#and be sure to look away from your screen for 20 seconds

[heethera]

˖*°࿐ •*⁀➷ 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧!

➜ summary: you just moved into a new building, right across from three loud guys. two said sorry and the third couldn’t care less.

pairing: pshx f!reader,wc: 14k words , genre: enemies to lovers ish, neighbor!au, fluff, romcom w: rude jokes, cussing, kissing

The elevator doors swung open, and soon you stepped out into the third floor hallway. You looked like you were moving in, which in your defense…you were. The oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder, arms hugging a stack of takeout containers and a cactus you had that had pricked you far too many times, but that didn’t matter. You were finally on your own.

Unit 3B. That was you now. 

Your keys jingled in your palm as you found the door, nudged it open with one knee, and stepped into the apartment you’d stared at for months on rental listings. It wasn’t huge, but it had a little kitchen with enough space for your mum’s rice cooker, and a balcony that caught the sun in the morning. You spun around in the centre of the room, grinning, almost knocking the cactus you had just placed on the counter in the process.

And by nightfall, the place felt like yours. Your fairy lights were strung up across your living room. Your fridge held exactly a bottle of soda, some tuna you had eaten an hour ago and a bag of unwashed grapes. You lit a vanilla candle, the one your best friend, Jungwon, made you promise to use so you'd remember him… even while being so far apart.  But Jungwon hated travelling, so in his mind, you'd basically moved to another continent. 

Jungwon dramatically declared, “You’re practically moving to another country.”

“Jungwon, I’m literally a two-hour train ride away.”

“That’s basically Europe.”

You rolled your eyes at the memory, smiling to yourself.

Still, you were glad you’d made the decision to move. Three years ahead of you… of being on your own, of learning to be independent, part-time jobs, and what you hoped…a future incoming relationship. It should be easy. It should be peaceful. It should be—

“DUDE!!!”

A scream ripped through your wall.

It came from the wall to your right, a thin wall nudged between you and your neighbours. You could hear celebrations. A voice shouted, “THAT WAS INSANE!” followed by a loud thump like someone had jumped off the sofa.

You tried ignoring it at first, burying yourself under the blanket like it could block out noise. But 20 minutes in, another screamed “HE’S OFFSIDE, YOU DUMB—” loud enough to rattle the walls, you snapped.

You threw on your hoodie, jammed your feet into slippers, and marched out the front door like you were storming a battlefield. The hallway was dim and quiet, except for the muffled party behind door 3C. You knocked, hard, but polite.

The door creaked open mid-laughter, revealing three guys mid-snack, mid-game.

“Hi,” you said, tight smile. “Sorry to bother you, but… would you mind keeping it down a little? I’ve got a test tomorrow and it’s kinda hard to focus with all the screaming.”

The one with fluffy hair, cute little eyes, nodded immediately. “Shit. Sorry, sorry. Totally our bad.”

Another one, long lashes and a goofy smile, actually winced. “Didn’t realise it was that loud. We’ll keep it down, promise.”

“Are you new here?” the first one asked.

You nodded. “I just moved in today, actually.”

“Oh shit. Mrs Kim moved out?”

“Damn, we’re not getting her kimchi anymore, that’s for sure.”

“We gotta eat those store-bought ones that taste like ass.”

The second boy looked at you again, more focused this time. “Oh right! I’m Jake! It’s great to meet you! I’m sorry it happened under… unfortunate circumstances. But we’ll be quieter!”

“I’m Jay, by the way,” the first one added with a small grin, pushing his hair back.

You nodded, smiling slightly. At least they were nice about it. Well, two out of three, anyway.

You glanced past both of them, eyes landing on the third boy slouched on the couch, still holding the controller, gaze fixed on the paused screen like you weren’t even there. His jaw clenched once. No name. No hello. Just a subtle, annoyed glance in your direction before he looked away again.

Cool. So he hates you. That’s cool with you.

The third guy didn’t say anything. Just glanced at you once, then turned back toward the TV.

“Uh, thanks,” you said, lips tight, already backing away.

You returned to your apartment and for a blessed thirty minutes, it was quiet.

Then someone scored a goal and the wall shook again.

You blinked slowly at your ceiling, arms folded under your head like the weight of your patience was finally starting to crush your ribs. Okay. So that’s how it was going to be. You frowned.

And that was literally… how war started.

The next morning, fuelled by petty vengeance and two hours of sleep, you grabbed your pastel pink sticky notes and wrote:

“Dear 3C, I’ve played FIFA before. It is not that damn fun for you to be out here screaming. Please tone it down. Regards, the zombie in 3B.”

You slapped it on their door. Nothing changed.

And the next day:

“Dear 3C, I can’t sleep. Kindly shut up <3 With love, the girl one more sleepless night away from writing to the landlord. 3B.”

You half expected them to ignore it. Instead, you found your note missing by mid-afternoon. Gone. 

For a moment, you felt powerful. Maybe they’d actually listened.

Then 8:43 p.m. hit and someone in 3C scored a goal so loud you swore the bass from their TV made your candle flicker.

Alright. So it was personal now.

You stormed over to their door again, hands on your hips.. It wasn’t that late. You weren’t unreasonable. You believed in joy. In freedom. But right now? Rage was the only thing pumping through your system.

You shuffled down the hall with your bunny slippers slapping against the floor, hair in a claw clip that was giving up. You looked deranged. And for the first time, you were fine with that. You banged on their door.

The door cracked open a second later, revealing Jake blinking like a deer in headlights. His hair was messy. He looked mildly afraid.

“Were… we being loud again?”

You stared at him, deadpan. “Ya think?”

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “Okay, okay. I’m so sorry. It’s Sunghoon. He keeps saying it’s not that loud and we were mid-tournament and—”

“Tell Sunghoon that his ego’s not the only thing echoing through these walls,” you snapped, arms crossed. “Some of us are trying to study.”

Behind Jake, you heard a familiar scoff followed by a smug voice yelling, “God, she’s so annoying. We were literally whispering.”

You leaned to the side, locking eyes with the third boy slouched on the couch, controller in hand, feet on the coffee table like the world owed him something. He didn’t even pause the game this time.

You didn’t know what it was about his stupidly symmetrical face but your blood boiled.

“Tell this Sunghoon guy…his whispering sounds like a screeching cat,” you said flatly, before spinning on your heel and marching back toward your door when you heard his aggravating voice.

“Tell her she’s overreacting over a couple of friends simply trying to have fun,” Sunghoon fired back from the couch, not even raising his voice. 

You turned your head just enough to glare over your shoulder. “Well, tell him, his shirt doesn’t match his fucking pants.”

Jake looked helpless, standing between you both like a middle child caught in a divorce.

And then, with that same bored tone, Sunghoon called out again, “Well, tell her… those slippers are the best thing she’s worn all week.”

You stopped.

Jake sucked in a breath.

You slowly turned, eyes narrowing. “Tell him he wouldn’t know good fashion if it came with a user manual and punched him in his freaking face.”

Sunghoon finally glanced away from the TV, meeting your eyes for the first time that night. His lips curved into the most irritating half-smile you’d ever seen.

“Tell her–”

Jake stepped in between again, hands raised. “Okay! Okay. We’re gonna turn the volume down. Like, way down. Like you can’t even hear us tiptoe. Right, Sunghoon?”

Sunghoon leaned back against the couch and shrugged. “Whatever. I’m not the one annoying my neighbors at 9pm on a Friday night. Get some friends.” 

You slammed your door shut.

War was back on.

-

The next morning, your plan was simple. A little petty, sure, but necessary.

You stood outside their door in your pyjamas, holding a fresh pack of neon yellow Post-its since your previous ones were used up by the ongoing Post-It war.The hallway was empty. Your bunny slippers made no sound as you padded up to 3C and stuck the first one of the week dead-centre on the door.

“Dear 3C, just a gentle reminder that FIFA will not feed you, clothe you, or give you money. Kindly shut up. PLEASE. Warmest regards, 3B.”

You smiled to yourself and floated back to your apartment.

That night? For the first time…? Silence. Beautiful, blissful silence. You actually managed to revise two chapters and fall asleep before midnight. You woke up in the morning feeling like a changed woman.

But then you opened your front door.

There, taped neatly to your door, was a blue sticky note with surprisingly neat handwriting.

“Dear 3B, you sound like you narrate your life out loud. – 3C.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Narrate your life out loud?” you muttered. “That’s literally called thinking.”

You marched back into your apartment, flung open your stationery drawer.

“Dear 3C, apologies if my internal monologue disrupted your daily FIFA championship. I only talk to myself because your volume settings make it impossible to hear my own thoughts. With all due respect (and ear damage), 3B."

That afternoon, Jay knocked on your door. You hesitated, then opened it a crack. He was holding a bag of convenience store pancakes in one hand.

“Peace offering,” he said. “Also, I think your notes are hilarious. Jake’s been collecting them. I think he’s making a scrapbook.”

You blinked. “Is this a joke or something?”

Jay shrugged, leaning casually against the doorframe. “No! Honestly, it’s kinda refreshing.”

Jake popped his head in from behind, grinning. “Also, your handwriting’s really neat.”

You opened the door a little wider, cautious then shrugged. “You want some… uh… spaghetti? I made it this morning.”

“Spaghetti?” Jay tilted his head.

You nodded. “Yeah. I usually experiment with food. I’m…uh…in culinary school.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “Wait, so you’re like… a chef?”

“Trying to be.,” you said with a shrug, suddenly a little self-conscious.

They exchanged a quick look before barging in like you'd personally handed them invites at the door.

“That’s so cool,” Jake said, practically bouncing as he flopped onto your beanbag. “I burnt instant noodles last week. Twice.”

Jay wandered deeper into your living room, his gaze landing on the dusty old guitar leaning against your bookshelf. “Dude, check it out! She plays the guitar.”

You rubbed the back of your neck, awkward. “It’s just for fun. I’m not that good.”

“I’m sure you’re great,” Jake said, already chewing through a mouthful of spaghetti he’d somehow found, and served himself in a bowl you didn’t remember offering.

You blinked at him. “Did you just—?”

“Plate was right there,” he said through a mouthful. “I took it as a sign.”

Jay nodded solemnly. “She feeds us and plays guitar. She’s better than Mrs. Kim already.”

You sighed and closed the door behind them. “I’m starting to think Mrs. Kim left because of the three of you.”

In between bites, Jake nodded without hesitation. “I think so too.”

“We can be loud,” Jay added, helping himself to another serving.

“Have you thought of… not being loud?”

“We do,” Jay said. “But then we get loud again.”

You rolled your eyes. “Guys, some of us have school and—”

“We have school too,” Jake chimed in, mouth full.

“Okay… some of us care about sleep.”

Jay perked up. “That’s why we got you this.”

He dug into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a tiny box, dropping it into your hands.

You squinted at it. “What’s this?”

“They’re sleep buds,” he said proudly. “They go in your ears and play white noise and, like… ocean sounds or something. Blocks everything out. Even us.”

You stared at the box, then at them.

“Instead of compromising, you got me gear?”

Jake grinned. “Yeah. We like you. We want you to be able to sleep… through us.”

Jay gave you a thumbs-up. “It’s called adaptation.”

You looked down at the sleep buds in your hands and then back up at the two of them absolutely inhaling your spaghetti like they hadn’t eaten in weeks.

You didn’t know whether to kick them out or thank them.

So you just sighed, defeated. “You guys are the weirdest neighbours I’ve ever had.”

Jake beamed. “Aww. You’re the weirdest too.”

And somehow… the next day… they were back.

You opened the door mid-knock, confused, only to find Jay grinning at you.

“What’s for lunch today, boss?” he asked, already halfway through the doorway.

You blinked. “How’d you know I made something?”

“We could smell it,” Jake said, stepping in right behind him, holding up a comically large spoon. “Smells so good. Brought my big spoon today. Came prepared.”

“Uh… I made chowder?”

Jake’s eyes lit up. “Oh my god, I love chowder.”

Jay had already plopped onto the floor cushion, flipping through your Spotify like he owned your iPad. “What kind? Clam? Corn? Pumpkin? Wait… do people put pumpkin in chowder?”

You stared at them, ladle in hand.

“Corn,” you muttered, shuffling back into the kitchen.

Then the day after that… they came again. At this point, it felt less like a surprise and more like a recurring appointment.

“No fucking way. Kimchi stew? This shit is so good!. Jay, you need to try the beef. It’s so soft. How— how’d you get it so soft? Is this like one of those expensive beef? Wakoo?”

“It’s Wagyu, Jake.” You corrected.

“Wagyu~” He sang.

Jay, already mid-bite, nodded with a full mouth. “Can I havefth thefth reshepee?”

You wiped your hands on a dish towel, leaning against the counter with one brow raised. “Do you guys ever eat in your own apartment?”

Jake didn’t miss a beat. “Not when you cook like this.”

Jay pointed his chopsticks at you like he was making a closing argument in court. “This is technically your fault. You fed us once. That’s basically a binding contract. We’re best friends now. Aren’t we, Jake?”

Jake nodded, mouth full. “Mhmff. Whatever he said.”

You sighed, setting your elbow on the table and dropping your chin into your hand. “If you’re gonna keep doing this, at least wash the dishes after.”

Jake saluted you with his spoon like you were the captain of a very tiny, soup-based army. “Yes, chef.”

You looked at the two of them, one already on his third helping, the other stealing more beef straight from the pot, and shook your head.

This wasn’t how your independent, put-together, college life was supposed to go. You were meant to be focused. The mysterious girl on the third floor who only ever came out for groceries and exams.

But maybe… with the two of them barging in uninvited, eating like they hadn’t seen food in years, and treating your living room like it was theirs…

Maybe you wouldn’t feel so lonely after all.

-

It was 9 p.m. Strangely quiet.

Usually, by now, there’d be at least one goal celebration shaking the walls or someone shouting about a missed penalty. But tonight? Nothing. You didn’t let it bother you. You took it as a win.

The balcony door slid open with a soft scrape. You stepped out into the cool night, cradling your little scissors and spray bottle like sacred tools. Your succulents were arranged in a neat line. A few leaves had started to curl. You knelt down, snipping the dead ends carefully.

You should’ve felt peaceful.

But tonight, something tugged at your chest. 

You missed Jungwon. You missed your mom’s mismatched cutlery and the way your dad always forgot he’d already asked about your grades. Maybe even your pet fish, the one that never did much except float around looking confused.

Jay and Jake were friendly, sure. But they weren’t yours. They weren’t part of your before. They didn’t know the town you came from or the versions of you that existed before now.

And even though you thought you’d settled in... even though you were coping...you were lonely.

Without meaning to, you started speaking out loud — just like you always did.

“It’s fine. You’ll do better tomorrow. Tomorrow you won’t feel as lonely,” you said softly as you misted the leaves. “You’ll be stronger. You’re gonna get used to this. You can do it.”

But the lie caught in your throat.

Because you were crying already.

You wiped your cheek with the sleeve of your hoodie, frustrated, betrayed by your own body. You reached for your phone without thinking and hit the contact you swore you wouldn’t keep calling every time you got overwhelmed.

Jungwon answered on the first ring.

“What’s up?” he asked, casual as ever.

“Won…” you breathed out.

There was a pause. Then: “Are you crying?”

“No?”

“I can hear you sniffling, you shit.”

“It’s just—” your voice cracked. “It’s hard. I’m alone all the time. I’ve got no friends. I’ve got no one to talk to. I’m alone, Won.”

“I know,” he said gently. “I know…”

There was a pause. You could hear him shifting in bed, his voice soft and serious now. “But think about it this way, okay? You’re barely in your first month. You’re gonna get used to it. You’re gonna find people. You’re gonna build something here. It just takes time.”

You bit your lip. “You’ll visit if you can, right?”

“I’ll visit,” he promised. “Even if it takes two bloody hours.”

“But you hate traveling.”

“For you, I’d suffer.”

You sniffled. “You’re just saying that so I’ll hang up.”

“You’re right because I’m exhausted from basketball. But also… I love you.”

“Fine,” you mumbled. “I love you too.”

“Chin up. You’re talented and you deserve to be there. You can do this. We’re all counting on you.”

“I know.” You exhaled slowly. “Goodnight, Wonnie.”

“Night.”

You ended the call and sat in silence for a moment, letting the cool night air settle on your skin. The tears had stopped. Your hands still smelled like mint and basil and the faint sweetness of the spray bottle. You stared at your succulents, wondering if they ever got lonely too.

Unbeknownst to you, just a few feet away, out on the connected balcony, hidden by the divider, someone had heard everything.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He’d stepped out earlier, just needing air, needing quiet, needing to be somewhere still for once. And then he’d heard your voice. The words that were not meant for anyone else.

And for the first time, Sunghoon didn’t roll his eyes or make a sarcastic comment.

He just stood there in the dark, one hand gripping the railing, heart a little heavier than before.

He understood more than you thought.

And somewhere between your tears and Jungwon’s voice, he changed his mind about you.

-

The next few days, there was absolute silence. Maybe the food had finally worked some psychological warfare on Jay and Jake. Maybe it was their way of returning the favour. Either way, you weren’t about to question it.

You were grateful, to say the least.

Because for the past week, you’d been moping around your apartment. Living alone and striking out as an “independent bachelorette” sounded empowering in theory, but in practice? Maybe you weren’t one of those girlies after all…y’know the ones on Instagram who made solitude look like a season of self-discovery instead of a series of breakdowns.

It was Saturday. You’d spent the entire morning in bed watching a Netflix documentary about some guy swindling people on Tinder, surrounded by crumpled tissue and scented candle smoke that had long turned suffocating. You were still in yesterday’s hoodie, blanket tangled around your legs.

Three knocks echoed at the door.

You lifted your head from the pillow with a groan, barely alive. The sound came again.

Dragging yourself across the living room, you cracked the door open just a sliver, just wide enough to peek through but not enough to reveal the disaster that was your face, your hair, or your pride.

“Uh.” The voice was hesitant. Familiar.

You squinted.

Sunghoon.

You blinked. “What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice hoarse from crying and a full night of narrating your own spiral.

“There was a mix-up with the mail,” he said, holding up a small stack of envelopes.

“Oh.” You extended your arm awkwardly through the tiny gap in the door and grabbed the letters. “Thanks.”

There was a pause, “I can see your puffy eyes through the gap.”

You scoffed, immediately pulling the door closer. “You just have to be a smartass about everything, don’t you?”

He shrugged, completely unbothered, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Still standing there. 

“…Are Jake and Jay home?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

His expression twitched, almost amused. “Why? Trying to steal my best friends again or—”

“No,” you deadpanned. “I was just wondering. It’s been… quiet this whole week.”

“They went home to visit their families.”

Oh. Right. Come to think of it, maybe that explained why everything felt extra heavy lately. It was the time of year people usually went home. People surrounded themselves with comfort and familiarity. And here you were, stuck in the city because the train ticket home was just slightly out of budget.

“You didn’t go?” you asked softly.

“Can’t,” he shrugged.

“Oh.”

There was a beat of silence. Then he tilted his head.

“Well,” Sunghoon said slowly, “if you ever need someone to emotionally rejuvenate you by pointing out your hair looks like a rat’s nest, you know where to find me.”

The words came with the usual venom but the message behind them landed differently.

You stared at him through the gap in the door. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to be funny, or… sincere, in his own weird, backhanded way. It was strange. You’d only had  three full conversations with the guy. And every single one ended in a WWE tournament.

You narrowed your eyes slightly. “Are you… being nice to me?”

He clicked his tongue. “Don’t ruin it.”

And with that, he turned and walked back.

-

You finally got up.

There was no movie-worthy breakthrough moment. Just the dull ache in your head from crying too much and the feeling that if you shed one more tear, your eyeballs might actually eject themselves from their sockets. So you moved. You stripped your bed, tossed the mountain of tissues into a trash bag, sprayed half a bottle of disinfectant in the air, and opened every window.

Your apartment looked like it had survived an apocalypse, which, to be fair, was accurate. But you scrubbed it back to life.

By the time you were in the kitchen, your eyes were still a little swollen, but you’d pressed them with cool spoons and a sad little compress until you could see straight again. Kind of.

You pulled out ingredients from your fridge one by one, lining them up like you were preparing for war. Slicing, boiling, julienning, stir-frying. The sound of the pan crackling beneath the glass noodles filled the silence of your apartment. It smelled exactly like it did when your mom used to make it.

You plated it in a wide, shallow bowl. It was delicious. Of course it was. You took pride in it. You always had. Jungwon used to tease you, calling your hands “blessed by Gordon Ramsay” like everything you touched turned into comfort food. You’d swat his arm, trying not to smile as he reached for second helpings before you’d even sat down.

You missed him. You missed your family. You missed not having to eat alone on a day like this.

Your eyes drifted to the door.

Would it be stupid? To bring food to Sunghoon? You’d never really done anything kind for him. Most of your interactions were lined with sarcasm and insults. And yet… that one line of his kept replaying in your head, “If you ever need someone to emotionally rejuvenate you by pointing out your hair looks like a rat’s nest, you know where to find me.”

So maybe…maybe he meant it. Or maybe you were just desperate for company and your noodles were starting to get cold.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you packed the noodles into a clean container, wrapped a rubber band around it, and found yourself standing in front of 3C. Your feet had walked you here without permission. Your hand hovered in the air, ready to knock, but now… you hesitated. You weren’t here to complain. You weren’t here to yell. And that made it harder.

And just before your knuckles could land on the door, it swung open.

Sunghoon stood in front of you, coat already on, scarf looped lazily around his neck. There was a little shine to his hair like he’d styled it, and he looked surprised, mildly confused to find you on his doorstep without any anger evident in your eyes.

“What?” he said, voice dry.

You blinked, staring at him. You’d never really looked at him properly before. Not when he was this put-together. The gel in his hair, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his scarf sat slightly off-center like he’d thrown it on in a rush. You knew he was attractive. You weren’t blind. But seeing him now?

Sunghoon was actually… pretty handsome.

“I—uh—” you stammered.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Spit it out.”

“I—uh—I made some… stir-fried glass noodles,” you said, stumbling over every syllable. “And I know how much it sucks being alone on a day like this, so I thought… maybe it’d bring you some kind of familiarity. From home, or something.”

You didn’t let yourself overthink it. You shoved the container into his hands, heart pounding.

“Bye,” you mumbled, before immediately turning around and marching back to your apartment like you’d just robbed a bank. The door clicked shut behind you.

You pressed your back to it, eyes wide.

Shit.

Was Sunghoon actually hot?

-

Sunghoon stood in the hallway, unmoving. The container in his hands was warm and he stared down at it for a couple of seconds longer than he probably should’ve.

Jake and Jay had been raving about your cooking for weeks. At first, he thought they were exaggerating. How good could someone’s food be that it made two of the loudest people he knew voluntarily whisper through a FIFA match?

But he’d seen it with his own eyes, Jake silently fist-pumping the air, mouthing “LET’S FUCKING GO” after a goal, and Jay barely reacting as he scored. They even created a rule: first one to speak puts a dollar in the Silence Jar. A literal jar. With money.

Sunghoon didn’t get it.

And he didn’t particularly care to. Not then.

But now, standing in the hallway in his coat and scarf, staring at the gift you shoved into his hands with flushed cheeks, something felt different.

He had been on his way out, actually. There was a bar nearby, nothing special, just a dim-lit spot with quiet music and decent food where no one bothered him. He usually went there whenever Jay and Jake went back home, like they did this time every year. It wasn’t that he didn’t have family—he did. It just wasn’t… warm. They were always busy. Always somewhere else, even when they were in the same room.

He peeled off his scarf, feet dragging a little as he headed back into the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him. He set the container on the kitchen counter, grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the drawer, and opened the lid.

Steam wafted up instantly, sesame oil, soy sauce, garlic, something subtly sweet he couldn’t name. The noodles glistened. They looked homemade. No, they felt homemade.

He picked up a strand and gave it a tentative taste.

His eyes widened before he could even help it.

It was good. Like stupid good. Like how the hell is this girl not running her own restaurant kind of good. Better than anything he would’ve paid for at that bar tonight.

He stood there in silence, chopsticks hovering mid-air, thinking back.

He wasn’t proud of how he’d treated you. Three encounters, three arguments. He remembered each one too clearly. The snark in his voice. The way your expression hardened. The notes on the door. 

But it wasn’t really about you.

He hated being called out. Hated being the problem. Maybe it was ego, or maybe it was the way he’d always felt like he had to be put-together or to say the least…controlled. Your presence threw him off. You were loud in a way that was sincere. You didn’t filter your emotions. You wore your annoyance on your sleeve and your feelings on your face.

It irritated him. It also… made him feel something.

And then there was that night on the balcony.

He hadn’t meant to listen. But when he heard your voice cracking through the divider, talking to someone…maybe it was your boyfriend? Your best friend? Whoever it was about how lonely you were, it hit him harder than it should’ve.

Because he got it.

He felt it too.

Being alone in a crowd. Having people around but never really with you. That weight in your chest that didn’t come from sadness exactly…just the absence of warmth.

Sunghoon felt it more often than he cared to admit. He loved Jake and Jay, loved them to pieces. They were the kind of people who filled a room with noise and an energy he couldn’t really place and who made him laugh even when he didn’t want to.

He wanted something more. Something real.

Someone who just… saw him.

He sat at his kitchen counter, staring at the container of glass noodles still warm with steam curling from the lid. He wasn’t usually impulsive. He didn’t do gestures. But maybe tonight called for something a little uncharacteristic.

He stood and reached up, opening the top cupboard where Jake and Jay kept what they called their “emergency date plates.”. The kind of plates you used to impress someone. They only ever brought them out when trying to convince girls they were not, in fact, living in a borderline condemned apartment flat.

He grabbed two.

And then, before he could second guess it, he walked out into the hallway and knocked. 

Your door creaked open a few seconds later.

You blinked at him, confused. “What?”

It almost felt like deja vu. Except now, he was you…awkward at the door.

And then it hit him.

He looked at you…like, really looked at you, and for the first time, he realised he’d never actually seen you before. 

You were wearing a soft pink sleeveless dress, the fabric loose and falling just above your knees, cinched slightly at the waist. Your hair was tied into a side braid, fringe swept slightly to the side, with a few delicate strands left loose to frame your face. You looked like you belonged in a pastel painting.

Shit.

Were you actually—pretty?

Nope. Nope. Stop that. Sunghoon blinked hard, trying to erase the thought.

Damn it.

You probably had a boyfriend. Someone smart and warm and emotionally available who FaceTimed you every night and wrote you good morning texts. Someone who missed you from back home.

And besides…someone who could cook like you? You could probably bag Jake and Jay at the same time in under a minute if you wanted. Not that you would. But still.

He cleared his throat.

“I, uh…” He held up the plates slightly. “I thought maybe… you could join me?”

He wasn’t good at this. But his voice was steady.

“Only if you want to,” he added, quickly. “I just figured. Y’know. Glass noodles taste better on… plates that aren’t plastic.”

His eyes met yours.

He was trying.

And this time, it was your turn to blink in disbelief.

-

Sunghoon had returned with the container of glass noodles, now a little colder, a little stickier, but still giving off the faint aroma of sesame oil and soy sauce. You’d reheated it and plated it up, slightly embarrassed that the presentation wasn’t what it had been fresh off the stove, but he didn’t seem to care. Or maybe he did, but you couldn’t tell, because for the first five minutes, you didn’t look at each other.

The clink of chopsticks, the occasional scrape of ceramic, and your ceiling fan. It was awkward. You wondered why he even came. Why he asked in the first place, if he was just going to eat in silence.

“So,” you said.

“So,” he said.

You paused.

“You first.”

“No, you—”

“Okay, I’ll go first,” he said, cutting himself off. He cleared his throat and set his chopsticks down. “I—uh—I just wanted to say thanks. For the meal.”

You blinked. “Okay.” You nodded slowly. “You’re… shockingly formal when you’re not pissed.”

“I—” Sunghoon let out a breath and leaned back a little in the chair. “I was never pissed.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, nodding, eyes narrowed. “Sure.”

“I was annoyed, sure. Who likes being called out?”

“I wasn’t trying to call you out,” you said, tilting your head. “But put yourself in my shoes. I have to wake up at stupid o’clock to learn how to make a soufflé or whatever, and meanwhile, I’m treated to surround sound yelling and the occasional ceiling vibration.”

He gave a small shrug. “Well, we haven’t done it in a while.”

“And I’m grateful,” you replied, lips twitching. “Truly.”

“We got a silence jar and everything,” he muttered, almost like he didn’t want to admit it.

Your eyebrows shot up. “A silence jar?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Jay implemented it. He said if we keep it up, we’ll have enough for extra toppings on our next pizza night.”

You burst into laughter, the sound surprising even yourself. It came out light and real, and you covered your mouth halfway through. “That’s… honestly? A decent plan.”

“It can be,” he said with a grin starting to pull at the corner of his mouth. “Until everyone starts trying to play FIFA like it’s an ASMR video.”

“You guys actually whisper?” you asked, incredulous.

“Well, yeah. You told us to.”

“I didn’t think you would listen,” you said, pointing your chopsticks at him.

Sunghoon shrugged again, his eyes dropping to the plate in front of him. “Well… they changed my mind, so.”

He didn’t say what he was really thinking.

That it wasn’t Jake or Jay who changed his mind. It was that night. The way your voice had carried through the gap in the balcony, fragile and cracking. The way you’d said I’m alone, Won like it was something that had been sitting inside you for too long, waiting to spill. He’d realised then maybe he wasn’t just an annoying neighbour to you. Maybe he was part of the problem. Maybe he’d been making things harder for someone who was already trying to hold it all together.

