#im sure this set already exists

[pigeonliker420]

whenever i go looking into help or random talk about bg3 i keep seeing people like comparing it to dragon age either in expectations or selling points and bro. ghirl. its not dragon age. its baldurs gate

[arolesbianism]

Tiphereth suppression finally complete babeyyyy

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Mad Woman"

ok yall im out of school now! this was rushed so don't judge, when i write i just pour out whatever's in my head, that's why it's almost always rushed. i feel like if i don't write it, it'll disappeare! also to everyone hating in my asks, NO ONE IS FORCING YOU TO READ MY WORK!!!! hating does nothing but discourage me and lower my already non-existent confidence in my writing. pls leave me alone, if you don't have anything nice to say; don't say anything. i LOVE all my positive asks and comments, they make my day. don't ruin it for me.

Prologue: hapter 1: Chapter 2: Chapter 3: Chapter 4: Chapter 5 Chapter 6:

Six months, that's how long it's been since Bruce exiled you to New York and left you alone once again. It's been 387 days since Tiffany Maverick pulled the rug from beneath your feet and ensnared your family in her web of lies and manipulation. For six months, your family ignored you, only Alfred sending you the occasional care package which you promptly threw in the garbage.

You wish Tiffany and Damian were as content with ignoring you as the rest of the family but unfortunately, they went out of their way to rub their closeness in your face by sending you pictures of family movie night, family game night, and the family attending their school events. It made you angry at first, before you saw how funny it was. A family of billionaires, a family of detectives, a family of vigilantes, sitting next to a spy; obliviously feeding her insider information. The Batman, sitting grinning ear to ear next to a girl who could be his downfall.

Surprisingly, boarding school was amazing. The boys were hot, though most arrogant and dumb, they were all loaded and into you. The girls idolized you from the moment you walked in, your word was law around here and the power felt amazing. You decided what was in and out, who was hot and who was not; a huge difference and change of pace from the years of bullying and ridicule at Gotham Prep.

The charm came with your new abilities, most likely. Sure, the first two months were fucking painful and exposed you to pain you didn't think was possible but it was a small price to pay. It was nothing for the power of being able to charm and flirt your way out of just about anything, being able to eject venom with the slightest trace of your fresh set of acrylics, being able to literally bite people with your fangs and have them enjoy it, sensing heat signatures and feeling emotions and eyes on you, having the ability to give literal bone-crushing hugs, and so many things you haven't even discovered.

Not to mention your random overnight makeover! Suddenly, your figure was to die for, perfect in all senses of the word. Your skin gleamed and shimmered in the light, long shed away were all the blemishes and scars. Your hair always shiny and your teeth always pearly white, albeit a bit sharp. You're the image of beauty.

Who cares about the price when the product was this good anyway?

Who needed familial love when everyone here worshipped you? That new view and utter hatred for the family is what convinced you to accept Ariele, your boarding school bff and roomie,'s offer to spend summer break with her family in the south of france. Of course, you wanted to go back to manor for a week before meeting her there. Alfred asked you to come and though you were angry at him, you missed the old man. You swore to yourself that you'd only stay the night, catch up with Alfred, and ignore your 'family' then promptly spend the summer half naked, tanning on a super yacht with your girls.

Little did you know that you'd never make it to france, in fact, you wouldn't even make it out the manor now that Tim discovered the truth and told the rest of the family.

Tim Drake noticed things. Small things. Minute details that other people might overlook. That's how he found the truth.

It started with the cooking. Tiffany had casually mentioned one evening that she’d found some old recipes in the manor’s archives, recipes that you had once written down, hoping to impress Damian with Arabic dinners and desserts. Tiffany had barely glanced at the handwritten notes before she had offered to make dinner that night—a perfect replica of your signature stuffed cabbage leaves, Malfoof, as you called it.

Tim had been there when it happened. He’d recognized it immediately. The dish was one of your favorites, one you had made for family dinners. It was too familiar, too precise for Tiffany, it lacked the usual love and effort.

Then came the awards. It was subtle at first, too. Tiffany casually dropping that she had “entered a local baking competition” and how much fun it had been to win. Tim had known that you had been the one to actually win that competition the year before, he remembered rolling his eyes as you foolishly tried to impress him. But when he checked the award Tiffany had won? It looked eerily similar to the one that you had earned. Tiffany didn’t even bother hiding her gloating as she showed it off, calling it “another step toward making Gotham proud.”

Tim’s stomach churned. It wasn’t a coincidence. Tiffany was stealing your life and he was the only one that saw it. Who knows what else she was stealing.

The pieces clicked into place when he found the old photo albums. Tiffany had been snooping around the library one afternoon, pulling out albums that had been tucked away in the back, ones that hadn’t been touched in years. They were full of memories of your achievements, pictures of family vacations, awards won for charity work and academic excellence. Baby photo's, old camera's, journals, even old clothes.It wasn’t just admiration. It was an obsession.

He saw her dig through and read every one of your old entries, saw her stare at pictures and attempt to manuever her body how you stood, but what really creeped him out was when she started tracing over your handwriting.

Tim couldn’t let it go. This was insane. It was almost as if Tiffany wanted to wear your skin.

It wasn’t that he wanted to make Tiffany an enemy or villainize her, quite the opposite actually, he'd been ignoring her strange behavior and smell for a year now because of how fond he was of her. But this? This was crossing a line. She wasn’t just trying to fit in anymore, this was dangerous.

He now suspected there was more to Tiffany than just her obsession with your life and after putting the pieces together, it was becoming clear: Tiffany was playing a much deeper game. She wasn’t just trying to steal your identity, she was stealing information, too.

Tim’s investigative skills had been honed through years of being the tech guy of the Batfamily, and when something felt off, he didn’t ignore it. Not anymore, he started tracking small anomalies—times when Tiffany’s presence seemed too convenient, moments when crucial data about Gotham’s underworld went missing from the Batcomputer, or when confidential mission details were leaked through channels Tim knew the Batfamily didn’t use. Times when the Joker seemed to know the family's course of action and times when villains knew Duke's plans.

That’s when it clicked.

Tiffany wasn’t just trying to fit in with the family. She was spying. Her affections with the family were a cover for something darker. She had been gathering intelligence for a shadowy organization, feeding them vital information about their operations. This was bigger than him—this was a full-blown infiltration. Tiffany was working for someone else, someone dangerous.

Tiffany’s betrayal ran deep, and her spying wasn’t just about information anymore; it was personal. She had been stealing pieces of your life, your successes, your talents , your family. She had slowly taken everything that you had worked for and twisted it into her own false narrative. It was sickening.

Tim couldn’t stand it anymore. He had dug through encrypted files, tracked hidden transmissions, and pieced together cryptic conversations. Tiffany wasn’t just trying to steal your identity for the sake of becoming the perfect family member. No. She was mimicking your cooking and baking skills, down to the awards she had won for those very talents. She had been trying to erase you and replace you with a manufactured version of herself.

It was almost too much for Tim to handle. But there was something even worse lurking beneath the surface: the deeper he dug, the more it became clear that Tiffany wasn’t just feeding information to criminals. She had been feeding off your spirit, your presence and she had nearly replaced you entirely.

Now he just needed to tell the other.

The tension in the Batcave could be cut with a knife as Tim stood before Bruce, Dick, Jason, Damian, Duke, Cass, Steph, Barbara, and Alfred, ready to show them what he had discovered.

“I’ve been tracking Tiffany’s movements for the last few days,” Tim began, his voice low but sharp. “And I found something that’s... unsettling.”

Bruce, who had been scanning a mission report, looked up with interest. Dick turned to Tim, a puzzled expression on his face. Alfred stepped forward, his usual composed demeanor now replaced with a rare concern. Even Damian looked confused.

“What did you find, Master Tim?” Alfred asked, his tone calm, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes.

Tim didn’t hesitate. He clicked a button on the computer, and the large screen behind him flickered to life. A series of encrypted files appeared—mission logs, surveillance footage, and even intercepted communications. The Batcave was suffocating in its silence as Tim presented the evidence to Bruce, Dick, Jason, Alfred, and the others. His fingers flew over the keyboard, and every new image, every new file, felt like a punch in the gut.

There was a long silence as everyone processed the information. Bruce’s usual stoic expression faltered for a moment, and Dick clenched his fists. The weight of the revelation was hitting hard, but it wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt. It was that someone in their midst had been pulling the strings behind their backs for a year.

The data was damning. It was all there, proof that Tiffany had been copying your recipes, your designs, your machines, even stealing the culinary awards that you had earned over the years. And on top of that, she had been siphoning critical Batfamily intel to an unknown organisation. The information was so sensitive, it could have jeopardized every single one of them.

“Do you see it now?” Tim’s voice was quieter, but his anger was unmistakable. He flicked the last file onto the screen. Tiffany’s false accomplishments, stolen directly from you. The stolen recipes. The mission intel sent out from the Batcomputer under her watch. “All of us have been blind to it.”

“About a month ago,” Tim said, “I found an odd encryption pattern in the Batcomputer—something I’ve never seen before. When I decrypted it, I found a set of mission details. Ones that shouldn’t have left the system. I traced the origin back to Tiffany.”

Alfred's face tightened as he took in the footage on the screen. It was a recording of Tiffany accessing classified Batfamily data, tapping into their most sensitive files.

“She’s been stealing information,” Tim continued, his voice gaining intensity. “Every single time she’s interacted with the Batcomputer, she’s been sending that data out to an unknown address. I can't track where it's coming from, it's too advanced; even for me.

“Impossible,” Bruce muttered, but his eyes were narrowing in disbelief. “Why would she—?”

“Because she’s a spy,” Tim interrupted, “and it gets worse. She’s been feeding them everything. Our weaknesses, our next moves, our schedules. She’s not just a mole in the manor. She’s been working against us this whole time. She's why so many missions have failed.Tim’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not just the family’s accomplishments she’s been stealing. She’s been getting close to each of us, using our trust. She knows things, personal things, and she’s been leaking that information. She’s been feeding it to the highest bidder, giving Gotham’s worst players a playbook for taking us down.”

Dick’s face twisted with disbelief. “She was pretending to be (y/n), taking her accomplishments as her own, but—” He trailed off, his voice faltering. “How could we have let this happen? How did we not notice?”

Jason’s voice cut through the heavy silence, rough and sharp, like a crack of thunder. He stepped forward, fists clenched. “I should’ve known. She’s been playing everyone, pretending like she’s all sweet and innocent, but she was using all of us.” Jason’s eyes flicked to the screen, then back at Tim, his face a mask of fury. “She lied to me. She’s been lying to all of us. And she’s been trying to replace her.” His hand slammed onto the table, and the anger in his voice was unmistakable. “She doesn’t belong here. We trusted her. We all trusted her.” Jason’s anger bubbled over. This betrayal, the way Tiffany had wormed her way into their lives, made him see red

He couldn’t keep it in any longer. “I should’ve known,” Jason spat, pacing in circles, his fists clenched tight at his sides. “I let her get close to me. I let her in, we all did! And now look at this. She’s been pretending to be everything she’s not. She’s been trying to take her place, her rightful place in this family!”

Alfred, who had been silent until now, cleared his throat, his voice filled with quiet but growing fury. “I should have seen it,” he muttered, his gaze darkening. “I was too lenient with her. I allowed her to slip through the cracks, to play at being part of this family. I should have known better.” His usually calm demeanor was cracking, and the regret in his voice was palpable.

Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line as the weight of Tim’s words sank in. His eyes hardened as he stared at the screen, disappointment creeping into his features. Tiffany had been their guest, their supposed family, and this whole time, she had been playing them all. You had tried to warn them.

Duke, who had been standing quietly at the back of the room, spoke up. His voice was low but steady.

“I knew something was off,” Duke said, his eyes fixed on the screen. “I couldn’t put my finger on it, but... she’d been acting weird around me. Always asking questions—asking about the family, the missions, everything. I thought I was paranoid.”

Damian had always been fiercely protective of what he considered his, no one could ever doubt that. He mocked you, saw you as his pathetic bastard older sister, he had wanted to hurt you. But now, as the reality of Tiffany’s betrayal settled in, something darker began to take root inside him. He remember your unconditional love for him, how you took everything he said did to you with grace and compassion. He remembered how good you were to him. He noticed that everything he thought he loved about Tiffany was what she stole from you. His eyes burned with rage as he thought about how Tiffany had wormed her way into the family and his heart, how she’d stolen your accomplishments, and how she’d attempted to erase his sibling from the very fabric of their world.

She was trying to replace her. That thought alone made his fists tighten, nails biting into his palms.

It had been a long time since Damian had felt this kind of protective rage. He was the blood of the Wayne family, the one who deserved to be at the center of it all, but you; his blood sibling, his equal, had always been ignored, undervalued ridiculed and neglected. And now Tiffany, a mere interloper, had dared to manipulate and tear him away from you.

Damian watched the family, his gaze flicking to each of them as they tried to process the betrayal. The anger from his family was palpable, but there was something else there too: possessiveness. Protectiveness. regret. They weren’t just angry at Tiffany for what she had done to you, they were furious at themselves for pushing you away and leaving you alone and unprotected in New York.

You were his responsibility, his blood, and no one; not even Tiffany, was going to steal you away from him. He had always wanted to prove his superiority to the others, but now that wasn’t his focus. His attention was fixed solely on bringing you back to him, where you belonged.

Cass, who had been silently observing, nodded. Her face was unreadable, but the tension in her jaw told Tim that she, too, had been sensing something wrong for weeks.

Steph, ever the sharp observer, had her arms crossed over her chest, her usual sarcasm now tempered with a cold seriousness. “I knew she wasn’t perfect, but this? This is next-level crazy. Are you sure bout this Time?” She leaned forward, her voice suddenly harder.

Barbra was too shocked to say anything. This was not how today was supposed to go.

Alfred glanced toward Bruce. “Master Bruce,” he said softly, “the level of infiltration, this is something I never anticipated. We should have seen the signs.”

Bruce’s expression was steely. “We were too distracted, too willing to accept her presence as part of the family. We let our guard down.”

“That’s not just her fault,” Dick interjected. “We’ve all been too trusting. Especially with everything that happened with (y/n).” His voice hardened as he glanced at the screen again, eyes flicking to Tim. “What now? What do we do about it?”

Tim stepped forward, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. “I’ve already notified our allies. The information she’s passed is enough to give this organization an upper hand in Gotham, maybe beyond. She hasn't revealed our identities but she might soon. we can’t let her get away with it. She’s been playing us this whole time.”

Steph threw her hands up in exasperation. “So what, we just let her go? She’s been lying to us, manipulating us for months! ?”

Tim’s eyes were cold, calculating. “We’ll have to trap her. Use the information she’s already stolen to set her up. Once we confront her, we’ll make sure she doesn’t get away.”

Bruce’s fists were clenched at his sides, his jaw set in stone. He had failed [Y/N]—he had failed his child. The weight of that was too much for him to bear. “This ends now. We’re going to fix this.”

Ok yall since apparently 8 ppl think my work is absoulte shit and and SURE i knew how they felt this is pretty rushed and i feel like it sucks! anyway!! i hope at least some people enjoy <33 send in nice aks and questions and ideas pls. its so fun answering them. yall are mind readers and are so creative!! lmk if there's any typos bc I copy-pasted half of it from my notes app. yeah i did write half of this when i was supposed to be in class, and??? Next chapter Tiffany gets confronted, reader comes home, Batfam start groveling and regretting their actions, sort of on their way to yandere-ism and make reader move back to gotham to be closer to "family"

[kroosluvr]

temptation

i lowkey have too many notes to write down properly KDFHKDS but ill write them down for Future Cele so i can read it later and be like omggg past cele ur so fun and interesting

in general, the more "color" the scenes have, the closer it is to "real life" as opposed to the muted/hushed winter blues of maruki's reality

i.e. the dark frames w akira smiling and the very last panel are when reality sinks in: first for akira, then for goro

by the way this is long winter au but sumire is still brainwashed. this also works for canonverse but i just had long winter au in mind:o

youve heard of laundry and taxes now get ready for coffee and pastries

in every panel, akira is smiling! :) and goro is very much not smiling.

intentionally his face is hidden in the last 2 pages so its unclear whether it's the "ideal reality" already (akira/goro's daydreams/wants/desires), or if goro is still fighting akira on making sure he picks the right choice

the smoke from the first page kinda leads into the 3rd page omfg COMPLETELY UNINTENTIONAL BUT REALLY COOL LMAOOO

that's nameless and belladonna in jazz jin!!! i love them. I LOVETHEM. i miss them so bad is it obvious

the cafe is loosely based off of caffe strada @ uc berkeley LMAO. my parents used to take me there a lot as a little kid so that's the first cafe i think of when i imagine one. its like right on the streetside, basically on the sidewalk, so its very bustling and people are always walking by... probably a little disconcerting to see everyones summery bright smiles despite the bitter cold and snow

in long winter AU, the Ideal Reality starts before 1/1 so yeah they get to see the new years fireworks together (or something)

also intentional that they wear the same winter outfits in the whole comic although it Probably does not take place at the same time. in maruki's snowglobe, time seems frozen in place... but akira and goro are both acutely aware that the sands are running thru QUICK

goro's frustrated expression on page 3 is one also of disdain: "don't speak FOR me you fucking imbecile" type of expression.

goro, who's never lived a normal life and therefore doesn't know much abt "normalcy" nor really actively seeks it. this 3rd semester is basically purgatory for him and he doesn't care to try and go through the motions the way akira does. akira what do YOU know about the type of "normalcy" i deserve? how do YOU know if i "deserve" that?

im thinking that this is a naive akira who is mostly set on taking the deal because he feels hopeless... seeing all his friends with good happy lives while goro and himself are alive and miserable and shouldering the weight of the world during the horror of long winter......

oh but if he takes the deal they could all be good and alive and happy!!!.... and goro knows this. i feel like in any other universe (i.e. akira is 100% certain on not taking the deal and goro knows this) then goro would be happy and carefree to do these little indulgences for himself and akira's sake, to just enjoy the snowglobe world while it exists.

but this goro is discontent. he sees how akira is enjoying the snowglobe and knows maruki is depending on this. goro has to be the one to remind akira that none of this is his to keep........ in this fucked up world, routine is dangerous. becoming comfortable is dangerous. they cannot keep any of this.

on that note, goro says "i hate you" in a halfhearted sort of way (it's not true and akira knows that.) but he's trying to think of a way that he can dissuade akira from picking the wrong choice.....

and i think the thing is, goro thinks all of this, but he still falls into the rhythm of routine with akira anyway. in a way, goro feels hopeless too.

all of this is maruki's doing........ paralyzed by the inability to choose... whatever you do, you lose. goro needs to hold akira at arm's length so the stupid sentimental fool doesn't get too attached and falls into the wrong universe. akira needs to make a concentrated effort to detach himself from goro even though he wants the simplest thing in the world: just one more unremarkable day with him. it's lose-lose..........,

also i liked drawing the tentacles in the last pic the freaking blue lines on them were SO satisfying to draw

edit: also the last page: the blood flooding the panel….. the idea of the ideal world being built off of the blood and sweat and tears and bodies of the people who could have been. of those lost in the actualization, of those destroyed, of those stitched together and brought back to life. all just for a little false happiness. goro sees it but akira doesn’t, and it’s a grim sight.

[cheftsunoda]

hello, I wanted to ask for a charles + Alexandra poly fic where they ignored her for the longest time while dating her until she's had enough and breaks up with them (make them work for it) but a slight happy ending but lots of angst plssss

too late - cl16 + alexandra

smau + blurbs

charles leclerc x reader x alexandra saint mleux

slight carlos sainz x reader

yn has been with charles and alexandra for a little bit over a year now- and over that past year- she has felt like she has been desperately trying to be seen in her own relationship. yn has had enough and decides to end things with charles and alexandra...the two realize what they lost but will it be too late?

fc : bella hadid (im so gay for blonde bella holy shit)

loosely inspired by 'too late' by sza bc solana is my queen and i love her dearly

-

alexandrasaintmleux

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc and 1,507,023 others.

alexandrasaintmleux : happy happy happy

tagged : charles_leclerc

-

view 130,003 other comments.

username0 : oh shocker another post without yn

username8 : y'all do know another person exists in your relationship right??

charles_leclerc : prettiest girl in the world

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

↳ username10 : oh yn baby close your eyes

yourusername : so beautiful! miss you both <3

↳ username15 : bbg pls just leave this relationship for us and for your sake.

↳ username17 : i get so tired of seeing her comment on both of their posts and her get absolutely ignored.

↳ username20 : fr like why add a third if they act like she isn't even there?

-

'every time you break my heart, it feel new'

I unlocked the door with the key I still wasn’t sure I should have. The apartment was quiet except for the low hum of a Formula 1 replay on the living room TV. Alexandra was curled into the corner of the couch, her hair tucked messily behind her ear, her laptop open but untouched. Charles was pacing the hallway, his phone pressed to his ear, mumbling in French. Neither of them noticed me at first. Figures.

“Hey,” I said softly, dropping my carry-on at the entryway.

Charles turned, surprise flickering in his eyes. “YN? I didn’t know you were coming back tonight.”

“I told you.” My voice was calm. Too calm. “Last Tuesday. Before my flight.”

Alexandra looked up now, blinking. “Oh—right. You said something. Sorry, I’ve been slammed with deadlines.”

I nodded slowly. My heart thudded in my chest, the weight of what I’d come here to say crushing my lungs.

“You look beautiful,” Charles offered, walking closer. “Tired, but beautiful. You always are.”

I didn’t smile. They both looked at me then—really looked. And maybe for the first time in weeks, they noticed the shadows under my eyes. The clenched set of my jaw. The red rim around my waterline from the plane ride, and the crying I did in the taxi. I took a breath.

“I’m ending this.”

Alexandra sat up straight. “What?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” I said, staring at the floor because if I looked into their faces I’d break. “I feel like a ghost in this relationship. I come home to you and it’s like I’m interrupting something I’m not a part of.”

Charles looked genuinely confused. “YN, we love you.”

“No,” I said, voice sharper. “You love each other. I’m just... extra. Decorative. Like something you post when you remember I exist. I’ve been screaming silently for months and neither of you heard me.”

Alexandra stood up now, her eyes wide and panicked. “That’s not true. You’re part of us—”

“Then why do I feel so alone?” I snapped. “Why did I cry myself to sleep in Milan because neither of you even texted me goodnight? Why do I know Charles’ race schedule better than he knows where I was this week?”

Charles stepped forward. “That’s not fair—”

“It’s not fair,” I agreed, cutting him off. “But it’s the truth.”

They both stared at me like I was shattering the world. But it had already broken. I’d just been the only one trying to hold the pieces together.

Alexandra reached for me. “We can fix this. We didn’t realize—”

“No,” I said again, quieter this time. “You don’t get to realize it when I’m already halfway out the door.”

Silence.

“Are you leaving?” Charles asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded. “I packed most of my stuff before I left for the shoot. I’ll send someone for the rest.”

“Please don’t do this,” Alexandra begged. “Please.”

I looked at her—her beautiful, tear-streaked face. Then Charles, who finally looked like he understood the gravity of it all.

“I loved you both so much,” I whispered. “But I won’t keep setting myself on fire just to keep you warm.”

And with that, I turned and walked out the door. Neither of them followed me. Not yet. But maybe, one day, they would.

-

I didn’t even knock. I just buzzed the door and waited, arms wrapped tightly around my chest, sunglasses still covering eyes that hadn’t stopped burning since I left Charles and Alexandra’s apartment. Kika opened the door in her sweats, blinking sleepily.

“Oh, my baby,” she said softly, immediately stepping aside. “Come in.”

I didn’t say anything—I couldn’t. The lump in my throat was lodged deep, painful and stubborn. But when she closed the door behind me and pulled me into a hug, the dam cracked wide open.

“I left them,” I whispered into her shoulder.

Kika didn’t flinch. She just held me tighter.

“I can’t do it anymore,” I mumbled, words muffled by her hoodie. “I begged and waited and tried and they didn’t see me. And now I’m so tired, Kiks. I’m so—tired.”

She pulled back just enough to look at me, brushing hair out of my face. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I knew something was off, babe. I just wanted you to figure it out on your own time.”

“I feel so stupid.”

“You’re not,” she said firmly. “You’re brave. And honestly? You’re overdue for a little revenge sparkle.”

I blinked. “A what?”

“A revenge. Sparkle.” She grinned, already pulling me by the hand toward her room. “We’re going out.”

“Kika, I can’t. I’m wearing sweatpants and yesterday’s mascara.”

“And I love you, but you’re a model. You’re going to look like you just walked off the runway no matter what. Give me twenty minutes.”

Twenty-eight minutes later, I was wearing one of Kika’s dresses—black, short, with delicate straps that barely held on. She’d done my hair in soft waves, the kind that looked careless. My eyeliner was sharp enough to cut diamonds, and my lips were slick with gloss that shimmered like I hadn’t just cried out my heartbreak on her floor.

She stood behind me at the mirror, fixing her earrings. “You look like sin.”

“I feel like a mess.”

“That’s okay,” she said, handing me a shot. “We drink to that too.”

—

'had to be alone to figure out how i should be loved'

The club was loud and hazy and full of people who didn’t know me—or worse, did. I felt their eyes. Some recognized me from campaigns. A few, maybe from F1 weekends. A handful, probably from Charles’ arm. But tonight I was no one’s anything. I was just me.

Kika pulled me to the dance floor with the kind of joy that only comes from a friend who knows exactly what you need and isn’t afraid to drag it out of you. We danced. I laughed—really laughed—for the first time in weeks.

Some guy tried to touch my waist. Kika practically hissed at him. “Not tonight, Romeo.”

A girl complimented my shoes. Another asked if I was the face of the Tom Ford campaign. We continued to dance until our legs hurt, until sweat made my hair stick to the back of my neck, until I could almost forget the aching hollowness in my chest.

Kika dragged me off the dance floor and into a quieter section of the VIP lounge. “You need water,” she said firmly. “And probably a fan.”

I flopped down onto one of the couches with a huff, head tilted back and the lights above making halos in my vision. I felt hazy. Not drunk—just overwhelmed. Light-headed from too many emotions and too little oxygen.

“YN?”

I blinked. The voice was familiar, warm, and just surprised enough to make me sit up straighter. Carlos.

He was standing a few feet away, wearing a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a slightly confused smile on his face. His hair was slightly messy, like he’d run his hands through it too many times. And he was holding two drinks.

“Kika?” he asked, eyes flicking between us. “What did you drag her into?”

Kika smirked. “Revenge clubbing.”

Carlos’ brows lifted. He looked at me again—really looked. And then it clicked. His face softened.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and careful.

“I’ve been better,” I admitted, adjusting the strap of Kika’s dress. “But I’ve also been worse.”

He hesitated for half a second, then walked over and held out one of the drinks. “This was supposed to be for Lando, but he left to flirt with someone, so…”

I accepted it with a small smile. “Thanks.”

Carlos didn’t sit, not at first. He just hovered there, like he wasn’t sure if he was invited or if I wanted space. But I didn’t.

“Sit,” I said, gesturing to the spot beside me.

He did. Kika glanced between us and then stood. “I’m gonna go powder my nose—or whatever people say when they want to let friends talk.”

She disappeared into the crowd. Carlos leaned back, sipping his drink. “So. You really ended it.”

I turned to him, startled. “You knew?”

He shrugged gently. “Charles hasn’t said anything. But I know him. And I know you. And I’ve been watching this… thing… with the three of you for a while. You didn’t look happy anymore.”

I stared at the ice melting in my glass.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “You deserve better than being someone’s background.”

I looked up at him. “Thanks. That’s… really kind.”

He gave me a crooked smile. “I’m Spanish. We’re either reckless or romantic. Or both.”

I laughed—actually laughed, surprising even myself.

Carlos tilted his head. “There she is.”

“What?”

“That smile. Haven’t seen it properly in a while.”

My heart tugged a little. Not in a romantic way—not yet, not tonight—but in that aching way you feel when someone really sees you.

“Wanna dance?” he asked suddenly.

I looked at him, brows raised. “You?”

“I’m not terrible,” he said with a mock-wounded pout. “And I figured… if anyone deserves to be spun around the floor like a queen tonight, it’s you.”

I paused for half a second. Then set down my drink.

“Let’s go.”

And when he pulled me toward the music, laughing as I rolled my eyes but let him lead anyway, I felt something click—not healing, not completely. But something warm. Something light.

-

f1gossipgirls

liked by lando and 874,302 others.

f1gossipgirls : Model YN LN was spotted in the club last night with none other than, Carlos Sainz. The two were seen dancing and sitting rather close in the club and then were seen leaving hand in hand. LN has been in a relationship with both Charles Leclerc and Alexandra Saint Mleux for over the last year but sources close say that their relationship has recently went south? Is this confirmation of that?

-

view 205,034 other comments.

username0 : lando's messy ass in the likes

username7 : idc if they’re just friends. yn was glowing and that’s all that matters. let my girl heal in peace

username8 : alexandra and charles ignoring her for months and now they’re gonna see her thriving with carlos?? iktr mama

username15 : they always had chemistry whenever they were spotted in group pics i KNEW IT

username11 : i can sleep well at night knowing the carlos will treat her how she deserves

username18 : notice how none of these comments pity charles or alex bc everyone knows they did our girl wrong

liked by f1gossipgirls

-

third person pov

Charles was half-asleep on the couch, phone in hand, the Monaco sunset bleeding into the living room. Alexandra sat cross-legged beside him, scrolling absentmindedly until she suddenly froze.

“Charles,” she said quietly, tone sharp with disbelief.

He barely looked up. “Hm?”

“Look at this.”

She turned her phone toward him. There it was — a grainy paparazzi photo, flash caught mid-motion- YN in a tiny black dress, smiling. Carlos Sainz beside her, hand in hers, leading her out of the club. Another shot, closer, of them dancing. Charles sat up fully now, taking the phone from her hands. His jaw clenched.

“I didn’t even know she was still in Monaco,” he muttered, voice low, unreadable.

Alexandra swallowed hard. “Did you see the caption? The comments?”

Charles nodded slowly, scrolling.

He exhaled, almost scoffing—but there was no humor in it.

“She really meant it. She is done."

Alexandra didn’t say anything. The air between them thickened, heavy with the realization they were both too late. And Carlos… Carlos had been right there to pick up the pieces. Charles handed her back the phone, but his eyes stayed locked on the screen, like if he stared hard enough, maybe she'd look back at him. She didn’t.

-

yourusername

liked by franciscagomes, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc & 2,084,035 others.

yourusername : kika helped me build the furniture for my new apartment so i made her a romantic candlelit dinner ;) and carlos... he just looked pretty

tagged : franciscagomes, carlossainz55

-

pierregasly : were the rose petals and candles really necessary?

liked by yourusername and franciscagomes

↳ yourusername : she deserves the best pear. and if you hate that- you'd really hate what i gave her for dessert.

liked by franciscagomes

↳ pierregasly : BLAH BLAH BLAH I CAN'T HEAR YOU

liked by yourusername and franciscagomes

lando : carlos is rlly pretty. (get your paws off my man)

liked by yourusername and carlossainz55

↳ yourusername : dw i could never break up carlando 🙄

liked by lando and carlossainz55

username0 : charles in the LIKESSSS

↳ lando : oh but im the messy one

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : messy and NOSEY

liked by lando

carlossainz55 : could never be prettier than you, cariño

liked by yourusername and lando

-

'you be on my phone talking 'bout what's my problem?'

your pov

I opened the door and nearly tripped over the latest delivery. Another bouquet. Bigger this time. Deep red roses mixed with white lilies, tied together with a silk ribbon that had 'please read the card' scribbled in familiar handwriting. I stepped over it. The hallway was already crowded—vases on countertops, little gift bags lining the entryway, a Chanel box I hadn’t opened, and a coffee table book on Italian photography I hadn’t asked for but knew Charles had once said I’d love. I should’ve felt flattered. Wanted. I used to dream about gestures like this—grand, romantic, persistent. Now it just felt… too late. My phone buzzed on the counter again. The screen lit up.

Charles is calling...

I stared at it long enough for it to stop ringing. It buzzed again two minutes later. And against every instinct, every ache in my chest, I answered.

“Hello?”

Silence—just for a beat—and then-

“YN?”

His voice was so soft I nearly forgot how much it used to feel like home.

“Yeah,” I said, quietly.

“I—uh—I didn’t think you’d pick up.”

“I almost didn’t.”

I heard him exhale, like just hearing my voice knocked the breath out of him.

