#it might even make him want to ACTUALLY be better...

[mrsbarnesblog]

˖˚⊹ old habits

➤ summary: you call Rafe out when he acts disrespectfully

➤ w/c: 1.5k.

➤ warnings: themes of toxic masculinity, emotional confrontation

➤ a/n: really wanted to be a part of @zyafics campaign, and I hope that other writers will consider doing it too <3

masterlist

The thing between you and Rafe was still new and fresh—only a few times going out on dates, lingering touches, and way too many moments that were more than just friendly.

Since the first time you had met him, you thought that he had grown to be a better person. He tried to change some of his old habits to become more mature. And you truly saw that, and it was a reason why you even started to catch feelings. But there were still times when he struggled, when some of the traits of that old toxic Rafe were slipping through, either because it was too hard to control things that he had been taught from a young age or because he truly didn’t see himself being in the wrong. 

That day he invited you to the new cafe near the beach on the mainland, saying that it was the best one. For you, Rafe was a gentleman. He picked you up, helped you to get in and out of his truck, complimented your dress and your hair, and let you hold his upper arm when he was leading you to the entrance.

He opened the door for you, and the place was dimly lit with yellow tones and just radiated warmth. It was a little bit too loud with people sitting everywhere, but if the place was good, you didn’t mind that one bit. You looked back at Rafe, sharing a smile, until the young hostess stepped in front of you. 

“I’m so sorry, but as you may see, we’re full right now. You may sit here until one of the tables is free.” With a polite smile, she gestured to the side. “The waiting time will be around fifteen to twenty minutes, if that’s okay with you.” 

You nodded to her words without hesitation. “That’s totally fine.” 

But beside you, Rafe let out a small breath. Not quite a sigh, more like a scoff. He raised an eyebrow and looked the girl up and down with something colder in his expression than you would’ve preferred.

“You’re telling me you can’t fit two people in? It’s not even full in here.” She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, briefly looking at you to figure out how to react. Rafe’s voice wasn’t loud, but you knew how intimidating and cold he might be, especially to people who were not used to it.

“Rafe.” You said his name sharply, tugging his bicep once in hope that he would let it go. 

He glanced at you, then back at the hostess, not getting the problem that you seemed to have. “We’re literally standing here, dressed nicely, just asking for a table. I’m not trying to be a dick. I'm just saying, you could make it work if you actually wanted to.” You didn’t wait for her to respond. You took a step back, slowly removing your hand from his arm.

“I’ll be outside.” You said. No emotion in your voice, hands already folded across your chest. 

You sat at the bench outside, one leg thrown over another, looking at the ocean and debating just simply going back home. Rafe walked out a few minutes later, with hands buried in the pockets of his pants, looking at you like he genuinely could not understand your behavior. 

“Are you seriously mad at me?”

“I’m not mad. I’m disappointed.” You said calmly, not even sparing him a glance. 

“For what? I didn’t even say anything bad. She was the one who couldn’t do her job properly.”

Your head snapped towards him with eyebrows raised in surprise. “No.” You said sharply, taking him aback. “You were being an asshole because you didn’t get what you wanted. She was doing her job, Rafe.” 

His brows knit. “Jesus, I wasn’t an asshole—I was just calling her out.”

“Calling her out for what, Rafe? For not breaking policy? For not giving you special treatment?” He looked away, jaw clenching. His hand reached his head to rub over his buzzed hair in frustration, while you simply looked at him, seeing the conflict that he had. Part of him clearly knew you were being reasonable, that he might’ve stepped over the line, but the rest of him, the louder part, wanted to be right. Wanted to win.

“I’m not dating someone who thinks talking down to people makes him important.” You said firmly, your voice low and calm but hard to let him know how serious that situation was for you. “That’s not cute. That doesn’t make you look cooler or whatever. That’s not something I tolerate.”

Rafe exhaled hard through his nose, briefly throwing his head back in frustration. “You’re making it sound like I screamed at her or something. I was just—I don’t know—frustrated.”

“Yeah, and she was working. Probably scared of losing her job because of kooks who talk down to her every day. Probably already dealing with a bunch of other men who think that they are better than everyone and that other people owe them something.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t do that.”

You stood up, stepping closer with your heels softly clicking against the wood. You squinted your eyes slightly, tilting your head to the side now that you were almost the same height. “Do what?”

“Make me out to be some kind of monster.”

“I’m not.” You shot back. “But if you don’t like how I make you sound by just talking about your actions, maybe ask yourself why instead of getting defensive.”

The silence that followed stretched long between you. You crossed your arms tighter, mostly to keep yourself from softening, because, God, you wanted to. Because part of you knew that he didn’t mean to hurt anyone, but still addressing the problem was important to prove to him that the said problem existed. 

You watched the gears turning behind his eyes, jaw tight, hands buried deep in his pockets. He looked off toward the ocean like maybe the answer was out there, like it could help him to understand how to break the default settings that were engraved in his brain. 

“I didn’t think it was that bad.” Rafe admitted finally, his voice quieter now, and you could hear the edge of hesitation. “I didn’t even notice I was doing it. That I was acting like…” He trailed off, and you knew what he meant. Like Ward.

“That’s the problem, Rafe.” You said softer now, but still steady. “You don’t even notice when you slip. I know that you’re trying to be better. I see it, but I also need you to acknowledge that sometimes you can still be mean, that sometimes you’re in the wrong. Otherwise we won’t work out.”

He looked at you then, as if hurt for a second, because for the part of him, it sounded like a threat or like a challenge that he didn’t want to accept.

“I don’t want to be that guy.” He said after a moment. “I’ve been trying. You know I have.”

“I know. That’s why I’m still standing here and not leaving.” You stepped closer, but you didn’t reach for him.

“But I’m not going to coach you through being a decent person every time you slip. You have to want it for yourself, not just to keep me happy, because I’m telling you right now, Rafe…” You met his eyes, staying your ground. “If that’s the man you choose to be, I will walk away. Even if I don’t want to.”

His throat bobbed in a nervous swallow, his eyes darted away, then back to yours, as if he was trying to measure if you were bluffing. And when a few seconds passed, when you looked at him steadily, waiting for an answer, he turned and walked back toward the café.

You watched him through the front windows when he hesitated near the hostess stand, tugging awkwardly at the expensive watch on his wrist, and then leaned in to speak to the girl. Her face was surprised at first, then softened as he continued to talk, before she nodded a few times, still slightly hesitant, and said something back to him. 

When Rafe returned back to you, the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease a little bit, though his jaw clenched when he rubbed the back of his neck and stopped in front of you like he wasn’t sure where to begin.

“I apologized. Told her I was out of line.”

You gave him a small nod. “Thank you.”

He shifted on his feet, nervous. “She said the table will be ready in ten.” You nodded again, waiting for him to continue. “You still wanna eat with me?” He asked, almost hesitant, like a boy who'd just been scolded.

“I do.” His lips stretched in a small smile, eyes glimmering with something like surprise and maybe a bit of shyness that you caught every once in a while. Rafe stepped closer, offering you his hand, and you playfully rolled your eyes, smiling back and interlacing your fingers. “Now I’m about to order the whole damn menu, Cameron. And it better be good.” 

[markos-husband]

Hector Valentino Airnesto Condicionado Headcanons

Sfw

• Chubby. Without a doubt this man is chubby. We never really get a good look at Hector without his cardboard box he calls clothes (I love you Hector, please get some actually clothes my love). We can see his body a bit better in his ending and, to me at least, he look very clearly chubby but its also kinda hard to see his body.

• I love his face so much, I can't even describe it. His soft jaw, his slight double chin, his curls, his crooked nose AHHHH- He's so perfect.

• He has some of the best handwriting you've ever seen. His cursive his beautiful but him writing in Spanish is other worldly with how beautiful it looks. I think that he loves to leave you letter and notes for you to find, especially if he knows you're having a hard day.

• Smells sooooo good. I imagine him smelling like hazelnut, cocobutter, and that smell when you turn on the heat for the first time in the winter, that sorta smokey, dusty smell. He's also well groomed. He uses soap, body wash, shampoo, conditioner, and a hair mask every time he takes a shower, and not a five in one.

• He's gives off Phantom of the Opera vibes for sure and I thinks he's definitely written songs for you but I dont think he a good singer. I love him! But that man couldn't sing to save his life, his off tempo and slightly off key. It not his voice that's the problem, just rhythm issues.

• Speaking of Hector's voice, he does occasionally speak to you in his deep voice, especially during intimacy but he get embarrassed talking like that when there isn't a barrier between you and him. I actually like his natural, higher voice despite a lot of people not. If you don't like Hector in his cardboard box, high pitch, double chin form, you dont deserve him as he faceless, mysterious figure in the vents 😤.

• Some of his favorite nicknames for you are "my love" "my darling" "mi amor" "sweet boy" and "my starlight" when he's feel poetic.

Nsft

• Average size. He isn't crazy big but he's not small either. He had dark curls down there that he trims now and then but most let's go wild. VERY sensitive tip that constantly drips pre-cum, no need for lube!

• Switch but mostly a bottom, and definitely a sub even when he tops. If you ask him to be more dominant he will but you're always the one in control over him. He focuses on your pleasure always, please tie him up and make him cum a few times.

• He's loud but very embarrassed about it. He covers his face as tried his best to be quiet but when you pin down his hips to keep him from squirming and thrust so deep you hit his prostate, how can he be quiet? All the objects in the house know about what happened just from Hector. He always tries to talk during sex which get a bit frustrating because he just keeps telling you that he doesn't have to cum and that he'll be okay when he very clearly is about to cum from your touch. Gag him and the moan and whimpers that escape will be ungodly.

• Very open to trying new thing. Bondage? He can tie a good knot and doesn't mind the feeling of control being taken away. Toys? Anything that will make your experience more pleasurable even if they toys are for him. Wax play? Ice cubes? Uh, he might be a bit too into this one...

• Begs. This goes along with how loud he is but he will beg like there is no tomorrow, he is not ashamed to ask for what he wants.

• Aftercare is cleaning each other up and then cuddling. Hector is the little spoon, without a doubt, but he also really likes to read to you afterward when you're all cuddled up in your warm blanket.

First time doing headcanons in years bro, I hope yall like this!!

[corrodedheartsclub]

I’m Dumb She’s a Lesbian

Steddie. Modern au. Getting together. Platonic Stobin. 1685 words.

Steve’s used to people mistaking him and Robin as a couple. Unfortunately, he’s not used to Eddie’s form of problem solving.

After trying to explain to Eddie, without success, that him and Robin are purely platonic, he mistakenly admits that he did have a crush on her briefly, but once he knew it was never going to happen, they’ve become best friend. Platonic soulmates even.

“It’s honestly so for the best, Eddie. We weren’t meant to be a couple. We’re like cosmically linked on a whole other level.” Ok, Steve might be a little high, but he really believe him and Robin are meant to be in the most platonic way possible. He’s laying on Eddie’s bed, the joint their sharing nearly gone, and he can’t help the goofy smile that splits across his face. “Eddie, you know… I actually-”

“You guys are perfect together though! You’re always together, laughing and leaning on each other. How could there be no chance?” Eddie laments.

Steve shakes his head and groans, turning his face into the sheet. Eddie was hopeless.

“You’ve just gotta find the right timing.” Eddie doesn’t understand a world where anyone would shoot down this newly evolved Harrington. He’s perfect, and if Eddie can’t have him, he’ll make it his personal mission to get Steve and Robin together.

Steve’s watching him, wondering what the heck is going on in that head of his. Eddie was a mystery to him.

-

Kicking off his plan, Eddie starts by asking them to go to the movies, only to bail at the last minute. “I completely forgot I promised Wayne I’d help him work on the truck. I’m the worst, but no you guys should still go! Enjoy the movie!” He urges them on.

They sit through a cheesy romcom, and by five minutes in, they’re both questioning Eddie’s choice in movies. Never mind that Steve did end up really like it.

“That was weird, right?” Robin questions as they leave the theater.

“Which part?” Steve was finishing the last of his candy by turning over the box. He looks over at her, a mouthful of sour gummy worms.

Robin laughs, “You look like a creature.”

Steve crosses his eyes and laughs.

She’s shaking her head. “Eddie. He’s being weird. Did you notice anything last night when you guys were hanging out?”

“Mostly that he’s gorgeous and still completely oblivious every time I try to tell him how I feel,” Steve grumbles. “Plus, he’s so convinced we should be dating.”

“We? Like, you and I?” Robin mock gags, but then she jumps and smacks Steve’s arm. “That’s it!”

“Ow what the fuck, Buckley? What’s it?”

“He’s trying to parent trap us!”

Steve looks skeptical, but he starts connecting the dots in his head. He gaps. “Oh fuck.”

“Ok, we’ve just gotta sit him down and tell him we’re not together.”

“You could just tell him you’re gay and have a girlfriend. That would probably kill this idea that we belong together. I mean, he’s gay, so you shouldn’t have to worry about him?” Steve suggests.

“I’m just not ready to scream it from the rooftops. Plus, Vickie’s in the closet too, and I don’t want our time together being put under a microscope and risk outing her before she’s ready. I know I can trust Eddie to be supportive, but he’s so loud and proud and though I love that about him, I worry he’d let it slip on accident.”

Steve understands. Eddie is bold and outgoing, and it’s all wonderful. It’s just not what Robin needs right now. He agrees they just need to sit him down and set the record straight.

-

Steve leans against the counter at Family Video. The day’s been painfully slow so far, and he finds himself slow-blinking at the door, dozing off against his better judgment.

The door chimes and shocks him awake. He’s greeted by Dustin dumping a pile of returns in front of him. “Good morning,” he teases.

He rolls his eyes and groans at him. “You watch too many movies.” He yawns through Dustin’s offended scoff.

“Did you just go to the movies last night? Hypocrite!” Dustin defends.

Steve shoots him a look. “How do you know that? Stalking me, kid?”

“I was picking up character sheets from Eddie. He had some extras and I’m prepping for our next campaign. He said you and Robin were out watching a romcom. Are you guys finally dating?”

Steve lets out a small chuckle. “Ah, the man of the hour. No, we’re not dating, and we’ll never be dating. Eddie’s just trying to make something happen. Nosy little shits, the lot of you.”

Dustin looks skeptical. “Why would Eddie want you and Robin together? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’re the one that just asked if we’re finally dating, and now you’re flipping the script. Who’s the hypocrite now?” Steve is scanning in the movies and shaking his head.

“I just mean that Eddie wouldn’t want you guys together because he’s totally into you,” Dustin says it like an obvious fact. “He’s always so whiny about it.”

Steve freezes. “What?”

The kid’s eyes widen as he realizes his overstep. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Steve’s already reaching for the phone. He punches in Robin’s number and points at Dustin while it rings. “You shouldn’t have. We’re going to talk later about not blabbing other people’s secrets. For now- scram.”

Dustin has the hindsight to look remorseful.

Robin answers with a theatric sigh. “Are you so hopeless without me that you must call on my day off?”

“Change of plans. I’m going to catch Eddie in his own trap, and you’re going to help.”

-

It’s all going according to plan. Steve and Robin find that it’s pretty easy to give Eddie the slip on his attempts.

Eddie tries to get Robin and Steve on a romantic date? Oh no, Robin’s got a family emergency. Eddie, you should stay so Steve isn’t all alone.

Lined up for Robin and Steve have to ride the ferris wheel together? Whoops, Robin remembers she’s afraid of heights at the front of the line, quick Eddie switch with her so Steve didn’t wait in this line for nothing.

Eddie sent flowers to Robin at family video with a card that says from Steve. Shame that the order got mixed up, and they went to Steve instead. Oh, but look how Steve blushes at the delivery.

The duo is feeling pretty good about their plan, but Eddie is losing his mind. Instead of fixing his crush, he’s fallen harder than ever. Every time he thinks he’s set the perfect trap, it twists around, and he finds himself spending more time with Steve. He’s not complaining necessarily. Any time alone with Steve makes his heart pound in his chest, but if he can’t have this perfect guy, he’s set on getting him the girl of his dreams.

Alternatively, Robin is starting to find it more and more difficult to explain to Vickie why she’s playing a game of set-up chicken with her friends.

Robin decides it’s time to end Eddie’s misery.

Her and Steve plan an elaborate picnic out at skull rock. There’s a big blanket, tons of pillows, and the most classic picnic basket you’ve ever seen.

Steve is pacing at the tree line. He needs this to go well. His crush had settled deep in his chest, and Steve was sure it was love. He didn’t want to play games with Eddie. It was time for everyone to clear the air and be direct with their feelings, but he couldn’t help the nerves that made him question everything. What if Eddie didn’t like him? Maybe he really did think Steve and Robin belonged together.

He tries to clear his mind. Robin was telling Eddie to come meet him here right about now. He should be here soon. Steve fiddles with his hair, trying to quell the anxiety.

When Eddie finally makes his way through the woods, Steve isn’t sure how to greet him.

Eddie’s surprised at the setup, and he immediately tries to rationalize it before Steve can get a word out. “Did you mean for me to come here? Buckley said you were looking for me, but I can go get her? Or do you need help setting up… I’m not sure you can do much else. It looks perfect.”

Steve is dumbfounded at Eddie’s ability to completely misread his intent, once again.

“No, Eddie, I meant for you to be here. This is for you.” He tries to speak clearly, leaving no room for confusion.

Eddie looks utterly confused. “For me?”

Steve can’t help his fond smile. “Yes, dummy. You. If you can stop trying to set me up with my best friend for a minute, I’ve been trying to ask you out for a while now.”

The man is gaping at him. “No. You’re not serious.”

He groans and tosses his hands up. “Eddie, what do I have to do to convince you?” Steve stares at him for a moment before he gets a bright idea. He stands up straight, walks up to Eddie in two long strides, grabs his face, and kisses him.

Eddie lets out a surprised noise before grabbing at Steve’s arms, waist, hair, anything for purchase to pull him closer.

Steve parts, pressing their foreheads together and keeping Eddie close. Eddie whines softly before looking back at Steve, trying to understand it all.

“I just wanted you to be happy. I didn’t think- I had no idea this was an option. Even if it couldn’t be with me, I just knew you deserved all the happiness,” the words spill out as Eddie reaches up to touch Steve’s face gently, tracing along his jaw reverently.

“I’m in love with you. I tried to get the words out so many times, but I was so nervous for how you’d react.” Steve leans into the touch.

Eddie’s breath hitches. “I love you too.”

-

Later, Robin introduces Eddie to her girlfriend, and he spends the rest of the afternoon apologizing for his schemes.

[shadowsviper]

Baby Saja Headcanons

A little bit of x reader

I absolutely loved the movie and Baby Saja, so I'm making headcanons for him. These are my interpretations of him, obviously, since we don't know anything about the actual character. These aren’t really that serious, they’re like crack headcanons. Idk how many of these I'm making.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Like I've said before, he's 100% sassy.

He has that cutesy baby look for fans but the second he’s home he’s staring his group down with a deadpan face and quips one liners that could evaporate their previous lives

Baby: 🫰❤️

Also Baby: That’s why yo mama and sister dead.

He fucking hates doing aegyo

He was 👌 this close to strangling Jinu when he suggested Baby to do it

Every time he does anything cute he silently cursing at Jinu

The fans eat it up every time so it makes him want to strangle Jinu even more

If you don’t watch him, he will succeed

Your food? His food

Nothing is safe from him when he’s in the vicinity

Especially if it’s anything he can chug down

We saw how he was like with that hot sauce and water bottle, your sauces and drinks aren’t safe

You might have to lock them up to prevent him from drinking them

Before you found out about this habit, the boys had to figure out a way to fight him off because he chugged $300 worth of sauces and drinks

Demon stomachs are way stronger than humans ig

You know how some boyfriends will drink out of their girlfriend’s water bottle even if they have their own??

Yeah that’s Baby. He’ll drink your water from your water bottle even though he has his own

By the end of the day his water bottle is still full while yours is empty

He’ll claim that yours taste better

He was the worst when it came to practice. Jinu had to physically force him to participate otherwise he would just sit out until it’s his turn to rap

His raps were all a few lines (if not less) and so he’ll just sit out again after that

Jinu almost returned him back to Gwi-ma

Baby couldn’t give a fuck less

I wholeheartedly believe he wrote diss tracks for each of the boys and threatens to release them whenever they annoy or piss him off

Those threats happen every week

Gossip king

He acts so nonchalant and bored when he’s not out performing on stage or meeting fans but he’s secretly hearing every bit of tea

None of it has anything to do with him

He comes to you to tell you about it and you’ll be like ??? Who tf are these people???

If you ever find a 12 part video on tiktok and you don’t feel like watching all of it for the tea, give it to him. He’ll do it for you, he’ll watch all 12 parts and then tell you the details even if it’s boring

He’s just nosy af but if the boys ever try to tell the fans no one will believe them

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ok that’s it for now. If I can think of anything else I’ll make a part 2

[zottts]

warnings - size kink, degradation, breeding kink (if you squint), not really a warning but worshipping, it's sentry expect it to be mean

you and sentry had been... 'together' for a while now, and you would think he would change somewhat, and he has - just a bit. but during sex? absolutely not, he was still the same man who wanted to be worshiped like a god, who will degrade and belittle you only because he finds it amusing when you moan and cry out his name as he pumps into you at his speed - why would he slow down for you he had l reasonings to, you liked it anyways. the way you could see his cock outline in your stomach, each little "oh you poor thing". it drove you mad, it was addictive. the only time he "went slow" was to put you in your place or fuck with you.

sentry just loved filling you up, every single time, watching your pathetic attempts to squirm under his hands - your almost doe eyes look as you looked up at him, hair all sprawled out on his pillows, mouth slightly ajar as he pumps into you mercifully, being able to see his cock completely fill you, and knowing you couldn't get enough of him. or from behind when he got his hands tangled within your soft locks of hair, pulling you up towards him with a semi-gentle pull, watching your back arch into him as be whispered how pathetic, useless, and stupid you looked being fucked by his cock.

how he is going to fuck you so stupid that you won't be able to walk nor speak for the next week. every little moan, whine, whimper, he would mock the sounds, how you reacted to things which each pump, as he moved in and out of you.

"so filthy. you want more, hm? you think you deserve more?" he spoke softly, despite the fact his tone was mocking,

he would make you beg for it til you were sobbing, trembling under him. it was so easy for him to ruin you, bring you down to nothing. because to him, like this - you were nothing, pathetic.

"sentry- mnn please?" between heavy breaths, it was a pathetic attempt, really. and you knew that.

"no, do better than that, now." he would slow down, painfully slow - and practically stopping until you were up to his standards. he wasn't asking, it was a command.

"sentry" he cocked an eyebrow, the words dying in your throat before you could even finish the sentence, like he was daring you to finish it. to see what would happen

"my god, sentry, ..my everything, p-please." you spoke through a broken sob, he started to move, in and out of you - slowly, on purpose. "aah-! fuck. please, oh my god please" a whine slipped out. you couldn't help that he was big, and it hurt. and he knew he was big too, of course he did. every time he fucked you like this he could always see the outline of himself inside you, the want to bury himself within you, to fill you completely with himself.

he couldn't help the low chuckle slip out of his mouth at your behavior, mmmn. i don't know if that's good enough." he held you in place so easily with his hands, it was like you were stuck in place. "so pathetic, can't even get a complete sentence out, poor thing." he paused for a moment, running his hands against your sides "you want me to fuck you stupid, fill you up?"

you quickly shake your head, it was hard enough to get a single word out - he knew that, but he wanted to hear you say it. "use your words or I'm pulling out." you took a deep breath "please, pretty please? god- please just move i need you so badly, you are the only one i need. just move" the words spilled out before you couldn't even get a thought in your head, the words sounded almost incoherent - it was like a flip that switched on in his brain, instead of belittling you, mocking you - he actually listens.

the after math of it you are out of breath, he went way past the point of your ecstasy. you laid on your stomach panting, hair in your face. he might be a god, an asshole, but not a monster. of course he was going to help you clean up. at least a bit.

[farfromharry]

Summary: Lando’s girlfriend broke her leg and obviously he had to be the first to sign it

lando norris x reader

w/c 963

A broken leg, that was Y/N’s diagnosis. That and being incredibly clumsy. And she had been sulking about it for the better part of a day.

Lando had been scared to overstep. He knew she was upset, her movements for the next 2-3 months were limited, of course she would be upset. But he missed her. Being a boyfriend had taught him a lot about himself and one of those things was that he was extremely clingy when the right person was involved. He just wanted to spend time with her.

He gave it till 2pm the day after they left the hospital before he broke. He needed bribes and a smile and hopefully everything would go to plan.

The man knocked on the bedroom door, getting no response just as expected. “Are you still moping or can I come in?” It was a dangerous game he was playing. Poking the bear. Luckily for him, this bear had a soft spot. That soft spot was named Lando Norris. She was just as gone for him as he was for her. A match made in heaven.

