#<- i kind of cringed typing that sorry...

[mechahero]

//Some HypnoOutlaw AU stuff because I have a problem

Lambda's username on there is jetixis (or cyberworldz maybe? If I go down the cyberworldz username route, he'd use it out of spite or some attempt to seem cool because it's ironic to use the name of Hypno.space's competitor while being on HS. Even though he uses Hypno.space and doesn't use CyberWorldZ at all.)

His desktop wallpaper is the classic light green and slightly darker shade of green checkered background. Or a Taurus X wallpaper. He changes between the two a lot.

Listen, his display settings are Squisherz themed, except for the sound which is default. His cursor setting is HS default or this cool gauntlet cursor he found while poking around one night. His screensaver is Oozle Drip.

Motor City isn't a thing but he still does live in Virginia. I don't know where in it yet.

He's usually on HS to hang out with people. He's kind of lonely in real life and uses the internet as a method to connect with other people and talk with them!

Yes, he has a virtual pet. It's Mushi. He used to have an April the Flying Hamster but he made the mistake of taking a weeklong break from HS and it sort of... died? (I know the pets don't actually decline or die when you log off but roll with it.) He's still upset about it.

The song that plays on his page is either Wild Sleep, or he managed to scoot around HS's copyright system so he can have Platinum Retriever or Glamopaster #2 as his page theme.

His page is... well, it's not really weird exactly. It's kind of just average? Imagine a page for a heavily masc 18 year old but slightly juxtaposed by the fact that he often talks about cute things he likes. And the background being pink perhaps, that too. Maybe a mix of cool and cutesy gifs and stuff.

He just kind of talks about whatever! From the music he likes, the shows and games he likes to watch and play. Average stuff. He won't shut the hell up about KATACLYSM and a vampire show he likes though.

Has a page dedicated to Taurus X. He wanted to make a fan club so he could talk about it with other fans of the show but he wasn't sure how to do that, so it's just a page.

Has an unlisted page that's tucked away. It mostly functions as a diary. It's more of a place for him to try and put his thoughts and feelings. It's rarely updated due to how weird he feels about it.

He has another unlisted page which is basically just a place for him to put his fanfiction. He mostly writes a lot of worldbuilding stuff for the world his character is in. He very rarely writes stories about his character, which is a cyborg catboy that takes cues from JRPG protagonists. (Just... roll with it. Please.)

Has a third unlisted page where he posts screenshots of drama he comes across and talks about it. Think like Gossip Girl. Lambda tends to follow these bouts of drama very closely. It's mostly for his eyes only as he's aware that it's really fucking weird to post about someone else's drama publicly, hence the unlisted page. Doesn't stop him from getting into the occasional fight outside of that page though. Because never knowing when to keep his mouth shut is just consistent with Lambda no matter the verse.

He's a sparklehaze disliker, sorry. He's tried to like it but it's not his thing. Dislikes a lot of cosmic music and coolpunk songs as well.

Ironic considering he's a Fre3zer fan lmaooo (he only likes Icy Girl and that's it so that doesn't even count.)

Secret Seepage fan. He keeps it to himself but Lambda really does like their songs. He just doesn't want to be made fun of for listening to the HS equivalent of nu metal lmao.

He's just kind of nosy. His nights when not spent in ChitChat talking to his friends or posting on his page consist of going onto other people's pages and looking through them. He has a lot of fun going through rabbit holes and seeing just how many pages are connected to each other. The downside is that he tends to find a lot of weird stuff. But hey, that kind of happens so he's not too bothered by it, he just moves on.

You know Lambda would have the HS_Lifestyles badge on his page. And HS_Music. And HS_GamersOnly while we're at it. He's not subscribed to a lot of things.

[vampyruic]

always so interested by people who are like “i love weird freaks !! we need more weird freaks !! i am so weird and not normal and ONLY talk to weird people” because it’s like there’s PLENTY of weird freaks. you just think they’re cringe and you make fun of them LOL. especially if they look too ‘normal’ for you

[ev3nesce]

play pretend

summary: It's the end of the week, and your last task is a routine checkup with Dr. Zayne. You're childhood friend, the only stability in your life. You wouldn't trade him for anything, and if that means keeping your feelings in check, then so be it. But when the topic of an unwanted suitor comes into question, your check-up is lost to a game of pretend. Do you have the strength to let him pose as your boyfriend for a quick fix, or will you forget where the line between real and fake is drawn? Spoiler: you forget.

tl;dr: plot with porn?? going yearn for yearn with Zayne 😼

zayne x fem reader

authors note: this is purely self-indulgent LMAO I was so hurt by the new main story update that I had to write a cutesy first fuck. And yes there IS a build up to the smut people lock in I’m here to fix your attention spans. Alsoooooo there's nothing else on this account cause I got too embarrassed to post a fic on the main. Can’t have friends and fam stumbling upon smut written by my own hands. Haven’t posted a fic of any kind in years so please be kind 😘 also cross-posted this on AO3

one-shot; smut (p in v, unprotected, fingering); 9.8K words

Hands subconsciously smoothing out your still-pristine uniform, you smile at the familiar nurses who breeze by. It’s an exchange that, no matter how frequent, still strikes you as, well… funny. Never would you have pictured yourself on a first-name basis with half of Akso Hospital. Not without help, at least. You suppose such a privilege comes with the package deal that is Dr. Zayne.

Zayne, whose office is two more turns to the left. Your fingers absentmindedly fix your hair for the nth time. 

Thanks to your hasty stride, you’re a tad out of breath. And late. In hallways where staff and patients vanish from view, you shamefully jog, only to awkwardly press the brakes when those familiar faces attempt to greet you. Of course, they let you go quickly, for this is not an unusual occurrence. While you’re punctual in any other professional setting, your unique situation with your primary care physician seems to influence some tardiness. Maybe it’s because you know that, behind all the mockery and lethal side-eyes, he doesn’t really care. Not anymore; months of buttering him up and trying to coax a long-lost bond from him have undoubtedly paid off. 

But this time, it wasn’t your fault. You physically cringe at the fresh memory moments before you throw the door to Zayne’s office wide open, uncaring of what you might be interrupting. Most of the time, you had some decency to knock during your lateness. Naturally, manners were the least you could offer as an apology. Today, however, your head was a foggy mess.

“Sorry—“ You blurt out. “Sorry, I’m late.”

Zayne sits comfortably at his pristinely organised desk, and—as dramatic as ever—he does not look your way. The soft clicks of his slender fingers typing on the keyboard are the first to greet you. The reflection of the computer screen on his glasses is especially harsh at this hour as the last remnants of sunlight slip away. Beyond the wall of windows, the vibrant Friday night life of Linkon begins to stir, its pulsating energy a stark contrast to the air of serene focus in this room.

“Again.” He hums absentmindedly as you sheepishly enter and shut the door. Those tired feline eyes remain on the computer screen. “What’s the excuse this time?”

The thought of why coaxes an awkward laugh out of you. “Nothing interesting.”

Zayne’s brows ever so slightly pinch at the sound, and he finally throws a glance your way. No doubt he registers your exhausted, flustered look as you settle into a chair. “Even children are more creative when lying. You look…dishevelled.”

“No, I don’t.” You definitely do.

“Overworking yourself again?”

“What? No.”

You brace yourself for the onslaught of questions his words threaten. Whenever the topic of your work’s physical demands comes up, the conversation becomes a never-ending back-and-forth. He insists you need to take a step back. You insist he’s overreacting. Despite your best efforts, neither of you can sway the other. 

“Then what?” He presses. “Something interesting?”

You frown as the picture of your desk back at work comes to fruition, decorated with a flamboyant yet stereotypically boring gift, one that you could not bring with you. Following it is the unfavourable closeness of the gift-giver’s desk to your own. 

“I was just about to leave work—on time, mind you—when I got given a gift, so I got held up in conversation.”

“A gift?”

“Some flowers.”

“Flowers?”

There’s an inexplicable flutter in your stomach as you hint at the event to Zayne, a cringe pressing in on your shoulders, though you can’t quite justify why. Perhaps it’s the invisible, warning whisper of unspoken boundaries years in the making, as if flirtation and romance were forbidden topics in his presence. Like standing barefoot in the cold. Like a puritan child burdened with silent shame, hesitant to speak on the prospects of young love before a disapproving parent. 

The very idea of acknowledging your own desirability feels taboo. And yet, beneath that suffocating truth, a sinister and smitten urge blooms. It is a fragment of your heart eager to dangle those delicate ideas in front of him. Could you coax even an inkling of jealousy from those otherwise unreadable eyes?

Zayne busies himself for a brief, silent moment, arranging papers that are presumably yours into a neat pile and grabbing simple equipment from the drawers. You’re following gaze is spurred by the conflicting apprehension and interest. The dull scratch of a pen on paper, a breath, your heartbeat. Finally, he rests his chin on one hand and taps the pen against his desk. 

“Who gave them to you?” 

“One of the guys I work with. We happen to be stationed together often.”

“A co-worker, huh?” A moment ago, you could have sworn the usual indifference in Zayne’s face had softened. But what you’re looking at now isn’t exactly a soft look. “I presume he didn’t just want to give you flowers for the sake of it?”

“He also asked me to dinner.” You pretend to find interest in the distant view of neon lights outside the window. “Tonight.”

“What did you tell him?” 

Are the taps of his pen on the desk becoming more aggressive?

You shrug as if your answer is painfully obvious. “That I was busy. Maybe another time.”

“Why not tell him no?”

“Well…I don’t know.” You shrink in on yourself slightly, as if confined by the physical manifestation of social pressure. The man you were talking about, while friendly enough, was oftentimes difficult to deal with. Not outrightly so, but it was the little things: the subtle knack of being argumentative, an ego as inflated as a balloon ready to burst. All while you had to see him every day? …You had really drawn the short end of the stick here. “I felt bad.”

Something about your answer makes Zayne sigh. He drops the pen and reaches for the blood pressure monitor. As he speaks, his tone is both exasperated and annoyed. “Don’t worry about being polite with those things. You’re just giving him hope by saying ‘another time’.”

You shrug off the thick, leather-like jacket of your Hunter uniform reserved for office work and present your arm. Beneath it is a tight, white button-up. You try not to be aware of the few unfastened top buttons.

“What if he’s one of those ‘pay for everything’ types and takes me somewhere fancy?” You tease as Zayne wraps the band around your forearm. “One date might not hurt.”

Zayne’s grip on the arm band shifts subtly, slender fingers tugging the band unexpectedly tight. The coarse fabric presses against your pulse. His brow furrows — an indication of focus, but on what, you wonder? Zayne’s medical prowess is above the mechanics of velcro or the calibration of blood pressure machines. The clinically harsh overhead lights cast a white halo behind him that cuts sharp lines across his jaw.

“What happens when he expects more than one date?”

“You never know. I might be swayed in his favour.”

The weight of Zayne’s stare is noticeable only when he looks away, turning his focus to the machine’s screen. “You can have fun without going on pointless dates. Especially with someone you work with.”

You sigh dramatically. “I know. I’m mostly joking, but a girl can dream.”

Zayne raises a brow. “Dreaming about your coworkers? How professional of you.”

“You’re one to talk about ‘professionalism’,” you retort with a hmpf. “You’re my doctor, after all. I thought there were strict rules about interpersonal relationships with patients.”

“Rules, yes.” Scarred fingers reaching blindly for his stethoscope. As he speaks, there isn’t much authority in his voice. Instead, it’s almost quiet, far away as he sinks into thought. “But we’re friends first.”

“It still surprises me, though.”

“I’d be more surprised if you went to someone else.” 

Now it’s your turn to raise a brow. “How so?”

“Well, I know your medical history like the back of my hand, you’re comfortable with me, your condition is compatible with my specialisations…” A hint of mischief burns in the few bright specks of his otherwise dark eyes. “And I highly doubt anyone else would want to put up with you.”

Your face contorts as if his words attack your senses like a bitter lemon slice. “Ouch, Dr. Zayne. Am I that much of a pain?”

“More like a constant headache.”

Zayne reaches forward, and instinctively, you straighten up, welcoming the further tests. But the chest piece of the stethoscope isn’t in his hand. Instead, he leans down, one hand wrapping around your chair legs. The low groan of wood against wood cuts through the room as you slide towards him. He does so with ease. Incredible ease and attractive ease. 

Though his uniform usually leaves little to the imagination, the white coat pulls taut, offering a delicious view of firm muscle. You swallow hard, almost ashamed at how easily the casual display of strength weakens your knees. The man opposite you is otherwise unbothered, straightening to fix the stethoscope in his ears. 

Considering he’s about to listen to your racing heart, you look away, searching for a quick fix. Any sight except him will do. Your eyes fall to the floor…and to the very usable wheels on his own chair.

“In that case, maybe I should switch to someone else.” The cold metal presses in the open V of your button-up, right below your collarbone. “You’re so busy. I’d hate to overwork you.”

Zayne looks up at you through his lashes as he draws close. “Now you’re being dramatic. You wouldn’t last a week.”

“And what makes you so confident?”

He chuckles. Clearly, he’s enjoying the back-and-forth. “Because I know you. You’re stubborn, never listen, never follow any of my advice. Besides, you’d miss me too much.”

Your heart flutters right beneath the stethoscope.

“I do listen.” You choose not to acknowledge the latter half of his answer.

“Prove it then.”

You tilt your head, confused. He makes a zipper gesture over his lips. Oh.

For the duration of his observations, you keep quiet, allowing him to focus on the task at hand. Just as he sets the metal against your chest for the last time, your phone dings. The double chime is unmistakable: the secure messaging platform used for Hunters. You often exchange words with your colleagues through it, but at this time, those who didn’t have your personal number wouldn’t bother you. 

Your heart flutters again—this time for the wrong reason. Spurred by morbid curiosity, you fish your phone from your pocket without disturbing Zayne. Through the notification centre you scroll until the dreaded name pops up. Great.

“What’s with that look?” Zayne questions.

There’s not much more to say than the message itself. You flip your phone around to show it.

Sooo… how busy on a scale of 1 to 10 are you really tonight?

Zayne adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. A subtle squint creases the corners of his sharp, cat-like eyes, the faint glint of curiosity quickly giving way to something sterner. The amused tilt of his mouth from moments before fades, replaced by a slight frown.

“This is the flower culprit?” His tone is painfully dry as he pushes back to grab a pen and paper, jotting down something probably related to your heart rate. 

You hum in thought. “Time to come up with a good excuse, since I have nothing to do after this.”

“Or, and hear me out on this…” Zayne turns to face you, pen still in hand, as he leans back and spreads his legs. The sarcasm in his voice cuts rather than teases. “You just say no.”

Exhausted with even the thought of it, you sigh. “You don’t get it. He’s just a little…much. He tried something with Tara a while back, as if he shares a single similarity with her type, and he’s only just moved past the aftermath.” You huff a laugh. “My guess is that the only thing that will deter him is making myself incredibly uninteresting or pretending I have a boyfriend.”

“What awful options.”

Though you wouldn’t agree, you don’t argue, instead continuing to wonder aloud. “The second option would be the most effective. Two birds with one stone, even.”

Knowing him, a rumour will start at work that you have a boyfriend. A perfect excuse for the earlier gesture just being friendly, considering the flowers were presented with a considerable audience. The rumour wouldn’t be bad if there was an inkling of truth to it. Opposite you, Zayne folds his arms and taps the pen against his arm in a slow but forceful rhythm. 

…Could you use him as a scapegoat? 

The idea creeps in, sly and tempting, an offer as distracting as the taps of his pen. But no — you snuff that worrisome flame the second it sparks. The guilt it brings is akin to admitting aloud the things that cross your mind in his absence. Pretending would be more than a harmless lie, should he agree; it would cheapen your priceless bond. At least to you. The idea leaves a bitter aftertaste.

“What happens when he asks for proof?” 

“Maybe I’ll get one of my friends to play along,” you respond matter-of-factly, although the finer details are nothing more than an afterthought to you. In all honesty, you’ll probably ignore the message, but for some reason, you have yet to drop the conversation.

“And who exactly are you going to rope into this?” 

God, it’s like he’s determined to highlight every flaw in your plan. You grin. “Depends on who can be most convincing. Maybe I’ll hold an audition.”

Zayne taps the pen a few beats faster as you become stuck in a standoff-ish staring contest. Why, you’re not so sure. There should be nothing left of value in this conversation.

“I have an idea.”

“I’m listening.” You lean forward, anxious for his answer.

He tosses the pen onto his desk. “What if…I helped you out?”

You couldn’t be more thankful that the stethoscope is no longer in his hands. There’s a beat of silence as you look back at him with eyes wide in astonishment. Just moments ago, you had disregarded the idea with a sound resolve, considering it distasteful and disastrous for yourself. Now, with the offer coming from him, your stance has shifted. 

He could convince you to get away with murder. You stifle a laugh.

“You? Could you be convincing?”

“So you doubt my acting skills, huh?” He seems to relax at your light laughter, even flashing you a grin of his own. Your routine checkup has been abandoned entirely. “I’ll have you know I’d do perfectly well.”

“Prove it then. Time for your audition.” You clap your hands together twice before leaning against his desk, arm on the surface and chin in hand. “Question one: Imagine we’re going out for dinner. Where will you take me?”

Zayne looks out the large expanse of window as he considers your question with genuine depth. As he does so, he leans against his desk, vaguely mirroring your own position. “Somewhere we can have privacy, but not so secluded that it feels forced. Good food and candlelit tables. Cozy. If I really wanted to impress you, which I probably do, we could go somewhere exclusive.”

When the answer comes to its conclusion, his eyes slowly drift back to meet yours. Still unreadable. Typical. The carefully crafted response renders you speechless for a moment. You remind yourself not to let it show, pursing your previously parted lips. 

“We’ll split the bill fifty/fifty,” you add after a moment.

He scoffs. “Silly of you to think I’d let you spent even a cent.”

Don’t smile. 

“…Okay, question two: Where do we go after?”

“After…we could walk around the city if it’s a nice night and stop at some of the food stalls for something sweet—like the one I took you to after work the other week. Then I’ll drive you home. A little aimlessly, though, so I can waste time and spend more with you.”

Like the one I took you to. You raise a brow. “Nothing extravagant?”

“What, is this supposed to be a first date?”

“What if it was?”

He flashes a look of mock offence, as if the answer could not be clearer. “Realistically, how extravagant do I need to be to win you over? We’re not strangers.”

“But just like you said, we’ve done those things before. What makes this special?”

A tsk. “If you weren’t seeing the situation in a different light in accordance with our different relationship, I’d be a little worried.” 

You bite back a smile. “Fine then. Question three: I get that text while we’re out and show you. What do you say?”

“Tell you to text him something straight forward so that there’s no wiggle room. ‘I’m busy with my boyfriend, can’t talk’ should do it. Simple. If he questions the legitimacy, send him a picture where he can’t deny what we are.”

Reality suddenly draws you from the conversation’s alarming immersion. How did you get here? When did the conversation take this turn? Did the offer leave his lips on a whim, or was it brewing the second you mentioned receiving flowers? …Why? Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to even consider a version of the answer where there’s real jealousy in Zayne. This was a conversation between two friends, where one is in an awkward predicament and the other is offering a clear escape. 

Except it wasn’t clear. 

You could lie or swallow your pride and reject your colleague, but instead, you were hanging on Zayne’s every word in a daze. Though his descriptions were simple, it was almost as if you could taste the remnants of a shared dinner on your tongue, feel the chilly evening air on your cheeks and the warmth of his hand in yours as you strolled aimlessly through the streets. Imagining it isn’t an impossible task, either. Most of the outings you shared were the taunting shell of a date.

Zayne watches with an immeasurable intensity as silent seconds tick by, waiting for an answer. Should you agree? The date was only theoretical—no harm, no foul. Just a story to tell your colleagues. At most, a picture was all you needed. You match his gaze for a moment longer. Then…

“Alright. Fine.” You drum your thighs as you announce: “You’re hired.”

Zayne leans back in his chair at the news, grinning as if he’s just won a childish game of tug-of-war. “Before we start, I have one condition.”

“And that is?”

“As your employee, things will remain strictly professional, right?”

Those simple, serious words douse out the little spark in your chest—something you’re grateful for, and yet stubbornly wounded by. You snort. “I’d be worried if that wasn’t the general consensus already.”

With a hum, Zayne is the first to look away, eyes drifting behind you to the expanse of Linkon City. For once in this strange interaction, you recognise the look on this face: thoughtfulness. Oh, how you wished to pick apart his brain. Should the universe allow it, you would dive into his mind and make a nest of those fleeting thoughts otherwise destined to be unheard. In this moment, you can’t help but admire him from afar. You could swear a merciless ocean stands in the way, or a glass wall thicker than bullets could pierce. Then he stands with an outstretched hand, and suddenly, you’re back in his office, acutely aware of your physical closeness.

You place your hand in his with underlying hesitance. Before he shakes your hand, he pulls you to your feet. Warm fingers delicately apply his strength.

“Deal.”

“Deal,” you echo. You can’t help but feel surprise at his formal, dedicated approach. “Should we take a photo now, or should I just text him first and see if he believes—?”

“Photo first.” He’s quick to cut you off, shrugging off his pristine white coat in the process and haphazardly throwing it over a chair. “Who knows how long it might take for him to reply? We don’t have all night. By the time he does, I might be long gone.”

While that could be true, you knew your colleague would be waiting with bated breath for a reply. But you don’t bother to challenge Zayne in that regard and instead reach for your phone. “As you wish, Doc-tor. …How should we stand?”

Wordlessly, he takes you by the elbow and gently shuffles you to stand before him, your back to his chest. Over your shoulder you watch, quiet and nervous. There’s a pathetically large gap between the two of you. When you don’t step back to close it, he chuckles. 

“You can come closer,” he says. Then, in a more sheepish tone, he adds, “If you’re okay with that.”

You’re affirmation is nothing more than a hum, too cautious to give voice to nerves that may betray you. You’re step back is carefully calculated; not too far so that every inch of you is flush with him, not too quick to suggest eagerness. Zayne leans against his desk in an attempt to adjust his towering height according to yours. As a result, you find yourself standing between a pair of large, spread thighs that faintly brush your own.

Zayne’s movements mirror your deliberate caution, slow and measured. His hands first guide you by the shoulders, then shimmy you by your sides. Then, at a pace so gruelling it was like he wished not to disturb you, his arms slowly snaked around your waist. Each movement is made in such silence that you wonder if he’s even breathing. Were you? His arms hover an awkward inch away, giving you the opportunity to smack his wrists and lecture him on the professionalism he just swore to. You don’t. Of course you don’t. So he comfortably settles them, and you wonder if that opportunity was wasted.