“How are you?” he asked, hesitant. “I mean… how’s the new place?”

“It’s good,” I said. “Kika helped me build furniture. Carlos made pasta.”

He didn’t reply at first, but I heard the tightness in the silence.

“You’ve been sending a lot of flowers,” I added.

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

I leaned against the counter, eyes on the newest bouquet.

“I didn’t leave because I wanted you to prove you cared, Charles,” I said gently. “I left because I was tired of begging to matter.”

“I know,” he said, voice low. “And I’m sorry. God, YN, I’m so sorry. We both are. We… we messed it all up.”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “You did.”

There was a pause. A long one. He didn’t argue. He didn’t defend. For once, he didn’t try to fix it with charm or promises. I appreciated that.

“But I can’t… forgive you yet,” I said finally. “I’m not saying never. Just… not now.”

The silence on the other end was heavy.

“I understand,” he said softly. “But we’re not giving up. Me and Alex. We’re going to keep trying. Even if it takes time. Even if it hurts.”

I closed my eyes.

“I know you will,” I said. “But I don’t need flowers or gifts.”

“What do you need?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

“Space,” I said. “And maybe one day… honesty. Real honesty. About everything. About why it took me leaving for you to realize I was fading.”

He didn’t respond to that. He didn’t need to.

“Take care of yourself, Charles,” I murmured. “Goodbye.”

And then I hung up—gently. Not in anger. Not in heartbreak. Just… in peace. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had the final word. And it was enough.

_

weloveyn

liked by franciscagomes, alexandrasaintmleux, lando & 905,043 others.

weloveyn : YN was seen leaving her apartment in Monaco today with a new look. She is now BLONDE. And can we just say....SHE ABSOLUTELY ATE DOWN.

tagged : yourusername

-

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username0 : she didn’t just eat… she devoured… she licked the plate clean… she sent the kitchen on fire

liked by yourusername and franciscagomes

username10 : charles and alexandra are going to be ill over this

liked by franciscagomes

lando : oh it EATS

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : i love you but this further proves my point that you are nosey as hell.

liked by lando

franciscagomes : the prettiest angel there ever was

liked by yourusername and alexandrasaintmleux

↳ yourusername : forever in love w u

username00 : alex in the likes OH SHE IS SICK

-

'moving so close, we combust'

I hadn’t meant to walk this way. The bakery was muscle memory — early mornings, almond croissants, little old ladies who called me “chérie” and complimented my shoes. I’d forgotten it was their bakery too. I was halfway to the door, sunglasses pushed into my hair, when I saw her. Alexandra. Standing at the outdoor table, two empty coffee cups in front of her, phone in hand. She looked up at the sound of my steps — and froze. So did I. She was still beautiful, of course. The kind of beauty that felt timeless and cinematic. But her eyes looked tired, like sleep had been something optional lately. Or impossible. I thought about walking away. I didn’t.

“Hi,” I said softly, arms folded over my chest — not in defense, just to hold myself together.

Alexandra stood slowly, slipping her phone into her coat pocket.

“Hi.”

We stared at each other for a second too long.

“Blonde,” she finally said, her voice tight but not unkind. “It suits you.”

I gave her a small smile. “Thanks. New era.”

She nodded. “Yeah. I can tell.”

There was a pause. Monaco traffic buzzed behind us. Someone’s dog barked down the street. But everything felt muted.

“I’ve been meaning to call you,” she said. “I just… didn’t know what I’d say.”

“That I was right?” I offered, half a joke. Half a wound.

Alexandra winced — not dramatically, just a flicker. “Yeah. That too.”

I looked at her for a long time. I didn’t hate her. That was the strangest part. I loved her once. Maybe some part of me still did. But the hurt was louder.

“You didn’t fight for me when it mattered,” I said quietly. “Neither of you did.”

“I know,” she said, and her voice cracked just enough to make me look away.

“I don’t hate you,” I added. “I’m just done bleeding for people who only notice the mess after the fact.”

Alexandra nodded, swallowing hard.

“Carlos?” she asked softly.

I tilted my head. “Maybe. I’m not rushing anything. He’s… kind.”

A beat passed.

“I’m glad,” she said, and her smile — though fragile — looked real. “You deserve kind.”

I didn’t say thank you. I just gave a small nod, stepping past her toward the door.

“YN?” she called gently, just as I reached the handle.

I turned.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “For all of it.”

I didn’t answer right away. Then, simply- “I know.” And I walked inside, the door clicking shut behind me.

-

third person pov

Alexandra closed the front door behind her with a soft click, like anything louder might shatter the silence that already felt fragile. She didn’t take off her coat. Didn’t slip off her shoes. She just stood in the hallway, staring at the bouquet of slightly wilted flowers on the console table — the ones Charles had picked out last week. Another offering YN never accepted. Charles appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel, brows furrowing the moment he saw her.

“Alex?”

She looked up, and that was all it took. The tears started before she could even speak. He rushed to her, towel dropping to the floor as he reached out, but she shook her head and stepped back, covering her mouth with one hand like she could hold everything in.

“I saw her,” she choked. “This morning. She was at the bakery.”

Charles froze. “YN?”

Alexandra nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “She looked so… good. Bright. Like she was breathing again. Like we were never anything but a bruise she already healed from.”

Charles didn’t say anything. He just stared at her, expression crumbling slowly with every word.

“I told her I was sorry,” Alexandra whispered, voice cracking. “And she said she knows. But she didn’t say she forgives us. She didn’t say she misses us. She didn’t even… flinch.”

Charles stepped forward then, gently pulling her into his arms. She collapsed against his chest, burying her face in his shirt as the sobs came harder now, heavy and guttural.

“I let her go,” Alexandra cried. “We let her go. We ignored her and she left, and now someone else is making her smile and we just—stood there.”

Charles’s arms tightened around her. “I know,” he whispered, eyes closed, his own throat burning. “I know.”

She pulled back, hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt, eyes searching his face.

“She’s not coming back, is she?”

He didn’t answer right away. Because he couldn’t lie.

“I don’t know,” he finally said. “But I don’t think she should—not until we’re better. Not until we’re someone who’d never make her feel that way again.”

Alexandra let out a shaky breath, wiping her face, her voice nothing but a whisper now.

“Then we have to become those people. Even if it’s too late.”

Charles looked at her — at the woman who once stood beside him as they promised the world to a third they thought they’d never lose. And for the first time in weeks, he nodded.

“We will.”

Even if it meant they’d have to love her from a distance. Even if it meant she never looked back.

-

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, carlossainz55 & 8,010,005 others.

yourusername : my new brand @/yourbrandname has officially launched worldwide!! i have worked on this collection for so long and have poured my heart and soul into every piece. thank you all for all the support! i love love love you!!

shop online and in select stores now!

-

view 340,200 other comments.

username0 : mkay but can we talk about the fact that charles and alexandra showed up at the launch??

↳ username15 : whattttt?

↳ username0 : yeah they were there watching her- i don't know if they had any interactions but they were there. vid is on twitter

↳ username8 : its ironic how when they were dating- they wouldn't show up but now that she broke it off with them - they show up.

↳ username20 : some ppl don't realize what they have until it is gone

liked by yourusername

lando : So like… do I get a friends and family discount or do I have to model?

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : i do not want YOU on my advertisements so i will just give it to you for free

liked by lando

↳ lando : gonna act like you didn't just insult me and take this as a win

liked by yourusername

franciscagomes : SO FREAKING PROUD OF YOU!! i love you sm my angel

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : love you even more

lilymhe : SLAYYYYYED. need the whole collection.

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : it is on it's way to yours rn ;)

↳ lilymhe : OH MY GOD FDHASDLJ ily

liked by yourusername

carlossainz55 : so proud of you. you are absolutely incredible.

liked by yourusername

charles_leclerc : Well deserved. Congrats, YNN.

↳ username0 : OHHH

arthur_leclerc : Congratulations, YN! Looks great!

liked by yourusername

↳ yourusername : thanks for the flowers, thur!

liked by arthur_leclerc

↳ username8 : her and arthur always got along so well. this break up pains me

↳ username15 : they are def still friends just not future in laws anymore

lewishamilton : So talented! I love every part of this collection!

liked by yourusername

-

'is it too late for us? we both scared to love.'

I wasn’t sure what I expected—chaos, maybe. Nerves, definitely. But instead, the store buzzed with warmth. Friends wandered between racks, models sipped champagne, cameras clicked gently as people snapped photos of the collection I’d dreamt of for years. And at the center of it all- me. Standing in something I designed, something that carried my name on the tag. I kept waiting to feel like a fraud. I didn’t.

Kika had cried the second she walked in. She pulled me into a hug and whispered, “You did it,” in that proud, soft voice of hers, and I nearly cried too. She was still floating around now, chatting with a stylist near the window, holding one of the trench coats I had stitched the prototype of in a hotel room six months ago.

Carlos had arrived not long after. No entourage, no flash. Just him—warm, solid, smiling. He’d brought flowers wrapped in brown paper and joked that he’d read somewhere it was what sophisticated men brought to fashion launches. I hadn’t stopped smiling since. I was halfway through answering a question from someone with a clipboard when I felt it. That prickle. Like eyes on the back of my neck. I turned casually. Slowly. And there they were.

Charles and Alexandra.

They were standing by the far wall, mostly tucked behind a display of curated accessories. He had his hands in his pockets, brows faintly drawn like he didn’t know what to do with himself. She stood beside him, quiet, her expression unreadable but not cold.

They didn’t wave. Didn’t call out. They were just there. And somehow… I didn’t feel shaken. I didn’t feel anything jagged. I looked at them for a moment—long enough that Charles seemed to hold his breath. Then I smiled. Soft. Gentle. Distant, but real. He smiled back, just a twitch of the lips, like he was surprised I’d acknowledged them at all. Before I could think about it too much, an arm slipped around my waist and pulled me back into something warm and familiar.

Carlos.

“Hey,” he murmured into my ear. “You okay?”

I nodded, leaning into him instinctively. “Yeah. I am.”

He pressed a quick kiss to my temple before pulling back, hands still on my waist as he grinned at me.

“They’re all obsessed with you,” he said, motioning to the crowd. “You’ve got about six stylists fighting over that coat you’re wearing.”

I laughed, tension slipping off my shoulders like an old jacket.

“Let them fight,” I said.

Carlos chuckled. “That’s my girl.”

And when I looked back toward the wall, Charles and Alexandra were gone.

-

third person pov

Charles exhaled slowly as the door to the boutique shut behind them, the soft chime of the bell swallowed by the hum of the Monaco street. He stood still for a moment, eyes lingering on the shop’s glowing windows — on the movement inside, on her.

YN.

Laughing as someone held up a dress. Reaching for Carlos’s hand as he leaned in to whisper something. Shining. Alexandra didn’t speak. She stood beside him in silence, her coat wrapped tightly around her frame despite the warm air. She was staring at YN, too.

“She looked… happy,” Charles said finally, his voice rough.

“She is happy,” Alexandra answered softly, not bitter, not broken — just honest.

A beat passed.

“She saw us,” he added. “She smiled.”

Alexandra nodded, her throat tightening. “But not for us. Not like before.”

Charles dragged a hand through his hair, jaw clenched. “Do you think she hates us?”

“No,” Alexandra whispered. “But I think she learned how to live without us. And that’s worse.”

The words sat between them like weight. Inside the shop, YN had moved behind the counter. Carlos was helping her with a gift bag, their hands brushing. She laughed again — lighter this time. Effortless. Charles turned away from the window like it burned. His hands shook a little, just enough that Alexandra noticed.

“She was the best thing that ever happened to us,” he murmured. “And we ruined it.”

Alexandra stepped closer, looping her arm through his. “Then we fix it.”

He looked at her, searching her face.

“Even if she’s with him?”

Alexandra nodded. “Even then. If she’s happier without us, then we let her be. But if there’s even a chance she still loves us…”

“We fight,” Charles finished, voice firmer now.

Alexandra’s grip tightened. “We earn her back. Properly. No grand gestures. No noise. Just real change.”

Charles looked back at the store one last time — at YN glowing in a space she’d built with her own hands.

“She deserves that,” he said. “More than anyone.”

And though neither of them said it out loud, they both knew one thing for sure: They weren’t giving up. Not yet. Not ever.

-

alexandrasaintmleux added a post to her story!

seen by yourusername, charles_leclerc, franciscagomes and 2,090,001 others.

{caption : so proud}

-

f1gossipgirls

785,083 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Carlos Sainz has arrived today with YN LN- the two have sparked romance rumors off and on since she split with Charles Leclerc and Alexandra Saint Mleux. YN was later seen during the race with Kika and a few other wags. Thoughts?

-

view 127,034 other comments.

username0 : js she looks way more relaxed and radiant with carlos than she ever did with them

username10 : charles and alexandra fumbled the bag so hard, i don’t even think it’s recoverable at this point

username11 : i know charles saw her walk in and just stopped breathing for a full thirty seconds

username20 : this is messy but i respect it

username18 : anyone see that vid of her and alexandra talking?? im unwell

↳ username22 : NO i need it now

↳ username18 : @/f1drama on twitter

↳ username15 : omg omg

-

'and if it's just us, is that enough?'

The sun was relentless — Monaco golden, glinting off everything from garages to mirrored sunglasses. I adjusted my purse on my shoulder, the heel of my boot clicking steadily on the paddock concrete. Beside me, Carlos kept pace easily, hands in his pockets, sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t talking much — he didn’t need to. It was in the way he tilted his head when someone looked too long, in the way he shifted slightly closer when we walked past cameras. Protective without being possessive. Soft without asking for anything in return.

We turned a corner, and I spotted them instantly, Kika, standing with one foot popped in front of the other like the natural model she is, and Lily beside her in a red midi skirt and dark shades, waving me over like I wasn’t surrounded by half the media circuit.

“There she is,” Lily grinned, pulling me into a hug. “You’re literally glowing. Like — did heartbreak make you stronger or are you just sleeping now?”

“Both,” I laughed, squeezing her back. “Also Carlos brought me espresso this morning, which honestly rewired my brain chemistry.”

Carlos chuckled behind me. “Just doing my part.”

Kika leaned in with a grin, brushing hair from my shoulder. “The top is from your line, isn’t it?”

“Obviously,” I winked.

We were still mid-catch-up when I felt the shift. Like a shadow casting across bright fabric. Like silence that doesn’t belong. I turned — slowly — already knowing. Alexandra.

She stood a few feet away, hands clenched around the strap of her bag, eyes flicking between me and Carlos before landing on mine and staying there.

“Hi,” she said, voice soft but steady.

Lily glanced at me, then Carlos. Kika took a subtle step back, as if ready to deflect any unwanted energy, but I held up a hand. Just a flick of my fingers. It was fine. Not comfortable. But fine.

“Hi,” I said, not unkindly.

Her gaze darted toward Carlos again, then back. “Can I talk to you?” she asked, barely above a whisper. “Alone?”

Carlos shifted beside me, hesitant, but I touched his arm lightly.

“It’s okay,” I murmured.

He nodded once, catching my eye. “I’ll be in the garage.”

I watched him go — the back of his Williams polo disappearing into the crowd — and then turned to Alexandra fully. The silence between us was thick. Not angry, not awkward. Just… heavy. Like memory.

Alexandra’s eyes brimmed with something close to hope and heartache. She looked like she wanted to fall apart and apologize a hundred times over, all at once.

“I’m not here to push you,” she said, voice quiet. “I just… miss you. We both do. I know we handled everything horribly. I just wanted you to know I’ve been working on that. I’ve been trying.”

I let out a slow breath, my gaze dropping to the ground for a second before returning to her. She wasn’t lying. That much I could feel.

“I know,” I said gently. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t hate you. I never did.”

Her lip trembled slightly. “Then maybe… maybe we could talk sometime? Not now. Just… whenever you’re ready. About everything. Or nothing. I’d just like to see you. Really see you.”

I hesitated — not because I didn’t want that. But because I was still learning how to not give all of myself away too quickly.

Still, something in me softened. That ache, the unfinished thread that tied us together, tugged gently at my ribs.

“Okay,” I said finally. “We can talk. Not today. But… soon.”

Alexandra’s eyes lit up just a little. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “I mean it.”

She didn’t move to hug me. She didn’t try to push it further. She just smiled — small, real, a little broken — and whispered, “Thank you.”

And when I turned to walk back toward Kika and Lily, Carlos already standing there with a patient smile on his face, I felt the strange calm of forward motion.

I wasn’t going backward. But maybe — just maybe — I didn’t have to pretend like nothing had ever mattered.

-

yourusername

liked by franciscagomes, alexandrasaintmleux, carlossainz55 & 5,090,002 others.

yourusername : blondes do have more fun

-

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username0 : oh that is so alex and i do not want to hear anyone tell me otherwise

username15 : omg alex in the pic and in the likes

username20 : i will be so sad if she went back to them

franciscagomes : god u r so beautiful it is unfair to the rest of us

liked by yourusername and alexandrasaintmleux

↳ yourusername : you are literally the most beautiful person ive ever seen hush

lando : ok im being nosey again answer my texts plz

liked by yourusername

yourbrandname : sooooooo pretty

liked by yourusername

-

'i just wanna be loved

and loving you sucks

i can't get enough

is it bad that i want more?

is it too late for us?'

It started with a message from Kika. Just a simple, 'Wear something nice. No questions. I’m picking you up at 7.'

I stared at the text for a full minute, considering ignoring it — considering staying on the couch in Carlos’ hoodie and watching reruns of New Girl and pretending I didn’t feel the weight in my chest. But something in the quiet confidence of her words, something in the way she'd never pushed before, made me pause. So I got dressed.

Nothing too much. Just a silky navy dress that I hadn’t worn in a while and a soft makeup look. Hair pinned loosely back. Like I wanted to feel like myself, not someone trying too hard. The car ride was mostly silent. Kika just smiled at me when I asked where we were going, and I gave up trying to guess.

Until we pulled up outside a quiet little art gallery tucked off a side street in Monaco. The lights inside were dim, warm, golden. A soft piano track was playing — live, I realized, as we stepped inside and I saw a man sitting at a baby grand in the corner. And then I saw them.

Charles. Alexandra.

Standing at the center of the gallery like they were holding their breath. The instinct was to leave. To turn on my heel and walk back into the night where I could control the narrative, keep my heart zipped up in the steel-walled suitcase I’d packed it into. But then I looked around.

The gallery wasn’t just any gallery. The walls were covered in photographs. Of me. Not paparazzi shots. Not campaign stills. But moments.

Private, quiet ones. Me laughing in a car window. Me curled up on a couch with a book. My hand slipping into Alexandra’s under a blanket. My head on Charles’ shoulder backstage at a shoot. A polaroid of all three of us in the kitchen at two a.m., flour on our faces and smiles in our eyes.

All framed. All lit delicately. A hundred memories arranged like an apology. I swallowed hard.

“This was Alexandra’s idea,” Charles said first. His voice cracked slightly, and that made my throat ache.

“I helped,” he added, trying for a smile. “But she… she planned everything.”

I turned to Alexandra. Her eyes were glassy, but her voice was steady.

“I didn’t know how else to show you,” she said. “That we see you. That we remember every moment. That we’re not trying to erase what we did wrong — just to prove we can be better.”

I looked at the photo nearest to me. It was from last summer. Me in a sundress, barefoot on the terrace, holding a drink and laughing like the world was soft and mine.

“I don’t need grand gestures,” I whispered, not taking my eyes off the photo. “I needed you to listen. And for so long, you didn’t.”

“I know,” Alexandra said, her voice breaking.

“We know,” Charles echoed, stepping forward. “We were selfish. And we hurt you. And we kept hurting you, even when we didn’t realize it. But YN… we never stopped loving you.”

“I thought I stopped loving you,” I admitted, voice thick. “I really did. I needed to.”

“And now?” Charles asked gently.

I turned toward them. Both of them. Alexandra had tears on her cheeks. Charles’ hands were shaking at his sides.

“Now… I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Part of me still aches. Part of me still wants to run. But there’s also a part of me that… that sees this. That sees what you’re trying to do. And I don’t want to keep pretending like none of it mattered. Because it did. You did.”

Alexandra stepped forward, slowly, like I was made of glass.

“We’re not asking you to come back,” she said. “Not yet. Maybe not ever. We just… we wanted you to know you were worth this. You are worth this.”

I let the words sit between us.

Then I said, “I don’t want to go back to what we were. But maybe… maybe we can try something new. Slowly. Carefully.”

Charles exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for months.

“We’ll go as slow as you want,” he said. “We’ll wait as long as you need.”

I looked at them — both of them. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I let myself believe in the possibility of something gentle again.

“I’m not promising anything,” I said, lips trembling. “But I’m here.”

Alexandra reached out, hesitating, then carefully took my hand. Charles followed, his fingers brushing mine softly like he was afraid I’d disappear. And under the soft lights of a gallery full of memories, I didn’t run. I stayed. Maybe not to fall back into love. But maybe, just maybe… to rebuild it.

-

[alanisstonedd]

singledad!ony x teacher!reader

cw: fluff, single father, profanity, suggestive themes, black!reader, not proofread unfortunately

an: omggg omg. this was so fun yallll i love himmmmmm. i already have fic ideas for them, so so juicy. im so excited to share wit y'all!!! finally!!! enjoy, kisses!!! alsoooo, ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ is y/n just so yall aint confused

₊˚.༄ so y’alls little meet cute starts your second year of teaching. lowkey still fresh out of school, degree acquired, little life set up and ready to inspire the children! you’ve worked at this for so long and you’re buzzing to be able to say that you’re finally where you want to be in life. the kids, the environment, the hours, you just feel so fulfilled… for a single woman, working and living on her own – saturday night’s out with the girls only give you so much.

₊˚.༄ you especially look forward to meet the teacher, just before the first day of school – always excited to get a first look at your students that year and the parents you’ll need keep that right eye out for. howeverrrr, you didn’t expect to have such a good-looking surprise that year. meet the teacher goes off without a hitch ofc, but about an hour before you should start closing up your classroom for the evening, in walks ony… holding the tiny hand of his adorable, bright-eyed daughter amira. 

₊˚.༄ ony steps into the classroom and immediately clocks you – legs crossed at your desk, gloss sparkling, runway-grade teacher fit, and attention currently on some other parent - unfortunately for him. while you’re chatting, he takes a minute to stay stunned, amira running off to play with the few kids left in the classroom. he would’ve bet every penny to his name that love-at-first-sight didn’t exist, but he’d be a broke ass mf today if the feeling spreading through his body is any sign. he's watching your lips while you talk to that other woman like he already knows he wanna kiss them for the rest of his damn life. 

₊˚.༄ “you must be amira’s dad” your warm, bright greeting sounds like seduction to him, having to physically shake his damn head to clear it – you’d been expecting him and amira all day, grateful for the chance to meet them before school starts. ony, on the other hand, thinks he actually might be in a dream – he swears he can see you glowing like an angel, and the sweet, luscious scent invading his senses couldn’t possibly be anyone else in the room. he wants to take you out TONIGHT, but he figures he should probably respond first. “damn… uh–yeah. i mean, yeah. onyankopon. but.. you could just call me ony.” he so outta practice he don’t even know what to say, just grinning in your face really. you’re very professional, and take your place of work very seriously but you definitely notice his nerves – you think it's cute how surprised he is that you’re bad.

₊˚.༄ as soon as he and amira leave the classroom, he’s texting his group chat “yo. i jus met my wife”

₊˚.༄ amira lovesss you off rip. obsessed. right next to you during read aloud, always participating even if her answer is dead wrong, never afraid to ask for extra help, begging you to play with her and her little friends at recess. she’s practically attached at your hip. AND tink got a mouth on her lowkey. always ratting out her daddy like “miss ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧, my daddy says you too pretty to be teaching these bad ass kids” you literally laugh out loud and almost drop your whiteboard marker but it’s not funny “amira! what did i say about quoting your father? and! what i say about cussin?”. you tell him about it when he picks her up and he just looks away smirking like “mm… you mad she being honest?”

₊˚.༄ amira draws one of ony’s hoodies for a “favorite things” activity because “he wears it all the time. he thinks miss ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ likes when he wears it.”

₊˚.༄ at first you only see him at morning drop-offs through the open window of his truck, just a lil smile when he winks at you before you both get on with your lives. but best believe he's got a plan – he gon make sure you see him dammit, and you start seeing LOTS more of him. you head outside for morning drop-off? he parked first in line, leaning against the front side of the sparkling truck, waving you over with that sneaky ass smirk that's saying “c’mere. i know you wanna”. so you decide to chop it up with him – innocently OFC - while you wait for your signal to start letting kids in. y’all try to make small talk but ony gets bored of that with a quickness. this is all he gets to see of you - ofc he's making the most of it. yall talk about everything under the sun in that drop-off line – work, young parenthood, goals. but that deep, rough voice like a hot kiss on your neck… he could get your social security number out of you if he wanted to. he doesn’t though, he wants your favorite meal so he can learn it like the back of his hand. he wants your hobbies and what you do with your freetime so he can plan the PERFECT date for y’all. he wants your family plans, so he’ll know if he can turn you out like he's planned since meet the teacher.

₊˚.༄ that's really not enough for ony though. how else is he supposed to be blessed with your presence? everytime he even gets close to bringing up a date, you curve him on some professional shit. he decides it's time to amp up the pressure, because you’re clearly not understanding how serious he is. soon enough, he's first in line at pick-up too – waiting against his truck for baby girl to come running out yelling “daddyyyyy!!!”, with you trailing right behind her, smirking at his persistence.

₊˚.༄ then he's dropping her off and picking her up early so he gets to see you without all them other eyes, walking all the way into the building just for a few minutes of alone time with you. stays working you up just cuz he likes to see you sweat him a lil, looking you up and down, fingers brushing your side like he can’t stop himself from touching you. “when you gon let me take you out…” he mumbles softly like he’d spend all day in this classroom with these snotty ass kids if it meant he could be next to you. “when you gon quit showing up here like my landlord on the first, mr. ony?” you smile up at him like you want them juicy lips on yours right tf now, but your professionalism keeps him at arm's length - he’s a parent of a student! telling yourself you just need to be cautious until you know how serious he is.

₊˚.༄ he always got some excuse to come into the classroom midday and be sneaky while the kids aren’t watching - “she forgot her snack, i swear”, “i just wanted to say hey, you look real pretty today miss ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ...”, “oh, i just forgot to give her a jacket this morning, it's too damn cold. you warm enough miss ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧?” he’d give you the hoodie off his back if you said yes. neverrr misses a parent teacher conference, always on time with some beverage for you and a whole damn folder of shit. obviously he's tryna impress but you have no clue what could possibly be in there??

₊˚.༄ what gets you the most? hes such a good dad and its sexy as hell. patience like a saint, makes her laugh nonstop, gentle giant but the protective dad instincts are always on ten. plus, amira’s hair is always laid - cute baubles and bows, slick back styles, braids, twist outs… he does it all!! and does it very very well. you see the adorable lunches he packs her, flower shaped fruit, heart shaped sandwiches, cute little notes that sometimes include a little message for her to pass along to you - she’ll jump at any excuse to skip up to your desk and yap. 

₊˚.༄ every time he shows up, you swear he got finer. soft hoodie, grey sweats, clean sneakers, and the most delicious cologne you’ve ever smelled in your life. your professional act crumbling more and more every time you see him, all he has to do is bend over to tie her little crisp ass dunks, and let that hoodie ride up a lil bit exposing them thick ass chocolate abs, that v-line? you have to remind yourself that you’re at work all damn day, getting flashbacks to that flash of skin like it's the victorian era.

₊˚.༄ he starts volunteering for school events and chaperoning… coming around all fine and big, just for the wasp moms to absolutely swarm him, all while he's undressing you from across the room - that lip bite was NOT for them! haha!

© 2025 alanisstonedd. all rights reserved — do not steal, plagiarize, or modify my content.

hope y'all liked this! comments, likes, reblogs and all the rest are much appreciated!!!

xoxo, lani 💋💋💋

tags: @lovey-3 @bxrbie1

[zreamy]

i'll love you forever

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: you were sunghoon's first everything; first friend, first love, and first heartbreak. after years of quietly crushing on you, he was finally ready to confess. so ready to confess, that he told his parents the two of you were already dating! it was an easy enough lie to keep up and he kept it up for months, what could possibly go wrong? he thought. little did he know, you would have a falling out and stop talking for months.. and then, you'd both get invited to spend a week at home with his parents, who still believe you're his girlfriend.

genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, childhood best friends to lovers, fake dating

warnings: minors dni, fake dating is pretty mild (sorry), she kinda doesn’t rate him at the start, these two kind of exist in a vacuum a little bit idk i had a self-enforced word count to stick to and broke it.. (im within the 10% allowance !), sunghoon in a vest, sunghoon arms, sunghoon

word count: 21,858

playlist: click here.. (for my non-spotify babes, the main song is light by wave to earth (which for some reason i put last.. whatever))

author's note: for silly @asahicore. happy birthday pooks i hope it's amazing and that u enjoy reading this when u have the time !!! LOL (lots of love) also im never writing without telling you things again this was so absurd.

to everyone else.. ok happy reading also emma did not beta read this so im sure it's missing its charm .. anyway it's for emma not you 😭 anyway i hope u enjoy regardless and lmk ur thoughts! omg this is the first fic im nervous about posting.......... please enjoy or else.

In the three years since Park Sunghoon moved away for university, he’d been doing a pretty good job of going home to see his parents. They’d welcome their baby back to the nest with open arms and wide grins. With a rehearsed level of indifference, his younger sister, Yeji, would say, “Oh, I didn’t know you were coming home this weekend.” when she saw him at the dinner table. Sunghoon pretended to only be marginally hurt by this. 

In the last three months, he hasn’t so much as sent a text to his parents. 

Or to you. 

Ignoring texts from his mother is devastating. Between classes, he watches as, “Hi, sweetie, I love you 😍,” turns into, “Missing you, honey, know you must be busy but spare some time for your old mummy, no?” which turns into, “Getting really worried now, are you doing okay? Has something happened with YN? Talk to me, I love you, my baby boy!” 

Ignoring texts from you is easy because texts from you never come. 

Sitting at the end of his bed, Sunghoon rereads a text his mother sent a few minutes ago: Please talk to me, son. Really worried and YN isn’t answering calls either. What’s going on with you two?

When he leaves his room, he finds Jake lying on the couch, and with his keys in hand, Sunghoon says, “I’m going home.” 

And the drive is great! At least, he tells his mum it is. In truth, the drive home without you was nearly impossible. Your ever-expanding home time playlist buzzed through the speakers in his car, but without you there to screech along to the songs, it wasn’t the same. He felt your absence the most when he stopped to get petrol and you weren’t there behind him struggling to carry enough snacks to feed a small family without offering to pay. 

The look of worry on his mum’s face stirs a pit in his stomach. “Why are you so quiet these days? God, you look so tired,” she says, frowning. “Is it school? Or something with YN? It’s not like her not to text back.” Her brows crease as she whispers the word unless. She pulls him into a hug, her chin resting perfectly on his shoulder, and her comforting hand strokes the hair on the back of his head. “Breakups are never easy, honey. I’m so sorry, I know how much you love her.” 

Breakups are never easy. The sentence hangs heavy over his head. 

Whether she knows it or not, she’s handed him a get-out-of-jail-free card, the opportunity to set things straight, to end this mess once and for all. No further questions, and most importantly, no more lies. 

For the first time since he left your flat three months ago, Sunghoon lets himself cry. He’d imagined this moment countless times, his first cry since you ended things. In his mind, it was always intense. Today, as it happens, only a few salty tears leak from his eyes, spilling onto the cuff of his sleeve, darkening the blue cotton in tiny indigo splotches. 

“We didn’t break up,” he says in a small voice—for some reason. “I’m just having a hard time.” Neither statement is technically untrue, but the words taste rotten in his mouth.

The tightening grip of his mum’s arms around his body is what brings on the harsh, shoulder-racking sobs he’d been anticipating. For a while, they stand like this, Sunghoon weeping into his mum’s cardigan until she sends him upstairs to lie down, promising a cup of tea that never comes. 

His childhood bedroom is chilly, so he changes into clothes he left behind and climbs into bed, pulling his duvet up to his chin. He turns his head to look at the walls and the room around him, everything is exactly where he left it in the summer. It should be comforting, but it’s weird to be home without you. 

