such a difference--like "I am that smart" or "Anyone can build a crib, only I can build this" could EASILY have made him read as an a-hole, but Pedro's Reed says them with a sincerity that feels very autistic to me. He's not bragging or being snide, he's just stating the truth, and there's even a lot of gentleness in it. (And, I mean, come on, his confusion about the extra screws for the crib? "They included two extra...I have no idea why." He meant that!) His argument with Ben about how "cooking is more of an art than a math or a science" and how he failed his driver's test because of "poorly placed signage" (I love him) could have felt pedantic or prideful, but he says them with this sweet, almost abashed feeling that feels very genuine and familiar.

His reactions to Sue's pregnancy and the press post-Galactus excursion also read as autistic: he is clearly feeling a lot, but he isn't sure how to express it, so with Sue it comes out as immediately moving to problem-solving ("we'll have to design tests to account for our mutated DNA--") and with the press it shows up as reassurance-seeking: even though he's at the mic, he is constantly looking over at his family as if they could tell him what he should say. They even do end up answering some questions for him, and the most he says without a very long pause is his first comment: "I'm sorry we don't have a prepared statement" (which because of its delivery also feels very autistic).

And there's also his face, which is highlighted as very expressive in contrast to his fairly monotone voice. "I finally crossed it off the list," is said very simply and without context (true autistic information-sharing lol) but when Johnny jokes with him afterwards about taking back all the bad things he's said, Reed's face is telegraphing that he doesn't know how much of it is a joke. And at the start of the film, it's joked that his face is what gives away the pregnancy. (Not to mention Ben's joke about being surprised Reed isn't in panic-induced sweats and his reply that "I had that scheduled for later"...sir. You're not dodging the allegations)

Even in his fight with Sue the entirety of what he says is just so autistic to me. "I don't dream, I don't wonder. I let all of the worst things into my head, because it's my job to think of the bad things so that we can do them to them before they do them to us!" and Sue responds, "It's not your job, it's you." And he immediately agrees. And when Sue says "Sometimes, you being you hurts me," he can only pause and say "I don't mean to..." And Sue responds, "I know." And both of them feel so honest in how they say these lines! Reed really doesn't mean to hurt her, of course he doesn't, but he also doesn't know any other way to be, and he doesn't know how to make it hurt her less, and you can feel that he's really at a loss for what to do. Thankfully he is met with understanding, but the experience of the way you are and how you function being something that can hurt other people without your intending to or being able to help it is extremely relatable to autistic people. On top of this interaction, Reed feels like his whole family's pain is his fault, because he "should have known" that the suits "were...inadequate"--self-blame which makes him even more relatable.

And then there's the heartbreaking scene with him and Franklin where he quietly tells him, "I hope you're not like me. There's something wrong with me...always has been." It wasn't just the mutated DNA that made Reed feel wrong. He says he's always felt that way. There's nothing more autistic than that.

Anyway yeah I'm used to Reed feeling like a colder, less-emotional version of Tony Stark, but Pedro Pascal really breathes new life into this character. He is anxious and particular and warm and very, very autistic.

#marvel #meta #reed richards #fantastic four #autistic #autistic reed richards #fantastic four: first steps #my meta posts #kay can i just catch my breath for a second #i've put him in my pocket as well i fear #i'm collecting so many autistic superhero family men in primarily blue suits...#if i had a nickel for every time i collected one‚ i'd have two nickels‚ which isn't very many‚ but it's weird that it happened twice...#things to think about 🤔#fantastic four spoilers #pedro pascal #1k #2k

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pinetreeparadoxx · 2 years ago

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WRONG

Girlboss

jfc i just saw a "morally grey girlboss" poll and mabel pines was one of the contenders. she's not morally grey she's not a girlboss she's 12 and never makes a single moral decision that's worse than "you have stuff going on but i'm focused on my own problems" what are you fucking talking about

#please let it be known I am joking lol #op I agree with you #but mabel WAS a boss for a day and I couldn't NOT add this lol

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munsonify · 1 month ago

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drunk call

pairing. bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary. when you’re in need of a safe way home from the bar, the first person you think of in your drunken haze is bucky, who comes to get you in an instant

content warnings. sm fluff, unestablished relationships, pining, idiots in love, alcohol consumption, r being super drunk lol, thunderbolts era bucky, softie!bucky (my beloved), slightly affectionate&touchy reader (sfw), pet names (sweetheart), r being called pretty, not proofread

word count. 1905

a/n. thunderbolts era bucky and tfatws bucky are rotting my brain away i love him your honor. not proofread

———

admittedly, you’d maybe had one too many drinks tonight.

when you received a text from an old friend of yours saying she was in the city, claiming she had the night free, of course you were going to make some time to see her. it was a night well spent at the bar, too. the drinks were good, you’d caught up on a lot of life with her, jokes were thrown around that had you both doubled over in laughter in the small booth you were cozied up in. the odd glances thrown your way at your giggles only made things worse for the two of you.

your friend called it a night around 11. the only reason she was in the area was for work, and with her luck, they’d scheduled her with a meeting very early the next day. it was time for her to head out, especially now that her boyfriend had arrived, ready to carefully help her to their hotel.

“do you want me to stay?” your friend slurred, grabbing ahold of her boyfriends arm as he guided her up to her feet. “we can stay. wanna make sure you get home safe.”

“i’m okay,” you told her, a genuine, reassuring smile on your face as your words slurred just as bad as yours. “promise i’ll get home safe, i’ll text you when i do.”

the way you rose to your feet wasn’t the most elegant, though you fit right in with the atmosphere. you wrapped each other up in a large hug, bidding each other a giggly goodbye, promising to keep in touch. her boyfriend gave you a small wave before he helped her out of the bar and away from your sight. that’s when you let yourself slide back into the booth, fumbling with your purse in search of your phone. your promise was true to her, you were going to get home safe. while you only stayed a few blocks away from the bar, you weren’t quite comfortable walking home in the state you were in, not like you’d walked there three hours ago.

your mind slipped straight to the thought of bucky as you pulled up your contacts, searching for his name and number. your thoughts often slipped to the man, it was hard for them not to. in the few months you’d known the man, living in the rebuilt avengers tower, you grew quite fond of him. it was a little unexpected.

you weren’t searching for anything romantic when you’d somehow stumbled upon the new team. you were focused on a list of other things - your mental health, your career (though being a now nearly full-time superhero wasn’t exactly what you’d envisioned), your hobbies -, so it caught you off guard when you noticed your growing feelings towards bucky. you began to seek him out in a way you hadn’t with anyone else. despite being a little tough and uptight at times, not really the most talkative person ever, he was kind. he had a nice sense of humor, too. dry, sarcastic, a little playful. at times, you were convinced that playfulness with you bordered flirtation.

that’s why you had found your way to bucky again in your drunken mind. you always felt oddly safe with him, anyways. it was comforting how protective he could be, a subtle sort of thing that you admired about him. you pressed your phone against your ear rather harshly as you listened to your phone ring a handful of times. the noise had you zoned in to the point you barely noticed he’d picked up, a curious ‘hello’ ringing into your ears. your body straightened up at the sound of his voice, a dopey smile finding your lips.

“hey!” you said cheerfully, hand gripping your phone tight as you began rambling to him in an obvious slur. “i’m so sorry if you were asleep or if you’re busy, but i’m kinda really drunk right now, i’m a few blocks away at a bar. is there any chance you’d, i dunno, come get me and walk me home? so i’m not alone? it’s totally okay if not!”

you realized how desperate you must sound calling him like this. you weren’t sure if he’d caught on to your slightly obvious feelings for him yet, but if he had even an idea that you might like him, this call was incriminating. you were calling him of all people, rather than simply calling a cab or an uber, or even just sticking it out and walking anyways.

“of course,” bucky told you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. his response was immediate, without a second thought. those two words alone made your heart flutter inside of your chest. you passed along the name of the bar, one he’d remembered from passing so many times. he knew his way around the city well, and promised to be there in 10.

the moment you’d hung up the phone, soft giggles slipped from your mouth, the same wide smile on your face still present. you ordered yourself one last drink while you waited, closing your tab while you were up before you left and forgot. you sat in your booth in silence as you waited, gaze settling on to the drink that you sipped on. your body was beginning to feel a little heavy, the alcohol and your sleepiness starting to settle in now that you weren’t so focused on an ongoing conversation.

you were so zoned in, in fact, that you didn’t realize bucky had finally found his way to the bar, beelining to you in a slow, steady strut. his head tilted to the side when he stopped at your table, biting back a smile. you still hadn’t noticed him yet.

“hey there sweetheart,” bucky spoke smoothly, sliding on the opposite side of the booth. he noticed you still had a drink and decided to give you time to finish. your head shot up to look at him, eyes wide and gleaming the moment you recognized his voice. you gave him the same dopey smile you had when you’d called him. “mind if i take you home?”

you giggled at his words, biting your lower lip as you began to put on a show, thinking a little for a response you already had. you gave him a hum, words slurring still as you respond. “well i suppose so.”

you sipped the rest of you drink away after you spoke, quickly wiping away the drop that slipped from your lips clumsily. whether that clumsiness was because you were drunk or because bucky made you nervous, you weren’t quite sure. regardless, your nose scrunched up a little in embarrassment, trying your best to shake it off. he didn’t seem to mind or even notice. bucky had a small, content smile on his face, his blue eyes shining gently as he gazed at you.

the moment you set the glass down, his fingers found their way to it, taking it into his hand. he pushed himself back up from the worn booth, watching as you fumble to grab your purse and phone. the hand bucky offered up was his left. the metal felt nice against your buzzing warm, buzzing skin as you accepted it, letting him assist you to your feet. despite how hard the metal was, he was gentle with the way he held your hand, guiding you towards the bar again to give the bartender your empty glass.

bucky’s hand left yours, only to grasp ahold of your purse and your phone to carry it for you. he helped you towards his right side, wrapping that arm comfortably around you, hand bracing your waist as respectfully as he could. he began walking the two of you out the bar and onto the streets in a comfortable silence neither of you broke. you began leaning into him, still a little unsteady on your feet as you stumble slightly down the street.

your head eventually found comfort in bucky’s shoulder, the weight becoming nearly too much for you to bear on your own. you missed the way he smiled, small and proud as he continues to guide you through the city. that’s when he started to speak in a low mumble, voice deep, his tone sending shivers down your spine.

“you look pretty tonight,” bucky complimented, his head turning to look down at you fondly. it wasn’t often he got to see you like this, a little skirt he’d helped you pull back down into place just a minute or two previously. the shirt you wore was a little low cut, too, just enough to show some cleavage. that’s not why he gave you the sentiment. he rarely got to see you put together. it was usually sweaty work out clothes or bloodied uniforms he saw you in. this was a nice change.

bucky watched the way you smile wide, nose scrunching up again at his words. you tilted your head up to see him, sincerity laced in every inch of his face. while collecting your thoughts, you pressed your cheek into his arm as you stare up into his eyes, clinging to his body for dear life as you try not to fall. his strong arm kept you upright, though, careful not to let you drop to the ground.

“thank you,” was all you could manage out in a small voice, a hand of yours gently grasping at the sleeve of his leather jacket. it was then that you’d finally made it to the rebuilt tower, bucky swiping the both of you in, before holding the door wide open for you. he watched the way you stumbled into the building with an appreciative smile, before looking back at him expectedly. you had your hand extended outwards for him, searching for his touch

bucky took your hand without a second thought, letting his fingers intertwine with yours, before you guys made your long way towards the living quarters. even when you’d entered the elevator, three empty walls and a long railing for you to grasp ahold of to find your footing, you still held onto him. he was already helping you, anyways, so why would you let go now?

he continued to walk you out of the elevator when it’d reached high inside of the tower, helping you all the way to your bedroom door. bucky positioned you in front of him, letting go of your hand only to reach to your hair, tucking pieces behind your ear and out of your face.

“think you can find the rest of your way?” he asked, his hands smoothing down your hair once, before dropping it to his side. you gave him a lazy nod, eyes beginning to droop with exhaustion.

“yeah, i think should be fine,” you answered, offering a small smile. before you could overthink, you took two steps forward, arms reaching up to wrap around bucky’s shoulders. he blinked a few slow times, arms finding their way around your torso carefully as he embraces you. he tugged you a little closer to him, letting his chin rest gently on top of your shoulder. the hand that wasn’t holding your belongings smoothed up your back, a weak attempt to soothe you.

“thanks for walking me home, buck,” you whispered. “it means a lot. you’re a great guy.”

“anytime, sweetheart. just give me a call and i’ll be there.”

#munsonify #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes fluff #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes

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ch3rriiii-bunn · 1 year ago

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You belong to me

Paring: upper ranks + Muzan x Fem!reader

Synopsis: In different pov's, their jealously turn them a bit crazy

Content: possessiveness, jealousy, hinted smut, choking, fave grabbing, slight blood play, demon reader in Akaza, Nakime and kokushibo's part, kidnapping on Douma and Muzan's part, escape attempt, Muzan grabs you by the neck like that one guy in 365 days lol, arranged marriage theme on Muzans part

A/n: yall know that song by the weeknd? had to write some possessive jealous shit based on that song with some demons! WHAAAA I NEVER WRITTEN SOMETHING LIKE THIS!!🥴might do one with the hashira next🤭

Akaza

Akaza is known to not like his fellow upper ranks. You've seen it first hand when Muzan allowed you to attend an upper rank meeting since you became a demon by Akaza. He hated them all with a passion. Especially the ones ranked above him. With this knowledge, what in the hell possessed you to give any of them your attention?

Not just any upper rank, either. Douma in particular. In your defense, once Douma starts speaking, it's hard to shoo him off, especially given that you're much weaker than Douma is, so you play along to keep your reputation on a good note. You simply smile and nod at his nonsense. You knew Akaza wasn't going to step in since he'd rather run in the sunlight than talk to Douma if you were on your own.

How wrong you thought you were. Once Muzan actually left, Douma become more bold. Asking you personal questions, standing to close and even about to hold your hand, but before you could answer, you heard the sounds of blood splatter on the floor. Your eyes widened at how quick Douma's arm was severed.

"Oh, come now, lord Akaza. I was just joking-" "Shut up for once." Akaza snarled at douma in pure disgust. You wanted to say something, but you felt your feet leave the ground. Akaza had grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder and walked away from Douma while holding you. It always amazed you just how fast he was, but you knew how mad he was. The anger was just raiding off Akaza.

Akaza made sure to be far away from the other upper ranks in the infinitely castle and walked into one of the many empty rooms. Akaza put you down, but then, he backed you up against the wall. You felt your back press flat with your hands on the wall as well, giving how close he was to you. "Lord Akaza, please don't read too much into it. Douma was just being an idiot. " You tried to explain, but Akaza wasn't having any of it.

Akaza raised his brow. "So you're defending him?" His voice rasped as he tilted his head to the side. "No.." Your tone softened and looked at Akaza, worried since that wasn't your intentions. "I don't think I've made myself clear enough if my actions haven't shown it already." Akaza said and brought his hand to your collar bone and rested it there for a moment.

"Demon's I hate don't get the right to talk to who belongs to me." Akaza's face comes closer to yours with his lips now inches away from yours. His hand moves from your collar bone, up to wrap around your throat. "And you entertain a demon like him. Even saying his name from these lips. His fucking, name" Akaza's jaw clenched, and his hand tightens kts grip on your throat.

"Aka..za" his name hitched in your throat. His grip was deadly. You could still breathe. However, Akaza's grip was firm. He wouldn't dare kill his precious demon. It was just a "light" punishment. However, he needed you to learn your lesson and to show your loyalty to him and him alone. "Say my name properly. Or is my strength too much for you to speak?" Akaza smirked.

"L-lord Akaza. Lord Akaza~" you say his mamw twice. The second time you say it, you let out a heavy gasp as akaza lossend his grip on your throat. "You belong to me. Understood?" Akaza asked, keeping that eye contact and tightening his hand around your throat if you dared to look away. You nod quickly, your eyes almost teary from the slight lack of oxygen, and you watch Akaza's lips curl into another smirk.

"Good girl." He chuckled and gave you a kiss.

Nakime

Your girlfriend, Nakime, had summoned you to the infinitely castle. It's her job to always summon the 12 kizuki at the request of Muzan. Naturally, you felt terrified but remained to have a calm once you were summoned. However, Muzan was nowhere to he seen. Just Nakime, sitting there, a level above, and you looked up at her in confusion.

"Pardon for speaking out of turn, but where is lord Muzan," you asked, assuming it was him who wanted to speak with you, but it turns out that wasn't the case. "It was I who summoned you." Nakime spoke, her tone a bit quiet yet blunt. You chuckled and cut the formal introduction since Muzan isn't here, and you can speak freely since it's just you and your girlfriend.

"You do know it's probably a bad idea to summon me since you're taking me away from my work. Search of the blue spider lily and all." You grinned at Nakime and palced your hand on your hip. "I was keeping an eye on you. One of upper 4's clones has gotten closer to you. Haven't he? " Nakima said. You detected slight irritation in her voice, mentioning one of Hantengu's clones, but instead of asking a question for a question, you always knew it was better to answer her first.

"Ah, Urogi, yes. I wouldn't say we are close. However, he's a fun demon to work with. He likes to have a bit of joy and humor on our search," you answered. It isn't abnormal for Nakime to use her blood demon art this way. Especially since she's on the lookout to find the ubuyashiki family in the demon slayer core. Still, you couldn't hide your smile knowing Nakime was most likely thinking about you and wanted to check in on you.

"I forbid you to speak to him. Your task is to look for the spider lily. Not entertain each other with humorous jokes and touching," Nakime said. Her words made your heart spot for a moment and knew exactly what she was talking about. Urogi has always been proud of his sharp talons and would often tease you with them, but on this mission, he wanted to take it up a notch and poked your cheek.

To you, it was a wholesome moment. Urogi was just teasing, nothing different he dosnt do to the others, but Nakima had to see that, and she was furious. Urogi only touched you once in a playful manner, and it was enough for her to use her blood demon art to summon her back to you in that very moment. "He was getting too close to you for my liking and being bold enough to do that. Especially bringing those filthy claws of his to touch my woman's pretty face."

During this entire time, her facial expression remained unchanged until now. You could see her lips form into a frown and even watched as her teeth clenched together in a snarl. She was jealous. "Urogi was just being playful. I wouldn't read too deep into it, love. Sekido is probably scoling Urogi right now for wasting time to focus on finding the blue spider lily." You reassure Nakima, but she wouldn't let it go.

"Come here." Nakime took her biwa off her lap and rested it gently beside her on the floor and motioned her finger for you to come sit in front of her. You did as Nakime asked and sat down in front of her. You wanted to explain further to find the right words to reassure Nakime, but before you could, her hand grabbed your face

You gasped. Your breathing became unsteady as you felt her firm grip, her four fingers on one cheek while the other had her thumb, or rather her nail, poking onto your skin. The same spot Urogi poked at. "I will not allow a man's to touch to linger on what belongs to me." Nakime's voice turned cold. "You belong to me." She said as her thumb nail pressed harder, breaking your skin until blood slowly pours out.