Maybe if you leave your camera facing the ceiling, you won’t have to face the situation you’ve found yourself in. But unfortunately, time was moving at a very real pace, and standing around doing nothing would be just as bad. Stealing yourself, you raise your phone, nervous to make eye contact with your own self. Zayne cranes his neck to fit in the frame. Warm breath fans across your neck and ear as he does so. You shiver.

“Smiling is a must,” he murmurs. 

All you can do is nod, swallow, and smile as he instructs. Though it’s a nervous, timid smile, it is one nonetheless. Satisfied, your finger ghosts over the shutter button, only to forget all about it as he leans in a little closer, voice little more than a whisper in your ear.

“Smile wider.”

You can’t help but giggle at the feeling of his breath on your neck. It transcends the physical barrier of your skin, travelling down your spine tauntingly, leaving behind an overwhelming desire to chase the high. At least you don’t need to force a bigger smile—you take the photo the second he elicits the vulnerable reaction, capturing the fleeting appearance of a genuine smile and crinkled eyes. Though beneath it all, the ache of this hollow pretence remains.

“That tickles,” you say in a tone that is borderline accusing. 

“Sorry.” His voice remains quiet and breathy against the shell of your ear, this time with a hint of playful remorse. “It was intentional.”

“Mm-hm.” Focus. “I’m going to take one more.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Kiss me on the cheek.”

You’re not sure what possesses you to make the request. Sure, from an outside perspective, it is reasonable enough considering the act you’re mutually playing. But such a simple approach disregards human complexity. If he accepts, is that a reflection of blind obedience, or does it stir something deeper, enticing him beyond the agreement? If he refuses, does that mean he respects those boundaries out of disinterest or fear?

“…Okay.” 

That’s all he says. You’re as clueless as you were ten seconds ago. Shooing away the silly internal debate, you turn your head more his way. 

You are entirely unprepared for how he complies.

Nimble fingers trace a path beneath your jaw before finding purchase on your chin, tilting it with a subtle insistence. Fingers splayed, his grasp is all-consuming and possessive—perfect for a photo and detrimental to your moral compass. His free hand finds purchase on your hip, consistently firm despite being nowhere in frame. Were you always this close? 

The final graze of his lips against your cheek is devoid of his hand’s inescapable demand. Instead, the kiss is gentle. Cheeks red and heart racing, you have half the mind to take the photo. Then another. He lingers long enough for you to take three, your face in different stages of submission.

When you lower the phone, his touch disappears with it. What he doesn’t do is usher you away. Curious.

“Got enough photos?” He asks after a moment. The casual nature of his question is almost laughable.

“More than enough. Now to see if it was worth it…”

Zayne peers over your shoulder as you navigate to the message that caused this all. The quickly crafted response reads with little room for argument. 

Look, I think you’re great and I appreciate the flowers, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I have a boyfriend, and he thinks I should convey that I’m taken to spare both you and me, which I agree with. I am not and will not be free to spend time with you outside of work. 

It’s read immediately. The first message follows soon after.

Come on, y/n.

He continues to type. Then comes the second message.

What boyfriend? I’ve never heard of or seen any boyfriend. You don’t have to lie to me. Just give me a chance, sweetheart.

Sweetheart? You scoff aloud in offence. The gall he has to not only doubt you, but throw in a pet name is beyond you. Nevertheless, you couldn’t ask for a better opening. You don’t miss a beat before attaching the photo of Zayne kissing your smiling face with a simple: this one. You can’t deny the satisfaction it gives you to prove him wrong, regardless of the real truth. A soft laugh sounds behind you.

“A photo was worth it after all.”

“I see what you mean, now,” he muses. Though there’s a slight smile on his face, there’s a line between his brows that can’t be missed. “He’s got some nerve, calling you ‘sweetheart’ and all.”

“Sounds like someone is still in character,” you tease, nudging him with an elbow.

“Hey, I’m just making sure the message is clear,” he retorts in mock defence. “Can’t have anyone calling my girl ‘sweetheart’.”

Your breath barely has time to steady before a familiar chime sounds, drawing your attention to the unlocked screen in your hand. A shocked gasp escapes you at the few bold words staring back defiantly. What, it reads. Can he not share? Any words of indignation are snuffed by Zayne’s hand closing firmly around your wrist, angling the screen his way. The shift from subtle indifference to something far more intense is evident in that now-familiar frown.

“Ignore it.” The playfulness is gone.

“Someone really wants to get in my pants.” You sigh. “Well…work is going to be a little awkward. Thanks for your help, though.”

He huffs a laugh, though there's nothing humorous about it. “You’re welcome. Just let me know if he tries to bother you again.”

You half-turn in your spot between his legs and poke him in the chest. “What would you do then, hm?”

“I don’t know…” He trails off as he grabs your wandering hand and settles it back at your side without letting go. He continues, eyes watching where his fingers toy with your bracelets. “Maybe I’d come to the Association myself.”

“Too bad Tara knows you.” It’s a miracle your voice doesn’t waver. The pictures have already been taken; there’s nothing more to fake. “She’d see right through the act. Or should I swear her into secrecy?”

You’re unsure of how long the two of you have been absentmindedly inching closer. The room has shrunk entirely, walls dissolving as tunnel vision settles in. No longer can you pick up the sterile scent of antiseptic that clings to every surface of the hospital, nor do the fluorescent lights bother you. Now, the only tangible thread tethering you to this moment is him. Zayne. Your breath catches in your throat. A dead giveaway. His eyes flicker back to yours. Is it possible that the featherlight drag of his fingertips over your wrist has caught your pulse?

At this distance, you could count each gold fleck in his heavy-lidded eyes. Now, that look is a characteristic you’re less confident in labelling as fatigue. Seemingly satisfied with whatever he’s found in your eyes, his gaze trickles downwards. Over the imperfections of your skin to the curve of your lips, down your neck, skirting the scandalously low neckline of your button-up.

“I can be plenty convincing.” There’s a soft sensuality in the way each word leaves his lips, foreign and addictive. “No one would have to know it’s an act.”

His index finger teases your inner arm before finally making the jump to your waist. Suddenly, you can’t find the line between real and fake, hypnotised by a hazy want. You lay your hand over the one on your hip and speak with hesitance.

“You’re…doing a good job of convincing now…”

Now there’s a hand on either hip, angling you to face him entirely. His words are little more than a breath in your ear. “You think so?”

A moment of clarity draws your anxious attention to the unlocked door. Though it was late in the evening and Zayne should be leaving by now, you were also no expert in the inner workings of Akso Hospital. How often do people walk in unannounced? Would he get in trouble if someone saw him like this? In you’re peripheral, Zayne tilts his head to follow your gaze, curious. Then he laughs, the sound soft and deep, and boldly caresses your hips upon the understanding of your anxiety.

“Don’t worry.” Without lifting a finger, a subtle frost blossoms over the handle. Soft cracks echo as mounds of ice creep along the locking mechanism. The surrounding wooden frame glitters. “No one can open the door.”

You lift your chin in an attempt to tease. “Why would I be worried?”

“No reason.” His fingers continue to deftly draw circles on your hips, slow and intentional. When he leans in again, his lips almost graze the skin of your jaw. “Sweetheart.”

Not only were the lines blurred, they were gone entirely. That fact is enough to feed your confidence. Timid fingers skim over forearms exposed by rolled-up sleeves. Jagged scars rise to meet your fingertips. They whisper stories you’ve been too wary to pursue. Zayne’s biceps are pronounced beneath the black fabric of his dress shirt, his shoulders broad and inviting. Your travels come to a shy halt just short of his collar.

“You’re a tease.”

“Don’t make it so easy.”

“You’re not making this easy, either.” His grip tightens with those words.

“What do you mean?”

“Playing this game with you…” His voice wavers then, torn between sanity and delusion. “I don’t know where to stop.”

You’re unsure of what to say or do. A chill is emerging from the tips of his fingers, so cold that it seeps through the fabric of your skirt. Zayne is naturally the embodiment of his Evol; cold and unforgiving to those who don’t know him. There’s a subtle, physical aspect to the manifestation, too, from the sharpness in his features to an arresting chill that follows him. But this is different. The temperature in his hands is dropping rapidly, so much so that the shocking cold almost has a bite to it. Is he…aware that his Evol is activating? You shiver.

“You’re hands are cold,” you whisper.

Those few words connect with him like a punch—a harsh reality check. It’s evident in the way that his entire frame goes rigid, the clouded look in his eyes overshadowed by a minor horror. The daze is gone. So is the cold. Zayne withdraws his hands entirely, sinking further against his desk.

“Sorry,” he mutters, voice thick with tangible guilt.

Without missing a beat, you lean forward to match his slight escape, grabbing his hands and bringing them back before he can protest. The act is not a sensual show but instead an admittance of trust.

“I’m not afraid of it, you know,” you try with a small smile. “I don’t mind if your hands are a little cold.”

“You…don’t?” he asks, earnest in his perplexity.

You nod. He swallows.

“Why?”

Once you recognise that his hands won’t move, you slowly drape your arms over his shoulders. The expression on his face is akin to that of a wounded puppy. You’re both surprised at how quickly his hard exterior has melted and saddened by his martyrdom. Instincts rooted deep in your flawed heart pull you in, resting your cheek in the crook of his neck—a place equally as cold. Your fingers, which trace alone his nape, make contact with what you can only guess is a fine film of frost.

You sigh. “Well, you know my Evol can help ease it. If it hurts you, I can help. Besides…I’m not as delicate as you think I am.”

As you speak, the physical apprehension in his body eases. With it is the release of a shuddered breath as his arms tentatively encase you.

“You trust me too much,” he says with a light scoff.

“Sometimes you can be so dramatic.”

“I’m not being dramatic.”

You lift your head to squint at him. “Hm… Agree to disagree.”

You’re faces are incredibly close. The question of how close or why is entirely out the window. This wasn’t some pretend play anymore. You find nothing artificial in the position of his hands, in the way his gaze dances between your expectant eyes and parted lips. Not in his voice, not in the subtle red hue on his cheeks, not in the complaisant confessions of his ragged breaths. Nowhere. The substance that supported an illusion is suddenly weightless, dissolving alongside the frost beneath your fingertips.

“You truly are the most stubborn woman I know,” he mutters. His own stubbornness is endearing, but you’re tired of this game of cat and mouse. 

“So you don’t want to kiss me?”

Eyes less guarded than ever before stare back at you as if you’ve spoken another language.

You withdraw your hands and tilt your head away, half-joking, half-nervous by the lack of response. “No answer? Fine. I was offering, you know—“

Blinded by his previous dumbfoundedness, you don’t anticipate the speed of his reaction. Cold hands force you’re face back towards his. His head is slightly bowed, reverent eyes staring up through thick lashes. It’s as if he’s cradling an object of worship, like you’re a deity to whom he must repent. For he has sinned, disgraced by an ailing infatuation that has festered over the years, devolving into a mind-numbing greed.

Instead of the gentle tone that his words have melted into, a low, husky voice rings in your ears.

“I never said I didn’t want to kiss you.”

His thumb slides towards your lower lip, gently tracing the dip below to substantiate his claim. Air seems to escape you at the feeling of his breath, of his hands, at the way his gaze triangulates between your eyes and lips.

“I think about kissing you all the time.” 

His nose brushes against your cheek as he cranes his neck, breath fanning across your neck. All you can muster is a whispered, “Oh?”

“When I’m at home.” A warmth against your collarbone cuts through the overarching cold as his lips finally press down. Your heart stutters violently. “When I’m at work.” He kisses the expanse of skin between your neck and shoulder. One hand angles your head from the nape of your neck, fingers fervently tangled in your hair, the other cradling your waist. “When I’m with you.”

Another at the curve of your jaw. While his lips are warm, his breath comes out cold between each peck, each word. The conflicting temperatures are both shocking and enticing. 

“I’m tired…” He kisses your cheek for the second time today before pulling back to catch your eyes in earnest. “Of fantasising about it.”

Your faint smile flickers, a fragile torch that illuminates the path he no longer resists. Restraints shed, your breath mingles, and his lips come crashing against your own. It is unlike the nurturing kisses against your skin. In fact, it is anything but gentle; desperately crushing, a confession condensed into a press of mouths. Slender fingers explore the landscape of your lower abdomen, insatiable cartographers drawing maps of mystical lands. Here, he stakes his claim. A low groan echoes deep in his bones and resounds against your equally curious hands.

You suppress a groan of your own as you melt into putty kneaded by Zayne’s precise hands. Lower they go, pulling you closer by the hips, tracing the waistband of your skirt, testing how close to your ass he can get.

The results are in: he can get very close.

His grin doesn’t go unnoticed as his hands dip down with purpose, massaging the plump flesh. You’re hum of content is an addictive contingency. His grip becomes brusquely firm. You kiss him harder. Suddenly, they drop down to your thighs, and the floor disappears beneath you. A sharp gasp of surprise escapes your lips at the loss of support. Instinctively, your hold around his neck tightens, fingers grasping at the fabric of his black button-up.

Zayne’s grip on you is unwavering as he spins you both. Muscle flexes beneath your touch. One arm hooks beneath your knees and supports you effortlessly. The other reaches behind your back, pushing half of his desk’s contents onto the floor in one fluid swipe. Loose paper flutters towards the floor like fragile autumn leaves, settling soundlessly as pens clatter everywhere. The book on dream analysis that you had teased him about reading just last week lands face down with an accusing thud. It faces the ceiling with open pages, displaying the annotation of an electroencephalography. 

When Zayne sets you down on his desk, the action is gentle. The hand that helped to support you pushes apart your knees, allowing him to settle between and press a quick kiss to your lips.

“Sorry,” he says between peppered kisses. “Should I have asked before I did that?”

You chuckle against his mouth. “It’s fine. I’m giving you consent entirely. …Unless it’s something outrageous.” The latter part you add with a teasing tone.

“Is this too outrageous?”

Forehead rested against yours, he looks down to where his hand settles on your thigh. Your legs are spread wide to accommodate him. As a result, your skirt rides up dangerously high. Any higher and nothing would be left to the imagination. Slowly, his hand slides forward, aiming directly for the improper scene. You both watch in silence for a moment as he traces the raised hem, massages your thigh, then retreats slightly, only to repeat himself again and again. He meets a higher milestone each time. The urge to beg for more is debilitating, yet all you can do is shake your head, pathetic in your submission to desire.

When his lips meet yours again, his pace is slow, vaguely cautious, echoing that of his hand. Each kiss grows deeper and deeper, pushing you further back each time. The wooden surface of Zayne’s desk presses into your back before you know it. 

Angling one of your thighs against his hip, he settles over you with a new closeness. You’re skirt is as good as gone. The fabric bunches around your waist as he pushes your thigh up further. Neither of you pays verbal mind to the physical manifestation of his desire that presses against your aching core.

…Were the two of you really about to fuck in his office?

Zayne was always prim and proper. In the way he dresses, in his sophisticated speech, in his profession and borderline-OCD cleanliness. You would never peg him as the type to yield to sinful wants in scandalous places. And yet here you are, arching your back off his desk and accepting the hungry sweep of his tongue. The only thing protecting him from disciplinary action is the ice embedded in the door. You pray that all the times he insisted on his Evol’s temporal durability were not lies.

When his mouth is drawn back to your neck, your eyes flutter open. They adjust strangely to the overhead lights as little spots glitter in your vision. Confused, you squint. Instead of the specks disappearing, their forms refine into tiny snowflakes drifting through the air. They’re too faint to survive long; as soon as they settle in Zayne’s hair and on the desk, they melt into nothingness.

A question is brewing on the tip of your tongue at the sight. Though it’s quickly lost to the uninhabited corners of your mind when his fingers glide over the edges of your panties and directly across your clothed cunt. Your cheeks flare. There’s no hiding the desire that pools between your legs.

“Is this all it takes to get you so wet?” His voice is a purr against your skin.

You pout. As if you couldn’t feel his erection a second ago. “That’s not fair.” 

“What’s not fair is how long it’s taken to get you like this.” A shameful whimper builds in your throat as he circles his fingers with added weight. His free hand creeps over your mouth. “Shhh. You can stay quiet for me, can’t you?”

With wide, begging eyes, you nod with a muffled mm-hmm. Before retracting his hand, he circles above your clit a second time, then a third, testing your obedience. 

The ecstasy that burns beneath your skin from the slightest of touches is obscene. You would think that you’d been trapped in hours of foreplay, denied even the thought of release. But still, it is not enough. The feeling was akin to wearing layers on a cold day, yet still shivering. Like biting into a promising fruit that hasn’t hung from the vine long enough. It just wasn’t right, wasn’t enough. You roll your hips in an attempt to convey as much.

“Impatient?”

Through a sigh, you answer, “Just a little.”

His teeth graze your ear. “Then use your words. What do you want?”

What an unfair question to ask now, with your mind clouded in drunken lust. Articulation was difficult. So was trying to pinpoint exactly what you wanted. There were too many things you could want and not enough words in the dictionary to do them justice. So instead, all you can offer is, “You. I just want you.”

Thankfully, he seems to understand. His fingers hook around the waistband of your panties. Lifting your hips with one hand, he uses the other to shimmy them down to your ankles. A single beat isn’t missed before the adept fingers of a surgeon slide between your folds. His mouth is back on every exposed inch of skin he can find, needy and hot. You hide quiet pants behind a bitten lip. You almost pierce the swollen skin when his fingers finally find entry. 

“Keep quiet,” he reminds you in a soft voice as his index and middle fingers curl. “Only I get to hear you like this, right?”

You nod, eyes fluttering close. But your agreement doesn’t seem to be enough. He catches your rolling head and forces a moment of sobriety. Acknowledgement from every legible medium, including that of your eyes and mouth, is what he truly wants.

“Right, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you breathe out. “Yes, Zayne. Just you…just…”

You’re words die out into a sharp inhale as he presses down on your clit.  He pumps in and out in tandem with the exterior pressure, stimulating screaming nerves that turn your knees to jelly and your jaw slack. The room is filled with the lewd sounds of your arousal around his fingers, your bitten-back moans, and the wet kisses trailing from your chest to your jaw, then to your mouth and back. 

A small part of you wishes for him to bite down. To leave a mark that was unmistakably his. But, although you were little more than a stranger to Zayne’s sexual nature, you could almost hear him calling hickies childish.

The steady rhythm he’s set calls for release. Like the sliver of morning light on the horizon, you can feel it approaching, an all-consuming warmth that flutters deep in your stomach and creeps up your legs. Your inner walls flutter around his fingers in an announcement of his skilled work’s reward.

“Right there,” you pant, head rolling, and fingers tugging at his hair. “Don’t stop—“

Except, he does exactly that.

You whine as he retracts his fingers, looking at him with indignation, silently demanding an explanation. Only smugness stares right back. Euphoria sinks back into the confines of your bones at the absence of stimulation. You can barely get out the question of why before he cuts you off.

“Believe me when I say I could please you for hours without question,” he says with a quick kiss before withdrawing to tower before you. “But I don’t know how long we have. I can’t let you have all the fun.”

You’re about to roll your eyes when he raises two glistening fingers to his mouth. His eyes remain trained on you as he glides his tongue over the remnants of your arousal before sucking them clean. Nothing could have prepared you for the sight.

“Sweet,” is all he says, as if he’s describing one of the new desserts sold at the cafe across the street. Your cheeks turn bright red.

Satisfied with the taunt, he reaches for his belt, and suddenly you’re reeled right back in. Your unashamed gaze tracks every movement with hunger as he undoes the buckle, then the button below. When he reaches for the zipper, he averts his eyes. Now it’s his turn to feel shy. The top of his boxers comes into view, followed by a mouth-watering outline of the exact thing you crave.

One hand hovering at the waistband, he settles back over you. A palpable shift in the air has taken place. Gone is the initial display of hunger and desire finally brought to light. In this moment, as he looks down with eyes full of affection, there’s a sense of pure, shared intimacy. Not the exhiliration of stupid decisions or a quick fuck. No. Zayne was not one to hook up with someone on a whim. Nor were you.

“You’re sure about…this?” He asks. The previous displays of confidence are nowhere to be found. You don’t think he can even bring himself to say the word, as if an explicit understanding would chase you away.

“What, having sex with you?” You kiss the tip of his nose with a smile. “I couldn’t be more sure.”

You catch an amused yet curious look on his face before he presses a slow kiss to your lips. Your heart races at the sound of shuffling fabric. Then you feel it. You can’t fight the urge to look.

Zayne holds the entirety of his impressive length in one hand. With ragged breaths, he teasingly drags the red, weeping tip across your folds. At the sight of it in his hold, of the tip circling your clit…You can only hope that he fits. 

“I’ll go slow,” he says quietly. You’re almost unsure if he’s talking to you or himself. “You’ll tell me if it’s too much? If you want to stop at all—“

You try to give him a smile as sincere as possible instead of the giggles that threaten to arise. Nerves are obviously kicking in on his end. Not that you aren’t nervous. God knows you are. But suddenly, he can’t meet your gaze for more than a few seconds, and it’s the most endearing thing he’s ever done.

You quickly cut him off before he can ramble. “I’ll tell you. I promise.”

Zayne nods, presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, and sinks into you.

If your senses weren’t already overwhelmed by him, they were now. The stretch aches at first, his sheer size foreign and unforgiving. Your jaw falls slack at the feeling, and a stuttered gasp leaves your lips. Zayne echoes the sound. Slowly, he pushes further with each roll of his hips, acutely aware of the initial shock. He sweeps away stray hairs plastered to your skin.

“You’re doing good,” he encourages, though he quickly begins to lose his coherence. “So good… You feel so…”

He cuts himself off with a low groan, and his head falls to the crook of your neck. Another careful thrust, then another. Finally, he bottoms out...and his teeth sink into your skin.

It takes everything in you not to cry out his name at the overwhelming sensations. Just moments ago, you wrote off the idea of leaving this room with physical reminders. Now, Zayne’s tongue was gliding over the fresh indents of his teeth to soothe the sting. Today was a day for many firsts.

Resisting the urge to sing your praise is becoming more and more of a punishment. You can only hope that the soft whimpers and incoherent strings of ‘yes’s and ‘keep going’s are enough. Zayne muffles his own voice with the press of his mouth to your skin, desperate and low. Where his throat leans against your chest, the reverberation of ecstasy echoes. What neither of you addresses, however, is the lewd, wet slap of skin on skin and each scraping groan of the desk legs in tandem.

When your fingers tug his hair, his tempo becomes sloppy. Heedless and disorganised, like he’s barely holding on. You’re own high is re-emerging from its previous denial. Nothing seems to register anymore, not beyond the connection of your bodies, not beyond this room, not before this moment. Every sense is reduced to your simple need for him. Sensibility no longer exists, like ink bleeding on damp paper, words blurring beyond recognition. What were the ethics of fucking your doctor? Ecstacy. That’s what.

