#Theyre /the/ two pretty best friends ^^

[kate-laswell]

░▒▓█ The Captain and The Watcher █▓▒░

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II (2022)

[sillylittledistraction]

Both at the same time

[ninawolv3rina]

Creatures of the shadows, men from beyond the veil, masters over the divide between life and death...

Dweebs.

Characters: the Gravecrusher (he/him), Veid (he/him)

[mamawasatesttube]

wish more ppl in the timkon tag understood the concept of "best friends to lovers" 😩 where's my "years' worth of stupid inside jokes referenced at the worst moments just to make each other giggle" nonsense. where's the bone-deep understanding and knowing of each other. the ease and relaxation in each other's presence. the "i know how your head works without you having to tell me" of it all. where's the "no one knows me better than you. how could it be anyone but you" of it all!!!

[oceanwithouthermoon]

anyways let me take a break from my usual brainrot so i can spread my yumekai disease

yumehara and kaido are literally perfect for each other but they just arent grown enough to know it yet.. theyre both chuunibyous and are actually really similar to one another but both of them are too immature to truly see one another for who they are, chiyo because shes looking through rose colored (practically love poisoned) lenses and shun because shes a girl..

neither of them are ready for romance but chiyo tries to jump in headfirst whenever she gets the chance with any guy she can (mostly just cuz shes childish, but also a bit comphet of her🤥bi chiyo is something to consider..) while shun just fully does NOT think about it at all

they both just need to grow up a little bit before they can get to know each other for real, and then theyre perrrfect😋👍they prob get together in college and are lame losers together

[nato-obenkrieger]

sorry guys im still thinking about transfem chris. nato got her a hookup for diy hrt (if you think that man gets his t through any legal means you are INSANE!! he uses his superior intellect to get his t). trust me this is canon. also i KNOW she was so scared to come out to john she waited for as long as possible. literally she was already taking e and there were noticeable changes but she pretended everything was normal. nato had to FORCE her to come out to john. john was barely even that surprised but i know he doesnt play about supporting her with literally whatever she needs

[savage-rhi]

💀

[elodieunderglass]

Despite not being an expert on social etiquette he was certain that asking pretty girls if they were secretly horses was considered a faux pas.

Albert And The Water-Horse

It was a bright grey day, like a dove’s wing, and the surface of the sea was like glass. On a morning such as this, it was easy to forget the treacherous currents just out past the rocks or the out-of-town visitors who had drowned. Locals these days knew where and when to avoid the waters but there was always an outsider who failed to listen.

Albert had no intention of staying long. His obligations in town were sure to be brief and he was already looking forward to returning home. The farm was busy in early spring and his siblings needed him. Besides, the sea held little allure for a man of his nature. His heart belonged to the horses he rode and the green fields that raised him.

Even he could not deny the beauty of the day, however, as he strolled along the cliff path. He sang in a pleasant tenor, honed by many years of church hymns, enjoying thoroughly the experience of nobody interrupting him. The friend he was staying with was, he would grudgingly admit, dear to him but he had a teething baby and Albert’s patience only went so far.

Albert saw a flash of white out of the corner of his eye. Turning, he found his song dying in his mouth. He stared down at a white horse trotting brightly along the stony beach below him. Albert was no mean judge of horseflesh and even from this distance he could see that this was a magnificent creature. It clearly belonged to someone – a silver chain gleamed around its neck - but it was unattended. As he looked, it tossed its head and sent a strand of seaweed falling from its mane.

Albert looked around for a way down to the beach but there was none. No steps carved in the cliff, no ladder, not even a suitably rocky outcrop where he might scramble hand over hand. He could only stare helplessly at the finest horse he had ever beheld as its nostrils flared and, all at once, it bolted from him. It ran with extraordinary grace. Albert wished he knew whose horse it was and where they planned to race it. You could not have a horse like that and not plan to race it. It would be spitting on a divine gift.

White as an egret’s wing, the horse was a flash of light in the distance before Albert truly had time to think. It was gone, and he stood in silence, wondering who dared let something so beautiful roam so freely.

That night, Albert escaped the raucous little home where he was staying to walk alone on the beach. He told himself that it was merely to get some peace and quiet whilst the baby was settled down but deep inside there was the wild hope that he might spy that horse again. Perhaps it would still be running loose. Perhaps the owner would ride it down by the water.

Instead, as he picked his way over break-ankle ground, he heard music. It was sweet and haunting, a lament that curled out into the sky and seemed to make the stars flicker in sympathy. Almost without meaning to, Albert followed it.

Round a bend in the beach, he saw her: a girl upon the rocks. She was dressed all in white, with silver slippers on her feet and a silver chain around her neck. Her glossy hair was ivory and her skin like marble, her eyes green and cold as malachite. She played the violin with her eyes half-closed. The music seemed to stir the clouds above her and set the little many-legged creatures skittering in the rockpools at her feet. Albert stood, transfixed.

If she had noticed him while playing, she gave no sign but when she at last stopped and lowered her violin, her face showed no surprise to see him standing there.

“I heard you,” she said, and her voice had a sting to it. “On the cliffs this morning. I heard you singing.”

Albert did not ask how she knew it was him. He did not ask why she cared. He did not ask if she was a horse, because despite not being an expert on social etiquette he was certain that asking pretty girls if they were secretly horses was considered a faux pas. Instead, he removed his cap and nodded awkwardly.

“Sing for me,” she commanded.

“If it pleases you.” Albert would do a lot for a pretty face, human or equine. “What shall I sing?”

“Anything.” She dimpled when she smiled. “Everything.”

He sang every song he knew – the church hymns, the old folk songs, the playground ditties, the tunes that crackled from the radio his sister loved so much. All the while, he could not look away from those green eyes. They held him transfixed, drawing richness and timbre from him that his voice has never had before, till the music that rang out over the water was not the singing of a barroom tenor but someone for whom the opera houses of the world should hold open their doors. It was not Albert – he knew that. It was her. Something in her had the power.

When at last the well of music ran dry, Albert’s throat ached. A fine mist of rain was falling on them both. He was cold to his core but the horse-girl was smiling.

“You should go,” she said. “Back to dry land. The tide will be coming in.”

Albert glanced down at the wavelets lapping at the toes of his boots. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me.” When she smiled this time, he could see the glint of teeth a little too sharp to be human. “Run, before you are drowned.”

Albert stayed stubbornly put. “Will I see you again?”

“Tomorrow.” Her green eyes flashed. “If you are brave.”

She stepped down from her rock. As soon as her toe touched the water, she dissolved into seafoam. The mass of her bubbled and boiled at Albert’s startled feet until all at once she grew again, the gleaming white horse with the mad green eyes, rearing up to strike his chest with silver hooves, before she turned and fled into the waves from which she came. Albert picked himself up off the ground, squeezing saltwater out of his cap, and splashed thoughtfully back to the protective wall that kept the encroaching tide from swallowing the little town whole.

He was no fool. He knew what became of mortals who tangled with the water-horses and their ilk. But she had not drowned him, had not eaten him up and let his liver float to the surface. Albert was not afraid. He knew he would be back.

The very next night, sure enough, he found the water-horse once again sitting on her rock with her violin resting in her lap.

“Aren’t you afraid,” she asked him, “that I will eat you?”

“Aren’t you afraid,” he replied, “that I will bring an iron poker to stab you?”

“I could smell the iron on you if you had it,” she said loftily. “You would never know I was about to bite until I did.”

Albert agreed that that was true. “Bite me if you will. I want to know your name.”

The girl laughed. “You could never speak my name. It is this.”

She made a sound like the shushing of water over smooth sand, the delicate whisper of a tide coming in at the end of the day.

“My name is Albert.”

“Albert.” She wrinkled her pretty nose. “What does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” Albert admitted. “It means I am the eldest of my siblings, I suppose.”

“I have ten thousand siblings,” the water-horse confessed, “and I am neither older nor younger than any of them.”

“You must never be lonely.” Albert reflected on his own siblings, on the chaos of a small home crowded with people. “Maybe not lonely enough sometimes.”

She watched him as though waiting for a trap to spring. “There are millions of us. Everywhere a wave breaks, we are born. The little foals on the sandy beaches with the shallow tides. The great stallions where the surf rises higher than your people can build walls to trap it. The holy ones born where the deadening waves crash, where the herd runs as one to swallow the land.”

“Are they all your herd?” Albert asked.

The water-horse shook her pretty head. “Our herd is the bay. We run and run upon this beach, against these rocks. I ran here before the town came, so long ago, but I do not remember it well.”

“Why not?”

“There was nothing to remember. We run, we crash, we ebb and flow. What was there to watch but the birds?” She lifted her violin, evidently done with conversation. “I will sing for you now. It is my turn.”

Her voice was sweet and true, the language that of coral reefs and darting fish. She played sunlight on water and sang the swooping, diving gulls. She played shells forming great chalk cliffs and sang the waves sending them crashing down again. The longer Albert stood and listened, the less he seemed to be there at all. He was a pebble spun in the water, washed clean, ground smooth, adrift in the vastness of the ocean.

When silence fell, the moon was low in the sky. Hours had somehow passed. Albert shivered and pulled his jacket a little closer around him.

“You are cold.” The water-horse sounded troubled. “I have never been cold.”

“It will pass. You sing beautifully.”

“Yes.” She did not seem interested in that. “How does it feel, to be cold?”

Albert was not a man much given to flights of poetry. The question stumped him.

“It hurts,” he said, at last. “A sharp sort of hurt.”

The water-horse nodded solemnly as if he had imparted great wisdom.

“How does it feel,” Albert asked in return, “to run in the water like you do?”

“But that I can show you,” she replied. “If you ride on my back, you can see for yourself.”

Albert’s heart was in his mouth. “I would like that.”

“You truly are not afraid of me?” she wondered.

“I have never been afraid of horses.”

She laughed softly. “Do not fall. I cannot save you if you fall.”

She was magnificent transformed, as if sculpted from ivory by someone intent on portraying all that a horse should be. In awe, Albert ran his hand down her neck. He felt the coiled power in those muscles, the stillness where a pulse should beat. She nudged his shoulder with her proud head, urging him on.

With the rock as a mounting block, it was no hardship for Albert to swing onto her back. He wound his fingers into her sand-laden mane. He gripped his thighs tight against her wet glossy coat. He clung on for all he was worth, and his water-horse ran.

She ran fleet as the wind, faster than any ship, faster than any horse Albert had had the privilege to ride, out across the bay. Her hooves churned the sea into a drenching white wake. The salt spray in Albert’s eyes blinded him. When he dared to tilt his head back, he saw the stars racing by, wheeling in their constellations as they galloped in spirals, a grand carousel. Albert had never felt a gait so smooth, a pace so swift. Never had he had to fight so hard to stay on a broad back than now, muscles tight, hanging on by willpower alone. The sea below was dark and foreboding, black as ice on the road. He dared not risk falling.

A rocky outcrop approached too fast, jagged knives of stone protruding. Albert screwed his eyes up tight and braced for a swerve that never came. There was the sensation, for a moment, of strength and then… He opened his eyes as they drifted through the air, flung from a breaking wave, high over the rocks and glittering amongst the freezing spume. Albert threw back his head and whooped to the silent sky. His water-horse whinnied too as they crashed down into the water, plunging below till only Albert’s iron-tight grip on her mane kept him from being ripped clean away from her.

They broke the surface again to coast on the gathering waves. One bore them in, gentle as a leaf in a stream, spitting them out onto the slope of the beach. The water-horse never lost her stride for a moment, slowing to a trot and finally stopping back beside the rock where they had begun. Albert was so cold he could barely speak. Even as he slid from her back, he could not untangle his frozen fingers from her mane. His teeth chattered but his heart sang, his blood thrilled.

She changed form even as he held her, her mane becoming flowing hair, the warm strength of her shoulder supporting him becoming her small body, helping him down to sit upon the rock. She was still strong this way, all the power of her horse-form crushed into something so tiny and frail that it was a miracle her bones didn’t burst under the strain. She laughed the whole time, eyes dancing. She seemed to glow.

“I can feel your heartbeat,” she teased. “You are scared of me now.”

“I’m scared of hypothermia,” Albert grumbled but he couldn’t make his eyebrows frown. “I could never be scared of you.”

“Can people get so cold they die of it?” she asked. “I didn’t know.”

“I won’t die,” he promised, fighting to get his chattering teeth under control.

“You can let go now.” Her voice was softer, her fingers caressing the wrist of the hand that still held tight a lock of her hair.

“I don’t think I can.”

She unwound his fingers for him, prising them open. She held his hand like it was a foreign thing, tracing the veins, exploring the minute flaws in the skin. Her own skin was unnaturally smooth to the touch. Her lips, when she turned her head to kiss his palm, were powder-soft. Her open mouth gave off no heat but her teeth were razor sharp when she bit down hard.

