#split kevin x reader

[exceptionimagines]

Meeting and Dating Kevin Wendell Crumb

(Not my gif/tried really hard to find a gif that was actually of Kevin lol)(Requested by anonymous)

(This is not fully canonically correct but I'm sure you can understand why. Btw, if you'd like more specifics on some of his different personalities, you're allowed to request for that as well.)

- Understanding pain and suffering means choosing to embrace it despite all of its ugliness and despite all of its difficulties. It's looking directly at the mountainous, monstrous thing that dwells in the dark and choosing to accept and forgive it for all of its faults. It's choosing to love where there has only been hate, and it is not a job for the faint of heart.

- Instead, it is a job for the equally broken: for the people who have suffered in their own right; people who are comfortable in the company of the unpleasant. While their struggles may be different, they are bonded by the understanding that no one else can understand. That while other people get to walk through life blissfully unaware, they are forced to keep their demons close to their chests. That no matter the reassurance, they’ll never be able to fully trust someone: not enough to tell them about what they’ve been through, not enough to rely on them, not even enough to talk to them.

- In the past, many people were forced to suffer alone: only meeting one person in their entire lives aware enough to understand what it was like to live such a personally pained existence; if any at all. They were outcasts who hid away in fear of what others might think of them, worried about what might happen if they were to let all of their issues out into the open

- In this day and age, there are endless places to meet similarly struggling individuals: people who can understand what it's like to be different. Endless places where you can meet people to confide in, to converse with, to feel validated by. You no longer have to be alone in this world if you don't want to be.

- It's in one of these places that you wind up meeting Kevin for the first time. It's a mental health forum that allows you to talk to, vent to, and/or seek advice from people who have been through similar situations or traumas. A judgement free zone that's full of people who are yearning for connection.

- You and Kevin orbit in the same spaces long before you actually interact with each other: regularly liking and commenting on the same posts or following the same random accounts. It's commonplace to see each others usernames while doing your daily scrolling so it's no surprise when you see him pop up in your notifications, liking a few of your statuses before he follows your account. You leaf through his profile a little before you decide to follow him back, not really thinking much of it until he sends you a message a couple months later.

- On a platform where people treat their posts like public diary entries, it's easy to skip the small talk and the absentminded niceties, and move on to much deeper conversations. Kevin doesn't even bother introducing himself when he first messages you. Instead, he references a post of yours that really resonated with him, or answers a question that you posed on your account, and the two of you start up a conversation that lasts for well over an hour.

- This conversation sparks a daily correspondence between the two of you: one that varies between simple recaps of what you did during the day to confessions about things you haven't even told your closest friends or family about. You learn that his name is Kevin and that he's in his thirties, but everything else you find out about him is far more intimate; a trend that you typically follow suit with.

- The two of you speak at length about your darkest moments and your fears and insecurities, all the while neglecting to tell each other about your appearances or the simple facts that you often get out of the way when meeting someone for the first time. In a way, this relative anonymity makes everything feel so much more confidential: that even though you’re baring your souls to each other and being completely vulnerable, there’s enough of a wall between you to stop you from getting fully hurt.

- He keeps the truth about his condition behind this aforementioned wall, hesitating whenever he finds himself ready to confess to you, worrying that you won't believe him or that he'll scare you off with the diagnosis; that you'll deem it "too cazy to deal with" and distance yourself.

- During this time, you might occasionally notice that his typing changes depending on the hour/day: that he alternates between using no emojis to using one in every message or that he abbreviates things one minute then doesn't the next. And even though you’d probably like to ask him about it, you choose to simply brush it off instead, reasoning that it’s a strange thing to comment on and that you might just be overthinking it. Even if it wasn’t “your imagination”, you wouldn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable or insecure anyway; so you simply leave it alone.

- When he finally does admit his diagnosis to you, your first response is to tell him that it actually “kind of makes sense”, sending the message before you can even realize how insulting that might sound to someone who’s been very obviously trying to keep said part of themselves a secret. It feels like a very “No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't fool me into thinking you were normal” kind of response so you quickly type out a “no offense” before attempting to explain yourself further.

- Once you feel like you’ve done a good enough job of clarifying, you thank him for trusting you enough to share something so personal, assuring him that it doesn't change anything between the two of you; if that was something he was worried about. You go to bed that night promising yourself to look into the condition in the morning; wanting to better understand him, and he goes to bed that night feeling completely relieved, close to crying tears of joy knowing that he’s found his first ever real friend.

- You start keeping a list of his personalities somewhere on your computer for reference, taking notes as you get to know all of his different alters. Slowly but surely, you find yourself able to deduce exactly who you’re talking to simply through the way that they type and the things they choose to message you about. If you aren’t talking to Kevin, you’re typically talking to Barry or Jade, sometimes Hedwig who’s especially amusing to converse with.

- Though just as you’re growing used to your usual roster of personalities, you find yourself baffled by the appearance of one that you’ve never spoken to before: one that materializes as a singular, simple and to the point message that appears on your screen late at night after you’ve already wished Kevin goodnight.

“Has he told you about the beast?”

- Though you’re tempted to answer, you ignore the message for the time being, too tired to entertain an entirely new conversation when you’ve already gotten ready for bed. When you wake up the next morning, you’re met with a few messages telling to ignore his previous question, insisting that it’s nothing and that he’d rather not get into it. You brush it off and move onto a different topic; though the question continues to linger at the back of your mind whenever he sends you a message that feels more succinct or shorter than usual.

- Though he neglects to tell you about the beast, he does start to share some of his beliefs with you, or rather, some of his personalities begin to share their beliefs with you. He tells you about how he thinks that the broken are the evolved, that those who have been through more are capable of becoming more, that the people who have suffered are more advanced and that the people who haven’t go through life oblivious.

- A part of you believes in some of his theories; there’s a certain level of truth to them after all, but another part of you simply assumes that he’s exaggerating or venting to you whenever he brings up something unrealistic or strange. You simply don’t realize how serious he’s being, taking the words on your screen for granted as you agree with and discuss them; falsely assuming that you’re both on the same page.

- The world he tells you about; “his world”, is something that you begin to take comfort in. A place where people like you are accepted instead of ridiculed. It’s a nice idea, of course; nobody can argue with that, but to you, it’s simply wishful thinking: a thought that helps you sleep at night or cheers you up after a particularly rough day. Unbeknownst to you, your acceptance of his ideas are proof to some of his alters that you’re perfect for him: someone capable of understanding, someone who believes….

- You assume that it’s Kevin who asks to exchange photos with you but it’s probably Dennis, curious to see what you look like, to see the sort of person capable of caring for the man he was created to protect. You’re a bit surprised when you receive the message but you hesitantly agree, figuring that you’re at a place in your “relationship” where it’s the next logical step.

- You send one of yourself and receive one of him: a picture taken from his computer camera where he looks a bit uncomfortable; maybe just shy, cast in a warm light in the middle of a somewhat cluttered room. You aren’t sure what you were expecting but you certainly aren’t disappointed, somewhat surprised to see a relatively handsome man on the other side of the screen. You ignore your suddenly increased heart rate and tell him that you like his shirt, he thanks you and the two of you begin a conversation like normal, not really mentioning the photos again; even though he saves yours to his computer and finds himself looking at it nearly every morning.

- It isn’t long after that that you agree to meet up for the first time. The idea of it is nerve wracking of course, but you decide that if there was ever anyone you’d feel the need to meet; to put yourself through the uncomfortable for, it’s Kevin. You settle on meeting at the zoo he works at on one of his days off: somewhere that’s public and a little bit crowded to ensure that you won’t get kidnapped; even if you feel like you know him well enough to assume that he wouldn’t do that.

- He’s a bit shy when you first approach each other but he smiles the minute he lays eyes on you, visibly happy to see you while walking to meet you halfway. He continues to sneak peeks at you while you look at all of the animals, sharing different facts about them in an attempt to impress you and/or make conversation. He’s amazed by how nice it feels to be in your presence and you secretly feel the same way, relaxing little by little until you feel as though you’ve known him for years.

- He might occasionally shift into Barry but the transition is seamless enough to where you really don’t notice it. It’s only when bits of Dennis come flashing through that you start to realize he isn’t “himself” anymore; though Kevin usually takes over again before you can even think to comment on it. You only take notice of his presence due to how different Dennis’s demeanor is, and because it’s the only times during your meet up that “Kevin” actually touches you: straightening your hair or a piece of your clothing with a mumbled apology as though it physically pains him to see it out of place.

- Regardless of that, your meetup goes perfectly well and you the two of you promise to meet again sometime soon, lingering at the gates of the zoo as you say your final goodbyes.

- Your relationship with Kevin progresses fairly slowly, both because he’s new to being in the spotlight and because he’s new to relationships in general. The two of you stick to being friends for quite a while: taking your time growing more comfortable and close to each other as the days go by. You start to video call and meet up in person a lot more, typically spending time out in public together while you get used to being real people rather than faceless beings behind a screen.

- While the two of you slowly but surely begin to develop crushes on each other, you also begin to earn the trust of his last few remaining personalities; a feat which convinces Kevin that you’re perfect for him. Having someone truly accept him; accept every part of him, is something so precious to him, and it only manages to further his affection for you. He might not be obvious about his romantic feelings for you, but you can definitely tell that he cares a lot about you and that you really mean a lot to him.

- Once you’re comfortable enough, the two of you start to hang out in private. You’re both a bit shy at first when showing each other around your respective apartments, it isn’t long before it begins to feel perfectly normal and natural to have him by your side and in your space.

- It’s a day like any other when he finally confesses his feelings to you. He invites you over to his apartment and right off the bat, you can tell that something is different. Kevin’s always a little shy, but he seems anxious when he meets you by the gate and lets you into his place. You’re a little worried about him, asking if he’s alright as you let him sit you down on his couch. He insists that he is but it isn’t convincing, not when he’s pacing back and forth as he struggles to initiate whatever conversation he’s trying to have with you, opening and closing his mouth as though he’s on the verge of spitting it out but psyching himself out every time.

- Finally, he rubs a hand down his face and sighs, retrieving a folded piece of paper from his pocket and holding it out to you with a shaking hand. You ask him if he’s alright again as you look at his trembling limb, hesitantly taking the paper from between his fingers and beginning to unfold it as he whispers that he’s fine, stuttering out that he just wants you to read the note and be honest “no matter what your answer is”.

- You look at him for a long moment before you fix your eyes on the letter and read, feeling your heart skip a beat as you realize what the words are trying to tell you. In the letter, Kevin explains that he’s never been in a relationship before, that he’s never developed feelings for someone before, and that he’s worried you won’t be interested in him or that you’ll never want to see him again. He apologizes if it isn’t what you want to hear, insisting that he can just stay your friend, if that’s what you want, and that he’ll do his best to forget about his crush, that he wants you to be happy more than himself and that if that’s what it takes, he’ll do it.

- You finish reading and look up at him, catching the way his eyes were locked intently on your face. You smile at him and insist that you’d be happy to go on a date with him, watching the way his shoulders sag in relief, a smile making its way onto his lips and the slight shine of tears misting in his eyes. Really? He asks you and you nod, telling him that you’d actually love to.

- For your first date, the two of you see a movie then wander around town, picking up some street food while you walk because neither of you feel like going home just yet. He stops and buys you flowers as you pass by a vendor, smiling shyly as you thank him, holding the bouquet close to your face. When you finally do decide it’s time to part ways, he stutters through asking you whether you’d like to “do it again sometime” an offer which you readily agree to, watching as he smiles in relief.

- Considering the fact that you’re probably Kevin’s first real girlfriend, it’s more than likely that you’ll have to make the first move when having your first kiss; and that it will probably take a bit of time for the two of you to get to that level. You decide to make the first move as you’re sitting on his couch, turning to and outright asking him if it would be alright for you to kiss him; suddenly finding yourself impatient and unable to stop yourself. He pauses for a moment, looking at you somewhat surprised before he quickly agrees, adjusting himself nervously in his seat so that he’s facing you better.

- You slowly lean in and press your lips to his, kissing him softly before checking his face to see if he’s alright. He lets out a breath, his eyes still closed as you look over his features, you lean in to kiss him again when he makes no move to pull away. You continue to kiss him gently, feeling his hand move to rest on the juncture between your neck and shoulder, palm pressed to your collarbone.

- He leans away from you after a long moment, which is when you realize that his hand is keeping you from following after him. You open your eyes and find him looking back at you, blue eyes locked on your face in a way you aren’t familiar with, a dead giveaway that you aren’t looking at “Kevin” anymore but rather the reclusive Dennis. You quietly apologize as he stares at you, surprised to hear him murmur out a quiet “you’re alright” once he’s finished scanning your face.

“Is he alright? I didn’t mean to scare him or anything.” You say to him, trying to assure the particularly protective personality that you meant no harm; worried that you somehow ruined things between you and your new boyfriend by merely kissing him.

- He assures you that he is, that he’s just not used to “this”, that none of them are. You nod, trying your best not to take it to heart; not realizing that the only reason your boyfriend isn’t with you right then and there is because his personalities were worried he was having a heart attack due to how hard it was hammering in his chest.

“Should I go?” You ask hesitantly.

“I’d rather you stayed.” He replies and you smile a little.

“Can Kevin come back?” He pauses as he contemplates your question, nodding briefly before he tenses, body responding to the changing of personalities.

- Kevin immediately begins muttering out apologies once he comes through again, one’s that are shushed by you as you cup his cheek and assure him that you’re willing to be as patient with him as he needs you to be. He leans into your touch, closing his eyes and letting out a breath, relieved that you aren’t upset with him; knowing that he’s found his soulmate….

- A little side note: prior to The Horde taking over, Barry was known to front most of the time that Kevin wasn't; which seemed to be quite often considering Kevin appeared to be hidden pretty deeply inside of himself. For the sake of these headcanons, I'm going to be writing with the idea in mind that Kevin is a little more healed from his trauma and taking the spotlight once again. I'm gonna try to focus specifically on Kevin himself for most of these, but I will be mentioning the occasional alter; for what I'm sure are obvious reasons. These might not be perfectly canonical but I'm going to try my best....

- Kevin prefers staying inside rather than going out, but he finds comfort in having some level of physical contact with you whenever you're out in public together; like holding your hand or sitting thigh to thigh. Feeling your touch grounds him whenever he's feeling particularly anxious or nervous, so while he's more reserved with his affection; wanting to draw as little attention to himself as possible, he still likes having a bit of contact with you whenever he can.

- He's definitely more affectionate when you're in the privacy of your own homes: somewhere he can fully relax and feel comfortable. He'll lay his head on your shoulder, hug you from behind, hold your hand or have a hand somewhere on you, etc. He'd love it if you were even more affectionate than he is, if you wanted to touch him just for the sake of touching him; not knowing how much the mindless affection means to him. He has to get used to asking for what he wants or just doing it himself whenever he feels like it, but once he does, rest assured that he's very touchy; usually in an innocent and sweet kind of way.

- He also just loves being in your personal space, even when he isn't necessarily touching or doing anything with you. He'll oftentimes follow you from room to room, not wanting to be away from you for too long, unless he's a little overstimulated and needs some time to himself, or if another personality is fronting. When he isn't staying in the room with you, he'll typically check in on you a lot: especially if he's fronting as Dennis who doesn't always want to sit with you but definitely wants to keep an eye on you; though the man has no qualms with buckling down and observing you while you go about your own business.

- Loves, loves, loves, kisses: in the most touch starved and shy way possible. He grew up with a lack of gentle influences in his life so any form of soft affection really tends to get to him. Kiss him on his forehead, his cheeks, his nose: anywhere you want to really; it all makes him melt. It's certainly no cure for what he went through, but it's definitely a helpful medicine: it takes him out of any bad thoughts that he might be having and makes him realize that you're there and that you love him and that he's safe.

- Kisses with Kevin are gentle and oftentimes a little chaste. He's fairly inexperienced, having always kept to himself, so you'll have to be a bit patient with him. He'll sometimes lean down for a kiss, go do something, and then come back for another: like he's just remembered exactly how much he likes kissing you and can't wait too long to do it again. It never fails to make you smile and once he sees yours, he can't help but smile too.

- Kevin likes saying your name more than anything else; he just thinks that it's a really nice name, but he'll sometimes say honey or something equally sweet if he feels the need to. His other personalities tend to have pet names for you as well: things like babygirl, pet, sweetie, sweetheart, angel, darling, mine, etc. Sometimes you'll be able to tell who's fronting just by hearing what they call you when trying to address you.

- There's definitely going to be moments in time where your Spidey sense tingles and you realize that you're talking to an entirely different person than before; even if they're pretending to be someone else. You start to get a knack for telling who's who; even when they're not dressed any different, and it admittedly kind of impresses all of them.

- He always needs a hug the minute he comes home: it's the part of his day that he looks forward to the most and it genuinely becomes a routine for the two of you. The door opens, he finds you, hug. Most of the time, words aren't even exchanged: you hear him coming and you just know to open your arms.

- He typically likes to wrap himself around you whenever the two of you cuddle: spooning you from behind while also tossing a leg over your own; treating you like an oversized stuffed animal. It makes him feel comforted without the feeling of being restricted, and it makes untangling himself from you a little easier whenever he feels the need to leave, or if he ends up shifting in the morning. The feeling of his body changing against your own, the way that he seems to grow or shrink with each different personality, never ceases to amaze you.

- Late night talks. Most of them are full of comfort and reassurance: letting each other know that you're both enough, that there's no need to worry, that you both love each other, and that it'll all be okay. There's never any shame in admitting you need the other person a little more than usual, and it helps both of you sleep more soundly.

- Little acts of service make him happy. He's so used to his personalities taking care of him that it feels good to take care of someone else. He mimics your acts of love and the things he always wanted as a child but never got: like making you lunch, brushing your hair, getting you medicine, etc.

- You both take care of each other equally: cooking for one another, helping cut each others hair, straightening out clothes, him carrying you to bed or walking you home, etc. You might not always have a lot to offer each other, but you definitely have a whole lot of love, and that's always been enough for the two of you.

- Running errands together. You sort of act like a married couple, going about your daily lives side by side, making the most mundane and trivial things into a date; always wanting to spend time with each other regardless of what you're doing during it.

- Receiving flowers. Sometimes it's an entire bouquet, other times it's a singular flower sitting on your bedside table or on the pillow next to your head. It's a move that Dennis and/or Patricia will occasionally pull as well: not necessarily in a romantic sense, but definitely in a "showing I care" kind of gesture; so that you know that they like and appreciate you.

- Watching movies together. It's kind of routine for the two of you to sit down and watch a movie; or an episode of a tv show, every time that you're together. Typically, it's a documentary, but he's open to watching pretty much anything; as long as you're spending time with Kevin himself.

- Hearing a lot of random animal facts. Kevin works in a zoo so it's sort of a given that he knows a lot about mammals and their different environments. Sometimes, he'll randomly occupy whatever silence you're in with a tidbit of information, sharing something completely unrelated to anything but arguably pretty interesting. He always loves when you chime in with something he's told you before: it makes him feel like you really care about and listen to him.

- Being let into the zoo late at night and/or being taken on personal tours. He probably brings you home stuffed animals or different things from the gift shop as well.

- Buying things that remind you of each other.

- Sharing clothes. You've begin wearing larger sizes; if you're smaller than him, so that you know your stuff will fit him. You've also begun keeping extra clothes in your apartment and your car so that he can always be comfortable, regardless of which alter is in charge. It's especially helpful when he shifts into the beast, who has a habit of tearing or dirtying clothing; or loosing his clothes in the process of shifting.

- Visiting abandoned buildings and exploring or having picnics in the rubble.

- Going camping. He likes being able to get away from regular society for a while, and it's occasionally good for him to let the beast have his time in the spotlight; especially when there's no one around for him to hurt.

- Building blanket forts. Kevin loves them himself, but they're also a treat for Hedwig as well.

- Taking walks together at night; usually stopping into convenience stores or random parks.

- Writing notes to each other. Sometimes, it's just easier for him to communicate through writing rather than actual words. His letters are never terribly intricate or poetic, but it helps him express himself and/or tell you what he's feeling without the pressure of having to be there for your reaction or "face it" in some way; even when he isn't admitting anything bad. It's just that any big emotion can be hard for him to handle and writing to you makes dealing with them a little easier.

- Kevin probably wont allow you to help him whenever he's injured, unless he's somewhat forced to, but that's no slight on you: he simply finds it difficult to surrender himself fully and be completely vulnerable with someone.

- That being said: don't be surprised when another personality takes over if you accidentally burn or cut yourself. It's typically Patricia who ends up tending to your injuries, but Kevin does try to stick around in an effort to be "there for you more"; even if you assure him that you don't mind him leaving if it makes him more comfortable. You should also expect to be gently ushered out of harms way; typically the kitchen if you hurt yourself trying to make dinner, and for him/her to take over and finish whatever you were doing. It's simply the motherly instinct, and there's really no stopping it.

- Coming home to your apartment and finding things randomly straightened up or rearranged, organized in a certain way that tells you that Dennis was there; at least for a brief moment. It's probably best to keep a clean and neutral area for Kevin to be in whenever he's in your home; mainly to ensure that all your knickknacks aren't all turned perfectly straight or your DVDs aren't put in a different place.

- On that same note: don't be surprised if you get "interrupted" mid conversation by him straightening out your tie or brooch, or the collar of your jacket. You get used to it easily enough, so much so that you start to not even notice or acknowledge it.

- Having things spoiled by Hedwig. He's the reason that you know as much as you do: informing you if another personality has a crush on you, or if Kevin is "totally in love with you", or even if he's planning on proposing at some point. You have to pretend not to know for everyone else's sake, but it still makes your heart skip a beat every time he drops a bombshell on you then innocently giggles in amusement.

- A lot of Barry's sketches start to resemble you: whether it's you in general or just things that fit your style. You sort of become like his muse, giving him inspiration when he can't find it anywhere else. Don't be surprised if he gifts you handmade clothing either: it's part of his love language; that and actually showing you his sketches.

- Getting asked a lot of questions. Kevin likes to know you inside out, as does a lot of his more protective personalities, so it's best to always be an open book. Once they trust you enough, they'll be one as well.

- He always listens to you very intently, so much so that I think he occasionally doesn't realize exactly how much he knows about you and your interests until he starts speaking and is suddenly wondering where it's all coming from. Like, why does he know anything about different nail colors, or art supplies, or your estranged aunt who lives in a different state? Regardless, knowing a lot about your interests, your inspirations, and/or your morals helps him and his personalities open up to and trust you.

- Having help whenever you need something fixed. He built a cult dungeon in a zoo basement, I think he can fix your faulty cabinet hinges.

- He keeps a photo of you in his wallet and occasionally has you make appearances in his different computer journals.

- He's a very "my girlfriend this, my girlfriend that" kind of guy. He's very proud of you.

- He has a tendency to ask you who you've "seen" when he knows he's swapped personalities, or asks what you were talking about, etc. Sometimes you lie, mainly for his sake, but most of the time you just tell the truth.

- Strange encounters with The Beast. If he decides he likes you, he'll occasionally come out from time to time and talk about his world order, or about Kevin, or about how you should be proud of your pain, etc. Unfortunately for you, sometimes when you're struggling, it's not your boyfriend or Patricia or someone else who comes around to help you. Instead, it's the thing lurking in the shadows, ready to strike whoever hurt you and make you rejoice in your suffering; oftentimes with a strange level of sexual energy.

- Occasionally being asked to participate in sessions with his therapist. She wants to know how you're handling the relationship and things of that nature, and when you're not in the room with him, she typically tells him that she thinks you're good for him; which further reassures his personalities.

- All of his life; and all of the personalities lives, Kevin has simply wanted to be liked, validated, and/or deemed important. So whenever you praise him, it never fails to make him melt. It's a good way to make him relax and calm him down, letting him know that you're proud of him whenever he's being hard on himself or that you're not upset with him for anything; like when he accidentally messes something up.

- Kevin isn't really a jealous person, he's mainly just insecure. He worries that he's not enough for you, or that another person might be better than him; or at least easier to be with than him. He's a bit more envious than he is jealous, wishing he could be more like someone else, or be the person that they are to you; so that you could come to him instead.

- He tries to act normally, but he occasionally zones out a little whenever your attention is on someone else more than usual, knowing that it will upset him to see or hear you so happy and/or relaxed with them. His other personalities might respond differently as well; they also have more of a chance of coming out in order to try and protect Kevin from whatever he might be feeling. There's also the occasional jealousy between personalities, which is an interesting predicament to try and navigate.

- His personalities protectiveness has definitely begun to bleed from him onto you. Whether or not they all love you, they cannot deny the negative effect that losing you would have on Kevin and how much it would genuinely hurt him. Because of this, they've become incredibly protective of you; especially personalities like Dennis or The Beast. That being said: as protective as they are of you, you're protective of Kevin as well; which makes him feel so happy and loved.

- Fights happen extremely rarely between you and Kevin; you're more likely to bicker with his personalities than you are with Kevin himself. You'll especially get into arguments with The Beast and Dennis, trying to make them see the rights and wrongs of what they're doing and to try and make them stop being so stubborn. Genuine confrontations might occur from time to time, but most of the time, you try to have loving interventions whenever there's a problem between the two of you: ones that are easy to talk out and make up from.

- Kevin himself is extremely bad at confrontation so you have to be very sweet with him whenever he calmly tries to solve an issue with you. If you show any level of anger or disappointment; or even if you don't, he has a tendency to backpedal and just tell you that he's sorry and that you should both just forget about it. It hurts your heart to see it; knowing where it comes from, so regardless of the issue at hand, you honestly can't help but comfort him, which makes solving things a lot easier since you usually maintain a more level head.

- I can definitely The Horde refusing to let you leave whenever you have a fight; whether with Kevin or one of the other personalities. They refuse to acknowledge the connotations of you leaving angry, how you can just decide to never come back, and how much that would kill Kevin; how upset and guilty he would feel because of it. Because of this, they simply don't let it happen, which can be extremely frustrating; and possibly a bit scary. But after a while, you start to calm down and think more clearly.

- It's more than likely that another personality will take over during any sort of conflict and try to smooth things over, trying to ensure that things are solved and settled and oftentimes making excuses. It's difficult to handle at first, but you learn how to deal with it, just like everything else in your relationship.

- It takes him a while to feel comfortable saying he loves you; unless it's Hedwig saying it, but he finds a lot of comfort in you telling him that you love him, and soon enough, he finds comfort in saying it himself. Once he is comfortable, he says it fairly often, loving the fact that he's in love; something he thought wasn't possible for a large portion of his life, and the fact that he can express it.

- Kevin genuinely believes the two of you are soulmates. He thinks you're an angel on Earth and that there's no one else in the world that he'd rather be with than you, so you can definitely expect a very long future together. It might not always be easy, nothing ever is, but if there's anyone worth the potential trouble, it's certainly him.

[charliedawn]

Slashers who meet a to-be victim whos just putting glitter on things

A to-be victim who has a room full of posters of serial killers and slashers

Imagine two of Bo's worst nightmares. Glitter. And sparkles. Combine them. Put them in a room and that would be your bedroom. And worst of it all...Posters of him and his brothers in every single corner. He was speechless...

"...What in the—? What is this place ?! Hell ?!"

As soon as he was in, he wanted to leave. Only to discover that the door was locked and he had now glitter on his shoes and his hand. And then, you appeared with a whole bucket of glitter in your hands. And Bo started praying.

Him : "Whatdya think yer gonna do with that exactly ?!"

You *devilish smirk*

Him : "Oh no, you don't ! Get the heck away from me !"

…Bo couldn’t get all the sparkles out of his hair for weeks.

...Wow.

Jason was surprised and impressed. A full room dedicated to him and the slashers. He hadn't expected it. He didn't really mind though. It meant you knew about him and weren’t scared.

Him *smiles* : "Do you want some help ?"

You *handing him a full bucket of glitter* : "Sure ! Put them everywhere. And you can help take pictures of the others for me."

He was more than happy to help and you ended up having a good time playing with glitter and stalking the other slashers. Jason may not really care about glitter and sparkles, but he’d be happy to spend time with you.

The Penny Brothers love glitter. It is something fun and colourful for Penny. He would help you decorate the whole hospital. He’d even be thrilled to meet a fan and see all the posters you have of them. It would mean that you are as crazy as him and you would get along just fine. Penny loves crazy people.

And for Pennywise ? Pennywise sees it as the perfect torture. Those little colourful flakes are impossible to remove from clothes or hair and when people receive them in their eyes…It means atrocious suffering and temporary blindness. So, of course he’d love them.

Brahms was ecstatic when he learned about the new patient who loves glitter and sparkles. He wanted to be your friend before he even met you. He stayed away for a while and only showed himself when he was sure you were what he thought you were. When he saw the huge posters of him, he got flustered. But, he got particularly excited when you showed him your collection of pink and purple items covered in glitter. He immediately felt like he had found someone who understood him.

It wasn’t long before Brahms started walking around proudly with a glitter-covered mask. And he didn’t even care about the others making fun of him for it, because there was you.

Norman knew from the start. He first rent you a room and when he took a look through the peep hole—he was immediately blinded by the brightness in the room. But, he was flattered by the posters.

Let’s just say that Norman found it endearing, but he isn’t a really big fan of glitter and sparkle—especially on him. It means more cleaning. But, on you ? He’d find it adorable and would gladly run the vacuum every day if it meant he got to see you in those very pretty and original outfits of yours.

Norman *smiles* : "Very cute, my little monster. Very cute."

Freddy : "FIRE IN THE HOLE !" *uses a literal canon to make the whole place sparkle*

Freddy loves chaos. You would just give him an idea to cause more trouble and make the whole hospital swim in glitter. Fortunately, the staff and the other slashers are used to it by now.

But, it doesn’t mean they like it all the same.

Random nurse *after she got covered in green glitter* : "…FREDDY ! Y/N ! Come back here !"

You and Freddy *cackling while running away*

Barry LOVES glitter. He lives for it. He wants each of his outfits to have a sparkle to them. And he’d design all sorts of clothes for you.

Barry *screams when you get out of the dressing room* : "YES ! Absolutely nailed it ! Twirl for me, darling. Yes. Thank you. Absolutely gorgeous."

Vincent did take you as an inspiration for his new piece. He took some of your supplies to cover his new wax statue and at the end, he offered it to you. It was a wax statue of yourself and Vince waited anxiously for your opinion.

Vincent *fidgets nervously*

You *smile widely* : "I love it !"

He was really ecstatic and gave you a hug. He really wanted you to like it.

[urween]

Spend an afternoon with Hedwig, GN reader

Split headcanon

notes : j'avais vraiment envie d'écrire quelque chose de doux sur Hedwig parce qu'il est tellement touchant <3

no spoiler

⚠︎ warning : aucun

2 512 mots

- Description à la deuxième personne

Vous vous connaissez depuis plusieurs années déjà, ou plutôt tu connais certains alters depuis plusieurs années. Dennis, Hedwig, Barry et Patricia ont été les premiers à se présenter à toi. Jade, Orwell, Mary et Kevin se sont ensuite exposés, mais il reste encore beaucoup d’alters méconnus. Barry a expliqué les principaux traits de caractères de ces inconnus pour que tu puisses ainsi te les représenter et même parfois les reconnaître lorsqu’ils prennent la lumière. Tu as exprimé beaucoup de reconnaissance pour ça, car il arrive quelquefois que tu te retrouves face à une personne que tu ne connais absolument pas. Barry a aussi expliqué que ces alters ne prennent que très rarement la lumière et que par conséquent ils sont toujours un peu perdus ou inquiets lorsque ça arrive. Heureusement qu’Hedwig est là pour reprendre le front et ainsi les soulager.

Quoiqu’il en soit, on peut dire que tu t’entends assez bien avec tous les principaux alters. Certains ont des caractères bien spéciaux mais tu apprécies ce détail, ça leur donne un charme.

Patricia fait partie de ces alters. Les femmes sont peu nombreuses dans leur système comparées aux hommes, mais elles ont pour la plupart un fort caractère. Et dans ce lot, Patricia est certainement la plus complexe. Tu as mis beaucoup de temps à t’habituer à sa présence. Elle dégage quelque chose, une aura pesante. Elle a cette façon de parler sereine et douce qui au début t’effrayait énormément. Lorsqu’elle a pour la première fois proposé une discussion autour d'un thé, elle s'est mise à raconter à quel point les kilos de viandes qu’un lion peut manger sont impressionnants, et alors tu as imaginé beaucoup de scénarios où tu finissais en morceaux dans une cage à félins. Mais à présent les choses se sont calmées pour toi, enfin la plupart du temps. Patricia t’a bien fait comprendre qu’elle n’avait aucune mauvaise intention envers toi, mais tu ne peux pas empêcher les frissons dans ta nuque lorsqu’elle passe un peu trop près de toi. Mais au fond de toi, tu sais très bien que ces réactions ne sont plus vraiment dues à la peur.

✉ nouveau message de : Avengers

Ton attention lâche le plat de pâtes encore tout chaud que tu viens de commencer pour plutôt attraper ton téléphone portable. Un sourire illumine ton visage en voyant le destinateur.

✉Avengers

- cc !!

- tu peut venir à la maison ????? stp stp stp

Lorsque, plusieurs années en arrière, Dennis t'a donné leur numéro de téléphone, tu as désepéré devant l’option “nom du contact”. Tu ne pouvais pas mettre le prénom d’un des alters puisque c’était leur numéro à tous, et ils n'avaient pas de nom global pour leur système. Finalement tu as eu un souvenir de l’obsession pour les Marvels qu’avait développé Hedwig lorsque tu lui as parlé d’Iron Man, puis de la façon avec laquelle Dennis et Patricia ont des paillettes dans les yeux lorsque tu leur dis qu’ils sont extraordinaires. Par conséquent tu as décidé de les surnommer les Avengers, parce qu’ils ont tous des supers pouvoirs à leurs manières.

✉Vous

- coucou Hedwig

- oui je peux venir si tu veux ! D’ici environ trente minutes je peux être là, n’oublies pas de m’ouvrir le portail ;)

✉Avengers

- trop cool !!!

- mademoisele patricia a achetté un truc pour moi !

Tout en finissant rapidement ton plat, tu te diriges vers la salle de bain afin de préparer tes affaires pour gagner du temps.

✉Vous

- vraiment ? Génial et qu’est ce que c’est ?

✉Avengers

- plein de jouets animaux !

Un énième sourire étire tes lèvres au message alors que tu déposes l’assiette vide dans l’évier de la cuisine.

✉Vous

- wow plein ? On va pouvoir tous les essayer alors ;)

✉Avengers

- ouiiiii

- ah !!

- tu prend les bonbons bleus ???

✉Vous

- d’accord, mais je te préviens je te laisserais pas manger tout le paquet Hedwig

✉Avengers

- oui oui

- tfk ???????????

Tu poses ton téléphone contre le lit le temps d’attraper deux ou trois bagues, un collier et des vêtements propres.

✉Vous

- je t’ai déjà dis que c’était pas bon d’écrire comme ça, tu oublies les vrais mots à force

✉Avengers

- pardon !

- tu fais quoi ?????????????????

✉Vous

- je vais aller me laver puis je vais partir pour te rejoindre

- et toi ?

En tournant le robinet de la douche vers la gauche, tu commences à retirer tes chaussettes et ton pantalon. L’eau chaude a toujours pris beaucoup de temps pour arriver, mais comme ça tu peux continuer de répondre à Hedwig.

✉Avengers

- j’ai trouver des vieux dessins de barry

- ils sont beaux

- mais je dessines mieux !!

✉Vous

- fais attention à ne pas les abîmer, sinon il risque de bouder pour un long moment

- vous dessinez tous les deux de manière différente, et elles sont toutes les deux très belles ;)

Après avoir passé ta main sous l’eau pour voir la température de cette dernière, tu reprends une dernière fois ton portable.

✉Avengers

- t’s toujours trop cool !!!