You squirm in his partial hold, hips aching with the gruelling pace. When your eyes flutter and roll, he hums in content, suddenly slowing down.

His face contorts into something reminiscent of sympathy, brows pinched and eyes pooling with an inescapable intensity. “Right there?” 

Each syllable sounds with a deep roll of his hips. When you whimper out a drawled mmh-hmm, he suddenly picks back up. He’s so close, reaching so deep that his pelvis grinds against your clit. You’re an overstimulated mess of tangled limbs and ragged breaths.

“Zayne—“ You’re legs begin to tremble, inner walls fluttering with that telltale sign. “Fuck—I’m going to—“

When you can’t finish the sentence, he captures your slack lips in a messy kiss. 

“I know.” He trails a hand down to draw slow circles into your clit. “I’ll pull out—“

While it was the most sensible course of action, not an ounce of you wanted that. Spurred by a fraction of sobriety, you look up at him and speak solid yet shaky words.

“You can cum inside me.”

Glazed eyes look back, attention caught entirely. Parted lips attempt to form words that are lost to open-mouthed groans. He shudders. “Fuck. Are—are you sure?”

“You know I’m on birth control.” Hiding a devilish grin, you clench around his length. He sinks further into your embrace with muttered curses. Had you ever heard him say such obscene things before? “Please.”

“How could I say no to you, gorgeous?” 

His words are barely more than a whisper, lost to the scrape of the table and slap of skin. You’re shared sobriety is spent in the short exchange. Your head rolls back, nails digging into a clothed back; his teeth graze against the inches of flesh that spill out of your bra, an indicator of delirium. Everything dissapears behind eyes screwed shut. 

The song of sex is threatening to reach its crescendo, each melodic note vibrating through your entire being. Like a tide pulled by unseen moons, a shared pulse that races beyond the confines of mortal flesh. You hold him close in the moment it engulfs you, and despite Zayne’s intoxicating effect, you are suddenly very sure that this is right. The explosion of pressure in your hips that shakes your legs is right. The perfect alignment of your bodies is right. The stuttered moans as he paints your walls white are right.

For a moment, you two bask in a comfortable silence, arms slung around his shoulder and his head in the crook of your neck. When he lifts himself to hover at eye-level, you can’t help the girlish giggle at the sight of his pretty face and that pretty blush. He smiles back, albeit confused.

“What?” He asks as he absentmindedly fixes your hair.

“You’re cute,” you whisper back. 

“Cute?” He laughs. “Wouldn’t be my first pick of words, but I’ll take it—“

Zayne, who leans in to kiss your forehead, stops just a hairs breadth away when a jarring knock sounds. It cuts through the moment like a distasteful dose of medicine. Both your heads whip towards the door as the handle jiggles. Every function in your body stops. But, for the nth time today, your lucky stars seem to align; the embedded network of ice keeps the door firmly shut. 

The relief isn’t long-lived, though. Underwear God knows where, half of Zayne’s desktop scattered on the floor, hair a mess and skin splotched in shades of purple… You cringe at the disgraceful scene. Zayne sighs, fixes his clothes, and momentarily drops down to fish for your underwear—the first step to regaining modesty. When he slips it over your ankles and up thighs glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, he offers an apologetic look.

“That’s my karma for ignoring the time,” he grumbles.

You slide off the desk and into your underwear, aided by his fingers at the waistband. As he sits them on your waist and pulls down your skirt, you reach up to fix his hair. 

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, as if it truly was your fault. Well…half of the accountability was yours to claim.

“Don’t apologise.” Stealing a quick kiss, he adds, “Trouble.”

He slips from your grasp before you can retort.

From the view of the door, the criminalising array of pens and paper on the floor is mainly hidden, save for maybe an item or two. But even a single paper was evidence enough. Anyone witness to Zayne’s perfectionism would know as much. But by the time you recline in the chair, he’s already reaching for the thawing door handle. His tall frame blocks the view of the hallway as he pulls the door half open.

He nods. “Yvonne.”

Yvonne. Her presence teeters on the precipice of a blessing and a curse. A blessing, given your growing companionship with the kind nurse from Zayne’s division, yet a curse for precisely the same reason. She had the confidence in your connection to claw something juicy out of you in private, no doubt. Considering how often she brings up the gossip between nurses regarding Zayne and your relationship, this was information right up her alley.

Yvonne shifts her weight to the side to peer in the room—an act of curiosity you read clearly. When your eyes lock, the spark you were picturing stares right back. Interesting, her lively eyes seem to say. After wiggling her fingers in a small hello, she turns back to Zayne with a raised brow.

“Everything okay, Dr Zayne?” she asks plainly. The question is anything but plain. “This door was locked.”

Zayne’s grip on the door turns white knuckled. He clears his throat. “Everything is fine. I must have locked it by accident.”

It takes everything in you not to lose yourself to laughter. Zayne’s quick wit would one day be the death of you, but now his lack of sensibility would be the death of him. Yvonne scoffs at his jarringly poor excuse.

“Accident, huh?” Her amused gaze dances between the two of you, painfully knowing behind the war of words. “I see. Maybe be more…aware next time.”

“I will.”

She hums, posture straightening to indicate seriousness. “Well, I brought those files you requested. Sorry for not bringing them earlier—they slipped under my radar.”

“…Right. Yes. Thank you, Yvonne.”

She purses her lips for a moment and regards him with a scrutinising look. Seemingly satisfied, she says, “That’s all. It’s about time you head home, Dr Zayne. You two have fun now.”

With a wink your way, she disappears down the hallway. Zayne is quick to shut the door. You snicker.

“What’s so funny?”

“You ‘accidentally’ locked the door? Good one.”

“…Shut up.”

His words are accusing and gruff, but there’s no bite to them. He crosses the room in a few strides, taking in your features with a new softness. The two of you simply stare for a moment. Almost subconsciously, his fingers reach forward and skim the curve of your neck, following the path of fresh bruises peaking from your shirt collar. 

“Sorry for those…” he murmurs absentmindedly, lost in thought. “I don’t know why I did that.”

You chuckle. “You don’t?”

He hums. “Heat of the moment. Hickies are childish, but I…I just couldn’t help myself.”

“You may think it’s childish,” you challenge, “but I quite like them.”

A huff resembling something between a sigh and a laugh tumbles from his lips as his fingers graze the curve of your cheek. Delicate and loving, he handles you with a softness you could only read about in tragic odes. You meet his eyes with a look you can only hope shows a sliver of your own overwhelming affection. Although, regardless of the ache between your legs and skin flushed with sex, you can’t shake the disbelief. 

When did the quiet boy you shared stolen sweets with on your grandmother’s porch turn into this accomplished man who dictated your every thought? When was the first time you stole a tentative glance at your childhood crush? On the playground, perhaps. Or maybe outside the store that sold popsicles in the ruthless heat of summer. Those were memories you often basked in. Now, you begin to wonder when he first mirrored your shy gaze. 

“So,” he starts quietly, pulling you from the memories of shared smiles with a very current, very real kiss on the forehead. “About that fake date…”

[manariee]

DIDNT MEAN TO

热爱 ★ said i would never fall, unless it you i fall into

니시무라 리키 & fem!reader wc: 2451 ◜ᯅ◝ high school AU slow burn-ish emotional tension miscommunication stubborn idiot riki (kind o a jerk) mention of academic stress some light angst

REBLOG4AKISS

MANA: pls unflop me guys i beg oh and thank you @ykitslu for requesting this ^^ AND THANK YOU YIN FOR PROOF READING MWAH

Riki was never the type to fall fast.

And that was no lie.

The whole school knew that, girls would try - putting small notes in his locker, confessions at the school gym. He'd just brush them off with a polite nod or a quiet ''sorry''. So they eventually started giving up with grand gestures and just admired from afar.

But it wasn’t because he was cold-hearted.

No - it was because Riki found no point in love.

''It's stupid,'' he once told Jungwon with a scoff during lunch. ''How do you even know someone’s being real? Like, you look at someone and just know they’re the one? That doesn’t even make sense.''

''You're just scared,'' Jungwon had joked, nudging him with an elbow.

But Riki had gone quiet. Not defensive. Just, firm. He wasn’t scared. He was just done believing in something so fragile - so easily faked.

After that, he never thought about the idea again. No crushes. No lingering stares. No butterflies. Nothing.

Well… That was until high school.

Because high school brought you.

And you didn’t even try.

At first it was nothing, you were just a new face, one of Sunoo's old friends.

But then you started showing up everywhere.

You were in most of his classes, his neighborhood, and his mind, at all times.

Weird, not like he liked you or anything.

Then it happened at lunch, when you smiled a bit too hard at one of the jokes someone made at your guys' table.

He stopped midway a bit of his sandwich, his stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with cafeteria food.

But who was he to listen to his heart?

He decided to stick to his moms food instead.

Just as if the universe knew, Riki got paired up with you on a stupid school project. Of all people. You. On a subject he hated, too.

History.

He'd rather stand on one leg the whole day than to write some ten page essay about a person that doesn't even exist anymore.

You tapped your pencil against your notebook. ''We could do it on the French Revolution. That one's at pretty dramatic.''

He stared at you a second longer than necessary. ''Sure the Eiffel towers pretty cool.''

You blinked, then shook your head. ''That happened after the revolution, in 1887.''

And he grinned. Actually grinned. Like a real one - not his usual smirk or polite curve of the lips. ''Okay nerd.''

But he quickly snapped out of it, what the heck?

As time passed on, he didn't know what was more disturbing: the fact you made him laugh, twice.. Or that he wanted to make you laugh again like you did at Sunoo's jokek the other day. Desperately. Like some dog trying to earn a treat from it's owner.

Every time you smiled at him, it felt like something heavy shifted in his chest. Every time you leaned over to show him your notes, he had to remind himself to breathe like a normal human being.

Why was he sitting up straighter? Why was he nodding like he was actually interested in The Reign of Terror? Why was he googling “how to write a bibliography” at 1AM when he literally never did homework on time?

Oh no. Oh no no no.

Riki Nishimura was trying. For a group project. For you. This was bad.

But the worst part? He didn’t even mind.

Riki knew he was in real trouble when your face would show up on his ceiling.

He was being so embarrasing it even made him cringe.

Like for instance when he tried to offer his umbrella on a rainy day to you, but when you said that he would get soaked, he quickly cut you off with a 'I don't care.''

But what was worse than public humiliation to Nishimura Riki?

His ego betraying him.

Because he was starting to look for you everytime you weren't with the group.

In the hallways. At your locker. On lunch breaks. Sometimes near your house or the convenience store.

And it pissed him off. Because since when did he care about someone liking him back?

He wasn’t supposed to. He’d sworn off that whole mess. Feelings? Affection? Vulnerability?

Absolutely not.

But now?

He reread you texts, pacing in his room, wondering if your ''lmao'' meant if you really were laughing based on what he said and your humor level. He was bringing extra pens in case you forgot yours again, which you always did. Riki never brought pens, ever. He was staying up late to work on the project so ''you wouldn't worry about your grade.''

He was.. Caring?

And you didn't even know.

You didn’t know that when you bumped shoulders with him and laughed like it was nothing, he had to physically stop himself from reacting like a middle schooler with a crush. You didn’t know that you were slowly, steadily, completely destroying him.

Bit by bit. Smile by smile.

It was stupid, so stupid.

You were laughing with some guy from the basketball team outside the cafeteria, and Riki told himself it didn’t matter.

He told himself you were just talking. That you were allowed to smile like that. That you smiled like that at everyone.

But then the guy touched your arm. Lightly. Casually. Familiar.

And that was it.

Something inside Riki just snapped.

It wasn't jealousy. No - jealousy was messy, childish. This was worse. This was panic. This was every wall he’d built crumbling under one tiny, innocent moment. This was every feeling he’d buried just to drag himself to this.

He didn't think, he just walked.

You turned when you spotted him from the corner of your eye. But you were completely caught off guard when he gently grabbed your arms. ''Riki?''

''Can we talk?'' he said, eyes narrowed and tone so sharp it almost made you fear of what he would say next.

The guy looked between you two awkwardly and just left as Riki pulled you to the side of the building, where it was a bit more quiet.

''Okay.. What's going on?..''

He didn't answer right away, his fingers were twitching at his sides, curled into fists as if it would ground him.

''I don't get it.'' he said after a beat.

You raised your brows, arms crossed. ''Get what?''

''You'' he blurted out, tone frustrated but not to you, more to himself. ''This. Whatever you've been doing to me.''

You blinked, confused of which turn this conversation was taking, you could feel your heartbeat increasing a bit too fast.

''I was fine before. Like, really fine. I didn't care about people, or love, or any of that corny stuff. But then you came along with your dumb flower doodles and your weird French Revolution facts and your - your laugh.''

You froze, almost choking on your own breath. ''M-my laugh? Riki what are you saying?!''

''Yes your laugh, it's fucking pissing me off so bad.''

Silence.

''I've been losing my sleep just because your face haunts my ceiling,'' he said, quite literally pouring everything out now. ''And it's not in a love-story kind of way it's more of a haunting-creepy way. I hate group projects and don't care of what others think of me, but suddenly i'm writing 5 extra pages just so you would be impressed. I keep showing up to class early just in case i bump into you. I carry extra pens so you won't have to ask anyone else and I gave you my umbrella when I hate the rain!''

You stood frozen, lips parted, and that was when he fully broke - his voice cracked just a little when he added:

''I don’t know what to do when you look at me.''

Your breath caught.

''I tried pretending it wasn't happening,'' he said. ''I tried staying cool, acting like I didn't feel anything. But I do. And I can’t not anymore.''

Silence again.

Then…

''I like you.''

He finally met your eyes.

''And it’s driving me crazy Y/N.''

You stood there, even a step feeling to heavy.

His chest was pounding so hard you swore even you could hear it.

You wanted to say something, heck - anything. But the words just wouldn't come.

Come on Y/N it can't be that hard can it?

Riki's hopeful eyes searched yours for any sign - any little spark - that you felt the same.

But the silence seemed to eat him up. It was heavier than any heartbeat between the two of you.

He sighed, turning.

''Forget it. Forget I said anything.''

But before he could walk away he turned his head over his shoulder, a small, forced smile on his face.

''Have a good evening Y/N.''

The next day, Riki wasn't at the quiet corner of the study café, the spot where you two could do anything without being interrupted.

But no, Riki was in the center of it. The place where it was way too crowded. A airpod in his ear, the missing one still in your purse, the one you were supposed to give back but he decided confess instead.

You quietly walked towards that spot, and even though he spotted you from the corner of his eye, he didn't look up, just continued typing away.

''Hey.'' you said softly, purse strap clutched in your hand.

He looked up, noticed how you semeed a bit dolled up considering the ocassion. ''You got a date or something after this?''

You blinked, looked around then shook your head. ''No?..''

He nodded, bringing his gaze back to the screen, tone cold and something else that made you feel regret? ''Due date's soon.''

You sighed, nodding as you pulled out the chair beside his. ''Right we should-''

You were cut off by the sight of his bag on the chair and sat on the one across instead.

The space between you felt enormous.

You remembered all the times he’d leaned over your shoulder, whispering jokes, nudging you playfully.

Now, his silence screamed louder than any words ever could.

You both got an A.

Top marks, praise from the teacher, Jealous stares from classmates who'd started with theirs last minute.

You thought it would feel good - something to celebrate.

But sitting there beside Riki, it just felt.. Empty.

He barely reacted. No smug grin. No playful ''We killed it'' shoulder nudge. Or that dinner he promised to take you out on if you two aced it.

''Guess we did alright,'' he said casually.

You nodded. ''Yeah.''

There was that awful silence again, it was so unbearable and full with tension. You just wished things were just like before, air filled with laughter and his dumb jokes.

He stood up, sliding his bag over his shoulder. ''Well.. Good job, Y/N.''

You panicked a little and quickly got up, before scrambling into your bag. ''Wait.''

He paused, hands casually in his pocket.

You held out his missing Airpod - the one he was supposed to smile at upon seeing.

He looked at it for a second, then gave a soft laugh.

That same laugh which made you stupidly smile.

''Guess this ends here?''

You froze, fingers still stretched toward him.

He took the AirPod gently, careful not to brush your hand. His voice was light, but his eyes didn’t match - too careful, too guarded. Like he'd already accepted your silence and was trying to make peace with it.

You wanted to yell.

You wanted to turn back time.

But right now? You could just watch him walk away.

The moment he stepped out of the classroom, something inside of you snapped, why was he acting like he was the only one hurt? You were hurt too. So that's why you were currently running across the street, rain pouring down in sheets, soaking your uniform, but you didn't care. You had to take out your anger on Nishimura Riki, once and for all.

When you turned a corner there you saw him. Umbrella in his hand, back towards you.

''Nishimura Riki.'' you called out, trying to catch your breath while trying not to look like a idiot at the same time.

He didn’t turn around.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, stepping closer. ''You didn’t even give me a chance. You just... walked away. Like I was some stranger huh?''

His silence was a punishment, heavier than any words he could say.

''I waited,'' you said, biting your lip to keep the tears from falling. ''You didn’t even give me a chance- You! You treated me like I ruined everything, like I was the one who messed it up. But maybe it’s you who’s scared!''

You took a shaky breath, fists clenched at your sides.

''And that’s not fair. You treated me like a jerk before even hearing me out. Like I wasn’t worth the time.''

The words spilled out, raw and desperate. ''You treated me like I ruined everything!''

The silence stretched between you, the rain soaking through your clothes, mixing with the tears you didn’t bother wiping away.

And then—

Without a word, Riki spun around, ran and pulled you into his arms, hand cradling your head.

You cried against his chest, your hands weakly punching his shirt. ''You're such a jerk,'' you said between those weak punches. ''A mean, jerk.''

His arms tightened around you, a quiet promise in the way he held you close.

''I'm sorry,'' he whispered against your hair, the heat of your bodies keeping each other warm despite the rain.

The rain has slowed down and you and Riki were drying up on the bench outside the convenience store. It had been a while someone had said something but the silence wasn't as bad as the ones before.

He glanced towards you, gulping before muttering. ''I'm sorry.''

You turned your head towards him, nodding since you didn't know what to say.

''I got scared. Thought I had ruined everything we had, but yes, it wasn't fair of me I know.''

You chuckled, nudging him. ''Nishimura Riki apologizing first?''

He smiled a bit, leaning closer. ''Forgive this jerk?''

You wanted to stay mad. Really. You should’ve. But the way he looked at you. God you couldn't.

You nodded, biting your lip.

''Don't make me regret it,'' you whispered.

His lips quirked in the smallest smile, and then - finally - he closed the distance.

The kiss was slow, his hand coming up to cradle your face, and lips moving against yours like he was earning the apology.

When you finally broke apart, foreheads resting together, he laughed quietly, breathless.

''You hit me pretty hard earlier,'' he teased.

You chuckled, cheeks flushed. ''You deserved it.''

''I probably still do.''

''I'd rather kiss you instead.''

lovliezᡣ𐭩: @chrrific @saemisic @heeaara @ltfirecracker @woniefication @lezleeferguson-120 @rikifever @chaeneu @jjennuine @callikari @yuuuraaa @wondoras @ykitslu @orimuraa

NETS: @k-films

[lavottino]

Self-indulgent but mandatory "What if the strawhats were Italian" because it has been plaguing my mind for months.

I'm putting some context (and also some headcanons) for each drawing under the cut for anyone interested in better understanding what is going on, so expect a lot of yapping 😭

I think I will draw more Italian strawhats shenanigans in the future (I'm sorry for sidelining you like that Jinbe...), we'll see...

1. Italy is divided into 20 regions, and I associated the 10 strawhats to 10 of those regions. The regions I chose have been mainly picked on instinct based on whatever felt right to me, so I wouldn't look too hard into it 😭

2. Tortellini are a type of stuffed pasta specifically from the Emilia-Romagna region (where I see Robin coming from) and even more specifically from the Bologna and Modena provinces; while fiorentina is typically from Florence (Tuscany) and Luffy would eat at least 10 of them a day if he could

3. Alberto Angela is a paleontologist and history and science communicator, and he runs some TV programs that mainly focus on history and science. He's well-spoken, he's educated, developing a little crush for him is basically a canon event, he's the IT Italian man if you ask me. Robin is watching Ulisse - Il piacere della scoperta, which is also the TV program that introduced me to him when I was like 9 😌

4. Table football is quite common in Italy (all my life I've called it biliardino, but apparently its name is calciobalilla? whatever 😭). I don't really have a lot to say about this one, actually. I just think that a Zoro and Sanji team up would be unmatched (just like in animanga). Like 10-1 (AT BEST) kind of unmatched. If they receive a goal (which was definitely a fluke) they're going to mercilessly trash talk each other into scoring the most diabolically aggressive goal ever witnessed in the history of mankind (Chopper is scared of them) (Luffy thinks it's kinda funny) (Nami decided they won't play at the same time until they learn to chill out).

5. Paolo Fox is a famous astrologer in Italy and basically there used to be this Sunday TV program (Mezzogiorno in famiglia, they discontinued it some years ago but it's the show that Nami and Zoro are watching), where he was called in every week as a guest to rank the signs from 12th to 1st based on the luck, love, money etc. they were going to get during the following week. And whether you believed in astrology or not, you were still going to eat that shit up regardless because you just wanted to know where your sign was going to be placed.

6. Easter eggs in Italy are this big chocolate egg that contains a "surprise", which can be toys or various trinkets (bracelets, keychains, that kind of stuff). When Easter is coming, the supermarkets have full aisles of Easter eggs because there are multiple brands and multiple themes (for example, the ones specifically targeted towards children could be One Piece/Pokemon/Winx etc. themed, containing a surprise that is related to them). I like to think that Chopper would be so excited about the chocolate that he would eat it all without even looking at the surprise 😭 (it's lying somewhere on the ground, a forgotten soldier amidst the raging battle)

7. Neapolitan songs can go pretty hard when you don't have someone in your ear telling you how corny and cringe they are. Franky has a whole arsenal. If during a conversation he hears a word that reminds him of one of his songs, he will start singing it. Brook joins him whenever he hears him, and if he doesn't know the actual words to the song, he will still string together some notes with his guitar. Luffy and Usopp will join at a certain point, while the other strawhats enjoy the little show. If Franky is singing and Robin appears in his line of sight, he will switch to a romantic song and start serenading her. When this happens, Sanji joins too (not because he's trying to woo Robin, but because he will never miss a chance to serenade a woman 😌).

8. I just know Brook has en entire repertoire of love songs that he sings whenever Zoro and Sanji are fighting. In this case he is singing "Bello e impossibile" by Gianna Nannini, whose chorus goes something like "handsome, handsome and impossibile, with black eyes and your Middle Eastern taste" and then again "handsome, handsome and invincible, with black eyes and a kissable mouth/a mouth to be kissed" (it sounds more poetic in Italian I'm sorry 😭). They get mad and flustered every time. It doesn't matter if they are still dancing around each other or are already together. Brook has the time of his life.