Your jaw opens, and you inhale a sharp breath with your eyes barely open as you feel the sting. You're a demon, so of course it'll heal, and Nakime didn't pierce too deep. It was her way of wanting to hear her words come out of your mouth. You kept your eyes on her and eventually spoke up. "I belong to you~" Your voice hitched as you felt nails nail pull away from your skin.

Nakime leaned in closer to lick the blood from your cheek and watched as your cut healed already. She kissed your cheek and then came closer to your ear and whispered, "That's right. You belong to me, beautiful." Nakime said. Her hand lets go of your face and then trails her sharp nails down your neck.

You shivered until her fingers reached your kimono, near your tits and Nakime smirked. "I should remind you of how a woman's touch feels. So you'll never let another man touch you again," Nakime said. You bit your lip softly, feeling the heat rise higher in your body and your thighs squeezing together more. "I want that," you said, and Nakime's smirk only grew.

"Open your thighs for me and lay back. I'll show you how good these fingers work other than playing a biwa"

Kokushibo

His brother has been dead for centuries. Yet his name still echos throughout history but never would kokushibo think that his brothers name, yoriichi, would leave your lips.

Although you're a demon now and have been for a while now, you could still recount memories you had during your times as a human, especially in the demon slayer core. It was basically a law for any of the 12 kizuki to never speak of Yoriichis' name, yet you just had to talk about him since gyokko was curious to know how humans thought of him.

"Yoriichi has sun breathing. That's the best way to describe why he's well known even after his death. He could kill any demon in seconds. It's quite impressive," you admit to gyokko, and he nods his head, humming in response. Kokushibo had already been looking for you, but he never interrupted any of your conversations when you had them. However, hearing Yoriichis' name from you alone set him off to act out.

He came from around the coner and stood behind you. "Do I think yoriichi could beat Kokushibo? Well maybe-" you said but then saw both of gyokko's mouths open as he looked behind you. Your brow raised in question, and you turned around to see what shook him so much, but now you realized. "Kokushibou hi" you smiled nervously at him.

"It was good talking to you, bye!!!" Gyokko hides inside his pot, probably in another one by now, so it was just kokushibo and you. "Listen, I was just- oh!" Kokushibou picked you up, and then you heard Nakime's biwa sound, transporting you back to his home. You knew you fucked up. You and gyokko tried to talk in secret, but now kokushibo was going to punish you, a demon for speaking about yoriichi but in his own way.

Kokushibo put you down, turning your body away from him to face the wall with your body pushed up against it. You grunted from the sudden pressure but gasped once your hair was pulled back to face kokushibo. The view was upside down, but you could see just how angry he was. "You know to refrain from using that name. Have you lost your mind?" Kokushibou said, his deep voice almost turning into a growl.

His hand had a fist full of your hair, and not only that, his lower half was just inches away from pressing up against you. "I know- I was just telling memories from my human life I didn't think it was a big deal-" "and you actually believe a person like him could defeat me. Do you really think that? Dose his name interest you so much that you've forgotten just who's wife you belong to?" Kokushibou said.

You had a confused look on your face. Is he seriously jealous at the mention of his brother's name from his lover? You knew kokushibo was jealous, but you didn't expect him to be this possessive. "I'm sorry~" This is all you could mutter out. "Do not. Ever say that name. Again." Kokushibou crouches down to your ear, speaking slow for his words to be understood.

You mewl softly, biting your lip as you nod quickly, understand his words. "My name should be the only name said from those lips." Kokushibou now brought his other hand up to your chin and holding it while his other hand is still gripping your hair. Your back arches just a bit more once you felt Kokushibou press himself up against your ass.

He let out a heavy breath with a deep moan mixed in. "Having your jaw broken for speaking his name is the normal punishment from lord Muzan, since you're a demon and it'd grow back." Kokushibou grinds himself against, letting go of your hair and placing his hand on your tit.

"However, I have my own punishment. Just for you." Kokushibo's breaths become heavy, feeling himself get into heat, and he whispered in your ear.

"A punishment where you'll never remember to say his name and only mine. You belong to me, my pretty demon~"

Douma

His "church" wasn't a church at all. You made the dumbest mistake to have even joined this religious cult. Your "savor", the one who saved you that day from eating eaten like an animal from a group of demons and showing you such kindness was just a cover-up for his true identity, which was a man-eating demon and not just any demon, the 2nd highest rank in 12 strong demons led by an even more powerful demon. The realization sunk in, and you made an ever worse choice than the first one.

You wanted to escape. You wanted out. You thought you planned your escape for a week, asking around what Douma's schedule was like so you knew the perfect days on when to leave, but that back fired on you. When you noticed nobody outside the temple, keeping guard and, of course, no sight of douma, you made a run for it.

You felt relieved. No one was there to stop you until a dark figure appeared from the shadows and snatched you up like you weighed nothing. "I caught you! You sure ran fast. Are you sure you weren't a demon slayer before you came to my temple?" Douma said, smiling from ear to ear.

You tried to catch your breath from running up, but your breath quickly turned into a panic. Douma frowned for a moment, "Oh you poor thing. Don't be scared. We'll get you back to the temple so you can rest for the night," Douma said. With such fake empathy in his tone, it almost sounded sarcastic.

Douma continues to hold your body off the ground in a bear like hug. His muscles flexed to hold you firmly so you couldn't escape. However, looking at Douma more closely, you noticed changes about him. His teeth looked more like fangs. His body against yours felt so cold, almost like he was dead and worst of all. He had "upper 2" written in his eyes. Was this a demon's technique? How was he able to hide these features on him so well around his cult members.

"I don't want to go back!" Your voice trembled. You tried to speak soft, but the panic got to you. Douma only just smiled, speaking in his cheerful voice. "If you're worried about being eaten alive, don't worry, you aren't my type of woman to eat, but you are my type of woman to be around. So I will be keeping you since you asked for my help to save you from those demons that day, so it only makes sense for us to stay together." Douma chuckled.

"What??" You sighed, looking at Douma with worry, fear, and confusion. "I don't belong to you, so let me go!" You hit Douma, but you knew your strengths was no where near compared to his. Douma places his hand on the back of your head, making your rest your chin on his shoulder while he embraces you more and nuzzling his face to your neck, taking in your scent.

"You still don't get it y/n? You're mine. I'm going to keep you until your time as a human is up." Douma said, throwing you over his shoulder and began to walk back to the temple.

"You belong to me and me alone~"

Muzan

2 years had passed since you were kidnapping, and you were finally back and safe with your family. Although your kidnapper, known as the most powerful demon, kidnapped you was bad, he could've been a lot worse. So you like to think of it that way. He could dispose of you at any moment, even when you couldn't help him find the blue spider lily, but he didn't.

You're family for owning a flower company, educated on flowers even so that's the main reason why Muzan took you but he let you go when you were of no use to him anymore. The bond you had with Muzan wasn't always about his work. There was soft intimate moments between you two but you knew not to get your hopes up since in the end, your knowledge wasn't all that useful and he let you leave, putting his work before you.

Your life continued to move forward, and eventually, you had an arranged marriage. A soon to be husband for you. He wasn't bad. He did promise to treat you right, give you his money and etc but deep down, you knew you couldn't love this man but went along with it for the benefits and your familes sake.

The wedding took place during the night. Your in-laws thought it would be a great idea to see how lovely your wedding dress would look in the moonlight. You asked to be alone in the fitting room, and you turned off the lights. Despite being human, you've gown accustomed to the dark and toy opened the window, feeling the night's breeze. Your hands slide down your sides to your hips, and you smile at yourself in the mirror, seeing just how gorgeous you look.

"You look stunning, my dear. They were right. The way the moonlight shines on that beautiful dress is just Devine," a deep familiar voice said. You gasped and turned your head to the window and saw Muzan, sitting in the edge and watching his glowing red eyes trace every inch of your body and even smirking at how the dress hugs your hips and holds up your tits perfect.

"Why are you... h-how did you find me?" You stepped back. Muzan came into your fitting room further and made his way towards you. Your body froze, but your eyes softened once you felt his hand on your cheek. His hand was so cold. "Do you think I'd let just anyone actually go?" Muzan bluntly said. That line alone confirmed your thoughts from a year ago. You weren't actually free, and like you predicted, Muzan would come back to you. However, it wouldn't be for the reason you think.

"I don't have any more knowledge on the spider lily. Even after you let me go, I couldn't find it." You explained to Muzan, but he only grinned. "I have upper ranks to do the job much better and faster than you," He said. His words cut a bit deep since you used as much energy as you could've helped him before. "But you can be useful to me in... other ways," Muzan said as his eyes gestured to your body and then looked back at your face.

It's like the old feelings came rushing back. In your own sick way, you missed this man. Muzan is the worst, curel and dangerous man-eating demon you could've ever met. Yet you knew leaving with him was a choice you had to make now. Your mind snaps out of it once you head a knock at the door. You and Muzan look at the door and hear a woman's voice on the other side.

"Um, y/n? Are you almost done?" One of your maid of honors asked through the door. "Yes, im-" you paused. Your eyes look down to see Muzan's hand slide on your hip and even slide his hand down lower, just like how he used to, but you stopped him. "I'll be right out. Just give me a minute," you say in a worry, and then look at Muzan, his lips inches away from yours, and you spoke quietly.

"You can come by tomorrow night, and we'll talk about this. You came at such an odd time. " You rolled your eyes halfway, trying not to let all these emotions cloud you. You turned around, but the second you did, Muzan had grabbed the back of your neck, making you gasp as he pulled you back to face him. "Mm.." Muzan brought you into a heated kiss, making you stumble back and sit in the mini table in your changing room.

"Y/n!?" Your maid of honor placed her ear on the door after hearing a thund sound. "If you think for a moment I'd let you have some random mam in bed with you, then you're more stupid than I thought," Muzan said as his jaw tensed. You pant as you feel his fingers press into your neck and you placed your hands on his chest for some kind of support.

"You belong to me, and I'm taking you back. The connection we share won't ever disappear, so don't think for a second it will," Muzan said, pulling you into another kiss. This time, you kissed him back. His words may not have been the sweetest, but you understood them. He wanted you, and you wanted him. He pulled away once he heard hard banging on the door.

"Let's go," you said, lifting up your dress, not hesitating for a moment about leaving. Muzan had picked you up, and you heard a biwa sound, transporting you to Muzan's room in an instant. Muzan, put you down. His hands made their way to your body, with one hand on your ass and the other playing with the zipper on your wedding dress.

He smirked at you, letting out a dark chuckle. "Now. Won't you let me give you that wedding night you deserve to have"

#demon slayer smut #kny smut #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #muzan x reader #muzan smut #akaza x reader #akaza smut #douma x reader #douma smut #kokushibo smut #kokushibo x reader #nakime smut #nakime x reader

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dearlenore · 5 months ago

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ARREST ME BUT MAKE IT SEXY • S.REID

SUMMARY: The team successfully arrests a murder suspect—only to realize they’ve just taken down a highly respected FBI agent from another unit. Furious that they’ve blown her undercover mission, she decides to make their mistake their problem. After all, if they’ve already ruined her op, she might as well have a little fun with it.

PAIRING: agent!fem!reader x spencer

tags: reader is a lil shit lmao, season12!spencer, use of y/n, heavy flirting, criminal activity, dirty jokes, use of my love, baby, sweetheart and cutie, bauteam is kinda stupid (sorry lol)

a/n: rushed + editor is occupied for the foreseeable future</3

w/c: 0.8k

THE INTERROGATION ROOM was unbearably tense, but not for you. You sat comfortably in your chair, wrists still cuffed to the table, fingers idly tapping out a rhythm. Across from you, the BAU team filtered in and out, their patience wearing thin with each passing minute.

Hotch was the first to take a crack at you.

“Do you know why you’re here, ma’am?” he asked, voice as steady and unreadable as ever. He leaned against the table, watching you like a puzzle he was determined to solve.

You blinked up at him, then let a slow grin spread across your lips. “No idea, sir,” you responded in an exaggerated, mocking tone, leaning back in your chair to mirror his stance.

He exhaled sharply, sliding a set of crime scene photos in front of you. The images were gruesome—bodies left in precise, calculated poses, signs of struggle, but no obvious traces of the killer. You studied them, but only for a moment.

“Tragic,” you mused. “But what does this have to do with me?”

“You were at the scene,” he said.

You tilted your head. “So were a lot of people.”

“An hour before the body was found.”

“Maybe I was just getting coffee.”

Hotch narrowed his eyes, unimpressed. He was looking for cracks, a sign that you were lying, but all he found was amusement. You were enjoying this.

A minute later, he sighed and pushed back from the table. “I’ll give you time to think.”

“Oh, how generous,” you cooed, watching as he left.

“Bye handsome!”

Next was Morgan.

He didn’t even sit down. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking you up and down with the kind of exasperation reserved for people he really didn’t have the patience for.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” he muttered.

You grinned. “I just love a good misunderstanding. It’s like a game except you’re waisting my time. Then again I’m a salary employee soooo…”

“This ain’t a game,” he said. “You were at the crime scene. You have connections to known criminals. You disappear off the grid for weeks at a time. And you expect us to believe you had nothing to do with this?”

“Connections to criminals?” You gasped dramatically. “You wound me. What next? You’re going to tell me Santa Claus isn’t real?”

Morgan let out a long sigh. “Man, I really don’t like you.”

“That’s okay,” you replied easily. “Not everyone has good taste.”

Morgan gave you one last irritated glance before pushing off the wall. “I’m done here.”

Emily took a turn after that, but she only lasted ten minutes before giving up, muttering about how you “liked messing with them too much” and “needed to be someone else’s problem.”

And so, that’s how you ended up with Spencer.

He was quieter than the others. He sat across from you, his fingers tapping against the table, observing rather than accusing.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

Then, finally, he said, “You’re making a lot of references that only someone with a specific academic background would appreciate.”

You tilted your head. “And you caught them. Very impressive, Dr. Reid. I knew someone would appreciate my sense of humor someday.”

Spencer didn’t react to the compliment. “You want us to doubt our conclusion, but you haven’t provided a solid alternative explanation.”

You leaned forward slightly, tilting your head. “Maybe because it was super obvious and all of you have college degrees..”

He frowned. “Then tell me—what were you really doing at the crime scene?”

You sighed, pretending to think. “You’re the profiler, you tell me.”

“Seriously?” he sighed.

You grinned. “Oh, come on, doctor. You of all people should appreciate a good intellectual challenge.” You dragged out his name, watching with satisfaction as his ears turned a little pink.

“You’re trying to manipulate the conversation,” he said slowly.

You let out a laugh. “Manipulate is such a strong word, I just like hearing your voice.” You coo.

Spencer swallowed.

Before he could respond, the door swung open.

“Hotch,” an analyst panted, holding up a phone. “We, uh… just got a call from her unit chief. And he is furious.”

A pause.

Hotch took the phone and pressed a button, putting the call on speaker.

“Are you all out of your damn minds?!” a voice roared. “Do you have any idea what you just ruined?! She’s one of ours! Let her go. NOW.”

The room went silent.

Morgan groaned. “You have got to be kidding me.”

You stretched your arms out dramatically. “Well, this has been fun.”

Hotch sighed, rubbing his temple. “Uncuff her.”

The moment your wrists were free, you rolled them, wincing slightly. “That was so unnecessary.”

Morgan shook his head. “You should’ve just told us.”

You scoffed. “Please! Your work was lazy at best, I even looked like a federal agent. Damn that dress code…”

As you stepped past Spencer, you leaned in just enough for only him to hear.

“Thanks for the chat, genius,” you murmured. “I would say next time we won’t need the handcuffs but what’s the fun in that.”

Then, without another word, you walked out, leaving behind a stunned team and a very, very flustered Spencer Reid.

#x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #fanfic #spencer reid x reader

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doodlepipsy · 5 days ago

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* JUST KEEP WATCHING / part 1

pairing: lando norris x y/n fewtrell summary: lando finds out you have an onlyfans and debates whether or not he should subscribe warnings: 🔞minors dni!!!! 18+, mentions of mature content below the cut. nothing explicit though x notes: just hope it's ok :) it's very long and wordy before we even get where he finds out, i'm sorry lol. please let me know what you think and interact with it if you want part 2!!! maybe a pre-singapore meetup or the singapore race weekend? btw she is theo's twin sister

SET IN EARLY AUGUST 2024

It had been months since Lando had actually seen Y/N in person. And whenever they did cross paths, there was always something new or different about her. He never knew what to expect anymore, but it was kind of interesting. A new piercing here, a fresh little tattoo there; one time he and Max nearly walked right past her because she'd dyed her hair blonde and hadn't warned anyone. Y/N's decision to move to London seemed to have been the right one. She just seemed much more confident in herself, having had the opportunity to experiment and explore, to bloom.

But living in the same city as her big brother didn't mean they were in each other's company often. In fact, Max had barely seen her these last few months because if he wasn't him off travelling around the world, then she probably was. Or she was just busy with other plans, other people. Max liked to joke that she'd become too cool for him... but these days, he was actually starting to believe it was true. And Lando had no idea how it happened. How "Baby Fewtrell" wasn't so little anymore, but a fully grown woman. Sometimes he'd catch her stories on Instagram and it felt like he was observing a stranger.

But she'd never be a stranger. She was still his best mate's baby sister; the same girl who had a huge fear of being struck by lightening, that cried when Max surprised her with Harry Styles tickets, that once consumed a Solero smoothie too quickly and almost threw up on Lando's shoes and that definitely thought Carlos Sainz was stupidly sexy, which the lads teased her mercilessly about.

Lando was not known for being punctual. But for once, he was arriving early to a function because Lando knew that if he waited around in his hotel room any longer, he was going to end up falling asleep and turn up late. They'd concocted a plan to surprise Max at his birthday barbecue, acting like Lando couldn't make it to the bash. And technically, Y/N said he could arrive anytime after midday and it was now midday. Max and Pietra (who was in on the surprise) were due to arrive in a few hours, giving everyone plenty of time to be ready.

One could argue that this was a housewarming party too, with Y/N and five of her friends renting a house together to share the burden of rent and stay local in London to their jobs and studies. Their end-terrace in Chelsea was perfect, it had a small but comfortable garden and a self-contained little apartment in the basement which their friend and his partner shared, while the other four were spread over the two upper floors in various sized bedrooms. And although Y/N hadn't managed to snag the biggest room, she'd lucked out the bedroom that was connected to a cute little roof balcony space.

Lando wasn't at all surprised to see the front door was painted some loud colour, and wondered if it was Y/N's idea. She always said one of her favourite things about London was the doorways. He was facing a bright shade of teal, with a ring of coloured flowers hand-painted around the garish brash door knob. He gave it a good knock and made awkward eye contact with the Ring doorbell camera, waiting for a few seconds before pulling out his phone. But just as he was about to hit send on his message to tell Y/N he'd arrived, the door swung upon. Lando found himself greeted by the biggest smile.

Her hair was cut in some sort of shaggy hairstyle that he didn't know the name of (wolfcut) but it really suited her. Lando couldn't tell if her freckles were real or not but those suited her too.