A huff came from beneath the blankets. It made him smile. “Depends. Did you bring ice cream… or chocolate?” Her voice was quiet, like she was being shy about it. He knew her too well though.

“Chocolate ice cream okay?”

She lifted her head like she was checking he was being honest. The man waved the tub where she could see with a spoon in his other hand. For the first time in a full day, she smiled. “You beautiful man, get over here.”

That was his green light. He basically jogged over to the bed, throwing himself in beside her. He offered the ice cream and a kiss, both doing wonders to lighten her mood.

“How you feeling?” He brushed her hair from her face.

She frowned, curling into his side. “Like I can’t go anywhere without burdening someone.” Considering she had never used crutches, everyone agreed it was best to accompany her places in case she stumbled or fell. It was out of love. No one wanted her to hurt herself more than she already had.

Now it was his turn to frown. He couldn’t even begin to tell her how much of a burden she wasn’t. “I will literally carry you everywhere until it’s healed. You’re not allowed to be sad anymore.”

Unfortunately she knew he was being serious. “Lan, you can’t just—“

“Yes, actually, I can.” He raised an arm, pulled up his sleeve and flexed. “I have incredible biceps. It’d be a breeze.” He winked for good measure and she hated how it made her a little flustered.

It all started with his finger tracing shapes on her leg. That was probably where he got the idea from. Then it graduated to him shuffling down the bed, deciding he had to make his mark on her cast.

She didn’t know where he got the pen, probably in one of his many pockets for some random reason. It did take her by surprise though that he was just blindly helping himself. She might not have minded if he had written her a nice message or something. “Did you just sign my cast?” She blinked, blankly.

“Obviously, that’s what you do with casts.”

Her eyes flickered down to the ink now soaking into the plaster. It was there clear as day. The squiggly lines that somehow made up ‘Lando’ with a little 4 beside it. “No, Lando, you literally autographed it.”

He looked down with a furrowed brow, like he hadn’t even realised what he’d done. It was sort of a reflex. When a pen was put in his hand and he was supposed to sign something, that’s exactly what he did. His signature was scrawled mindlessly across the cast because that’s what he was so used to doing. Over the years he’d signed everything from skin to wrappers. Apparently now he even signed his girlfriend.

“Shit.” Any normal person would have felt guilty or even feigned it, but not him. Lando laughed, like, full belly laughed at his mistake. “I’m sorry, baby.”

The woman rolled her eyes. Admittedly she couldn’t help but feel slightly amused herself.

“I’ll fix it.”

“How?”

There was that evil grin on his face again. “You just eat your ice cream. Let me work my magic.”

She didn’t even want to know what he had planned. When it came to Lando sometimes it was better to turn a blind eye and let him do his thing. She sighed, doing as he said. As long as he didn’t draw something phallic like the child he was, she supposed she could get over it.

The man was concentrating hard. Every now and then she would glance at him, find him with his head practically buried in her thigh and his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth. It was adorable.

10 minutes must have gone by before he finally announced he was done with his masterpiece. “All done.” He sat back with a proud smile on his face.

When she finally took a look, it was like something a crushing teen might draw in the margin of their high school notebook. Hearts, everywhere, followed by a ‘Lando <3 Y/N.’ It was silly, but it made her smile and that was all he wanted to do. Plus now that he’d dedicated his love to her, at least everyone would know she was his.

“I love it, you’re a real artist.”

He beamed. It would be with her for the next 3 months so he was glad she liked it. He stole a quick kiss and then a bit of ice cream when she wasn’t looking. “Good, ‘cause I love you.”

[lo1k-diamonds]

Moving On 💜

You can sleep with me.

PAIRING: Hoseok x (f) Reader

SUMMARY: All you wanted was to help your best friend move in with her fiancé, Jin — you just didn't know putting up with Hoseok came with the deal. And now there's only one bed.

WORD COUNT: 22.2k

GENRE: enemies to lovers, one bed trope, smut, oneshot (is renovating a house a genre? 🤣)

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: bickering, arguing, Jin is a whole mood and sometimes he doesn't help, unfinished business, misunderstandings, Hoseok is actually a sweetheart and vulnerable and goals, alcohol (no one does things drunk), sexual tension, dirty talking, brief masturbation, exhibitionism (kinda), oh brat reader 💯, soft Dom Hoseok, oral f rec, fingering, unprotected sex, biting, his hand around your throat once, pulling out, reader can't get enough of him 🤷‍♀️

A.N.: So... I had the idea for this fic one year ago, when I renovated my place and moved in. I'm trying to go through my WIP folder, what can I say? Better late than never. Also, that's where some of the knowledge comes from, but don't take it at face value 😅 I did most of the painting, not the rest 🤣 Anyway, enjoy 😉 Thank you, Raven @eerieedits, for the banner! This is another entry for Bangtan Writers HQ's Second Quarter 2025 event: ‘Home Is Where The Heart Is’.

Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

As soon as you exited the bus, you heard a familiar voice shouting your name. Ahn Hyeonseo was easy to spot at the Gwangju bus terminal — she was the beautiful girl jumping around and waving for you to find her between the crowd of families, the elderly, and a few young people. You waved back and got your luggage from the bus luggage compartment before making your way to her.

She squealed in your ear as she hugged you, “I’m so happy you’re here!!!”

You hugged your best friend with a sigh, then pulled away. “There are way too many people here,” you complained, telling her in so many words that you wanted to leave.

She led the way from the terminal to the nearby, overcrowded parking lot. “Because of the festival. I’m happy we scheduled this well in advance, or I’m not sure how you’d get a ticket.” 

“It’s why we picked this weekend anyway.” You shrugged as you dragged your luggage at least half your size behind you.

She raised an eyebrow as she eyed it. “Yeah… And you need all that for a weekend?”

You scoffed. “This is just what I might need to help you,” you underlined, poking her with your elbow as she grinned. “My clothes are in my backpack,” you added, showing her your big backpack that she certainly noticed when she hugged you.

She smiled widely as she unlocked the car and helped you load your things inside. “I got everything you told me to, and you can always wear my clothes.”

You pushed the trunk door closed. “These are just for the details… I don’t know what I’ll encounter.”

Hyeonseo laughed playfully as she got into the driver's seat, and you got into the shotgun seat. You were teasing her because she had only sent you a few photos, hoping to convince you to visit and see for yourself. That made things more complicated because you didn’t just want to visit, you wanted to help her restore the house she had bought with her fiancé. But Hyeonseo preferred to keep up the mystery.

“Don't exaggerate, you've seen the whole place. I've sent you enough photos and videos.”

“Not of the details,” you complained, and she shrugged. 

“People were working, so everything was covered anyway. Now that the electricity, plumbing, floors, and all that is done, we can finally finish it.” She had a massive smile as she drove you to her new home. “I'm very excited about it.”

“How was the move-in?”

“We took two days off and already slept there tonight.” She glanced at you with sparkles in her eyes. “I love it. I’m so happy we did this, even if it literally makes me broke for the rest of my life.”

You grimaced ever so slightly, but stopped yourself from commenting negatively.

“It was a good investment,” you told her, observing the streets that would witness your best friend building her family. “It was a good find for where it is and everything.”

“Yeah, it’s just the amount of work it needed,” she sighed. She gave you the latest update about the roof, and you recognized the long sigh of someone who wanted to spare you the stressful details. “But it’s finally done. We’ve moved in, everything is in boxes everywhere, and we can now work on the details. That’s where you come in.”

She smiled sheepishly, and you felt lighter. “I thought you’d want to settle in asap and overlook the details.”

“Well, Jin is right — if we don’t do it now, we will never do it. And since we can get help, we decided to push through it,” she explained as you observed the residential neighbourhood you were now in. “Our kitchen isn’t finished, we only have a few pieces of furniture… It’s a work in progress. Actually, that’s one thing we need your help with,” she added, as though suddenly remembering. “We thought to replace the built-in closets, but it’s really expensive. So we wanted you to take a look and tell us if they can be recovered.”

“That’s not a problem.”

“There’s also— Ah, you’ll see,” she cut herself short when she entered her new driveway. 

A pickup was already parked there, and you automatically assumed someone was still working at the house. More importantly, you leaned forward to look out of the windshield at their new home. It had two floors, plus an attic, and it looked quite nice, with black tiles on the roof and large windows. Who knew your best friend would become a homeowner?

“Come, let’s get you inside,” she said, already getting your luggage from the trunk. “I have to call the furniture store again, it’s getting late.” 

Hyeonseo huffed and refused to let you carry everything by yourself. Instead, she went ahead and entered the place through the garage, welcoming you inside her home for the first time.

“Come in!!!” she almost squealed, putting your luggage to the side and forcing you to put your backpack down too.

You were already in awe, eying the whole place. It was spacious, with an open concept and large windows at the front, providing ample light to an almost empty living room, aside from the materials and machines left there and the air conditioning unit up in the corner. The wood floor was beautiful and matched the vibe of a fixer-upper. The kitchen also looked brand new, but you could see what Hyeonseo meant with it not being finished — there was no stove, for example.

“We’re supposed to get a bunch of things still today, I’m so excited!” She clapped her hands. “Chairs, a dining table, and a couch. Finally, it will start looking a bit more proper!”

“Tell me you have a bed,” you asked, suddenly worried.

Hyeonseo laughed. “First thing we assembled — our bed and the guest room’s bed.” You sighed, and she waved at you to follow. “Come, I’ll show you the rest!”

You wanted to stop and observe things a bit more carefully, but Hyeonseo dragged you along to the first floor after a glimpse at the bathroom. Instantly, you noticed the dark blue stains on the wood stair treads and halted. Glancing behind you, you noticed that the ground-floor wooden floor had no stains.

“What happened here?” you asked, reaching to touch a particularly dark stain to feel how thick it was.

“Some walls upstairs were blue and they didn’t protect the floors while painting,” Hyeonseo revealed, then heaved a deep breath. “The renovating team fixed the floors, but not the stairs. They proposed it, but it was expensive, and it would mean not being able to access the rooms for a while, which didn’t work for us. We needed to move in this week,” she reminded you as she climbed the rest of the stairs, and you nodded.

“Yeah, well, it’s not a lot, it just takes a lot of time… I might be able to do something about it.”

Hyeonseo sighed in relief, happy to count on you. Once on the first floor, she proudly showed you the second bathroom and the master bedroom. You nodded, noting that the only pieces of furniture you’d seen so far were that bed and a couple of chairs in the living room. The ladders didn’t count. Nor did the yet-to-be-assembled furniture, like the bookshelves, closets, and desk, still sitting in piles of wood planks and bolts in the living room.

“You painted the rooms already?” you asked, and she nodded.

“Just the bedrooms, so we could learn to do it and already sleep here. What do you think? That main wall was dark blue before.” She pointed at the main wall behind their bed, and you nodded, approving the very light orange tone they had chosen instead.

“It’s nice, it opens the room and makes it softer.” You walked around, noticing the corners and the skirting board. “You even protected the skirting board and taped the other wall for a perfect line. I’m impressed.”

“You told us to!”

You smirked. “Sure, but you did it properly.” Hyeonseo rolled her eyes, and you raised an eyebrow at the built-in closet. “Is that the one?”

You approached it carefully, instantly entranced by the beautiful flower engravings on the wooden sliding doors. However, once close, you scowled. “They got paint on the closets too?! How clumsy can they be?”

Hyeonseo sighed. “Yeah, they left it a mess.”

You slid the closet door open and started feeling the shelves and the back of the closet. You hummed as you did, glad that it didn’t look like there was much damage to be fixed.

“Well, the closet might look old, but the wood is sound. I think just some sanding and treatment with oil should be enough.”

“That’s wonderful news!” your best friend beamed. “Let me show you your room.”

You followed her to the room next door, which had a queen-sized bed and a similar built-in closet. You were about to make your way to it to check it out, but Hyeonseo guided you away gently by the shoulders. “You can check it later. Think about this,” she coaxed, turning you to look at the sun-lit room. “You can visit anytime,” she gushed, hugging you dearly. “We’re just a three-hour drive away!”

You smiled and held her back, eternally thankful for her.

“Now come and check the attic!” She beamed at you, grabbing your hand to drag you along. “It’s the only part they finished before we bought it,” she explained as she went up the narrow wooden stairs.

You placed your hand on the wooden railing and compared it with the other set leading to the ground floor. The Korean pine wood you were touching had been recently installed, and it still had a fresh, new smell. It was the same type of wood as the older set leading to the ground floor, but that one needed work. Starting by removing those horrible dark blue paint stains—

“Oh, hi!!” Hyeonseo beamed again, already out of your sight.

You pressed your lips and hurried to follow your best friend to the attic before she called you out for geeking about the wood of her stairs.

You instantly heard Jin’s voice replying to her and smiled, but your stomach dropped as the attic came into view.

“Hobi!” Hyeonseo all but shouted and jumped into his arms, and you almost missed the last step and fell face-first onto the beautiful varnished floor. 

Only Jin seemed to notice your almost tumble; he hid a smirk as you kept going, sniffling casually. By then, your brain couldn’t take in the spacious, raised-ceiling, well-lit room. You were just staring at the man hugging Hyeonseo, anticipating being able to see his face at any moment and confirm that it was, in fact—

Hyeonseo’s feet touched the floor when Hoseok put her down. “Ah! The pickup outside! I didn’t recognize it!”

Hoseok smiled casually as he let her step back into Jin’s orbit. “It’s my father’s. I grabbed a bunch of things from him just in case.”

“I told you the roof was fixed.” Jin shrugged, placing a hand on Hyeonseo’s shoulder, only to make her slide to the side so he could greet you.

“I have other things as well,” Hoseok said as his eyes landed on you, and you stopped breathing. 

For a split second, you didn’t know how to feel. He looked good five years later, with clearer skin and a sturdier build. Even if he still looked scrawny under his cargo pants and white tank top, he was taller and stronger. His eyes were just as scrutinizing as you remembered, even with soft locks of hair falling over them. Yet, they were all you could see until Jin got in your line of sight.

“There she is!”

You raised your eyes to meet Jin’s just in time to be swept off your feet and squeezed empty like a balloon while trying not to squeak like one.

“Don’t kill her, put her down,” Hyeonseo chuckled, tapping her fiancé’s shoulder. Jin put you down with a grin as she told him, “We need her alive.”

“That we do,” he agreed, then turned to Hoseok. “I’m guessing you remember each other.”

You almost gasped. Instead, your eyes jumped to Hoseok’s, remembering everything. Your gut churned as his features remained stoic. All he did was bow, and you bowed back.

“Hello.”

You mumbled a hello back before pointing behind you. “I’ll go check the other closet now.”

“Now?” Jin asked, confused. “You can do that later!” he suggested, but you were already going down the stairs.

“In case we need to buy something extra,” you retorted, projecting your voice so he could still hear you.

You heard feet behind you and knew Hyeonseo was following you down. You waited in the second bedroom, then closed the door behind her.

“What the hell?!” you whispered-shouted, widening your eyes at her.

“What?”

You instantly knew she was feigning her naivety. “You know we don’t get along!!”

She rolled her eyes. “That was in high school.”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, biting your lip. Reeling your frustration in. “Why is he here anyway?”

“Besides being Jin’s best friend,” she underlined, “he also knows what he’s doing. His dad is a contractor, and Hoseok has helped him his whole life with renovating houses. He brought a lot of materials and machines so we could do this right and for free.”

You groaned. “Aren’t you lucky with your friends?”

She beamed at you with the wildest smile, but you were still uneasy.

“Why this weekend?” you insisted. “I know you say it’s just high school and that it was five years ago, but you know me better than that.”

“I know,” she acknowledged, sighing. “This wasn’t the plan. He was supposed to have come last weekend, but plans changed at the last minute, so it happened like this.”

“And I don’t suppose he could come back later?” you asked, and she smiled sheepishly.

“Not really… His mom moved to Seoul, and his dad lives more than two hours away. He drove all the way on purpose to help us. Sorry,” she added before opening the bedroom door to shout back at Jin. “WHAT?”

You didn’t hear what he was asking, only that Hobi would stay there the weekend at the same time as you. Maybe he’d leave soon. Clearly, the place was almost done anyway. All that was left were details, and you could handle those.

You took a deep breath, using that thought to soothe yourself. It was temporary. And it was all water under the bridge anyway. It all happened a long time ago.

“Not yet! Come,” Hyeonseo called you to follow her. “I have to call the furniture retailer and then order something for dinner.”

You heaved a deep breath, throwing a woeful eye at the built-in closet before following her out. You didn’t want to be anywhere Hoseok was, nor did you want to pretend otherwise.

You could appreciate Jin and Hyeonseo’s effort, though. She called the furniture retailer, which confirmed delivery soon, then ordered fried chicken. Meanwhile, she bantered with Jin the whole time, who focused on trying to create cocktails without knowing where anything was.

“It’s written on the box!” Hyeonseo facepalmed, and Jin started whining just to push her buttons.

“Yeah, I know! But it’s not in the box that says bar!! Did you throw my shaker away?”

“No!!” she denied with a screech as she pushed boxes left and right, trying to find the right one. “How else would you make me drinks?”

“Right? Then you have to find it,” he teased, then scoffed. “Otherwise I’ll never again be able to—”

“Ah!!! Found it!” she claimed victoriously as she stood from her knees with a small box containing a cocktail shaker and other things.

“Woah!! How was I supposed to find it?! You called the box ‘tools’!!”

“It is a tool… to make drinks…” she tried, putting the box in his hands. He scoffed and she insisted, “The tool boxes are all yours anyway.”

He gasped. “There’s more than one?!”

She forced an angelic smile, then darted away, and Jin kept whining about her. You knew it was all playful and guessed Hoseok knew as hell, only he wasn’t listening. He was inspecting the sockets and light switches to ensure they were installed correctly. When a socket almost broke apart in his hand when he touched it, you guessed all of them needed to be checked.

He glanced at you, then kept going as though you could be anyone, and it annoyed you. He was the douchebag, why the hell was he ignoring you? 

You spun on your heels. “I’m going to—”

“No way!” Jin stopped you, leaning over the counter as though he would run after you if he had to. “You had a long trip, and you just got here. Sit while I make you a drink.”

Your mood lightened as the evening progressed. Hyeonseo and Jin kept playfully bickering while she made fun of him for not making proper drinks, settling instead for soju and beer bottles. The fried chicken arrived not long after, and the conversation between the four of you was decent, even if you and Hoseok never really addressed or answered each other. You never thought you’d ever be sitting down on the floor eating fried chicken with your bare hands with him, but there you were.

You were almost done eating when the doorbell rang. Hyeonseo instantly sprang up to go get it with Jin echoing close behind her, “Finally!!!”

You glanced at Hoseok, who lowered his eyes quickly as the couple got the door. Instantly, you could hear how relieved they sounded, but it was short-lived.

“This can’t be right,” Hyeonseo challenged, and you turned to look. 

There were six beige textile dining chairs with light oak legs and a gorgeous matching dining table that made you gasp quietly. It was beautiful craftsmanship with a smoke finish that just made you want to slide your hand on its surface.

“Where is the couch?”

That was the question that sparked a long, back-and-forth discussion. The delivery guys had no idea; it wasn’t on their delivery sheet. It was past closing time, so at first they couldn’t contact the retailer. Eventually, they managed to, but everything was correct on their side — chairs, table, and couch. Finally, the store said something had happened at the warehouse, and even though Hoseok offered to go get the couch himself, the manager had sad news.

“It was shipped to our warehouse in Daegu by mistake,” he said over the phone on speaker. “I can promise you’ll get it, but only on Monday.”

“It’s two hours away,” Hoseok said, and Hyeonseo shook her head.

“Two and a half hours, which makes five. You’re not going at this hour—”

“They can’t give it to you even if you go. The paperwork must be sorted before it can be delivered to you. I’ll do it personally, but they only reopen on Monday. I’m sorry.”

There seemed to be no workaround, so the call ended, and the delivery guys left.

After a moment of silence, Jin decided, “We’ll pay for your hotel room.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hoseok instantly shook his head.

“It’s the only option.” Hyeonseo exchanged a look with Jin, then continued, “Your dad is too far away.”

“The fuel is cheaper than a hotel,” Hoseok argued, and she shrugged.

“But the four-hour drive is not worth it.”

“You blew through all your savings, absolutely not,” Hoseok insisted, throwing a look at Jin as well. “I can book my own hotel room, it’s fine—”

“Everything is likely booked because of the festival,” Jin breathed, and you knew before he finished talking that Hyeonseo would groan and curse their luck.

“Damn it, you’re right!”

Hoseok still tried, “Well, there must be one room left somewhere—”

“You can sleep with me,” you offered.

Everyone turned to look at you, even him, and the silence stretched. It was the first time he was looking at you as though he saw you, and his features hardened.

Next to him, Hyeonseo raised her voice, “I’ll ask my parents for money and—”

“What?!” Hoseok interjected, then shook his head firmly. “I can sleep on the floor.”

“You can sleep with me,” you repeated firmly, trying as best you could not to be annoyed. 

He looked at you again, and you could see the vexation sparkling in his eyes. You kept your eyes on his, daring him to say he was so petty about stupid high school drama that he’d rather sleep on the floor.

“We can’t ask you to do that,” Hyeonseo protested, and you shrugged.

“We’re both adults. Besides, we’re not strangers,” you pointed out, letting the room take in your laidbackness. 

Hours before, you had told Hyeonseo she should have known better than to invite Hoseok while you were there, and now you were saying it was fine to sleep in the same bed. And that was the thing — it was logical. Because there was a difference between what you’d prefer and the situation at hand. You were not that petty. 

Hoseok kept scrutinizing you as though he could read your mind, and you held his stare relaxedly, with nothing to hide. “I don't bite, you know.”

He rolled his eyes as Jin and Hyeonseo exchanged a look, but then they looked at Hoseok, and you noticed the hope in their eyes. You didn’t doubt they’d call their parents and get money to pay for a place somewhere, even if it cost hundreds of thousands or millions of Korean won a night. But you also knew there was no way Hoseok would go for that. And there was no way they’d let him pay it, so—

“Fine,” Hoseok accepted as he shrugged. His hands were in his pockets, and you couldn’t help the irritation. Not even a thank you, a bow, an acknowledgment, or any indication that he’d make this an endurable experience. You couldn’t believe you had ever fallen for him. Even as a teen, how were you so stupid? He was not a soft-spoken or gentle person. He was unrefined and ungrateful.

“Shouldn’t you also promise not to bite her?” Jin asked Hoseok, and Hyeonseo elbowed her fiancé. Hoseok didn’t bother answering, and you couldn’t tell if Jin was serious or trying to lighten the mood. He insisted, “No, I’m serious. I think it’s only healthy to establish boundaries. See, I should have forbidden you from hitting me from the start, now it’s a bad habit,” he explained as he caught Hyeonseo’s hands mid air trying to stop him from saying nonsense and making things weird. “We’re a cautionary tale, kids. Listen well to—”

“Oh, stop it,” she whined, and Jin smiled and kissed her forehead.

“It’s getting late,” Hobi commented, interrupting them. “Maybe we should decide on how to make this weekend the most efficient.”

He grabbed his beer and waved at the hosts to sit first on their new dining chairs. You couldn’t help but smile as Hyeonseo and Jin sat and touched the new table, kicking their feet and giggling — their house was coming together little by little. 

Hoseok gave them a minute before settling on a chair next to Jin, and you finally mimicked him — you grabbed your soju and sat next to Hyeonseo.

“Okay, let’s make a list and then establish priorities,” Hoseok started, and everyone agreed. “Have you bought the stove?”

“Yes, we can pick it up tomorrow morning,” Jin replied.

“Okay, I can install it. I noticed that some sockets and light switches are not installed properly, and one of them is broken. We need to buy that too. Now, lamps,” he pointed above their heads, “you only have the light bulbs or nothing at all. We need to get something too, have you decided what you want?”

“We wanted something modern and simplistic,” Hyeonseo told him, and Jin nodded.

“Pick something, I can also install them. Same for garden lights. What else?” Hoseok mused, looking around. “We’ll need to paint the whole ground floor, bathrooms, and corridors. I noticed the damage and cracks on the wall.”

“We were told it was normal,” Hyeonseo mumbled, instantly worried, and Hoseok nodded.

“It is, it’s the house breathing, and probably from paintings and shelves and things like that from the previous owners. But I’ll patch those up before we paint. I also noticed that the doors look old, and the built-in closets are not looking great either. Have you considered replacing them?”

Hyeonseo shook her head, but you spoke first, “That’s why I’m here. They need a bit of work, but they should be great after I’m done with them.”

He didn’t instantly reply, and both Jin and Hyeonseo stayed quiet. Hoseok just looked at you as though he was evaluating whether he had misjudged your role in this renovation, and you couldn’t care less about his opinion. 