[classyrbf]

Sukuna being soft to his one and only love... Kinda.

when thinking of someone who is kind hearted and soft, sukuna isn’t the first person that comes to mind. He’s literally the opposite of everything that is considered nice, sweet, good, and whatever else that invokes happiness. Anyone who comes near him is fearful of what he’s capable of, considered one of the most strongest and dangerous things on earth. King Sukuna, Lord Sukuna, King of Curses and whatever else the people call him is a what everyone knows him by.

But, back home, in his estate that locked away in the deep dark woods on a mountain top, he has you, someone who has casted some type of spell to get under his skin, to make him feel emotions he thought he hated. “Ryo!” You shout through the halls, running to you shared chambers, a beautiful flower in hand. You barge into the bedroom, his gargantuous figure sitting there, a simple robe tied around him. “Look, I found these flowers outside of the estate!” You walk up to him, full on smile plastered across your face. “I’d like to have them in the garden.”

He lets out a low grunt, one of his four arms reaching for the brightly colored flower, inspecting it as if it was some foreign object. “Fine,” he plainly says, handing it back to you. “I’ll send one of the maids to the village to find seeds.” He blinks at you.

“Oh, thank you!” You tightly wrap your arms around his neck, jumping onto him and hugging him tightly. You press kisses to his cheek.

“Enough.” He gently pushes you away. It’s not that he doesn’t like your affection, he just doesn’t know how to receive it nor return it. A murderous and cold hearted monster like himself feels guilty that a ray of sunshine like yourself has taking a liking to him. And why has he allowed it? Why does he feel a buzzing in his chest whenever he hears your voice? Why does he allow to treat him like some low level human? Your kisses, your hugs, your stupid nickname for him. If it were anyone else, he would have slain them by now.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, stepping back a few times. “I got too excited.” When he hears your voice drop, he can’t help but feel a way. It makes him cringe and confused all at the same time. He wants to reassure you, tell you it’s okay, and hold you close. Instead, he gets up, staring down at your frown. Instinctively, his hand reaches out, caressing your cheek. Those eyes of yours quickly find his, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“Come. Dinner should be ready,” he states, walking out the chambers and into the hall. You follow right behind him, like a puppy.

After dinner, you’re getting ready for bed, locked away in the bathroom as you slip your new nightgown on, one that you’ve been saving to show Sukuna. He’s already in bed, his lack of clothing is…a choice when he sleeps. A giddy feeling settles in your stomach, smoothing out the fabric before you walk back into the bedroom, unable to hide your smile. “Ryo,” you gently call out. He turns his head. “Do you like my new night gown? I got it at the market the other day.” You climb with him into bed, making the brave choice of straddling him.

He narrows his eyes, noticing the silk fabric and lace detailing at the hems. It was much more shorter than all your other night gowns you usually wore. “It’s…okay,” he huffs. The way your skin was showing, your thighs peeking out from underneath and your breasts filling out the top, it was more than just okay. That little piece of fabric was making his thoughts run rampant. “Now let’s sleep.” He shuts his eyes.

Nervously, you clear your throat, resting your hands on his chest. He blinks one eye open, seeing that you’re still there staring at him like you want something. “Ryo…”

“What?” His gruff voices breaks the silence.

You sit there on top of him, lips parting to speak but nothing comes out. "Nevermind." You roll off of him and onto the bed, your back facing against him. "Goodnight," you mumble, pulling the blanket over you.

He looks at you, head resting against the pillow, your body moving with each breath. He doesn't know why but he finds himself reaching out to you, pulling you in close with ease. His arm holds you tightly against him, back pressed against his chest. "Tell me what you want," he whispers against your ear, a shiver sending down your spine.

With a shaky hand, you grab his, guiding it under your nightgown. He takes a deep breath, jaw clenching when he feels his hand resting against the warmth of your clothed cunt. As much as he wants to, he can't. He's too rough and unforgiving, he'll break your porcelain body and treat you like nothing because he can't make love. He's incapable of giving you that. He knows you desire it, he can sense it. You want warmth, you want appreciation, slow kisses, and that humanly connection. "I can't. I'll...hurt you." He swiftly removes hand, avoiding any more temptation.

Your body turns, now facing him. "You can never hurt me," you say so confidently. He admires your resilience, but deep down you're still unaware of who he truly is. "I can take it," you chime in again, doing your very best to convince him.

"I am unable to. You desire affection and love. I want nothing more than pleasure." He's the one now turning away from you. He can sense your frustration and sadness, but you should know he's doing this for your own good. He'll use you, and treat you like a rag doll. He does not feel the same, he can't possibly feel the same emotions you desperately want him to. Your simple human mind can't comprehend it.

Any other woman who dared to throw themselves at him he would gladly take, basking in a quick night of greed and lust. He can't do that to you, for some reason his conscious won't allow him.

"You cannot love your future wife?" Is what hears, sadness riddling your tone, voice wavering. "Why am I here then? Why have you not killed me like the rest who defy you? Am I something only for your pleasure? I'd rather be dead than live like this any longer—"

"Do not say such words!" Sukuna shouts, sitting up. "You are much more than my own heart and mind can comprehend! You confuse me! My heart beats with feelings I haven't felt in centuries! Whenever I see you, I feel weak, vulnerable, a foreign feeling to who I truly am!" His yell bounces off the chamber walls. "But I cannot get rid of you, I cannot...kill you," his voice softens exceptionally. "I cannot sleep when you aren't near, and I cannot go a day without worrying something will happen to you. What have you done to me?" His brows furrow, an angry expression carved into his face.

Now, there's nothing but still silence. You sit up on your knees, shuffling closer to him, eyes fixated on his. He flinches at your touch, the warmth of your hand cupping his cheek. His hand wraps around your wrist, wanting to pull you away but he can't. "Stop. Just let me in." Your lips connect with his, giving him a light kiss.

"You're too good for me. I will hurt you eventually. You're a mere mortal, a human—"

"Stop talking. Let all those bad thoughts go and focus on me." You throw your legs over his waist, straddling him once more. Your lips peck his again, pulling away to look at him. Whenever he looks at you, he sees himself holding you, kissing you, treating you like the most fragile thing on earth. He doesn't feel aggression, or anger, or emptiness. He sees you, hears you, connected to you in more ways than he knows.

His hands hold your waist, moving in closer to feel your soft lips against his again. The kiss is slow and attentive, tongues slipping into each others mouths. Your hands ghost down his broad chest, pushing yourself into him. He didn't realize how much he needed you like this until now, growing hungry for more, feeling your desires deeply. He flips you over, pressing you onto your back without breaking the kiss, yet he's still so gentle, running his hands over your exposed thighs and basking in your touch as well. Your hand finds his, intertwining your fingers and he holds it back, squeezing your much smaller hand in his.

In this moment, he lets his feelings come break free instead of pushing them away. As much as it scares him, angers him even, he can't bring himself to put any of that on you. You have simply captivated him in more way than one and that is something new he has to learn to live with even if he is over a thousand years old.

feel free to support me <3

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐫𝐝 || 𝐑𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ reed richards starts falling for his intern; believing she was too good for him and his family, he starts feeling guilty for loving you, even when he discovers your dirty little secret.

warnings_ age gap (reader in her 20s), reader is able bodied and implied to have dark hair (either dark brown or black), manipulation, implied sex, cheating (reader isn’t good here), cheater!reed, plot twist at the end, cringe, inaccuracies, no proofreading

a/n_ the way i want Emma Frost with her natural brown hair // SORRY IF U EXPECTED MORE FROM THIS LOL // USING UNRELATED TAGS SO THIS WONT FLOP

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 Pedro

✰ Index (+ fics here)

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

The distant sounds of your loud chuckles distracted Reed Richards, who had been focused on erasing his chalkboard. He cleaned his hands and peeked his head through the door of his lab.

There you were, pouring yourself some dark coffee as some engineers in space suits talked to you. Reed noticed how all of them were literally competing to make you laugh and so far, all had been winning.

You got the job of being Reed’s intern two months ago. Despite his insistence on not needing an intern, his boss said it was necessary since he was so busy. Your credentials included a degree in law, medical physics, and pr skills, making you a perfect candidate.

Reed rolled his eyes at the sight of some youngsters flirting with you.

“Need you here, y/n,” he said, killing the fun.

You turned to nod at him and after saying some quick goodbyes, you were back inside his lab, handing him a coffee.

“Thanks”

“You’re welcome, Reed”

You returned to your desk to continue typing on a red typewriter.

Everyone was embellished by you and your kindness. Reed had to warn his brother-in-law, Johnny, to leave you alone because he started to show interest in you.

“Any plans for the weekend?” Reed asked.

“Hmm, not really. I think I’ll rot in bed and order Chinese takeout” you answered shrugging without stopping your typing.

Reed smiled with sympathy, so he dropped the pencil in his hand and patted your shoulder.

“Come and have dinner with me and my family,” he said, making you turn in shock.

“What? No- no, I could not…”

“Yes, you can. My family likes you” he insisted. “Plus, you know our secret”

They hadn’t broken the news of their abilities to anyone besides you, who accidentally discovered their secret while testing Reed’s experiments. They were the famous Fantastic Four and slowly, people were starting to identify them.

“Please, you’re too good for me. You have done a wonderful job” You nearly blushed at his praising words. “The least I can do is invite you to dinner again”

You sigh, finally stopping the typing. You knew their family, mostly Ben and Johnny. Reed’s wife and you hadn’t interacted much and you secretly felt like she didn’t like you whenever you visited their home.

“Okay, fine”

…

Once again, Reed was hearing you chuckling. This time, it was you making Johnny and Ben laugh in the kitchen. Johnny was pouring you wine and Ben asked if you wanted to smoke in the outside patio.

Even Herbie was there by your side making additional comments in the conversation.

“Now Herbie is her friend?” Sue appeared beside Reed, crossing her arms and looking somewhat displeased.

“She has come a handful of times, of course, Herbie recognizes her” he answered, looking away from you to set his eyes on his wife.

“Now, honey. Why you don’t like y/n?” The question caught her off guard. “Don’t pretend to be surprised”

“She calls me Susan,” she said, making Reed laugh. “Everyone calls me Sue. I don’t like being called Susan…”

“She is respectful”

“Oh, so you’re no longer Mr. Richards for her?” Reed rolled his eyes and kissed her cheek.

“She’s my intern. We are together practically all day long”

“I promise you, y/n is good” Sue was not convinced but ended up nodding, following his husband to the kitchen to have dinner with you and the others.

…

It was late. The lab was the only place with people inside. Only you and Reed.

“It’s just that- I feel like we’re missing something” Reed took off his red tie. He looked disheveled, making you drool over him inevitably.

Soon you placed aside the thoughts and went to see the big formula Reed was building in the chalkboard.

“Maybe… a device that can amplify psionic energy could do” you commented with tons of shyness in your voice, almost fearing that Reed would shoo you away for being nosy. “I was a technician as well, I could help-

But instead, he smirked at you.

“Darling, you’re a genius” Your heart started beating and he was at the verge of kissing your cheeks but moved away.

And you noticed it. But pretended not to.

Either way, he looked tired, even stressed out.

“Go home, Reed” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Have dinner with your family, kiss your wife, and rest well, please”

He looks at you with awe, thinking you are the most adorable human he’d ever met.

Your kindness was unmatched and your sweet smile was always enough to make him feel less stressed.

“I promise I won’t touch your ongoing formula” Reed only chuckles.

“Alright, I’ll go home” You hand him his blazer and briefcase. “But don’t stay too late, sweetheart. You also have to rest”

“Promise to leave by 9:00pm” he nods, taking you by surprise with a gentle and friendly hug.

You melt into his touch, wishing to stay in his arms longer. But you don’t, you’re too decent for that.

So you just let him go.

But you had already planted a seed. Reed questioned for the first time if he felt more than friendly feelings for you. It was your kindness and sweetness what unconsciously had lured him.

…

Your heels are the loudest sound in the hallway. Reed’s boss had just approved his experiment to be tested. He literally grabbed your hand and dragged you outside the office to run back to his lab to set to work on the machine he had built.

You had to hold your cotton dress to prevent showing off your underwear by the way you were almost running along Reed.

“I can’t believe it’s going to work,” he said with excitement, pushing the button of the elevator more than needed.

“It was just about time” you replied with the same excitement.

The doors of the elevator opened and both of you quickly entered, soon feeling it in movement.

“And I completed it thanks you” You roll your eyes at his words.

“Stop it, I’m just your intern, Reed” he knew it too well, you weren’t trying him to validate you, it was pure honesty.

“I don’t think you’re just a simple intern”

“No?” Genuinely, you wondered what Reed thought about you.

“You’re more than an intern, y/n,” he said, eyes locked with yours.

Suddenly, you had him so close to you. Even when the elevator felt like an ocean, you two seemed to be squeezed together.

“Still, you are bigger than I am” he grew a cheeky smirk.

“How so?”

“You are the hero of the city. If not… the whole world”

“Oh, really?” You nodded at him. And both of you couldn’t take your eyes off of each other. The tension seemed to be big enough to make you gulp.

And then, the elevator abruptly stopped.

You nearly tripped, but there it was Reed to hold by your hips.

“What was that?” You asked with worry.

“I think the elevator just broke?”

Your eyes snapped open.

“What? No way” You moved around to see if the buttons worked but nothing worked.

“I guess we’re stuck here until someone comes from us” you huffed in disbelief.

“Reed, aren’t you like the most intelligent human being?” He cackled.

“I’m afraid I would be telling my secret to everyone if I fixed this elevator,” he said pointing at the surroundings.

“I can’t believe you,” you said joining his laughs.

It was then that you noticed his hands returned to your hips. Your looked away from him, focusing in the buttons of the elevator.

His raspy beard brushed your exposed neck, making you gasp in shock.

Sweet little innocent you, Reed thought.

“This is wrong, Reed,” you said, avoiding his eyes.

“Tell me you don’t feel the same…” he whispered in your neck.

“I do. But I don’t want to hurt you, nor your family” and there it was, the soft of him. Your kindness, mindfulness, and empathy were what made him fall harder for you.

“Just this once…” he begged, making you unable to move away.

His hot breath and hands brushing your waist were making you all shy, but secretly eager.

“Just this once,” you said before standing on your tiptoes and colliding with his lips at the same time he had to lean over.

The highly anticipated kiss had melted the tension, only to make lust grow.

“Reed…” you half moaned when his crotch brushed your growing wet underwear.

“Nobody will know what happened here” he promised.

Something inside of you shifted. You took off your long coat and threw it onto the floor of the elevator. Reed watched with fascination as you decided to lay on top of the coat, opening your legs, your dress hunching over your ribs, and showing him your white lace underwear with an evident wet spot near the center.

“You’re killing me, sweetheart” he kneeled and it was over for everyone.

He had just given in.

“You’re so lucky I’m sapiosexual” That comment only made him harder in his dress pants, he moved aside your lacy underwear and rubbed his fingers in your wet lips. Already thinking of some stretchy skills to make you scream his name.

…

The lights of the living room were still on when Reed entered the penthouse. There was Sue seated near the giant glass window, looking at the city.

“Why are you so late?” She questioned.

Reed removed his blazer and hung it nearby.

“I almost finished the latest part of the new spaceship”

Lies. He had been in your house for the last five hours. In the Spanish villa style of your house. With your great food and classy furniture. Laying in your fine sheets as your gracious figure bounced on top of him.

“Is it going to be like this from now on?” Sue asked with tiredness.

Her barely visible bump was visible under her nightgown.

“No, sweetheart. I’m just busy…”

“You missed the baby’s heartbeats today” he was guilty.

Reed had always considered himself a good man. But since that day at the elevator with you, everything changed.

“I’m sorry, honey” he truly was.

That night, he held Sue tightly as they slept, but the last thing he saw before succumbing to unconsciousness was you.

…

That same night, he woke up after midnight. Sue was soundly sleeping. Everything was quiet, but something was telling Reed that not everything was as calm as it seemed. He carefully got up and debated whether to put on a robe but desisted when a thump caught his attention. He ran out of the room, assuring Sue was protected by Herbie.

Sounded like someone was looking for something in the lab of his house. Where his most important data was stored.

Reed grew worried because the home had always been safe. Who could have intruded without warning him?

He carefully opened the door and spotted his lamp was on.

Hunched, looking over many of his reports and data, there was a shining figure.

It was a woman, similar to the silver surfer that attacked some weeks ago. But this woman seemed to shine all over like a diamond, looking like she was naked. It would have been a beautiful sight if it wasn’t because she was stealing the drafts of his latest experiment to travel between dimensions.

The woman turned, showing her features looked blurry because of the diamond-like appearance. But she resulted oddly familiar to Reed.

The mysterious woman moved away and when she tried to run away, Reed used the elongating stretch of his extremities to capture the woman. But she was also flexible, she dodged his touch by making a perfect arch and flipping over his arms to sneak away.

Reed turned, running after the intruder.

It was near the entrance where he twirled his arm around the cold and sharp calf of the woman, making her trip.

He applied some pressure around the neck of the woman with his free arm until his hand was grasping her chin, dragging her closer to him.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my home?” He asked, trying to intimidate the intruder.

All he got was silence.

“SPEAK!” He yelled, putting more pressure on the neck.

The figure started to gasp for air. Reed fixated his eyes on the woman and noticed a familiar shine, connected to some warm lips he knew so well.

When he noticed he was choking the woman, the diamond form cracked a little and the woman changed, looking like a normal human made of flesh and blood.

And revealing it was you.

As you squirmed away from him, Reed plucked one of your hairs. You send him flying away, making Reed go beyond shocked. You eyed him with a fair distance between the two of you. Your out-of-breath shape made Reed look at your white attire, completely tight and only your your shoulders and neck.

“Why?” Was all he could ask. But you didn’t reply, you only kept eying him with ease.

He blinked once and you were gone, showing him your telepathic and astral projection abilities.

When he ran back to his office, his most important data was gone.

“Fuck!” He yelled.

“Reed?” Sue called him, standing at the door and looking at the mess. “What happened?”

Reed sighed, looking at your hair in his hand.

…

Reed Richard’s never thought he would be fighting punch-to-punch with you. His dear intern who had lured him to sin. Only to betray him. And he didn’t know why. Only two days later after the big revelation, chaos erupted in the city, led by the silver surfer and you. Reed had been analyzing your DNA to see if it matched with someone else to determine your abilities.

And the results gave a match of Emma Frost with you. Which was even more strange.

Usually, Emma Frost was a mutant from futuristic Earth, always teaming up with the X-Men or Avengers. Emma Frost variants were usually older, in their early thirties, with dyed blonde hair after acquiring their mutant powers. Who were you actually?

Reed didn’t want to fight you. He couldn’t when he was already loving you.

Even if he was guilty of cheating, of letting you go too far. He loved you.

You had your revenge by choking him as well. Finally having him where you had been wanting to have him for so long. Your human form transforms into a diamond, making him unable to look at the face he fell in love with. Only facing a villain, who seemed heartless and didn’t mind causing havoc.

“Why are you doing this?” He asked, gasping for air.

Your piercing eyes showed no mercy as you continued to choke him.

“Spite, jealousy, resentment. Call it what you want…” you said with venom in your voice. “I think it’s actually divine punishment”

“What did I do to you?” Reed barely said, holding onto your wrist, unable to stop you from choking him.

Your diamond form made you cold, ruthless, and bitter. Reed couldn’t comprehend what was happening.

The human torch appeared, trying to burn you, but it didn’t do anything. Your free hand created a protective shield and after the flames disappeared, you started inducing Johnny into some painful telepathic attack, sending him flying away.

You let Reed free, making him fall into a fetal position, gasping.

He watches you kneel beside him, your cold shiny hand touches his temple and a horrid pain started to creep all over his head.

“STOP!” He yelled in pain, but you didn’t.

“You’re disappointing me, Mr. Fantastic,” you said with feigned sadness. “I’m afraid this won't stop. It’s time to remember…”

A big chunk of flashbacks assaulted him all at the same time. He had to hold his head, feeling dizzy and nauseous before the images started to appear.

Ben, Johnny, Sue and him fighting. And then, there you were, wearing a blue suit like them. You had blonde hair, more yellowish compared to Sue.

It was one of their first fights. But why were you there, he remembered that… but you weren’t there at all.

Through the fire of the city, Reed spotted Sue in trouble and ran after her. A big pile of cement was going to fall all over her.

He was in a panic, running as fast as he could. Nearly jumping to cover her, all he heard was a disturbing crack.

When he opened his eyes, he saw you, in that odd diamond form… shattering into millions of pieces.

You had saved them.

Sue screamed in horror and the flashback dissolved, emerging into a new one.

Reed heard the chaos of the present, but the migraine and nausea were still present, and before he could compose himself, he returned to remember.

He was in his lab, trying to glue back each piece of diamond that was once you. Sue entered to check on him, left a cup of tea nearby, kissed his cheek, and left again.

He was stressed, trying to bring you back to life. Reed Richards had never encountered a more difficult situation to work on.

But he finally made it. You were back.

With your natural hair and eye color back, reveal them to Reed for the first time.

You seated yourself on the stretcher you had been resting on and looked around, confused.

“What happened?” you asked, returning to your human form. Reed looked in shock and hurried to hug you. “Reed, honey… What happened?”

He was sobbing.

“I’m so sorry…” he nearly whispered.

Your hands started moving to caress his head in your lap. You brushed his hair, noticing more grey lines decorating it. He was your boyfriend. Your beloved partner since you were in college. What had changed? You didn’t know.

Until you spotted a picture frame on his desk.

He married Sue Storm. And you started to understand.

“For how long I was gone?”

“Some years?…”

So you screamed at him. Mourning that he couldn’t wait for you. That he grew older and you remained young, that he moved on and couldn’t wait for you.

“I despise you so much” and you said it with so much honesty, that it broke Reed.

“I love you,” he said, but you didn’t believe him.

“You can’t love two women” you spit out with coldness.

He tried to reach you, but you stopped him.

“So long, my dear” That was the last thing you said before removing yourself from his memories.

Nobody in the whole world would remember you.

Reed gasped for air, sensing that the flashbacks were over.

He then looked up at the sky, watching the woman in a white cap fighting with his wife.

You had been part of the family, risking your life for them. And somehow, you felt like they had betrayed you. In a sense, they actually had…

Mainly Reed, who was the love of your life.

Despite all the hate in your heart, you had removed yourself from their lives. To let Reed be happy, even when he hadn’t waited for you.

And everything clicked. The memories were erased, the gained trust, the seducing, the betrayal, and the stealing of his latest plans. You were one of Doom’s heralds. You had always been a danger. A veiled hazard for him and his family. Looked like he had just gained a new enemy. Whom he had been closely interacting with.