Albert flinched but did not pull away. He held that wild green gaze even as he felt her fangs scrape against the bone and his hand throb in pain. She released him, drawing back slowly, cradling his wrist. Her pointed tongue darted out to lick the blood from the wound. Her eyes closed in satisfaction.

“Salt,” she said. “Just a little bit of ocean in you.”

“Is this the part,” Albert asked, “where you eat me alive?”

“Not yet.” She tasted his blood again. “I’m not ready yet.”

She dropped his hand suddenly and turned her face away. Albert, on the brink of leaning in to kiss her, was left with nowhere to go as she slid to the edge of the rock.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked, but the girl was already a horse once more, galloping into the sea, splashing him with her tail.

Albert made his slow way back to his friend’s house, nursing his bleeding hand, unsure why he wasn’t angry that she had done it. Perhaps the thrill of that wild ride still had him in its grip and nothing else could matter. Perhaps it was simply that he had never doubted she would not kill him.

The next night, his hand bandaged, Albert made his way back down to the beach. He found his water-horse waiting for him, sitting on the rocks and playing a merry air on her violin. She smiled as he approached, teeth bared, dimples on show. Albert did not hesitate to sit down beside her, ignoring the leeching cold of the stone beneath him.

“You came back,” she said.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He placed his hand over hers. “I am not afraid of you.”

She plucked a single note and set her violin aside. “You are not from here, are you? I had not heard your voice before the other day.”

Albert shook his head. “I’m from a long way south of here, inland. My family, we have a farm. We race horses.”

“Do you have a big family?” There was a note of longing in her voice.

“Not by your standards, maybe. Not an easy family either.” Albert grinned at the thought of his young sister. “A family that’s nothing but black sheep, if I’m honest with you.”

“What does that mean? Black sheep?”

“Oddities,” Albert explained. “Strange types. Lawbreakers.”

“Lawbreakers…” The water-horse fingered the silver chain around her neck. “Do you break laws, Albert?”

He admitted somewhat sheepishly that he did. The water-horse, if anything, seemed pleased by this idea.

“We do not have laws but we do have…ways that things are supposed to be.” Her troubled expression cleared. “Tell me more about inland. I’ve never seen it.”

So Albert told her. Once he had started talking, he found it difficult to stop. He told her about his siblings, about the scrapes he and Andrew got into as boys, about Augustine and his temper tantrums, about Alice-Rose dancing in the kitchen to the radio. His gruff love for them shone through all his insistence on their many sins and terrible natures. He told her about the fields of home, the turning of the seasons, the birds coming home to roost. He told her about hedgerows and vegetable patches and somehow, bathed in her enthusiasm for it all, even the tiresome chores took on a romantic glow.

And he told her about the horses. Oh yes, he told her about the horses. Every member of the little herd, every one who had ever passed through their gates, every point and foible of each. He told her about racetracks, about breeders and trainers and owners, about the place where he was utterly and entirely himself. Running. Free. With every word, he missed it more. He had been away nearly a week. He ached for home.

Through it all, the water-horse listened with rapt attention. She hung on his every word. Her green eyes glowed like stars.

“I wish I could see it.” Somehow, she had ended up pressed against his side, her head on his shoulder. “I have never been beyond this beach in all my life and I never shall. I should like to see the barley grow, just once. You shall leave soon and I shall not even hear about it then.”

“Come home with me,” Albert urged. “Let me show you everything.”

“I cannot.” She sat up, eyes fixed on the horizon. “I belong to my family and the water that made me.”

“Why?” Albert held her pretty little chin in his rough hands, turning her face to look at him once more. “Must you stay with them forever? Will they not let you go if you want it?”

Her tears had no salt in them. They were pure as snowmelt. “What I want does not matter. It is what I am.”

“It matters to me.”

The kiss tasted of brine. Her hands shook only a little more than Albert’s.

“Can you not outgrow them?” Albert demanded. “Are you never to leave the herd? Must you always be what they tell you you are?”

“Yes.” She kissed him again. “Yes, they would be so angry, you cannot know…you cannot imagine! I have a duty to my kin.”

Albert, on another day, might have understood but on that night all he knew was the horse-girl in his arms and the tears in her eyes. He did not want to let her go.

“Marry me.” He did not mean to say it until he already had. The moment it fell off his tongue he felt the rightness of it. “Be my wife. Let me take you away. You will have new kin, new duties. They cannot stop that, can they?”

“I am not human!” she protested. “I am not a woman.”

“That doesn’t matter to me.”

“There is not a church in the land that will marry us!”

“Is there one in the sea?” Albert clutched her close. “There are ways round everything, if you know who to ask.”

She clung to him, cold arms around his neck, face pressed against his cheek. He held her tight, the frailty of her, the strength, the sea-cold power and the ephemeral foam.

“Tomorrow,” she whispered against his ear. “Tomorrow, my beloved. Join me in the water. Grab hold of my bridle and don’t let go. Whatever you do, don’t let go.”

With a final kiss, she slipped from his arms and into the sea. Albert reached up to stroke, for a moment, the muscular neck of the most magnificent horse he had ever seen. She lowered her dished head to him solemnly, the fire in her eyes banked, before she turned and fled, dissolving into the waves.

The final night of his stay in the north, Albert went out to the beach again to collect his bride. He wore his strongest boots and a rose in his buttonhole. There was no girl waiting for him on the rocks this time. Albert felt a prickle of doubt but he pressed on. She had said to join her in the water and so he would. The sea was still that night, flat under a moonless sky. Weak currents tugged at his feet, leading him on.

The water was a shock of ice when it first rose above his boots. His feet were numb in seconds. It squeezed like a clamp around his legs, forcing the blood from them, but still Albert waded deeper. Little by little, the numbness spread up his body. When he was above his waist and the shore seemed so very far away behind him, his water-horse at last appeared.

She trotted forward and Albert reached out gratefully for her, twining his fingers into her sandy mane. She rippled and shifted till her girl’s body was there again, his hands in her hair, her eyes full of tears.

“What is it, my love?” He kissed her sweet cold lips. “Why so unhappy?”

“You must go,” she begged. “You must go now.”

“Come with me then!”

“They are waiting, Albert.” She clutched his hand tightly. “They know! They are going to eat you if you try to take me away. You must leave now and not come back.”

“I am not afraid of them.” Albert squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Come with me now and we will leave them all behind. They cannot threaten you.”

She shook her head urgently. “You do not understand. They are listening to everything you say. If I try to leave with you, they will kill you. You have to make it back to the beach. That’s all – just get to the beach and you’ll be safe.”

“What about you?” He tried to meet her eyes even as she avoided his gaze. “Will they hurt you?”

“They are my family. I will survive whatever they do to me.”

“No!” Albert kissed her fiercely. “I will not leave you here alone!”

“Please,” she begged. “They are my herd. They are my kin. I am of the waves. I cannot - I must not – go, I beg of you!”

“I love you.” He caught and held her wild green gaze. “Do you love me? Could you love me?”

She hesitated. She nodded. Her voice broke. “I could love you.”

“Then marry me.”

Albert folded her into his arms. He kissed her delicate mouth. He closed his hand upon the silver chain around her neck and, when she stepped back from him, did not let go. The silver was colder than ice, colder than anything Albert had ever felt. It burned into his palm but still he pulled. The clasp broke.

Suddenly, his water-horse was vast, a whinny screaming from her throat, hooves kicking the air above him before she plunged down into the depths, leaving him alone and trembling in the shallows. The silver chain still hung from his hand but even as he wound it tighter, it grew heavier and colder.

The sea rose around him. The clouds raced across the sky. The waves that had been lapping at the beach began to bite chunks out of it. Before Albert could strike out for the shore, a stallion burst from the water and hit him full in the chest. He was forced below the surface, mouth open in a startled shout. For an instant he grappled with the darkness, all direction lost. Bitter saltwater choked his lungs.

He surfaced, spluttering, only to be felled again by another horse as it flung itself madly at him. Silver hooves trampled. White manes shook. Nostrils flared and green eyes blazed. The silver chain was dead weight now, dragging him down, almost too heavy to keep above the sand of the seafloor.

Albert crawled. He stumbled. He fell to the terrifying weight of the horses, tumbled and tossed, pulled by the current, till it took all his effort to just stay in one place, avoid being swept out to sea. Every time he managed to get his head above the surface, he sucked in air only to be knocked down again, lungs screaming in protest, head swimming. The shore seemed so distant. Every now and then, sharp teeth tore at his clothes, nipped at his fingers, taunted him with the moment when they would finally rend flesh from bone and end it all. Still he did not let go of the chain.

Her hands found him, warm and human. Her arms still had the wild strength of the ocean in them. He clung to her and she dragged, spitting and screaming in a language like rock scraping against rock. Her family crashed around them, over them. He choked for air. He coughed up water. He felt sure that his arm would be ripped from its socket, that his hand would be torn from his wrist and sink into the sea with the terrible chain.

But there was the beach ahead. The sand turned to pebbles beneath his scrabbling hands. There was the rocky incline and his bride pulling him up, pulling him forward, as the horses dashed themselves recklessly against the rocks around them.

“The tide!” she shouted. “They will bring the tide!”

The water was climbing higher and higher around them, swallowing up the beach, trying to cut them off from the protective seawall ahead. She battled through it, screaming and begging, never letting go of his arm. The chain pointed like a compass needle out to sea, drawn by its own strange magnetism towards the horizon. It was all Albert could do to move an inch or two at a time. The cold was in his aching bones. His lungs seemed stiff in his chest, frozen solid, unable to draw breath, even as the sea retreated, even as he found himself staggering on dry land towards the rusty rickety ladder that would see them safely onto solid ground.

“They’re giving up,” he gasped out, but she only shook her head, dragging him on.

By the time they made it to the ladder, the wind was strong enough to blow branches from nearby trees. Albert risked a glance over his shoulder – and saw, at last, what his bride was so afraid of. A vast wall of water, clear as glass, and above it the foaming, churning madness of the herd, running as one.

“We weren’t fast enough.” She bent his failing fingers around the rusty ladder. “Hold on.”

The hand that clutched the chain could not be persuaded to grip anything. Albert had barely hooked his thumb around a strut before the sea hit him in the back and all was noise.

Albert clung. He felt the chain rip his skin. He felt the bones of his hand break. He felt his lungs fill up with water. He felt the hooves of the herd on his back, his head, his limbs. He could not let go. He would not let her go. He held on tight as the current ripped past him, through him, drowning him; as his broken bones screamed in white-hot pain; as his sturdy boots were torn from his feet by the sheer strength of the water.

The waves broke – and ebbed. The horses were sucked back from the beach. Albert reeled, half-blind, the world spinning and fractured. He scarcely knew with what strength he was climbing the ladder save the relentless pull of his bride’s arms, dragging him to safety. He collapsed onto solid stone just as a second wave hit. They reared up above him, tossed on the spray, blinding white and screaming, but they could not reach him now.

There was silence on the beach. The sea was a dead calm. The wind died away to a gentle breeze. The silver chain, wound so tight around Albert’s broken hand, now weighed nothing at all. Every part of him hurt. The world span in doubles around him. He knelt on the ground and hacked up a lungful of water, coughing and retching till only bile remained. He fell back, flat, staring at the uncaring sky. When he raised his shaking hand above him, he could see hoofprint bruises on his arm, as if he had lain down on the racetrack to be trampled.

But there she was, his bride, his water-horse. No longer was her skin marble but flesh, living and real, flush with blood beneath the surface. No longer were her eyes the madness of the deep water but grey-green, sparkling, human. When she reached out to him, fell laughing, sobbing, against him, he felt her warmth, her solidity, her personhood. He folded her in his arms as she wept freshwater tears into his chest.

“We’re safe.” His voice crackled wetly in his throat. “We’re safe, my love.”

“Stupid, stupid!” She sat up, face blotchy, hair a mess. “I told you they would hurt you! I told you to save yourself!”

“I’ll live.” He reached out to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “How about you? Will you live?”

She nodded, blowing her nose. “Like a mortal woman.”

It took all Albert’s strength to force himself upright. He knew broken ribs when he felt them. He was sure, too, that one eye would be too swollen to see through within the hour. But he sat up nonetheless because how else was he to kiss his little wife?

“I will take you home with me in the morning. You will be happy. I promise.”

“Won’t your people mind?” She seemed, for the first time, shy. “A wife with no name and no family?”

“Catherine is a good name.” Albert chose at random. “I have family enough for the both of us.”