"Oh my god, is that race winner Lando Norris??" she giggled, clearly excited to see him. She hadn't actually congratulated him in person since his Miami win in May. And although the last few races had been difficult (Hungary especially), he was still riding the high of achieving his first Formula 1 win. His mouth immediately expanded into the widest grin, his eyebrows doing a little dance above his interesting eyes. "Come 'ere, you!" Y/N squealed, throwing her arms open and inviting him into a hug.

He couldn't help but notice; her baby tee was so fitted and so light coloured that it was impossible not to see it. Not only was she braless right now, she appeared to have pierced one of her nipples. Lando's eyes did the quickest flash, impossible for her to notice that he'd looked. Right? God, he hoped so. "Hello, BF." he teased, knowing she was most likely rolling her eyes.

As the pair embraced, her hands resting on his back as she pulled away from him mid-hug. "I'm almost 22!" Y/N pouted, bored of this long-running "Baby Fewtrell" joke. She let go of Lando and looked down at her Cherry Kitten t-shirt, frowning slightly. "Shit, sorry. I've got a little bit of jam on my shirt... it's not got on you, has it?" she asked, placing her fingertips to his chest as if to investigate, searching for any stickiness. He glanced down at her nails, peach coloured with colourful little daisy-like flower designs which stood out against his dark green t-shirt so perfectly.

"Oh, it's alright. Can't see it anyway." Lando replied, trying to remain as nonchalant as possible. But he was feeling very chalant right now. Particularly when she turned around and revealed the text on her shirt. On the front was some cute vintage-style illustration of a kitty. On the back it said "my mental health isn't great but my pussy is"

Y/N didn't even realise, she'd just chosen the first shirt she didn't mind getting dirty while working in the kitchen. She liking cooking and loved to bake, and had made a Victoria sponge from scratch to accompany the classic butterfly cakes she'd prepared yesterday. "Right well, come through and I'll introduce you to everyone. I was just finishing the potato salad when you knocked so excuse the mess." Y/N explained she closed the door behind Lando and gestured to a nearby internal door. "Let me give you a quick tour! This is our living room," she began, opening the door and flicking the lights on.

He didn't expect to see a man staring back at him in the mirror that was fixed above the fireplace. So much so that he let out a weird startled noise, voice cracking out of fright. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry! It's... hold on..." Y/N disappeared behind the door only to return with the offender. "Sorry, that's just... Paul?" she explained, so casually as if this wasn't nothing out of the ordinary, holding onto the cardboard head of the life-sized cut-out of Paul Mescal that was currently living behind their living room door. Lando could see a bright pink feather boa appeared to be hanging around his neck. He didn't even know what to say, only that his heart still thumping loudly in his chest. And Y/N could tell that Lando was thoroughly confused by his bewildered expression. "Yeah, sorry. I wish I could explain but it's... he's like our mascot. Anyway it's just Paul, don't panic!" she laughed, leaving Lando even more bewildered than before.

They trapsed through the lounge and into the dining area, which was separated by what appeared to be a double-doorway with no doors. Compared to the dark vibes of the living room, Lando was pleasantly surprised by how open-plan and light the kitchen was with it's conservatory-style extension and roof. The doors were wide open, leading to their small garden area and he could smell the charcoals were already burning. The kitchen wasn't in a mess at all, in Lando's opinion. Music played at a low volume from a bluetooth speaker on the kitchen, almost drowned out by something louder being played outside. She'd been in the zone, in her own little world. A creative bubble of chopping, mixing and various timers set on her phone for the grill and oven. "Do you need a hand with anything?" he asked, slotting his phone back into his back pocket.

Y/N shook her head vigorously, hands resting on her hips. "No, I'm pretty much done now. Thanks though! Just gotta put things away to keep cool and ready to go. You know you're like, really early, right?" she asked, wondering if he'd got mixed up with the time. He travelled to so many different timezones throughout the year and lived an hour ahead of her in Monaco that she wouldn't blame him if he had.

"Oh yeah, I know. Is that alright? If I spent too long sitting down at the hotel, I'd end up taking a nap and you know how that goes." laughed Lando, as he knew Y/N was well aware of his ability to fall asleep anywhere, at any time and in any situation. If Lando Norris needed a nap, Lando Norris would find a bloody way.

Y/N smiled knowingly and gestured to the roof. "If you want to have a kip for an hour or two, I don't mind. I'll wake you before Max gets here."

He'd love to, actually. He was coming off a race weekend and had spent the last day at the MTC for debrief and media duties. He'd been working through emails and taking phone calls about various projects and brand commitments all morning. A nap sounded fabulous right now. But he shook his head and tucked his hand into the pocket of his dark jeans. "Oh, no, I'm good." Lando replied, and watched as Y/N tilted her head ever so slightly.

"Honestly, Lan. You're more than welcome to, no one is going to be here for at least another hour and I've gotta shower and change anyway. Are you sure?"

He didn't want to seem rude to her friends, rude to her as the gracious host and his best mate's little sister who he hadn't seen in so long. But Lando knew that she was genuine, that she wouldn't offer if she knew it would cause a problem. Although he also knew that she'd do the same even if it did upset somebody. He knew she only cared about his wellbeing.

So when he asked, almost timidly, if she was sure no one would mind, Y/N rolled her eyes at him in an overdramatic fashion. "Yeah, course! Christ, no one wants to deal with you in 4 hours when you're grumpy 'cause you're tired. You become a right gremlin." she joked, pointing her index finger at him accusingly before flicking the same finger to the doorway. "Let me just introduce you real quick to the gang and then I'll take you up."

Everyone was congregating in the small yard, which had a patch of fake grass down and a picnic table with a garden parasol that looked suspiciously like it belonged in a pub beer garden. There were several ashtrays dotted around the place and a shelving unit that had been turned into a makeshift bar with a dozen or so bottles of booze, mixers and empty glasses all lined up. Her friends looked like your typical mix of arty London fashion types. She'd once described them on Instagram as her "girls, gays and theys" and he didn't really understand that last bit but he tried not to judge. "Ok so guys... guys!" Y/N barked, interrupting their conversation (or debate) to introduce her guest.

And they all immediately went quiet, eying the newbie in the garden. Which wasn't daunting at all. "This is Lando, Max's friend that I've been telling you about! He's gonna go have a quick nap before Max gets here but I wanted to bring him over first very quickly. So we've got Julian," she began, gesturing to the impossibly handsome and tall sandy blonde guy sat on the picnic table with a Lost Mary in hand. Lando gave him "the nod" and a small, barely audible greeting. "He lives downstairs with his boyfriend Marco. Then we have Peachy," she pointed towards her friend that Lando assumed was the aforementioned "theys" part of the group because he couldn't actually tell if Peachy was a him or a her but Max had pre-warned him not to ask. Max also mentioned that he knew Peachy's real name was Olivia Peach, if that helped. Which it didn't... but as advised, Lando wasn't going to ask. "And I think you've met Zia and Keeks?" Y/N referring to the set of girls sitting on outdoor beanbags on the ground, gazing up a him behind sunglasses.

Both greeted him with a synchronised "hi" and he smiled down at the pair before acknowledging that he remembered meeting them, albeit very briefly, on some night out last year. He remembered one of them definitely got very drunk and expressed a great interest in putting her tongue down his throat. But he wasn't sure if which one of them it was and he sure as fuck hoped that no one remembered it. Y/N knew that with all the attention on him, Lando would be feeling awkward and shy which is why she made it brief.

A chorus of nice to meet yous and see you laters could be heard as they re-entered the kitchen, with Y/N guiding him from behind towards the hallway. "Come on, I'll just grab my stuff and set you up in my room. Follow me." she said, overtaking him to trudge the first set of stairs. "Be glad I'm on the first floor!" she huffed, as she glanced towards a second set of stairs. "This is my lil room, I actually cleaned it yesterday so you're welcome." cooed the brunette, entering the room first and quickly hooking her finger through the strap of the bra hanging from the back of her computer chair, holding it behind her back as if it was a dirty secret. "The sheets aren't clean on though, sorry. I can change them if you want?" she blurted out, realising that Lando was very used to crisp white hotel linens and not her Ikea ditsy floral set, however cute and whimsical they were.

But he adamantly shook his head, holding up his hand. She always did this, starting fretting about little details and thinking something wasn't right or adequate. "Nah, don't be silly. It's only for an hour. This is fine, thanks Y/N." Lando said softly, and Y/N knew he was being genuine when he used her name like that.

She nodded her head and glanced around for a few items that she needed to get dressed and do her hair. "I'll go upstairs to shower so if you need the toilet, the bathroom is the door with the laundry basket outside. Ok?" And when she was satisfied that he was ok, Y/N left him to snooze in her sanctuary, hoping that she'd moved anything embarrassing or potentially incriminating well out of sight.

Because as suspected, Lando couldn't help but have a little look around, as if he was trying to get to know a bit more about this version of her. She had quite the array of Instax mini Polaroids on the wall, framed by toadstool string lights and other delightful little embellishments. It seemed like she had a thriving social life, judging by photos and the sheer amount of old wristbands in the glass bowl on her shelving unit. It made Lando smile. He always thought of her as that shy little 12 year old who was obsessed with saving caterpillars from being squished. This particular caterpillar had evolved into such an interesting butterfly.

On top of the shabby chic white chest of drawers were so many trinkets, a collection of bits and bobs that she'd collected over the years that obviously meant something to her or just looked cute. There was an interesting amount of candles in various shapes, sizes and colours, that had yet to be lit. Did she collect them? There were at least two that were the shape of a women's body. And, when he peered towards the back, he realised one of them was shaped like a cock and it was set in front of a really small red notebook with "A Tiny Sex Diary" written in gold lettering on the front. Huh.

The computer desk was fitted with a fairly decent camera and lighting setup, and it had Lando pondering if she was into streaming or something. He couldn't actually recall what she was doing at university, he just knew it was fashion related. But he couldn't remember the specifics, and he wondered if maybe she was doing content creation. Her Instagram was certainly well-curated, plenty of dumps with well-taken shots and she liked to showcase her style. Maybe he'd delve into it later with her, ask for an update on what she's doing these days. She worked part-time at Urban Outfitters, last time he checked. And this was confirmed by the staff lanyard he'd just noticed was hanging on the left knob of the top drawer. Lando almost missed it, too consumed by the sight of pastel purple coloured lace underwear peeking said top drawer, which was stopping it from closing fully.

The man puffed his cheeks up and turned away, forcing his feet out of his trainers without untying the laces and sitting down on the bed. He really had to stop falling into that place in his mind, allowing himself to think about her in ways that were disrespectful to her or to Max. He wasn't even sure when it started happening, it just crept in so slowly that he didn't notice it at first. All of a sudden, she was there and she was different. But nothing was different between them, their dynamic hadn't changed at all. They really didn't spend a lot of time around each other anymore and only interacted in messages and on social media.

It was social media's fault, he had decided. Catching all these glimpses of her life over the last few years and witnessing her transition into adulthood through Instagram stories set for close friends only and her silly little drunken Snapchats. Maybe that's why it felt weird. Because Max still thought of her as a teenager and so they all referred to her as such. She was still Baby Fewtrell to their friendship group, but she wasn't a baby anymore. And he can't have been the only one who noticed, yet none of their friends mentioned it.

The pillow smelled so heavily of her, all perfume and shampoo. It reminded him of sweeties, like Parma Violets. He was on his side with his arm tucked under it and it didn't take him long to fall asleep. It didn't feel like he'd been out for long when he felt the weight of someone's hand on his chest. One eye peeped openly lazily, reacting to the sound of someone softly repeating his name. "Ayy, there he is..." he heard a familiar feminine voice say, and opened his eyes fully this time to see Y/N's face smiling down at him. "Fuck me, this is like trying to raise the dead." Y/N giggled, one knee and her other hand pressed into the mattress next to him, as if she was crawling onto the bed. And that made his sleepy brain short-circuit for a millisecond, glimpsing down at the way her thigh was dangerously on show through the slit in her animal print satin skirt. "You need to get up, mate. The birthday boy is on his way!" Y/N told him, getting off the bed and turning to look at herself in the mirror on her dresser, satisfied with her effort.

He sat up, forcing the heels of his hand into his eyes to give them a rub. "Sorry, I was knackered." Lando said, voice cracking slightly. He cleared his throat and looked at Y/N, who turned to look at him.

"I know, that's why I left you for a bit." she replied and Lando scrunched his eyes before forcing them open in a wide stare.

She watched as Lando did his best to force himself to wake up properly. "What time is it?" he asked, concerned that Max was already on his way and he was still in bed.

"Almost 2:30..." was her reply, to which he groaned loudly and swung his legs off the bed and on the floor, reaching down for his shoes.

Lando furrowed his brow. "Why didn't you wake me?" he whined, huffing as he fiddled with the laces that he'd left knotted.

"Because, I knew you needed it." Y/N told him in the same stubborn matter-of-fact tone that Max used when he did something for Lando's own good. "Besides, you don't have to come down as soon as he arrives. He's due in about 15 minutes and you can take another 10 to wake up. God, look at the state-" she started to laugh, reaching out to try and tame the way his hair was stuck up. Lando swallowed hard, ignoring the way her hands in his curls made his tummy feel funny. "Maybe use those 10 minutes to sort whatever is going on with your barnet." She playfully pushed his head to the side and he smirked, watching as she moved away and towards the door. "But for real: t-minus 15 mins according to P's text."

When Lando realised how low his battery was, he left his phone on Y/N's beside table to give his phone a quick charge and made his way to the bathroom to finger-brush his hair and use a bit of water to control the coils if necessary. He trudged back to Y/N's bedroom to wait for his mate's arrival and busied himself on his phone, glad that Y/N had one of those cables with multiple chargers attached. The music downstairs was playing a little louder now and he was fairly sure he could hear the familiar voices of Tom and Connor chatting with Y/N. He assumed their girlfriends were also in attendance, to keep Pietra company more than anything.

Soon he heard Max enter the house, heard the group greet him with a variety of different happy birthday wishes before moving towards the back of the house. Y/N's bedroom had very small roof patio, which partially overlooked the garden. He leaned to look through the door which lead to it, unable to see over the fence. Lando wondered when he was supposed to make his entrance, if he was meant to sit here and wait for Y/N to come and get him. He chewed on the skin next to his thumbnail, anxiously scrolling on his phone when there was a knock on the door. Lando froze for a moment, only relaxing when a familiar choppy hairstyle swung around the door. "Just making sure you've not gone back to sleep. You can come down now if you want!" she whispered excitedly, proud of the way she'd pulled this off for Max.

It couldn't be easy, not seeing your best mate very much throughout the year unless you were jetting off to a race weekend (where you still wouldn't get to see him) or some all-expensed paid holiday for a few days when he had the downtime. It certainly had to suck that you couldn't spend important days together very often, like birthdays. So Y/N did her best to make sure the stars aligned for this one. She knew he'd be in the country after his race weekend debrief and she didn't have to beg Lando to show up for Max because even if he had a tight schedule, he'd have made the time anyway. Thankfully, Lando had some time off before the Dutch race but they lied to Max, saying that McLaren had him working on something for one of their sponsors.

Max was in the garden, already holding a glass of something and coke with his back to the kitchen. Lando knew that P would have her phone out ready but secretly he hoped she wouldn't, because not everything needed to be filmed. Y/N stood in the doorway, using the back door's step to her advantage, still having to get on her tippy toes (which wasn't easy to do in chunky Doc Marten sandals), throwing her arms around her brother's shoulders to cover his eyes with her manicured fingers. "I almost forgot, I've got something for you..." she said quietly, feeling Max lean slightly to put his glass down on the nearby table.

"Oh God, what else have you bought?" Max asked, flustered and slightly paranoid he was about to be embarrassed by some gag gift in front of his mates. She had already gifted him a nice pair of trainers in a style he liked, and he thought that was it. He didn't like Y/N spending her money on him, not when she was a student and always arranging her little Euro trips; she was probably perpetually broke. And he was so thankful for the spread she'd put on, he knew she was trying to impress him, trying to prove that she was a grown up now too.

"Relax, it's nothing scary." Y/N reassured her brother, who was now doing some sort of awkward lean back to accommodate her shorter height.

When she let go and placed her hands on his shoulders, it didn't register immediately that the hands were bigger, heavier. He opened his eyes and expected there to be something in front of him. He was looking at the faces smiling back at him, confused as hell. "Happy birthday, you muppet." Lando grinned, and Max whipped his head around so fast that his neck made a quiet crack.

"Fucking hell, mate!" Max yelped, clearly startled. Lando cackled and Y/N beamed, hands clasped together and tucked into her chest. Lando was considered family in their household, and the bond he had with her brother made her heart so full. She watched as the boys embraced, before Max was pushing Lando and ranting about the little fibs he'd been fed over the last few weeks and days. Y/N asked him more than once if he really had no idea, if there wasn't an inkling that maybe they were up to something and Max confirmed each time that he really thought Lando was busy shooting for yet another advertising campaign.

Music bumped in the background as conversations flowed easily, as food was eaten and as glasses were emptied, with the group singing Happy Birthday to an bashful Max before he blew out the colourful candles on his cake. "Can't believe you made this yourself, for me." Max said quietly to her, one arm around Y/N's shoulders and giving her a squeeze while she was removing the candles. "You know you didn't have to do all this." he added, leaning to give her a quick kiss on top of her head. She smiled, the kind that caused her eyes to crinkle because the apples of her cheeks were being pushed so high. She knew he wasn't only referring to the food or for hosting the gathering.

"But I wanted to. I mean, it's not every day that you're second favourite brother turns 25." Y/N joked, as Max rolled his eyes at her.

"Theo isn't even here, you could at least make me the favourite this one time!" he protested and Y/N cackled.

"What is Sam, chopped liver?"

The pair laughed and Max gave her shoulder another squeeze as she cut two pieces of cake for him and P before dishing out more pieces onto a collection of mismatched small plates for people to take. As Lando stood next to her, Y/N attempted to unlock her phone while avoiding getting cake residue on the screen, presenting it to Lando with a mix of jam, cream and crumbs of sponge on her fingertips. "Can you hold this for a sec?" she asked, and Lando obliged, looking away as Y/N used her knuckle to type her PIN. "Will you find something?" she asked, referring to the Spotify app open on her phone. They'd turned the music off while they sang to Max and now they needed the tunes back on while she handed out plates.

"Yeah, yeah, let's have a look..." Lando replied, tongue resting in the corner of his lips as he browsed the playlists she had, some of which weren't even saved under actual titled. She had so many that were just named with a few letters or the default Playlist #5. What a mess, how could she find anything? He'd hate to see what her Liked Songs looked like. Scrolling through the playlist that they'd been listening to already, he saw something by Wilkinson and selected it and was about to see if the Smart Shuffle was on because it should be, when an Instagram message notification popped up.