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧

TELL ME THIS WOULDN’T BE A BADDIE FOR REED (ignore my poorly edited dark hair)

Taglist: @jsprien213 @manuymesut @ice-bread4 @folklore-barnes @forza-dolce @viicwz @fandomsinthegalaxies @everandforeveryours @varanasi-baby @c3liaaaaa @spngi

[pixiesndberries]

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃, 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 —

a small series of Jujutsu Kaisen men as your husband !

☆ OUR STARS : Nanami Kento, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Choso Kamo, Aoi Todo, Toji Fushiguro, and more !

━ REQUESTED BY : none

━⁠ WARNINGS : none

ෆ PIXIE'S NOTE ! : heya pookies I know it's been a while 🙏🏻 but here I am creating another series to pay off the days I wasn't posting so much —⁠ forgive me my pookies 🏃🏻‍♀️💨 we have holiday break so I'm going to grind a lot 😝

NANAMI KENTO, as your husband !

• Nanami is the perfect standard for male wife, argue with the wall —⁠ this man knows how to cook, clean his home, does his own laundry, and mostly basic life skills that most men barely know which is pretty much a big turn on.

Nanami who always supports your decision as long as it doesn't have any bad effects in your life, he respects you a lot to whatever you do in your life —⁠ he thinks that just because you are married it doesn't mean he have full possession on you, though sometimes when you asked for his opinions about your decisions in such situations he isn't shy of what he thinks.

Nanami the type of husband who will always do small and big things for you even though you can do it yourself —⁠ carrying groceries for you, helping you in the kitchen, sending you to your work, helps you clean the house, and goes to the mall with you.

; he surprisingly took the shopping bags form your hands gently "your hands will get numb, this is pretty heavy." he says with his usual tone as he looks at you softly, you can't help but to smile in his small little gestures and gosh it's making her heart melt.

"thank you, kento." you say as you gave him a big smile and pressed a kiss on his cheeks making him grin.

Nanami who is being a worrywart when you don't reply quickly when you're out with your friends late night —⁠

; kento | sent a message.

10:24 pm

kento : just got home love ❤️

kento : what time are you going home?

11:04 pm

kento : love, tell me when you're going home I'll pick you up ❤️

kento : is everything going alright?

kento : kind of worried, hope you respond soon 😅

11:07 pm

kento : please reach out to me when you can so I can pick you up ☺️

kento : I'm worried 😢

you : love I'm fine sorry, we we're drinking just a tiny bit 😭

you : you can pick me up now 🏃🏻‍♀️💨

Nanami the type of husband to use cringe emojis but you appreciate it anyways, he barely use his phone or try to use emojis —⁠ headcanon : he learned using emojis from yuji or gojo 🙏🏻 you find it silly and cute anyways.

Nanami who's phone is always filled with your photos and some sceneries with you in it —⁠ he doesn't like taking photos of himself that much though, he loves taking photos of you and look through it when he's not busy or when he misses you and he's at work.

Nanami when he learned how to use Instagram and he can't stop posting you —⁠ Gojo probably tried influencing him to use social media once and he was like no??? not until one time you took a photo of him during one of your dates and you asked him, "hey can I post this?" and of course he said yes and after that you kept posting him at some times which led him to the idea of posting you as well since he thinks you deserve it too.

; nanami.kento1990

tagged : @y/n.igcom | ❤️

itaaa.yuji and 13 others liked this post.

gojosatoru | he knows how to use Instagram 😦 ???

gojosatoru | WHO TAUGHT YOU ⁉️

itaaa.yuji | first post !!

nobaraaaa | parents 🙏🏻

Nanami who is nervous to talk about the future he wants with you — not totally nervous it's more like when you talked about kids you wanted soon with him he will always be like, "sure I also thought about that." with his usual tone but deep inside talking about it was his hyper fixation and he can't stop thinking about it.

Nanami who never in his life forget about giving you flowers in small or big occasions —⁠

; "happy mother's day." he says softly with a grin in his face as he hands you a bouquet of your favourite flowers, "kento, I'm not a mother yet." you laugh as you take the bouquet from him, admiring the flowers for a second. He never fails to make you feel happy, "maybe soon?" he chuckles then makes his way to give you a hug. "sure." you laughed and happily hugged him back tightly, exchanging I love you.

Nanami who never left by your side especially when you are not okay, he will leave his work for a day or even weeks if you really need him by your side —⁠ he will never get tired of comforting you; if you need a shoulder to cry on? He's there. He can stay all day in bed with you to make you feel better —⁠ take you out in a vacation if that's what you really need or probably do every house chores just to make you rest.

─ REBLOGS, LIKES, AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED FEEL FREE TO REQUEST!

[demie90s]

Some Things Are Sacred

NAVI | MORE

Summary: Your a well-known face around UConn funny, bold, always on live after games. But off-camera, she’s the quiet kind of hero.

Word Count~ 2k

Genre: Sports drama, emotional comfort, slice-of-life

Warnings: Mental health themes, mentions of suicide (no graphic content), emotional vulnerability

Post-Game

The hallway outside the locker room still hums with leftover energy, squeaky shoes, ESPN lights packing up, someone wheezing from laughter a few doors down.

You’re leaning against the wall, phone in hand, scrolling with lazy fingers while your legs recover.

You’re not looking up when a deep voice says, “Hey. She… um. She asked for you.”

It’s one of the arena security guards. Real chill dude. Wears the same black windbreaker every game. You blink, then glance past him and there she is.

She’s tiny. Fourteen, maybe fifteen. Hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, lanyard swinging nervously from her neck. Her sneakers are worn out at the toes. She doesn’t say anything, just stands there like she’s debating whether or not to bolt.

You straighten up. “Hey. You good?” The guard steps back to give y’all space.

She nods fast, too fast, then shrugs like she changed her mind mid-thought. “Yeah. Um. I just… I’m not tryna be weird or anything. Or make it awkward. I just..”She stops herself. Swallows. “My cousin told me I should say hi. Like actually say something.”

You tilt your head and smile a little. “You already saying something.” That makes her laugh under her breath. Barely. But it’s a start.

You step off the wall, not too close, just enough that she doesn’t feel like you’re towering. “What’s your name?”

She hesitates, then tugs at her sleeve. “Layla.”

“Cool name.” You offer her a fist bump.

She bumps it back. Shy. Quick.

Then she fiddles with the string on her hoodie, staring down at it. “So like… this is kinda dumb. But I printed something you posted last year.

That caption about losing somebody. I stuck it on my mirror.” Her voice cracks a little. “Read it like every day.”

Your chest tightens, but you stay steady. Calm. Let her talk.

“I was in a bad place. And I don’t know. It just felt like… like somebody out there actually got it. Even if you don’t know me. It was like..” Her voice trails off and she bites her lip. “Sorry. This is probably so cringe.”

You shake your head. “Nah. You’re good.”

She peeks up at you, barely. You smile. “You ain’t gotta explain the whole thing. I’m just glad you said hi.”

Something soft passes over her face, like she needed that permission. That space.

“I’m better now,” she says quickly. “Just… yeah. You helped. That’s all.”

You nod slow. Let the silence stretch. It’s not awkward—not when it’s honest.

Then you tap her arm gently, just enough to get her attention. “You got a phone?”

She looks confused, then pulls it out of her hoodie pocket. You open your notes app, type in your number, and hand it back.

Her mouth drops open a little. “For real?”

“For real. Text me if you ever need to vent. Or just wanna send me a meme or whatever. I like memes.”

She laughs again, softer this time, and it actually reaches her eyes. “Okay. Bet.”

You lean down and whisper, like it’s just between y’all. “Promise I’ll text back. But don’t tell your whole school or I’ma have fifty kids in my phone talking about ‘you got games on your phone?’”

Layla giggles, and you swear it’s the best sound you’ve heard all day.

She pulls her sleeves up just enough to wave before bouncing back to whoever she came with. You watch her go. You don’t say anything when she turns around to smile again before disappearing into the hallway crowd.

You just smile back.

A Few Weeks Later [9:03 PM]

Layla 🦋: hi :) is it okay if i text you today?

You: always. what’s up?

Layla 🦋: nothing bad just school stress and girl drama, also why is algebra a scam

You: bc math is the devil. proven fact. also girl drama?? 👀

Layla 🦋: girl why do people flirt if they don’t mean it like if i’m smiling at you and laughing at your jokes… i got plans

You: LMFAOOO you sound like me when i was 15 (also they flirt bc they like the attention not the commitment. be smarter than them.)

Layla 🦋: ugh. i wish u were my older sister fr the kind that lets me talk mess and doesn’t tell mom

You: bet. i’m your big sister now. it’s official. talk mess all you want.

———————————————————————————————

Two Months In

Layla 🦋: can i ask you something and you won’t think it’s weird

You: go for it

Layla 🦋: if i made it through all the dark stuff and i’m still sad sometimes does that mean i’m backsliding?

You: nah it means you’re human. healing isn’t straight lines it’s a squiggly ass map with bad wifi and broken roads you’re still on the road tho. and i’m proud of you.

Layla 🦋: i’m crying at that 😭 squiggly ass map is my new twitter bio

You: you better tag me

———————————————————————————————

Most Recent

Layla 🦋: guess who got invited to prom 👀 and i said yes 👀👀👀

You: oh so you grown now huh. i need a pic. i’m tryna see this glow up

Layla 🦋: you’ll see 😏 (i wish u could come tho)

You: who says i can’t?

Tattoo Reveal – IG Live

The sun’s out and your crop top’s loud a little “UConn Girls Love Chaos” design that your teammates keep clowning you for. You’re walking across campus, holding your phone up, scrolling through comments as you talk to the live chat.

“Y’all ever realize how every professor got the same tone when they email you like you personally ruined their week?” you say, sipping a smoothie. “Like my bad Ms. Janine. I was depressed. Damn.”

“LMFAOOOO”

“who hurt ms janine 😭”

“WAIT IS THAT A TAT”

“Y’ALL SEE HER RIBS? ZOOM IN”

You don’t even notice the moment until you stretch your arms over your head, showing just a flash of new ink: soft cursive, right under your ribs. It reads: 𝐿𝒶𝓎𝓁𝒶.

No dates. No explanation. Just the name.

“WHO’S LAYLA 👀”

“y’all think she dating a girl named layla??”

“uhm… she didn’t have that last week??”

“the tattoo… it’s giving important”

You grin and keep walking.

“I’m not explaining shit,” you say, sipping your drink again. “Let the theories fly.”

The Night of Prom

You left campus with nothing but a hoodie, a carry-on bag, and a nod to Coach Auriemma.

“Everything alright?” he’d asked as you leaned against the doorframe of his office.

You just held up a tiny gift bag and smiled. “Got somewhere important to be.”

He didn’t press. Just gave you that small, knowing look and waved you off with a quiet, “Don’t be late coming back.”

So you weren’t. But you were late to dinner check-in. Late to group FaceTime. Missing from the girls’ usual chaos. They noticed.

It’s nothing like the campus galas you’re used to. The decorations are paper stars and curling ribbon. The music is ten minutes behind the vibe. The punch is lukewarm.

Layla is glowing. Her dress is baby blue. Hair laid. Nails done. There’s a quiet nervousness in her when you text her to come outside.

You: I’m here. Don’t freak out. Just meet me by the front doors.

She replies with twenty question marks and a “what??????” before you see the doors swing open. Then she sees you. She freezes.

You’re in a tailored black suit, button undone, white tee underneath. Casual. Sharp. Cropped curls. Fresh sneakers. Gift bag still in hand.

“You… what…?” she stammers.

You lift the bag. “You really thought I’d miss this?.“

Her hands cover her mouth. She looks like she might cry, but instead she just runs into your arms.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispers, muffled against your chest.

You hold her tighter than you mean to. “Told you I show up when it counts.”

Inside, you stay in the shadows. Let her shine. You take a few pics, sign a few autographs, but most people don’t even realize who you are.

You pin her corsage. Give her her gift: a dainty silver necklace that says “light.” Just that.

Because that’s what she is.

“Where the hell have you been?” Nika asks, bursting into the locker room as soon as she sees you walk in.

“Y’all,” Paige says, wide-eyed, “we thought she was kidnapped.”

“I checked her location last night,” Azzi adds. “She turned it off! Which means it was serious.”

“She never turns her location off,” Ice mutters. “Even when she’s drunk.”

You just toss your duffle down and start pulling on your hoodie, nonchalant. “I was busy.”

“Doing what?”

Jana turns her phone toward the group. “More like who. Look what’s trending.”

It’s a photo from last night. A fan post. Blurry but clear enough to tell it’s you in that black suit, standing next to a girl in a blue dress. You’re putting a necklace around her neck. She’s beaming.

The caption: “UConn’s [Y/N] showed up to my little sister’s prom. Y’all… she has a tattoo of her name too 😭”

The locker room goes silent.

“WAIT—LAYLA?!”

“THE TATTOO?”

“Is that why she got the name??”

“You been texting her this whole time??”

You glance up, calm. A little shrug. “Y’all loud as hell.”

Nika throws a towel at you. “You’re soft as hell!”

Azzi’s eyes are glassy. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

You just smile and grab your water bottle. “Didn’t need y’all making it a big deal.”

Paige is grinning from ear to ear. “Girl. That is a big deal.”

“I mean…” you mutter, heading toward the showers, “…some things are sacred.”

Graduation Day

It starts simple. Layla’s walking across the field with her class, cap tilted back, gown billowing in the breeze. Nervous. She’s been nervous all morning.

You told her last week you might not make it. Finals. Travel. Media. The usual.

She understood. Said it was okay. But she didn’t mean it.

So when she turns the corner and sees the crowd and you, sitting right there on the edge of the front row, sunglasses low, smile wide her breath catches.

She mouths your name. You wink.

“GO LAYLAY!!”

“YEAHHHH BABY GRADUATE!!!”

“WE OUT HERE FOR YOU!!!”

“LOOK AT MY BABY OH LAWD”

The rest of the UConn team stands up. All of them. Matching UConn hoodies, signs, cowbells, and blown-up face cutouts of Layla that Azzi made in the hotel room last night.

One says “MENTAL HEALTH MATTERS” in glitter letters. Another has a picture of Layla’s favorite quote printed in big block font.

Layla gasps.

She turns slowly, face half-hidden behind her hands, absolutely stunned as her entire section of classmates and family loses their minds. The crowd starts clapping louder. Cheering. Crying.

Even the principal looks confused.

You stand up last, slow and steady, holding your phone to record her reaction. She sees it and immediately wipes her face, pretending not to cry.

“Mhm,” you call softly, grinning.

The field turns into a photo frenzy, and Layla is surrounded. Paige’s tall ass is holding her diploma like it’s a championship trophy. Nika’s twirling her around. Ice is on FaceTime with her cousins yelling, “Look who we came for!”

Someone hands Layla a gift bag. It’s a chain. Simple. Dainty. The charm says: Still Here. Everyone signed the card. Geno included. Layla looks at you, blinking.

“Y’all really came.”

You nod. “Told you. I show up when it counts.”

Paige claps you on the back. “She ain’t tell us until the last minute. We booked the whole back row of the Amtrak.”

“We brought snacks and everything,” Nika adds. “Layla, be for real—you’re basically our team baby now.”

Layla snorts, tears forgotten. “I’m okay with that.”

Azzi snaps another picture of y’all hugging. “This better go viral for the right reasons.”

———————————————————————————————

You and Layla sit on the edge of the bleachers, everyone else packing up behind you. She leans into your side, diploma in her lap, face peaceful.

“I’m glad you didn’t keep it a secret anymore,” she says softly. You smile, pulling her closer.

“You’re my little sister you repeat.

“And the whole world should know you made it.”

@letsnowtalk @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan @footy-lover264 @yorubagirlsworld @daffodil-darlings @h4untedghOul @followthesvn @hibiscusblu @sevikasleftbicep @swiftie4evr @babyphatbrat @sivensblog @beeop223 @huntedghOul @tpwkrosalinda @lightsgore @em-nems @salemsuccss @villain-ryuk @ihrtsarahstrOng @liyahh037 @sillystarv @somedetailsinthefabric @essence-134340 @mochelisgf @soph1asticated @heheievidbri @unvswrld @breezybellab @planet-ghoulborne @art-ofmusic @toorealrai @mrsarnold @prettyyyinblack

[matchatarot]

Hello Bunny! There are a lot of beautiful things about you, but here are the ones your person adores the most. You can adapt the reading to a friendship or a romantic interest, just take what resonates! To pick a pile don’t overthink it and choose the one that draws you in the most while thinking about the reading intent.

Love, Matcha ♡

☆ masterlist

Pile 1 ₊˚.༄

You’re such a sweetie. Your person sees that you’re someone who has been through a lot. You’ve lost a lot and had to go through life-changing emotional challenges that gravely impacted your mental health. The thing they love the most about you is how you’ve alchemized that energy and transformed into a loving and compassionate being. You still find emotional fulfillment out of life, you’ve kept the ability to give and receive love even through it all. They are completely enamoured by you and they want you to know that they will always be there to help you. They love it when you ask them for help if you need it or they wish you did. They might have a little bit of a saviour complex when it comes to you. They think that you can be hesitant when it comes to relationships, that you’re wary of people’s intentions and that you wouldn’t just spend time with anybody. They love that you’ve decided to let them in your life despite this. If you guys are in some sort of union, either romantic or friendly, they feel extremely proud that you chose them, it gives them an ego boost honestly. They adore that you’re someone who follows your intuition, you might have anxiety but you still make the effort to rationalize your anxious thoughts when possible and manifest. Your faith is one of their favourite things about you. They also obviously love how beautiful you are! They think you’re so pretty and that you have pretty privilege, because they don’t understand how anyone could get mad at someone with a face like this, at least stay mad for long. Honestly, they see you as adorable, they want to take care of you. Since you’ve been through so much they wish they could give you enough love to kind of make up for it. They also like how you’re someone who can admit your flaws and your errors. They love the sound of your voice and the words you use, they think you have a good vocabulary. Their favourite thing about you is that you bring light into their world, they see your soul as so pure. They think you’re so angelic, that your presence is a blessing.

Queen of Cups

↳ book a personal reading with me on ko-fi ★

Pile 2 ⊹˚˖ ☆

You’re so cool. You’re a go-getter, you’re not scared to take action. Their favourite thing about you is how determined, grounded and strong you are. You take care of yourself and your life. They love how you’re responsible, you’re someone they trust. They love how you’re not scared to philosophize, think and discuss difficult topics. Their favourite thing about you is how smart you are and how you teach them things. They really love how you always want to do better and bigger. You’re no bullshit when it comes to challenges. They love your ability to stay true to your decisions. Sorry if it’s cringe, but they think you’re not like the other girls or any gender. They think you’re better than the rest. They love how you give nymph vibes. Most people who chose this pile probably asked for a romantic relationship because they’re clearly attracted to you… If it’s not that type of relationship disregard that but I see that they want you. If you’ve been having sex they love it and it’s one of their favourite part of their relationship with you. They get a lot of pleasure from it and they love that you seem to love it too. They love the way you look naked. If you’ve been seeing other people they’re super jealous. If you were asking for a friendship, they’re also jealous of your other friendships. They want to always be the one having fun with you! You’re the person they have the most fun with! If they ever did anything that hurt you they’re so sorry, when you fight they want to go back to you right after. Maybe you guys sometimes fight and then make up and they love when you’re willing to forgive them and have a discussion. You’re not scared of being the bigger person, but you don’t judge them too much. They feel like they can be themselves with you. They see you guys being in each other’s life for the long term, they hope for it. They admire you, your looks and your mind.

Queen of Pentacles

↳ book a personal reading with me on ko-fi ★

Pile 3 ‧₊˚ ♡

They’ve never met anyone else like you. Their favourite thing about you is that you’ve offered them a new way to see life. They love how you’re free-spirited and spiritual. They love how you’re a leader. You lead by example. You guide people around you, they feel like you bring them clarity. Their favourite thing about you is how you offer love and compassion. They love how you are a peaceful person. You’re only in a competition with yourself, but even then you practice detachment. You’re patient and you have a strong mindset. They love how you manifest the things you want in your life with this powerful attitude. They want you all for themselves. They love when you want to see them and when you claim them as your person. If sometimes it’s time to stop hanging out and you say things like “No please stay!”, they love that. They love partying and having fun with you. They think you’re the life of the party and that you’re good at bringing people together. They love how you don’t care about what people say about you. You let them talk. You might have had to cut off family members, your person thinks you don’t care what your family think about your lifestyle and they admire that. You inspire them because you have a lot of general knowledge. You’re the type to know a lot of fun facts. They like the way you tell stories and how many stories you have to tell. They’re scared of losing you. They might have nightmares about you guys fighting and it stresses them out. They feel youthful and free with you. When they’re with you, they feel like it’s the universe giving them an other chance. Perhaps they had a lot of endings before you. If it’s about a romantic interest and you’ve never had sexual encounters they’re ready for that step. They’re in general ready for the next step in your relationship. They want to be able to try out a lot of new things with you. They think that if they stay with you they’ll feel young forever.