- mademoiselle patricia elle a dis qu’elle aime bien ça et moi aussi j’aime bien ça

- et monsier dennis il penses que c’est rare d’être comme toi

- je suis d’accord moi persone à jamais été cool comme toi avant

✉Vous

- oh c’est adorable Hedwig, mais cette gentillesse vous la méritez tous

- en tout cas ça me touche beaucoup que les autres pensent ça de moi ! Tu pourras leur dire merci de ma part <3

- je suis désolé il faut que je te laisse si je veux pas arriver trop tard

✉Avengers

- derien !!!!

- d’accord à tt !

Une fois que tu as la certitude qu’il ne va pas envoyer d’autres messages, tu déposes ton téléphone sous ta pile de vêtements et finis de te déshabiller. Tu aurais très bien pu le faire tout en lui parlant mais il y a quelque chose de dérangeant dans le fait de se dévêtir en discutant avec Hedwig, ce n'est pas la même chose avec Dennis ou Mary par exemple. Il est déjà arrivé que vous parliez par messages pendant que tu te changeais ou même que vous soyez au téléphone lors de ton bain, et ce n’était vraiment pas la même chose.

Comme prévu, tu te dépêches de prendre ta douche et de t’habiller de nouveau. Tu enfiles les quelques bijoux que tu as pris précédemment et après avoir vérifié que tu n’as rien oublié, tu quittes ton chez toi. Heureusement pour toi, tu n’habites vraiment pas loin du zoo, et donc de leur appartement. Grâce aux nombreuses années à travailler là-bas, ils ont obtenu un logement de fonction dans la même rue que le parc animalier. Le seul problème est que cet appartement est assez petit, du moins trop petit pour avoir vingt-trois chambres, même s’ils n’ont pas réellement besoin d’autant de chambres. Mais par exemple Hedwig aime avoir sa propre pièce, où il peut afficher tous ses dessins et écouter de la musique, Dennis a besoin d’un endroit qui lui est totalement réservé, Barry aussi et encore d’autres. Ils n’ont pas tous besoin d’une chambre, mais les plus réguliers préfèrent en avoir une. Malheureusement cet appartement ne contient que deux chambres, une a alors été aménagée pour Patricia et l’autre pour Dennis. Hedwig, Barry, Orwell et d’autres ont les leurs ailleurs. Encore une fois, grâce aux années passées à travailler dans ce zoo, ils ont eu l’autorisation d'avoir une sorte de grand sous-sol rien que pour eux. Ce n’est clairement pas l’endroit le plus accueillant à première vue mais s’acheter une grande villa n’est absolument pas dans leurs moyens, et puis ils l’ont assez bien aménagé. Les murs restent rugueux et les lumières peu nombreuses, mais il y a malgré tout quelque chose d'apaisant là-bas. Leurs présences sont étalées dans chaque pièce, et c’est presque poétique de voir la façon dont ils doivent organiser la salle de bain ou la cuisine pour convenir aux envies de chaque alter.

Par automatisme, tu appuies sur l’interphone et fais défiler les noms jusqu’à trouver celui qui t’intéresse : Crumb. Sans avoir besoin de parler, la porte de l’immeuble s’ouvre devant toi et tu peux avancer vers l'ascenseur. Puisque cet immeuble est principalement occupé par des employés du zoo, ils ont fait installer un portail qui ne peut être ouvert qu’avec un badge ou un bouton chez les locataires, ça permet de limiter les squatteurs ou voleurs. Mais à cause de ça, tu dois attendre qu’Hedwig ou un autre alter t’ouvre ce qu’ils font toujours, sauf lorsqu’il y a un problème. Il est déjà arrivé qu’un alter “méconnu” prenne la lumière et dans ces cas-là il ne t’ouvrira pas le portail puisqu’il ne sait même pas ce qu’il fait ici. Pour cette raison, Barry a demandé un doublon de leur badge, prétendant que l’autre ne fonctionnait plus, et comme ça tu as toujours la possibilité de venir si jamais un problème survient.

Deux petits coups à la porte et Hedwig apparaît tout souriant devant toi.

« C’est trop bien que tu viennes ! Dit-il en te tirant par le bras vers le salon, les autres ont dit que je pouvais rester dans la lumière tout l’après-midi »

Sa façon de parler très atypique te réchauffe le cœur tandis que tu enlèves tes chaussures et les dépose avec soin sur un petit chiffon placé dans un coin de la pièce. Dennis a beau ne pas être dans la lumière, tu préfères respecter ses tocs.

« T’as pris les bonbons ? Te demande le jeune garçon en se mettant assis par terre »

D’un hochement de tête tu lui souris et sors le précieux trésor de ton sac à dos. Aussitôt, Hedwig se jette dramatiquement dessus, se mettant presque ventre contre le sol pour attraper le paquet de bonbons.

« Wow génial je vois qui tu préfères ici, déclares-tu en riant »

Le garçon te lance un regard avant de prendre trois sucreries dans sa bouche et de se tourner sur le dos pour te voir à l’envers. Son rire résonne faiblement dans la pièce alors qu’une conversation commence entre vous deux.

Hedwig est sûrement l’alter avec lequel tu peux le plus rire, il dit constamment tout ce qu’il pense, même si ça n’a aucun rapport avec votre conversation actuelle. C’est quelque chose qui manque dans beaucoup de relations à tes yeux, pas avec eux, mais avec d’autres personnes. Lorsque tu rencontres quelqu’un il y a toujours un moment de gêne, une envie de vite s’enfuir et de rentrer chez toi. Ce n’est pas toujours le cas, mais ça l’est presque toujours. Tu as du mal à t’intégrer dans le mode de fonctionnement des autres, leur façon de parler sur le dos de leurs amis et leurs obsessions pour la politique, ce n’est pas toi ça. Tu aimes tourner les mauvais événements au comique et admirer ce papillon qui se pose dans l’herbe. Les personnes que tu rencontres ramènent toujours le négatif au centre de la conversation, c’est mentalement épuisant de penser au réchauffement climatique et à la montée des impôts. Tu trouves ça dommage de revenir aux informations que les médias mettent déjà au centre de l’attention, pourquoi ne pas juste profiter du soleil dehors et du vent frais ? Bien sûr qu’il se passe des choses horribles dans le monde, mais y penser constamment ne les fera pas disparaître. Et Hedwig pense aussi comme ça, parce que c’est un enfant de neuf ans et qu’il a encore la chance de voir les beaux aspects de ce monde. Ça te fait vraiment du bien de passer du temps avec lui, il est ressourçant. Et même lorsqu’il évoque la mort, il le fait avec une façon tellement directe, sans pincette, que ça en devient rassurant. Ce qui le rend heureux c’est dessiner et danser, quoi de mieux pour oublier une mauvaise journée ?

« Elle est jolie ta bague, c’est un serpent ? »

Tu relèves la tête du livre que vous étiez en train de feuilleter pour regarder le jeune garçon et ses grands yeux bleus.

« Oh celle-ci ? Réponds-tu en levant ton index où se trouve le bijoux, je pense qu’on peut dire que c’est une sorte de serpent oui »

Tu l’as trouvée lors d’une brocante il y a plusieurs années de ça, la forme originale a tout de suite attiré ton œil et au faible prix auquel elle était tu n’as pas vraiment hésité pour l’acheter.

« Moi j’aime trop les tigres, ils sont super grands et forts, explique Hedwig en tournant les pages de son livre d’illustration, il s’arrête sur un dessin de tigre et passe son doigt dessus, regarde ils sont genre méga costauds »

Ton regard détaille l’illustration et ses traits très simples. Hedwig est le seul dans leur système qui fête son anniversaire, même s’il ne prend pas en âge. Alors l’année dernière, tu lui as offert une dizaine de livres, parce qu’il aime beaucoup ça. Tu as pris un peu de tout, de courts romans comme des livres à illustrations comme celui-ci. Un sourire prend place sur ton visage lorsque tu repenses à cette journée, Dennis faisait tout pour garder Hedwig loin de la lumière pendant que Jade et toi vous occupiez de faire le gâteau. Lorsque l’enfant parvenait à passer au front, il posait mille et une questions à la seconde alors que tu essayais désespérément d’éviter qu’il découvre la surprise. Finalement toi et les autres alters êtes parvenus à tout organiser sans qu’il ne découvre la vérité, et tu te souviens encore de ses yeux larmoyants lorsqu’il a vu le salon décoré ainsi que la pile de cadeaux qui l'attendait.

« Pourquoi tu viens ici ? Demande soudainement Hedwig, t’as pas des amis ? »

La question pouvait être mal interprétée, mais heureusement, tu arrives à comprendre le fond de sa pensée.

« J’aime venir ici tu sais, passer du temps avec toi et les autres »

« Oui mais t’es tout le temps disponible pour venir, enfin sauf quand tu travailles »

Tes doigts passent contre les pages colorées du livre alors que le garçon allongé à côté te regarde avec insistance.

« Honnêtement à part vous je n’ai pas grand monde, dis-tu en déviant tes yeux vers Hedwig, tu sais que je n’ai pas vraiment de famille et puis- je crois que j’ai un peu de mal à faire des rencontres, créer de nouvelles relations et tout ça, c’est compliqué pour moi »

Le jeune garçon fronce pendant quelques secondes ses sourcils avant de faire rouler son corps sur son dos et tourner de nouveau la tête pour te regarder.

« Moi non plus j’ai pas d’autres amis, avoue-t-il, les gens ils me trouvent bête je crois et ils se moquent de moi »

Un pincement au cœur, tu délaisses le livre en face de toi pour poser ta tête dans ta paume de main.

« Les gens ont du mal à comprendre les personnes comme nous, mais c’est pas grave parce que ça veut dire qu’on est spécial tu vois ? Eux ils peuvent pas être aussi géniaux que toi, c’est pour ça qu’ils sont jaloux »

« Alors c’est comme un super pouvoir ? »

De nouveau, ton cœur se réchauffe en voyant le sourire sur le visage du garçon.

« Exactement, le super pouvoir d’être extraordinaire »

° split masterlist

gif : @/hellozxxy

bannière : @/saradika-graphics

[menagerofmischief]

Dia's Diner Menu

olives and cheese friends to lovers cold appetizer rough sex ceaser salad "Lie to me again and you're not gonna like what happens next" sarma "Gonna put a baby in you" orange juice overstimulation strawberry lemonade breeding kink (chicken skewer) "Be a good girl and come for me"

Oscar Piastri x best friend!roommate!reader

TW; fingering, unprotected sex, tinder and bad tinder dates, kind of asshole!oscar at the start

WC: 2k

A/N: can't decide if I love or hate this. also tysm for 100 followers, I love you guys.

❀

I hummed, doing my best to pretend I was listening for possibly the hundredth time this night. I watched as Jake, proving by every second to be my very failed Tinder date, rambled on and on about himself. The stories were never ending, and therefore neither was his talking. 

I leaned my head on my hand, praying he was going to run out of oxygen and choke so I wouldn’t have to listen to him talk anymore.

This whole thing was a bad idea.

I first joined Tinder because I was bored and wanted an easy out from my crush on my best friend, Oscar. This was my third date with a guy I met on the app and each guy, along with each date, was proving to be worse than the previous.

Example A: Steve

First of all, who goes on a date with a guy named Steve. But putting names aside Steve wasn’t all that bad until he was asked me to go back to his place. Which was his mother’s basement. 

Example B: Tod

Was holding a fish in his profile photo. Ordered me a salad. Proceed to talk about his buddy Kevin for the whole night and then ditched me to hang out with him. He may have been more into Kevin than me, to be honest.

And finally, sitting opposite of me, talking about his big finance job, we had example C: Jake.

Perhaps it was about time I gave up trying to find anything on that stupid app and accepted defeat. “Listen,” I pushed my chair away from the table and got up, grabbing my bag. “This has been really interesting but I need to get going.” I took enough money to cover the things I had and put it down on the table before walking away.

✿ ✿ ✿

“Had fun?” Oscar asked from the couch once I entered the apartment.

I put down my purse and the bag from the convenience store and started taking off my heels. “Sure,” I said, straightening up once I was done. “I just love hearing about finance.”

I looked over at him. Oscar was sitting on the couch in a pair of gray sweatpants and a white shirt. He was watching TV, some random movie playing on one of the channels.

Oscar and I shared an apartment - but he really only occupied it on the off season when he wasn’t traveling from one country to another every week. It worked out well for us, I had someone to split the rent to and Oscar didn’t have to bother with finding someone to take care of his place while he was traveling - so it was win-win.

I walked over and sat down next to him on the couch. I pulled a pack of Oreos from the bag and opened them, putting one in my mouth before offering the pack to him. “Want one?”

Oscar took one, turning it around in his hands quietly before looking at me. I could tell by the expression on his face that he was annoyed and his eyes had a dark look in them.

“Wow, okay.” I said, trying to get up from the couch. Sitting in my room and binging Criminal Minds it was then. “If I was annoying you, you could have just told me to go to my room.”

Before I could make my move to leave, Oscar grabbed my wrist. His hold was rougher than I expected, fingers digging into my flesh. “Why are you going on all these dates?”

“Honestly Oscar, why do you care?” I tried pulling my hand away but his hold wasn’t budging.

“Because every time you get dressed up, go on a date with some random guy and come back here with snacks. And then we sit on the couch, eat snacks and you tell me all about how terrible your date was.” He said, his eyes narrowing. “And I nod along, so sympathetic, pretending I actually care.”

I scoffed at him, using all the force I could and yanking my hand out of his grasp. “Fuck you, Oscar!” I told him, rolling my eyes. “No one made you listen to me. You could have told me I was bothering you and I would have fucked off.”

“It’s not that you were bothering me!”

“Oh yeah? Then what is it?”

“I like you, damnit!” Oscar all but yelled, jumping up onto his feet. His hands grabbed my shoulders and I looked up at him. “I like you! And I’m mad. Mad that you’re dressing up for some guys from Tinder when I’m right in front of you.”

My eyes widened, mouth agape. I must have looked like a fish. “Oscar,” my words were quieter than I expected them to come. My voice cracking. “You never said anything.”

“I didn’t think you wanted me to.” He confessed, his thumb rubbing the skin on my shoulder.

I licked my lips, looking up at him and offered a gentle smile. “I like you too,” I whispered, almost afraid to say it any louder.

Oscar doesn’t waste a second. As soon as the words are out of my mouth he is surging forward, smashing his lips against mine in a kiss much different from what I imagined our first would be like.

His hands move from my shoulders to wrap around my waist, pulling me into him. His lips are rough against mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth. I can barely breathe and my head is feeling fuzzy but still I do my best to kiss him back.

Before I know it, Oscar is picking me up, my legs wrapped around his waist and our lips still connected. Then he’s carrying me to his room and laying me down on his bed, crawling up to me to resume our kiss.

“Fuck,” Oscar mumbled, finally detaching his lips from mine and pulling back to look at me. “I wanted to do that for so long.”

“Me too,” I said, cupping the side of his face, rubbing his skin with my thumb. I wrapped my legs around his waist, trying my best to grind up into him and gain any friction by rubbing myself against the bulge in his sweatpants. “Please, Osc, need you!”

“Need me?” Oscar growled, pulling away a little and pushing up the bottom of my dress, exposing my panties to him. His fingers rubbed over the wet patch on my panties, making me buck up into his touch. “Is that right? You need me to fuck you full of my cum and make you go stupid on my cock, is that it?”

I whined when he took off my panties and roughly pushed two fingers inside of me without any warning. It was an unexpected stretch with just a little burn to it to leave me breathless.

“Tell me, Y/n,” he started, his fingers pushing into me hard and fast, not slowing down at all. “Why’d you join dating apps?”

I took a breath, trying to compose myself enough to form a reply. “Was bored,” I whined, gripping onto the sheets.

He gave me a dark look before his free hand, the one he wasn’t pleasuring me with, came down full force to slap my pussy. I all but screamed out, my body jolting forward with the shock of it and grabbed his shoulder with one hand to steady myself.

“This was a little preview,” Oscar said with a chuckle. “Lie to me again and you’re not gonna like what happens next.” His eyes fixated on me and my cheeks burned both with embarrassment and from how good I was feeling. “Now try again.”

“I didn’t think you liked me so -” I cut myself off with a moan when his fingers pressed against my G-spot, stroking it a few times before going back to thrusting in and out of me. “Fuck Oscar! I wanted to find someone so I could get over you!”

“Good job telling the truth, bad job at trying that,” he said. His thumb started playing with my clit, rubbing it in circles and I moaned loudly, feeling my orgasm approaching. 

“Osc, I’m gonna cum, please let me cum.” I begged, the feel of his fingers inside of me and the added pleasure of having my clit toyed with pushing me fast toward the edge.

“Go on,” Oscar encouraged, keeping the rhythm of his fingers. “Be a good girl and cum for me.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, I was sobbing out from pleasure, my orgasm crashing over me and my hips bucking up. 

Oscar pulled his fingers out of my pussy, making me whine at the loss of being filled with something, and keeping his eyes on mine brought them up to his mouth and sucked them clean. 

I sat up a little and reached for him. Oscar let me pull off his shirt and I took a moment to admire his naked chest, running my hands over the ridges of his abdomen. Then he helped me take off my dress and bra, kissing me gently before he started trailing kisses down to my neck and collarbones.

“Osc,” I mumbled out, my fingers pulling on the strings of his sweatpants. “Fuck me please! Need to feel you in me. Need to feel you filling me.”

Oscar wasted no time, taking off his sweatpants and boxers in one go. I only got one good glance at his dick before he was pushing it inside me, bottoming out in one thrust.

He was big, the tip of his cock kissing against my cervix and with each thrust I could see an outline of his dick bulging out on my stomach.

“Fuck,” Oscar grunted. “We could have been doing this much sooner if you had just said you wanted me to fuck you.”

“You could have said something as well,” I shot back.

“Yeah but I wasn’t the one on dating apps.”

Oscar’s hand sneaked between us, his thumb once again finding my clit and starting to circle it. I screamed out in pleasure, hiding my face into Oscar’s neck. “So good, Osc, fuck,” I babbled. “Gonna cum again.”

Oscar sped up, both his thrusts and his fingers. “I’m gonna cum too,” he grunted. “Fuck, gonna put a baby in you so everyone knows you’re mine. You like that huh? Yeah you do, I can feel you clenching around me.”

His thumb brushed over my clit one more time and I was screaming out as my orgasm crashed into me. It didn’t take long for Oscar to reach his peak either. His hips stilling as he spilled himself inside of me.

Oscar rolled himself off of me and laid down on the bed. We laid in silence for a few minutes, only the sounds of us panting for breath filling the air. Then the bed creaked when Oscar got up.

He left the room for a moment and then came back with a towel and my pajamas. He got on his knees in front of me on the bed and started cleaning up the mess between my legs. I whined when he brushed my clit, “Hurts. Too much, Osc!”

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m just cleaning you up.” He said, bowing his head down and pressing a gentle kiss on my thigh. I let him do the rest without much protest. Once he was done he tossed the towel away and helped me put on my pajamas, then got into his.

Finally we got under the blankets and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a cuddle. 

“Are you free tomorrow night?” He asked, his fingers playing with my hair, making me shudder with delight.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Good,” he hummed. “I’m taking you out on a date.”

I only managed a smile and a nod in response before falling asleep.

[zepskies]

Here are some of my favorites! (A revamp of my old rec list.) They will span Tumblr, Ao3, and FF.net, as I did a lot of my early reading/writing on other platforms.

Keep in mind, I probably like several fics from each of these authors, but I'm featuring one or two that I very much enjoyed.

SUPERNATURAL FIC RECS

[OS] = One-Shot || [S] = Series || [HC] = Headcanon

Dean Winchester x Reader or OFC:

Stories are Dean x Reader unless noted OFC.

✦ Alisha Ashton

Clear the Area - [S | Excellent 4-part series!] This is the story of you and Dean, and how he manages to slip past your defenses. Written so that you can put yourself in the OC's shoes. Sorta set end S8. Slightly AU in the fact that Dean, Sam, Castiel, Kevin, and YOU all live in the MOL Bunker. Everyone is healthy. Cas is still an adorably clueless angel with zero tact.

✦ @luci-in-trenchcoats

Feral [S] (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) Feral is an Alpha’s most dangerous state. Pure raw instinct. A killing machine with no thought. Only an Alpha under extreme duress can submit to their feral side and they rarely can come back out of it. It takes highly specialized rehabilitation to even have a chance at working. When a feral Alpha comes into the reader’s low level rehab facility one night, she knows he’s a dead man walking. But he doesn’t deserve to die and a split second decision to help him escape before that can happen will put them both on the run. He’s no ordinary Alpha though. He’s Dean Winchester. The boy who went missing all those years ago. The boy that made everyone realize no one was safe from the Alpha black market. The man that could destroy them both with one wrong move…

Headcanon: How They Meet Their Plus Size Girlfriend [HC] (Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy, and Russell Shaw included)

✦ @deanbrainrotwritings

Wild Flower [OS] Dean gets hit by a spell when fighting a witch and assumes it was harmless or ineffective. He was wrong, but at least he wasn’t dead. He’s a woman now. 

✦ @waynes-multiverse

Creature of the Night [OS] When her car breaks down on a dark lonely road, she is lucky a handsome stranger takes her in. Grateful, she is willing to do anything to repay his kindness.

Headcanon: Valentine's Day [HC] (Dean Winchester // Soldier Boy // Beau Arlen // Russell Shaw – Edition) How would your favorite men surprise you for Valentine's Day?

Headcanon: Gettin’ Down and Dirty with Dean [HC] Smutty headcanons with Dean...

✦ @rizlowwritessortof

Take a Shot [OS] Let’s face it, his henley looks good on both of you…

Late Night Show [OS] You’re spending a little down time at Bobby’s when HE shows up with his brother. You try to ignore those old feelings for him, but when you accidentally walk in on him pleasuring himself, all bets are off. 

Lost in You [OS] A casual flirtation leads to a violent encounter, and Dean’s reaction is a little more than you expected.

That’s How It Should Be [OS] (Sheriff!Dean x Reader) Sheriff Dean Winchester/Reader have to escape, quick - but Dean won’t let being on horseback stand in the way of showing a lady a good time…

✦ @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

The First Time Series [S] Even though he's a lot older than she is, and more experienced in every possible sense, Y/N finds herself incredibly attracted to Dean Winchester. Amazingly, one day she starts to think that maybe the attraction isn't all one-sided.

The Dangers of Hope [S | Endverse!Dean] When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

It's All For You [OS] After a hunt gone wrong, all Y/N wants is to make Dean feel better. Will he let her?

Things Learned and Unlearned [S] Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

✦ Lindsey D. Perez

Say I'm Beautiful [OS] You're feeling a little self conscious about your weight so Dean decides to show you how sexy you are. Dean x Reader Warning: negative body image, swearing Rated M for smut so go forth with caution.

✦ @ejlovespie

It Ain't About Pity [OS] (Dean x Plus-Size!Reader) Dean Winchester has eyes for the reader. She has no idea. When he finally figures out why she’s been dieting, he isn’t pleased. 

✦ kittenofdoomage

More to Love [OS] (Alpha!Dean x Plus-Size Omega!Reader) Reader is a hunter, and an Omega, an unusual combination. She’s always been mocked for her size, so she keeps to herself but a case Garth persuades her to take ends up with a confrontation she never saw coming.

Never Spoken, Always Said [OS] He doesn’t say the words much but he shows her every day.

Taste [S] (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) The reader is pregnant with Dean's baby. Spanning the first year or so, we join them as they discover new things about each other.

✦ @impala-dreamer

A Simple Kinda Man [OS] Dean’s a pretty simple man. He likes the things he likes and you can rarely get him to change his mind about it. 

Like Heaven [OS] (Dean x Curvy!Reader) Y/N’s request might throw him off for a second, but he’s never going to deny her, not when it feels so good in her arms…

Take a Break [OS] Laundry can be annoying and overwhelming, so it's important to take breaks now and then...

✦ @justagirlinafandomworld

Remind Me [OS] (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) There was no escaping what happened to you. There wasn’t a magical number of days in which you would simply get over it either. It happened and you had to live with it. But your alpha would never leave you to work through it alone.

Delicate [OS] Dean made you feel things no one else ever had. But is it a good idea to see this through?

The Fallout (Alpha!Dean x Beta!Reader) [S] When Sam meets his true Omega, you fear your time with the Winchesters is fated to end. Before they can hurt you, you decide to distance yourself. But Dean isn’t willing to let you get away so easy.

✦ @spnbabe67

Girls, Girls, Girls [OS - Part of a Series] (Dean x OFC) While on a witch hunt Dean gets hit with a spell. Later at the hotel, Dean feels the effects of the spell and Tori has to help him through it.

✦ @chevroletdean

NSFT Alphabet [Dean Winchester] [HC]

Masturbation [Dean Winchester] [HC]

✦ @thatonewriter15

Unspoken [OS] How many reasons are there to love Dean Winchester...?

✦ @iprobablyshipit91

Twenty Minutes or Less [OS] Dean raises an eyebrow at you, cocky smile firmly in place. "I bet I could get you there in twenty minutes or less.”

Magical Blooms [OS] After all, there was a flurry of customers walk through the doors to Magical Blooms each and every day, and quite a number of these were regulars. Just because one of those regulars was an undeniably gorgeous man that flirted shamelessly...

✦ @jawritter

Feral (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) [S] True mates don't exist, at least that's what everyone tells you. It's nothing but a childish, fairytale notion to believe that such a person exists. Someone that is made just for you, your person. Who knew they were so wrong…

✦ @marvelfanfn2187a113

Here For You (Dean x Little Sister!Reader) [OS] You help Dean through a couple different kinds of pain.

✦ @deanwinchesterswitch

The Girlfriend Who Remade Christmas [S] Dean’s holiday spirit is nowhere to be found. Fed up with his Grinch-like behavior, Nicole is determined to open his heart again to the wonders of the world around them and help him find joy in the Christmas season.

✦ @spnexploration

Collared [S] Sam and Dean save a woman from where she has been held as a slave by a witch. But things turn dark whenever they try to take her magic collar off, leaving them with a slave to look after and a curse to break.

✦ @kaleldobrev

Old Man [OS - Part of a Series] Dean never had a problem with the age gap between you two; not until now any way.

✦ @deanwritings

Friends with Benefits [S] After walking in on Y/N following a fun encounter, Dean and Y/N decide it would be beneficial and much easier to use each other for their needs. But can they keep it just about sex?

✦ @waywardxwords

Safe [OS] You had hoped to get in and out when you heard what town the next hunt was in. Unfortunately, you can’t outrun your past. You, also, can’t outrun those old feelings--panic, anxiety and fear. You had hoped you’d never have to share this part of your life with Dean, but things don’t always work out the way we had hoped.

Witches [OS] While hunting a witch, you accidentally stumble upon her collection of sex pollen. 

✦ @acreativelydifferentlove

Carry On [S] (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) You’re an Omega in a small rural town. When your father’s gambling and drinking leaves him with a debt he can’t afford to pay, he offers you to a group of Alphas. Dean Winchester is an Alpha desperately trying to escape his past and pain. Can you save each other?

You're Home [S] (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) After years away at college, you have finally returned to your home town. In order to settle back into the community, you have to seek permission from the Head Alpha. What happens when you see his son for the first time since presenting as an Omega?

✦ @deanwanddamons

Helping Hand [OS] Dean is tired after a hunt, so asks Sammy to drive Baby. You and Dean cuddle up in the back seat.

✦ @mind-empty-just-fictional-people

Love Language [OS] You’ve never said it, neither has he…is that weird?

✦ @pink-sparkly-witch

The Widow [S] Sam and Y/N are happily married, but everything changes after a fatal car accident leaves her a widow. The Winchester motto: “Family Don’t End with Blood,” takes on a whole new meaning for Y/N as she navigates her new normal with the help of her brother-in-law, Dean. But what no one can tell her is what happens when she falls in love again.  

✦ shirleypositive72

While They Dance On A Pin (Jane Series 5) [OS - Part of a Series] (Dean x OFC) Sam, Dean, and Jane have been on the road almost constantly since Dean's return from Hell. They're finding Seals, finding danger, finding out each other's secrets. But it's what they find when they open the door to one more motel room that sends Dean back into his darkest moments. An OC's experience of episode 4x16, On the Head of a Pin.

✦ BeccabooO1O

She's My Cherry Pie [OS] Dean was drunk. So terribly drunk. And it was hilarious. Just some karaoke!Dean (aka the best Dean of them all).

✦ @pamwritessometimes

Roots in My Dreamland [OS] Dean encounters a mysterious forest spirit who’s an enigma.

✦ @supernotnatural2005

Sexual Encounters with Dean Winchester - Edging [OS] Exploring new kinks with Dean. How far can you push him before he breaks?

Happy Accidents [OS] (Dean x Plus-Size!Reader) You haven't seen the Winchester's in over a year, but the case you're working has you scratching your head, and who better to call than some old friends. However, insecurities arise as well as the reprise of a long time crush. Little do you know, it's reciprocated.

Lebanon [OS] A wish gone wrong right brings back a familiar face. However, you all soon discover it's not as simple as it seems when what you’ve all accomplished, and your family, hangs in the balance.

Burning for You [OS] You're pregnant and it's awoken something feral, something instinctual in Dean.

✦ @ambiguous-avery

When He Slides In [OS] And says “Fuck, I missed you.” After a hookup with the (in)famous Dean Winchester, you figured that would be the end of it. Too bad you could never seem to get him out of your mind. People always told you that you got attached too easily. And they were right. You were just another notch in his belt. He couldn’t possibly remember you...

✦ @bettystonewell

To You I Belong [S] (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) Dean isn’t looking for a mate. Not only does he think he doesn’t deserve one, but the last place he expects to meet his soulmate is while on a case. Fate ain’t real. He still has free will, and saving you from monsters is just another part of the job.

Another Notch on His Belt [OS] Every little part of him is holding onto every little piece of her, and any other woman he’s been lucky enough to escape his life with. Even if it’s only for the night - or - Dean replaces intimacy with sex.

✦ @lamentationsofalonelypotato

It's Not a Big Deal [S] (Dean x Reader x Soldier Boy/Ben love triangle) Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

✦ @thoughtslikeaminefield

Deep [OS] Dean shows her more about pleasure than ‘deep’.

✦ @cheynovak

Four Men, One Birthday [OS] A birthday gift to me from lovely Cheyenne. 💜 Four birthday themed stories with Dean, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Russell Shaw.

Dean Winchester x Lisa Braeden:

✦ adventuresinposting

Damages [S] Ben is in a car accident causing a fractured skull. Consequentially he remembers Dean. Ben tries to find Dean, who is now a retired hunter after losing Sam in a final battle. This is the story of Dean finding something and someone to replace the hole in his life left by Sam.

✦ FaithDaria

One Step at a Time [OS] The Winchester way of life changes, and Dean adjusts accordingly.

✦ bloodmagik

A Dad By Any Other Name [OS] Ben is sick and Dean stays home with him while Lisa is at work. Lisa learns something about Dean's relationship with Ben.

Sam Winchester x Reader or OFC:

Stories are Sam x Reader unless noted OFC.

✦ Avrilando

While You Were Sleeping - [S] (Sam x OFC) A seriously injured unconscious man is in the hospital Rachel volunteers. With no idea who he is and if anyone is looking for him, Rachel decides to keep him company while he's sleeping. With The Eyes of a Loving Man [S] (Sequel to While You Were Sleeping) Continuing through Sam and Rachel's relationship with all the highs and lows of dating a hunter. Mostly a collection of oneshots and some connecting stories.

✦ Lindsey D. Perez

It's Your Birthday [OS] The Winchester's find out it's your birthday and insist on celebrating with lots of alcohol. Sam introduces you to body shots and things get heated. 

If You Give a Moose a Muffin [OS] ...he'll want kisses to go with it.

✦ ALoversDream

All of Me [OS] (Sam x Plus-Sized!Reader) Request where the reader (even thought she's usually pretty confident) is slightly insecure about her looks, and because she's plus-size. It ends in fluffy weight smut.

✦ BeccabooO1O

Could Have Told You That One, Winchester [OS] Imagine sitting one Sam's lap while you two are researching. She was reading one of the books about mythology for the Winchester's current case when she heard a frustrated groan from across the table. Sam Winchester had his laptop in front of him and various books of lore scattered around it.

✦ @princessmisery666

Samnesia [S] (Sam x OFC) Brooke is a calming distraction from the chaotic mess of Sam’s life. When a hunt keeps them separated for over a month, Sam returns to find she no longer remembers him. The need to find out what happened while he was gone sends Sam on a case that will change the course of his life. What he discovers along the way will change the way he looks at love.

✦ @ohsc

Delicate [OS] Sam being intimate with an inexperienced reader.

**I will keep adding to this list as I read and explore! Please reblog the fics you read and let these amazing authors know what you thought of their work. 💜

I have several more stories favorited on my FF.net account. (Beware if you try to read any of the stories I wrote there though. Some of those are old as hell and not to my current standard. 🤣)

Dean Winchester AU Fic Rec List

Original SPN Fic Rec List

Supernatural Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[ennkis]

They are talking in real life. I should’ve been more specific when I requested it

I’m sorry. I hope you have a good day 🫶🏻🫶🏻

I'D BE YOURS IF YOU'D ASK. (kenan yildiz x reader)

summary : in which y/n ghosts the turkish footballer during their "situationship" whilst talking to another football player

face claim : no-one

notes : thank you for requesting !! lets pretend the copa america isnt going on at the same time as the euros lmao

pairings : kenan yildiz x reader , angsty fluff (?)

Y/n was familiar with the game of footballers. The heartbreak you'd get from talking with football players and then getting ignored out of nowhere, also known as ghosting. After multiple failed "talking stages" and "situationships" with various football players from all around the world, Y/n decided it was her turn to become the so-called ghoster. She enjoyed the sense of control and power it gave her.

As of June 2024, Y/n had been talking with a Turkish footballer named Kenan for about three months. After those three months, there was an undeniable change in the mood. She felt the conversations fade away, the replies becoming drier. After three months, you’d expect their relationship to progress, but instead, it felt like things were regressing.

A week had passed since she ghosted Kenan. She didn't choose the ideal time because the Euros were about to start. She thought maybe her absence would go unnoticed, or that Kenan would be too busy to care. But the truth was, she couldn’t handle the idea of being ghosted again. She took the first step to protect herself.

Kenan realized they hadn't talked in about a week while he was training for the Euros. The days were packed with intense practice sessions, team meetings, and strategy discussions. It wasn't until he had a quiet moment to himself that he noticed the absence of Y/n's messages. He checked his phone, scrolling through their last conversation, dated seven days ago.

He tried to brush off the feeling that she was ignoring him. Maybe she was just busy, maybe he was overthinking it. But as the days passed, he found himself missing her more than he expected. It wasn't just about the attention from her; it was the connection they shared, her way of always bringing his mood up, her way of cheering him up after a loss, the way she made him laugh, and how he could talk to her about anything going on in his life. He realized that he liked her much more than other friends do. He had a crush.

Even while training, Kenan's thoughts kept returning to Y/n. He made an effort to concentrate on the game, but it was difficult. What if she was truly over him? The thought of her abandoning him hit me like a blow to the stomach. Was she talking to another guy? Did she already have a boyfriend? Throughout the training, the worst-case scenarios couldn't stop forcing their way into his mind.

The day of the Georgia vs. Turkey game eventually arrived. Kenan decided to overlook the Y/n incident and concentrate on the match. However, he saw her in one of the VIP boxes as soon as he entered the field, he noticed her talking and giggling with a fellow football player, Kevin Alvarez. A wave of jealousy hit him. Why had she and Kevin come here? Is she trying to make me jealous? Is this some kind of game to her?

Kenan's attention split between the action on the field and Y/n in the crowd during the entire game. Kenan felt that Kevin was taking advantage of her companionship a bit too much. Knowing she was right there, laughing and giggling with someone else, made it difficult to focus.

Despite the distraction, Kenan played well and helped his team to win over Georgia. As the final whistle blew, he couldn't wait any longer. Eager to find out, he ran straight for the VIP box.