He was attempting to swipe it away but ended up clicking on it by mistake. Shit. He couldn't help but clock the last message sent, his light eyes widening at the sight. Lando planned to exit the message before he could read anything, not wanting to invade Y/N's privacy. But he didn't know how to use her fucking phone; so instead of leaving the app, it just went back to her inbox which was full of unread messages. It didn't escape his notice that this definitely wasn't the Instagram account he knew of and followed. The profile picture she had was very different and the username was one that Lando didn't recognise at all.

What felt like an eternity, was really it was only 15 seconds of fumbling to figure out how to exit the app entirely. Lando set the phone down on the dining table as if holding it burned him and left the scene of the crime as quickly as possible. While he stood nearby Max and their friends, trying to look as though he as definitely paying attention to the conversation, his thoughts were elsewhere. His brain felt like it was going at warped speed, overthinking every little thing he'd just seen. Why did she have a secret Instagram that he didn't follow (when she followed his finsta) and more importantly, why she had she sent a link that looked suspiciously... familiar?

It had been so big and bold in her message, too obnoxiously obvious to ignore. And now he was obsessing over it. He had to be mistaken. Surely it was just something very similar. Because why the fuck would Y/N be sending someone an OnlyFans links on a secret Instagram? What on earth was going on right now? Had he fallen into an alternate dimension? Was this the Upside Down? Had he hit his head and this was all an elaborate hallucination? Was he having a fucking stroke?

Seeing Y/N in the corner of his eye made him stiffen. He dared not look in her direction, paranoid that she could read his thoughts, scared that she'd figured out what he'd seen. He mumbled something about going to the bathroom and dipped back into the house. "You alright, mate?" Someone asked as Lando made a beeline past them for the hallway and he tried not to stammer in his response.

"Yeah, mate yeah. Just dying for a piss." Lando replied, a little too quickly, before he legged up the staircase and into the sanctuary of the first floor bathroom. Locking the door behind him, Lando perched himself on the edge of the tub and whipped his own phone out. It had to be a misunderstanding. There had to be a logical, reasonable explanation for this. It couldn't possibly be what it seemed like. He was desperately trying to remember the format of the username from the inbox. There was some full stops involved and he was currently searching variations of what he recalled until he saw it - the same profile picture. It was the red and white gingham off-the-shoulder bikini top with white frills, like something you'd expect Sabrina Carpenter to wear and while you couldn't see her face as she lay on the bed, he recognised the background as the bedroom he'd been in earlier. Her small tattoos was visible too, but the thing that was really on show was her pert bum.

Lando's hammering heart had gone well past his stomach and was currently in arse.

The fizzy cocktail-from-a-can mix that he'd forced down his throat 5 minutes ago was threatening to come back up. He was scared to scroll, scared to move his thumb on the screen in case he accidentally interacted with something and revealed his presence. So he just sat there, staring at the screen below him, mouth ajar as he documented every little thing. The pepper and flame emojis next to a linktree url, the selection of Instagram-friendly reels and photos posted. And the alias she appeared to be using was "Bambi" and that alone sent a shiver ricocheting up his spine. Wasn't that something they jokingly called her, after ice skating at the Winter Wonderland in Hyde Park? Y/N could barely keep upright anytime they tried to skate towards the middle of the rink and so she refused to move away from the wall, irrationally terrified of "slicing off her fingers" if she fell.

Knowing it was pissing her off, they teased her for weeks afterwards. Lando even updated her name on WhatsApp to include a deer emoji and they'd occasionally drop a Disney's Bambi gif in their group chat just to annoy her.

He felt sick.

And not because Lando judged her for it or because he was disappointed. How could he, when he'd subscribed to various OF models in the past? He probably still had some subscriptions ongoing that he'd forgotten to cancel. No, Lando felt sick because his immediate reaction hadn't been disgust or disappointment and it hadn't been discomfort, like perhaps it should have been. It had been intrigue. It had had been curiosity.

It had been arousal.

And now he couldn't stop thinking about it. Not when he returned the party downstairs, not when he helped Y/N's housemates clean up empty bottles and cans into bags for recycling and not when he hugged Y/N goodbye and thanked her for having him at her home. Not when he sat in the back of the taxi, nor when he returned to his hotel room. Not even later, in the shower, could he get Y/N and her spicy link out of his head. It wouldn't be the first time that he'd rubbed one out to the thought of her, and he was realising quite quickly that it wasn't going to the last time either. Regardless of how guilty he felt about doing it, how dirty and dishonest it made him feel. It didn't stop him from having a quick wank in the luxury bathroom of the luxury hotel, before climbing into the luxury bed. If only he could get some luxury fucking sleep.

It would be disrespectful to check it out, Lando knew that. Disrespectful to Y/N, to Max, to Theo. To the whole family, really. He knew their grandma, for fuck's sake. He'd stayed at their house and eaten at their dinner table. Lando was a part of the family. And yet, here he was at 11pm, contemplating the ethical implications of checking out his best mate's little sister's Only Fans page. He absolutely hated himself right now for even considering it. But Lando knew that he couldn't let it go until he'd scoped it out, even briefly. He wasn't going to subscribe. No way. That would be beyond messed up, a truly unforgivable act. But a little peak couldn't hurt. Just to sate his sick sense of curiosity.

He regretted it immediately.

It was real. It was actually not a sick joke being played on him. Baby Fewtrell really had an OnlyFans account, with a list of what she offered, with a profile picture that knocked his socks off, with over 2 thousand likes logged. Lando had no idea about what he was supposed to do with this information. How was he supposed to be proceed? Did he tell Y/N that he knew? Did he tell Max about it?

Fuck. That.

He knew what he shouldn't do. The fact that he even considered it made him feel so guilty, so that was a good sign, right? Lando closed the tab before he could talk himself into subscribing and lay his phone down on the bed beside him. This was so surreal. Earlier they had talked about her plan to come and watch him race in Singapore as a birthday treat to herself, and he had already sent off requests for paddock passes so that she and her friend could accompany Max. He point blank refused to hear her argument, wanting her to enjoy the full experience as his guests instead of the GA tickets the girls had intended to use for the Sunday only.

How was he supposed to just pretend he didn't know, and look her in the face in a few weeks time? Act like he wasn't wondering about the webcam setup that he saw in her bedroom earlier. About the bed that he'd slept in today; was that the backdrop for her content? Did she work alone? Did she collab with other creators? Did someone film for her? Did her housemates know? Did they do online sex work too? It that why they could afford that fucking house? Was it actually an OnlyFans pad? Those Polaroids of Y/N kissing all her friends. Did she make content with other girls? Where was the safest place to masturbate in a 5 star hotel room?

He was exhausted just thinking. Lando didn't want to think about anything anymore, he just wanted to go to sleep and have very bland, ordinary, unseasoned dreams about cars or puppies. Absolutely no steamy, sensual nudie rudie thoughts about someone he'd known for almost 12 years which was more than half of her whole bloody life. Hand reluctantly sneaking under the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, thumb hovering dangerously close to that subscribe button. He paused briefly at the sound of a text and nearly knocked himself out with how fast his hand moved out of those boxers at the sight of her name. Lando's heart skipped several beats. It was like she knew. He swallowed thickly, unlocking his phone and reading the message quickly.

y/n: thanks for coming today, it all went just how i pictured it 🥹 y/n: and it was so great to see you!! 🥰 hopefully see you again some time before singapore? but if not, can't wait to come and see you race in september x

He'd send her passes to every race if Y/N wanted them. Hell, he'd invited her on holiday with him this week if he thought Y/N would say yes. He'd probably invite her over to his hotel room right now if that wasn't the most absurd thing in the world.

You know, if she wasn't Y/N fucking Fewtrell.

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando x you #lando x y/n #lando imagine #lando norris imagine #lando fic #lando norris fic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris x female reader #lando norris x y/n fewtrell #lando x jkw

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choerrypuffs · 7 months ago

Text

AITA for setting my cheating ex's car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

pairing: firefighter!haechan x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 8.6k

synopsis: revenge is best served cold―or on fire. literally.

author’s note: luvpuffcore is finally back!! ilysm cat and moon and thank you for another amazing year of friendship <333 i truly am the #1 most successful fan of all time 🤩 also special shoutout to cat for letting me use some of her creepy dms and moon for sharing her league knowledge yall are god's strongest soldiers fr !! happy new year, my loves ✨🎆💞

warning(s): mentions/threats of violence, sexual jokes, y/n commits arson but in a girly pop way (pls don't try this at home), character assassination of mark

playlist: get him back! by olivia rodrigo ― is it new years yet? sabrina carpenter ― drinks or coffee by rosé ― risk by gracie abrams ― mastermind by taylor swift

additional: check out a nonsense christmas: reddit edition collab!

r/AmITheAsshole

u/justgirlythings-arson119 • 3d

AITA for setting my cheating ex’s car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

I (24F) caught my boyfriend cheating on me with a discord kitten he met on League of Legends two days before our anniversary. I proceeded to have the biggest crash out ever known to man, bought a gallon of gasoline, went to his house in the middle of the night, and lit his car on fire. I had completely forgotten his cousin was a firefighter in the area, and he showed up at the scene, which hindered my masterful plan a little bit. Luckily, my ex didn’t press any charges though because no way in hell he’s going to admit he has a discord kitten in a court of law. Anyways, the next day, my ex groveled and begged me to go to his family’s Christmas party with him so that he could save face in front of his mommy. Long story short―let’s just say it didn’t go well. His cousin ended up driving me home, and I think maybe I’ve fallen for him?

⥣ 9.8k ⥥ 1,439 Comments

mcballs-im-lovin-it0323 • 2d YTA for not crashing out even harder bc i woulda slept with his entire bloodline if he played in my face like that 🙂‍↕️

➥ Reply ⥣ 2.8k ⥥

picklepounder1010 • 1d would’ve had him calling me mama, papa, auntie, uncle, grandma, grandpa etc fr 😩 ➥ ⥣ 943 ⥥

god-of-donuts0423 • 1d YTA for dating a lol player

➥ Reply ⥣ 1.1k ⥥

goonknight1027 • 5h no way this post is about that twink lol streamer ➥ ⥣ 629 ⥥

part one | oh, i wanna key his car…or light it ablaze?

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:03 PM heyyy u play lol too 😂

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:05 PM im a yasuo main 😂

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMwhat kinda asian are u

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMwhatchu look like

onyourmark 12/1/2024 3:10 PMsorry was that too much 😂😂😂

Your best friend, Rosie, has to put your phone down and take a few deep breaths. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Keep going. You haven’t even seen the worst of it,” you respond through a mouthful of strawberry ice cream, completely deadpan.

onyourmark 12/7/2024 6:21 AM ahh 😂😂

onyourmark 12/7/2024 6:22 PM *kisses you*

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PM can i tell U something weird :3 😂

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:40 PM[Audio Message]

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PMi wrote this rap about my feelings for y baby girl

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:39 PMbecause uve been such a good gril for me

onyourmark 12/12/2024 5:57 PM holy fck holy dcking fck that body of urs is absurd

Rosie covers her mouth with her hand, closing her eyes in a grimace. “No way he copied Adam Levine unironically.”

“Keep going.”

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AMwhen can i see u

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AM ill be free after christmas

onyourmark Yesterday at 1:20 AM after annyign fam stuff 😂😂😂

Every message Rosie reads feels like another sucker punch in your gut and your ego, but you just dig your spoon into the tub of ice cream with even more force and let her keep going. Every time you blink, you feel dried up mascara flaking off your eyelashes and getting stuck in the dried tears and snot on your cheeks.

“‘Annoying fam stuff?’ Is he talking about your anniversary?” Rosie demands.

Yes, your anniversary with your now ex-boyfriend, Mark Lee, is on Christmas. You used to think it was romantic. What a goddamn idiot you were.

“At least he called me family,” you reply wryly, a hysterical laugh rattling in your chest like a wet cough.

Rosie shakes her head and hands your phone back to you. “I can’t read any more of this. I’m going to be sick. I thought Discord mods and Discord kittens were just memes. I can’t believe people like him actually exist.”

You just shrug.

“Where the hell is he now?” She crosses her arms.

“Probably at his parents’ house. They’re on a ski trip, and they won’t be back until tomorrow,” you sigh, getting a headache thinking about how you were going to explain this to Mark’s parents.

“Good. Change the locks on your door before he tries to come crawling back. He’s done mooching off you,” Rosie huffs.

“You were right,” you state matter-of-factly, “That he was just a jobless bum loser who’s a momma’s boy.”

She looks guilty, leaning over and giving you a hug. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You think about the time you first met Mark, when the two of you were just starry-eyed freshmen in college together. He was so awkward and shy that it took almost an entire semester for him to finally look you in the eye. He followed you around like a sad puppy and would get flustered at any prolonged amount of attention you gave him. After about three years of him being hopelessly in love with you and unable to work up the courage to ask you out, you finally decided to give him a chance in your final year of college. It was a white Christmas, and you remember his trembling hands holding your face, freezing cold fingertips brushing your cheeks, and how red his nose was when he leaned in to kiss you. He looked at you as if you were a goddess that was put on this Earth purely for him to worship.

Maybe that’s why you moved in together with him when the two of you graduated, even when he was unemployed and you supported him financially. Maybe that’s why you smiled and nodded when he told you he wanted to try being a Twitch streamer. Maybe that’s why you gifted him his first microphone for his setup, or baked him a cake when he finally got his first viewer (even though it was actually a secret account that you made in order to boost his confidence). Maybe that’s why you never complained when he started skipping out on dates (sometimes even your birthday) in favor of growing his audience, or when he bought you extravagant gifts like jewelry or designer clothes without any clue of your preference or size. Maybe that’s why you chose to ignore the churning feeling in the pit of your stomach when you noticed his eyes starting to drift towards anything but you.

Maybe you were always the one who worshipped him.

It’s almost comical how easily almost a decade of your life has gone down the drain―and all it took was a couple of laughing emojis. In the end, the one who loves more is always the one who loses the most.

You gave up your best years to Mark Lee, and yet you seemed to have run out of tears to cry for this man.

Instead, all you have left now is pure, unbridled rage boiling inside of you. It’s the kind of anger that needs to simmer first―the kind that manifests first as a calm indifference before it finally bubbles over into a complete meltdown. But you’ll be damned before you set fire to your mental health and personal belongings that you worked tooth and nail for over a man who ruined your life.

So, you’ve decided to set fire to something else.

“Rosie,” you say softly, your voice chillingly serene. “I’m going to set his car on fire.”

Rosie laughs. “Want me to be your getaway driver?”

“No, I wouldn’t want to implicate you,” you respond smoothly. “Besides, I want him to know that I’m the one who did it.”

She looks at you for a moment, trying to decide if you’re joking or not. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. I don’t have the energy to care about him anymore,” you answer―only a half lie. “You should go now. I know you have a late shift tonight.”

Rosie gives you another tight squeeze. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I’m off this weekend, so we should go get drunk off our asses.”

After she leaves, you slowly get up and make your way to the bathroom. You wash your face in the sink, scrubbing on the gunk off, and apply a fresh layer of makeup. If you’re going to do this, you’re going to make sure you look hot as hell (pun intended). Once you’re done, you make your way to the nearest gas station and purchase a gallon of gasoline before promptly driving to Mark’s parent’s house.

By the time you get there, it’s already close to midnight, and not even the darkness can shroud Mark’s new Tesla Cybertruck. You remember when he bought it because you had to pay for half of his rent for the month because he was saving up for it―the smug grin on his face, as he announced it to his Twitch chat. You’re embarrassed at how happy you were for him, and you didn’t even have the heart to tell him how hideous you found it. The truck’s mirrored exterior reflects the moon in the starless night sky, and the full moon almost looks like a shiny, pretty bullseye calling out for you to destroy it.

Without hesitation, you get out of your car and immediately start dumping gasoline all over and around the car. The scent of gasoline normally makes you nauseous, but the scent of revenge smells even sweeter. Before you take out your lighter, you pick up a large piece of broken concrete from his driveway. With all of the strength you can muster, you hurl the concrete into the driver side window of the truck and watch your reflection shatter along with the glass.

The car alarm starts blaring, and you wait for the light in Mark’s room to blink on. You see his silhouette as he opens his blinds and peers out, just to lock eyes with you. He gawks at you like he’s just seen a ghost, and it doesn’t take long for him to make his way down to you. As he stumbles down the driveway, you take out your lighter and flick it on, letting it slowly slip from your fingertips. Your heart swells with a hysterical sense of glee as his eyes widen, the orange flames reflecting in his teary eyes. His Cybertruck is set ablaze with a Hollywood-esque level of perfection, and the fire gives your face a golden glow as if you were the starring actress.

“Y/N! Are you fucking crazy?” Mark hollers over the crackle of the flames, voice breaking.

“Oh, you bet I fucking am,” you laugh.

“I’m gonna sue you―you bitch! Have you thrown in jail!” he screams, fishing his phone out of his pocket and punching in 911 on the keypad. “I’m calling the cops right now!”

“Do it, you spineless piece of shit! I’m going to make sure everyone in this damn neighborhood and on the internet knows what a lying, cheating, soul-sucking little leech you are!” you yell back at him. “I’m going to ruin your fucking career first and then happily walk my ass down to the police station.”

That makes Mark stop in his tracks, his thumb hovering over the dial button. He can’t control the fear on his face. “No one is gonna believe you.”

“Aw, you sure no one will believe me when I show everyone the screenshots of your DMs with uwukittenbb69?” you taunt.

“I’ll say they’re fake!” he nearly screeches.

“Let’s fucking go then! My word against yours. We’ll see who they believe,” you challenge.

Mark falters and takes a small step forward. “W-Wait…”

Unfortunately for him, he’s interrupted by the squealing sirens of a firetruck pulling up to the street. You and Mark exchange glances, and you silently dare him to report you, before both of you turn towards the firefighters exiting the truck.

“Mark…and Y/N?”

Your eyes widen at the sound of the approaching firefighter’s voice. You watch in horror as the firefighter removes his helmet, and you get a clearer look at his face. Tufts of wavy caramel-colored hair sticking out, a youthful and angelic face that doesn’t suit his occupation, and heart-shaped lips turned downwards in concern―it’s Mark’s cousin, Donghyuck. You’ve met him a decent amount of times at family gatherings, and he sometimes drops by you and Mark’s apartment to deliver homemade food from his mom. Donghyuck has always been kind to you, and you didn’t want him to see you like this.

Donghyuck’s confusion is short-lived before his attention falls back to the fire and how close you are to it. He quickly grabs your arm and pulls you away from the burning truck.

“Be careful. Are you hurt?” he asks carefully, eyes scanning your face with precision. “And why aren’t you wearing a jacket? It’s freezing out here.”

You open your mouth to try and fumble out an answer, but you flinch at the sound of Donghyuck’s colleagues blasting Mark’s car with water from the firetruck’s power hose. All that’s left of the Cybertruck is a deformed and blackened pile of scrap metal with a plume of smoke rising from it. You can’t help the sense of satisfaction you feel.

“Don’t breathe in the smoke. It’s not good for you,” Donghyuck urges, gently sticking an arm in front of you and gesturing for you to step back even further. “Come with me. There’s blankets in the back of the truck.”

“I’m fine,” you finally manage to say, shaking your head. “I’m not cold.”