High Priestess

↳ book a personal reading with me on ko-fi ★

decks used for this reading: l’oracle du chemin spirituel by Valérie Defour & Valérie Saussez, modern witch tarot deck by Lisa Steele, amor et psyche oracle by Georges Barbier, les vampires oracle by Lucy Cavendish, mystical wisdom by Gaye Guthrie, oracle of heaven and hell by Travis McHenry

[ikeu05]

𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 。 i love you because when i say i don't wanna talk you always call me

synopsis when yn starts dating her sweet, perfect boyfriend sunghoon, she doesn’t expect to fall for his annoyingly charming best friend, jay. between hallway run-ins, forbidden feelings, and a very confusing party confession, what started as bickering turns into everything they were both afraid to want. It’s messy, it’s complicated—but it might just be real.

pairing jay x fem!reader x sunghoon

genre love triangle (kinda), angst!!!, fluff here and there

word count 14.8k (who am i :3)

warnings implications of cheating (i am very against this, i do NOT induce cheating), small smut scene [unprotected sex (please don't do!!!!), piv], crying, reader is very confused about everything, happy ending <3

nessie note this was so random, sprung outta nowhere but it had been in the drafts for quite sometime now and i figure.... why not :p also i would like to apologise in advance about the smut scene. very evidently, i have no experience writing them so sorry if it's cringe or wtv.. hope y'all like the rest of it hehehe. also ness is her bff and flatmate in this just like how i am ur bff wink wink

sunghoon was yn’s complex neighbour—the kind you didn’t notice until you did, and then couldn’t stop noticing. he lived across the hall from her and ness, in an apartment shared with three other boys, jay, heeseung and jungwon. ness always had a way of describing people that stuck, and she labelled sunghoon as “a little airheaded, unconventionally smart, and just a hot loser.” and honestly, she wasn’t wrong. he was the type to walk into a room looking for his phone while it was already in his hand, but then turn around and say something so surprisingly profound that it made you do a double take. his mind worked in weird ways—ways that made no sense until they did.

yn never really thought much of him at first. he was just the boy who wore mismatched socks, left his laundry out for too long, and somehow managed to ace his physics exams despite never showing up to class. but something changed. maybe it was the way they started seeing each other more and more, casually at first—shared elevator rides, overlapping grocery runs, late-night knock-knock visits with leftover fries or missing chargers.

and then there were the hangouts.

every time the six of them—yn, ness, sunghoon, jay, heeseung and jungwon—ended up in the same room, she found herself gravitating toward him. somehow, by the end of the night, she and sunghoon would be in their own little bubble. laughing at a dumb meme only they found funny. debating whether cereal counted as soup. sharing glances across the table when someone said something ridiculous. it wasn’t intentional—it just kept happening.

sometimes he’d say things like, “i think time’s fake,” with a completely straight face, and then try to prove it with a whiteboard and a banana. sometimes he’d sit beside her, head leaning against the back of the couch, talking about parallel universes while trying not to fall asleep mid-sentence. and she’d just look at him, equal parts amused and curious, wondering how someone so ridiculous could be so weirdly endearing.

one evening, they were all piled into the guy’s living room for a movie night. jungwon had fallen asleep twenty minutes in, ness was loudly narrating her opinions from the kitchen, and jay kept skipping scenes he found boring. somewhere in the middle of all the chaos, sunghoon leaned over to whisper a dumb joke into yn’s ear. she laughed, trying to keep quiet, and he smiled like he’d been waiting for that reaction all day. she didn’t notice how close they were sitting until their shoulders brushed and he didn’t move away.

later that night, when she got back to her own apartment, she realized her cheeks still hurt from smiling too much. and that was when it hit her—maybe she’d started thinking about him a lot more than she thought.

maybe sunghoon wasn’t just the hot loser across the hall anymore.

maybe he was something else. something that made her heartbeat do stupid things.

it wasn’t long before they started dating. after knowing each other for about seven months—seven whole months of dumb jokes, inside memes, late-night texts, shared playlists, and those almost-but-not-quite lingering touches—something finally gave in. and of course, sunghoon had to ask her out in a way only he could. something ridiculous. something oddly sweet. something that left her speechless.

it all began at a party hosted by their college mutual friend jake—the hotshot. the party guy. the kind of boy who wore sunglasses indoors and had a playlist for every type of chaotic situation. it was a massive, noisy, glow-stick-ridden mess in the best way, and yn had agreed to go with the whole group. it sounded fun. a good distraction. she needed that.

because before the party, she’d admitted to ness—after one too many nights spent refreshing sunghoon’s chat—that she needed to get her mind off him. “he doesn’t see me like that,” she had mumbled into a throw pillow. “he’s probably just friendly with everyone. maybe i imagined the whole ‘thing’.”

ness, bless her soul, took it as a mission. “say less,” she’d grinned, dragging yn to her closet. “tonight, you’re getting over hot loser boy. we’re drinking. we’re flirting. we are not crying over weirdly poetic physics majors.”

and so, the night began—yn dressed a little braver than usual, eyes lined in confidence she didn’t feel yet, and a fake smile plastered on as she sipped on her first shot. ness kept her busy—introducing her to new people, pushing her into silly games, dragging her to dance floors. and it worked, for a while. she wasn’t looking at the door every few minutes. she wasn’t hoping he’d come talk to her. she wasn’t thinking about—

except she was. and he did come.

sunghoon showed up late, like always, with jungwon trailing behind and jay already a little drunk on arrival. and when his eyes found her in the crowd, they softened instantly. he smiled, like she was a favourite song he hadn’t heard in a while. but the moment he stepped forward, ness blocked his path with a look. a subtle shake of the head.

he got the hint. he kept his distance.

she hated it.

even through the chaos of the party, their eyes met sometimes. quiet moments in a loud room. he looked like he wanted to talk to her—desperately—but he didn’t. maybe he thought she didn’t want to. maybe he was trying to give her space. either way, she felt everything and nothing all at once.

later, during a game of spin the bottle, they sat in a circle, tipsy and flushed. the bottle spun, clinked against a few glasses, and landed on sunghoon… and some random girl. everyone whooped. the girl leaned forward with a smirk.

but sunghoon shook his head, laughing softly. “i’ll pass.”

“no way! c’mon!” someone whined.

he just shrugged, eyes flicking once—quickly—towards yn. “not really feeling it.”

she bit her lip, barely hiding her smile. her chest felt too tight, too light.

then it was her turn. she spun, not really thinking. it landed on jake.

“wooooo!” people shouted. “get it!”

jake raised an eyebrow, grinning. “hey, no pressure, but i am an excellent kisser.”

yn laughed, nerves buzzing through her. she always thought jake was attractive in a loud, attention-demanding kind of way—but he wasn’t really her type. still… maybe this would help. maybe kissing someone else would finally rip sunghoon from her thoughts.

she stood up, slowly moving toward jake.

and then—

“hey,” a voice said, soft, right beside her. “do you… really wanna kiss jake?”

sunghoon.

he stood between them, eyes gentle but serious, his voice low enough that only she could hear it.

she blinked at him, heart in her throat. the alcohol and the heat and the sheer stupidity of it all made her bolder than usual. “no,” she said, barely above a whisper. “i wanna kiss you.”

so she did.

right there, in front of everyone. she kissed him. his hands found her waist like they’d been waiting for this moment forever, and everything around them blurred. but the second it ended, panic bloomed.

“oh my god,” she gasped, eyes wide, suddenly all too aware. “i—” and then she bolted.

out of the party. down the street. all the way back to their apartment complex, barefoot heels in hand.

ness chased her down in a cab, shouting out the window, “you’re so fast for a drunk person, i swear to god!”

yn avoided him after that. for days.

she couldn’t handle the conversation. what if he regretted it? what if it was just a kiss to him? what if she ruined everything? every time she heard his voice across the hall, she ducked into her room. when the boys came over to borrow sugar or wifi or ask about missing laundry, she pretended to be asleep. it was childish. but she was terrified.

until one afternoon, she finally found the courage. she walked across the hall and knocked.

the door swung open.

sunghoon stood there, in nothing but an apron.

flour streaked his collarbones, smudged across his cheekbone and dusted in his hair. he looked startled for a second, then grinned sheepishly.

“hey,” he said. “i was just, um… baking.”

she stared. “are you… naked under that?”

“i mean… technically, yes. but it’s a long apron.”

“sunghoon—”

“i was making donuts,” he added quickly. “to ask you out properly. because you said you like donuts. and i wanted to make it… you know. cute.”

something in her chest finally eased. she let out a breathy laugh, stepping inside. “you don’t hate me?”

“what? no!” he blinked. “i thought you were avoiding me because you regretted it.”

she covered her face, groaning. “oh my god. we’re idiots.”

“well, yeah,” he said, stepping closer. “but you kissed me. and then you ran away. which was, like… very cinderella of you.”

“i panicked,” she mumbled. “i didn’t think you actually—”

he didn’t let her finish. he just pulled her in by the waist, arms wrapping around her, flour and all. “so,” he murmured, looking down at her. “wanna date a dumbass who bakes naked and wears a ‘fuck the cook’ apron?”

she laughed, cheeks burning. “i mean… if that dumbass is you…”

he kissed her.

flour smeared across her cheek, the smell of vanilla and sugar hanging between them, the forgotten donuts cooling on the kitchen counter. somewhere between the kiss and the laughter, his apron slipped slightly off his shoulder.

let’s just say… the donuts weren’t the only thing getting devoured that evening.

it had been three months since the kiss, the donut proposal, and the flour-dusted beginning of whatever she and sunghoon had become—and things were good. like, genuinely good. easy in the way you hope relationships will be when they start. sunghoon was still his chaotic, apron-wearing self, the kind of boyfriend who brought her weird snacks from the convenience store just because they “reminded him of her” (???), and who left her notes like “don’t forget to eat or i will cry and you’ll be responsible for emotional damage” stuck to her laptop.

they weren’t perfect—he forgot their coffee dates, she got impatient with his dreamy tangents—but they worked.

until jay happened.

jay was sunghoon’s annoying best friend. nothing more, nothing less. at least that’s how yn had always seen him—loud, cocky, with a grin that could either charm or irritate depending on the day. she had tolerated him purely because of sunghoon, her boyfriend of four months now. jay was always around—he lived across the hall with sunghoon, part of that never-ending trio of chaotic energy, plus jungwon.

she’d met jay the same day she met sunghoon, almost a year ago now. he had always been there, lurking in the background of her life like a sarcastic shadow. bickering with her from day one, making snarky remarks across the hall, stealing her charger when she wasn’t looking. it was like his full-time job was to get under her skin and she had never let him win. if he rolled his eyes at her, she rolled hers harder. if he made a joke, she made a better one. their entire relationship was based on mutual annoyance and a shared love for one-upping each other.

especially in stats class.

god, stats class.

they sat on opposite ends of the second row, both refusing to give up their assigned unofficial seats. every test, every assignment, every stupid little pop quiz was a personal challenge. “who got the highest this time?” was not a casual question—it was war.

“enjoy that 92 while it lasts,” she smirked one day, tossing her test on his desk.

jay raised an eyebrow. “enjoy being second place, yn. it suits you.”

“your ego doesn’t.”

“yeah, but my gpa does.”

she hated how smug he looked when he said that.

but she hated even more how cute he looked when he got flustered.

because jay—annoying, sharp-tongued, infuriating jay—had these moments. tiny, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moments where the sarcasm dropped. when he picked up her pen without a word. when he brought her coffee once before class because “you looked like death and i figured your boyfriend’s probably too busy thinking about time travel to remember caffeine.” when she accidentally let slip she was stressed about her internship interview and he—without looking at her—slid a printed prep sheet across the desk with a grumbled “don’t screw it up. you’re my only real competition.”

moments like that threw her off. always had. because he didn’t stay sweet. he’d say something nice and then immediately ruin it by saying something like “i miss when you were failing stats. you were quieter back then.”

and she’d pretend to hate him all over again.

but lately… lately it was like he was everywhere.

she saw him more than she used to. ran into him at the cafeteria when she was sure he had a different break slot. bumped into him at the library when she swore she was alone. he was behind her in lines, next to her in labs, texting her things like “your boyfriend microwaved a spoon again. come collect your man.”

and when they bickered now, it felt… different. quicker. sharper. almost funnier. like there was a rhythm to it, a beat she couldn’t stop syncing to.

“you’re really annoying today,” she told him one afternoon, pushing past him in the hallway.

“thanks,” he replied smoothly. “it’s a skill i’ve refined over years. just for you.”

she paused, staring at him. “do you practice these lines or do they just fall out of your mouth like stupidity?”

jay smirked. “you tell me, yn. you’re the one who keeps listening.”

and the worst part?

she was listening. she always did.

she was starting to see him more. not just as the annoying boy who lived with her boyfriend, but—unfortunately—as someone she noticed in ways she didn’t want to admit. someone whose presence filled more space than it should. someone who wasn’t sunghoon, but who still made her heart skip, even if it was only out of irritation. (or so she told herself.)

it was like the universe kept shoving him into her orbit, over and over again, like it was trying to tell her something. and maybe she was too afraid to admit what that something could be.

because everything was good with sunghoon. wasn’t it?

so then why the hell was jay everywhere all of a sudden?

and why did it feel like she was starting to like it?

it was well past midnight when yn finally gave in to the itch crawling under her skin. her room felt suffocating, her thoughts louder than her playlist, and even sunghoon’s goodnight text hadn’t calmed her nerves. the silence had become too much. she needed air, and not the kind that came from an open window.

“let’s go on a drive,” she mumbled, sitting up suddenly. ness, who was half-asleep on the floor next to her with her phone pressed to her cheek, blinked up in confusion.

“now?”

“yes. like, now now. i need to get out of here. i’m going crazy.”

ness yawned and stretched, already reaching for her hoodie. “fine. but you’re buying me fries or i’m turning this car around.”

the hallway outside their flat was dim, the yellow ceiling light flickering like something out of a horror movie. yn tiptoed ahead, hoodie pulled over her head, keys in hand. just as they rounded the corner to the main door, yn halted in her tracks so suddenly that ness almost bumped into her.

“shit. jay.”

“what?” ness whispered back, blinking.

yn pushed her forward without a word, ducking behind the half-open door of the utility room next to the stairs. ness was too confused to protest, stumbling out into full view like a deer caught in headlights.

and there he was—jay. dressed in grey sweatpants and a navy oversized t-shirt, hair still damp like he’d just taken a shower, casually walking down the hallway with a garbage bag in one hand. he paused when he saw her.

“where you headed?” he asked, voice low but curious, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

ness smiled awkwardly, trying to keep things casual. “just… stepping out. needed a change of air.”

jay raised an eyebrow. “at 12:30 a.m.?”

“i like the stars,” she shrugged, internally praying he wouldn’t look too closely. “they hit better at night.”

he glanced past her, his eyes narrowing slightly like something didn’t sit right. “you alone?”

“yeah. solo vibes,” she nodded quickly.

and then—of course—yn’s phone rang. for exactly one millisecond. the notification barely echoed before she silenced it, but it was too late.

jay’s head tilted slowly. that ringtone. he knew it. he’d changed it himself once when she left her phone unattended at a group movie night last semester—“spaghetti western gun draw”—as a joke. she never changed it back.

“solo vibes, huh?” he asked again, but now he was smirking. “tell her next time to at least mute her phone before hiding.”

ness let out a sigh of defeat, facepalming. “god, you’re so annoying.”

he stepped past her slightly, not peeking around the corner but clearly amused. “how’d her stats paper go, by the way?” he asked casually. “tell her i said good job. that presentation she did last week was lowkey impressive.”

ness narrowed her eyes. “why do you even know that?”

jay shrugged. “i pay attention sometimes.”

“go throw your trash and mind your business.”

jay gave a little mock salute, backing away with a grin. “night, ness. night, yn.” he didn’t even need to look. he just knew.

once he was out of earshot, yn stepped out, groaning as she smacked her forehead lightly. “he knew.”

ness gave her a deadpan look. “yeah, no shit. this is why i said let me drive alone and you can meet me downstairs.”

“but you’re a horrible liar.”

“and you’re a horrible hider.”

they walked toward the elevator, yn pulling her hood tighter. her heart was still racing—not because of the close call, but because of the way jay had said good job. because he noticed. and remembered. and for some reason, that meant too much.

the city was quieter than usual. the streets stretched out in long, empty lines, dotted with the occasional blinking yellow signal and the hum of streetlamps. the air smelled like wet concrete and jasmine from someone’s nearby garden. yn drove with one hand on the wheel, the other fiddling with the car’s stereo until it landed on a mellow playlist—soft indie, just loud enough to fill the silence.

ness had her feet up on the dashboard, sipping from the iced coffee they picked up from the all-night drive-thru. they’d barely been on the road ten minutes when she finally said it.

“i’m just gonna say it.”

yn glanced sideways. “say what?”

“i think jay likes you.”

the words hit like a stone skipping across a calm lake, each ripple sharper than the last.

she scoffed, too fast. “what? no. no, he doesn’t.”

ness didn’t even blink. “he so does.”

“don’t be ridiculous.”

“you’re telling me it was a coincidence that he recognized your ringtone in a millisecond, complimented your stats presentation unprompted, and looked directly at the wall you were hiding behind?”

yn exhaled through her nose, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “he’s just being… jay.”

“exactly,” ness said smugly. “jay, who makes fun of everyone else equally, but never forgets your coffee order. jay, who teases you, but never crosses a line. jay, who somehow remembers your exam schedule but doesn’t know what day it is half the time.”

yn stayed silent, her eyes fixed on the road.

ness leaned closer, watching her carefully now. “you haven’t denied it convincingly even once, by the way.”

“i have.”

“nope. you’re all blushy and twitchy. you’re practically glowing like a ‘crush detected’ siren.”

“i don’t like him.”

“right.”

“i don’t,” she repeated, but her voice cracked halfway, which only made ness laugh.

and in that moment—between the streetlights flashing across her face and the quiet hum of the song playing—ness saw it. the way yn’s expression faltered. how her mouth opened slightly, like she was about to say something and then thought better of it. the way her eyes clouded, like she was trying too hard to convince herself.

“oh my god,” ness whispered. “you like him too.”

yn didn’t answer. she just bit the inside of her cheek and kept driving.

ness leaned back in her seat, letting out a dramatic sigh. “this is insane. you’re dating sunghoon.”

“i know,” yn said quietly, her fingers tightening again on the steering wheel. “i know.”

and the car went quiet again, only the music filling the air between them—soft, aching, and way too honest.

they ended up at a tucked-away little café on the far side of town, one of those late-night gems with fairy lights draped across the windows and mismatched furniture that somehow made everything feel more intimate. the barista barely batted an eye at the two girls walking in at nearly 2 a.m.—this place seemed to cater specifically to the restless and heart-heavy.

they sat near the window, nursing hot mochas and splitting a flaky almond croissant and a warm cinnamon roll between them. the silence was heavier now, not uncomfortable, but loaded. ness was staring at her, chewing slowly.

“what,” yn said, not looking up from her pastry.

“just thinking.”

“stop thinking.”

“i can’t.”

yn gave her a look, but ness just pushed her plate away and leaned on her elbows.

“okay, i’m doing this. pros and cons.”

“no.”

“too bad. we’re doing it.” she held up a finger. “pro—jay makes you smile when you don’t even want to.”

“can we not—”

“con—you’re dating sunghoon. obviously. big, fat con.”

yn groaned, resting her forehead on the table.

“pro,” ness continued, “jay actually listens to you. remembers things. supports your tiny wins like they’re world records. he’s annoying, but he’s there. he’s present.”

yn sat back up slowly, face drawn.

“con,” ness said, quieter now, “sunghoon’s your boyfriend. he treats you well. he’s sweet. stable. you’d hurt him.”

yn didn’t say anything.

“pro,” ness added, “jay… i don’t know, he challenges you. he keeps you on your toes. you light up when you talk back to him. like you enjoy the chaos.”

“that’s not a pro,” yn muttered, staring into her cup. “that’s a problem.”

ness chuckled, but it faded quickly when she saw the look on her friend’s face—eyebrows drawn, lips pressed tight, fingers tapping nervously against the ceramic cup.

“yn.”

“i don’t want this,” yn whispered, almost more to herself than ness. “i don’t want to feel anything. i want to be happy with sunghoon. i am happy. i think.”

ness didn’t press, just nodded slowly.

“but when jay looks at me…” yn’s voice broke a little. “it feels like my chest is going to split open.”

the café was quiet except for the soft jazz playing through the overhead speakers and the occasional clink of dishes being washed behind the counter. outside, the street was still and empty, the world asleep while yn’s own thoughts screamed too loud to ignore.

ness reached over, her hand covering hers gently. “you don’t have to figure it all out tonight. but you do need to stop lying to yourself.”

yn nodded, swallowing hard, unsure whether the ache in her throat was from guilt, confusion, or something far more dangerous—hope.

somewhere between the fourth existential thought and the last sip of her mocha, yn sat back in her chair and declared, “i need to get drunk.”

ness blinked. “here? now?”

“right now,” she nodded, deadly serious. “i’m done thinking. no more boys, no more feelings, no more jay, no more ‘who-do-i-even-like’—i just want to not feel anything for a few hours.”

and that’s how they ended up at the shady little 7/11 a block down, giggling through the fluorescent aisles, grabbing way more bottles of soju than necessary—green bottles clinking in a tote bag, some spicy chips thrown in for chaos. by 2:45 am, they were sitting at a quiet crossroad at the edge of town, where traffic lights blinked uselessly over an empty street and the wind carried the faint sound of a dog barking in the distance. they sat on the curb like a pair of drunk philosophers, legs sprawled out, faces flushed from laughter and alcohol.

“this is freedom,” yn mumbled, holding a half-empty bottle above her head. “this is girlhood.”

ness laughed so hard she almost dropped her own bottle. “girlhood is being heartbroken over a boy you don’t even want to like.”

“girlhood is betrayal in a crop top.”

“girlhood is lying to your sweet, perfect boyfriend while lowkey obsessing over his best friend!”

they burst into cackles, so loud it echoed down the street. yn wiped tears from her eyes, lying back on the warm asphalt, staring at the starless night.

meanwhile, back in their apartment complex, jay was pacing around his room, thumb hovering over his phone. he had texted ness over an hour ago:

jay: u guys back?

no reply. nothing since they left. which was weird, because ness never ignored him. but he reasoned she’d probably just fallen asleep. maybe yn was venting and they were up late talking. or maybe she was crying, he suddenly thought, anxiety tugging at the edge of his chest.

he shook it off. it wasn’t his place. sunghoon was probably with her—wait, no. sunghoon had gone to bed early, he remembered. so… where the hell were they?

jay sat back on his bed, brows furrowed, phone still glowing in his hand.

across town, yn was balancing her bottle on her chest, staring at the red blinking streetlight.

“do you think the light’s judging us?” she asked seriously.

ness nodded. “definitely. red for stop being dumb bitches.”

“too late.”

they clinked bottles weakly in agreement, two tiny specks of chaos in the middle of a sleeping city, unaware of the ripple their absence was already starting to cause.

the sky was bleeding into soft shades of blue and lavender, the night slowly surrendering to dawn. the crossroad was still quiet, the only sound now the distant chirping of birds waking up and the occasional hum of a delivery bike speeding through empty lanes.

ness was curled up beside a lamppost, hoodie pulled over her head, a half-finished chip packet cradled to her chest like a comfort blanket. yn sat cross-legged on the curb, eyes burning from lack of sleep, head spinning not just from the alcohol but from the weight of the morning hitting her too fast.

“we can’t drive back,” she said blankly, her voice hoarse.

“nope,” ness croaked. “we’ll die. we’ll literally die.”

they both sat in silence, dazed and miserable.

“options?” ness asked after a beat.

yn pulled out her phone. “sunghoon?” she mumbled, but even saying his name made her wince. “i can’t. he thinks i’m at home. in bed. safe.”

“heeseung?”

“do you want to die slower?”

ness snorted. “jungwon would bring us home but would also give us a thirty-slide presentation on our stupidity.”

yn groaned.

they stared at each other. both came to the same conclusion. “jay.”

ness sighed. “we’re horrible people.”

“yup.”

ness dialed slowly, clearing her throat as it rang. the line picked up after the third ring.

“where are you?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“jogging. near new flyover. why?” jay’s voice was low, but alert.