Kenan said "Y/n," as he walked up to her. Surprised to see him, she turned round, facing him. "Can we talk?"

Nodding, she followed him out of sight into a more peaceful area. "What's up, Kenan?"

He asked again, his irritation rising to the surface, "What's up? Why aren't you talking with me? And what's going on between Kevin and you?"

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Kevin? We're just friends. What is your problem?"

"My problem? What is MY problem?! You ghosted me, Y/n. One day we're talking, and the next, nothing. Then I see you here with him, giggling, flirting like everything's fine. Like i"

"Look, every time I get into a so-called 'talking stage,' it always ends with me feeling like I'm bothering the person in question and never in a successful relationship. All I was doing is giving you space."

"Space?" Kenan frowned deeper. "I didn't ask for space. I wanted to talk to you. Instead, you left me hanging, making me think I did something wrong."

Y/n moved reluctantly, her eyes glancing away for a while before returning to his. "I am sorry Kenan. It wasn't my goal to hurt your feelings."

Kenan's jaw tightened, showing his simmering displeasure beneath the surface. "But why didn't you talk it out with me? We could have solved the problem, together."

Kenan shook his head, a mix of exasperation and relief flooding him. "Y/n, I like you. A lot. Seeing you with Kevin… it drove me crazy."

Her gaze eased as she turned to face him. "Kenan, I'd be yours if you'd ask. However, you have to understand that I can't deal with the constant unpredictability of our relationship."

Kenan held her hand in his. "Okay. So, I want to be your official boyfriend. I want to spend time with you, I want to take you out on dates, I want you to wear a jersey with MY name and MY number. I want a real relationship with you—not just a situationship or talking stage, an actual relationship."

As he was about to finish his sentence, Y/n hugged him. "Finally."

The tension slowly began to release as they stood there. They finally understood that they both wanted the same one thing: each other.

im hoping this is what you imagined while requesting, if not just lmk i can change anything <3

[estellan0vella]

The Romantic Trials and Tribulations of Han Peter Jisung: H.JS Han Jisung x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 19.3K

CW: Panic Attacks and Anxiety, Sexual Harassment and Assault Attempt, Violence and Physical Assault, Jisung falls fast and hard, Discussion of mental health issues, Language barrier difficulties (reader is Brazilian-Korean), Jisung is a yapper, strangers to lovers, CurlySung with a little manbun General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

The living room is a mess of blankets, snack wrappers, and bodies sprawled across the couch and floor. You’re wedged between Chan-hee and Kevin as the bluish glow of Twilight plays on the TV. You barely even care about the movie, half-listening as Edward broods over Bella while the real entertainment unfolds in front of you.

Juyeon and Jacob are wrestling like their lives depend on it, grunting and cursing as they roll across the floor, limbs flailing. The cause of their battle? A single, lonely piece of kimbap sitting on the coffee table, the last remnant of the meal you cooked earlier. 

“You two are fucking ridiculous,” Chan-hee says, shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “It’s one piece of kimbap.”

“It’s the last piece,” Juyeon grunts, trying to pin Jacob’s arm behind his back. “And Y/N made it. That makes it sacred."

Kevin throws his head back with a dramatic sigh. “Just fucking split it.”

“No,” Juyeon and Jacob yell at the same time, their voices muffled as they continue to struggle.

Kevin rolls his eyes and throws a popcorn kernel at them. It bounces off Jacob’s head. “You guys are fucking exhausting.”

Jacob finally manages to wriggle free, lunging for the kimbap, but Juyeon is quicker. He snatches it up, shoving it into his mouth before Jacob can stop him. 

Jacob lets out a horrified gasp, flopping onto the floor like he’s just been stabbed. “You’re dead to me,” he mutters, face buried in the carpet.

Juyeon chews triumphantly. “Worth it.”

Kevin claps his hands together. “Okay, children, now that that fucking disaster is over, tomorrow, movie marathon?”

You shift uncomfortably, tucking your hands into the sleeves of your jumper. “I... um... I can’t,” you mumble, your Portuguese accent thick as you struggle to piece the sentence together. “I, uh, plans with Minho.”

Chan-hee’s head snaps toward you so fast you think he might get whiplash. “Excuse me?!”

Kevin gasps, clutching his chest like you just personally betrayed him and you sink further into the couch. “He, um, needs help, with, uh study. Marine life.”

Chan-hee stares at you, utterly scandalized. “We’re not even classed as your best friends, are we?”

Your eyes widen in panic. “You are! You are! Just different. I know Minho longer. Like, um,  since I born longer.”

Jacob, Juyeon, and Kevin all let out dramatic gasps, clutching at each other like the revelation is too much to bear. Juyeon strokes Jacob’s hair like he’s comforting a grieving widow. “We’ll get through this,” he murmurs.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “You all are dramatic.”

Kevin leans in, grinning. “Remember how he threatened us when you moved in?”

Everyone falls silent for a moment. Then, as if on cue, they all shudder.

“Oh, fuck,” Juyeon mutters.

“I still have nightmares,” Jacob adds.

Chan-hee rubs his arms like he’s suddenly cold. “He didn’t even have to yell. Just stared at us with that fucking psychotic look, like he was planning where to hide our bodies.”

Kevin nods solemnly. “Yeah. That was terrifying.” He turns back to you. “So what are the plans for you and Mr. Murder Stare?”

You hesitate, already regretting saying anything. “Um, going to frat house. Meeting his, uh, friends.”

The room falls dead silent before Kevin and Chan-hee both let out twin gasps of pure horror.

Jacob scrambles to his feet. “We need the sage.”

“Now,” Chan-hee agrees, already digging through the mess of the coffee table.

Juyeon stands, nodding gravely. “I’ll get the lighter.”

You blink in confusion. “Uh, what?”

Kevin grabs your shoulders, shaking you slightly. “Y/N, you’re stepping into Alpha Phi territory. That place is cursed.”

“They’re demons,” Chan-hee adds. “We have to cleanse you before you go in.”

Jacob returns with a bundle of sage, holding it like it’s a weapon. Juyeon flicks the lighter open, flame dancing.

You sigh. There’s no arguing with them when they get like this. “Okay. Do... whatever.”

Kevin grins. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

Chan-hee waves his hands dramatically. “Everyone, gather around! We must protect our dear Y/N from the hellfire she is about to walk into.”

Juyeon lights the sage, the scent of burning herbs filling the air. Jacob starts humming some kind of ominous chant, waving his hands in circles.

Chan-hee presses a hand to your forehead. “Be gone, evil spirits of Alpha Phi! May the ghost of marine biology protect you!”

Kevin stifles a laugh as he moves behind you, making a cross over your back with the sage. “We anoint you with the power of sanity, so you do not lose yourself among the testosterone-ridden fiends.”

Juyeon walks in circles around you, waving the sage like a priest performing an exorcism. Jacob throws popcorn in the air like it’s holy water.

You sit there, letting them do whatever the fuck this is, fingers playing with the hem of your jumper. Your face is warm, a mix of embarrassment and amusement bubbling up as they take it all way too seriously.

Kevin finally steps back, nodding in satisfaction. “Alright. She’s protected.”

Jacob pats your head. “If you feel possessed, let us know.”

You shake your head, exhaling slowly. Your anxiety is still there, humming beneath your skin, but they always make things feel a little lighter. Even if they’re fucking insane.

Chan-hee flops back onto the couch. “Now, let’s finish this fucking movie. And someone make more kimbap before Jacob kills Juyeon.”

Minho stands in the middle of the Alpha Phi frat house living room, a spatula in his hand, smacking it against his palm with slow, deliberate force. The rhythmic sound echoes through the space, a sharp snap against his skin, a warning. He doesn’t say anything at first, just lets the repeated slap of silicone against flesh set the tone.

Hyunjin, sprawled half-asleep on the couch with his buzzed head resting against a pillow, blinks sluggishly. “What the fuck is going on?”

Minho lets the spatula land one more time, tilting his head slightly. “All of you have a chance to live past tomorrow as long as you listen to what I say right now.”

Seungmin leans forward from his spot in the armchair, adjusting his glasses. “The fuck does that mean?”

Minho finally stops hitting his palm and plants the spatula against his hip. “My best friend is coming over tomorrow afternoon.”

Chan looks up and sighs, tossing his phone onto the coffee table. “Min, you have people over all the time. We literally hear you fucking them. So what if you’re fucking your best friend?”

Minho freezes. A visible shudder runs through him before he lets out the most guttural, agonized gag. His entire body convulses, and he violently dry heaves, doubling over, hands on his knees. The sound is disgusting like he’s about to vomit all over the carpet.

“Dude, what the fuck-”

Felix, who has been sitting quietly on the couch with Jisung nestled between his legs, presses his lips together, watching with faint amusement as Minho continues to gag like he’s choking on pure horror.

Jisung, still fidgeting with his cube while Felix braids tiny sections of his hair and shoves random clips into it, looks up. “That was a really strong reaction. We should unpack that.”

Minho abruptly straightens, eyes burning with rage. He strides over to Chan and smacks him across the shoulder with the spatula. Hard.

“Ow, what the fuck?!”

Minho smacks him again. “This is not like that, you absolute fuckhead!” Another smack. “She’s my best friend. Only a friend.” Smack. “And everyone here knows I prefer cock anyway!” Smack, smack, smack.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Minho!”

Minho finally relents, shaking the spatula at the rest of them. “She’s coming over because I have a marine life portion of my veterinary science course, and she studies marine biology and she has crippling anxiety.”

Seungmin gestures lazily to Jisung. “He also has crippling anxiety.”

Jisung, still on the floor, barely looks up, too focused on clicking his cube back and forth as Felix continues to mess with his hair, now twisting the strands into uneven sections and securing them with tiny hair ties.

Jisung hums. “Yeah, but mine makes me hyper as fuck. I can’t sit still. I can’t stop talking. My brain is like a YouTube autoplay button that someone forgot to turn off.”

Minho exhales sharply, running a hand through his honey-blonde hair. “Exactly. You and her have very different presentations of anxiety. You’re a chihuahua on crack cocaine.”

Jisung grins. “Aww, thanks.”

Minho ignores him. “She can’t talk to new people. I have to do that for her. If I don’t, she just shuts down.”

Felix frowns. “Are you sure bringing her here is a good idea?”

Minho presses the spatula against his palm again. “No, which is why I am giving you all this talk now and why all of you shall have the fear of Minho put in you.”

Jisung glances up, blinking. “Isn’t the saying fear of God?”

Minho points a finger upwards. “God, if you believe, is up there.” He slowly lowers the finger and points directly at Jisung. “I am right here. Much, much closer.”

Seungmin smirks. “Yeah, because Satan came to earth and took on the name Lee Minho.”

Minho shrugs. “Maybe. Now, listen the fuck up. She doesn’t like loud noises or sudden loud noises. They make her panic, so being quiet is fucking necessary.” He stops and turns to glare at Chan, Changbin, and Hyunjin. “So all three of you stay the fuck out of the kitchen. No fire alarms.”

Chan scowls. “Hey-”

“No.” Minho raises the spatula again. “I swear to god, if that fire alarm goes off, I will fucking end you.”

Changbin groans. “That was one time.”

“One time my ass. You nearly burned the whole fucking kitchen down.”

Hyunjin throws his hands up. “Okay, yeah, that was bad, but-”

“Do you want to die?”

“No.”

“Then stay the fuck out of the kitchen.”

Felix squeezes Jisung’s pec absentmindedly as he glances up at Minho. “So basically, we just have to be on our best behaviour?”

Minho tilts his head, considering. “No. You all need to know the consequences of fucking up.”

Seungmin sighs. “Here we go.”

Minho cracks his neck. Then, slowly, he levels his gaze at Chan first. “If you say anything that makes her uncomfortable, I will personally drag you by your stupid curly head of hair and drown you in the fucking toilet.”

Chan raises an eyebrow. “That seems excessive.”

Minho ignores him and moves to Changbin. “If you yell near her, I will rip out your vocal cords with my bare hands and string them up like decorations.”

Changbin snorts. “Creative.”

Next, Hyunjin. “If you scare her in any way, I will take that ugly fucking buzzcut of yours and carve a smiley face into the back of your head with my pocket knife.”

Hyunjin gasps, hand flying to his hair. “Bitch!”

Felix is next. “If you touch her without permission, I will break all ten of your fingers and then feed them to you.”

Felix pouts. “I wouldn’t touch her-”

Minho moves on. “Seungmin.”

Seungmin sighs dramatically. “Let me guess. If I insult her, you’ll shove my head into the oven?”

Minho shrugs. “Actually, I was thinking of locking you in the laundry room and filling it with spiders, but the oven is a solid alternative.”

Lastly, Jeongin. Minho crosses his arms. “If you do anything stupid, I will throw your entire fucking sewing machine out the window.”

Jeongin gasps, clutching his chest. “That’s fucked up.”

“Wait a second.” Chan gestures vaguely at the group. “You didn’t threaten Jisung.”

Minho turns to Jisung, who looks up from his fidget cube with curious eyes. “I will take your consoles,” Minho says. “And then I will gently tuck you into bed, and I will make you take a nap if you scare her with your rambling.”

“That’s fucking favouritism!” 

“What the fuck?!” 

“Are you kidding me?” 

Jisung sputters, eyes wide. “No, wait, that’s not favouritism! I hate naps more than anything!”

Felix ruffles his hair, snickering. “Aww, poor baby.”

Jisung flails. “No, seriously, I fucking hate naps! I’d rather be waterboarded!”

Minho smirks. “Sucks to suck, buddy.”

Jisung groans, collapsing against Felix’s legs. “I fucking hate this house.”

Minho lets the chaos settle for a moment, rolling his shoulders before fixing them all with another pointed look. The spatula, still firm in his grip, smacks against his palm once more. It’s almost a reflex at this point.

“Also, there’s something else you need to know,” he says, his tone measured, but firm enough that it silences the lingering murmurs of complaint about favouritism. “Her Korean is very broken. She spent most of her life in Brazil. Technically, her first language is Korean, but she has spoken Portuguese for so long that she’s basically relearning the language now. She’s got a strong accent, and sometimes it takes her a few seconds to translate. She also uses her hands a lot when she talks, she gestures to try and figure out what she’s trying to say.”

Felix immediately nods. “Oh, yeah. I get that.” His fingers absentmindedly smooth down one of Jisung’s messy little braids. “I did the same thing when I moved here. It’s fucking hard. Your brain works twice as much trying to make sure you don’t sound like an idiot.”

Jisung perks up. “Oh! I was like that when I lived in Malaysia! Learning Malay was fucking hard, dude.” He clicks his fidget cube rapidly, his knee bouncing as the energy spikes in his chest. “Like, okay, so, I was already speaking English and Korean, right? But then I get thrown into this whole new language, and it’s like- fuck- what’s the word? Overload! Yeah, like, my brain was constantly buffering. And then when I finally got used to Malay, I had to start learning Mandarin too because everyone around me spoke it, and let me tell you, the tonal shit? A fucking nightmare.”

Changbin nudges Jeongin. “He’s going off.”

Jeongin smirks. “It’s kinda impressive how his mouth can keep up with his brain.”

Jisung barely pauses to breathe. “Oh, and don’t even get me started on writing! The characters, the sentence structure, the grammar, it’s a whole fucking process. Sometimes I’ll write something and realize I mixed up three languages in one sentence, and I have no idea how the fuck it happened. And then, like, my brain is just constantly flipping between them, and-”

Minho sighs. “Come on, Ji. We’ll get you some decaffeinated tea to wind you down, and I’ll sort out that mess on your head before Felix ruins your hair permanently.”

Jisung bounces to his feet instantly, almost knocking over the coffee table in the process. “Okay!” He scurries after Minho like an excited puppy, his fidget cube still clicking away in his hand.

Once they’re in the kitchen, Minho flips the light to a lower setting, the glow dimming into something softer. Jisung’s energy is still at its peak, but Minho knows the drill.

Jisung plops himself onto the counter, swinging his legs. “You know, I’ve been thinking about trying boxing more seriously. Not just for cardio, but like, an actual thing.” His fingers drum against his thighs. “Like, you know how we go to the gym and spar sometimes? What if I did that, but, like, a couple more times a week?”

Minho grabs the kettle and starts filling it with water. “Try the tea first.” He sets it on the stove, turning to face Jisung with a raised brow. “If you can sit through one sensory video without bouncing off the fucking walls, we’ll talk about increasing your gym time.”

Jisung narrows his eyes. “You drive a hard bargain.” He twists his fidget cube in his palm, considering. “What video?”

Minho leans against the counter. “One of those animated ones.”

Jisung claps his hands. “I love those. My favourite is when they change faces, and I’m like, ‘Aww, smiley peas,’ and then they switch, and I’m like, ‘Awww, smiley banana!’ And when they line up like a rainbow? Fucking art.”

Minho just shakes his head, amused, as he sets a mug on the counter. He brews the tea, setting it in front of Jisung before pulling out his phone to queue up a video. The screen fills with soft, satisfying animations, fruits and vegetables bouncing, colours shifting in rhythm with calm background music.

Jisung picks up his mug, blowing on the tea before taking a cautious sip. His shoulders drop slightly as the warmth spreads through him, the combination of the video and the drink working its magic.

Minho stands behind him, carefully undoing the mess Felix created in his hair. His fingers work gently, untangling knots and loosening the haphazard braids.

“You let him get really carried away this time,” Minho murmurs, combing his fingers through Jisung’s hair.

Jisung hums, watching as the fruit on screen morphs into another shape. “He likes playing with it. And honestly? It feels kinda nice.”

Minho chuckles. “You’re such a fucking cat.”

Jisung shrugs. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The kitchen is quiet for a few minutes, the only sounds being the soft music from the video and the occasional sip from Jisung’s tea. His knee still bounces, but slower now. The energy isn’t gone, but it’s settled, softened around the edges.

Minho finishes untangling the last braid and smooths his hands over Jisung’s hair. “There. Good as new.”

Jisung sighs dramatically. “You’re the best, Min. Seriously. What would I do without you?”

Minho smirks, tossing the fidget cube back to him. “Probably combust.”

Jisung catches it easily, already clicking it again. “Yeah. Probably.”

The summer heat clings to your skin as you step up the worn stone steps leading to the Alpha Phi frat house. The sun hangs high, casting long shadows against the pavement, and your fingers twitch against the chain strap of your black quilted shoulder bag. Your silver anxiety rings spin under your thumb, a nervous habit you can’t seem to break.

You inhale deeply, adjusting your fitted black cropped turtleneck, the fabric snug against your torso while your wide-leg grey trousers billow softly with each movement. The material is light, breathable, but you still feel the weight of your own nerves pressing against your chest.

You reach the front door, hesitating for only a second before pressing the doorbell. Your eyes widen as Love Me Like This by NMIXX rings out at full volume, echoing across the porch and probably into the street. 

Before you can fully process the absurdity, the door swings open, and Minho is standing there, smirking. The sight of him eases something tight in your chest.

His eyes flick to your expression, the slight tension in your posture, and his smirk softens into something gentler. "Hey," he says, and before you can overthink it, he pulls you into a hug.

You let yourself relax for just a second, your face pressing briefly against his shoulder. The familiar warmth of him is grounding, and when he pulls back, you manage a small smile.

"How have you been?" he asks, watching as your fingers fidget with the strap of your bag.

You hesitate for a moment, translating in your head before answering. "I got project partner," you say slowly, your Korean clumsy, the sentence structure awkward. "Beom-Seok. He, uh, he is something."

Minho’s eyes narrow instantly. "Need me to fight him?"

Your eyes widen, shaking your head quickly. "No! No!"

Minho just exhales, giving you a look. "You ready?"

You nod.

"You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to, okay?" His voice is quieter now, just for you. "I’ll just tell you their names, and then we’ll head up to my room."

Another nod and Minho steps back, motioning for you to enter. You toe off your white Converse at the doorway, leaving you in your black ankle socks, and step inside. The air is cooler, the scent of something vaguely fried lingering in the space.

Then, suddenly, seven heads appear from the living room doorway, stacked on top of each other like a fucking totem pole of nosy idiots.

Minho groans. "Are you fucking serious?"

The heads remain stacked. A curious, synchronized tilt. You instinctively step slightly behind Minho, peeking out cautiously.

Minho gestures vaguely at the group. "Y/N, meet Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, Felix, Jisung, Jeongin, and Seungmin." He points them out one by one.

You nod, heart pounding, and manage, "Nice to meet you."

The accent is unmistakable, thick and foreign, the syllables slow as you carefully piece them together. The words don’t flow naturally, each one feeling like a small mountain to climb.

You glance at Minho, silently asking if you said it right and he nods approvingly. "You got it. Pronunciation was great."

Felix grins. "Super impressive. It took me way longer when I was learning Korean."

"Oh!" Jisung practically vibrates where he stands. "That’s so cool! You’re, like, bilingual. Or trilingual? Do you speak anything else? Because that’s fucking sick. Oh, right, I should introduce myself properly. Han Jisung, at your service. Investigative journalism major, criminal psych minor. Also part-time nuisance, full-time genius. And, like, I totally get the whole language struggle thing. I lived in Malaysia for a while, right? So I had to learn Malay, and it was so fucking hard, like, the sentence structure? The way verbs change? Fucking insane. And then I came back here, and my Korean was rusty as shit, so I had to relearn a bunch-"

"Jesus Christ, someone stop him," Seungmin mutters.

Chan sighs, reaching out to slap a hand over Jisung’s mouth and Jisung nods in thanks, eyes still buzzing with energy.

Minho sighs, shaking his head. "Let’s go," he murmurs to you, leading you away from the mess and up the stairs.

The sound of the others talking fades as you follow Minho to his room, the walls lined with posters and books, a desk cluttered but organized in a way only he would understand. The scent of fresh laundry lingers, familiar and oddly comforting.

You glance at him, hesitating before saying, "Jisung is cute."

"He’s single, you know. You could get that chronically anxious dick."

Your foot immediately swings out, colliding with his shin and Minho yelps, stumbling back, clutching his leg dramatically. "You little-"

Before he can finish, you snatch a magazine from his desk and swat him over the head.

He wails. "Violence!"

You huff, crossing your arms and Minho groans, rubbing his shin. "Fine. No more comments about Jisung’s dick. Jesus."

You glare for a second longer before tossing the magazine back onto his desk.

Minho exhales, shaking his head. "You and your fucking kicks."

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

He notices but doesn’t say anything, just nudges your arm lightly.

"Come on," he says. "Let’s actually study before we end up talking about Jisung’s fucking anxiety again."

You nod, settling onto the floor with him, feeling just a little less on edge.

As soon as Minho and you disappear upstairs, Jisung spins around dramatically, clutching his chest like he’s been physically struck. His eyes are wide, sparkling with something unhinged, and his mouth falls open as if he’s about to recite the most poetic sonnet of his life.

“Love at first sight,” he breathes, staggering slightly as if the sheer weight of his emotions is too much to bear. 

Jeongin’s head snaps toward him so fast it looks like he might get whiplash. “Minho’s friend?!”

Jisung nods rapidly, his whole body vibrating like an over-caffeinated bobblehead. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Minho’s friend! The most beautiful creature to ever grace this filthy frat house! The embodiment of grace, of elegance, of shyness so devastating it makes my heart fucking ache! The little peek from behind him? The way she barely spoke but when she did, the accent, Jeongin! The fucking accent!”

Changbin stares at him, horrified. “Do you have a fucking death wish? Do you want to die? Because that’s exactly what’s going to happen if you try to pull anything with Minho’s best friend.”

Chan squints at Jisung like he’s just grown a second head. “Jisung, I know you’re mentally ill, but are you fucking insane?!”

Jisung throws his arms in the air, his fidget cube clattering onto the couch. “I can’t control it! My heart! It’s not mine anymore! It now beats for her! She had a halo, I swear to god! A halo! And a sexy accent! And she studies marine biology! Marine biology, Chan! Do you know how much I know about ocean life?! Too much! An unhealthy amount! I have years of marine documentary knowledge just rotting in my brain, waiting for the perfect moment to be used, and this is it! This is my moment!”

Seungmin pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is the worst thing you’ve ever said.”

Jisung, completely unfazed, keeps going. “Did you see her?! Did you see how fucking delicate she was? Like a little fairy? Like, holy fuck, I swear I saw wings. All quiet and pretty and soft, like a book character that just came to life. Like, I know she’s shy, and I know she has anxiety, but holy shit, that just makes her even more unreal. Like, I have anxiety, but it makes me feel like a coked-up raccoon, she has anxiety, and it makes her look like a fragile porcelain doll that I want to protect with my life! It’s a different kind of anxiety! It’s the kind of anxiety that makes my soul yearn-”

Seungmin groans. “You need to be medicated.”

Changbin shakes his head. “No, he needs a fucking lobotomy.”

Jisung keeps talking like he doesn’t even hear them. “And her outfit? The black turtleneck, the wide-leg trousers? That’s the kind of effortless fashion that’s just unfair. Like, she could’ve worn a trash bag, and she still would’ve looked like an ethereal being that descended from the heavens just to ruin my life! And the way she held her bag? Like, the little fiddling with the strap? That was the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my entire existence, and I watch baby animal compilations at least once a day!”

“Shut him the fuck up,” Hyunjin mutters.

Chan doesn’t even hesitate. He lunges forward, smacking Jisung upside the head.

Jisung yelps, but he barely stops talking. “-and don’t even get me started on her rings, because holy shit, there’s something about silver jewellery that just does something to me, and- ow, what the fuck, Chan-”

Hyunjin joins in, smacking the other side of Jisung’s head. “Shut the fuck up!”

Jisung shrieks, ducking as Changbin swings at him next and Changbin finally gets him, jabbing him in the ribs. “MINHO IS GOING TO FUCKING MURDER YOU.”

Felix, watching the absolute carnage unfold, simply tilts his head. “I think it’s sweet.”

Jisung gasps dramatically, clutching Felix’s wrist like he’s just been given a lifeline. “Thank you, Felix! Someone here actually appreciates romance.” He composes himself, straightening his spine. “I need a plan.”

Felix nods solemnly. “First, you need a sword to defend yourself against Minho.”

Jisung nods back, equally serious. “Right. A sword.”

Changbin gapes at them. “Are you two fucking dumb? A sword?! Against Minho?! He’ll just take it from you and stab you with it!”

Jisung waves a hand. “Details, details.” He places a hand over his heart again. “I am willing to risk it all for love.”

Felix tilts his head. “Honestly? If Minho were to let anyone here date his friend, it’d probably be Jisung.”

Jisung’s eyes widen. Slowly, a grin spreads across his face. “Gentlemen, welcome to the romantic trials and tribulations of Han Peter Jisung.”

The quiet room is a sanctuary. A place where the hum of voices, the constant shuffle of students, the relentless buzz of the outside world all fade into the background. It’s one of the few spaces on campus where only a handful of students have access, those who need silence, those who require a place to breathe.

You exhale slowly, adjusting the volume on your laptop as the Korean narration of the marine biology documentary plays quietly. The Portuguese subtitles flicker at the bottom of the screen, your eyes following each word carefully. It’s the best way you’ve found to strengthen your Korean, forcing your brain to process both languages at once.

Your fingers toy with the anxiety rings on your hands, silver bands spinning as you jot down notes in your notebook. The documentary covers coral ecosystems, the way the reefs function as an underwater city teeming with life. You’re completely engrossed until the door opens.

Jisung stands in the doorway, holding up his access pass like he’s proving he has a reason to be here. His fitted black zip-up jacket hugs his frame, the high neck zipped up just below his chin, and his light-wash, wide-leg denim jeans hang loosely over his black combat boots. There’s something effortlessly cool about him, but the nervous energy buzzing around him makes him feel more approachable.

His expression is open, a small smile tugging at his lips. He doesn’t look like he’s here to disturb the quiet, though his very presence carries an air of movement, of something constantly in motion. He hesitates just slightly, eyes flickering toward the empty seat next to you.

“Can I sit with you?”

You nod and Jisung’s smile widens as he settles into the chair beside you, leaning in just enough to peek at your laptop screen. “Ooh, I love that documentary. They’re talking about coral life, right?”

You nod again, fingers still fidgeting with the rings on your hand.

Jisung glances at the screen again, tilting his head slightly. “Can I watch with you?”

Another nod. He seems completely unbothered by your silence, instead resting his arms on the table as he scans the subtitles. After a second, he furrows his brows. “What language are the subtitles?”

You hesitate for a moment, mentally piecing together the sentence before speaking. “Uh, Portuguese? Is that how you say?”

Jisung hums thoughtfully. “Close. You put too much emphasis on the initial consonant and not enough on the vowel.”

“Oh.” You repeat the word, trying to correct it.

Jisung grins. “Yeah, you got it.”

You smile, just a little.

He doesn’t seem to expect you to talk much, which is a relief. Instead, he starts filling the silence with easy chatter, his voice animated but careful, slow enough that you can follow along. 

“I love marine biology documentaries. I mean, I love all documentaries, but marine life is especially cool. Did you know octopuses can change colour not just to blend in, but also based on their mood? Like, they literally express emotions through their skin. That’s insane. And don’t even get me started on mimic octopuses. They can literally impersonate other sea creatures. Like, full-on cosplay. They can pretend to be sea snakes, lionfish, crabs. It’s like if I just shapeshifted into Minho whenever I wanted to scare someone.”

You do know. You know everything he’s saying, but you let him talk. Jisung watches your expression as he continues, testing how much you understand. If you look even slightly lost, he slows down, repeats certain words, and if that doesn’t work, he pulls out his phone, opening a translator app and speaking directly into it.

You blink in surprise when the app suddenly speaks in Portuguese, perfectly clear and easy to understand. 

Jisung grins. “I use it a lot. Seoul has a ton of tourists, and I like helping people if they need it.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just nod again.

He keeps going, keeping his voice soft so he doesn’t disrupt the quiet of the room. “Also, jellyfish? Some of them are basically immortal, like, they just revert back to their younger form and start their life cycle over. Which is kinda cool, but also terrifying because imagine if humans could do that? Like, if you hit eighty and just decided to turn back into a baby instead of dying. That’s some horror movie shit.”

Your lips twitch, amusement flickering across your face.

Jisung notices immediately, his grin widening. “Oh, I saw that. I made you smile. That’s a win for me.”

Jisung leans back slightly, staring at the screen as the documentary shifts to a segment about symbiotic relationships in the ocean. “Oh, clownfish and anemones! Classic duo. Everyone thinks of Finding Nemo, but the wild part is that clownfish can actually change sex. If the dominant female in the group dies, the largest male will turn into a female to take her place. Like, full biological transformation. That’s commitment.”

“You know lots.”

Jisung shrugs, fidgeting slightly with the sleeve of his jacket. “I get hyper-fixated on stuff sometimes. Documentaries are my comfort zone.”

You understand that more than he realizes.

Jisung tilts his head. “You’re really quiet.”

Your fingers twist the rings on your hand. “I do not know what to say.”

“That’s okay. I talk enough for both of us.”

You huff a quiet laugh, and Jisung grins like he just won something.

The documentary continues playing, but you find yourself paying more attention to Jisung’s presence beside you. He’s restless, always moving in some way, bouncing his knee, tapping his fingers, adjusting the zipper of his jacket. But it doesn’t feel disruptive. It feels natural.

He doesn’t press you to talk, doesn’t expect you to meet him at his energy level. He just exists beside you, comfortable in his own whirlwind of movement, and for the first time in a while, you don’t feel the pressure to shrink yourself down.

Maybe, just maybe, Jisung isn’t as overwhelming as you first thought.

Jisung practically explodes into Felix’s room, the door swinging open with such force that it bounces off the wall. Felix, who had been comfortably hunched over his gaming setup, lets out a startled noise, nearly dropping his controller.

“The fuck, Jisung?” Felix huffs, yanking off his headset.

“I spent time with Y/N today!”

That gets Felix’s attention. Immediately, he pauses his game and spins in his chair, his full focus now on Jisung. “Oh?”

Jisung nods so violently that his hair flops in his face, his excitement barely contained. “We were in one of the quiet rooms. Just me and her, no interruptions, just vibes. And we watched a documentary. A marine biology documentary. Felix, do you understand how fucking insane that is?!”

Felix smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, yeah. Wild.”

Jisung is undeterred, pacing the small space as he gestures wildly. “She looked so pretty, man. Like, she was just sitting there, watching the documentary, and I swear to god, she has this ethereal kind of presence. Like, you know when the light hits someone just right and they look all angelic and shit? That was her. She was wearing this really nice fitted bodysuit, deep V-neck, and I am a man, Felix, I noticed, and those high-waisted jeans? Fucking criminal. The way they fit her-"

Felix bursts out laughing, shaking his head. “Jesus, you’re gone, dude.”

“I am!” Jisung agrees, throwing his arms up. “And the jewellery, her little silver rings? I think I ascended when she started fidgeting with them. It’s so fucking cute! Like, she was just sitting there, all focused, twirling the chain around her fingers like some kind of shy goddess-”

Felix raises a hand. “Okay, Romeo, calm the fuck down.”

Jisung stops abruptly, inhaling deeply before exhaling all at once. Felix watches him for a moment before grinning. “Well, it seems like your hyper fixation on documentaries finally did something for you.”

Jisung nods rapidly, his whole body vibrating with agreement. “I know, right?! It’s like the universe finally aligned like this was the moment my excessive knowledge of marine biology was meant for! She didn’t even get annoyed when I rambled. She let me talk! And you know how people usually get all ‘Jisung, shut the fuck up’ when I start going off? She didn’t do that! She just listened! Like an angel! Like the patron saint of patience and marine ecosystems!”

Felix snickers, tilting his head. “So what’s the plan, loverboy?”

Jisung's face splits into a mischievous grin. He dramatically claps his hands together, rubbing them like a cartoon villain. “I have a plan,” 

Felix raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“I’m going to write a journalism article on investigating the effects of plastic on aquatic life. And then I’m going to ask Y/N to help me.”

Felix stares at him for a second before bursting out laughing. “That’s actually smart.”

Jisung grins, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “I know! She’s literally a marine biology major, Felix. This is perfect! It’s academic, it’s something I genuinely care about, and it means I’ll get to spend more time with her!”

Felix shakes his head, still grinning. “Damn, you’re really in deep, huh?”

Jisung groans dramatically, flopping onto Felix’s bed. “Felix, I am drowning. And you know what? I don’t want a fucking lifeboat. I’m just gonna let the ocean of my emotions consume me.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Alright, Shakespeare, go get started on your research before you combust.”

Jisung sits up instantly, determination burning in his eyes. “You’re right. I need to prepare. This has to be perfect.”

Felix watches as Jisung scrambles to his feet, already pulling out his phone, probably to start researching on the way to his room.

As he reaches the doorway, Jisung pauses. Then he turns back, pointing dramatically at Felix. “Operation Love at High Tide is officially in motion.”

Felix groans. “I fucking hate you.”

Jisung just grins and bolts down the hallway, already mumbling excitedly to himself.

The quiet room is a refuge against the relentless heatwave. The campus feels suffocating, the humidity pressing in from all sides, and your body always feels heavier when it’s this hot, like the warmth drags your energy down until your limbs are sluggish, your mind slower to process. It doesn’t help that Beom-Seok has been more unbearable than usual, his usual annoying flirtations escalating into excessive physical contact, hands lingering far too long on your wrist, your shoulder, even the small of your back. The moment you’d managed to shake him, you’d practically sprinted to the quiet room, seeking out the air conditioning and solitude.

The cool air soothes the tension in your body as you sit at the table, your laptop open in front of you, an article on turtles and microplastics affecting their breeding cycles displayed on the screen. 

Your green maxi skirt pools around your legs as you shift, the material soft against your skin. The white crochet halter top breathes easily in the heat, and the bandana keeping your hair back prevents it from sticking to your skin.