“So…” he said quietly, eyes on his plate, “why are you alone during the holidays anyway?”

“Couldn’t afford a train ticket,” you said eventually. “I mean—I could have, technically. But that’d mean I wouldn’t have enough money left to buy ingredients for my assignments the next few weeks.”

Sunghoon winced. “Oof. That’s rough. Must suck.”

You gave a little shrug. “Yeah. It’s fine though.”

He knew it wasn’t.

There was a pause. He glanced sideways at you.

“If you ever… feel like you need someone to talk to,” he started, voice casual, “you could just knock. I have FIFA.”

You snorted. “Oh, like I’d willingly join that mess.”

“It’s actually really fun.”

“How fun can flinging a ball across a screen with your thumbs be?”

“It is!” he defended, turning fully toward you.

You raised a brow. “I tried once with my friend and it was so boring.”

“That’s ‘cause you weren’t playing it right,” he insisted, already standing up. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

“I’m not playing FIFA with you.”

“Come onnn,” he whined, grabbing your wrist and tugging you lightly toward his door.

“God, this is gonna be so stupid,” you muttered, dragging your feet even as you followed him out.

Inside his apartment, the lights were warm, the couch sunken in like it had been through a war. You sat reluctantly, tucking your knees up as he handed you the controller.

“Alright,” he said, sliding in beside you. “This is you—Team Two. All you have to do is use the left joystick to move, the right one to look around. This button to pass, this one to shoot.”

You blinked. “So many buttons.”

“It’s easy! Just follow what I say.”

“Okay… so now I just—?” You pressed a button and immediately kicked the ball out of bounds.

“No, no—move left. Left.”

“I am moving left!”

He glanced over. Your tongue was sticking out slightly in concentration, eyes squinted, brows furrowed. He chuckled before he could stop himself, quickly looking away.

Then you screamed, “I DID IT! DID I DO IT?!”

He turned back just in time to see you score.

Sunghoon yelled, jumping up. “Yeah! That was it!”

You stared at the screen, jaw dropping. “Holy shit. I’m amazing.”

He looked at you again, this time longer. Your eyes were glowing, still locked on the TV. Your fingers tapped at the buttons like you already got it down. You bit your lip when you were focused, tongue sticking out just slightly when you were thinking.

And you were cute. So fucking cute.

The match picked up pace. Suddenly it was 2–2, and both of you were leaning in like your lives depended on it. You were yelling at the controller. He was shouting advice. At one point, your knees knocked, but neither of you noticed. The room was loud, just your voices and the music from the game and the way your laughter filled every corner of his flat.

Then it happened.

You scored. 

You screamed, controller tossed onto the couch, and before Sunghoon could register what was happening, your arms were around his neck, squeezing him tight as you jumped slightly in place.

“I WON! DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

He froze. Your cheek brushed his jaw, your warmth right up against him. His hands hovered midair like he didn’t know whether to hold you back or not.

And then you let go, plopped back onto the couch, and grabbed the controller again like nothing had happened.

Sunghoon didn’t move.

For the first time in what felt like forever, his heartbeat stuttered. Sped up like it had been woken from a long, indifferent sleep.

He sat there, silent, staring at you as you shouted at your pixelated team.

And all he could think was well that…he hadn’t planned on crushing on the new girl based on one single positive interaction.

God, he was so screwed.

-

The next few days passed in a blur of almost-conversations.

You and Sunghoon didn’t talk much. Not like that night. Just a few polite waves across the hallway, a quiet “hey” if you caught the elevator at the same time. Respectful nods. The occasional awkward glance if your eyes met for too long.

And then Jake and Jay came back.

And of course, Jake being Jake, invited himself into your apartment before you could even say no.

“I missed your cooking while I was gone,” he sighed dramatically, sinking into the dining chair like he’d returned from war.

“Well, today’s your lucky day,” you said, flipping through your assignment folder and squinting at the week’s task. “Because for today’s assignment, I’m supposed to…” you paused. “Make a really mean chicken pot pie.”

Jake’s eyes lit up. He clapped his hands, nearly tipping his chair over. “CHICKEN POT PIE?!”

Before you could even blink, he leapt up, yanked your door open, and sprinted into the hallway.

“JAY! IT’S CHICKEN POT PIE!” he yelled like it was a fire drill.

From across the hall, Jay’s voice rang out. “WHAT?! NO WAY!”

And then—another voice joined them.

A quieter one.

“Chicken pot pie?”

You didn’t even have time to react before you were suddenly hosting three grown men in your kitchen, all leaning over your counter.

“Guys,” you said, elbow-deep in flour. “I can’t focus if you’re all staring at me like that.”

“We’re just excited,” Jake grinned, chin in his hands.

“Well don’t be. I’ve never made this before. It might taste like ass.”

“Your hands are basically blessed by Gordon Ramsay,” Jay declared, grabbing a slice of carrot from the cutting board. “It’s impossible for it to taste like ass.”

You laughed, the sound soft and unexpected even to yourself. “Jungwon used to tell me that all the time.”

“Oh he did?” Jay echoed, voice teasing.

Sunghoon stood a few steps back from the others, arms crossed loosely, leaning against your fridge. He hadn’t said much since stepping into your place, but now he watched the three of you.

The way you smiled when Jay made a joke. The way Jake knew where you kept your mixing bowls. The way your eyes sparkled, just slightly, when you laughed about something from home. The way they got it. The way they knew you.

And the way he didn’t.

Sunghoon couldn’t explain it but it made his stomach twist. Tight and strange and uncomfortable.

And then he heard it again.

Jungwon.

Who the hell was Jungwon?

His name sounded too casual. Too affectionate. The kind of name you didn’t just drop without meaning.

Sunghoon didn’t say anything. He just looked down at your countertop, at the flour dusting your hands and the delicate way your fingers shaped the crust, and all he could think was—

Why the fuck did he care so much?

You moved around your kitchen with the kind of ease that made it impossible not to watch. Sunghoon’s eyes were locked on you, the way your hair swayed behind your back as you leaned forward to stir something in the pot, the way your sleeves were pushed up. 

His heart pounded harder than it should’ve. He tried to brush it off. Maybe he was just hungry. Maybe it was just the smell of garlic and butter making him lightheaded. That had to be it, right?

Except no.

He hadn’t planned on feeling like this today. Not when he woke up. Not when he brushed his teeth and went on his phone and told himself he’d stay in his apartment. He hadn’t even planned on coming over. And that night the two of you shared noodles? He’d chalked it up to vulnerability. Nighttime feelings. Nothing serious.

But now it was noon. He was awake. Sober. And you were still somehow making his chest tighten just by existing within ten feet of him.

God. He hated having a crush.

He didn’t even realise how lost he looked until Jake spoke up from the side, breaking the spell.

“So, is Jungwon finally coming?”

This guy again.

Sunghoon’s head whipped toward Jake so fast it might’ve snapped his neck.

You perked up at the mention, a smile blooming across your face without even trying. “Yeah! He’s coming in two weeks! I actually told him about you guys. He’s kinda excited to meet you.”

That smile. It wasn’t fake. It wasn’t forced. You looked like someone who meant it. Someone who missed this guy. Someone who talked to him often.

Sunghoon clenched his jaw and looked away, grabbing a water bottle off your counter just to do something with his hands. He twisted the cap a little too hard.

He didn’t know who the hell Jungwon was.

But he already didn’t like him.

“He’s coming over?” Jay asked, his mouth still half-full of pie filling.

“Yeah,” you said casually, brushing a stray hair behind your ear as you peeked into the oven. “He’s staying at my place for the week he’s here.”

Staying at your place?

Sunghoon blinked.

He looked around your apartment, eyes scanning every corner like they were going to magically reveal a hidden guest room. But there wasn’t one. You lived in a studio. Everything was in one space. Your bed, your desk, your kitchen, your couch. Except… there wasn’t even a real couch. Just a throw-covered loveseat that barely seated two.

No air mattress in sight. No hidden folding cot. No suspicious lumpy bags that might hold a spare futon.

Just one bed.

His chest tightened.

Where the hell was Jungwon gonna sleep? With you?

He picked at the label on his water bottle, teeth grinding quietly as he stared down at the floor, like it held answers. It didn’t.

He wasn’t even involved with you. This shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t bother him.

But it did. In the most uncomfortable, teeth-clenching, mind-racing kind of way.

-

You stood in front of the three boys, arms crossed, heart racing slightly under your apron. The chicken pot pie sat on the table…golden brown crust, just the right amount of bubbling over on the sides, the smell of thyme and butter and garlic filling your apartment.

Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon each took a spoonful at the same time like they’d rehearsed it. You watched them, nervous, scanning their faces.

One by one, their expressions lit up. Jake’s eyes widened, Jay let out a satisfied groan. Well… except Sunghoon. Of course.

He stayed still. Always unreadable. But you caught it. The tiny pause, the way his brows lifted just a fraction. He liked it. He just didn’t show it like the others.

“So—” Jake started.

“Good,” Jay finished, already reaching for more.

Your eyes flicked to Sunghoon. Somehow, his opinion was the one you were waiting on. The one you needed.

“So?” you asked, staring at him.

He blinked. “What?”

“How is it?”

“It’s good,” he said, nodding once, tone flat as ever.

Your smile dropped. You frowned. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“What? I just said it’s good.”

“No, you said ‘good’ and then frowned and put your spoon down. Usually it’s ‘It’s good,’ then a second bite. Right, boys?”

Jake nodded enthusiastically, chicken still in his mouth. “She’s right.”

“Totally right,” Jay added, already helping himself to more.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, leaning back slightly. “You’re all being dramatic.”

You scoffed, insulted. “I guess you don’t want seconds then. Tch.”

You clicked your tongue and turned on your heel, storming off toward the kitchen, grumbling under your breath. Your apron fluttered behind you as you moved, and you didn’t look back.

Sunghoon watched your little pout, the way your shoulders stiffened, how you exaggerated every step. He didn’t know why, but he liked your reaction. No, he loved it. He found it ridiculously cute. Too cute, actually. That slight wrinkle in your forehead. The way your voice got higher when you were mad. The tiny stomp in your step.

The moment your back turned, his lips twitched upward. 

When lunch ended and the three of them stood by your front door, Jake and Jay turned to hug you dramatically.

“Never move out,” Jake said into your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re just saying that because you get free food.”

“And precisely why we don’t want you to move out,” Jay replied, squeezing you once more before the two of them shuffled out, bickering as they made their way into their apartment across the hall.

Sunghoon lingered. Just behind you.

You turned, raising a brow. “Aren’t you leaving?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He stepped back slowly, hands in his pockets, gaze flicking to the floor before settling back on you. Then he paused. Like he wasn’t sure if he should say what he was about to say.

“The chicken pot pie was good. I think…” he exhaled, voice quieter, “I think it was one of the best things I’ve ever had.”

You blinked, caught off guard.

“It reminded me of home,” he added, eyes still on you now, a little softer than usual. “Not in the way where it’s about the taste or anything… it’s just… you cook like home. If that makes any sense.”

You hadn’t expected that.

Your cheeks flushed immediately. You turned away before he could see it, pretending to fiddle with a dish on the counter, fingers uselessly adjusting an already-clean plate.

“Thank you,” you murmured, voice low, almost shy.

He lingered for a second longer like he wanted to say more. Then he gave a quiet nod and walked out the door.

-

It was raining.

It was only 4 p.m., but the sky had turned an eerie charcoal grey, clouds rolling thick above the city. Thunder cracked so loud you felt it in your chest, and the wind howled between the buildings, slamming against your windows.

You hated this.

You hated how much you still feared storms even at your age. How useless independence felt when you were stuffing tissues in your ears and jamming earmuffs over your head like you were five again. You turned on every single light in your apartment, lamps, fairy lights, even your microwave light and cocooned yourself under your thickest blanket, barely breathing, eyes wide.

Then the whole building shuddered.

The lights flickered.

And then everything went dark.

You screamed.

Your apartment disappeared into a blanket of pitch black, shadows curling up the walls like ink. Your heart pounded. You scrambled up from the couch, tearing off your earmuffs and patting the walls with shaky hands, trying to find a light switch like that would fix anything.

“Shit,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Shit shit shit.”

You fumbled for your phone. A message popped up from your landlord.

“The building is experiencing a temporary blackout due to the storm. Electricity should resume in an hour. Thank you for your patience.”

An hour? Alone? In this? In the dark? Absolutely fucking not.

You jumped at another violent crack of thunder and instantly rushed out into the hallway. Your blanket trailed behind you like a cape. You beelined for the only door you knew.

You knocked. The door swung open almost immediately.

“No time to explain but I’m shitting bricks here,” you said all at once.

It wasn’t Jake or Jay.

It was Sunghoon.

His brows raised. “The thunderstorm?”

You nodded frantically. “Are Jake or Jay here?”

“They’re asleep.” He glanced behind him, then back at you. “But I could… stay with you. If you want. Until it passes.”

You hesitated.

Then thunder cracked again, louder this time, right above your building.

You flinched. “Okay,” you breathed, defeated.

The two of you sat cross-legged on your couch, sharing a single candle as your only source of light. It flickered between you, casting long, warm shadows on the walls.

“Seems like you’re scared of the thunder,” he said gently.

“Well,” you sighed, voice tight. “I’ve been scared of it since I was younger. It just… gets to me.”

He nodded. “It’s okay.”

You noticed it then…the subtle tremble in his shoulders. He was shivering. From the cold, probably. Your heater wasn’t working without electricity, and the apartment was steadily turning into a fridge. You were wrapped up like a burrito, but he’d come in without anything but a hoodie.

Feeling guilty, you shifted toward him and lifted one side of your blanket.

“Uh…” he looked at you like he wasn’t sure if he was being pranked.

“Relax. I can see you shivering like a dog,” you muttered.

“Oh.” He blinked, then grabbed the other end of the blanket and scooted in beside you.

Now under the same blanket, his body heat pressed faintly against yours. You sat side by side, knees pulled to your chests.

And then, in a whisper, he said, “You know…”

You looked over at him, startled by the sudden softness in his voice.

“I know I’m not as close to you as Jay and Jake are,” he said, eyes trained on the candle, “but… you don’t always have to find them for help.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I’m saying…” he sighed, eyes flicking up toward you, and then away again. “Never mind.”

“No, what? Just spit it out.”

He exhaled through his nose like it physically hurt to get the words out. “I’m just saying… you could ask me for help too.”

You stared at him, your eyes adjusting to the candlelight flickering between you.

“Oh,” you said softly.

There was a beat of silence. You weren’t really sure what to do with that. But you didn’t want to leave it hanging either.

“I’ll be sure to think of you the next time,” you mumbled, barely louder than the rain still pelting the windows outside.

You felt him nod beside you.

You turned your head slowly, resting your cheek against your knees, eyes drifting toward him. His face was tilted down, lashes long and dark as they blinked now and then, just slow enough for you to notice. His jaw had softened a little. He looked calm, in a way you weren’t used to seeing him.

“Would you rather have a million dollars,” you said suddenly, “or have no problems in the world?”

He blinked, confused for a second, then turned his head toward you. His chin was on his knees now too, and with the two of you curled up in the same blanket, inches apart, it felt almost like whispering under covers at a sleepover.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A good one,” you replied, lips twitching. “So answer it.”

He scoffed a little under his breath. “Uh… maybe no problems in the world?”

“Smart answer. Why?”

He paused, “I think people ruin themselves trying to solve problems that shouldn’t be theirs. If I had no problems, maybe I wouldn’t waste time worrying about all the stuff that doesn’t matter.”

You blinked at him. That was… not the answer you were expecting. It was a good one. Way too good, actually.

“Right,” you said softly, giving him a small nod.

He looked at you for a second longer before his eyes flicked down. “Your turn. Would you rather go back in time or go into the future?”

You puffed your cheeks out, thinking. “Hmm… that’s a toughie.”

Then your eyes widened, the way they always did when you had a lightbulb moment. “Go back in time!”

“Why’s that?”

“So maybe I’d really weigh the pros and cons of moving to a city where I know no one,” you said with a grin, but it faded slightly at the end.

Sunghoon stayed quiet. 

“You must really feel alone,” he said.

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“I hear you talking about it sometimes. On your balcony. When you think no one’s listening. You talk about how moving here feels like a mistake.”

You looked away, embarrassed. “It’s not a mistake. I just… miss everything back home.”

“I get it,” he said after a second. “I was like you. Back when I was home, I wanted to leave so badly. Thought being somewhere else would fix everything. But now that I’m here… yeah, I have Jay and Jake, and they’re great, but sometimes I come back to the apartment and everything’s fine and normal and still—I just feel… empty. And I don’t even know why.”

You didn’t say anything for a long time.

You just watched him. His face had turned thoughtful, distant. His eyes unfocused, drifting somewhere past the flickering candle, past your walls, like he was staring right through the quiet that lived in his chest.

You mumbled, “Well, yeah. But… I also don’t regret it. Not one bit.”

“Really?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I mean—I’m here doing what I love. Not many people get to do that. And I made friends with three incredibly annoying people in this building.”

He turned toward you again, eyes narrowing playfully. “So we’re friends now?”

Your cheeks heated up instantly. You glanced away, pretending to roll your eyes. “Are we not?”

He let out a low chuckle, the kind that rumbled softly at the back of his throat. “I’m glad you think we are.”

“So,” you said, tilting your head, “does this mean you’ll finally be nice to me now? Or is that too much character development for one night?”

Sunghoon smirked, eyes flicking to you with a teasing glint. “You want nice? From me?”

“Yeah. Like a full sentence without sarcasm. I feel like that’s a reward I’ve earned by now.”

“You earned a participation medal at best.”

You laughed, nudging him with your knee. “Unbelievable.”

He was already looking at you again—closer this time.

“Hold on,” he said softly, “you have an eyelash on your cheek.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

Before you could move, he leaned in.

His face hovered inches from yours as his thumb brushed gently against your cheek, his touch soft but sure. The pads of his fingers were warm. His eyes, now impossibly close, scanned your face with a kind of quiet focus you hadn’t felt from him before. You swallowed.

Neither of you moved.

Your gaze locked, and the space between you slowly disappeared…inch by inch, breath by breath. It wasn’t planned. It just… happened.

Then suddenly, his lips were on yours.

Then it deepened. His other hand pushed the blanket off his head, dropping behind your neck to pull you in, and your hands found their way to his thighs, then to the curve of his jaw. His lips parted just enough, and your pulse jumped as he moved against you.

His hands slid to your waist. He lifted you slightly and shifted you into his lap in one smooth motion. You were now straddling him, knees on either side of his thighs, and he didn’t stop kissing you, not even for a second.

The kiss grew stronger. He tilted his head, hand moving to your chin to pull you even closer, his mouth parting yours with a low inhale as his tongue brushed against yours.

Your hands moved back down, gripping at the soft cotton of his hoodie, when—

Click.

The lights flickered on.

You both froze.

Your faces were still inches apart. 

You slowly pulled back, still on his lap. He blinked, eyes searching yours like he wasn’t sure what just happened. Like part of him wanted to keep going, and the other part… couldn’t believe you just kissed him like that.

You stared at each other, the silence heavy now.

His hands were still resting lightly on your waist. Yours were still fisted in the fabric of his hoodie. Both of you breathless. 

“I need to go back home,” Sunghoon said suddenly, voice low but rushed. His eyes darted everywhere except at you.

You blinked. “Right. Of course!” you said quickly, nodding way too fast. “Yeah. No—totally.”

He shifted awkwardly underneath you, face flushing as he cleared his throat and muttered, “Probably… need a pillow or something.”

It took you a second.

Then you saw the way he was subtly covering his lap with the edge of the blanket.

“Oh.” Your voice came out small. You quickly scrambled off his lap, cheeks burning so hot they could’ve powered your apartment during the blackout.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, already halfway to your door.

And then, Sunghoon stormed out of your apartment.

-

It had been a couple of days since you last properly spoke to Sunghoon. Not for lack of trying. You had…more than once. But each time, he’d give you a quick nod, maybe a polite smile if you were lucky, before promptly power-walking away.

Maybe he just wasn’t feeling what you were feeling. Maybe that kiss was a fluke, something in the heat of the moment. Maybe your little new crush was painfully one-sided.

But you pushed it aside. You had bigger things to focus on.

Jungwon was coming today.

You’d spent the entire morning rearranging your apartment, cleaning it from top to bottom, fluffing cushions and spraying perfume not just on yourself but into the air like it could somehow mask how nervous you were. You even did your hair the way he liked it, soft curls and a side part.

And then, there he was.

The door swung open and your best friend stood in the hallway, suitcase in hand and a grin already on his face.

“WON!” you squealed, running up to him and leaping into his arms.

“Hello, idiot,” he said, his voice fond as he hugged you back, lifting you off the ground with ease.

The shout must’ve startled the boys in 3C, because right on cue, the door across the hall creaked open and out came Jake and Jay, both peeking out.

They spotted you clinging to Jungwon like a koala.

You beamed. “Guys! It’s him!”

“The famous Jungwon,” Jay said, nodding in approval as he stepped out.

“And you must be Jake and Jay,” Jungwon said smoothly, setting you down.

Then came the third.

Sunghoon.

He didn’t move from the doorway. Just stood there, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Jungwon turned to him, a friendly smile still on his lips, chuckling. “You must be Sunghoon, then.”

Sunghoon’s gaze narrowed slightly. “What’s so funny?”

Jungwon blinked, caught off guard. “Nothing,” he said, clearing his throat. “She just… told me you were like this.”

“Like what?” Sunghoon asked sharply, the scoff nearly audible in his tone.

Jungwon scratched the back of his neck. “Nothing. She just said you were cool,” he said with a shrug, throwing you a teasing look.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes.

You stood there, suddenly awkward, unsure what the hell had crawled up Sunghoon’s ass. The hostility was as thick as the tension in the air and you hadn’t done anything. Not really.

At least you didn’t think you had.

Just stood there, arms crossed, a stiff expression on his face while Jake and Jay welcomed Jungwon like he was already part of the group. Jungwon, ever the social butterfly, fit in easily, throwing a few jokes around, complimenting the apartment despite its questionable decor, and even teasing Jake about the ugly dinosaur pyjamas he was wearing in broad daylight.

But Sunghoon?

He was frowning the entire time.

You couldn’t figure it out. His jaw was tight, his responses were clipped, and every time Jungwon so much as glanced your way, you saw Sunghoon’s eye twitch.

You walked back to your apartment with Jungwon beside you, chatting excitedly about dinner plans and all the places he wanted to visit during his stay. But when you turned back, just for a second, you caught Sunghoon still watching. Still standing in the hallway.

His arms were still crossed.

And he didn’t look away.

-

Sunghoon stood there, arms folded across his chest like they were the only things keeping him together. He stared ahead blankly, jaw tight, doing everything in his power not to glare a hole through the wall. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling.

Sure, he knew he had a crush on you. He’d known since the chicken pot pie, probably. Or maybe since you wrapped that blanket around his shoulders. Or maybe long before that. But what he didn’t know was who the fuck Jungwon was, and why he was walking into your apartment.

“Dude,” Jake muttered, throwing him a sideways look. “You could’ve at least smiled.”

“I did,” Sunghoon growled, not bothering to hide his scowl.

Jay snorted. “That was barely a smile. You looked like you were in the middle of passing a kidney stone.”

“Why do I even have to be nice?” Sunghoon snapped. “I don’t know him.”

“Because your crush’s boyfriend just came into town,” Jake replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Sunghoon's head snapped to him so fast you’d think he got whiplash. “Boyfriend?”

Jay raised a brow. “Not denying the crush though.”

Sunghoon ignored him. “Let me ask you again. Boyfriend?”

Jake shrugged. “I mean… yeah, I guess?”

“What the fuck do you mean you guess?” Sunghoon hissed, dragging a hand down his face. “He can’t be her boyfriend.”

“But he is,” Jay said with a shrug and an infuriatingly smug smile.

“No, he’s not. He can’t be. Because she and I…” he paused, realising too late what was about to fall out of his mouth. “…kissed. Three nights ago.”

Jake’s mouth dropped open. Jay blinked.

“I’m sorry, what?” Jake finally blurted.

“Nothing,” Sunghoon muttered quickly, suddenly desperate to eat his words.

“You can’t say nothing when you just said everything!” Jake shouted, grabbing Sunghoon’s shoulders and shaking him.

“Tell us right now!” Jay begged dramatically, gripping his own hair.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, flustered. “I—we—kissed. That’s it.”

Jay blinked. “You know we were kidding about the boyfriend thing, right?”

Jake grinned. “Jungwon’s just her best friend.”

“We just wanted to see if you’d admit you liked her,” Jay added, eyes sparkling with way too much joy. “Which you did.”

“No, I didn’t,” Sunghoon argued weakly. “I just said we kissed.”

“Okay, Mr Visceral Reaction every time we mention Jungwon,” Jake teased.

Jay smirked. “Say it. Say you like her.”

Sunghoon groaned, eyes shut tight as if the ceiling could swallow him whole. Then, finally—quietly, begrudgingly—

“Okay. So what if I like her?”

Jay and Jake immediately turned to each other with identical gasps, smacking each other’s arms excitedly.

“Oh my god, he admitted it,” Jay whispered dramatically.

Jake clutched his chest. “It’s happening.”

“You guys are disgusting,” Sunghoon groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And if you keep acting like this, I’m never telling you anything again.”

“Okay, okay.” Jake raised both hands, trying to suppress a grin. “We’ll behave.”

“BUT I’M SO EXCITED,” Jay squealed.

Jake smacked him on the shoulder. “Starting now.”

Jay nodded solemnly, rubbing his arm. “Sorry. That one slipped.”

Sunghoon sighed and leaned against the counter, arms crossed again. “I started liking her last month… when you guys went back home for the week. She cooked me stir-fried noodles, and we ate together. Played FIFA. I don’t know. I just… developed a crush on her.”

“That’s so cute,” Jay and Jake said in unison, stars in their eyes.

“Seriously, can the two of you act normal for like three minutes?”

Jake shrugged, still smiling. “I just didn’t expect you to have a girlfriend before me.”

Jay patted his shoulder. “You’ll get there, buddy.”

Jake tilted his head. “You think?”

“Yeah, you have nice eyes. Great personality.”

Jake beamed. “That’s so kind.”

“Can we please get back to my problem for like a minute?” Sunghoon cut in, glaring at both of them.

“Oh. Right.”

Jay cleared his throat and finally looked serious. “Look. We like her. She’s hilarious, and she makes good fucking food. And let’s be real, you’ve never liked anyone. We’ve been trying to get you to double date with us for years and you just stare at your phone all the time. But with her? You’re like... a guy with actual feelings.”

“But now I’m losing to Jung… whatever his name is.” Sunghoon sighed.

“Jungwon,” Jake said. “And no, you’re not.”

“How do you know she doesn’t like him?” Sunghoon muttered, staring down at the floor.

“Because,” Jay said, “if she did, she wouldn’t have kissed you.”

“Unless she’s indecisive or confused or something. I don’t know.” Sunghoon exhaled hard, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe I was just… a moment. And he’s her person.”

Jake shook his head. “I’m telling you—just talk to her.”

“Yeah,” Jay added. “Before you spiral even harder and start writing love songs about her. But if you do, I haved like a couple of guitars you could borrow.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. But somewhere, deep down… a part of him hoped they were right.

-

You were pacing back and forth on your cheap IKEA rug, while Jungwon was laid out dramatically on your bed, arms folded behind his head, thoroughly enjoying the show.

“I’m telling you, he’s avoiding me,” you snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at no one in particular. “We kissed—KISSED, Jungwon—and now he won’t even look at me! I wave, he nods. I say hi, he nods. I breathe in his direction, he—guess what—nods!”

Jungwon hummed, annoyingly calm. “Maybe he’s nervous. Or maybe he wants you to go to him.”

“I do go to him! And then he speed-walks away like I’m the plague!” You groaned, pressing your fingers to your temples. “I’m gonna lose it.”

“Maybe…” he tapped his chin thoughtfully, “you’re just a shit kisser.”

You whipped around and chucked a throw pillow directly at his smug face.

“Asshole.”

He caught it with a grin, clutching it to his chest dramatically. “I’m just saying. Maybe you scared him off.”

“You’re lucky I haven’t strangled you with this blanket,” you muttered, grabbing another pillow just in case.

Jungwon sat up, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. “You know, sometimes I forget we grew up together because you’re so unpredictable now.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He snorted. “You used to be fearless. Remember that Heeseung guy you had a crush on in middle school?”

You blinked. “What about him?”

“You were six, and you walked up to him at recess, said ‘I like your lunchbox,’ then kissed his cheek and ran off.”

“Ah,” you said flatly, “the good old days. That girl’s dead now.”

“She’s not dead,” Jungwon argued, grabbing your wrists and tugging you to sit beside him on the bed. “She’s just… overthinking everything. Look, if Sunghoon doesn’t like you—whatever. But if he does? You’re missing out just because you’re too chicken to tell him.”

You glared. “I hate it when you make sense.”

“I know.” He grinned. “It’s my worst trait.”

“I just—” you exhaled, flopping back beside him. “What if it ruins everything? We literally just got closer. What if I say something and it all goes to shit?”