You turned to the couple. “I’ll also remove the stains from the stairs. Though for that, I need you to buy the proper remover tomorrow as well.”

Hoseok hummed. “Okay, that’s a lot of work for two days. Maybe we should start prepping still tonight.”

You scoffed. “No way,” you disagreed, then shrugged. “We’re four adults and two of us know what we’re doing. As long as we have everything we need, this will go fast.”

He huffed. “Still. Prepping now is time we don’t have to spend tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to Hyeonseo. “You have the paint you want?”

“Yes.”

“Did you pick special paint for the bathrooms?” Hoseok asked. “Because of the humidity—”

“I told them to get waterproof paint,” you interrupted.

“She did, we have it,” Jin confirmed, eyeing the two of you as though you were children about to fight.

You looked away from Hoseok to Hyeonseo. “So the most efficient way of doing things will be that you and Jin go get your stove and the ceiling and garden lights while Hoseok handles the wall patches, and I check the sockets and light switches.”

“You know how to do that?” Hoseok asked, and you couldn’t help your sarcasm.

“What else are you going to ask me? If I can change a light bulb?”

His features sharpened, but Hyeonseo spoke first, “Alright, and then?”

“Then Hoseok can install the stove so we can eat lunch while the others prep the floors, skirting boards, and windows. I wouldn’t tape the doors cause I plan on sanding them and painting them anyway. Then, after lunch, if the patches are dry, we can sand them and start painting. That will take the longest, but with three people, you’ll go fast.”

“Why, what will you do?” Hoseok asked with a hint of cynicism.

“I’ll start with the stairs because they will take the longest. Then I’ll handle the closets and then the doors. If you could sand them beforehand, that would be great.”

He scoffed with derision before smiling. “There’s one flaw in your plan.”

“What?”

“The spackling paste needs at least twenty-four hours to dry.”

You frowned. “No, it doesn’t, a couple of hours is enough.”

“No, that’s not good enough.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s to fix little—”

“Doesn’t matter how little it is, the paint won't adhere nicely and it will be noticeable in the long run,” he argued, and you heaved a deep breath.

“Guys—” Hyeonseo tried.

“Fine,” you relented, though as annoyed as ever. “Then we only paint the walls and ceilings without patches and leave the others for Sunday.”

Hoseok didn’t even blink. “Once you open the paint bucket, the color might change.”

You had to snicker. “Over twelve hours? Give me a break!”

“It’s best to do it in one go,” Hoseok insisted.

“Sure, it’s best, but we only have two days!”

“If we start tonight, we can get it all done.”

“We’re too tired to start tonight, we can start tomorrow!” you argued, leaning over the table towards him.

“We won't be able to finish it.”

“Whatever we can’t finish, they can. They’ll at least know what to do. They can paint anytime!”

He rolled his eyes. “They need to live too. They have everything in boxes. They don’t even have closets to put their clothes or shoes in—”

You bristled. “You worry about your part, I’ll worry about mine!!”

“Okay, let’s calm down,” Jin suggested, rising from his chair. “How about a drink? A toast?”

Hyeonseo instantly picked up on his cue. “That’s a great idea! Another beer? And for you, soju?” You gave her a look, but eventually nodded and got up alongside her. Hoseok stood up too, and you ignored him. You had to swallow your pride and tone it down; there was no use in wasting your time with him.

Jin was back in a second and opened the bottles, then passed them around. Then, he raised his. “To moving in with my starlight and to surviving this,” he started, and Hyeonseo elbowed him.

“To our best man and maid of honor for being by our sides every step of our lives. We love you,” she added, teary-eyed, and you reached an arm around her. You didn’t want to fight or stress her out even more. She knew that, you could see it in her fond smile as she eyed you. 

“Right, thank you also for helping us finish our house and saving us a lot of money!” Jin added cheekily, and you all had to smile.

“Jjan!”

Four bottles clinked together, and you were still smiling when your eyes crossed Hoseok’s. His expression was so much lighter and tender that it was like a gut punch. He looked just like when you were teenagers at parties or school, laughing and playing around. It was nonsensical, but your heart fluttered just as it had back then. You had to press your lips before taking a sip from your drink. It was as though your heart had forgotten all that had happened on your prom night.

But he was quick to remind you why you had fallen out. He put the bottle down and headed toward his tools in the far corner of the living room. “I’ll patch the walls tonight so we can paint tomorrow.”

You widened your eyes, instantly irked, and Hyeonseo put her hand on your shoulder, shaking her head. Jin hurried to follow Hoseok while you bristled. “Why does he have to be like this?!”

“Let him,” she told you with a shrug. “It’s his body and energy, right? Don’t worry about him, let’s get you settled in.”

You appreciated Hyeonseo's help with your bags and even more the time alone with her. With the move and her wedding planning, you barely had time to talk. 

She turned to you, then propped herself up on one elbow beside you on the bed. “Do you think they're still at it?”

You nodded. You had suggested that Hoseok take the morning to do spackling because you believed he'd need more than two hours. You hadn't even been talking that long.

You tapped your fingers on the mattress over the sheet, then got up and neared the built-in closet in that room. You stood your ground that you’d only really start tomorrow, but the fact that Hoseok was getting things done already made you a little restless. It wasn’t a competition, but…

Hyeonseo called your name, and you hummed while you inspected the closet in the same way you had the other one earlier. No blue stains there, so that was a plus.

“Is it really okay for Hoseok to sleep here?”

You didn't answer, frowning as you felt something on a shelf that you weren't expecting. 

“I was thinking that maybe he could sleep with Jin while I—”

“Shit!!” you exclaimed.

“What?”

She got up to join you as you started hitting the shelf until it dislodged, and you could take it out. 

“Shit,” you bit again and she looked at the wooden shelf in your hand. “See this?” You pointed at the edge — it looked rugged, frail, and friable, as if it were about to break apart. “It's rotten. I think a few of them have it. Something must have spilled in there, and they didn't clean it properly at the time.”

“Okay… can you fix it?”

You were fretful as you realized the problem. “I can, but I didn't bring wood with me or tools to cut wood. I do have glue, but that’s about it.”

“Okay, but… is it really a big deal?”

You looked at her in disbelief. “I’m not going to let you use a closet that is rotting! It’s not impossible to fix, I just don’t have the tools!”

She nodded, knowing you well enough — you said you’d do it and you didn’t like failing your best friend. “I can ask Hobi.”

Your eyes instantly widened as though she had lost her mind. “I don’t want to ask him!” you blurted out louder than you needed to, and you instantly regretted it. Hyeonseo raised an eyebrow, and you swallowed dryly, reeling your irritation back in. This wasn’t about you. “But I will.”

“I can ask,” she suggested, and you shook your head.

“No, I need to ask.”

Hyeonseo didn’t question you, and you were thankful for it. You followed her out of the room downstairs as you mused over how to go about this. You decided that being professional was the best way to handle the situation. For Hyeonseo and Jin, Hoseok would surely agree.

You found him on a ladder, sanding a hole in the wall, likely from a nail used to hang up a painting. On your way, you notice multiple patches already spackled, and you have to give it to him — he’s fast and efficient. Hyeonseo turned to the kitchen to talk to Jin, but you didn’t. You stopped right next to Hoseok.

“What?” he asked quietly, feeling the hole and surrounding wall with a digit before passing the brown sandpaper a few more times.

“I need to ask you something.”

He didn’t stop working or tell you to go on, so you couldn’t help seething underneath your composure.

Still, you continued, “Did you bring any tools to work with wood?”

“I did.”

Your expression instantly morphed from concealed anger to hope. “What did you bring?”

“I have a track saw.”

“And bar clamps?”

He finally put the sandpaper in a pocket of his cargo pants and turned to look at you. “Yeah, why?”

You instantly explained the situation to him, transparent about what you needed and why. You knew you sounded overly concerned about something simple, but he didn’t snicker or mock. Instead, by the time you were done explaining what you needed and what you planned on doing, he was down from the ladder, listening to you intently. 

“What type of wood do you need?”

“A type of soft pine wood. It’s inside the closet, so I can turn the shelf around and it won’t be visible even if the color is slightly different.”

He nodded. “What size?”

You raised your hand. “About twenty by ten? I’m not sure yet, I haven’t cut the rot out yet.”

“How many?”

“Two that I’ve noticed so far.”

“So, four bar clamps would be enough?” he asked, and you nodded. “I’ll check, give me a sec.”

You held back from following him and simply stayed put, waiting expectantly. You couldn’t believe you were nervous and hopeful that Hoseok would help you with this. But at the same time, you didn’t care that it was him as long as you could do it. Built-in closets were expensive, and you didn’t want to leave without fixing them. On one hand, you could just buy new shelves, but on the other, that felt like wasted money when it was something you knew how to fix.

When he came back, you rushed to him. He had six bar clamps in one hand and a couple of planks of wood that you instantly took off his hands. You analyzed the thickness, color, and size while he put the bar clamps down in the corner next to his tools.

“What do you think?” he asked, stopping next to you with his hands on his waist.

“They’ll do,” you told him with relief relaxing your shoulders. “Should I go take the measurements now?”

His eyebrows raised in a moment of surprise, and you pressed your lips. You surprised yourself by asking his opinion.

“No, that’s okay,” he said quietly, extending his hands so you could give him the planks. “Maybe we could start with the closets tomorrow morning? That way, you can leave the wood gluing until Sunday while you get the stairs done.”

You nodded, gave him the planks so he could put them down, and pressed your lips, noticing the bucket with spackling paste hanging on the ladder.

“Cool,” he told you before getting back on the ladder. 

You kept your lips pressed as he grabbed his metal spackle knife. You cleared your throat. “And the sockets and light switches?”

“I can check them, don’t worry.”

He gathered paste on his spackle knife and applied it to the wall, and you ended up sighing. “Do you need help?”

“I’m almost done,” he muttered, focused on what he was doing. “A couple more and I’ll be done.”

He got down from the ladder, and if he could see your uneasiness, he didn’t say anything. So you simply nodded and let him be. After informing Hyeonseo and Jin about Hoseok helping you with everything in the morning, you headed to bed, but sleep didn’t come easily.

Hoseok said he’d be done soon. What was taking so long? You huffed and played with the sheet while you waited, getting irked. Why did you care anyway?

You sighed and looked at the ceiling. While you almost berated him for wanting to start tonight, it was the fact that he did that that gave you extra time to handle the unexpected wood rot in the built-in closet. Not only that, but he simply offered to help instead of flat out refusing or even taking a jab. He ended up being way more professional than you were, making you uneasy with your own attitude. You wanted things to go smoothly.

It was almost two in the morning by the time he entered the bedroom. He did so quietly in case you were sleeping, so you croaked hurriedly, “I’m not sleeping yet.”

He paused and looked at you, already under the sheets, then nodded. He had a bag with him that he dropped against the wall on the opposite side of the room, then suddenly stopped, and turned to look back at you.

You instantly tensed up and stammered, “Do you prefer this side of the bed?”

He looked down and turned away, kneeling to search for something inside his bag. “No.”

You pressed your lips as your heart started racing inside your chest. You were hyperaware of the t-shirt and shorts you had on, of the softness of the sheets you were lying on, and of what else you could potentially feel once he joined you in bed. Of course, you were no longer a teenager, but he was still… attractive and off-putting and…

He found a t-shirt and kept rummaging for something else while you swallowed dryly. He was just a hot guy you once pinned after. That was a long time ago.

He pulled a pair of shorts out and got up with the clothes in his hands, and you spoke without thinking, “I can turn around if you want.”

He blinked at you, but you were already turning to give him privacy. Instantly, your whole body heated up like crazy. Why would he change here? You were here; that would be weird. And now it would be embarrassing in any case, whether he stayed or left to change somewhere else.

You berated yourself in your head for being stupid. You should have been asleep instead of saying—

A muffled sound reached your ears, making you feel even hotter. You could imagine his cargo pants hitting the floor or his tank top, and something thrummed under your skin, making you rub your thighs together. For a second, you closed your eyes. You still remembered what it was like to be around him during high school. The way he laughed or held the door open for you. You were good friends, although for you, he was so much more.

The bed dipped behind you, and you burned. A wave of heat scorched your spine up to your neck as Hoseok settled behind you, and you could barely breathe.

He whispered, “Can I turn off the light?”

“Wait.”

Your breath hitched with your plea, and your cheeks flushed. You didn’t know your voice could sound like that, and you could only pray that he didn’t notice.

You turned back around to face him and found him looking at you with a raised eyebrow, arm stretched out to the light switch on the wall.

“I…” Your voice trailed off as you looked down. He was under the sheet, right there, an arm's length away. You cleared your voice. “Do you need a blanket?”

He observed your whole face for a second before answering, “No, do you?”

You shook your head. “I think I’ll be too hot.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you realized you said it out loud. He didn’t even blink, but your cheeks were burning. Suddenly, you felt like breathing was impossible while he looked at you like that.

At least until he turned off the light. “Yeah, I get that.”

You didn’t know why you were reacting this way. If anything, he turned off the lights, so it had to mean he was done for the night. No more talking, looking at each other, and certainly no touching or wondering or—

You pushed a tense breath through your gritted teeth. You weren’t making any sense.

You turned your head to his side in the dark. He hadn’t moved next to you, which meant you were both just staring at the ceiling, awkward and stiff next to each other.

“Okay, listen,” you croaked out once more. “I know this is awkward, but it’s just sleeping. Can we agree to be normal and just get through this?”

“Are you saying I’m not normal?”

“N— No, I’m just—” You struggled to find words, especially because everything pointed to you not being the normal one. “I just meant that we could cooperate since we’re in this situation.”

“Am I not cooperating?”

“You are, I’m just saying that— Gosh, just—” The more you stumbled all over your words, the more you had no idea what you even meant anymore. “You can trust me, that’s all.”

You looked at him in the dark again, wondering if he’d have a snarky remark or if he’d call you out for blushing and acting weird, unlike him. You braced yourself for it, thinking what excuse you could give, and as you waited, the silence stretched. You frowned; maybe he had fallen asleep?

But eventually, he whispered, “Okay.”

You woke up slowly, so warm and snuggly, you didn’t want to move or open your eyes. You were hugging the most wonderful pillow, warm and soft, with an earthy, citrusy masculine scent that had you dreaming of walking through sun-warmed soil and citrus groves. You buried your nose a bit more, wondering why the fabric was soft but the pillow itself was so sturdy—

Your eyes snapped open, and you pulled back, gasping mutely before your hand covered your mouth. Your heart raced inside your chest as you realized you were spooning Hoseok, burying your face in his back, and getting crazed by his cologne. Your eyes widened impossibly; how crazy were you?! Yet before you could understand what the heck happened, Hoseok’s arm moved and felt the space behind him. Your stomach twisted as you slid further away from his reach, your heart about to come out of your mouth with how fast it was racing. 

Whatever he thought was missing was not enough to wake him up or make him turn around. Thinking you stood a chance, you pulled the sheet closer to his back before sliding away and putting your legs out of the bed. You hugged your chest for a moment, willing yourself to calm down before getting up, grabbing your things, and rushing to the bathroom. It looked like you were the first one up, and maybe that was a good thing, because you needed to do some serious soul-searching to figure yourself out.

It was just Hoseok. You didn’t even like him, hadn’t for many years. Hadn’t since he misled you, broke your heart, hurt you, making you angrier than you had ever felt. And humiliated and blindsided and—

You clenched your teeth as you washed your face. Right. That Hoseok. You weren’t seventeen anymore, but it didn’t hurt to remember what happened. Maybe your attraction to him was undeniable, but he still didn’t deserve a second of your attention, let alone whatever was happening to you. You were there to help Jin and Hyeonseo, nothing more.

When you got downstairs, you were glad to find the happy couple scrambling to prepare whatever was left for breakfast and brewing coffee. It gave you a moment to sit down, chill, and wait for Hoseok to wake up. 

Five minutes later, Hoseok was already downstairs and ready to have coffee, so you finished yours in an instant to get to work.

Hoseok's calling halted you in your tracks. “Wait, let’s decide what our morning looks like first.” You pressed your lips and nodded, rejoining the three of them in the kitchen. He turned to the couple. “Have you decided on the lights you want?”

“Yeah, we stayed up last night deciding,” Hyeonseo beamed, and Jin grabbed his phone to show what they had picked.

You didn’t have much to say; their options were modern and seamless, easily blending in with their aesthetic.

“Okay, so the plan is the same,” Hoseok concluded, glancing at you. “You go with Hyeonseo to get the stove, the lights you selected, and the stain remover. Meanwhile, we’ll get the closets started. We should take care of the sockets and light switches before we prep for painting. Also, you need to get covers for the floor.”

“We saved cardboard boxes to use them as protection,” Hyeonseo shared with a smile, nudging you.

“Good idea,” Hoseok agreed, and your lips twitched in the hint of a smile. Of course it was.

Everyone agreed on what to do, so you went ahead upstairs. Now you were paranoid that there could be more rot you hadn’t found, so the quicker you were sure the built-in closets were fine, the better.

You grabbed your toolbox and got started in your room, removing the doors, drawers, and shelves from the closet, and laying them on the floor out of the way in a corner of the room. The two shelves that had rotted were placed to one side, and fortunately, everything else seemed to be in good condition. You tapped everywhere extra times and felt each surface to make extra sure everything was fine. Once you were certain, you moved to the master bedroom and repeated the same process there.

Fortunately, no rot there, but the front of the sliding doors had dark blue stains on the flower carvings. Once everything was dismantled, you knelt and felt the paint splashes with your finger, and that was how Hoseok found you.

“Need help?”

“No, it’s okay. The ones with the rot are in our room,” you told him, stopping what you were doing to show them to him.

Once there, you let him evaluate them himself as you discussed how you’d like them cut and fixed.

“Okay, so about five centimeters more?” he asked, and you nodded. “Do you want me to measure them and cut the new wood to size?”

“Yeah, I’ll glue them then,” you agreed, already thinking about what you had to do there while he helped with that.

He nodded. “You got it.”

You glanced at him as he left with the shelves to be cut, but didn’t notice his expression. You assumed you could trust him, given his experience, and weren’t shy about letting him do it. You had a long day ahead of you anyway.

You started getting the metal shelf pins off the closet, then unscrewed the handles of the drawers and the drawer frames. Despite the age of the wood and the carelessness with whatever liquid had rotted the shelves, the closet was at least relatively well-preserved. 

When you looked up, you frowned. You were a bit short, but that closet rod was really up high. Even Hyeonseo would have difficulties using it. You should probably lower it a bit once you were done.

You jumped a few times to try to get the closet rod to come off, but it was screwed in. So your next step was to search for a ladder downstairs. You grabbed the first one you could find that was truly just a two-step folding ladder and got back to it. You had to get on your tippy toes with your screwdriver to reach the bracket and try to unscrew it, all while the metal step moaned under your feet.

Gritting through it, you smiled when the bracket came loose. However, as soon as it did, you realized it was a terrible idea to support your weight on the rod itself. As soon as it loosened, it gave way under your weight, and you fell forward.

Except a pair of hands grabbed you by the waist before you could fall inside the closet. A ruckus echoed all around you, and you cowered, covering your ears. The rod clattered inside the closet below your feet as wood shelves were tossed to the side on the floor.

Seeing them made you realize you were pressed firmly to someone’s chest. Someone who stepped on the ladder and steadied you firmly.

“Are you okay?”

You shuddered and looked over your shoulder. Hoseok was so close, letting you down slowly as your legs gave in. He supported your weight until your feet were safely on the floor. You turned to him, the adrenaline making you tremble. And yet he kept his hands firmly on your waist, making you blush even more as you tried to calm down.

“What were you doing?” he asked, and you finally saw the tension in his shoulders. “Why are you using the short ladder if you can't reach it?”

“Because— I—” you stammered, losing yourself in his eyes for a second. “Because I thought you’d need the big one.”

“I was cutting the wood pieces outside,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, well, for the…lights.”

He huffed and gave you a look, and you pressed your lips. Right as you did and realized it was unlikely your heart would stop racing for as long as his hands stayed on your waist, you heard the sound of racing footsteps up the stairs.

“Is everything okay?!” Hyeonseo shouted, but it was Jin who showed up first.

“We heard—”

He stumbled on his feet and words at the sight of Hoseok dropping his hands at your sides. Jin’s eyes were comically widened when his fiancé entered the room, looking spooked.

You cleared your throat. “It’s okay. It was just noise; nothing serious happened. Thanks for the help,” you added, looking at Hoseok for a moment. “I still need to take the rod from the other closet as well, so…”

“I’ll do it,” he offered, and you frowned.

“No, I will do it.”

He sighed. “Just let me do it.”

“No!” You squinted. “I can perfectly do it myself!”

“You won’t reach it.”

You scoffed. “I can definitely reach it!”

“It’s not safe.”

“Guys—”

“Well, then help me.”

Hyeonseo called your name, and you both finally turned to her. “Should we get the other ladder?”

Jin was already exiting the room when you said, “There’s no need. This one is already here,” you remarked, with your eyes on Hoseok. You were blatantly going against his advice, but it didn’t feel like an argument. It felt like something else.

“Be reasonable,” he breathed, and you leaned toward him.

“I am. I’ll do it, and you’ll help me.”

Hyeonseo looked at Jin while you folded the two-step ladder and exited the room with Hoseok not far behind you.

“Well, we’ll go get the stove then,” Jin announced, not getting much of a response. Hyeonseo patted his shoulder, then grabbed his hand to drag him downstairs.

You didn’t see his face of disbelief because you were busy setting the ladder in front of the built-in closet in the master bedroom.

“How should I help you?”

“Stabilize the ladder.”

You stepped on it, screwdriver in hand, and he huffed. “It’s not enough,” he complained, and you smiled, already on your tiptoes to get the bracket uncrewed.

“Then stabilize me.”

He circled the ladder to get in front of you, settling his firm hands on your waist. You had a smug smile as you got the rod, but it vanished when you looked down. Hoseok was at your chest level, looking at you with dark eyes. It made your knees weak, and he was quick to grab you and put you down on the floor again.

This time, he removed his hands quickly, pushing you out of your haze. You swallowed dryly. “Thanks. See? Reached it very well,” you told him. He nodded, and you set the rod aside. “So, the shelves. We need to glue the pieces together.”

You weren’t even surprised he helped you, but you were thankful. It went faster as you applied the glue and set the pieces in position while he tightened the bar clamps to keep everything locked tight.

“There,” he said, once everything was done. You left everything drying in the hallway so the rooms wouldn’t smell. “Now you can move on to the stairs and handle the closets tomorrow.”

You shook your head. “First, the sockets and light switches.”

“I can handle that,” he suggested as you both went down the stairs.

“No, it’s faster like this. This way, if they need to buy extra, we can call them while they’re at the store.”

Hoseok turned to you when you both got to the ground floor and nodded. “Thank you.”

You weren’t supposed to have fun with Hoseok, but you wouldn’t deny it happened. You made it a competition to check every socket and light switch as fast as possible, and it was super tight. You won, checking your half first, but Hoseok dismissed it by saying he had caught two broken sockets. He had to call Jin and Hyeonseo to ask them to buy new sockets, explaining what type was needed, and you grinned. It was still a win in your book.

When the couple returned, you were quick to say you’d fix those sockets while Hoseok installed the stove. While he took the time to prepare, you noticed he kept an eye on you. You couldn’t help a smug smile while you connected the three cables in the correct color code, housed properly in the backbox, before you screwed the faceplate over it. You did it in record time, and when you got up to move to the other one, you saw him turning away with a smile on his face. You didn’t know why, but impressing him made you really fuzzy for some reason.

After that, you evaluated the stairs more seriously. You knew that even if the stains weren’t extensive, you had to do it properly — every stair tread multiple times. You weren’t even sure a whole afternoon would be enough.

You huffed and turned away, grabbing painter’s tape to start prepping alongside Jin and Hyeonseo. You even got on the high ladder to protect the fire alarm on the ceiling and noticed Hoseok glancing at you every now and then.

Hoseok and Jin installed the bedroom and bathroom lights after that, and you decided that helping with lunch was more efficient than just hanging around. It gave you more time to talk to Hyeonseo and ensure everyone got an early lunch.

“How's your shop coming along?” she asked you as she cooked and you chopped vegetables.

“You mean my online store?” you asked, and she nodded. “I have enough commissions on Etsy and other platforms to do nothing else. Working on those items means I have content to upload on social media, and I have enough views that I make some money from that already.”

“Can you believe that? Remember when restoring things was just a hobby you did in your parents' living room?”

You nodded, giving her the chopped onions. “And now I have a room in my apartment that’s my workshop.”

She took them and kept cooking. “Maybe one day you’ll have a physical store!”

You crinkled your nose and grabbed plates and chopsticks to set the table. “Not sure it will ever be worth it, especially in Seoul.”