“Catherine…” She weighed it on her tongue. “Catherine….Catherine…”

“Mrs Catherine Tiernan.” Albert laughed suddenly. “I never told you my family name.”

“I didn’t know humans had those,” Catherine admitted. “They will not think I’m strange?”

“They will not mind that you are strange.” Albert caressed her cheek. “My little love, you have nothing to fear.”

They sat there in the cold night till Albert felt strong enough to stand. He limped, his arm around his bride, down into the town, watching the blisters of frozen flesh where the chain had bitten deep turn to silver-white scars.

So it was. If the Tiernan family thought its newest member anything other than fully human, they never passed comment on it. The silver chain sat in an old jewellery box belonging to Albert’s mother, tucked safe at the back of a little drawer where nobody could stumble upon it. It never tarnished. Albert took it out occasionally, lay the links over the scar they had left and tried to remember the weight of it, the dreadful pull of the current. It was still a little colder than it should be. No matter how long he held it, it was never warmed by his skin.

Catherine never went near the sea again. She thrived, his tiny wife, on the farm, blessed him with a son and heir – and more besides. She delighted in the horses, in the barley growing in fields around the village, in the birds of the hedgerows and the songs that they sang. If she regretted her choice of husband, she never said so. But sometimes when the wind was blowing cold from the faraway coast, she sat on the steps outside and played her violin with notes so sweet and aching that Albert’s heart broke just to hear her and he would swear, if only for a moment, he could smell saltwater in the air.

---

I just really liked the idea of the horse-bride. I thought it was whimsical, and the mysterious Catherine Tiernan reminded me a lot of my great-great-grandmother Catherine, who was also a tiny Irishwoman who married an older man against cultural taboos, was a brilliant musician, and would absolutely have eaten a man alive if she was given the opportunity. This isn't my best work but I'm tentatively pleased with it and my therapist says that Killie-fangirling is actually good for me so I guess this is medically necessary fanfiction. It's the middle of the night and I haven't edited this. I'm really crossing my fingers and praying there aren't any glaring mistakes.

[honeyhaeya]

(🔐)🖇 ༘ ⋆"How to Date Discreetly"

' ╰┈ "the day that i met you i started dreaming"

' ' 박성훈 x fem!reader

🎧ྀི 'ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Kingston (Faye Webster)

♫⋆₊˚ ﾟ. 'ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre / tags: idol!sunghoon x idol!reader, ice prince x reckless rookie, secret & established relationship, enemies to lovers (kinda), fluff, smut (2nd part) – MDNI, angst (minor), a pinch of comedy ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: NSFW WARNINGS ON CHAPTER 2 (no smut on this part) ! smut, slight jealousy (m), language, detailed explicit scenes, angst (minor), reader on the pill (birth control), mutual hate that’s just actually horny confusion, mild hate (online), – ugh, theyre so in love, its intoxicating ✩‧₊˚ wc: 6472 –1/2 (mini series) ੈ♡ a/n: lol this is peak delusion. dont like, dont read. also, im open for constructive critisism but fact checks or logical expected outcome are out of the picture, come on yall, this is fanfiction. also, wtf. shit, i really made this? hoon is so fucking adorable, argue with me if you disagree :p . uploading part two tomorrow 5pm kst :) part two is up and posted *^★ playlist: kingston (faye webster), lowkey (niki), august (taylor swift), soft spot (keshi), always (daniel caesar), best part (daniel caesar & h.e.r.), almost is never enough (ariana grande & nathan sykes)

dating was never hard for you.

you breezed through high school with a boyfriend for every semester, each one a lesson in love. you weren’t heartless—you did like them. maybe not enough to cry after the breakups, but enough to smile while it lasted.

you were living the easy life. pretty, popular, and always in love with something… or someone.

but all of that changed on a thursday afternoon.

you’d just turned down a free meal from your friends (and it was their treat, ugh) because your sister texted you, “buy the skincare stuff i told you about. only from that store near the station. they run out fast.”

so there you were, dodging pedestrians, phone in hand, a bit annoyed, very hungry.

you sighed, glancing at your screen for the third time—no calls, no new texts.

and then you noticed her.

a woman, maybe mid-thirties, blazer and red lipstick, standing across the sidewalk and watching you.

your brows knit instinctively. weird. you kept walking.

but then she followed.

“excuse me,” she said, heels clicking as she caught up to you.

you turned. “uh… yes?”

she smiled, like she already knew you. “sorry if this is random. i’m a manager at (-) entertainment. and… have you ever thought of becoming an idol?”

you blinked.

“me?”

“you’ve got the face. the vibe. we’re recruiting trainees right now. it’s competitive, but i think you have a real shot.”

you stared. was this real? was she legit?

she pulled out a card, glossy and gold-trimmed. it looked expensive. official.

“call this number,” she said. “auditions are still required, but… i can pull a few strings.”

and just like that, she walked away.

later that night

you sat at the dinner table, card on your lap, phone in your hand, still processing.

“what’s that?” your sister asked, peering over.

“uh… a manager gave it to me,” you muttered. “she wants me to audition. to be a trainee.”

your mom nearly dropped her spoon.

your dad blinked like he misheard.

“a what now?” he asked.

your sister grabbed the card, eyes wide. “no way. (-) entertainment? they’re huge. that’s, like, the company.”

“it’s probably fake,” you said quickly. “i mean, i haven’t even danced in public before.”

your mom smiled gently. “if it’s something you’re curious about… we’ll support you.”

“what if i’m not good enough?”

“then you’ll try. and if it’s not for you, you’ll walk away knowing you tried.”

your sister nudged your arm. “do it, loser. if you debut, i can brag about you.”

you laughed, but your heart was pounding.

a few weeks later, you stood backstage after your audition, heart thumping, palms sweaty.

the evaluator handed your file to someone behind them.

“she’s raw,” the woman murmured. “but i like her. give her the green light.”

that night, you got the call.

you were officially a trainee.

you were late.

again.

you burst into the practice room, sneakers squeaking against the floor, hair sticking to your forehead. seven other trainees glanced up—some sympathetic, some smug. the trainer didn’t even look surprised.

but he did.

sunghoon.

he was leaning against the mirror, arms crossed, black sweatpants, white shirt clinging to him like he’d already been at it for hours. perfect posture. flawless control. and the most judgmental eyes you’ve ever seen.

“this is the third time this week,” he said flatly.

you rolled your eyes, dropping your bag. “thanks for counting, mom.”

a snicker echoed from someone in the back. the trainer sighed.

“five laps. now,” she barked.

you groaned and started running.

sunghoon turned to the trainer. “i don’t know why you waste time on people who can’t take this seriously.”

you stopped mid-lap, heart racing for a new reason.

“excuse me?”

he glanced at you, cool and unbothered. “you heard me.”

“you don’t even know me.”

“i don’t have to. it’s obvious.”

you wanted to throw your shoe at him. or maybe yourself—how dare he look like that while being such an ass?

“you know, not everyone got trained with a silver spoon in their mouth,” you snapped. “some of us have to catch up.”

his jaw clenched. oh. that got to him.

“then maybe catch up quietly.”

later that week

“again!” the vocal coach yelled. “you're off tempo!”

you bit your lip, trying to hide how winded you were. sunghoon stood beside you, breathing steady, voice perfect, hair annoyingly perfect.

when the session ended, you stayed behind, muttering the chorus under your breath, trying to fix it. your body ached, throat dry.

“you’re holding your breath wrong,” he said suddenly.

you jumped. “oh my god—can you not sneak up like that?”

he leaned against the doorframe, arms folded again. why was he always doing that?

“i’m not sneaking. you’re just slow.”

“and you’re just insufferable.”

he walked over, stopped behind you.

“breathe here,” he said, lightly tapping your stomach. “not up here.” he tapped your chest.

you tensed. “if you’re going to insult me again, don’t bother.”

he sighed. not annoyed. tired. softer than you expected.

“look. i don’t think you’re bad. i just think… you’re distracted.”

you turned, suspicious. “and what would you know about me?”

he shrugged. “nothing. yet.”

your heartbeat did the most annoying little skip.

“for next week’s evaluation,” the trainer said, scribbling on the board, “you’ll be performing in pairs.”

groans. whispers. panic.

sunghoon raised his hand, calm as ever. “do we get to choose partners?”

the trainer gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“no.”

and then she said your name.

and then she said his.

dead. silence.

sunghoon’s head snapped toward you. you were already staring, wide-eyed, mouth open like someone just told you santa wasn’t real and sunghoon would be your new stepdad.

“what?” you said.

“no.” he said at the same time.

the trainer arched a brow. “you two clearly have chemistry.”

“hate-mistry,” you muttered.

“professionalism, park,” she said. “and you, too, y/n. if either of you screws this up, you’re both out of the showcase.”

that shut you up real fast.

day one of practicing together

you stood at the center of the room, arms crossed, glaring at him.

he mirrored you, looking about three seconds from snapping.

“you need to follow my lead,” he said.

“and you need to drop your ego.”

“i’ve been training for years.”

“cool, i’ve been dancing since i was five.”

“not the same.”

“let’s find out.”

music blasted through the speaker—some upbeat, sexy number that had no business making this situation worse.

and yet—you kept up. every move. every beat. matching him step for step, hips snapping, body sharp. when you spun and ended up right in front of him, close enough to feel his breath—

he blinked. stunned. just a little.

you smirked.

“not bad,” you said.

his ears went pink.

day three

you both ran the routine again. and again. until sweat dripped from your jaw and your hair clung to your temples.

the trainer clapped slowly from behind.

“didn’t expect that,” she said. “y/n—your control improved. and sunghoon, i’m glad you finally look like you're dancing with someone instead of against them.”

your lips twitched.

he side-eyed you. “don’t let it go to your head.”

you grinned. “you’re just mad i’m good.”

he didn’t respond.

later, as you wiped your face with a towel, he walked over—less guarded. still annoyingly perfect.

“you really haven’t trained before?”

you shook your head. “just picked things up. why?”

he hesitated.

“…you’re a fast learner.”

you looked up, surprised.

“and you don’t hesitate. most new trainees wait for permission to mess up.”

you blinked. “…was that a compliment?”

he smirked, turning away. “no.”

(yes.)

the music cuts. your breath is caught somewhere between your chest and throat. sunghoon’s hand is still on your waist. your head is tilted back, lips just barely parted—and his eyes are on you. unreadable.

nobody moves.

"are they dating or something?" someone whispers too loudly.

"wow?" another trainee mutters.

the trainer exhales like she just witnessed art.

“that…” she starts, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. “was beyond what i asked for.”

you try to catch your breath. your body still buzzing from the adrenaline. from the dance. from him.

you don’t look at sunghoon when you mutter, “told you i wasn’t just a pretty face.”

but you feel it—how his grip on you lingers just a beat too long before he lets go.

you’re surrounded before you can even step off the floor. compliments, questions, stares—all of it buzzing in your ears.

“that was insane—”

“i didn’t even know she could dance like that.”

“how did they sync so well?”

“isn’t she new?”

you brush past it. you’re used to attention, sure. but this? this is different. this is real.

you find your way to a bench, just as someone flops down next to you.

“you’re kind of a show-off,” yeonjun says, nudging your arm.

you scoff. “jealous?”

“nah, just impressed. you looked like you were born on stage.”

you grin. “thanks.”

he pauses. “...but dancing that close to sunghoon? bold move.”

you roll your eyes. “wasn’t like i had a choice.”

across the room, sunghoon watches. sighing.

“you good?” jay asks, sipping his water bottle.

sunghoon’s averted. “he’s touching her.”

jay raises an eyebrow, finding you and a man together on a bench. “you mean yeonjun?”

“who else would i mean?”

jay blinks. “you do realize you sound like a jealous boyfriend right now?”

sunghoon scoffs. “i’m not jealous.”

“sure.”

“i’m not,” he repeats, harsher this time.

you pass by just in time to catch that last line.

you freeze. look back. sunghoon doesn’t see you.

but now you’ve seen him. and something about that look on his face—it doesn’t match the version of him you’ve built in your head.

your knee twinges wrong during a routine—small misstep, sharp sting. you hiss, stumble, fall back on the floor.

the door creaks open.

you tense—expecting a trainer or staff. instead, it’s sunghoon. of course it’s sunghoon.

“what the hell are you doing here alone?” he asks, stepping in.

you glare. “i could ask you the same thing.”

he walks over anyway. crouches beside you. “you could’ve gotten seriously hurt.”

“i didn’t,” you mutter, but the way you’re holding your leg says otherwise.

without another word, he grabs the first aid kit from the wall. wraps your knee like he’s done it a hundred times before.

you watch him. confused. curious. quiet.

“…you really care about this, huh?” he says eventually, not looking at you.

“about what?”