“Okay, counter-offer.” He sat up straighter. “You tell him, or I will. I will walk down the hallway, knock on his door, and go ‘Hi, my best friend has feelings for you, she also has performance anxiety but can cook a great bowl of chicken noodle soup.’”

“You wouldn’t,” you hissed, swatting at his arm.

“Then do it yourself!” he laughed, dodging your attacks. “Before I start printing flyers and pasting them in the apartment lobby.”

God. Why did he always have to be right?

“Fine.”

Your hand was already on the doorknob, breath caught in your throat, just about to leave when the door across from yours had swung open at the exact same time.

And there he was.

Sunghoon.

You both froze, hands still gripping the doorknobs, blinking.

You cleared your throat first. “Sunghoon.”

He blinked like he hadn’t already been staring. “What?”

You squinted. “Is that the only word you know how to say when I call your name?”

He paused. “Sorry.”

You opened your mouth to say something else but were rudely interrupted by muffled snorts from behind Sunghoon. Jay and Jake’s heads popped out from their doorway like nosy meerkats.

“Hoon,” Jay said in a loud, exaggerated voice, “we need more eggs.”

“Desperately,” Jake added, nodding like this was a national emergency. “Go to the store.”

Then Jungwon peeked out from behind you with an equally suspicious grin. “Oh, and while you’re there, can you grab some ice cream too?”

You and Sunghoon looked at each other.

“What is happening right now,” you said flatly.

Before either of you could respond, four hands shoved the both of you toward the elevator. You stumbled in, the doors sliding shut just as Jay yelled out, “Don’t come back without snacks!”

The elevator stopped at your floor.

Your shoulders brushed as you stood side by side, awkwardly watching the floor numbers light up.

Then, finally, you broke it. “About that day—”

Sunghoon shook his head quickly. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t tell Jungwon.”

You blinked. “What do you mean you won’t tell Jungwon?”

He looked away. “Well, aren’t you like… crushing on him? I wouldn’t want what we did to, you know… ruin your chances or something.”

Your entire face scrunched up. “Won and I? What? Ew. God, no. We’re friends. We grew up together. Thinking about him that way would be like incest or something.”

And just like that, Sunghoon felt like he’d been hit by a shooting star and given a second chance at life. His heart did a full backflip. You were single. You were available. 

He couldn’t help it. He smiled.

“Why do you suddenly look so happy?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I’m not.”

“You’re literally smiling.”

“I’m not.”

“We’ve hung out a couple of times and if I’m being honest, I’ve never seen you smile this—”

“Cut it out.” He tried to brush it off, biting back the grin. “I’m just glad.”

“Glad about?”

“Glad that I didn’t ruin your chances,” he said nonchalantly, looking up like he hadn’t just panicked thirty seconds ago.

“Mhm.” You narrowed your eyes at him, the golden-orange glow of the sunset casting warmth across his cheekbones. He was handsome. Frustratingly so. “Well… because I actually like this other guy.”

Sunghoon’s smile faltered.

“I haven’t known him that long,” you continued casually, “but he seems cool. I don’t really know much about him yet.”

“That’s… nice.” Sunghoon turned away quickly, jaw tight. He was definitely grimacing. Please don’t let her see that I’m grimacing, he begged internally.

“Yeah, he’s really tall. Really handsome, too.”

“That’s just…” he exhaled. “Great.”

“He doesn’t seem super friendly but he has a big heart. Even if he tries really hard not to show it.”

“Seems like a swell fuckin’ guy,” he muttered bitterly.

“It’s a pity though,” you sighed dramatically, still watching him. “I wish I could get to know him better.”

“Well… anyone’s lucky to get to know you.” He tried to smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “I know I am.”

You tilted your head. “Not to mention… he lives really close to me.”

Sunghoon’s eyes darted to you. “He does?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, heartbeat accelerating.

“Like how close?”

You took a slow step toward him. “Like… just across the hall close.”

“Oh.” He blinked. “That close.”

Silence settled in the small elevator. You both just stood there, not looking at each other, tension hanging in the air like humidity.

Then, out of nowhere—

“I’m just saying,” Sunghoon said, dead serious, “but Jake sleeps with the lights on and Jay doesn’t wash his hair as often as you think he does.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“I sleep normal,” he added quickly. “I wash my hair. I do proper haircare—shampoo, conditioner, mask, mist. I could do your routine too. For you. If you want.”

You stared.

“I can’t cook, but I’ll try. I can figure skate. I can spin twice in the air. Jay and Jake? Not even one spin. Jay can play guitar, Jake can sing but I can spin, okay? Without getting dizzy too.”

“Sunghoon.”

“And those idiots never clean up after eating your food. Jay doesn’t use coasters. Jake never makes his bed.”

“SUNGHOON!”

He looked at you, breathless. “What?”

You stepped forward. Slowly. Then, you mumbled, “It’s you.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I like you.”

And for once, Park Sunghoon had absolutely nothing to say.

“Okay,” he said. “Cool. Okay. I—wow. Okay.”

You raised a brow. “That’s it?”

He nodded dumbly. “No. Yes. I don’t know. I just—holy shit. You like me.”

You smirked, the smile slowly stretching across your face. “Yes. I like you.”

The elevator dinged. Neither of you moved.

He looked at you again, still dazed. “Hold on, I kinda need a minute.”

You both stepped out into the empty lobby. The sun outside had just dipped below the skyline, casting a pinkish-orange glow through the glass doors. The streetlights flickered on. But you waited.

“It’s been a minute,” you said.

“I know,” he exhaled, hand raking through his hair. “But you like me back, so I kinda need, like… a long minute.”

“Back?” You grinned, the corners of your mouth lifting all the way to your eyes. “So you like me too?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I thought it was obvious from the, uh… word vomit.”

“Well yeah,” you shrugged. “But I didn’t want to assume. Didn’t wanna be narcissistic.”

“I think even if you were,” he muttered, “I’d still think you were pretty cute.”

You blinked. “Did you just—”

“Gross, I know,” he said quickly, face flushing. “I just said that out loud, didn’t I?”

You laughed. “Yeah. But you kinda can’t take it back now.”

“Fine,” he said, pretending to groan. “You’re cute. Ugh. I said it again.”

-

A MONTH LATER

Jay and Jake found it fundamentally unfair. They were the ones who got close to you first. They were the ones who complimented you, made you laugh, showed up when you needed help. They loved you first or at least, that’s what they told themselves. But here you were, doors locked for the first time in three months, cooking a full-course meal for Sunghoon to celebrate your one-month anniversary.

“You’re not allowed to come,” Sunghoon told them flatly before slamming the door shut.

“But—!” they shouted in unison, already mourning the steak they wouldn’t get to taste.

Word on the hallway was that you were cooking the perfect medium-rare T-bone steak, paired with your signature brown sauce and a vegetable medley so crunchy and flavourful. Meanwhile, Jay and Jake sat hunched on the couch, scrolling through a food delivery app.

“Isn’t it funny,” Jake said, arms folded, “how we were the ones who befriended her first, and now we’re stuck with Burger King?”

“Life’s unfair, bud.”

Back in your apartment, things were a little more romantic. You’d decorated with fairy lights and candles, the room dimly lit. You were still being frugal, splitting every cost you could. But you’d managed to steal two T-bone steaks from the diner you part-timed at.

Sunghoon showed up in a black and white tuxedo, looking like he’d taken the prom theme you had placed as a joke a little too seriously.

“You look absolutely gorgeous,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“And you look absolutely handsome,” you grinned.

He walked over to the table and took in the spread. “Okay, what do we have?”

“I made the steaks, obviously, and then there’s the vegetable medley… and your favourite—mashed potatoes,” you giggled.

Sunghoon exhaled, shaking his head with a disbelieving smile. “How did I get so lucky?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know either.”

He laughed. “The guys are pissed, by the way. You made me all this, and they’re over there with cold fries.”

“What?” you said, surprised. “I made them something too! Don’t worry.”

“You did?” he raised a brow.

“I had a feeling they’d be hungry if you were over here.”

“Babe, you didn’t have to do that. They’re grown men.”

“Yeah, but technically my assignment this week was pasta and I have too many leftovers.”

“They’re spoiled by you.”

“And so are you.”

“True, but I’m your boyfriend. They’re just two annoying shitheads constantly trying to butt in.”

“I’ll be quick. I’ll just drop the dish off and come back.”

“No,” he said, standing. “I’ll do it. You stay here.”

He kissed your forehead, grabbing the lasagna you’d tucked into the fridge. “You’re too sweet, you know that?”

“He walked across the hall and opened the door to Unit 3C.

Inside, Jay was mid-rant. “I just don’t get it. Sunghoon isn’t even that hot.”

“I mean, he is,” Jake added, “but she deserves better, you know?”

Sunghoon cleared his throat. “I can hear you two idiots.”

They both froze, turning around sheepishly. “We were just joking. We love you, man.”

He held up the dish. “And to think I came here bearing gifts from my girlfriend.”

Jake’s eyes widened. “Wait—is that lasagna?”

“She felt bad we were eating good without you, so she made you dinner.”

“Oh my god,” Jay gasped. “Sunghoon, I don’t mean to be pushy, but please marry her.”

“I can’t,” Sunghoon muttered. “Not when you two are constantly inserting yourselves into my relationship.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll back off. Just—can we have the lasagna?”

“And can you tell her we love her?”

“I am not telling my girlfriend you love her,” Sunghoon snapped. “I’ve barely worked up the nerve to tell her that myself.”

“Wait,” Jake said suddenly, “you haven’t told her you love her yet?”

“It’s only been a month.”

“So… you don’t love her?”

“I do,” Sunghoon replied, almost too quickly. “I just don’t want to come on too strong if she’s not ready.”

Jay and Jake shared a glance before shrugging.

“What?” Sunghoon asked, frowning. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Jake cleared his throat. “It’s just… she already said it.”

Sunghoon looked up. “What?”

“Yeah,” Jake replied casually. “You texted her about picking up those heat packs for her cramps, and she went all soft and whispered, ‘God, I love him so much.’ Her words. Not mine.”

Sunghoon stood frozen in the doorway, the dish in his hands suddenly weightless.

You loved him.

“So… you’re saying I should tell her?” he asked, voice quiet, almost unsure.

Jay and Jake both nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely. Especially if it makes her our sister-in-law,” Jay added, grinning.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “God, the two of you can be so annoying.”

“But you still love us,” Jay shrugged. “So what’s the point of complaining?”

He hated that Jay was right.

Back in your apartment, Sunghoon sat across from you, completely transfixed. You were dressed in a soft pink satin dress that shimmered every time you moved. It hugged your shoulders delicately, the neckline simple, elegant. Your hair was curled softly, pinned loosely on one side with a vintage clip, and your lips were glossed just enough to make him stare longer than he should’ve.

And God, you looked so beautiful.

He tried to pay attention. He really did. But his heart was too loud, his thoughts too full. How was he supposed to say it?

Sunghoon had never told anyone he loved them before. Not seriously. Maybe to his mom years ago, right before he left for the city. But this? This felt entirely new.

Because sitting in front of him was someone who made every quiet part of his life feel loud again. You filled in the spaces he didn’t even know were missing. You made his apartment feel less cold, his world a little less grey. And the way he loved you—God, it wasn’t something small. It wasn’t a flicker or a passing crush. It was all-consuming and terrifying and the best damn thing he’d ever felt.

He loved you like it was muscle memory. Like even if he forgot everything else, his hands would still reach for yours and only yours.

“Hoonie,” you interrupted gently, frowning. “You’re not listening.”

He blinked back into focus. “Sorry,” he murmured, smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was just thinking about something.”

“What?” you looked up at him, ur big eyes shining. 

Sunghoon unknowingly smiled, his eyes dripping with honey, god he loved you. He wanted to say that. So badly.

“I…I just–uh–feel…that,” His voice trailed off. “You look really beautiful tonight. I mean, you always do. But especially tonight.” He hesitated, the words stuck behind his teeth.

You smiled. “Thank you. You look very handsome too.”

-

Later that night, the two of you were in Sunghoon’s apartment along with Jay and Jake for the usual game night. 

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, your prom-night dress bunched awkwardly around your knees, mascara slightly smudged from earlier laughter, hair pinned half-up. Sunghoon sat slouched in the beanbag beside you, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, brow furrowed in concentration. Jake was lying on his stomach, legs swinging in the air, and Jay had somehow made himself horizontal on the couch.

You and Jake were a team. Sunghoon and Jay were not handling that well.

“Revive me!” Sunghoon yelled.

Jay shouted back, “I’m busy trying not to die, dumbass!”

Button mashing intensified. Trash talk flew across the room.

“VICTORY!” Jake screamed, leaping up like a madman.

You followed suit, springing to your feet and clambering up onto the coffee table in your dress. “GET WRECKED, LOSERS!” you yelled, pointing dramatically at Sunghoon. “THAT’S RIGHT, LOSERS!”

Jake joined you on the table, doing a badly timed robot dance. The two of you jumped in sync, yelling in triumph, while Jay groaned into a throw pillow and Sunghoon watched with a hand covering his mouth, half to hide his smile, half to suppress a laugh.

“You’re all bark, no bite!” you called, face flushed, hair falling loose. “Your character died fourteen times, Hoonie.”

“I let you win!” he shot back, grinning as he sat up straighter. “I was being a gentleman.”

“Sure,” you scoffed, sticking your tongue out at him. “Real chivalrous of you, sir died-14-fucking-times.”

He chuckled under his breath, eyes lingering on you for a second longer than usual. Then, without a word, he stood and walked out of the room.

You blinked. That was...odd. 

You gave Jake a gentle shove off the table and followed Sunghoon into the hallway. He was pacing outside, one hand in his hair, the other fiddling with the watch on his wrist.

“Hoon?” you asked, stepping out and gently closing the door behind you.

He jumped slightly, turning toward you. “You scared me.”

“You okay? You just left so sudden…”

“I—uh—yeah. I was just trying to figure out how to say something.”

You tilted your head, arms crossing over your chest. “Say what?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled with a shrug.

Your expression softened. “Are you mad at me?” You sighed. Maybe your little victory dance had been a bit much. “Hoonie?”

“No, baby, I could never be mad at you,” he said quickly, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just…”

You stepped closer, teasing lightly, “Do you want me to redo my victory dance? I could. You just have to beatbox, and I’ll take it from there.”

That made him laugh.

“Come on,” you grinned, starting to move your body in the most ridiculous way. “I’m pretty sure I should’ve been a dancer instead of a chef.”

He laughed again, this time louder and then, before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.

“Oh my god, I love you.”

You blinked. Your smile faded. Your brain, for one impossible second, completely short-circuited.

“Did you just say you love me?” you asked, heart hammering.

His eyes widened in sheer panic. “No?”

“I heard it.”

“You misheard.”

“Oh my god,” you gasped, practically vibrating. “You love me. You love me!”

“Fine!” he burst out, throwing his hands up like he was under arrest. “I do! I love you, okay?”

You smiled, “You do?”

“Of course! I love the way you talk too fast when you’re excited. I love how you make my idiot friends feel like they matter. I love that you make me feel whole. That when I’m with you, I don’t feel hollow anymore. You… you make me feel like I’m not empty.”

You grinned so wide it hurt. “That’s because you’re not.”

“I used to be,” he said helplessly, gesturing vaguely like he was mourning his past self. “I was mysterious. Brooding. Sexy, even. And now? Now I smile at cat videos you send me on TikTok. Look what you’ve done to me. This is all your fault.”

You scoffed, “My fault?”

“Yes! Who else could it be?” he said, breathless, like the truth had been waiting at the edge of his tongue for too long. “You walk into my life with that stupidly perfect smile, that laugh that makes everything feel lighter, those eyes that somehow hold the whole damn sky and now I’ve got feelings. Big ones.”

He took a shaky breath, pausing for a minute.

“I used to think I was fine on my own. But now? I get out of bed just because I know I might see you. I hear your knock and my whole day lights up. For the first time, I feel like I know what living really means. It’s you. Loving you. That’s it.”

You leaned in and kissed him right in the middle of his rant.

He blinked, dazed.

“You sure talk a lot for someone who usually says nothing,” you murmured, forehead resting against his.

“I do it when I’m nervous,” Sunghoon whispered, and then kissed you again.

“I find it cute,” you mumbled between kisses.

Sunghoon grinned into the next kiss, backing you up step by step toward your apartment door, his hands finding your waist. “God,” kiss “I love you,” another kiss “so much.”

You let out a breathless laugh. “You’re very handsy for someone who claimed to be brooding and mysteriou.”

“I told you,” he whispered, lips brushing your jaw as he reached behind you, fumbling for the door handle, “you ruined me.”

Your back hit the door with a thud. He fumbled with the knob like he was drunk on you, eventually pushing it open and guiding you inside.

He kicked the door shut with the back of his foot.

You were still laughing into his kiss. He walked you backward until your knees hit the bed and you dropped onto it with a squeak.

He climbed over you, hands on either side of your waist, face flushed, heart in his throat.

“I fucking love you,” he said again, like it wasn’t real until he repeated it.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, eyes sparkling. “I love you too.”

[whosashan]

Hi~ Love and DeepSpace girly here

Could you do hc's for the boys where MC is like. Later for dinner or something but before the bois can go and see what's up, MC sends them a text that's like

"Yea I'm gonna be late for dinner. Not sure how late, but I'll be there. I've been trynna find a way out of my room for like 20 minutes, but there's this very big bug between me and the door, and every time I move, it moves. When it flies its wings make this whirring noise akin to some vassal horror. We're locked at a stalemate, I'm at every disadvantage, and I wholeheartedly believe the bug is aware of this."

(I don't hate bugs or anything but this sounds so funny in my head)

BUGGED AND BELATED

PAIRING: Love and Deepspace men x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: You're trapped in your room, locked in a silent battle with a bug that’s far too aware of your fear. Every move you make, it counters. Every escape plan, foiled. Dinner will have to wait—this thing might actually win.

A/N: Thank you for the request. Hope you enjoy!

You were supposed to leave twenty minutes ago. Twenty. For a date. With a man you had just started seeing—a man you actually liked, which was rare enough to be considered a cosmic event. You wanted to make a good impression. Show up on time, looking effortlessly stunning, exuding charm and mystery. Just like the diva you were.

Instead, you were crouched behind a chair like a soldier in enemy territory, locked in a silent battle with a creature that had no business being this menacing.

The bug sat there, unmoving, yet radiating pure malice. To be honest, you couldn’t even tell what species it belonged to—somewhere between a beetle and a winged nightmare—but what you did know was that this thing was an opponent of the highest caliber. Every time you so much as shifted toward the door, it twitched, its wings lifting just enough to emit that sinister, high-pitched whirrrr.

And like a rational, fearless adult, you responded by screeching and diving right back into hiding.

This was a hostage situation. A Mexican standoff where only one of you had the advantage—and it sure as hell wasn’t you. The bug had taken control of the room, standing guard like a tiny, exoskeletal bouncer blocking your exit. If it had arms, you were certain they’d be crossed. Maybe even holding a clipboard with your name on the Do Not Pass list.

To be fair, you weren’t afraid of it, not exactly. It’s not like you thought it would launch an aerial assault and drag you into the vents. No, this was something worse. This was the principle of the matter. You were bigger. You were (presumably) smarter. You had evolved beyond your primal ancestors who once feared such creatures. And yet, here you were—hiding. Defeated. Outplayed by something a fraction of your size with the IQ of a rock.

It was a battle of wits, and the bug was winning.

You were moments away from accepting your fate, contemplating whether it was time to draft a farewell message to society—“Tell my date I died bravely in combat”—when your phone rang.

Loud. Sharp. Invasive.

The bug moved.

And so did you—by nearly launching yourself out of your own skin.

Xavier

You glanced at your phone, still flicking your eyes toward the bug every few seconds, refusing to trust the little menace. It had already robbed you of your dignity—you weren’t about to let it rob you of your life, too.

The screen lit up with a message from Xavier.

"You could've just told me if you didn’t want to meet today. I could be asleep right now instead of waiting 20 minutes for my date, who didn’t show up 😔👎"

You groaned, slapping a hand to your forehead. Great. Just great. His text was clearly teasing, but the guilt still hit like a truck. Xavier was sweet, kind, patient—all things you did not deserve while currently cowering behind a chair, engaged in psychological warfare with a bug.

You shot a death glare at your opponent.

The bug, as if personally insulted, spread its wings again with a menacing whirrr, as if to say "Do something about it, coward."

You squeaked and pressed yourself further into hiding. The sheer audacity of this thing.

Frustration bubbled in your chest, so overwhelming it almost made you want to cry. This was it. The bug had won. You were defeated.

Desperate, you called Xavier. He picked up on the second ring.

"Bug!" you shrieked—because apparently, that was the only thing your panic-ridden brain could muster.

Unfortunately, your enemy took offense to your attempt at reinforcements.

With an unholy BZZZZZZT, it lunged.

You screamed and made a break for it, sprinting toward the bathroom like your life depended on it—which, at this point, it probably did. You barely managed to lock the door before stuffing a towel under the gap to ensure the beast wouldn’t crawl its way in.

From the other end of the phone, Xavier’s voice came through, laced with concern. "Y/N?"

"Xavier! There’s a murderous bug in my apartment! It wants me dead! Oh my god—I'm too young to die!" you wailed, slapping your thigh in frustration.

Which, in hindsight, was a mistake.

"Ow."

You winced, rubbing the sore spot like an idiot.

There was a pause on the line before Xavier simply said, "I'll be there in a second."

You barely had time to process that before the call ended.

Outside, you could still hear the bug, hovering around like a tiny, winged executioner.

"Stupid bug," you muttered under your breath, arms crossed, sulking in your self-imposed exile.

A minute passed. Then—a knock on the bathroom door.

"Y/N?"

You practically leapt up, flinging the door open. Your eyes darted around the room, scanning for any signs of your sworn enemy before finally landing on Xavier.

“…Did you get rid of it?” you asked, breathless.

He simply nodded, expression unreadable.

For a moment, you could only stare at him—your knight in shining armor. And then, overcome with relief, you launched yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck like a lifeline.

"My savior!!" you cried, rocking the both of you side to side, your gratitude radiating off you in waves. For extra effect, you even pressed a dramatic kiss to his cheek before pulling back, hands settling on his shoulders.

Xavier was visibly flustered, the tips of his ears burning red. But there was also something else in his expression—a quiet, barely-contained laugh.

And then he did laugh. A soft chuckle, amused and way too smug for your liking.

He reached out, smoothing down your slightly disheveled hair. "You're adorable when you're terrified."

"Don't you dare laugh at me," you pouted, though the small smile on your lips betrayed you. "You don’t understand how bloodthirsty that thing was."

"Mm, sure," he mused, eyes gleaming. "But now that I’ve saved your life, and considering you did ditch me tonight…" He tilted his head, a mischievous smirk playing at his lips. "You’ll need to make it up to me."

You narrowed your eyes. "I’m going to kick you."

"Okay, okay—" He held his hands up in surrender, still grinning.

…You did end up baking his favorite cookies as a thank-you, though.

Zayne

You snatched up your phone with the urgency of someone fleeing an inferno.

“Is something the matter? We were supposed to meet 20 minutes ago,” Zayne’s voice was impossibly calm, though you could hear a hint of something softer underneath—a trace of disappointment, perhaps, that you weren’t there.

“Help!!! Me!!!” you wailed into the phone, your eyes fixed on the fiend in front of you. It was perched in the doorway like a guardian of doom. A creature so vile, it made your pulse quicken with panic.

You swore it was mocking you.

“Where are you? I’ll be there in five minutes,” Zayne responded, his tone laced with concern that might’ve been heartwarming if you weren’t currently engaged in a life-or-death standoff with an insect that seemed capable of understanding the emotional depths of human suffering.

“In my apartment... There’s a bug. It’s holding me hostage, Zayne, I’m not kidding. I can’t get out,” you explained, backing away slowly as the bug twitched. The sheer audacity of this tiny creature to hold you prisoner in your own home had you flabbergasted.

You could almost hear Zayne’s sigh through the phone, a mixture of concern and, dare you say it, disbelief. You could practically picture him pinching the bridge of his nose, probably contemplating the universe's cruel sense of humor. Was this how living a life by your side would look like?

“…I’ll be there in five minutes.”

You tried to wait. You really did. You took a deep breath, lifted a pillow, and threw it at the bug. It fluttered back, as if taunting you, and your confidence plummeted faster than the falling stock market. Next came the slipper, but that only made it angrier. You briefly entertained the idea of throwing the chair at it—seriously, what was the worst that could happen? But common sense prevailed.

Still, the bug didn’t relent. In fact, it seemed to be toying with you, edging closer with each passing second, its wings fluttering like the harbinger of doom.

And then, like a knight in shining armor—if that knight was slightly irritated and impossibly poised—Zayne entered.

He didn’t knock. He didn’t need to. He knew you’d open the door for him.

The scene he walked into was something straight out of a tragedy, but it lacked the nobility and grandeur. You were cornered like a mouse by a cat. The bug sat there, wings spread in a challenge. You, in your finest cornered-animal panic, clutched the edge of the couch as if it could save you.

Zayne surveyed the situation, his brows knitting in disbelief. The word “seriously” almost visibly hovered over his head. He muttered something to himself under his breath—something along the lines of “A grown adult, reduced to this…” and grabbed the slipper you had unsuccessfully used in your battle. With one deft movement, he swatted the bug dead.

It was over. The monster was slain. You were free.

He turned to you, expression still a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

“Are you… Are you quite finished?” Zayne asked, his voice a low, cultured lilt, tinged with something that could almost be construed as amusement. His gaze flicked to the corner where you’d been backed into, and then back to you, who was now clinging to his arm like your life depended on it.

"Oh, thank God you're here," you sighed, utterly dramatic, “I thought I was going to perish in this apartment, alone and forgotten, just me and the bug in an eternal standoff!” You fluttered your eyelashes at him with all the flair you could muster, trying to inject some levity into the situation, though your chest still heaved in relief.

He blinked, visibly softening, but his voice remained stern, a tad patronizing as he gave your cheek a light pinch.

“You and your antics. Unbelievable,” he sighed, shaking his head. “What on earth possessed you to try and fight the insect with a pillow?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” you huffed, pouting as you gripped his arm tighter. “That thing had too much intelligence—I’m telling you, it was strategic.” You let out a dramatic sigh, as though recounting the tale of a great hero's struggle. “But, I’ll make it up to you. You’re my hero, after all.”

A sudden mischievous gleam flickered in your eyes. “How about I treat you to a massage for those tired, heroic muscles of yours?” you said, raising an eyebrow playfully, leaning in just enough to make your intentions clear.

Zayne raised an eyebrow in return, his lips twitching into a small but unmistakable smile. “A massage, hm? How very… unconventional of you,” he said, the hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “And here I was, expecting a thank you cake or perhaps a trophy for my valiant deeds.”

“I’ll bake you cookies later,” you said with a wink, already turning toward the kitchen. “But right now, I’m focused on making sure you aren’t walking around with tense shoulders from saving me from certain doom.”

Zayne’s smile softened, his eyes glinting with fondness as he crossed his arms. “Well, I suppose there’s no point in disobeying you now, is there?” He reached up and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, his voice soft but teasing.

You grinned up at him. “But if that thing ever shows up again…” you glanced at the now-dead bug lying on the floor, “we’re going to need more than just a slipper.”

You smiled to yourself. The bug was defeated, your date was salvaged, and Zayne… well, Zayne was a keeper.

Rafayel

Your phone was practically drowning in notifications from Rafayel. Each ping was more insistent than the last, almost like he thought you were hiding under a rock and couldn't see them.

"Where are you??" "I've been waiting for you for like, an hour now." "The audacity. I'm leaving. Fishes would start walking faster than you would get here." "AND you're not replying." "I'm this 🤏 close to blocking and reporting you."

You groaned, every word a reminder of how you were literally about to die at the hands—or wings—of a bug. You cursed under your breath and, with all the dignity you could muster, typed back: "House. Bug. Come!!!!!" That was all the energy you could spare before the creature—an absolute demon with wings—flapped them in your direction. Your heart skipped a beat. You dove behind the couch, praying it didn't have night-vision, or a complex plot to kill you slowly.

Your phone pinged again.

And again.

And again.

You didn’t dare check it—no, not while the little monster was hovering like it was plotting your demise. It was a battle of wills now, and you weren’t about to let your phone ruin your chance of survival.

You grabbed the nearest weapon: your expensive perfume. Maybe, just maybe, a spritz of it would do the trick. You aimed it like a champion—but the bug? The bug didn’t even flinch. Instead, it got more aggressive, flapping its wings with a smirk, if bugs had expressions. And the worst part? You just wasted your last drop of your favourite, expensive perfume. A tragedy on all fronts.

With no other options left, you waited for salvation. Where was anyone when you needed them? What kind of sick joke was this? How could you be outsmarted by an insect?

And then, the sound of footsteps. Hallelujah.

It was Rafayel.

You couldn’t decide whether you were filled with relief or utter terror. Was he here to rescue you? Or was he about to bail on you and leave you in a dramatic, bug-induced death scene worthy of a low-budget horror flick?

The door swung open with zero drama—Rafayel just barged in. He saw you, crouched behind the couch, practically whispering to yourself like you were in a hostage situation. His eyes immediately locked onto the bug, and for a second, time stopped.

His mouth opened, and you could practically hear the gears in his head turning before he spoke: “You are so in trouble right now, young lady. I—”

But then, the bug made a dramatic entrance. It flapped its wings in a show of pure, unadulterated confidence, like it knew it had just broken Rafayel's spirit. Rafayel froze, his eyes widening in horror, and within seconds, he was out the door, like a man running from a natural disaster.