It’s true; the fire you set has been more than enough to make your insides feel all warm and fuzzy. He doesn’t look like he believes you but doesn’t try to push any further.

“Okay, so what the hell happened here? We got a call from the neighbors saying there was a blazing ball on fire in Mark’s driveway and that the two of you were in a screaming match.”

“Ask Mark,” is all you say.

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow.

“It was an accident.”

As if on cue, Mark suddenly materializes next to you and Donghyuck―a restless expression on his face. He probably thought you were telling Donghyuck what he did to you and rushed over.

“What?” Donghyuck’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “You’re saying that was an accident?”

“Yeah. I was just…messing around. Don’t worry about it. It was an accident,” Mark says through gritted teeth, sounding completely defeated.

The corners of your mouth twitch when you chime in, “A senseless accident.”

Donghyuck is completely speechless as he glances between the two of you. However, you look past him and watch the fireworks exploding in the dark sky. Pulling out your phone, you see that it’s midnight, meaning it’s officially the 25th of December. Glancing over at Mark, you see him trembling in the cold with a sniffly red nose and bloodshot eyes. He’s staring straight at the ground, fists clenched.

You smile.

part two | wanna push him in the fireplace and watch him burn!

When you finally get home that night, you draw yourself a steaming hot bubble bath and even use the fancy bath bomb that Rosie bought you. After you get dressed, you make a charcuterie board and pour yourself a glass of wine as well before falling asleep to a Hallmark movie playing on your television. It’s probably the best sleep you’ve gotten over the past month.

You wake up in the morning feeling refreshed, a certain five-foot-nine burden lifted from your shoulders, and text all of your friends and family your holiday greetings. Rosie invited you out to her family gathering because she didn’t want you to be alone on Christmas, but you declined. You decided to stay home and get some cleaning done. Of course, by cleaning, you mean boxing up all of Mark’s stuff and donating it to Goodwill. You initially wanted to burn everything, but you’ve committed enough arson already.

Just as you’re getting ready to make a hearty breakfast in preparation for the mass Mark exodus, you hear the door to your apartment being opened, and your blood runs cold when you realize you haven’t changed the lock. Then your cold blood begins to boil at the audacity that Mark still must have in his pathetic little body to even dream of stepping foot in your home.

Gripping your frying pan tightly, you march out of the kitchen to greet him. Mark at least has the sense to shrivel back when he sees you approach him. To your delight, he looks absolutely terrible. It’s obvious he didn’t get any sleep nor did he feel the need to change out of his pajamas.

“I know you’re mad,” he says quickly, holding his hands out as if ready to block a punch.

“If you actually knew that, you wouldn’t have stepped foot in my apartment,” you say nonchalantly. “You have ten seconds to give my key back to me and get the hell out before you have to call the cops again.”

“Chill, chill,” he mutters, “I’m just here for my stuff―”

“Don’t tell me to chill. I’ve always hated it when you tell me that. It makes you sound like a patronizing douchebag, which you are, of course,” you snap. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to let you just waltz in here and casually get your stuff. Most of which I paid for, by the way.”

“Y/N, come on,” he sighs. “at least let me get my PC setup.”

That makes you burst out laughing. “Holy shit. You really have the gall to ask me for your PC setup? Are you on actual crack? Get the fuck out!”

“Okay, okay, okay. I’m sorry, okay? Just one more thing―”

“Don’t make me swear to Jesus on his birthday―”

“My mom wants you to come to the Christmas party this afternoon,” he blurts out, squeezing his eyes shut. “I…haven’t told her yet. I wanted us to tell her, um, together, after the party.”

He doesn’t need to say it for you to understand what he’s implying. He wants to make it seem like the breakup was mutual to save his reputation and because he knows his mom will lose her mind. He’s pretended to be her perfect little boy his entire life, a momma’s boy to the very core, so he can’t ever let her know what a bottomfeeder he is.

“Is this some sort of social experiment to see how far you can push my limits before I finally snap? Again?” you ask incredulously.

“Please, Y/N. I’ll do anything. I won’t ask for my stuff anymore. I won’t tell anyone about the car thing. I promise you that you won’t ever see me again if you do me this favor,” Mark sputters.

You hate that you still hesitate, despite how much you’re disgusted by him. It makes you feel like you haven’t completely axed the part of you that was in love with him, and that sickens you. However, Mrs. Lee has always been like a second mother to you, and it doesn’t feel right to just cut her off without a proper goodbye just because her son is a cretin. You suppose this could be good closure for such an ill-fated relationship.

“You swear on your life that you’ll leave me alone forever after this?” you ask, crossing your arms.

Mark nods profusely.

“Fine. I’m only staying for an hour, and I don’t care if the party isn’t over yet. We’re going to tell her within that period or else,” you state.

“Thank you. Thank you so much, Y/N.” Mark opens his arms to hug you, and it takes every fiber in your being not to whack him across the head with your frying pan.

“Do not touch me,” you warn, “Now get out.”

To his credit, he promptly hightails it out of your apartment (perhaps he finally noticed the murderous glint in your eye). You almost immediately regret agreeing, but you tell yourself that today is the last day that you’ll ever have to deal with the likes of Mark Lee again. Putting a hold on cleaning, you get ready for the party instead, donning a cute holiday fit that you had prepared especially for today since it was supposed to be your anniversary. Now, it makes for a great revenge dress.

Mark had texted you to let you know to bring a gift since there would be a white elephant gift exchange, and half of you wants to call him and scream at him for not letting you know sooner and the other half is screaming at yourself for forgetting to block him. Not having enough time to go out and buy a gift, you decide to wrap up the scarf that you knitted for Mark. You stayed up all night after you got off work to make it for him, and it looks a bit wonky, but you thought he would appreciate it. You feel bad for whoever receives it, but there has to be a few duds in the mix or it’s not a true white elephant experience. Maybe they can use the scarf to wipe up their dog’s piss or something.

When you drive back to Mark’s parents’ house, it’s an ironic clash of atmospheres. The place is decked out with Christmas decorations, an amalgamation of rainbow lights, inflatable snowmen, and wreaths on every door and window. Yet, you can also see remnants of the dark burn marks in their driveway. Mark must have managed to call a tow to take his Cybertruck away just in the nick of time. You do wonder how he managed to explain the burn marks, though.

Taking in a deep breath, you hype yourself up in your car visor mirror before stepping out and walking to the front door. Before you can even knock, Mrs. Lee opens the door and envelops you in a bear hug. She smells like sugar cookies, and it occurs to you how much you’ll miss her.

“Oh, sweetie! I’m so glad you’re here,” she coos, cupping your face. She then ushers you into the living room, linking her arm through yours. “I was so worried because I thought the two of you got into a fight while we were on our trip.”

You just smile uncomfortably. “O-Oh.”

“A mother’s intuition is always right, you know,” she says, winking, “Plus, I knew something was off when Mark told us he’d be staying at our place for a couple nights. Poor boy was a mess, you know. He somehow managed to total his car in the driveway! Can you believe it? He really needs you around to whip him into shape!”

You hope she can’t see you holding in a laugh. As you’re walking, you scan the room for Mark, but he’s nowhere to be seen. It doesn’t surprise you one bit that you’re being treated as fodder so he can hide in his room.

“Anyways, say hi to everyone!” She leads you directly into a circle of Mark’s aunt and uncles. You give them all an awkward hello and try to slink away while they all converse, but one of Mark’s aunts turns towards you.

“So, how long have you and Mark been together, honey?” she asks.

“Um, about four years―”

“Oh, but they’ve known each other for much longer than that. Seven years! Mark had the biggest crush on her, you know,” Mrs. Lee interjects.

“My goodness, does that mean we’ll be hearing wedding bells soon?” Mark’s aunt teases. The rest of the circle oohs and ahhs, and you want to strangle yourself with a garland.

“I mean, what is he waiting for anyway? He’s making loads of money on the Internet now, isn’t he?” she continues.

“Exactly. I want grandchildren, you know,” Mrs. Lee huffs.

Unable to bite back your words anymore, you clear your throat loudly. “I have something I need to―”

“Oh, Y/N! I’ve been looking for you,” another voice chimes in.

All of you turn around, and a gasp nearly escapes you when you see Donghyuck standing in front of you. He’s in a white cable knit sweater, and his wavy hair looks so fluffy that you almost want to reach out and touch it. His cheeks are a bit flushed, probably because he’s in such thick clothing (or Mrs. Lee’s famous spiked eggnog). Without his uniform on, he looks much softer, dreamier.

“You…have?” you ask, bewildered.

“Yup! Come on, I gotta ask you something,” he answers cheerfully, gesturing for you to follow him.

You’re a bit wary of what he’s scheming, but you’d rather risk it than have to deal with any more marriage talk, so you gladly let him whisk you away from the crowd. Donghyuck leads you to a less crowded part of the room, swiping a piece of chocolate cake when he walks past the dessert table, and tucks himself into a corner that’s concealed by a giant Christmas tree.

“Here we go. I introduce to you my super covert corner that I stand in when I want to avoid nosy relatives,” he says in a sing-song voice before offering you the cake in his hand. “Would you like some German chocolate cake made by yours truly? It’s pretty damn average, if I do say so myself.”

You pause, only just now realizing that Donghyuck helped you out. You suppose you have nothing to lose, so you accept the cake. “Oh. Thank you. So, you didn’t have anything you wanted to ask me?”

“Well, actually, I do,” he hums, giving you a sheepish grin. “You set Mark’s car on fire last night, didn’t you?”

Part of you already expected this question coming, so you manage to keep your expression neutral. “Are you accusing me?”

“Why, I wouldn’t dare. Besides, I don’t need to. I know you did,” he says casually, shrugging.

Even though you should feel panicked, you don’t. In fact, Donghyuck almost seems to find it amusing.

“Do you have proof?”

“Mark told me,” he states sweetly.

You sigh loudly, immediately giving up the ruse. “I knew that damn lowlife would yap.”

“So, what did he do?”

“Of course, he told you what I did but didn’t tell you what he did,” you snort.

“What, he cheat or something?”

“Worse.”

You pull out your phone and show Donghyuck Mark’s Discord DMs and watch his expression morph into disgust as you indulge in the cake he gave you. The dessert is perfectly average as he said, but there’s something charming about it. In that way, the cake is quite similar to its maker.

“As a government employee and resident fighter of fires, nothing justifies arson,” he states after a brief moment to collect his thoughts, “but this comes pretty damn close.”

You give him a smug I-told-you-so look.

“But seriously, what you did was really dangerous, Y/N. You could have injured yourself badly. That jackass is not worth getting third-degree burns over. There are better ways to get revenge, you know,” he lectures.

“Like what?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, like TP or egg his car or something. Slash his tires?”

“God, are you from a 90s movie or something? That’s lame as hell,” you snort, taking another bite of cake.

“Dig your key into the side of his pretty little souped up four-wheel drive? Carve your name into his leather seats? Take a Louisville slugger to both headlights? Slash a hole in all four tires?” He wriggles his eyebrows.

“Are you quoting Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood?” you ask incredulously.

“Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats…” Donghyuck sings, purposefully off-key.

You can’t fight that smile that spreads across your face, and it eventually turns into a full-on belly laugh when he continues to sing. It’s the first genuine laugh, the first moment of brief happiness and relief, that you’ve felt in a long time. You thought you had it when you set Mark’s car on fire, but something still coiled in the pit of your stomach like simmering, black smoke. In this tiny little corner that smells of pine needles and chocolate cake, you feel free like a clear sky after a long winter storm.

“For the record,” Donghyuck says, voice gently dipping, “you’ve always been too good for him, and everyone knows it―including him. He’ll regret what he did to you for the rest of his life. That’s your revenge.”

Your breath staccatos in your chest at his words. You tell yourself that he has always been a smooth talker, but he looks at you with such honesty and warmth that you want to believe him.

“Have you always been this sweet?” You meant for the words to come out in a teasing manner, but your voice is tinged with breathlessness.

Donghyuck grins, and his lips remind you of the heart-shaped lollipops that you see in the store during Valentine’s Day. “The sweetest.”

A part of you wonders what would happen if you craned your neck and kissed him right here and now. Not because you’re romantically interested in him, of course. Rather, it would be a spectacular way to get revenge on Mark. Most girls go for the brother or the best friend―maybe even the dad if one is particularly ambitious―but the cousin is an untapped (pun NOT intended) medium for revenge.

You wonder if Donghyuck tastes like cookies or wine-filled chocolates or spiked eggnog or even fruitcake. You really hate fruitcake, but you suppose you wouldn’t mind for the sake of revenge.

But you would never do that to him. He’s much too kind of a person to be involved in you and Mark’s mess. The fact that you’re able to confide in him and he actually takes your side is something that you truly appreciate. As much as you want to torment Mark, it’s best to just end it here.

“You can use me too, you know,” Donghyuck adds.

“Huh?” You blink.

“For your revenge,” he clarifies. “Use me. To make him jealous, to bully him, whatever you want.”

For a moment, you almost believe he somehow read your mind.

“Just wanted to let you know,” he says, shrugging, “since you probably think it would be too mean. Plus, I think you would need my help anyways.”

That makes you feel greatly offended. “What is that supposed to mean? You say that like I didn’t set a car on fire.”

“You’re too naive in your thinking. Revenge doesn’t always have to be loud and in your face like that. It’s a lot more fun when you break them down psychologically in more subtle ways,” he explains.

“So, you―as a government employee―can’t approve of me committing arson because I got cheated on, but you―as a government employee―can casually and openly discuss waging psychological warfare on another civilian. On said person who cheated on me, who also happens to be your cousin because you seemed to have forgotten that, ” you point out sardonically.

Donghyuck just smiles before slightly leaning in, eyes flickering down to your lips. You open your mouth to retort but your words instantly die in your throat, softly gasping when his hand brushes your chin as he reaches over and swipes a bit of chocolate frosting from your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Sure I can,” he answers smoothly, “because, unlike a certain someone, I won’t get caught.”

“I didn’t―”

“And by the way, Mark didn’t tell me you set his car on fire.”

You gawk at him as he walks past you with a content grin on his face. “Now come on, I hear my aunt calling for us.”

Maybe you need to take back your earlier statement of Donghyuck being too kind. He might actually have more screws loose than you.

You almost completely forget about Mark until he finally comes downstairs for the white elephant exchange. You’re in such a daze from your earlier interaction with Donghyuck that you barely recoil when Mark takes a seat beside you on the couch, especially since Donghyuck is sitting in the rocking chair directly across from you.

The gift exchange begins once everyone has drawn a number, and you honestly just dissociate for the first half of it. Keeping your gaze trained on the piece of paper that has 26 scribbled on it, you don’t look up until you feel Mark get up beside you and pick a gift from the pile. You’re praying to both Jesus and Santa that he doesn’t pick yours, but you suppose you've been deemed a sinner and also put on the Naughty List (maybe for setting your cheating ex’s care on fire?) because Mark somehow manages to find yours in the pile of presents.

When he opens it, you can tell by the way he quickly glances at you that he knows it’s yours. After all, he saw you practicing your knitting throughout the week. He happily wraps it around his neck and beams proudly. “I love it.”

The way he carefully looks back at you makes you want to smack him into the new year. You know he’s trying to get on your good side, and you make it clear with your scowl that it isn’t working.

You’re actually grateful that it’s your turn next so that you’re able to get up and walk away from him. Wanting to get this entire situation over with, you haphazardly grab one from the top of the pile. Your heart sinks when you take out the stuffing paper from the bag and realize that it’s Mark’s gift. You contemplate putting the paper back in and not opening it at all, but you cave under the pressure of all the expectant pairs of eyes on you.

In typical Mark fashion, his gift is a signed T-shirt of his own merch. It’s an obnoxious yellow color with his Twitch username and a giant screen printed image of his face plastered across it. He’s written his signature right over his forehead, so it makes him look like he has random chicken scratch on his face.

“Oh, it must be destiny!” Mrs. Lee exclaims, clapping her hands together.

You force a smile before returning to your seat, doing everything in your power to ignore Mark’s stupid giddy expression. Shoving the shirt back into the bag, you casually kick it away from you.

A couple more people take their turns, and you’re counting down the seconds to when this is finally over so you can go home. Eventually, it’s Donghyuck’s turn, and he saunters towards you and holds his hand out.

“Gimme.”

You blink at him.

“Your gift. I’m stealing it,” he explains, wiggling his fingers.

“You want…this?” you ask, completely baffled.

“Well, duh. It’s going to sell for a lot of money, you know.” He winks.

You can’t help but laugh when you realize he’s helping you out again. “This has to be unethical. Aren’t you a government employee?”

“Government employees need to make money too,” he replies, sighing.

“Well, if you really want it, I guess I have no choice,” you huff, faking exasperation before handing him the bag.

You’re smiling when he takes it and walks back to his chair, and you hear Mark grumble something under his breath. Turning to him, you raise an eyebrow, snippily asking, “What?”

“I said,” he repeats so loudly that it reverberates throughout the room, “when did the two of you get so friendly?”

A silence falls over everyone, and the two of you are now center stage.

“Are you really going to do this now?” you hiss.

“I noticed that the two of you were getting awfully cozy behind the Christmas tree earlier,” Mark retorts, shrugging.

Donghyuck gets up to intervene, but he doesn’t have time to even react before you grab a pillow from the couch and chuck it in Mark’s face.

“You’ve got some nerve. Was this your plan all along? To make me look like the bad guy in front of your family?” you demand, feeling your face grow hotter and hotter from rage. “You and uwukittenbb69 were getting awfully cozy too, don’t you think? I’d say snug as a bug in a goddamn rug even.”

Mark stands up in a flash, his eyes frantically glancing at his mom before pointing his finger at you. “Baby, I told you she was just a friend.”

You nearly choke on air when you hear him call you that. Making a beeline towards the pile of presents, you begin to toss them at Mark with each question you add. “You absolute lunatic. Do friends beg each other for pictures of their tits? Do friends write raps confessing their love for one another? Do friends blow off their anniversary with their girlfriend so that they can meet up for a quick booty call? And yes, I’m saying quick because you and I both know it’ll be a speedy endeavor.”

“What on Earth is going on?” Mrs. Lee cries out as Mark tries his best to swat away the presents being hurled at him.

“You’re a psycho bitch,” Mark yells. “It’s not like I actually slept with her. We were just messing around online. You got jealous over nothing. And you set my car on fire!”

“You wanna see psycho?” you snap, throwing the present in your hands down onto the floor and marching towards him with your bare fists before you suddenly stop and take in your surroundings. You see the horror and shock on everyone’s faces, the way they’re looking at you, and then perhaps most clear of all―Mark’s expression. He’s angry just like you, but there’s a glimmer of victory in his eyes. As if he’s bested you in some manner.

And he has. You’re the villain now.

Taking in a deep breath, you will yourself to walk over to Mark in a calm manner, looking him directly in the eye.

“You’re nothing except a liar and a cheater, Mark Lee. That will never change that no matter how much you try to spin it in front of your family. You built your success off my back, and I hope that haunts you for the rest of your life. May you receive everything that you’ve done to me tenfold. That’s all I want to say—” You pause. “Oh, and I’ve always thought your Cybertruck was fucking ugly.”