“training. performing. dancing.”

you shrug. “is that surprising?”

“a little.”

“why? because i don’t break my back trying to look perfect in front of the trainers?”

“because you make it look easy.”

you pause. “it’s not. i just don’t let anyone see when it’s hard.”

that makes him glance at you. just for a second. then—

“…you’re good, you know.”

you blink. “what?”

“you’re good. at this. i just didn’t want to admit it before.”

you laugh, breathless. “was that… a compliment?”

he stands up, tossing the bandage wrapper in the bin.

“don’t get used to it,” he mutters.

but he doesn’t leave.

and neither do you.

sunghoon was irritated. no—scratch that. he was pissed.

you were laughing at something yeonjun said, all wide-eyed and glossy-lipped, head tilted back like he just told the funniest joke in existence. maybe he did. maybe he didn’t. either way, hoon didn’t like the view from across the room.

he wasn’t sure what ticked him off more—the way your fingers brushed yeonjun’s arm, or the way yeonjun let them.

“you good?” jay asked beside him, noticing the stiff jaw, the tight grip on his water bottle.

“fine.”

a lie.

jay wasn’t stupid.

“you’ve got a weird definition of fine if it includes staring daggers at yeonjun’s face.”

sunghoon didn’t respond. just looked away. jay chuckled.

“she’s cute, huh.”

hoon scoffed. “please. she’s a walking red flag.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. too bold. too flirty. i don’t get how she always gets praise like that.”

jay grinned knowingly. “you mean, praise like she danced better than you yesterday?”

sunghoon gave him a flat look. jay laughed again. “man, just admit it. you like her.”

what he didn’t know was that you were behind the door, holding your breath. oh, you heard that. every word.

so the next day? you stepped on the gas.

“sunghoon,” you greeted, your voice all sugar and sin. “nice to see you glaring at me from across the room again. missed my face that much?”

his eyes narrowed. “you wish.”

“oh, i know you do,” you said with a smirk, stepping just a little too close. “you get jealous so easily. it’s kinda cute.”

“you’re delusional.”

“mm, maybe. but i’m also winning this little game we have.”

“what game?”

“oh, so you do admit we’re playing one.”

he didn’t answer. you leaned in, lips near his ear.

“catch up, sunghoon. or i’ll flirt with someone else again.”

the hallway was dark except for the faint glow bleeding under one door.

you already knew it was him.

you hesitated, then knocked—lightly, like a whisper.

inside, the music wasn’t playing. just silence. and when you opened the door and peeked in, you found him sitting with his back against the mirror, sweat-drenched shirt clinging to his skin, eyes heavy like they hadn’t rested in days.

he looked up. tired. annoyed, maybe.

“what do you want?”

you raised a brow. “aw, you missed me that much?”

he didn’t laugh. just huffed, dropping his head back against the mirror.

you walked in anyway.

“heard your team’s debut’s getting real close,” you said, plopping down next to him on the floor, knees brushing. “congrats.”

he didn’t respond.

you looked at him sideways, voice gentler now. “you okay?”

he nodded, but his fingers were twitchy—fiddling with his rings, bouncing his knee. anxious.

“you don’t look okay.”

he let out a breath. it shook a little.

you leaned forward, peeking at his face. “when was the last time you even slept?”

“don’t remember.”

you reached into your bag and tossed him a mini water bottle. “hydrate, superstar.”

he caught it, glanced at you. “why are you even here?”

you shrugged. “i could say i was worried. or that i heard music earlier and came to see what you were working on.”

you paused. “but honestly? you looked like a kicked puppy lately. i thought i’d put you out of your misery.”

he snorted. actually snorted.

progress.

you beamed. “there it is! that cute little laugh.”

“wasn’t a laugh.”

“was a laugh,” you said firmly. “i have excellent ears. dancer ears. and that? that was a giggle.”

he shook his head, hiding the smile pulling at his lips.

you fell quiet for a bit. then, in a softer voice:

“must be scary. having everything come at you at once. pressure. cameras. fans. and barely anyone who really knows what you’re going through.”

his jaw tensed.

you leaned your head back, mirroring him.

“i think about it sometimes. how that might be me in a year or two. training ‘til i drop. debuting and... still feeling alone.”

you glanced at him. “but hey. at least you’re not alone right now, right?”

sunghoon turned to you.

your face was relaxed. you weren’t being kind out of pity. this wasn’t charity. it was just... you.

for a second, he forgot about everything else.

“you’re really annoying, you know,” he mumbled.

“and yet you look like you’d die without me.”

he looked away, but not before you saw the smile he tried to hide again.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

the hallway was loud again. busy. debut-season chaos in full swing. managers barking schedules, stylists dragging suitcases, trainees practicing lines and formations in every corner.

you stood off to the side, sipping banana milk like you were just background noise.

“look alive, rookie,” someone called, nearly bumping into you.

you gave a lazy salute. “yes sir.”

just another day of not being noticed.

sunghoon passed by with his group—a cluster of stylists, staff, and busy energy. he didn’t look your way.

not that you cared.

but you didn't see the way he glanced back at you.

“people come and go,” you muttered, raising your banana milk like a toast. “that’s showbiz, baby.”

and then you tripped on a suitcase a stylist must've left there, you didn't see or too distracted to notice.

the banana milk went flying. your knees nearly kissed the floor. and when you looked up—sunghoon was right there.

of course he was.

he blinked down at you, eyebrows raised, and said nothing.

you, sprawled like a tragic mop, just smiled. “hi.”

he blinked, eyebrows raised. “you good?”

you held up the now half-empty drink. “well, the banana milk isn't.”

he bit back a smile. “that’s your third time tripping in front of me this month.”

you raised a brow. “you count my embarrassments now?”

“it's starting to feel intentional.”

you got up, brushing yourself off. “please, if i were trying to get your attention, i’d go bigger. maybe a cartwheel. or a dramatic monologue.”

“the floor dive was convincing.”

you smiled. “i like to keep it original.” then, a little quieter, “you’ve been busy lately.”

his smile faltered just slightly.

you waved it off. “no, seriously. you’ve got fans and press and a glam team. i’ve got... banana milk.”

“sounds like a solid support system.”

you laughed, but your smile faded when he glanced down the hall. his team was already moving.

“you should go,” you said. “hair and makeup’s waiting.”

he hesitated. “you sure?”

you nodded. “go be famous.”

he looked at you like he wanted to say more. but then he just nodded, and walked away.

you watched him leave. then looked down at your shoe.

still sticky.

“tragic,” you whispered.

a few days later

the vending machine blinked angrily at the girl in front of it.

the girl—probably thirteen, maybe fourteen—had her tiny fists clenched and was glaring up at the machine like it had insulted her ancestors.

you crouched beside her, trying not to laugh. “did the evil robot eat your money again?”

“yes!” she huffed. “i pressed the peach drink but it gave me black coffee! that’s not even close!”

you gasped, clutching your chest. “that’s betrayal. you’ve just been betrayed.”

“i don’t even like coffee! It tastes like burnt sadness!”

you dramatically nodded. “we must avenge you.”

she grinned. “you think I can sue?”

“only if you’ve got a lawyer. or at least a really angry eonni (older sister) .”

she tilted her head. “you’ll do.”

at that moment, you kicked the machine gently (totally just a little tap, you’re not trying to go viral for violence). and... silence. the drink didn't fall. awkward.

the little girl snorted, holding her laugh with all her might.

you smiled, laughing under your breath and kicking the vending machine again, a little love tap and—miraculously—the peach drink clunked down into the bin.

both of you screamed.

“victory!!” “you’re a vending machine master!”

you laughed. “told you i can save you.”

a low chuckle behind you made you freeze.

you turned, slow-motion style, to see sunghoon standing there with a water bottle. heeseung stood beside him, sweaty from practice and grinning.

heeseung gave a thumbs-up. “iconic vending machine diplomacy.”

sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “burnt sadness, huh?”

you stood up straight. “i—she didn’t mean—”

“she meant it,” the girl said proudly, sipping her drink. “she says it tastes like regret in a cup.”

you stared at her, betrayed. “you were supposed to have my back.”

sunghoon laughed. like, really laughed. the kind that made your stomach twist a little.

“didn’t know you were mentoring now.”

you shrugged. “somebody’s gotta fight for the little ones. didn't know you were keeping tabs on me now.”

heeseung grabbed his drink, still chuckling. “i’m hanging out here more often.”

sunghoon lingered, eyes still on you. “you’re good with kids.”

you blinked. “oh.”

he smiled, soft and small, before heading off. “try not to start a vending machine riot next time.”

you stood there, stuck.

the girl tugged your sleeve. “...you like him, huh?”

you looked down at her. “no idea what you’re talking about.”

she narrowed her eyes. “peach tea never lies.”

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

“i feel like i keep seeing her everywhere lately,” sunghoon said later, on their way back to the practice room.

heeseung gave him a look. “more like you keep noticing her.”

sunghoon didn’t answer right away. just stared ahead, thoughtful.

heeseung nudged him. “you’re smiling, dude.”

sunghoon wiped the smile off his face immediately. “no, i’m not.”

“you’re so obvious.”

he didn’t say anything for a while.

but later, he’d find himself glancing down hallways a little more. wondering if banana milk girl would be there.

just... wondering.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

you hadn’t cried in weeks. not since training got serious.

but tonight? the moment the studio door clicked shut behind you, the tears came.

your hands were sore. your voice was gone. and no matter how hard you trained, you still felt behind—like everyone else had a head start and you were just catching up, slipping on a treadmill that wouldn't stop.

the mirror felt cruel. it always did when you weren’t at your best.

and then—

a knock. soft, careful.

you wiped your face fast, spinning around like nothing happened. “practice room’s full. try the one on the second floor.”

“already did.”

your breath hitched.

sunghoon stood in the doorway, hoodie pulled over his head, cap low. casual. unbothered. he should be prepping for stage performances, meetings, shoots—life after debut.

but he was here.

you blinked. “aren’t you like, super busy?”

he shrugged, stepping in. “don’t tell my manager.”

you let out a small laugh. it cracked.

he sat beside you like he belonged there. like no time had passed.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he said softly.

“i’ve been busy.”

“so have i.”

you didn’t say anything.

he nudged you. “talk to me.”

you bit your cheek. “what’s there to talk about?”

he looked at you, really looked at you.

“you’re scared.”

you looked away. “i’m not.”

“you are.” he reached out, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. his fingers lingered just a second longer. “i was too.”

you met his eyes. they weren’t teasing or smug. just... warm.

“hoon, i’m the last trainee to enter and they expect me to keep up with girls who’ve been doing this for years. i feel like i’m constantly proving that i deserve to be here.”

“you don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

“except everyone.”

he took your hand—held it. his thumb brushed yours like he wasn’t even thinking about it.

“you think i didn’t feel the same before i debuted?” he asked, voice hushed. “you think i don’t still feel like that sometimes? like i’m faking it, or like i’m not enough?”

you stared at him.

“you’re more than enough,” he said. “you were the only one who saw me before all this. let me be that for you now.”

and just like that, the tears were back. but you didn’t hide this time.

you leaned into him. he let you. his arms came around you like a shield, like home, like this was always meant to happen.

“this doesn’t mean i’m falling for you or anything,” you mumbled into his chest.

he smiled against your hair. “sure. and i’m not hopelessly in love with you either.” it was a lie.

ONE MONTH LATER

your body ached. your shirt clung to your back. the playlist on the studio speakers had looped for the third time now, but you weren’t done yet. not even close.

you wiped sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand, hair tied up haphazardly like your last brain cell had done it for you. two turns, down, pop—reset. again.

then the studio door opened.

you blinked, already preparing to snap at whoever thought now was a great time to interrupt—only to freeze.

sunghoon.

cap on. mask half-down. that dumb post-debut glow still clinging to him like glitter. he looked like a k-drama lead showing up in your lowest moment with no right to be that good-looking.

you squinted. “are you... lost?”

he didn’t smile.

he stepped in, quiet. closed the door behind him. took a breath.

“go on,” you said, gesturing vaguely at your unfinished choreo. “you came to judge my pirouettes or what?”

he scratched the back of his neck. “actually…”

pause.

“i wanted to ask you something.”

you raised a brow, waiting. arms crossed. heart racing.

“do you...” he hesitated, then stepped closer. “wanna go out with me?”

you blinked.

was he out of his damn mind?

you looked down at yourself. hair in chaos. sweat-drenched shirt. left sock halfway sliding off. “like... right now?”

he laughed softly, but there was a nervous tremble to it. “no. i mean... soon. when you’re free. like, a real date. just us.”

you stared at him. the air felt too quiet.

he looked serious. almost nervous. not like the usual sarcastic, biting sunghoon who annoyed you daily—this was the one who held your hand when no one else was looking. the one who showed up when you were breaking.

you let out a long sigh, walking past him to grab your water bottle. you took a sip. gave him a look.