“Rafayel! Don’t leave me here, you fish!” You whined, your voice pitched high in a way that made you sound like you were either five years old or on the verge of a mental breakdown. You weren’t sure which one it was.

The bug flapped its wings once more, mocking you. It was taunting you. You were being outwitted by something with a brain smaller than a grain of rice.

“I am not coming in there unless you get rid of this disgusting thing!” Rafayel’s voice came from the safety of the hallway, an unmistakable whiny tone in his words. He was refusing to enter, as if you had just asked him to enter a lion’s den while wearing a steak costume.

“You’re a fish! Don’t fishes eat bugs??” You groaned, still peeking out from behind the couch like a small animal in danger of being eaten alive.

“I have never been more insulted in my entire life,” Rafayel shot back, his voice dripping with melodrama. "Never in my—"

Before he could finish his Oscar-worthy speech, the bug made a beeline straight toward him. It was clearly hunting him now, and if you could hear its evil little thoughts, you were sure it was laughing at him. Rafayel yelped in sheer terror, darting behind the door like a child avoiding a splash of water.

“Take it away from me!!” He whimpered, his voice cracking in an almost comical way. If this were a reality show, this would definitely be the most embarrassing moment of the season.

You rubbed your temples in exasperation. This was fine. Everything was fine. Sure, your dignity was shattered. Sure, Rafayel was now questioning your survival instincts. Sure, you were the one who brought a broom to a battle that required grit and determination. But you were ready. It was time to defeat the beast. You needed to. After all, you couldn't get slain by the monster. you still had the whole Lemuria to repopulate.

“If I die right now,” you muttered to yourself, glaring at the bug like it was the villain in the movie of your life, “just know… I think your cooking’s actually terrible. And I once purposefully placed a brush next to your bed so you would slip on it. And—”

You were cut off by the sound of the bug’s wings buzzing, louder and more threatening than ever.

You grabbed your broom with the determination of a warrior and—without hesitation—charged. You swung it like a sword, taking out all your frustrations in one glorious, wild swipe. The bug was in mid-flight, doing its best to dodge your clumsy strikes, but eventually, victory was yours.

The demon bug, defeated, fluttered weakly out the window, and you stood, panting, broom still held high, like you’d just slain a dragon.

And then—silence.

You turned to Rafayel, still holding the broom like you were the hero of the story, waiting for your applause. But no. Instead, he stood there with his arms crossed, his lips pressed into a disapproving frown.

“You did WHAT?” he asked, the disbelief in his voice thick enough to spread on toast.

And in that moment, you realized—you’d won the battle against the bug. But now, a greater danger awaited you - an angry fish.

Sylus

You barely had time to register the sound of your phone ringing before bam, your door was obliterated like it was made of cardboard.

There stood Sylus, a whirlwind of concern and urgency, his brow furrowed, eyes scanning the room with that signature intensity.

He must’ve assumed you were in immediate danger, and, well... he wasn’t entirely wrong.

You were hiding behind the chair, poking your head out like a startled meerkat, a wave of relief washing over you at the sight of him. Sylus, your towering savior. The person who could fix anything, even the most horrifying of circumstances.

The bug, though? It seemed just as startled as you, its wings twitching nervously as though it could sense Sylus’s unyielding presence in the room. If bugs could feel power, this one was now thoroughly aware of its impending doom.

You almost giggled to yourself. Game over for the bug.

Sylus, meanwhile, stood frozen in the doorway, his gaze shifting between you and the bug with an expression that could only be described as... confusion.

"Kitten, what’s the matter?" His voice had that smooth, no-nonsense tone, but there was a definite edge of concern hidden beneath the sternness.

You pointed dramatically at the bug on the floor, your finger trembling slightly as you did. You could feel your pulse racing, that primal fear creeping back. Sylus’s eyes followed your outstretched arm to the bug, then shifted back to you, his expression unreadable. He took a beat, processing the situation. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he deadpanned:

"You’re not actually serious, are you?"

You couldn’t even muster a comeback. Instead, you whined, ducking further behind the chair as the bug flapped its wings once again, preparing for round two.

"It’s trying to kill me!" You squeaked, clutching the chair as though it were your only line of defense against the monstrous thing that was quite literally the size of your thumb.

Sylus’s gaze lingered on you. There was a flicker of something in his eyes—was it disbelief? Amusement? Maybe a little bit of both. He stood there, dead silent, taking it all in. And then, to your horror, he turned on his heel and walked out of the room.

"Sylus, wait!" You squeaked, your voice rising with panic. The bug was closing in! Would your hero really leave you to face your untimely death at the claws—or wings—of this vile creature?

But just as quickly as he’d left, Sylus returned, striding in like the cavalry had just arrived. In one hand, he held a can of bug spray. No grand entrance, no dramatic speeches, just a weapon of mass destruction for your foe.

Without another word, he unleashed the spray like a warrior wielding a sword of justice, a small but fierce hiss filling the air. The bug’s frantic wing-flapping turned into a lazy, defeated flutter as it crumpled into oblivion.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, cautiously peeking from behind the chair, making sure the battle was truly over. The bug was definitely down for the count. You waited another second, just to be sure, then, with all the grace of a startled deer, you leapt from your hiding place and ran straight into Sylus’s arms.

Without missing a beat, you buried your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around him as though he were your personal superhero—because, in this moment, he definitely was.

"Thank you, my hero!" You chimed, looking up at him, your voice a mixture of gratitude and—okay, maybe a little bit of dramatics. But could you blame yourself? It was a near-death experience.

Sylus’s face didn’t shift much, but his lips curled up at the edges in that trademark sly smirk of his. Oh, here it came.

"My, my... Whatever shall I do with you?" His voice was smooth, filled with an undertone of amusement as his hands slid around your waist, pulling you in closer, his presence overwhelming and comforting all at once.

You couldn’t help but giggle, your heart still racing from the excitement of it all. “Whatever you wish, oh my savior.” You batted your lashes dramatically, trying—and failing—to hold back a grin. "But first, let's get this dinner! All this near-death experience made me starving!"

With that, you grabbed his hand and began tugging him toward the door like a child dragging their parent to their favorite amusement park. Sylus followed, his chuckle rumbling through his chest as he matched your pace.

“As you wish, my lady,” he replied, his voice warm and amused.

“Oh, and by the way, you need to replace my door. You did kinda knock it down.” You gestured at the gaping hole in the doorway, now very much ruined by his heroic entrance.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I can just buy you a new house.”

“No,” you said flatly, shaking your head with conviction. “Not a new house. Just the door. And maybe some new furniture to match the hole you made.”

Caleb

You ignored your phone's ringing for now - afraid to move your gaze away from the bug.

You'd tried everything: pillow throws, shoe swats, even a half-hearted attempt at swatting it with a hairbrush. But every time you tried to inch your way to the door, the thing flapped its wings with an eerie, almost taunting precision. You were fairly certain it was actively laughing at you. The worst part? You couldn’t figure out what it even was—was it a cockroach? A beetle? No, it had the terrifying charisma of a tiny dragon.

At this point, your phone was pinging like crazy, full of messages from Caleb.

"Where you at, babe? :P" "You good? 😬" "Okay, I'm seriously starting to get concerned. Did you get abducted by aliens? XD" "Or worse... did you bail on me??"

You groaned, knowing you had to respond. With one eye on the bug (now doing an actual flyby of your head), you typed out a frantic reply: "Bug. Help. Please. I’m literally being held hostage."

The "send" button clicked just as the beast made a bold move toward you, sending you diving behind the couch. You muttered something obscene under your breath, praying to whatever higher power existed that Caleb would get the message.

You heard the front door creak open, and the sound of footsteps entering your apartment. Caleb’s unmistakable voice rang out immediately.

"You alive in there, or did you get eaten by a mutant insect?" His tone was teasing, light, but you could hear the hint of concern buried underneath it.

The moment you saw his face peeking around the corner, you almost burst into tears, then immediately regretted not thinking of this sooner—why hadn't you just called him earlier? This was a disaster.

"There!" You pointed shakily at the bug, now circling you like a demented helicopter, "It’s... it's trying to kill me, Caleb. Please get rid of it before I lose my mind."

He looked at the bug, then back at you, arching an eyebrow. "So, you're telling me this... thing has been keeping you hostage for 20 minutes? I’d say I’m impressed, but also... I’m honestly a little offended you didn’t call me earlier."

You shot him a pleading look. “I didn’t want to bother you! Plus, I thought I could handle it myself, but clearly—" you gestured at the bug dramatically, "—I was wrong."

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, I’ll take care of it. But you owe me one for this. You owe me big time."

As if on cue, the bug lunged towards him, its wings buzzing aggressively.

"Look at this thing, Caleb! It knows I’m weak!" you shouted, half laughing, half panicking. You watched him as he calmly reached for the nearest object—a broom—before striding toward the creature like a true warrior.

"Relax, pipsqueak. I’ve got this." His voice was smooth, dripping with that signature teasing tone, but there was a flicker of protectiveness in his eyes. You knew he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.

With one swift motion, he shooed the bug out of your apartment, making sure it was well and truly gone before turning to you with a satisfied grin.

You practically threw yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Oh my god, Caleb. Thank you. I would’ve died in here if it wasn’t for you.”

He chuckled softly, his lips brushing the top of your head as he held you tight. "You owe me, sweetheart. You’re lucky I’m in a good mood. I came here expecting a romantic evening, not to play exterminator." His hand gently ran through your hair, a soft gesture of care that made your heart flutter despite everything.

"I’ll do anything," you said, your voice a little too serious.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Anything? Hm, we might need to revisit that offer later, but for now..." He paused, leaning back to look you over. "I think we can still salvage the evening. After all, we’ve got the whole night ahead of us, right?"

You smirked, playfully brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "Yeah, and you’re not getting out of dinner that easily. You still owe me a real date after this."

He laughed, pulling you closer. "Alright, alright. But just so you know, next time, I’m sending you a bug-catching kit as your official starter pack for dating me. You’ve been warned."

You couldn’t help but grin, a weight finally lifting from your shoulders as you found yourself safe in his arms.

"And Caleb," you said, trying to hide a mischievous smile, "You look hot when you move around with a broom."

[illubean]

NSFW warning; reader discretion advised

imagine riding Nerdjo while on the phone with his best friend; the one and only lady killer Suguru

The three of you were pretty close friends, and you had slept with Suguru before, but poor virgin Satoru only recently just worked up the courage to confide in you about his problems

Despite being attractive enough to get any girl he wanted, Satoru often turned down the attention of any other women. He feared that his hobbies would scare them off sooner or later, and even if they didn't, he wanted to lose it to someone he trusted.

He knew that someone had to be you, but since you and Suguru were pretty consistant FWB, it felt slightly wrong to him.

you should only be sleeping with one person at a time, right?

So when he finally told you about his qualms, he didn't expect you to strip him, push his back onto his digimon bedsheets, and give him the ride of his life

No woman in her right mind would fuck a man who still had digimon bedsheets in his late 20s, but Satoru was just so cute asking you for help that you couldn't say no to him

Satoru whimpered and whined beneath you, your weepy pussy clenching around his length feeling better than his hand ever could. The poor guy couldn't keep his hands to himself, pawing and groping any and every inch of skin he could reach

You cooed at him while he babbled nonsense, before your phone went off and you picked it up from the bedside table. Suguru was facetiming you. Without as much as a second thought, you answered.

"Hey pretty. What are you up to?"

"Mm, not much. Just hanging out with 'Toru" you responded as if you weren't currently bouncing on the aforementioned man's cock. Satoru slapped a hand over his mouth, attempting to muffle his own pleasured cries while his skin flushed from his cheeks all the way down to his neck.

"I didn't know you guys were hanging out today. I just got off work, should I come over?"

"Sure! Y'know, he actually asked me-"

"Mnnooooo, don't tell himm!"

Your eyes widened at Satoru's whiny protest, looking at him past your phone to see a fucked out, embarrassed expression on his face. You let out a breathy laugh and smirked down at him, slowing your hips in order to grind your pelvis against his.

"Aww baby, why not? I'm sure he could help you too," you teased, turning your attention back to the blackette on your screen. "Why don't I just show him then?"

Before Satoru could protest, you flipped your camera around to show Suguru the position you currently had his best friend in. Satoru used the back of one hand to cover his face and the other to try and shield the camera from where the two of you connected. His entire body felt hot, head turning to the side while he felt tears prick at the corners of his blue eyes.

You swatted the hand he was using to block Suguru's view away before resting your own against his abdomen, caressing soothing circles against his skin.

"Isn't he just the cutest? Hurry Sugu, come join us!"

[willowed-wisp]

ghost as a dad ( part three ) [ simon riley ]

part one | part two |

- You were surprised when Simon said he wanted to try for another baby when he was hesitant to be a dad before your eldest was born. That was eight year ago…

- he just wants one more, he adores how cute your babies are. And how attracted he gets seeing you pregnant.

- It wasn’t much of a surprise to you when you didn’t feel too great. Exhausted, a bit nauseous but not vomiting and so turned on. Not that Simon was complaining… but he was away, and would be longer than his usual one or two months.

- It would be your little surprise to him- ultrasounds in hand for when he came home.

- Turns out you were about eight weeks gone at the first ultrasound and when the technician started taking a closer look, you started to get unnerved. “Is everything okay with the baby?”

- “The babies are growing nicely…”

- “Did you just say… babies?” Then she faced the screen to you. Two shadows in your belly… “Twins?”

- Too early to tell the genders, but they would be when your Lieutenant returned back.

- You didn’t want to tell anybody before Simon, so you wore baggy clothes- hoping nobody would notice the unusually large belly as you entered your second trimester.

- No birth defects were spotted on your 12 week scan. And you were told a loose guess on what the gender was. But they couldn’t be sure until your 19th week.

- Simon returns back home to his favourite meal. “Where are the kids?” He seemed concerned. You were sat down, no kids in sight and a brown envelope in front of you.

- “They’re over at Tommy and Beth’s, they thought we could do with a night alone,” His face relaxed, though disappointed. He needed his tattoo coloured in again. “I got you something…”

- You took advantage of him opening the envelope to rear your way around the table. In the envelope, was a picture of the ultrasound and the test.

- Let’s just say, he spent a good 20 minutes on his knees hugging your stomach.

- He didn’t care what gender they were just that they were healthy.

- He made sure he was there for the birth. “Mr and Mrs Riley, a boy and a girl…”

- Like what’s been said before… he’s so girl dad coded.

- He had the boys from 141 help decorate the nursery.

- Johnny suggested pink and blue camo wallpaper and Simon nearly hung him from the baby mobile.

- Simon didn’t wish for any of his kids to join the military.

- The amount of medication he takes to get by in the day, he can’t sleep unless he’s at home…

- Simon is perfect for twin duty- holding both on his wings. In his grey fitted T-shirt, a bottle in each hand. Feeding the twins, in that light his eyes were russet undercoated with mauve circles. From the bed, you could feel that heat. The smouldering hearth of fatherly love.

- Simon was born to be a father, he just hadn’t known it.

- Can’t tell them apart and constantly mixes them around when they are younger. Practically identical- peering up to him with his own eyes.

- Simon marvels when the pair just stare at each other. “Are they sizing each other up, or what?” Makes you burst out laughing

- “When I stare at you I’m not planning how to murder you?”

- “Sure about that, love?”

- Simon taught your son to protect his sisters, “you’ve gotta watch our for everyone when I’m here and when I’m not,” and your son definitely listened, because whenever Simon was away- your son would make sure you ate, had put everyone else to bed and would comfort his younger siblings and even your eldest daughter when she started getting bullied and you just knew Simon put him up to it.

- Simon took care of the rest when he was back.

- When your eldest was being bullied and you had to have a parental meeting… Christ on Earth, your husband nearly had the bully’s dad in tears, “Your son ever picks on my li’l girl again… put ‘im in check or I will…”

- You’d never been so attracted to him before. And he gave your daughter a fist bump leaving school grounds, “Get ‘im by the ear next time and drag the bastard to a teacher…”

- Not surprised that the school phoned you the next day.

- You gave Simon an earful, but he wound you down with sweet neck kisses from neck to chest… and ended up riding him on the backseat on the Land Rover waiting for your daughter to finish school.

- That’s how he gets out of most disputes- you’re lucky you aren’t knocked up straight after births

- Your son’s caring and strong attitude stretched into his teenhood- until your son himself started dwelling on joining the SAS. The twins didn’t understand what the SAS were- being 8 at the time your son asked and enquired with his father.

- Simon has never wished for one of your kids to join his career because good men die. He knew that more than anyone.

- But he would train your son to be the best survivor and best trainee he could be

- He turned into a Simon junior, only having a sprinkle of your genetics. Only an inch shorter than his dad but Simon would give him a run for his money

- Simon definitely adapts to different ages very well, he goes all cutesy when they’re kiddos but when they start growing up- he’s more protective and nurtures them.

- He teaches them to look out for each other- like he had with his brother and mum.

- Tells them that if he didn’t come home, to take care of their mumma… but luckily he always comes back.

- He had to, he wanted to see the twins look miles apart from each other growing up.

- Tomboy girl and computer nerd boy.

- Simon loved his family, even when being used as a makeup mannequin and a nail polish model from your youngest daughter when playing dress up with the eldest

- It was different to the war paint he used around his eyes.

- He’d even let her put a bow in his hair.

- BRIGHT PINK BOWs, you’ve never laughed so hard and your military-bound son shakes his head.

- Every birthday that goes around he always whispers to you, “This is what I come home for…”

————

masterlist

taglist:

@thychuvaluswife @foxygirl-4287 @1-800-g00ber

[cinnamongrl2006]

Bruce wayne and dry humping, I beg of you‼️‼️

Bale Bruce Wayne x fem!reader ˚。⋆୨୧˚ mdni (18+)˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆ warnings: established relationship, dry humping, praise, age gap (reader in her early 20s, Bruce in his 40s) a/n: I meant to post this this morning but there was a power outage ALL OVER MY COUNTRY, so you get it now.

It started out slow, almost involuntary; he'd been locked in his study for hours, you missed him, craved his attention, his touch. You needed him to look at you, wide eyed and attentive, his hands on your waist, steadying you, as you talked his ear off about your day— pilates class in the morning, then a lecture, then...coffee with a girlfriend...— and you needed him to smile and nod and shut you up with a kiss and some stupid sarcastic comment; but he wouldn't, because he was busy.

So you took matters into your own hands, and you walked into the room, uncaring, not listening to his half-hearted complaints and grumbles. Bruce pushed his chair back, allowing you to sit on his lap, a routine you’ve done before.

He sighed when you finally settled atop his thighs, pressing a kiss to his cheek. His eyes were set on the screen in front of him, hands periodically moving from the keyboard to caress your waist, your thighs, your stomach, your back.

You just wanted to sit with him, but the way he held your waist and sporadically kissed the top of your head was making you wetter by the second.

Feeling bold, you shifted your position slightly, leaning into him and letting your hips move forward just a bit. It started slowly, almost innocently, as you pressed against his leg, testing the waters to see if he would notice.

As the friction intensified, you found a steady rhythm, rocking your hips against him. The sensation of his thigh against your damp cunt sent shivers through your body, and you couldn't suppress a soft sigh.

Bruce's focus shifted from the screen to your face for a moment, a soft smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. “What’s my pretty girl up to?” he asked, gently petting your head.

"Nothin', just bored..." You punctuated your words with a roll of your hips.

He was focused, eyebrows knit in concentration as he stared at the screen in front of him, his study was quiet save for the click-clacks of the keyboard and your whines when he bounced his leg— a nervous tic of his you were thankful for in times like these— rubbing the rough fabric of his pants against your aching clit.

"Right. Well, I appreciate the company, but I can't have you here distracting me. You think you can keep yourself busy, sweet thing?"

You nodded eagerly, biting your bottom lip to suppress a smile as you pressed your clothed cunt against his crotch. His usually steady breathing became ragged, a low moan escaping him as the bulge in his slacks pushed against your aching heat.

Despite his labored breathing and obviously hard cock, he stayed focused, his hands clicking away at the keyboard while he mumbled to himself, occasionally kissing your hair.

Sure, he could've stopped working for half an hour and fucked you to sleep, but he was good at multitasking, plus, he loved the way his girl looked when she worked for what she wanted.

As the minutes passed, you found yourself lost in the rhythm, grinding against him with increasing urgency. Your nails dug into his shoulders for leverage as you pushed yourself against Bruce. His breathing grew heavier, but he still didn’t shift his focus from the screen.

“Come on, sweet thing,” he said, his voice sweet but firm. “You know I can’t help you if you don’t put in the effort.”

You huffed at his words, irritation cursing through you. The wetness of your cunt was leaving a damp patch on both your panties and his slacks as you bounced on his thighs.  

Each movement was a silent plea for him to acknowledge you, but he remained focused on his computer screen, a smirk on his face as if he enjoyed your growing impatience.

You let out a soft whine, the heat pooling in your core becoming almost unbearable. “Please,” you murmured, hoping he’d finally look up, but he just chuckled softly, still typing away.

"Just a little longer, pretty girl. I'm almost done here." He tapped your hip with compassion, his gaze set on the screen before him.

With every grind against him, the pressure built until you couldn't hold back any longer. A soft moan escaped your lips as you finally reached your peak, your body trembling with the release.

"So desperate, I barely even touched you, sweetheart." His voice was sweet, but you could catch the mockery in his tone, making your cheeks go red.

You looked down, feeling a rush of embarrassment at his words. “Well, I couldn’t help it,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper, face scrunched in a frown.

He paused his typing, finally looking at you with a sympathetic smile. “I know. You really needed that, didn’t you?”

You chuckled and slumped forward, resting your head on his chest. Bruce's arms wrapped around your waist, holding you against him.

His expression softened, and he reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and caring.

"Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed." You nodded, leaning into his touch. "But I liked it," You assured him.

"Good. That's good." He leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his warmth enveloping you like a blanket.

After a moment of silence he tilted your chin up with one finger, his eyes focused on yours. "How was your day, beautiful?"

────୨ৎ────

I am currently working on a LOT of requests, but my inbox is still open!! Just be mindful they might take a bit, I'm a girl, not a machine.

[illyrianbitch]

Accidental

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Azriel accidentally likes an old photo while stalking your profile. A spiral into mortification follows.

Warnings: modern! prythian aka everything is the same except social media exists. az sucks at social media and is a loverboy and mortified stalker. sassy shadows and matchmaking. basically fluff and crushes

Word Count: 1.8k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel barely used Instagram. 

His account was a placeholder at best—a profile photo of him, Rhys, and Cassian from some formal court trip, no posts, and a follower count so small it seemed like he was actively trying to be cool. Hundreds of follow requests sat ignored, mostly Mor’s friends or Cassian’s buddies.  

Azriel had only downloaded the app for Rhysand. It had been part of the public rebranding of their ruling, a way for the Night Court citizens to feel closer to the individuals they relied on for the proper functioning of their court. Rhys had insisted that having a social media presence—however minimal, as he’d said with that plastered grin of his—was good for their image. Cassian and Mor had jumped in with no hesitation. Azriel, on the other hand, had never felt a more intense, animalistic rage than when Cassian managed to flood his phone with ridiculous memes and videos that only elderly fae could find funny.

Well, elderly fae and Cassian, it seemed.

So Azriel had gone along with it, sitting next to Mor as she set up his lackluster account. He hadn’t bothered to edit it since. In truth, he only opened the app when he was completely, mind-numbingly bored. Or, like tonight, when the house was too quiet, and he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

The search bar remembered your name. One tap, and there it was—your profile, a perfectly curated grid of moments that always seemed so effortlessly you. 

Azriel made sure he was on his second account. While he never intended to use the app for anything other than the occasional check-in, he liked knowing he had the option to interact with his family if he ever chose to. To ensure that safety net, for whenever it might be needed, Azriel had created a second, more private account. No identifiable name, no picture. His only followers were his family, their close friends, and you.

His shadows shifted lazily around him, one curling near his ear, ready to whisper. Others lingered by his shoulders. He could feel their silent critique, like they were collectively arching a brow.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, brushing one of them away with a flick of his fingers. It didn’t retreat far, still coiled in the corner of his vision like it was waiting for him to come to his senses.

He ignored them and clicked on your profile.

The first photo caught his attention immediately. You, smiling at the camera, holding a drink with two cherries hanging off the glass. He wondered what it was, what you preferred your liquor to be mixed with. Mor was in the background, her arm slung around your shoulder, laughing at something out of frame. He bit back a snicker at Mor’s comments under the photo, at the way she jokingly groveled and thirsted for you like a stereotypical, horny, young fae. 

Darker thoughts crept in. The idea that there might be others—men, strangers—leaving similar comments, but in all seriousness, made his stomach churn. A wave of unease rolled over him. He scowled and willed himself to scroll past, deliberately avoiding the remaining 20 comments.

He scrolled. Another photo—this one from a trip to the Summer Court, your legs stretched out on the sand, a book propped against your knees. The sunlight hit your skin just right, your sunglasses reflecting the waves.  

And then he kept scrolling. He couldn’t stop. Posts from weeks ago turned into months, then years. He stopped on one from a themed birthday party, your costume half-hidden by a cluster of friends. The blurry quality didn’t matter—his gaze zeroed in on you, on the way your smile lit up the frame.  He leaned closer to the screen to get a better look.

But he wasn’t the only one curious for a detailed glance, it seemed. His shadows around him moved suddenly, as erratic and fast as they could be, and the motion startled him— pushed his arm just enough. Almost instantaneously, Azriel’s thumb brushed against the screen.

No, no, no, he thought. He tried to pull back, but it was too late.

The red heart bloomed on the screen.

“No,” Azriel muttered, out loud this time. He sat up so fast his phone almost slipped from his hands. “No,” he repeated in horror, as his wings curled tight against his back, the sharp movement almost painful.

The heart lingered there, mocking him. A post from three years ago, a photo you probably hadn’t even remembered. And now your notifications would light up with his name. He’d be exposed in all of his stalker glory. 

He jammed his thumb into the screen, unliking the post, but it didn’t matter. The damage was done. He couldn’t undo it. The guilt, the horror—he hadn’t felt this mortified in centuries. His shadows hovered near him, drifting around his head like little mischievous wraiths. Watching him. Waiting for the fallout.

Azriel cursed under his breath. “You made me do this.”

They flicked in response—teasing. An amused dance. Keep. Wait.

A strangled noise left him. He tossed his phone onto the bed next to him, face down, trying to escape the embarrassment of what he’d just done. His shadows were quick, though, swarming toward the phone. Tendrils grasped it and brought it back to his chest, setting it down with a soft thud.

“Really?” he hissed at them.

The shadows responded with an amused flicker, their tendrils writhing in a way that felt like they were laughing. They were laughing. Azriel knew this. They were loving this, basking in his mortification.

Maybe they’d been too bored recently, he thought bitterly. After all, they were used to the adrenaline of constant threats, the thrill of danger lurking at every corner. To be honest, so was he. It had been a learning curve for all of them to adjust to… peace. But he would’ve never expected them to stoop so low—to find this, his embarrassment, so entertaining.

They used to protect him. Used to care for him. Traitors. Mischievous, conniving traitors.

They’d painted him as a stalker without even realizing it, and worse, they seemed proud of it.

Azriel groaned, dragging a hand over his face. 

Social media sucked.

Azriel groaned in frustration and leaned back against the wall behind his bed. His wings were still tight against his back, every muscle tense. If he ignored it, maybe it would just never come up again—maybe the world would stop spinning long enough for this nightmare to pass. Why was he so embarrassed, anyway? 

Master with slippery fingers. Funny. Spy now seen. Funny.

Then, his phone buzzed.

Azriel froze. His blood ran cold, and he picked it up slowly, like it was a trap. He glanced at the notification, and his stomach flipped.

Your name. In a godsdamned text. 

He almost dropped the phone again.

Did you just like a photo from three years ago? 👀

His eyes darted to the next message.

Deep dive, huh?

A long beat of silence stretched. His shadows circled around him, pressing close like nosy little imps, smirking in their own way. Azriel couldn’t decide whether to laugh or die from embarrassment.

Sorry, accident.

He grimaced the second he watched the message send. Shadows pressed in closer. More. More. He ran his tongue along his teeth before letting out another sigh. Nothing to lose at this point. 

I was feeling nostalgic.

Azriel hit send before he could stop himself. 

And then immediately regretted it. He flopped back on his bed with an aggravated groan. This. Was. A. Disaster. And he’d just made it worse. He had yet to understand why his common sense tended to disappear when it came to you. It was humbling, to say the least. 

His family wouldn’t let this go. Not in a million years. He could already hear Cassian’s booming laugh, the bastard cringing with mock horror despite being the least shameful person Azriel knew. Cass had done the same thing once—accidentally liking someone’s post—and he’d turned redder than Rhys’s favorite wine.

Then there were the times Mor had complained about people lurking on her profile, her nose wrinkling as she muttered about how gross it was. If she found out about this? She’d never let him hear the end of it.

And you. He didn’t even want to imagine how you’d respond if you found out. Would you laugh it off? Would you be creeped out, knowing he hadn’t managed to hold a proper conversation with you, but here he was… lurking? He was never beating the strange, stalker allegations now.

Shrouded in shadow, Night Court’s spymaster secretly loves creeping on his family’s friends on social media. Oh yes, that’d be wonderful for their polished image.