There are photos of you and him everywhere, growing up and around each other through different stages of life. The two of you together during the summer your family moved in next door, you wore glasses back then and were the first friend he’d made in his life. Sunbathing and sharing earphones at the beach, listening to music together on your iPod classic. Sunghoon in thick glasses with a stiff smile and your arm around him on the first day of high school. Wide grins at the start of this summer, the last time things were okay between you. 

Overwhelmed, he stares up at the ceiling, only realising he’s crying when a hot tear slips from his eyes to tickle his ear. Because Sunghoon likes to upset himself, he screws his eyes shut and thinks about the night before you stopped talking. 

Though he didn’t know it at the time, you’d left Yeonjun’s place to sit with him in a tiny restaurant on campus, the one you’d only visit to toast to each other’s heartbreaks. It had become a ritual — ever since your first year boyfriend dumped you after two weeks — to cry as much as you wanted and drink as much soju as your bodies could handle before stumbling back to your apartments. 

Having spent years suffering from an unrequited crush on his best friend, Sunghoon was always the one to comfort you. But that night was different; you were there to comfort him. It was easy enough to play the part of ‘boy whose crush likes someone else’ because he spent your entire friendship in that role. He’d had no problem accepting his fate, but his composure started to slip when you met Yeonjun. It was the first time you’d dated someone who Sunghoon had reason to be jealous of. In every way, Yeonjun was better than him—taller, funnier, hotter. Sunghoon knew he didn’t stand a chance. He took it personally, you liking Yeonjun instead of him, and let his jealousy consume him from the inside out. 

This jealousy led him to start telling you about Minjeong—lying to you about Minjeong, and his feelings for her. She was a girl from a college out of town that he saw on his Instagram Explore page. He followed her by accident, and by some stroke of luck, she followed back. Sunghoon didn’t really have feelings for her — he didn’t even know her — but she was a girl that you didn’t know, so you wouldn’t be able to meddle. 

It only took a few weeks for Sunghoon to become so upset about your relationship that he couldn’t hide his emotions anymore. So, in a fit of tears, he told you over the phone that things ended badly with Minjeong, and he was in urgent need of a soju ceremony. 

But the night was missing its usual comforts.

It was strange to be the one crying, to see you looking put together and ordering the food. To see you pouring the drinks and raising your glass to propose a toast to ‘Hoonie’s first heartbreak’. You were driving that night, so you only had a tiny sip of soju and let him drink as much as he needed, the way he always did for you, at the same table, in the same restaurant for years. 

Hours later, in your car, you entertained his drunken rambles, though he remembers how your lips were set into a frown that he wanted to kiss away while you gripped the steering wheel like you thought it would run from you. Sunghoon was more drunk than he’d been in a while, drunk enough to let you sling his arm over your shoulders and keep him upright until you reached his flat. 

The voices coming from Yeji’s room disrupt the memory. He’s thankful.

“Your brother’s going through something, so be nice to him this weekend.” His mother’s voice is her version of hushed—a loud whisper. 

Yeji’s response is harder to make out, but he doesn’t miss the way their mum says, “I mean it, missy.” 

A dramatic sigh rumbles through Yeji as she barges into his room without knocking. Sunghoon sits up, feeling an ache in his back and crossing his legs. 

“Mum told me to lay off you today, which is fine, but before I do, I need to tell you something.” 

Yeji pushes the door shut behind her, and the open window makes it slam, both of them flinching from the sudden noise. She pulls her hair out of a silk scrunchie and throws herself on the floor. A pang of irritation forms in his chest, knowing that he could immediately find the empty hanger in his wardrobe where the shirt she’s wearing used to live. 

“I hate you and your perfect golden boy image, Hoon. Would it kill you to fail a class for once? I don’t know how I’m supposed to carry on your legacy.” She’s looking up at him, her chin in her hands and irritation written in the crease between her thick brows. 

It’s impossible to know if it’s because of Yeji’s complete lack of boundaries or the fact that her ‘perfect, golden boy’ big brother is on track to fail three out of three classes and get cut from the hockey team, but Sunghoon immediately bursts into tears. 

“Oh, uh.. I’m sorry?” Yeji offers. “I was kidding if that helps.” 

“I’m alright, it’s okay.” The tears don’t stop stinging his eyes. “Why do you want me to change everything about myself?” 

With a frown, Yeji pours out her frustration and mild resentment. She doesn’t understand how Sunghoon effortlessly conquers every aspect of life while she struggles. Neither do their parents, who had been baffled by her plummeting grades since she moved to boarding school, especially when Sunghoon’s academic performance has only soared since he left for university. The weight of this perceived injustice pulls Sunghoon’s shoulders down with guilt as she talks about the expectations he has inadvertently set for her. 

“But other than that, I’m good.” She shrugs, sitting with her legs out, and leaning back on her palms. “How’s YN?” she asks. It’s clear from the brightness in her voice that she thinks she’s helping. 

Sunghoon cries again. 

Back on campus, he’s trying to scrape together what’s left of his academic career with the help of two of the smartest guys he knows, and their friend Jay. Though the word ‘friend’ feels a little strong at the moment given the way Jay’s goading him. 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, sitting back in his seat. “There’s nothing you can do that I can’t,” he says, meaning every word. 

Jay scoffs, shrugging and raising his brow in a way that, over the years, Sunghoon knows to interpret as his ‘about to say something ridiculous’ look. “Pretty sure I could call YN right now, and she’d answer.” 

There’s a pit in Sunghoon’s stomach as Heeseung turns his head in the other direction like he’s been slapped, trembling with stifled laughter. At least Jake doesn’t hide his amusement, throwing his head back in a fit of giggles that draw nasty looks from the other students in the library. Sunghoon doesn’t waste his energy trying to argue because Jay’s right.

Now composed, Heeseung turns back to the table, flipping through some of Sunghoon’s course materials to find whatever his class was doing in class that week. The English Literature class he’s taking — The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway — is the same class he had to send a million emails over the summer to get enrolled in, but it’s the same one Heeseung aced two years ago. Lucky for him none of the boys seem to be in the mood to make fun of him for trying so hard to have a class in common with you, and then practically failing out of it before the term had started properly.

“This class is, like, beyond easy, dude.” Heeseung pauses to sniffle and twist the stud in his ear. “Everyone in my class aced it. How are you doing so badly already?” 

“I only took it because YN thought it’d be fun if we had a class together, but.. I kind of haven’t been going since we stopped talking.” Sunghoon shrugs, pretending to be unaffected. 

As if the mere mention of your name has some sort of summoning power, like saying Biggie Smalls in the mirror three times, you appear in his eye line, rounding the corner with a furious stride. Your demeanour crumbles when Jay waves at you, and you grin, waving back, but as soon as you look Sunghoon in the eye again, the rage comes back, and you smack a hand on the table when you reach it, leaning over to him. 

“Sunghoon, a word?” you ask.

He thinks you’re asking, but it’s hard to tell with the way you set your jaw afterwards, and the way the warmth of your signature vanilla scent hits him hard. Dazed, Sunghoon lifts a hand, pointing at himself. “Me?” 

“Does anyone else at the table answer to Sunghoon?” 

“Okay,” he says, somewhat pathetically, nudging Jay for laughing at him. 

As slowly as possible, Sunghoon pushes his chair from the table and stands up, following you to the corner of the references section where only anthropology students in scratchy thrift store knits, and Jay, come to check out encyclopaedias by volume. You look good, save for the rage written all over your face—which, honestly, Sunghoon thinks he likes.

Sunghoon isn’t sure what to expect, so he says, “Hey.” He’s being cautious, waiting a moment to gauge your reaction. “What’s gooooood?” His cheeks burn as soon as he closes his mouth around the vowel, but you laugh. You laugh, and it’s beautiful and happy, and you’re laughing because of him—or at him, but he’s glad either way. 

Annoyance quickly clears all traces of amusement on your face. “Were you ever going to tell me we’re spending next week at Mum and Dad’s?” you ask. 

Sunghoon gasps dramatically, clicking his fingers. “I knew there was something I’ve been meaning to do.” 

His attempt at lightening the mood falls flat, and you only nudge his shoulder gently, sighing. “Can you be serious? For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me?” You’re frowning, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at your feet. “It’s not fair, Sunghoon. For you to keep saying things—making plans involving me and then acting like I’m the bad guy when I turn you down.” 

“I don’t think you’re the bad guy at all,” Sunghoon admits. “If anyone is in the wrong, it’s me, I guess.”

You scoff, looking at him like you hate him. “You guess? Are you serious?” You look furious, but you sound hurt and Sunghoon hates it. Hates himself. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now. Tell mum I’m sick, and it’s contagious.” You roll your eyes and walk away, leaving Sunghoon alone with his thoughts and judgemental stares from students in crochet scarves so long they graze the floor. 

He sighs, slumping against the wall. How does he keep getting it wrong with you? 

Back at the table, Sunghoon manages to act like he’s not falling apart and makes some serious headway on his missing assignments with Heeseung’s help before they call it a day as the sun starts to set. 

When he gets home, he lies down on his bedroom floor, spending hours poring over the conversation you had. Over the minute changes in your facial expression, the tone of your voice, and the endless list of things he should have done, rather than watch you walk away. 

The moment feels familiar, both identical to and worlds apart from what happened after you left three months ago. When he managed to scrape the last shreds of his dignity from the kitchen table, he dragged his feet to his room and lay down like he is now, face to the rug. That day, he left his door open and lay so still that Jake thought he was dead. Sunghoon remembers wishing he had been. 

For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me? The words run on a loop in his mind, over and over, until he can’t remember the order of the sentence or where you put emphasis. They’re cutting all the same. 

Sunghoon sighs into the itchy fibres of his black rug before rolling onto his back. In the diminishing purple light of the setting sun. he looks at the walls of his room. At the Fleetwood Mac poster, he stole from Jay when they moved out of their first year dorm, that curls away from the wall towards the ceiling—a diagonal strip of shiny tape being the only indication of the otherwise invisible tear through the face of Stevie Nicks. 

He’s glad when his phone rings, cutting through the quiet, though the sight of your name and the anatomical heart emoji next to it only dampens his spirit. Reluctantly, Sunghoon answers the phone, holding it to his ear. 

“I just got off the phone with Dad..” You trail off. Tangible silence follows, so thick it weighs on his chest. “I’ll go home with you.” 

“You will?” 

“Yes. Goodbye.” 

Sunghoon reaches your flat at five in the evening. You don’t smile when you open the door for him, nor do you invite him in. Instead, you dump your bag at your feet and he cringes, looking from the floor to you. You’re aggressively beautiful and cosy-looking as you pull a jacket over the sweater you wore that night. Sunghoon’s heart aches in his chest and he wonders if you even realise. Suddenly, the memory of the last thing you said the morning after hits him like a truck: Then let’s not be friends at all. 

A familiar weight lands on his shoulder—your hand. Concern lines your eyes as you ask if he’s okay. 

With a lump in his throat, Sunghoon nods. 

In the discomfort of his car, the two of you sit in silence while he starts the drive home. 

“How’s Yeonjun,” he asks, eyes flicking towards you but regretting it immediately when he sees how you clench your jaw. 

“No,” you say simply, shaking your head. “You don’t get to ask me about him.” 

These are the only words you exchange until Sunghoon stops for petrol. He has enough fuel for the rest of the journey, but he feels like dying and thinks the fresh air might quell his thoughts of running his car off the road. Like always, the two of you get out and head into the kiosk, where he follows you wordlessly through the aisles, watching you debate on snack choices before settling on the same things you always get. Sunghoon pays for your snacks and you roll your eyes but don’t protest, mumbling thanks as you take them into your arms, leading the way back outside.

He knows he needs to tell you before you reach the house, but he’s not entirely sure how to say it—so he just does. “My, uh.. my parents think we’re dating.”

You stop so suddenly in front of him that he almost bumps into you. Stepping around you, Sunghoon keeps walking. 

Over the top of his car, he watches your face cycle through all five stages of grief until anger comes back around in the loop as you scoff. “Why do they think that?” Your face is devoid of expression now, the blankness over your features dragging a sharp chill over his spine. 

He stares blankly at you, processing. “Because I told them we’re dating,” he mumbles. 

“Why did you.. do that?” You tilt your head, eyes pressing shut in a long blink. “What are you even talking about? Why did you.. What?” 

A thin layer of sweat coats his palms despite the cold. Why did he do that? “We can stage a breakup during the trip or say we broke up right now,” Sunghoon offers. “Just one night, YN, please.” 

The wind whistles by, ruffling your hair and jacket that you hug tightly to your chest. Behind you, Sunghoon takes note of the group of girls standing by the pumps, all five of them jerking their heads abruptly when they notice him watching, suddenly finding interest in the scattered litter and flickering halogen bulbs in the steel canopy over their heads. 

You’re staring when he looks back at you, nostrils twitching with a sniffle before you sigh. “Or we could say that you’re a liar and end things there,” you say. “Or better yet, you go down there on your own and tell them the truth.”

Sunghoon’s gaze drops, his thoughts racing in his mind. He knows you’re right. At some point, his parents will have to find out, and it’d be better for them to find out now. Sunghoon sighs, nodding. “Alright,” he concedes. “I’ll take you back.”

An angry laugh comes out of you as you shake your head. “No need, I’ll walk.” 

The station you’re at is neatly nestled in the middle of nowhere, on a road so narrow he’s not even sure it has a pavement. You’re halfway through the three-hour drive, so there’s no telling how long the walk would be, never mind the fact that the sun is already setting and it’s deep enough into October for the wind to sting. 

“From here?” he asks, incredulous. 

“Yes, open the boot so I can get my bag.” 

Sunghoon can only bring himself to say your name, a desperate whisper. 

“Open the boot.”

He repeats your name as if it’ll make a difference, he’s pleading with you, begging—though he doesn’t know for what. 

You go to the back of his car where Sunghoon joins you, a pit in his stomach when you step away. With misty eyes, you look up at him and his heart breaks. “Please.”

Sunghoon knows you well enough to know that you’re not actually going to attempt the walk home but also knows that you won’t back down if he keeps challenging you. He nods, opening the boot for you and getting into the driver’s seat—your move. 

You stand there, unmoving, and long enough passes that he thinks you’ll actually leave. The boot closes softly and you join him in the passenger seat. You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “Let’s just get this over with.” 

For the rest of the journey, you sit in silence as Sunghoon briefs you on the relationship, fighting a smile as he thinks about being your boyfriend—even if only for a night. You scoff when he ‘reminds’ you that you’ve been together for four months now and the only reason you haven’t been able to come home recently is that your schedules don’t match up very well anymore—which couldn’t be further from the truth as, before term started, you went out to celebrate the fact that your class schedules couldn’t be more suited for seeing each other. 

Finally, at Sunghoon’s childhood home, the two of you smile and laugh for his parents before going to bed. Your relationship has only made his mother more averse to the idea of you sharing a room under her roof than she had been when you were younger. He’s relieved about this, and in the solitude of his bedroom, he lies on the duvet of his twin bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the last few hours. 

With his parents, you’d sat up in the living room watching TV. They sat on the couch together, his mum nestled in his dad’s side, while you two sat on the couch opposite, mirroring their position. If your complete stiffness was anything to go by, you were less than comfortable with his arm around you and Sunghoon felt terrible for begging you to go along with this. It was after midnight when you all went upstairs and you let him kiss your forehead before all but slamming the door to the guest room in his face. His heart twirled and his mum beamed at him before saying goodnight again. 

Now, at 3 a.m. he can’t sleep. Flinching at the knock on his door, he furrows his brows and goes to open it. It’s you. Standing there with your hair scraped away from your face in one of his t-shirts. Your eyes are red, brimmed with tears as you step into his room and sit on his bed. 

He closes the door softly, heart aching at the sight of you so upset, and when he sits next to you, his heart tears apart because you move over, putting a distance between you. It falls out of his chest onto the floor when he realises you’re not wearing your necklace. 

Sunghoon suspected you might have stopped wearing it, it only made sense that if you didn’t want him, you wouldn’t want the necklace he bought for you either, but at least earlier, your sweatshirt sat so high he couldn’t see if you had it on or not. 

It was a gift for your sixteenth birthday, after your first heartbreak. He was so upset and angry that you let some loser hurt you that way, upset and angry that someone could be loved by you and fuck it up. Sunghoon was inspired by Jay, who’d gotten a pretty necklace for his girlfriend, and talked about her cute reaction for weeks, how happy she was to have a piece of him with her all the time. It was a locket, with a picture of Jay in one side and a picture of her in the other so the pictures would kiss when she wore it. 

While at the jewellers with Jake, Sunghoon thought something like that might be a bit much for the two of you and eventually picked out an equally pretty piece with his first initial on it. He wrote a corny note to put in the box, something about how ‘boys come and go but Sunghoon is forever’ and gave it to you with trembling hands a few nights later—it was the first time he ever made you cry. Immediately, he thought he’d done something wrong and was ready to snatch the box and run back to the jewellers (even though he trashed the receipt). You hugged him and told him you loved him. Sunghoon’s been riding that high ever since. 

Until tonight at least. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers. 

“I’ll do it, Hoon.” Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his gaze. “For as long as you need me to, I’ll pretend.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Sunghoon feels lighter, an unbearable weight slipping from his shoulders. You haven’t called him ‘Hoon’ in ages, and he can’t tell if you’ve said it out of vulnerability, or even noticed that you’ve said it at all, but it warms his heart nonetheless. However, he’s not fully at ease, still curious about your sudden change of heart and why you’re crying. 

“What happened?”

You pull him into a hug, and his eyes bulge out of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, the words muffled by the skin at the base of his neck. 

For as long as he’s known you, you’ve smelled like vanilla, a sweet warmth that grounds him. Yet it’s only after these months apart that he’s able to put a name to the sensation: home. The realisation of how much he’s missed this feeling, missed you, floods him with a rush of emotion so overwhelming he can’t find the words to press the issue. A moment passes before he remembers to hug you back, his arms finally wrapping around you, pulling you close, and you sink into his hold. Months ago, he would have kissed the top of your head and mumbled reassurance into your hair, but tonight, Sunghoon settles for stroking the back of your head and hopes it’s enough. 

“You can talk to me, you know? You can always talk to me.”

A heavy silence follows, sharp as a dagger—scraping his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge and lodging itself between his shoulder blades. Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat when you cling onto him even tighter, shifting so close you’ve had to settle in his lap. His heart races in his chest, pounding a rhythm so loud it fills the room. 

Finally, you speak, assuring him that you know and that you’re okay. At this, Sunghoon holds you as tight as he can, and neither of you speaks for the rest of the night. You fall asleep like this, in his arms, so deeply that you don’t even stir when he lies down. 

Rubbing your back, he watches the clock on his nightstand, the piercing green LED digits cycling through two whole hours right before his stinging eyes until you wake up. Sunghoon presses his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep when you kiss his cheek and leave his room. 

For the entire morning, you stay in your room, and although Sunghoon is concerned, he decides not to bother you. In the afternoon, he sits at the dining table with his mum, listening as she talks about work. When she asks him, he gets up to make a cup of tea for her. It’s at that moment when you finally come downstairs, looking so effortlessly pretty. Your hair is still damp from the shower, and you’re bundled up in one of his old sweatshirts. There’s a bright grin on your face that leaves his heart thudding. 

“Baby!” you squeal when you see him, charging towards him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. “Good morning.” Your words are muffled against the back of his t-shirt, and the four-letter word, and the sugar coating it, make his cheeks burn. 

“It’s great to see you too, YN,” his mum says with a smile. “My night was amazing; I slept very well and had no dreams.” 

You let go of Sunghoon and walk over to the table, kissing his mum on the cheek and wishing her a good morning as well. “Sorry, mum, how are you?” 

His mother doesn’t seem to have the heart to correct you either, allowing your 3 p.m. ‘good morning’ to go unnoticed. 

Sunghoon carefully fills both mugs to the brim and, with extra caution, carries them to the table. He places a steaming cup of peppermint tea in front of his mum and a milky coffee in front of you. A warm smile spreads across your face as you mouth a ‘thank you’, and his knees turn to jelly. 

The next day, after eating an early dinner with his parents at the table, the four of you go out on a walk along the bike path you used to take for school. His parents have gone ahead, not intentionally, but because Sunghoon can’t stop you from dragging your feet. 

As with most things in the town where you grew up, nothing about the trail has changed. The leaves are yellowing in standard form for the season, and crunching under his feet with each step he takes. The only foreign experience is the silence that you’re determined to uphold. Everything Sunghoon says to you is met with either a hum, a nod, or no acknowledgement at all. At this point, he feels like he could drop dead at your side and the most you’d do is step over his body like a fallen branch. 

After letting you go ahead, the weathered slats of the wooden footbridge sag in the middle under his tread. It’s been like this for as long as he can remember and he wonders how nothing has been done about it. The stream rushes under it, loud and unruly, the smell of wet grass both comforting and suffocating as you look over the railing. It’s like something from a postcard, the low-hanging branches sweeping back and forth under the breeze, the grass lush and green around the path, murky water thrashing against the mud and rocks underneath with you in the middle of the frame, peering over the edge.

You keep walking when Sunghoon approaches, leaving him alone on the creaky bridge with nothing but the ache in his chest. He looks up, staring at the grey clouds in the sky through the gaps in the leaves, and sighs. 

Eventually, he catches up with you, grabbing your hand and locking his fingers with yours when his parents slow down. You stiffen, looking up at him with cut eyes and a creased brow. “What are you doing?”

Sunghoon matches your clipped tone. “Holding my girlfriend’s hand.” 

“No one’s looking, boyfriend.”

“You think my parents aren’t going to wonder why we’re lagging behind?” 

A scoff—your fingers remain defiantly stiff. “Do you think your parents are going to care whether or not we’re holding hands?” 

“My mum might after the show you put on yesterday afternoon, baby.” Bitterness covers the word like a blanket, a stark departure from how you said it. 

A long sigh rumbles its way out of you before you fix your lips into a strained grin. “Sorry, sweetheart, this is my first time pretending to be in love.” 

As your words hang in the air, Sunghoon’s emotions brew like a storm within him. Frustration gnaws at his patience. All hopes for a smooth week are dashed, though determination simmers in his chest with a strong resolve to make this work, to fix your relationship. It doesn’t stop the sharp pang of hurt piercing his stomach—he knows you don’t feel the same way, he knows you’re faking, but the word ‘pretending’ hits him like a truck anyway. 

“We held hands all the time when we were friends,” he points out.

Your smile drops immediately, hurt flashing behind your eyes. “Yeah, and now we’re not.” 

If there was a competition for who could hurt Sunghoon’s feelings the most, you’d be a shoo-in for first place. With distinction. 

“Exactly!” he says, feeling the sting of his own words. “Because now we’re dating.”

At the sight of his mum turning around, you switch up in an instant. Lock your fingers with his, wrapping an arm around his bicep, leaning into him, giggling. It’s forced but his parents are far enough away that all that matters is the curve of your lips.

“You two okay back there?” she asks. 

“Perfect! I feel like a kid again!” you call back, beaming up at Sunghoon in a way that makes his stomach flutter even though it doesn’t meet your eyes. 

The two of you don’t talk at all when you get home, with you hugging his parents goodnight and running up the stairs. 

“She’s not feeling too well,” he explains, nodding when his dad tells him to make you some tea. 

His parents spend the whole day at work, and you spend the whole day following him around like a shadow until the evening when they return. He doesn’t pretend not to like it.

Sunghoon helps you make dinner, turning leftover rice into fried rice with the help of some eggs and vegetables. It’s nice moving around the kitchen with you, watching you scramble eggs in his t-shirt and bump his hip with a playful frown when he eats some of the peppers you’re chopping. 

His parents watch from the table, cooing over the two of you and he does his best to fight the blush forming on his cheeks and neck. Embarrassed, he hugs you from behind, hiding his face in your neck—the scent of your coconut conditioner mixing with your vanilla perfume doesn’t do anything to stop the flush. 

Over a bottle of wine, the four of you eat together at the table, swapping stories about your days. Sunghoon tries to hide his surprise as you lie about the time you spent at the play park by your primary school, competing for height on the swings and spinning on the roundabout until you couldn’t stand up. You grin at him, and it meets your eyes as you hold his hand under the table, and kiss his cheek.

After eating, his parents head upstairs, leaving to clean up together. You hum a song he’s never heard as you load the dishwasher, carefully placing the plates and cutlery in the rack, shaking your head when he hands you the glasses you’d used. 

“Leave ours,” you say. “If you want.” 

Sunghoon nods, putting them back on the table, where you sit in the seat across from the one he was sitting in. He sits too, staying quiet rather than saying the wrong thing. You don’t speak either. It’s reminiscent of the past—the hours you’d spend in the same room, only speaking to share a funny post you’d come across or to ask if you were hungry. 

His eyes track your movements—reaching for the half-empty bottle on the table to pour yourself another glass, filling it to the brim. Before putting it down, you offer him some, filling his glass too when he nods. The three glasses of wine he’s already had must be the reason he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand, run his thumb over the soft skin on the back of it. 

Sunghoon doesn’t know why you’ve been so nice to him all day or why it makes his chest hurt. 

“You know you don’t have to be nice to me when we’re alone, right?” The words come out before he can stop them.

Over the top of your glass, your brows knit together. A sound of confusion, a low hum, comes from your throat as you try to finish your sip. “What?” you ask finally. 

“I only asked you to do this because of my parents, you know? You don’t have to sit or talk with me when they’re not around.” 

Sunghoon’s known you long enough to recognise the look that flashes across your face. The way your eyes narrow and your brows tug together, the little pout that sets on your lips before you speak; you’re hurt.

“Why can’t I just be nice to you because it’s the right thing to do?” 

Because it hurts, is what he wants to say. He wants to cry, to beg you to forget everything he said that day. “Because I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already have.” Is what he settles for. 

Your face softens. “I don’t feel uncomfortable around you, Hoon. We were best friends for ages, I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable.” You pause to take a gulp of wine. “Why can’t I just want to be nice to you?” 

Sunghoon has to chew on his cheek to distract himself from how much your word choice stings. The implications of were and all of your past tense. “I’m sorry,” he says. 

“What for?” 

“Everything.” 

There’s a sadness in the way you run your fingers on the base of your glass. The way you chew on your lip, how your hair falls when you tilt your head and how it moves when you shake it. “It’s not your fault,” you say. “I don’t know anyone who would choose to have unrequited feelings for their best friend.” 

Wow, he thinks. You’re on a roll. Sunghoon wonders if you’re meticulously choosing your phrasing to upset him. Wonders why you feel the need to remind him that his feelings aren’t reciprocated as if he didn’t live through and spend hours reliving the day he confessed. 

“But I didn’t have to tell you about it. It was unfair of me to spring that on you when I knew about Yeonjun.” 

“Did you.. did you think I was going to leave him for you?” 

“Maybe?” Sunghoon chews on his lip—he has no idea what he thought would happen. “I think I thought I loved you enough for both of us, that you might play the part for fun or out of curiosity, and.. I don’t know, just learn to love me.”

“Hoon,” you whisper, frowning. “How could you even think about settling for something like that?” 

Sunghoon shrugs. “It’s not settling if it’s you.” 

Silence takes a seat at the table after he speaks, interrupted only by the ticking clock on the wall—a glittery mess of scrapbooking paper and washi tape layered over each other that Yeji had decorated at summer camp years ago. You’re picking at your fingernails, letting flecks of black polish fall to the table, stark against the varnished oak. 

“I know it’s not my place to ask,” Sunghoon starts after a while, hesitant and only continuing when you nod. “But what did Yeonjun say when you told him? About.. everything?” 

You take a long sip from your glass and sit quietly for so long that he thinks you’re not going to answer him—he doesn’t blame you. 

“I didn’t.” 

He waits for you to elaborate. You don’t. 

Sunghoon nods slowly, deciding not to ask any follow-up questions. Instead, he takes another drink, scrunching his nose at the bitter taste. “He didn’t ask why we stopped hanging out?” he blurts out.

“I told him we fell out but I didn’t say why.” You shrug, but your posture is stiff. 

“Where did you tell him you were going to be this week?” He knows it’s not his business at all, that he’s pushing your boundaries, but he can’t help his curiosity.

“Nowhere.” 

“You told him you were staying on campus?” 

“I didn’t tell him anything.” Your gaze shifts, avoiding his as you toy with the stem of your glass. You drum your nails against it, letting the dull clink ring out. 

“So you just left?” 

“Does it make a difference to you?” 

Sunghoon nods.

For a while, you tug at the drawstrings on your hoodie, pursing your lips to the side, considering this. “Yeonjun and I aren’t together anymore.” Your admission is so shocking that Sunghoon’s jaw drops. He tries to cover his surprise by coughing, his tongue sticking out like a small child. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to think it was because of you.” 

Sunghoon’s thoughts move at lightspeed, too fast for him to catch onto any of them and process this information. His emotions compete with each other—disbelief, guilt, and a painful glimmer of hope he hadn’t dared to acknowledge until now all at the forefront. 

“Was it?” he asks. “Because of me?” 

You scoff—an incredulous sound that doesn’t match the sad look on your face. “I don’t know, Sunghoon. Do you think my boyfriend used me to make his ex jealous because of you?”

He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but this is.. Complete disbelief eclipses him as his heart sinks in his chest, shock, and guilt bubbling in his stomach. 

“I’m sorry,” he says after too long. “That I wasn’t there. That I haven’t been there.” 

“You didn’t know,” you say, gaze softening as you look up at him. 

“But I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it.” 

You shake your head. “I made me feel like I couldn’t talk to you about it. All you did was change the friendship, I’m the one who ended it.”

“I still should’ve been there.” 

“You’re here now, right?” 

Sunghoon nods, earnestly. “Always.” 

Only one thing comes to mind when you repeat the word ‘always’ before taking a sip from your glass, downing its contents. Sunghoon gets up and crosses the room with wobbly steps to open the fridge, where he pulls out as many bottles of soju as he can hold in his hands and puts them down on the table. He goes back to collect some glasses from the cabinet, puts some of the leftover fried rice from dinner into the microwave, and brings it all over when it’s done, with bowls and utensils. You watch him with a fond smile as he opens a bottle and he hopes you think the flush on his cheeks is from all the drinking you’ve been doing. 

“Is it bad that I’ve missed doing this?” You’re grinning now.

Sunghoon shakes his head, raising his glass. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak.” 

You grin, clinking the rim of your glass against his. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak,” you repeat. 

Both of you down the glasses, and Sunghoon refills them, pouring the soju with an oddly steady hand. As you eat spoonfuls of rice and sip your drinks, silence settles over the room. The soft glow of the kitchen lights forms a warm ambience, a cosy familiarity that brings up simple memories—doing homework together at the table while gossiping about your classmates, the first New Year after you were both eighteen and had your first drink with his parents. 

For at least an hour, the only sounds are the occasional clinks of forks against bowls, glasses hitting the table, the faint hum of the refrigerator and the steady tick of Yeji’s clock. Sunghoon’s eyes meet yours, and he can’t help but notice the slight change in your expression when they do. 

You clear your throat, running a hand through your hair. “This is my sixteenth, actually.” 

“What?” 

You take a small sip of soju, staring down at the table. “My fifteenth heartbreak was losing you. Yeonjun is my sixteenth.”

In the two days since your soju ceremony, Sunghoon finds himself sinking into the role of your boyfriend like a hot bath. But there’s no use pretending it doesn’t hurt. Pretending it doesn’t hurt when you kiss his cheek before bed, or when you reach out to push the hair out of his face or snuggle into his side on the couch; because it does hurt—a lot. It hurts to think that in three days when you put your bags in the boot of his car, you’ll sit in silence all the way home. When he drops you off at your flat, you’ll close the door in his face and stop talking to him again. These realisations are harder to confront when he’s alone in his room, like now. 

About an hour ago, you asked if you could borrow his car, saying there was something you needed to do on your own. It seemed important, so he handed over his keys with no question. Sighing, Sunghoon gets up from his bed and heads to the shower, where he jerks off to clear his mind. On his way back to his room, he notices the light leaking from the open kitchen door that illuminates the landing. 

He hears the lock on the front door clicking, and stands at the top of the stairs, dripping water onto the carpet while listening attentively. His ears perk up when he hears a gasp—his mother. 

“What’s this for?” she asks. 

“I just..” You trail off. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to thank you both for always looking after me.” You pause, and Sunghoon holds his breath, waiting. Your voice trembles as you continue. “It’s been hard since my parents went back home, and I guess it was still hard when they were here, but you both supported me. I don’t think I could’ve managed without you guys. I want to make you guys proud, you know? And I’m trying, really, so this is me saying thank you. I’m sorry it took me so long.” 