“Seoul?” You turned around to Hoseok and Jin, now seemingly done with the lights. For now. “You live in Seoul?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?” Hoseok asked, grabbing the glasses and water jar. Jin passed behind him and you to help his fiancée.

“Seocho-gu…”

“Seocho-gu??” Hoseok almost choked as he placed what he was carrying on the dining table, same as you. “I live there! Where?”

“Nambusunhwan-ro, in a street that leads to the Daehang Hospital.”

“That’s so close to where I live! Woah, the world is small!”

You pressed your lips and nodded slowly while setting the table alongside him. “And you work there too?”

“Not there, I teach in Hongdae.”

“You’re also a teacher?”

“Oh, you’re a teacher?”

You shook your head as Jin and Hyeonseo carried the many side dishes to the table. “Like Hyeonseo, I mean,” you clarified, working with everyone to finish everything and start eating.

It gave Hyeonseo the opportunity to talk about her school and kids, and finally sigh, “I’m happy I teach kids before they become teens.”

“Yeah, I teach adults. It’s much better,” Hoseok acknowledged before turning to you. “But you don’t teach.”

“No, I restore old items like furniture and chandeliers and sell them online.”

“Ohhhh.” Hoseok nodded. “That explains it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you teach?”

“I’m a dance instructor.”

You didn’t hide your surprise. “So you don’t work with your dad?”

“Fuck no,” he grumbled.

The conversation evolved in another direction, but you stayed behind, wondering if you ever knew Hoseok at all. You were friends for a year in high school; good friends, you’d say. You remembered him talking about his parents' divorce, for example, but not about the time he spent with his dad. You knew he enjoyed dancing, but you never knew he took it seriously. You realized after that you probably didn’t know him well, if he could blindside you like that, but now you were realizing you never knew him at all.

Everyone helped clean up, and while Jin put on music to cheer up the place, you couldn’t help but chuckle. He had pulled Hyeonseo to the middle of the room to dance while you and Hoseok handled the dirty dishes, and it was a sight to see. 

“It’s our song!” she laughed as Jin swung her around. To call it dancing would probably be too much, but the song did say ‘shut up and dance with me’ multiple times.

You glanced at Hoseok, who was quietly next to you, just looking at them with a soft expression, and you guessed he remembered it too. Jin and Hyeonseo were always like this, all the way back in high school. They were the living proof that young love could grow and evolve into something beautiful.

Once you finished with the kitchen, you let Hoseok handle the painting with the couple while you turned to the stairs. You were already dreading the amount of time it would take and the stinky smell, but it was for a good cause.

You opened the windows up and downstairs, put on gloves, and then prepared the gel that would remove the paint. You decided to do two steps at a time, tread and riser, top to bottom, so that while one set had the solvent, you could already scrape the previous and not get burned. Grabbing your brush, you glanced at Hoseok, who was starting to paint the kitchen ceiling after they had spent some time protecting the cupboards and surfaces. He didn’t say anything about the stairs, and you sighed. Even he didn’t want to get involved.

You covered the first two steps with the gel and stepped away to breathe normal air for a second. After fifteen minutes, you started scraping the gel and paint with a spatula, and Hyeonseo clapped behind you.

“It’s working!!”

You glanced at her, then sighed. “This is going to take a while.”

“And now?” Hyeonseo asked behind you. 

You sighed and turned to her, shutting off your electric sander and wiping the sweat off your brow with your shirt. She was clearly worried about you, and you didn’t have the energy to react whatsoever.

It had been seven hours since you started with the stairs, and you could feel Hyeonseo’s discomfort every time she checked up on you. First, she thought it would go really fast—until she realized you had to apply the solvent, wait twenty minutes, scrape it off, and clean the grime at least twice from every tread and riser. All fourteen steps.

You touched the diluent with your forearm, so that got you a small burn mark that she freaked out about. When you tried assuring her it wouldn’t happen again, she assumed it was because you were done. But you still had to sand everything multiple times.

So you had been using your electric sander for the past couple of hours. First with heavy grit, then medium grit, then fine grit. Hyeonseo had checked on you a couple of times, but she didn’t understand that you couldn’t stop. If you did, you wouldn’t be able to lift a finger anymore.

You put the electric sander down and passed your hand on the last step. “It’s going well.”

“Are you done?”

You chuckled. “No.”

“It’s almost eight… we were thinking of going out for dinner and checking out the festival.”

You suppressed a laugh. “Sure. Not sure I can survive that, but sure.”

Hyeonseo sighed while the men kept painting, now in the bathroom, you believed. “You’re not supposed to kill yourself doing this.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t exaggerate.”

You grabbed a pot of wood filler that matched the Korean pine wood color of the stairs and a putty knife, and climbed up the stairs again.

Hyeonseo’s eyes widened. “What are you doing now?!”

“Fixing your stairs,” you informed, getting to work filling every crack and hole you saw.

“But— The paint is gone, so—”

“Stop worrying,” you told her. “Let me do my thing.”

She sighed.

You opened your eyes and instantly groaned — shit, everything hurt.

Raising your head from the pillow, you looked around the dark room with a frown. You had fallen asleep. Shit.

Your eyes drifted to the closed door. What was that noise?

You got up from bed, feeling even more dead than when you lay down just for a minute to rest your eyes. That was a terrible idea, you mused as you got out of the bedroom and followed the noise. 

What you found made you stagger atop the stairs. Hoseok was sitting on the second step of the stairs, counting from the bottom, using a delta sander to get the corners perfectly, judging by his gentle and precise technique.

You shook your head. “Wait,” you said, going down the stairs, and he stopped to look at you. “The filler has to dry.”

“And it did,” he agreed, grabbing a sheet of sandpaper to sand the nosing of the step.

You were baffled. “How long did I sleep?”

He glanced at his wristwatch. “About three hours.”

You cursed vilely. “And nobody woke me up?!”

“You needed the rest.”

“And you didn’t?!”

“Everybody took a nap,” he told you with a light smile, and your eyes widened.

“You too?”

He nodded. “You didn’t flinch when I lay down or when I got up.” You rubbed your eyes, slightly embarrassed, and he continued, “Jin and Hyeonseo are getting ready for dinner, and then it’s our turn.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Dinner?”

“We’re going to a barbecue place,” he said casually, basically telling you not to worry, and you deflated. As long as you weren’t ruining anyone’s plans.

“What do you think?” you asked, kneeling to feel the texture of the stairs.

“You did a wonderful job,” he complimented, and you looked at him as he analyzed the details. “Stains are gone, every surface is smooth and balanced. You even picked the right color for the filler. A second sanding and it will basically become invisible.”

“It’s already pretty good,” you commented, scrutinizing the bigger patches you had fixed that were barely noticeable after Hoseok sanded once.

“Indeed.”

You felt the nosing of the step you were on and pressed your lips. “Thanks for the help.”

He got up, and you did the same, towering over him ever so slightly. 

“Not a problem.”

Your eyes locked on his, and you didn’t know what to say. For the first time in years, you were actually fine with him. Anger and frustration were no longer bubbling under your skin, making you believe you had moved on from what happened. Though the more your heart beat, the more you questioned how he drew you in like this.

“You were right, you know,” you whispered, and his eyes lowered to your lips. It likely didn’t mean anything, but your heart skipped a beat or two. “I should have started last night. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything properly so far without your help. And I’ve only started the closets and the stairs,” you remarked with a sigh. ”I don’t know how I’m going to do the doors as well.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he instantly reassured you, raising his eyes to yours again. His tone was warm and intimate, and it made you shudder. “I’ll sand them tomorrow, and they can paint them later. They’re pros at it now.”

He said it jokingly, and you chuckled, letting that warmth envelop you.

He licked his lips. “I know how exhausting it can be, and we don’t have much time. So don’t worry about anything. Whatever you need, you can ask me.”

You searched his eyes and saw nothing but honesty, and your heart was unrestrained. Logically, you knew exactly what he was saying, but your stupid heart was still racing. You observed his features, both gentle and sharp, as he looked at you. You could swear his eyes had as much intensity as yours, but you had to doubt yourself. Were you still pining after Hoseok? Were you really over him if all it took was a few whispers for him to steal your heart again, even after so many years?

“Oh, you woke up!” Jin exclaimed from the top of the stairs, and you turned around. “You can go ahead and shower.”

You pressed your lips and eyed Hoseok before climbing up the stairs again.

You didn’t know how you got here.

“Come on!” Hoseok insisted with a lopsided smile and a glint in his eyes. 

He held your hand and you blushed, stammering, “I can't…”

“Oh, come on!” he insisted. “I’ve already heard you snore. There are no secrets between us.”

You heard Jin and Hyeonseo laugh behind you, and let Hoseok drag you closer to the crowd of people dancing.

Thinking again, you knew how you got there. You all ate barbecue and had a few drinks, and now you were tipsy with a dance instructor insisting you should embarrass yourself in front of your friends. And what was worse, you didn’t mind.

He turned to you and grabbed your hand, spinning you once to loosen you up. “Just relax.”

You tried moving side to side along to the music, but you were no good. You couldn’t even look at him, your eyes were nailed to the floor as he tried to get you to follow his lead with your hand. Suffice it to say it wasn’t working.

“It’s no use,” you told him, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m just no good.”

“Nonsense,” he breathed, pulling you close. The music shifted to something more commercial that you recognised, but didn’t pay much mind to. “Just hold onto me.”

He wrapped your arms around him, then wrapped his around your middle. Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to look away, afraid your red cheeks would be too obvious. So you hugged his chest and let him swing you both to the song’s rhythm.

You closed your eyes, breathing in the earthy citrusy cologne while his firm chest acted as a pillow. Little by little, you relaxed, letting the moment sway you and take you. The lyrics spoke of running away and young love, and your mind blanked as he guided you ever so gently. His hips were moving to the beat, and although he wasn’t forcing you to match him, you found yourself doing it. Your hips had a mind of their own and swiveled to match his, and his posture changed.

You looked up at him, flushed and slightly embarrassed. You weren’t really just dancing with the way you were glued together. His body was firm, warm, relentless, pressed to you, never once leaving you behind. On the contrary, his hips responded to yours the same way his hands brushed up and down your body in feather-like touches, covering you with goosebumps all over.

What were you two doing?

“That’s it,” he murmured, and you looked up at him. He raised his fingers to brush your hair out of your face. “You’re doing so well.”

A familiar burn spread through your whole body, making you swallow dryly and lose sight of reality for a second. You wanted him. Your fingers curled around his neck, and his weren’t shy about pressing your waist. In another world, you would have kissed him already. You were burning, breathlessly swivelling your hips with him in a crowd, gushing between your legs, and eager to jump him. There was no way you felt all that without him feeling something. And on top of that, his eyes were fixed on you. He wasn’t looking away, or eager for it to be over. He was pressing you closer, guiding your bodies, breathing at the same tempo as you, licking his lips as though he wanted to taste you.

The music halted for a moment, and a message was broadcast through the speakers, but you weren’t paying attention. Hoseok hadn’t let you go; neither of you had moved. 

While you pondered over what you could say, a voice from behind you snapped you back to reality.

“Woah! You’ll have to teach us how to dance like that for our wedding!”

Hoseok let go of you slowly, and you let him, loosening your grip as well. You wondered if his eyes held a question before they turned to your best friend.

“I will, don’t worry!” Hoseok replied with a grin. “Anyone can feel the rhythm. It’s easy to achieve this, I do it all the time,” he answered, seemingly proud of himself, and you felt the flame inside you wither until it was snuffed out.

“Really?” Hyeonseo asked with a teasing tone, but you were no longer listening.

“Excuse me.”

You spun around, letting your feet take you as far away as possible. You frowned as you walked, confused about the feeling twisting your guts. So what if Hoseok was a good teacher and bragged about it? Why was that making you so furious?

Sitting on a street bench while the crowds passed you by, you took a deep breath. You knew why, even if it was hard to admit. You thought you two had something special. There was tension and want, and you believed you weren’t the only one feeling it. But you were. Again.

Suddenly, there were tears in your eyes. You felt seventeen again, crying and wondering where you went wrong. What you did wrong, what you interpreted wrong. But you were twenty three now, and you refused to go through the same shit for the same guy. Fuck that!

You didn't want to worry Hyeonseo, so you made your way back. You found them chatting in a way that made you think they were waiting for you to get back. You lied about going to the bathroom, and before you could reveal your intentions to leave, Hoseok grabbed your hand.

“Come on, let’s teach them together,” he proposed with a sparkly smile.

You pulled your hand free. “I don’t feel like it. I’m sure you can find someone else here to do that.” You turned to Jin and Hyeonseo with a small smile. “I’m going home. I’m really tired.”

Hyeonseo looked at Jin, who nodded. “Sure, we can all go—”

“No, I’ll go ahead. I already called a taxi.” You bit your tongue; since when did you lie so much? “You guys should enjoy yourselves a bit longer.”

You said your goodbyes quickly and were thankful Hyeonseo knew you well enough not to insist. She told you she’d text you the code to get inside the house, and you were on your way.

Growing up in Gwangju meant you knew exactly where the taxi street of the festival was, and you headed there without a second thought. Once there, you got in line — it was almost three am, so many people were already leaving.

Not even a minute later, you heard someone calling your name, and you turned, surprised. Hoseok was making his way to you in between people, and for a moment, your breath hitched. He looked dazzling in jeans and a leather jacket, his firm body framed perfectly. To think you were pressed to his firm chest, wrapped in those arms… 

You could almost forget he made you feel like an idiot. Almost.

You were ready to ignore him, but he reached you quickly, bowing to the other people waiting in line.

“I almost lost you,” he complained, clearing his throat, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Why did you follow me?”

“Because I wanted to talk to you. I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he said. Seeing you remained skeptical, he continued, “I didn’t mean you were easy or something.” He scratched the back of his head. “When I said I do it all the time—”

“You just meant that you can teach anyone,” you interjected stoically, and he paused.

He dropped his hand as the queue moved forward. “Right. So then, why are you upset? It’s why you’re leaving, right?”

Your lips twitched. “I’m not upset. I was just reminded of why we never got along in the first place.”

He frowned. “Never? That’s not even true.”

You rolled your eyes as you became the first in line. “Whatever.”

You could see out of the corner of your eyes the way he clenched his jaw and looked away before turning to you again. “Well, what is it? Maybe if we talked about it—”

“I don’t need to talk about it. And I don’t want to. I know everything I need to know.”

He huffed and shifted his weight from one foot to the other constantly as though his frustration was physical. “Doesn’t sound like you do,” he commented with a hint of bitterness. “Maybe if we talked you’d be able to form sound opinions instead of just assuming shit and acting like you know everything.”

Your eyes widened. “Assuming?! You literally just said it!”

“You’re making up whatever story in your head,” he insisted, eying you harshly. “You hear what you want to hear.”

You scoffed before you could help it. “Yeah, right!”

A taxi stopped in front of you right on time. You spun on your heels and got in, and Hoseok grabbed the door when you reached to close it.

Instantly, your eyes were locked in a mute argument. You even expected him to shut the door behind you, seeing as he was just as annoyed as you. Instead, he was preventing you from closing it.

“Miss?���

You couldn’t even turn to look at the driver; you couldn’t lose.

Hoseok stepped closer to the car and muttered, “Don’t be like this. Let me go with you.”

You gritted your teeth and seriously pondered kicking him in the shin and closing the door, leaving him there. It was only the thought of how Jin and Hyeonseo would have been disappointed that made you roll your eyes and swallow a grumble before letting go of the door and moving along in the backseat of the car.

You told the driver the address, and Hoseok rode in the taxi with you. Why was he even there? Surely not to make sure you made it safely. Although he might have promised that to Jin and Hyeonseo so they’d stay at the festival and enjoy themselves. He was likely just tired…but you’d be damned if you cared.

As soon as you entered Jin and Hyeonseo’s place, you stormed your way to the bedroom you were sharing. You changed clothes hastily, turned off the lights, and threw yourself over the bed diagonally, spreading the pillows around you and hugging a few. You’d be damned if you wouldn’t sleep properly tonight.

You couldn’t fall asleep. Hoseok entered the room not ten minutes later and you could feel the air thickening around you. By the time he hit your foot with his knee, the lights were back on and he was pissed.

“Move.”

You ignored him, and he bumped your foot with his knee multiple times. 

“Move, I want to sleep.”

“Not my problem,” you grumbled, and he scoffed.

“Indeed, but you’re mine. Get out of the way.”

“No,” you grumbled again, muffled. “I’m withdrawing the invitation; you can sleep somewhere else.”

You could almost hear the way he was fuming. “You’re fucking unbelieveable, you know that?! First, you get angry and don’t want to talk about it. Then, you withdraw your invitation? Fuck! I can trust you my ass! You’re so two-faced!”

By the time he was done, you were sitting up in bed, baffled and angry. “What?!”

He had no issues facing you head-on. “You heard me. You extend an olive branch one second and shit all over people the next. I’ve never met anyone as two-faced as you.”

“How fucking dare you!” you screeched as you kicked the sheets to get up from bed. “You’re the one who plays people, pretending to be all vulnerable and hurt, only to use them and throw them away like trash! Who the fuck are you to call me two-faced?!”

His anger was visible on his clenched jaw and flared nostrils as you shouted at him. He frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You scoffed. “As if you don’t know.”

He threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “I won’t know until you tell me! Stop assuming shit!”

“Stop playing dumb!”

“When did I?” he asked you to your face, and you crossed your arms over your chest.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to fall for it again.”

Hoseok groaned and pressed his palms to his eyes. “Fuck, you’re just like back then! The second I think I can trust you, you flip a switch and turn into someone else completely!”

“What?”

“Hyeonseo said I had you all wrong, that it was all a misunderstanding, but she’s wrong,” he told you, facing you head-on again. His eyes were harsh, and his tone accusatory. “This is just who you are. It’s bad enough our paths crossed twice; let’s not do it again.”

He grabbed his bag from the floor and stormed off with you hot on his tail.

“What are you talking about?!”

You chased him all the way downstairs, then stood frozen as he went outside to his pickup to get a blanket. When he started to make a makeshift place to sleep in the corner of the living room, you lost it.

“Argh, you’re fucking impossible!” you exploded, gripping your hair by the roots. “I flipped a switch?! I literally go to the bathroom, and the next thing I know, you’re kissing someone! Right after telling me you were so heartbroken you couldn’t stand the thought of being with someone! Are you serious?!”

He had taken off his jacket and thrown it on the blanket. He snickered. “Next thing you know? My, do you have selective amnesia or something?”

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

“You didn’t go to the bathroom, did you?”

You were stunned. “What?”

“I heard you!” he accused, all signs of mockery morphed into anger. “I followed you to suggest holding your drink, only to hear you giggling with your friends about how pathetic I was.”

You paled but instantly shook your head. “I never said that.”

“Your friends did, and you just laughed! Two-faced,” he underlined.

You gaped, frowning as you tried to remember what he was talking about. “I was— I don't know, I— Maybe they did say that, I don’t remember. But I wouldn’t have.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, and you bristled. He was so sure of himself, but what did it matter?

“What does that have to do with anything? I didn’t ‘flip a switch,’” you insisted. “They called you that, not me. So what does that have to do with what you did?”

“You thought I was so pathetic, and I just—” His expression soothed as his voice quieted. “I didn’t want to be.”

“You never were.”

He scoffed derisively, and you rubbed your eyes for a second, wanting to kick yourself.

“Listen, they just—even I, we were just…mean,” you explained with regret. You weren’t proud of who you were in high school. “Young and stupid and mean.”

Hoseok listened with harsh yet glistening eyes. “I opened my heart to you and you ran to tell them.”

“That is not true.”

You stiffened, and he instantly retorted, “Yeah, right.”

“I don’t care what you heard, that is not true,” you stated resolutely. “I never told anyone a word of what you told me. I might not have refuted them when they called you that, I might have played along, but I’d never break your trust.”

He had a painful smile, holding back a snicker as you spoke, until he blew up, “Oh, come on! You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth.”

“So you mean to tell me you went along with them and still never told them the things I told you when I believed we were friends.” You nodded, and he insisted, “You went along with them saying those things about me, but were still actually my friend.” You nodded again, and he threw his hands up in the air. “Does that even make sense?!”

“It’s the truth,” you repeated.

“Why would I believe you?”

Your breath hitched as you realized the answer to what he was asking. He was angry and maybe hurt; you could see it in his face. You, on the other hand, didn’t know how to feel. You were talking, actually talking, for the first time in years. But you never expected it would mean you’d have to tell him this.

But then again, it didn’t matter anymore. It was a long time ago.

You pressed your lips to hide a sad smile. “Because it’s the truth. Not just because you had told me things as friends that I would never repeat to someone else, but because I didn’t want them to look at you twice, I…had this big fat crush on you and didn’t want any of them to get any ideas.”

He wasn’t just stupefied, you could see in his wide eyes that his thought process was completely busted. “What??”

It made you blush and rub your eyes again before you blurted, “We became closer friends when you opened up about your ex, and I… I didn’t want to make a move because it would have been too soon, and I didn’t want to be a rebound, but I was hoping we could… I don’t know,” you sighed, looking away, embarrassed. “But then you invited me to prom, so I thought maybe you were over her, so I thought what the hell, why not? I was so excited that night, just waiting for the right moment to say something, but then I saw you kissing whoever that was and I just—I was fucking pissed ‘cause that wasn’t even a rejection, that was… Why invite me to prom if you wanted to be with someone else? It just—”

You stopped yourself, feeling the anger bubbling up in your chest once more. You rubbed your eyes and sighed, calming down. He looked befuddled; he probably didn’t remember any of it.

“I didn’t,” he blurted out, and you looked at him. “That girl, I… I didn’t want to be with her; I didn’t even like her. I was just pissed after hearing you and your friends saying I was pathetic for being heartbroken over my ex and…I felt betrayed. You were literally the only girl I trusted at the time, who I thought…Who I wanted to spend time with. And then you said those things and I just…I didn’t want to be pathetic,” he admitted, heaving a deep breath. “That girl caught me alone and confessed, and when she kissed me, I felt…validated. Like I was not worthless. Of course, I told her I didn’t feel the same way, and she was cool about it. Otherwise, I would have felt pretty shity about it.”

“You were never worthless, much less because you had feelings. I’m glad she made you feel good about yourself.” You looked down, a frown on your lips. She did what you couldn’t. “Regardless of what they said, you were never pathetic. They were allergic to vulnerability and needed to be bitches about it, that’s all. Hell, me too. I’m sorry about that.”

He nodded with his shiny eyes focused on you. “Even if I know now how you felt at the time…I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do with all of this information.”

You shrugged. “You don’t have to do anything, it’s in the past. Though…about today,” you started, then heaved a deep breath as you rubbed your pink cheeks. “I’m not gonna lie, it felt just like back then. There I am, thinking something special is happening, only for you to dismiss it like it’s nothing. It’s easy to achieve this, I do it all the time,” you mimicked his voice, and he groaned.

“No, I knew it was bullshit as soon as I said it,” he confessed, scratching the back of his head. “Even Hyeonseo called me out for it.”

“‘Cause you realized it wasn’t that good to begin with, ‘cause I’m a terrible dancer?”

You spoke really fast, and he chuckled, “No, because it just isn’t true. The way we danced, especially when you’re not comfortable with it, is not easy. At all. Even seasoned dancers need months to be that smooth, sometimes even couples can’t do it, and you just— No, that was all us. I don’t do that all the time, it’s not something easy to teach.”

You frowned. “Dancing?”

“Chemistry.”

Your breath hitched as you stared at him. You couldn’t help the confusion or the way your heart raced. “I thought…” you croaked, “it wasn’t real.”

His eyes were locked with yours. “I think we can agree that it is.”

Your breath deepened as a familiar burn climbed up your chest. The air was thickening again as you stared at each other, but you stayed in place. Even if you both agreed that there was chemistry between you, you weren’t sure what to do with it. You weren’t sure you wanted to follow through…or that he did.

When he stalked slowly in your direction, you stood at attention. Your skin tingled under his eyes, roaming over your legs, past your pajama shorts and t-shirt to your eyes. By then, he was already in front of you, less than an arm away, and you struggled. You were almost dizzy with want, pushing your nails into your palms to hold yourself back. When he took another step closer, the faint scent of his cologne made you sigh and look up. You were radiating heat at that point, keeping your desire in check while wanting nothing but for him to grab you.

He seemed to be waiting for something, so you closed the distance between your bodies. Your stomach pressed to his, and your curiosity got the best of you. You looked down, wondering if you’d get to feel—

His hand raised your chin to make you look up at him. Instantly, the fire you were trying to contain reared its ugly head. Your hands found their way to his shirt, clutching it as though you were containing a visceral need to pull it off, all while you looked into his eyes. Your core ached for something to clench around and you almost begged him to fuck that crisp tension out of you.

Your lips parted as he leaned in, covering you with a shudder as his free hand palmed your waist, pulling you to him by the arch of your back. But then, all too fast, you both blinked.