He shook his head, hating how the mortifying narrative practically wrote itself. Of course, he was overreacting—he knew that much. Liking a post wasn’t some cardinal sin. But it didn’t help his embarrassment.

And it definitely didn’t help that his shadows were snickering in his ears.

Another buzz. He grabbed his phone with impressive speed.

Nostalgic? For a party you weren’t even at? Interesting.

In a matter of seconds, Azriel typed out a dozen responses—short, curt, defensive—before erasing them all. Shadows around him fluttered, restless with amusement. Even they understood just how thoroughly he’d boxed himself in. They whispered ideas he promptly ignored. He was already in enough trouble. Finally, he settled on something somewhat believable:

Mor told me about your great costume from a few years back. I wanted to appreciate it.

His thumb hovered over the send button before he hit it, the message firing off into the void. Three dots appeared almost instantly. Then disappeared. Then reappeared.

He swore under his breath.

The reply came a moment later: Sure. If it’s my costume you’re appreciating, just say that.

Azriel blinked. He stared at the screen, torn between mortification and something sharper—something dangerously close to hope.

Before he could stop himself, he typed: Maybe I was.

And then he tossed the phone onto the bed once more. The shadows followed the device, swarming it as it buzzed again almost immediately.

He hesitated. A long moment passed before he finally picked it up.

Well, for the record, I appreciated your deep dive. Very endearing.

His heart stuttered. Endearing. You thought it was endearing. He could work with this. 

For once, he didn’t overthink it.

For the record,  he replied, I appreciated the costume.

When he set the phone down this time, he couldn’t help the small, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. A swarm of black swirled around him. Their presence was almost smug now, wrapping him in their knowing energy. 

“Not a word,” Azriel muttered, narrowing his eyes at the nearest wisp as it curled around his wrist.

To his surprise, they listened. They settled, their tendrils spreading out and draping across him like a heavy blanket. Relaxed. Content. Slow, despite the erratic pattering of his heart beneath them.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

if you saw any typos…no you didn’t. @writingcroissant dictatori was pressuring me to post 😔. thank you for reading 🫶🏻🫶🏻

im sorry but the idea of az, who is so good at hiding everything, freaking the FUCK out bc he doesnt understand social media cracks me uppppp

canon-typical prythian but with social media has been on my mind so much. you may see some more of this world im ngl

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters 

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound

@melissat1254

@secretsicanthideanymore

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

@angel-graces-world-of-chaos @acoazlove @paradisebabey @inkedinshadows

azriel tag list 🫶🏻:@thisiskaylin @serrendiipty @acourtofsteelandthunder  @mortqlprojections @ushijima-stits @honethatty12

[frostiexavier]

/) /) ~ ┏━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┓ ( •-• ) ~ ♡ down to the last word ♡ /づづ ~ ┗━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┛

☆ MINORS DNI | 18+ ONLY ☆

ミ☆ summary: Xavier has been improving on a lot of things lately such as cooking, cleaning and even staying up with you. But when he finds something you have been keeping from him, he has a few questions about your desires.

ミ☆ warning: smut, Xavier x fem! reader, unprotected p in v sex, bare grinding?, shirt used as a restraint, fem reader tied up, dom! Xavier, fluff the beginning and end, idk Xavier is very vocal and says dirty things

ミ☆ word count: 5k

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

You finally clock out for the week at the hunter’s association. Your energy is drained but you are excited to spend the weekend off with Xavier. He got to leave early today because he finished his work early, as always, but you procrastinate.

Just as you were leaving the building you got a phone call from Xavier. You smile seeing his face pop up on your screen. You quickly answer the call.

“Hello?”, you smile while placing the phone to your ear.

“Hi honey, you haven’t eaten yet right?”, he says softly over the phone. Your heart melts hearing him call you the nickname he picked out for you. It’s so sweet that he is accustomed to it now. At the start of your relationship he was hesitant but now its second nature to him.

“No I haven’t, should I order us some takeout? I can pick it up on the way home”, you say as you get into your car, lock the doors and put the key into the ignition.

“There is no need, I cooked for us. It’s waiting for you when you get here but take your time. Be careful on the road”, he says sweetly over the phone but you freeze. He cooked? Should I order the takeout anyways? No, it would hurt his feelings. You hold back your sigh and respond to him.

“Okay then, are you sure you don’t want me to pick up sides or anything to go with it?”, you ask him and he chuckles over the phone.

“I know what you’re thinking but it's edible trust me, just come home”, he urges you. You chuckle and agree. You say your goodbyes and hang up the phone. You make it to your apartment complex within 20 minutes and make your way up to your apartment. Xavier is still technically your upstairs neighbor but he practically lives at your apartment, he only leaves to change clothes or if he forgets something at his place.

You open the door to your apartment and immediately the aroma of freshly cooked food fills the air. You take off your coat and hang it on the coat rack near the door. It smells amazing and you wonder what Xavier used to mask the smell of whatever he may have burned.

“Oh hi, wait right there let me set the table first”, Xavier moves quickly to set up your plate and scoots the chair out for you to sit down. The lights are slightly dimmed and he has a few candles lit on the table as well.

You take a seat and stare down at a plate of spaghetti with garlic bread on the side. It's topped with parmesan cheese and some diced tomatoes. The garlic bread looks freshly baked and the spread looks delicious on top. It smells delightful and no signs of anything looks burnt. You look over and all the dishes are cleaned and put away and the kitchen is spotless. Xavier grabs you both a drink before he takes off his apron and sits down across from you at the table. He is wearing a white button down shirt with nicely fitted black pants. A couple buttons already undone at the top. His hair is neatly combed but in his normal hairstyle he likes.

“I am so excited for you to try this. I’ve been working on dinner all day”, he said excitedly and you smiled at him.

“This looks wonderful Xavier, well present it to me what did you make”, you say, folding your hands together and looking at him with admiration.

“Well.. I made spaghetti with marinara sauce. I topped it with parmesan cheese and a few diced tomatoes. But the thing that took me the longest to make was the bread. I made it from scratch and made the garlic spread from scratch too.”, he says proud of himself.

You look around the table at the assortment of things and you have to say you are impressed but still skeptical if Xavier actually made this.

“Xavier, it looks really good”, you say to him and he smiles.

“Well, go ahead, try it”, he says, gesturing for you to take a bite. You reluctantly pick up your fork and spiral the noodles around your fork making sure to get some cheese and a tomato in the first bite. You look at Xavier and he is waiting with anticipation.

You take the first bite and start chewing. To your surprise the pasta was well cooked and the sauce was very flavorful. Nothing was overcooked or uncooked at all, it was perfect. The cheese and tomatoes went well with the spaghetti and the flavor tasted as if it came from a nice restaurant.

“Xavier, where did you get this from?”, you ask him and he looks at you with confusion.

“What do you mean?”, he says, his face forming into a pout.

“This is spectacular, you had to get this at a restaurant or something right? Are you pranking me?”, you laugh and he stares at you blankly.

“No seriously, I made it, try the bread too”, he says, picking up the garlic bread and placing it to your lips. You lean in and take a bite of the bread and you roll your eyes back.

The bread is super fresh and still very warm like it just came out of the oven. The spread on top was savory and had a nice garlic flavor that wasn’t overbearing. You moan at the flavor making Xavier blush slightly.

“Okay fess up, where did you get Xavier?”, you say after swallowing the bread.

“I made it I promise you, look I even made a video of me making it because I knew you wouldn’t believe me”, he says getting out of his seat and getting his phone out of his back pocket. He pulls his chair next to me and sits down, holding the phone between us. He pulls up the video and presses play, he is in frame with the kitchen surrounding him.

“Hey everyone, this is I don’t know how many attempts I have made to make dinner for my girlfriend, we have 6 hours before she comes home tonight so let’s get started”, he says through the screen. You giggle and look over at him. He must have started this right after getting off work early.

“Who are you talking to?”, you look over at him, he looks at you meeting your gaze.

“No one, just watch”, he giggles and points to the screen. You turn your attention back to the screen.

“We are going to start with our bread dough and make the dough for our spaghetti noodles. I am following a recipe online so hopefully it will be easier. I could just buy premade noodles at the store but then it wouldn’t be made with love so”, he says looking at the recipe. You can’t help but smile at how cute he is and how he looks trying his best to cook something for you.

The video goes on and he puts the video on 2x speed to show you he went by the recipe, down to the last word. You can see him baking the bread and it comes out perfectly and how he creates the spaghetti noodles and cooks it perfectly as well.

He ends the video with showing his creation to the screen and taste testing it. He nods in approval and cuts off the video. As the video ends you look over at him and he looks at you with an eyebrow raised.

“Still think it's from a restaurant?”, he gocks at you and you put your hands up in defense.

“Okay I was wrong, I’m sorry. You did so well, I can’t believe you worked so hard for me”, you laugh as you put your hands back down.

“Of course, I know I’m still learning but I wanted to prove to you I could do it, I want to be a reliable boyfriend.”, he smiles averting his gaze.

“You already are but I appreciate you so much, thank you Xavier”, you lean over and kiss his cheek. His eyes widen in surprise and he looks at you. You giggle at his reaction and he smiles, his cheeks turned the same red as the tomatoes.

“Okay well eat up because I made dessert too?”, he laughs and moves his chair back to where he originally was sitting across from you.

“Oh? Did you make a vlog for that one too?”, you giggle as you tease him.

“Shutup”, he laughs alongside you and shakes his head taking a bite of his own creation.

You both enjoy dinner together as you discuss each other's day. He talks about how he had to run to the store multiple times because he kept forgetting ingredients for the dessert he made. You laugh with him but his dessert came out beautifully. He made a layer cake that he had placed in the fridge. It was white cake with raspberry filling and whipped cream between layers. The cake was even more delicious than dinner and Xavier agreed. You still couldn’t believe he put so much time and effort into making you both a nice meal and sweet treat.

After dinner you went to change into your pajamas as he finished cleaning the dishes you both used. You decide to brush your teeth and get ready for the night. You remove today's makeup and apply your skin care before bed. You make your way to your bed and try to catch up on some reading while Xavier is busy in the kitchen.

After about 30 minutes you hear footsteps making their way to the bedroom. You quickly put your bookmark back in your book to save your page and place it under your pillow. You grab your phone to open tiktok and pretend you have been scrolling for a while.

Xavier walks into the room rubbing his eyes and yawning. He is now in his pajama pants and a t-shirt. He must have taken a trip to his apartment to change. He walks over to “his” side of the bed and pulls the covers over him. He plops his head on the pillow and turns to face you, giving you a soft smile.

“Are you sleepy?”, you ask him. He nods slowly and yawns again.

“Why don’t you get some sleep, silly? You worked so hard today”, you say snuggling up to him, he envelops you into his arms and you bury your face into his chest.

“I promised I would watch the next episode of your favorite show with you, plus I am trying to stay awake longer since I sleep way too much. I don’t want to keep wasting the day sleeping when I could be spending more time with you”, he looks down at you, poking your nose and then your cheek.

You poke his chest and reply, “Well only if you want to, but if you get too sleepy I won’t get upset if you decide to go to sleep”. You smile up at him and he chuckles.

“Alright we will see, go ahead and find the episode, I am going to get a bit more comfortable”, he says sitting up. You grab the remote and look up the show you want to watch but your mind gets distracted when you see Xavier take off his shirt and throw it in the nearby hamper. You can’t help but scan his toned chest, arms, abdomen and even his hands. Every inch of him was perfect, every detail of him was something you could only fantasize about. But, he was all yours.

“Have you found it yet?”, he says, shaking his hair back to its neat look and you quickly avert your gaze back to the tv. You swallow the saliva that has formed in your mouth as you click the episode. You lay back down on your side but Xavier quickly pulls you into his arms to cuddle with you. He has one hand propped up to hold his head up to watch the tv while the other arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you extremely close to his front.

You can feel his bare chest on your back through your silk pjs and you try to stop your thoughts from running wild. You both enjoy the newest episode and Xavier comments on how Elena needs to quit torturing the Salvatore brothers and just pick a love interest already. You laugh at his comments and you both talk about how you think the next episode will go. As you talk Xavier starts to stroke your hair behind your ear and you close your eyes from the feeling. You are still talking but he grabs your pillow to place your head on it just in case you fall asleep. Put as he reaches for your pillow his hand touches something else.

“Oh, what is this?”, he says, grabbing the book you hid under your pillow earlier. Any sleepiness you may have had is not out the window. You immediately sit up while he is holding it in front of his face.

“That’s nothing”, you say quickly and you go to snatch it, but before you can Xavier moves it too quickly.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing, it’s a book you’ve been reading? What’s it about?”, he asks, holding up your latest book that Tara recommended you. It's a book about romance but it's filled with smut. You aren’t ashamed but you don’t know how Xavier will react to you reading explicit things.

“Uh- it’s just a boring romance book”, you reply. He opens it up instead of giving it back, he starts flipping through the pages and smirks.

“You must not think it’s boring, you have certain parts highlighted, like what's this say?”, he laughs and glances at you before turning his attention back to the book. You try to snatch it again but to no avail, he moves it to where you can’t reach it.

“He tied the knot on my wrists tightly to the bed frame. He made me watch and he pulled his big veiny mem-“, Xavier stops reading aloud and falls silent as he reads the rest of the paragraph. Your heart starts to race and your anxiety starts to rise. He closes the book with one hand and slowly looks at you.

“Sweet innocent little Tara recommended this book to you?”, he says with an eyebrow raised but his expression is hard to read.

“Yeah she did. You know she’s not that innocent I can prove it to you”, you grab your phone because if you are going down, Tara is going down with you. He sets the book on the nightstand and watches as you scramble to find the texts of her recommending it.

“See look, she recommended it, see?”, you say anxiously handing him your phone. He giggles at your reaction and reluctantly takes the phone from your hands.

“I guess Tara isn’t as innocent as I thought”, his eyes widened as he read the texts between you both.

“Yeah, see? I told you, she reads stuff like this all the time.”, you say pointing at the texts. He chuckles at how nervous you are and pauses on a certain text then looks up at you, a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks and ears.

“I wish Xavier would do these things to me”, he stated, reading the text you sent Tara aloud. Your eyes widen and quickly snatch your phone from his grasp. He doesn’t move from his position or even look at you. You start to feel embarrassed and don’t know what to say.

He sits up, his back against the headboard and he looks at his hands which he is fidgeting with.

“Are you not satisfied with what we do now?”he asks, embarrassed to meet your gaze. You and Xavier have had your fair share of hours spent in the bedroom. It has always been wonderful but you feel Xavier is holding himself back, like he doesn’t want to lose control or something. He always satisfies you but Xavier isn’t too adventurous. You have played around with different positions and things but have never done anything really “out of the norm” or “playful”. You loved Xavier for how he cares for you in the bedroom but sometimes you wish he would just ruin you.

“Gosh no Xavier that's not why I said that. I just, I don’t know, sometimes I feel like you just hold back a bit”, you say playing with the end of your pajama shirt.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know you felt this way. I should’ve asked you, I just assumed you liked things the way they were and I didn’t want to hurt you”, he says finally meeting your gaze, his face looks flushed and he looks like a wounded puppy. His face is somewhat in a pout and you can help but place your hands on either side of his face.

“No Xavier, I love what we do now. I am never dissatisfied and I just never brought it up because I didn’t want to embarrass you or myself. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t like when you do things with me because I do. Sometimes I just wish you would be a bit more dominant? I don’t know if that's the right word but you know like "don't hold yourself back”, you confess to him while rubbing both sides of his face with your thumbs.

“So, you would like it if I tied you up?”, he asks you, his eyes turning and deeper blue than normal. Your breath hitches in your throat and you let go of his face but he grabs both of your wrists holding them in place before his face.

“Xavier I-“, you say but can’t respond to his question. Your mind is going blank right now.

“What? You want me to have my way with you? You’re right, I have been holding back because once I don’t, I don’t know if I can stop”, he says breathlessly. You examine his face, its yearning for you. He looks like he has been waiting for you to give him the go ahead for some time.

“What if I said, I didn’t want you to stop?”, you say without thinking. Xavier takes this moment to flip you both over, you back against the mattress and his body now hovering over yours. He takes both of your wrists into one hand, pinning them to your pillow. The other hand beside your face holding himself over you. He stares down at you with lust in his eyes, looking all over your face for any sign of regret or uneasiness but he doesn’t find one.

“Fuck y/n you are making me crazy”, he says butying his hips into yours, feeling his hard member through his pajama pants pressing into you. Your body immediately responds, a wave of heat running down your spine and a pool of wetness forming in your panties.

“Please Xavier, do whatever you want to me”, you moan moving your hips up into his making him gasp. He lowers his head and kisses you deeply a few times before pulling away, placing his forehead against yours.

“I won’t hold back then”, he says just above a whisper and he gets off the bed quickly. You go to protest but you notice he goes to grab the shirt he was wearing earlier from the hamper. Is he rejecting you? Is he putting his clothes back on?

“Put your hands around the railing and get a good grip”, he says, folding his shirt out into a thinner and longer line. OH-

You do as he says holding on the headboard railing getting a firm grip on the rails. He takes his shirt and climbs back over top of you, tying both of your wrists together but not to the railing.

He looks back down at you before he removes his pajama pants, leaving him in his black boxers. You can see the outline of his dick through his boxers and you can’t help but blush. He takes the waistband of your pj bottoms and panties and pulls them off in a quick and rough movement. Your lower body bounces off the bed from the sudden movement. He reaches to unbutton your silk top but to your surprise he just tears it open with his hands, buttons flying everywhere.

“Xavier”, you gasp in surprise but his gaze doesn't falter. He smirks and pulls his boxers down, leaving you both completely bare. He grabs a pillow and places it under your hips. Before you can say anything else he speaks.

“Are you comfortable, it's not too tight right?”, he asks, referring to his shirt wrapped around your wrists. You shake your head no and smile, even in this state he is still concerned about your comfort.

He grabs his dick, precum already dripping from his angry red tip. He starts to stroke himself and he closes his eyes from the feeling. You can only stare at him and you can feel yourself getting increasingly wetter by the second.

He leans down and kisses you while still stroking himself, he moves from your lips to your jaw to your neck. He kisses right at your pulse point causing you to moan. He grazes the spot with his teeth then sucks harshly, leaving his mark. You buck your hips up but he uses his other hands to pin your hips down.

“Naughty girl, I get to have my way with you, remember? So you are gonna behave and be a good girl right? Can you be a good girl for me?”he asks, whispering into your ear and then biting your earlobe. You refrain from bucking your hips again but all you can do is nod.

“I need you to say it baby”, he pulls away from you, his lustful gaze meeting yours.

“Yes Xavi, I’ll be a good girl”, you say while taking in this new side of Xavier. You have never seen him like this but you aren’t complaining, you are excited.

“Good, in that case. Let me worship you for a bit”, he says, making his way down your collarbone to your chest, leaving small kisses as he moves. You love when he does this but normally you place your finger in his hair, but since you are restrained it feels a little weird, making you feel desperate for his touch.

“Fuck your body is so beautiful, the way i’ve wanted to do so many things to you. I just didn't want you to know where my mind was going”, he confesses against your skin causing you to whimper. He takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking a few times and then flicking the hardened bud with his tongue. He has your hips still pinned down and you can’t touch him, you are left with only the pleasure he is giving you, it feels so good but its also torture.

He places his lower body on top of you, his dick pressed against your pelvis but not exactly where you want it. This helps keep you pinned down while he uses his other hand to knead your other breast. You back arches a bit but not much do to the restraints.

“The way I’ve wanted to cum on every inch of your body. I wanted to make a mess of you, oh how dirty and ruined you would look for me”, he says, his words sending waves of pleasure to your core. He lets go of your nipple with a pop and leans back up onto his knees.

He stops pumping himself and aligns himself along you. Still holding his dick he starts thrusting between your folds, not putting himself at your entrance just yet. His tip hits your clit just right and lubricates himself so he doesn’t hurt you.

“Fuck y/n, you were this wet for me? You wanted me to tie you up this badly?”, he smirks and looks down at your contorted face. You can’t say anything, lost in the feeling of him rubbing against you.

“I’m not wearing a condom tonight, that okay?”, he still asks for your consent. You were on the pill anyway but Xavier always wore one so you wouldn’t feel messy or too sticky after you both were done.

“Yes Xavier, please do what you want”, you beg pathetically, wanting him to ruin you the way he wants to. He moans in response and aligns himself with your entrance. He normally starts off soft and lets you adjust but he slides in without hesitation.

You both moan out at the feeling and he grabs your hips firmly. He starts to pound into you at a fast and hard pace. You grip onto the headboard a bit harder and the bed starts to shake. Skin slapping can be heard around the room as he doesn’t let up for a second.

“Is this what you wanted? Wanted me to treat you like my own personal fuck doll?”, he asks and you can only nod and throw your head back.

“When I ask you a question, you answer it”, he says, grabbing your chin and pulling your face down to meet his gaze on you.

“Yes Xavi, fuck me as hard as you want, ruin me please” , you moan out and he almost growls at your reponse. You are so aroused that the juices between your thighs start to make noise from how good he is fucking you.

“Dirty girl letting me take her raw, ugh, please keep squeezing me like that-yes”, he moans, grabbing your thighs and placing both of your legs over his shoulders.

The new position makes him go even deeper within you and it doesn't take long before he finds the spot he has been searching for.

“Fuck Xavier, please please, right there, oh fuck”,he says gripping to the railing, your knuckles turning white from how hard you are holding it.

“You feel so good baby, I’m not going to last much longer”, he says hitting your g-spot everytime he thrust back in. He can feel you are close too so he holds both your legs up with one arm and sneaks his hand between your thighs down to your erect clit. He spits on his hand before he starts to rapidly rub your clit from side to side, increasing the pace of his thrusts as he does it.

“Oh fuck, Xavier I’m gonna cum, please I-“, you cant finish your sentence before you are already falling apart. You back arches off the bed as you feel wave after wave of pleasure run through your entire body. Xavier doesn’t stop his torment on you, if anything he goes faster.

“Fuck just like that baby, Squeezing me so tight, suck a good girl. Now be a good girl and watch”, he says while taking himself out of your heat and strokes himself quickly.

He lets out loud grunts as he cums all over your pelvis, thighs and lower abdomen. Your legs falling to either side of his body. You lay there and watch as he falls apart and spurts his cum all over you. You have never seen something so erotic in your life but you hope it's not the last. He looks ethereal after he comes down from his high. He takes a second before he opens his eyes and looks at you.

You meet his gaze and he gives you a small smile. The hint of pink from earlier returning to his ears. He goes to untie your wrists and your arms fall to the bed, feeling like jello. He grabs his shirt and wipes his cum off both of you before tossing it back in the hamper. He grabs his pajama pants and puts them back on. He helps you take the remainder of what's left of your top off and finds you a comfortable pair of shorts and a tshirt to sleep in.

He dresses your body for you and gives your cheek a kiss as he lays back on top of you. He wraps your weak arms around his neck and he places more kisses over your face making you giggle.

“I wasn’t too rough was I?”, he asks you, concerned about your experience. You smile and kiss him before answering.

“Xavier you were perfect. If it was very different but I liked it, alot”, you blush and try to hide your face but he nuzzles your face back to meet him.

“I could feel how much you liked it”, he raises both eyebrows, wiggling them and you swat at his chest.

You face burning red at this point.

“You can’t say you didn’t enjoy it too”, you say to him a bit embarrassed.

“Oh I know I did, probably too much, I could do this to you all the time”, he says going to kiss your neck again.

“Okay okay, that tickles”, you laugh pulling him away from you. He giggles at your reaction and pulls you both onto your sides and you close to his chest. His chin nuzzled onto the top of your head while your face is in his neck.

“I wouldn’t want to be tied up again though, I wanted to touch you so bad”, you confess and he laughs, you can feel the vibration of his chuckle against your face.

“Yeah we tell Tara to get you a different book then, maybe we can try some other things too”, he says with a smirk.

“Xavier!”, you explain and pinch his tummy.

“Ouch”, he says, going to tickle you. You both had a tickle battle before you called it a truce. He wraps you in his arms again and you both fall asleep fairly quickly. That night you had a naughty dream where Xavier combined his cooking and bedroom skills. You’ll have to inform him of your dream next time he wants to cook for you.

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

a/n: Finally my pookie pie, I have been WAITING to write about him hehehe. I hope everyone but especially my fellow Xavier girlies liked this one. I think so far this one and my Caleb smut have been my favorites. Idk I’m a sucker for both of them tehe. Anyways, I might be writing some fluff and some headcannons before starting smut again. I kinda need a break from all the smut but I am thinking next smut series I do I will somehow involve their evols? Lemme know what you guys think! Thank you for all the love on my first 5 fics of the guys, I appreciate you so much! 🤍

[bunny-jpeg]

show-off (price's version)

capt. john price

cw: smut/pwp, filth, dirty talk, filming, mirror sex, doggy style, age gap (20s/40s)

simon's version | johnny's version | kyle's version

what belonged to price, belonged to no one else. that was sort of the rule. but that didn't mean that price didn't share... images. while the rest of 141 couldn't touch what was his, they could touch themselves to photos and videos of price's "puppy".

the cute little failed cadet that price swept away to a charmed little life. he told the boys you did better as a girlfriend than a cadet.

"ain't she a beauty?" price beamed over drinks on evening, "prettiest fuckin' thing i'd ever seen. let's me do all kinds of dirty things to her. she's my baby girl." then laughed.

even in a photo the other members of the team were chubbed in their pants. you just had this charm to you that greatly turned them on, you beyond gorgeous.

it made them a little jealous, and price knew that.

simon, johnny and kyle all woke up on the second day of their time off, to a video file in the group chat. the file was dense in size. what they didn't expect was the following.

you were in front of the mirror with price holding his phone camera. in the reflection was your naked body knelt in front of the full length mirror. price was behind you, he was nude as well. his built. hairy body was such a contrast to you.

you looked so small compared to him. like he had plucked you from the heavens and bounced you on his cock. you held onto the carpet under you as you rolled your hips.

"that's it darlin'." he said, "that's my baby girl." his voice was low, but picked up by the microphone on the phone. there was a nice sheen of sweat of your body as you worked yourself on price's cock like a good girl.

"john, please." you whimpered as you tried to keep yourself up right. withering on his cock was he stayed perfectly still. he was letting you do all the work.

"look up at the mirror, love. show the boys what their missin'." price chuckled as he rubbed his cock inside of you. the stimulation made you moan. when he saw that you weren't looking, he used his free hand to yank on your face till you were looking right at the mirror, "bad girl." he said, "and i was just gloatin' about ya to the team. tellin' them how much of a good girl you were for me. listenin' and, waitin' with legs open."

you whimpered as you continued to jack hammer your hips against him. there was a fire burning in your belly as you fucked yourself on price's cock. you made him promise that this wasn't going to be sent to everyone on base. price told you it was just "for the boys".

which meant simon, johnny and kyle all had the luxury of seeing you fuck yourself on their captain's cock.

"see how she is, boys?" he asked the camera, his eyes on the screen to make sure that they could see the video in the clearest definition, "ya gotta get yourself a good girl. ya keep findin' them at clubs and bars. don't bother, find yourself one who's eager to please. make her a better wife than a solider." price laughed before he buried his face in your neck and gave you what you craved.

movement of his hips.

you were practically face first in the carpet as price started to fully take over. the camera panned away from the mirror down to the back of your head as he took control.

your noises were so sweet they bordered on pathetic. the sounds of your wet pussy filled the room and easily caught on video. price got right in there, watching your pussy take him too his root.

"see boys." he said, "just find yourself a good girl like that. maybe if you behave, she'll tell her friends all about the task force." he laughed, the idea of your sweet friends ending up with someone like simon was almost adorable.

you whimpered and he held your head into the carpet, your ass right in the air as he started to really work at your pussy. your ass bounced with each hard thrust.

"pretty little slut." price laughed as he fucked you into the carpet, "knows how to keep her man happy, and it ain't from good cookin'!" he erupted in laughter as he just ruined your cunt.

his pace became ragged, his thrusts more desperate than before. he sole focus was getting to finish inside of you. but you beat him to it, you clawed at the carpet and whined. your pussy clamped around price's thick cock. you orgasm spurred his on and he almost dropped his phone as he buried his entire length into you.

a few heavy pants and he slowed down. he managed to focus himself enough to film himself pulling out his bare cock out of your sweet pussy. watching the stretch as the entire thing came out.

he pointed the camera one last time and asked, "ready for another round?" followed by a airy laugh.

you responded by lifting your head and nodded. you looked painfully blissed out. but ready for more. and price was going to give you more.

the video ended and a few minutes later, price sent a message.

rise and shine, boys! the message said, early bird gets the worm! followed by an image of your cum filled pussy as you laid on the carpet.

the rest of task force 141 was not embarrassed to admit the video and photo were quickly saved for later usage. what would they say, price's girl was just fuckable.

[cuteandhughesy]

i couldn’t not request another one lol (if that’s okay!)

can i please request prompt 41. “you’re it for me.” with sidney crosby!

you are the absolute best 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

The Other Woman╰┈➤ SC87

summary: you thought your boyfriend sidney wanted you to support him at the four nations face off tournament, so it comes as a shock when you tells you to stay home—only to find out the stomach churning truth. prompt no. 41 from 100 celly list: “you’re it for me.”