He grips the railing by the landing, digging his nails into the wood until they start hurting—an ache in his fingertips that makes him wince. 

An odd feeling settles in his stomach, a bittersweetness tinged in his fondness for you, and the gentle shock of realising how much his parents have done for you. Growing up, you became an honorary member of Sunghoon’s family. His parents showered you with gifts during holidays and birthdays, which you often celebrated with them rather than your own family. 

The memory of your parents’ sudden decision to move across the country still lingers, and Sunghoon vividly recalls the tearful conversation he overheard at the top of the stairs. Your parents understood the enormity of their request but had earnestly asked if Sunghoon’s parents could continue looking after you. 

His chest tightens when you start crying. 

“You don’t have to thank us for anything, sweetie. Just you being here and taking care of our boy is more than enough thanks. You never forget our birthdays, and you always come and visit when you can. You’re doing a great job, and you should give yourself some credit,” his dad says, a little choked up. “We’ve always been proud of you.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes sting with tears and his skin gets dry in the spots where the water from the shower is evaporating. He presses his fingers to his closed eyes, forcing a few tears to fall and walks the rest of the way to his room with his eyes shut. He can’t hear anything through his closed bedroom door, which he decides is a good thing as he coats himself in moisturiser and swipes deodorant under his arms with intention to spend the whole night alone. Once he’s dressed, he gets into bed and pretends not to be bothered by the way his wet hair dampens his pillow. Under the duvet, he tosses and turns before sighing and heading to Yeji’s room.

In her absence, the room’s subtle transformation is stark. The sage green-painted walls, once a backdrop to the A3 faces of Wave to Earth and Beabadoobee, now bear the faint imprints of those missing posters. Tiny, shadowy rectangles are the only remnants of the 6x4-sized pictures of her and her friends, of her and Sunghoon, that she took away with her to school.

Her hairdryer is still on her desk where she’d left it for him to use and he sits in her stiff wooden chair, plugging it in. The airflow starts immediately, hot and loud, humming throughout the space as he runs his fingers through his wet hair, feeling cosy under the heat. His shampoo is fresh and soapy scented under his nose, and his reflection watches him in Yeji’s mirror, eyes red and concerned while his hair blows around his head. Sunghoon closes his eyes and finishes his hair, sighing as he lets his worries slip under the whir of the fan. 

Finished, he shuts off the dryer and opens his eyes, flinching at your reflection in the doorway behind him with a soft smile on your face. “Mum and Dad are going to open a bottle of wine if you want to join,” you say, meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

Sunghoon can’t find it in himself to speak, only nodding in response. You smile wider but don’t move. He unplugs the hairdryer and leaves it on the desk where he found it before crossing the room. Without giving himself a chance to think about it, he pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head, smiling into your hair when you wrap your arms around his waist, holding him closer. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, mumbling sleepily that you’re never going to drink again, and Sunghoon leans over the sink brushing his teeth, he’s glad you have the decency to cover your mouth as you speak. 

“Brush your teeth and go back to sleep then,” he mumbles around his toothbrush. 

You don’t respond. 

Sunghoon sighs through his nose, spitting foamy toothpaste into the sink, leaving bubbly, blue splatters on the porcelain. “And quit staring at me, I can feel your beady little eyes on the back of my neck and it’s freaking me out.” 

“But you’re so pretty,” you coo. 

There’s a flutter in his stomach and he rinses off the sink and his mouth, buying himself some time. With a hand on the Listerine, he lifts his gaze to meet yours in the mirror and stops short. You’re still staring at him, features soft and glowing under the afternoon light. You look like an angel; a gentle smile spreading over your lips, and a sleepy glint sparkling in your eyes, wide and gorgeous as you watch him. Sunghoon gulps, mumbling his thanks and looking back at himself. He hopes you can’t see the flush on his cheeks. 

“Go back to sleep,” he says. 

“Will you come and lie down with me if I do?” Your voice is a sleepy drawl, coming out in a slow, high-pitched slur, and your eyes are closing on themselves. 

Lying down doesn’t sound like a terrible idea, especially not if it’s with you, so he nods. “If you brush your teeth, then yeah, baby, I’ll lie down with you.” 

You chuckle softly at Sunghoon’s agreement, the sound carrying a mix of exhaustion and genuine amusement, showing no repulsion to him calling you the B-word. He didn’t mean to, it’s been a confusing few days. You nod, saluting to him and getting up to join him by the sink, using your hip to bump him out of the way, but he feels like he’s glued to the spot. 

“Move, baby,” you mumble sleepily, reaching for your toothbrush. “We can cuddle in my bed,” you suggest, to which Sunghoon only nods, taking your words as a cue to unstick his feet from the floor and go to your room, playing the word ‘baby’ on a loop in his head. 

He stands in the doorway staring at your bed, the duvet is all crumpled in the middle, and the pillows are in an L shape at the top corner. He sighs, he can’t go on like this, can’t stand around hoping even a tiny part of you called him ‘baby’ and it meant something for you as it did for him. It’s not fair for him to project his feelings on you like this, but he can’t help it. You’re already pretending for his parents, so would it be so bad to pretend for his sake as well? Even if only until the day after tomorrow when you leave? 

The sound of the bathroom door shutting behind you snaps him out of his thoughts, your bright smile making his heart race when you tug him by the sleeve to your bed where the mattress dips underneath you as you curl into his form, resting your head on his chest and falling asleep. You’ve shared the bed before, countless times, but he knows you’ve only asked him because you’re tired. Because your brain is foggy with drowsiness that clouds your judgement, not because you want him there, not because you miss him when he’s two doors down the hall, tossing and turning at night thinking about you. He wonders absently if you can feel his aching heart beating through his chest, a painful, yet all too familiar rhythm that pulls his own eyes shut, plunging him into a deep sleep too.

It’s dark in the room when he wakes up, the sun already down behind the curtains and the soft yellow of the bedside lamp casting a glow around the space. You’re staring up at him, smiling and you don’t look away when he catches you. “What is it?” he asks, voice thick with sleep. 

“Nothing,” you mumble. “I just missed you.” Sunghoon has no time to respond or even register what you said before you clear your throat, speaking again.  “Come on, dad’s cooking tonight, he’ll need help.” 

Helping Sunghoon’s dad with dinner always looks an awful lot like Sunghoon eating snacks on the kitchen counter and staring at you as you help his dad cook. Tonight is no exception, he’s sitting on the island, and his snack of choice is a family pack of Chilli Heatwave Doritos his mum bought for Yeji. He’ll have to remember to replace them before leaving seeing as he’s reaching the halfway point. 

You go back and forth with his dad about measurements, with you rummaging through the drawers for measuring cups while his dad says it’s best to trust your gut. Reluctantly, you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watch him eyeball the seasoning. 

The gas stove turns the kitchen into an oven, and you complain about it while opening a window, pulling your hoodie over your head and leaving it in Sunghoon’s lap. Time stops when you grin at him, the light from the stove hood illuminating the necklace you’re wearing, his initial resting on your chest and glowing under the light. He chokes around a crisp when he sees it, catching your attention with his coughing. 

“You’ll spoil your dinner, snacking like that, baby,” you scold, using a hand to push his knee. “We’re almost done, I swear.” 

All he can do is nod, cheeks burning as he folds the crisp packet over before putting it back in the bread bin where he found it. 

“Wow,” his dad says, resting his hands on his hips and shaking his head in amusement. “Being in love looks good on him, he’d never have listened if I said that.” 

It’s already your last day when Sunghoon picks up Yeji from school. She grumbles for the entire half-hour drive and all the way to the front door about why the two of you couldn’t have started the trip today instead of ending it, but all of her irritation dissolves when she sees you in the hallway, leaving the front door wide open to fling her arms around you. You and Yeji exchange compliments for a while — You look so pretty. No, you look so pretty. I love your hair. I love your hair. — as Sunghoon locks the door and watches with a smile.

“God.” Yeji sighs, holding you by the waist and craning her neck up to look at you, as you push some of her hair from her face, pinning back her wispy bangs with the palm of your hand. Yeji giggles. “I’m so happy you two are together, even though I have no idea what a girl like you sees in my loser brother.” 

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall. Despite his mild irritation at Yeji’s words, he finds the sight of you with her so adorable his stomach flutters. Over the top of Yeji’s head, you look at him with a fond smile. “He’s not so bad.” 

It doesn’t sound like a compliment, but Sunghoon takes it to heart. 

Like always, Yeji manages to capture your undivided attention and the two of you giggle and whisper with each other all afternoon while Sunghoon watches, too enamoured by the sight to care about being left out. An hour or so passes like this, until his parents get home from work, excited to see Yeji after a few weeks, and you leave her side, coming to cuddle with Sunghoon instead. 

It’s nice being home with everyone, laughing and sharing a meal before his family walks the two of you to his car with at least a month’s worth of cooked food for you to share at university. Yeji makes you pinky promise that she can visit you and waves with a pout on her face until the car is out of view.

Contrary to what he’d been expecting, the drive back is nice. Your playlist is on, and you’re telling him about all the new songs you added, catching him up on things with Chaewon and Yunjin, and all the things you got up to in the time you spent apart. You tell him about a new café that opened up near your place and how you’ll have to go together when he has the time, and Sunghoon bites his tongue before telling you that he always has time for you. The first half of the trip goes on like this but you start dozing off around the halfway mark, your sentences becoming few and far between, eventually turning into half-mumbled thoughts that end prematurely. 

You’re still asleep when he reaches your flat, head propped up against the window with your soft lips parted, looking too pretty and cosy to wake up. Instead, he drives in circles around your block, deciding to wait for you to wake up on your own. It only takes a half-hour but you blink your eyes open, stretching your neck before looking around and out the car window, recognising the street. You don’t say anything, only smiling when you look at him, a small curve of your lips that makes his heart race.

He gets out of the car with you, opening the boot to get your bag before pulling you into his chest for a hug, liking the way your arms settle around his waist. “Thank you,” he mumbles into your hair. 

Sunghoon doesn’t follow you when you take your bag from him, only watching from the back of his car. You don’t notice until you reach the main door, looking over your shoulder and frowning at him. “Aren’t you going to walk me up?” 

The two of you walk in silence up four flights of stairs as the lift in your building is out of order. Your bag feels much heavier in his hand now than it did outside. At your door, he watches you dig around for your keys, sighing with relief when you find them. 

“Do you want to come in?” you ask from your open doorway.

“I—uh—I have training in the morning and I’m already pretty tired, so..” He trails off.

Unfazed, you nod. “Right, of course. I had fun this week.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

You smile at him, sweet and sincere. “Text me when you get home, yeah?” 

Sunghoon nods, saying goodbye. Out of habit, he doesn’t leave your doorstep until he hears the lock click shut, and walks back to his car with his head down. 

True to his word, he sends you a text to let you know he got back to his place safely and you read it immediately but don’t reply. It’s empty in the apartment, Jake is out with his football team and the space is larger than usual in his absence. Far too tired to even consider going out and joining him, Sunghoon goes through his night routine, putting his phone on the charger and stepping into the shower where he spends entirely too long wishing he could live in this week forever as he scrubs his body. With brushed teeth and damp hair, he goes back into his room where his phone lights up with a notification; a text, from you.

YN🫀: i’m glad you got home okay, i just got into bed :) i don’t want to make you uncomfortable or overstep or anything and you can say no (obviously).. i’ve been missing you so much and didn’t know how to reach out or if you wanted me to but i had soooo much fun this week and spending time with you again made me happy, so i’d like it if we could keep hanging out, like before yk? ik it’s a long shot ahahaha but just say you’ll think about it? 

hoonie: You’re not overstepping at all, I’ve missed you too, so bad. I had soooo much fun this week as well and I’d like it a lot if we kept hanging out, thank you for agreeing and coming along 😚 If you’re free after Lit tmrw you could come over? Or we could go out and do something, whatever you prefer

hoonie: I missed you so much.. 

hoonie: 🤍

The texts greet you as the first rays of Monday morning light filter into your room, instantly lifting your mood. Your bright smile doesn’t escape Chaewon’s notice as you find her in the kitchen, bathed in the soft light seeping through the sheer curtains. The kettle is boiling with a loud rumble that fills the whole room and leaves her yelling as she speaks to you. 

“Good trip?” she asks, coming over and hugging you. “Never leave me for that long again,” she mumbles into your shirt. 

“It was a week, Wonie,” you say, rolling your eyes even though you missed her too. 

She leans away, looking at you with knitted brows. “It was nine days.” 

“The longest of my life.” 

Chaewon pulls air through her teeth, tilting her head and releasing you. “That bad, huh?” she asks, walking back to her seat at your tiny square table and shooting you a look that tells you to join her. 

During your trip, you gave her nightly updates over text, so you know she knows how much you enjoyed yourself, but you elaborate anyway, sitting across from her. 

“No, not at all,” you say, shaking your head and trying to fight a smile. “I had fun.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the grin curving them; it doesn’t work. 

Chaewon raises a suggestive brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “How much fun?” 

“You’re disgusting.” 

“I didn’t even say anything!” she defends, holding her hands up. “I made an implication. It was only a matter of time, you two have that whole.. lifelong best friends to lifelong lovers thing going on, and it’s hot.” 

“Shut up.” 

“You’re telling me, you spent nine days playing lovers with Sunghoon and you still don’t want him? You’re a lost cause, people would kill for that chance,” she says, tilting her head. “I think I would kill for that chance.” 

“Don’t touch him.”

“Oh?” 

“Jesus, Chaewon, it’s not like that. Hoon’s too sensitive for your roster.” 

“I never said it was like anything, you’re the one who’s dangling me over the ledge for saying I want to fuck your hot best friend.” 

“Sunghoon isn’t hot; he’s..” You find yourself at a loss for words, unsure how to continue your lie. Of course, Sunghoon is hot, you’ve known since you were seventeen and spent the summer at your grandparents’ house, only to come back to find your previously scrawny best friend having ditched his LEGOs for dumbbells. You sigh. “Just leave him alone.”

Chaewon grins, eyes sparkling as she leaves the table. “Okay,” she says in a singsong voice, leaving you and the irritation in your stomach alone in the kitchen.

You sigh, pressing your eyes shut and trying to will away your discomfort. It’s not like Chaewon would actually try anything with Sunghoon. Right? Even if she did, it wouldn’t bother you, nor would it be any of your business. They’re grownups and reserve the right to explore their options. Still, there’s a nagging feeling you can’t shake, an uninvited guest in the back of your mind. 

When you check your phone, you realise you have half an hour before you need to head to campus, so you leave to get ready and text Sunghoon back on the way to your room.

you: sounds good, see u later 🤍

After showering, you stand in front of your wardrobe, towel hanging from your body as you pick an outfit. For some reason, you feel under pressure, picking a pair of jeans that do the most for your ass and a low-cut top that Sunghoon once — drunkenly — said he loved on you.

You have the residual sting of mouthwash on your tongue, and one foot out the door when your phone vibrates in your hand. 

hoonie: Do you want to head to class together? 

you: sure! i’m omw out, where should i get you? 

hoonie: .. I’m outside your building :D 

Breathing a laugh through your nose, you don’t fight the giddy smile on your face as you make your way downstairs to meet Sunghoon. Through the glass in the main door, he’s standing at the edge of the pavement and kicking a stone between his feet. The top of his puffer jacket covers the bottom half of his face, and the draught nips your skin when the door opens. Two girls you vaguely recognise stumble in with smudged makeup and heels in their hands, smiling at you while holding the door to let you out.

“Hey!” you call out, jogging over to him. 

Sunghoon turns around, his head poking out of his jacket to grin at you, holding a travel cup and an abundance of tinfoil in your direction. 

“I wasn’t sure if you’d have eaten anything yet, you don’t normally in the morning,” he says, a sheepish smile spreading over his lips when you take it. “Matcha. Ham and cheese toastie.” 

“Did you make these?” you ask, inspecting the familiar cup and appreciating the warmth it provides. 

He hums, nodding his head.

You ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks and thank him with a hug, grinning when he offers to hold your drink while you eat on the walk. The toastie is still hot, the cheese coming close to burning your tongue as you chew, but you appreciate it wholeheartedly, humming contently with each bite. When you’re done, you shove the foil into your pocket, taking your drink from him and smiling around the sweet taste of a matcha latte as he tells you about his schedule for the day. 

“I’m meeting with Coach after class to talk about my grades, but I’m all yours after that.” 

“Talk about your grades? What’s wrong with your grades?” 

Sunghoon groans, head falling back and highlighting the bump of his Adam’s apple. “My grades are.. I failed my coursework this month, so I have resubmissions during finals, and I think he’ll bench me if I fail again.” 

He sounds like he’s being serious, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he is. The news creases your brows because for as long as you remember, Sunghoon’s grades were your parents’ favourite point of comparison.

“Really?” you ask. He nods. “What’s up? Is something the matter?” 

A humourless laugh slips out of him before he pulls air through his teeth. “Yeah, my best friend didn’t talk to me for three months.” 

“Oh..” Guilt stirs your stomach as you look up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not blaming you, it’s not like I was trying to talk and you ignored me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow, giving you a warm smile. “But if you feel as guilty about it as you look, you can tutor me for Lit.” 

“Deal.” 

Sunghoon grins, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you close; the action itself isn’t unusual, but the increased heart rate it brings about is. “You’re too good to me,” he says, holding onto you for the rest of the walk to class.

At his request, you sit with Sunghoon in the back row, watching as the lecture hall gradually fills up in front of you. He seems well-prepared, with his laptop and a small notepad and pen neatly arranged on the desk in front of him.

Throughout the class, your eyes inadvertently track his every move. He diligently types up colour-coded notes, occasionally pausing to write things in his notepad before continuing to type or stopping entirely to listen. There’s something melodic about his actions and the way his fingers run over the keyboard. 

During a five-minute break, you glance at his screen. What you find is more than just lecture content; it’s a document adorned with Sunghoon’s own musings about Hemingway’s style and carefully analysed quotations that go beyond the class discussion.

“How are your notes so good?” 

“I picked up the book over the summer when you mentioned it,” Sunghoon replies with a shrug, a shy smile playing on his lips as he leans back in his seat. “I liked it.” 

A slow nod is your response, though your thoughts swirl like autumn leaves in a breeze. The last time Sunghoon read for leisure, you were in primary school, buddy reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid. But this—this is different. You can’t help but stare at him, awestruck as you take him in. His eyes are wide, shining amber in the sunlight as he pushes some of his hair from his face, frowning when it falls back where it was. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbles. 

Sunghoon takes a new line in his document and points at the screen where you watch the cursor move through the words he’s typing: I would’ve read and annotated the Bible if you wanted me to..

There’s no time to digest what he wrote or the funny feeling in your chest as you reread it before he deletes the whole sentence, pressing his lips together and looking out the window. Speechless, you stare at his side profile, willing your heart rate to slip back to normal. Steep-sloping nose, plump lips flattened into a line, two points of the triangular mole constellation on his face. Analysis worsens your condition, breath hitching in your throat before stopping entirely. Warmth and trepidation blend within you, fuzzy enough at the edges to seem like one thing—a single force that makes your palm itch with desire, desperation, to reach out and run a finger over his features, feel the bump of the mole on his nose — the most prominent — against your skin. 

You remain this way — silent, watching — even when your lecturer resumes the lesson, and Sunghoon starts typing, writing, and listening again. Polite enough to pretend he doesn’t notice your gaze searing into his face.

After class, and his meeting with Coach, you let Sunghoon lead the conversation and the way to your flat, where you find Chaewon and Yunjin sitting on the couch, whispering to themselves while the two of you study at the coffee table. It’s uncomfortable, an awkward height, too high for the way you’re sitting but you feel calm under the supervision of Chaewon and Yunjin—you won’t do anything to merit teasing in front of them, no matter how badly you want to feel Sunghoon’s face in your hands or stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs. 

To the best of your ability, you answer the questions he has for you—he’d written a ton in his tiny notepad during class, his own concerns clear with each neatly-penned iteration of: How to see actions/dialogue for what they are and not what I want them to be? written in the margins and you try not to feel heartbroken for him.

Three hours have passed by when you walk him to the door, the two of you wrapped up in a bubble so secure you’re surprised to find Chaewon and Yunjin still sitting on the couch. They don’t say anything about Sunghoon in his absence, or the fact he’d given you his sweater when he noticed you were cold. You’re not sure why their silence disappoints you.

Instead, Yunjin asks you about trivial things like dinner while Chaewon sits in silence. 

“What flavour for ice cream?” Yunjin asks, rolling her eyes when you tug on the blanket but not complaining. “And don’t say something ridiculous like mint chocolate, YN.” 

“That happened once! And it was three years ago.. How was I supposed to know you hate fun?” 

Chaewon leans into you, letting you curl your limbs around her from behind as you rest your chin on her shoulder, liking the way her clean scent tickles your nose. 

“Mint-cho isn’t that bad,” she starts. “It’s a little jarring, sure, but it’s kind of sweet. Like watching people come to terms with their feelings for each other.” 

You nod your head, humming in understanding and furrowing your brows when Yunjin scoffs, staring straight at you. Her tone is equal parts cutting and loving, so you know she’s not trying to insult you, but don’t know what she means when she says, “It must be so nice to be as oblivious as you.” 

Yunjin never elaborates, and you never ask, actually feeling the statement’s journey in through one of your ears and out the other when dinner arrives. The three of you share pizza, ice cream, and secrets — the three pillars of 20-something-teenage-girlhood — at the kitchen table, with Chaewon sitting in your lap and picking pepperoni from your slices. 

It’s only hours after Yunijn’s gone home, that her words circle back to you, the statement and all of its weight perching on your chest with all the debilitation and persistence of a sleep paralysis demon.

“I think I’m getting sick,” you say as soon as she opens her door. “It’s been coming on for a while now, at least a week, maybe more.” 

Unimpressed and exhausted, Yunjin looks down at you through half-closed eyes. “Do you..” She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?” 

“Yes. It’s three a.m.” 

“Exactly. See a doctor if you’re sick, I’m going back to sleep.”

“This is an emergen—” Yunjin cuts you off by pinching your lips together. “It’s three in the morning,” she reminds you. “You can’t yell like that in my hallway, come in.” 

You nod, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes next to hers. “Sorry,” you whisper when the door is closed. 

Using her hand, Yunjin lifts your chin, squinting as her eyes adjust to the light when she flips the switch to inspect your face. “You don’t look or sound sick,” she mutters, flicking the light back off and going to her room. “What are your symptoms? And why did you come here?” 

You don’t have an answer for her last question so you ignore it, following her and tripping over a pair of her shoes in the process. “My cheeks start burning like crazy and my heart races, sometimes it gets hard to breathe.”

“You seem fine to me.” 

A shoulder-slumping sigh slips from your lips. “That’s the thing. I’ll be fine and then Sunghoon shows up with his pretty smile and perfect hair and I feel like I’ve run a marathon.” You know how it sounds, choosing your wording meticulously to let Yunjin be the one to say the words out loud instead of you—it’ll be easier to confront that way. 

From the doorway, you watch as she arches a brow, her interest piqued. “Oh?” 

“I know.” You nod, head bobbing rapidly in furious agreement. “It’s only a matter of time before I cough up a lung and die in his bedroom.”

At your words, Yunjin doesn't reply, only lifting her duvet and getting cosy underneath. You feel like you’re glued to the spot, waiting for her to say something, anything, but nothing comes. All she does is pat the empty spot in her bed. 

“What are you smirking for?” you ask, entering the room properly and closing the door. 

Her response only comes after you’ve taken your jacket and hoodie off, sitting next to her under the covers. “It’s nothing,” she says, laughing. 

“Tell me.” 

Yunjin sighs, resting a hand gently on your shoulder. You think it’s meant to be comforting but it’s the opposite. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Lovesickness isn’t deadly.” 

Feeling the weight of her reassurance, you settle down properly and sigh when your head hits the pillow. Lovesickness. Hmm. 

Closing your eyes, you try to sleep but can’t help tossing and turning as Yunjin snores behind you. You pat blindly around the end table for your phone, grabbing it and wincing at the brightness of your screen. Chewing on your lip, you open Google, looking up ‘lovesickness’ and frowning immediately at the results. Endless negativity fills the screen, terrifying words like ‘unrequited love’ forming a pit in your stomach. There’s nothing negative about what you feel for Sunghoon, nothing unrequited—you think. 

It was obvious during the trip, painfully so. In the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear when his parents weren’t there to see, or how he slipped up and called you ‘baby’ in the bathroom, blushing when you said it back. You can’t fake something like that.. Can you?

Yeonjun did.

Shaking your head, you open Instagram to distract yourself. Jake’s story comes up first; he’s at a party where Jay is losing a game of beer pong, and at the other end of the table is Sunghoon grinning with a bright red lipstick kiss on his cheek. You lock your phone, using your hands to press on your belly to stop the stirring. 

Oh, you think. Lovesickness. 

When you wake up, the first thing you do is check Jake’s story again. The video is still there and that terrible stir in your stomach churns on, burrowing deeply into a pit of canyon-like proportion—so vast there’s a safety railing lining its edges. 

You eat breakfast in silence with Yunjin, zoning out mid-chew to figure out the origin of these feelings and how to handle them. Suddenly, the moment hits you clear as day, vivid like you’re watching it on a screen—it was your third night at his parents’ house, after your walk. 

You felt bad about how you acted, and what you said, so went straight up to your room. With nothing but the bedside lamp turned on, it was dimly lit, shadows cast on the walls as you sulked, replaying everything in your head. Guilt wrapped its long arms around your body, making you feel sick as you thought about it all. About the hurt etched over his face with every word you said, and the frown that stuck around for the rest of the walk as his hand clung limply to yours. 

There was a knock at the door, so gentle you almost missed it, and Sunghoon was standing there when you pulled it open, chewing on his lip with a mug in his hand. Steam skated over the opening, a rich chocolatey smell hitting your nose but the real kicker was the mug itself. In its place on Jake and Sunghoon’s mug tree, it was unassuming, a regular white mug, but upon meeting hot water, the face of young Sunghoon appeared, grinning with his tiny glasses on. It was a gift from one of his old coaches and though he never used it, it was your absolute favourite cup in the world. 

You felt soft around the edges when you looked up at him, his eyes wide and unsure as you met his gaze—he brought that mug three hours across the country so you could use it again. The thought shifted your heart into a comfortable position, settling in your chest with overwhelming warmth and an increased rate. 

“Hi,” you said, clearing your throat. 

“Hi,” he repeated, holding the mug out for you to take. “It’s still hot so be careful.” 

Nodding, you covered your hands with your sleeves, taking the cup from him and asking if he wanted to come in. Sunghoon nodded, shutting the door behind him and standing by the bed, watching you set the hot chocolate on the bedside table as you sat down. The two of you stayed like that for a while, with him only moving when you patted the spot next to you on the duvet. Your train of thought escaped you as soon as he sat down, the warmth of his familiar fresh, citrusy scent taking over and becoming the only thing you could register. The smell of summers with him, long days at the beach and short nights spent on the couch at random parties, cuddled into his side with his arm over your shoulders. The smell you’d come to associate with comfort and home—with Sunghoon. 

“It’s not fair for me to treat you like shit just because I’m annoyed, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier. I’m sorry.” 

A crease ran over Sunghoon’s thick brows as they tugged together, he shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise. I roped you into this whole thing and didn’t even try to think about how you would feel. I’m sorry.” His eyes carried a mix of regret and sincerity, mirroring the weight of his words.

“Anyway, I only came to bring you that,” he said, pointing at the cup. “And to check up on you, I’ll get out of your hair for tonight.” Sunghoon wiped his palms on his pants before standing up, reaching behind him to pick up the cloth he brought. For a moment, he stood there, staring down at it in his hand while you thought about telling him to stay, telling him that you wanted him in your hair—whatever that meant. But he spoke before you had the chance. “You left this, at mine, after.. well, you know. I’m sure you left it intentionally, I mean it was folded up perfectly on the end of my bed, so I know you did, but it didn’t feel right keeping it, you always wore it more than me.” 

Sunghoon extended his hand, holding it out to you and you knew exactly what it was as soon as the fabric touched your skin after so long. It was the shirt Jay bought him for Christmas in first year—they were roommates still trying to get a feel for each other. For a few weeks, Sunghoon had been pestering you about what he should get for Jay, saying it didn’t feel right not to get him anything, and you suggested a targeted t-shirt, one you’d been laughing at all day after seeing an ad for it on your timeline. Sunghoon was sceptical, but bought the red shirt anyway, hoping Jay would find BEING DAD IS AN HONOUR, BEING PAPA IS PRICELESS funny. He did. And Jay bought Sunghoon a targeted shirt too, your favourite. It was black and two sizes too big, with I NEVER DREAMED I’D BE A SEXY FIGURE SKATER BUT HERE I AM KILLING IT written over the chest. 

“Goodnight, YN,” Sunghoon said, crossing the room to leave but hesitating before closing the door. He poked his head through the opening and sighed. “I really am sorry.”

That night, you fell asleep in the shirt, the thinning, yet cosy, fabric wrapped around you like a hug as your heart started to beat a new rhythm, one that eerily echoed the five-foot-eleven figure skater who you let break it. 

This morning, Yunjin claps her hands in your face, seeming irritated when you look over at her. “You have class in an hour, what are you doing?” Before you have the chance to speak, realisation covers her face. “Oh, the feelings.” 

You nod solemnly, too caught up in the butterflies raiding your stomach to come up with something to say. 

At lightspeed, you scarf down the rest of your food, apologising for showing up so late as you head out the door. When you get home, you take the fastest shower of your life and feel grateful Chaewon isn’t around to tease you about the smile you can’t wipe from your face thinking about Sunghoon—you’ll text her later.

You run to campus, feeling the brisk autumn wind beating against your face while the rest of your body overheats under your jacket, hoodie and long sleeve. Despite the discomfort and ache in your lungs, you don’t stop until you reach the door of your lecture hall, huffing and puffing into the faces of classmates who don’t take any notice. Of course, in a stroke of pure luck, your lecturer is late, and you realise bitterly, that all of your huffing and puffing was in vain—you would have gotten to class with time to spare even if you walked.

It’s not a total waste though; you use the time to update Chaewon. 

you: i have news wonie..  i like sunghoon

wonie: …………….. fork in the kitchen yn what’s the news? 

wonie: OHHHH news to YOU.. can i call? 

She calls you immediately. You answer without thinking because your lecturer still hasn’t arrived, and there’s no one sitting close enough to hear or notice you taking a call. 

“Are you going to tell him?!” Chaewon’s voice is so loud you wince, pulling the phone away from your ear. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug even though she can’t see you, still holding the device at a distance just in case. “I don’t have any confirmation that he still.. likes me. It’s been a while, and I was pretty mean that day. 

Chaewon groans and you can picture her throwing herself onto her bed, exasperated. The rustling that comes through the receiver only frames the image, hanging it up. “Did you have to tell him to get a grip?” 

“You know..” You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip. “In hindsight, probably not.” 

A beat passes, she’s thinking. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll help you.” 

“I.. have never been so worried in my life.” You sigh, picking at your freshly painted nails. “But I know you’ll do something no matter what I say, so do what you want, Wonie, but please be subtle about it.” 

Chaewon squeals down the phone. “I love youuuuu!” And it’s the last thing she says before kissing the mic a few times and hanging up. 

Slumping in your seat, you don’t have any time to stress about Chaewon’s plans because your lecturer walks in, with a travel cup in her hand and a paperback tucked under her arm. 

She apologises for being late, running a hand through her hair as she announces that you’ll be watching a film, an adaptation of a book you read at the start of term—Ian McEwan’s Atonement. You spend the first hour of the movie falling in and out of sleep until a text comes through from Sunghoon, and sheer excitement keeps you up.

hoonie: Wanna study together after class? 

you: of course!!!!!! 

hoonie: 🤍

The rest of the movie goes by in a drag, and you come away from it with a mild irritation towards Saoirse Ronan.

you: class just finished, heading to lib rn 

hoonie: Shit, still in the locker room, sorry !!! Omw, can you get a table? 

you: i’ll try..

It takes a while but you find an empty booth on the second floor, and set your bag on the plush green seat to take pictures of your surroundings to send to Sunghoon. You sit on the side facing the stairs so he can see you when he arrives. The thought of seeing him makes your heart race and you try out a few natural-seeming poses for when he’s here, cycling between resting your palm under your chin and sitting with your arms crossed a few times until the top of his head comes into view. 