The sound of car doors slamming closed hit you, and time didn’t stop to let you two figure it out together. Instead, Hoseok’s eyes flickered to your lips, but you weren’t able to say anything. By the time the first key was pressed into the front door lock pad, he had already lowered his hands and released you. 

You couldn’t protest because in a second, Jin was opening the front door with Hyeonseo not far behind him.

“Oh, hey guys,” Jin said with a smile, then closed the door behind his fiancée. “We thought you’d be sleeping already.”

“Is everything okay?” Hyeonseo asked, eying you as she took off her jacket. 

“Yes,” you croaked.

“We were just heading to bed,” Hoseok told them, then gave you a fleeting look before going ahead. “Good night!”

You offered Hyeonseo a small smile to reassure her and waved at Jin before following Hoseok upstairs. You closed the bedroom door behind you, and seeing the mess of pillows and sheets you had left behind, you were a little embarrassed.

“Sorry,” you muttered, getting on the bed to align the pillows and pull the sheet to lie stretched and proper. “I wasn’t thinking. I was just pissed.”

For a second, he frowned, but then he seemed to remember. “If you want me to sleep downstairs—”

“I don’t,” you cut in, sitting on your side of the bed. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “It’s okay, I shouldn’t have… assumed the worst.”

“That I’m two-faced?”

He hummed as he neared the bed. 

“So you…also assume things?”

Your tease made him chuckle. “I guess I’m at fault, too.”

You smiled and got under the sheet comfortably. Only then did you notice he was just standing there. “What’s wrong?”

“I left my bag downstairs.”

You raised an eyebrow, imagining Hyeonseo’s questions if she saw Hoseok with his bag. “And you don’t want to go grab it?”

“Not really.”

He stepped out of his shoes, then sighed, putting one knee on the bed, and you stopped him. “Get them off.”

He raised an eyebrow, and you looked at his jeans.

“You shouldn’t get in bed with outside clothes.”

He looked down at your legs under the sheets, then back at you, and you simply held his gaze. Now that you had found common ground, you were confident that teasing him a little wouldn’t hurt.

It helped that Hoseok was precisely the kind of man who made your knees weak. You asked, and so he got rid of his jeans in a flash, casually tossing them and his t-shirt back before getting into bed with you just in boxers. As if his chiseled abs wouldn’t have you drooling. As if he weren’t half-hard. As if he didn’t know you’d eat him with your eyes. As if he didn’t want you to.

You both lay back on your pillows, and your eyelids became heavy. The light was still on, but you were comfortable and warm, and all of a sudden, it was hard to keep your eyes open. You still wanted Hoseok, but you were so tired, you were getting dizzy.

You felt his eyes on you and turned to him with a sheepish smile. “I’m really tired,” you confessed, and he nodded.

“Same, I’m hanging on by a thread.”

You smiled and licked your lips. “Can I…?”

“Hug me to sleep?” 

He raised an eyebrow and your eyes widened as you gasped. Did he know about last night?!

He simply smirked. “Yeah, come here. Oh, wait,” he told you before reaching the light switch on the wall. Then he settled back and grabbed your hand over the sheet, pulling you closer. You snuggled up to him, then sighed comfortably, and he held you close.

You woke up snuggly and warm, with a citrusy perfume near your nose and your legs tangled with someone else’s. You didn’t question it, stretching lazily before pulling away slightly. You slept like a rock, but still felt the exhaustion from the previous day. Just thinking you had another day like it ahead of you made you groan under your breath.

Hoseok turned around to face you, and it made you blink a bit more awake. He looked raw and vulnerable, with his hair disheveled and eyes barely open. Instantly, it made you feel a little breathless, a little hot, and a little exposed.

“Hey,” he whispered, and your cheeks warmed.

“Hey,” you rasped back, covering your face with your hands. “I must look horrible.”

He chuckled. “You look the same as always.”

You peeked between your fingers. “So I always look terrible?”

He was caught off guard and laughed quietly. “No, you never do.”

You lowered your hands and stayed like that, just observing one another, until you asked quietly. “We were friends… How come you never told me about your dad?”

“What do you mean?”

“You talked about the divorce, your sister, your mom, your ex… but not about your dad.”

He looked down for a moment before answering, “I just… didn’t want to talk about him. Our relationship was always…complicated. He left my mom, and then he would insist on taking me to construction sites for long weekends and vacations so I could learn the trade. He refused to listen to what I wanted. Meanwhile, my mom worked two jobs to support my dreams of becoming a dancer. She pushed me to go to Seoul and supported me while my dad all but threatened to disown me if I followed my dreams.” His expression hinted at bitterness before he looked at you again. “You can imagine I didn’t want to talk about him.”

You nodded. “And now?”

“He’s changed,” Hoseok acknowledged softly. “I think he accepted that it’s up to me to do what I want to do and that I’m good enough to do it. So we’re okay now. I see him a couple of times a year.” You nodded, and he quieted. “What about you? I remember your mom was sick five years ago.”

“She was, she’s been in remission for three years. My parents moved to Jeju Island to have a peaceful life there, and I’m hoping that will help.”

“You must miss them.”

“I do… Feels like everyone is super far away now.”

“But as it turns out, we live in the same neighbourhood,” he reminded you, and you raised a corner of your mouth.

“So it seems.”

“You can call me, you know,” he offered. “If you need anything.”

Your face was warm. “Thank you.”

“You can also call me just… Just because. If you want to.”

You weren’t used to seeing Hoseok hesitate, and yet, somehow, it made you relax. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” he asked, as though he couldn’t believe your answer, and you grinned.

“Maybe,” you teased, and he smirked. You felt warm again, seeing that smile, but also incredibly at ease.

His eyes returned to yours with a sharper edge to them, and you were instantly stirred up.

“You had a crush on me?”

“Yeah.”

His eyes roamed your features for a brief moment. “I wish the timing were different.”

“I don’t,” you admitted. “I was not the greatest person back then.”

“And now?” He raised an eyebrow, and you chuckled.

“Still a work in progress.”

He nodded, smiling too. “I wasn't great back then either. I was insecure. Thought my world was ending when my ex left, and that I had to be in a relationship to mean something.”

You nodded slowly. “Was that why you dated so many people afterwards?”

“It’s also the way people act. I don’t know about you, but my friends are constantly dating someone.”

You shrugged. “If you call that dating. I don’t get the obsession with saying you’re dating when you know it’s going to last a couple of weeks tops.”

“It has to be serious enough to avoid a stigma, but not serious enough ‘cause a relationship takes too much work.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Wow, exactly. Well said!”

“Thanks. It’s my conclusion after years of therapy to process how my parents’ divorce made me link my self-worth to my relationship status.”

Your chin dropped. “Woah!”

He smiled. “Once I realized I was following a pattern, I thought therapy would help. I had internalized that being alone meant I was less, without realizing that I didn’t even want to be with some of those people. I just said yes so I wouldn’t be alone.”

You pressed your lips. “And now?”

“I’ve been single for two years, and it’s nice.” He smiled, stretching a bit before asking, “And you?”

“I haven’t really thought much about dating,” you admitted, shrugging. “I’ve been developing my business for a year, and it takes most of my time.”

“That makes sense,” he said, adjusting the pillow under his head.

“Some pillow talk we’re having,” you joked, and he cleared his throat.

“Sorry, did I make things weird?”

“No, not at all. It reminds me of when we were friends.”

You remembered all the breaks you would spend just the two of you talking at the back of the school or in some park.

“Maybe that’s why it's so easy to talk to you,” he mused, observing your expression.

“You mean you don’t talk about this with every girl you get in bed?”

“No,” he stated, then joined you in laughing quietly. “Also, you got me in bed.”

“That’s true. Had to take charge,” you confessed with mock modesty. “Now, I have you right where I want you.”

“Do you?”

Your smile dissipated when you realized what you had said and how he was looking at you. Instantly, heat spread from your cheeks down your neck, and you had to swallow. “I—I mean, not that I’d force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“You mean besides forcing me to strip before getting into bed?”

You almost choked. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

“I know.” He smiled, and his hand moved near yours over the sheet, but he didn’t touch you. “If last night was an isolated thing, that’s okay. It’s cool, I promise.”

You instantly remembered the way his hand pressed you, arching your back and hitching your breath. “It wasn’t…I mean, it wasn’t alcohol or anything like that,” you said, your voice more and more quiet as the tension spread down your neck. “If anything, it feels like whenever we’re together, we…”

“Have chemistry?”

You hummed.

“Was it like this in high school? And I was just blind to it?” he asked in disbelief.

“It wasn’t like this… Wanting to kiss you and wanting you are two different things,” you explained, despite feeling like you were dipping into dangerous waters.

“So you want me?” he asked, and you felt almost assaulted by his dark, meaningful eyes. Your core clenched around nothing at the thought of being under this man. The way he turned you on was wild.

“I do…” As soon as the admission was out of your lips, he moved closer, and you had to put your hands on his chest to stop him. “But we’re not alone.”

Your tone was firm, more to tame your desires than to stop him, but he still halted. He was close enough that you could see the moles on his face, but he had yet to touch you. 

He eyed you intently. “And if we were?”

“We’re not…”

“But if we were?” he insisted. 

You swallowed, rubbing your legs together. “I already told you I want you.”

His lips curved in a tease. “I want to hear what else you want.”

You raised your chin. “You haven’t told me what you want yet.”

“I’ll tell you, then,” he whispered, making you shudder from head to toe. He got up on his elbow, and you rolled to face up. “I want to look at you. I want you to take your clothes off for me.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “If only you had asked before…”

“I still can.”

You hummed, unashamedly running your eyes down his exposed torso. He didn’t have the broadest shoulders, but every piece of him was defined and soft, like a taunt for you to scratch and bite. It was torture to see all that flesh but not touch it.

“I want you to touch me,” he spoke again, drawing your gaze up. “I want you to touch me and grab me with the same hunger you have in your eyes right now.”

You let out a small, tense breath as you eyed his chest again, unabashedly taking advantage. “And then?”

“Are you sure you want to know?”

You chuckled. “I might need ideas to spice up my shower.”

He groaned mutely, then gently tucked the sheet to frame your silhouette without touching you. It made your body temperature surge as you let him find his way to seeing your form without stripping you. The more he observed and wondered, the more sensual and wanted you felt. You didn’t know if you wanted to rub your legs together or spread them open for him.

“I want to touch you,” he breathed, then looked at you. “Lick and feel every curve until I know you by heart. I want to eat you out. I want to know how you taste, wet like that for me.”

Your eyebrow quirked, but you stayed quiet, letting his words burn you a bit more intensely than his presence alone did.

“I want your hips on me again. Need to appreciate the way they match mine.” His eyes caught you opening your legs under the sheets, but you didn’t close them. “And I want to fuck you. I can’t hide it,” he whispered, adjusting his posture as though he was eager to get in between your legs, if only you let him. “I need to know what you look like when I fuck all sense out of you.”

“Wouldn’t that be something,” you breathed, sneaking your hands down your stomach.

“You—”

A bang interrupted him and covered you with goosebumps from head to toe.

Neither of you breathed as you waited patiently for the sound of a car engine to roar to life, and then for it to move away from the driveway.

Your eyes were locked, both surely thinking the exact same thing — Jin and Hyeonseo were likely gone to grab breakfast. You were alone.

“Tell me what you want,” he rasped, his muscles flexing as he stayed in place.

“You.”

“Don’t just say that,” he scolded lightly, adjusting himself on his knees.

“It’s what I want,” you insisted, more than aching for him. “I want everything you said.” You leaned in a bit. “Make me scream your name.”

He ripped the sheet from over you and froze. You bit your lip but couldn’t find it in you to look innocent. Not when your hand was buried in your sex.

“I can’t believe you,” he breathed before throwing the sheet to the end of the bed.

“You never said I couldn’t,” you argued, giving up on solo pleasure when you could have him. 

He caught your wrist as he settled between your legs. “I said I want you.”

“And I want you, too. Hey,” you called, letting your voice register lower. “I’d let you watch.”

He shook his head and forced your wrist to the mattress next to your head as he covered your body with his to reach your lips. His mouth wasn’t soft at the dawn of a first kiss; it was rough and helpless with want. Your free hand instantly gripped his hair, keeping him close as your bodies adjusted to each other, and in a second, your world was overturned.

He didn’t just take two seconds to push his tongue inside you; he took two seconds to melt you to a liquid state. In a split second, he was kissing you like he owned you, matching every whimper and sigh with more. If you needed to breathe, he bit your lip. If you needed to moan, he swallowed it. 

He wasn’t shy about pressing his cock to your thigh, nor about palming your curves as he said he would. You could only shudder and whimper with the way he touched and squeezed you, especially when he grabbed your ass. He even parted your mouths to hide in the crook of your neck and have both hands free to squeeze your asscheeks, pressing you to him.

You had to moan, swiveling your hips to get friction.

“You and your perfect ass,” he grumbled, giving it a few more squeezes. “On the ladder, the stairs, last night… Fucking tease.”

“Didn’t know you were staring,” you breathed, and he raised his head.

“Didn’t you?”

“No. No, trust me.” You smiled, gyrating your hips as you cradled his cheeks. “Or I would have made it much worse.”

He let his mouth crash to yours harshly before pulling away. “You fucking tease… I’ll take my time with you—”

“No,” you cut in, holding his head so he’d look at you. “We don’t know how long we have.” You could see Hoseok’s gears turning, so you insisted, “You have to fuck me. I need to feel you. I need you to fuck this tension out of me.” He groaned, and you didn’t give up. “Need you to make me scream your name while creaming your cock. It will be therapeutic,” you promised, earning a smirk. “Please.”

It took Hoseok one second to ponder your request. The next, he was already on his knees.

“Take them off.”

“What?” 

“Take them off,” he repeated, glancing at your shorts. His hands dipped inside his boxers to stroke himself, and you almost melted at the sight.

Instead, you swallowed. “We don't have much time.”

“Get your clothes off before I rip them off.”

Heat flushed through you as you gushed between your legs, and you scrambled to as he asked. Normally, you’d like that moment to be sensual, but all you could think of was Hoseok between your legs.

He clearly was thinking of that too, because as you got rid of your pajama t-shirt and shorts and underwear, he kept stroking himself in front of you. He wasn’t shy about grunting, licking his lips, cursing, or spreading the precum on the tip of his dick right under your hungry eyes. Especially when you leaned back down and spread your legs for him.

“Holy shit,” he almost choked, falling to his elbows on the bed right before pressing his face to your wet cunt.

Your moan echoed in the empty room as you clenched from the surprise. Your hands gripped his hair firmly, and you cursed yourself, bucking your hips against his starving mouth. You watched him eating you out, groaning into you as he drooled all over your slicked folds. That was such a power trip for some reason. Like you knew you were his kryptonite, like you knew he should have been fucking for years, like you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist you as soon as he tasted you.

But the past didn’t matter; you need him now.

“Fuck, Hoseok, wait,” you breathed between moans, finding it hard to not press his face to your sopping pussy.

He hummed, and you tried sorting out your thoughts.

“We don’t know how long we have,” you reminded him, cursing him when his tongue started drumming on your clit. “Fuck! You either fuck me now, or—!”

You keened desperately when three digits pushed through your warm walls, stretching you with a few pumps. Looking at him, his eyes were almost wicked as he saw you trying not to writhe in pleasure.

“So bossy…” he commented, licking his lips. “Lucky we’re in a hurry.”

You whimpered and curled your toes with the way he fucked you with his fingers, but stayed otherwise quiet because he grabbed his hard cock in his other hand.

“It’s a shame, really,” you breathed, and he surely thought you were teasing him, because he quickly leaned in to nip a nipple, making you jolt. “I also didn’t get to touch you and grab you.”

“Can still make it happen,” he told you, sitting back between your legs with his cock still in his hand.

You smiled. “That sounds good,” you breathed, reaching out to meet his busy hand. 

While he looked down at your hand taking over from his, stroking him gently, you observed his reactions. The way his eyes hooded, or his lip raised, containing a moan when you squeezed a little more. He enjoyed watching what you were doing, and you enjoyed watching him. Even when his fingers inside you lost focus, you were set on that one goal — to see him fall apart.

“So hard,” you whispered, licking your lips. “Come on,” you coaxed, slowly pulling him by his dick to close the gap between you.

He followed your lead, removing his fingers from your sopping pussy to replace them with the tip of his cock. He moaned quietly then, as he rubbed his shaft on your slick, hungrily passing a heavy hand up your stomach to your chest. He pinched a nipple just to tease you, then pressed the head of his cock through your entrance.

You couldn’t even catch your breath, whimpering uninterruptedly as your core hugged the head of his cock. You cursed him, feeling your legs trembling as you spread them as much as you could. Your core throbbed wildly with the stretch, and you thought that was the peak for you, but then he topped it off with his fingers on your clit.

You finally let go and arched your back, so completely overturned by pleasure, you felt like you were in a tempestuous sea. You couldn’t suppress your moans, hold back the way you gripped the sheets or moved to sink further down his cock. Instead, you mumbled incoherently, begging him to poke your insides, but he smiled and kept fucking you exactly like this.

“I don’t know,” he taunted, but you could see the sweat trickling down his temple as he held back. “I think you can cum just with the tip.”

“Fuck, I can— But I want you whole— I didn’t say make me cum,” you pointed out a bit more firmly than your previous moans. “I said, make me scream your name.”

He growled your name, then gripped your hips and fell over you, sinking as far inside you as he could, bottoming out with a groan. You could only scream and throw your head back, letting the pain mix with the delight of having him tucked to the base inside you. It was so good, your nails were piercing the sheets as you clenched like a vice around him.

Looking at him, you knew you had a victorious look on your face. He smirked. “Got what you wanted all along, huh?”

“Not yet,” you breathed, then locked your legs behind him. “Fuck me, Hoseok. Please—”

He grabbed your legs further up around his waist, then finally gave in and gave you exactly what you wanted. Everything heightened your senses so much that you were speechless, finally rid of all your thoughts and judgments. The way he breathed heavily into your neck, stealing nips and licks while hearing you moan attentively. The way he gripped your asscheeks to fuck you as deeply as possible, groaning mutely against your skin. He wanted you, craved you, just like you craved him. The slap of skins, the sloppy mess between your bodies, the citrus cologne as you bit his shoulder — that was what dreams were made of. 

You knew you wouldn’t hold for long, but you didn’t expect to last minutes. You were in the zone, matching your hips to his, when he bit your neck hard. Your hands instantly darted to grab him, your nails sinking into the skin of his shoulders, but still, he didn’t release you. Instead, he rutted into you like he needed to fuck you. Like he was in too deep to stop. Like he knew you needed to take his cock just once more before you’d fall apart.

You wanted to scream his name, and it was the first thing out of your mouth as soon as the wildfire spread through you in waves. You were surprised when his hand darted to cover your mouth, but he didn’t stop pounding into you, and so if anything, you came even harder. His mouth replaced his hand once you became breathless, gently kissing you and coaxing the last quakes out of you, until you stilled.

Your senses returned to you slowly, and two things were immediately clear to you: one, Hoseok was still hard as fuck inside you, and two, you were no longer alone.

“Fuckin hell,” he cursed, moving ever so gently inside you, and your hands darted to his asscheeks to stop him.

“They’re here?!” you whispered, suddenly so anxious your chest felt tight. You could hear faint noises from downstairs.

“You didn’t hear them coming in?” he asked, surprised. You were clearly spooked, so he reassured you, brushing your cheek gently, “The door slammed like seconds into your orgasm. I didn’t want to ruin it for you, so I didn’t stop.”

You gasped. “What if they heard?!”

“They didn’t.” You gave him a look, and he kept reassuring you, “They didn’t. I covered your mouth, I promise you they didn’t hear a thing.” You heaved a breath, hugging him, and he nuzzled your hair. “But I did… you sounded so fucking hot, I almost burst. Fuckin hell,” he groaned, moving once tentatively inside you. “Fuckin heaven, rather,” he corrected himself, then pulled away to look at you. “But I know you’ll want to stop—”

Your hands darted to his ass again, this time to prevent him from pulling out, at the same time your phone buzzed on the floor next to the bed. You didn’t even glance away; your eyes locked with his as they were. You couldn’t help it; you couldn’t explain.

“What?” he asked, eying you curiously.

Your phone buzzed again, and you whispered, “If they can’t hear it…”

Your voice trailed off as you bit your lip, and he chuckled darkly, leaning back in to nuzzle you. “Then what?”

“Then why stop?”

He laughed a bit more, quietly dragging his nose down your neck. “You naughty girl… I love that idea,” he whispered, withdrawing his hips for a moment before sinking into you again.

You had to curl your toes and bite your lip, but suddenly, you were exhilarated. You felt dirty, but it was so good to have him fucking you slowly while you tried your best not to make a sound. Your eyes stayed locked, spreading a hellish fire down your chest because he saw you. He saw you taking his cock, fighting the urge to moan and let the world know how good he felt. He knew how turned on you were from fucking under people’s noses like this. And all it did was make him fuck you harder, wanting to spill all his cum inside a little whore like you—

You could swear a second orgasm was right within your grasp when you heard voices talking loudly downstairs. Hoseok halted this time, looking at you while he listened attentively. Then, your phone buzzed again, and this time, you didn’t ignore it. 

Hoseok almost slipped out of you as you contorted yourself to reach the bloody thing on the floor. Then you gasped.

Hyeonseo had texted you multiple times: 

[Are you okay?] 2:43

[Are you hungover? I can make soup.] 9:12

[We got breakfast.] 9:39

[You can come down.] 10:01

[Are you okay? You’re still not up yet.] 10:03

You heard steps on the stairs and hurried to type:

[I’m fine, gonna shower first. Hoseok is still asleep.] 10:04

You looked at him with eyes like saucers, and he didn’t react. He stayed still, listening to Hyeonseo turning back down the stairs and telling Jin something.

“I told her I’d shower first and that you’re still asleep,” you informed him, rubbing your eyes. What the hell were you thinking?

“Okay, good,” he breathed, then pressed a kiss to your lips.

His hips instantly moved again, slowly but breathtakingly, and you knitted your eyebrows to keep quiet. You grabbed onto him while he fucked you, snapping his hips to yours with such precision, you started seeing stars. You were so turned on, the sloppy, gushing sounds where your bodies met thrilled you even more.

“I wonder if she had called you,” he whispered before licking up the column of your neck to reach your ear. “Wonder how you would have reacted, trying to talk to her while I fuck you like this.”

You licked your lips, eyes closed, shuddering from head to toe at the thought. “Maybe next time,” you said, though your voice broke apart.

Hoseok smiled at you and pressed his lips to yours firmly, halting his thrusts completely. You sighed into the kiss, imagining he’d continue, but he pulled out and away, getting up from bed.

You sulked instantly. Usually, you were very uptight about your privacy and behavior, but right now, you wanted to finish what you both had started.

You were about to open your mouth when Hoseok said, “Let’s get you in the shower.”

You turned to him, eyes wide. “What?”

He was already back in his boxers, his hand out for you to grab. “Don’t argue with me.”

You sulked further. You thought he was done, and it soured your mood.

So you put your hand in his and let him pull you up to your feet with a huge pout. It just didn’t feel right to—

Hoseok stole a kiss from you, then grabbed a folded towel nearby and wrapped it around you, making you raise an eyebrow while he smirked. “Stay quiet.”

You tucked the towel more firmly around you as he led you out of the room. Once out, you could hear Jin and Hyeonseo cooking while music played in the background, likely from one of their phones.

Hoseok pulled you by the hand to the bathroom and, to your surprise, closed and locked the door behind him. Then, he gently pushed you into the walk-in shower. You stumbled back, eyes fixed on his, wondering what he was up to.

In a flash, his hand grabbed your towel and maneuvered you against the sidewall of the shower. Your back hit the cold tiles while he caged you in, making your knees weak in anticipation. All he had to do was stretch his arm and start the shower, and you were both unleashed.

You gasped as the water spray barely caught your leg, but you had no time to think about it because he kissed you. You dared to breathe more heavily and even to whimper when he pulled your towel loose, his hands instantly grabbing your tits to pinch your nipples. He swallowed your cries, ever so mindful, and it made you gush even more. This was a man who wanted to be with you, was willing to be risqué, but still took your limits as a priority. You just wanted him even more.

As his hands trailed your sides, his mouth followed, licking every inch of skin within reach. It made you close your eyes as you leaned back against the wall, letting every touch send shivers down your spine. He kneeled in front of you, licking and nibbling, then he looked up at you before reaching your sex. Made you clench right in front of him before his lips ever touched yours. You even blushed at how much you wanted him to do crazy things to you.