The door swings open and Jisung steps inside. His white Nirvana graphic tee is slightly oversized, hanging loose over his camouflage cargo pants, and his white chunky sneakers make soft thuds against the floor as he moves toward you. A white bandana keeps his hair out of his face, but a few strands still manage to escape, framing his features.

He places his bag on the chair across from you before sliding one of the cups in his hands toward you. “Hey,” he says, his tone easy, familiar. “Figured you’d need this.”

You blink at the iced latte in front of you, condensation already beading on the plastic. Your fingers brush against the cold surface as you hesitate, glancing up at him.

Jisung grins. “I figured you’d want something iced since, you know, death heat.”

Your lips part, struggling for a second to form the right words. “Oh. Uh, thanks.”

Jisung waves a hand, plopping down across from you and taking a sip of his own iced americano. “Don’t judge the outfit, okay? I’m running out of clean clothes because I’m sweating through everything in this fucking heatwave. I think my laundry basket is actually mocking me at this point.”

You tilt your head slightly, glancing at his shirt and pants. “You.. look fine.”

Jisung grins. “See, this is why I like you and I need your help.”

You glance at him, waiting.

“I chose to do a journalism article on investigating the effects of plastic on aquatic life,” he announces, pulling his notebooks from his backpack. “And I thought, you know who can help me? Y/N.”

Your eyebrows raise slightly as he slides his notes toward you. The pages are chaotic, a mess of hurried writing, crossed-out sentences, and doodles.

Jisung rubs the back of his neck. “It’s, uh, not much. And not factual enough. Which is why I desperately need your help.”

You pull the notebook closer, your eyes scanning the pages. You have to read slowly, taking your time to process the Korean and translate it in your head. But as you go through his notes, something becomes increasingly clear, there’s barely anything about plastics and aquatic life. Instead, it’s filled with scattered thoughts, personal opinions, and elaborate doodles of sea creatures.

You pause, a small smile tugging at your lips as you read one of the notes scrawled in the middle of the page. 

Male dolphins should be cancelled. Make a #MeToo movement for female dolphins at a later date.

A quiet laugh escapes before you can stop it. Jisung immediately perks up. “Oh my god, I made you laugh. That means you got to that part, huh?”

You glance at him, still amused. “Male… dolphins?”

Jisung groans, throwing his head back. “They’re rapists, Y/N! It’s awful! I was doing some research, and it turns out they have fucking gangs where they kidnap female dolphins and force them to mate. And it gets worse! They also hump humans! There are actual recorded incidents of people getting harassed by fucking dolphins! Like, imagine going on a nice vacation, swimming in the ocean, and then bam! Sexual assault by a dolphin! I trusted them! We all trusted them!”

You already know all of this. But you let him talk.

“And the thing is, everyone thinks dolphins are these cute, friendly ocean puppies, but no! They’re fucking menaces! And you know what else? They kill for fun! They’ll just murder baby porpoises for no fucking reason! They don’t even eat them, they just do it! Like some serial killer shit! If dolphins had access to land, they’d probably be running underground crime rings or some mafia bullshit.”

You sip your latte, watching him with mild amusement and Jisung slams his notebook shut. “I’m sorry, I just needed to get that off my chest.”

You nod solemnly. “I get.”

Jisung exhales deeply, slumping forward onto the table. “So. Are you gonna help me fix my article so it actually has, you know, real information?”

“Yes. I help.”

Jisung beams. “You’re the best.”

You tap your pen against Jisung’s notebook, eyeing the chaotic scrawl of words and sketches, a mix of actual research and unhinged commentary about marine life. Your fingers twitch slightly as you resist the urge to cross out half of what’s written and start from scratch. 

“You need more, um, fact? More, uh, sources. Not just, your, uh,” You wave a hand vaguely at the dolphin rant section.

Jisung snickers but nods, tapping his fingers against his iced americano. “Yeah, okay, fair. I might have gotten a little carried away.”

You tilt your laptop toward him, opening the article you had been reading before he arrived. The page is filled with data, references, and case studies on how microplastics affect the reproductive cycles of sea turtles. 

“This...” You hesitate, searching for the word before sighing and resorting to miming. You point at the screen, then gesture with your fingers like you’re flipping through pages of a book.

Jisung immediately brightens. “Oh! Research! Like, actual academic sources?”

You nod quickly. “Yes! That.”

Jisung scoots closer, eyes scanning the article as he sips his drink. “Okay, this is actually sick. Sea turtles getting fucked over by microplastics? Not sick. But the amount of data here? Sick.” He tilts his head, reading. “Wait, so the microplastics don’t just mess with their digestion, they actually affect temperature-dependent sex determination?”

“Yes. Uh, how to say...” You gesture vaguely in the air, thinking. “More heat, more...” You pause, then trace the outline of a turtle shell with your fingers.

Jisung watches, amused but also genuinely interested. “More heat makes more turtles?”

You shake your head quickly. “No, no. More, uh, female?”

“Oh shit, it skews the ratio?”

“Yes!” You smile slightly, relieved he understands. “More heat, more female. Less male.”

Jisung whistles, rubbing his chin. “So they’re basically just making future generations completely unbalanced because of plastic. Yeah, okay, I definitely need to fix this shit.” He flips through his own pages, groaning as he lands on yet another doodle of a very muscular crab holding a knife. “Jesus, past Jisung, what the fuck were you on?”

You can’t help but laugh quietly. Jisung hears it and grins, immediately encouraged. “Alright, let’s really get to work. What other sources should I be using?”

You start scrolling, pulling up more articles, explaining them in slow, broken Korean while he listens attentively, nodding along. He asks questions, some smart, some absolutely ridiculous, but he cares, and that alone makes it easier to keep going.

Then, suddenly, you hear it. Beom-Seok’s voice.

Your fingers immediately tighten around your anxiety rings, your whole body going rigid as your stomach twists itself into knots. You hear him somewhere outside, laughing loudly, his voice carrying through the hall. It’s too much, too familiar, and you really don’t want to deal with him right now.

You turn quickly to Jisung, your voice low, urgent. “I... not here.”

Jisung frowns slightly, looking at you properly for the first time. His energy settles just enough for him to catch the tension in your shoulders, the way your fingers tremble slightly as you twist your rings over and over again.

Jisung doesn’t ask questions, he just nods without hesitation. And then, because he is Jisung, he immediately hypes himself up like he’s about to walk into a literal fight. He bounces up on the balls of his feet, shaking out his arms, taking a quick sip of his americano before setting it down like he’s getting into the zone. Then, without warning, he starts throwing quick jabs in the air, shaking his head like he’s about to step into a boxing ring.

You stare at him, blinking until he catches your expression and grins. “What? Minho says I gotta be ready at all times. I could get jumped. You never know.”

Beom-Seok’s voice is closer now, just outside the room. Jisung straightens up, rolls his shoulders, and swings the door open like a bouncer checking for ID. He leans against the frame, immediately raising an eyebrow.

“Pass?” he asks, voice flat.

Beom-Seok blinks at him. “What?”

Jisung gestures vaguely toward the quiet room. “This is a pass-only room, dude. You got one?”

Beom-Seok frowns. “I’m not trying to come in. I’m looking for Y/N.”

“Well, it’s just me and my mental health issues in here.”

Beom-Seok blinks again. “What?”

“You know, it’s actually crazy how much people underestimate the importance of mental health rooms. Like, did you know that excessive stimulation can literally fry your nervous system? It’s actually fucked up. And people assume that just because I’m loud, I don’t get overwhelmed, but oh-ho, my guy, let me tell you-”

Beom-Seok’s brows knit together. “I just-”

“-sometimes the only thing keeping me from absolutely losing my shit is a fidget cube. A fidget cube. Can you imagine? The fragile balance of my entire existence depends on the smooth rotation of a tiny plastic fucking cube. And you know what else is fucked up? The government. But we don’t have time to get into that-”

Beom-Seok’s jaw tightens. “I just want to know where-”

“-and speaking of time, isn’t it wild how time perception changes depending on emotional states? Like, when you’re having fun, time moves fast as fuck, but when you’re stuck in a boring ass conversation-” he gestures vaguely at Beom-Seok “-it’s like time stops completely. Scientists have theories about it, but honestly, my personal belief is that it’s all a simulation, and we’re just pawns in a very elaborate-”

Beom-Seok stares at him like he’s just grown a second head. “Are you on something?”

“I am simply powered by caffeine and anxiety!”

Beom-Seok clenches his jaw, clearly trying to decide whether or not it’s even worth engaging anymore. “Look, just tell Y/N I’m looking for her.”

Jisung tilts his head. “Oh, yeah, sure. I’ll get right on that.”

Beom-Seok stares at him for another few seconds, then exhales sharply, shaking his head as he turns to walk away and Jisung grins to himself, watching him leave before slowly shutting the door.

You peek out from behind the table, shoulders still tight, but relief creeping in. “He... gone?”

Jisung nods proudly. “Yup! He stood no chance against my greatest weapon, insufferable energy.”

You exhale, tension draining from your muscles. “Thank you.”

Jisung flops back into his chair, sipping his iced americano like he didn’t just mentally exhaust another human being into leaving. “Anytime. Now, let’s get back to fixing my disaster of an article.”

Two weeks have passed, and the quiet room has become a routine, a ritual. Every day, you and Jisung escape here, seeking the crisp relief of the air conditioning while the outside world suffocates under the relentless heatwave. The afternoons stretch into evenings, iced coffee sweating against plastic cups, the hum of your laptops a constant background noise.

You’ve been meaning to start Jisung’s article. Really. It’s just that every time he sits down, notebook open, laptop glowing, he gets distracted. It always starts small, he’ll see something in the news while opening his browser or remember something halfway through a sip of his coffee, and suddenly, the conversation veers.

Today is no different.

Jisung leans back in his chair, his sleeveless white top clinging to his skin in the summer heat. His broad chest stretches the fabric in a way that should be illegal, and a black bandana keeps his hair back, but a few strands have escaped, curling against his forehead, and he’s tied part of it in a little bun at the back of his head to stop it from touching his neck.

He’s halfway through an enthusiastic retelling of a Princess Diana documentary, gesturing animatedly with his iced americano in one hand.

You sit across from him, quietly sipping your iced latte. The cream-coloured cropped blouse you’re wearing ties just below your breasts, the billowy sleeves falling loosely over your arms. Your blue maxi skirt pools over your crossed legs, the soft fabric cooling against your skin. A matching blue bandana keeps your hair back, two strands framing your face.

Jisung doesn’t need you to speak. He never does. He just talks, and you listen. And you like it.

“The wildest part? The fucking conspiracy theories. Like, okay. I love a good conspiracy. Did aliens build the pyramids? Maybe. But the amount of people who think MI6 had her killed? The theories actually make sense, which is the fucked-up part. The Royal Family hated her, and suddenly she dies in a crash with zero CCTV footage from the tunnel?”

You blink at him, processing his rant. “You think she was, um, killed?”

“I mean. It wouldn’t surprise me.”

You shake your head slightly, sipping your coffee. “You watch many, uh, true crime?”

Jisung snorts. “Too much. Documentaries, podcasts, YouTube deep dives, all of it.” He takes another sip of his coffee. “You ever watch that one on, uh, what’s his face, Ted Bundy?”

You nod slowly. “Yes. Many...” You search for the word, frowning before miming a camera with your hands. “Many, uh, films?”

Jisung grins. “Movies! Yeah, yeah, there’s been a shit ton.” He leans forward, resting his chin in his hand. “You like true crime?”

You hesitate. “Sometimes.”

Jisung hums, tapping his fingers against his coffee cup. “Fair. It’s fascinating but also terrifying.”

You nod in agreement, twisting one of your silver rings absentmindedly. There’s a comfortable silence between you, the low hum of the air conditioning filling the space.

Then, finally, you clear your throat. “You... should start, uh, making, um...” You pause, struggling to piece the sentence together before settling on the easiest way to say it. “Mind... maps?”

Jisung tilts his head, thinking. “Mindmaps?”

You nod. “To, um... build... up main parts?” You frown, thinking harder before miming connecting dots in the air. “Like, um... break... break research?”

Jisung watches your hands, his grin growing. “Ohhh, I get it! Like, use a research paper, break it into sections, and then use those small ideas to flow into the full article?”

You exhale in relief, nodding. “Yes! That.”

Jisung beams. “Fuck yeah. That makes so much sense.” He immediately unzips his bag, pulling out highlighters, notebooks, his laptop, and a ridiculous number of coloured pens. “We’re about to make this shit art.”

You shake your head but smile, watching as he spreads out his supplies.

He flips open a blank page in his notebook, tapping a pen against his lip. “Okay, so first, we pick a research paper, right? Which one should we use?”

You pull your laptop closer, scrolling through the saved articles. After a few seconds, you tilt the screen toward him. “This? It, um, good?”

Jisung leans in, scanning the page. “Microplastics and their impact on marine food chains. Yeah, okay, this is perfect.” He cracks his knuckles, grabbing a green highlighter. “Let’s fucking go.”

You both start working, reading through the paper and breaking it down into simple ideas. Jisung is surprisingly focused when he wants to be, humming softly as he underlines key points and draws messy bubbles around main topics.

You glance at his notebook and immediately stifle a laugh. His mindmap is chaos. Some sections are neatly labelled, others have tiny doodles next to them. You spot a tiny, angry-looking jellyfish wearing sunglasses in the corner.

Jisung catches you looking and grins. “What? He’s a cool motherfucker.”

You shake your head, laughing softly.

Jisung taps his pen against the page, thinking. “I don’t want this to be a boring-ass report, though. If people wanted to read a report, they’d just read the research paper.”

You tilt your head. “So... add, um, your, uh,” You pause, struggling before pointing at him. “You.”

Jisung blinks. “Me?”

You nod. “You... is funny.”

Jisung beams. “Fuck yeah, I am. How's this?”

His first attempt at a joke is scrawled across the page in slightly uneven handwriting:

Microplastics: because just fucking up the land wasn’t enough, we had to ruin the ocean too.

He glances up, waiting. You blink at the words, considering them for a moment before tilting your head slightly. “It good,” you say carefully. “But, maybe, shorter?”

Jisung grins, flipping the page to rewrite it. “Alright, alright, let me work my comedic genius.” He mutters to himself as he rewords it, scribbling out different variations before nodding to himself and showing you the final version.

Microplastics: land pollution wasn’t enough, so we said fuck it, let’s poison fish too.

You huff out a quiet laugh, nodding. Jisung’s grin stretches wider. “Yes! Okay, that one stays.”

He gets back to work, tossing out different one-liners for various sections of his article. Some make you roll your eyes. Some are so bad you just stare at him until he groans and crosses them out himself. But the ones that make you actually laugh? Those, he keeps.

For the section on the ocean’s rising temperatures, he jots down: The ocean is getting hotter, and not in a sexy way.

You giggle at that one, covering your mouth, and Jisung fist pumps. “See? This is why I need you. You’re my official bullshit detector.”

Another one, for the way microplastics are now showing up in human bodies: Congratulations, you’re now 30% water and 5% plastic. We’re all just one step away from becoming living Barbie dolls.

You snort, shaking your head, and Jisung beams as he underlines it.

Then he gets to the part about dolphins. His eyes light up mischievously, and before you can even process what’s happening, he scribbles down: Male dolphins: proof that even the ocean has predatory men.

You laugh, really laugh, a full-bodied, breathy noise that catches even you by surprise. Jisung gasps, pressing a dramatic hand to his chest. “I knew it! I fucking knew that one would land.”

You shake your head, still smiling. “It... good.”

Jisung grins, practically bouncing in his seat as he scribbles more notes. His energy fills the room, easy and contagious, and for once, you don’t feel overwhelmed by it.

Then there’s a knock at the door. Your stomach drops. You don’t need to hear the voice to know who it is. Jisung groans before standing up and making his way to the door. He swings it open just enough to poke his head out, squinting dramatically at whoever is standing outside.

“You again?”

Beom-Seok stands there, brows furrowed in frustration. “Where’s Y/N?”

Jisung lets out a long, suffering sigh and leans against the doorframe. “Ahh, here we go again. The saga of men who can’t take a fucking hint continues.”

Beom-Seok frowns. “What?”

Jisung ignores him completely, launching straight into another one of his infamous rants. “You know what I don’t understand? Clingy men. Like, bro, why do some guys act like GPS trackers with fucking attachment issues? Like, what happened? Did your parents not hug you enough as a kid? Do you need therapy? A pet? A hobby? Why are some dudes so allergic to leaving women the fuck alone?”

Beom-Seok sighs, visibly annoyed. “I just need to-”

“Oh, no, I get it,” Jisung continues, nodding like he’s solving a true crime case. “You’re one of those guys who thinks ‘no’ means ‘convince me,’ huh? Like, ‘Oh, she’s just playing hard to get.’ Nah, my guy. You are the game, and it’s called Leave Her the Fuck Alone Simulator 3000.”

Beom-Seok exhales sharply, jaw clenching. “Is she in there or not?”

Jisung grins, tilting his head. “Hmmm, mystery. The suspense. The drama. What will happen next? Will the creepy guy take a fucking hint, or will he continue embarrassing himself? Stay tuned for the next episode of No One Wants You Here.”

Beom-Seok’s patience is clearly thinning. “Look-”

Jisung keeps going, undeterred. “Also, fun fact? If you keep showing up like this, it stops being persistence and starts being a fucking horror movie. ‘Oh, but I just wanna talk to her’, okay, Michael Myers, then why the fuck are you showing up like an unwanted jump scare? Ever heard of a text? A call? A restraining order?”

Beom-Seok glares at him now. “I don’t even know you.”

Jisung gasps, fake-offended. “And yet,” he says, placing a hand over his heart, “I already know so much about you. The fact that you have the personality of a wet napkin? That’s one. The fact that your hair looks like it was cut by a blindfolded five-year-old? That’s two. And three, the fact that you’re still standing here after I’ve made it so fucking clear that you’re not wanted?” He clicks his tongue. “Tragic.”

Beom-Seok looks about two seconds away from punching him. “Just tell Y/N I was looking for her.”

Jisung raises his brows. “Yeah, I could do that. But I won’t.”

Beom-Seok exhales sharply, shaking his head before finally walking away.

Jisung watches him go, then slams the door shut with a triumphant grin. He turns back to you, flexing dramatically. “And that’s how you fend off unwanted male attention, my dear Y/N.”

You exhale, the tension in your body finally easing. “Thank you.”

Jisung waves a hand. “Anytime.” He plops back into his seat, cracking his knuckles. “Now, let’s get back to roasting the ocean’s biggest predators. And no, I don’t mean sharks. I mean dolphins.”

You shake your head, amused, as Jisung dives right back into his notebook, ready to turn his article into something only he could write.

The quiet room is supposed to be safe. The air conditioning hums steadily as you sit at the table, legs crossed beneath your flowing green maxi skirt, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the edges of your brown cropped blouse, the billowy sleeves soft against your skin. The green bandana holds your hair back, keeping the damp strands from sticking to your forehead.

You don’t move when the door opens, assuming it’s Jisung coming in with his usual chaotic energy, maybe a new documentary to ramble about, maybe another iced coffee for you without you even asking.

"You’ve been avoiding me."

Your entire body goes rigid. The voice is not Jisung’s. You slowly turn your head, dread clawing up your throat as you see Beom-Seok standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

Your chair scrapes against the floor as you stand up abruptly, backing away without thinking. Your breath comes quicker now, panic settling under your skin, making your hands shake as you clutch the edge of the table like it’s a lifeline.

Beom-Seok steps inside, closing the door behind him. "It’s not very nice of you," 

He moves toward you, and before you can react, his hand clamps around your wrist, yanking you forward. You stumble, colliding against his chest, the sudden proximity making bile rise in your throat.

"You keep running away. That’s not fair, Y/N. I just want to talk."

His other hand reaches for the tie of your blouse, fingers grazing the fabric. The panic spikes in your chest as you struggle, twisting in his hold. 

"Let go," 

His fingers pull at your blouse, yanking, and the thin fabric tears with a sharp rip. Something in you snaps. You shove at him, hands pushing against his chest, his shoulders, anywhere to get him off of you. His grip doesn’t loosen, and when he leans in, trying to press his mouth against yours, your instincts take over.

You slam your forehead into his nose. Beom-Seok shouts, jerking back in shock, and in that split second, you kick him in the shin as hard as you possibly can. He stumbles, cursing, and you don’t waste a second.

You run. Your feet pound against the floor as you sprint down the hallway, gripping your skirt in one hand to keep from tripping, the other clutching your torn blouse to your chest. Your heart is a drum against your ribs, your breaths sharp and panicked, your vision blurring at the edges.

You don’t stop. You don’t look back. Then, suddenly, you crash into something solid.

Arms wrap around you instinctively as you collide with a warm, broad chest, the impact knocking the air from your lungs. Your fingers tighten into the fabric of a ribbed beige top, your body trembling violently as you cling to the person holding you.

Jisung. His hands steady you, one firm around your waist, the other reaching up to cradle the back of your head.

"Woah, hey, hey, hey," he says, his voice instantly softer than you’ve ever heard it. "What’s going on?"

His body tenses. His gaze flickers to the torn fabric of your blouse, to the way you’re holding it together, to the sheer terror in your wide, unfocused eyes.

Jisung exhales slowly, his grip on you tightening. "Y/N," he murmurs, his voice carefully even, like he’s trying not to scare you more.

But you can’t breathe.  The world is closing in, the hallway spinning, your own heartbeat too loud in your ears. Your chest locks up, your breaths coming in short, frantic gasps, but no air fills your lungs. You grip Jisung tighter, burying your face against him as your entire body trembles violently.

"You gotta breathe, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice low, reassuring. "You're gonna have a panic attack if you don’t breathe."

You can’t. Your gasps turn desperate, your fingers clutching at him like he’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

Jisung  moves carefully, slowly lowering the both of you to the ground until he’s sitting with his back against the wall, keeping you curled up against his chest. His arms stay wrapped around you, one hand stroking your back, the other still resting against the back of your head.

"It’s okay," he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. "I got you. I got you."

Your breaths are still erratic, your chest rising and falling too fast, your body shaking.

Jisung gently shushes you, his hand running up and down your back in soothing motions. "I know, I know," he murmurs. "It’s okay. Just breathe with me, okay? Just try."

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on the steady warmth of his body, the way he’s grounding you, holding you together when you feel like you’re going to break apart.

Jisung keeps rocking you slightly, his voice constant, whispering to you, not expecting you to respond, not forcing you to speak. "You’re safe," he murmurs. "I promise. You’re safe now."

Your gasps start to slow, just barely, as you cling to his voice, to the soft, steady sound of it.

"You’re not alone, I got you."

The frat house is an absolute mess. The portable air conditioning unit hums pathetically in the middle of the living room, barely offering any relief against the oppressive heatwave that refuses to let up. The seven shirtless men sprawled around the space are nothing short of miserable.

"This is fucking unbearable," Chan groans, tilting his head back against the couch, eyes closed. Sweat glistens on his skin, his black gym shorts clinging to his thighs. "I feel like I’m melting into the furniture."

"You are melting into the furniture," Jeongin mutters, sprawled out on the floor in front of the AC like a starfish. "You’re going to leave a sweat imprint."

"Shut the fuck up, it’s so hot," Changbin huffs, lying next to Jeongin, arms crossed over his bare chest. "I swear to god, if I hear the words heatwave one more time, I’m punching something."

Felix, leaning against the arm of the couch, lazily fans himself with an old magazine. "It’s so hot my freckles feel like they’re melting off."

Hyunjin, draped across the other couch with his arm over his eyes, groans dramatically. "If I have to move, I’m going to die."

Seungmin shifts slightly, sitting on the coffee table with his elbows on his knees. "I don’t get how some people actually like summer. It’s stupid hot, everything’s sticky, and I’m constantly questioning whether I’m sweating or just wet from the fucking air."

Minho lets out an exhausted sigh. "If we don’t get rain soon, I’m going to start sacrificing you guys to the gods."

The front door swings open and Jisung walks in, and he’s carrying you on his back, your handbag slung over his shoulder alongside his own backpack. His arms are locked under your thighs, holding you securely, and you’re clinging to him.

Jisung crouches slightly, letting you slide off his back, but you don’t step away. You stay close, lingering just behind him, your blouse still torn, the fabric clutched tightly to your chest. Your shoulders are tense, and your eyes remain downcast, your whole body wound up like a tightly coiled spring.

Minho raises an eyebrow. "Since when did you two know each other?"

Jisung clears his throat, adjusting your bag on his shoulder. "Uh, so, she’s been helping me with an investigative journalism assignment, but I was on my way to meet her, and she came running out of the quiet room. It took me a while to calm her down, but I still don’t know what happened."

You shift slightly, still half-hidden behind Jisung. Your fingers twist the fabric of your blouse, your throat tightening. "He… grab me. And he try to-" You pause, struggling, before tapping your lips. "What’s... word?"

Jisung’s entire body goes rigid.

"And he uh..." You gesture to your blouse, still torn, still exposing your shoulder. Your voice is small, but you keep going. "So I uh..." You tap your forehead lightly, then point to Jisung’s nose. "And then I kick. Hard."

"Who?"

You glance up at Jisung, hesitating, and he furrows his brows, realization dawning. "Oh. Oh fuck." He snaps his fingers. "That guy, right? The one who kept showing up? The one that wouldn’t fucking leave? I knew something was off with him. Knew it. You can always tell when a guy’s got that weird creep energy, you know? Like, why do some dudes think persistence is charming? It’s not! It’s fucking terrifying! If a girl isn’t responding, that doesn’t mean try harder, it means back the fuck off! Like, holy shit, it’s not a fucking game, and-"

"Jisung," Minho cuts in, voice low, controlled. "Who?"

You swallow hard. "My project partner. Beom-Seok."

Minho doesn’t speak. He just stands, movements slow and deliberate, walking toward the door. He grabs his shoes. Then his T-shirt. "Are you going to be okay with Jisung?"

You nod hesitantly, still pressed close to Jisung. "Jisung is nice."

Minho nods, something flickering in his eyes. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips for just a second, he’s glad you’re branching out, that you’re letting someone else in.

Jeongin moves first, rolling his shoulders as he grabs his sneakers. Seungmin follows, cracking his knuckles. Chan and Changbin exchange a glance before moving toward the door without a word. 

Felix ties his hair back, jaw tense. "Where is he?"

Chan pulls his t-shirt over his head. "We’ll find him."

Minho turns to you, stepping forward. His hands are warm as they settle gently on your shoulders, then move up to cup your face. He studies you for a moment, taking in every detail, your trembling fingers, the way your eyes are still wet, the tension in your jaw.

Then he pulls you into a hug. His chin rests on top of your head, and one of his hands gently smooths over your hair, grounding you.

"I’m gonna go fight that fucker, okay? We’re all gonna beat him up. He’ll never come near you again."

You nod against his chest, gripping the back of his shirt and Minho squeezes your shoulders once more before pulling back, his gaze lingering on you for just a second longer. Then he turns on his heel and walks out the door and the others follow.

As soon as the door closes, Jisung leads you into the kitchen, the overhead light flickering slightly before settling into a dull glow. He gestures toward the cabinets, already reaching for a couple of glasses. "Tea? Coffee? Booze?"

You hesitate for a second, rolling the options around in your head before mumbling, "Cachaca?"

Jisung pauses, blinking at you. "Cachaca? I think we have some somewhere. Minho drinks it."

You nod quickly, trying to explain. "Yes, I-" You wave your hand through the air in a dramatic swoosh motion, trying to find the right word.

Jisung watches, grinning. "Posted it?"

"Yes! Posted! Woosh! From Brazil!"

Jisung laughs, shaking his head as he moves toward one of the higher cabinets, standing on his tiptoes slightly as he rummages through the bottles. "Damn, so we’ve got imported liquor in this frat house? Fancy as fuck."

You shift slightly, still holding your torn blouse together, the fabric damp against your skin. Jisung glances at you out of the corner of his eye before setting the bottle down and walking over to the chair and grabbing a jacket. Without a word, he drapes it over your shoulders. It’s too big, warm from his body heat, and the fabric instantly makes you feel safer.

Your fingers automatically slip into the pockets out of instinct and they brush against something inside. You pull out two tickets, frowning slightly as you inspect them. COEX Aquarium. Gangnam. Next week.

Jisung freezes mid-pour, eyes flickering between you and the tickets. "Oh. Uh-" He rubs the back of his neck. "Forget about those."

You glance up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

He exhales, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "I was gonna ask you to go with me. Like, on a date. But after, you know, that dickhead, I figured you might not want to go on a date right now."

You shake your head immediately, gripping the tickets slightly tighter. "No, no," you insist, struggling to find the right words. "You are... very nice. Not bad like Beom-Seok. "I would like date with you. You are nice. You no care I am bad at Korean. You are good man, Jisung."

Jisung watches you for a long moment, unreadable, before he exhales through his nose. "Don’t feel forced-"

"I no feel forced," you interrupt, shaking your head more firmly this time. "I, uh, would like to go on date with you."

Jisung studies you for a second longer before he breaks into a grin. "Great!" Then he pauses, tilting his head. "So, to summarize what just happened here, you asked me on a date that I paid for?"

You nod, smiling slightly and Jisung snorts. "Okay, well, can’t complain, can I?" He slides a glass of cachaca toward you, ice clinking against the sides before he takes a sip of his own.

The alcohol burns, sharp and familiar as it settles in your chest and Jisung hums contentedly before his eyes light up with an idea. 

"Ooh, wait. Let me show you these videos I like watching. It’s animated dancing fruit and vegetables, there’s one where they dance to Pink Venom."

Jisung pulls his phone out, quickly typing before angling the screen toward you. The video starts playing, a hyper-stylized animated sequence of little fruit characters, their bodies bouncing to the beat of BLACKPINK’s Pink Venom. Tiny, grinning strawberries spin in circles. A smug-looking banana moonwalks across the screen. The entire thing is completely ridiculous.

You stare at it for a long moment before letting out a small, breathy laugh.

Jisung grins, leaning closer. "It's art."

You shake your head, but you keep watching, sipping your drink. Jisung rests his chin in his hand, his smile lazy and content as he watches you instead of the screen.

For the first time all night, the weight pressing on your chest feels just a little bit lighter.

Minho is lying on his back on Jisung’s bed, one arm draped over his forehead, the other resting on his stomach, a small ice pack balanced over his bruised knuckles. His tank top sticks slightly to his skin from the humidity, and his legs are stretched out in a pair of loose gym shorts. He’s tired but he’s also satisfied, his body still thrumming with the remnants of adrenaline from earlier.

Minho cracks an eye open just in time to see Jisung slip out of bed and cross the room to his closet. “What the fuck are you doing?” Minho mutters, shifting slightly to sit up.

Jisung doesn’t answer. Instead, he rummages through his closet, pushing aside sneakers, stacks of manga, and a box labelled Jisung’s Hoard (DO NOT TOUCH, CHANGBIN I MEAN IT) before finally pulling out a riot shield.

Minho stares as Jisung holds it up in front of his body, gripping the handle tightly, his head barely peeking over the top.

“I’m going on a date with Y/N next week,” Jisung announces and then, as if expecting immediate violence, he ducks behind the shield. 

Minho blinks slowly, then sighs. “You’re such a dumbass.”

“Okay, listen, before you say anything, or hit anything, just think for a second, okay? I didn’t plan for it to happen like this, I was gonna ask her in a cute way, but then she found the tickets in my pocket and technically she asked me first so if anything you should be mad at her, actually, wait, no, don’t be mad at her, I take that back, that would be bad, I mean-"

Minho pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jisung.”

"-okay but I swear I'm not a creep, I was gonna take her anyway just as a friend, you know I love aquariums, but then she found them and she wanted to go and she said I’m nice and not a bad man, which was very validating by the way-”

“Jisung.”

“-and I promise I’m gonna be good to her, I’m not gonna fuck around, I mean, I barely date to begin with because most people are annoying and I have trust issues but she’s-”

“Jisung.”

"-different, you know she’s different, you’ve known her forever, I’ve only known her a few weeks and I already know she’s different, she doesn’t make me shut up and she lets me ramble and do you know how rare that is, do you know how many people tell me to just shut the fuck up and-"

Minho exhales loudly. “Jisung.”

Jisung freezes, peeking out from behind the shield.

Minho stares at him for a long moment before shrugging. “Okay.”

Jisung blinks. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” Minho shrugs again, shifting slightly as he repositions the ice pack over his knuckles.

Jisung stays behind the riot shield, just in case and Minho watches him for a second before sighing. “Did you buy that just to break the news to me?”

Jisung straightens slightly, still gripping the shield. “No, I bought it because I thought it’d look cool. But it’s multi-purpose.” He pauses, then reaches into his closet again, pulling out a fucking katana.

Still behind the shield, Jisung holds up the sword. “This is what I actually bought to tell you the news.”

Minho stares at the blade, unimpressed and Jisung wiggles it slightly. “It’s fake, but it looks real enough that I hoped you’d piss your pants.”

Minho snorts. “Idiot.”

Jisung carefully sets the katana down but does not lower the shield. He eyes Minho warily. “You’re really not gonna attack me?”

“No.”

Jisung narrows his eyes. “Why?”

Minho rolls his shoulders, exhaling slowly. “If it were Hyunjin or Jeongin, I’d attack. But not you.”

Jisung frowns. “Why?”

“They’re sluts.”

“What the fuck kind of logic is that?”

“They’d hump and dump, and you wouldn’t,” Minho explains simply. “You care about people’s feelings too much”

Jisung stares. “That’s the nicest and most backhanded thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Minho smirks. “You know I’m right.”

Jisung sighs, finally lowering the shield slightly. “Yeah, okay, fair.” He crosses his arms. “Jeongin always says I’m scared of women, and that’s why I don’t hump and dump.”

Minho snickers. “He’s a little shit.”

“Women don’t scare me. Well, some do. But not Y/N.”

Minho hums, watching him carefully. “You like her.”

Jisung huffs. “No shit.”

Minho doesn’t say anything for a second. Then, slowly, deliberately, he reaches for a pillow.

Jisung sees it and his eyes widen. Minho moves fast, throwing the pillow straight at Jisung’s head. Jisung screeches, throwing the shield up again just in time. The pillow bounces off with a dramatic thump, landing on the floor as Jisung stumbles slightly under the weight of the shield.

Minho smirks. “Just had to do something about it.”

Jisung groans, collapsing onto the bed with the shield still in his arms. “I fucking knew you were gonna do something.”

Minho just chuckles, settling back against the pillows as Jisung exhales, staring up at the ceiling, his heart still racing. He knows Minho isn’t mad, but still, he wasn’t about to risk it. Slowly, his fingers trace the edge of the shield, his mind drifting. He really does like you. And for once, he’s not scared of what that means.

Minho stands in front of your closet, arms crossed, eyes scanning your clothes with the kind of focus most people would reserve for a life-or-death situation. You stand beside him, fingers twisting the silver anxiety rings on your hands, your stomach already tight with nerves.

"It’s 10 a.m. You’re meeting Jisung at 1 p.m. That gives us three hours to pick out an outfit and get you ready, more than enough time. And I’ve even factored in an extra hour for me to give you a calming talk so you don’t freak the fuck out."

You let out a slow breath, nodding and Minho hums, his sharp eyes darting over the options in your closet. "It’s still a fucking heatwave, so you need something light."

He pulls out a black mini-dress with contrasting white trim on the straps. The fabric is soft, the cut simple but flattering, barely reaching mid-thigh. He holds it up against you, tilting his head as he assesses.

You glance at the dress, then back at Minho, nodding in approval. Minho tosses the dress onto your bed before moving to your shoe rack. He crouches, tapping his chin before grabbing a pair of white sneakers and a pair of mid-calf socks. 

"You’ll be walking around COEX, so these are practical," he explains. "And they go with the dress. Simple, clean."

Next, he steps over to your collection of bags, brows furrowing in concentration before he selects a small white handbag. He holds it out, nodding in satisfaction. "Done. Outfit complete. Go put it on."