Seeing him knocks the wind out of you as he approaches the staircase, taking them two at a time with his damp hair clinging to his forehead and neck. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing a tight black vest, and his sweats are hanging low on his hips. A breath you didn’t realise you were holding slips out when he lifts his head, spotting you immediately as a grin spreads over his lips and he raises his arm to wave, the veins in his forearm peeking out to say hi too. You can’t tell if it’s his lack of winter wardrobe or your newfound appreciation for him that’s making his biceps look so huge but it’s hard to look away, even when he reaches the table. 

“Are you hot?” you blurt out. 

Sunghoon laughs, raising a brow and something about the way he’s looking down at you makes your cheeks burn. “Depends who’s asking.” He takes his backpack off, leaving it on the table as he sits down, dumping his jacket and hoodie in a pile beside him.

“I’m asking,” you mumble. 

“Then, yeah, I’d hope so.” 

Is he flirting? It sounds like he’s flirting. Flirt back! “Nice arms.” 

He looks down at his biceps for a beat before looking at you warily. “Are you flirting with me?” He can’t fight the smile twitching at the corners of his lips but he tries his best, pressing them into a straight line.

“A little. They are nice though,” you admit.

Sunghoon grins. “Thanks, I’ve had them for a while now.”

You can’t come up with anything to say, too distracted by the way his smile reaches his eyes, lighting up his whole face and forcing a flustered heat to spread over your cheeks and neck. It’s only when you look away from him that you remember what you’re here for. It’s a study date, not a study date—there’s a difference. 

You hand Sunghoon the material you’d printed for him over the weekend, excerpts from texts you’d studied in class, so he can practise close reading and proper citation. As he makes his way through them, you can’t help stealing glances, smiling at the way his tongue sticks out a little while he focuses, or how he twirls his pen in his fingers while he’s thinking. You aren’t making the best use of your time together, copying out the slides from class yesterday, but you can’t help noticing the way he watches you when he thinks you can’t see. The small smile on his face while he does so only flusters you, an odd weakness settling in your knees as your cheeks heat up. 

After a while, Sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Could you stop watching me?”

“If you noticed me watching, that means you’re watching me.” 

He shrugs, chewing on his lip. “Well, yeah. I’m always watching you,” he says like it’s a given. “But you don’t normally watch back, it’s distracting.” 

“You’re distracting.”

A playful smile curves his lips as he arches a brow, smugness painting his face. “Am I?” 

Too scared to verbalise your response, you nod slowly, hoping you don’t look as wound up as you feel. 

Sunghoon’s eyes flick over your face, flashing with something you don’t recognise. At least not from him. He sits back in his seat, assessing you and eventually shaking his head. 

“You know,” he says, eyes glowing with something you do recognise: cockiness. “If my sexy arms are getting to you that much, I can always put my hoodie back on. Wouldn’t want my little tutor getting distracted, would I?” 

Oh. 

Your stomach turns with want, mind reeling from his tone and the way his gaze lands on your lips. Sighing, you roll your eyes and try to seem unaffected. “Sunghoon, I never said your arms were sexy.” 

His phone starts to go off, buzzing against the table and he turns it over immediately, screen down on the surface as he shifts his focus back to his work. He chews on his lip while he does, eyes flicking back and forth between his phone and the words on the page. Curious, you lean over the table, elbows propped up as you rest your chin in your hands. He doesn’t spare you or his phone, which vibrates another four times, a glance.

“Are you going to get that?” 

Sunghoon shakes his head. “It’s nothing.” 

You hum, letting just enough curiosity seep into the sound that he’ll elaborate without being asked to. It doesn’t take long for him to deliver.

“It’s just Chaewon,” he says, running his hand through his hair and lifting his head. Sunghoon smiles. “We’ve been texting a lot these days.” 

“Cool.” You nod a few times, aiming for nonchalance but hitting bobblehead as you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t, only humming in response, nodding too. 

After a beat, he picks up his phone, angling it just high enough that you can’t see the screen. He reads the messages, an exhaled laugh coming from his nose as the tips of his ears redden—Fuck. This is worse than you thought. 

Chaewon’s commitment to girl code runs deep—she’s been rebuffing Jake since first year when she overheard a girl she’d never seen before telling her friends she thought he was cute. So you know without having to read the texts that nothing she’s saying is even remotely flirty, you can smell the auto-caps and use of the word ‘buddy’ from across the table. 

What you hadn’t counted on, however, was the potential for Sunghoon’s feelings to shift. If they really have been texting more, can you rule out the possibility that he might like.. her? Chaewon is a catch, beyond a catch, and you’d already turned Sunghoon down. Brutally. Of course, he’d move on, he has moved on. 

The rest of the study session is spent manifesting, writing Park Sunghoon over and over in the back of your notebook. You fill three pages while brainstorming ways to snatch a lock of his hair until he suggests that the two of you call it a day. He walks you home, telling you about how Jake’s been bribing him with food to get a ride to the LEGO store across town for the new Marvel set. 

“With or without the meals, I would’ve taken him, but his ramen is my favourite, so..” Sunghoon says, climbing the last step of your building and holding the door open for you. “He even brought a slice of tiramisu to the rink for me after practice.” 

“You’re terrible,” you say, frowning up at him as you search for your keys. “Do you want to come in?” 

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. “I have a meeting with one of my lecturers soon, I’d have to leave in—” He pauses, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. “—eight minutes.” 

“I’m cool with that if you are,” you mumble, suddenly shy. 

A bright smile spreads over his lips and he nods, following you in. 

Chilled by the harsh wind, the only thing on your mind is a hot drink as you lead Sunghoon to the kitchen. He shakes his head when you offer him one, sitting on the countertop and exhaling into his palms before rubbing them together. You can’t help but frown at the sight, feeling guilty that you can’t change the weather to suit him. At your thought process, your brows raise. Wow, you think. Is this who you are? 

You busy yourself with the selection of hot drinks you and Chaewon have accumulated, eyeing each container from top to bottom. A purple tub of Cadbury’s hot chocolate that you’re sure is on the brink of expiration, coffee—sachets of the instant stuff you’ve grown to like since leaving home, Earl grey from one of many brands, or the fancy silk tea bags Chaewon’s mum brought home from a trip—rooibos or plum-apple-cinnamon. 

Craving something sweet, you settle for hot chocolate, pulling the heavy container from the cupboard next to Sunghoon’s head and setting it beside your cup. He’s on his phone, scrolling too fast to take in anything he’s seeing and he shakes his head when you ask if he wants something to drink. 

On the dish rack, Chaewon’s mug catches your eye, so you pick it up to dry it off and put it down next to yours. “I’m going to check if Wonie wants any,” you say, wiping imaginary crumbs from the counter onto the floor. 

Sunghoon only clears his throat, shaking his head. “She’s not home, one of her acrylics popped off so she’s at the shop waiting for a cancellation.” 

The information itself isn’t jarring but hearing it from Sunghoon is. You put on what you hope is a neutral smile and nod, taking milk from the fridge and assembling your drink on autopilot while thinking of ways to redirect the conversation. 

“If you knew you’d have to go back to campus so soon, why’d you walk me home?” you ask, watching your cup spin in the microwave. “I could’ve walked on my own.” 

Sunghoon is already looking at you when you turn your head, his cheeks puffed out with air as he blinks slowly. Because I love you, is what you hope he’ll say. You think you need him to say it. 

“Because you don’t have to do anything on your own when you have me,” he says instead, and it’s infinitely better. 

The words seep through your every fibre, his intonation and lucid affection making a home for themselves in your heart, spreading warmth from head to toe. Your smile becomes a radiant grin, only brightening when he shakes his head, smiling down at his feet. 

Sunghoon hugs you in the kitchen when it’s time for him to leave, his arms holding you tight to his chest as he rocks you back and forth. You inhale his scent, all warm citrus under freshly washed cotton and something exclusive to him.

Wiping the smile from your face feels impossible. You don’t let go when he does, and a sweet laugh — a giggle, you think — tumbles out of him as he mumbles that he really has to go. Still, you cling onto him, taking clumsy steps backwards, with your arms locked around his waist, to your front door, smiling as you watch him put his shoes on. 

“You don’t have to walk me downstairs, honestly,” he says, looking down at you in the doorway.

“I want to.” 

His lips quirk up at the corners, a full smile breaking through and causing your stomach to flutter with so much force you’re sure it’s visible through your shirt. His eyes fall to your lips, lingering, before he clears his throat, looking away. 

“I’ll text you when I get to the door, promise.” 

You lock your pinky with his. “Send a selfie, just so I know it’s you and not someone else using your phone.” 

Sunghoon’s head falls back in a laugh. “Should I just call you? That way you can make sure I get back to uni in one piece.” 

You nod.

“That wasn’t anything with Chaewon earlier, I just needed advice on some girl stuff..” He trails off, searching your eyes. It’s obvious that he’s telling the truth, that he wants you to believe him. You do. “I wasn’t sure if that was something I could talk about with you.” 

Girl stuff. Hmm. You try not to read too much into it and look at the bigger picture instead—your best friend is going through something and doesn’t feel like he can come to you about it.. You squeeze his pinky reassuringly, a flutter in your stomach when he smiles. 

“You can talk to me about anything,” you say, meaning it. 

Sunghoon presses his lips together, humming and unlinking your fingers. “Next time,” he says after a beat, waving at you. 

You shut the door, locking it while watching through the peephole, he leaves as soon as the lock clicks shut. In the kitchen, your hot chocolate is cooling down, and your phone rings in your back pocket. Sunghoon’s calling. 

Hanging out with Sunghoon. Making sure he sticks to the time-blocked schedule you made for him. Quizzing him on biology terms until he gets restless. If the last two weeks were an episode of Family Feud, those would be the top three answers to the question: Name something YN is doing right now.

Thankfully tonight, it’s the first one. 

You’ve been sitting on the couch for so long, Jake has both left for football practice and arrived from football practice. Conversation ebbs and flows—an hour or so of nonstop talking, followed by another hour or so of comfortable near silence. 

It’s during a quiet hour that Sunghoon sits up straight, clearing his throat before saying, “Let me ask you something. He retreats to the other side of the couch, turning to face you with his whole body. “I don’t want things to be weird after I ask, so no matter what your answer is, I won’t bring it up or ask again.”

Arching a curious brow, you nod. “You can ask me anything,” you say, meaning it.

Sunghoon’s face is impressively blank—minus the motion of sharp teeth worrying plush lip, there’s absolutely nothing behind his eyes that seem to stare right through you. 

Eventually, he asks, “Can I kiss you?” He says more. Big, scary words like for closure and moving on, but they don’t register. They don’t matter. 

Your heart pounds at the base of your throat as you find interest in your hands that sit in your lap. Even without looking at him, you can’t get over the slight crease he had in his brow and the slight tremor in his hands. 

“For closure,” you repeat, though your voice doesn’t sound like it’s coming from you, muffled under the thump of your heart. 

Sunghoon nods. “For closure.” 

A humourless laugh sneaks past your throat as you look at him. You shouldn’t have. In the lamplight, Sunghoon is golden and glorious. Warm light casts one side of his face, diffusing gently over the steep slope of his nose, highlighting his moles and the look in his eyes, gentle and curious all at once. Unwillingly, your gaze falls to his lips, parted, tempting. 

One firm nod of your head brings Sunghoon’s hand to your face, his palm cupping your cheek with soft skin as his thumb traces your cheekbone. You grow anxious under his stare, under the drag of his eyes over your features, taking them one at a time like he’s committing them to memory.

Leaning in, your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet his and he freezes, mouth completely still on yours. Delicately, your tongue traces the seam of his lips, soft and plump, until they part for you, moving with yours. Sunghoon’s kiss is unpolished when it reaches you. It’s hesitant but tender, clumsy but sweet, he’s trying and he’s perfect; your favourite. 

The kiss is.. it’s everything. It’s the racing of your heart, the thudding, the vibrant buzz you can hear, feel humming against your ears. It’s a rush of blood to the head, a lightness all over that pulls you out of your body. It’s Sunghoon’s soft lips curving into a smile against yours, his gentle hold on your face never letting up as he holds you as close as he can manage, and it’s every bit as lovely as the rest of him.

Palpable is the heartbeat of your friendship, beating to a lull under the surface of the kiss, fizzling out into nothing, a steady silence, flatlining to give way to something more, something bigger. 

Every brush of your lips against his is a revelation, a confession. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, you tell him with your kiss. You’re everything I need. His free hand finds yours, locking your fingers and squeezing, the action timed well enough to make you think he hears you, to make you think he’s saying, we’ll be okay, I still love you. 

With that, he pulls away, a delicate tension piercing the air. Blown eyes and laboured breathing—he’s beautiful, fuzzy around the edges with warm orange and all of the love in your heart. Breathless, you chew on your lip, cognisant of Sunghoon’s hand in yours and the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you. 

Belatedly, you squeeze his hand back, smiling. “Was it everything you ever dreamed of?” you whisper, part teasing, all curious.

Abruptly, Sunghoon stands up, letting go of you in the process. “I have to go.” 

You want to stop him, you think you’re supposed to. To grab him by the arm and kiss him again, to yell in his face that you love him until he understands. But you don’t. Instead, you stay seated, staring at Sunghoon’s back and following him with your eyes out of the room and down the hall until he’s out of sight. 

It’s your first time being so upset after a kiss, and you can’t tell if it’s his leaving or the mention of him moving on that’s tripping you up so much. That’s causing melancholy to crawl from the shadows, sinking its jagged nails into your skin to pull you under. 

You love him. He’s gone. 

Eyes stuck on the doorway, time stretches over the room around you, thick and malleable, wet and cloying—clay stuck under your nails for days as the fire in the kiln rages on. 

Sighing, you get up and wait at his door. You ball your hand into a limp fist, knocking weakly. Sunghoon doesn’t reply. You try again, harder. Still nothing. 

Barging into the room, you find him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands. 

“Don’t move on.” The words come out before you realise and Sunghoon lifts his head, squinting at you. 

“Huh?” He tilts his head, watching closely as you approach him, tipping it back enough to meet your eyes when you stand over him. 

You take a breath, holding it until your head starts to spin. “I don’t want you to love someone else, Sunghoon. Please don’t move on.” 

The stillness that follows is disconcerting, a long quiet you can feel on your skin, amplifying the blank stare on his face as he looks up at you. His eyes flash, a spark of hope behind them so bright it stings to look at.

“Do you..” He trails off, his lips moving to form the next word though stopping short.

“I do,” you whisper, nodding. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”

An exhaled laugh comes from his nose as he grins, shaking his head. “You like me?” he asks, excitement and disbelief fighting for authority over his voice, his hands holding your waist and pulling you down into his lap.

“I love you,” you admit, settling on his thighs. 

“You do?” His eyes are wide and gleaming, searching every feature on your face before settling on your own.

You nod. “So much.” 

Sunghoon’s chin tips up, his lips pressing against yours, excited pecks that can’t turn into much more for the smiles on your faces. You rest your arms on his shoulders, hands clasping behind his head, nervous fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“So.. will you be my boyfriend? For real?” 

Tilting his head, he tries and fails to fight a smile. “I will. I’m a little bummed though.” 

“Why?” You raise a brow, and the word tips up at the end with it. 

“I wanted to be the one to ask you.” Sunghoon’s honesty warms the room, endearing you completely. 

You grin, loving the heat spreading over your cheeks. “Ask me anyway.” 

“Please can I be your boyfriend?” 

In the weeks that followed, it became immediately clear that boyfriend Sunghoon operated on a pendulum swinging between sexual ferality and terror. He’d get distracted during study sessions at home, finding more interest in biting at your neck than stream-of-consciousness prose, but closed his eyes if a sex scene came on TV. He’d buck his hips against yours while making out but flinch at the sight of condoms in the store.

He wasn’t ready to have sex and didn’t know how to tell you, so you took matters into your own hands, asking if you could wait until after his results for resubmission came in, saying you didn’t want the distraction for either of you. Sunghoon agreed, pecking your cheek and holding you tight to his chest. 

The only thing was that your lecturer hadn’t given him an exact date, so every morning, you held your phone in a vice grip waiting for Sunghoon to update you, and every morning, you got the same text: Nothing today, baby ☹️ 

This morning, you’re brushing your teeth when he texts you, in all caps: NO FUCKING WAY I GOT A 98 !!! LOOK !!!

When the picture comes through, it’s of him in the mirror and you choke on mouthwash at the sight. He’s smiling, bright and beautiful, in a black vest that he’s holding up a little to show his stomach, though his palm is in the way of his toned abs, and it cuts off right at the top of his grey sweatpants. 

Your mouth goes dry as you click on it, fixating on every little detail you can find: the thickness of his fingers against his phone, the dip in his collarbones, the breadth of his shoulders and the cinch of his waist. In a fit of desperation, you try swiping at the bottom of your screen, willing the picture to magically extend. It doesn’t. 

hoonie: Finger slipped.. You like?

you: mm.. 

you: 98??? HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT YOU!!!

hoonie: All you.. do you like the picture?

you: i love it………….

hoonie: My girl 🤍

Another picture comes in, and sure enough, through the glare of his laptop screen, you see: Course name: The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway. Marks Awarded: 98.0.

you: well done baby !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hoonie: Thx 😁

hoonie: Can I have my prize now ha ha .. haha 😈

you: just for that emoji, no you absolutely cannot.

Your resolve isn’t strong enough when it comes to Sunghoon, because purple devil emoji and all, you show up at his door with condoms in your bag and a bouquet of lilies behind your back. 

The door creaks open and Sunghoon greets you with a grin. “Hey, gorgeous. You proud of me?” 

You beam at him, holding out the flowers. “I’m very proud, Hoon, well done.” 

“I don’t want to ruin the moment,” he starts, taking the bouquet from your hands and sniffing the flowers with an approving smile. “But hearing you say you’re proud of me is awakening something I didn’t know existed.”

“A good something?” 

“Mm,” he hums, arms finding your waist before he pecks your lips. “A very good something.” 

Sunghoon’s words hit your lips and your core, a desperate heat flooding your stomach as he kisses you deeply, his body pressed tightly against yours while he pulls you into his apartment. He kicks the door shut with his foot, slipping his hand under your jacket to settle in your back pocket, not quite squeezing but holding your ass as gently as he can manage. 

He breaks away from you, love in his eyes as he stares down into yours, catching his breath. “I don’t think we own a vase.” 

In his kitchen, you rifle through cupboards to find something to hold the flowers, eventually finding a whiskey decanter in the cupboard under the sink, and holding it up for Sunghoon to see.

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “It’s Jay’s. It’ll work right?” 

You nod, taking it to the sink to rinse it. Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder watching you fill the decanter with water and flower food before grabbing the bouquet. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and you struggle to stay focused as you cut down the stems on the flowers, arranging them neatly. 

“Can I take a photo?” he asks when you’re done. 

He’s smiling when you turn around to look at him, a soft curve of his lips that makes your heart race, a deep tenderness in his eyes when you meet them. You smile too. 

“They’re yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 

“A photo of you with the flowers,” he clarifies. 

Warmth settles in your chest, a grin spreading over your lips from ear to ear. You nod, taking the decanter in your hands when he lets go of you, holding the flowers up beside your face and smiling for his camera. As his phone shutter clicks away, you steal glances at his face behind it. He’s watching the screen with a smile, telling you how beautiful you are.

“I want pictures of you too,” you say, handing the flowers over. 

“I’m yours, baby, do whatever you want.” 

Sunghoon poses for your photos, smiling sweetly in some and sniffing the bouquet appreciatively with closed eyes for others. He’s glowing and he’s beautiful and your heart triples in size while taking picture after picture until your phone tells you it has ten percent. 

“Thank you, YN,” he says. “I’ve never gotten flowers before, I love them.” His arms settle around your waist, lips pressing against yours before you have the chance to respond. 

You try anyway, mumbling against his lips that you love him. In response, Sunghoon grins, but the feeling of his cock growing hard against you is distracting, a lust-coated thorn in the side of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. With locked lips and uncertain steps, the two of you bump into corners and trip over your own feet, stumbling to his room and parting only to tear his hoodie over his head.

Breathless, you pull away, eyes trailing over him and picking up on everything, from the tremble in his hands to the lust-addled worry in his eyes. He’s nervous, you think—though it escapes you, the last word coming out like a question.

Sunghoon scoffs, his hands resting on your waist under your shirt, skin clammy against yours. “Of course, I’m nervous.” 

“You don’t have to be.”

“I just want to be good for you.” 

“Don’t worry about that, let me take care of you, Hoon.” Your palms drag up his torso — firm abs through soft cotton, defined chest over racing heart — to rest on his shoulders. “Sit,” you say when he nods. 

He gulps, taking a seat on the end of his bed under your gentle push, eyes widening when you sink to your knees between his legs and reach for his drawstring, pulling the ends to untie the knot. 

“Wait,” Sunghoon says, breathless, scrunching up his face and dropping his head. “Let me calm down, baby. At this rate, I’ll come just seeing your hand on it.” 

You giggle, resting your head on his thigh and wrapping the drawstring around your finger.

“I’m serious, YN,” he mumbles, laughing as he takes his vest off. “I need a minute.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes are pressed shut as he tries to collect himself, lips pouty and kiss-bitten, slightly parted with ragged breaths slipping out. You wait patiently for him. He’s so pretty like this, with the crease in his brow and the pretty pink flush dusting his cheeks as his chest rises and falls. You can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch when his hand rests on top of your head, his blunt nails grazing your scalp. After a while, he seems more at ease, his eyes finding yours and he smiles shyly, telling you he’s ready now and lifting his hips from the bed to let you pull his sweats and underwear down. 

Free from the constraints of fabric, his cock slaps his stomach with a wet sound as the tip meets his skin, leaving a pearlescent streak over his abs. The sight makes your mouth water and you can’t look away. “Pretty,” you whisper.

Wrapping a hand under his tip, you swipe it with your thumb, taking time to memorise the flutter of his eyelids, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and the soft sigh he lets out. You stroke him slowly, liking the way his breath picks up as his brows knit together before you take him in your mouth. It’s a tight fit but you do your best, spurred on by the way he tugs at your hair and stutters through a holy fuck as you take as much of him as you can. 

Sunghoon goes silent, only squirming when you use your hand to stroke him near his base. Self-conscious about his lack of vocal affirmation, you look up at him through your lashes, and the pure bliss on his face is unbearably attractive. His eyes are rolled back under furrowed brows, his mouth hanging open as he throws his head back.

“Am I doing okay?” you ask, using the moment to catch your breath.

He nods, inhaling shakily and screwing his eyes shut while his hips buck up into your fist. “I’m.. You’re doing such a good job, baby, so good.”

Satisfaction courses through you from the praise, a high that dulls the ache in your jaw. Still watching him, you massage his balls in your palm, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his tip when he whines. You tongue at his slit until he thrusts back into your mouth, tip hitting your throat, and he gasps when you gag, his arm coming up to cover his eyes. A belated apology slips from his lips, mumbled as he strokes your hair with a shaking hand and goes quiet again. When you speed up, his breath stutters, the muscles in his thighs contracting around your head as you suck and lick and drool on his cock. 

A moan of your name, and his hand holding your hand down, are the only warnings you get before Sunghoon comes, spilling his load right down your throat. Whining, his hips buck up against your face, pushing further and further until he falls back onto the mattress.

Your throat is hoarse and aches while you use the back of your hand to wipe at your lips, enjoying what’s left of his taste on your tongue. Deep red tints his neck and chest, a pretty flush gleaming under the sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s mesmerising, as he tries for air through swollen lips and looks up at you through squinted eyes. He reaches for you, cute grabby hands tugging your shirt and pulling you down so you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest. 

“You’re amazing, baby, so good for me,” Sunghoon whispers, eyes fluttering shut as you drag your nails over his torso, feeling the subtle heave of the slick, sculpted muscle over his stomach and chest. 

Pride heats your chest, satisfaction rolling over you like a wave. “Really?”

He hums in affirmation, nodding his head. 

“You were so quiet, I couldn’t really tell,” you add, hungry for more praise. 

“The walls are so thin in here, I just got used to being quiet,” Sunghoon says, frowning. Hand meeting your chin, he tips your head up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and mumbling, “I’m sorry. You were perfect, I swear.” 

It’s a sweet kiss. Until lips move harder and hands get lower, desperate as he thumbs the top of your leggings, palm unmoving but a dangerous heat blooms in your stomach anyway.

“Can I..” Sunghoon pinches you softly through the material, unsure eyes boring deep into yours. 

You nod. “You can.” 

Slipping under your waistband, his fingers skate across your skin dipping between your thighs. He grazes your slit, satisfaction clear in the groan he lets out as he feels the wetness there, pulling it over the length of your slit to cover your clit. Your breath hitches, a strangled gasp, pleasure and surprise meeting in your throat under the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the gentle sting of his finger pushing into you. 

What Sunghoon lacks in experience, he makes up for with the sheer length and thickness of his fingers. It’s almost jarring, it’s enough to force your eyes closed and bring a sigh rumbling out of you, ache and relief settling between your legs, where he curls a finger against your walls and drags slow circles over your clit. 

“Can you take these off, baby?” he asks, hand away to touch your leggings. 

You don’t waste a second, sitting up to pull them off, throwing them and your underwear across the room. Sunghoon licks his lips, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 

“And this? If you want..” 

You nod, pulling it off immediately to let it join the rest of your clothes in a heap on the floor. The way he gulps is a confidence boost, his dilated pupils taking in every inch of your body, though his gaze always pulls back to your bra—white and lacy, thin enough for your nipples to push through the fabric and Sunghoon can’t seem to get enough, though he waits until you’re lying down again to touch you. 

Sunghoon props himself up on his elbow, leaning over you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, dragging a finger over the lace at the top of your bra, toying with the material and the little bow sitting between your breasts. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “So beautiful,” he repeats. 

Hiding your face in his chest, you mumble, “Thank you,” into his skin while trying to ignore the heat spreading over your body wherever he touches you. His hand trails from your arm to your waist, resting on your hips to slip over your ass for a beat, where he grabs and squeezes the flesh there before coming back around to slot between your legs—you lift one of them, resting it over his body, and he’s smiling sweetly when you look up at him.

Sunghoon’s movements are unchanging, though the sensation is heightened by the unbridled desire in his lidded eyes that urges white heat to lick over every inch of your skin—this time he pushes two fingers into you.

It doesn’t get better than this, you think. But it does, quickly. 

Leaning over you, his eyes flick across your face, one feature at a time as he chews on his lip. Reaching up, you push some of his hair from his face, holding it back and saying, “Relax, baby.” 

“Don’t want to hurt you.”

Moving your hand, you blink when his hair flops back over his forehead, tickling your eyelashes. His eyes are focused now, staring straight down into yours, want and worry flashing behind them. 

“You won’t, I promise,” you say, locking your pinky with his, feeling relieved when he smiles.

Sunghoon pushes in slowly, his name slipping from your lips when he exhales shakily, head falling forward. The sting, the pleasure, make it hard to breathe, molten desire taking hold of your lungs as he carves out a place for himself as far as you’ll take him, all the way to the hilt as slow as he can manage. 

A moan tears out of him, lewd and whiny as his hair tickles your collarbone, head falling into the crook of your neck. His skin is hot and damp against yours, his breath burning your shoulder as he tries to calm down. It’s difficult to register much else, tethered only by the sound of his voice when he asks, “Am I hurting you?” 

“Hoon,” you whisper. 

“Can you look at me, baby?” He lifts his head, resting a hand on your cheek. You blink your eyes open, gaze locking with his, where concern pushes through his desire. “Am I hurting you?” he asks again. “Are you okay?” 

You nod. “I’m okay, just..” You sigh. “Full. Need a minute.” 

Sunghoon kisses you, lips moving gently with yours, passing breathy whines between your mouths until you feel yourself relaxing. Pulling his plush bottom lip between yours, you suck on it, nodding. “Want you to move, baby,” you mumble. 

He scans your face, eyes meeting yours as he pulls his hips back. He’s slow, so slow with his thrusts that your belly turns with want, your fingernails sink into the taut skin of his back, and jagged sobs fall out of you with each drag of his cock along your walls. 

Everywhere his skin touches yours is set ablaze with scorching heat, goosebumps pushing past the surface as his breath fans your neck and his sharp teeth graze your skin. He bites hard enough to sting, and you wince as his tongue flicks over your bitten flesh to soothe you.

You were so worked up earlier, writhing against the sheets and coming undone in his palm, so bliss quickly pushes through the ache between your legs. “Good, Hoon, feels so good,” you manage, struggling to convey how perfect it is.

“Just want to make you feel good.” His words melt into each other, vowels soft and elongated as they curl around each other. He’s working up a steady rhythm, his tip consistently nudging you where you need it—the spot that makes the room blur around you. “That’s all I want.” 

Before long, the knot in your stomach pulls you up from the mattress, arching your back towards the ceiling. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest—it’s the closest you’ve ever felt to someone else, the closest you’ve ever been. The thought alone knocks the wind out of you, and his persistent whining does nothing to help.

Your want and adoration for Sunghoon run bone-deep, inching up your spine and creeping over your shoulders, intertwined with an all-consuming pleasure that turns the heat in your stomach molten as a shudder zips through you. Even though you can’t find the words to let him know, he lifts your hips from the bed to fuck you deeper, harder, into the mattress until shaky orgasms pull both of you under. 

You let him fall into you, fingers curling around his hair, whispering I love you into the skin of his neck as he comes, most of his weight on top of you while you catch your breath, relishing in the fullness you feel as the last waves of your high pull back. You stay like this for as long as he needs, his head coming up from the crook of your neck to smile at you before pressing his lips to yours. A sleepy haze fills the room around you, tongue swiping tongue as you giggle happily into his mouth. 

After a while, he gets up, tying the condom to throw it away and comes back with his shirt. He uses it to clean up—gentle between your legs, pressing kisses to your calves while he does. Sunghoon’s tenderness wraps around your heart, and love clouds your vision, forming a blurry trail that follows all of his movements, glowing like something from a dream, ethereal, an apparition. 

The bed dips beside you, his arms around you, pulling you in so his chin rests on your head. You push your cheek into his chest, hoping the two of you will meld into one—the thought makes you warm all over, a fuzziness that reaches every part of your body while he presses kisses into your hair, rubbing your back. 

“I love you,” he says, voice as soft as the rest of him. “I’m glad I exist.”

mama park: Hi lovely 😍 missing you lots, wondering when you’ll be home for Xmas………..love ma

Sunghoon stirs, nose scrunching as he snores softly into the quiet of a winter morning. His chest rises and falls steadily under your head and he doesn’t move when you sit up. The lamp on his desk is still on — neither of you could be bothered getting up to turn it off last night — and under its dim glow, you admire him. Perfect lips gently curved—long lashes kissing the skin under his eyes. 

Love hits you from all angles, warmth all over from head to toe despite the chill in Sunghoon’s room. You can’t help but grin, leaning up to nose along the underside of his chin, his natural scent so soft yet dizzying as you nuzzle into him. He stirs again, turning his head this way and that before resting, you feel a bit bad, deciding to leave him be and text his mum back. 

you: hi mum !!! missing you sooooooo much :((( will be home asap

mama park: BTW Sunghoon told me everything. I raised such good actors LOL make sure he looks after you and keeps you happy!

you: i’m so sorry we lied to you..

you: but i’m really happy with him and he loves me a lot

you: i love him so much .. never been so sure of anyone in my life

© zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !

permanent taglist: @asahicore

[camryn-haitani]

My favorite girl

Bang Chan x Camgirl!Reader

credits to the girls in the pics^^

chan has been very frustrated, from overworking himself and sexually. with producing stray kids new album to taking care of his band mates. changbin notices that chan has been snapping a lot and very easily, so he does what every good friend does and shows chan his favorite camgirl <3

TW: SMUT, chan isn’t an idol but he’s stray kids music producer, cursing, dirty talk, subby chan, dom reader, chan is called channie multiple times, changbin jokes about sucking off chan, masturbating (both you and him), toy use (fem receiving), squirting, videoing (you video yourself), name calling (mommy, doll, darling), panty fucking, cumming on your bra

ugh i love camgirl fics 🫶🏻

pt.2 pt.3

“han, you’ve got to get this right. we’ve been at this for over 30 minutes.” chan pinches the bridge of his nose. of course, han feels horrible that he can’t reach the pitch, but he burys his feelings and puts on a smile. “you got it, captain.” he salutes.

after a few more attempts, han finally reaches his right pitch which causes him to have a lil celebration. chan, however, has hours of more work to do while the others are free to do whatever their heart desires. binnie sees that he’s stuck here for hours on end with no breaks and his stomach only filled with monster energy drinks, so he stays with chan to help with the seemingly endless amount of work.

the studio is dead silent only filled with the clicks of computer mouse’s, keyboard clacks every so often and phone vibrations of their phones from text messages and other non important notifications.