As though he had heard your thoughts, he smirked and tilted your body to show him your side. Instantly, he bit your round hip, making you bite your own fist not to make a sound. The pain mixed with a pleasurable sting stunned you so much that you were nimble in his hands as he turned you around. Then, he spread your legs and asscheeks, pulling you to him, and in a second, your moan echoed in the bathroom.

He pulled his mouth away from your dripping folds. “You have to be quiet,” he warned you, and you nodded, covering your mouth as he dove in again.

His mouth on your slit was something sinful. The way he grabbed your hips to fall back on his face, and the way your hips urged you to follow, was demented. You could barely spare a thought for how important it was to keep your mouth shut. 

He must have realized it, because soon after, he got up behind you, covering your arched back with his chest to reach your ear. “Something for next time,” he suggested, biting your earlobe. “Want you to touch yourself at the same time and come, but I think you’ll be too loud.”

You could only catch your breath and look at him over your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he cooed, turning your chin slightly to meet his eyes. “Don’t say sorry. I like the thought of doing this again.”

You looked at him, blushing even more if that was possible, while he just smiled at you. 

Then, you felt his fingers gently rubbing your clit. “Can I?”

You nodded instantly, kissing him to stifle your whimpers as he kept caressing you. You were dazed, at the mercy of his wishes, and when he pressed the tip of his cock to your core, you easily groaned in bliss.

You pressed your hips flush to his, making him take a deep breath near your ear as you appreciated being full again.

“Fuckin heaven,” he muttured to your ear before grabbing your hips.

For a second, you thought you’d lose all sense of reason, but you were sensible enough to put your hand on the wall and press your mouth to it as Hoseok slammed his cock into you again and again. At times, you pressed your forehead instead, but the way he pushed inside you made it almost impossible to hold back your cries. It was everything, both in its entirety and in the details. The way he was holding his breath while pouding into you as though your cunt was the best he had ever fucked. Or maybe the way he grabbed you, muttering how your ass was perfect and your wet pussy was heaven. And then, perhaps it was the way he tried not to cum, pressing you flat to the wall as he kissed your face. As he made it personal by making you cream his cock thoroughly as he slowed his thrusts.

“Can you cum again?” he almost groaned, swiveling his hips.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

“How?”

“Fingers.”

He licked and nipped down your neck, and you weren’t sure he heard you. But surely enough, his fingers found your clit and rubbed in circles.

“Good?”

“Up and down,” you stammered as you shuddered, your nails looking for something on the wall to hold onto, but there was nothing.

As soon as his hand moved as you requested, you tensed from head to toe.

“Fuck,” he groaned behind you, pushing himself even further inside you. He was so deep, you could feel him in your throat. “You feel so good,” he grunted. “Close? I won’t last long.”

“Just—” You could barely breathe. You let your head fall back to his shoulder. “Just undo me.”

He kissed your neck before supporting himself on the wall with his free hand, and the way he moved was just different. He wasn’t trying to fuck you as quick and hard as possible, it was something else. His fingers were attentive to move as you had asked, bringing you so close with a simple rub that your toes were curling. But it was also the way he covered you like a cape, moved his hips with you to deepen the feeling, making you constantly feel like all you breathed, tasted, and felt was him. To the point that all you needed was a little push, so you moved closer to the wall, exposing your neck while you tried to grab his hand taking support there. 

He didn’t get it at first, thinking you wanted him to cover your mouth for your orgasm. So you had to pull on his hand until you tucked it snugly around your throat, and then he got it. He pressed you by the neck to him, and you were finally tucked in. Exposed and vulnerable, while safe and thoroughly fucked.

In that position and with his hands all over you, you didn’t need much to cum. The fire building between your legs was uncontrollable, and the way he poked your insides, bliss. A few thrusts deep inside you, making you moan desperately, and you unravelled. You had a mind to cover your mouth to stifle the cries, greedily meeting him thrust for thrust to make the climax last as much as possible.

Because of this, you almost prevented him from pulling out. He had to hold your waist so you wouldn’t fall back on his dick, making him cum inside you. You looked at him as you felt him cumming over your ass and in your fucked out daze, you thought he was wonderful. Just very fucking wonderful as he groaned and shuddered, spurting ropes of cum on your skin.

When he opened his eyes to meet yours, you smiled, and he kissed you. Not once, not twice, just so many gentle kisses, you forgot about the world.

“Are you okay?” he asked the moment he pulled away to look at you.

“Perfect, you?”

He chuckled and brushed your cheek. “You could say that.”

You wouldn’t complain about having his lips on yours again, but you still gasped when you felt the water touch your arm. It shouldn’t have surprised you, you knew the shower was running next to you, but still. You were too much in your daze.

“Shower, remember?” he whispered, and you sighed, shifting to stand under the stream fully. You wiped the water out of your eyes as he turned you around, stealing another kiss. “I’ll see you after?”

“Absolutely,” you breathed, and stood there as you watched him leave the bathroom.

You weren’t exactly sure how, but you were just getting started. You were just with him, and all you could think about was being with him again. This time, in your apartment, with nothing but neighbours whom you didn’t give a shit about to feel inconvenienced by you fucking him without restrictions. All day, all night, until you got that horny bug out of you. If ever.

“Okay, but won’t you listen to me?” you asked Jin with a huff as you dragged your luggage outside.

“How about you come and do that some other weekend? Before the wedding, preferably,” Jin suggested, and you shook your head in disbelief.

Yet before you could say anything, Hoseok tapped your shoulder. “May I?”

You looked at him, and he tapped you again. “Oh, right,” you agreed, giving him your backpack, which he proceeded to load into his pickup along with your luggage. You turned back to Jin. “It’s unlikely that I will be able to.”

“And if Hobi does it?” Hyeonseo suggested, coming outside with a few snacks for you to take on your trip back.

“I might not have the time, so listen to her,” Hoseok shouted from his pickup, and Jin sighed.

Once more, you thoroughly explained how to apply the finish on the stairs; only the most essential step. “Do it as soon as you can before stepping on it damages the surface. I’d say as soon as you get your couch tomorrow. It takes a few days, but then you have beautiful stairs for a lifetime.”

Jin mumbled something you didn’t get, and Hyeonseo patted his shoulder. “We’ll do it, don’t worry. That’s all that’s left, right?”

“Yup, the closets are done. The stairs almost,” you said with a bit of a grimace. “The doors…”

“Sanded, you guys can paint them tomorrow,” Hoseok said, joining you. “All the lights, the stove, and the ceilings are done. Now you can paint what is left, you will be done tomorrow for sure.”

“Did you add the silicone sealant in the shower downstairs?” you asked, remembering suddenly, and he nodded.

“Yup, all done.”

Hyeonseo had tears in her eyes. “Thank you so much, guys, you’ve done so much for us!”

“Now, make sure to take care of the place,” Hoseok teased Jin with a look.

“Maybe we’ll invite you over once a year. Just to catch up,” Jin suggested angelically, and Hyeonseo elbowed him. Everyone chuckled. “You two seem to be getting along much better now,” Jin noted, scratching his chin. “So tell me: did Hobi ever promise not to bite you?”

“Jin!” Hyeonseo gasped.

“It does help to settle boundaries from the start.”

They started bickering, and you subtly closed your jacket lapels a bit more. You weren’t sure that was an innocent comment, given that you had a few marks around your neck.

“Don’t listen to him,” Hyeonseo sighed, then turned to you and Hoseok again. “You sure it’s okay to take her to the bus station?”

“Of course! Not a problem at all,” Hoseok reassured her with a smile. “Should we get going? I still plan on returning to Seoul tonight.”

You nodded and hugged Hyeonseo. “Thank you for dinner and for everything. See you soon!”

You also hugged Jin, ignoring his quips, then made your way to Hoseok’s pickup. You sat shotgun and instantly let it sink in: Hyeonseo and Jin were waving at you as Hoseok got into the driver's seat next to you. You glanced at him, your heart skipping a beat all so easily. You, sitting there, pretending you tolerated a man you not only had balls deep inside you earlier this morning, but intended to have again as soon as possible.

“You good?” he asked as he prepared everything, including the temperature, GPS, and music. You nodded, ready, and he glanced at you. “You know, we live in the same neighbourhood in Seoul. If you want, I can take you. I just have to drop off the pickup at my dad’s and get my car.” You stayed quiet as he buckled his seatbelt. Then, he looked at you. “If you’re comfortable.”

“You want to be with me inside a car for three hours?”

You raised an eyebrow teasingly, and he chuckled. “Actually, close to four with the detour. But there are worse things. I enjoy the company.”

You nodded and waved again at the couple while Hoseok drove you out of the driveway and away.

At the house, Hyeonseo and Jin waved until your car disappeared.

Then Hyeonseo asked, “Did we succeed?”

Jin nodded. “Yes, we did!”

Hyeonseo raised her hand, and Jin instantly high-fived her. “Mission accomplished.”

[bewitched-hours]

Hello! Yeah me again asking abt the noli and 07 yandere thing (lord I feel weird asking again I don’t want to be a bother) It’s just the last one you wrote was really and I mean really WELL written and I was hoping to ask for a part 2 of how things go? Hacking together, speaking, debating life—just quite cool! I already sent you the link of the past one I was talking about so I hope thats alright!

HI- YEAH- I SAW IT LOL I only saw it at school tbf so I'm starting it with this and have the story opened in another tab to make sure I don't forget anything (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

The reader's pronouns are once again She/They-

Pre-Forsaken

All three of you sat on opposite sides of 007 as you looked at the child in his arms.

"It's kinda cute..." You tried to end the silence comfortably as you could see the man soften. Noli didn't look so tough either for a change.

Though the red bundle of joy was giddy now, you knew it was only a matter of time until it got hungry...

"What are we meant to do with it..?" Noli asked quietly, watching as the baby held onto 007's fingers with glee. It honestly melted your heart a bit.

"I say we keep it." You state bluntly, surprised eyes meeting your own as you went to quickly explain yourself. "Think about it. If we drop it off somewhere else it would probably reach the same path as us if it survives anyways."

The two of them gave each other an unsure look before you gently lifted the child out of 7n7's arms with a huff. "I'm not saying we'd be great parents or anything but it'd definitely be better than the foster system or death." Your tone was firm but they could tell you were empathising with that little red face giggling up at you.

Maybe you were trying to prove something to yourself. That you were better than your family? Maybe that you can actually take care of something meaningful?

Whatever, it wasn't like either of them could say no by the time you started cooing at the baby all motherly.

"Heh, guess you're right." 007 perked up first, getting you to smile a bit more.

Wether it was to make you happy or they actually liked the idea, you couldn't care less. What mattered was that this child was safe with you.

"We should totally call it after the c00lgui." You commented with a chuckle, having Noli cackling and 007 trying to suppress his laugh.

"Yeah- no- this is good- So c00lkidd?" He suggested, letting out a laugh at your grinning nod. It was silly, it was unusual...

It was perfect.

"It'll be the perfect addition! Plus, I have some experience back when I had a babysitting gig to save up some money as a kid myself. We'll just need to get a few things and c00lkidd is gonna be spoiled with love!" You practically beamed and placed a gentle kiss on the little one's head, going back to cooing at it as it giggled in your arms.

Being a family might just be easier than you thought...

Post-Forsaken

For once, 007 probably appreciated being an outsider.

It meant more time with you. More time with Noli.

You were quick to figure out a spot to all meet in where neither killers nor survivors would even hear you.

It was perfect, especially whenever Noli decided to bring along c00lkidd and you could just talk for a while.

CK loved you. He loved the idea of having a big family like this where you could be his mom. You played nice and fair and actually managed to tire him out at times.

Though he didn't understand why it was such a taboo to play tag outside of rounds, he trusted your explanation that it was because it was less fun with only you four and the other survivors wouldn't be willing to listen to you or 007.

And CK knew the other killers were even less willing so...

But you'd always promise that once you get back home, you'll be the best mother to c00lkidd. And he took it as a good promise to make before saying his goodbyes and waiting for the next round.

You were committed to being the mother c00lkidd needed and the 'wife' that 007n7 and Noli deserved...

A bit disappointed with how this turned out but I tried my best-

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

[noctiva]

Having g disgusting thoughts about ex bf toby who just cant get over you yknoe staring in yojr windows stalking where ever you go missing you angerly fisting his cock to the thought of yoh god helps anyone you try and date after him doubt he'd do anything public doesn't want you to know hes still watching till he wants you too. Just ough tje thought of the guy you went on a *good* date with thinking yoj fi ally recovered after toby only to open your door to see a gift wrapped box next to flowers you open it bam his heart and pictures of his corpse -M

RAHHHHHHHHH YEAH. the way he’d do this even if he was the one to break up with you. he did it because he thought it was for the best but every day without you feels like a gaping wound. lying awake in bed feeling nauseous at the thought of someone else laying their hands on you. someone else kissing you. someone else knowing your body like he does.

probably actually does throw up a couple times over it. especially if you block him/don’t immediately try to come crawling back to him. the idea that you might actually be doing better without him? it makes him shake. makes his throat close up. has the sadness and anger blurring together into one big volatile mess.

he stays away for maybe a week. and that’s pushing it. but he can only take so much.

picking up his jacket and still smelling your perfume on it making him want to slam his head through a window. up until the earliest hours of the night, his nose shoved into a pair of shorts you forgot at his place, pumping his cock fast and desperate. it used to suffice before he met you, but now that you’ve left your mark? it’s barely enough to get off. he can still vividly remember how perfectly your cunt gripped him - using his right hand after that is a joke.

so yeah. he stalks you. secretly hopes that you’re just as miserable as he is. that you can’t live without him. that you’d be ecstatic if he walked back into your life again.

and he gets that for a bit. sees the tears, the nights of frustration where you toss and turn. the scowl on your face when you break it off with yet another failed rebound. it’s gratifying. satisfying.

until it’s not.

you go on a good date, with a nice normal guy. he treats you well, makes you laugh, makes you smile - sends you home with a blush on your cheeks and a grin on your face. and god help you, because toby witnessed all of it. every little interaction. trailing you from the moment he picked you up, to the restaurant, to witnessing him placing a kiss on your cheek before he dropped you back off.

and that feels like a swift kick to the nuts. because how dare you? after everything he did for you? all the time you two had spent together? you’re moving on just like that? without even trying to make amends?

he’s not even sure who he’s more mad at; you, or the prick who somehow succeeded in sweeping you off your feet. as if he had any clue how to treat you right. as if he could ever love you the way toby did, and still does.

he wastes no time. follows the guy home after he drops you off. slaughters him the same day he stole your heart. and it is brutal. just so much unspent rage and grief taken out on this innocent bystander. but to toby? he’s anything but innocent. he’s a thief. he turned you into a traitor.

he doesn’t even notice it when the guy finally stops breathing, doesn’t even pay attention to his wails subsiding. just keeps delivering hit after hit, until he looks more like minced meat than a human corpse.

and of course, he wouldn’t want you to make this same mistake again.

you found it off that you didn’t receive a single text after the date had went so well. you’re checking your phone every five minutes, wracking your brain to try and figure out what you did wrong.

a knock on the door disrupts your thoughts. when you open it, there’s not a soul in sight. but on your porch? a bouquet of your favourite flowers, right next to a neatly wrapped little gift box.

and you smile. thinking that maybe this is a cute little surprise from your new love interest.

but of course it’s not. you should’ve expected that.

you drop the box as soon as you open it; the inner contents a mess of blood and gore that immediately makes you dry heave. the metallic scent clings to your nostrils, the Polaroid photo that accompanies it burns into your retinas.

dark and blurry, but it’s still clear as day what it is. the corpse of the man you had met just last night - slaughtered like a cow.

and next to it, a note.

‘nice try. stop wasting time and just come back to me.’

[lush-escape]

The Vigilante's Guide to Grief

pairing: Jason Todd x f!reader

wc: 1.4k

summary: Jason's therapist recommends journaling to help him through his grieving process after your death

prev: first entry

next: denial

Stage one: Shock

Hey,

Ok that's a little easier than writing dear. It's June 11th. Sorry it's been a little while. This just feels stupid still. But I told Christy (dumb stupid therapist who told me to do this) that I would give it another try. So here I am. Trying. Unfortunately she's not that bad. That's a lie. I actually really like her. Dick came by to check on me today. Him and Kori brought over some weird tameranian dessert. I dont know. I stuck it in the fridge it looks like it might grow legs and try to bite me.

Jason rubs at his eyes, “I still have no idea what I'm supposed to write.” He mumbles a curse under his breath while running his hand through his messy hair.

I bet you would have tried it. You always liked the weirdest shit. Like the time Steph and Cass tried to make a cake for you for your birthday. Who the fuck even makes matcha and strawberry cake?

“Um, why does it look like that?” Jason eyes the questionable looking cake in front of him.

“Don't worry about how it looks!” Steph waves him off with a nervous smile.

“Do not judge a book by its cover.” Cass crosses her arms as if she's actually offended by Jason's question.

“It's good! She loves matcha and strawberries, it'll be great.”

“Okay, but like… what kind of cake flavor is it?” Jason asks.

“Coffee.” Cass replies.

Jason groans and rubs his hands down his face, “I should have just ignored both of you and gone to the bakery. This is my first time celebrating her birthday with her as her boyfriend, I can't believe I let you two talk me into this. She's going to hate me. She's going to break up with me-”

“Oh no,” Steph shoots Cass a worried glance, “He's spiraling.”

Cass narrows her eyes and smacks Jason on the back of the head earning her an annoyed “ow! What was that for?!”

“Relax. Trust us.” She says calmly.

That night when you went to Wayne Manor at Jason's invite for a special birthday dinner, he said. And when it was time for cake you were just as surprised as Jason, just on the other end of the spectrum. You stare at it unblinkingly.

“It's, listen okay-” Jason stammers, hand on the back of his neck. “I know it looks a little off and I told Steph and Cass that this was going to be a bad idea-” he rambles.

You place a gentle hand on his forearm and immediately he melts. He sighs and deflates, his thoughts stop spiraling, and suddenly everything is right in the world.

“I hate how you do that….” He whispers.

“What?” You ask with a smile.

“Just.. calm me down like that. All you have to do is touch me and it's like- like everything stops and I can think clearly.”

You smile up at him, warm and bright and like he's created the entire universe just for you.

“Come on, let's try this cake.” You tell him softly.

And despite his better judgement he does try the cake. It's different, not what he imagined, and it's good. Jason grumbles as Cass and Steph tease him for being right.

“Alright, enough of everyone's pestering. We're getting outta here.” Jason waves off the family as he takes your hand in his. You look at him and silently ask where he's taking you and he gives you a soft smile in return. He can hear Tim and Dick snickering at the loving gesture. But he ignores them as he drags you out of the manor.

“It’s a surprise.” Jason tells you quietly.

That night Jason takes you for a drive to the harbor near Brown Bridge. It's quiet and cool, the lights from the city accentuating the bridge in front of you. Water slowly laps at the shore, you can hear frogs and crickets as Jason helps you climb onto the hood of his car before taking a spot next to you.

“What'd you bring me all the way out here for?” You ask him playfully with a smile, leaning your cheek against his shoulder.

Jason wraps an arm around you, “..just wanted you for m’self.” He answers questions as his heart thuds in his chest.

“An’... I got you something. Didn't want the brats to see it.” He finally admits after a few peaceful moments of silence. You knew it was coming.

Jason reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small black box.

“It's not anything crazy, just…” He hands it over to you and he's thanking the stars that it's dark out so you can't see the way his face flushes in embarrassment.

Inside is a small, simple, heart shaped locket. Inside holds a picture of the two of you, one of your photo booth pictures - the one of you kissing Jason's cheek as he smiles. The opposite side is engraved with the day he officially asked you to be his.

“Jason…” you breathe out, touched. Heartfelt tears prick the corners of your eyes. 

Wordlessly Jason takes the locket from you and begins to fasten it around your neck.

“It's beautiful, baby.” Your fingers trace the edging of the locket, memorizing it. Jason blushes even more.

“S’not that big of a deal, calm down.” He plays it off with a smile. But even he can't deny the way his heart flutters when he sees it on you.

“Yes it is, you big softy.” You smile up at him and he mumbles something that sounds a lot like “‘m not soft”.

“Yeah, whatever.” He grumbled affectionately before pulling you back into his side.

Jason drops his pen and puts his head in his hands with a shaky sigh. The memory of your first birthday together as an official couple haunts him. He lets himself breathe for a few minutes before he picks his pen back up.

I need you here so bad right now. Not in that stupid fucking urn. I'm spiraling. Again. Sometimes I wish I could feel the same way I did right after you died. Empty. Numb. So I wouldn't have to sit with my thoughts. I was on autopilot. Freaked everyone out though. B said he’d never seen someone so emotionless while planning a funeral before. He said I was in shock. Yeah no shit.

“She doesn't want to be buried.” Jason’s flat tone made everyone on edge.

“We'll have her cremated.” Bruce’s hand is on Jason's shoulder as he looks through a catalogue of coffins and urns.

“Hm…” Jason hums. “Something nice.” His eyes are on the page but he's not really looking. He can't believe this is happening. It all feels fake to him. There's no way your body is going to fit into an urn. You're <I>you</I>, you're not supposed to be in an urn. You're supposed to be sitting on the couch, in his lap, making him watch Love Island or whatever the fuck.

“Something pretty and ornate.” Jason's eyes skim the page. “This one.” He points to a black urn engraved beautifully with stars.

Bruce nods once. He's aware of the shock Jason is in, but it still unnerves him to see his son like this.

“Of course.” He says.

“And for the service I think we should do a, uh, dessert pot luck. She loves desserts.”

Bruce notices the way Jason is still talking about you in present tense but doesn't say anything.

Jason's writing is rushed now as he's trying to get out all of his thoughts while memories of you swirl around in his head.

Christy says that's one of the worst states of grief but I miss it. God I miss you. This isn't fucking fair. None of it is. It wasn't supposed to be you you know. It was supposed to be me. It was always supposed to be me. I already died once what's one more time? I would die a hundred times over if it meant you got to stay here even if it was just for 2 fucking minutes

Jason sighs and closes his notebook. His head is a clouded mess, feels thick with cotton and heavy like lead.

“God damnit…” He pushes away from the desk and without a second thought goes to the kitchen to try that dessert from Kori and Dick. It's what you would've done, after all.

taglist: @vellichor01 @thy-crimson-king @theendofthematerialgworl @tinasdcstuff @4rachn3

[kisses4rafey]

older!rafe catches you smoking

the sun had barely started to dip, your legs stretched out on the back porch of the beach house, a blunt lazily burning between your fingers. you weren’t even high yet—just chasing that first hit, exhaling slow like the smoke might carry your thoughts somewhere less heavy. you didn’t hear the truck until it was too late.

the screen door creaked. “seriously?”— you froze.

there he was towering in the doorway like some storm cloud in a black t-shirt and salt-worn jeans. his eyes narrowed immediately, jaw tight like he’d been biting his tongue all day and just ran out of patience. “are you actually getting high right now?” he asked, stepping out. the blunt was still smoldering in your hand.

you went to flick it. too slow.

he was already in front of you, snatching it from your fingers like it was poison. “jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head. “you’re really pushing it.”

“it’s not a big deal,” you mumbled, refusing to look at him. and he fucking laughed—humorless. “not a big deal? you’re barely outta high school and you think burning weed on my porch when I’ve got neighbors two houses down who’d love to call your parents is just… casual?” you flinched. the word parents landed too hard. he knew it.

silence stretched between you like the heat coming off the deck boards. “i didn’t think you’d be back so soon,” you muttered.

“oh, that makes it better?” his voice rose, rough and cutting. “you think that makes me less pissed?”

“i’m not a kid—”

“you are a kid,” he snapped. “you’re a kid screwing around with stuff you don’t get to play with—not here, not around me.”

that one hurt. it wasn’t the weed. it was the distance in his voice. the shift. like he was suddenly drawing a line between you again—age, experience, risk. you tried to bite it down. “you’re the one who keeps saying I’m grown enough to be with you. so what is it, rafe? i’m old enough for your bed but too young to smoke a little?”

his jaw clenched. hard. like you’d slapped him.

he stepped closer—too close. you could smell the faint salt of the ocean on his skin, the underlying sting of whatever cologne he always wore when he was pretending not to care.

“you think this is funny?” he asked, voice low now. “you think I’m doing this because I want to control you?” you stared at him, defiant—but your chest was tight. “i don’t want to lose you,” he then proceeded to say in a softer tone. “not to dumb shit like this.”

“you’re not my dad,” you whispered. “you can’t tell me what i can and can’t do”

“no,” he said, still watching you like he was memorizing every expression. “i’m not. but i care about you more than he ever did.” you swallowed hard, throat tight. you hated how his anger cracked just enough to show you where the hurt lived underneath.

then he reached up—gently this time—and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “don’t make me the guy who lets you burn yourself out just to seem cool. i want more for you than that. you hear me?”

you rolled your eyes. “it’s weed, rafe. not heroin. jesus.”

he didn’t laugh.