You reach over and snatch the scarf from his neck before turning and walking out of the door, feeling like you finally managed to cut off the ball and chain around your ankle. Just as you’re about to reach your car, you hear someone calling after you.

“I’ll drive you home,” Donghyuck says once he catches up to you.

“I’m not so distraught that I’ll become a hazard on the road,” you say wryly

“Well, when it comes to being around a car, you’ve certainly proved that you’re not exactly at your most dangerous when you’re behind the wheel,” he jokes.

“You may have a point,” you acknowledge, giving him a small smile.

“Let me drive you home, Y/N. I’m worried about you,” he insists again, much quieter this time.

“How are you going to get back then?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I’ll call an Uber or something.”

“That would be such a waste of money,” you snort.

“Not if it’s for you,” he says almost instantly. His normally brown eyes almost look auburn when under the golden glow of the sunset.

There’s such determination, such assurance, such warmth in his gaze that you let yourself be surrounded with, no longer having the energy to resist him, and it feels like falling onto a soft cloud after a long, winding journey. For once, you just want someone to take care of you, even if it’s just for a moment.

“Fine. Do as you please,” you relent, tossing him your car keys before walking around to the passenger side and climbing in.

Donghyuck looks relieved, beaming when he situates himself in the driver’s seat. You try not to be impressed with the way he easily backs out of the driveway with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the headrest behind you, maneuvering the wheel with a deftness you’ve never seen before. Then again, he does drive a massive fire truck on the daily, so your Toyota probably isn’t much of a challenge for him.

He drives with his eyes staring straight down the road―almost too focused―because you know he’s trying not to look at you. Probably because you’re making it abundantly clear that you don’t want him to look at you, leaning your head against the window and away from him. It doesn’t mean that you don’t see his wandering eyes, almost as if it were second nature, drift back to you in the reflection of the window.

“Pathetic, right?” you finally say, feeling suffocated by the heavy silence.

“What’s pathetic?”

“Me.”

“Why would you be pathetic?” Donghyuck grips the steering wheel tightly, knuckles turning white as the leather creaks under the force of his hold.

“Mark was right. I talked a big game in front of him, but in the end, I was just the psycho ex-girlfriend. I told myself that I would never let him hold my emotions hostage anymore. That I would erase any care I had for him left in me. Because indifference means that I’m truly free. But I couldn’t do it. I really hate him, to my very core, and that means he still has power over me. I hate that most of all. I want him to feel the same pain I did, and I want to exact revenge on him, but at the same time, I want to move on with my life. I’m like a dog chasing my own tail; it’s pathetic.”

You wanted to sound more lighthearted about this, turn it into a joke, but Donghyuck seems to draw out a vulnerability within you that makes you want to tell him everything you’ve been trying to desperately ignore.

“Y/N, you’re dealing with the end of a long-term relationship. It’s only natural that you have confusing and conflicting feelings about everything. You’re not pathetic; you’re human. Mark stole your girlhood and your youth, and it’s going to take time for you to heal from that. It’s impossible to immediately get back on your feet after what he did to you. None of this is your fault, so don’t ever berate yourself,” Donghyuck’s voice trembles as he speaks. “I promise you that one day, you’re going to wake up and you’ll realize that you don’t remember what Mark's favorite food is. His favorite movie. His favorite color. Then you’ll realize that you can barely even remember what his face looks like when he’s sad, happy, angry. Eventually, you’ll forget about him entirely, and all the pain he caused you will just be seconds of your life that evaporates from your mind completely.”

When he speaks to you like there’s nothing he’s more sure of in this world, it makes you want to believe him. You want to be his promise.

“Thank you, Donghyuck,” you whisper, placing your hand on top of his for just a moment before pulling away. Your touch is feather light, but you hope he didn’t notice the way your fingertips lingered a second longer.

The two of you fall quiet again, but this time, the silence is much more comfortable now. You’re almost disappointed when he pulls into your apartment complex, unsure of how to say goodbye to him.

“Would you like some hot cocoa or something?” you blurt out when he parks. “I think I have some in my apartment.”

You don’t realize how suggestive your offer sounds until it’s too late. Donghyuck hesitates for a moment, and you can tell he’s debating on if he should tease you about it or not. To your surprise, he doesn’t.

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s getting dark soon, so I should head back.” He pulls out his phone and starts ordering an Uber.

“Want me to wait with you then?” You’re not sure why you keep insisting on staying with him, but this day has been so batshit insane that you almost feel like a passenger in your own body.

“Probably not a good idea,” he chuckles.

Now, you feel both confused and slightly offended again.

“And why is that? I know I’ve been a bit of a menace today, but still…” you trail off awkwardly.

Donghyuck pauses for a moment as he stares at you; his face is closer to yours than it’s ever been because you’re sitting right next to him. You can tell he’s thinking very carefully about his next words. It occurs to you that, for a guy as seemingly flippant as him, he is actually quite thoughtful.

“You know, I’ve been compared to Mark my entire life,” he begins, musing.

“Sooo…you didn’t want me to wait with you because you’re gearing up for a trauma dump?” You raise an eyebrow.

Donghyuck holds his hand up in front of you, shushing you. “Shh, let me have my big moment.”

“Sorry. Please proceed.”

“Ahem. As I was saying, I was but a poor, innocent wee boy living in the shadow of the golden child in our family. Mark was always the more athletic, the funnier, the more charming one. His grades were ass, but he always managed to get out of trouble because he was the favorite. When I got my job as a firefighter and he was unemployed, my family barely congratulated me or even acknowledged it at all because they were afraid they would upset Mark. You see, I’ve actually lived quite a tragic life,” Donghyuck sniffles, wiping away a fake tear.

“What a shame that they can’t see how wonderful you are,” you chime in, a smile in your voice.

Your honesty in response to his joke visibly catches him off guard, and he blinks a couple of times before your words finally register.

“Right?” he huffs dramatically, but he can’t seem to meet your eyes completely as a light flush dustes his face and ears. “But fret not, I didn’t particularly mind. It was nice not having to live up to any expectations. Besides, I was happy for Mark when he finally got successful as a streamer. We were raised like brothers, and I always admired him. I was proud of him.”

“Ha, little did you know—”

“All this to say that, growing up, I’ve never been once jealous of Mark,” Donghyuck states proudly.

Then he slowly looks over at you with longing eyes, almost as if his body turning itself towards you is a natural reflex. His expression is so soft and affectionate that it nearly takes your breath away.

“That is, until he met you.”

So, this is what Donghyuck looks like when he’s in love. You wonder if it would ever be possible for you to wake up one day and not remember it.

But you aren’t sure if you return his feelings in the same way. Just like you couldn’t bring yourself to use him for your revenge, you can’t bring yourself to ask him to wait for you while you figure out the mess of your current emotional state. The one who loves more always loses, and you don’t want to lose Donghyuck.

“I just wanted to tell you that,” he continues, “I’m not expecting a response. It’s for the better you don’t respond right now anyways. If you want to pretend like this conversation was all a bad dream conjured up by sleep paralysis and never want to talk about it again, I’m okay with that too.”

You smile.

“But…if you’re able to, just look my way sometimes. I’ll do everything in my power to keep your attention, even if I have to get on a unicycle with a clown nose and juggle. And, if one day, you find yourself looking for me on your own, let me know. Then, I’ll ask for an answer,” Donghyuck promises.

True to your word, you don’t give him an answer. Instead, you take the scarf that’s been laying across your lap—the scarf with a few holes thanks to missing yarn and sections where you accidentally knitted the pattern in the wrong direction. Now it’s a bit stretched out due to you snatching it off Mark.

But this scarf, as average (maybe even less) as it may be, is charming in its own way.

Leaning forward, you wrap the scarf around Donghyuck’s neck. He watches you in complete awe, in a trance, as if he were in a dream and any movement would wake him up.

“I should head inside now,” you say quietly, trying not to giggle at his stupefied expression.

He only nods dazedly, and you’re certain that would have been his reaction regardless of what you said. It takes a few more beats for your words to actually click before he clears his throat loudly. “Right. Yes. You should.”

He hands you your keys back before stepping out of the car and opening your door for you. “I’ll wait down here until you get inside, and then I’ll go meet my Uber.”

“Thanks for driving me,” you say, realizing you never thanked him.

“You’re welcome. Good night, Y/N.” Donghyuck puts his hands in his pockets and tucks his chin into the scarf as he watches you go.

As your hand hovers over the doorknob, you know you should just open the door and walk inside so you don’t keep him waiting in the cold. You really shouldn’t look back because it would mean that you wanted to. Not because he asked you to.

But you do. You look back—

only to meet his eyes, the two of you exchanging knowing smiles.

extra | is it me? am i the drama? i don’t think i’m the drama…

r/AmITheAsshole

u/justgirlythings-arson119 • 9h

(UPDATE) AITA for setting my cheating ex’s car on fire? (and then falling for his cousin)

So, it turns out my cheating ex got catfished. His supposed Discord kitten was actually some random guy and his friend who were dicking around. They ended up leaking the DMs so they’re all public now for those who would like to read them (by now, I’m sure you all know who my cheating ex is). I would highly advise against listening to the rap confession though. Godspeed if you choose to. I am also selling his expensive PC setup on Facebook Marketplace if anyone’s interested. Happy New Year!

P.S. I ended up inviting the cousin over for hot cocoa. He’s very sweet.

⥣ 11.3k ⥥ 2,293 Comments

pissrevolver1122 • 8h rip bozo got catfished by me n bro for some robux

➥ Reply ⥣ 3.8k ⥥

pooprevolver0205 • 8h can’t believe bro actually jacked off to a pic of knees LMAO ➥ ⥣ 1.9k ⥥

piss-k1nk0219 • 2h yall are about to have the awkwardest family get togethers ever lmao

➥ Reply ⥣ 910 ⥥

bigsnowballs0813 • 4h $5 and an iced coffee for the pc take it or leave it

➥ Reply ⥣ 748 ⥥

femboyluvr0701 • 1h are u gonna set the cousin's car on fire too

➥ Reply ⥣ 639 ⥥

justgirlythings-arson119 • 1h probably not he’s very good at putting out fires :( ➥ ⥣ 482 ⥥

#nct imagines #nct scenarios #haechan fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #haechan #nct #choerrypuffs #luvpuffcore collab #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 imagines

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alluringeight · 4 months ago

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Astro Observation 777🎪

Trigger Warning: death & SA mentions 🎯

🎳Capricorns tend to be obsessed with themselves especially if the sun sits in the first house. Could love looking at themselves. Could also watch themselves eat or take pictures after crying.

🎳Scorpio in 11th don’t have friends even if you are a social butterfly these individuals don’t consider many as friends. Have trust issues and have been betrayed by many or end up falling out with friends. These people like more intimate friend groups with a small number of people. Very possessive over their friends & of their friends don’t listen to them it could make them mad. Since scorpios desire emotional connections they find it hard to relate to just anybody. And they get jealous with their friends have friends lol. They want to be someone’s favorite person.

🎳Mercury in 5th at best are slick & always seem like they are up to something. May have a contact for any and everything. They have great intellect even if it appears they don’t. The way they communicate is childlike and can take a joke. At worst they could promise the moon and stars and they could lack the resources to keep up with the promise.

🎳It’s something about your Moon falling into your partners 5th that makes them want to have a baby with you.

🎳 People who sun fall into your 9th house are the ones who share the same beliefs as you. These are the people you can talk about your spiritual journey with (depending on what you believe in or lack of belief) These people can be your teachers in a way too.

🎳Virgo in 9th are very detail oriented. They may want To learn new languages and when curious they tend to research topics until they have a better understanding. May think outside the box when it comes to religion and belief systems. Are very attracted to foreign places and have a strong desire to travel. These people are really smart and could excel in a career they seem worthy. Takes learning new hobbies very serious and could be multifaceted.

🎳Suns in 11 degrees may have many friends. In water placements it could indicate over extending yourself and looking out for others than you do yourself.

🎳Water placements in moon are very in tune with themselves & their bodies could always tell them what they need to know. Their bodies could sense when theirs something wrong and also it could give you ability to feel when someone around you is going through as well as people energy they always know when they’re being betrayed.

🎳Leos boast about their children to others, I’ve noticed they may not necessarily tell their children how proud they are but will let it be known to others (ofc it could depend on other placements)

🎳A person with a stellium touching your 5th could be your best friend (this is friendship obs) but also could be your bestie with romantic relationships. These people are your ace boon coon y’all love to spend time together and have fun but know when to give healthy space. Could admire each other and could go on adventure together.

🎳Sun at 20 degrees are of transformation ; you may go through a plethora of obstacles in order shed old habits and ways of living. You may express a pivotal period where someone’s death could affect your entire trajectory of life. You may have been sexual from a young age could be because of (SA) but the older you get the less you care for it. Many people share things with you they normally don’t tell others they feel at ease being in your presence.

🎳Sun at 2 degrees would be for people who need to learn to speak up for themselves & they love to tend to their needs. Money is a key factor in these people lives and they spend it on pleasures. May have grew up in poverty but these individuals are really smart and they could go to college & have lucrative careers when older. These people are very soft spoken.

🎳Moon in air sign placements are complicated with these placements (Aquarius, Gemini & Libra) these people are detached or appear as such paired with their more logical way of thinking could cause friction when it comes to relationships of any kind. Instead of dealing with their emotions they over think and over analyze it and leave it as that. There flighty nature can be a turn off to most which is why other air sign placements tend to be good for them since they understand each others lack of emotional depth.

- Aquarius moons appear aloof but crave emotional intimacy they just haven’t figured it out yet and it could chase people away but they could deal with the madness in their head a little better than their counterparts.

- Libra moons are pushovers and are always ready to hear both sides before passing judgement & allow others to walk over them because they want to be liked and seen as easy to deal with

- Gemini moons are detached and tend to ignore that part of themselves & are constantly changing their hobbies and themselves and need a partner who can keep up with their erratic nature.

These moons sometimes can research or ask for other opinions on what they should do instead of going within and figuring it out. They have an obtuse way of thinking.

#astro observations #astrology #astrology observations #natal chart #astro placements #astro notes #astro community #astrology community #synastry #stellium #5th house #sun in degrees #gemini moon #aquarius moon #libra moon #leo sun

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rynwrites4fun · 2 months ago

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Across The Hall (7) | Michael Robinavitch x Neighbor/Teacher ! Reader

Michael Robinavitch x F! Neighbor/Teacher ! Reader

Summary: Michael can’t stop thinking about that night with you. Conflicted but unable to ignore his feelings, he opens up to Jack about what you mean to him. Meanwhile, you receive an educational award, a recognition of your dedication and impact. There’s going to be a ceremony, and Aiden promises he’ll be there to support you.

Word Count: 8560

Warning: Age Gap (Mid 20s/ Early 50s)

Authors Note: Hi! Very sorry, I’ve been out of the country for the past week. I’m headed back home. I’m sitting at my gate in the airport as I type this out lmfao. Thank you for being patient. I worked on it when I had access to wifi. Omg when I saw that this part has 28 pages on Google docs. I’m shook lol. I know the slow burn is killing some of you (I’m a sucker for a slow burn I’m sorry not sorry), but buckle upppp bc it’s a long one! Enjoy - ryn

“Hey, are you doing okay?” Jack asked as they stood in the hospital elevator together.

Michael shoved his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jack gave him a look—flat, skeptical. “I’m not talking about work. I already know how you’re feeling about that. I mean… other stuff. Personal stuff.”

Michael’s gaze stayed fixed on the ground, but Jack didn’t let it drop.

Dana had come to Jack during one of the shift changes, asking if he knew what was going on with Michael. She said he’d been off all week, distracted, withdrawn, not quite himself—ever since the Pitfest incident.

She knew how heavy that night had been—how hard it had hit him. Robby was tough; she’d always known that. She knew the kind of trauma he carried, the way he shoved it down deep and locked it away where no one could see.

But it was something other than the trauma he carries.

Jack had shrugged it off at the time. “Robby being Robby,” he’d said. “You know how he gets sometimes.”

But he’d noticed it too.

Michael was present, technically. He clocked in, saw patients, cracked a joke here and there. But behind his eyes, there was nothing. Like the lights were on, but no one was home. And Jack knew Michael, he had known him for years. He knew how he operated, knew the rhythm of his moods.

But this? This was different.

That night with you, it had been eating at Michael. He couldn’t stop replaying it in his head, the way you’d found him crying in his sleep, how gently you’d woken him, how you’d led him, half-asleep and half-broken, back to bed. And how you didn’t leave.

You didn’t ask questions. You didn’t judge. You just laid beside him, quiet, steady, grounding. You curled up like you belonged there, the two of you wrapped in each other’s arms. And for the first time in what felt like months, maybe years, he let himself be held.

It had already begun to blur the lines between friendship and something more. But it wasn’t until the next morning that he crossed a boundary he couldn’t ignore.

You’d been looking through his old photos together, laughing at stories from his med school days, the two of you joking, flirting even. And then, the moment turned. Michael leaned in, hovering over you, too close, too much.

Michael, he didn’t say anything.

But that silence said everything.

And from that, Jack knew something was up. Something Michael wasn’t talking about.

So he shifted gears.

The elevator doors slid open with a quiet chime. They stepped out and made their way to the staff room, heading straight for their lockers to grab their things.

“Hey,” Jack said, casually, “the Steelers game is on tonight. Wanna come over? Hang out? Pizza, beer?”

He tried to keep his tone light, like it was just a regular night. No pressure. No expectations.

But the offer wasn’t really about football. And Michael knew that.

He hesitated, just for a second. Then gave a small nod.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Yeah, okay.”

—

They sat in Jack’s living room, the game playing quietly in the background. The pizza box sat open on the coffee table, half-eaten slices growing cold, a few empty beer cans scattered nearby.

At some point during the second quarter, with the game half-forgotten and the beer flowing a little too easily, Michael started talking.

Really talking.

He told Jack everything, from the beginning starting from the night Aiden flaked on you at Bella Notte to last week, and all the moments in between.

“I’m sorry, you did what now?” Jack laughs in disbelief, nearly choking on his drink. “You were hovering over her? In your bed?”

Michael groans, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m not repeating what I said.”

“Oh, I heard you loud and clear,” Jack says, grinning like a kid who’s just been handed gossip gold. “But you, Michael Robinavitch, pulling moves? Moves that are—”

“Nothing happened,” Michael snaps, a little too fast.

Jack smirks. “Uh-huh. Right. Except something was clearly about to happen… if it hadn’t been, you know, interrupted.”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Michael muttered.“It just… happened. One second we were joking around, and the next… I don’t know. The lines blurred.”

“Oh, you were thinking,” Jack said, raising his brows and taking a sip of his beer. “Just not with your brain.”

Michael shot him a look. “Quit it,” he said, annoyed.

But Jack only laughed harder.

“I’m only teasing,” he said, holding up a hand in mock innocence. “But you’ve gotta admit this is wildly off-brand for you.”