“sunghoon,” you said flatly, “you realize i’m one month away from possibly debuting through a televised hunger game for trainees, right?”

he gave you a sheepish smile. “yeah.”

“and you’re busy being an idol or whatever.”

“also yeah.”

you raised an eyebrow. “then why now?”

he didn’t flinch. “because I like you.”

…

you stared at him. like, really stared. and god—he was really standing there. asking you out while you looked like a dehydrated noodle. and it should’ve been dumb. it should’ve been ill-timed.

but he meant it. that was the stupid part.

you sighed again, dramatic. wiped your face.

then, you looked up at him with a small smirk.

“fine,” you said, shrugging. “one date.”

his eyes lit up.

“but if it sucks, I’m ghosting you.”

“deal.”

you narrowed your eyes. “and you’re paying.”

“always.”

“and no kissing—unless I say so.”

he grinned. “so you will say so.”

“shut up,” you muttered, tossing your towel at him—and missing.

ONE WEEK LATER

first secret date

you almost laughed when you saw him.

cap pulled down low. hoodie up. mask on. sunglasses too. like he was about to rob the convenience store instead of take you on a date.

he looked left, then right. then spotted you.

and you—well.

you were in simple jeans, a tucked white tee, lowkey makeup, and your hair done just enough to look effortlessly good. no flash. no glam. just enough to look soft and gorgeously dangerous.

sunghoon blinked under his cap. “wow.”

you tilted your head. “wow?”

“i thought we said casual.”

you smirked. “i am casual.”

he blinked again. “casual doesn’t usually knock the air outta someone’s lungs.”

you bit your lip to hide the smile. “then breathe better.”

he laughed under his mask, tugging it down slightly as you both started walking. he had chosen a small side street near the han river, early evening, sun soft in the sky. not too crowded. not too exposed.

it wasn’t fancy. no candlelit tables. no bouquets. just two kids sneaking time together between a debut and a dream.

and somehow, it was perfect.

“are you really allowed out?” you asked, nudging him. “i don’t wanna be the reason you get exiled from your group.”

he scoffed. “i’ve snuck out for worse.”

you squinted. “like what?”

“like ramen.”

you cackled. “you’re risking your career for cup noodles?”

“if they’re spicy enough, yeah.”

you rolled your eyes, but your hand brushed against his as you walked. he noticed. he didn’t say anything—but he didn’t move it away either.

you felt the heat rise to your cheeks.

later, on a park bench near the river

you sat next to him, knees barely touching. the sun had dipped lower now, painting the water gold.

he was quiet.

so were you.

until—

“you know,” he said, “i wasn’t sure this would work.”

you looked at him.

“i’m busy. you’re about to be busier. and all the pressure—fans, survival shows, cameras…” he exhaled. “we’re barely even normal people anymore.”

you nodded slowly, biting your lip. “so… why’d you ask me out then?”

he looked at you.

“because even when I’m not sure about anything else… I’m sure about you.”

you blinked.

okay. rude.

he was not allowed to drop lines like that while you were emotionally vulnerable, sweaty from practice last night, and wearing your second best sneakers.

you tried to play it off, heart punching your ribs. “you’ve been practicing that in the mirror, huh?”

he grinned. “nah. you’re just that inspiring.”

you stared at him, lips twitching.

then, casually, you reached over and hooked your pinky with his.

that was it.

that was all.

he squeezed gently.

after the date — back at the dorms

you got a text. just as you slipped into the trainee dorm’s hallway.

sunghoon: home safe? you: just got in. you? sunghoon: still outside. walking around like a loser who just got his crush to say yes you: you are a loser. but like. a cute one i guess sunghoon: say that again i’ll screenshot it you: goodnight, hoonie sunghoon: night, pretty girl.

you stared at the screen, face flushed.

then threw your pillow at the bed and let out a scream into your blanket.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

you barely made it through the last eight-count. your legs were jelly, your ponytail was falling apart, and your throat was screaming for water—but more than anything, your brain was fried. you didn’t even notice someone step into the practice room until you heard a low, familiar voice.

“psst. trainee of the year.”

you turned, and there he was.

sunghoon.

with a hoodie pulled up and a mischievous glint in his eye… holding a snack-sized bag of chips and a chocolate bar like they were illegal contraband.

you blinked. “hoon—what are you doing here?!”

he smirked. “looking out for someone who forgot how to rest.”

“i’m on a diet,” you whispered, eyeing the chocolate like it was your long-lost lover.

he stepped closer. “then pretend i didn’t bring snacks. just come with me for five minutes.”

you followed him to the vending machine hallway—dead center between the boys’ and girls’ dorm floors. no cctv. no trainers.

just buzzing machines, flickering fluorescent light, and the sound of your heart thudding louder than it should.

he leaned against the wall, opening the chocolate and breaking off a square.

you stared at it.

“i said i’m on a diet.”

“i said i don’t care.” he offered it again.

you took it. obviously.

a beat of silence passed. then another. you sighed.

“i’ve never dated someone in secret before,” you mumbled, fingers fiddling with the wrapper. “do you think it’ll work out?”

sunghoon didn’t hesitate.

“I’m actually an expert in secrets…” he said, tone suddenly lower, softer.

he leaned in, closing the already-small space between you.

“...especially dating.”

your breath hitched.

he was close—too close—his scent all cozy detergent and warm skin, his lips ghosting a little too close to your cheek.

“i’ll teach you how.”

you were in the middle of laughing—like, full-on cracking up with the other trainees in the dance room. someone made a joke about one of the trainers being secretly in love with their reflection, and you had tears in your eyes.

you didn’t even realize your phone buzzed until you were finally alone, tying your hair up again, everyone else already off to shower or sleep.

sunghoon: u free? sunghoon: dance room. come before i fall asleep on the floor.

you stared. then blinked. then immediately bolted.

the second you opened the door to his group’s practice room, you saw him sitting there on the floor, back against the mirror, head tilted up like he’d been waiting hours.

he looked up.

“hey.”

just that one word and you were melting. it’s been weeks. actual weeks. and yet, there he was—same hoodie, same tired smile, same boy who made you forget how to breathe.

you walked in slowly. “so you miss me, huh?”

he scoffed, but the smile said it all.

“i’m not gonna lie. i might’ve forgotten what you looked like.”

“rude.”

“well, i remember now.” his eyes swept over you.

you rolled your eyes, trying not to combust.

you sat next to him, shoulders barely touching, and it was quiet for a second. not awkward. just… warm.

“you’ve been working hard,” you said quietly.

“you too,” he murmured. “i see it in the practice logs.”

you raised a brow. “you stalk me?”

he smirked. “maybe.”

he stood up a little while later, stretched, then turned to you again.

“come here.”

“why?”

“just—” he waved you over.

you got up, brushing imaginary dust off your sweatpants. “if you prank me, i swear—”

“i’m not. just come.”

he walked backward, tugging you gently by the wrist until you both slipped behind the tall mirror divider that split the practice room—probably put there for storage or stage simulation. barely any light. no one would check there.

you opened your mouth to ask what is this, but he was already leaning in.

and then—

footsteps.

two voices. familiar.

heeseung. jake.

you froze. sunghoon cursed under his breath, then pulled you closer—closer—until your back hit the mirror and his body shielded you completely.

your heart did a full somersault.

“shhh,” he whispered, breath fanning across your ear. “they’re just grabbing their stuff.”

heeseung’s voice echoed faintly. “you think sunghoon left already?”

“probably. dude’s always staying too long.”

you held your breath, heartbeat racing. he was so close. his hands rested on either side of your head, and he kept glancing down at you like he might actually—

once the door shut and the voices faded, silence fell.

you stared at him.

he stared right back.

then he grinned.

“i wasn’t gonna kiss you, you know.”

“…right.”

“…but now i kind of want to.”

you raised a brow. “you sure about that? we haven’t even had a second date.”

“so?” he whispered, leaning in again. “we’re behind a mirror. does it count?”

you were this close to shoving him playfully, but your breath hitched when he tilted his head just enough.

his lips brushed yours.

soft. tentative.

dangerous.

but then you kissed him back.

just once. quick. stupid. electric.

you pulled away with a shaky breath. “you’re so annoying.”

“you like it.”

“i hate it.”

he grinned. “i’ll teach you how.”

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

the call started with you lying flat on your bed, hair down, face fresh from a shower, hoodie oversized and barely clinging to one shoulder.

“you look tired,” you mumbled, frowning into the screen.

sunghoon was on his dorm bed too, hair pushed back with a headband, cheeks still flushed from rehearsal. “you look pretty.”

you blinked. “that’s not the point—”

“but it’s true,” he said, smiling. “also. i am tired. i miss you.”

you flopped your head dramatically against your pillow. “ugh, i miss you too. stupid idol schedules.”

he laughed. then sighed. then just stared at you for a second longer than necessary.

the silence was comfortable. until your phone buzzed.

you glanced at the notification. trainee gc.

someone: you looked cool in practice today someone else: your form’s improved a lot lately and then: wanna hangout sometime? just chill, talk about training n stuff?

sunghoon raised a brow. “who’s that?”

you snorted, a little too amused. “hm? just the group chat.”

“your phone’s lighting up a lot,” he said, too casually.

you tilted your screen to the side, showing the flood of not-so-subtle messages.

sunghoon squinted. “that guy. the one who complimented your jumps last time. he’s the one who sent the hangout thing, right?”

you blinked slowly. “hoon. are you jealous?”

“no,” he lied, immediately, like a liar.

“you so are.”

“i’m not,” he repeated, suddenly invested in adjusting the blanket on his lap.

you smirked. “you’re sulking.”

he didn’t respond.

“hoon~”

“i’m just saying,” he said, voice all pouty now, “he doesn’t even stretch properly before practice. what does he know.”

you wheezed.

“oh my god.”

“i’m just—i’m just watching out for you, okay?” he said, flustered, biting his lip. “i don’t like how they act around you.”

you rolled onto your back, giggling into your sleeve.

“you’re adorable.”

“no, i’m serious,” he grumbled. “i can’t even talk to you in public, but they’re out here throwing compliments like confetti.”

you peeked at the screen again. his lips were pursed. eyes narrowed. sulk level: maximum.

you reached out like you could actually pinch his cheek through the screen.

“you know you’re the only one i want to hear compliments from, right?”

his gaze softened.

“...really?”

“really,” you said, smiling. “but also, you’re kinda hot when you’re jealous. not gonna lie.”

he hid his face in his hoodie.

“stop.”

“never.”

you grinned.

“hoooon,” you whined through the screen, “can’t you just teleport here? like now? please? i’ll pay.”

he snorted. “what with? ramen and protein bars?”

“yes.”

he smiled, soft and lazy, eyes crinkling. “i wish i could.”

“me too.”

your voice had dropped, just a little. tired. yearning. and his fingers twitched like he wished he could reach through the screen and pull you into his chest.

but then—

“hyung! dinner’s ready!”

jungwon’s voice, right outside his door.

sunghoon groaned, rolling onto his side with a quiet, “just five more minutes!”

“are you still on call with y/n?” jungwon asked, then cracked the door open like he already knew the answer.

sunghoon quickly angled the phone to his chest, like a whole dad caught texting his crush in middle school.

but jungwon just leaned in and waved toward the screen. “hi, y/n!”

“oh my god,” you said, hiding your face with a hand, laughing. “hi wonnie.”

then sunoo appeared in the hallway too, leaning over jungwon’s shoulder. “tell her i say hi too!”

“i did already!” jungwon argued.

niki popped in last, chewing on something. “you’re not slick, hyung. we all know you’ve been heart-eyes emoji for like, three months now.”

sunghoon nearly died on the spot.

“get out,” he hissed.

“we’re going,” sunoo grinned. “but don’t kiss through the screen or anything. the wi-fi’s lagging.”

and they vanished.

you wheezed. “your roommates are literally chaos.”

“they’re menaces.”

“but cute menaces.”

“fine,” he mumbled, trying not to smile again. “but i’m the cutest, right?”

“you’re the cutest and the hottest.”

“and you’re the reason my heart’s doing cardio without moving.”

you blinked. “that was so cheesy.”

“i know,” he grinned.

a few nights later – secret car hangout edition

he picked you up in a manager’s car, hoodie low, cap on, mask covering most of his face. when you slid into the front seat, your eyes met and for a second neither of you said anything.

then you both burst into giggles like schoolkids sneaking out past curfew.

“you’re insane,” you whispered, shutting the door.

“you’re prettier in person,” he whispered back.