[word count] 2.3k

warnings: angst | cheating | break ups | the reader is the other woman

a/n: okay this got like really angsty! my bad. (unedited)

🎵 the other woman by lana del rey

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

your screen is frozen—just like you. you stare and stare and stare. a single tear falls down your face, but you’re mostly too confused to cry—too angry. the phone dims, a tell tale sign that it’s about to turn off, but you don’t let it, thumbing at the screen until it lights up again, illuminating your shock ridden face.

you almost didn’t see the picture. it almost slipped by you. your relationship almost didn’t crumble right before your very eyes. your chest is tight. aching—the beautiful picture of all the wags starting back at you, clad in red pleather team canada jackets.

you were so close to remaining blissfully unaware—innocent and stupid. but you saw it—saw her. a stunning smile and light brown hair, a little older than you but still radiant…with the number 87 patched on her arm.

you had shakily opened the comments and there it was, ‘crosby’s wife looks amazing.’

wife.

you almost threw up. your skin prickled with guilt and embarrassment and so much frustration, not only with yourself but with your boyfriend.

you’ve never really been into hockey. you didn’t pay attention to sports in general—neither did your family. you were younger, only 23, and found interests in other things. a year ago when you met sidney you were instantly smitten. he was charming and unapologetically kind, mature and experienced.

you feel in love quickly—almost impossibly quick. but it didn’t matter, not to either of you. sidney and you were in your own bubble, spending time together privately and in secluded places. you knew he played hockey—even though you didn’t care about hockey, sidney crobsy’s name wasn’t unknown to you.

maybe you should’ve done more research on the man you’re dating—maybe this going on under your nose is your own fault. a simple google search and a little bit of digging you would’ve seen that your boyfriend has a wife.

you would’ve found that you’re the other woman.

you now know that’s the reason sidney didn’t want you at the four nations tournament. he brushed off your comments about supporting him easily, telling you to stay home and relax—you deserved some time to relax. fuck, he even gave you some money to pamper yourself while he was away.

but it was all an excuse.

an excuse for sidney’s wife to remain unaware of her unfaithful husband. an excuse for him to ruin not only your life, but hers.

and now here you are, waiting for him to come over like he told you he was going to do when the plane landed back in pittsburgh. you wonder what excuse sidney told his wife. getting coffees? kris needing help at his house? picking up dry cleaning?

you feel so sick.

it could 20 minutes more before the front door creaks open—it could also be 20 seconds—you’re not sure. time feels like a roller coaster right now. unexpected ups and downs, twists and turns making your stomach swoop.

you get up from your spot on the couch, phone still clutched tightly in your hand. sidney kicks his shoes off by the door—clearly planning to stay awhile. planning to pretend he doesn’t have a wife at home who loves him.

“hey baby,” his deep voice calls from the front door, keys hitting your small oak cabinet next to the shoe rack and large fake plant you’ve had since high school.

baby.

it’s like a slap to the face. did he think you’d never find out? or maybe he just thought you were too stupid and young to figure it out.

you don’t answer him—you can’t. no yet. the sight of your face has sidney faltering, lips twitching into a half frown as you stalk towards him. just before he has the chance to coddle you, you shove the phone in his face.

it takes a moment for the picture to register, but you wait and watch patiently. sidney’s eyes scan your phone, and then he sees her. his wife. his skin turns a shade whiter, face falling before his eyes hoof back to your face.

finally, you find your words—stricken and laced with anger and defeat. “you have a wife? a wife!”

“yes.” sidney doesn’t bother trying to deny it. what’s the point? the proof is there, staring at him. you scoff, pulling your phone away and place it down beside his keys.

“where you ever going to tell me?” you ask him, “is that why you didn't want me to come out to the tournament with you?” he doesn’t respond, and somehow that feels worse than anything he could’ve possibly chosen to say. the bridge of your nose begins to sting, a telltale sign that you’re going to cry. but you don’t want to cry. not yet. “god! here I was thinking that you were embarrassed of our age gap. but no, it's because your fucking wife was going.”

sidney sighs, running a large hand through his salt and pepper hair roughly—he’s frustrated. but not with you. sidney could never be angry with you. you’re too soft—too sweet. he’s only upset with himself. he sighs, y/n. please.”

“does she know?” you push, ignoring his desperate and soft plea. “does your wife now you've been fucking me?”

“no.”

you laugh in disbelief, covering your face with your palms as you feel the familiar hot sting of tears welling up in your eyes. “oh my god,” you whisper pathetically, “I feel sick.” you’ve never wanted to become this person—nobody in their right mind should want to be the other woman.

you’re a girls girl. always. and this feeling, right now, proves why. you’re so embarrassed for yourself—you should’ve been more careful, more diligent about your love life. you should’ve known.

the way your voice cracks has sidney breaking. he never wanted to hurt you, despite everything he’s put you through—even if you hadn’t realized. he frowns, stepping towards you like it’s second nature. sidney is desperate to touch you and console you and make everything better.

“I know,” he breathes, hands enclosing around your wrists, tugging your hands away from your tear stained face. “I messed up.”

you scoff, shrugging off his hold. “you did more then mess up, sidney,” you take a step back, an incredulous laugh leaving you. “you've ruined this. you've ruined my life and hers.”

he shakes his head, “don't say that.”

you sniffle, doing your best to keep ahold of your wave of new emotions. it’s not just about you…nor anymore. you feel for this woman, more than she’ll ever know. you shake your head at him, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. you’re shaking.

“I don't even know what to say to you,” and it’s true. what do you say to the man you love—a man who just turned your world inside out and back again. sidney is looking at you like he’s hurt. and maybe he is hurting, but it’s at the cost of his own actions, so don’t feel bad.

even if the sight of his emotion struck face is killing you.

you turn away, walking into the small kitchen. you need to distract yourself in some way. allow yourself to have a moment to breathe. your hands are still trembling as you open the fridge, weakly grabbing a plastic water bottle. your bring it to your lips, sipping just enough to coat your dry mouth.

of course sidney followed you, looking at you desperately from the other side of the kitchen island—giving you the space you need. “say nothing,” he says, “just please hear me out.”

you cross your arms defensively after you put the water in between you on the island. the plastic crinkles and pops through the silent kitchen. you sigh with exhaustion, “what is there to hear you out on? i'm not going to be the other woman. I deserve more than that.”

“you do,” sidney exhales desperately, fingers digging into the edge of the counter top like he’s trying to physically hold himself back. give you that space. “of course you do.” there’s a pause then, and you watch as sidney contemplates what he wants to say next.

his eyes stay on you, analyzing you—your mind, heart and thoughts. you want to shrink away from his gaze. it’s too intense and to familiar.

because two weeks ago when he looked at you like this, it was different.

“i'll call it off with her if that's what you want,” sidney says after a beat, voice dropping. he’s firm, definitive.

your breath hitches, “of course I don't want that.” and you mean it. sidney’s not yours, even when you thought he was. and you’re certainly not his—you don’t get to discredit his life of his decisions.

and certainly not his marriage.

the sound of sidney’s palm coming down on the counter top makes you jump. his anger is surprising. he’s always showed you calmness—like he’s always got it all figured out. but this is different. sidney’s lost control. with you with your relationship and with his emotions.

it breaks you. as much as you don’t want to feel anything for him in this moment, seeing him so distraught is heartbreaking. because it’s not like you fell out of love with sidney crosby at the snap of your fingers—you fucking wish it was that easy. but it never is.

because he’s still sidney. he’s the man who held you on the couch after a bad day at work, and cooked you your favourite meal when you’d been to tired to get off the couch. the boyfriend who kissed you with such tenderness and fucked you with such passion. sidney, who in only a year, become your home…your safe place.

he curses, palm flattening as he attempts to recollect himself. sidney’s head falls for a moment, chest heaving with a million unshed emotions. it feels like forever until he looks at you again, eyes glossed over just enough to let you know what truly he’s feeling—frustration, heartbreak, guilt.

“then what?” he asks gently, “what do you want me to do?” you’ve begun crying again, hot tears streaming silently down your face. slowly, you shrug—a response. sidney can’t hold back any longer. he walks around the island, and when he wraps you in his arms, you let him.

it feels good, but not the same. you don’t hung him back, arms trapped between your chests while sidney’s muscled and strong forearms hold your shoulders. you sob pathetically, hiding your face in sidney’s hoodie.

the emotion is raw and painful. you don’t even know what to do with yourself. you want that comfort—need it—and you don’t have anybody in pittsburgh besides sidney. so for a moment you allow yourself to be coddled. you pretend that he’s not the man that hurt you.

you don’t know how to answer him. not right now.

“you're it for me,” sidney mumbles after a beat, lips pressing to the top of your head so softly and tender. “you're my life.” his arms tighten around you, desperately trying to keep you close—to make you hear him. really hear him.

“so is she,” you mumble watery, pushing off his chest. it’s not rough, but firm enough to let him know you need out.

sidney lets you go, but he doesn’t walk away. “no,” he shakes his head, “she's not.”

you swallow. you feel awful. “she's your wife.”

“and you’re the love of my life.”

silence envelopes the kitchen again as sidney’s words settle in your chest. although he may mean what he’s said, that doesn’t make the situation any better. you can’t be selfish with him—not when you’re the third party.

all you can think about right now is if you were his wife. if it was you he was unfaithful with, what would you want him to do. because that’s the answer you’ve been searching for.

“I want you to tell her,” you whisper. sidney’s face shifts like he doesn’t know how to react yet, but you don’t give him the opportunity to figure it out right now. “tell her and figure it out. if she wants a divorce then that's what you'll do. if she wants to work on your marriage, than that's what you'll do. you'll do whatever she wants, sidney, because that's what I want. and if you care about me at all, you'll do what l ask of you.”

a moment passes. sidney looks down at you softly, in thought. slowly he nods his head—that’s the best response he can give right now. but right now it’s enough for you, and finally—finally—feel like you can take a breath.

“i'm sorry.”

“because you were caught?” your response is petty and hurtful—you know that.

but sidney just blinks, “because I hurt you.”

his correction is so sidney. always caring and loving, never wanting you to feel less than. it’s not your fault, and he’s letting you know that without physically saying the words. he takes ahold of your face between his warm palm, thumbs stroking your cheekbones like he’s done so many times.

you wish you don’t love him—you wish you didn’t love the way he held you so perfectly. he knows your cues and what you need when you’re upset, and this right here is proof of that.

and that hurts more than anything.

“i'll tell her,” sidney breathes, “and if she wants to work on it...i'll stay with her. but if she doesn't want to work on it, and she wants a divorce, what does that mean? for us?”

a beat passes, “I don't know yet.”

[scorpio1205]

Matt talking about Bambi Compilation

Summary: A tiktok compilation of Matt finding ways to talk about or bring up Bambi

Warnings: swearing, talks of fluff, Matt being a simp, Matt being in love and cute Bambi and Matt stories

Bambi sighed opening her eyes, she had been laying in bed, her back pressed into Matt's chest for about an hour with no luck falling asleep, no matter how hard she tried she ended up just staring at the wall. After a minute she leaned over to the bedside table grabbing her phone and opening tik tok, making sure that the brightness and sound of her phone didn't wake Matt up.

She scrolled aimlessly barely paying attention to the videos when she scrolled past a video that she had assumed was a Matt edit only to see her name as she scrolled down, she quickly scrolled back up pausing and reading the title.

'Matthew Sturniolo Finding Any Excuse to Bring Up Bambi Compilation'

A small smile formed on her face, she didn't think Matt brought her up that much but apparently the fans thought otherwise. She looked over at Matt for a second before looking at the screen unpausing and getting comfortable.

Clip 1. from THEY'RE A 10 BUT... they aren’t your valentine

Matt sat in the drivers seat looking at his phone clearly not really paying attention that much

"They're a ten but every time you ask them a question they say 'huh' but when you go to repeat yourself they finish the question then answer it."

Chris snickered slightly "That shits so ann-"

"That's not that bad" Matt immediately cut him off finally looking up from his phone a little defensive.

"Kid what are you talking about that shit is really fucking annoying"

Matt glared at his brother "It isn't that annoying. I say 10"

Before Chris could respond Nick started to laugh "I know that look"

"What loo-"

Nick and Chris both cut him off in unison "The 'I'm about to bring up Bambi look'"

Matt smiled sheepishly looking away for a moment before looking back at his brothers "Okay but she can't help it. She isn't saying what cause she can't hear you, it just takes her a second to register what you're saying."

His brothers sighed leaning back, they knew Matt was about to go on a rant about Bambi

"She's literally perfect. Her doing that doesn't change the fact that she's a 10, scratch that shes a 100. You two are just-"

"We get it Matt, Bam is a goddess"

"And don't you forget it."

Clip 2. From Ghost Hunting at Haunted Driskill Hotel (ft. Sturniolo Triplets)

The triplets stood near Sam and Colby, Chris and Nick explaining that they had spent the last month studying their videos to prepare for this Collab.

The boys all turned to Matt for his answer.

He grinned like a kid on Christmas. "My girlfriend, Bambi, has been watching your guys videos for a few years"

Nick and Chris groaned knowing Matt was waiting for an opportunity to bring up Bambi.

"So I feel like out of Nick, Chris and I, I might be the most prepared for this."

"Just wait, this won't be the first time he brings up Bambi this video"

Clip 3. From 20 year olds playing with kids toys.

Matt held Snowy the lambs leash looking at Nick and Chris. "Pretend Bambi and I have a kid right-"

"Does Bambi know about this?!?"

"Shut up Chris." He motioned back to Snowy. "And this is our baby, and we're introducing them to you for the first time, You guys are uncles for the first time and it's Snowy!"

Nick made a face "This is getting a little to realistic to me, but continue"

"This is all normal okay."

Chris looked weirded out and a bit jealous. "Is this a disclaimer or something?"

"Shhhhh,"

Clip 4. From RATING A DOZEN CRAZY DONUTS 1-12 (Special appearance from Bambi) *May make a blurb on this*

Chris was annoying the shit out of Matt with his constant badgering about the donuts ratings.

"You know what we need, an unbiased opinion. Someone who's likes donuts but it really picky....."

Chris looked up confused not fully registering what he was saying, but Nick knew what he was saying "I couldn't agree more"

Chris realized what they were implying and smiled having a feeling that he was gonna win in this case. "Fine"

"Should I get her?" Matt waited for them to both nod to stand up "Baby, can you come here for a second!"

After a second Bambi walked into frame in a pair of grey sweats and a blue tub top "What's going on?" She noticed the camera and smiled waving slightly.

"We need your help" They spoke in unison.

Clip 5. Waffles, Pancakes, or French Toast (Ft. Bambi)

"Matt, you are such a fucking baby and I hate it! Cause I know what you're gonna say. You like chocolate chip cookies as if you're not about to be fucking 19 years old"

Nick made a face "Chocolate chip pancakes?"

"Yeah chocolate chip pancakes" Chris corrected rolling his eyes.

"Good, I was about to say what do cookies have to do with this"

Chris ignored him continuing continuing his rant, his annoyance clear.

"Matt have you ever gone to Denny's and gotten the french toast slam?"

"No but i've gotten chocolate chip pancakes from there"

"And they were fucking gross I bet"

Matt rolled his eyes turning away and opening his phone "You're fucking gross" he shut out what his brothers were speaking about texting someone, after a moment he looked up. "You know who I bet agrees with me?

"Who Matt?"

Matt smiled "Bambi"

A loud scoff left Chris' mouth "There is no way Bam-Bam agrees with you"

"Wanna bet" Matt laughed pressing the call button.

"Dude, she's probably sleeping hang up"

"She's not sleeping, we were just texting-"

Suddenly the phone stopped ringing "Hey"

Matt smiled hearing her voice "Hey Bam. We have a question for you"

"What's the question?"

"If you had to get rid of pancakes, waffles or french toast. What would you get rid of?"

They all waited patiently for her to answer.

"Do you want me to answer honestly?"

Both Chris and Matt answered immediately "Yes"

"Honestly, I'd get rid of waffles or french toast" She laughed.

"YES!"

"WHAT?! Bambi, how could you get rid of waffles or french toast?" Chris was absolutely flabbergasted.

"I'm not the biggest breakfast person. When I go to diners I normally get a bacon cheese burger and fries. But I do really like pancakes just not from a diner. I'd rather make them at home"

Chris looked appalled "So you'd get rid of waffles or french toast"

"Yeah, but I think I'd get rid of french toast if I absolutely had to choose"

"WHAT?!?!"

Matt looked like he was on cloud 9 "Bam, have I ever told you how much I freaking love you?"

"Not nearly as much as you should"

"Well I'll start telling you more. Thank you for answering"

"No problem, I'll see you guys tomorrow" With that she hung up.

Bambi was a giggling mess when the tik tok ended, she suddenly felt Matt's grip on her tightening.

"Maybe Nick and Chris are right....I do talk about you a lot." Matt mumbled groggily.

She turned over putting her phone down, her nose immediately brushing his. "It's okay.... I like it, makes me feel loved"

"Good, that's all I want" He leaned in tiredly kissing her.

Comments

User432: The fact that you can see how in love with her he is just by the way he lights up when he says or hears her name! STAWP!

User000: I didn't realize how much I needed this

User420; Need someone to love me like that

boarders made by @bernardsbendystraws

Tagged:

@sturnmeovr @big-poppa23 @colorthecosmos444 @sturns-mermaid @mattsstarlet @iammattswife @pinksturns @courta13 @conspiracy-ash @middlepartmatt @raesturns @mattscherries @emely9274 @harls-sturn @loser41ifee @trevorsgodmother @ivysturnss @tezzzzzzzz @sturniolosymphony @your-favoriteblond

[eightstarr]

at the count of three — ellie williams.

summary: how do you tell your best friend you’re in love with them? ellie has an answer! just be cool and wait for the right moment— and the next. and maybe another one, just to be sure. if you get impatient, you can always take a deep breath and count to three! (years, that is)

warnings: slow burn (childhood friends to lovers <3), little bit suggestive but no smut!

notes: born from a piece of dialogue i wrote like, a year ago and completely forgot about but somehow a week later it's 4k words? idk you're welcome or i'm sorry!!! also yes they do spend almost every scene sitting together on a couch but that's what lesbianism is all about...

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・。.・゜✧・. ────

ONE!

A movie plays on the TV, a slightly tarnished DVD of an 80’s action flick starring some oily guy and the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen— Ellie doesn't remember much other than an obnoxiously epic soundtrack and lingering shots that made the plot twist too obvious about 20 minutes in. 

She's freshly eighteen; you’re ahead only by a couple months. It's a warm Friday night, Joel and your dad in the kitchen putting scraps together for a mildly healthy dinner, Ellie sitting on the very opposite side of the couch from where you are. It’s hot, she'd said, looking away from your comically insulted face that grew with every scooch she made from your side, a lame excuse to save her from the newly found (and fucking torturous) fluttering that sparks in her stomach whenever she sits too close to you.

From the kitchen comes the sound of a can hitting the floor, followed by Joel’s 'shit!' and then quickly, 'sorry, girls'. You chuckle, turning to Ellie and catching her staring at you. A wrinkle forms between your eyebrows at the same time a pink warmth floods her cheeks. “Dude, you’re not even paying attention.”

“I am,” a scoff, her eyes now strictly committed to the screen. “The noise distracted me,” she adds, knowing it didn't even make her flinch from the careful study of your side profile.

“Scaredy cat— ow!” a pillow crashes against your cheek, sudden enough to shock you, too soft to do any real damage. “What the fuck?”

Ellie raises her eyebrows and looks at you from the corner of her eyes, a smirk half hidden by her hand. “Don’t be rude, you're missing the best scene.”

You throw the pillow back and scoff when she catches it, your lips slightly pursed, the signature sign to tell you’re annoyed. It's almost identical to the replica of that gesture that sits at the end of her last journal entry, an overly dedicated sketch born from a wandering thought. She could make it more accurate, she thinks now, soften the line of your jaw, take the scar on your cheek a little more to the left.

The sound of water splashing from the TV catches her attention and Ellie snaps her head forward (lest she get caught staring again), just as the blonde haired love interest is walking out of a fancy looking swimming pool.

“She’s hot,” you say, fingers pulling absentmindedly at loose threads on the rip of your jeans. When Ellie doesn't say anything, you turn to look at her, “You don't think so?”

Her voice comes out a higher pitch than she’d like. “What—” she clears her throat before continuing to mumble, “I don't know, I guess.”

You laugh. “You guess?” 

“Yeah, I— I don't know, dude, I wasn't thinking about that.”

You watch the nervousness on her face, the gulp that passes her throat, the red under her freckles. Fondness tugs at your chest and your voice softens just slightly, a smile playing on your lips. “Oh my God. Ellie, it’s okay,” green eyes find your face and she sees you hesitate for a second before you shrug. “Who cares? It's just me.”

You make it sound easy. It's the most distinct thing Ellie remembers about this moment, how suddenly safety felt like the most obvious thing. TV light on your face, your arm over the back of the couch, the same eyes she's been looking at since she was fourteen. Of course it's okay. Everything else with you is easy, why wouldn't this be the same?

Ellie shifts on the couch, the distance between you turning quickly ridiculous— offensive, even. She’s embarrassed to have let her flusteredness get in the way, but the urge to be closer doesn't feel right either. Everything she does feels like too much, everything she says too intense. “How long have you known?” she asks.

You tilt your head, less of a question and more of a guidance, “Known that you…”

Ellie parts her lips, unsure of whether or not she’s gonna say it or how, trying to will the words to come out. And they do, she remembers it well, because it was the first and maybe the only time she was this direct about it. “That I like girls.”

The smile on your face is teeth-rotting sweet, but she only gets to bask in it for a second before you widen your eyes and lower your voice to a scandalized whisper. “You what?”

Ellie rolls her eyes, cheeks burning, “Oh, fuck you.”

Your laugh fills up the room and the fluttering in her stomach feels absurd at this point, like she would actually be able to feel those annoying little butterflies flying around if she were to press her hand against her abdomen. “Sorry, sorry,” you say, and for a terrifying second Ellie thinks maybe they're loud too, and you’re able to hear them. But then she looks at you and forgets about it, easy easy easy. “It’s really okay. You know that, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she says. For once, there's not a glimpse of doubt about it to be found.

You watch another ten minutes of the movie in silence before your dad's head peeks out from the kitchen to call you both to the table for dinner.

Ellie has a habit of eating like it's her last day on earth. When you were both new residents of Jackson, hungry and scared and not at all used to the idea of a full plate of food twice a day, she couldn't help it. And you were the same, hence why your dad thought it would be good for you and Ellie to spend time together, which quickly turned to being around each other basically every minute of every day. But as the weeks passed, you seemed to be learning to adapt faster. A younger Ellie found this frustrating— especially after that time Joel complimented your table manners.

You’re just… nicer, she remembers saying, a stressed frown on her still childlike face, fiddling with a box of marbles she’d found under her new bed. She remembers how you pulled one out, your fingers brushing against her own for the first time ever, and held the clear crystal with green stripes next to her eyes, a satisfied smile at a practically perfect match. You’re nice too, Els, you’d said, shrugging your shoulders, the marble shoved inside your pocket, I think I just lie better.

Until that moment, Ellie had never thought about it that way; the fact that you could be pretending to feel more confident and comfortable than you really are to make yourself safer, to get people to like you. But when she asked, you swore you had never lied to Ellie. She used to drive herself mad thinking about that, a strange, confusing worry gnawing at her chest— she likes that you don't feel the need to lie, but what does it say about how you see her? Is it that you don't care if she likes you? Or worse, is it that you know that she already does?

You sit in front of her today at the same dinner table, four years later, and watch her practically inhale her bowl of pasta like no time has passed at all. You let out a snort and Ellie wonders if you can see it even now, if her constant thoughts of you are obvious even when she looks this busy.

"What?" she asks, an immediate frown on her face, though she's done you the honor of swallowing her mouthful before speaking.

"You're so gross," you say, chin resting on your palm, tilting your head like you're looking at some thought provoking art piece. Ellie thinks you'll leave it at that, but then you reach over and swipe your thumb over the red spot of sauce next to the corner of her lips, so soft she barely feels it. You watch her frown soften for a second before it becomes even deeper.

Ellie feels like her whole body is exploding with warmth, too hot under the hoodie she's wearing, too pink across her face. It's so obvious, she thinks, it's so— fuck, pull it together. Her gaze follows your finger as you bring it to your lips and lick off the sauce. “You’re disgusting,” she retorts lamely, her hand rough when she brushes it over her mouth, lest you notice another stain and she has to watch you do that again.

You are familiarly not deterred by her meanness. Or her attempt at it. "And you eat like a five year old,” you shrug. “I guess we both have our issues."

Ellie catches herself staring at your hands for the rest of the meal, certain that she's never noticed them in the same way before. How much time has she been wasting? You both have your issues, you'd said, but Ellie thinks she has you beat. Yours can't possibly be anywhere near this dangerous.

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

TWO!

Someone's knocking on her door. Ellie sniffles and lets out a groan as she gets up from the couch, sore throat, her limbs heavy and tired. She knows it's you because it's always the same three knocks; the first two firm and loud, a pause, and then one tiny one that sounds almost like 'sorry'. You’re impatient but still painfully afraid to be rude— if she loved you a little less, Ellie thinks she would make fun of it a lot more. But alas, she's cursed to smile at it every time.

She opens the door and the breeze that slips in makes her fall immediately into an embarrassing coughing fit. “It’s fine,” she mutters, at the same time you’re saying jesus christ, Ellie. “Shit. I’m okay,” she clears her throat and finally gets a moment to look at you, all pretty and put together in your best shirt and a freshly showered scent, the sun setting behind you like a perfect frame. Ellie prays her lungs don't betray her again and tries to make the brush of her hand over her messy hair look casual instead of desperate.

“Well, I was gonna ask if you wanted to come to the party with me for just a few minutes, but… I’m not sure you should be out of bed,” your worried frown is pretty, too. What a cruel fate. “Is Joel home? I can stay—”

“No, no, you’re good,” Ellie shakes her head, arms crossed over her chest like maybe it’ll cover up enough and you won't notice she was wearing the same long sleeve the last time you saw her. “He’ll be here in like, five minutes. I’ll be fine, ’m not a baby.”

You’re both nineteen by this time, Ellie remembers because you wore the same pretty blue shirt that you're wearing now for her birthday, and it was the day she realized her crush was no longer deniable. It's easier to act like nothing’s happening when she feels like she's alone in it, like there's no universe where you could love her like she loves you so she might as well let the fantasy die— but then you put on your shirt that's reserved for special occasions just to come over and bring her the cupcake you made, and suddenly Ellie can picture herself with her hands on each side of your waist, pulling you close, saying thank you with her lips brushing against yours before she kisses you. She can see it so clearly that it startles her, changes everything. Her birthday comes with a punch to the gut and a hunger she wants to tell you and only you about.

“You’re not gonna be bored? I really don't mind staying until he gets home.”

Ellie thinks (dramatically, extremely nineteen—) that if she lets you take care of her, she might actually die. It felt like she almost did last time you visited, your face serious with concentration as you pressed the back of your hand against her forehead. ‘You're warm’, you said, ‘do you feel sweaty?’ Ellie stared up at you, eyes glossy and heavy from sleep. ‘Not really’, her fingers sneaked out from under the blanket to wrap themselves around your forearm, a moment of bravery or delusion, ‘your hand feels nice’. You chuckled, ‘okay, keep it’.

She’s less feverish today, but not yet recovered from the greedy voice in her head that begs her to keep you close. If you don't go to the party now, she thinks (knows) that she’ll let herself casually talk you into staying the rest of the night. “Nah, don't miss your party,” she says. “I’ll be okay, Joel’s gonna teach me how to play that old card game.”

You raise your eyebrows. “So you're gonna argue all night.”

“No— what?” Ellie scoffs. “It’ll be good, I learn fast.”

“Yeah, because you make up your own rules.”

“I have questions about the rules, that's not the same thing.”

“It is if you cheat—”

“I’m not a cheater!”

You hum, a curious tilt of your head, and Ellie rolls her eyes before the words are even out of your mouth. “No, I guess you’d have to have a girlfriend for that.”

You watch her run her tongue over her teeth, her shoulder against the door frame. “You know I could say the same to you, right?”

“Too bad I said it first,” you shrug, pretty smile stretching your lips. “I guess I'll go, then. I’ll come over when it's done so you don't miss me too much.”

Ellie tries to maintain her composure. You know, she thinks, do you know? You must know. You can't know— “Right. Also so you can steal my food and crash in my bed, I’m guessing.”

“When you’re all vulnerable and weak? What do you think of me, Ellie?” you frown sadly, a hand over your heart.

“I think I know you,” she says, the corner of her lips lifting just a little, inescapably.

You walk to the gate and turn around as you close the lock, your hands on either side of your mouth as if she’s miles and miles away. “I’ll take the couch!”

“Yeah, sure!” Ellie yells back, her voice pretty even when it's hoarse, knowing she’ll hold on for just about ten minutes before she insists you take the bed instead.

Joel stays awake with her until around 10pm, when his yawns become too many to hide and he’s already let Ellie win three games, his smile genuine and wide while she chuckles and pretends she doesn’t notice. He leaves her with a tupperware of soup for tomorrow’s lunch and a deck of cards. To teach your friends or— I don't know, keep on the coffee table, he’d said, make you look cool. Ellie’s not sure you would find a box of cards ‘cool’, but she’s not above trying.