*brrt* chan glances at his phone but pays no attention to what the notification was for. changbin fake gasps and puts a hand on his chest, clutching his non existent pearls. he pushes chans chair a lil rough to get his attention. “hm?” chan doesn’t even look up from his monitor. “how dare you not read my message.” binnie acts hurt. “dude, you’re right next to me. why did you text me?” he says

changbin sighs and motions his eyes to the camera the studio office has. of course it’s for safety reasons but chan thinks it’s stupid. it’s a private office space, why need a camera? chan rolls his eyes and pick up his phone.

changbinnie: dude are you doin ok?

Me: not one bit my guy

Me: stress is getting to me

changbinnie: would you like some help?

chan slowly looks up at binnie with this weirded out look. binnie looks confused until he reread the message he sent. his eyes widened when he realized what it sounded like he was saying.

changbinnie: DAWG NO NOT LIKE THAT

changbinnie: IM NKT OFFERING TO SUCK YOU OFF

Me: you sure made it sound like you were 🤨

changbinnie: i mean…👀👀

changbinnie: I’M JOKING

Me: uh huh sure you are

changbinnie: ANYWAY

changbinnie: what i’m saying is do you want me to send you a link that helps me when i’m stressed

chan looks back up at changbin with skeptical eyes, wondering what the hell he’s talking about. binnie raises his eyebrows and giving a ‘do you want it or not’ look. chan thinks about his decision for a couple seconds before responding

Me: gimme the link

changbinnie: i knew you’d say yes, which is why it’s already copied on my keyboard

changbinnie: ww.y/nnie.cam

Me: what is this

changbinnie: don’t open it now, wait until you’re in your room

Me: if this gives me a virus, i’m beating your ass

changbinnie: 😮

changbinnie: go home and i’ll finish the rest

chan looks at him mouthing ‘are you sure?’ as changbin nods. “trust me, bro. you’re gonna wanna watch it.” binnie reassures. chan packs up his stuff and heads out.

the entire drive home, his head filled with thoughts of ‘what if this doesn’t work?’ ‘what am i gonna do?’ ‘if he gives my phone a virus i swear to god.’

he arrives home and sets all of his stuff down. the excitement mixed with nervousness fills his stomach. he scrolls back through his and binnies messages to find the link. he sets his phone on his nightstand and lays down on his bed. chan takes a couple breaths to calm his nerves and finally clicks on your link.

his eyes feast on your swollen clit, puffy and red from your previous orgasms. sweet and delicious moans spill from your lips, dark and purple from your lipstick, a black bullet vibrator pressed against your overstimulated hole, pushing in and out ever so slowly.

chans cock is painfully pressed against his jeans. he quickly unbuttons them and pushes them down to his lower thighs, palming his achy cock through his underwear. he moves his palm the same pace with your vibrator. his fingers fumble with his keyboard, shaking from lust.

user8274748829 tipped $5

user8274748829: go faster

your eyes flicker to the screen when you heard the *ping* sound of the money coming in. you giggle between your moans. “only if you say please.” your eyes roll back with the thought of someone begging on their knees for you.

user8274748829 tipped $15 dollars

user8274748829: please darling

user8274748829: i need it

that comment sent you over the edge. the thought of someone groveling at your feet, willing to do whatever you wanted. your pussy clenching around nothing, wanting your viewers to have a good view as you came. your slick coating the black bullet, leaving it creamy, white, and shiny.

chans boxers long discarded in the floor, leaking tip helping him coat his cock, high pitched whines fall from his pink and pretty lips. his orgasm crashing down on him, thighs clenching, head thrown back, and his hand furiously fisting his cock.

out of breath, you find your last bit of energy to say your goodbyes until next stream. your cute hands waving your finger bye bye.

chans screen displayed a “see you next time” screen with your previously streamed videos, and of course he was going to binge watch every. single. one. of them because he can’t leave his still hard and throbbing cock so pitiful and red.

he soon realized that he needed an account to see your other videos and he’s never been so quick to sign up for anything but this.

after his lil binge session, he grabs tissues and wipes up the puddles of his cum from his thighs, stomach, and even his chest. chan grabs his phone again and opens messages.

Me: thank you so much bro

changbinnie: what’d i tell you man

changbinnie: she’s an absolute angel

changbinnie: and an even prettier pussy

Me: can’t lie about that

chan single handedly thinks you’ve ruined all other women for him. he can’t get enough of you. your voice, calling him a good boy, your hands, the way they cutely held your dildo as you punish your cunt with it, your eyes, how they look into the camera feeling as if you were looking directly into chans own eyes. he can’t get enough of you, he needs to feel you, to hear you, to see you touch him, pump his cock, fuck your gorgeous pussy. even if this is the first time he’s ever seeing you, he desperately needs you.

over the span of a few weeks, chan has joined every live, tipped ridiculous amount of money, and has even won a couple prizes for being first in your little contests. he has your panties from the first ever live he joined to your favorite bra that he cums on just about every other day.

this particular livestream would change chans world.

as soon as your notification popped upon his phone, he jumped up from the couch of the practice studio and runs home, leaving the members confused as changbin gives him a knowing look when he runs out the door.

you start off by holding a poll to see what your viewers want to see this time. you know your viewers by now and of course you put their favorite option on there which was ‘fucking my biggest dildo with a vibrator to my clit<3’. your viewers loved to see you squirm and writhing with pleasure.

you already knew which option was going to win so you went ahead and pulled your dildo out and started to apply lube to the tip, letting the globs roll down the shaft. as you wait for your vibrator to charge since you forgot to charge it, you start to prep yourself. pulling your panties up creating friction on your clit as you rub between your panties. just thinking about the stretch of your biggest dildo, it makes you drip with excitement.

chan is already stiff in his sweats when he practically pounces on his bed and rips them off. his eyes focusing the way your pussy tightens. he no longer fumbles with his keyboard to type in chat because he’s done it so many times.

channieroo tipped $170!

channieroo: god i’ve missed you all day doll

you love seeing his name pop up in your chat. he’s your favorite after all. ever since he changed his user to channieroo, you knew it was him when he said please for the first time. he’s not your favorite because of the large amount of money he gives you, no no no. he’s your favorite because no one’s ever praised you like channie does.

“hi channie, i’ve missed you more. always loo-… looking for your name.” you stutter when you realize that your favorite viewer is here and has a full display of your dripping pussy.

chan moans with delight when you call him out. he feels so special when you call him ‘channie’. your panties that he won in that contest is tangled around his base, making it seem like your pretty pussy is wrapped around his cock.

the beeping of your vibrator brings you back from your lust covered mind. you quickly grab it as you spread the drops of lube on your silicone cock.

you know this is wrong but you imagine it was channies cock instead of it being a silicone one. you’ve never seen him before but you let your imagination run wild with how he looks.

you swipe a drop of lube and spread it on you pussy lips and quivering hole. chans eyes locked on to you as you take you panties off and line yourself up with the bulbous tip of your dildo. chan creates a fist and simulates as if your cunt was lowering down onto his tip. you both sigh of relief as the feelings of being stretched out and wrapping his hand tightly around his cock, thinking it was each other instead of doing it y’all’s selves.

you stop going down when you’re feeling so so full, but then you hear that sound.

channieroo tipped $200!

channieroo: you can take it mommy

channieroo: please sink down on that cock for me

the tip kissing your cervix so roughly and so harshly but channies words soothe that pain. you vigorously nod your head as your moans continue to pitch up the further you make the dildo disappear inside you.

chan teases his tip with swipes of his thumb, rolling out the beads of his pre-cum over his tip. you grab your favorite vibe and press it to your clit, trying to make it easier to take your dildo.

“chan-.. chat… how pretty do i look right now?” you bat your eyelashes as your eyes gloss with tears. the overwhelming sounds of *pings* as your chat sends you loads of money and praises of how pretty you are but you’re only looking for a certain one.

chan thought his ears were deceiving him. ‘was she about to say my name?’ his heart pounds in his ears. he gets excited but then it goes away. ‘i was probably hearing things…’ he thought to himself.

it’s been a couple minutes and the notifications went down but they’re still coming in. you don’t see channie name and it makes you sad.

channieroo tipped $800!

channieroo: mommy you look so gorgeous

channieroo: sound so lovely, please keep going

channieroo: i’m so close mommy

your heart swells with the text on your screen. ‘that’s the biggest he’s ever donated’ you’re surprised. his words encourage you to keep sinking down. with the help of the vibrator, you finally reach the base of your pretty purple cock. it takes you a couple minutes to regain yourself to start bouncing.

channieroo tipped $950!

channieroo: come on mommy

channieroo: you’re taking it so well

channieroo: you can do it mommy please

your eyes roll at the thought of bouncing on channies cock. ‘i bet it’s so pretty and pink’ you say to yourself.

chans fisting his cock so angrily, waiting for you to start moving and hear your delicious moans. he sees you lift yourself up and drop back down to the base. “yes mommy. yes yes yes yes keep going. you feel so good.” he tells himself. he wishes it were you, god you’d look so beautiful above him, tits jumping up and down with every move. god he could cum right now, but he’s patient and obedient, so he waits for you.

with the constant pressure of your vibe and the fat tip of your dildo kissing your cervix, you’re not going to last long. you’re lovely eyes stare right into the camera, “chat… can i cum..? please, i’ve been such a good girl.”

once again, the money starts flowing in and then he sends a chat.

channieroo tipped $1,000!

channieroo: cum with me mommy

channieroo: wanna feel you wrapped around me

channieroo: wanna fill you up

channieroo: please

that’s what does it. the image of chan fucking into your pussy as he called you mommy has you clench so tightly that you think you’ll tear your toy.

chan chases his orgasm with chants of ‘mommy please’ string from his lips. both of your breathing is rugged and shaky. your head falling low with hair covering your face.

you regain your composure and lift your head back up. “thank… you… for coming to…. todays stream.” you pause. you weakly wave bye bye and end stream.

chan looks at the ceiling, baffled, still thinking you said his name. what snaps him out of his trance was the *brrt* of his phone. he picks it up and immediately almost drops it.

y/nnie: hi channieroo <3

[understandableparadox]

a comprehensive list of everything wrong with hazbin hotel.

quick note before i lose myself in madness, my standards for helluvaboss are non existent because its a free show on youtube. also i kinda like helluvaboss and i will indulge in any bias i damn well please.

oh and spoilers. i guess.

the greater narrative of the entire season is "White lady civilize inner city hoodlum". ex: The blind side. rich girl, affluent family yadda yadda.

the story is set up to be like amphibia, owl house, svtfoe, steven universe, that being starting as something episodic then transforming into story driven narrative. why? because we know the benefits and drawbacks, episodic starts allows us to wander the world, it allows us to understand the dynamics, we are not forced to reckon with anything because there is no deadline. characters are allowed to bloom and shine and the audience can actually get attached.

the source material is Vary Clearly formed from remnants of something out of a middle school edgelord narrative. the usage of transformation, the big spooky grins, the "and then i smile as my eyes glow and-"-isms which in most cases i don't mind because in some instances but in a vary Particular case its astoundingly annoying and that annoyance is like a mold, shit spreads quick.

the color Red. as a lover of homestuck cherubs and karkat and aradia, as someone who fucking loves the color red, it is so painful to say but holy shit tone it the fuck down, i know its hell but their are so many other colors that you can use, its everywhere, the streets, the air, the windows, the screens, the characters, i know the pride ring is represented with red but change up the palates every so often for backgrounds

the rush, this ties into the second point made but i think the story itself is rushed. we know everything way to early. i know way to much and it makes it hard to care about anything because im still trying to digest the last chunk of info. "oh ok, so they clear out hell once a year. oh hell has a heaven embassy? ok. oh that adam the angel, i though he wou- oh its every 6 months now. wait the exterminators die a lot? then why is everyone sca- people in hell already have weapons that can kill angels? w- oh we are in heaven now, ok ma- no one in heaven except for the elites know the exterminations occur? how do-" and its that, just this incessant rush to explain everything to you. notably that's just the god damn spark notes, we need to know everything about the characters now, every single bit of their story, their insecurities, what charlie needs to fix, how she can fix them, the major bad guys, everything. you are never allowed to dwell on a character because we need to rush towards something else. it almost feels like this should have been like... season three, it would have been a fantastic season three if you dropped the introductions honestly.

the concept of redemption. for a story of redemption to work you need to look at three things. What is there crime, Do they want to change, What is preventing them from changeing? there is only one single character that has a notable path of redemption, angel dust, but if you look through their story it feels off. What Exactly is he guilty of? he has sex, does drugs and drinks. his apparent nymphomania is tied to his sad backstory as someone forced into the sex industry so how is that their fault? then if you think about it you start to spiral and notice "hey why are most of these people in hell?" like sure some of them may deserve punishment but then you see the fucking dichotomy and its like "I was a inventor in england and died of the fucking plague, i may have made evil little contraption hoohoohoo" vs "I was a cannibal, a full on cannibal, i fucking killed people and ate them and then someone shot me". ONE OF THESE THINGS ARE A LITTLE MORE FUCKING EXTREME. i'm going to go fucking nuts, the thing they went to heaven with when presenting a case to angels on the idea that redemption and becoming a better person is actually real was angel dust not drinking at a party and not having sex with consenting adults and i want to go fucking insane. WHAT IS THE CRIME, WHO IS THROWING THE BOOK, WHAT DOES THE BOOK INTEL, ARE WE ON GOOD PLACE RULES?! half the cast dont Need redemption they need fucking help, and the other half of the cast do need redemption but they do not seek it making the point moot. sir pentious acts like he has the brain of a hyper intelligent toddler tossing about toys, its almost like he did his one bad thing of spying and then got caught, sank his little diddy about forgiveness and second chances and become a null point through out the rest of the series, sure their was Some weight to him sacrificing himself, he was a decently funny character and he had good moments but him popping up in heaven felt like a fore gone conclusion, he didn't deserve to be in hell so why do i care that he is suddenly in heaven? because its working on the concept the good place already made. no one actually deserves eternal punishment they just need help processing what makes them a dick, but instead of looking at all the parts of the afterlife that make it bad, inefficient and then creating and trying ideas to see if it work instead over a few seasons, we crash dick first into all the major plot points in regards to that and say "tada, we fixed it.".

having a sub-plot about sexual assault and its victims then having multiple sexual assault related gag ruins your point.

don't make a bunch of stereotypically jewish characters into cannibals, that was a big thing, really shouldn't have to say it.

if you are going to make a character black, make them black, you can say alastor was black but sweet seren-fucking-dippity that's not a black man.

pot meet kettle but yeah the cursing could be a little less liberal. maybe just blue hair or the pronouns, not both.

there is a very distinctive art deco/jazz aesthetic which normally i love but i feel as though it is not used to its full extent and in some cases really hurts the character design in and of itself.

this is a vary obvious bit but the story is a million times more interested in gay men then it is of lesbians, which culminates in this insane thing where the writers clearly have more talent or perhaps it would be more abt to say practice writing male gay pining then they are with lesbian pining. which i personally think is hilarious because i did not know you could min max fujoshi-ism that hard.

this next section is more to do with each character on a fundamental level, for the sake of brevity whatever there is left, i'm just doing ones with speaking roles.

13. Charlie:

(see what i mean about that red thing?)

as originally stated charlie fits rather comfortably into every white saviour narrative, though that seems to be part of her joke. though i'm not entirely sure how much of a joke it can be when its rewarded and expected to advance the plot.

her character design says nothing, it has the motif of old puppets or dolls, she wears something vaguely similar to service suits, her demonic form is just some extra horns.not to say every character needs to have their life on a clothes rack but some more snake and goat imagery would be nice

its not the chol design of charlie with snake hair, not an actual problem but its a problem to me, damn you @cholvoq for ruining my ability to look at any of the characters without wishing i was seeing your designs instead.

character wise aside from the white savoir bit, i'm having a bit of trouble understanding what the arc of the character is. she is shown to be naive, someone who doesn't understand how the world works but everytime she says something its something astoundingly clear like "people can actually get better". and its treated like someone demanded faygo in every water fountain. is the joke that the world around her to cynical or is so to naive? please pick one or the other.

now if you know me, you know i fucking hate overpowered characters with a blinding passion, one that would set alit the god damn abyss but in this one special instance, i feel like its warranted, she's the direct descendant of fucking God, she can swing her weight around a little, i mean god damn. she in so many instances looks like shes cowering so often, why would the daughter of lucifer get backed down by some rando pimp? why wasn't she the one to fight adam? sure you can say she is young but how young? her parents were there since pre-abrahamic times, most of the characters showed up in hell in the 1900s, some of them showed up in the 1600s, how old is charlie??? how long does it take for her to learn how to be strong? The story does not suffer if charlie is strong and knows she is strong. it can easily be a case of "i don't believe in violence to a weird degree". fit it into her apparent naivety about the world to believe that violence is never the answer even when dealing with a being that is unilaterally horrible and abusive and monstrous.

she ga- no im kidding, i do think her romance was waysided a bit, it would have been fine to have more scenes of them togather and in love you know?

14. Vaggie

why did you name the lesbian vaggie...? Don't do that maybe?

I like how her design is almost moth like but again i feel as though you could have amped that up.

she feels as though someone tried to combine undyne and pearl from steven universe, same story beats and design elements. it makes it hard to really distinguish her as a character.

i honestly dont have much to say about her. she is fine.

christ kill me, lets just get the big one out of the way

15. Alastor.

God Damn

where to start.

"alastor is mixed race" mixed with fucking what? concrete? there is not a single black feature on that creature, now im not saying you have to make him a png of louie armstrong but it wouldn't hurt to add a curl to the hair maybe? make it a tiny bit more wavy? Something? a crumb i beg of thee?

his symbolism is all over the god damn place, native american monsters (you know the one), voodoo, radio, puppets, stitches, circuses??? and Tentacles i guess. two of those are from closed religions so if you dumped those you would actually get a more concise character focused on the concept of vox populi as a means of societal control and influence as we see in his first song. but again that gets drowned out repeatedly by all the other random toy box bits shoved into him.

tumblr sexy man bait

he serves no purpose in the story. he does spooky stuff, pretends to do things and then goes back to sitting around looking spooky. i understand that his motif is supposed to be aloof mastermind but maybe have him do more mastermindy things? if you remove most of alastors scenes, bar the songs, it doesn't change all to much. husk and nifity can still be at the hotel, they could be looking for outs in their contracts the same as angel dust. hell it even helps with the one scene where he dose some spooky shit, asking charlie for a favor in exchange for his help in the fight with the angels instead of asking him about angel weapons which should have remained a strictly vaggie scene.

his presence in a way delegitimize the story, as I noted in in the section regarding redemption, the three parts are "what is the crime, do they want to change, what is stopping them?" and alastor kinda just spits in the face of that. he is a serial killer cannibal that has no qualms about how evil he is and apparently must continue being evil due to being under the control under someone legitimately called the Root Of All Evil. show him take a slight interest in the idea that maybe shit for him could be better, make him Want Change at the bare fucking minimum or dont have him at the hotel.

his stupid little fucking horns, big shot the troll liker wants characters to have big fucking horns, make them noticeable or dont have them.

he looks more like a dog boy, which could have been an interesting thing with the collar motif but fuck me i guess.

personal pet peeve but i fucking hate characters that have a million plus powers, stick to a set number, be creative.

im getting more petty as i go on so last point: he could have been in less episodes, he didn't need to be in dad beat dad, that should have been just a lucifer and charlie episode. inverse the red and black and i think he would be fucking great color wise, his body type is the same as ten different characters, he isnt radio enough, aside from the voice and and staff if you told me he was the fucking Cat Demon i would have been just as convinced.

16. Angel Dust

what the fuck, gay spider? its hard to actully articulate all the thoughts i have on angel dust, not in the sense that he is a deeply thought provoking character but in the fact that there is not much meat on the bones.

all around i think angel dust is kinda middling. he has a decent enough romance with husk, he has a decent enough story line that revolves around battling addiction and removing yourself from an abuser (which the story tries to brand as "Redemption???")

I dont like that most of his jokes would qualify as sexual harassment, i don't mind him being sexual as a character but continuing on when clearly someone doesn't like the jokes hurts the character.

not a critique but he is pink, which honestly ill fucking take at point, as long as its not more fucking red.

i think his design is an improvement over some of the old vivzie designs but it feels like it could have done with going a few more rounds of design changes.

same thing with alastor, charlie and vaggie, there is not enough of the animal that they are supposed to be. You could have told me angel dust was a fucking bee or something and i would have had to believe you. nothing about angel dust initially says spider, hell he dosent even have enough limps to be a fucking spider.

17. Carmilla carmine

are... are you supposed to be a rabbit...?

Big Yoai Hands

ballet fighting style, could have been cool, wish she fought more like sanji or chun li.

A single mom that works to hard, who loves her kids and never stops-

her song was decent, not great, decent. it feels as though the actress has experience singing but not in the way they tried to make her sing during her two songs. they have a obvious mexican influence, honestly just let her sing in spanish in the english dub. go listen to the spanish dub, "out for love" sounds great in spanish.

i wish i had more thoughts on them, fucking rip.

18. cherri bomb

that's not a punk aesthetic that's 2010s alt

decent character, they showed up once or twice i guess, no real thoughts.

19. egg boiz

absolutely perfect, i have not notes on them, these are perfect creatures.

20. Emily

im so fucking happy to see a singular blue character

does the naive dreamer bit better then charlie

We really shouldnt have seen her until the end of season two or middle of three.

good contrast with the other angels on screen.

Wait she is supposed to be black??? Where???

21. Husk

keith david you absolute delight, Why on gods green earth did they only give you one singing part?

one of the few charecters where its clear husk is a cat, i do like the kinda... marquee design, he is a magic cat, thats neat. i still think you can toss the wings and eyebrows and still have just as good of a charecter.

has a deeply intresting story of someone who died as a nobody, became the fat cat of hell and then was forced back to the bottom by their own vices, not used at fucking all.

huge potential, little pay off.

22. lillith

I know nothing about her except she ditched her kid and husband to vacation in heaven and i think thats kinda funny.

alot of werid things floating around her, again she shouldnt have been shown in the show at all until next season.

23. lucifer morningstar

no notes, funniest charecter, did a song based on friend like me.

few notes: i do like the idea that the immortal symbol of pride is a constant emotional wreckage constantly seeking approval through grand showmanship and manic energy that threatens to take over anything they touch.

would have liked more snake stuff on him, maybe some more goat things like horns.

that is such a stupid fucking staff lmao.

24. Adam.

alex brightman you absolute fucking delight, you should have had more songs.

I wish his design was more focused on the idea of him being a glam rock wash up

I fucking hate his mask

We shouldn't have met him until the end of the season.

25. Niffty

again she is supposed to be a bug or cockroach but nothing about her points to that.

token straight

keeps rocketing back and fourth between sexulization and infantilization

you had kimiko glenn but didnt give her a single fucking song?

26. Sir Pentious

the secret season one redeemed.

the pilot version of him felt more like someone that could do a season one redemption arc, a megalomaniac constantly attempting territory grabs, there is something you can work with, actual character flaws to work through.

essentially a child after the first episode.

actually a snake which i appreciate.

no where near steampunky enough.

27. the villians of the show dont make much sense, each one feels like they should be season long deals on their own instead of a bunch of team rocket esque idiots that show up on occasion, do a bad thing and then leave.

28. Valentino

gOD THERE IS SO MUCH RED

only a moth some of the time.

sucks as a villain, maybe they need more screen time to show why they suck in a more substantial way aside from being told that he sucks.

it is interesting that angel dust is only under his magical control when in the studio, it shows that angel dust has to make a conscious choice to return, which in turn can be made to show how abusers can draw back their victims. I do not think it was done well in this circumstance as it shows him to be cartoonishly evil, constantly flying back and fourth between sweet and utter psycho, there is no actual reason for angel dust to ever actually go back to the studio, he just does so every so often.

29. Vox

legit who cares? the only thing about him that is in any way substantial is all the dope ass fan art we get.

propaganda machine angle that is not explored at all, just hinted at. no actual barring on the story whatsoever.

why didn't he try to do the same shit as alastor by the way? he knows its bad if alastor gets in good with charlie so shouldn't it be a ass kissing race?

same body shape as literally every other male character.

tumblr sexy man version of pyrocynicals fursona.

30. Valvette

the actual poster child of the shows huge problem of "Show me, don't tell me".

apparently the glue that holds the villains together. never shown.

apparently the one that makes the love potions that valentino is famous for. had to learn about that in the fuckin wiki trivias

we know so much about her from things outside of the show.

was there to call carmilla a coward, that's her plot contribution. she shows up every now and again but its never anything substantial and serves to more around take up run time for people We Don't Need To Know Yet.

im not trying to be mean, animation is animation, we need smaller studios to have success in the industry so that other indie studios can have that success, felling a tree makes it easier for others to follow. showing that its possible to number brain rot exacs helps all animators.

but this show has so much bullshit attached to it, it has so much fucking potential that it fries my brain with unyielding frustration.

this took a bit to write, im tired, thanks for reading.

[riemanifests]

Stop being realistic.

Warning: this is going to be a long and semi harsh post.

“I have to be realistic, there’s no way my Sp is going to love me now. they just told me they want nothing to do with me and blocked me”.

”I have to be realistic, thousands of people applied who are probably better than me. there’s no way i’m going to get in”.

“I have to be realistic, i’ve had short hair since i was born. there’s no way im going to be able to manifest having long hair”.

do you know what that sounds like to me? that sounds like you’re going to get nothing by being that way. okay so you gave into the limitations and rules of reality, what now? you’re being “realistic” so you’ve made up your mind that you cant have what you want simply because it’s not realistic. oh please are you kidding me? why even get into the law of assumption in the first place if you’re not even going to be open minded and willing to break off from the stupid limitations of reality. cmon now. you clearly don’t want to do that so babes… let's stop doing that.

┈┈ 　⊹　reality doesn’t care about you.

reality isn't going around to see if Jane is worthy enough of her desire and if she can have it based off her past, no. reality is going around and reflecting exactly what Jane is giving it to reflect, and if she’s persisting in the idea of having her desire, then great! Jane is going to see her desire reflected by reality. reality isn’t going around to see if you’re doing your “duty” of being confined in a stupid box where you’re unhappy that wasn’t even created by you, it was created by other people, stupid societal expectations, and fucking limiting beliefs. the only thing reality should be to you is a loyal mirror. so stop placing it on the pedestal stop giving it the power that belongs to you and start taking control of reality. reality doesn’t care if you had brown hair just a second ago or if your sp just cut you off, it only cares about what you're giving it, so give it what you want given back to you. if you are deciding that things have changed, then reality is going to change. that is the fucking law.

┈┈ 　⊹ ⠀do you want to be realistic or be happy?

think about it. is being realistic going to get you what you want? make you happy? no? so then why the fuck are you doing it? why are you disallowing yourself of the very thing you want just because of stupid non-existent rules set by society? no one is on your shoulder each second looking at you and judging you to make sure that you’re being realistic and oh making sure that you're not even daring to think that you can actually have what you want, because that goes against your past that goes against what life has decided for you, as if anything else but you can fucking decide the rules for you. only you decide your limitations, so decide you have none! stop kidding yourself, stop guilting yourself, and stop shrinking yourself just to feel like you’re doing right by reality and that you’re being a good person for "realizing the truth". which btw? is just you blocking yourself from being happy once again.

┈┈ 　⊹ ⠀you can't have it both ways.

when you come into the law of assumption, you're going to have to sacrifice some things. you're going to have to sacrifice thinking reality is already decided for you. you're going to have to sacrifice thinking there's a limit to what you can achieve. and most of all? you're going to have to sacrifice being the victim of reality. so what is it going to be? are you going to drop the realistic thinking and give yourself what you want, or give into the illusion again and stay unhappy? the choice is yours.

┈┈ 　⊹ ⠀you are an unlimited being.

all realities, possibilities, and versions of yourself exist within you. even versions of other people as well. everything lies within you, and so does a God. there is a God within you and i want you to think about what that means. that means infinite. that means unlimited. you are more than just a human being, you're an unlimited being who has every single possibility at their hands, but you want to give someone who doesn't even know their power a chance to tell you that you can't do shit? seriously? you have to understand that not everyone has this information or has the willingness and capacity to receive it. so instead of letting those people tell you what you can and cannot do in your reality, decide that for yourself. use your power. ignore the limited beings. cause you know who tf you are, and it's not your problem that other people don't.

┈┈ 　⊹ ⠀you set the rules of reality.

this is your reality. your playground. your fucking mirror. so make it be how you want it to be. stop giving into how shitty reality looks right now, how many circumstances you have right now, or even what Jess said to you the other day about how that’s never going to happen and will never work out, well guess what? fuck Jess because this is your reality and reality is your mirror, so remind yourself of who the fuck you are and what you came here to do, which is change your reality. so have the audacity to manifest the life you want to live, manifest a life where those stupid limits don't apply to you, and manifest a damn life where nothing is unachievable for you. cause that is what you deserve. that is who you are. and that is something you can do.

So now i want you to ask yourself this. Do you want to be realistic, or do you want to be happy? The choice is yours, so make it.

[pinkaditty]

Love Type (Tokyo Debunker Ghouls)

hey me again i said id be back quickly and i did mean that.

this will have been queued for an hour at least by the time u see it. rn as i type this im debating using the taglist. i think ill use it. sorry 4 so many tags in a day, i bet ur sick of me

anyways! i had this idea while i was writing the perv!sho x reader thing. i thought about the differences between the ghouls and how they all love differently. at first i wasn't gonna post this, but then my brain wouldn't stop thinking about it so now this exists. its not meant 2 be a useful organization tool 4 the ghouls it's just something i had a little bit of fun with.

note that not every single ghoul is going 2 match the category he was put in exactly. for example, ghouls like luca, yuri, romeo, and even haru could probably fit in more than one of these categories, but i put them in the ones i thought suited them best. wanna discuss? leave a comment or an ask! ill be happy 2 talk it through with u <3.

yes i DID put in hcs about how long they last sexually. no i do NOT regret it. im speaking my TRUTH!!!

The Lover Boys:

Haku, Haru, Sho, Luca, Zenji, Rui

do not last long but recover fast and can go multiple rounds 

prefer switching up their roles (dom→sub, sub→dom) more often 

they love like it's an incurable chronic terminal disease. it's never leaving them.

all-consuming, takes up most their time, they're drowning and falling and losing their minds 4 u

You like to tell yourself you're prepared, but is that ever really true? No, not really. The way his voice drops several octaves into a low purr just from seeing you should've been warning enough as to what you were in for. You didn't expect the all-consuming, suffocating love he'd trapped you in, but were you really complaining? As far as you were concerned, you were also convinced it was meant to be, and if he was a little crazy about it, that was a small price to pay. Of course, you eventually learn why he's crazy about it - he's never had it. The truest feeling of connection, the ability to just let it all go in one person's presence, the time to really feel another person. It's eluded him for so long, and now he has it, but it's threatened by a curse, something he cannot control. It's frightening, and though he tried not to, he ultimately buries you in his love, trying to find a way to make it last. It's okay though. As the threat wanes, so will his suffocation. The love will always be intense, but he will learn how to do it right. 

The Lost Boys:

Towa, Taiga, Jiro, Ed

they last so unbelievably long u don't know how they do it

love in more subtle ways bc 2 them, true love is quiet 

they will do loud and bold professions of it, but the real love is displayed quietly 

prefer 2 stick 2 one role (either dom or sub), not super flexible 

The occasional huge flower bouquet, expensive jewelry set, or new bag were thoughtful, but mostly just for show. He reveled in the attention, the jealous stares, the sucking of teeth, the eye rolls - all of it. Because he had you, not them. But that, of course, isn't all there is to it. While he may be relatively distant in public despite the extravagant gifts, he's rather sweet and attentive in private. He hides it better than a LoverBoy, but in truth, his heart bleeds just like theirs, and he feels the need to consistently strive to win your affections. You're amongst great people, after all. How can he make sure he stands out, all the time, just for you? You understand this, of course, and you're always quick to reassure him. He will give and give and give and give, in so many ways. You almost think he's bottomless, what with how much of himself he offers up, nearly all the time. But it's alright. He will learn to remind himself that he need not give himself away to bits simply to keep your attention, especially when he's already the apple of your eye. The gifts never stop though, and neither does his obvious enjoyment in the attention it gets you. He will never stop showing you off.