“you’re biased.”

“i’m in love.”

you froze. blinked. stared at him.

he blinked back, wide-eyed. “i mean—i—i said that out loud, didn’t i.”

you bit your lip, suddenly warm.

“yeah,” you said. “but… same.”

his hand reached for yours between the seats. fingers laced. thumbs brushing.

you two just sat there for a while. soft music playing. headlights passing. the world rushing around you, but in here, time stilled.

“you’re leaving again tomorrow?” you asked.

he nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. “fanmeet. then music show. then filming.”

“you’re everywhere.”

“except here,” he murmured. “with you.”

your heart tugged.

“then make the most of tonight.”

he turned to look at you.

eyes locked.

“yeah?” he whispered.

you nodded.

then you climbed over the center console like it was nothing, and next thing you knew, you were on his lap, hoodie and all, faces close, lips brushing. giggling quietly, almost getting caught when a van drove past and made the headlights flash inside.

you kissed like the world didn’t know.

you laughed like no one could hear.

and when he pulled back, forehead pressed to yours, breath warm, he whispered—

“i’ll teach you how.”

then just like that, you two were back to kissing. he kept a hand on your chin to angle your head in the perfect position. his tongue slipping in your lips, tasting you like he'll never get a chance to again.

and that's when you two made out recklessly in the car, breath heavy, and in love.

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

the survival show started before either of you could even process it.

you were waking up at 5 a.m., rehearsing until midnight, crash-napping in dance studios, living off energy drinks and willpower.

sunghoon was across the world—london, tokyo, la, award shows, en-oclock, fanmeets, and endless nights of soundchecks.

the phone calls slowed.

the messages became one-word replies.

then one-sided.

then nothing.

but not because you stopped caring.

it was just life.

it was debut season.

dreams were happening in real time.

you both were flying so fast that you didn’t even realize you were flying past each other.

months later

you were back. not just in seoul, not just in the same time zone—but here.

and you were debuting.

you made it into the final group.

four girls. you were the visual, the ace, the one people couldn’t stop looking at.

and the moment you saw his name pop up on your schedule—same venue, different floors—you knew.

you had to see him.

so you did.

your steps were slow but steady. nerves in your chest like fireworks waiting to go off.

he looked up when you entered the hallway. paused.

you smiled.

his mouth parted. just a little.

then you ran—fast, too fast—and wrapped your arms around his middle like you were afraid he’d disappear again.

his arms came around you instantly. like muscle memory. like home.

“i made it,” you whispered into his chest, voice trembling.

he didn’t say anything at first. just held you tighter.

then—

“i know,” he said quietly.

you blinked up at him.

and he smiled, eyes a little glassy, cheeks a little pink. “i saw every performance.”

you laughed through your tears. “you did?”

“mhm.” he nodded. “even the boot camp episode. and your level test. and the one where you cried after your vocals cracked—”

“shut up.”

“i cried too.”

“shut up.”

“i saved the fancam.”

you slapped his shoulder, but your grin couldn’t be wiped off.

“and i saw yours,” you whispered, pressing your palm to his chest like you could feel all the places he grew while you were away. “every award. every encore. every fancam. you were so… amazing.”

“you too,” he murmured. “we both made it.”

and for a second, it didn’t matter that the world was watching.

that you had bodyguards and managers and contracts now.

that there were rules and rumors and cameras always watching.

because right here, in this small hallway of a massive building—

it was just the two of you again.

“missed you,” you said.

“teach me how to get over you,” he whispered.

and you shook your head.

“no,” you whispered back. “i’ll teach you how to keep me.”

a/n: posting part 2 tomorrow 5pm kst ! if you want to be tagged, please reblog so you can be added (that would help me much too hh). i already have a reserved taglist, so if you want to register, just click my forms :>> loveyallsosomuchh

chapter 2 is posted !

<to read next chapter tap the underlined>

taglist: @kpoplover-19 @kpoppiesofinternet

[lateatnewyork]

SECRETS…? | 000

pairing: minho (xo kitty) x rich!reader

info: summer of soft launching.

fc: luv_jayne and other randoms

info: dae and kitty are together, set in season two except this was written before season two came out so bare with me.

korean in italics

part zero | part one

minhom

liked by theynln, quincyshebazian and 832,491 others she pushed me even after i gave her a kiss 😔 view comments

damimoon when am i going to get to meet her? ➥ minhom shes forcing me to bring her soon ➥ damimoon i already like her quincyshebazian dude do we not get to know ➥ quincyshebazian and why is yn ln in ur likes ➥ minhom our moms worked on set together kimdaeheon didnt even tell me? ➥ minhom cant have press finding out kittycovey finally someone to make u happy yuri where are you? ➥ minhom i was in vegas, tokyo now italy then bali ➥ yuri well that’s interesting minhofangirl WHAT NO lulu did we mean nothing to you ➥ minhom IT WAS ONE DATE

koreagossip

liked by yuri, theynln and 1,285,738 others YN LN, only daughter to the son of Korea’s most influential family and daughter of Phillipines most powerful heritages, joins Korean Independent School of Seoul. view comments

ynlover YN MY QUEEN user78 IM GONNA BE IN THE SAME COUNTRY AS YN LN user65 I LOVE YN

baddest eva: bruh did you see the caption they done listed my entire family line yurine: this is why i like that ur my best friend baddest eva: what yurine: ur more famous than me baddest eva: jugeullae? yurine: anyways, you and minho huh? baddest eva: i was gonna tell you but i was too busy yurine: busy doing what? making out baddest eva: maybe baddest eva: i think we might keep it quiet for now yurine: i get it but at least ur not gay baddest eva: LMAO ILY YURI baddest eva: but i gtg minho n i are flying to bali today

theynln

liked by minhom, baesuzy and 1,843,921 others catch me in vegas, catch me in tokyo… 🤠 view comments

yuri THIS IS WORSE THAN ME baesuzy can’t wait to see u in seoul ➥ theynln YAYAY user98 deep down shes just a girl ➥ theynln 💪 🎀 kimsohyun BRO LET ME IN ON THE SECRET?? seoinguk your parents are not gonna like this ➥ theynln shhhh dont be a snitch

“arent i so clever” i say to minho pointing at my phone, he grabs my phone then throws it onto the bed and pulls me close.

“you have this beautiful man right in front of you and you’re asking him if you’re clever?” his british accent is so thick and it raises goosebumps all over my arms.

“you’re so full of yourself” i smile and wrap my arms around your neck.

“what would you prefer i do?” i say gazing up at minho.

i see his adam’s apple bob and i can tell he's nervous, i gently scratch my nails at the back of his head and it’s like that triggers something, the next second his lips are connected to mine.

minhom

liked by damimoon, yuri and 839,374 others idk i might keep her, she takes pretty good pics view comments

yuri thank god you only have another five days ➥ minhom a lot can happen in five days quincyshebazian ok i know who it is ➥ minhom WHAT HOW kimdaeheon bro just tell me even Q knows now kittycovey WHEN CAN I MEET HER ➥ minhom how about never?

“minho dont be mean” i scold him when i read his comment to kitty.

“whatever you say,” he huffs.

theynln

liked by damimoon, parkboyoung and 938,599 others im thankful for my parents, my friends, my boyfriend and tinted windows view comments

yuri 🤮 ➥ theynln you’re just a hater seoinguk so your parents know now ➥ theynln thanks snitch madisonmiller BRUH U GUYS ARE SO CUTE ➥ theynln I CANT WAIT TO SEE U

teenvogue

liked by minhom, theynln and 1,739,777 others Photoshoot with YN LN before the semester starts. view comments

user87 um why is minho in the likes ➥ user91 cos theyre friends ?? ynlover SHES SO PRETTY BRO iluvyn in another life this could be me user12 how is she the same age as me

minho and i had separated the night before because there was no chance that we could be able to walk into school together.

baby 💗: hey when are you coming to school baddest eva: soon, i can’t find my shoes baby 💗: you might have left those here baddest eva: im gonna kms baby 💗: dont do that whos gonna give me kisses baddest eva: right how could i leave you, manchild baby 💗: i am not a manchild baddest eva: keep telling yourself that

after a couple of minutes, i find another pair to wear and head to school.

the second i reach im happy that yuri is already there waiting for me, with minho, a really energetic girl, and two guys.

“yuri!” i squeal and hug her tightly. “i’m so happy we convinced our parents to let me come to k.i.s.s”.

“me too” yuri sighs.

“let me introduce you to everyone; you know minho,” my hand stiffens as his strong familiar touch engulfs my hand, our eyes flit to each others and we pull apart as if we were burnt.

yuri clears her throat and goes on “thats dae,” i wave and give a small smile, “i heard you helped yuri a lot,”

dae smiles back and before i can say anything, the energetic girl bursts “i’m katherine song covey, kitty to my friends, yuri has told me so much about you!”.

i laugh as she wraps her arms around me and i look at minho scoffing; my gaze hardens for a split second and my smile returns when he drops his malicious face.

once kitty has stopped hugging me, yuri goes to introduce the last person but i cut her off “Q, i know we’re insta friends,”.

he smiles and gives me a quick hug, before we head inside.

kitty comes up beside me, “so you and minho?” i choke on my spit.

“what?” i ask clearing my throat.

“you guys are hiding your relationship” kitty says a little bit too loudly.

“lower your voice” i hiss at her. “how do you know?”

“well for starters, i saw your phone earlier, sorry, it had a picture of you with a guy, and then i see minho with a similar lock screen but this time you can't see the girls face but shes wearing the same thing as you,” she explains.

i groan, remembering when i told minho that matching lock screens were too obvious. before i can say anything else kitty speaks up, “don’t worry i won’t tell anyone”

i sigh in relief “thanks”

“we’re rooming together,” yuri comes up to kitty and i.

“you’re staying at school?” i repeat it twice remembering kitty cant speak korean.

“i convinced my parents, since you’re here,” yuri says.

“i guess this means you’re officially invited to the group chat” kitty says excited.

new follower ! ‘ iluvcatsnmybf ’

iluvcatsnmybf

liked by iluvdogsnmygf, imyurich and 382 others first week at kiss kachow 💥 view comments

iluvdogsnmygf ur so cute ➥ xokitty give her a second shes giggling at her phone q_werty WHEN DID YURI AND MINHO HUG ➥ iluvcatsnmybf when they were arguing over who i love more ➥ iluvdogsnmygf obviously me ➥ imyurich i’ve known her since she burped after every meal dae_priv who was gonna tell me about yn and minho ➥ iluvcatsnmybf i thought minho told you ➥ iluvdogsnmygf i forgot

boba fiends

dae is my bae: does anyone know where kitty is baby 💗: no baddest eva: no q for quiche: where are both of you yurine: kicked me out of the dorm baddest eva: no i politely asked you to hang out with juliana kitkat: im safe guys baby 💗: great leave us alone now

“minho” i say lowly in a warning my eyes glaring down at him from my position in his lap.

baby 💗: please dae is my bae: did he just say please yurine: yn prolly made him baddest eva: anyway… movie night in the best dorm ever tonight?

“do we have to have a movie night with them?” minho complains.

“come on it’ll be fun,” i say “i’ll give you so many kisses,”.

i kiss the corner of his lips, then his cheek, then his nose. then finally i pulled back to stare at him and gasp when he grabs me and locks our lips together.

my hands instinctively run up his chest and delve into his hair.

we pull apart, needy for air; we’re about to go for a second kiss when there’s a knock at the door and the unmistakable voice of auntie jina.

my eyes widen, as i jump out of his lap and shove a shirtless minho into the bedroom and slam the door shut.

“yn hi im looking for yuri” auntie jina says as she steps in.

“shes not here right now, i can tell her youu came by though,” i say rubbing my sweaty palms.

“thank you,” jina says as she turns around to leave the room.

“and you can tell whatever boy is in the bedroom he can come out,”

my jaw drops and i start stuttering but shes already left.

a/n so rhis is definitely a series jusr patiently bare with me luv u guys

[plethorawrites]

I love your fics sm 🩷🩷 Could I request a f2l au with Clark, where him and reader are super touchy n comfortable with eachother that everyone thinks theyre dating even though they say they aren’t. Then to stop the rumours, reader goes on a date w someone else and Clark gets mad jealous? Could also be nsfw if you want 🙏

Yes, yes, yes, I absolutely can! (Idk if this will live up to your expectations because it's like 2 am, but I hope it's okay!)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Clark Kent grew up in the Midwest, obviously. In doing so, he was raised to be hospitable, polite, and yeah, he's a little touchy. It was how his parents were with him, always hugging him and swinging him around and how he was with you, always ruffling your hair and letting you lean on him when you were tired or bored.