“you wanna act grown? fine. then be grown enough to take care of yourself. don’t pull this shit and expect me to clean up after you if something goes sideways.”

you blinked. that hit harder than the weed ever could. “i wasn’t expecting anything from you,” you said, quieter now. “i just… i was anxious. and i thought I had time.”

[pushspacetocontinue]

"At least it seems things are improving a little bit for today's kids. At least a little," Travis said, "Our brother Bradley actually gives training on how to help kids in situations like ours. He's a teacher but does that as well."

But then he grinned.

"Heh, my nails weren't suited for that," Travis said, "But I'd love to have seen you do that. It doesn't take much to be a decent human being, and sometimes people need to be reminded of that."

Travis looked thoughtful.

"Well, I hope it wasn't too uncomfortable for you," Travis said, "Even if it was for him. But the pockets are useful. Yeah, that was about six years ago. I think January or February. If Russell had only just met Rook after that, I can see why he might not have said anything, and then he might have just forgotten entirely, or thought he already told you, with all the other troubles that seem to find him."

Travis nodded.

"Where does six years go?" Travis added, "Time flies when you're making friends and having fun. But I'm glad he's met you all and gotten to be friends with you too, and I'm glad I've gotten to meet you too."

And to think, he had initially come by to Endlebridge for the opportunity to beat up some bad guys. He was coming away with much more than that.

"Yeah, we could. That's another thing to look forward to," Travis then agreed.

"I, I was wondering ab-about that," Russell said, "But that's, that's really helpful too, that you, you did that."

"I imagine it would have driven me rather crazy if you hadn't," Antonio said, "And it benefits most who come here to pass through."

Or to spend a slightly longer (albeit temporary) stay like he had.

"It's fortunate that you got found though," Leofric said, "And that you did find a way to keep yourself busy and hopefully from panicking about it. That is amazing as well. I will admit in all my time of being here, in creating spells and concoctions, and using them, I have never had much skill in creating gold."

"We sure did," Simon said, "It's very impressive. And hey, there might not be a rainbow but it doesn't make it any less cool."

Russell's eyes widened at the idea that Rook was just willing to give it away. But he felt like it would be a good diversion after what she needed to do, and that perhaps accepting the gift would help Rook feel better about the entire situation as well, at least for the time being.

Antonio took the little pouch gently, smiling.

"Thank you, sorellina," Antonio said, "It's appreciated."

"Y-yeah," Russell said, before his cheeks turned a little bit pink at Lucien's comment, "Well, that, that gives me all, all the more reason to, to try and, and make some-something nice for, for you too. I'll, I'll have some as well. Th-thank you, Rook."

Leofric nodded.

"I will have some as well, please," Leofric said, "It will be useful for an experiment, and I can keep some on William's behalf, if he wants to try making something with it."

This was proving to be a pleasant diversion, and hopefully it would be the first of many after what they had experienced.

"They never do. I don't get why adults are like that with kids." Erica grumbled, "Well, that served him right. He should be thankful he can still see other people holding mops or anything else. I used to scratch those who picked on isolated survivors."

She tried liking everybody, but she simply couldn't stomach bullies. They should be better people if they didn't want their butts kicked.

"Oh, I just dress comfy for myself and for Smokey. He used to sleep in the hole on my back, but I don't have it anymore. So we need pockets now." Erica explained, "Oh, I see! Russell always gets in trouble, uh? But I'm glad he's going to be okay."

She scratched at the tip of her ear as she tried to recall anything about the accident Travis had mentioned. "Hey, Willow, how long have we known Russell?"

Willow, of course, provided an answer without hesitation. "Rook met Russell about six years ago. However, the accident in question was never mentioned to me, which might imply she isn't aware of that particular misadventure. It isn't the sort of topic one would so casually discuss with a person they only recently met."

Rook would have definitely brought it up at some point. The topic of Russell's ability to get in dangerous situations and narrowly escaping it had been discussed often over the years and neither had been able to provide an explanation on how he managed to do that.

"And I met him later because I was still figuring stuff out after Willow found a way to reverse my zombieness."

"We were all very busy at the time." Willow said, leaning back, "To think I was only two years old then. Time really does fly outside the matrix."

"You know, we could watch that show together." Erica offered, "It'd be the first time for me!"

Rook stopped to look around while the pocket kept shifting to create a suitable way out of there.

"That would become unbearable quickly. The first thing I did when I learned there was a way to interact with this place was removing the echo." Rook said, "I really didn't have a great time the first time I got stuck in here. It took mum half a day to notice I was missing."

"I only had control over a limited portion of this place. Chick had to keep busy rearranging all my supplies." Veronica added.

But of course, everything had changed when Rook had retrieved one of their lost books from the clutches of the Brotherhood. They finally had access to a powerful tool that made their activities far easier and were a bit closer to unlocking other hunting techniques previously lost to time.

The last few blocks fell into place just as Bill was sent off to enjoy the panoramic view. Veronica figured she would make herself useful while they waited for Rook to tend to her business and shifted her focus to keeping their surroundings stable while they lingered there.

"Alchemy has always been one of our strongest suit. I dare say Erika has a natural talent for it." Veronica said, pride evident in her tone.

Rook wasn't feeling particularly proud of herself, but still managed a small nod. "I'm alright. I see you guys found my pile of gold without the rainbow. Do you want some?"

The coin shined and felt like the real deal. It was made of gold of the highest quality and with both sides decorated with a crude rendition of a bird's foot.

Rook went ahead and dug up a candy scoop she then used to fill a small bag with coins under Lucien's very intrigued gaze. She closed the bag by pulling the strings at the sides, then offered it to Antonio.

"I've got plenty to spare. I really don't mind."

"The one he picked might be worth more than the entire pile, dear."

"Let me splurge, mum. I'm trying to ignore my feelings right now."

Unable to resist to the shiny himself, Lucien quietly took the scoop from her and started filling another bag for himself.

"Oh, please, don't make compliments." Rook said, nudging him with her boot.

"Get off my back. I can make a lovely pendant for Russell with these." The half fae hastily pushed back with his arm, before scooping up a few more coins.

[thetrasha]

Ok but can i get some fluff on shanks, Beckman, Marco and Ace? Maybe how they try to cool you down after suffering a heat stroke? Where i live we are getting a severe heat wave and its causing me to lose salts from sweats making me suffer a bit

I hope it's gotten a bit better for you, but I'm getting cooked in my own room, too, so... yeah 😭🤝And this is just a PSA: I didn't include actual heatstroke in the request because... the only one on that list who'd be able to help at all is Marco LOL Heatstroke is incredibly dangerous, so if you suspect you're suffering from it, call the emergency services immediately.

This is just a heatwave extravaganza edition because we're all suffering through summer (not including you Southern Hemisphere guys grr)

Cooler Than Me

feat. SHANKS, BENN BECKMAN, MARCO, ACE

SHANKS

Shanks is the type to approach things in a fun way.

As the Captain, Shanks is certainly used to making rational decisions that can be explained with logical reasoning… as a person, however, he isn’t quite as likely to keep his cool. He’d be miserable once the heat gets to him and lose it on a pretty tight schedule. Frustrated groans and curses just follow him around once he realised that his own sweat seeped through today’s linen shirt once more – after he’d let his cape be, too. It’s a tragedy! With you as his beloved, he tries to prevent himself from turning into a complete grump, but every sweet moment at night is cut off after he realises, after barely a minute, that he cannot cuddle you to sleep today without dying.

Shanks is still very much smitten with you and cannot bear to watch you suffer just as much as he does. Most of his crew can handle the heat, some even prefer the intense climate of summer islands, but you two stick out like a sore thumb. Shanks, as fun-loving as ever, would try to cheer you up by eating popsicles with you. It’s a sweet treat that cools you from the inside out – and he can share flavours with you. Watching how giggly you get when you saw just how deeply red the ice cold popsicle dyed his tongue made it worth all the hassle. He excitedly looks at your own tongue, now dyed as blue as the sea.

And he cannot help but kiss you right then and there.

BENN BECKMAN

Benn notices just how much you struggle, feeling sympathetic towards the person he secretly fell in love with… He doesn’t want to treat you any different from the rest, you should be able to fit in without any complications, but the Vice Captain himself just cannot ignore his affections for you, no matter how much he tries to bury them. He follows you around like a ghost and wordlessly hands you glasses of water. Somehow, he picked up on your bad habits and takes care of you in his own way. The water’s always cool, fresh and he always appears when you need him the most.

Benn is the type to approach things in a methodical way.

Benn is a force to be reckoned with. You may not hear him, but you can feel his presence; that’s how imposing he is. Despite not hailing from more exotic lands, he can handle the heat quite well. If the temperatures rise too much, he cools himself down by keeping his hair wet. Still, he’s willing to move crates around, do ship maintenance and do other forms of physical labour. It honestly makes you jealous. He is so unbothered that he doesn’t even look like he’s sweating all that much. Meanwhile, you can barely move around without breaking a sweat. Moisture gathers at the nape of your neck as the sun beats down on you, which has you taking a shower almost twice a day. It is ridiculous!

It’s bizarre, but you might just pick up on the fact that acts of service are his love language and he’s desperately trying to be serious and respectful about this…

MARCO

Marco is a doctor, which means that he’s definitely best equipped to help you. Plus, his eyes just dart towards you fanning hot air towards yourself after Whitebeard asked you to mop the deck… and you just chose to do it in the dry heat. Congratulations, now you’ve got Marco monitoring you. He watches you carefully, analysing every sway with a judgmental gaze – he’s always ready to step in and excuse you for the day, but he also doesn’t want to take your autonomy away. You’re independent and he honours your own decisions, no matter how irrational they may seem. If you want to work in the sun, fine, but he’s not letting up until he can make sure you’re safe.

Marco is the type to approach things in an analytical way.

He loves you so dearly, that’s why he doesn’t even mind sneaking around your peripheral vision to make it seem like he’s nonchalant about his pining… he’s really not. He’s just waiting to pin your hair up and apply wet towels to your pulse points, slowly cooling your blood down. That refreshing feeling will distribute itself evenly throughout your body and he can just watch with a soft smile as relief makes you go lax instantly. And he’s just there, touching your neck and wrists like it doesn’t make him nervous, like there’s no fire in his eyes at the sight of you feeling so safe in his presence… You’d rest your pretty head on his shoulder and let him check your vitals… just to be close to you without seeming like a total try-hard!

Marco’s also most likely to keep you in the med bay and secretly fan air towards you with his fiery wings. It’ll be your little secret!

ACE

Ace is the type to approach things in a silly way.

So… being around Ace when you’re suffering from the extreme weather is actually pretty hard. His body temperature is just naturally a lot higher, which means the match-up is just overall bad. He trails after you like a lost puppy as he ignores all those stares that follow the two of you around. Ace doesn’t feel the heat at all – the fact that fire is hot doesn’t even register to him; he’s made of it. Of course he notices that you’re not exactly in top shape… you sweat a lot, started carrying around a massive jug of water – oh, and you avoid touching him. He’s yearning so bad, flashing you the sad kicked animal eyes every five minutes because he cannot stand not being close to you…

Ace does, however, have a genius idea that he remembers from his childhood.

You aren’t as impressed as he is when he presents a tiny kiddie pool to you… right on the main deck. Anyone could watch you lounge here, but your dear boyfriend even propped up a deckchair right next to this abomination… and the thought alone is what counts. It’s kind of sweet, to be honest, to watch him go bright red as soon as you sit down in a tiny puddle of water, looking up at him with a deadpan expression, legs hanging off one side of the meagre ‘pool’, but he still listens with rapt attention once you tell him what you’ve been up to on this hot day. He even clenches his fist in victory for this million Beri idea.

And… it’s ridiculous, but it did cool you down!

[theamberparadise]

Hai, Hai!!

Love love love your writing sm:33 was wondering you could mayb do like hcs of Jeff w a like alt civilian gf?? Like someone who’s into metal and all that stuff w hella peircings ?? If not it’s ok love ya!! 👅👅

JEFF THE KILLER X ALT! READER W/PIERCINGS

SYNPOSIS; how does jeff react to a civilian with the same music tastes and brings it into their way of fashion???? Hmmmm lets see lets seeeeeee hahaushskdhwioe

TW; degradation, light mentions of breathplay, Jeff being Jeff

A/N; can u tell im excited for this req im excited for this req can u tell can u tell tell me tell me if u can tell (i am going to include nsfw hcs for this because i SAID SO)

Jeff is launched into an excited frenzy when he sees you and your deftones t-shirt. “Finally, someone gets it,” he mutters to himself, watching you plop down on your couch with a bag of microwave popcorn in hand.

He was relieved when he saw you actually try to fight back against his invasion of your home, and after he nearly lost his ear from your kitchen knife he threatened to gouge out your eyeballs to make you sit and talk to him.

You never really knew why he wanted to talk to you. And then you find out he’s been stalking you for a bit now, and his reason? “Thought you were kinda cute,”. You wanted to punch him.

Then, to your dismay, he kept on visiting again and again. And for the days he stayed there overnight, Jeff would legit just stare at you in one place without moving until you went in another room.

You don’t bother to even try and change the locks anymore. It’s either he got through with one of your hairpins, or he managed to knock down the knob with his elbow.

Nonetheless you let him do his own thing, sometimes you lend him one of your mixtapes for him to put in your jukebox and jam to.

“The Offspring?” you questioned, taking a moment to suck off the pancake batter off of your thumb. “Hell yeah!” Jeff responded, cranking up the volume to the highest setting (which you were definitely used to), and started headbanging right in your living room.

ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP (fluff?????)

Brings you home silver rings and chunky-as-fuck earrings for you to wear. He much prefers seeing you in them over gold. (mostly because it matches his jewelry as well.)

Would beam when you already do have piercings that match his. If he finds out you also have snake bites, he’s grinning like a kid on Christmas and stares at your lips for an uncomfortable amount of time.

He is such a loser for eyebrow piercings. Even better when you have an eyebrow slit. He thinks it’s “fucking badass” and finds every excuse on mother Earth to try and lick it.

Once asked you to pierce his nose bridge, right in between the corners of your eyes. When you’re finished, he looks at it in the mirror for at least an hour before going back to the mansion and flaunts it to everybody.

Traces his hand over your tattoos. He loves the big one on your thigh, especially when you wear those fishnet stockings he’s so fond of.

Even better when it reaches from your knee to your waist. He tries to resist to bite it (he has once) and just firmly pinches or holds the area.

You dress up in a full-alt outfit for a date, showing off your tattoos? And you’re wearing chunky platform heels, too? He tries coaxing you to stay home while you scold him for making you get ready for no reason and drag him outside.

When you are outside, he’s so jumpy and overly-aware of those who might snatch you right out of his hands so he grips your leather corset a little tighter.

He takes you on graveyard dates, making fun of the memorial pictures that are plastered onto the stone. 

Sometimes, he takes you where he killed his most recent victim and tells you in full detail of what he did and where he hid the body.

When on car rides, Jeff likes to play with your stockings or fishnets while waiting in traffic, grumbling about how many people really need cars. It’s also a way for him to fidget with something, other than the peeling leather of his gear stick.

Stole your tattoo gun one time and messily writes your name somewhere on his arm. The tattoo was infected for a while and now it’s just a small slump of what looks like a keloid scar that seems to have your name on it.

A good amount of his own piercings are infected as well, so you’d have to remind him to let you clean it. 

Does wear an article of yours somewhere, be it a belt chain or a necklace. Makes him feel giddy for some fucked-up reason.

NSFW

Remember those fishnet stockings? Expect them to be ripped to shreds on the floor despite your protests. “Shh, I’ll buy you new ones, baby. Just open up f’me, yeah?”

Jeff blasts heavy metal of his choice on your biggest speaker when he makes you scream. To him, it’s a message to your poor sleep deprived neighbors. 

He likes slightly freaking you out by getting dick piercings. Jacob’s ladder, Prince Albert… he loves the shock flash on your face before seeing that hungry, sexy face when you go down to lick it.

Jeff LIVES for nipple piercings and boob tattoos. He’s a tit guy at heart, so when he sees a flash of silver studs and intricate ink patterns on your mounds? He’s groping at them to the point where they’re both sore (and kinda bruised) in the morning. He won’t let go of them in any position.

Loves it when you suck on his tongue piercing. To him, it’s an invite to absolutely wreck your throat on the floor.

Likes seeing the red swell on your ass and hips accompanied by your tattoos by the time he’s done with you.

Weirdly has a thing for ear gauges? He loves the feeling of his tongue just gently swirling around them while he fondles your tits.

Purposefully cums on your tattoos and grins at it like it’s a trophy.

If you tattoo his name somewhere on your body Jeff will literally never stop staring at it. He thinks it’s even better when it’s at an intimate place, like your breasts or right above your clit. “Glad you know yer place, sweets.” 

He loves making you ride him while in a tight corset. Your out-of-breath gasps are to die for. Even better when your tongue is lolled out and your eyes rolled back. “Little bitch, you like this shit don’t you?”

Have a clit piercing? He's lapping that shit up like a dog. Tugs on it to make you squirm. Grinds the underneath of his cock on the warm bud of metal.

Finds bellybutton piercings to be sooooo slutty and sexy as fuck. Even more when you show it off in public.

One time he made you wear headphones blasting Slipknot during sex since he was drunk at the time and his moans were a little more high-pitched. It’s okay, seeing him twitch and his eyes going to the back of his head when you clench down on him is enough for you to feel a little bit cocky.

[dozybeez]

Practice Makes Imperfect (Pt. Two)

A perfectionist ballerina struggles to find her rhythm-not just in her mandatory hip hop class, but in life itself. When she turns to Hoshi, a laid back hip hop major, he helps her see there is more to life than just structure and control.

→ part one ... → part three coming soon

pairing: college au! kwon soonyoung x ballerina f!reader

word count: 5.7k

content warnings: slowish burn with eventual smut, internalized perfectionism, performance anxiety, academic and artistic burnout, emotional repression, subtle corruption kink, drugs and alcohol. MDNI

authors note: in no way do I think I'm a good writer. I wrote this a while ago just for self indulgence and decided to post it for fun, so please understand.

songs for this chapter:

- Star Shopping by Lil Peep

The morning after your shame spiral feels unreal, like maybe you dreamed it.

But you didn’t. Your body remembers.

There’s a soreness in your calves from pushing too hard in your late night rehearsal. A bruise forming low on your shin where you clipped the barre in frustration. Your mind might try to rewrite it as fiction, but your muscles know better. They ache with the truth.

You move on autopilot—again. Coffee, schedule, notes, quiz. You go through the motions like a well-oiled machine, but something’s… off.

Because now there’s a new thought crouched in the corner of your brain. Something raw and humming like feedback in a speaker.

Him.

The boy from the studio. Blonde dyed hair, sweat-drenched tank top, chain catching light. The way he moved—messy, fluid, arrogant as hell. The way his eyes locked onto yours when he caught you watching. That split-second before you bolted.

You haven’t stopped thinking about it. Which is… annoying. Inconvenient. Unacceptable, actually.

You don’t even know his name.

And yet, when you enter the dressing room before class that morning, you’re suddenly hyper-aware of every sound around you. Like your ears are tuned for static. Like some part of you is listening for him even when you’re trying not to.

“Did you see Hoshi’s routine in class yesterday?”

The name catches you mid-sip of your protein shake.

You freeze.

You recognize a few of the girls clustered near the vending machines—one with red hair always seen leaving jazz class, another who shares your math lecture but never bothers with notes. They’re mid-conversation, low and fast.

“I swear to god, he doesn’t even try. It’s disgusting.”

“I know,” one of them groans. “He’s like… terrifyingly good. It’s like watching gravity bend.”

You crouch to adjust your shoelaces, pretending it’s intentional. Your hands are trembling.

Someone laughs. “I heard he doesn’t even choreograph half the time. Just freestyles. Like… pure muscle memory and vibes.”

“God, I’d die for that kind of flow. He just gets music.”

“And don’t even get me started on the face.”

More laughter. A dreamy sigh. “He’s like the final boss of the department. You don’t even challenge him—you just try not to look like an idiot next to him.”

Your throat tightens. The laces slip from your fingers. You already feel like an idiot next to him — especially after being caught creeping on him the night before.

You feel your throat tighten, air catching awkwardly between swallows. Their words sink into you like ink bleeding through paper. Not just the compliments—those sting, yes—but the tone. The awe. The weight behind his name.

Hoshi.

You hadn’t known what to call him. Now you do.

And apparently, everyone else does too.

You knew he was good. One look at him dancing last night and that was obvious. But this? This was something else. He’s not just talented—he’s legend-tier. The kind of person people whisper about. The kind of person you definitely don’t want catching you slack-jawed outside a studio door like some repressed Victorian ghost girl.

You tie your laces too tight and wince.

The bell chimes. Class in ten minutes. You yank your jacket on, zip it up to your chin like armor, and march out without saying a word.

Your heart’s beating a little too fast. You tell yourself it’s just caffeine.

But deep down, you know better.

⸻

The studio is hot.

Sweat-slicked air, pulsing bass, the bite of harsh fluorescent lights overhead—everything feels too loud. Too close. You’re in uniform: charcoal gray leggings, a slate-blue wrap top cinched perfectly at the waist, and your warm-up jacket hugging your arms like it was made to hold you together. Soft-looking, but structured. Nothing about it is accidental.

You haven’t taken the jacket off all day.

You need the weight.

It feels like the only thing keeping you from coming undone.

Your bones feel too sharp without it.

The others around you are rolling their shoulders, cracking jokes, warming up with that easy looseness you haven’t felt in your body once this week. You stretch silently against the wall, jaw locked, heart already sprinting even before the music starts.

You’ve practiced this routine. Mapped every count. Studied the instructor’s foot placement, her weight shifts, the shape of her hands as they cut through air.

You know what it’s supposed to look like.

But every time you try, it’s like your body can’t remember how to speak the language.

“From the top!” your professor calls, already clapping the beat into existence.

The music drops heavy. Everyone moves as one—but you can feel yourself lagging before you even start.

You hit the counts, technically. Your arms are sharp, your chest pops when it’s supposed to. You pivot cleanly on beat, land with control. But it’s wrong.

It’s all wrong.

Where the others melt into the rhythm, you punch through it.

Where they ripple, you snap.

Where they glide, you grind your joints into the floor like you’re trying to force the groove into submission.

You’re not off-time. You’re just… tight. Artificial. Like a machine doing an impression of something human.

And it shows.

You see it in the mirror—the way your movements pull focus for the wrong reasons. You don’t look cool. You don’t look confident. You look terrified.

The music stops.

Silence stretches, and you feel the moment gather around you like a storm.

Your professor steps forward, hands on her hips. Her mouth is tight. Not cruel, exactly. Just tired. Like she’s done trying to find a gentler way to say this.

“Okay,” she says. “Let’s cut the music.”

You freeze. Everyone else does too.

She looks at the group, but her eyes settle on you.

“You’re not getting it.”

Your throat tightens.

“You’ve had a week. And I know you’re trying. But at a certain point, effort doesn’t matter if it doesn’t translate.”

You blink hard. Swallow it.

She keeps going.

“You’re holding tension in every limb. You’re not listening to the rhythm—you’re fighting it. There’s no soul in your movement. It’s just… choreography.”

Something behind your ribs twists.

“You’re technically clean, sure. But this isn’t ballet. This style needs release. Personality. Groove. And right now? You look like you're bracing for impact the entire time.”

Someone shifts their weight behind you. The sound makes you flinch.

The professor sighs. “Honestly? I don’t think hip-hop is for you.”

The words split the floor beneath you.

“I don’t say that lightly,” she adds. “Some people just don’t have the body language for it. That doesn’t mean you’re not talented—it just means you need to play to your strengths.”

Your spine straightens like it might hold back the heat crawling up your throat. You nod once, sharp and tiny.

She claps her hands again. “Alright, everyone else, back to position.”

You step out of the line.

No one says anything, but you can feel their eyes grazing over you like stray knives.

You walk to the back wall, crouch down, pretend to retie your shoe.

You don’t trust your face.

You don’t trust what’s rising inside you.

Because the thing is—you’ve been corrected before. Critiqued. Ballet is criticism. It’s pain. It’s sharpening your body into something useful.

But this feels different.

This feels like rejection.

You’ve never been told you didn’t belong in a style. Never been told outright to give up. And not in front of a full room.

You stare at the scuffed rubber on your sneaker. Try to blink away the sting building behind your eyes.

You should walk out. Shake it off. Prove her wrong next week.

But you can’t stop replaying it.

You’re not getting it. You look like you’re bracing for impact. I don’t think hip-hop is for you.

A part of you wants to be angry. To dig in your heels and overtrain until your knees give out.

But another part—smaller, quieter—is tired.

Tired of forcing it. Tired of failing in private and pretending it’s growth. Tired of dancing like you’re scared of being seen.