The Tragic Boys:

Leo, Subaru, Ren, Kaito, Yuri

love fluctuates. intense then quiet, hot then cold, all-consuming then insignificant 

very transparent ghouls with few layers. what u see is what u get.

often don't last long and take longer to recover 

a little more flexible with role changing, but do have solid preferences 

You are never, ever prepared. He's like a pendulum, swaying back and forth between endless, bountiful devotion and a cold shoulder the following day. He's not sure how to handle this love he has for you. It's unfamiliar, it's big, it's loud, it's petrifying. He's scared he'll do something wrong, and on those days when the fear eats him alive, he closes up, rejecting your presence. But then, he sees how down you are, and knows that wasn't right, so the following day he's at your beck and call. He'll do whatever you ask, just say the word and it's done, for you. His fatal flaw is that he never communicates his deep-seated fears, instead choosing to let them rumble in his gut and disrupt your relationship as a consequence. He wants you, though, and he never wants you to doubt that. He'll communicate eventually, the words spilling out before he can think much of them, apologies and desperate sobs with them. He won't shut down anymore after this, choosing to remain like an open book for you to read at any time. He will learn to hold you the right way, without clamming up nervously when you tell him he's perfect. 

The Silent Boys: 

Tohma, Romeo, Ritsu, Lyca, Alan, Jin

their love is consistent 

never changes, always with immense depth, but never readily apparent 

love is like a pretty serene waterfall with unseen strong currents capable of killing someone 

like to switch it up every now and again (mayyybe dom→sub, sub→dom yk)

last moderately. some might finish fast, some might take a while.

His attitude and demeanor towards you hardly change. He loves you, and he's serious about it, but that won't mean special treatment, extra gifts, or public displays of love. He will love you exactly as he always has, and sees nothing wrong with it. His love is in how he looks out for you, how he worries for you despite himself, how he may allow himself a small smile when you approach, or a sigh heavy laden with devotion, after you wrap your arms around him, and before he pushes you off of him. It's okay because you know how his heart beats erratically in his chest when you approach, which he's strangely good at hiding. You know how his breath hitches in his throat every time he sees you, his eyes glazing over like you're a vision to be committed to memory. You know how he treasures you, his love hidden under his vast sea of responsibilities. Peel the layers back and you'll see he's yours in all ways that matter, but he also knows he can't let that get in the way of his daily life. Once he has the time, and is no longer bearing the weight of prying eyes and overwhelming expectations, he'll build his life around you, to make sure you feel centered in his life, as he does in yours.

well if nobody really likes these at least i had fun. amen!

no blurb 2 put here except that i have a ren fic incoming soon bc my regular [🐟] anon went crazy in my inbox about that boy and his damn collarbones.

y'all have a wonderful day im so tired.

taglist: @cupcakesmoothie @aayakashii @sunskosh @despairingy-obsessed @glamorousspoon @mmy-meow @dailyvahine @diluxama @obscuarysghoulnextdoor @disassociationdive

want 2 join or be removed from the tkdb taglist? let me know!

[louisisalarrie]

I feel like one of the shittiest things as of late is how many little corners of the larrie fandom there is, and how we all aren’t together because “they broke up” or “I believe in Larry but he’s got a kid” or “I believe larry was a thing but ___ cheated on ___ because of this song lyric that I interpret” or whatever other “hot take” that is constantly posted loudly on Twitter. don’t get me wrong, im always up for a healthy and respectful debate, but everyone’s trying to create new theories and it’s exhausting. like cmon team… we’re just an easy target if we divide our already small (but strong) community into even smaller parts.

back in the day you were either an anti or a larrie, or in the far smaller world of neutrals or another pairing (back then there defs wasn’t as many folks in those categories as now). and sure, people still had some wild takes, but we’d usually talk about it no matter how ridiculous it was. we were curious. we wanted to learn and hear from each other. the support was there and it just doesn’t exist on twitter, and that’s where the vast majority of newer fans set up shop, because it’s a bigger platform than tumblr these days.

if you’re curious about more to do with larry or know people who are, bring them over. we have a million masterposts, blogs who’ve been here for years, a wealth of industry and legal knowledge. but for the love of god, make sure to be respectful of each other. this Twitter bullshit I’ve been seeing recently is disgusting

[notlhecxzsa]

I'd Marry You With Paper Rings - N.R

Summary: Natasha is many things but a person who knows comfort and care. But, with you, why does it come off naturally? As if, all her life, it is what she was trained to do—to you and only for you. She could feel it on the way home and her friends surely could hear it in the silence, but things happened. Would she still be the greatest warrior in this game of terror and save you or...?

Author's Note: Ahhhh, finally, here we are! 5k words, not proofread (im really sorryyy, i wanted to give it to you quickly since you guys have been bombarding me ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ)

Warnings: simp!natasha, soft!natasha, tooth rotting fluff, happy y/n=happy natasha, ahhh Beefy!natasha, literally the calm before the storm, Y/n having some adult... thoughts about Natasha's hands

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3rd Person's POV:

Natasha was never the one to show sympathy, maybe for her friends who treated her more like a family than her own. They are the boundary between Natasha's humanity and Natasha's out of this world characteristics of a human.

Not that Natasha would care enough if millions of people would see her as a monster—hell she doesn't even care enough about the downfall of hundreds of companies before hers while she makes it to the top.

But, even with all that, it doesn't mean that Natasha doesn't tend to show her once in a blue moon kindness. Not 'show' show, as it is often done through the dark, in the silence of her name being labeled as anonymous. Doing things like donating half of a million to different charities—giving extra when it is Christmas.

Even so, Natasha couldn't careless to hear how grateful those people are for her, already being contented when Maria would say that it was already given.

All that only for her to show such care for a girl she was forced to marry—the same girl that caught something inside her she didn't know existed. How could she? When all she's ever known is how to hold a gun? How to fight raw with her trembling body until she passed a test that no teenager should got through? How to not prioritize how she feels?

She's grown to believe that her calloused hands are never meant to hold someone so dearly. For her mouth that ended life after life to never speak with such care and mold with gentleness. For her mind that only craved for revenge and thought of unholy things to and never those comforting words that left her mouth when she spoke to you.

Never believed that her heart could ever feel things that she felt for you.

"Do you want some juice to go with that?" She analyzed you carefully, as if you would break even with just a wrong glare of a pair of eyes.

She reminded herself to make up those words that left her mouth with a certain gentleness—witnessing how you would tensed visibly when she or Maria would speak out of nowhere, especially after what happened 3 days ago.

"N-no... water's good." You spoke quietly, looking at her briefly before you focused on the food again.

Natasha stood up, going to the fridge to get the orange juice that she often sees you pouring yourself with before eating. Also pouring herself one, she brought those two tall glasses on the table, offering you a small smile that she seemed to be wearing oh so often whenever you would look at her.

"T-thank you..." She watched as a certain light sparked in your eyes, almost the same one she found herself yearning to get a glimpse of again.

Clearing her throat, Natasha was close to feeling embarrassed with how long she set her gaze on you, turning back on her food once again. "Maria bought some fresh fruits earlier, you can just get some in the fridge if you would want." She said before taking a bite of the rotisserie chicken you made.

Even with all your energy seemed to be wiped off of the face of the earth, you still managed to give her the best of your cooking and never failed to make her stomach grumbled in happiness. Natasha could swear that all the foods you make is enough to make her work non stop without being tired, but she would never tell anyone that.

Even if the foods you make are against her diet and workout routine.

But, then again, she would never ever tell a soul about that.

Natasha saw in her peripheral vision how you only nodded, a very small tight lip smile—almost invisible, stretch its way out of your face, but still, Natasha could clearly see that.

Inhaling a bunch of air quietly, Natasha shook her thoughts away and decided to eat in silence once again. "Mr. Clint and the others... when will they come here?" Natasha heard you asked quietly.

"Oh... I don't know..." Natasha answered, gazing up to your face only to notice how you shoulder deflated. "It's been so busy in the company, but I'm sure they'll come visit soon." She almost cringed with how she rushed to add that answer, but felt a wave of contentment when she saw you nodded.

Having small conversations with Natasha seemed to become easier these past few days, and you are more than happier to entertain it while it lasts. Pushing aside your shyness, taking advantage of every seconds talking with her.

Silence once again covered the atmosphere before she heard you clear your throat and started to talk. "W-when are we getting married?" A question that never left your mind ever since you got there, having no idea what no idea what will even happen.

Or how things will happen. It felt right to ask that—to talk to Natasha about the barely spoken matrimony that will be happening to the both of you, or what you thought to be happening.

Natasha stopped moving, it felt as if her blood also stopped flowing. What Yelena said came rushing inside her head, feelings and emotions came clashing with each other in just a mere split of a second.

You didn't know. You never knew.

"Uh..." Natasha started speaking, not wanting her silence to bring more questions inside your naive mind. Remembering how she sometimes treated you so low just because of the forced marriage that came upon her door. You are more of the victim than she was in this. "My parents... and yours, are still working on it." She offered you a glance, not knowing if she's trying to reassure herself you're believing her.

You slowly nodded, looking at her in the eyes. "Hmm, okay... we just... haven't really talked about it... and I- I mean, I..." You slowly looked down, as if it makes you feel embarrassed to admit what you were about to say. "I just wanted to... uhm, know more..." Looking at her through your eyelashes, the same look that makes Natasha's heart wince with something she would never dare to name what.

Natasha nodded, not knowing anymore what to say. She is a woman full of words, knowledge and everything.

Shame on her parents for giving her the only person who could bring her to her knees, but that would be something that Natasha will never let herself admit, even to herself.

She just knows that she will think of something about the case of your marriage. Something that doesn't involve disappointing you more than you might already have.

Thinking of an escape, she inhaled, remembering the question she wanted to ask ever since she watched you too long while you were gazing out in the balcony. "Would you like to get out of here?" Your gaze snapped up at her, your eyebrows raised in an adorable manner—well, Natasha thought so.

"Go...? Out?" You asked as if in disbelief.

You've never be out of this huge penthouse ever since you step a foot in here—not like you weren't also caged back in Hawaii.

"Yeah..." Natasha answered, cutting herself a piece of the chicken as if she just asked something casual. For othe first time, she was gonna take you out. Not like how she felt when she saw you longingly look out in the window. "You know... mall? or, wherever you want to go."

It made you feel giddy, having to finaly roam the place you only gaze at on the big windows and spacious balcony that Natasha has inside the penthouse. "Yes." Natasha could hear the visible high pitched tone in your voice, making her heart swell hearing a certain joy in your voice.

Looking into your eyes, you're surprised to see how a small smile could reach her green eyes. "Would you like to go out today?" Your mouth was agaped, looking at the clock.

"N-now?" You asked, hesitating. As if you're not believing what she was saying.

"Yeah, I mean, if you're in the mood. But, if you're not, I'm sure I can settle my busy schedule for you." Oh how she would do anything to spend time with you—what she would do to give you everything.

Perking up, you dismissed her offer, your hands clasping together in front of you as if you're pleading to her. "No!" Her small smile slowly stretched widely. "We can go now, Natty!" If you were both in a cartoon show now, the way her ears perked up at the nickname would be visble, almost as visble as the flush spreading from her neck up to her cheeks.

You didn't seem to mind the adorable nickname you've just given her, she thought. So, she kept it behind her thoughts, noting to deal with it later—when you're out of sight.

"Are you sure?" She said, slowly taking a bit of the food, as if it was to hide her smirk.

You head shook up and down, Natasha couls see how tight you're gripping the utensils beside your plate like a chile. How you're trying to suppress a huge smile she wished she could force out of you. "Yes... yes, Natty."

God, shame on her parents for giving her the only person who could bring her to her knees—who could make her do impossible things.

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Natasha glanced at the back of your head for the nth time, only to avert her gaze on the road. Not sure if it was because of the fear of getting caught or the new rule she made earlier. Always keep you safe.

"There's a park near at the 2nd stoplight ahead..." She started, her pointed gaze staying on the road but she could see how you turned to look at her. Did she forced herself not to gaze back into your awaiting eyes that sparkles as if she held the stars in the sky? "But, there's also a Mall a few blocks away from it with an amusement park behind it. Many options are laid out everywhere, where would you like to go?"

As she explained, her tone was surprisingly soft. Not the one she would use to her people—not even the one she would use to her friends and especially to her family.

"I-I don't... Where do you want to go?" She heard you say, as if scared to make a decision. A decision that's big. There was a certain edge in your tone, but she could hear it from the tip of your tounge.

She had seen your eyes that big ferris wheel from her balcony, always facing the way towards it as if your biggest wish is too touch it from miles away.

She turned to look you in the eyes, taking advantage of the red lights stopping the motions of the flowing cars. Your hair was down, a spectacle hanging on the arch of your nose, since you were having a headache earlier as you said, saying it just might be your visionary problems, she watched as you put it on.

"You choose, detka. I promise, I'm fine with wherever you want to go, yeah?" She said ever so gently before reaching out to pat your head, as if you were some child.

Natasha is good with so many things, really, but not when it comes to physical touch. Only knowing how to knock out people with a punch and kill with a gun.

She watched as you look down and fumbled the ends of your blue dress, that fits oh so perfectly well with your body, hugging all its curve. It took her all the will power she has to not check you out and make it weird with hwo long she was staring earlier. Only if you knew what you do to her.

She averted her gaze when her eyes catch a couple of faint bruises that seems to be healing already. It kept her awake at night wondering what your body has been through for the bruises to stay for that long.

She was surprisingly happy when she saw you wore a dress, even with the cardigan on top that you forgot to wear earlier, giving her a chance to see you. Clearly, Natasha would rather for you to take it off, but she found herself prioritizing you as her heart ached seeing you fumble the cardigan, fastening it around you.

Whatever you're comfortable with. She thought.

She caught herself staring at your lips a little too long before averting her eyes and inahling deeply, making sure she's quiet while doing so.

"How about we go to the park first? After that, we can eat at the mall and if you would like to buy something, we can do that also?" She caught in her peripheral vision how you snapped your head towards her, making her turn to you once again, hoping for time to slow down. "Then after that, we can go around the amusement park and do whatever you want?" She watched as you took in everything she said, with that same expression you always wear whenever she's talking.

The same one that makes Natasha feel so seen... and heard.

She's a woman of her words, giving people no choice but to listen, obey and watch everything that she does. But with you, it feels different.

You nodded, giving her a small shy smile before settling your hands on your lap. "I'd like that."

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Y/n's POV:

Clutching the cardigan in one hand, I hold the melting ice cream in the other that Natalia had bought me. It made me laugh thinking that she might've been reading my mind since I was just looking at the ice cream truck, with so much longingness to get a taste and she insisted on buying the both of us.

We walked side by side, letting her lead me as my eyes trailed everywhere. My heart jumps in happiness at every person I see, every structure that fascinates me, and every joyful moment I witness.

This scenery can't be seen from the balcony at the penthouse—god, how much I wish I could see it from there.

"Here..." Turning to look at her, I saw her wiping the bench with her bare hands for any invisible dirt before standing up straight. "Sit. We could see everything from here and so your feet won't get tired also." She explained, wiping her hand from the back of her pants.

I smiled, suddenly feeling giddy for some reason. She waited until I was seated, taking a seat beside me, unconsciously making me get a whiff of her expensive perfume that I grew accustomed to. I could smell it everywhere in the penthouse, making it weirdly feel more... comfortable.

"Thank you, Natalia." I mumbled, looking at her even though she just kept her gaze towards the scenery in front of us, only nodding as she ate her ice cream that is almost finished already. I haven't even eaten mine halfway!

I rummage through my small sling bag, taking out a hand sanitizer and bumping it to her biceps that are finding inside a black polo that she paired with some slacks. "Your hands are dirty, you shouldn't have wiped the seat." I murmured, catching her gaze for a moment before taking the sanitizer.

I took her ice cream so she could use both of her hands. "Oh, thanks." I heard her say almost inaudibly and she went on to sanitize her hands. "You could've gotten dirt on your dress, detka. It's light." She said, and I only shrugged, nodding as I watched her hands while licking the ice cream.

Even her hands looked so expensive. I found myself staring at it for too long, feeling something I've never felt before. I bet it would be larger than mine. The veins around it are visible, but it didn't change how... cool I see it.

"You have beautiful hands, Natalia." I blurted out, offering her a small smile as I showed my adoration.

I caught a glimpse of her throat's movement of swallowing, as her gaze snapped to mind. She didn't smile but kept her lips in a tight line and nodded a little. She's the one who put the sanitizer back in my bag before taking her ice cream as I lick mine, catching her eyes sticking to the movements I made before looking back towards the scenery in front of us.

I did the same, minding how she cleared her throat a couple of times and the way her shoulder moved as she inhaled deeply.

"Do you often go here?" I asked, and her head moved to the side, not meeting my gaze but a sign that she listened to me and is paying attention.

I watched as she shook her head. "Hmm, no. It's my first time here. I just passed by the same road on the way here very often." Narrowing my eyes, I was surprised.

"What? Really?" If I lived here before, this would be my favorite place! There's a breathtaking fountain in the middle, trees surrounding the area that provides fresh air, food truck vendors littering almost everywhere. "I'd go here everyday, that's for sure." Giggling a little, I stared at my ice cream, looking at the certain side that is already melting and licking it all the way up, tilting my head to the side as I did so.

While doing that, I caught Natalia's gaze since her head is still facing sideways. Once again, her eyes stick to the movements I made before she looked away as if my gaze shot laser beams at her face.

Clearing her throat once again, she answered, "You like it that much?" She said, already finishing off the cone.

I nodded even though she couldn't see me with a smile playing on my face. "I love it." I said with a certain enthusiasm that I made sure she heard.

Her head moved in satisfaction. "Good."

"Why do you not come here?" I asked further, checking if I'm not annoying her with my questions.

"Hmm, not the... kind of places I like to go to." She confessed and I slowly nodded, jumping in to reply.

"We could go now if you would like." I offered, watching the side of her face.

I found myself almost insecure with how well defined her face is, her nose is so perfect and how her lashes seemed to be so well cut even though it's so full.

Her eyes met mine, only then did I realize how intently I was staring at her. My gaze fell down on her lips that looked as soft as the clouds to avoid her eyes. "No—I mean, it's fine... I'm enjoying it." She gave me a smile that warms my heart, it felt like I was hugging Tamtam.

Nodding with a content smile on my face, I caught how her gaze on me softened a little more before I looked back at the scenery and finished my ice cream.

I am loving this day more and more!

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I felt a hand circling around my waist as we walked inside the mall—a very huge one, and seemed to be so expensive. There are a lot of luxurious brands around that I have seen my Mom and Dad have back at home. There were a lot of guards more than usual when we entered the place, but it seems like it was normally like that as Natalia guided me inside.

There's so many people, but it's not crowded either. It doesn't look like the malls that Lucy would take me to. It could not be an ordinary mall.

"Would you like to buy something? Or should we eat first, hmm?" Turning to look back at Natalia who was looking around the area, only then did I realize how close she is to me, but I didn't make a big fuss about it—finding it rather... comforting.

"I-I..." Looking around, I caught a glimpse of restaurants that seemed to be very expensive too. Well dressed people going in and out, walking past us. "I don't know, Natty..." My attention is getting everything and capturing everything.

Not used to going out and being with so many people in foreign places is not something that felt comforting to me, though it is not bad either. Things just tend to... overwhelmed me.

"Okay, how about we eat first hmm? Then we can go buy whatever you want." I felt a hand tucking the strands of my hair behind my ear, out of my face making me look back at the owner of the same calloused hand.

She's smiling down at me, urging me to make a decision but doesn't make me feel pressured at the same time. "I'd like that, Natty." I said, grinning up at her as I clutched her hand.

"Okay then, come on, detka. I have a favorite restaurant around here, you'll like it." We started walking as she pulled her hand away from mine but kept her other hand around my waist, keeping me close.

"Oh, you go here a lot?" I asked, looking up at her.

Without returning my questioning gaze, she answered. "I own the Mall."

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"Ms. Romanoff."

"Good afternoon, Madam."

"Great to see you again, Ms. Romanoff."

Greetings after greetings from people from the restaurant and until now in a very big shopping area where she lead me. I smiled through it all even though I haven't heard them saying my name, noticing as Natalia did not even seem to acknowledge all of it, only nodding in the air.

"You pick whatever you want, alright?" She said to me, leaning down as her hands stayed put around my waist, as if whispering a secret. "Here..." She turned and pulled out a cart that was behind here.

"I-I..." Looking up at her hesitantly. "I don't think I need anything." It took her a moment to respond, looking at me with what seemed to be an amusement or surprised in her eyes.

It is true. I don't think I need anything. I have clothes. I brought a couple of my outside bags and shoes.

"It's..." She trailed off, making me look at her confusedly before she turned and motioned a person to come. They started talking, so I took the chance to wander my gaze around the floor, still staying in her hands that seemed to be glued around me.

There's so many... things in here. I feel like everything can be found here. Bags, alcohol, necessities, clothing, jewelry, I could also see a food shop at the end of a hall—just everything.

There were lots of workers too, buyers going in and out and around.

"...No, I want the best one. Give me the latest one you have..." I overheard Natalia talk but my attention quickly went to a stuffed toy that looked so cute! Oh god, now I missed my stuffies back at home.

I suddenly felt giddy and my hands itched to touch them. Thankfully, I brought my wallet with me and Natalia had insisted on paying for the earlier payments. Maybe I could buy her one too!

I turned to check on her if she's already done talking to the man, as soon as I heard them finishing up the conversation, tha man walked away and I quickly tugged on Natalias arm. "Natty." Her gaze immediately went down to meet mine, her eyebrows narrowing in question. "Can I go over there?" Turning as I point towards the pack of stuffies that comes in different kinds, sizes and colors. "Please?" I added as soon as I look back to her, she was already looking at me with her lips turning upwards on one side—smirking.

"I mean—if it's okay with you—but if not! We can just go and look at some other things." I immediately said, pulling away from her.

Quickly, in return, she took ahold of my hand again. "Come on, detka." The cart on one hand and mine on the other, she tugged me towards it. "Would you like to buy those?" She asked as soon as we got near towards it.

Forgetting to answer, my hand quickly reached out to take a hold of the biggest one in the center before leaning towards it to give it a squeeze. "It's so adorable! It's so fluffy!" I squealed, making sure that only Natalia and I could hear. "Natty!" Calling out as I turned to look at her, "Come! Take a look—hold it, it's so fluffy!" Catching the smile from her face fade quickly as she stood up straight, looking around as soon as I reached my hand out.

"I don't—I don't think..." She sounded hesitant as she continue to look around, as if checking if people are looking at us, but as soon as her gaze met mine, her shoulder relaxed a little and I watch as a small smile stretch its way out of her face.

Taking my hand in hers as she walked slowly, I tugged her until she's just as  close to the stuffy as I am. "Squeeze it! Like this." I hugged the huge brown teddy bear, only to be stopped by a voice.

"Sorry, Miss, but you're not allowed to do that." It was flat and seemed to be upset, looking back I saw one of the worker here. She was looking at me with one of her eyebrows raised as her gaze trailed up and down my figure.

Quickly pulling away, I bowed my head down. "Oh! I'm-" I was going to start apologizing but Natalia's booming cold voice cut me off.

"Go. We will be buying this, don't worry." The woman stammered as soon as Natalia walked in front of me, putting her hands around my shoulder.

The woman stammered the apologies that slipped her mouth, walking away quickly after finishing. "N-Natty, I-I'm really sorry, I didn't know-" With my heart almost beating its way out if my chest, thinking that Natalia might have been so disappointed at my actions.

"Hey, hey, stop with those. Touch everything you wanna touch, try everything you want, don't mind them, alright?" I coyly looked up to her, my hands wringing together in hesitation.

"Come on now, pick what else you might like, okay? I'll get this delivered in the penthouse, I don't think it will fit with us in the car." Her small laugh made my smile, before I frowned.

"Wait, how much is this?—" Again, I was cut off.

"Something you shouldn't be worried about, baby." With that, she called a new worker and started discussing about the delivery transaction, leaving me gazing at her.

"Now, what else would you like?"

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Natasha's POV:

"What- What is this?" Stopping my movements to start the car, I looked down to Y/n's outstretched hands with what seemed to be a wallet in her hold.

"You didn't let me pay..." She turned her head down, as if scared to meet my gaze. "I wanted to buy you those other stuffies earlier. Here, take my wallet and take how much it costs or... or... oh, also the other things that you got me from the store. It was so many and expensive, it might've cost you a lot." Looking back to me, she forced the wallet into my chest as I gaze at her in disbelief, smirking as I did so.

This girl never fails to surprise me. Chuckling, an idea came up to me.

Taking a hold of her arm, I took her wallet. "Those numbers comes back to my bank account every minute, darling. But... I'll take this." Her eyes widened a little as I put her pink wallet inside my blazer.

"Oh- a-all of it?" She asked, and I start the car.

"Yeah... all of it." Smiling at her as I pressed a kiss on the back of her hand, holding it on her lap.

The blush on her face didn't go unnoticed as I smiled, gazing towards the way.

"O-okay..." She settled down on her seat, both of her hands holding mine.

"Are you tired already, solnechnyy svet?" I could feel her confused gaze burning holes into the side of my head but I didn't bother explaining what the word meant just as she didn't bother asking what it is.

"Not really, no." I heard her say as she leaned back to the seat, gazing back at the road where the city lights laid out before us.

Looking towards her, catching a glimpse of how the lights reflected over her face. I could feel myself breaking a smile, which I let on, going back to looking at the road.

"Are you sure, detka?" I asked once more, my tone playful.

"I just want to rest already, but not yet sleepy." She explained, her voice soothing my ear.

"Hmmm." I hummed in acknowledgement. "Not yet sleepy. Alright, princess." I added, turning the wheel around the corner.

I felt a tug on my arm before she started speaking. "Can we watch a movie later?- I mean, only if-if you're not tired... but also if uhm- if you would like to. But, it's fine if you won't." Gazing back at her face, I reached my hand to caress the side of her face on the skin that I could reach for a few second, calming her down.

"We could do that, I'll cut more fruit for you for snack. I don't think Maria got us some popcorn." Before turning away, I catched how she perked up, making me smile unconsciously as my heart seemed to jump, which I ignored.

"That's awesome, Natty!" She said in delight. "I would really love that."

I have felt that killing people who deserved it is fulfilling. Watching companies and people burn down as they tried to pick up a fight with me brings the spark of happiness and contentment to my insides.

And, I never knew there will be much more greater things than that.

Now, I found out, only a voice is enough to explode such a thing inside me.

Enough to make me feel as if I'm on top of the world.

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Author's Note: Ahhhh, finally! I apologize for making you all wait, I did see the multiples of asks that have been sent to me, I didn't have enough energy to answer them, I'm really sorry. I was sick for days, but I'm doing a lot better now! I also got the next chapter on the works already, and I'm sorry in advance for it 乁⁠༼⁠☯⁠‿⁠☯⁠✿⁠༽⁠ㄏ

[heaven4lostgirls]

Can you pretty pleaaassse write for regulus black x reader angst

Where they were friends and got along really well and because they're both pureblooded there families arranged marriage for them. But then regulus gets paranoid and starts to think badly of you and thinks that you were only ever nice to him so that your parents would arrange marriage. And he thinks that you hold the same awful pureblood beliefs as both of your parents and he is afraid to say anything about it incase you tell his family that he doesn't really believe that muggles are lesser. Then regulus is quite distant and mean in your marriage and he eventually comes to his senses when he realises how upset you are and how much his distance hurts you and he can hear you crying yourself to sleep

pairing: regulus black x fem!reader

warning: angst, regulus is a bit of a dick but he comes around ! miscommunication (i’m sorry✊)

summary: request above

authors note: hi! sorry this took forever, i’m really bad at keeping up with requests but i hope you enjoy this, i always say im hoping to get back into writing but it’s always touch and go, my mental health isn’t great a lot of the time and uni just piles on so much more, hopefully you guys understand ! 🫶🩷

regulus wasn’t used to people sticking around, he had been abandoned by the only person he ever truly cared about and left to fend for himself. which was why he assumed when news of his engagement to you was announced by his parents, at a shared dinner party for the sacred 28, you two would simply…co-exist. never fully acknowledging the others presence yet acquaintances at best.

what a shock to his system it was when he grew to know what a wonderful person you were, never abrasive or hostile like his parents, never boastful like most of the pureblood families he knew, instead you were the embodiment of everything he never knew he wanted, a calm to the raging angst inside of him he couldn’t quell after sirius had left, and that alone left him scared more than any of his parents threats to present him to the dark lord as a servant.

you two had formed a quick friendship due to the circumstances surrounding your fast paced engagement, you were set to marry next august and your engagement had only been announced in april. regulus had no problem performing his duties to his family, however this one came with little to no reluctance from either of you as feelings of love and respect blossomed from the friendship you two shared.

however, as time passed, regulus could slowly but surely feel his walls he had fought so hard to build up, crack. he couldn’t fathom why someone like you would feel so comfortable around him, how you somehow managed to worm your way under his skin like no one ever could, not even sirius.

except as time flew by, he had somehow found some of that “gryffindor courage” as james potter always declared, to tell you about his feelings, emphasizing that if you wished, he would never bring up again if you did not reciprocate and you two would still move forward together into marriage as friends.

to his surprise, you were much more welcoming to his feelings than expected, you two had shared a small kiss as you leant your forehead against his and claimed “i was just waiting for you to see me.”

since you two were already a couple in the eyes of the public, the only people he had really had to tell was your shared friends. as expected, they all reacted joyfully to the news and you both carried through the rest of your year no longer pretending to be in love, but actually falling into it.

however, at the beginning of your 6th year, you could tell something had shifted between yours and regulus’ dynamic. no longer was he patient and comforting, instead he was judgmental and fast to anger. some part of you knew it had to do with his parents but you didn’t have the heart to push your questions onto him.

as time passed you watched as he distanced himself from you, pushing away your touches, rejecting your offers to hang out, blowing you off when he would eventually agree. you could only handle so much of his behavior before you eventually broke when telling your friends.

“i don’t know what to do anymore, it’s like walking on eggshells whenever he’s around because im scared of him snapping at me for breathing too loud” you vent to your friends as you place your hands on your eyes to try keep the tears at bay.

“how longs this been going on y/n?” pandora asks softly as she shares a concerned look with lily. you blubber out as answer that sounds like “a couple of months” as tears leak past your palms.

“i can’t keep doing this” you emphasize to them both, “and you know i can’t break up with him because we still have to get married-“

“break up?!” lily questions surprised, “you can’t be serious y/n.” she says as she places a hand on your shoulder.

“i think you need to talk to him” pandora says again as she smiles softly at you as you look at her with tear filled eyes.

“…what if he doesn’t want me anymore?” you whisper, too afraid to say it out loud in fear of it coming true.

“oh love” lily coos as she drags you into a small cuddle with her and pandora, “you’re gonna need to ask him to know that y/n” she whispers as she rubs your back.

you sigh heavily and nod before looking at the both of them. “okay” you concede as you try and form some sort of a plan to confront regulus, your anxiety spikes at the thought of him not wanting your relationship anymore, you couldn’t imagine a marriage with the man you loved where his feelings weren’t reciprocated.

the next day, you planned to corner regulus at the library before dinner but as you walked up to his table, you heard the voice of not only regulus, but barty as well.

“reg, you know you’re hurting her by ignoring her” barty says with a sigh as you pause behind a bookshelf near the table to eavesdrop.

“you know better than i, that i can never be with someone who thinks the way she does…its disgusting” regulus says with a sneer but you can hear how disappointed he is by the statement.

disgusting? he thinks i’m…disgusting? what is he even talking about? you don’t think you’ve ever done anything remotely bad enough to be called disgusting.

“how do you know she thinks like them?” barty implores and you hear regulus sigh, “you’ve seen how she acts when the sacred 28 talks about the muggles” he says and you frown, part of being a child of one of the sacred 28 meant you had to act your part, regulus knew that better than anyone else. so why was he suddenly judging you and telling barty about your issues when he couldn’t even give you the time of day?