You were his best friend, like you had always been since childhood. He remembered all the times you fell asleep on him during movies and made him carry you when the shoes he told you not to buy started to hurt your feet. You recalled the times you'd trim his hair for him or smack him in the back of the head for doing something stupid.

And of course, there were the times where you lost your aunt and he consoled you, holding you tightly and bringing you comfort only he ever seemed to manage. You brought him comfort too, though, when his powers grew and he panicked. You were the only one who could calm him down, who he trusted to come near him when he felt like he couldn't control himself. That stupid super hearing made everything ache, but your voice always brought him back.

Because you were his best friend. Even if half the school thought you two were dating. He never quite knew why. Guys and girls could be friends, couldn't they? Not everything was romantic.

Except...then he saw you, talking to one of the football players, the ones you always mock and loath.

"Uh, no," you told him, rummaging through your locker. "I don't have a date for prom yet. Probably just gonna go with Clark."

His super hearing picked up the conversation from down the hallway and he was relieved to hear you turn the guy down, until he kept pressing you.

"I thought you've been trying to convince everyone you two are just friends?" He teased.

"We are," you reminded him, finally pulling your books from your locker.

"Well then why not go with me?" He suggested, taking you books, holding them so you didn't have to. "I mean if he was smart he would have already been putting a corsage on your wrist. But since the guy's clearly an idiot...maybe I could have the honor?"

You didn't like hearing anyone call Clark that, of course, but you knew he made a valid point. "I don't know," you muttered, leaning against your locker as it shut. "We go to most of these together and it's sort of tradition for us—"

You were cut off as he brushed a piece of hair out of your face and Clark's jaw clenched from all the way down the hall, the subtle gesture sending a rush of frustration through him. Who the hell did this guy think he was to have the nerve to touch you like that?

"Maybe it's time for a new tradition," he suggested, tucking the piece behind your ear and letting the back of his knuckle gently graze your jaw. "One where I get to compliment you and you hopefully give me a smile for it?" You huffed, your teeth barring slightly. "Yeah, like one of those..." He mumbled. "It's pretty."

Clark's fingers dug into the metal of his locker door, bending it without even realizing it. When he thought it couldn't get any worse, you nodded.

"Yeah, alright," you agreed. "I'll go with you. But I expect a corsage now that you've brought it up."

He grinned. "In whatever color you want, baby," he promised, tilting his head towards the hallway. "Can I walk you to class?"

Baby. Baby? Was he joking? There was no way you were actually buying into his bullshit, were you?

"I already said yes, you can stop flirting."

"Where's the fun in that?" He teased. "Besides, I already have your books."

That was true, you supposed. With a slight shrug you took his arm, walking down the hallway to him towards your next class.

Clark didn't know if it was on purpose or if you were just messing with him, trying to get back at him for something he didn't even know he did, but either way you didn't even look at him when you walked by.

That's when the hinges broke off his locker.

Everyone, aside from you and your date, who had already walked off, abruptly stopped what they were doing to stare. He cleared his throat, looking down and walking away quickly.

[ivysprophecy]

please please please

word count; 1644

summary; turning off your phone and shutting out the world isnt the best way to handle your problems but its what you do. and jjs had enough of it.

warnings; i dont think there is any? mentions of anxiety attacks? tagging @murdockcastleslut @kimoralov3 @arkofblake

masterlist

prev. | next

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

"well hey there stranger"

i turn from my book to look behind me, seeing the boy id been actively avoiding for the past two days. carrying his surf board.

i shouldve remembered he'd come here to surf. i just wouldn't have guessed this early in the morning.

"hey jayj."

"oh thats all i get? 'hey'? no 'i miss you so much'?" he sets his board in the sand taking a seat next to me on my blanket.

guess im not finishing my book today. "oh my god jj! youre here! ive been dyingggg to talk to you! i cant believe youre really in here in the flesh! there. better?"

"oh dont be like that- cmon mama whatd i do?" i feel bad with the genuine concern on his face.

okay was ghosting him out of nowhere awful of me? probably. i just didnt know what else to do.

after that night at the bonfire i realized that with my feelings for him growing it wasnt a good idea for us to continue our casual... something. it played with both our emotions. it isnt fair to either of us.

especially after his 'i love you'. that really did it in for me.

"you didnt do anything jj. trust. i just... ive been in a funk. needed some me time thats all."

"well... do you still need your 'me time'?" he looked so hopeful. how could i say yes? where jj maybank is concerned ill easily fold every time. "cause you havent answered my texts so i couldn't ask you to surf with me this morning."

"... i dont have my board. but i suppose i can hang out with you for a little while."

"im honored," he smiles laying back on his elbows, "but really. are you good? i like to think i know you pretty well and this whole MIA thing was not normal."

turning to face him more, i sigh, what the fuck am i supposed to say? 'yea im just so in love with you i cant be around you' yea that would go over really well.

"i dont know. just gotta lot of stuff goin on. you dont have to worry though. im good."

"well do ya wanna talk about it?"

"trust me jay you dont wanna hear about my problems. theyre trivial at best."

"what are friends for if not for listening?" he nudges me with his shoulder urging me to talk. i really dont think i can do this. i was not prepared.

"youre not a very good listener," i point out, to which he immediately takes faux offense. jaw dropped and everything.

"oh thats just not true! i can listen!"

i run a hand through my tangled hair in frustration. this cannot be how i tell him. it just cant. i came here to get away from thinking about this and now hes right here in front of me acting so unserious while im spiraling.

"jj i really appreciate how eager you are to help me but its really not necessary. i didnt really prepare myself and its just too much-"

"prepare yourself? mama what the fuck are you talking about? does this have to do with that night after the bonfire? i mean obviously it does who am i kidding you havent talked to me since then. did i do something wrong? was- was it bad?" he leans in closer, lowering his voice thats laced with worry and guilt.

oh my god that is the absolute last thing i expected him to say. shit i really fucked this up. and honestly just not true.

"what? no! no jj you didnt do anything wrong and it was perfect. promise," i try to reassure him but i know deep down hes gonna over think this whole thing if i dont tell him straight up

i may love him but i never said he was the brightest in the bunch.

"okay so whats the problem?"

"the problem is that it was perfect," i cant help but let out a sigh before hiding my face in my hands as the words leave my mouth.

god my heart is racing, im not ready for this conversation. maybe if i pass out i wont have to. yea if he has to call an ambulance then we can avoid this all together. but an ambulance is also like five grand so...

shit.

"... youre mad at me because you had a good time?" his face contorted in a weird fixture of confusion.

"no! no- god youre so dense sometimes!"

"mama i dont have a fucking clue what youre saying! how does that make me stupid??"

i hide my face in my hands again trying to compose myself because what the fuck kind of confession is this?

"jj im avoiding you because ive been developing feelings for you and i cannot in good conscience keep being so casual with you and sleeping with you knowing this and i know that you do not want anything serious so i figured id just make it easier for the both of us and just take myself out of the situation entirely so that nothing bad happens and i cannot stop fucking talking so please for the love of god say something or do something because i feel like my heart is about to beat out of my chest and-"

oh my god im getting my book moment. he just kissed me to make me stop talking!!! oh my god hes kissing me.

is this where i kiss him back?

of course i kiss him back!! what the fuck!!? and oh my lord does it feel nice, so so so nice.

the way his tongue presses against mine, the way he cups my jaw and pulls me close to him. it was slow and confident and loving and everything he knows i like. his hands find my hips like muscle memory, pulling our bodies together, eventually having me on his lap. where he takes my hands and places them on his chest so i can feel his chest rise and fall with deep breaths.

“… mama you need to learn to breathe.”

“that’s not funny right now jj. im actively having an anxiety attack, horrible thing to say really."

"what're you so anxious about? i think we're havin' a pretty calm conversation, dont you?"

"i mean yea- but thats not-" he interrupts me while shaking his head with a shrug.

"listen, i get why youre a little nervous to say that, all things considered. but i thought it was pretty obvious i was into you, i just didnt wanna push you because you made your boundaries clear so i just took what i could get."

my eyes bug out of my head in shock. am i the dense one? i mean yea hes a really good kisser and i can feel he cares deeply about me when we do stuff and makes me feel safe and supported but that doesnt mean-

yea im stupid. he all but outright said it. actually he has. thats what started this panic.

"... okay yea- maybe. but you agreed they were a good idea so i figured that meant you wanted them there too. and i dont know- it just kind of got overwhelming and i didnt wanna be one of those girls who expects something huge after sex so... you know what i mean? and truthfully youre not what i expected for me."

"what does that mean?" his face showed a little offense.

"i just mean- ya know. for one i didnt expect to love my best friend. and then on top of that i didnt think id love a guy who was a treasure hunting, or- adrenaline junkie i should say."

he leans back putting some space between us, "is that supposed to be a bad thing?

"no! no jay im not saying this right- i-... youre a fighter and youre adventurous- a lot of things im not. if that makes sense. all im sayin is a few years ago i wouldnt have expected to be here. but i like it here. love it here even," i smile at him teasingly trying to ease his worries. the last thing i need is to say the wrong thing right now.

"so what youre saying is that you love me?"

"youre such an idiot."

'but do ya? because i think you do mama."

i roll my eyes chuckling, "yea. yea i do maybank," i press a small kiss to his cheek leaning back into him.

"does this mean youll let me make you a maybank mama?" his eyebrow was quirked up as he teases his question.

"lets not get ahead of ourselves. how about we take this slow?"

he looks down at my button up shirt i was wearing over my bikini to shield me from the ocean breeze, and i could tell he was debating taking it off of me. giving me that same look he always does.

"slow? mama i dont think we're gonna be too good at that."

"all 'm sayin is we dont have to jump the gun, we both admitted it, doesnt mean we gotta change the way we act or announce it or nothing. we can just enjoy this ourselves ya know?"

"you embarrassed of me mama?"

"not at all baby, just want you all to myself. is that too much to ask for?"

he shakes his head leaning up against me, our faces inches apart, "nah i dont think so. i like the sound of that."

i meet him the rest of the way pressing his lips to mine, smiling into it. pulling him as close as humanly possible. i need him under mind skin, in my blood, you know?

"i do too, so we agree? we'll keep this between us for now?"

"whatever you want mama. yes maam."

[inthewychelm]

having some thoughts inspired by @morganbritton132 posts where mrs. hagan considers steve her kid, and tommy is very much in love with steve (this is still steddie tho)

like thinking about tommy home from college for summer break, following a groundbreaking revelation about his sexuality. maybe he hooked up with a guy or two during his freshman year of college, but thats not the point. the revelation was that he was very much in love with his ex-best friend.

maybe on the drive home he starts thinking about patching things up with steve, and if that rekindles some feelings and a chance at something more...tommy gets a little hopeful as he approaches hawkins

he doesn't even really know if steve's still in town but he finds out as soon as he opens his front door to find the guy sitting in his living room.

steve is in his house...and flirting with his mom?

tommy steps further inside, setting down his bags, which neither steve or his mom react to. he watches steve flash his mom that stupid patented charm, and tommy feels his stomach swoon at the grin then very quickly begins to burn with jealousy because it's not aimed at him.

worse even, is the way his mom leans into his jokes and touches steve's arms, which tommy ogles the muscle as his arm is stretched across the back of the couch.

tommy doesnt know what to make of the scene in front of him, but he decides what ever it is needs to stop when his mom giggles, in a way that he's only ever heard to be caused by his dad.

when tommy clears his throat, they don't even have to audacity to look caught out. just a light flush on steve's cheeks.

steve leaves pretty soon after tommy interrupted whatever strangeness that was, but tommy keeps seeing him around even if its not in his house. and every time, he's chatting up tommy's mom.

he hears that steve's been working at the family video, and finally figures he wants to seek him out to talk. about what? tommy's not sure. a warning to quit flirting with his mom? a branch to be his friend again? a confession?

but it all goes to shit, when he walks in and finds his mother perched at the counter talking to steve. and he's got his head tucked to the side looking bashful and gorgeous. he's close enough that he could probably hear what theyre saying as they're not even whispering, but tommy can't really hear anything over his blood rushing to his head.

tommy briefly registers that steve looks up in his direction, a shy smile tugging at his lips. but tommy's too frustrated to pay him any mind, so he just tucks his tail between his legs and runs out the door bumping into the freak munson on his way out. he'll come up with another plan for next time.

tldr: tommy thinks steve is trying to date his mom, but actually tommy's mom is teasing steve about eddie and trying to get them together.