Ever since she moved out to the garage, she’s discovered a new type of stress at the notion of having you over. At Joel’s house, all she ever did to prepare for guests was pick up the dirty clothes from her bedroom floor and put her books in a (wobbly) single pile. Now things are different. The garage is small, but it's all hers— her floor, her living room, her kitchen. She can't have you thinking that she can't take care of things on her own.

She spends the next hour moving things around until finally, two loud knocks. A second passes; Ellie looks at the cards and considers shoving them inside one of the drawers on her desk. By the time the one quiet knock comes, she shrugs and decides to leave them on the coffee table, lest Joel was right and she misses a chance to have you start thinking she's cool and mysterious. “It's open,” she says from the couch, tiredness soon catching up with her after all that time rearranging things.

The door opens and you come in, quickly closing it behind you, a relieved sigh at the loss of that crisp, cold breeze outside. “Did Joel forget those?” you ask, bent at the waist as you take your shoes off, your chin pointing at the deck, the only thing on the coffee table. Maybe she should've been more subtle with it.

“Uh, no,” Ellie scratches the back of her neck, her legs stretched across the couch. “They’re a gift.”

She's not sure you hear her over the groan you make as you stretch your arms above your head, her legs moved to the side automatically to make space for you to sit. You fall down with a sigh and both forget about the cards— you, distracted by the warm tingly feeling of a couple drinks, and Ellie by the new jacket you’re wearing.

She lets a million different scenarios spin around her head for a couple seconds before she blurts out the question. “Whose is that?”

“What?” you turn your head away from the movie playing on the TV.

“The jacket.”

“Oh,” you look down at yourself as if you’ve just remembered it’s there. “Maya was leaving too, so she walked here with me. It’s hers.”

Ellie hums, her back sliding a little further down the couch, legs spread. “Stinks like it’s hers.”

You chuckle before you can help it, her animosity ridiculous and charming— Ellie’s better with actions than she is with words. “I don't even know what you're talking about,” you shake your head, not quite slurring, but not too far from it either. "She smells like strawberries."

Fuck Maya and her strawberry shampoo. Ellie could get some if she wanted to, maybe if she traded— what the fuck is she thinking about? She rolls her shoulders back and pushes the thoughts away, gluing her eyes to the screen. “Sure,” she says, less because she agrees and more because she doesn't wanna hear what else you like about Maya. “You had fun, then?”

“It was alright. You didn't miss out on too much,” the end of your sentence stretched out by a yawn, you cover your mouth lazily and rest back fully against the couch. “Jesse was drunk. They had to stop him from getting up on a table.”

Ellie chuckles. “I don't know, maybe he had something to say. I think I would’ve let him.”

“That's what I said,” you smile and let your head fall to the side, your cheek against the cushion. She feels you staring, enables it for a while by acting oblivious, falsely over-invested in some movie she can't remember the title of. She hears you move closer before she feels it— the shuffle of your clothes, the stupid jacket rubbing against her couch, so easily forgettable by the time your temple falls on her shoulder.

Ellie's about to fall asleep when she hears the little noise you make, something like a sniffle. For a worrying second she thinks she might’ve given you her cold, but then she feels the tip of your nose brush against her shoulder and she realizes you’re trying to breathe her in. 

“You always smell nice,” you whisper, half asleep.

Ellie swallows and prays to keep her body completely still, scared she’ll make the wrong move and have you pull away, scared you’ll lean closer and be able to hear the fast beating on her chest. She sounds breathy, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Like fresh rain.”

Slow like the roll of credits playing on the TV, Ellie feels how every muscle in her body settles down, relaxed, content— fucking cocky. She wraps her arm around your shoulders and hopes the scent will rub off on the jacket and remind Maya of a cloudy autumn night, rain over her garden.

─────✧･ﾟ: *✧･

THREE!

"Do you think we would've liked each other?" you ask, your legs resting on her lap while she fidgets mindlessly with the ruffled cuff of your socks. Every patrol lately ends the exact same way, a quiet walk home and a joint on Ellie’s couch. "Back when the world was normal?”

Ellie turns to look at you, blinking lazily, a reddish hue over her green. You’re not sure if she's more tired or high, but either way you're not doing much better— everything you’ve said during the past hour is the kind of thought you have when you're alone at night and your brain wanders, moments away from falling asleep. It's a meaningless question, but Ellie lets out a soft hum and thinks about it like it's worth considering. You're not sure if anyone you’ve met in your whole twenty years of life is as willing to indulge you as she is.

"Yeah," she says decidedly, in the same tone with which one would say duh. "We—" a yawn cuts her off, slender hand rubbing one of her eyes. "We would be friends, like, in college."

"I wouldn't be in college.”

Ellie frowns, takes one last inhale and discards the joint to the ashtray on her coffee table. "Why not?"

"'Cause I'm not smart like you," you shrug.

The fold between her eyebrows deepens. "You're smart," she argues, with enough conviction that you almost believe her, insisting, "You are."

"In other ways, sure—” Ellie opens her mouth to interrupt but you get ahead of her, “I’m not trying to talk badly about myself, I just don't think college would be for me.”

You’ve never been the most disciplined. It’s hard to imagine yourself staying up late to study, taking diligent notes in class. It feels ridiculous.

“I’d be working somewhere, I think. Making coffee for people or something.”

Ellie pauses before she nods, adjusting her daydream to what you’re saying, strangely committed. "Then we would meet there,” she makes it sound like the easiest thing in the world, a natural equation. “I'd go get coffee from you."

You chuckle. "You don't even like coffee that much."

Ellie shrugs, soft pink lips curved in a smirk that tells you she's sleepy and serves to warn you of the horror that's about to come out of her mouth.

You groan. “Don't—”

"Maybe I like the pretty girl that's making it."

“Awful,” you push her shoulder away, barely any force behind it, her giggles swimming comfortably around your head. “Never speak again.”

"Not my best work?" she asks, her fingers wrapping lazily around your shin. Too much, her brain warns, but then she remembers the pad of your finger over the back of her hand last night, the cursive lines with no purpose other than to be touching her— and it feels right, or like it's not enough. Too much soon turns to coward.

"Possibly your worst.”

She might be going crazy, but lately Ellie feels like you’re looking at her differently. In your eyes there's something gentle, awaiting, a tracing of your eyes over her face that says please. She chews on her lip, her eagerness painful. “We would like each other,” she doesn't think there's a world where you wouldn't, and if there was… "I'd make you like me."

You raise your eyebrows, teasing, "Oh, so like now?"

Her lips part with genuine surprise, more amused than offended. “...I made you, huh?” 

You regret the joke as soon as it comes out of your mouth, immediately brought back to your fourteen year old self, lonely and admittedly captivated by the auburn haired girl from next door. Flashes of you rushing to catch up with her, untied laces on your too tight sneakers, Ellie, do you wanna be friends? The sound of pages shuffling and her voice reading in whispers in the dead of night because you asked, can you talk to me until I fall asleep? Infatuated from the beginning, obsessed. Even now, on her couch, after spending a whole day together— do you like me? Would you like me, always?

A pillow crashes against the side of her face, her laugh almost louder than the embarrassed pounding of your heart. You pull your legs from her lap and lie back, fold your arms over your face. “You're so annoying.”

A lie so obvious it makes Ellie smile. She shifts to crawl closer, one knee on either side of you. “C’mon, I was joking,” she leans forward and you feel her knuckles tap your arm like she’s knocking on a door. The power to make you shy is still foreign to her, makes her feel drunk, thrilled. She doesn't remember having it before, but of course it was there. In little ways, in daily, simple things. Your eyes always looking for her first in any room, lighting up even after an especially bad pun, tracing her arms when the day becomes too hot to keep her jacket on. You like her, of course. How much time has she been wasting? The breath she lets out feels like it's been waiting to be let go, years spent stuck in her lungs. Ellie wraps her fingers around one of your wrists, her voice sweet, achingly soft. “Want me to tell you why I know I’d like you?”

You lower your arms just slightly, eyes peering up at her.

“Yeah?” she tilts her head.

You nod, arms coming down, unusually quiet.

Ellie grins, victorious. “Okay, but fair warning— it's worse than the coffee thing.”

You chuckle. “Is it?”

“Very.”

“Hm,” you hum, pretending to think about it, distracted by the vision of her practically sitting on top of you. Freckled face framed by the hair that's escaped her usual bun, softly lit by the warmth of the lamp on her desk. “Alright,” you say finally.

It takes Ellie a second to respond, momentarily dazed by the thought of being pretty enough for you to ogle like this. She clears her throat. “You ready?”

You tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and away from her eyes. “Sure.”

Ellie waits for the nerves to come, but even as she parts her lips to speak, they never do. What a kind fate. “I know I’d like you because nothing’s ever made more sense to me— I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. I like you enough for a million lifetimes.”

You look at each other, bask in a moment of understanding. Your eyes on her lips, a hand on her waist that pulls her closer. “That was worse,” you agree.

Ellie moves to rest on her forearms, cages you in, her nose brushing against yours. “I told you.”

She waits, feels herself count once again, a final time, one, two—

A hand against the back of her neck brings her in and the quiet noise of her surprise vibrates against your lips, makes her smile into the kiss for just a second before the hunger takes over. Her hips readjusting over yours, knees pressing against your sides, Ellie kisses like it's a need rather than a whim. She takes and takes and swallows every sigh you make like it's a gift, four, five, six seconds of a messy trail of kisses down your neck to say thank you before she resurfaces again.

“Love you,” she breathes out, because suddenly all that talk about ‘like’ feels stupid— immature, incomparable to what she actually feels for you. “Need you.”

You moan against her lips and it's her favorite sound in the whole world, immediately, as quick as realizing she would fall in love with you the day she met you. “Love you, Ellie.”

A kiss to your clavicle, your hands pulling at her shirt and her thigh between yours. She makes you say it three more times.

[viviansturns]

𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒔

╰┈➤ 𝒃𝒔𝒇!𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒙 𝒃𝒔𝒇!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 fic

CALL #1: 7:21PM

The screen lights up with Chris’s face, hair sticking up like he’d just rolled out of bed. He squints into the camera, blinking hard.

“You look like shit,” you say, settling into your pillow with a grin.

He groans, rubbing his face. “You’re so sweet to me.”

“You called me, loser,” you laugh, shifting the phone so it rests against your knee. Behind you, your half-unpacked room is still a maze of open boxes and crumpled Target bags.

“Just checking in,” he says, voice softer. “Wanted to see how Big Bad Business School’s treating you.”

You sigh dramatically. “I’m living off bagels, coffee, and prayers— there’s way more work than in highschool. But the campus is nice. And my roommate’s not terrible.”

Chris perks up slightly. “Oh yeah? What’s she like?”

You chew your lip, hesitating just long enough to make him squint suspiciously. “He’s chill. His name’s Jacob. He’s doing film. Keeps accidentally leaving his camera battery in the fridge.”

Chris blinks. “He?”

“Yup.”

“Jacob?”

“Correct.”

There’s a long beat. Chris adjusts how he’s sitting, then frowns slightly. “And you’re just... cool with that?”

You arch a brow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No, no,” he says quickly, hands raised. “I mean—sure. Yeah. Just... wasn’t expecting it. Didn’t know they had co-ed rooms.”

You snort. “You sound like my mom.”

He glares at you through the screen. “I do not.”

You smirk. “Anyway, he’s sweet. Offers to walk me back from night lectures and everything.”

Chris doesn’t say anything at first, then mutters, “He sounds too sweet.”

You laugh. “Jealous?”

“Me?” he scoffs, looking very much like someone who is, in fact, jealous. “No. I just think it's weird you’re living with a guy who’s probably secretly writing you into a screenplay.”

“Ew Chris, don’t make me think about that.”

You’re still laughing when the silence settles in,  soft and warm, just. Chris shifts on the screen, lying on his stomach with his chin on his arm, like he’s trying to be closer to you somehow.

“I miss you,” he says, quiet. Like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

You blink, caught off guard for half a second before nodding. “Yeah. I miss you too.”

He smiles, but it’s faint. Tired. “It’s weird without you. Like I’ll say something dumb and expect you to look at me like I’m an idiot… but you’re not here.”

You smile, a little crooked. “That’s tragic. Who’s humbling you now?”

“No one,” he sighs. “I’ve been getting away with everything. It’s dangerous.”

You laugh, pulling the blanket higher up your chest. “It’s weird here too. I go all day without anyone making fun of me for how I tie my shoes or whatever.”

Chris grins. “It’s not how you tie them, it’s that you bunny knot like a five-year-old.”

You flip him off, and he laughs again. But then it’s quiet.

“Wish I could see you,” he says.

“Yeah.”

“LA is really far from Boston”

“Yeah.”

“I said that Boston was home. Like ‘cause of family n shit. But I guess it just doesn’t feel like home when you’re not here,” he mumbles, not making eye contact with his phone camera.

You don’t say anything, and just watch him.

But neither of you hangs up. Not yet.

CALL #2: 11:20 PM

You’re just settling down for the night, finishing a game of mario kart with your roommate Jacon, when you get a text.

Chris: wyd?

You: Playing mario kart w my roommate

Chris: are you down for a movie night

Chris: perchance??

You smile at his request and get up, completely abandoning the video game.

“Hey? Where ya going,” asks Jacob. You look over oblivious to the fact that you just accidentally ditched him.

“Oh sorry, I just thought we finished the last game. I’m boutta have a movie night with a friend back in boston.”

“He the guy you always facetiming?” you look confused. “Um, I guess, I don’t facetime him that much.”

Jacob raises a brow, clearly unconvinced. “You do. Like, a lot. I’ve literally never seen your phone not lighting up with his name.”

You open your mouth to argue, then close it again. “…Okay, maybe a little.”

Jacob grins. “It’s cute. Go, I’ll pause our rematch somehow.”

You sort of blush and flip him off playfully as you leave, already pulling up FaceTime. It rings twice before Chris’s face pops up on the screen, dimly lit by his laptop.

“Y’know Chris, you can’t just say perchance. It’s not grammatically correct.” he completely ignores that, saying what's on his mind instead.

“You bailed on Jacob so fast,” he teases, smug. “Didn’t even say goodbye?”

You gasp. “I don’t even remember telling you his name?”

He shrugs. “Sure you have.”

You roll your eyes and settle into bed, propping the phone up against a pillow. “Okay, creep. What’re we watching?”

Chris glances at the screen. “I found this old rom-com on Netflix. It’s called Love & Letters or something dumb. Had decent reviews. Seemed like your vibe.”

You snort. “Fine. But if it sucks I’m making you watch a business documentary I need to finish for homework”

“Deal,” he says, already hitting play.

The opening credits roll, and the two of you fall into an easy rhythm, joking about the acting, mocking the plot holes, tossing little comments back and forth like you’ve done this a hundred times. Because you have.

And then about halfway through, the rom-com does what rom-coms do—it gets unexpectedly steamy.

You shift slightly under your blanket, glancing at your screen just as Chris does the same. Neither of you says anything for a second.

Finally, he mutters, “Why are old movies always so freaky?”

You smirk. “I think the regulations were less harsh on—” you clear your throat “”—nudity. But they, anything for the character development/” 

He scoffs, but his voice is a little quieter now. “Right. Super necessary. For the plot.”

You glance at him through the screen. “You okay over there?”

“I’m fine,” he says, too fast. Then, a beat later, “You?”

“I’m fine,” you echo, matching his tone.

Another pause. The movie continues.

Then, more gently, he says, “I didn’t know you… like, watched stuff like this.”

You laugh under your breath. “Chris. I’m not twelve.”

The scene seemed to stretch on forever, and Chris had the controls to skip it— which he didn’t.

You try to break the awkward tension. “So like… how was your first time? With Christina or whatever, right?”

“Oh”  He scratches his face nervously. “We never actually went like— all the way, y’know?”

Chris clears his throat, looking off to the side. “I mean. It’s not like we didn’t do anything.”

You raise a brow, amused. “Oh?”

He groans softly. “Why’d I even say that.”

You laugh. “Nope, you opened this door.”

He rubs the back of his neck, still not quite looking at you. “She… gave me a hand job once. It was—whatever. Awkward. Fast. I freaked out and said I had to go home to wash the dishes.”

You blink. “Chris. That’s so fucked up..”

“I know, Y/N!” he says, dramatically burying his face in his hands. “It was panic. My brain short-circuited. I just—panicked.”

You’re laughing so hard now you’re nearly crying. “That’s the most you thing I’ve ever heard.”

He peeks through his fingers, clearly dying inside. “Don’t make this worse for me.”

You shake your head, still smiling. “I’m not. I promise. I think it’s kind of… sweet?”

He drops his hands. “How is that sweet?”

“‘Cause,” you say, eyes a little softer now. “You cared enough to not just go through with something that didn’t feel right.”

He looks at you through the screen for a beat. “Yeah. I guess.”

CALL #3: 4:53PM

8 missed calls. That's what you woke up from your nap You shot up, heart slamming, already imagining the worst. Hospital. Accident. Fire..

Before your brain could spiral further, he called again.

You answered immediately.

“Chris? What—”

“WE BLEW UP,” he yelled, not even letting you finish. “DUDE. We—y/n—we fucking blew up.”

You blinked, still halfway between sleep and a heart attack. “Blew up like… exploded? Or fame-wise?”

“Fame-wise! Like—I don’t even know what happened! I posted that dumb-ass clip before bed and now we’re viral on, like, ten different meme pages and my phone’s lagging and Nick's literally crying. And also charli d’amelio dmed us for a collab??”

You sat up straighter. “Wait—are you serious?”

“I was just on the phone with an agent! A real-life agent! And someone else just emailed us about an apartment in LA and—holy shit, we’re moving. Like actually.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re moving to LA? Just like that?”

Chris nodded fast, hair a mess, eyes wide. “Just like that. Like—we said we’d only go if we blew up, right? Well, we did”

You could hear Nick yelling something in the background about needing to pack his entire closet, and Matt yelling back that he refuses to live in a city that bans plastic straws.

You grinned so hard it hurt. “I’m so proud of you. Like—so proud. Oh my god. My hands are shaking.”

Chris looked at you through the screen, his smile softening. “Wish you were here.”

“Soon,” you said, breathlessly. “You’re gonna be here soon.”

And even with all the chaos, all the noise, it hit you like a wave—everything was about to change. And you weren’t scared. You were excited.

The two of you calmed down for a couple moments, just sucking it all in. 

“Jesus Chris, I can’t wait to see you. I can’t believe we haven’t seen each other in 9 fucking months. That’s almost a year!”

“I know bug, and it feels like forever. We’re going to have so much fun when I get there just you wait.”

You just squeal in excitement then throw your phone across your bed. 

Suddenly, you don’t care about your upcoming business project— you’re going to see the triplets again.

HEEHEEE I CANT WAIT TO WRITE THE REUNION FIC ITS GOING TO BE SO CUTE

@sturniolosrtewsexy @sturnbrooke @emely9274 @babytomatoes21 @arianna1342 @gemzyy @namelesssav @chestersturn @ellieluvssturniolos @tits4matt @vanteguccir @luke8989 @matt-sturnioloo @glee2skkii @riggysworld @sturnslux3 @cass-sturn @auttysturnz @oopsiedaisydeer @chrismakesmewet @whore4chris @sturns-mermaid @eeyoresturnz @httpssturns @chrxsprettygirl @bernardsbendystraws @chrisbratt333 @aurorasturnz @iluvchr1s @sturniolosymphony @joanakaulitz

comment 2 be added to the taglist

[stargazsblog]

how to lose a girl in 10 days | ch.2 first move

ryomen sukuna x fem!reader

ʚɞ ryomen sukuna is tall, devastatingly handsome, and the campus heartbreaker. everyone knows his name, and his reputation for leaving girls with broken hearts. but then there's you uninterested and completely unimpressed by him. you're the only girl who couldn't care less about him. when his friends tease him about it, everything changes. they challenge him with a bet to make you, the one person who isn't affected by his charm, fall in love with him in just 10 days, sukuna accepts the challenge, thinking it'll be an easy win. it's just a game, a way to prove he can get any girl he wants. but the more time he spends with you, he finds himself wanting something he never expected.

ʚɞ warning/tags: angst, fluff, romance, use of cigarettes and alcohol, jealousy, asshole sukuna, heartbreak, inspired by how to lose a guy in 10 days, college au, enemies to lovers.

ʚɞ now playing - no. 1 party anthem by arctic monkeys

note: and the game begins…

masterlist

You were still thinking about the party as you got back to your apartment, shaking off the strange vibe that lingered after your conversation with Sukuna. He wasn’t exactly rude, but something about the way he talked, the way he acted so sure of himself, rubbed you the wrong way.

You threw your jacket over the back of your chair, saying goodnight to Shoko as she walked into her room. You plopped onto your bed, pulling your phone from your bag.

You opened Instagram, scrolling through posts finally loving the peace.

Until a notification popped up.

Sukuna Ryomen started following you.

You sat up in shock, staring at your screen. Sukuna had followed you?

Your thumb hovered over the notification, the tension building as you debated your next move. Block him? Ignore him? Or… stalk him?

The smarter choice would’ve been to block him, but knowing yourself, you clicked on his profile.

His account was exactly what you expected.

Post after post of candid photo, Sukuna at some party. A drink in his hand and his arm slung casually around a girl who looked like she’d won the lottery. Sukuna leaning against his car, looking like he’d stepped out of a magazine.

He had thousands of followers. The comments were full of heart emojis and flirty compliments. He had only followed 20 people, mostly his friends and family.

You raised an eyebrow, fighting the growing curiosity. He didn’t follow anyone unless they were important, so… why was he following you?

Ignore it, you told yourself, he’ll get bored eventually.

As your stared at his profile, a second notification popped up.

Sukuna Ryomen sent your a message.

Your stomach flipped.

2:40AM Sukuna Ryomen: took you long enough to notice me

You scowled, your fingers itching to respond. He was so full of himself that it was almost comical.

2:40AM You: is this part of some weird social experiment?

His reply came almost instantly.

2:40AM Sukuna Ryomen: what me following you? nah just curious

2:41AM You: curious about what?

2:41AM Sukuna Ryomen: about what kind of stuff you post don’t worry i won’t judge… much

You rolled your eyes, leaning back against your headboard. the nerve of this guy.

2:41AM You: wow, lucky me

2:41AM Sukuna Ryomen: relax sweetheart i’m just here to see if you’re as boring online as you are in person

Your jaw dropped. He had to be kidding. You stared at the screen, debating weather to let the conversation die or put him in his place.

2:42AM You: bold words for someone who posts the same three poses over and over

This time, there was a pause before replying. When it came it was shorter than you expected.

2:42AM Sukuna Ryomen: touché

For a moment, you almost smiled.

2:42AM You: now that you’ve satisfied your “curiosity” you can go ahead and unfollow me

2:42AM Sukuna Ryomen: nah i’ll stick around

You sighed, swiping away from his message leaving him on seen. You stared at the screen, the notification still visible: Sukuna Ryomen started following you.

You glanced at his profile one more time. The same images, the same cocky smirk in every picture.

With a deep breath, you pressed follow back.

For a moment nothing happened, you set your phone down and let out a slow exhale, almost feeling dumb for replying to him.

Just as you were about to close the app and convince yourself it doesn’t matter, your phone buzzed.

2:50AM Sukuna Ryomen: i knew you couldn’t resist

You rolled your eyes, a smile hugging at the corner of your lips.

2:50AM You: don’t get too cocky

2:50AM Sukuna Ryomen: too late already am

2:50AM You: your unbearable

2:50AM Sukuna Ryomen: only when i’m around you

You stared at the screen, for a moment, unsure how to respond. He was good at this, good at getting under your skin, making you react, and you had to admit it was starting to feel like he wasn’t just messing around.

2:51AM You: we’ll see how long that lasts

2:51AM: Sukuna Ryomen: i’ll be around as long as you let me.

A little shiver ran down your spine at his words, but you pushed it aside. You weren’t ready to admit how much you were starting to look forward to whatever this way.

Sukuna was following you everywhere. You meant it everywhere.

It doesn’t matter if you were grabbing a coffee, sitting in class, or heading to the library, whatever you were doing he was there. Sometimes he would be leaning against the wall, staring at you as you walked by, other times he would be scrolling through his phone like he just happened to be in the same place.

At first, you thought it was a coincidence. After all, it wasn’t like you owned the campus. But by the fourth time in a single day? Yeah, no. He was definitely following you.

You were midway through highlighting your notes when the chair across from you scraped against the floor. The sudden sound made you glance up, and there he was. Sukuna Ryomen.

“Are you stalking me now?” you asked, glancing back to your notes.

“Stalking is a strong word,” Sukuna's voice drawled, too close for comfort. “We just happen to be in the same place at the same time.”

You sighed, as you spun back to face him, he’s leaning back casually on the chair, one arm draped over the chair next to him.

“What do you want?”

“To talk.”

You crossed your arms. “Pretty sure we already had that conversation. Last night.”

He tilted his head, pretending to think. “Yeah, but you didn’t say anything interesting, figured I’d give you another chance.”

You let out a laugh. “You’re unbelievable.” there was something about the way he was staring at you, like you were a puzzle he was trying to solve. “Why are you even bothering me? you’ve got half of the campus eating out your hand, and i’m not interested in joining the club.”

Sukuna leaned forward, just enough to make your knees touch. “Because you’re the only one who doesn’t care.” his tone was softer now, the change caught you off guard.

“Wow,” you deadpanned. “how tragic for you.”

he grinned. “See that’s why I like you.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding harder than you wanted to admit. What was he even talking about? he didn’t know you.

“You don’t even know me,” you said, your voice quieter now.

“Not yet,” he said simply, as if the answer was obvious.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do.” you said bluntly, closing your notebook with a snap.

You stood up, gathering your things quickly, but Sukuna wasn’t done. As you walked away, his voice followed you. “See you around, sweetheart.”

“I’m telling you, he’s obsessed. First, he’s showing up wherever you are, second, he’s following you on Instagram. classic Sukuna move.” Shoko says as you guys are seated at a small table in the student lounge.

You rolled your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “Yeah, and now he’s everywhere I go. It’s like he’s trying to prove something.”

Shoko raises an eyebrow. “Maybe he is. I mean, it’s Sukuna. He doesn’t exactly follow people around for no reason.”

You scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean? He follows around half the campus trying to get in their pants.”

“Yeah, but those girls usually throw themselves at him. You…” Shoko gestures vaguely at you. “…don’t. He’s probably intrigued.”

you snort. “Well, he’s wasting his time. I’m not interested.”

Before Shoko can respond, Sukuna’s voice cuts through the chatter. “Ouch. That hurts.”

Both of you look up as Sukuna strolls over, his signature smirk firmly in place. He’s holding a small paper bag in one hand, the other resting casually in his pocket.

Shoko grins and leans back in her chair, clearly ready to enjoy whatever’s about to happen.

“Talking about me?” His voice carries just the right amount of smugness as he stops by your table. “I can feel the love from here.”

You glare up at him, unimpressed. “Love? please your delusional.”

Ignoring your sarcasm, Sukuna slides the bag closer to you. “Here. Thought you’d like this.”

You looked at the bag like it might explode. “What’s that supposed to be?”

“Open it,” Sukuna says, leaning back in his chair, watching you carefully.

You side-eyed him before reaching for the bag, you’re fingerings brushing against the paper as you peek inside. Your favorite snacks are in there.

You looked up at him confused. “How did you know these are my favorite?”

Sukuna shrugs like it’s no big deal, “I have my ways.”

You narrowed your eyes, a mix of suspicion and frustration bubbling up inside you. “That’s not an answer. Are you really stalking me?” It all felt too strange to ignore. First, he found your Instagram without you ever mentioning it. Then, he seemed to show up wherever you were. What was next—was he going to start lurking outside your house?

He places a hand over his chest in mock hurt. “Stalk you? What kind of guy do you think I am?”

You don’t buy it for a second. “The kind who’s trying way too hard.”

“Or the kind who pays attention,” Sukuna counters smoothly, his voice dropping a fraction as he leans forward.

The words hang in the air for a moment, and even Shoko raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the show.

You stiffen but recover quickly, crossing your arms again. “You really think this is going to work? Snacks and flirty comments?”

“It’s a start,” Sukuna says with a lazy grin, standing up. “By the way, there’s a party tomorrow night. You should come.”

You don’t hesitate. “Not interested.”

Sukuna shrugs, completely unbothered by the rejection. “I wasn’t asking. I’ll see you there.”

He winks, turning and walking away without waiting for your response

Shoko finally speaks, her tone laced with curiosity. “What was that?”

You rolled your eyes, stuffing the bag into your tote. “Nothing. He’s only doing this to try to get me into his bed. It’s his thing.”

Shoko studies you for a moment, her voice thoughtful. “I don’t know. That didn’t seem like that to me.”

You huff, shoving your drink away. “Whatever. I’m not falling for it.”

Shoko grins, standing up and grabbing her bag. “You don’t have to fall for anything. But we’re going to that party.”

Your head snaps up. “What? No, we’re not.”

“Oh, yes, we are.” Shoko pulls her chair back, already starting to walk away. “I need to see where this goes. Plus, free drinks. You’re coming, no arguments.”

You groaned, grabbing your things to follow her. “You’re the worst.”

“And you love me for it,” Shoko calls over her shoulder, grinning.

Sukuna didn’t realize how hard this was going to be. Day one of the challenge, and you were already proving to be unlike anyone he’d dealt with before.

It was frustrating and intriguing.