“cool. cool cool. so… um. can you jog a little bit further? like, to the big crossroad near that one old bakery place? it’s urgent.”

jay paused. “ness, what the hell? are you okay?”

“yeah—well. no. but not, like, hospital-level bad. just… come. please.”

“is yn with you?”

she hesitated for a beat. “yeah.”

there was a beat of silence.

“i’m coming.”

✭

fifteen minutes later, jay came jogging up the slope, his black tank top clinging to his torso, chest rising and falling as sweat glistened over his skin in the gold of sunrise. his hair was slightly tousled, and his brow furrowed in confusion as he spotted them slumped together on the sidewalk like abandoned chaos goblins.

the moment yn saw him, she physically gulped. god. his shoulders looked criminally illegal in the morning light. she shook her head sharply, almost scolding herself. you have a boyfriend. a sweet, gentle boyfriend who buys you muffins.

jay stopped a few feet away, his hands resting on his hips as he looked at her first, worry etched all over his face.

“what the hell happened?”

yn opened her mouth, but her brain had apparently clocked out for the day. ness came to the rescue.

“we got drunk.”

jay blinked. “at 3 a.m.?”

“yeah.”

“here?”

“yeah.”

he looked at them both again—chapped lips, sleepy eyes, and leftover soju bottles tucked shamefully behind them—and sighed deeply.

“jesus christ.”

“no judgment,” ness warned, holding up a finger.

jay ran a hand through his hair, looking at yn again. “are you okay?” he asked, voice softer this time.

yn blinked up at him, heart thudding a little too loudly. “yeah. just… don’t ask anything right now.”

he nodded slowly. “okay.”

and without another word, he turned, ness leading them toward car parked two blocks away. yn stood up, still dizzy, her shoulder brushing his for half a second—and that single moment lit a fuse somewhere deep inside her chest.

she had never been more aware of her guilt. or rather, more terrified of what that awareness meant.

✭

the silence in the car was heavy, almost sacred, save for the low hum of the engine and the occasional crackle of gravel under jay’s tires as he drove. yn had curled up in the passenger seat, arms wrapped around her legs, forehead resting against the window. her breath fogged up the glass in small bursts, and her fingers twitched now and then like she was still trying to hold onto something—maybe dignity, maybe clarity.

ness had barely buckled her seatbelt before passing out in the back, the exhaustion finally winning over adrenaline and alcohol. jay didn’t say anything at first, his grip on the steering wheel tight, eyes flicking between the road and the reflection of yn’s profile in the side mirror. she was quiet. still.

he hated that he cared this much.

he opened his mouth to say something—anything. a joke to ease the tension. a question he wasn’t supposed to ask. but then—

her phone buzzed.

the ringtone sliced through the quiet like a blade.

jay glanced at her instinctively.

she checked the caller id.

“sunghoon,” she muttered under her breath, more to herself than anyone. she hesitated for half a second, then hit accept and brought it to her ear.

“hello?” she said, voice soft.

jay’s hands clenched unconsciously on the wheel.

sunghoon’s voice filtered in through the speaker, muffled but warm and sleepy and honest in a way that only someone in love could sound. “hi baby,” he mumbled, still half-asleep. “i just woke up and wanted to hear your voice.”

yn closed her eyes, the words hitting like a punch to her chest.

jay’s heart sank instantly. everything he was going to say, everything he wanted to ask, evaporated. the reminder was brutal. real. she had someone. someone who called her “baby” without hesitation. someone she answered for. someone who woke up and thought of her first thing in the morning.

yn forced herself to smile, voice cracking slightly as she responded, “hey… morning.”

“i had a weird dream about you,” sunghoon laughed softly. “where are you? did you sleep okay?”

she flinched but didn’t let it show. “yeah, just… went for an early drive with ness. couldn’t sleep.”

jay stared straight ahead, jaw tense, blinking hard against the rush of feelings he didn’t have the right to feel.

sunghoon continued rambling through the speaker, soft laughter and gentle affection spilling into the quiet car like it belonged there—and maybe it did. just not in the way jay wished it didn’t.

“i miss you,” sunghoon said, so sincere it hurt. “you’ll be back soon, right?”

yn’s throat was dry. “yeah,” she whispered, her eyes flicking toward jay just once.

he didn’t look at her. he didn’t have to.

she knew he’d heard every word.

and just like that, the atmosphere shifted.

he turned up the ac slightly, more for something to do than any real reason. yn hung up a minute later, tucking her phone away like it had burned her fingers. no one said anything for the rest of the ride. but everything had already been said.

silently.

painfully.

loud and clear.

✭

the morning sun had fully risen by the time they pulled into the apartment complex parking. the streets had come back to life—delivery vans rushing past, birds louder now, the sky a pale orange hue with streaks of pink dying out. but the three of them walked up the stairs like they were in a parallel world, still stuck in the silence of that drive.

ness rubbed her temples and reached into her pocket for the keys, grumbling something incoherent as she fumbled with the lock. yn stood beside her, arms crossed, eyes still puffy and jaw clenched tight. jay lingered behind them, just far enough to be out of their immediate space but close enough that his presence still pressed on her skin.

she hadn’t dared look at him since they parked.

the hallway was too quiet.

and then—

a click. a creak. the door across theirs opened.

“yn?” came a groggy voice—sunghoon.

she froze.

jay looked up at the sound too, gaze sharp despite the tired droop in his eyes.

sunghoon stepped out in his oversized hoodie and basketball shorts, hair messy, eyes still adjusting to the morning light. but the second he saw her—his expression shifted entirely.

“hey,” he beamed, stepping forward like it was the most natural thing in the world. his hand reached out, curling gently around her wrist, tugging her closer. “i missed you,” he said, voice still heavy from sleep.

before she could react—before her brain could catch up—he leaned in and kissed her softly.

jay stopped breathing. he didn’t make a sound. didn’t shift. didn’t blink. he just stood there. 

watching.

just for a second. and that second burned. then he turned. without a word, without so much as a glance, he walked past them, heading into the boys’ apartment and shutting the door behind him with a quiet click.

yn didn’t even respond to the kiss properly. her lips barely moved. she was too aware—of jay’s silence, of the guilt spreading in her chest like spilled ink, of the way her skin still remembered the car ride home and how suffocating it had felt.

sunghoon leaned back, smiling sleepily at her. “didn’t think i’d get to see you this early. what were you guys doing anyway?”

yn blinked. “just… late night drive. couldn’t sleep.”

he hummed, clearly buying it. “i’m gonna go make coffee. come over if you want.”

and then he yawned, brushed a knuckle against her cheek sweetly and walked back into his flat.

yn stood there, frozen. ness finally got the door open, swinging it wide. 

“come on,” she said softly, not asking anything.

but yn didn’t move. her eyes flicked to the door jay had disappeared behind, a dull ache blooming in her chest.

she knew. from now on, things were going to feel different. and it would be her fault.

things were only slightly different at first—just enough to notice if you were paying attention. and yn was always paying attention now.

the banter with jay didn’t stop. it still existed in the same petty, teasing rhythm it always had. she’d roll her eyes at him in the hallway. he’d scoff at her taste in instant noodles. they still fought over the last slice of pizza in group hangouts, still tossed playful insults across the room like they were built to clash.

but something had shifted in the space between those moments.

jay wasn’t lingering as much anymore. his jokes came a beat slower. the heat behind his teasing had dulled—not gone, just guarded. he didn’t sit beside her at movie nights anymore. he didn’t glance at her when someone said her name. he barely looked her in the eyes unless he had to. and when he did, it was like a flicker. here, then gone. just enough to make her heart drop.

meanwhile, sunghoon was falling harder. you could see it. the way he looked at her like she was made of something fragile and precious. how he’d kiss the top of her head when she wasn’t paying attention, hold her hand tighter when they crossed the street. he wrote little notes and hid them in her notebooks, remembered how she liked her coffee, told her she was beautiful every chance he got.

and it made her sick with guilt.

because she liked it. she loved being loved like that. she liked sunghoon—really liked him. he was good. he was warm. he’d never hurt her.

so why, why did her eyes follow jay in a crowded room?

why did her chest tighten when he laughed with someone else?

why did her mind constantly circle back to that moment—her knees curled on the passenger seat, his voice tight with something unspoken, the sound of sunghoon’s “hi baby” echoing like a slap in the face?

yn found herself spiraling in quiet moments. brushing her teeth. waiting for the microwave. lying awake at 2 a.m. with her phone on her chest and the ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead.

how do you bring something like this up?

“hey, so, i’m maybe catching feelings for your best friend slash flatmate slash local chaos demon and i feel like the worst person alive. do you still love me now?”

what would sunghoon say?

what would jay say?

what if she was wrong? what if this was just a passing thing? a stupid, fleeting attraction she’d regret throwing everything away for?

but what if it wasn’t?

what if it was already too late?

she couldn’t tell sunghoon.

she couldn’t.

so she smiled through it. kissed him back. texted jay about dumb things, like leftover fries and lost hoodies, hoping he’d reply the way he used to. but it all felt like watching a slow fade. jay had pulled back. not completely, but enough to feel the distance. like he knew. like he was protecting himself before it all blew up.

and the worst part? she couldn’t even blame him.

✭

the next few months passed in a blur, and jay was almost like a shadow in the corners of yn’s life—present but distant, like a dream she wasn’t sure she’d actually had. and she thought… she thought maybe this was for the best.

with jay pulling away, the noise in her head finally started to quiet down. no more glances she couldn’t explain. no more guilt bubbling in her stomach every time their eyes met. he wasn’t around enough for that anymore. the group hangouts still happened, sure, but jay kept his distance. he laughed with others, spoke when spoken to, rarely directed anything her way beyond a “move, dumbass” if she was standing in front of the fridge.

so yn leaned in. fully. completely.

sunghoon made it easy. god, he made everything so easy.

he adored her. it was obvious. in the way he lit up when she walked into the room, in the ridiculous memes he sent at 3 a.m., in how he always waited for her after class just to walk her home even if it was out of his way.

he was so stupidly in love with her, and he didn’t even try to hide it.

and for once, she let herself feel it.

she laughed more. started falling into their routines—his forehead kisses, their matching phone charms, the inside jokes about their neighbors and their shared hatred for black licorice. he made her feel safe. chosen. like she was something he’d always been looking for.

and she… she loved that. she loved being loved like that.

one night, while lying on his chest as he absentmindedly played with her hair, she caught herself staring at his face and thinking, this is what it’s supposed to feel like. this is what people meant when they said they were happy.

he kissed her forehead and whispered, “you’re my favourite person, you know that?” she smiled, pressing her cheek against his heart. “yeah,” she whispered back. “you’re mine too.” and she meant it. she did.

for the first time in months, her chest didn’t feel heavy with guilt. the name “jay” barely flickered in her head. barely. maybe this was how it was supposed to end—the jay thing. quietly. without drama. just… drifted away like smoke from a candle that was never meant to stay lit.

yn breathed easier. she was happy. or at least, she told herself that often enough that she believed it.

it was such a stupid party.

some random get-together at heeseung’s friend’s place—half the people were strangers, half were familiar faces that somehow became mutuals over months of late-night games, shared rides, and hangouts that blurred the lines of strangers.

yn hadn’t planned on drinking, really. she was just going to show face, hang around for a bit, and leave before the usual chaos started. but then someone pulled out soju. and someone else suggested never have i ever. and now she was drunk.

not blackout drunk, but definitely leaning against ness’ shoulder, eyes glazed, cheeks flushed, and heart a little too loud in her ears. the circle of people around her laughed, groaned, and teased each other as the game continued, each question getting riskier and more chaotic with every round.

“never have i ever… kissed someone i shouldn’t have.”

a mix of groans and oohs echoed around the circle. yn didn’t move at first. but her eyes—her eyes were fixed across the circle. on him.

jay. god, jay.

he was sitting in his usual slouched way, his long legs stretched out, arms crossed as he leaned back, a lazy smirk on his face like he wasn’t even fully paying attention.

but he knew. he had to know. because her eyes hadn’t left him all night.

she told herself it was fine. sunghoon wasn’t there—he’d bailed at the last minute, said he had some work to catch up on, and promised he’d make it up to her later. and the truth was… she hadn’t minded. not even a little. not like she used to.

they were past their honeymoon phase now. it was obvious. things felt… muted. he still called her baby, still held her hand, still kissed her with that slow softness that made her chest ache—but they barely saw each other anymore, despite living literally across the hall. the calls had shortened. the texts had thinned. sometimes it felt like she was holding up a version of their relationship that only she still cared to make look picture-perfect.

and yet, what unsettled her more than all of that… was the fact that she didn’t miss it the way she was supposed to.

because jay was here. and she’d spent the whole night looking at him.

watching how his mouth twitched every time someone said something stupid. watching how his hair fell slightly over his eyes. watching how he laughed with the people beside him but never once looked her way.

not once.

she lifted her shot glass slowly to her lips and drank. one more round. one more silent confession. ness’s head turned slightly to look at her, clocking the way she was staring, but didn’t say anything. it hit her then, like a blunt force to the chest.

she liked him.

not in that passing way she used to tell herself it was. not in the “he’s just hot and annoying and i hate him” way she used to cover it up with. no. she liked jay.

she liked him like you like the person who sees through every mask you wear. like you like the person you can’t ignore even when they ignore you. like she loved him, maybe.

sunghoon, sweet as he was, felt like a dream she had once. a phase. something soft and kind that came at the right time but didn’t feel like forever.

jay? jay was the real thing.

and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t fight it. she just stared at him, dazed and drunk and devastatingly sure.

✭

ness had been leaning a little too close to heeseung on the balcony, her arms resting on the railing, head tilted as she listened to him ramble about some stupid gym story that somehow involved a pigeon, a protein shake, and a broken locker key.

she rolled her eyes at him, biting back a smile—and that’s when the balcony door burst open.

yn stumbled in with all the grace of a giggly drunk person who thought they were being subtle. her eyes were wide, her smile even wider, and her steps surprisingly steady as she tiptoed—dramatically—into the balcony like she was on a mission.

then, in the world’s worst attempt at a whisper, she leaned toward ness and slurred out:

“i like jay.”

it wasn’t even a full whisper. it was more like a scream that wore a fake mustache and tried to pass off as discreet.

ness’s mouth dropped open.

not in surprise—she’d known, she’d suspected this for months—but the fact that yn had chosen this moment, this volume, this balcony to finally scream it into existence?

heeseung blinked. “WHAT.”

ness immediately smacked his arm and shut the balcony door with the urgency of a spy defusing a bomb. “shut up!” she hissed, locking it behind them and drawing the curtain like a makeshift soundproof barrier.

yn, meanwhile, flopped into one of the balcony chairs like she’d just finished confessing a murder. “god, that felt so good,” she exhaled, throwing her head back. “it’s been living in my lungs, dude. like—like—how do people keep feelings like that inside?! i feel lighter.”

ness stared at her, still blinking. “yn. you have a boyfriend.”

“i know!” yn whined, dramatically flopping her arms. “and he’s sweet and perfect and he’s sunghoon, i know. but like. i like jay. not like ‘haha he’s cute’ like—i like him like i want to kiss him. and not feel guilty about it.”

heeseung, leaning against the wall now with the smuggest grin, pointed between them. “okay but like. she’s not wrong. you and sunghoon haven’t even hung out properly in weeks.”

“you’re not helping,” ness hissed at him, then turned back to yn, grabbing her shoulders. “you’re drunk. and you’re spiraling. you’re not thinking clearly.”

“i am, actually,” yn replied with terrifying clarity, eyes wide. “i’ve never been clearer. jay is the real thing. like—like when i looked at him during the game tonight, i felt like throwing my drink in my face just to snap out of it.”

heeseung snorted. “romantic.”

ness glared at him again. “shut up, heeseung.”

yn pulled her legs up into the chair, hugging her knees like a teenage girl in love for the first time. “i don’t think it was ever just banter. like all those months we used to fight? what if it was just us flirting in denial?”

“oh my god,” ness groaned, rubbing her temples. “you sound like a budget therapist.”

heeseung, ever the chaos enabler, crossed his arms. “okay but she might be right. the dude stopped hanging out with everyone at once, he barely even talks to her now. he’s protecting himself.”

ness turned to him with wide eyes. “how do you know that?”

heeseung shrugged. “because if i was falling for someone i wasn’t supposed to fall for, i’d do the same thing.” 

and for a second, the balcony fell quiet. the muffled sounds of the party inside filtered through the glass door, but none of them moved.

ness looked at yn, who looked like she was floating—giddy, scared, but sure. too sure. “yn,” she said quietly, “you can’t just blow your relationship up because you caught feelings drunk at a party.”

“i’m not,” she said. “i already caught feelings. i’m just… finally admitting it.”

another silence.

heeseung just raised a hand. “if this ends in flames, i’d like to be excluded from all blame. but if it works out—i told you so.”

ness sighed, looking at yn. “you need to figure this out when you’re sober. and alone.”

yn smiled to herself, not answering, just staring out into the dark sky beyond the railing, a million thoughts racing through her head.

but one thing stood still in her heart. she liked jay. and now it was out. their mission that night had been clear—keep yn away from jay. at all costs.

ness had made it very clear before they even left their apartment. she’d even held yn’s face in her hands dramatically and said, “you are not allowed within a five-foot radius of that man. you hear me? no lingering glances, no innocent conversations, no ‘oops i tripped into your lap’ energy. we are going. we are vibing. we are not confessing.”

but fast forward two hours later, and things were… precarious.

yn, comfortably drunk and emotionally unstable, had just made her big balcony confession. she’d announced her feelings like it was a televised broadcast, her words laced with passion, delusion, and four too many shots of soju.

and now that they were back inside, ness was on high alert. the second she noticed yn’s gaze shift across the room—to him—ness smacked her shoulder lightly. 

“no.”

yn blinked at her, eyes dazed. “i didn’t even say anything.”

“you thought it. i saw it in your eyes.”

“i just looked!”

“exactly.”

heeseung was already snickering behind them, cradling his drink. “you’re like a mom scolding her kid for looking at candy.”

ness turned to him and deadpanned, “i am. she’s drunk, and jay is the biggest metaphorical bag of sour patch kids alive.”

yn pouted. “you guys are so dramatic.”

ness raised an eyebrow. “are we? you literally whispered—screamed—on the balcony that you want to kiss him. and then proceeded to talk about his ‘emotionally tortured eyes’ for five straight minutes.”

“that was poetry,” heeseung chimed in, taking another sip. “kinda beautiful, honestly.”

ness flicked him on the forehead. “you’re not helping.”

then she flicked yn too.

“ow! what was that for?!”

“that was for even thinking about walking over there.” ness crossed her arms. “yn, you’re drunk. you cannot trust drunk you to make good choices. and if you tell him now—here, like this—you’re going to wake up tomorrow with a hangover and a crisis.”

yn looked mildly offended. “i’m very wise when i’m drunk.”

“you also thought it was a good idea to pretend to be a tree when jungwon’s ex walked in earlier,” ness deadpanned.

“…he didn’t see me, did he?”

ness just gave her a look.

yn groaned, sliding down into the couch, her head falling back as her eyes landed on jay again—just a glimpse, across the crowd. he was laughing at something someone said, head thrown back, unaware of the war going on a few feet away.

heeseung caught her line of sight and promptly held up a pillow. “visual block. you’re in a jay-free zone now.”

ness clapped. “see? that’s the energy. that’s the plan.”

“but i like him,” yn whined, muffled under the pillow.

“i know,” ness said gently, crouching beside her. “and when you’re sober, and not halfway into a bottle of bad party soju, we’ll talk about it. and maybe then, you’ll decide if you still want to tell him.”

“but what if it’s too late then?”

ness sighed. “if it’s real, yn… it won’t be.”

and with that, operation keep yn from jay continued—full force, emotionally driven, and slightly chaotic. because as much as they all joked, none of them wanted to see her heart broken.

but then it happened faster than ness could stop. one second yn was grabbing a drink, giggling at something heeseung said—her body safely wedged between the two of them like she was in a human barricade. and then—like a ghost—he was just there.

jay.

a shadow slipping into the corner of her vision. she just turned and their eyes met.

her heart dropped, stomach clenching in a way that had nothing to do with the lukewarm vodka-orange mix she’d just sipped. because she had spent all night imagining this moment—fantasising how it would feel if he finally looked at her again like he used to. and now, here it was. real. unavoidable. and she was dazed out of her mind.

“can we talk?” he asked gently, his voice low, barely heard over the music.

ness, from across the room, instantly spotted it—danger—and started moving toward them, but it was already too late. yn’s feet were already following him, her body betraying her like muscle memory. and heeseung? he was just watching with interest, like he’d tuned in to the first episode of a drama he knew was going to ruin him.

they stepped out into the quieter hallway, the distant bass muffled behind them. and suddenly it was just the two of them, the warm low light washing over jay’s face, his expression unreadable but… soft.

too soft.

he smelled like bergamot and something darker—like rain-soaked cologne and he looked at her like she was the only real thing in the room.

yn’s knees ached.

he rubbed the back of his neck, stepping slightly closer. “i know i’ve been distant,” he started. “and i’m sorry. i should’ve just told you earlier.”

she blinked, heart thudding. “told me what?”

“that i liked you,” he said.

the words landed like a gut-punch. even if she knew—deep in her bones, in the glances, in the way he avoided her like she was a lit match—hearing it like this?

her knees nearly gave out.

“i didn’t know how to act around you anymore,” he continued, eyes flicking to hers, pleading almost. “because you’re with him. and i didn’t want to fuck it up. i didn’t want to be that guy. but i couldn’t keep pretending either.”

she tried to focus. tried. but her thoughts were swirling, her breath catching, and she could see ness and heeseung behind him through the open door—ness wide-eyed, gesturing wildly like no. do not kiss. no touching. stay in your lane. heeseung trying to wildly gesture her to just run away.

yn swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak. “jay, i… i can’t.”

he nodded, slowly, painfully. “i know.”