You take everything and hurry into your bathroom, closing the door behind you. Your hands shake slightly as you set the clothes down on the counter, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

You change quickly, pulling the dress over your head, smoothing the fabric down over your hips. The material is soft against your skin, breathable and perfect for the oppressive heat outside. You slip on the socks and sneakers, then glance at yourself in the mirror.

The dress is cute, simple but flattering. The white trim adds a soft contrast, and the sneakers keep the whole look casual enough that you don’t feel overdressed.

You step back into your room and Minho turns, eyes scanning you up and down. He nods, satisfied. "It’s perfect. Heatwave suitable, cute, and kind of casual sexy." He gestures toward your vanity. "Now, hair and makeup."

You hesitate, shifting slightly. "I... thought you would no like.... me and Jisung uh date." 

Minho exhales, shaking his head. "I’m protective, not possessive," he says simply. "You can date whoever you like. But if Jisung makes you upset, I will have to de-limb him."

You stare at him for a second before letting out a small, breathy laugh and Minho smirks, nudging you toward your seat in front of the mirror. "Oh, and you need to do my makeup. I have a date with Chan later."

"Chan?"

Minho shrugs, a smirk playing on his lips as he stands behind you, eyes narrowing slightly as he surveys your face through the mirror. He tilts his head, assessing, before reaching for your makeup bag. "Alright, let’s get this done quickly. You need something light and natural, nothing too heavy in this disgusting-ass heatwave."

You nod, sitting still as Minho gets to work. His movements are practiced, efficient, the result of years of perfecting his own makeup routine and frequently doing yours. He applies a light layer of foundation, blending it in effortlessly with a sponge, making sure it evens out your complexion without feeling cakey.

"Close your eyes," he mutters, already reaching for a soft brown eyeshadow. 

You stay still, your fingers twisting your silver rings as Minho moves on to your brows, quickly filling them in with light strokes. His touch is gentle but firm, his expression focused as he works.

"Okay, look up," he instructs. He holds your chin lightly as he swipes a small coat of mascara on your lashes, careful not to smudge it. "You need to be able to survive the day without looking like a raccoon."

You hum softly in agreement, your hands still gripping the hem of your dress nervously.

Minho sighs as he picks up a lip tint. "Relax, Jesus," he mutters, swiping the colour onto your lips. "Jisung isn’t gonna sacrifice you at the aquarium. Now, hair."

He quickly gathers your hair into his hands, pulling it up into a loose, messy bun at the crown of your head. He leaves a few strands out to frame your face, stepping back to examine his work.

"Perfect," he announces, smoothing his hands over your shoulders. "Alright, my turn. Make me hot."

He flops down into the chair, legs spread lazily, watching as you pick up his makeup bag. You pull out a primer first, dabbing a small amount onto his skin.

Minho smirks. "If you make me too pretty, Chan won’t be able to control himself."

You shake your head, smiling slightly as you begin blending his foundation. His skin is already annoyingly smooth, so it doesn’t take much work.

As you carefully contour his cheekbones, you pause, tilting your head. "You no tell me you like Chan."

Minho exhales through his nose, amused. "I didn’t know until I sucked his dick. I’ll know if I love him once I’ve fucked him."

You shake your head, suppressing a laugh as you pick up the highlighter. "You uh, top?"

Minho stares at you. "Yes, duh."

You furrow your brows, concentrating as you sweep highlighter over the bridge of his nose. "No duh. I think you uh, take? How you say?"

Minho tilts his head. "Sub? Bottom? Take it up the ass?"

You nod. "Yes?"

Minho sighs dramatically. "Oh, my sweet best friend who peed on me when she was one and traumatized four-year-old Minho, no, I do not bottom."

You pause mid-swipe, blinking. "What?"

Minho leans forward slightly, voice dropping into a dramatic whisper. "I was four years old, four, and I thought, hey, let me be helpful, let me change the baby’s diaper. And what did you do? You fucking pissed on me. My soul left my body that day."

You stare at him, trying so hard not to laugh. "I... sorry?"

Minho rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch in amusement. "You should be. You ruined my childhood."

You shake your head as you move on to his under-eye makeup, carefully blending out the concealer. "Your nose is so nice."

Minho smirks. "I know."

You roll your eyes, but your fingers are careful as you set his makeup, making sure everything looks smooth. Finally, you swipe a light layer of lip balm onto his lips before sitting back.

"Done."

Minho stands, inspecting himself in the mirror. He tilts his head, humming in approval. "Damn, I do look hot."

You smile slightly, proud of your work.

Then Minho turns to you, expression softening. "Okay," he says, his voice quieter. "Now, listen to me."

You inhale deeply, already nervous.

Minho gently takes your shoulders, turning you to face him. "You look amazing," he says firmly. "And you are amazing. Jisung’s gonna have the best fucking time today because he gets to be with you."

You chew on your lip, your fingers twitching. "I nervous."

"I know," Minho says. "And that’s fine. But this is Jisung we’re talking about. He already adores you, okay? He’s not expecting anything, he’s just excited to spend time with you. You don’t have to be perfect."

You exhale shakily, nodding and Minho squeezes your shoulders. "You got this," he murmurs. "And if anything happens, you call me. Okay?"

You nod again, a little more sure this time.

Minho smiles. "Now, go make that idiot fall even harder for you."

And somehow, you feel like maybe, you can.

The subway station is already busy when you arrive, the hum of conversations, the echoing chime of announcements, and the distant screech of a train pulling in filling the underground air. The sheer amount of people swarming around makes your stomach tighten, anxiety curling in your chest like a tightly wound spring.

Then you spot Jisung leaning against a pillar, hands in the pockets of his light-wash baggy jeans, oversized black graphic sweatshirt swallowing his frame in an effortlessly casual way and his black beret-style cap sits low over his forehead, round-framed glasses perched on his nose. A long silver chain dangles from his neck, catching the dim subway lighting as he shifts.

The moment he sees you, his entire face lights up. "Y/N!"

You relax slightly, just at the sight of him as he bounces toward you, taking a moment to look you over. "Damn," he says, exaggeratedly adjusting his glasses like he’s inspecting you. "You look cute as fuck."

You smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Thank you."

Jisung grins before offering his arm dramatically. "Shall we, my lady?"

You huff out a small laugh before slipping your hand into the crook of his arm. Together, you make your way onto the subway platform, the train pulling in just as you reach the edge.

Once inside, it’s crowded. You tense slightly, pressing yourself closer to Jisung as bodies push around you. He notices instantly, shifting so that his arm is wrapped securely around your waist. His other hand reaches up, grabbing the overhead handle for balance.

"Hold on to me," he murmurs, his voice light but reassuring.

You don’t hesitate, wrapping your arms around his torso. His sweatshirt is soft against your skin, his scent a mix of fabric softener and something warm and familiar.

Jisung hums. "Sorry about the subway situation. I tried to learn to drive last year, but my instructor suffered a mental breakdown and quit driving forever after my fourth lesson when I ran over a fox and then crashed into a tree."

You blink up at him. "What?"

Jisung nods solemnly. "Tragic, really. Do you wanna hear the full horror story?"

You hesitate, but the subway is already moving, and focusing on him instead of the cramped space seems far better. You nod.

Jisung grins. "Okay, buckle up, lesson one was already a shitshow. So, I get into the driver’s seat, right? I think I’m ready. My instructor is like, 'Okay, we’re just gonna gently ease onto the road,' and I’m like, got it. So, what do I do? I fucking floor it. Almost ran over an old lady in the crosswalk."

"Jisung!"

"My instructor screamed so loud that I thought she was gonna pass out. She made me pull over and just sat there for like five minutes, staring into the void. I had to keep apologizing while she processed the fact that she almost died."

You shake your head, biting back a smile. "Next lesson?"

Jisung smirks. "Lesson two. So, I get back in the car. I think, okay, this time I’ll be normal. But then, turns out, I have a horrible habit of mistaking the gas for the brake. So, we’re in a parking lot, right? Just doing slow practice. My instructor’s feeling confident, she’s like, ‘Okay, let’s try reversing into a spot.’ I try. Instead of gently backing in, I fucking slam the gas. The car flies backwards. Hits a fucking shopping cart. Cart goes flying, hits another car, sets off the alarm. Instructor? Sobbing."

"No."

Jisung nods dramatically. "Oh yes. The store manager comes out, asks if everything’s okay, and my instructor’s just sitting there with her head in her hands, whispering, ‘Why me?’ I thought she was gonna quit right then."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Lesson three?"

Jisung sighs. "Lesson three was almost normal. Except, I kept forgetting the difference between the turn signal and the windshield wipers. So, every time I tried to turn, I just aggressively turned the wipers on instead. It was sunny as fuck outside. My instructor started twitching every time I reached for the controls."

You giggle, gripping onto him a little tighter as the subway car rocks. "Okay, last lesson?"

Jisung exhales dramatically. "Lesson four. The one that ended it all. So. We’re driving down this quiet-ass street, everything seems fine. I’m focused, I’m chill, I’m not hitting the gas like an idiot. And then it happens."

You furrow your brows. "What happens?"

Jisung presses his lips together. "I see something dart out from the trees. I think it’s a cat. But no. It’s a fox." 

Your eyes widen. "You hit a fox?"

"I hit the fuck out of that fox."

You gasp, hands tightening slightly on his sweatshirt. "What happened?"

Jisung shakes his head, as if still haunted. "It was so bad. The fox bounced off the windshield. Like, full-on ragdoll mode. There was blood everywhere. And the worst part? Chunks of it got stuck in the grill of the car."

"Jisung!"

"I KNOW!" He throws his head back. "The instructor screams, I panic, I swerve, and guess what? Straight into a fucking tree."

"You crash the car?"

Jisung groans. "Yes. The airbag fucking explodes in my face. I’m sitting there, stunned as shit, and my instructor? She gets out of the car. She walks away. Doesn’t even look at me. Just leaves."

You stare at him. "She quit?"

"Forever!" Jisung throws up his hands. "She sent me a fucking text later, saying she was retiring and that driving was too stressful."

You laugh, covering your mouth. "You bad at driving."

Jisung sighs dramatically, hugging you a little closer. "Yeah. So this is why we’re taking the subway."

You shake your head, still giggling as the train rattles toward Gangnam. Jisung holds onto the overhead handle, keeping you steady against him, his warmth pressing against you in the cramped space.

And somehow, even with the overwhelming noise and the sheer number of people around you, you don’t feel as anxious anymore. Not with Jisung’s arm wrapped securely around you, his voice filling the space between you with ridiculous stories and endless laughter.

The entrance to the COEX Aquarium is bright and bustling, the cool air inside a welcome contrast to the oppressive heat outside. The faint scent of saltwater fills the air, mixed with the clean sterility of glass and metal. People shuffle through the check-in, collecting tickets and brochures, voices overlapping in excited chatter.

Jisung immediately makes a beeline for the check-in counter, grabbing a map from the stand with an eager grin. His round glasses slide slightly down his nose as he reads, and he absentmindedly pushes them up with a knuckle.

“Alright,” he announces, flipping the map dramatically. “So, the tour goes in this order: Rainbow Lounge, then the Story of Korean Fish, Fish in Wonderland, Amazonia World, Marine Touch Lab, Mangrove and Beach, Living Reef Gallery, Ocean Kingdom, Marine Mammal Village, Deep Blue Square, Deep Blue Sea Tunnel, Garden of Jellyfish, Penguin's Playground, and then, boom, gift shop.”

You nod, gripping the strap of your handbag, feeling the smooth material under your fingers as a grounding technique. "Sounds… good."

Jisung grins, tucking the map into his back pocket before reaching for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours effortlessly. "Let's go," he says, tugging you forward. "I need you to tell me all the facts about the creatures, and then I'll tell you my superior facts."

You blink up at him, slightly startled by the warmth of his palm against yours, but his excitement is contagious, and it helps ease the lingering anxiety in your chest. You nod again, squeezing his hand slightly in agreement.

The first exhibit is the Rainbow Lounge, a room bathed in soft blue lighting with massive curved tanks lining the walls. Inside, schools of vibrantly coloured fish glide through the water, their scales shimmering under the lights, reflecting hues of red, yellow, blue, and green. The effect is mesmerizing as if stepping into an underwater dream.

Jisung whistles, eyes wide as he presses closer to the glass. "Damn. This looks like a gay fish nightclub."

You huff out a small laugh, stepping beside him. Your gaze follows the movements of the fish, recognizing different species instantly. You point at a particularly bright fish with long, flowing fins. "That… is uh, people call it Dory fish."

Jisung nods, grinning. "Ahh, Finding Nemo’s sidekick. Got it."

You gesture to another fish with a striking pink-and-purple gradient. "This is… fairy wrasse," you continue, carefully picking your words. "Males... uh.." You pause, miming a size difference with your hands.

Jisung furrows his brows before gasping. "Oh! Males grow bigger?"

You nod, relieved. "Yes! And change colour. When, they, uh," You gesture vaguely, trying to think of the right word.

Jisung tilts his head, thinking, then smirks. "When they’re horny?"

"No!" You swat at his arm, making him laugh. "When they... grow. Mature."

"Uh-huh, sure," Jisung teases, wiggling his eyebrows. "They hit fish puberty."

You shake your head, but your lips twitch slightly in amusement. You move on, pointing at another group of fish with iridescent scales. "These... are neon tetras. They live in... big groups. Uh, shoals." You glance at Jisung to make sure he understands.

He nods enthusiastically. "Yeah! They gotta stick together so they don’t get eaten."

You point at another fish, gesturing with your fingers in a sharp motion. "This one has teeth. It... bite."

Jisung leans in, squinting. "Wait, what?" His voice drops to a whisper. "Biting fish? In the gay nightclub?"

You nod. "Yes. It bite."

Jisung gasps dramatically. "A fish biter? In this economy?" He shakes his head in mock disappointment. "Truly, there are no safe spaces left."

You press your lips together, holding back a laugh. Jisung’s amusement grows as he watches you struggle. "You want to laugh," he accuses playfully. "I see it."

You shake your head quickly, but the small smile on your face gives you away.

Jisung leans against the glass, watching the fish swim in rhythmic patterns. "Okay, my turn for facts," he says, clearing his throat. "Did you know that clownfish are all born male, but if the dominant female dies, the biggest male turns into a female?"

You nod, already knowing this, but you let him continue.

Jisung grins, clearly proud of himself. "Which means that in Finding Nemo, Marlin should’ve turned into a girl and married Dory. Disney lied to us."

You shake your head, amused, as he moves on to another fact. "Oh! Also, parrotfish sleep in their own mucus bubble to protect themselves from predators. Like, they literally spit out a cocoon of snot and sleep inside it. Which is both disgusting and kind of genius."

You nod again, already aware of this, but you enjoy watching him talk. His enthusiasm is infectious, and the way he gestures with his free hand while keeping the other firmly wrapped around yours makes something warm settle in your chest.

Jisung glances at you. "Wait, you already knew that, didn’t you?"

You hesitate, then nod sheepishly and Jisung groans dramatically, flopping against the railing. "Ugh. My documentary knowledge is nothing compared to yours."

You shake your head quickly. "No! It… good."

He lifts his head, narrowing his eyes playfully. "Good, but not great."

You hesitate before nodding again, lips twitching. "Yes."

Jisung gasps, clutching his chest. "You wound me."

You giggle, and Jisung grins, clearly pleased. "Fine, I’ll just keep going until I say something you don’t know."

The entrance to Ocean Kingdom is dimly lit, designed to mimic the deep sea, where only beams of artificial blue light filter through the massive tanks lining the walls. The air is noticeably cooler here, the faint hum of filtration systems and the rhythmic sound of water bubbling creating a serene atmosphere. The exhibit is all sleek glass, towering tanks filled with sharks gliding effortlessly through the water, their movements smooth and eerily silent.

Jisung stops dead in his tracks, gripping your hand tightly. "Holy shit," he breathes. His round glasses reflect the light from the water, his eyes wide with pure, unfiltered excitement. "Okay, this is so fucking cool. I love sharks."

You nod, stepping closer to the thick glass. A massive sand tiger shark swims past, its long, jagged teeth permanently exposed, giving it an almost menacing grin. The blacktip reef sharks follow close behind, their streamlined bodies sleek and agile as they weave through the artificial coral structures.

You glance at Jisung. "You like sharks?"

Jisung nods so aggressively his beret nearly slips off. "Like? Like?! I fucking adore sharks. They’re so misunderstood. They get all this bad press because of Jaws and dumbasses who think every shark is out here just waiting to eat people."

You smile slightly, pressing your hand against the glass as a hammerhead shark swims by. "Sharks, no like eat people."

Jisung gasps, gripping your arm. "See?! You get it!"

You nod, as you point at the hammerhead, then gesture with your hands to show the width of its oddly shaped head. "This is... hammerhead. Their head... is like..." You pause, miming a wide sweep with your hands.

Jisung watches your hands, nodding in encouragement. "Uh-huh, yeah, like a...?"

You think for a moment before snapping your fingers. "Like radar! It... help them find fish in sand."

Jisung’s jaw drops. "They scan the ocean floor?! That’s fucking insane."

"Yes! They sense, uh..." You pause, struggling for the right word, then tap your fingertips together in quick succession.

Jisung immediately jumps in, eyes lighting up. "Movement?"

You beam, nodding quickly. "Yes! Movement! In sand!"

Jisung watches as another hammerhead glides by. "Damn. That’s fucking metal."

You step closer to another tank, pointing at a whitetip reef shark resting on the bottom. "This shark no need to swim."

Jisung blinks. "Wait, what?"

You nod. "Most sharks need swim to breathe. This one can stop."

Jisung looks at the shark in shock. "So it just vibes? Like, it can just take a fucking nap?"

You smile, nodding. "Yes. Nap shark."

Jisung clutches his chest dramatically. "That’s so fucking unfair. If I stop breathing, I die. But this bitch? Just chilling at the bottom of the ocean? That’s some bullshit."

You giggle, and Jisung grins, clearly pleased with himself.

Then it’s his turn. "Okay, my turn for shark facts," he announces, straightening his posture.

You nod, waiting.

Jisung points at a nurse shark in one of the smaller tanks. "Did you know sharks have been around for over 400 million years? That’s older than dinosaurs. Like, these motherfuckers have been thriving while whole-ass species got wiped out."

You nod, already knowing this, but pretending you don’t so he’ll keep rambling. "Wow..."

Jisung puffs up proudly. "Yeah. And get this, sharks have a sixth sense. Like, actual superpowers. They can detect electric fields in the water, which is how they hunt shit hiding under the sand. Like, everything gives off tiny little electric signals, even beating hearts. Sharks can fucking sense it. They’re like ocean assassins!"

You nod again, listening as he moves on to his next fact.

"Oh! And their skin? It’s not smooth. It’s covered in tiny scales called dermal denticles, which literally means ‘skin teeth.’ If you rub a shark one way, it’s smooth, but the other way? It’s like sandpaper. Imagine having fucking teeth all over your body."

You hum, feigning deep thought. "Weird…"

Jisung nods enthusiastically. "Right? And get this, sharks can go into a frenzy when they smell blood. But it’s not like in the movies where they just attack randomly. They’re just curious. They check shit out first. They’re not mindless killers."

You already know this, but you nod seriously, making him feel like the smartest person in the world. "Smart shark."

Jisung grins, squeezing your hand slightly. "Exactly! They’re smart as fuck."

He pauses, watching as a massive tiger shark swims past. The stripes on its body stand out even under the dim lighting. Jisung leans in slightly. "Wait, isn’t that the one that eats everything?"

You nod. "Tiger shark. It eat… uh…" You pause, struggling for the right word. "It eat… anything. Trash. Uh…" You mime throwing something.

"Oh shit, like actual garbage?"

You nod. "Yes! Tires, license plate… even chair!"

Jisung gapes at you. "A fucking chair?"

You nod again. "Yes. It eat… no care. Just… eat."

Jisung stares at the tiger shark with newfound respect. "Honestly? Same."

You giggle, and Jisung grins at you before suddenly tilting his head in thought. "Oh, I have a question," he says. "So, I lived in Malaysia for a bit, right? And had to learn to speak a bit of Malay. Even when speaking Malay, I always thought in Korean first. So, do you think in Portuguese and then translate?"

Your eyes widen slightly. You nod slowly. "Yes… is very… hard. Head… always busy."

Jisung hums in understanding, rubbing circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. "Damn, Y/N, your brain must be on fire 24/7."

You huff a small laugh, nodding. "Sometimes… yes."

Jisung watches you for a moment before giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "Well, for what it’s worth, you speak Korean really well. Like, way better than I would if I tried to learn Portuguese."

"Thank you."

Jisung grins, nudging your shoulder lightly. "You’re welcome, smart girl."

The Penguin Playground is colder than the rest of the aquarium, the temperature-controlled environment mimicking the frigid conditions of the Antarctic. A light mist hangs in the air, condensation forming on the glass of the massive enclosures where dozens of penguins waddle, dive, and swim with surprising grace. The sound of their squawking fills the room, along with the occasional splash of water as they torpedo through the pool.

Jisung practically vibrates with excitement beside you, his grip on your hand tightening as he tugs you closer to the glass. "Ooh, okay, listen, I watched a whole-ass documentary on penguins last night, so I have so many facts."

You nod, already smiling as he gears up for another intense ramble.

Jisung clears his throat dramatically. "Okay, first of all, people always think penguins are these cute, loyal, fluffy little bastards but no. These motherfuckers are ruthless. Did you know that some penguins fucking cheat on their mates?"

You blink up at him, feigning shock. "Cheat?"

"YES!" Jisung exclaims, eyes wide. "Like, they have ‘mating pairs’ and whatever, but some penguins just go around fucking other penguins on the side. Like, dead-ass homewrecking each other’s little ice nests."

You huff a small laugh, nodding as if this is the most shocking news you’ve ever heard. "Bad penguins."

"Right?" Jisung scoffs, shaking his head. "And it gets worse. You know how they give their mates those cute little pebbles, right? Like, oh, here’s a stone, I love you, let’s build a nest together?"

You nod.

Jisung grips your shoulders. "Some of them fucking STEAL the pebbles."

Your mouth drops open. "No."

"YES!" Jisung exclaims, pointing aggressively at the penguins behind the glass. "Some of these sneaky little bitches literally go around stealing the best pebbles from other nests instead of looking for their own. Just straight-up robbery. And you wanna know why? Because the best pebbles get you the best mates. It’s like fucking gold-digging but in the penguin world."

You shake your head, barely holding in your giggles. "Scammers."

"THEY ARE!" Jisung throws his hands up. "They’re fucking criminals! And you know what else? Some of these thieving motherfuckers actually TRADE the stolen pebbles for sex."

Your eyes widen as you process that. "Trade?"

"TRADE!" Jisung yells, clearly outraged. "Like, ‘Oh, you want this really nice rock? That’ll cost you one fuck.’" He turns to the glass, pointing at the penguins. "Who taught them capitalism?!"

You snort, covering your mouth with your hand as laughter shakes your shoulders.

"And listen, if you thought that was the worst of it, let me tell you about their shit habits, literally. Did you know penguins fart? Like, a lot?"

You tilt your head, feigning curiosity. "Fart?"

"So much fucking farting."

You press your lips together, pretending to be intrigued. "Why?"

Jisung smirks, adjusting his glasses dramatically. "Because of their diet, my dear Y/N. These little tuxedo-wearing menaces eat so much fucking krill and fish that their guts are basically fermentation chambers. They store gas like it’s a fucking science experiment, and then, boom, stinky ass farts."

You shake your head, covering your face with your hands as you giggle.

Jisung leans in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "And it gets worse."

You peek up at him through your fingers. "Worse?"

"Yes." Jisung nods grimly. "Because penguins, my dear Y/N, shit with force. These little bastards don’t just poop. They launch that shit. Like, projectile diarrhoea. Scientists actually did a study to measure how far a penguin can fire its own crap."

You stare at him, struggling to keep a straight face. "Really?"

"Really!" Jisung nods eagerly. "The average launch distance of a penguin’s explosive diarrhoea is about 1.3 meters. That’s like, over four feet of straight-up shit cannon."

You can’t hold it in anymore, you burst out laughing, doubling over slightly as your shoulders shake. Jisung beams, clearly thrilled that he got you to laugh.

"And," Jisung continues, clearly on a roll now, "if you thought we have it bad with public restrooms, imagine being a fucking penguin scientist. These poor fuckers have to sit around in a frozen hellscape, measuring how far penguin shit flies for the sake of science. Imagine going to college and getting a degree, only to end up with a job where you’re literally dodging high-speed bird turds in the fucking Antarctic."

You gasp for air between giggles, clutching your stomach. "Jisung!"

Jisung grins. "What? It’s true! Imagine coming home after work and someone’s like, ‘Hey, what do you do for a living?’ and you just have to be like, ‘Oh, you know, just penguin poop physics.’"

You wipe at your eyes, shaking your head as you finally manage to compose yourself. "That is so sad."

Jisung nods solemnly. "Rest in peace to all the penguin poop researchers." He sighs dramatically. "They were the real ones."

You giggle again, looking back at the penguins. Some are waddling around, pecking at the ice, others diving smoothly into the water, their little bodies streamlined and graceful despite how ridiculous they look on land.

Jisung nudges your arm. "You still think they’re cute?"

You nod without hesitation. "Yes."

Jisung sighs, shaking his head. "Even knowing they’re cheating, thieving, rock-trading, shit-launching criminals?"

You smile. "Yes."

Jisung grins. "Yeah, me too."

You both stand there for a moment, just watching the penguins in comfortable silence. Then Jisung gently tugs on your hand. "C’mon, let’s go buy unnecessary amounts of shit from the gift shop."

The sun is still brutal when you and Jisung step out of the COEX Aquarium, but the heat doesn’t seem as oppressive after the hours spent in the cool, dimly lit exhibits. The matching turtle plush keychains you both bought at the gift shop swing slightly with each step, yours hanging off the strap of your handbag, and Jisung’s clipped to a belt loop on his oversized jeans.

He’d insisted on matching, grinning like a maniac as he dramatically held up the two keychains side by side, saying, "Look, they’re like us, one is shy and the other talks too much."

Jisung stretches, groaning as he rolls his shoulders. "Okay, so what now?" he asks, tilting his head to squint at you behind his round glasses. His hair is slightly messy from wearing his beret all day, but he hasn’t put it back on, letting the slight breeze cool him off. "The date can’t end here. We could go to a cafe or get bubble tea, I am starving. Like, actually starving. I thought the penguins might’ve tasted nice with some rice back there."

You wrinkle your nose, playfully nudging his side. "Jisung!"

"What?!" Jisung grins, rubbing his stomach dramatically. "It’s their fault for being so plump and round! If we were in a survival situation, you’d consider it too."

You shake your head, holding back a laugh. "No. Bad."

Jisung groans. "Fine, fine, I’ll find food that isn’t a penguin." He turns to you expectantly. "So? What do you wanna eat?"

You hesitate, thinking. "We could... go get... cheesecake? Is that how you say?"

Jisung gasps.

You blink at him in confusion. "What-"

"You are a dream woman," he interrupts, placing both hands on his chest as if he’s just been blessed by the universe. "Cheesecake is my fucking favourite. That’s it. That’s the final straw. You have to be my girlfriend now."

You freeze slightly, your brain stumbling over the last word. "Girlfriend?"

Jisung blinks at you before realization dawns. "Oh. Right. You don’t..." He pauses before trying again. "You know? Girlfriend?"

You still look lost, trying to piece it together, so Jisung immediately jumps into action.

He clutches his chest dramatically, swaying like he’s about to faint. "Oh, my love," he sighs, reaching for you as if in a tragic romance drama. "I cannot live without you!"

You blink, watching him curiously and Jisung moves on to the next demonstration, pressing his hands together in the shape of a heart and wiggling his eyebrows. "You know? Love. Romance. Heart-fluttering moments."

You tilt your head slightly, still not entirely sure what he means.

Jisung groans, then escalates immediately. He mimes sex. Your eyes widen as he thrusts his hips dramatically, makes an obscene hand gesture, and moans loudly, loud enough that people turn to stare.

"JISUNG!" you gasp as you smack his arm.

He just laughs. "Now you get it!"

You cover your face with your hands, still mortified. "Yes! I get! I get!"

Jisung snickers, nudging you playfully. "So? You gonna be my girlfriend or what?"

You peek at him through your fingers. "You like me?"

Jisung scoffs. "Duh." He reaches out, gently pulling your hands away from your face so you’ll look at him. "Of course I like you. You’re amazing. You’re smart as hell, you let me ramble for hours, you listen to my dumbass facts, and you even pretend to be impressed even though you already know everything. That’s some top-tier girlfriend material shit right there."

You stare at him, taking in his sincerity and Jisung watches you expectantly, still holding your hands. "So? What do you think?"

You hesitate, feeling your heart pound a little too hard. Then, slowly, you nod. "I like you too."

Jisung grins, squeezing your hands. "Fucking finally," he sighs dramatically. "Alright, now that we’re officially dating, I’m taking my hot girlfriend to get cheesecake."

You giggle softly, letting him pull you along as the heat of the summer sun bears down on the city. But somehow, despite the heatwave, despite the sweat sticking to your skin, being with Jisung makes everything feel lighter.

The frat house is dimly lit when you and Jisung step inside, the air slightly cooler than the humid streets outside. It’s quiet for once, which is rare for a house full of chaotic men, but you assume most of them are either out or recovering from whatever questionable decisions they made last night.

Jisung, however, is still buzzing with energy. He kicks off his shoes, dragging you inside excitedly. “Okay, okay, you need to see my realm,” he announces, gripping your wrist as he starts leading you toward the stairs. “It’s like fucking Mary Poppins’ bag, but a room. I buy so much random shit that I never use. It’s basically a museum of bad financial decisions.”

You raise a curious eyebrow but let him pull you along, his excitement infectious. The stairs creak under your steps as you both make your way up, and Jisung keeps talking, gesturing wildly. “Honestly, I don’t even know half the shit I own. Sometimes I open a drawer and it’s like, oh, hello, cursed object I forgot about.”

You giggle, shaking your head as he finally stops in front of his door. He turns to you dramatically, gripping the handle. “Prepare yourself,” he warns, wiggling his eyebrows. “This is not just a room. This is an experience.”

With that, he swings open the door.

The first thing you notice is that Jisung was not exaggerating. His room is a chaotic explosion of random shit. Posters cover the walls, some of them normal, bands, movies, anime, while others are questionable choices, like a framed photo of Shrek in a Renaissance-style painting.

There are plushies stacked in one corner, a full arcade joystick setup next to his desk, multiple fidget cubes scattered on his nightstand, and an entire shelf dedicated to random collectables. A rubber chicken, a Funko Pop of Michael Scott from The Office, a tiny golden Buddha, and what looks like an actual taxidermied frog playing a tiny violin.

You step inside cautiously, glancing around. "You buy a lot."

Jisung grins proudly, kicking some clothes out of the way. “I know, right? It’s fucking awesome.”

He immediately starts pointing things out, launching into the backstory of every ridiculous item.

“This,” he says, grabbing a tiny, handheld fan from his desk, “was supposed to save my life during this heatwave, but it barely blows any air, so now it just sits here collecting dust like a useless piece of shit.”

You hum, pretending to be deeply fascinated.

He grabs a remote-controlled car next. “Bought this because I thought it would be funny to terrorize the frat house, but then Changbin fucking stepped on it, so now it just drives in circles forever.”

You nod, clearly taking notes on his terrible purchasing habits. Then he picks up a weirdly realistic-looking pigeon figurine.

You blink at it. "Pigeon?"

Jisung grins, shaking the bird at you. “YES. I bought this because I read somewhere that pigeons are government spies, and I thought it would be hilarious to keep one as a double agent.”

You narrow your eyes at him. "You believe that?"

Jisung shrugs. "I mean, not really, but the possibility is funny as fuck.”

You shake your head, barely holding in your laughter as you continue looking around. Then your eyes land on something big and ominous leaning against the wall. A riot shield.

You point at it. "Why?"

Jisung follows your gaze, then laughs, walking over to grab it. “Ohhh, this thing? Yeah, okay, so it looked really fucking cool when I bought it, but then I just never used it. It sat in my closet for months.”

You tilt your head. "But you use?"

Jisung nods dramatically. "Yes, it finally proved useful when I told Minho we were going on a date. I used it to protect myself from his wrath."

Your eyes widen slightly. "Minho hit you?"

Jisung grins. “No, but I wasn’t about to take my chances.”

Then, without warning, he reaches under his bed and pulls out something even more ridiculous, a realistic-looking katana.

Your mouth drops open slightly. "A sword?!"

Jisung nods, holding it up with a completely serious expression. “This, my dear Y/N, is what I actually bought to protect myself against Minho.”

You blink at him, then glance at the sword again. "It real?"

Jisung snickers. “No, it’s fake but it looks real enough to make Minho hesitate for like, two seconds.”

You shake your head, amused but not surprised. Then Jisung suddenly gasps, eyes lighting up. "OH! You need a stone!"

You tilt your head. "Stone?"

Jisung nods enthusiastically. "Like penguins, right? They give each other stones to say, I like you, let’s build a nest, let’s be criminals together.”

You nod, playing along, and Jisung immediately dives into his desk drawer, rummaging through random junk until he finally pulls out a small pebble. He holds it up proudly before walking back over and placing it gently into your palm.

You stare at it, warmth spreading in your chest. "My stone?"

Jisung nods. "Your stone."

You turn it over in your fingers, rubbing the smooth surface before looking back up at him. "You give me nest?"

Jisung grins. “Hell yeah, I give you a nest. We’re in this together now.”

You giggle, gripping the stone a little tighter.

Jisung watches you for a moment, his smile softening. Then, before you can process it, he steps closer, tilting his head slightly as he studies your face. There’s a pause, a moment of quiet anticipation, before he leans in, his hand gently cupping your cheek as his lips press against yours.

The kiss is warm, deep, and unmistakably Jisung, a little eager, a little messy, but so full of feeling that your chest tightens. His lips move against yours with a slow, deliberate pressure, as if he’s been waiting for this, as if he’s been thinking about this moment for longer than he’d ever admit.

His free hand finds your waist, fingers curling slightly against your dress as he pulls you in, his body flush against yours. You feel the slight tremble in his hands, the way his heart races against your own, and you melt into him, pressing up on your toes to kiss him back with just as much uncertainty and want.

When he finally pulls away, his breath is uneven, his forehead resting lightly against yours. He exhales a soft, breathy laugh, his grip on your waist loosening just slightly.

"Well, I guess the romantic trials and tribulations of Han Peter Jisung paid off."

And you laugh, because, somehow, it feels like the truest thing in the world.

Requested by Anon

Han Jisung Taglist: @puppymsworld

General Taglist: @nightmarenyxx @velvetmoonlght @annafee_bou @mlink64 @intoanothermind @furfoxsake22 @daaaph-lol @tirena1 @yu-winchester @cristy-101 @puppymsworld

Proofread by the one, the only, the lovely @hwangjoanna (who has a Squid Game SKZ AU which you should all go and show some love

Dividers by: @enchanthings-a

Curlysung as a result of this poll

Please like, reblog and comment as I researched so much for this story, I researched aquariums in seoul and went on a deep dive on the CEOX aquarium website and all attractions mentioned are attractions that exist at CEOX aquarium and I also did so much research on marine biology, so much

[padmesweetheart]

Despicable Domestic Pt. 2: The Rise of Kevin

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Young Wife!Reader

Genre: Utter crackfic, chaotic domestic comedy, pure fluff

Word Count: ~2,900

Authors note: I’ve had theses in my back pocket waiting to post them for a few days now

To be fair, Hayden had said “absolutely not.”

He’d said it clearly.

He’d said it firmly.

He’d even tried to hide the package when the Kevin costume arrived.

But none of that stopped you.

No, because you had something far more powerful: a weapon of mass persuasion known as The Look.

You pulled it out as soon as the costume showed up, box clutched in your arms like a sacred relic.