Michael didn’t respond. He just took a long sip of his beer and stared straight ahead at the tv.

“So,” he said, quieter now, “is she still with her jackass boyfriend?”

Michael exhaled through his nose. “Yeah. As far as I know.”

Jack’s eyebrows lifted again, this time with something softer behind the grin. “Man. That’s rough.”

Jack leaned back into the couch, his teasing finally turning into something closer to concern. “You really like her, huh?”

Michael crosses his arms across his chest and leans back into the couch. . “Yeah. I do…a lot actually.”

Jack let out a low whistle. “That’s… complicated. Especially if she’s still with that guy. What’s his name again?”

“Aiden”

“Right, Aiden the jackass. Pfft, you could take him. I’d back you up. Oh! Or maybe our medical power tools—”

“Jack,” Michael muttered

Jack held up his hands. “I’m kidding! …Mostly.”

Michael shook his head, but the corners of his mouth twitched despite himself.

“I mean,” Jack went on, leaning forward with a grin, “I’ve seen you mad. It’s intense.”

“Jack, I’m not going to fight Aiden… or scare him with power tools. This isn’t high school,” Michael said flatly, shooting him a look. “We’re too grown for that—and you, of all people, should know better.”

“I don’t know…. you sound like a lovesick teenager.”

Jack just grinned. Michael thought he was absolutely ridiculous sometimes. They were both middle-aged men, for god’s sake—but he also knew Jack was half-joking. Mostly.

“Oh come on,” Jack said, undeterred. “You’re not gonna fight for her? I mean, you already blew the whole ‘just neighbors… just friends’ boundary out of the water.” He gave a crooked grin. “Might as well do something about it.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

“No,” Jack said, his voice softer now, more serious. “It’s not. But neither is sitting on this, torturing yourself every day while she’s across the hall and you pretend like nothing’s changed.”

Michael went quiet. His fingers tightened slightly around the beer can.

Jack watched him for a beat, then leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “You’re not a villain for having feelings, Robby. It’s not like you planned this.”

“I didn’t,” Michael said quickly. Too quickly. His jaw tensed. “But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s a mess.”

Jack shook his head. “You can’t control who you fall for. The heart wants what it wants.”

“I don’t want to be the reason she leaves someone,” Michael said quietly.

Jack gave him a look. “And what if staying is making her miserable?”

Michael’s mouth opened, then closed. He had no answer for that. He swallowed hard, the weight of Jack’s words pressing down on him.

“She deserves to be happy,” Michael finally said, voice low. “But… I don’t know if I’m the one who can give that to her.”

Jack leaned forward, eyes steady. “Maybe it’s not about being the one. Maybe it’s about giving her the chance to find it, whatever that means.”

Jack let out a quiet sigh. “Look…from what you’ve told me? The way you treat her, the way you look out for her, talk about her… You can make her happy. Hell, I think you already do. You just don’t see it.”

He gave a crooked smile, voice softening.

“I know I’m getting sappy here, but I’ve known you a long time. Years. I know your heart, man. And it’s a good one.”

Michael looked at him, something raw flickering in his eyes.

Jack shrugged. “Don’t let fear convince you she’s better off without it.”

He paused, then added with a sidelong glance, “And just because she’s young and you’re… seasoned—”

“Hey,” Michael cut in, shooting him a look.

Jack smirked. “—doesn’t mean you don’t deserve something real. Something good. If anything, it means you’d know how to appreciate it.”

He leaned back, his grin fading into something quieter, more sincere.

“You’ve lived enough to know what love really takes. That’s not a flaw, man. That’s exactly why you’re the kind of person who could make it last.”

—-

You were standing in the elevator when the doors began to close—only to stutter open again as Michael slipped through at the last second.

“Hey,” he said, settling beside you, towering just slightly, looking down with a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

“Hi.” You offered a small smile.

It was awkward, thick with everything unsaid from the past week and you didn’t like it. Neither did Michael.

Since that night, the two of you hadn’t spoken or seen each other much. And yet, just like him, you hadn’t stopped thinking about it that night.

“Were you stuck staying late on shift?” you asked, it was almost midnight.

He shook his head. “Nah. Normal twelve-hour shift, thankfully. I was over at my buddy Abbot’s place. We caught the Steelers game.”

“How about you?” He asks.

“Dinner with some coworkers,” you replied, then added with a faint grin, “And don’t worry, I’ve got my keys this time. I’m sober. No passing out in the hall tonight.” You tried to make light of it, referencing the last time you’d seen each other, hoping humor might smooth over the awkward edge that still lingered.

Michael chuckled under his breath, the sound warm but still a little guarded. “Good to know.”

“Any occasion for dinner?” he asked.

And just like that, the awkwardness began to slip away, the two of you falling back into your familiar rhythm.

The elevator chimed softly and stopped on the sixth floor. The doors slid open, and the two of you stepped out, walking side by side down the hallway.

“Actually, yeah,” you said, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “I’m getting an education award from the state.”

Michael’s eyes lit up. “Congratulations!” His smile was bright, genuine and proud. “That’s amazing.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, your gaze brushing before flicking away.

“There’s gonna be a ceremony for me and other educators receiving awards,” you added, voice light but a little unsure. “Dinner, speeches, the whole nine.”

Michael looked over at you, still smiling. “Wow. That sounds… fancy.”

You laughed gently. “It is. I guess,” you murmured. “It’s kind of surreal. It’s in a couple of weeks. I’m just not used to being… celebrated.”

“Well, you should be,” he said, voice gentler now. “You work your ass off. You care. That matters. Seriously, You deserve it.”

Your heart gave a small squeeze. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

The elevator opened on six, and the two of you stepped out in silence, walking side by side down the hallway.

“I haven’t told anyone yet,” you admitted, glancing down at your keys. “Nobody knows—besides the admin and staff at school.”

You hesitated, then added with a faint, ironic smile, “I haven’t even told Aiden.”

Michael’s brow lifted. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “And now that you know, you’re officially the first.”

You reached your doors.

Michael didn’t say it, but he was glad—quietly, deeply—to be the first. He fought the smile threatening to give him away.

“I’ll see you later,” you said, unlocking your door and stepping inside.

The door clicked shut, and Michael stood there for a beat, staring at the door like it might open again. His conversation with Jack played on a loop in his mind—the way Jack had looked at him and said, “You already blew the ‘just neighbors…just friends’ boundary out of the water. Might as well do something about it.”

He didn’t have the courage. Not yet at least.

Then he turned to his door

“Michael, wait!”

He paused, glancing back. “Yeah?”

You reappeared in the doorway, holding out a small folded bundle. “Here—the clothes you let me borrow.”

“If I didn’t give them back now, I’d probably keep them.”

He smiled, a quiet kind of smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Would that have been so bad?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it again—unsure what to say.

Why did I even say that? Michael shifted his weight, silently cursing himself. Real smooth—just keep making it more awkward.

“Thanks,” was all he said.

“Goodnight, Michael.”

He nodded once. “Night.”.

And when your door closed behind you, you leaned against it, pressing your hand to your chest, trying to slow a heartbeat. The flirting he’s done has been throwing you in for a loop.

—

You settled in for the evening, the steam of the shower still clinging to your skin as you stepped into fresh clothes. Aiden had come over not long after, casual as ever, his arms wrapping around you like nothing had changed.

You told him the news.

“That’s great, babe,” he said, planting a quick kiss on your lips without really looking up from his phone.

“The ceremony is in a couple of weeks,” you reminded him, watching his expression carefully.

“I’ll be there,” he said casually, finally glancing up.

“Really?”

Your eyes lit up with cautious hope, the kind that had been disappointed before. You wanted to believe him, needed to, but part of you couldn’t help preparing for the letdown.

“Yeah, of course,” he said with a grin, slipping his arm around your waist like that was enough.

You hesitated. “But… what if something comes up at work? You’re not gonna forget, are you?”

He smiled, brushing a thumb along your cheek like he was soothing a child. “You want me there with you, right?”

“Yes,” you said softly. “More than anything.”

“Then I promise—I’ll be there.”

You nodded slowly, forcing a smile even as something uneasy settled in your chest. You wanted to take his word at face value, but it didn’t feel quite real. Not yet. Not until he actually showed up.

“Are you sure?” you asked again, needing to hear it once more.

He laughed lightly, almost dismissively. “Yes, I’m sure! I promise I’ll be there.”

You let out a breath and nodded, trying to lock that promise away like it meant something permanent. And for a moment, just a moment, you let yourself believe him. You let yourself picture him there, smiling from the crowd, clapping as your name was called. Like he was proud of you. Like he saw what this moment meant.

But deep down, a voice you tried to ignore whispered: you’ve heard this before.

—

It was the night of your award ceremony.

Michael knocked on your door, shifting as he stood there, the bouquet of tulips hidden behind his back.

When you opened the door, he nearly forgot why he was there.

You wore a simple, elegant dress—nothing flashy, but it suited you perfectly. You looked breathtaking. It reminded him of that night at Bella Notte months ago, when Aiden hadn’t shown and something quiet but undeniable had begun to bloom between the two of you.

You blinked, slightly startled. You’d thought it was Aiden. But instead, there stood Michael, in his glasses, a t-shirt, hoodie, and jean. Completely casual. Completely him.

Michael blinked back, his mouth parting slightly. Speechless.

You furrowed your brow, half amused. “What? Is there something on my face?”

He shook his head slowly, like he was trying to clear it. “You just…you look beautiful.”

“Oh…” your face flushed, heat rushing to your cheeks. “Thank you.”

“I, uh—these are for you. Congratulations again on your award” He pulled the bouquet of tulips from behind his back, holding them out with a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

Your expression softened instantly.

“Michael….” you sighed, the word tender, almost breathless, as you took the flowers from him. Tulips, your favorite.

You held them close, smiling up at him. “Thank you, they’re lovely”

“Aiden’s going, right?” Michael asked, his tone casual—but his eyes gave him away. There was skepticism there. Maybe even hope. Hope that, for your sake, Aiden would finally show up when it mattered.

“Yes,” you said, nodding. “He’s meeting me there. I’m catching a Uber”

Michael frowned before he could stop himself. Meeting him there? Catching an Uber? He wasn’t gonna pick you up and take you?

That didn’t sit right. Aiden should be arriving with you. Standing at your side. Proud. Present. Steady.

He didn’t say it, but it lingered behind his quiet response. “Right… yeah.”

You held the bouquet a little tighter, fingers pressing into the stems as if they could anchor you. You pretended not to notice the way Michael was still watching you—his gaze steady, searching.

There was so much Michael wanted to say to you things that had been sitting heavy on his chest for weeks. But he knew this wasn’t the time, and it certainly wasn’t the place. This moment wasn’t about him. It wasn’t about how he felt for you, or how much he hated the way Aiden kept letting you down.

Tonight was about you.

About your heart, your commitment, your quiet strength. About everything you’d poured into your students, your classroom, your community. You deserved to be celebrated—for the impact you made every single day, often without thanks.

So he swallowed the words he wasn’t ready to say, and instead, stood beside you in quiet support. Because that, at least, he could give you tonight.

“I’m uh- heading out actually,” he said gently, nudging his head toward the elevators. “I can walk you outside?”

You turned toward him, surprised but grateful. “Yeah… yeah, okay. My uber should be here soon actually”

You carefully set the flowers down inside your apartment, then grabbed your purse, keys, and phone. Michael waited patiently, offering you a small nod when you were ready.

The two of you made your way to the elevator. When the doors opened in the lobby, you stepped out together into the quiet of the apartment's entrance.

Outside, the air was cooler, the sharp contrast to the warm, crowded hall above. The city hummed in the distance, cars passing, faint music spilling from nearby venues, but it all felt muted, like the world had turned down its volume just for the two of you.

Michael glanced over at you, hands in his pockets. “You sure you don’t wanna cancel your uber? I can just take you” he says, taking his keys out of his pockets ” he offered gently. “I don’t mind.”

You shook your head with a small smile. “No, it’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Thank you, though.”

He didn’t press—just stood there for a moment, watching you. Then he said, “I’ll wait with you, then. Until your Uber shows up.”

“Michael I’ll be okay, I don’t want to hold you up.”

“Like I’m letting you stand outside alone at night.”

Your phone buzzed. You glanced at the screen. “The Uber’s like… ten minutes away.”

“Michael, the Ubers gonna be here in like 5 minutes”

“5 minutes is enough time for something to go wrong,” he said, then added, “Or for nothing to happen at all. Which would be ideal.”

You knew arguing with him wasn’t going to change anything. He was going to stay—because that’s who he was. The kind of person who looked out for people, even when they didn’t ask. Especially when they didn’t ask.

You fought back a smile, despite yourself.

The sound of a car pulling up broke the quiet.

Michael stepped forward without hesitation, opening the door for you. “Here,” he said softly.

You slipped inside, the warmth of the car a relief against the chill night air.

Your hand lingered on the door handle.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

“Yeah of course”

Michael gave a small nod, his eyes steady on you for a moment before he stepped back.

The door closed gently, and the car began to pull away.

——

Aiden never showed.

You reminded him. Weeks before. Days before. The night before. You called, texted him.

And still… he never came.

Your coworkers asked where your boyfriend was or if you were there with someone, their smiles were polite but curious.

You gave a soft excuse. One that could have been true—Something came up, a family emergency.

You accepted your award, the weight of it grounding in your hands as the applause echoed around you. You stepped up to the mic, gave your speech—clear, heartfelt, steady. A smile touched your lips as camera flashes sparked across the room, capturing it all.

But inside, your heart was breaking.

You scanned the crowd instinctively, even though you already knew. Aiden wasn’t there.

You’d told yourself it wouldn’t matter—that the night would still mean something. That the recognition, the moment, would be enough.

But you felt completely empty. Alone.

After accepting your award, you made up your mind—you were leaving. You knew you should stay, celebrate the other educators being honored, but you just didn’t have it in you. The disappointment sat heavy in your chest. You had let yourself believe he was actually going to show… that this time, maybe, he meant it.

Clutching your award tightly, you made your way down the stairs of the entrance of the banquet hall, each step echoing your resolve to go home and forget this night.

Then you saw him.

Aiden was rushing up the stairs—out of breath, eyes scanning—until they landed on you. Both of you froze.

You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.

“I—” he started, but stopped himself. He looked down, noting the award in your hand, then back at you. “I’m late.”

You blinked, slowly. “Yeah.”

“But…I’m here…”

“Only after the fact”

“I tried to get here in time. I really did.”

Your fingers clenched a little tighter around the award. You swallowed the lump rising in your throat and forced yourself to stay calm. “But you didn’t.”

He took another step closer, hesitant. “Something came up with the case. It wasn’t what I planned.”

You nodded, lips pressed together. “It never is!”

“You said you’d be here! I actually believed you this time. God, do you know how embarrassing it was? Everyone had someone supporting them, by their side— I was completely alone!” Your voice breaks

“I said I’m sorry!” he snapped, moving toward you. “I’ll go to another one. Come on, there’s gonna be others—”

“Others?” You stared at him. “Are you kidding me? This was it! I was awarded by the state, Aiden. This isn’t some participation ribbon! This was a big deal! A moment to acknowledge my dedication—”

He cuts me off “Okay, dedication for babysitting kids all day?”

You froze.

“Babysit kids?” Your voice dropped to a whisper, sharp and stunned. “Is that what you think I do? Seven hours a day, five days a week, 10 months out of the year?! Babysit kids?!”

Your voice rose. “Are you fucking kidding me?!” You wanted to throw your award at him for saying that.

“What do you want me to say?!”

“That you care! That you understand! That you see me!”

The words shot out of you like they’d been waiting, burning, buried for too long.

“That you love me…” your voice breaks into a sob

“I do love you!”

You shook your head, swiping at your cheeks with your hands.

Without a word, you continued down the steps, heels echoing against the stone until you reached the pavement at the base of the stairs, just outside the building.

Aiden followed you down the stairs, running a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I’m doing the best I can—”

You took a shaky breath. “I don’t need perfection, Aiden. I never did. I needed you to show up. And you couldn’t even do that for me.” You turn to face him.

“You’re being dramatic—”

“Dramatic?” you echoed, your voice shaking. “For wanting to matter? For wanting someone who actually sees me?”

Aiden exhaled sharply, looking away. “You always twist things—”

“I twist things?” you said, your voice rising with disbelief. “You forgot my award ceremony, Aiden! You said you’d be there. You flaked on dinner, never fixed the window like you promised, and you bailed on Career Day! Michael wouldn’t have—”

The second his name slipped out, regret slammed into your chest. You hadn’t meant to say it. You didn’t even know why it came out—but it had. And now it hangs between you like a lit match over gasoline.

You froze, breath caught in your throat. Aiden’s eyes narrowed. “Michael? As in your neighbor? What about Michael?”

You looked away, shame creeping in.

“What about Michael?!” he repeated, louder now, voice sharp. “You clearly meant to say it. So what—how long have you two been hanging out behind my back?”

“He’s my friend,” you said, trying to stay calm.

“Friend?” Aiden scoffed. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Yes. Just a friend.” Deep down you knew he was something more.

He shook his head slowly, the pain in his expression unmistakable. “Feels like more than that.”

“It’s not,” you said, your voice strained. “It’s not like that.”

But it was.

You knew it, even as the words left your mouth. A lie—small, desperate, meant more for yourself than for him. You tried to deny it, to push the truth back down that you felt something for him where it couldn’t reach you.

“Then why bring him up in the middle of our fight?” Aiden shot back. “Why compare me to him?”

You exhaled, voice quiet but unwavering.

“Because he’s there, Aiden. He shows up.”

Aiden stared at you, stunned. “So that’s it? That’s the bar now? Just, showing up? What do you think I’m doing now?!”

“It’s not the same!” you snapped. “He remembers things I tell him! He asks about my day! He listens when I talk! He sees me!”

“Oh, and I don’t?” His voice was rising again, hurt curdling into anger. “Now I’m the bad guy because some neighbor with too much free time knows how to make small talk?”

Aiden's eyes locked on yours, hard. “So what, you want to be with him?”

You blinked, heart pounding. “I want to be with someone who treats me like I matter.”

That stopped him. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak.

You kept going, your voice quieter now—measured, but unwavering. “This isn’t about Michael. It’s about us. About how I’ve felt completely alone in this relationship. Like I’m constantly waiting…waiting for you to remember, to care, to just try! And in the meantime, someone, anyone, treats me like I matter, and it makes the distance between us feel even bigger.”

His expression shifted, guarded now. “And I’m just supposed to accept that this epiphany of yours, this sudden hunger to be ‘seen’—has nothing to do with him?”

A bitter laugh escaped him. “Come on. You’ve thought about it. About him. Don’t insult me.”

You hesitated. Just for a moment. But it was enough.

For a moment, he looked at you and something shifted in his face. A flicker of recognition, a crack in his defenses. But it didn’t soften him. It hardened.

He scoffed, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Wow. So that’s what we are now? A placeholder until someone else makes you feel seen?”

You flinched. “No-”

“No?” His voice was sharp, brittle. “Because it sure as hell sounds like you’ve already made your choice.”