And that’s when it happens.

A flicker behind your eyelids. A memory you didn’t invite.

A boy alone in a studio.

Sweat on his jaw. Shirt clinging to his back. Limbs loose, music pouring through him like he trusted it. Like his body wasn’t a cage—it was a current.

You hadn’t realized, last night, what exactly you were watching.

But now?

Now you think maybe it was freedom.

The kind you’ve never felt. Not in your choreography. Not in your skin.

You don’t want to ask for help. You never do.

But the words from your professor are still ringing in your ears like bruises.

And suddenly, swallowing your pride feels easier than drowning in it.

⸻

You don’t know what you’re doing here.

The hallway hums with the kind of midnight stillness that makes every fluorescent light buzz louder than it should. Your shadow follows you in pieces—fractured by the low glow bleeding from under Studio C’s door.

You’re wearing what you always wear when you need to feel in control.

High-waisted black leggings, freshly laundered. A fitted ribbed tank top. Your sleek zip-up jacket, zipped halfway and snug across your ribs, sleeves pushed to your elbows with deliberate symmetry. There’s a tiny monogram stitched near the collar—just your initials, delicate and silver, like even your clothes are expected to perform.

Your ballet teacher once said sweatpants were for people who had already given up. That if you looked relaxed, you were relaxed. That discipline wasn’t just about how you danced—it was how you entered a room. How you carried your body. How you never looked uncertain. Never looked soft.

You believed her. You still do. Which is why being here—like this—feels like a betrayal.

You’re standing outside the one place you swore you wouldn’t come back to. Studio C.

You stare at the door. Music pulses faintly behind it—muffled bass, a steady rhythm. It’s looser than last time. Less aggressive. Still, it makes something tighten behind your ribs.

You open the door.

The hinges creak.

He’s already dancing.

Back turned. Shirt darkened with sweat. Blonde hair a mess. His shoulders are moving in slow, syrupy pops that melt into a glide, like his body is chewing on the beat before swallowing it whole. You almost lose your nerve.

Then he turns.

He doesn’t stop.

Just meets your gaze like he expected you.

A smirk tugs at his mouth as he hits one last move, lets the music carry his body into a final spin, and hits pause with a smooth flick of his fingers.

Silence falls.

“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he says, breathless but amused.

You ignore the comment. “Can I talk to you?”

He tilts his head, studying you like he’s trying to figure out what changed.

You don’t wait. “I need help.”

He blinks. A pause.

“With…?”

You exhale. “Hip-hop.”

The smirk sharpens. “You?”

You cross your arms. “Yes.”

He wipes his forehead with the hem of his shirt, revealing a flash of toned stomach, then lets it fall back into place.

“Didn’t peg you for the type to ask.”

“I’m not,” you admit, jaw tight. “But I need to get better. And I don’t have time to figure it out on my own.”

His eyes narrow slightly, considering.

You press on. “I’ll pay you.”

That gets a reaction.

He scoffs, laughing once—short and disbelieving. “You’re offering me money?”

“Yes.”

“You serious?”

You shift your weight. “I don’t expect you to do it for free.”

He walks toward you slowly, water bottle in hand, expression unreadable.

“Let me get this straight,” he says. “You snuck in here last night, watched me like I was an exhibit, ran off like your hair was on fire—then show up again tonight, ask for help, and throw cash at me like it’s a tutoring session?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m not trying to insult you.”

“Too late.”

You square your shoulders. “I just—don’t usually ask people for things. And I wasn’t sure if you’d say yes.”

He watches you for a long moment. Something in his face softens—not enough to be obvious. Just enough to feel it.

“You’re used to earning things,” he says quietly. “Not being given them.”

You don’t answer.

He sets the water bottle down. “Keep your money.”

“But—”

“I don’t want it.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs. “Because it’s way more fun messing with you for free.”

Your eyes narrow. “You’re enjoying this.”

“Wildly.”

Another beat passes between you—tense, sharp.

Then his tone shifts.

“You really want help?”

“Yes.”

“Then lose the attitude.”

Your arms tighten across your chest. “This is my normal tone.”

“Yikes,” he mutters.

You roll your eyes.

He grins, and somehow it makes the space feel smaller.

“Alright,” he says, stepping back. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

You blink in surprise. “Wait—what? Right now? No. We have to schedule this.”

He shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. “Schedules are boring.”

“I need a plan,” you insist firmly.

He smirks. “Fine. When?”

You glance at your watch, already calculating. “Seven tomorrow night.”

He nods without hesitation. “Seven it is.”

You take a deep breath and turn toward the door.

You try not to flinch when it clicks shut behind you.

⸻

You arrive at the studio twenty minutes early, nerves tightening every muscle. The polished floor gleams under the harsh fluorescent lights, reflecting your precise posture. You’re here early because that’s what you do—you prepare, you control, you own every second before anything even starts.

You pace softly near the door, hands clasped tightly in front of you. Your ballet jacket, monogrammed with your initials, feels heavier than usual, like armor against the unknown.

Minutes tick by. You check your watch again, breath shallow, heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and something like dread.

Then, the door creaks open.

He strolls in—ten minutes late—with a lazy grin and an easy confidence. His hair is messier than before, strands falling over his forehead like he just rolled out of bed. He’s wearing a loose black graphic tee and baggy jeans, sneakers slapping softly against the floor. No sense of urgency, no hint of apology.

“Sorry, I’m fashionably late,” he says, flashing you a crooked smile that’s equal parts cocky and disarming.

You narrow your eyes but say nothing.

He drops his bag carelessly by the wall and stretches, cracking his neck as if the day’s been too easy so far.

You clear your throat. “We agreed on seven.”

He shrugs, that trademark smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You get here early, I show up late. It’s the perfect balance.”

You bite back a retort and instead set your jaw, stepping forward. “Let’s get started.”

He laughs, pulls out his phone, and taps play. The bass rolls through the room, deep and steady, vibrating in your chest.

He moves first, fluid and unforced, every motion dripping with effortless cool. You try to mirror him, but your body is stiff, bound by years of discipline and control. Your arms don’t flow; your feet hit the floor like you’re following a script you can’t rewrite.

He glances your way, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You look like you’re trying to dance your way out of a straightjacket.”

You flush, cheeks heating, but refuse to break. “I’m just warming up.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Alright, Tightwire,” he says, the nickname catching you off guard, “let’s see if you can loosen up.”

“Tightwire?” You blink at him, incredulous. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He grins, eyes twinkling with mischief. “It means you’re wound tight—like you’re balancing on a wire—but I’m kinda curious to see if you’ll fall or fly.”

You glare, but a reluctant smile tugs at your lips despite yourself.

He shrugs. “Hey, gotta call it like I see it…”

You roll your eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Just trying to keep things interesting.”

The music shifts, a little faster now, and you try again, letting the beat pulse through your limbs. Your movements aren’t perfect, but they’re softer, less mechanical. He watches with that half-grin, like he’s betting on you to surprise him.

“You’re getting there,” he says after a moment. “But don’t think too much. Dance isn’t about thinking. It’s about feeling.”

You nod, biting your lip, trying to absorb the advice even if it goes against everything you’ve been taught.

He steps closer, voice dropping just enough to make you lean in without realizing it. “Come on, tightwire. Show me you can let go.”

And maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to believe you can.

The bass rolls steady through the studio as he steps back, watching you with that laid-back, half-amused expression like this whole thing is just a game to him. You feel the weight of his gaze—not heavy, but definitely there, sizing you up like he’s betting you’ll crack under pressure.

You press your lips together, squaring your shoulders. Precision is your armor, but in this moment, it feels more like a cage.

“Alright, so what now?” you ask, voice sharper than you intend.

He shrugs, leaning against the wall with that easy confidence that drives you nuts. “Now, you stop thinking so much. Feel the music. Let it move you instead of fighting it.”

You glance at him, disbelief flickering across your face. 

A slow grin curls at the corner of his mouth, eyes flickering with that mix of teasing and challenge he wears like a second skin. He leans back against the wall, arms crossed, studying you like you’re a puzzle he’s just starting to solve.

“You’re a ballerina, right?” His voice is low, almost casual, but there’s an edge to it—as if he’s daring you to prove him wrong. “I’m guessing, based on the way you move—tight, deliberate. Ballet’s all about control. Precision in every muscle, every breath, everything locked down like a well-rehearsed script.”

He pushes off the wall, stepping closer, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “Hip hop? It’s a whole different game. It’s about letting go. Feeling the music pulse through you, even if it’s just a crack open—enough to catch the rhythm before it slips away.”

You bite your lip, trying to wrap your mind around what letting go even looks like. The idea feels like a foreign language to your body, which has been trained to hold tight, stay perfect, never falter.

“Look, I don’t expect you to suddenly turn into a free spirit. But maybe just loosen the grip a little? Stop trying to tame the music and ride it instead.”

His casual tone contrasts with the intensity of his gaze, and for a moment, you catch a flicker of something real beneath the playfulness. It’s a challenge, but not a cruel one. More like a dare.

You cross your arms, meeting his eyes steadily. “And if I fall?”

He shrugs again, grinning. “Then I’ll be there to catch you.”

That small, unexpected softness undercuts the smirk, and your chest tightens. You want to push it aside, remind yourself this is just practice, just dance, nothing more.

You nod slowly, taking a breath. “Fine.”

He grins wider. “That’s what I like to hear. Now move.”

He steps back, giving you space, but his eyes never leave you. The music shifts—low bass curling around the edges of the room like smoke, thick and slow. He doesn’t speak again. Doesn’t offer instruction. Just waits, arms loose at his sides, like he’s already read the ending and isn’t in a rush to spoil it.

You plant your feet, pulse ticking in your throat like a second metronome. You know how to move. You’ve moved your whole life. But this? This feels like standing on a ledge with no choreographer telling you when to jump.

Still, you try.

You raise your arms—already wrong. Too rigid, too formal. You catch yourself and lower them again, forcing a breath through your nose. The beat rolls on. You take a step, then another, mirroring what you’ve seen in class. What you’ve seen him do.

It doesn’t work.

You’re too upright. Too precise. Each movement feels like it’s passed through six filters of correction before it even reaches your limbs. You know you’re getting it wrong—can feel it in the resistance of your own body.

You glance up. He’s watching, expression unreadable, one brow arched just slightly, but not mocking. Just… waiting.

“I look stupid,” you mutter.

“No,” he says, arms crossed again, voice lighter now. “You look scared.”

You bristle, heat flaring in your cheeks. “I’m not scared.”

He tilts his head. “Then what are you holding onto so hard you can’t move?”

The question lands harder than you expect. Because you don’t have an answer. Or maybe you have too many.

You look down at your feet. “I don’t know how to be bad at something,” you say quietly.

There’s a beat of silence, and when you lift your gaze, something in his face has shifted—like he sees it now. The pressure. The fear. The weight of always being the best, or at least looking like it.

He steps closer, close enough that the air between you feels warmer, like static before a storm. “That’s the thing, ballerina,” he murmurs. “You’re not supposed to be good yet. You’re supposed to fuck up.”

You blink. “Is that how you learned?”

He laughs under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Are you kidding? I looked like a wind-up toy on a sugar high my first time dancing. Arms everywhere. Legs doing God knows what. It was tragic.”

A startled laugh escapes you before you can stop it. He grins, triumphant.

“There it is,” he says. “You laugh like someone who doesn’t let themselves do it often.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s less bite in it now.

“Okay, again. But this time? Don’t think. Just feel.”

You square up, shifting your weight. Let the bass ripple up from the floor into your spine. Your body still resists—but less than before. You move again. It’s not perfect. Not even close. But for a few seconds, it’s not about perfection.

He watches you closely, not correcting, not stopping you. Just… watching.

And somehow, that’s what makes your hands loosen. Just a little.

⸻

You don’t want to stop.

Even when your muscles ache. Even when the sweat is dripping down your spine and your chest rises in sharp, controlled breaths like you’re trying not to let on that you’re gasping. You’ve gone through the combo five times now, and not once has it felt right. Not once have you felt like you deserved to be here.

“I’m good,” you say quickly as he pauses the music. Too quickly. “We can keep going.”

But Hoshi tosses you a look over his shoulder like he’s heard this before. Like he’s not buying it.

“Nah,” he says, already flopping down onto the studio floor like gravity pulled him there. “You’re gonna burn yourself out if you keep chasing the ghost of whatever ‘perfect’ means in your head.”

You hesitate, hovering awkwardly near the center of the floor.

“I’m fine,” you insist, but your voice lacks conviction now.

He props himself up on his elbows, sweat-dampened hair curling at his temples. “You’ve got this edge like you think the world’s gonna end if you take five minutes.”

You bristle. “Some of us don’t have time to waste.”

His eyes narrow slightly—not offended, more curious. “That why you’re always wound so tight? Afraid of losing a second?”

You don’t answer, but you do lower yourself down, slow and stiff, like surrendering is a foreign language. Your limbs ache in protest, and the cold bite of the studio floor against your back makes you shiver.

For a moment, there’s just breathing. The hum of fluorescent lights. The ghost of the bass still buzzing under your skin.

Then, casually, he says, “You know, I just realized—I don’t even know your name. Been calling you Tightwire in my head this whole time.”

You turn your head to look at him. He’s watching you, one arm folded behind his head, that same smirk playing on his lips before you answer with your name.

He nods once, like he’s storing it away somewhere private. “Nice. I’m Hoshi, by the way.”

“I know,” you say, a little too fast.

His brow arches. “Oh?”

You glance away, trying not to let your ears burn. “Some people in the dressing room were talking about you. Said you’re insanely good. A little cocky.”

He laughs—full-bodied and unbothered. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You don’t say anything, but your lips twitch like you’re fighting a smile.

He stretches his arms above his head with a groan. “You always this intense?”

You lie back again, letting your gaze fall to the ceiling. “Only when I’m awake.”

He whistles low under his breath. “Damn. What’s it like in that brain of yours?”

You don’t answer. You don’t really know how to. But something about the quiet between you shifts—thickens, softens. Not quite tension. Not quite comfort. Just... awareness.

He breaks it with a chuckle. “Better tighten that bun, Tightwire. We’ve got a long way to go before you stop looking like a ballerina trapped in the wrong movie.”

You sit up slowly, chest still rising fast. “I want to get it right.”

His voice is softer this time. “You will.”

And for the first time tonight, you almost believe him.

Almost.

But belief is a luxury you don’t let yourself touch yet.

You stay quiet, letting the echo of the music and the pounding of your pulse fill the space instead. He doesn’t press. Just leans back on his hands, eyes skating lazily over the ceiling like he’s already half-tuned out.

You rise slowly, every muscle sore, every line of your body aching with the unfamiliarity of it all. The floor feels harder than usual beneath your feet. Or maybe you’re just feeling how far you have to go.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asks, casual, like it doesn’t matter either way.

You pause. “I need an exact time.”

That makes him glance up. He smirks. “7 sharp, then.”

You nod, already halfway to the door, spine straight, jaw locked.

His voice follows just before it closes behind you. “Better stretch tonight, Tightwire. Tomorrow’s worse.”

You don’t answer.

But your fists curl tighter around your jacket sleeve, and your steps are clipped all the way back to your dorm.

This isn’t working yet.

But you’ll make it.

Because you don’t know how not to.

⸻

The studio is cooler than last time, lights dimmed low to soften the harshness of the mirrors. Outside, twilight is bleeding into the campus sky—pale pinks and grays washing over the windows like a lullaby the room refuses to listen to. Here, the bass thumps quietly through the speaker in the corner. Not loud. Just enough to vibrate under your skin.

You showed up early again. Of course you did.

This time, Hoshi wasn’t ten minutes late.

Just five.

He strolled in with a Gatorade in hand and his hoodie half-zipped, sleeves pushed up to his elbows like he might start dancing or start a fight—either seemed equally possible. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, worn from use but somehow still stylish, and the tank he wore underneath clung to him in a way that was definitely unfair. His hair was tousled again—purposefully careless, like the rest of him.

He took one look at you pacing, gave a low whistle, and said, “Tightwire’s back.”

You didn’t rise to it. Just uncapped your water bottle and muttered, “We said seven.”

He held up his Gatorade in a mock toast. “And here I am. Growth.”

Now, fifteen minutes in, he hasn’t said much else.

And it’s driving you insane.

He’s been circling the room, hood down now, hands in his pockets, as if this were a museum and you were the exhibit. Every so often he hums or nods with the music, eyes following your movements—noting something. Calculating. You hate how much you want to know what he’s thinking.

You’ve been moving since you got there. Sticking to the choreography he gave you yesterday, step by step, beat by beat. You’ve practiced it in your dorm room, in your head, in your dreams. You thought today would feel better.

It doesn’t.

You’re already sweating.

Not from exertion—but from frustration. Every move sticks. Every beat slips through your fingers like water.

You push through another pass of the routine, jaw clenched, eyes locked on the mirror. You’re on beat. Technically. Your footwork is clean. You hit your marks.

So why does it still feel wrong?

You stop mid-step, breath ragged, palms curling into fists at your sides.

Behind you, Hoshi whistles low under his breath. “That looked painful.”

Your glare shoots straight through the mirror at his reflection. “It wasn’t painful.”

He strolls closer, tapping the volume down on the speaker. “It was like watching someone file their taxes in dance form.”

Your jaw tightens. “I’m doing the steps.”

“Exactly.” He drops into a lazy crouch, arms resting on his knees. “You’re doing them. Not feeling them.”

You exhale sharply and turn to face him. “Not everyone can roll out of bed and move like their bones are made of rubber bands.”

He smirks. “Flattering. But rubber bands don’t have this much charm.”

You don’t laugh. You’re too keyed up. “I just want to get this right.”

“Why?” he asks simply. “Why does it have to be right instead of real?”

You falter.

“I mean, when did you decide hip hop had one right answer? You’re not solving an equation.”

“No, I’m trying not to embarrass myself,” you snap.

He stands again, stretching his arms overhead. “You’re trying to ace it. That’s the problem.”

You fold your arms. “So you’re saying don’t try?”

“I’m saying…” He studies you a beat too long. “You’re dancing like you don’t trust yourself. I wanna see what you do trust.”

You blink. “What?”

He nods toward the center of the room. “Ballet. Show me.”

Your brows knit. “Why would you want to see that?”

“Because,” he says, voice low but sure, “I’ve only seen you in defense mode. I wanna see what you look like when you’re home.”

Your spine straightens instinctively. “I can’t just… do it.”

He raises a brow. “Why not?”

“I need my shoes.” Your voice comes out sharper than you mean. “And I need to warm up. And I haven’t done my back stretches yet. I have rituals y’know… I don’t—”

You stop yourself, but it’s too late. The panic already cracked through.

His head tilts, eyes catching yours. “Hey,” he says, tone gentler now. “Then do that. Do all of it. I’m not going anywhere.”

You swallow hard.

“I didn’t mean—” you start, but he cuts in, not unkind.

“Don’t act like time’s your enemy,” he says. “You’ve got it. Use it. However you need.”

That silences you more than anything else.

Because he’s not wrong.

Time is something you’ve always tried to outrun. To out-schedule. To dominate before it could dominate you. You don’t know how to exist in a moment unless it’s mapped, controlled, checked off.

But right now? There’s no clock dictating your start. Just Hoshi, leaning against the mirror, giving you space.

So you nod slowly. “Okay. I just… give me a second.”

“Take ten,” he says with a shrug. “I’ll be here.”

You move to your bag, fingers finding the soft, worn fabric of your ballet shoes. The satin slips through your hands like breath. You sit down and begin your quiet ritual—each wrap of the ribbons like a thread sewing you back together. He watches, but doesn’t speak, doesn’t rush.

You roll your ankles out, then rise, poised and still.

And finally—when it’s just you and the studio and the silence that lets you breathe—

You dance.

No music. Just the memory of it in your bones. The stretch and pull, the rise and fall. Every movement cut with precision, but this time, there’s something else in it too. A flicker of emotion. A note of defiance. Grace sharpened by something personal.

And Hoshi watches.

He’s quiet now, back pressed to the mirror, arms crossed loosely over his chest. But his usual smirk is gone. Replaced by something still, almost reverent. He watches the way your muscles glide beneath your skin, the way your lines slice through the air with deadly accuracy—like you’re carving out space in the world just by existing in it.

But there’s tension there, too. A tightness at the edge of every perfect landing. Like you’re trying to escape something that’s stitched into your very ribs. He can feel it in his chest as he watches you turn—controlled, contained, clenched.

Like you’re dancing against an invisible wall, not with the room around you.

You finish with a single, poised breath, shoulders lifted, jaw set like a blade.

And still—he doesn’t say anything.

Not right away.

He unfolds his arms slowly, and it takes him a second to find the right words. His gaze stays on you, steady. No teasing, no flash of teeth. Just something deeper now. Almost sad.

“You’re really good,” he says, voice low and a little rough. “But you look like you’re suffocating.”

⸻

Tag List: @minafrost @codeinebelle @sojuxxi @bestboileeknow @angelsbitx @socialsymphonies

(Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist <3)

[lilywritings]

Little "time travel" au with gen!lilia and human reader!

.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑**̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑**̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑**̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑**̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑**̑˟

I can't stop thinking about "time travel" ughhh i love that au, imagine you two are already very deep into your relationship in current time then

Poof.

You're accidentally transported to the past only to meet general Lilia the second you land ( you already knew how he was bc of his dream in book 7 but now you're legit in the past).

You choose not to tell him that you're actually together but rather his future "friend" ( he is not buying that ) you knew general Lilia would've NOT taken it well bc you're a human that magically popped infront of him at the worst time possible, a little before the war.

But the way you said his name , had a blessing upon you and the way you looked at him made him a bit hesistant and unsure so he pulled his magearm away from you and took you to his dear friends to get the truth out of you.

Lucky for you Levan saved your ass here from his wife and best friend bc meleanor would've fried you by now . A human trespassing JUST before the war!?

And what added the oil to the fire was the fact that malleus put a blessing upon you ( the one mentioned up) after the whole book 7 heartbreak. Meleanor sensed it was a draconia family blessing IMMEDIATELY and was VERY suspicious and angry at you.

So you explained everthing to them and made them sort off belive that you're from the future and searching for a way to get back after you mentioned Malleus. Nobody should've known that princess was about to have a baby and you even knew his name. Meleanor was thinking of zapping you right then and there but Levan held her off and made an agreement.

And thus they put Lilia to supervise you while they work on a way to get you back and think about your words.

Let me tell you something, Lilia HATED IT . why HIM!? THIS HUMAN THAT WON'T STOP STARING AT HIM WEIRDLY AND CLAIMING TO BE HIS FUTURE "FRIEND"!? he wanted to hiss at you at least.

While Lilia was having a crisis you took this situation to try and get closer to him and find out more bc your lilia didn't really talk about his past SELF! that much he is a man of secrets after all...

This was your chance to get to know his past self better and maybe try to open him up a bit and help him.

You knew what was about to come and you know better than to mess with the fate in this "time travel thingy" but was it really that?

Your mind was boiling at tge idea to spoil him ROTTEN & show him how loved he is. But you couldn't do that rn at least not so sudden ...

Ahh loving this fae is complicating.

After some time of looking at him training the troops & being busy but still having to take you with him everywhere he finally sat down with you to talk about how you're bothering him.

And truly , what made lilia irritated and bothered the most was. Your gaze.

Ah those eyes that never stopped looking at his directly, firmly ,not an ounce of fear in them.

The way you gazed upon him like he was a treasure that you couldn't bare to look away from not even for a second or he might just slip away and never return.

Whats that emotion inside your eyes?

Whats that warmness?

It feels familiar yet different ? Nobody has ever looked at him that way . He is not used to it and it makes his skin crawl.

Are you bewitching him human?

He still doesn't trust the fact that you're magicless ,not when you're doing something to him .

Your damned gaze made him feel ... something at least.

Yet he couldn't help himself to brush you away completely you were ... interesting?

On the other hand you were fighting inside bc of the fact that you couldn't shower him in love right this moment and tell him who you are... You must focus to find out more.

And just as he was about to say something your vision got blurry~~~

.

.

.

"Darling you've been sleeping for a bit too long aren't you going to wake up soon?

"..."

"I might even make you a meal how about that? Oh i know you're going to love this one♡"

You stirred awake and found yourself on your present Lilias lap.

"Lilia?" you looked up at him all confused ( Was that all a dream?Does he know, does he remember?)

You didn't even notice you fell asleep on him while he was gaming for god knows how long.

He was caressing your face at your call and cooing at your sleepy state. My how adorable you looked to him right now.

"Hm?"

"Did we perhsaps meet before?"

Lilia smiled wide at your question before bending down and kissing your forehead gently.

"Perhaps my love, perhaps~"

.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑**̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑**̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑**̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑**̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑**̑˟

Ps. I would love to know what do you think guys :3 (i had a bit of help)