“Haydeeen,” you said in the whiniest baby voice known to man. “I thought we were gonna match…”

He squinted suspiciously. “You said that while wearing a giant plastic eyeball head.”

You pouted. You poked his chest. You leaned your entire face against his sternum like a clingy barnacle.

And within ten minutes, you had him standing in the middle of the living room, defeated and inflated, arms stuck out at 45-degree angles inside a puffy yellow Kevin the Minion suit.

“…I hate everything,” he muttered.

You took a photo. “You look adorable.”

“I look like a sentient Twinkie.”

“My sentient Twinkie.”

—————————-

The problem was that Hayden is too tall. So while the costume technically fit, the proportions were completely off. Kevin’s overalls rode way too high. The plastic goggles were wedged too tight on his nose. He looked like someone squeezed a minion into a lightsaber hilt.

“Why is the crotch of this suit at my knees?” he asked blankly.

“Minion problems,” you said sagely.

——————-

Things escalated quickly after that.

Because naturally, once you had two people in minion costumes in one household, there was no going back.

You turned on the Minions soundtrack and began dramatically dancing in the kitchen while Hayden just stood there, arms out, vibrating with regret.

“I feel like I’ve lost control of my life,” he said as you did a slow-motion twerk in your Bob suit.

“You never had it,” you replied, doing the splits (kind of) and knocking over a chair in the process.

Then—just as Hayden tried to shuffle to the fridge—his inflatable leg hit the dog bowl, and he ate it.

Straight to the floor. Minion down.

“KEVINNNNNNN!” you screamed, diving in slow motion after him.

“I REGRET EVERYTHING!” he howled from the floor.

———————

You posted the video to Instagram Stories.

Within minutes, Rosario Dawson messaged:

“Tell Kevin I’m crying. He looks like a rejected hotdog.”

And Ewan sent a voice memo that just said, in his Scottish accent, “What in the hell have I just watched?”

Hayden took your phone and tried to throw it into the sink.

——————————

Later that evening, you were both back in pajamas and lying on the couch, still breathless from laughter.

“Okay,” Hayden said, arm around your shoulder, “never again.”

“Mhm.”

“I’m serious.”

“Sure.”

“No more minion costumes.”

“Of course.”

Pause.

“…You bought a Stuart costume too, didn’t you?”

You grinned slowly. “It lights up.”

He groaned and buried his face in your neck. “I married a menace.”

“You married a Minion,” you whispered.

“I swear, if you ‘banana’ me one more time—”

“BANANAAAAA.”

“—I’m filing the paperwork myself.”

Taglist: @skyguytoast @dessxoxsworld

[witchygagirlwrites]

Adore You

Matt Casey x Reader

Matt has been in your life for years. When Erin destroys your heart he's there

Companion piece to Strangers

Matt met you when you were dating Leslie Shay. Hard to avoid each other considering. The pretty little rookie dating the paramedic. You were always around fifty one whenever you weren’t working and when you got off before her you ended up at the station house. You somehow absorbed her ability to calm Kelly down and managed to be able to wrangle the crew of squad three with a few words.

When you and Shay split, you and her remained friends so you were never a stranger to fifty one even then.  When she was killed you were there for everyone, making sure they were ok. Matt found you the night of her funeral, curled up outside crying. You hadn’t let yourself break for Kelly. You let him hold you while you cried and that started a friendship between the two of you.

When you started dating Erin Lindsay he’d been a little worried, just because of her connection to Voight but you seemed happy so that was the only thing on earth that mattered to him. You and him would get together when she would be busy or just when you wanted to hang out, away from thinking of the horrors you saw daily at work.

He cared about you. When you made detective, he expected Erin to take you out to dinner or something. When he called to congratulate you and you were alone, he’d offered to take you out. The two of you ended up with pizza on the roof of fifty one around midnight.

When you moved in with her the time you spent with him cut down but that was to be expected. New relationship milestones and all. Then he saw a change in you. You weren’t smiling like you used to. Erin wasn’t holding you in Molly’s like she used to. On scenes when fifty one and intelligence worked together Ruzek checked on you more than her. 

The day all of you were working an arson case and he said Penelope Mcray and your eyes flew across the parking lot to Erin he had a gut feeling something had happened but didn’t say anything. It wasn’t in his place. If you needed him, you knew where he was.

____________________

You called him a few days later to see if you could use his truck to move your stuff out of Erin’s place. Even then he didn’t ask. He just offered to help you. “Where are you staying?” he asked once the last of your bags were in the truck and you were putting your key on the counter. “Kevin is renting me a room. Everything else is going into storage until I get a new place” 

He nodded “I’ll keep an ear out for anything in your range” “Thank Matt” you whispered and he pulled you into a hug “Hey, it’s ok to cry. It hurt when Gabby left me” you nodded, tears sliding down your face “Months Matt. She was talking to her for months” 

He smiled softly “It’ll be ok”

Matt knew working shoulder to shoulder with Erin had to be awkward so he tried to text you throughout the day to check on you as he could. Some days he knew your mood was low from your replies, others you would joke with him.

_______________________

He’d send flowers to the precinct once a week, just to put a smile on your face. He’d take you to dinner whenever he could and the two of you were back to spending any free time together. He’d missed you more than he realized. He’d always known he had feelings for you but considering the circumstances he knew being your friend was the best thing he could get and he would never complain about that.

Little by little that shell that you formed around yourself started to crack open and that smart mouthed woman Shay came dragging into Kelly’s started to appear again. Kicking and screaming your spirit refused to die and he loved seeing that.

“Matt?” you asked from where you were sitting next to him on his couch. You were making him watch some weird movie you’d been dying to see. He cut his eyes at you “Yeah?” you smiled at him “Am I pretty?” he nodded “You’re beautiful” 

You were quiet for a moment then sighed “Then why haven’t you asked me out?” he nearly choked on his beer. “What?” you turned to face him “What do you mean what?” he shrugged “You just asked why I haven’t asked you out?” 

You shrugged “I mean, isn’t that why you’ve been being so good to me after me and Erin broke up?” he shook his head “You’re my best friend sweetheart. She broke your heart. She took this lively, gorgeous woman and made her doubt herself. It pissed me off honestly. I wanted you to see you’re worth more than that. Besides, aren't you gay?” 

You started laughing and for a moment he had no idea what to say or do. You grinned “First of all, you’ve spent the last couple months, sending me flowers, taking me to dinner and hanging out with me any free time you have just to be a good friend? Not for any other reason” he shrugged “It that so strange” you laughed “Uncommon but not strange. Just makes me like you even more then i already did Matt and just so you know I’m Bi” 

He froze. “What?” you nodded “I like girls and boys Matthew” were you flirting with him all those times he thought you were just being yourself? “Sweetheart?” he asked and you grinned “I like you Matt and more importantly I trust you” a smile slipped onto his face “In that case, can I take you out?” you nodded “I’d like that” 

The first time Matt took you out he was nervous until you climbed in his truck,kicked your heels off on the floorboard and started tinkering with the radio first thing. It was still you and still him. Just trying a new dynamic. 

He cut his eyes at you and you grinned “Like what you see or something?” And he nodded “Matter of fact I do, because not only do I have the most gorgeous detective I've ever seen in my passenger seat but you've finally got that glow back about you”

He felt his heart flip when you shrugged “A certain fire captain helped me find it again”

Matt was half asleep next to you when he heard his phone chime with a text so he nudged you “Baby, check that” you cut your eyes up at him “You want me to check your texts?” he grinned “I’m not hiding anything from you, you’re closer to the phone and I’m to damn tired to reach for it” 

You laughed and reached for his phone, holding it out “Passcode?” he yawned “My birthday” you typed it in and clicked his texts, a grin slipping onto your face “It’s your sister. She told you I am very pretty and she can’t wait to meet me” he smiled and pulled you closer, brushing his lips against your neck “We Caseys have good taste but I’ll have to tell her I plan to never let you go” 

You turned and tucked yourself against his chest, tossing his phone behind you “I love you Matt” his eyes widened. That was the first time you’d told him that. The two of you had been together for nearly ten months. He’d told you that at six months but refused to rush you after Erin. You nuzzled into his neck and he tightened his arms around you “I love you too baby” it’d taken him a while to build the trust with you she’d broken but maybe just maybe you finally believed in just how amazing you were. 

@desimarie12

[glossdebut]

take a bite: remastered | MYG ★ 5

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you’re finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off… Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You’ve accepted the fact that romance isn’t for you, under any circumstances. You won’t risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ SERIES TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer!yoongi, music journalist!reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you’ll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up, now back and better than ever (excluding yijeong's bitchass)

✧ CHAPTER TAGS/WARNINGS: not quite phone sex but definitely dirty talk over the phone, i guess a little bit of exhibitionism? not really but if we’re splitting hairs, more dirty talk but in person, oral (f. receiving), vaginal sex, COMPLICATED FEELINGS! MEN NAMED KEVIN!

✧ WORDCOUNT: 7.5k

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: UGH does anybody else miss yoongi like a motherfucker (p.s. the character 'jae' mentioned in this chapter was originally yijeong, but i took him out to replace him with an oc named after @angellekookie LOL)

CH. 5: i think i need your help

Next time can’t come soon enough.

Since Friday night, you’ve been alternating between being super proud of yourself for being direct and asking for what you want, and being equally repulsed by yourself for the way getting what you want has made you act. 

You’ve seen Yoongi once since the night in his studio, when he was coming home after pulling an all-nighter and you were on your way out to work, like two goddamn ships passing in the night.

You were in that barely functional state post-waking up where you were shocked you were even able to get your shoes on the correct feet before walking out the door, and the mere sight of him in a short-sleeved white t-shirt had you pausing where you stood and taking a looooong look. You’re that desperate. 

And he knows it, too. Exhausted as he looked, your blatant staring didn’t go unnoticed. Mercifully, though, Yoongi didn’t say anything. Just knowingly shook his head at you, smirking to himself as he pushed his front door open and stepped inside, presumably to go crash for a few hours.

You thought, foolishly, that a byproduct of your friends-with-benefits arrangement would be an ability to relax, loosen up a little bit so you’re able to be more productive during office hours. Don’t people say that about sex? That it clears the head? Well, those people have clearly never had Min Yoongi’s head between their legs.

You are decidedly not clear-headed. You are wired, wanting, finding yourself zoning out in the middle of newsroom meetings thinking about Yoongi’s hands spreading your thighs, the suction of his lips around your clit, the way he groaned into your pussy. It’s fucking distracting.

You’ve never felt like this before. Sex with your ex was good, sure, but you rarely thought about it outside the moment. With Yoongi, it’s constant. And the worst part?

You haven’t even really had sex with him yet. Not all the way.

Meanwhile, Yoongi has been busy, on a completely different sleep schedule from you all week. He’d given you fair warning before you left his studio Friday night, wobbly-legged and fucked out. He’s working on a very important track for an upcoming artist’s debut album, he’d told you. It’s due at the end of the day Friday, and he probably won’t have time for any… extracurriculars until it’s done. 

No big deal, you’d said! Dumb bitch.

And now here you are, being driven slowly insane. Because nothing’s changed. Not really. Yoongi still sends you links to articles he finds interesting, and stupid memes, and songs he thinks you’d like. And yeah, there’s some flirty stuff in there—texts that leave you hot and twitchy—but mostly, he’s just being him. Sweet, considerate, kind of nerdy.

On Thursday afternoon, you snap.

You open your phone on your lunch break to find that Yoongi has sent you not one, not two, but three devastatingly cute cat videos, and has provided his own commentary on them.

So, obviously, you text back with what you think is the only appropriate response to that kind of behavior. 

[12:14] You: i am begging you to put your cock inside me before i lose my mind

It is by far the most direct you’ve been since Friday night, far exceeding the coy flirtation you’ve been attempting. You place your phone face-down on your desk with a shaky hand, staring down at your sad little salad. Lunch seems impossible now, what with your heartbeat thrumming in your ears and all.

Your phone buzzes not even a minute later, twice. Which stands to reason. You wanted Yoongi’s attention, and now you’ve got it. You take a deep breath through your nose and turn your phone back over.

[12:15] Yoongi 😐🎧: Wow

[12:15] Yoongi 😐🎧: Hello to you too

God, you want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

[12:16] You: actually! forget i said anything!

[12:16] You: in fact this isn’t even Y/N

[12:16] You: i stole her phone and i’m holding her for ransom. send me ten billion dollars right now or else

[12:18] Yoongi 😐🎧: Nope

[12:18] Yoongi 😐🎧: You don’t get to walk that back

[12:19] Yoongi 😐🎧: Begging, huh?

[12:20] Yoongi 😐🎧: You’re at work, baby 

[12:20] Yoongi 😐🎧: Can’t focus? Need it that bad?

Um, yes. Yes you do. 

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice, the slow, deliberate cadence he’d use if he were whispering that right into your ear. Your legs cross automatically, a fruitless attempt to alleviate the ache growing between them. 

You duck behind your monitor so nobody in the office can see how flushed you’ve become all of a sudden. You’re on your lunch, and they should mind their damn business.

[12:20] You: yes

[12:21] Yoongi 😐🎧: You know I can’t help you until I’m done with my track

That’s pretty much the response you expected, but you can’t help feeling frustrated about it anyway. He can’t take a break for an hour? You’d even settle for less, something quick and dirty.

[12:21] You: i think you can and you’re just making me wait to be an asshole

[12:21] You: which is really dumb because i can just come to your studio tonight when i get off of work and you can take a break

[12:22] You: let me ride you in your chair

[12:22] You: fuck. you don’t even have to stop working yoongi

You’re acting desperate, you know that. You know how you sound. But you are desperate, can’t help yourself. Yoongi opened the floodgates to over three years of pent-up sexual frustration with his stupid tongue, and now it’s his fucking responsibility to deal with it.

You watch as the bubble pops up to indicate that he’s typing, and then disappears, then reappears again. Ha. Maybe you actually got him.

Then your phone starts buzzing in your hand.

Incoming call: Yoongi 😐🎧

Oh, fuck. You didn’t think he’d call you.

Your heart leaps straight into your throat. You glance around the office to see if anyone’s paying you any attention, and snatch your phone off the desk. You stand, clutching it to your chest, your salad abandoned. The only private space is the supply closet, so that’s where you go.

You yank the door shut, letting it click behind you, surrounding yourself with cleaning supplies, old paper, and the kind of dusty musk you can only find in the least-used corners of the office. You quickly answer, trying to sound composed, though you’re anything but.

"Yoongi?"

"You’re really trying to push me, huh?"

Shit, his voice. 

You lean back against the door, dizzy. "I’m not," you whine, unconvincing even to your own ears. "I just… I can’t take it anymore."

He chuckles. "No shit."

Silence stretches, charged. You don’t dare breathe.

"You wanna ride me while I work?" Yoongi’s voice drops a register, reverberating through you. "That what you need, baby?"

"I’m not asking for long," you say, starting to pace around the room to give yourself something to do. "Like, twenty minutes tops."

"God, you’re cute," he coos. "But no."

A pitiful noise lets loose from your throat, and you stop dead in your tracks. Yoongi laughs.

"I don’t want to say no," he says, amused. Fond, maybe. "But I have to finish this. One more day."

"I know," you whisper, forehead thudding against the door. It’s cool against your feverish skin. "It’s just…"

You can’t finish the sentence. Don’t know how to articulate the aching, gnawing need crawling under your skin.

"One more day," he repeats. "And then I’m yours. All fucking weekend if you want."

"Yoongi…"

"I know, I know," he murmurs. "You’ve been so patient for me. You can keep being patient, yeah?"

You exhale a shuddering breath against the door, eyes fluttering shut. Accepting defeat. "Yeah. Yes, I will."

"There’s my good girl."

The words hit you low, send a pulse between your legs. God. Being this turned on at work feels like a crime.

"Listen to me, baby." Every hair on your body stands up at that, at the authoritative tone seeping into his voice. Like you’re primed to do exactly as he says. "I want to fuck you so bad. But when I do, I want you in my bed. Wanna have you spread out. Wanna taste you again. I’ve been thinking about how sweet you tasted all week."

Your whole body tenses, breath catching.

"You want to ride me?" Yoongi continues. "Then you’re gonna wait until I can sit back, pull you onto my lap, and watch you fall apart slow. I wanna take my time ruining that pussy.”

You make a wounded sound in your throat. You’re trembling, hand tightening on the phone.

"Getting wet just thinking about it, hm?"

You are, you can feel it. Your thighs clench and you chew on your bottom lip, hyperaware of the way the thin cotton of your panties clings to your sex. It feels so dirty, knowing that in a few minutes you’ll have to work like this. You’ll have to talk to your colleagues like this, pretend like nothing’s amiss. You’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t turn you on even more.

"Yes," you breathe.

"Yeah," he groans. "I know, baby. It’s okay. I’m gonna take care of you when I can. Gonna make you feel so good. Fuck, Y/N. If you think I don’t wish I was with you right this second, you’re insane. Been dreaming about your pussy. But I wanna do this the right way."

You believe him. Even though you can’t see his face, you can hear it—that raw honesty that Yoongi always gives you. He’s been agonizing over this just as much as you have. It makes you feel a little bad, honestly, that you so wantonly distracted him like this, when he’s been working so hard this week. Maybe part of you wanted to get back at him for denying you what you wanted on Friday, but now, you realize that you’re glad he did. You want all of that, too. Everything he said, every word of it. Just because this is casual doesn’t mean you have to rush.

Maybe it’s time for you to give him a little honesty of your own.

"I want that, too," you admit, trying to tamp down the need in your voice. "I'm sorry I distracted you. I know you’re working. I just… I really, really want you."

"I want you, too," he says, softer. Honest. "So bad it’s actually getting painful."

You both go quiet. Just breathing, connected by nothing but the line and the ache between you. Until he cuts through it, playful.

"Thought I was gonna have to resort to spanking you for a second."

You choke on your breath. Fuck, how does he say shit like that so casually? 

You’ve never even been spanked before—not in the way that comes to mind when Yoongi says it. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want it.

"Oh?" he teases.

"Shut up," you hiss, cheeks hot.

"I will, if you want it," he purrs. Promises, promises, you think.

"Don’t you think I’m suffering enough without you putting that thought in my head?"

Yoongi laughs. "I’ll text you when I come up for air."

"Okay," you say. "Go back to work. That Grammy isn’t gonna win itself."

He snorts. "You’re ridiculous."

"Motivational," you counter.

"Motivating me to jerk off at my desk, maybe."

"Wow," you say, your imagination running wild at the thought. Yoongi, quiet in his studio, undoing his jeans, fingers wrapped around his cock. A cock that you, regrettably, haven’t even seen yet. "Pics or it didn’t happen."

"Goodbye, pervert," he says, laughing.

The line goes dead with a soft click, You stand there in the supply closet, still clutching your phone, still a little breathless. You take a moment to gather yourself, cringing at the slickness between your thighs.

When you make it back to your desk, a full inbox awaits you. Predictable. You’ve been gone five minutes.

You skim through to parse what’s urgent and what isn’t, and an email from your boss catches your attention. With a longsuffering sigh, you click it open. He wants to talk to you as soon as you’re available, and your salad isn’t going to eat itself.

You quickly type a reply, just a cursory, ‘There are fifteen minutes left in my lunch, and then I’ll be there. Thanks Kevin!’ Afterwards, you scarf down your lunch. And you finally watch those cat videos Yoongi sent you, which effectively tamps down your horny high enough for you not to feel icky about meeting with your boss. 

★ ★ ★

Fifteen minutes later on the dot, you’re knocking on Kevin’s door.

You like your boss well enough. As much as one can like their boss, maybe, give or take a bad day. Kevin is nice, but his name is stupid, and he certainly doesn’t live up to your expectations of what a music journalism editor would be like when you first applied to Look Here magazine.

Foolishly, you expected someone straight out of Almost Famous: young, wears band t-shirts beneath blazers, a chainsmoker, a little bit sleazy, with music knowledge to put Nardwuar to shame. Instead, what you got is a mostly-bald, clean-cut, mid-forties guy who wears khakis most days of the week and says things like ‘circle back’ and ‘best practice.’ He’s competent, sure, and you need him to like you, absolutely, but he does make your job feel a little less cool. But who knows! Maybe Kevin rocks out on the weekends. You certainly don’t, so who are you to judge?

Kevin waves you in, and before you even have the chance to sit down, he’s dropping a bomb on you that makes you feel like your legs are going to give out beneath you.

"You’re taking charge on the profile piece on Jae," he says flippantly as peers over his glasses at his monitor, typing without pause.

There’s absolutely no way you just heard that right. The Jae profile was assigned already, to a reporter who has been at Look Here a lot longer than you. You tell Kevin as much, as if he wasn’t in the newsroom when the piece was pitched in the first place.

"Sora didn’t have enough bandwidth to juggle the profile and the reunion tour coverage, and that’s going to be on the cover," Kevin says, without even a passing glance to you. As if he isn’t altering the trajectory of your career over a scheduling conflict. "It’s all you, kid."

"I don’t have the contacts," you blurt out, having mercy on your poor, wobbly legs as you sit down.

"Ask Sora for the contacts."

"Don’t you want someone more experienced for this? Connected?"

Because here’s the thing: you do want it. Desperately. This could be your shot. Your name on a headline worth reading. Not a back-page puff piece about which indie bands are trending on TikTok, but an honest-to-god feature. People will see it. People will talk about it. But—

Jae is not a soft launch into the world of serious journalism.

The guy—or, at least you think it’s a guy—is a total mystery. No social media. No press trail. His fans obsess over breadcrumbs—an out-of-focus photo, a stray tweet, hidden credits on a hit single. He’s the kind of artist who lets the work speak because he knows it will. And that makes him even more dangerous to fumble.

A piece on Jae by Look Here could skyrocket him into legend territory, if you get it right. But if you don’t?

So many things could go wrong. Trust is everything in this kind of situation, and if Look Here sends a rookie like you to interview Jae without the proper connections, without someone to vouch for you, he will show up to the interview with a script in hand. Or worse, not show up at all. Vanish. The profile will be a dud and your career will pay the price.

Sighing, Kevin finally stops typing, looking at you for the first time since you walked into his office. You shift in your seat, trying to make yourself look less like a fucking headcase.

"I could give it to someone else," he says, and for a terrifying half-second you think he might. "But you’ve been doing good work. In your interview, you told me you’re most interested in writing features. That you’re good at it. I’m throwing you a bone."

You inhale like you’ve forgotten how. Kevin leans back.

"Take the piece," he insists. "Don’t try to reinvent the wheel. You’ve written profiles before, you know what to do. Just ask good questions, don’t be stiff, and you’ll be fine."

Kevin’s phone rings, and his attention is stolen again as he picks it up to answer it without a second thought. "Talk to Sora, and then take the day out in the field tomorrow to see what kind of background you can dig up," he says, waving you out with the same indifference he waved you in with. You scramble to stand up, rushing to leave.

"Deadline is Wednesday!" he calls as you shut the door behind you, taking a moment to catch your breath before you try to find Sora.

Holy shit.

You have work to do.

★ ★ ★

You spend your entire day on Friday pounding pavement, milking all of Sora’s sources for what they’re worth, but you don’t learn any information about Jae that you didn’t already know.

Quotes pulled straight from press releases. Facts you already skimmed on Jae’s Wikipedia page. But beyond that, nothing. He hasn’t even done a livestream. Nobody’s seen his face. Some forums think he might be more than one person, or an AI, which is insane, but you can’t say you’re not intrigued.

But that’s not good enough. Not for Look Here magazine, and definitely not for you.

If Jae wants to stay anonymous, fine. Being the one to reveal his identity to the world would be major, but you’re not holding your breath on that one. Still, you’ve made it your personal mission to peel back the curtain, even just a little.

So, in the comfort of your own apartment, you slip into your pajamas and dive headfirst into the modern investigative journalist’s most powerful weapon: social media stalking. You’ve always believed you can tell a lot about someone based on what they repost, what they don’t, who they follow, who they don’t. Jae doesn’t post much, but there’s bound to be something there you can use.

It’s ten at night by the time you flop onto your bed, phone in hand, ready to pull an all-nighter and plunge yourself into the rabbit hole that is Jae’s social media. Pepper hops up with you, curling up on your stomach and purring contentedly as you start scrolling.

Nearly two hours and ten possible interview questions later, your phone buzzes in your hand. It’s Yoongi.

[11:47] Yoongi 😐🎧: Are you coming over or not?

Oh, fuck. It’s Friday. Meaning Yoongi is done with his track.

You’d almost forgotten how horny you’d been for the past week, completely absorbed in your assignment. It stands to reason that as soon as Yoongi is free, you’re suddenly swamped with work of your own. But, of course, it all comes rushing back just from a text.

Whatever! You’ve been at it for hours, anyway. You deserve a break.

[11:49] You: when did you get home?

[11:49] Yoongi 😐🎧: About half an hour ago

[11:50] You: hmmmm… did you take a shower?

[11:50] Yoongi 😐🎧: Obviously. I’ve been in the studio for most of the week. I’m not an animal

You snort to yourself, which scares the shit out of Pepper after your complete silence for the past two hours. You’re suddenly proud that you had the foresight to take a shower of your own when you got home from interrogating people all day, although this wasn’t on your mind at the time. 

[11:50] You: leave the door open?

[11:51] Yoongi 😐🎧: Will do

You very carefully nudge Pepper off of your stomach, giving yourself a cursory glance in your mirror once you’re up. You make sure that your hair looks good at least, but your clothes don’t matter as much. It’s not like they’ll be on for long anyway.

Satisfied with what you see, you make your way through your apartment, grabbing your keys to lock your door on your way out.

Maybe it’s the workload that was dumped on you yesterday, but you feel much more level-headed about this than you thought you would, now that it’s actually happening. It’s like your body has finally caught up with your brain, and you can recognize this part of your relationship with Yoongi for what it actually is: stress relief. You’ll go to his apartment, he’ll give it to you so good, and then you’ll go back to work and he won’t care because, like he told you before, he gets it. 

You’re giddy just thinking about it.

Walking into Yoongi’s apartment isn’t daunting, nor is locking the door behind you. Nor is finding him on his couch and climbing into his lap without even a hello, crushing your lips to his the way you’ve spent all week dreaming about.

Yoongi makes a surprised noise against your mouth, his hands hovering at your waist, but he quickly melts into the kiss, letting you take the lead for a moment as his hands find their place, pulling you closer. It’s only when you tease the seam of his lips with your tongue, silently requesting entry that he pulls back, forcing you to breathe.

"Hi," he says, clearly amused by your enthusiasm.

"Hi," you parrot back, grinning.

His hands slip from your waist to your hips as he looks you over, toying with the fabric of your sleep shorts. "Remember what we talked about yesterday?" You hum coyly, guiding his hand under the hem, which makes him huff, shaking his head. "Wanting to do this the right way," he reminds you, quickly removing his hand from where you led it, instead opting to smooth it over the curve of your ass.

"Easier said than done," you reply, feeling bold enough to take the initiative that he won’t and sliding your hands under his shirt, running them over his abdomen. The fabric bunches up, and you can’t help but stare at the tantalizing inch of pale skin you’re rewarded with.

A sharp smack lands on your ass. You gasp, more surprised than pained, but your hands retreat all the same. Message received. When you look up, Yoongi is arching one eyebrow at you, all mock disapproval.

"Thought you said you wanted to do things right," he hums, rubbing over where he spanked you. "There’s always the alternative."

Oh. That.

There’s no hiding the way the thought makes you squirm, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. It’s a side of him you haven’t seen yet. Yoongi hasn’t been particularly rough, but he’s hinted that he can be, if you want it. 

You picture it—really picture it: you, bent over his lap, cheek pressed into the couch cushion, his voice low in your ear as he tells you to count for him. The sting of his palm on your ass. The unbearable heat afterward. Maybe he’d make you wait to be touched properly until your thighs were sticky and shaking. Maybe he’d tell you how pretty you looked like that—humiliated and dripping and aching. Maybe he wouldn’t touch you at all.

You’ll definitely take him up on that one day, but no, he’s right. 

You want to come. You want him to make you come. As stubborn as you are, you can’t deny that.

"You can take your time," you mumble, meeting his eyes. 

He smiles, bringing his free hand up to cup your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek like it did that night in his studio. "Good girl," he murmurs, kissing you sweetly. The praise makes you whimper into his mouth, and you grind against him, the thick press of his cock beneath you unmistakable now.

He pulls away with a low chuckle, patting your hip. "Up." You scramble to your feet, no more bratty attitude to be found at the moment. 

He stands with you, guiding you by the hand to his bedroom. Since he’s so adamant about taking his time, you take a moment to glance around the room, taking in all the little things about it that reflect what you’ve learned about Yoongi over the past several weeks.

Like the rest of his apartment, his bedroom is much cleaner than you would’ve assumed. A desk with a modest home studio setup, nothing like the pro gear you’ve seen in his actual studio. The equipment looks aged, well-loved, and you wonder how long he’s had it. A basketball jersey hanging over his desk chair with his name emblazoned on the back. A dresser with various jewelry scattered on top, chains and rings and earrings. 

His bed dominates the room. Where you have a queen bed in your own bedroom, you note that his is clearly a king, with a soft looking black comforter over top. A comforter that you’re about to be pressed into, you think. 

Yoongi comes up behind you, his hands on your waist, trailing kisses over your nape and making you shiver.

"Relax," he murmurs with a chuckle that you feel more than hear. "Lie down for me?"

You nod, walking to the bed and settling flat on your back. God, is this a Purple mattress? You hate him a little bit. You found your mattress on the side of the road.

Yoongi doesn’t give you long to stew on your hatred, though. Not when he’s spreading your legs, your feet planted flat on the mattress beneath you so he can fit his hips between your thighs. Not when you can feel how hard he is already, even through the layers separating you.

He lips find yours again, long and slow and hot, all of your breath leaving your lungs at the contact. "Remember to stop me," he mumbles between kisses, "if I do something you don’t like."

You honestly find it hard to believe that Yoongi could do anything you wouldn’t like, but you nod your head jerkily in response, not wanting to separate from his mouth for any longer than necessary.

Soon, he’s pressing open-mouthed kisses down your neck as his hands push your shirt up slowly. He breaks from you long enough to tug it off and toss it aside, and he groans when he finds you braless.

"Fuck," he mutters, eyes fixed on your chest as his hands cup you, thumbs brushing over your nipples. "Trying to kill me, huh?"

In reality, you’d just been dressed for bed, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him that, unable to form the words as his lips travel down to your chest. 

His tongue flicks against your nipple before he sucks it into his mouth, lips pulling. You bury your fingers in his hair with a breathless moan, your head falling back onto the mattress under you with a dull ‘thunk’.

He pulls away with a pleased sound, his eyes dragging over your chest. "So pretty, baby," he says, lip caught between his teeth.

Desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, your hands slide down his abdomen, fisting in his shirt and tugging.

"Your turn," you breathe, and he chuckles as he sits up on his knees, tugging his shirt over his head.

You can’t help but stare. It’s not that you thought that Yoongi would be skinny, per se, but he does have a tendency to wear clothes a little too big for him, dwarfing him, and given his already small stature due to his height… Not that you would’ve minded in the slightest if he was on the scrawnier side, but Christ. He’s decidedly not scrawny. He’s lean, with shoulders broader than you would’ve given him credit for at a passing glance. 

And now here you are, gifted with an expanse of pale, smooth skin over compact muscle. Your eyes roam over him, from dusky nipples all the way down to the thin trail of dark hair starting right under his navel and leading your gaze down to where his cock strains against his sweatpants.

You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to touch somebody so badly in your life. The best part is that you can.

And you do. You feel greedy, your hands reaching out to smooth down his chest, over his torso, your eyes half-lidded and lips parted in a daze. 

Yoongi lets you touch all you want, but when your hands move down to cup his erection through his sweatpants, you hear his breath hitch as he stops you, shaking his head and pinning your arm to the mattress gently.

"Your turn," he murmurs softly, throwing your words right back at you. His fingers hook into your waistband, gaze sharp as he tugs your shorts down at an agonizing pace. "Wanna see if you skipped the panties, too."

You lift your hips without protest, and when he sees you bare, he groans.

"What the hell did I do to deserve you?" he breathes. You ignore the funny thing your heart does in your chest at his words.

Then his fingers slide through you and come back slick, glistening in the dim light.

"Shit," Yoongi hisses through his teeth. He drags those fingers up, circling your clit just once before sliding them back down. Then up again. Then down. He does it over and over, slow and deliberate, and you moan each time he brushes your clit, hips twitching like your body’s got a mind of its own.

"This pussy," he growls, lowering himself on the bed, "gets so fucking wet for me."

His pupils are blown as he hooks your legs over his shoulders, just like last time, but instead of going right for it, Yoongi starts pressing soft kisses to your thighs. Your head falls back onto the mattress again, and you squeeze your eyes shut as he continues to speak. 

"Been thinking about this all week," Yoongi mumbles into your skin, teeth grazing the softness of your inner thigh. "You make it impossible to focus, you know that?"

A needy sound escapes you when his tongue finally slips between your folds. You lift your head, and he pulls back, drinking you in.

"I could’ve been done with that track on fucking Tuesday," he says, dipping down again to wrap his lips around your clit and suck, making you cry out, tangling your fingers in his hair again. "Do you know how many times I jerked off thinking about being between these thighs again?"

"Fuck, Yoongi," you keen, his words conjuring images that make you feel as though you’re coming apart at the seams. 

Yoongi chuckles, deep and gravelly. "Yeah, that’s my girl," he praises, his tone so dark it sends a shiver down your spine. "Gonna make you say my name like that again, baby. You want it?"

Without a second thought, you gasp, "yes." You need his mouth on you so bad you feel like you’re going to explode. "Shit, please."

"So polite."

Yoongi doesn’t make you wait any longer, his head dipping back down again so he can taste you properly, the flat of his tongue licking slowly over your pussy.

"Thank you," you moan, the words slipping out completely outside of your control. 

Yoongi’s movements pause for just a fraction of a second, and suddenly you’re overwhelmed with the worry that ‘thank you’ was a fucking weird thing to say to the guy eating you out. 

But before you can second-guess yourself too hard, you feel his deep moan vibrate against you, sending shockwaves through your body. His tongue resumes, if anything, even more eagerly.

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours, your thighs trembling around his head as you lose yourself in the rhythm of his tongue. But then, just as you start to lose your sense of time, Yoongi pulls back slightly, lifting his head only to forcefully pull you closer, his lips locking around your clit.

"Fuck, fuck—Yoongi, fuck!" You cry out, your voice breathless as he devours you with ruthless precision. The intensity of it has you on the edge, pushing you toward the cliff of your orgasm.

Your fingers pull at his hair as you grind against his tongue, and Yoongi moans into you, his hands guiding your hips as you move. You take the action for what it is: he wants you to come, and he wants it now. 

Well, he doesn’t have to fucking tell you twice.

You give him exactly that, unraveling beneath him as your orgasm rips through you. Your body tenses and trembles, eyes squeezed shut tight as you gasp for air.

Yoongi doesn’t let up, working you through it, his tongue still lapping at you, but his pace slows as he senses your impending overstimulation. He shifts, moving to sit back on his knees, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

"So fucking sexy," he grunts, his hands roaming over your skin, appreciating every inch of you.

Shit, he’s one to talk. He looks so hot like this, his hair a mess from your pulling, his lips and chin slick with your release. Not to mention, just like last time, he’s so fucking hard. 

The only difference is that this time, he’ll let you have it.

"Wanna touch you," you breathe, already pushing up shakily to slide your hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. Yoongi makes no move to stop you, moaning as your hand wraps around him.

His length feels thicker than you expected in your hand, your mind instantly wandering to how it’s going to feel inside of you very soon. You don’t think you’ve ever taken something this thick before, and you want it so fucking bad.

"Shit, baby, just like that," Yoongi grits out as you start pumping him slowly, his hips bucking forward into your hand. "Feels so good."