[artmsdoll]

hei's &team recs ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

: ̗̀➛ pls note that i do bias maki, jo, & euijoo so theres probably more of them but i love all the members lots and if u have any recs 4 me pls send them my way :3

: ̗̀➛ u can also find more recs that i reblogged on #heis recs⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ when im too lazy to add them here lol

(also also not all of these are full fics, some r just rambles or thoughts but theyre still yum:3)

✩ = smut ★ = not smut (might still be suggestive)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ot9 / multiple members

nsfw thoughts based on birth charts - 000-dotz ✩

~340 words per member, (all members but maki)

members accidentally touching u boobs when ur not wearing a bra (hyung line) - starrihan ★

~500-700 words per member, title is pretty self explanatory lol

members accidentally touching u boobs when ur not wearing a bra (maknae line) - starrihan ★

~500-700 words per member, pt two of this one ↑

fiirst time w/ members - nichoswrld ✩

~150 words per member, (all members but 05z + maki) these r so yum

misc nsfw thoughts - 1204love  ✩

~100 words per member, (all members but maki)

thoughts abt dry humping maki + 3 way w/ fuma & kei + taki munch + yuma breeding u + model reader + fashion designer nico = munch - kireilien  ✩

~740 words, SO MANY GOOD THOUGHTS IN ONE POST

oral w/ all of the teamies - multifandom fantasies ✩

~300 words per member, receiving + giving

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ euijoo

thoughts abt jujus pretty hands - ssongsboo ✩

~380 words, euijoo fingers u w/ his pretty hands

juno - ninisdollies ✩

~4600 words, basically ur so in love with ur bf and he fucks u so good

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ fuma

fuma thighs+ u being his pocket pussy - kirelien ✩

~550 words, fuma size kink huehuehue

fumas bsf asking him to take her virginity - starrihan ✩

~1800 words, title is pretty self explanatory:p

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ kei

experience - ninisdollies ✩

~4000 words, bsf kei teaches inexperienced reader a thing or two abt bjs... hands on… (so good u have 2 read this)

expert - ninisdollies ✩

~2200 words, sequel of this one ↑ but kei also returns the favor (iykwim)

athlete k titfucks u - starrihan ✩

~600 words, basically athlete k is obsessed w/ ur tits and he titfucks in the bathroom

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ nico

de-stressing - gunilsno1 ✩

~1080 words, nicholas x f!reader, rough sex w/ nico after he has a rough day

love looks pretty on u - nicholasluvbot ★

~850 words, nico is grumpy in the morning but not when u wake him up (this one is saurrr cute)

nasty girl - byshens ✩

~1700 words

publicity stunt - wenosgf ★✩

16 chapters, ex friends to lovers, reader is an idol, 16 chapters of good writing yalll

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ yuma

yuma is obsessed w/ his bratty cheerleader gf - ninisdollie ✩

~1700 words, yuma is a football player reader is a little bratty + they fuck😛

soaked - ninisdollie ✩

~1400 words, hot tub sex on family vacationnnn

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ jo

vcard loss w/ jo - starrihan ✩

~1500 words, jo being literally the sweetest while fucking u for the first time + giving u the best aftercare ever

another vcard loss w/ jo but on both parts - serapharua ✩

~1500 words, most wholesome smut ff ever, soft dom!jo + reader having their first time tgt

thoughts abt jo having rly cold hands and #putting them in u😛 -m1ssluvyoobot ✩

~235 words, pretty self explanatory hehe i 🫶 this writing

mutual masturbation - euijoosorangeslice ✩

~450 words

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ harua

idol!reader fucks rua in bathroom - camstqr ✩

~2300 words, quickie in the bathroom before a stage😛

hot makeout sesh w/ assertive harua - ejudollz ★

~360 words, i ❤️ dom!rua

face fucking backstage - leechqnsgirl ✩

~500 words, dom!rua fucks u backstage cause ur so hot

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ taki

hard thoughts (sub!taki) - starrihan ✩

~850 words

shower sex thoughts - ejudollz ✩

~300 words

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ maki

!!! if ur looking for the bestest nsfw maki content on here i would recommend kireiliens acc all her maki works are tooooo good (but here are some of my favs from her + others)

maki taking ur first time vvv seriously - kireilien ✩

~670 words, maki being the most caring ever, traffic light system:p

thoughts on kissing maki - turnipfizzle ★

~300 words, so many cute thoughts abt kissing him!!

sex in the studiooo - dolliuv ✩

~1050 words, unprotected sex in the studio!!

take it slow - kireilien ✩

~900 words, soft!dom maki + protected sex + yalls first time tgt as a couple

secret relationship as a staff member w/ maki! (w/ texts) - kireilien ✩

~3800 words, texts + writing + smut (such a good read)

just the tip - jsbluu ✩

~1100 words, he says it's just gonna be the tip, but all men do is lie - jsbluu

[lovebugism]

Hi!! I an so obsessed with your writing and characterization. Congrats on one year!! Can i request something for Steve?

Prompt:”i didnt realise we still weren't..."

Where someone asks reader and Steve how long theyve been together, Steve thinks theyd been dating this whole time, reader is confused cause Steve never asked her! Best friends to lovers and theyre both a little clueless. Thank you!!

i changed up the prompt a bit but i hope you like it :D — jim and joyce force you and steve to have an important talk about your relationship (established relationship-ish, also best friends to lovers-ish, fluff, 0.9k)

“Does it feel any better now?” Steve asks, cuddled next to you on the porch swing outside the Byers’ home. He’s been wearing the same worried glint in his honey eyes since the sun went down — when he tried to give you a piggyback ride and then slipped in the mud. He broke your fall for the most part, but your ankle got caught underneath him.

You nod, then grimace when you try to twist your foot. “Sorta…” you shrug.

“Have I said I’m sorry yet?” he jokes with a scrunch to the bridge of his chiseled nose.

“Only a billion times.”

“Well, I’m gonna make it a billion and one now. ‘Cause I’m sorry.”

“I’ve already said it’s okay,” you assure with a giggle, leaning over to knock your shoulder against his. “It doesn’t even feel that bad anymore. I swear.”

“I’ll kiss it better when we get home,” he offers, just to make you get all shy. His soft smirk widens to a fuller beam when his ploy works. “I mean, you are staying over tonight, right?”

“Of course,” you shrug. “How else are you gonna kiss my sprained ankle better?”

“Touché.”

He leans in for a kiss. The tip of his nose just barely grazes the side of yours when the screen door shrieks open. The Talking Heads playing from inside grows suddenly louder, then muffles again when the door shuts. Jim and Joyce stumble out together — eyes glassy and cheeks flushed, obviously not totally sober.

The woman pops a cigarette between her pink lips. Hopper lights it for her. “You know… I’ve already booked the reservation for Enzo’s,” he tells her lowly. His back faces the two of you, totally unaware of your presence and blocking any view of you.

“Oh,” she hums sarcastically, blowing smoke from her lungs. “Is that right?”

“Yep. So either I sit there all alone with my chee-anty, or you come and keep me company,” Jim lilts in a quiet, honeyed tone. “And if that doesn’t sound like a good time, then maybe the bottomless breadsticks will win you over.”

Steve leans against your shoulder. His mouth rests outside your ear. “Do you think they know we’re out here?” he asks.

You raise a silent hand with a pointed finger, shushing him without saying a word.

Joyce giggles like a teenage girl. “Look. I don’t even know if I like you,” she teases.

“But you’re thinking about it, right?” Hopper wonders, with all the hope of a schoolboy asking out a girl way out of his league. “‘Cause you should.”

Steve shifts. The porch swing squeaks. Both parents turn to face you, features softly agape. Jim blinks once. “You guys been sittin’ there the whole time?” he asks in a strangled voice.

“Enough to hear you groveling,” you answer.

“Alright…” he grumbles half-heartedly.

“The bottomless breadsticks are actually pretty good, Joyce,” Steve chirps obliviously, smiling wide and flitting his eyes between the two standing across the porch. “But, you know, if she doesn’t wanna go with you, Chief, I’m always available—”

“Okay, let’s go around back,” Hop announces, guiding Joyce down the steps with a hand curled gently around her elbow. The woman giggles when you whistle suggestively at them. Jim shouts at you over his shoulder. “Watch it! And ice that ankle when you get home!”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Harrington, don’t let her walk on it,” the man sighs, already exasperated. “Be a gentleman, alright? Give your girl a day’s bed rest, dote on her or whatever—”

“Oh, we’re not— I’m not his girlfriend,” you correct with a forced laugh.

Your words seem to take Steve by surprise. He flashes you a look, scruff features swirled with confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“We’re not dating, Steve.”

He scoffs an awkward laugh, brows pinching. “You’re joking, right?”

“Well, this is awkward,” Jim mumbles, grateful he’s not the butt of the joke for once.

Joyce slaps his arm. “Hop.”

“We’re gonna go,” the man announces, heading towards the backyard. “Have fun with… this.”

Steve waits until they’re gone to face you fully. He turns on the swing until his knee brushes the outside of your own. The hurt puppy expression on his face hasn’t quite ebbed. “You don’t think we’re dating?”

“You do?” you retort.

“Yes!” Steve shouts, talking wildly with his hands. “Our first date was at Enzo’s! I brought you flowers and everything!”

“You never asked me to be your girlfriend, Steve—”

“I thought it was implied!”

“—I thought you didn’t wanna be, like, official with me or something!”

Steve goes suddenly silent. His chest starts to ache like there’s a fire rising behind his ribcage. He swallows hard. “Have you been… Have you been seeing other people?”

“No!” you answer instantly, face twisted in abhorrence of the thought. “Of course not!”

“Okay. Good,” he nods, raking a hand through his wild hair and settling again. “‘Cause I haven’t either, so… We’ve basically been dating this whole time.”

You meet his smile with a playful glower. “You still shouldn’t asked me, though.”

“Well, I’m asking you now,” he announces and wraps an arm around your shoulder. He leans in until you can smell the birthday cake and soda on his breath. You don’t notice until now that your lipstick is smeared on his mouth. “Do you wanna be girlfriend-boyfriend with me?”

You purse your lips to the side with a playful hum. “Mm. I’ll think about it.”

“Oh, c’mon!”

[the-s1lly-corner]

Pre-Game All Male Toons Protecting The Toon Reader From A Creepy Visitor?

Various male toons protecting toon reader from weird visitors

Hello hello! There's currently a 3-4 character limit for requests!!/nm

Characters: looey, Rodger, astro, dandy

Notes: gn toon reader, pre game, short and written on mobile, can be seen as romantic or platonic there's no rules saying a friend can't stand up for you/lh

CWs: unspecified but it is implied an older visitor is making unwanted comments about the reader

RODGER

Doesn't waste much time in confronting the visitor and telling them that their behavior is unacceptable and that they must leave. He's polite but there's a firmness in there that you don't see often in his voice. Like there's the firmness he uses when establishing boundaries with other toons.. and then there's the kind he's using now.. more forceful, hard

He let's a staff member know as soon as possible so the visitor can be removed- though it may take a minute to actually. Find said staff

Checks on you- and he's not going to back off until he's satisfied... might step back for a minute so you can process things and/or get through the rest of the day, but he's going to let you know you can come to him for support

ASTRO

He's blunt, like rodger. He walks right up to the two of you and just. Tells the visitor that they need to stop and leave- sure astros not as verbally firm as him but that's more so because Astros voice is on the softer side in general

Once more being a main and having a handler who's a call away comes in handy, and said handler does most of the work in forcing the weirdo out... meanwhile astro takes you to the side to recooperate

You can stick with him for the rest of the day- I like to imagine his days are calmer compared to the other Mains... soothing, not as over stimulating- and he doesn't want you to leave his sight until you're really truly fine

DANDY

Oh. Oh no. No. Not on his watch! Not on his turf! You know that fake sickly sweet tone some people get when they're talking down on someone or just over it? That's pretty much how he's talking and it's. Weird coming from a toon who at the time was seen as a genuine sweetheart

Puts himself between you and the visitor- both emotionally and physically. They don't get to walk in here and be weird. Especially not to his bestest pal

Oh he is definitely roping his handler into this. Dandy himself doesn't have much say over when a visitor can leave but a handler or other staff member can make it happen if theyre pushing boundaries

The moment they're taken away he does ask if you're alright. He's admittedly torn between having to get back to work- being the posterboy for a popular show demands a lot- and staying with you... he comes to you throughout the day whenever he can..

LOOEY

Oh he does not... like it.. but he doesn't know the best way to intervene. So he just. Goes for it

Not at all smooth and it's a sudden and sharp transition as he (and he might rope in blot and yatta as backup to lessen the chance of the weirdo turning back to you) insert themselves to steal the "spot light"

It gives you a chance to slip away to somewhere safer- and he WILL check on you as soon as he can get away to you... and he does try to make you feel better

You're free to come by the stage - or if you'd prefer somewhere else- to talk more in depth about it once gardenview closes for the day