He had done his research, of course. Stalking your social media was step one, but even that had been harder than he expected. Your profiles were understated. No attention-seeking selfies, no overly revealing posts. Just snapshots of books, obscure playlists, and the occasional candid photo with friends.

“I can’t figure her out,” he had muttered late one night, scrolling through your feed for what felt like the hundredth time.

That’s when he realized he needed help.

“You really don’t know anything about her?” Geto had asked, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned back against Sukuna’s desk.

“She’s invisible,” Sukuna muttered, tossing his phone onto the table. “No parties, no drama, no clue what she’s into. It’s like she’s living on a different planet.”

Geto smirked. “Sounds like someone’s not used to working for it.”

Sukuna shot him a glare, but Geto just shrugged. “Relax. I’ve got this.”

The next day, Geto cornered Shoko during a break between classes. He made it look casual, of course just two old friends catching up. But Geto had a knack for reading people, and Shoko wasn’t hard to crack.

“She’s into the little things,” Shoko had said, blowing out a puff of smoke from her cigarette. “You know, stuff that actually matters. Like, she’s not going to fall for some big, flashy gesture. She likes thoughtful things her favorite snacks, a good book, stuff like that.”

By the time Geto reported back, Sukuna had a plan. It was subtle, sure, but he could work with that.

After handing you the snacks, He strolled back to his usual spot with Gojo and Geto, settling down next to them with a frustrated sigh.

“So, any luck with her?” Gojo asked, not missing a beat.

Sukuna set his drink down, running a hand through his hair as he slouched in his chair. “Not as easy as I thought. You guys are right—no amount of flashing a smile and throwing out my usual charm is going to work on her.”

Geto smirked, leaning forward. “She’s in your head, huh?”

Gojo chuckled, propping his chin on his hand. “This is new. Sukuna Ryomen, struggling to win over a girl? What’s next, you’re gonna write her a love poem?”

Sukuna shot them both a glare, his jaw tightening. “Laugh it up,” he muttered. “But I’m not backing down.”

Geto raised a brow. “You sound almost impressed.”

“Maybe I am,” Sukuna said, a glint of determination sparking in his eyes. “And maybe that’s what makes this fun. I invited her to the party.”

Geto and Gojo both blinked, momentarily stunned by Sukuna’s straightforwardness.

“You invited her to the party?” Gojo asked, leaning forward in surprise. “Bold move. What’s the plan there? Just charm her in front of the whole crowd?”

Sukuna shrugged, but there was something sharper in his expression now. “It will work. I don’t think she’s the type to fall for a big scene, but if I show her I’m not like the others, she’ll bite eventually.”

Gojo chuckled. “You’re really going for the slow burn, huh?”

“Exactly.” Sukuna’s lips curved into a confident grin. “She won’t see it coming.”

Geto raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “You’ve got, what, few more days to make this work? Good luck, man.”

Sukuna smirked, not looking away from you as you stood up, chatting with Shoko. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

Later that night, you were lying in bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone, trying to forget the strange encounter with Sukuna earlier. Your mind kept drifting back to the way he’d smiled when he handed you your favorite snack, the way his eyes seemed to linger on you just a second too long.

Your phone buzzed, pulling you out of your thoughts. You glanced at the screen, and your stomach flipped when you saw his name. Hesitating for a moment, you opened the message.

11:30PM Sukuna Ryomen: hope i see you at the party tomorrow sweetheart wouldn’t be the same without you

Attached to the text was the party’s address.

You groaned, tossing your phone onto the pillow beside you. Why did he have to be so persistent? And You told yourself you wouldn’t go—there was no way you were giving him the satisfaction.

But as you stared at the message again, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to go.

taglist: @clp-84 @ssetsuka @lymsfm @monic19 @bol0-de-morang0 @strxberryicecream @r0ckst4rjk @gojocumslut @elliebelliegi @kazuuhali @luna-v-roiya @sussiesushi @nakiich @mourart7 @neuvilletteswife4ever @rusted-dolly @blueyesuguru @lillycore @yourhornysister @bnbaochauuu @ferretsqueen @anonnieghost @boogiemansbitch @sukubusss @sterzin @miazzzma @silkija @blueemochii @number0netrash

[the-thing-withfeathers]

sucker! (m.b.)

a/n: welcome back cheerleader madison!!!!

pairing: cheerleader!madison beer x g!p f!jock!reader

warnings: smut, g!p reader!!!, praise, pet names, handjob, blowjob, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), p in v sex, creampie

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

with halloween passing, student council was handing out some candy to the student body.

with your girlfriend having a massive sweet tooth, it was out of the goodness of your heart that you pleaded the student council for some extra candy to surprise her with.

‘are you coming or what?’

a text from madison popped up on your screen, you swiped to open it and replied quickly.

‘miss me?’

you typed and sent with a smirk on your face. you had promised to come over and help her with the chemistry homework you had to get done. you both were on the home stretch until graduation.

it was time to focus up.

‘don’t flatter yourself.’ she replied not even a minute later.

‘so that’s a yes.’ you texted just as you reached her front porch. ‘here, princess.’

she took about 20 seconds to bolt down the steps and open the door. you couldn’t help but eye her up and down. she was just in a tight shirt & shorts with her knee high socks accentuating her legs.

“eyes up here!” she said, her two fingers split apart, gesturing to her own eyes.

“sorry, i like what i see!” you admitted, a cheeky smile plastered across your face.

she scoffed and rolled her eyes, stepping aside to let you in. you pouted at her, leaning down to her level.

“is princess stressed out about the homework?” you asked, pressing a kiss to her cheek. she nodded hesitantly, you smiled reassuringly. “we’ll be okay, don’t worry. let’s get started then, the sooner the better. then we can do whatever we want.”

she flashed that award-winning smile at you, it made you weak in the knees. she grabbed your hand and you both ran up the stairs to her room.

she had her books & laptop spread across her desk, you pulled up another chair and sat right beside her.

“seems like you’ve gotten pretty far, baby.” you nodded in approval. “not that much more to go. how about i let you finish up then quiz you with my flashcards?”

despite the pressure starting to sink in with practice, you always managed to find the time to hit the books. you found yourself perfecting the art of tine management slowly but surely. and you always managed to find time for madison.

madison was different, she was extremely intelligent but her time management skills were harder to master. practice for her was exceedingly difficult. she would stay late hours in the gym, perfecting tricks on her own. you often worried.

she hummed in response, signalling agreement. you pulled out your own books from your bag and leaned back in your chair, highlighting through important parts.

after a few minutes, madison gained the confidence to grab your attention and ask you to quiz her. a sly smile was on your face as you pulled out your flashcards along with a heart-shaped lollipop covered in clear plastic.

her eyes widened, she loved sweets. and you knew you were going to have to reward her for doing well.

“if you get them all right, i’ll give you this.” you held it out, she tried to grab it but you yanked your hand away in time. “bad girl. c’mon, it’s only ten questions.” you tutted.

she huffed and sat still, “okay, get on with it.”

one question right.

two questions right

five questions right.

seven questions right.

and then she hesitates on the last one.

“i… i don’t know.” madison bites her lip, admitting defeat.

“you know it, baby.” you said, in hopes of jogging her brain.

“i don’t. i skipped over it.” she sighed, turning back to the book. you took pity on her with how cute she looked pouting.

you decided to unwrap the lollipop and hold it out for her. she turned to you, a sparkle in her eyes.

“you did your best, princess. i think that should be rewarded just as much.” you nodded at her. “go on.”

she stuck her tongue out and you put the red heart on it flat. she wrapped her lips around it, you could feel her sucking on it gently, trying to taste the flavor.

she had her eyes shut briefly, but when she opened them— you knew you set yourself up very poorly. she made direct eye contact with you while slightly bobbing her head around the sucker.

you watched her intensely, keeping eye contact. you felt your jeans start to get tight, your bulge starting to peek through. and when madison’s eyes flickered downwards, you knew she’d caught it too.

it was almost too easy for her to get you going, especially when you watched those plump lips of hers work the lollipop when they should be working you.

“someone’s excited.” she said, detaching her lips from the heart. “need me to fix that?” you frantically nodded, who were you to say no to your stunning girlfriend with a need to please you?

madison lowered herself onto her knees, unbuckling your pants. you lifted yourself off the chair slightly so she could move them down to pool at your ankles.

your bulge was pressed up against your boxers, a small patch displaying the pre-cum that was eager to escape. her nails latched onto your boxers and pulled them down. you sighed in relief as your length was set free, you would have hit that point of discomfort if madison let it stay trapped any longer.

she took your impressive length in her hand, slowly jerking it off. her tongue went flat against your tip, taking up all the existing pre-cum that was already trickling down. she moaned softly at the taste, wrapping her lips around it.

your hands gripped the chair, a soft grunt leaving your lips as you tried to hold yourself back from fucking into her mouth. madison angled herself up a little more so she could take more of you in.

she lowered herself more, her head starting to bob up and down. you balled some of her hair into your fist, pulling and pushing in response. her hand gripped the base of your cock, squeezing slightly.

you were almost too sensitive, the imagine of her sucking the lollipop was fresh in your mind. as you started to feel a knot build in your stomach, you decided to take control of the situation.

you pushed madison’s head down until her nose hit the base of your dick, forcing her to deepthroat you.

“you can take it baby, take it like the princess you are.” you said through groans. you heard her gag around your dick and then released her head. she removed herself completely from around you but her hand kept stroking you.

“good girl.” you chuckled, feeling that knot build even further. you were so close to snapping but you couldn’t let her go untouched.

you pulled her into a standing position, your fingers pulling her shorts and panties down together until they were all tangled up. she stepped out of them and stood in front of you.

“so pretty, you’ve got such a perfect pussy for me.” you said, running your pointer finger through her leaking folds. you could hear how wet she was just from a simple gesture. your thumb applies pressure on her clit and you heard her whimper, she was practically begging for more.

you slipped a finger into her, pressing soft kisses on her belly. you pulled her closer by the back of her thigh, she shuffled until she was standing over your knee. your finger slowly pumped into her while your thumb continued to rub quick circles on her clit.

the contrast of your slow pace inside of her and your quick pace on her clit made her head go fuzzy, it wouldn’t take long for her to finish all over you.

as much as you wanted to see her cum like this, you wanted her even closer. you pulled your finger out of her and spread her legs more so she could hover over you.

“c’mon baby, sit on it.” you took your length in between your pointer finger and thumb, lining it up perfectly with madison’s opening. she nodded and slowly lowered herself down.

she whined feeling herself get stretched out by you. you groaned softly as you felt her clench around your cock, you could have finished then and there. she whimpered softly adjusting to how big you were, her nails digging into your shoulders.

“fuck… so big.” she cussed out, her hand moving to grip your hair. you moaned softly at the feeling of her nails scratching at your scalp.

“so.” she lifted herself slowly and let herself drop down.

“fucking.” again.

“big!” again. you gripped her waist, lifting her up and bringing her back down smack against you. she started letting out chopped moans, getting louder with each thrust.

you scrambled at her desk to grab the lollipop, putting it into her mouth. her parents were home and you didn’t want them hearing. she moaned around the sucker, her eyes shutting in pleasure.

“you’re so fucking hot like this, princess.” you breathed out, watching the sight unravel in front of you. the pet name spurred her on even more, she lifted her shirt for you, exposing her breasts. they bounced with every move she made.

you quickly took one into your mouth, your hand palming against the other one. you swirled your tongue against her hardening nipple, forcing a gasp out of her. your other hand rolled her nipple between your two fingers.

all the stimulation made it easy for madison to reach her peak, and you felt yours arriving as well.

“close! close… gonna fuckin…” she choked out, her head falling back. “cumming!” she called out, holding the lollipop between her teeth.

you felt her clench around you, her hips starting to stutter. you felt her orgasm wash over her, her cum coating your dick. you immediately followed soon after, cumming inside her with a grunt. you grinded her hips against yours, helping her ride it out.

it was impressive to the both of you that you stayed hard.

you surprised her by standing up, sitting her down on the desk. you gave her a few seconds to recover before snapping your hips against hers again. she gasped but didn’t complain.

she had her legs wrapped around your waist, her ankles digging into your back. you fucked into her, holding eye contact as the lollipop was still in her mouth. you removed it and replaced it with your lips, tasting the sugar on hers.

you pushed her until her back was against the wall of the desk, feeling your dick hit that gummy spot that made her eyes roll into the back of her head. her mouth fell open in a perfect ‘o’ shape, heavy breathing coming from the two of you.

“fuck! right there, right there!” she cried out, tears starting to form in her eyes. your thumb joined your dick in your agenda to pleasure her, frantically flicking against her bundle of nerves.

“fuck, you feel so good, baby.” you said into the skin of her neck, leaving wet kisses on her skin. “yeah, you gonna cum again? wanna feel you cum on me again.”

you started to find yourself struggling to thrust, feeling madison’s walls clench around you with her impending orgasm on the way. you took her boob into your mouth again, nipping at her skin.

“don’t stop! don’t stop! don’t fucking stop!” she begged, the desk rattling with each thrust you made.

“gonna fill you up, princess.” you said.

“yeah! yeah… fucking cum inside me.” she responded, that was enough for you to reach your second orgasm alongside her.

you felt her legs tremble as that white-hot flash of heat snapped in her stomach, her hips bucking against yours as she came. you bottomed out entirely into her and pumped your cum into her, softly groaning as you did.

“all this cause of a sucker?” she asked after a second, teasing you.

“all this and more.” you said, lifting her up again and throwing her onto the bed.

“we’re never gonna get chemistry done.” she rolled her eyes.

“we have enough chemistry here.” you joked, climbing on top of her.

“that was horrible.” she threw a soft punch at your upper arm. you two laughed in harmony.

“you know what else is horrible?” you asked.

“what?”

“that i’m still hard.”

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

author’s journal

okay i think i ate w this one actually this was so fun.

also my first time writing g!p reader so i hope it’s pretty okay.

i’ve missed writing for mads so much!!! and i’m sorry if i kept any of you guys waiting cause i’ve been extremely busy with my last semester of uni ever!!!

here’s to hoping that i graduate!!

kisses xx

[stonedstr8]

TOKE 'N STROKE

"Ads are getting so damn invasive." Lucas thought to himself, clicking skip on yet another pointless car commercial interrupting the video essay he was watching. "You think the algorithm would know its audience by now, I'm too gay to drive!"

He laughed a little bit at the joke, running a hand through his soft, bleached blonde hair. He was the epitome of a high-maintenance twink, with his smooth, hairless body and perfect sense of style. He was smart too and liked to boast about it, with a scholarship for his English Lit degree and being made President of his university's LGBT Chapter, which he was hoping to use as a stepping stone to become Student Body President next year.

Leaning back again in his chair he reached for his cellphone, seeing a text from his boyfriend Alex.

Alex: "Hey cutie, still busy with finals this weekend, but have time for a dinner date Sunday night?"

He smiled to himself, giving an eager text back to set it up, and to wish him well on his upcoming exams. "Ugh, I need to start studying too, Monday's going to be one hell of a final... I'll focus on it and head to the library after this video and-"

Just like that, his train of thought was interrupted again by a stupid ad, this time some obnoxious psychedelic visuals and a bad electric guitar riff blared out of his monitor. It startled him so badly that he seized up for a second, accidentally clicking the ad and being brought to their store page. "Broski's Bud's, one stop ship and shop for weed strains to fix your brain..." He rolled his eyes at the cringe marketing, getting ready to close the tab when a pop-up opened trying to tell him all about a deal he 'wouldn't want to miss out on'. "No thanks, stupid site, you can keep your Bro Buds or whatever to yourself." but every time he hit X on the popup another would open, being more and more insistent each time about new deals, until finally a desperate '90% OFF AND SPECIAL STARTER KIT AS A BONUS WITH YOUR FIRST PURCHASE' filled his screen. "FINE," he scoffed at his computer, "I'll take a look at the stupid site. My therapist suggested I try out weed to help lessen my anxiety anyways, so might as well get a good deal on it..."

Clicking the pop-up added the 'starter kit' to his cart, it was a pack of pre-rolled blunts and some sort of mystery box, but the description didn't help him understand it much either. "Get ready to step into the zone and open ur mind with this one bros, Broski's Buds bestselling strain, Toke 'n Stroke, is sure to change your life by stimulating a high never felt before! This isn't your sissy uncle's strain, this shit puts hair on your chest like a real man!"

"God this is so cringe, I bet they get all kinds of business marketing to the dumb jocks in town, no wonder their brains are mush. Still, it's just weed and for $20 I might as well give it a try, I probably won't find it cheaper anywhere else..." sitting in thought about it for a few seconds, Lucas finally filled in his payment info and placed his order, getting a free upgrade to same-day delivery since they seem to have a storefront a few miles from his apartment.

"Well, there goes my library plans I guess, I'll have to wait around for delivery since my package will probably get swiped otherwise..." Lucas sighed, turning off his computer and plopping down onto the couch, picking up his Switch to play Animal Crossing and kill time.

A few hours passed and the sky got dark before finally a long buzz came from his intercom. "Took them long enough, it's nearly 9pm!" he complained, putting his jacket on to head downstairs. When he got down there the delivery guy had already gotten into his car again, driving away and leaving Lucas to carry the package back upstairs all on his own. It was bigger than he expected, taking both hands to lift it and keep it stable. "Jesus, this thing must weight like 40 pounds! What did they put in here?"

After a bit of struggling and the occasional break to catch his breath, Lucas pushed his package into the living room, collapsing on the floor next to it for a while. "After that workout I'm surprised I don't look like the douchebags around campus." he laughed to himself, bouncing up to get a box cutter and pry his package open. After taking the carton of pre-rolled blunts out, he started into the box with a bit of confusion and disgust, pulling things out one after the other.

"A sleeveless tank top that says 'Toke 'n Stroke Bro'... A pair of douchey sunglasses... Some red gym shorts, socks and slides... Ew, a snapback saying 'Who ate all the pussy?', why the fuck would anyone wear this!... And 2 dumbbells, no wonder this thing was so heavy! All of this is useless shit that's gonna end up in a donation bin now, I'll have to drop this trashy stuff off tomorrow on my way to the library... But hey, at least the weed seems fine, smells... potent." He said, tossing everything back into the box and taking a whiff of one of the blunts.

Kicking back on the couch again, he played with the blunt in his hand for a while before finally having the courage to light it up, taking a hit. Immediately he started coughing, not used to the sensation, but it did make his brain start to feel... fuzzy. "Damn, okay I need to push past it and get used to it." he said, lighting up for another hit of the blunt, this time barely a cough escaping his throat, feeling suspiciously more used to it. Then another, and another, until finally the whole blunt was gone. Sitting in his daze for a while, he enjoyed the sensation of his mind drifting around experiencing the high, his anxiety melting away as if he didn't have a care in the world. Eventually he decided to try and get up, but his body slumped over off the couch and hitting the floor, the room fading to black...

...

When Lucas finally came to again, the first thing that hit him was the strong smell of weed floating around in the air. "Damn bro, did I smoke the whole set or what..." he laughed groggily, getting ready to stretch out and get back to laying on the couch before he was startled by the sound of moaning blasting from his TV, eyes shooting open in confusion. On the screen, two busty lesbians were making out, them taking turns groping each others boobs and fingering each other. "What the fuck bro, how long has this been on?" he cursed, nervous that the neighbors nextdoor might have heard it playing as he started desperately looking for the remote.

When he couldn't find it in the cushions, he got up from the couch only to be met with his feet kicking a bunch of empty beer cans. "Dude, there's gotta be 2 dozen thrown all over the floor, did I have a party or something? I don't even know anyone who drinks beer..." he mumbled, going to scratch his head in confusion, but was even more confused when instead of his hair he felt a hat on top of his head. "Huh?" he thought, as he looked down at the floor again, noticing that instead of his skinny jeans and converse he was now wearing the socks and slides from the box, along with the sleeveless tank top and the shorts too. He stumbled his way to the bathroom door still baked out of his mind, mouth dropping open at his reflection in the full-length mirror in front of him.

"Broooo, am I dreaming or what the fuckkkk is going on" he said in disbelief. No more was the cute, pale twink he used to be staring back at him. Instead, a douchey bro he didn't recognize was standing face to face with him. Tanned skin, pillowy muscles, his once blonde hair turned into a brown buzz cut and with that stupid "Who ate all the pussy?" hat slapped over it. He touched his face, feeling along his chin where his once smooth skin now had a rougher texture, and a trashy chinstrap sprouted from his jawline. He slapped his face a few times in his daze, trying to wake up from the dream and growing more confused each time nothing changed.

Turning around and staggering back to his living room to try and make sense of what's going on, it hit him that he barely recognizes the room anymore. His apartment used to be perfectly maintained and well-decorated, now there was beer cans all over the floor, along with dirty socks and cummed-in underwear, greasy pizza boxes and chip bags all over the table and counter, the decorations on his walls had been torn down and replaced with posters of chicks in bikinis and sports teams, his Switch replaced with an X-Box and a stack of COD games next to it, DVD cases of trashy bro-comedies were thrown around near the TV too... Then the smell hit him, it STUNK in here, like a sickening mixture of weed, cheap body spray, and sour BO wafting in a heat around the room. "Bro, it fucking reeks in here... Or wait..." he mumbled as he gave himself a whiff, "I fucking reek!"

After a bit of stunned silence he finally started to process things in his brain again. How the fuck did he get like this, was any of this even real, and how does he get back to normal? He plopped back onto the couch, picking up his phone to see he had a handful of missed texts and calls from his boyfriend before noticing the time... 2:00pm. On Sunday. He had somehow been blacked out for 2 whole nights, with no memory of anything that had happened. While getting ready to call his boyfriend back, Lucas felt his insides rumbling and at first he thought it was from the munchies because of all the weed, but then he realized "Oh bro, all that double-cheese pizza is really gonna fucking..."

*PHRRRBBBTTT!*

His body instinctively lifted its leg as it pushed out the loudest and most obnoxious fart he'd ever ripped in his life, as his body seemed to react on its own, letting out an immature laugh and wafting the air before muttering "Fuck yeah bro, smells like victory!" He leaned back into the couch, remembering he needed to call Alex, but the loud moaning on the TV caught him off guard again. This time he locked eyes with the screen, the cock in his shorts immediately bulging and straining at the sight of the lesbian porn before him. "I really need to turn this shit off and get whatever's going on sorted out..." he thought, but he realized he couldn't move his hand to reach for his phone, instead it reacted on its own, reaching down his waistband to pull out his cock and start stroking for the busty babes on TV.

"All I do is Toke 'n Stroke, bro..." a voice in his head seemed to say, except it didn't come from within, he spoke it directly out of his own mouth.

"Wait, I didn't say that bro, it's-" he tried to talk, realizing that his thoughts echoed around stuck in his own head, not even leaving the lips of his own body. He was just stuck there, watching in a dazed horror as he went on autopilot.

"Toke 'n Stroke bro, I'm such a loyal customer Broski's Buds will HAVE to take me as a hype boy this time haha!" his voice spoke again, continuing to stroke for the porn on TV, Lucas's eyes stuck fixed on the screen. Suddenly though, he was interrupted by his phone vibrating, a text from his boyfriend coming through.

Alex: "Hey cutie, I hope everything is alright? You haven't answered my calls or texts in a couple days, I know it's busy with all your studying but we do still have dinner planned for tonight. Still on for me to pick you up at 5?"

"Oh thank God," Lucas thought, reading the message, "I can tell him what's going on and have him come over to help me fix this shit!" Unlocking his phone, Lucas let out a sigh of relief as he got ready to reply, only for his body to still be taken over by whatever douchey daze it was stuck in.

Lucas: "dont u ever come around me u faggy creep, if me or my bros ever catch u within 100 feet of us we'll give u the beating of a lifetime! fuck around n find out if u dare to show ur face here."

Lucas screamed internally as the message was typed out and sent in front of his very eyes, before his hand moved to block his boyfriend's number and turn his phone off. "Something is seriously fucking wrong with me bro, I need to-"

*PHHRRRRBBBTTTTTT*

Another obnoxious and sickening fart blasted out of his ass, filling the room and breaking Lucas's thoughts down into a daze again, as he felt around under the couch for something before pulling a sweaty, well-used fuck toy of a girls ass and pussy up from the mess.

As Lucas once again locked eyes with the TV, he took another hit from his dwindling blunt stash, finishing up the last one. After throwing what was left onto the floor, he prepared the fuck toy and slid it right down onto his cock, starting to bounce the toy up and down as he edged himself closer to finishing.

"If I can't figure out a way to snap out of this, I'm so fucked..." he thought, as his voice spoke again. "Toke 'n Stroke bro, this chick is soooo getting fucked!" He moaned, as he shot his thick load into the toy, feeling some of his braincells permanently shoot out with it, sloppily wiping the mess on the cushion next to him as he laid back, feeling his insides start to bubble again.

Lucas had a lot of Bro Time to catch up on, but luckily his new favorite weed strain was making sure that he was a captive audience until he was fully converted and assimilated into just another Bro.

[woon23-78]

photobooth

pairing: bf!kim woonhak x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none!

a/n: inspired by @leehnz post about bnd and photobooths! also this is my first time posting kinda nervous

9:00 pm

you're scrolling on pinterest in your bedroom and winding down for the night when you see an adorable couple photo taken in a vintage photobooth. you save it to your board of couple photos and start doing some research online to find a similar photobooth near you. as you search, you find a cafe about 20 minutes away that has one. "omg i should totally take woonhak there tomorrow," you think as you look through pictures of the cafe. you open up messages and text him:

y/n: woonhak omg

woonhak: what is it?

y/n: can we PLS go to this cafe tomorrow? it has a vintage photobooth and i wanna take pics so bad!

woonhak: okay

woonhak: wait do i have to dress up

y/n: ofc <3

woonhak: ugh fine

woonhak: i'll pick you up at 9:30 <3

you giggle at your boyfriend's text, knowing he's pretending to hate dressing nice for you. you have been dating woonhak for a few months, and are still in the nervous "new relationship" phase, but you're slowly becoming more comfortable with each other.

as you drift to sleep, you contemplate what you're going to wear tomorrow and smile softly with excitement.

8:45 am

tomorrow comes and you get ready for the day, putting on one of your favorite outfits for the date. as you're finishing your final touches, you get a text from woonhak.

woonhak: 10 minutes away :)

you start gathering your things and meet woonhak outside when he gets to your house. you get in the passenger seat of his car and put the location in the maps. "hey," woonhak says, smiling, "you look pretty." you smile back at him, "thanks! your outfit's cute. i didn't know if you'd actually dress up for this," you tease. woonhak laughs quietly. "hey, i never disappoint when you tell me to dress well! i know how much you love fashion." he says endearingly.

the car ride goes by quickly, with you and woonhak talking and laughing together. when you arrive at the cafe, he quickly gets out of the car. "wait!" he exclaims, and runs over to your side. he opens the door for you before you can even take your seat belt off. he looks down at you from outside the car, "okay, you can get out now!" you smile at how cute he is and get out of the car, intertwining your hand with his as you walk into the cafe together, him making sure to hold the door open for you.

the cafe is decorated in shades of white, cream, and light pink, with a seemingly endless amount of pretty pastries set neatly in glass cases. "wow, this is so pretty!" you say to woonhak. "yeah, totally," he says, but you can see him looking at the desserts instead of the cafe's pretty interior. "okay woonhak," you grab his hand "i'm so sorry but we definitely have to take the pictures before we eat! there's a high chance we'll spill powdered sugar on ourselves." you say with a pointed look. "y/n are you serious! i'm so hungry right now," woonhak replies, but he lets you pull him in the direction of the photobooth. "you are a messy eater! we can eat all we want after," you say with a sweet smile. woonhak reluctantly let's you drag him into the photobooth.

you cram onto the tiny seat right next to each other while woonhak goes to press the start button. "wait! hold for a second?" you stop him and hand him a tiny mirror. you reapply your lip gloss as he holds the mirror up for you. "you're so high maintenance," he says with false annoyance. "be quiet!" you respond. "okay, i'm ready!" woonhak finally presses the start button on the screen and it begins the countdown. he leans back to pose with you and puts his arm around your waist, pulling you closer while you both smile for the camera. the second countdown begins quickly. "woonhak, heart!" you say, and make half a heart with your hand for woonhak to complete. the camera snaps the second photo and begins the third countdown. "what now?" woonhak asks. you pretend to think as the countdown gets closer to zero.

3...2...

as the screen displays the number 1, you grab onto woonhak's face and kiss him on the cheek. he lets out a surprised laugh as the camera flashes. "y/n!!! i probably look so stupid in that, you could have warned me!" he exclaims. the last countdown begins and you quickly turn his face to display the lip gloss mark on his cheek to the camera as you laugh. the camera snaps one last time and captures the image. woonhak is blushing slightly and laughing disbelievingly at you as the photos come up on the screen. "oh my god, those are so embarrassing," he says, but you can tell he likes them. "stop woonhak! they're cute and you love them!" you say. you press the print button and get out of the photobooth. woonhak takes the photo strips from the side of the machine and hands one to you. "okay, they're kind of cute," he says with a smile. "of course!" you reply, "and now we can eat."

you and woonhak go to order your coffee and a huge number of pastries, definitely too many for two people. you sit down and talk for a few hours, giggling together and doing reviews of each pastry. woonhak artfully folds his copy of the photo strip to fit in his phone case, displaying the last two pictures. as your date ends, woonhak walks to your side of the table to take your hand, and you smile to yourself because you noticed he never wiped off your kiss mark.