You lean up to capture his lips with yours, tasting yourself on his tongue as the kiss quickly turns sloppy and desperate, lacking all finesse but somehow still so goddamn sexy. All the while, you keep touching him, his breath coming out shaky through his nose as he licks into your mouth with heat. 

When your grasp on his cock gets a little firmer, his hips stutter and his hand comes up to grasp your wrist again, urgently halting your movements.

"Wait—fuck, I’ll come if you keep doing that," he pants, gently prying your hand away. There’s a flush in his cheeks, spreading down to his chest. It’s almost cute, but then he opens that fucking mouth again. "Wanna come inside you."

Fuck.

"Yeah," you breathe in agreement, nodding jerkily and pulling your hand from his pants in an instant. "Want that. Fuck me."

Yoongi groans, his eyes shutting tightly. He shakes his head. "Need a minute," he says, his voice almost pained. "Fuck, you’re too much."

He busies himself with reaching over your body and across the bed, pulling open the drawer of his bedside table. You keep your hands to yourself, ignoring the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch again. If he needs a minute, he can have it. You’ve waited this long.

Once his body returns to yours, he tosses a condom next to you on the bed before dipping down to kiss you again. His lips are gentle on yours this time, slow and almost sweet, unlike any way he’s kissed you so far. The chasteness of it throws you off, but it isn’t necessarily unwelcome—not from Yoongi, at least. He’s probably just trying to chill the fuck out so he doesn’t come too fast, you reason.

After a few minutes, though, Yoongi’s lips part from yours and he presses one last kiss to your temple, reaching for the condom beside you.

"Ready?" he asks, the edge of the foil packet held between his teeth as he sits up, using both hands to push his sweatpants down.

Your gaze lingers as he rips the packet open carefully, rolling the condom onto his cock. Your imagination never would’ve done him justice. The sight of his long fingers wrapped around his length is enough for your last thread of patience to snap.

"I think I’m going to die if you don’t fuck me right now," you blurt out.

Yoongi laughs. "Dramatic," he murmurs, trailing his hand up your thigh. His fingers brush over your slick folds, teasing lightly, and he hums. "Still so wet for me," he says, voice like gravel. "Think you’re ready for it?"

You gasp as two fingers slide inside you, effortless and deep. They curl, searching, and then—fuck.

"Can’t wait anymore," you gasp out, and he relents, withdrawing his fingers.

"Okay, okay." He shifts over you again, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, his voice dark and low as he murmurs, "I’ve got you, baby. Gonna fuck you so good."

You wrap your legs around his waist, heart hammering against your ribs as he lines himself up. You feel the thick head of his cock nudge against your entrance, dragging through your folds. And then, with a slow, steady push, he starts to sink into you.

The stretch is dizzying. He slowly eases in, his breath shuddering next to your ear as he slides deeper, deeper still, and then finally bottoms out. He’s everywhere. You’re completely full.

"Fuck," you gasp. Your nails bite into his shoulders. "Finally."

"Yeah? Gonna thank me again?" Yoongi jokes, but the way his cock twitches inside you betrays the way he really feels about that.

"Maybe when you make me come," you quip in return, teasing, but then his hips draw back, giving an experimental thrust back into you, and suddenly nothing is all that funny anymore.

Yoongi trails his nose up the side of your neck as he does it again, his breath hot against your neck. "So fucking tight. Jesus."

He gives you a second to adjust, pressing his forehead to yours, his hand rubbing your hip to soothe. But you don’t need soothing.

"Keep going, Yoongi," you plead. "Please."

He doesn’t make you ask again. He draws his hips back again, just a little, and then thrusts forward, deliberately slow. You feel every inch of him, every inch of that thick cock dragging against your walls, pressing deep, deep, then retreating only to do it again. And again.

"Oh my god," you choke out, your arms clinging to him, sweat slick between your bodies. 

Your skin is burning, hair damp at your temples, bodies slipping and sticking together as he fucks you faster, the bed creaking beneath you with every slam of his hips. 

“Yeah? You like that?” he groans, hips snapping harder now. “You want more, baby?”

“Harder—please—“

And he gives it to you.

Yoongi’s hands smooth up your thighs, deep thrusts continuing uninterrupted as he positions your legs, pinning your thighs between your bodies so you’re practically folded in half, and oh, fuck. He finds it. That spot. That maddening, perfect spot. His hips angle just so, and he starts to fuck into you with cruel precision, the head of his cock hitting that sensitive place inside you over and over. 

You cry out as your nails rake down his back. He doesn’t stop. Won’t stop.

"Look at you," he pants, sweat dripping from his temple. "Taking it all, so fucking greedy for it."

"Yes, yes, yes—fuck, Yoongi, don’t stop—" You’re practically sobbing, thighs trembling from the onslaught.

"Good girl," he growls, bracing one hand beside your head as the other presses your thigh up even higher. "Crying on my cock, fuckin’ love it."

You’re gone. The pleasure’s sharp and white-hot, pooling low in your stomach. Your hand fumbles between your bodies, fingers pressing hard against your clit, and it takes barely any time at all.

"I’m gonna—fuck—gonna come—"

"Come for me," he grits out. "Let me feel it."

You do. You come hard, clenching around him so tight you hear him curse, his rhythm stuttering. Your body seizes up beneath him, wracked with tremors, your walls fluttering wildly around his cock.

"Shit—fuck, that’s it—" Yoongi groans, and then he’s coming too, spilling into the condom with a strangled noise, his whole body tensing above you. His mouth finds yours, hot and uncoordinated, and you kiss him through it, still shaking.

You kiss him back, gentling as you both catch your breath. But after a few moments you’re suddenly hyper aware of how… intimate this feels, kissing like this as he softens inside of you. You pull away to look up at him. 

"Thank you," you say, grinning tiredly as you try to break the tension surrounding the moment.

It seems to work, because Yoongi laughs breathlessly, pulling out of you with care and shifting off of the bed to dispose of the condom. "Funny," he says.

You take the opportunity to sit up, despite your body feeling like jelly. You don’t think you can take Yoongi cleaning you up on top of what just occurred.

"Bathroom?" you ask, heading to it when he points you in the right direction.

You clean yourself up quickly, and when you return, Yoongi is dressed again, lounging against the headboard, his hair damp with sweat. He’s already laid your clothes out for you, and you take them with a small, grateful smile.

"So you got your track done?" you ask, trying to make some light conversation as you redress.

Yoongi scoffs, sitting up. "Few hours ago," he says, tilting his head and looking at you a little funny. Whatever he’s thinking, though, he doesn’t say it. "How was your week, anyway? I know I was a little M.I.A."

You brighten the slightest bit at his question, joining him on the bed. "Actually," you say. "Something pretty cool happened yesterday afternoon."

"Yeah?"

"I kind of got entrusted with this huge assignment. I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull it off, but if I do, it’s a career changer, for sure."

"Oh yeah?" he says, grinning at you. "That’s great, Y/N. You deserve it."

His praise makes you blush, looking down to pick at a loose thread on his comforter. You only blush because you know he means it. Yoongi actually reads your stuff. Rina doesn’t even really read your stuff, and she’s your best friend. But maybe it’s because Yoongi is in the music industry and the stuff you publish is more interesting to him.

Yoongi is in the music industry.

It’s like a lightbulb goes off in your head, and you shift closer to him.

"Actually," you say. "I’m kind of struggling with it? And I was wondering, um… I’d really appreciate it if you could help me out a little bit. Do you know a producer who goes by Jae?"

Yoongi stiffens next to you, not a lot, but enough for you to notice from this close. "Yeah," he says. "I know him."

You blink. "Wait—seriously?"

He nods once. "We’ve worked together before."

You try not to look too shocked. "That’s… amazing, actually. Because he’s the one I’m supposed to profile."

Yoongi’s head tilts, expression unreadable. "Huh."

You’re confused by his reaction, but you soldier on. "Yeah. And no one’s ever gotten anything real from him before. I was hoping you could maybe—if it’s not weird—help make an introduction? Even something off the record. Just so I can talk to the real guy."

For a long moment, Yoongi says nothing, not really looking at you. You don’t know what you said to get this reaction out of him, but you don’t like it, and you’re about to take back your request entirely when he speaks again.

"Okay. I’ll talk to him," he says. He’s looking at you now, which makes you relax a bit.

"Really?" you ask softly. "Only if you’re okay with it, but it would seriously be a huge help."

"Yeah, I’ll put in a good word," he says, waving a hand dismissively. He suddenly seems much less stiff, like whatever weird moment that just took place has passed now, and he laughs. "Just promise you won’t make me regret it."

At ease, you snort, rolling your eyes. "I promise," you say flatly, nudging his shoulder with yours. Your voice softens. "Thank you."

"Sure," he says easily, getting up from the bed and making his way to the door. "Have you eaten? I’m gonna make kimchijeon."

Yoongi really is saving your ass. After fucking you so nicely, too. And now he’s making you midnight kimchijeon!

"That sounds good," you call after him, smiling to yourself after he’s left the room.

Yeah, you can get used to this.

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PREVIOUS CHAPTER ✧ MASTERLIST ✧ NEXT CHAPTER

[skateordiebitch]

Enemies to lovers!Dom and him being in secretly in love with you because I’m a sucker for clichés lol💕

CABIN FEVER || D.F x reader

summary: dominic fike is your childhood best friend turned enemy. every conversation is a recipe for disaster... but, what happens when you guys have to share a room in a cabin for a weekend?

ah yes the enemies to lovers clichè...... love her dearly!!! dominic gives that vibe heavy for some reason LMAO. it was a little too easy to write this. anyways, per usual requests are open and enjoy!

Dominic and you had a rhythm to your rivalry — if you could call it that. It was the kind of relationship where you’d sooner pretend to be total strangers than acknowledge the magnetic, impossible-to-ignore pull between you.

The friends you shared, however, were not blind to this ongoing feud; they thrived on it, watching with half-amused, half-exasperated smiles every time you and Dominic ended up in the same room.

There was a long list of reasons why you couldn’t stand him. 

The ego was a big part, for one. He knew he was a big deal and didn’t care who knew it, throwing around his charm like it was a game, getting whatever he wanted without so much as lifting a finger. 

And the worst part? 

Everyone else seemed to eat it up.

Except you.

You found the arrogance insufferable. It didn’t help that he’d never hesitated to pick you apart, finding flaws and quirks he could tease, always seeming to know exactly how to get under your skin. 

If you made a comment about his music career, he’d fire back with a smirk, implying that you could only dream of being so successful.

The mutual friends between you knew better than to let you two share a ride to group outings. 

There was one infamous night, when you’d been forced to share an Uber home after a party. 

The whole drive was a back-and-forth argument that could have been the script for a rom-com — only there was nothing “romantic” about the way you hurled insults and Dominic rolled his eyes, making jabs about how you were “almost as stubborn as you were clueless.” 

It had gotten so heated that the Uber driver had kicked you both out halfway home.

And that became the norm. 

Snide remarks, bickering, and a constant battle of who could out-wit the other. It was never kind, never playful. If anything, it felt like every interaction was just barely avoiding a complete explosion.

Your ongoing rivalry with Dominic had become such a given that no one even tried to keep you two apart anymore. 

It was easier to just let you both simmer, each party assuming you’d work out your differences — or at least tolerate each other. 

But when your mutual friend, Kevin, decided to celebrate his birthday with a weekend trip to the mountains, the room assignments threw a wrench in everyone’s plans.

And there was no doubt that it wasn’t just a ‘coincidence.’

You practically laughed when he said, “You’re with Dominic.” Until you realized he was serious.

“No way,” you protested. “Oh, absolutely not. There’s no way.”

He just raised an eyebrow. “I’m not splitting you guys up at this point. You guys need to learn how to get along.”

“We aren’t five, Kev,” you say in protest, “I just don’t wanna be with… him.”

All Kevin did was laugh in your face, “Tell yourself, that. Maybe some forced time together will make you both act like normal human beings.”

You knew better than to argue when Kevin had that look on his face. That look that said ‘room with him, or don’t come at all.’

So, with no choice but to accept the arrangement, you found yourself sleeping in the same room with the one person you’d much rather avoid.

The cabin itself was beautiful, set against a backdrop of pine trees and snowy mountains. It was the sort of place meant for cozying up, but that idea made you laugh in spite of yourself as you and Dominic entered the small, shared room.

He tossed his bag onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, shooting you a glare. “This has got to be a fucking joke.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” you muttered, already strategizing how you’d manage to avoid him for the next three days.

Unfortunately, there was no escape.

The room was too small, and the cabin was filled with your friends, all of whom seemed to think your bickering was just a “cute quirk.”

You threw your bag on the bed closest to the window, hoping to claim the best spot. Dominic followed suit, watching you like you’d just challenged him to a duel.

“Are you seriously taking the bed by the window?” he scoffed, throwing his own bag onto the other bed. “Typical.”

“Typical?” you echoed, raising a brow. “Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who has to turn everything into a competition.”

He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the bed frame. “Right, because this is all about me. You’re the one who walked in here like it’s some sort of battleground. But sure, pull the victim card if it makes you feel better.”

“Victim?!” You could practically feel your blood pressure spike. “God, Dominic. You are actually unbelievable!”

“Glad to see I’m still under your skin,” he said with that infuriating smirk, his tone dripping with smugness. He leaned a little closer, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I’ll try not to keep you up too much tonight. You know, since you seem so... affected by my presence.”

You laughed, mirthless. “You really think that highly of yourself, huh? I can’t wait to be so far on the other side of the room I forget you’re even here.”

“Oh, please,” he shot back, feigning hurt. “You’d be bored to death without me around. Admit it. You’re secretly thrilled to have me as your little roommate.”

“In your dreams, Dominic.”

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Funny, because I’m betting I’ll be in yours tonight.”

The weekend had barely started, and you already felt on edge, like you were navigating a minefield. 

“Whatever,” You say, unpacking your things.

“Just saying, you know the clichè, right?” Dominic asks, plopping down on his bed.

You shake your head, “What are you even talking about?”

“The clichè— Where the two enemies forced to be together? By the end of it, they’re in love.”

You almost burst out laughing, “You’re delusional, Dom.”

“Everyone knows that’s how this works!”

You nodded your head, “Yeah, it works in books and movies. Not real life, which you seem to not live in, anyways.”

Dominic seemed determined to make this the most unbearable three days of your life, and the worst part was, you couldn’t shake the thrill of it.

—

The first night passed in silence, both of you avoiding eye contact as you got ready for bed. 

“Sweet dreams, Y/N. Try not to wake up flustered.”

“Shut up.”

The room was so small that every little movement was noticed, every breath too loud. 

You lay on your side, facing the wall, determined to ignore the fact that Dominic was just a few feet away. But in the silence, you could practically feel his presence, that maddening, familiar energy filling the room.

In the morning, things didn’t get any better. You were both tired, and it only took a sideways glance from him to set you off.

“Dominic,” you said, voice laced with warning as you passed him in the kitchen.

“What? I haven’t even said anything,” he replied, but his eyes gleamed with amusement.

“You don’t have to,” you shot back. “Your whole existence is enough to irritate me.”

“Good to know,” he replied, arching a brow, his voice low. “Seems like I’ve made an impact on you.”

The tension was getting thicker, and your friends couldn’t help but notice. They threw each other subtle, knowing looks as if they were all in on some inside joke.

—

By the second night, the snowstorm had hit hard, trapping everyone indoors with no signal and no escape. 

You’d never been the kind of person who got easily bored, but being trapped with Dominic had a way of testing your patience.

Somehow, you’d all ended up playing a game of “truth or dare” — though, with Dominic around, it became less of a game and more of an excuse for him to test your limits.

“Truth,” you said, hoping for a harmless question from one of your friends.

But Dominic jumped in, his smirk unmistakable. “What’s one thing you actually like about me?”

You stared at him, momentarily thrown. “No, I’m not answering anything from you.”

Dominic scoffed, “Oh, c’mon, Y/N! That’s not fair, you asked, I answered.”

“No.”

“Yes,” He smirks, “Don’t be like this.”

You rolled your eyes, “Dominic, that’s not even a real question.”

“Oh, yes it is,” he replied, his gaze fixed on you. “And I’m genuinely curious. One good thing, that’s all I ask.”

Your friends laughed, but Dominic’s expression was all challenge. He knew you’d never say anything remotely kind about him — and you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction.

After a moment of silence, you sighed, rolling your eyes. “Fine. I guess you’re… persistent.”

“Persistent?” he echoed, brow raised. “That’s it?”

“That’s all you’re getting,” you replied, shifting uncomfortably under his intense gaze.

The boy groaned, obviously irritated at your answer, “Persistent. Right. That’s just code for ‘annoying,’ isn’t it?”

“Not everything’s about you,” you replied, tone sharp, though the heat from his gaze was already crawling under your skin. “Maybe it’s a compliment. Who knows?”

He chuckled, a low, grating sound. “You? Compliment me? Hell would freeze over before that.”

“Oh, trust me,” you shot back, “I’m regretting saying anything already.”

The game went on, but the room was thick with tension, a charged undercurrent that was impossible to ignore. 

Every time Dominic looked your way, you felt it — like a daring challenge, a spark, something that neither of you were willing to acknowledge out loud.

The night dragged on with endless rounds of “truth or dare,” and each turn with Dominic somehow turned up the heat. 

He was relentless, always choosing you to ask his questions, each one more infuriating than the last.

“Truth or dare?” he asked for what felt like the hundredth time, his voice smooth as silk, his gaze locked onto yours.

“Truth,” you answered, wary of whatever he’d throw at you next.

“What’s the worst thing about me?” he asked, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly.

You scoffed, pretending to think. “Where the hell do I start?”

His eyes glinted, a mix of amusement and something darker, something that made your pulse race. “Try me. Hurt my feelings. Make me cry.”

“I’m not gonna make you cry,” You say, watching your friends get really good at being a laugh track. 

“So there’s nothing bad about me then, huh? You seem to be avoiding this one.”

“You’re the most egotistical person I have ever met, you never take anything seriously, and you act like everyone’s here for your entertainment.” 

Dominic nods his head, “Yeah, sounds about right.” He smirks right at you, “You know me so well…”

Something in you fueled you to keep going. Like this was the weight of his presence being lifted from your shoulders—

“You literally make me nauseous every time you enter the room, because I know we’re just gonna fucking argue. And it’s funny, because at one point— I never wanted to be without you! In fact, I hated every second we were apart!”

The room went silent, as all of your guys’ friends looked around at each other.

You sigh, “Now, it’s impossible for me to even breathe the same air as you. There. Happy?”

For a moment, you thought perhaps that was too much. Too harsh. That it could genuinely upset him. 

But instead of being offended, he just grinned wider, leaning in closer. “You really think about me that much, huh? How romantic, Y/N, truly. I’m flattered!”

Your friends let out a collective “ooh,” but all you could focus on was Dominic’s gaze, so intense it was like the rest of the room had disappeared.

“Please,” you muttered, refusing to look away. “As if I’d waste time on that.”

“Waste time on me? Funny, you look pretty worked up for someone who doesn’t care,” he said, leaning back with a smug, self-satisfied look. “Or is this just some dramatic little act of yours?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Oh, I forgot, Mr. Ego here thinks he’s some great mystery worth unraveling.”

“Ouch. Here I was, thinking you’d have at least one nice thing to say about me. Or are you too proud to admit I might actually have some redeeming qualities?”

“Nice things?” You scoffed, narrowing your eyes at him. “Please, I don’t think ‘nice’ and ‘Dominic’ even belong in the same sentence.”

He chuckled, a low, dark laugh that seemed to echo in the space between you. “See, that’s what I like about you, Y/N. Always keeping it real. Just too bad it’s also what makes you insufferable.”

“Insufferable? That’s rich coming from your smug ass.” You shot back, leaning closer, feeling a mix of anger and something else, something you couldn’t quite name.

“Maybe so,” he replied, gaze darkening as he matched your stare. “But at least I’m honest about it… Can you say the same?”

Your friends let out another round of gasps and snickers, but neither of you broke eye contact. 

The air was charged, as if neither of you were willing to back down first. 

Then, he leaned in a fraction closer, his voice dropping so only you could hear.

“Careful, Y/N. Keep pushing like that, and who knows what you might find out.”

The challenge was there, thick and unspoken, and every nerve in your body seemed to hum with it. 

“Trust me, Dom, I don’t need to know anything more than what I already do. And I’m not pushing. I’m pulling away as fast as I can.”

“Oh, really?” His voice was almost a murmur now, but it was edged with something hot and dangerous. “Could’ve fooled me.”

With that, he shot you one last infuriating smirk, leaning back like he hadn’t just raised the stakes, leaving you feeling like the whole room had started spinning.

—

Later that night, after everyone had drifted off to bed, you found yourself in the kitchen, unable to sleep. The quiet felt like a relief — until you heard footsteps, and Dominic appeared in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, leaning against the counter.

You shrugged, pouring yourself a glass of water. “Not with you in the same room.”

He chuckled, but there was an edge to it. “Funny, I was thinking the same thing. I’m sorry, was I making you nauseous?”

“No, I just— I don’t know. I just can’t sleep.”

“Was my ego taking up too much space?” He asked, and it was then you realized. He was bringing up the answers you gave in the stupid game. 

Was he actually upset? 

Did you actually say things to hurt him?

“Dominic, what are you saying right now?” 

For a moment, there was silence, a tension thick enough to cut. Then he surprised you by saying, “You know, that game got me thinking. You’re right, it wasn’t always like this between us.”

You frowned, caught off guard. “Yeah, I’m aware. What’s that supposed to mean?”

He looked down, his expression softening. “I don’t know. Back in high school, I actually thought… Well, I thought we could be something.”

You blinked, too stunned to respond immediately. He’d never been this honest, never even hinted at any real feelings. “What happened to that, then?”

He hesitated, looking out the window. “I don’t know. Things just changed. I was trying to figure myself out, the music was taking off… I guess I thought it’d be easier if I pushed you away.”

“That’s your excuse? Really, Dom?” you asked, anger bubbling up. “You just… gave up? And for what? To become this arrogant, self-absorbed version of yourself?”

“Maybe,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “But, maybe I just didn’t want to get hurt.”

“Did I actually hurt your feelings or something? What’s with you tonight?” You chuckled, wanting to believe that he wasn’t just doing all of this to make him forget about what could have been.

Dominic shrugged, “I mean, I definitely wasn’t expecting the answer you gave me. I don’t know, whatever,” He sighed, “Just forget it. Goodnight.”

He turned around to walk back to the room.

“Dominic—“ You start as he cut you off immediately, “You know what? Just sleep on the couch at this point, if it’s really that big of a deal to sleep in the same room as me.”

“Dom…” You said, with a tone that surprised you. A disappointed tone. Like you were upset… that Dominic seemed upset.

The small admission lingered in the kitchen, raw and vulnerable. And suddenly you realized, for the first time in years, you saw him differently — not as the arrogant musician who’d become a stranger, but as the boy you’d once known, the friend you’d once cared about.

—

The next morning, as everyone packed up their gear to go sledding, you found yourself walking beside Dominic, who seemed uncharacteristically quiet. 

The snowstorm had died down, leaving the trees dusted with powder, the air crisp and fresh.

The group had decided on a steep hill for sledding, which quickly proved to be a mistake. One by one, your friends wiped out in spectacular fashion, laughing as they tumbled down the hill.

When it was your turn, Dominic joined you, grabbing a sled and flashing you a grin. “Scared?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Of sledding? Not a chance.”

With a push, the two of you shot down the hill, the sled picking up speed as it zipped over bumps and divots. 

For a moment, you felt exhilarated, laughing as the cold wind whipped through your hair. But then the sled veered off course, heading straight for a small tree.

Without thinking, Dominic threw his arm around you, pulling you close as the sled came to a sudden halt. You landed in a heap in the snow, Dominic’s arms still around you, his face inches from yours.

For a moment, neither of you moved. 

The world seemed to go silent, the only sound your heavy breathing as you stared at each other. You felt your heart racing, but whether from the thrill of the sledding or the intensity of his gaze, you couldn’t say.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, barely trusting yourself to speak. 

His face was so close, his eyes searching yours as if he were seeing you for the first time. And in that moment, something shifted — a spark, a connection you’d spent years ignoring.

But before you could make sense of it, he pulled back, clearing his throat as he helped you to your feet. “Guess I saved your life, huh?”

You scoffed, brushing snow off your coat. “Oh, please. Don’t flatter yourself.”

But as you walked back up the hill, your heart was still pounding, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that, for the first time in years, things between you and Dominic were starting to change.

—

That night, back at the cabin, the tension between you and Dominic was impossible to ignore. You could feel his gaze on you as you sat by the fire, laughing with your friends, but every time you looked his way, he seemed to look away.

Eventually, as the night wore on, you found yourself alone with him again, this time on the back deck, watching the snow fall in silence.

“Do you actually hate me that much?” he asked, his voice low, almost challenging.

You blinked, taken off guard. “Why does it matter, Dom? Didn’t we already talk about this?”

He shrugged, looking away. “Maybe I’m curious. Maybe I just can’t figure out why you’re the only one who doesn’t seem to think I’m worth the time.”

“That’s on you, Dom,” you replied, your voice sharper than you’d intended. “You’re the one who changed.”

“And you’re the one who never gave me a chance to explain,” he shot back, stepping closer.

You crossed your arms, feeling a strange ache at his words. “Explain what? That you pushed me away on purpose? Do you even know how selfish that is?”

He paused, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his face. “You never gave me a chance to explain why I pushed you away. Why I… why things are like this between us.”

You stayed silent, heart pounding, daring him to go on. The unspoken tension, years of bitterness and misunderstandings, hung thick between you.

“Look,” he finally said, his voice softening. “I didn’t know how to handle it, alright? I didn’t know how to… deal with you, with us. I thought if I pushed you away, maybe it’d be easier. But it wasn’t.”

“What does that even mean? Deal with what?” The words escaped before you could stop them, heavy with every feeling you’d tried so hard to bury.

He took a shaky breath, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. “Deal with the fact… that I’ve been in love with you since I was seventeen.”

The confession hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you stunned, the silence between you loud and unbearable.

“Are you kidding me?” you whispered, fighting the sudden wave of anger and something else, something that felt too much like hope.

“No,” he replied, his voice steady, eyes never leaving yours. “I’m not kidding. And I’ve been an idiot about it. I thought… I thought if I kept my distance, I’d get over it. But it just made everything worse.”

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. The boy who’d tormented you, infuriated you, had somehow harbored feelings you’d never known.

His gaze flickered down, his jaw tense as he struggled to find the words. “I thought it would be easier to let you go,” he admitted, his voice low. “Back then, everything was changing, and I was… scared. I was getting all this attention from my music, people wanting things from me, expecting me to be someone I didn’t even understand. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn’t want you to get dragged into that.”

You stared at him, disbelieving. “So instead of letting me be there for you, you pushed me away?”

He nodded, looking away as if the sight of your hurt expression was too much to bear. “I thought I could handle it on my own. But all it did was make me miss you… more than I ever thought I would.”

A silence stretched between you, raw and heavy. 

He looked at you with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen in years, and for the first time, you saw the Dominic you used to know, the one you’d once cared about so deeply it hurt.

“Do you have any idea what that was like for me?” Your voice was barely a whisper. “One day, you’re there, the next, you’re gone. You were my best friend, Dom. My rock, my person,” You say, feeling yourself on the verge of tears, “You didn’t even give me a chance to understand that you weren’t there anymore. And now… you just expect me to forget that?”

His hand reached out, almost reflexively, to touch yours, and though you wanted to pull away, you couldn’t. 

“I don’t expect you to forget, Y/N. What I did, I can’t even forgive myself for it. I just… I want to try and make things right. I’m tired of pretending like I hate you.”

You looked down at his hand, fingers brushing against yours, and felt the anger slipping, replaced by something else. “But, you hurt me, Dom,” you admitted, voice barely holding steady. “You hurt me in a way I didn’t think you could.”

The air between you grew thick, heavy with words unsaid and emotions neither of you knew how to voice. 

He looked at you with an intensity that made your heart pound, and without thinking, you leaned into him, letting his warmth chase away the bitter chill of the night.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “I know that will never be enough, but I am. I never meant to hurt you. I just… didn’t know how to deal with it — with you.”

“Deal with what, Dom? You keep saying that,” you repeated again, your voice softer now, searching his eyes. “What was it about me that you had to ‘deal with,’ Dominic? That you liked me? I’m just… I’m so confused, right now.”

He hesitated, his hand squeezing yours as he took a shaky breath. “That I wanted you, so badly,” he said finally, voice raw.

“More than just a friend, more than anything I’d ever let myself admit. I was terrified of what it’d mean if I let you get too close, because I am not a good person, Y/N. I’m fucked up, rude, and selfish, and I feel like… I’ve always been that way. I’ve always been the person you think I am today. And you didn’t deserve someone like that, not even as a friend.”

“Dominic…” You said softly, “I never thought you were a bad person…”

“But, I was, Y/N! I still am,” He pleads, “Look at what I did to us. Look at how badly I fucked things up between us. This is the first time in years we’ve had an actual conversation…”

He sighed, his expression open and raw. "I’m not kidding. I’ve tried to push it down, ignore it, even tell myself that maybe it wasn’t real. But every time I look at you—every time I see you laugh, every time you look at me with that fire in your eyes, I know it’s still there."

You could hardly believe what you were hearing. 

The Dominic you’d come to know, with his arrogance, his endless teasing, the constant back-and-forth—it had all masked something so vulnerable, something so sincere, that it was hard to process.

"Why now, Dominic?" you managed to ask, your voice trembling despite yourself. "After all these years, all the arguments, all the things you’ve said, the way you’ve acted—why are you telling me this now?"

He looked away, his jaw tightening. "Because I can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep pretending like I hate you, like I don’t feel anything when we argue, like I don’t care. And now, I just—" He paused, his gaze meeting yours. "I want you to know the truth, even if you hate me for it."

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in, all the bitterness and hurt somehow transformed into something else. 

Something softer, something you’d long denied. 

You didn’t know how long you both stood there, the air charged with the unspoken things between you.

"Dominic," you said quietly, fighting to keep your voice steady. "Maybe… maybe we both need to let go of what’s in the past. Because honestly, I���m exhausted too."

He watched you, a hint of hope in his eyes. "Does that mean—are you saying you might actually forgive me?"

You took a deep breath, the warmth of the cabin lights casting a glow over the snow-covered ground. "I’m saying maybe it’s time we stop running in circles. I’m saying maybe… I don’t hate you as much as I let on."

For the first time in years, Dominic’s smile wasn’t a smirk or a tease. It was soft, genuine, and it made your heart race. 

He stepped closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "Then let’s see where this goes, without the walls, without the defenses. Just us. A fresh start.”

You looked up at him, something in you finally letting go. 

And as his hand brushed yours, it was like the years of tension, rivalry, and unspoken feelings melted away, leaving only the beginning of something real.

“Please,” he murmured, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m asking you to give me a chance. To let me show you that I can be better. That I can be the person you deserve.”

You wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the bitterness, but his words cracked something inside you. 

He looked at you like you were the only person in the world, and he always had. Even when you guys would argue, bicker, his eyes never showed anger. His eyes never lefts yours. 

And in that moment, you realized that despite everything, you still cared. 

You still wanted him, still wanted to believe that there was a part of him that hadn’t changed.

His confession hung in the air, and your heart skipped a beat, pounding with emotions you weren’t sure how to process. 

You could feel the weight of every missed opportunity, every moment you’d spent pushing each other away.

Before you could stop yourself, you closed the gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that held years of pent-up frustration, hurt, and longing. 

He responded instantly, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you close, deepening the kiss with an urgency that took your breath away.

For a moment, the world fell away, and all that mattered was the feel of him against you, the way his fingers tangled in your hair, the warmth of his mouth as it moved against yours, desperate and tender all at once. 

It was as if every argument, every insult, had been leading up to this, the intensity of it all crashing over you like a wave.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, his eyes were on you, filled with a vulnerability that made your heart ache. 

“I just… I didn’t realize how much I needed you,” he whispered, his forehead pressed against yours. “Until it was too late.”

You took a deep, steadying breath, feeling the weight of his words, the truth they carried. “Then maybe it doesn’t have to be too late,” you whispered back, fingers brushing against his cheek.

He looked at you, a small, tentative smile tugging at his lips. Without a word, he led you back inside, your fingers laced together as if he were afraid to let you go.

—

Back in the quiet of your shared room, he hesitated for a moment, as if unsure if you’d let him stay this close. But you tugged him closer, pulling him onto the bed beside you, feeling his warmth seep into you as you settled beside him.

Neither of you said anything, the silence filled with an unspoken understanding, a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in years. You rested your head against his shoulder.

“You still think the clichè only happens in books and movies?” Dominic asks, as you feel his hand slide around your waist, pulling you close.

You smile softly, “Shut up, idiot.”

“Mhm, you know that’s not true…” 

Without thinking, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was slow, hesitant, filled with years of unsaid words and buried feelings. His hand came up to cradle your face, his touch gentle.

It just felt so right.

When you pulled away, his eyes were soft, filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. He pressed his forehead to yours, his thumb tracing slow circles along your jaw.

You lay back down beside him, your head resting on his shoulder, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. 

“Again, I’m not asking you to forgive me right now, or forget what happened,” he whispered. “But I’m asking you to give me a try.”

You nodded, a silent promise that you’d give him — give both of you — a chance to heal, to find your way back to each other. 

For now, that was enough.

[slytherinshua]

SHUT UP, BRAIN

genre. hurt/comfort. warnings. kevin has some thoughts and insomnia. pairing. kevin x reader. wc. 745. request. no. a/n. i love him so much he deserves the world hes so sweet and perfect :(

When you stirred from sleep from the unmistakable chill and loud rustling in the room followed by a hushed curse, you knew Kevin had struggled to fall asleep again. You were exhausted, but you knew it was probably even worse for him. He never seemed to show how tired he was, but you could sometimes see it in his eyes, especially when the lack of sleep built up over time.

You forced your eyes open, pulling the blanket closer over your body to help with the shivers. Without Kevin’s body warmth, you always felt a constant chill, no matter how many blankets you piled on top of your body. It just wasn’t the same as being wrapped up in his arms.

“Kevin.” You called out, rolling to the other side of the bed to locate where he was in the room.

“Hm?” He answered immediately, turning around to meet your tired eyes. This same routine had happened so often that he had learned to not feel bad about waking you up because he couldn’t sleep. You really didn’t mind, you just wanted him back in bed cuddled up next to you.

“Cold.” That was all you could muster out in a tired whisper. Thankfully, it was all Kevin needed to know that you wanted him back under the covers. He shuffled over sheepishly as you opened up the blanket for him to crawl under with you.

You sighed as soon as you were able to wrap your arms around his body and could feel the warmth that washed over you almost immediately. You rested your head back on the pillow and watched Kevin’s eyes drift to the ceiling, blinking several times, but never falling down to look at you.

“You thinking about something?” You asked quietly.

You heard him sigh. He took a while to respond, but you didn’t rush him. You focused on the little skin exposed on his chest from his pyjama top, drawing little circles on the spot to relax him.

“Just… us, I guess. Thinking about everything, but mostly just you… and me.” His eyes flickered to you for a split second before settling back on the ceiling. 

“What about us?” 

“Are you tired of this?” The question was filled with worry, and you knew that ‘this’ referred to more than just what your mind immediately jumped to.

“No. Are you?” 

“No… but I still feel bad.”

You understood what he was feeling. It was almost impossible not to feel some frustration with the sacrifices you both had to make just to be able to date each other. It was hard, but it was worth it. You just had to reassure him of it at times.

“I know, Kev. You know you make me really happy, though, right?” The way you said it was almost like a promise to him; a promise that he would always make you happier than anyone else. 

“I know I do, I just wish I was able to do more, you know?” You hummed, trying to fight back a yawn and listen to everything that was plaguing his mind, but it slipped past you before you could stop it. 

“I’m sorry, I know you’re tired. I’ll be okay. You can go back to sleep.” He turned on his side, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Will you be able to sleep?” You pulled him just a bit closer, craving more of his body warmth and comforting embrace.