“i don’t know if i can marry someone like her” regulus says again and your heart drops. someone like her, you repeat in your head, every insecurity you ever worked through, comes back in tenfold from that sentence alone. you stumble on your feet from the flashes of tears and heartache from all your deepest points of sorrow.

you shake your head and straighten your back before reminding yourself, if he wants a true pureblood wife, that’s what i’ll be. quiet, docile,…perfect.

your wedding approaches faster than you can imagine, dress fittings, bridal party dresses and events all pass with a blur. never fully there, you encompass a state of numbness.

regulus and all your friends notice how you slowly fall into the facade you usually have in front of your parents, instead this time, it never breaks in front of them.

regulus waits for you to come to him, to seek his comfort like you have so many times before, but it never comes.

he spends his nights worrying about you, questioning if it’s something he’s done, you’re still sweet and loving to him, just…more hollow than you were before.

you embody the perfect pureblood princess and he couldn’t hate it more, he hears from people around you how you’re not sleeping, always coming to class in a perfect face of makeup everyday when you usually only used skincare, in beautiful dresses for hogsmead days when you used to use comfortable clothes.

he tries to talk to you, to question why you’ve somehow flipped the switch out of nowhere, but they go unanswered.

the day of your wedding, he can see past the makeup, your sunken in eyes and red eyes. he still places a soft smile on his face as you stare passively into the distance, never making eye contact with him while saying your vows.

the distance between the both of you grows larger as he starts to believe that this was the life you truly wanted, a prince and princess, a couple born out of need not out of love, arranged perfectly to fit the narrative of pureblood royalty.

however, one night he falls asleep later than usual and hears you cry into your pillow, small pleas of being good enough for him as your body shakes with small sobs. he resists the urge to reach out to you in fear of you not recieving his touch well.

he lies awake as he hears you say, “i’m not like i was before, please let him love me now, oh merlin please” you whisper with clenched hands and eyes that leak tears. his heart breaks at the thought of you existing to please him.

he had seen how his mother had done the same for his father, how she turned cold and abusive with no comfort and love from her partner, how she pushed her self hatred onto her children. how that pushed her eldest son to run away.

he spends the next week racking his brain for what he could’ve done for you to think that way before he realises that the summer after his 5th year, his parents had implored him never to give you anything more than the bare minimum because nobody could be trusted. he remembers pulling away from you and pushing you away in fear of you using him for his fortune.

the idea that his parents had made him internalize that you would never love him just for him, you were moving into this marriage not because of your shared love but because of necessity. his heart drops out of his chest as he realizes all of this must have translated to you and that he now had a lot to make up for.

he plans out meticulously how to get his wife back and slowly but surely, he does. it starts with small things, a single flower that you had told him once you liked the smell of on your nightstand, a pair of earrings you remarked look beautiful when window shopping. a handwritten letter telling you goodmorning and his favorite things about you in your bag before class.

your initial confusion morphs to anger at the thought of changing yourself all for him to want you to go back to the self he called repulsive. you don’t respond to his initial attempts to woo you, but as weeks and months pass, he doesn’t give up.

he speaks to you, really speaks to you, asking you about your day, how he can help you when you’re not feeling well, what you need whenever he leaves the house, small compliments about your cooking or how the colour of your dress matches your eyes.

you two start sharing small good mornings and good nights when going to bed, which then translates to small hand holding or shared touches between each other. the ice around your heart slowly but surely starts melting whenever he’s around, you quickly become accustomed to his quick kisses on the cheek whenever he leaves the room or house.

he holds you at night as he whispers sweet promises of never letting you down again, grasping your face to look into your eyes whenever he compliments you to let you know how much you mean to him.

your heart is now warm and full at the thought of his presence, no longer a shell of yourself, slowly but surely healing with his sweet actions.

[thethronezone]

Love the father Primarch series. Keeps getting better.

The schooling bit did get me wondering how said Primarchs would react if they discovered they had a kid they hadn’t known about for whatever reason.

Mortarion tries to convince himself that it was better this way. He's not ... father-material. Surely, he would have made for an awful parent, ruined this child like his adoptive father ruined him. Yet his heart won't stop aching and raging inside his chest because what if? What if he had raised them? What if he had been given the chance? It's the way that chance was taken away from him that makes him feel like he's been robbed. And what about the child, his child? Do they feel the same? Or do they already loathe him? The thought of finding out scares him.

Fulgrim is caught between admiring his newly discovered offspring and seething with outrage over the fact that they were hidden from him. Look at them, perfect in every way. Why would someone hide them from him? Fulgrim would have approached fatherhood with open arms, would have treasured every moment and yet... those were stolen. All of it, taken from him, without him even knowing. But now he does know and Fulgrim promises, he's going to prove to everyone that he can still be a father.

In some distant past, Angron might have considered becoming a father at some point in his life, but that fantasy had been torn apart the same moment the nails were plunged into his skull. After that, he never even considered the possibility. Yet here they are, his child. And Angron rages. Not at the child, they haven't done anything wrong, even he can recognize that. But he feels hurt. Betrayed. Confused. And deep in his heart, frightened. Because what does he do now? He's not prepared for this, he does not know what to do or how to be a father. All these emotions turn into violent anger.

Magnus senses them before he sees them. He feels their soul and his heart aches over how similar it feels to his own. And then he sees them, a child sharing his red skin, and what little doubt there might have been in his mind disappears without a trace. He wants to get to know them, wants them to know him, wants to teach and nurture them, watch them grow. But Magnus is a proud, proud man and while he genuinely wants to get to know his child, he just can't let go of his proud, making it hard for him to truly connect with them.

Rather than angered, Perturabo's first reaction is one of frustration. Because this was not part of the plan. He never planned on having children and now he's suddenly got one? What is he supposed to do with it? It's only after he comes to terms with the fact that he's apparently a father than the rage sets in. Perturabo might not have wanted children but who had the gall to take that choice from him? To deny him the right to his own flesh and blood? It's the lack of control that angers him the most.

Who's child is it? Alpharius or Omegon's? They aren't sure, identical as they are. Omegon secretly hopes its his. Just this one thing that he's got that Alpharius doesn't. Alpharius knows this but doesn't mind and truly doesn't care who's the 'real' father. In the end, the child belongs to both of them. They are both are less angered by being lied to and more curious as to how they didn't learn of this sooner. They take pride in knowing everything about their surroundings, about being aware of every little detail. The fact that this went hidden for as long as it did is both intriguing and slightly infuriating. Will subtly infiltrate the child's life before they reveal themselves.

Lorgar tries to rationalize this as some sort of divine trial. It's the only way he can make sense of the situation and not get consumed by his feelings of anger and grief. No, he has to believe that there's some sort of deeper meaning and purpose being this, otherwise, why torment him like this? He already loves his child, treasures them, and he's only known of their existence for the briefest of moments. To imagine that they have been out there all along, that he's missed so much of their life already... It's a test of faith, Lorgar reminds himself. A holy trial, he says as his fingers dig into the surface of the table, leaving behind thick grooves.

Horus always wanted to be a father. And while he loves his legion, his astartes, they are not really his. He didn't raise them, he didn't cradle them in his arms when they were just a babe, didn't tuck them into bed. And Horus thought he would never get that. Yet here they are, his child. His blood and flesh. And before today, he didn't even know they existed. He is happy. He's angry. Sad, disappointed, overwhelmed. Someone kept them from him. Lied to him. It makes him want to kill someone. Depending on how old the kid is, how long they have been kept a secret, he just might. For now, he's got so much to catch up on.

I will not lie, Konrad will probably kill the mom for hiding away his kid all this time. And then he will spend a long time just staring at his child, blood still fresh on his face. They look so much like him, it both unsettles him and soothes some primal part of his brain that recognizes them as his offspring. But just how deep are the similarities? Is it just the surface or are they like him, twisted and broken on a fundamental level? He'd probably lock them away somewhere, a safe place where he doesn't have to see them, not because hates them (he doesn't) but because he's afraid of what he'll possibly see when he looks into their eyes.

Sanguinius has only known them for but a brief moment and he already adores them. It's not just because they looks so much like him, it's the future he sees when he looks at them. In a way, it feels like he already knows them. But they don't know him and oh, doesn't that just break his heart? To them, he's just a stranger, a man they happen to share half their blood with. That's why, Sanguinius tries not to be pushy and overwhelming with his affection, despite how much he yearns to spoil his child. He will take this nice and slow, proving himself to them as both a human being and as a father.

For some time, Corvus considers if he should just let them go. As much as this situation pains him, as betrayed as he feels, he genuinely questions if this was maybe for the child's best interest. Could he even be a proper father? Would they be happier without him in their life? Corvus hesitates. Doubts himself. Shoves his own feelings to the side as he focuses on what's truly best for his child. His child. He isn't sure what's worse. The fact that he's never even met them or that he's already ready to do anything for them, just to see them safe and happy.

It's about responsibility, Ferrus thinks. He needs to do what's right and that's to teach this child who's undoubtedly inherited too much of him. Are they strong? Fast? Durable? Intelligent? They need to learn control. And that's where he comes in. That's all there is to it. That's how he justifies bringing them into his fold. Ferrus doesn't need to be a father, he doesn't need to nurture or raise them. He doesn't even know where he would start with that. He couldn't... He can't raise a child. It was probably for the better that they were kept from him, he wouldn't have been a good father. Telling himself this makes it easier for Ferrus to come to terms with the fact that he's essentially missed out on his child's entire life.

Rogal is very displeased. Not with the fact that he has a child, that he accepts fairly quickly, but that they have been kept from him. He feels like its an injustice, that he's been lied and deceived. Robbed. But Rogal does not dwell on those feelings. Those will bring him nothing of fruition. No, what he does instead is focus on the present and the future. Rogal will bring his child into his fold and he will raise them like he was supposed to do from the beginning. He will be the father he's supposed to be and he will do this child right.

Vulkan feels like an awful human being and some irrational part of him blames himself. The fact that all this time, he had a child he didn't even know existed. He can't stop thinking about all those lost moments, the time he's missed out on. He feels like he should have known, somehow. Wants nothing more than to make up for lost time and get to know his kid. Practically throws himself into fatherhood, accepts it immediately though his enthusiasm and unconditional love can be slightly intimidating for someone who doesn't know him.

"They've got my eyes." That's all Lion can think when he comes face to face with his secret child for the first time. He recognizes other features as well, things like posture and expression. So much like him, but also not. He does not know how to feel about it. Part of him feels outraged. Furious. He's been lied to, deceived and the thought of it makes him want to hurt someone- But he won't, because he's not a beast. No, apparently, he's a father and while there's a lot of emotions there that Lion does not have the time to unpack, he knows one thing for sure; parenthood is a duty and he's always fulfilled his.

Even if Leman was blind, he'd still know the kid is his. He can smell it on them, parts of his own scent. Every Space Wolf has some of Leman's scent but with this kid, HIS kid, it's stronger. And once he figures out that he's a father? Yeah, he's taking this kid back with him to Fenris. Doesn't care if he's got to drag them there kicking and screaming, he's going to raise his kid in the way he thinks they should be raised. Tries to focus on the future so not to think about the past and the fact that someone HID HIS OWN FLESH AND BLOOD FROM HIM because that will only cause him to rage and fester in hatred.

Jaghatai feels robbed. He knows he would have loved being told that he was going to become a father, would have looked forward to all those moments where he could raise his child and watch them navigate in the world around them. And while Jaghatai will make sure to have his justice, that's not what's on the forefront of his mind. No, his child is. Because strangers as they may be to one another, they are still family, they are still his blood, and Jaghatai still thinks he's got the chance to be a father. Everything is not lost and it's better to start late than never.

Poor Roboute. On the outside, he's professional, dignified in regards to this startling revelation. Barely a twitch on his face as he learns that he's got a child, a child that's been kept a secret from him for years. But inside, he's a mess of emotions. He feels lost, betrayed, angry, sad. But he can't express any of that because people are looking at him and expects so much. So, while his heart aches and screams for answers, he calmly tells his aides to bring the child to him, with a full Ultramarine escort, of course. It's only when Roboute is alone that he buries his face in his hands and allows his emotions to run their course.

[morgana-larkin]

Can I please please request an angsty but wt a happy ending fic with Mel/Reader? Mel getting wt mr fireman just pissed me off….. anyway setting is as is in s4 except readers exists as a teacher too and is in love wt Mel, which everyone knows and Mel kinda feels it too (and she sctually likes her too!) but she doesnt wanna believe it since shes like Janine’s age. Al throughout the school year Mels flirting wt reader at the same time she casually seeing mr fireman and so reader is conflicted. Comes ep 4, when Mel gets pissed by mr firemans rejection, reader hatches a plan to come clean and bare her feelings to Melissa but then she hears ‘The’ convo where mel says she doesnt wanna stay casual anymore and then reader leaves crying she didnt hear that mels reason is that she wanna be wt reader. Queue more angst before their happy ending, please decide how that goes.

….. and all that.. im sorry this is such a specific promt the ep just got to me real good😭

Hey anon! I'm totally with you on how you feel about the firefighter! I wasn't going to write this so soon after it was sent to me but after seeing him in the most recent episode, let's just say I immediately starting writing this out of hatred for him. And I would like to ask for someone to warn me if he's ever in a future episode! I watch the episode the next day on Disney+ so there's time for a warning, just saying. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

Summary: Everyone keeps telling you that Melissa likes you and you're not sure if you believe them or not.

She Likes Me, She Likes Me Not

Warnings: Jealous reader

Words: 4.5K

“Hey Y/n.” Melissa tells you and you turn around to see her behind you in the parking lot.

“Hi Melissa! How was your weekend?” You ask her.

“It was good, I saw Robinson again.” She tells you and you hum. “What bout you?”

“Had a relaxing weekend after all the grading I had to do last week for the mid term report cards.” You say and she smiles.

“That’s good, you deserve a relaxing weekend.” She says as she gets her phone out from her bag.

“Thank you. Is that a new blazer?” You ask her and she nods.

“It is, I’m glad someone always notices.” She tells you.

“Well I notice a lot of things about you.” You say and she looks at you with a smile.

“Is that so?”

“Ya, and might I add, as much as the blazers look good on you, your leather jackets look really good on you.” You tell her and she laughs.

“Like women in leather jackets, hon?” She asks and you shrug.

“Maybe.” You say.

“Well maybe I’ll wear one tomorrow just for you.” She tells you and you look at her and she winks with a smile. You feel a flutter in your stomach at that before her phone gets a notification. “Captain Rob is messaging me already, it’s not even 8am.” She complains as she enjoys quiet mornings before she has to teach.

“You don’t have to reply right…and you’re already replying.” You say as you see her put her glasses on and begin texting.

“If I don’t reply right away then I might forget.” She tells you and walk into the breakroom.

“Would it be bad if you forgot?” You ask her and she chuckles before she puts her lunch box in the fridge.

“Maybe not, it’d be bad if I forgot to message you back.” She says as she’s getting some coffee from the pot and you put your lunch in the fridge. 

“Damn right it would be.” You say and she smiles at you.

“Do you need some coffee?” She asks and you nod before looking at the pot.

“Just take the last of this one and I’ll make another pot.” You tell her.

“No, give me your mug.” She says and you tilt your head.

“Meli-”

“Give me your mug or the rest of the coffee is getting poured on your head.” She says sternly.

“You wouldn’t, would you?” 

“Wanna find out?” She asks and you give her your mug.

“Not really.” You tell her.

“Wise choice.” She says and then the trio calls you over. You thank Melissa for the coffee before going to sit down with the trio. Melissa then makes a new pot of coffee while glancing at you a few times. The only one who seemed to notice her glancing at you is Barb.

“You could just tell her your feelings.” Barb mutters as Melissa sits down with her coffee.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” Melissa tells her.

“Girl, you like her and she likes you, so just tell her.” Barb says, quietly enough so you don’t hear.

“She doesn’t like me, she’s the same age as the trio over there. She wouldn’t like someone who’s my age.” Melissa says and Barb shakes her head.

“She likes you, we all see it.”

“I’m not going to tell her, plus I like having these casual relationships.” Melissa tells her.

“Alright.” Barb says and then Melissa glances at you telling some story to the trio and she smiles before she remembers what Barb said and she looks down.

“So are you going to tell Melissa?” Janine asks you quietly so Melissa doesn’t hear.

“Tell her what?” You ask.

“That you like her.” Janine says as your jaw drops as Jacob looks at you with interest as he waits for your answer.

“I-I, how do you know?” You ask her.

“Because it’s obvious.” She simply says and both Jacob and Gregory nod.

“Well I’m not going to say anything.” You tell them.

“Why not?” Jacob asks you.

“Because she’s still having that casual thing with the fireman.” You tell them.

“But if you told her then she might stop so she can be with you.” Janine says enthusiastically and you shake your head.

“I think you also forget the fact that she doesn’t have feelings for me.” You say.

“Oh she has feelings for you.” She tells you and Jacob nods.

“It’s obvious.” Jacob says.

“She’s just nice and funny, doesn’t mean she has feelings for me.” You tell them and they don’t look convinced but drop the subject.

On Tuesday morning she walks to her classroom and she passes by your classroom and sees you spinning in your chair. She stops at your doorway and knocks on the door.

“What are you doing, hon?” She asks.

“Getting dizzy.” You say and she walks in. “Getting my mind off of all the work I’ll have to do next week.” You say and she hums before she stops your chair and you see she’s staring at you. “Woah, there’s like 5 of you, I honestly can barely handle one of you.” You say and she giggles.

“I get that a lot.” She jokes. “Maybe having some coffee and talking to some coworkers will help.” She suggests.

“Maybe.” You tell her and stand up. You go to walk but still slightly dizzy and you lose your balance and fall into Melissa but luckily she catches you. “Maybe I need a minute.” You say as she helps you sit back in your chair. 

“So what do your little 3rd graders have to do next week that you’re stressed about?” She asks and you look at her.

“You say that like an insult.” You tell her and she tilts her head. “They have two tests next week and because the art teacher is on vacation, I don’t have that free period to mark them.” You tell her and she sits on your desk.

“Well if you want then I can help you mark them next week.” She offers and you look at her.

“Melissa, you have your own work to grade.” You say and she puts her feet on the arms of your chair and gets you to look at her.

“I’m offering to help because I can. Now, do you want me to help or not?” She asks and you look at her.

“Yes, please.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Then I’ll help, now was that so hard?” She asks and you sigh.

“Yes.” You mutter under your breath and she tilts her head.

“What was that?”

“I said no.” You say and she hums.

“That’s what I thought. Now, come on, let’s get some coffee in you.” She says as she gets down, gets you to stand up and brings you to the break room by grabbing your hand.

You and Melissa have gotten close since the beginning of this year as you returned for another year at Abbott after you got hired and took her third graders so she didn’t have a split class for another year. She avoided you for the first 6 months of your first year but then slowly began talking to you as it seemed like you were staying. Over the summer you began realising that you have a crush on her as you began to miss her. You ended up sending her a text at the beginning of August to tell her happy birthday and then you kept texting her, and to your surprise she kept texting you back. She ended up asking you on the 2nd week of August to meet up to spend some time together before school starts and you immediately said yes. 

Since the school year started, her attitude towards you changed drastically as it seemed like she actually cares about you. She’s brought in a few dishes for you to try, has invited you to her house to have dinner, makes jokes when you’re having a bad day, knows how to calm you down when a parent or anyone else makes you mad, and she tries to help you anyway she can as you’re a new teacher. You decided early on that you’re not going to question her or make a big deal out of it as you like the attention she’s giving you. Unfortunately last year you were at the CPR training and overheard her talking about being casual with captain Robinson, so when you caught feelings for her, you decided to keep it a secret.

On Wednesday you were filling out a student’s file while Melissa was writing something down. You put the file in the cabinet and then went back to Melissa.

“So what are you doing on the weekend?” You ask her.

“Nothing yet, why? Got something you want to do?” She asks and you nod.

“Well I was thinking maybe we can order some pizza and watch a movie on Saturday night.” You offer and she smiles as the front door opens.

“Sure, sounds like fun, we can have it at my place.” She tells you and you nod before she looks to see who entered and you both see Gary there.

“Hey Gary.” She says and then looks at you as you start to walk away. “I’ll see you later, Y/n.” She says and you nod before you leave them to have a moment alone.

Gary walks in a few minutes after you and goes to the vending machine as you’re making a coffee.

“Hey Y/n.” He says to you and you look at him.

“Hi Gary, how’ve you been?” You ask him and then look at him.

“Well I’m getting married.” He says with a smile.

“Oh congrats, that’s what you wanted.” You say as you remember the reason that Melissa dumped him.

“Ya I do. So how have you been?” He asks.

“I’ve been good, finished report cards on time so that’s always good.” You tell him with a small laugh.

“Ya, that is good. So how long have you and Melissa been dating?” He casually asks and you furrow your eyebrows.

“Me and Melissa? Oh we’re not dating. Why-why would you think we’re dating?” You ask him.

“Because of the look you two gave each other in the hallway.” He tells you and you look down. “Oh I see, feelings are there but no one’s admitted anything.” He says.

“There’s only feelings on my end, none on hers.” 

“Look, take it from me, from someone who’s been with Melissa. She likes you but just like she was with me, she’s too scared to admit it.” He says before he continues refilling the vending machine. You then let it run through your brain as the bell rings and the other teachers start to filter in after a few minutes.

“Hey Y/n, so what movie do you want to watch on Saturday?” Melissa asks as she walks in.

“I don’t know, but I have a feeling you might have a suggestion.” You tell her and she smiles.

“I might.” She says as she grabs her lunch and gets her food out as you listen to a few of her suggestions. As she mentions the suggestions, you notice Gary looking at you and you glance at him and he has a smile on his face. He then mouths ‘she likes you’ to you and you look back at Melissa who seems to be giving you a description of the movies to help you decide which one to watch.

On Thursday you happen to arrive at the same time as Jacob and Melissa. You hear parts of their conversation as you’re texting a couple friends back.

“So who are you bringing to Gary’s wedding?” You hear Jacob ask.

“Probably Captain Robinson, he’s always a good time.” She says and you look up from her phone as thoughts race through your mind all at once.

“Jacob, he’s still saved in my phone as fireman number two, I think we’re good.” Melissa tells Jacob and realised you missed a whole conversation. You’re even more conflicted now as you think that Melissa immediately thought to invite Captain Rob instead of someone else or even you. If she likes you like everyone says then why didn’t she think to invite you instead?

You notice a shift in Melissa at lunch as she storms into the breakroom. You wait until after school to talk to her. You catch up with her in the parking lot and she turns around to face you after you call out to her.

“Hey, just wanted to make sure you’re ok.” You tell her.

“Captain Rob turned me down for Gary’s wedding.” She admits. “He already has plans with another girl on the same night.” 

“Well that’s his loss. I bet that you’re more fun at a wedding than whatever he has planned with that girl.” You say to her.

“They’re going to the symphony.” She says and you scoff.

“See? His loss.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Thanks, just disappointed. Thought I’d have a date for my ex-boyfriend’s wedding.” She says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She tells you and you nod before she walks to her car and drives off.

That night, the thoughts go through your mind. You think this might be the right time to tell her about your feelings. That firefighter is going out with another girl and Melissa is looking for a date to the wedding. You think you should just tell her that you can go to the wedding with her and that you have a crush on her, that you have for 8 months.

On Friday morning you walk in with some confidence. You went over your speech all evening and you have the perfect one that you want to say. You know Melissa is here as you saw her car in the parking lot. You walk through the school and make it to the break room, before you walk in you hear Melissa yelling and you open the door slightly to hear the conversation.

“No, no I don’t think I do.” You hear Melissa say softly.

“I think someone wants to go steady.” Barb says and you lean in closer to see if you can hear who they’re talking about.

“I think it’s good that Captain Rob rejected you. Made you realise you don’t want to be casual anymore.” Jacob says and you freeze.

She wants to be with Captain Robinson? Him! Why him! Everyone was saying that she liked you and now here she was saying that she wants to be with Captain Rob. You then run away to your classroom, lock the door, and then you let the tears flow. 20 minutes pass by and you hear a knock on your door and you try not to make any noise as you were right on the other side of the door. You look at the time and see you still have 10 minutes until school starts.

“Y/n, are you in here?” You hear Melissa ask. A few seconds pass and you press your ear to the door and you hear her sigh. “Where could she be?” You hear Melissa ask before you hear her heels get more and more faint as she walks away. 

Melissa being casual with people was one thing, you can live with that, but here in a relationship is completely different. You’d have to watch as he hugs her, kisses her, touches her, makes her happy the way you want to be with her. You end up avoiding her the rest of the day as you try to work out your feelings and process the information of her choosing him instead of you. Melissa takes notice of how you don’t look her way or talk to her at lunch, you don’t text her throughout the day and you don't wait for her in the hallway so you can both walk to your cars together. Melissa is confused by this sudden change and she doesn’t even know what happened. She tells Barb as she walks with her to their cars together.

“Maybe she’s going through something and just needs some space. But you’re seeing her tomorrow so she might be back to herself by then.” Barb says and Melissa nods as she reaches her car.

“Ok, ya, maybe. I really do need to talk to her.” Melissa says before she gets in her car and drives home. 

The next day around noon, Melissa is cleaning up and she feels a vibration in her pocket. She reaches in her pocket and takes her phone out and sees she got a text from you. She quickly goes into her phone and her smile drops at your text.

You: Sorry, have to cancel, I think I’m sick

Melissa: Ok, hope you feel better

Melissa sends the text and puts her phone back in her pocket and slumps down onto the couch. She was looking forward to spending time with you, to have fun with you, to talk to you about something important. She then realises that she can still do two of those things before she goes to have a shower. After a shower she gets dressed, does her hair, makeup, puts her leather jacket on and then she’s out the door. She knocks on your door 10 minutes later and you open your door without checking who was there first.

“Melissa?” You ask before you cough.

“Hey hon, I figured I could come over and help you get better.” She says and you stare at her before you step aside to let her in. She steps aside and takes a good look at you after you close the door. You’re wearing your robe, hair up in a ponytail, eyes slightly puffy and your nose is red, more than likely from blowing your nose. 

In all honesty, you don’t know if you’re sick or just heartbroken and the symptoms match both. You were coughing a lot but it could have just been from the screaming and crying you’ve been doing, so now your throat is dry. You have to blow your nose a lot but it could just be from all the crying. You know you don’t look your best as the colour has left your face quite a bit but that was also a symptom of being sick and heartbroken.

“Do you have a fever?” She asks and you shrug.

“I don’t know.” You say, voice raspy and dry. “I have a runny nose, coughing and feeling lethargic.” You explain and she hums.

“Sounds like just a small cold. Do you have medicine?” She asks and you nod.

“Bathroom cabinet.” You say as you sit back on the couch. Melissa has been at your place numerous times so she knows where most things are by now. She comes back with the medicine a couple minutes later and gets a spoon from the kitchen. Your house is a bachelor, so everything is open and Melissa has told you many times that she likes your open kitchen, more room to cook. She goes up to you, puts some medicine on the spoon and feeds it to you before she puts it down on the coffee table and sits on the couch next to you.

“Have you eaten at all?” She asks and you shake your head.

“Don’t have an appetite right now. I just want to sleep.” You tell her.

“You can put your head on my lap if you want, I don’t mind.” She says and you look at her in confusion.

“Melissa, why are you here?” You ask her and she tilts her head.

“I already told you, I came to help take care of you.” She says and you lay down, head on the pillow on the other side of the couch from Melissa. 

“Don’t know why you care.” You mutter before falling asleep. Even though you muttered it on the brink of sleep, Melissa clearly heard it and she furrowed her eyebrows. 

You wake up and you smell something good and hear movement behind you. You look over and see Melissa making something in your kitchen. You see some grocery bags as well and realise she went to the store to get some things to cook for you. You then notice that there’s a blanket around you and a box of kleenex on the coffee table close by. You stand up and wrap the blanket back around you before you make your way over to the kitchen.

“Hey, you’re awake. You should go back and rest.” Melissa says as she sees you walking over.

“I need to stretch my legs. What are you doing?” You ask her.

“Making soup. Something full of what you need to help you feel better and also something easy to digest.” She explains. 

You watch as she continues making the food as you sit down at the kitchen island. She hands you a small bowl of the soup when she’s done as she puts some in another bowl for herself. You take a couple small bites and you hum.

“It’s good.” You tell her and she smiles.

“Did you have any doubt that it wouldn’t?” She asks and you can’t help but smile.

“Maybe a little bit of doubt.” You say and she rolls her eyes playfully. You eat the whole bowl as she only gave you half a bowl.

“Want more? I made plenty. There’s like 10 servings of the soup left.” She tells you and you shake your head. 

“I’m good for now, but thank you.” You tell her and she nods before you go to the couch after she refused to let you help clean up. She joins you on the couch a few minutes later and she looks at you.

“Can I ask you something?” She asks and you nod. “Before you fell asleep, you muttered something, you said, don’t know why you care.” She says and you let out a breath. “Do you really think I don’t care about you?” She asks you.

“Just don’t know why you’re here instead of at your new boyfriend’s place.” You say and she furrows her eyebrows in confusion.

“Boyfriend? And who’s this boyfriend that I apparently have?” She asks.

“Or at least your future boyfriend, Captain Robinson.” You tell her and she turns her body towards you and moves some loose strands out of your face that fell out of your ponytail.

“Hon, he’s not my boyfriend, he’s never going to be my boyfriend.” She says and you look at her.

“But, you were angry that he was going out with another girl and you said you didn’t want to be casual with him anymore.” You say and she tilts her head.

“How do you know I don’t want to be casual with him anymore?” She asks.

“I overheard your conversation in the break room on Friday morning.” You admit and she hums.

“And how much of that conversation did you hear?” 

“Just the ending. That you don’t want to be casual, that you want a relationship with him, and Jacob saying something about that it’s good that he rejected you.” You tell her.

“Is that why you avoided me on Friday?” She asks and since you have nothing to lose, you nod.

“I see.” She says and you look to see her thinking about something. Thinking about how to phrase the next sentence. “You seemed to have eavesdropped at the worst moment.” Is all she says and you look at her in confusion.

“The worst moment? I shouldn’t have eavesdropped at all!” You yell as you stand up, blanket dropping from your shoulders. “If I didn’t then I wouldn’t have heard that you want to be in a relationship with that…dumbass!” You yell and Melissa gets up and goes to you. “No! Don’t come near me!” You yell at her and she stops in her place and nods.

“Ok, I’ll stay here.” She tells you.

“Do you have any idea what it’s been like for me? To watch from the sidelines, how you sleep with man after man who definitely don’t deserve you in the slightest.” You say and she opens her mouth to say something but you keep going. “Or how it feels to have fallen for a person who doesn’t even think twice about you? Cause I’ve fallen for you and think about you all the time and you just see me as a friend to hang out with every now and then.” You say and then realise you just confessed your feelings by accident. You then fall down and start crying on the floor. Melissa immediately runs to you and wraps her arms around you. “I said don’t touch me!” You yell and try to break free but she holds on and you eventually just give up fighting and cry in her arms.

“Shh, it’s ok.” She soothes, trying to calm you down. She moves one of her hands to your head and begins scratching your scalp and rests your head on her chest. Eventually you run out of tears and your whole body feels like it can’t move so you just stay wrapped up in her arms on the floor. “You’re ok.” She says and you take out your hair elastic as it started bothering you and let your hair fall around your face. Melissa moves your hair out of your face before she shifts to get more comfortable on the floor.

“I probably just ruined everything between us.” You say with a sniffle.

“No, you didn’t.” She tells you softly. “Truth is I’m glad you mentioned having feelings for me, it just makes this easier.” She says and you lift your head to look at her.

“Makes what easier?” You say.

“Earlier when I said that you eavesdropped at the worst moment, I said it because you didn’t hear that I was talking about you.” She admits and you just stare at her. “I was talking about wanting to end being casual with Robinson and be with you.” She adds and your jaw drops. “Y/n, I like you but I’ve been so scared about telling you. I thought that maybe you liked me as well but you’re 30, you’re 24 years younger than me. I thought that maybe you don’t want to be with someone as old as me.” She tells you and you surge forward and kiss her. 

Melissa is shocked for a second but then kisses you back, she puts her hands in your hair and keeps you close as she doesn’t want the kiss to stop. You both pull back when air is needed and she leans her forehead against yours with a soft smile. 

“So if I got this right, that Captain never stood a chance.” You say and Melissa giggles.

“You got that right.” She says with a smile before you go and kiss her again. You kiss her with more force than she was expecting and she ends up falling backwards on her back with you on top, still kissing her, and she laughs.

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