Your chest tightened. “I haven’t made any choice. I’ve been asking, begging through my actions, what I do—for you to be present, to care about something that matters to me.”

“You think I don’t care?” he snapped. “I’m drowning in this case! I’m trying to build something—”

“And in the process, you’ve left me behind,” you said, the ache in your voice undeniable. “I needed a partner. Someone who shows up, even when it’s inconvenient. Someone who chooses me, even when it’s hard.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it, eyes dark and unreadable. For once, he had nothing to say.

You swallowed hard. “Michael didn’t take anything from you. He didn’t steal your place. You gave it up. One forgotten moment at a time.”

The silence stretched between you, thick and unforgiving. Aiden looked away, jaw working, emotions warring behind his eyes.

He shook his head slowly, voice low. “So that’s it. I screw up one night—”

You cut him off, fierce now. “It’s not one night, Aiden. It’s all the nights before this. The missed dinners, the forgotten promises, the way I’ve been begging for scraps of your attention while you bury yourself in work.”

Your voice broke, raw and honest. “Aiden, I’ve been right here, trying. You’re the one who’s been miles away.”

Aiden’s eyes burned with anger, jaw clenched tight. “So that’s it with us?”

You swallowed hard, your heart twisting. “No… I don’t know what this is anymore.”

“And what about Michael?” He spat the name like a challenge.

His eyes narrowed, voice low and fierce. “So all this time, you’ve been hanging around him? Thinking about him? While you’re still dating me?” He scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

You shook your head, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know what I’m thinking anymore! Part of me still wants to fight for us—for what we had in the beginning. But…” Your throat tightened. “I’m scared I’m holding onto a version of you that doesn’t exist anymore.”

For a split second, something flickered in his eyes, maybe, but it was buried just as quickly beneath the weight of his anger.

“I can’t keep doing this alone,” you added, almost pleading.

Aiden turned toward the door, jaw tight, ready to leave—but you stepped in front of him, blocking his path, desperation bleeding into your voice.

“Aiden, wait. Don’t leave like this. Please.”

He froze, but he didn’t soften. His fists clenched at his sides as he stared at you, his voice tight with frustration. “Maybe I should. Maybe that’s what you want anyway.” He paused, bitterness rising. “Someone like Michael.”

The name hung heavy between you—too loud, too sharp.

Your breath caught. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” he snapped, stepping back. “You say you don’t know what you’re thinking, but you sure seem to know where to run when things fall apart.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. Just turned and started walking, fast.

You hesitated for a second—then followed. “Aiden!”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t even look back.

By the time you caught up, he was already in his car, yanking the door open like he couldn’t get away from you fast enough.

You hurried after him, heart racing. “Aiden don’t walk away! Just talk this out with me’”

“Talk?! Is that what this is?! There’s nothing to talk about!” he snapped, one leg already in the car.

“Aiden, please—” you reached out instinctively, desperate, your voice cracking under the weight of everything falling apart.

“Don’t.” His voice was sharp. Final.

And then he slammed the door.

The engine roared to life, headlights flashing, and without another glance in your direction, he peeled off—tires screeching as he disappeared down the street, leaving you alone on the sidewalk, breathless and hollow.

The sob tore out before you could stop it. Another followed, harder this time. Your whole body trembled. Each breath came jagged, raw. All the pain, all the emotions you’ve been harboring inside your heart finally made its way out.

You didn’t know how long you stood there, crying. The world blurred and shifted around you, cars passing like shadows.

Without thinking, you set your award down on the curb and pulled out your phone, fingers trembling as you dialed his number.

Aiden’s words echoed in your head—You sure seem to know where to run when things fall apart.

And maybe he was right.

But right now, you didn’t care.

Because with Michael, you felt safe. You didn’t have to explain every feeling, or hold yourself together for someone else’s sake. You knew you could rely on him. And tonight, more than anything, you needed that comfort.

You needed him.

—

Michael was at the bar with a mix of day and night shift crew, the usual haunt after a long, draining week. Some still had shifts ahead of them, others were finally off for the weekend, but for now, they were all crammed around a long high-top table, half-empty pint glasses and plates of shared appetizers scattered between them.

Laughter rippled through the group as John Shen, a nightshift attendant, launched into another story from his med student days—something about an embarrassing moment he had in med school.

Michael sat in his chair, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he took a sip of his water. He was just starting to relax when he felt the buzz of his phone in his jeans pocket.

He fished it out, still half-listening to the punchline, until he saw the name on the screen.

His smile faded.

Your name flashed across the screen.

Sliding his finger across to answer, he pressed the phone to his ear, covering the other with his hand to block out the bar noise.

“Hello?”

“Michael?”

Your voice was soft, shaky. Just the way you said his name made something twist deep in his chest.

Something was wrong.

“What happened? You okay?” he asked, already leaning off the barstool.

“Alright, who wants another round?” Mateo Diaz, one of the dayshift nurses called out as he stood.

“Blue Moon!” someone shouted.

“Vodka soda!”

“Whiskey, neat!”

“Dr Robby, drink?” Mateo asked, raising his nearly empty beer glass toward him.

Michael shook his head, hand pressed tighter over his free ear to hear you better.

The voices on your end were quieter—but over the bar’s noise, he could still hear your breath catch.

You hesitated. Then, hearing the laughter and clinking glasses on his end, you spoke again, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Shit… right, you’re busy. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just—”

He heard it then.

Not just the words, but the way your voice cracked on the last syllable, small and raw. You were crying.

He tried to keep it light, just enough to steady you. “Changed your mind about the Uber, huh?”

He knew it wasn’t the best time for jokes, but maybe—just maybe—you’d give him the faintest laugh.

“Something like that.”

He closed his eyes briefly. He didn’t want to assume—but his mind was already jumping to the only explanation that made sense.

Aiden.

“Yeah. Text me where the ceremony is,” he said, voice low and steady. “Hang tight—I’m on my way.”

“Okay.”

“Hey—don’t wait outside for me, alright? Stay in the lobby. I’ll come get you. I’ll see you in a few”

He hung up. Michael headed back over to the table grabbing his hoodie from the stool he was occupying moments ago.

“Hey—everything good?” Jack asked, frowning as he turned toward him.

Michael shook his head, jaw tight. “Jackass Aiden…I don’t think he show up for her award ceremony”

“You’re kidding,” Jack muttered, equal parts disbelief and disgust.

“Just- something happened. I’m gonna go get her.”

“Wait—damn. I was supposed to be Mohan’s DD tonight,” Michael said, suddenly remembering. “You think—?”

“I got Samira. I only had one—I’ll call it a night on drinks,” Jack said.

“Mo!” Michael called out across the table.

Samira Mohan, still in her scrubs with her hair pinned back, looked up.

“I gotta head out. But Abbot’s gonna give you a ride, okay?” he said, giving Jack’s shoulder a squeeze.

Samira glanced between the two of them, then nodded. “Okay.”

Jack offered her a small smile, nodding. She returned it, soft and understanding.

Jack looked away from her gaze, still a little embarrassed about the time he’d awkwardly tried to flirt with Samira—right after a heart procedure, during the chaos of the PittFest incident.

It hadn’t landed.

She’d just stared at him, confused, like he’d spoken a language she didn’t understand. The whole thing had gone completely over her head, and honestly… he was still recovering.

There was a quiet admiration he held for her, one he didn’t quite know what to do with.

“Dr. Robby leaving already?” Mel King, a resident, sat back straight on her stool with her club soda in front of her.

Trinity Santo, an intern at the edge of the table, arched a brow at him. Next to her sat Dennis Whitaker, a fourth year med student.

“Something came up. I gotta head out,” Michael replied, already pulling on his hoodie.

Mateo returned just then, balancing a tray of drinks. He paused when he saw Michael slipping away.

“What? No way! It can’t be your bedtime already, Dr Robby!” Mateo cracked, handing out bottles and glasses with a grin.

Michael rolled his eyes. “Get home safe, all of you. Make good choices!”

A scattered chorus of “Later, Robby!” And goodbyes followed him.

Princess Dela Cruz and Perla Alawi leaned toward each other, whispering in Tagalog, eyes tracking Michael as he left.

“What, are you too gossiping about now?” Jack raises his eyebrow.

“Nothing” they say at the same time.

Trinity, who’d been quietly sipping her drink, looked up with a smirk. “Apparently… rumor has it Robby has a girlfriend.”

Both Princess and Perla snapped their heads toward her.

“Traitor!” Perla hissed.

“What?” Trinity shrugged, totally unfazed. “You know I speak Tagalog, And anyway, it’s not like you guys were being subtle. Everyone in the ER was gonna find out eventually. Might as well start the betting pool now.”

“Aww, Dr. Robby has a girlfriend?” Mel cooed, genuinely delighted. “That’s sweet.”

“No way Robby has a girlfriend,” Mateo said flatly, shaking his head. “I mean it’s Robby. He’s been lone wolfing it for a while”

“You’d be surprised. He dated Jake’s mom—Janey—but that was ages ago,” Princess pointed out.

“I heard from someone that he had dated Dr. Collins,” Samira chimed in.

“Did he really?” Dennis asked, brows furrowing in surprise. “I thought they just…butted heads each other.”

“I think they did,” Perla said, lowering her voice with dramatic flair. “There was a lot of tension between them back in the day. Like, a lot.” She nods knowingly.

“But he's attending and she’s a resident…that is not allowed?” Mel speaks up

“We’ve seen a lot of things—but hey, that’s none of our business.” Princess says

“Yeah, but you still gossip about it.” Trinity side eyes Princess.

“Well, we work twelve-hour shifts. Gotta keep ourselves entertained somehow.”

“Entertained?” Samira snorted. “You practically run the hospital’s rumor mill.”

“Oh my god, would you all quit it?” Jack cut in, laughing. “We’re really sitting here dissecting Robby’s dating history?”

“If anyone should know his dating history it’s you! You’re his best friend! He tells you everything,” Princess said, pointing her straw at him.

“Not everything,” Jack said, holding up a finger.

“Eh, but mostly everything,” Perla teased.

“So tell us,” John said, looking straight at Jack. “Robby got a girlfriend? Is that who he’s ditching us to run off to?”

The entire table went still. Drinks paused mid-air halfway to lips.

All eyes locked on Jack.

He sighed, leaned back in his chair, and gave them that maddening, unreadable expression.

“I can neither confirm nor deny.”

There was a beat of silence—

Then Trinity slapped her hand on the table. “Twenty bucks says he is.”

“I’m in,” Dennis said quickly, already pulling out his phone to keep track of the amount and who was betting.

“Are you guys serious right now?” Samira laughed, raising an eyebrow as the table lit up with energy. “We’re betting?” Samira raised an eyebrow, but she was smiling.

“Thirty says she works at the hospital,” Princess grinned.

“Fifty says she doesn’t even work in medicine,” Perla added.

The table erupted into overlapping chatter and laughter, everyone talking over each other, money getting thrown down, wild theories flying left and right.

Mel, sitting back, shook her head with a small smile. “You’re all ridiculous. Leave the poor guy alone.”

“We should get more staff in on this. You know who’d be all over this? Becky from pre-op. She’s got spreadsheets for this kind of thing.”

“Oh God,” Jack groaned. “Please don’t start a bracket.”

“He’s gonna have your asses when he finds out you’re making bets on his relationship status,” Jack warned.

“Well, he doesn’t need to know… now does he?” someone quipped.

“This is good for group morale,” Perla added innocently. “You know—bringing us together as one.”

Jack just groaned, rolling his eyes—but he couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out.

——

Michael saw you.

You were sitting on the steps outside, arms wrapped tightly around yourself like they were the only thing holding you together.

He called out your name, voice laced with concern.

You turned, eyes swollen, face streaked with tears.

“Michael,” you breathed. You stood up.

Without another word, he closed the distance between you and wrapped you in his arms, gently pulling you into him.

“I told you to wait inside,” he said softly.

His arms encircled you—steady, warm, protective. His grip was firm, grounding you as you broke down against his chest. One hand stroked your hair, slow and soothing, while his chin came to rest lightly on the crown of your head.

He let you cry, saying nothing. Just held you, patient and silent.

After a while, when your sobs had softened, he finally spoke.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice low. “Look at me.”

But you only cling to him tighter.

“Sweetheart,” he says, softer now. “Look at me.”

The term of endearment catches you off guard. You sniffle and glance up at him through damp lashes.

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb gently wiping away the tears on your cheek.

“Are you hurt at all?” he asks, pulling back just enough to assess you, the ER doctor flickering through in his careful gaze.

You see the worry in his eyes..

You shake your head.

He studies you for another long moment.

“You sure?” he asks, dipping his head slightly, trying to catch your gaze as your eyes dart away.

He searches your face, quietly, carefully—looking for the truth. For any flicker of doubt or something unsaid hiding behind your eyes.

You nod, “Yes, I promise”

You hug him again, as you continue to cry.

Then he nods, gentle and certain. “Okay…okay Shhh. It’s okay, sweetheart”

He pulls you into him again, his arms wrapping around you protectively. His hands rubbing your back. Swaying the two of you softly.

—-

Michael took you for a walk, helping you regulate your emotions.

The two of you didn’t speak, walking in silence. Your crying had subsided, but your eyes still felt heavy, the weight of everything pressing down on you. You wished you could say something—anything—to fill the quiet, but the only sound was the gentle rustling of leaves as you walked side by side.

Neither of you was in a rush. The walk stretched on without a clear destination, and you weren’t sure how long you’d been walking—only that the coolness of the evening air had begun to settle on your skin.

Eventually, you reached a small park tucked into the city, just across the street from Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. It wasn’t far from where the banquet had been held, or where Robby had parked his car.

The two of you sat on a cold metal bench near the park’s aging fountain. The water trickled softly behind you, barely masking the distant blare of horns and the occasional echo of a siren cutting through the night. But here, in this spot, Michael felt like everything felt quieter. Slowed.

A breeze passed, lifting a few strands of your hair. Michael didn’t say anything. He just sat beside you, elbows on his knees, waiting, holding space, letting you have the space to speak, if you wanted.

Michael and some of the day and night shift staff sometimes hung out in this very spot to decompress. They’d pop open a beer or two, leaning back on the benches or sitting in the grass. It was their go-to when they didn’t feel like heading to a bar—when they wanted something quieter, more intimate. A laid-back place to breathe, unwind, and just exist for a while.

“Let me guess, Aiden didn’t show,” he mutters. That’s another thing to add to the growing list of disappointments since Aiden became friends with you—flaked on dinner, jammed your window, missed career day, and now your award ceremony. What’s next?

You nodded your fingers gliding over your award.

“He did… but he showed up late. We got into this huge fight. I just blew up at him. I told him how important this was to me…and then I brought up…”

You stop, debating whether to tell him he made it into the argument.

You decided not to.

“-everything I’ve been feeling just poured out…”

You sit the award beside you on the bench.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “That he wasn’t there to support you… to cheer you on. I’m sorry he keeps breaking promises. And for not being there in the way you needed him to be.”

You were shivering and a cool night breeze blew.

Without a word, Michael shrugged off his hoodie and gently draped it around your shoulders. The warmth of the fabric—and of him—seeped into your skin. He held the collar for a moment longer than necessary, steadying it on you, steadying you.

You looked up, and he didn’t look away. The air between you shifted—soft, fragile, electric.

Neither of you moved at first, but then, slowly, as if pulled by something, you both leaned in. Your breaths mingled, noses nearly brushing, his eyes flicking to your lips. And then, just before they could meet, you stopped.

Instead, you rested your forehead against his, your breath catching.

He didn’t move away. Didn’t pull back. Just stayed there, his hand still on your shoulder, grounding you.

His voice was barely audible, but it cut through the quiet. “Why are you with him?”

He paused, and in that quiet, you felt the weight of everything he wasn’t saying—his confusion, his hurt, maybe even jealousy.

Then, he gently pulled his head back to look at you. His brows were drawn, eyes searching yours like they were trying to find the answer you couldn’t give.

Slowly, he reached up and cupped the side of your face, his palm warm against your skin. His thumb moved in a slow, tender arc across your cheek—a silent comfort, a wordless plea.

“I just… I don’t understand why you stay”

You didn’t answer right away—because the truth was, you didn’t know anymore.

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I just… part of me wants things to work. It wasn’t always like this in the beginning. But now…”

You looked down, your voice faltering.

“Now it’s like he’s a stranger. Like I’m holding on to someone who isn’t even there anymore.”

“He’s a man, Michael. He’s just… complicated.”

Michael’s jaw tightened. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, but firm.

“Aiden’s a boy—not a man. And there’s a difference.A man won’t make you question whether you’re loved,” he continued. “He won’t make you beg for affection, or feel like you’re asking for too much just by wanting to be seen.”

You stood there, breath caught somewhere between your chest and your throat, heart pounding with everything he was saying—and everything he wasn’t.

Michael looked at you for a long moment, then shook his head softly, almost in disbelief.

“You’re so kind,” he said, voice low. “So damn funny, so smart—God, the way you light up when you talk about the things you love…you deserve so much more than this. So much more.”

His eyes softened.

“Thank you, Michael. For everything. For always being there for me. You’re… a great friend.”

You didn’t see him as just a friend. Not even close. But the moment didn’t feel safe enough—you didn’t feel safe enough—to say what you really meant. So you pushed it down, wrapped it in gratitude, and handed it to him like it was all you had to offer. But you said it anyway. It killed you to say them.

And it killed him to hear them.

But he just nodded, eyes steady, even as something in him quietly broke.

The two of you drove back home in silence. When you stepped into the elevator, he stood beside you, hands in his pockets, close but careful.

At your door, he hesitated.

“You gonna be okay?” he asked gently.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

You leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against his cheek. His eyes closed for the briefest second, like he was memorizing the feel of it.

When you pulled back, his gaze lingered on you. He looked like he wanted to say something. Like he wanted to close the distance and kiss you, really kiss you—but he didn’t.

Instead, he just looked down at you, a war in his eyes.

“Goodnight” he whispered

“Goodnight”

You stepped inside your apartment and closed the door quietly behind you. The stillness inside felt heavy, like even the walls were waiting for you to say what you didn’t. You leaned back against the door, eyes closing as a slow exhale left your lungs.

Regret pressed down on you.

You should’ve told him the truth.

That he wasn’t just a friend. That he never had been. That the way he made you feel, steady, grounded, safe, was unlike anything you’d ever known. With Michael, you felt seen, heard, understood in ways you hadn’t thought possible. He made space for you without asking for anything in return. And still… you’d called him a friend.

But you said it anyway.

Because you were scared. Not of him—God, no—but of what it would mean if you let yourself fall for someone like him.

Someone who showed up. Someone who didn’t run. Someone who looked at you like you were worth something.

And deep down, you didn’t believe you were. You told yourself he deserved better. That he could do better.

But none of that made the ache go away.

It only made it worse.

Then came a knock.

Your heart jumped.

Maybe this was your chance. Maybe it wasn’t too late to take it all back, to say what you meant instead of what felt safe.

Maybe you could change it all.

If you were brave enough.

You opened the door.

“Aiden.”

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