“I’ll try. If I can’t, I promise to still keep you warm.” He smiled fondly at you as you got comfortable again, adjusting the blankets to cover you properly and shuffling your head on your pillow.

“I love you.” You mumbled, closing your eyes and letting the tiredness wash over you in waves. You felt Kevin’s lips press against yours, but it was soft and fleeting, only lasting for a second before he pulled away.

“I love you too. Sorry for my brain.” He whispered back.

“I love your brain, too. I just wish it was nicer to you.” You said, half asleep at that point. You couldn’t see Kevin’s half-hearted smile, but you felt him pull you even closer until your head was resting on his chest instead of the pillow. The last gesture assured your brain that you could really fall asleep again. Kevin always slept better the closer he was cuddled up to you, so you had hope that sleep would finally grace him as well.

↳ tbz taglist: @eternalgyu,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @cosmicwintr,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien

[cuppasunu]

» DEOBI DAY SPECIAL REQUEST DELIVERY »

to: peony @hyungseos-cafe

req: kevin x reader | never tell by luke chiang

summary: you loved kevin too much not to let him go.

genre: idol au | past lovers, high school/college sweethearts, mutual pining, angst

wc: 1.6k words

an: peony.. how did you know i had an angsty kevin plot AND IVE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO SEE MY VISION!!!!!! thank you thank you for requesting this, i was beyond excited to finally write this. i hope you enjoy it :DDD

stars: @hyungseos-cafe @from-izzy @winterchimez @carrotsworld @yudaies

masterlist | @deoboyznet

taking in your requests!!! — send a tbz member + song that reminds you of spring <3

the clock struck midnight, but the night is nowhere near over. 

you were surrounded by a bunch of seniors who thought of the same genius idea—drive to the empty rooftop of the parking lot across the hotel and munch on some junk food from the nearest open fast food place. 

looking at the nightscape, you leaned on the railing, drowning in the noise and music blaring from bluetooth speakers. you waited for kevin to pick up your order from the pizza place downstairs.

no longer sweaty and hot on the dance floor at prom, you finally felt the chilly air across your bare shoulder. you opened the trunk and smiled when you saw his packed duffel.

as if kevin read your mind, your boyfriend already packed a blanket, socks, and both of your matching crocs. 

“if you need band-aids, they’re by the driver’s seat.”

you looked back after hearing kevin’s voice. he grins, holding up the food. 

“did you get everything?” you walked towards him, chucking your heels back in the trunk.

“of course- had to charm the boss to give us extra napkins and drinks!”

you rolled your eyes, though you knew that wouldn’t be too far from reality. you waved to your friends who arrived from picking up their food and settled down. 

kevin sets down the food on the blanket and runs to get cushions from the backseat. he rushed to place it down where you sat. 

you took your first bite, famished from the busy night. he watches as you happily chewed on your pizza, finding you adorable as ever. he reaches over to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“kev- do you have-” you asked, bothered by your hair getting in your face. 

holding out his arm, kevin revealed a thin hair tie around his wrist. he didn’t need to hear your complete sentence to understand what you were asking for. 

unspoken understanding never gets old between you and kevin. trying not to melt under your boyfriend’s spell, you looked at him trying to figure out if he was real. you giggled at your own silly thoughts, realizing he was just eating his food in peace, unaware of your quiet musings.

you took the hair tie from his wrist and started putting your hair up, but your stare never left him. 

kevin raised his eyebrows, confused. he touched the sides of his mouth, wondering if you were staring because of cheese or pizza sauce getting on his face. even in his hungry and disheveled state, that night, your boyfriend has never looked so beautiful in your eyes. 

“nothing,” you smiled, blushing after getting caught staring.

“if you wanted a kiss, babe- all you need to do is ask,” he joked.

the smug look on his face was replaced with surprise when you stole a kiss from him mid-sentence, catching him off guard. his expression earned a hearty chuckle from you.

he gives you a split second to prepare, recognizing that look on his face when he’s scheming. 

“no- no.. you won’t!”

“prom’s over, i can mess up your makeup now!”

kevin puts his half-eaten slice in the box before grabbing your face and showering you with quick little pecks all over your face.

somewhere in the background, you can hear your friends shouting “get a room!” at the sight. jokingly, you held out your hand to flip them off. 

you always imagined your last major events before leaving for university to be bittersweet. but it was so typical of your friends to not be emotional on moments like these. uncertainty crawled around like it was going to eat you alive. still, one look from the one you love brings you back.

many years from now, you will always remember how kevin’s lips felt ticklish on your skin and how you couldn’t breathe from laughing. although sometimes, you genuinely wish you could.

but at least once, on that breezy midnight in april under the stars, everything felt right.

…

summer came to say hello and goodbye in one breath. 

university used to be a topic you talked about in future tense, but now you’ve toured the grounds with kevin more times you can count in one hand.

he spent the last week memorizing your schedule and matching it up with his. you swore you could draw a map of the place by memory, kevin insists he could do it blindfolded. 

“i can’t wait for the first day of classes,” kevin smiled, resting his head on your lap.

“okay, nerd?” you lightly tapped his nose.

“ask me why. come on y/n-”

you shook your head in disbelief, refusing to believe he was truly excited to start his lectures and sleepless nights for the semester.

“i’m excited..” he starts, “because i’ll be one step closer to my dream.”

“hanging out with kids in your classroom until you’re gray and old?”

“-of being your househusband.”

you sat there with your mouth open. kevin shook as he giggled, rendering your face priceless. 

“so, you’re making me earn the big bucks?”

“the moment you chose civil engineering, i knew i was set for life,” he hummed while closing his eyes in contentment. 

you pinched his cheeks, squeezing them with cuteness aggression. you weren’t new to his antics, but to you, they were special nonetheless. lounging in your couch, basking in the late afternoon sun, in front of the fan that day was only one of the many moments you wished you could pause time for. 

but the promise of tomorrow always dangled in front of you like a mirage. choosing the person you wished to see there was not a complicated matter.

imagining the future with kevin was as easy as 1, 2, 3.

living it out, however, proved to be another story.

…

you knew leaving was not part of kevin’s plan. 

one day on his way to see you after class, he was so lost in his thoughts that he walks right past your door. 

it took three attempts for you to get his attention, finally reaching him by gently putting your hand on his arm. he looks back, letting his eyes wander before realizing where he ended up. 

kevin’s eyes soften, though a little tired, when he gets a good look at you, “-sorry, just got confused.”

you didn’t buy his excuse. sure, it was only the third day of classes. but, you knew better. you smiled to break the tension.

“all good- you’re done for the day?” you asked, matching his steps and linking your fingers together.

kevin stayed quiet, only nodding to reply. 

he tries not to wear his heart out of his sleeve, but he had never been a good liar. 

he never meant to hide that letter from you for as long as he did, even if it seemed to burn a hole through his bag. walking back to your dorm has never felt so heavy. 

but, he decided that was the day. it had to be.

…

two days. 

it only took kevin two days to pack his bags and leave for korea. 

from the outside, his unwillingness to go was overwhelming, slowly and steadily pulling you in. 

you knew that the moment you catch his eyes, the world will put its weight on your shoulders, driving you to your knees asking for him to stay. you know you shouldn’t.

so, you had no choice but to avoid him in every way you can. 

you stood in the middle of his room, as you usually do almost every single day. but you both knew it would be your last time for a good while. 

he looks through his closet, mindlessly scanning for other items he should be bringing with him. there’s only so much he can bring in his luggage. even after packing, his room doesn’t look any different.  

“if i had the space to bring you inside my bag, you would have been inside already,” kevin cracked a joke, acting exactly how you expected him to. 

you were supposed to throw the joke back, telling him you would, but right now, you’re not acting exactly how he thought you would. 

kevin was afraid to ask why.

“don’t be nervous, kev. you’re gonna be amazing out there-”

kevin sighs. 

he takes off his hat and drops it on his desk. he looks away and stares at his feet with his head hung low, his legs barely holding him up. he knows why you choose to stay silent, but wants to tell you he would give anything for you to say something- anything.

the voices in your head were screaming, reminding you of the one thing you’ve been denying to yourself all this time.  

kevin leaves tonight. he leaves tonight… tonight.

you’ve always been the composed one in this relationship, the rational one. that even when he was begging you to be unreasonable, even just this once, you were afraid to blame yourself in the end for not letting him go. 

you couldn’t bear to be that selfish. 

to deprive him of a chance of a lifetime. to put his dreams on pause for your sake. to hold him back from something so much greater than you could possibly imagine. 

you don’t, and ultimately, you won’t.

kevin turns his heel and hugs you tight. it feels sweet as ever, like a cruel joke. nothing about that day felt like a goodbye. you bit your lip, holding on for dear life, not showing even the tiniest sliver of weakness.

“i- i’ll see you when i get back.”

still, you don’t hesitate wrapping your arms around him. memorizing how his frame fits within your embrace—etching every curve and crevice in your heart.

“i’ll see you then.”

but you never do.

...

an: definitely don't read this headcanon if you don't want to be extra sad about y/n and kevin reminiscing about their highschool days :')

[athanwritesthings]

Fall Out || Fem!Reader [Izabella Bardot] x Damian Priest - Pt. 1

A/N: *snickers* all I had in brain was angst and with the ideas I got, it'll make perfect for this to be long and to have continuations. Expect another part or two in the next couple days after I get to requests. Have fun!

Word Count: 1,596

Summary: You've always been the one to cause issues, finding the solace in making your opponents and rivals second guess or become over-emotional. You tangle yourself into a rivalry with Rhea as your team feuded with the men of TJD, and in turn, always managing to find a way to get under their skin, especially Damian's. At least, you hoped you would... All (permanent) characters in Pt. 1: Izabella Bardot [Main character] Grayson Waller, Randy Orton, Kevin Owens, Rhea Ripley, Dominik Mysterio, Finn Balor, Damian Priest.

It was another Monday Night Raw, another night listening to my teammates talk and bicker in my locker room as I pull my boots up, tying them as I listened to them. I sit up a few moments later, leaning my elbows on my knees, looking up to the three of them.

For as much as they bickered, they worked well together, even with them being extremely hotheaded and easy to anger. With this little bickering session, Grayson stood between Randy and Kevin as they argued, always acting as their mediator.

This was apparently their way of figuring out how we wanted to deal with the Judgement Day. As if we weren't equipped with the tools to do so already. Leaning back in my chair, I cross my arms, just listening to Randy and Kevin's arguments.

As much they fought about little things like this, you'd think I'd honestly find them annoying. That'd be quite the opposite. I found it comical, always having a smile broken out on my face as I'd watch on. I made it a thing to step in if it went way too long, of course, just so they'd divert their attention back to the match - and actually not waste energy on yelling each others head off.

After a few good minutes of listening to them, and Grayson shooting me a pleading look for help, I finally speak up. "Hey. We're not here to continuously fight or bicker with each other." Kevin goes to open his mouth again, but I tilt my head slightly from where I sat. He stopped before even starting, a small snort leaving Randy, who also quieted after seeing the look on my face.

Grayson, once the two other men hushed, looked to me, his brows furrowing slightly. "Ya gonna be out there with us at ringside, right?" I roll my eyes slightly, even though his tone was one of worry. Standing up, I walk over, my shoulder leaning into Randy's arm a bit. His arm snakes around my shoulders, my eyes staying on Grayson.

"I always am, aren't I?"

I could see the nerves that had Grayson in a vice grip, as all four of us stood in the gorilla. He had never been the type to be so nervous, always noted as the other, mostly, level headed member of the group. Kevin must've seen and registered this too, his hand giving Grayson a reassuring clap on the shoulder, a half smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

Randy's frame seemingly towered over me as he stood behind me, wrapping wrist tape around his wrists and hands. His gaze, after what felt like a good few minutes of drilling into the back of my head, looks to Grayson. "You'll be good. We're gonna be out there with you." Always blunt and to the point, Randy was.

A faint smile crossed Grayson's face nonetheless with the reassurance from us. The smile slowly fades for a split second as Kevin's theme goes first, hearing the crowds almost deafening cheers as soon as it hit, and he came out. Following suite a few seconds later, Grayson goes out with his theme, meeting Kevin at the stage.

You'd expect it not to be such a loud pop whenever Randy's theme would play, but the crowd always proved you wrong. At that point, with my first step out to the gaze of the crowd, I threw my gimmick on, a wide, yet sly smile on my face as I walked out with Randy. His fingers were intertwined with mine, before letting them go after a few seconds as I walked out in front of him a couple steps, him following me.

It didn't take me long to look away from the crowd around us as we made our way to the ring, my gaze connecting with Damian for a split second, before sliding over to Rhea, who stood in ring with the three other members of Judgement Day. One would think she'd kill with the looks she doled out to others.

I lift my hand, waving with my fingers to her, and partially to Damian, Finn and Dominik's eyes fixated on the other three in my group. Damian's jaw was set, an almost permanent seeming scowl on his face, ever since we walked out.

His shoulders rolled back, ripping his eyes from me as Randy let me up the stairs first, Kevin following suite behind him, Grayson electing a different way up, pulling himself to stand up on the ringside.

A little laugh leaves my closed lips, ropes opened for me by Randy. Damian's eyes didn't dare look back at me again, my mission seemingly being effective up to this point in time. Getting under Rhea, Damian, Finn and Dominik's skin, had been a total success so far.

Perhaps my mission had been more than a total success. With the ref not looking, and with Randy and Kevin off the apron and on the ground after Dom and Finn attacked them as Damian went for his finisher to reach the matches end, I pulled Damian off Grayson, canceling the pin just as the ref went for the three count. A grin, and a laugh as a look of complete surprise and anger crossed his face. "What the fuck?" Was all that he let out, his voice an angered yell.

Rhea, just as she looked at the crowd, a smile on her face as she counted along, had missed me pulling Damian off. I wave, once again, my fingers at him, an innocent smile on my face. That had been wiped off my face quick, seeing him move quick as he slid out of the ring fully, fully deciding to chase me then.

A look of fear flashed in my eyes as I took the initiative to run, making sure to run towards where Randy and Kevin were.

As soon I passed Randy, who was already standing up, his body blocked Damian from passing him. "Touch her, and you're dead." When I heard this, I knew it was safe to stop and turn. I laugh lightly, a grin on my face once again.

"Oh, so sorry about that! I didn't mean to do that." My grin still on my face, as I watch Damian, scoffing, his gaze on me for a few seconds. With my eyes on him, I kneel to Kevin, who's sitting up now, on his way to standing. "Get Dom and Finn dealt with, you two."

Randy, looking to Kevin when he called his name, easily registered the look on Kevin's face, as Damian turned to get in the ring before getting counted out. Grayson, on the opposing side of the ring, watched, as he leaned against the middle rope, on one knee.

All it took was Damian to look at me one last time when he got into the ring, then seeing his team taken down from ringside, and Grayson capitalizing on the distraction, hitting Damian with the Rolling Thunder Stunner, and getting the one… two… three count!

Rhea, who was already screaming her head off at Damian, stared in complete shock, with her hands almost resting on her head, before she stuck her hands out at the ref. Grayson, rolling out of the ring, had a huge smile on his face. I ran up, Kevin and Randy following, all three of us smiling. Grayson's arm rested around my shoulders, one of my hands resting on his back, as we walked backwards, the crowd cheering loudly.

Back in my locker room, I packed my duffel bag, my face slack and not full of any emotion, except showing off how tired I had been. I was ready to go to the hotel room. Rest assured, I was due to see someone from TJD as soon as I walked out, all before Randy got back from his locker room.

Sure enough, with my luck, when I opened my locker room door, Rhea and Damian stood a few feet away from me, Damian's arms crossed over his chest, Rhea's hands in her pockets. "Finally coming out of her cave, hm?" Was all I was greeted with from Rhea first.

I snort, as I look the both of them over. "Upset about your match results? Didn't like the taste of your own medicine?" Damian's arms drop as he walks over, his 6 ft 5 in height towering over me like Randy. Yet there was a different feeling to him than Randy. Maybe it was the aura or vibe he gave off.

Damian's eyes trailed me up and down with an unhappy look, crossing my own arms as I leaned back slightly. "You are meddling with the wrong people, chica. If I were you, I'd call my guard dogs off before it becomes a huge regret of yours down the line." His voice was gruff, yet the look in his eyes didn't match up with how he sounded.

"Matter of fact... Next Monday. I'll bury you so far into the ground, perhaps they will back off." Rhea states as she steps up too, an unbelieving laugh leaving my closed lips as I looked at them with an incredulous glint to my eyes.

I didn't think much of it. I never really did. As long as they were boiling because of me... that was all that truly mattered to me in the first place. I watch them leave with one last look, before I go off to find Randy, Grayson and Kevin.

I never told them about the interaction between Rhea, Damian and I...

(to be continued...)

[a-boca-do-inferno]

i decide what’s appropriate (john milton x reader) [request]

summary: (y/n) is growing tired of her boss' advances.

warnings: light angst, light fluff, a little stalking

words: 0.8k

notes: just another day of wanting to fuck that old man. enjoy <3

“Giddy up, we’re going for a ride”, his voice sounds somewhat demanding, the look on his face making the girl shiver from head to toe. 

(y/n) lets out a heavy sigh as John takes her out of her thoughts. She turns to see him standing in the doorway with a wide smile. Repetitive. Things were starting to get repetitive and (y/n) didn’t have the stomach for it anymore. Could she perhaps quit the job and move out of town? Who was she kidding, in what world would John let her do such a thing? He had connections and money, she surely wasn’t getting away that easily. She couldn’t even sue the guy for his uncomfortable comments, as he was the hottest lawyer in town. Hell, John would make her pay him money for suing in the first place. That was the type of power he held. With another defeated sigh, she only complied in silence. Nothing she ever said made a difference, anyway. 

John walks with her towards his car, which probably costs more money than (y/n) will ever make in her lifetime as a secretary, and swiftly opens the door for her. “After you, sweetheart.”

(y/n) hesitates. He’s been stalking her in the office for a month now, but getting into this man’s car just seems too much. She should probably run and never look back, but her feet don’t share the same opinion as they make their way into the vehicle gracefully. The girl doesn’t even have to look at John's face to know he’s got a smug smile painting his lips while he sits beside her and turns on the engine. They drive to seemingly nowhere in particular, and his conversible causes her hair to blow with the wind as he steps into the pedal without ceremony. The breeze hitting her face is nice, and for a moment she forgets her annoyance at her boss these past few weeks.

John doesn’t say a thing for quite some time, but he keeps an eye on her every now and then. He doesn’t stop at red lights and she feels slightly anxious, however, his relaxed demeanor ends up affecting her in a good way. His confidence that they could never crash somehow soothes (y/n) and the only thing in her mind now is the sound of the roaring wind in her ears. Her hair is a mess, but she doesn’t care. For a split second, she doesn’t care about anything. Her lips curve upwards at the thought. 

John takes note of it and raises his brow. “Someone’s loosening up, I see.”

She only hums in response, closing her eyes and resting her head against the seat. “Yeah.”

“Your brother said you wanted to quit”, he says casually, but it’s clear he’s not pleased with the information. (y/n) thinks about punching Kevin in the face as John adds with a snort, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“You don’t exactly talk about quitting your job to your boss, Mr. Milton”, she laughs it off awkwardly, avoiding his piercing gaze. 

He finds the comment funny, as he chuckles along and nods. “Call me John.”

“That’s not appropriate”, (y/n) looks down at her lap, her voice sounding more submissive than she initially intended. There’s just something about this guy.

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head slowly. “I decide what’s appropriate at my firm. Don’t you worry about that, sweetheart.”

“What else did Kevin tell you?”, she gives him a questioning look. She figured they spoke of her on occasion, as it was inevitable. Kevin had been the one to recommend her to John when she moved to New York. Everything she did would weigh on him too. 

“Nothing much, really. We talk mostly about work. We’re professionals, you know?”, he grins at her knowingly, as if he had just read her mind. 

(y/n) feels a shiver up her spine, but smiles shyly. “Good.”

“I told him I wanna figure you out”, he continues, parking the car in front of a fancy restaurant. Even the doors look expensive. (y/n) stares back at him with a slight frown, trying to understand what he means by that. John gets out of the car and opens her door, offering his hand. She blushes a little and accepts his help. Her knees feel weak with his proximity, his rough palm still holding hers firmly. Their faces are close when he mumbles, his hot breath hitting her mouth, “can I?”

(y/n) reckons this is the only time her words might make a difference, after all. Yet, with his dark eyes watching her every movement like a hawk, her mind goes completely blank. She feels enchanted, under a spell. Her voice comes in a pathetic whisper, “yes.”

John smirks. 

[kyleoreillylover]

Hotel Room

Summary: After you fail to help Sami and Kevin retain their tag team championships at payback, you expect to be kicked to the curb for not being enough to help them win. But Sami and Kevin find it shocking that you would even think that at all.

word count: 3,229

warnings: mentions of abuse (but not in detail, but roman's an asshole in this), cursing, insecure reader that just needs love.

pairings: Kevin Owens and Sami Zayn x Fem!Black!Reader (platonic), Jey Uso x Fem!Black!Reader (platonic)

tag list: @southerngirl41 @venusesworld @jeysbae @reci1996 @tbonesteakwithasideofmashngrav @hope4more @selena-tyler-564 @saintaquarius

a/n: This was inspired by a ao3 fanfic, and I put my own twist on it. I am obsessed with Kevin and Sami ( been obsessed since 2016 but wbk) need more of them!! wish they didn't split them up into different brands, but we got samijey to curb us lol. Hope ya'll enjoy! (also the pic of sami in the far right corner is just 😩)

From Sami 🩷: Hey…you kinda ran off after the match. I know you like to figure things out on your own and I don't expect you to do anything but know that me and Kevin here for you <3

To Sami🩷: Sami, I need you guys.

From Sami 🩷: You'll always have us, that'll never change. We’re in Room 203.

The empty hotel halls stretched for what seemed like forever, like a silent maze, the only sound echoing being the soft click of your heels against the polished floors.

You nervously wrung your hands together as you dragged your suitcase behind you, the heavy luggage not as heavy as the weight of defeat settling on your shoulders. Every step was painful, a reminder of the bitter loss you suffered earlier in the evening, and the almost non-existent tear stains that were slowly drying on your cheeks a reminder of how scared you were of how Sami and your other friends would react.

That was stupid. Sami wasn't Roman. None of your friends were him. But you couldn't help but feel a sinking sensation in your chest, couldn't help but push everyone away as soon as you came to the backstage area. You couldn't help but think they'd be disappointed in you. And most of all, you feared disappointing Sami and Kevin. Their reassurance meant the world, yet the fear lingered, gnawing at your resolve.

Before you knew it, you reached his hotel room, but your hand hesitated before knocking. What if Sami's response wasn't genuine? What if Kevin thinks your a disappointment? What if, despite Sami’s words, you were just a letdown to them too? What if he was being kind to you to later throw your words back in your face? You contemplated these thoughts as your knuckles hovered, hesitant to tap on the door.

Before you could make a choice to knock on the door or not, the door swung open, and all thoughts fled from your mind the second you saw Sami's handsome face peeking through the slightly ajar doorway, concern etched in his features as his eyes locked onto yours. His brown hues made you stop made you stop mid-breath, freezing you in a mix of relief and uncertainty.

"Y/N." Sami breathed out, eyes scanning over your form, taking in the way expression and the faint traces of tears.

"Sami," you managed, your voice quivering slightly despite your attempts to steady it. You peered up at him, feeling small under his gaze but oddly safe. His caring eyes seemed to dissect your worries without needing any words.

"Come in."

The invitation was gentle, almost tentative, as if he was giving you space to retreat if you needed. You hesitated, unsure of how to react. But the concern in Sami's eyes dissolved any hesitation.

You stepped into the room, Sami's hand on the small of your back was warm like the hotel room, the lights flickering dimly as if mimicking the emotions flickering within you.

Kevin was sat on the edge of the bed, looking up from his phone , concern instantly etched across his face as he saw you standing at the door.

"Come sit down. Where were you? You left so fast that it was like you were never there." Kevin's voice was soft instead of the angry growl you expected it to be as he gestured to the empty space beside him on the bed. Sami quietly closed the door behind you, his eyes never leaving your face.

"I-Im sorry… I needed some air," you mumbled, finally allowing your heavy suitcase to drop to the floor with a thud. You moved towards the bed, sitting down beside Kevin, feeling a lump form in your throat as you avoided looking directly at either man. The air felt suffoacting to you, and you knew lookin them in the eyes and seeing their anger and disappointment would be too much to bear.

You felt the bed dip as Sami sat down beside you, the mattress compressing under his weight. There was a heavy silence that lingered in the room, punctuated only by the subtle sound of Kevin setting aside his phone as he and Sami exchanged a silent look, both agreeing that this was way out of character for you.

Sami's hand landed gently on your shoulder, and you flinched at the unexpected touch, your body tensing as you looked up at him, seeing his brown eyes looking down softly into yours. He quickly retracted his hand, offering an apologetic smile though his concern grew tenfold at your reaction. "Hey, it's okay. You don't have to explain anything if you don't want to. We're just glad you're here," Sami's voice was calm and understanding, void of any hint of frustration or anger.

Your heart clenched at Sami's genuine concern. It was a stark contrast to what you expected—no judgment, no anger. But you knew better than to take things at face value-that's exactly what Roman used to do. You know the game, and you didn't want to be played again.

"I-I messed up," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotions you were struggling to articulate. "I'm sorry."

Kevin tilted his head, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at your words. "For what? The only people who should be sorry are Rhea and JD. It's not like you costed us the match. They did."

You averted your eyes as the memories of the match rushed back, blinking away the emotions threatening to spill over. "But it is my fault. I should've been more focused. I should've done better. I should've been better."

You swallowed hard and took a deep breath, trying to mask the vulnerability that threatened to spill over.

"Y/N…" Sami breathed out so softly that you could've pretended you didn't hear him if it weren't for his warm hand on your face that gently turned you to face him, your body stiffened at the touch, but Sami's hand was so comforting, so gentle, that you couldn't help but lean into it, looking up into his compassionate eyes. There was an understanding there, a depth that made you feel seen in a way you hadn't felt in a long time. "Talk to me. Tell me what I can do to make you feel better. Tell me what's wrong."

"Don't do that." You shook your head, feeling the pressure building inside, the lump in your throat growing larger. "Don't treat me like I'm weak. I can take the punishment."

"Wait, what?" Sami's hand left your cheek and Kevin stood up wide eyed at your statement.

"Did you just say what I think you fucking said?" The growl Kevin let out made you flinch as the man stormed towards you, a fury blazing in his brown eyes. It startled you even more when you realized he wasn't glaring at you, that he wasn't directing his aggression at you, at least in that moment.

Sami's eyes were just as wide, and you felt yourself instinctively shrinking backwards into the bed, as though expecting to get hit. Sami grabbed Kevin by his shirt collar and held him back, a quiet command ringing in the air that had no need for words, even though his eyes told all you needed to know

"What did you mean?" Sami asked gently, ignoring the scowling man in front of him, though the slight anger he tried to hold back in his voice betrayed him. "Y/N, what do you mean?"

Your voice was barely audible as you muttered, "Just…I lost. I have to pay for it now. It's the way it goes."

Kevin's lips curled in anger at your words, and Sami could barely contain himself either, and they took deep breaths, visibly controlling their own emotions before speaking again.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to pay for anything. You did nothing wrong." Sami cupped your jaw, forcing you to look at him, and you could see the anger clouding his usual vibrant irises. "I don't have to guess who made you feel this way, but you don't deserve to be treated this way. You don't deserve to be thinking that this is your fault. This is not your fault."

You waited for the punchline, your expression a mix of pain, sadness, regret and guilt. But it never came.

You looked up at Kevin, noticing his expression had softened as he observed your facial expression intently, searching for something, anything that will reassure you that this isn't true, that you are not the burden you think you are.

Sami's hand on your jaw was warm, and it wiped away a tear you didn't even realize was there. His touch was gentle, so different from what you expected. You were waiting for anger, for disappointment, for something familiar, yet Sami and Kevin were nothing of the sort. They were kind, understanding, and concerned. Sami's voice cut through your thoughts.

"Y/N, listen to me," Sami's voice was insistent yet calm. "Whatever happened out there tonight, whatever you're feeling, it's not your burden alone to bear. We're here for you. You're not weak for feeling overwhelmed or scared. You're not weak for coming to us for help. And you're not weak for a loss you have no fault for."

Kevin's expression softened further as he took a step towards you, his tone much softer than before. "You don't have to pay for anything, okay? We win and we lose together." He sat next to you again, his arm inching towards you hesitely before encircling your shoulders in a protective gesture. "And that's how it goes. We're here to support you, not punish you. We're a team, we're a family, and we will never hurt you."

You looked between Sami and Kevin, feeling the walls you've built around you tremble. Their words held an honesty you hadn't experienced before, a sense of solidarity that contradicted your fears. The tenderness in their actions contradicted everything you were used to. It scared you. But it also made you happy, because it was everything you ever needed.

"I don't deserve this…" You choked on the words, the emotions lodged in your throat making it difficult to articulate your thoughts. "I've always been the weak link… It's always been that way."

Sami's hand on your jaw tightened slightly, not in a forceful way, but in a comforting manner, making you meet his gaze. "Listen to me, Y/N. That is not true. You've never been a weak link, and you never will be. And you know why?"

Sami's hand left your jaw finding yours gently, his fingers intertwining with yours. "Because you are one of the greatest wrestlers I've ever seen in the ring. Your heart, kindness, skill, dedication, no one else can compare to it. And no one has a bigger heart than you, that's why I'm proud to call you my best friend, and I know Kevin feels the same."

Sami gestured to Kevin, and you leaned into his arm as you looked at him, his usual stern expression softened by a hint of concern. His eyes were reflecting empathy and affection, a sight that caught you off guard.

"I know I don't say it a lot," Kevin started, his voice softer than usual, "but what Sami said? It's true." His arm around your shoulder tightened ever so slightly. "You're family. And we would never hurt family for something stupid like a title loss, unlike-"

Kevin cut himself off with an irritated huff, his eyes briefly reflecting an emotion you couldn't quite pinpoint before he recomposed himself. Sami's grip on your hand tightened gently, a silent reassurance as he exchanged a knowing look with Kevin, comforting him as well until he finally composed himself enough to turn back to you. "We love you, okay? I love you, and I can't let you think that you're anything less than the amazing person you are. We've seen you at your best, and we've seen you when you're not okay, and let me tell you, even then, you're badass."

You didn't know how to take it from here. You were not used to receiving such unconditional support and affection since your start in the bloodline. It felt foreign yet strangely comforting. A part of you wanted to believe their words, to let their reassurances seep into your core and heal the wounds of self-doubt that had been festering for so long. So that's exactly what you tried to do.

"Thank you," you murmured, voice thick with emotion. "I… I'm sorry. It's just that.. he used to.."

"You don't need to tell us anything you don't want to." Sami interjected gently, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. "We understand."

You nodded with a meek smile, squeezing Sami's hand in gratitude. "Thank you for being here for me. I appreciate it more than I can say."

Kevin leaned in, placing a firm hand on your other shoulder. "We've got your back, always. No matter what." His tone held a sense of finality, as if he was making a solemn vow.

You took a deep breath, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders, albeit ever so slightly. Their words was a salve to the wounds you kept hidden for so long. It was a warmth you hadn't felt in ages, a comforting embrace that slowly began to mend the broken pieces of your spirit. You looked at them, feeling gratefulness swell in your heart for having these two by your side.

"Thank you," you repeated, your voice steadier this time. "I… I really needed this."

Sami offered a comforting smile. "Of course. Now how bout you take a hot shower, let off some steam, and we can get some rest? And if you don't feel comfortable rooming with us, we can ask Jey if you can room with him."

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "No, this is good. Thank you, really."

Kevin nodded, a brief smile crossing his features. "Alright then. You need anything else, just ask. We'll be right here."

Before you could rise from the bed, Kevin pulled you down and engulfed you in a tight hug. It was unexpected, but the sincerity in his embrace was undeniable. Sami leaned in, joining the hug, wrapping his arms around both you and Kevin, and you relaxed into their embrace, feeling a sense of security you hadn't felt in a long time. The weight on your chest seemed to ease, and for the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things would be alright.

As you separated from the hug, a genuine smile adorned your face. " I'll take that shower and get some rest. But thank you, both of you."

They nodded in unison, their expressions reflecting both understanding and determination. "Anytime," Sami said, his voice holding a softness that touched your heart.

You gave one last smile to them before you made your way to the bathroom, and as soon as the shower was turned on Kevin stood up abruptly and faced Sami, his expression hardening into an angry scowl. Sami, observing the sudden change in Kevin's demeanor, rose cautiously, concern etched on his features.

"Kevin, what's going on?" Sami's voice held a tinge of worry as he watched his friend's reaction.

Kevin clenched his fists, his jaw tensing. "I'm gonna beat Roman's ass."

Sami interrupted, his tone urgent as he put his hand on Kevin's shoulder, trying to calm him down. "Kevin, you can't. Not right now."

"Stay out of it, Sami," Kevin retorted sharply. "This is about her. About what he's done."

Sami hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by Kevin's intense emotions. "I know, trust me I know. But we can't just go in there and—"

Kevin interrupted, brushed off Sami's hand and turned to face him, anger seething in his eyes. "Did you know what he was doing to her? Did you know how he treated her?"

Sami's eyes widened in surprise and hurt at the accusation. "No, Kevin. I didn't know. If I had, that would've been the last day Roman would have a career." Sami's voice held a note of defensiveness, hurt that Kevin would even think he'd knowingly allow such mistreatment.

"How could you not know?" Kevin's voice wavered between anger and disbelief. "You acted like everything was normal!"

The accusation stung Sami deeply, and his voice turned raw with emotion. "Because I didn't know, Kevin! I trusted Roman at the time, you know that! I trusted her judgment, you know that! How could you think I'd let her get hurt? How could you think I'd just stand by?"

Sami's voice raised slightly, a hint of frustration surfacing. "And don't you think Jey would've been the first to know? He was in the bloodline longer than me, he's the closest one to her besides us. We both know Jey would've torn Roman apart for even touching her."

Kevin seemed to visibly calm down at Sami's reasoning, though the tension in the room lingered. He ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "I just... I can't stand the thought of someone hurting her, you know? Of him, out of all people, hurting her."

Sami nodded, his features softening with empathy as he placed a hand on Kevins' shoulder. "I get it Kev. My heart was ripped out of my chest the second I heard what she said."

Kevin nodded, his gaze downcast. "Me too. God, I wanted to kill him right then and there. I still do."

Sami looked at Kevin for a moment, the two of them gazing at each other before Sami brought Kevin into a much needed hug that they both needed in the moment.

Kevin slowly returned the hug, his body tense but gradually relaxing in Sami's embrace. Sami held onto the hug for a moment longer before releasing Kevin, hoping to reassure him, while trying to reassure himself.

Sami held onto the hug for a moment longer before releasing Kevin, hoping to reassure him. "I'm scared too, Kev," Sami admitted softly. "But we'll figure this out, okay?"

Kevin nodded, a steely determination glinting in his eyes. "Yeah, we will." He glanced towards the door after a comfortable silence spread between them and the shower stopped running.. "I'm gonna go grab something to eat downstairs."

Sami felt a tinge of suspicion but nodded in acquiescence. "Alright, grab me some food too, I'm going to bed." Kevin nodded and dabbed Sami up before heading out the door.

Once Kevin left, Sami sighed deeply, feeling the weight of the situation settle on his shoulders. He prepared for bed, trying to quell the swirling thoughts in his mind.

Meanwhile, Kevin stepped outside and pulled out his phone, dialing Jey's number. He knew Jey would go ballistic, and that's exactly why he needed him. He was done with Romans bullshit over the past 3 years. His ego, his cockiness, the pain he inflicts on others.

But that pain will mean nothing like the one Kevin, Jey and Sami will inflict on him for hurting you.