“but i think about kissing you,” she whispered, “’til i can’t breathe.”

his eyes closed for a second, his jaw tightening with restraint. “i do too,” he admitted, stepping closer anyway, his voice hoarse. “so fucking badly.”

it completely contradicted everything he’d just apologised for, but neither of them cared.

not when her lips were trembling, not when he was standing this close, not when the entire night had been building up to this moment like the slowest, softest car crash.

but she didn’t move. and neither did he. not because they didn’t want to. but because if they did, they’d never come back from it.

so they just stood there—wanting. breaking.

and behind them, ness finally dragged heeseung away, whispering, “if they kiss, we kill them both.”

heeseung nodded, “fair.”

yn turned to walk away first, her heart pounding, lungs burning, mind completely wrecked.

jay watched her leave like he’d just let the love of his life walk away from him.

because he did. and neither of them knew what to do next.

things between her and sunghoon didn’t get better.

not really.

they were still together—technically. he still sent her good morning texts, still gave her a kiss on the cheek when they met, still held her hand when they walked. but it wasn’t the same. not in the way it used to be. it was almost like… going through the motions. the tenderness had faded. the small, secret smiles. the unspoken inside jokes. the silly arguments about whose turn it was to pick dinner. now, it was just silence. or surface-level comfort. a familiarity that felt more like habit than love.

and somehow, that wasn’t even the worst of her worries.

because now that jay had said it—really said it—everything had changed.

it was like the second he admitted it out loud, something inside him unlocked. he started showing it, like he wasn’t afraid anymore. like confessing gave him permission to feel out loud. and he did—god, he did.

he looked at her like she belonged to him, even though she didn’t. not yet. he smiled at her like she was the best part of his day. he said things that made her laugh so hard her stomach hurt, and he’d grin like it was his favourite sound. he didn’t say “baby” out loud, but it was in the way he called her name. soft. familiar. loaded.

he didn’t kiss her. but he looked at her like he wanted to. every time he said goodnight—whether in person, over text, or just from the hallway across the apartment—his eyes said all the things he wasn’t allowed to do. not yet.

and she let him. she let him look. let him smile. let him toe that line—just like she did.

even though sunghoon was right there. sitting next to her on the couch. staring at his phone. not saying a word.

they were at the guy’s place again, everyone just lazing around after dinner. a random movie played in the background. jungwon was asleep on the floor, ness was fighting with heeseung over popcorn, and jay was leaning against the kitchen counter, eyes flicking to her in between sips of his drink.

sunghoon was right beside her. close enough that their knees brushed. but he hadn’t looked at her once in the last half hour. hadn’t tried to hold her hand. hadn’t leaned over to whisper something dumb in her ear like he used to.

and she… she hadn’t said anything either.

because the air had shifted. they could both feel it. something unspoken had settled between them, heavy and fragile. he still cared—she knew he did. but it started to feel more friendly. like they were slowly morphing into something platonic, even if neither of them had the guts to say it.

and jay hated it.

she could see it in the way his jaw clenched whenever sunghoon passed her a drink. in the way his eyes followed them when they got up together. in the way his entire posture changed when sunghoon touched her, even if briefly. he hated it—not because he was jealous, but because he wished, so badly, that it was him.

that he was the one allowed to kiss her goodnight. that he was the one who got to sit next to her and play with her fingers while she talked. that he was the one who got to mean it when he looked at her like that.

but he wasn’t. not yet.

and yn didn’t know how much longer she could pretend she didn’t want him to be.

✭

it was late.

one of those unusually cold nights, even for the season, where the silence outside the apartment windows felt heavier than usual. yn had left after sunghoon laughed heartedly in conversation with heeseung, sitting beside her but somehow not really with her. she claimed needing some air and she really did. she was heading back after the short walk, hoodie pulled up, hands tucked deep in her pockets. when she reached her building, the hallway light flickered once before steadying, and just as she turned the corner—

jay.

he was leaning against the wall outside his apartment, phone in hand, like he’d been waiting for something. or someone. the second he saw her, his posture straightened, lips parting like he hadn’t expected her but had hoped she’d show.

they stood there for a second. just looked at each other. and then he spoke. quietly.

“you okay?”

she gave a soft nod. “just needed some air.”

jay stepped forward, a little closer than he should’ve. his eyes searched her face like he was trying to read something between her lashes. “you’ve been quiet lately.”

“so have you.”

“yeah,” he said, voice barely audible now. “that night… at the party. i didn’t mean to mess things up.”

“you didn’t.”

“i did.” he paused. “you just won’t say it.”

she didn’t respond.

the hallway buzzed gently with the hum of the fluorescent bulb above them. everything else—thoughts, emotions, the painful pounding in her chest—was way too loud.

jay stepped even closer. close enough that she had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes. close enough that she could smell the faint trace of his cologne again. the one she was starting to associate with late nights and near-disasters.

“i can’t keep acting like i don’t feel this way,” he murmured. “every time i see you with him… i wanna lose it.”

“jay—”

“i know, i know. you’re with him. i’m not trying to mess with that. but i’m tired of pretending like i don’t want you.”

her breath hitched. he was so close now. their fingers almost brushed when her hand dropped from her pocket. his eyes flickered from her mouth back up to her eyes. slowly. carefully.

“i’m not gonna kiss you,” he whispered, like he was reminding himself more than her. “not unless you want me to.”

her heart was racing so fast she swore it echoed.

“i can’t,” she breathed. “you know i can’t.”

jay nodded, but didn’t move away. “but do you want to?”

silence. she hated that she didn’t have an answer. or maybe she did. maybe her silence was the answer.

his jaw tensed, eyes dropping for just a second before he stepped back, finally giving her the space she didn’t ask for but desperately needed.

“goodnight, yn,” he said, voice barely holding together.

she whispered it back.

he disappeared into his apartment without another word, the door clicking softly behind him.

and she stood there for a full minute, head pressed against the cool wall, hating how much she wished he hadn’t walked away.

it came out of nowhere.

a message from jay. just a casual notification on a regular tuesday night, lighting up her phone screen like it was any other day.

jay: hey. just wanted to say i’ve been good lately. hope you are too. i think i’m finally over it.

yn stared at it.

read it once. then again. and again. every word sinking heavier into her stomach, like wet sand pulling her under. her thumb hovered over the screen, unsure of what to type—if she should type anything. what did he mean by “it”? she knew exactly what he meant. and she hated how badly she didn’t want it to be true.

it wasn’t like she had expected him to wait. or chase her. or hang on forever. she never asked for that. but somehow, him saying it—putting it out there so cleanly, so calmly—hurt more than she expected. a lot more.

especially because he knew she wasn’t over it.

a minute later, another ping.

jay: met someone actually. nothing serious but it’s been good. healthy. idk. feels nice to like someone who’s not… yk.

you.

the word wasn’t written, but she read it anyway. her mouth felt dry. her heartbeat roared in her ears. it wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. it was more like mourning something that was never hers to begin with.

she typed, erased. typed again.

yn: that’s good. i’m glad. you deserve that.

three dots. he was typing. 

then they disappeared.

then came back again.

jay: yeah. guess we both needed to move on huh?

did they?

because she hadn’t. not really. she was still stuck in place, heart split between what should be and what felt right. she still replayed that night in the hallway over and over again. still thought about how soft his voice had been. how warm his eyes were when he said he wanted her.

and now he was telling her he didn’t anymore.

except… except a few days later, she saw him in the lobby, laughing at something heeseung said. and when his eyes met hers across the glass doors, they didn’t look like the eyes of someone who was over it.

they looked like the eyes of someone pretending to be. and yn wasn’t sure what broke her more—that he was pretending… or that she was pretending too.

it was quiet.

the kind of quiet that didn’t feel comforting or peaceful—just… inevitable. like a slow tide pulling away from the shore, leaving nothing but wet sand and echoes behind. yn sat on the edge of the playground bench near their building, arms folded tightly over her chest. the air was warm, but her palms were cold.

she heard sunghoon’s footsteps before she saw him. they were familiar, light but a little fast, like he didn’t want to be late. he hadn’t changed much—still in that hoodie he always wore on slow weekends, hair still tousled like he hadn’t bothered to fix it before coming down.

but there was something different in his eyes when he saw her. a kind of understanding already sitting there. like he knew. he gave her a soft smile as he sat beside her.

“hey,” he said.

“hey.”

a pause. the longest one. the kind where you hear everything else—the rustle of leaves, the distant traffic, the laughter of someone’s kid echoing faintly from the other end of the street.

“it’s been a while,” he said.

she nodded. “yeah. didn’t realise how long it’s been since we actually… talked.”

sunghoon looked down, his fingers running along the seam of his jeans. “i guess we both got busy.”

“no,” she said, and her voice was steady now. “we just… stopped trying.”

he turned to look at her, face unreadable but not cold. just tired. “is this the part where you tell me you want to break up?”

her heart stung, but she nodded anyway. “yeah.”

there was no outburst. no angry words or tears. just silence again. and then he leaned back, exhaled a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.

“i kinda saw it coming.”

yn bit the inside of her cheek. “i liked you. i really did. and you were good to me. but this… whatever we had—it feels like it was something short. sweet, but short. a fling that just… slowed down.”

he looked up at the sky, nodded once. “we were fun.”

“we were,” she said softly. “and maybe we still can be. just not like this.”

“i never wanted to hold you back,” he said.

“you didn’t.”

he paused, then asked—very gently—“is it jay?”

she hesitated. not because she wanted to lie. but because her heart clenched the moment his name left sunghoon’s mouth. so she said, quietly:

“it’s not because of him. but… i won’t pretend he didn’t make me realise some things.”

sunghoon nodded again, slower this time. “he always looked at you like he knew something the rest of us didn’t.”

yn swallowed the lump in her throat. “i never wanted to hurt you.”

“i know.” he offered her a small, tired smile. “and i think i’ll still be around. just… as a friend.”

“i’d like that.”

they sat there for a while longer. two people who had once held hands and hearts, now just holding onto the soft understanding that sometimes, love didn’t last. and sometimes… that was okay.

✭

she cried herself to sleep that night.

not because of sunghoon. she felt guilty admitting it, even to herself, but her tears had little to do with him. that conversation had been quiet, mutual, almost too calm. there were no raised voices, no dramatic walkaways, no last-minute “don’t go”—just a soft, shared acceptance that whatever they had was over.

it wasn’t grief for that relationship that kept her chest heavy under the covers. it was something else entirely.

jay.

the thought of him with someone else—smiling at someone else the way he used to smile at her, even if only in passing—burned. the idea of him genuinely moving on, meaning the words he texted and not just pretending for her sake, was what made her turn over in bed and bury her face into her pillow.

she hadn’t broken up with sunghoon for jay. she didn’t do it to choose someone else. but maybe, deep down, she had still hoped. hoped that when she finally set herself free, jay would be right there. waiting. like he always had been. like he used to be.

but now…

now, he was texting her like a friend. smiling in passing. not seeking her out like before. now, he might be liking someone else.

and the worst part?

she had no right to be upset about it. that’s what broke her.

she curled up tighter, fists gripping the corner of her blanket, chest aching with words she never got to say. i didn’t choose you because i wasn’t ready. but i wanted to. i wanted you.

tears soaked into her pillow as the night dragged on. and she thought to herself, god, i just hope he hasn’t stopped wanting me too.

mia was nice. that was the best jay could come up with. she was nice.

she had pretty hair, smelled like soft florals, wore tiny gold hoops that glinted every time she tucked her hair behind her ear. she laughed at his jokes—even the dumb ones—and knew how to keep a conversation going.

but the entire time, jay sat there politely nodding, smiling in all the right places, all while subconsciously chasing shadows. he shouldn’t have done that. he wasn’t that guy. then again, he really wasn’t some guy to be on a casual blind date jungwon wore him to attend. but here he was. laughing half heartedly at something she said, asking her random questions to continue on without awkwardness.

but every time mia said something, he caught himself thinking how yn would’ve said it differently. her sarcasm sharper. her eyes more expressive. when mia said she hated mint chocolate, he nearly laughed because yn would’ve agreed—loudly, dramatically, maybe even started a fake fight over it.

and when mia reached over to take a fry off his plate without asking, he stilled. yn used to do that too. only, when she did it, he never minded.

he was fucked. so hopelessly, pathetically fucked.

still, he wasn’t going to be a dick about it. he walked her to her stop, said he had fun, even smiled when she touched his arm and said she’d like to do this again sometime. he didn’t say no. he just said, “yeah, maybe.”

then walked the rest of the way home alone, hands in his jacket, the streets dark and cold.

when he stepped into the apartment, it was quiet, save for the faint glow of the tv. sunghoon was on the couch, legs stretched out, scrolling through something on his phone. he looked up once when jay kicked off his shoes.

“how was the date?” he asked, eyes returning to the screen.

jay shrugged. “fine.”

another beat. “she seemed cool,” sunghoon added casually.

“yeah. she was.” jay didn’t elaborate. he walked over and sat next to him, their shoulders nearly brushing.

the silence stretched, awkward but familiar. jay picked at a loose thread on the hem of his sleeve.

and then—quietly, without looking away from his phone—sunghoon said, “me and yn broke up. last night.”

jay’s fingers froze. his breath caught. just for a second.

but his voice came out even, too even. “what happened?”

sunghoon let out a soft laugh. not bitter. not amused either. just… tired. “nothing dramatic. we just stopped feeling like… us. guess we were holding onto something we already outgrew.”

jay looked over at him, trying to read between the lines. sunghoon didn’t look sad. didn’t look angry. if anything, he looked relieved. but also… resigned.

jay didn’t say anything for a while. he just nodded. “i’m sorry.”

and sunghoon—knowing exactly what jay meant and not what he said—nodded back.

he wasn’t stupid. he had seen the way jay looked at her, long before jay even realised he was doing it. he had seen the shift in yn too. he wasn’t angry. just… weirdly at peace with it.

he kept his gaze on the tv. “you know, you really suck at hiding shit.”

jay finally smiled. just a little. “yeah… i know.”

they sat there for a while, two boys in the quiet, both loving the same girl at different times. and in some tangled, painful, unspoken way—both letting her go.

they hadn’t spoken in over a week.

not a word, not a glance. no messages. no stolen eye contact in the hallway. just this unspoken understanding that maybe space was safer—until space began to feel suffocating.

so when yn and jay both stepped out of their stats class, test papers in hand, and nearly collided in the doorway, it was as if the universe had finally lost patience with their bullshit.

“oh,” she blinked, taking half a step back.

he stopped too, awkwardly shifting his paper to his other hand. “hey.”

there was a beat of silence before she held up her paper and grinned. “A minus.”

jay let out a low whistle, then held up his own with a smirk. “A plus.”

she rolled her eyes dramatically, laughing under her breath. “show off.”

and just like that, like the simplest of interactions, his heart did that annoying thing—it thudded. hard. like it still hadn’t learned to stop reacting to her smile.

they fell into step together, the sunlight catching in her hair as they walked down the stone path leading to the bus stop. the early afternoon buzzed around them, people passing by, bikes whirring, conversations floating in the air—but jay only heard the quiet between their footsteps.

she broke it first. “so… your date?”

jay chuckled, shoving one hand in his pocket. “it was okay.”

she raised an eyebrow. “just okay?”

“yeah,” he shrugged. “how’d you even know about it?”

she shot him a knowing look. “mia’s been parading you around class like you’re already hers. i’m surprised she didn’t bring you a lunchbox this week.”

jay snorted, running a hand through his hair. “that explains the stares.”

a small silence passed again. not uncomfortable, but dense. like there were words crawling at the back of both their throats.

and then jay said it. softly. “i heard about you and sunghoon.”

she nodded, eyes fixed on the sidewalk. “yeah. last week.”

jay glanced at her, trying to read the corners of her expression.

“it was just a short one, i guess,” she added after a moment, her voice light, but not detached.

he nodded with her, slow, lips twitching like he was holding something back. and then—before he could stop himself—he asked it.

“was it… because of me?”

yn’s steps faltered just slightly. she didn’t look at him right away, just stared ahead, blinking. then she turned her face to him, her expression unreadable at first—somewhere between amusement and vulnerability. 

a pause stretched, and then she smiled. not wide. not coy. just soft. like she was tired of pretending she didn’t have an answer. “maybe not just because of you,” she said quietly. “but… you didn’t exactly help.”

jay’s heart did that thing again.

he swallowed, gaze flicking to her lips and back up. “i’m sorry.”

she tilted her head. “for what?”

“for liking you,” he said, honest, raw. “even when i wasn’t supposed to.”

yn’s lips curved. and for a second, jay didn’t know if she was about to smile wider or walk away. but she just kept walking beside him, slower now. “you really suck at dates, by the way,” she muttered, nudging his arm.

and he laughed—really laughed—because somehow, even after everything, she was still his favorite person to be next to.

things settled into an odd kind of normal.

the same relentless bickering returned—sarcastic jabs and exaggerated eye rolls, arguments about literally everything under the sun: who was smarter, who looked better in their uniforms, whose stats paper was graded unfairly. but now there was a lightness to it. a flicker in their eyes, the way one smirked a little too long, the way the other blushed a little too fast.

they’d done this before, but it was different now. because now they knew.

jay knew exactly how she smiled when she was trying not to say something reckless. yn knew exactly how jay’s voice dropped when he was holding back too much.

they’d both been to the edge, toes curling at the boundary of something they shouldn’t cross, and now that they’d danced around it long enough, even sunghoon—of all people—was rooting for them.

he’d taken to calling their bickering flirting, usually with a mouthful of cereal and a raised brow. “just date already,” he’d said one evening, scrolling through his phone on the couch. “you’re killing the vibe with all that tension.”

they both had immediately denied it—at the same time—louder than necessary. sunghoon had just smirked. “whatever you say. just don’t drag me into your wedding speeches.”

and despite the quiet permission hanging in the air, they didn’t do anything. not right away. because bro code. and ex-girlfriend code. and the absolute mess that came with being so close yet still somehow in limbo.

but then came jake’s party. again.

a big one this time, packed and loud. the music pulsed through the walls like a heartbeat, and everything smelled like spiked soda and cheap perfume. yn had promised herself she’d take it easy. and then jay handed her a drink, his smirk making her forget every ounce of self-restraint.

she didn’t remember when they stopped drinking responsibly. somewhere between their third shared shot and her dramatic rant about the girl in the pink boots, jay was laughing beside her, tossing in jokes and reactions, his head thrown back, completely captivated by her storytelling.

they were inseparable that night.

he followed her around like he always did, teasing her every step, offering her his jacket when she stepped out for air and pulling her back into the party when her buzz began to fade. their shoulders touched constantly. her fingers curled around his wrist once when she almost tripped, and he didn’t let go for far too long.

and somehow, at some point, they ended up alone.

the hallway was dim, bathed in the leftover amber glow from the party lights. it was far enough from the crowd that everything else sounded like a muffled echo. they stood there, breathless from laughing, drinks still in hand but forgotten.

jay looked at her then, really looked. her lipstick was smudged from the cup, her eyes bright and unfocused. she leaned against the wall, head tilted, watching him the same way he was watching her.

there was silence. charged. heavy.

he stepped closer.

“so,” he said, voice soft, barely above a whisper. “we gonna keep pretending this doesn’t feel different now?”

yn blinked, eyes trailing from his lips to his collarbone and back up again. her heart thudded somewhere in her throat.

“i was gonna ask you the same thing,” she murmured, tilting her head just slightly.

his hand brushed against her hip, light and slow, testing the air between them.

“fuck it,” she whispered, barely audible.

and just like that his lips were on hers. it felt like the earth was caving in, the room was spinning—probably cause it was to them—like this was it. because it was

 jay was finally kissing her like she had been pleading for months. his lips were desperate but gentle and moved so preciously like he wanted to imprint the feeling of her lips forever.

he pulled away first but only to trail down to her neck, every single peck on her skin feeling electric. his hand, which had been flat on her hip, was now crunching at her dress, nails slightly digging into her skin making her hiss.

yn could barely keep her eyes open, not when his warm tongue was licking over her collarbone. a moan slid out, strangled but low and audible to him, heat immediately rushing down his body at the sound. 

“jay,” she called out breathless. he hummed into her neck, pulling away to look into her eyes, the gaze making her physically weak in the knees.

“i want you.” she said, like she meant it. and she fucking did. 

that was all it took for him to get moving. he took her by the hand to the nearest room—which seemed to be jake’s bathroom—locking the door and just looking at her. 

she was a little messy than when they originally entered the party, her hair undone, her dress crooked but still doing her justice. her eyes were trained to him, watching his next step.

he slowly walked closer, as if asking for permission for the millionth time and when her lips met his, he sounded out his everything into a guttural moan.

his jacket was on the floor in record time. the sleeve of her dress slipped off her shoulder as he took full advantage of the access he had been given. her hands tugged his hair as she felt his lips softly kiss down to her collarbone and over the lacy bra she had picked, hoping she would end up in this position.

his hands, that once gripped her waist, now found her thighs. she gasped at the feelings, heart thumping excitedly. he chuckled at the sound of her heart rate increasing against his mouth.

“are you excited, baby?” he asked softly, finally happy to be able to use that nickname for her. 

she whimpered in response, letting out a noise that suspiciously sounded like ‘please’.

he toyed more, wanting her to say it. beg him for it. “what was that, love?”.

she tried to stand her ground, to be—or at least pretend to be—confident. “you know what i want” she said, voice surprisingly stable despite the alcohol she had consumed.

his fingers that once played with the plush skin of her thighs, moved towards her core, that had somewhat dampened with all his teasing.

“fuck yn. how are you already so wet, my love? i haven’t even done anything.” he didn’t mean for it to come out in a groan, wanting to prolong teasing her but quite frankly, none of them could really wait anymore.

in the next second, his pant was by his ankles and she was propped up against the bathroom sink. her eyes trained down his leaking dick, which he held in his palm. his eyes were only on her. “are you sure about this yn? we can always do it some other time–”

“you talk WAY too much just fuck me jay.” that did it for him, lining up with her core. her nails dug into his shoulders as she gasped softly at the feeling of his tip against her folds. she could only chanted a mantra of ‘fuck fuck fuck’ as he slowly entered her. he was suspiciously quiet but his jaw slacked open at the feeling of her around him.

“holy shit you’re so tight” he mumbled, body jerking forward as she clenched around him. 

he only moved his hips when she gave him the go, hands holding her waist as he slowly moved in and out of her. a symphony of moans slipped out her mouth, his heart fluttering at the sound.

“you feel so good i’m..” she moaned out, head tilting back at the feeling. he leaned in, teeth grazing the neck of her skin, sending more heat to her stomach.

the sound of her voice only fueled him more, his pace increasing until they were both panting. he climaxed first, head against her shoulder. then he helped her through hers, drawing small circles on her bud.

“that was.. Insane” she huffed through. he nodded, kissing her sweaty forehead.

“it was good but i’m only now realising, our first time was in jake’s bathroom..” he said slowly.

yn’s eyes widened at the discovery, shaking her head in disgust as she dressed up quickly, mumbling “we better leave before we get AIDS or something”. jay just laughed.

✭

the bathroom door clicked shut behind them, soft and quiet, but their nerves buzzed like they had just fired a cannon in the middle of the party.

they walked side by side—casually, coolly, trying very hard to pretend they hadn’t just hooked up in the bathroom like reckless teenagers. they approached the group slowly: ness, heeseung, jungwon and a few others lounging on the couch, mid-conversation.

but the second the group saw them together, walking in sync and looking far too smug for two people who claimed they "weren’t a thing," everything stopped.

ness’ eyes narrowed.

heeseung tilted his head.

jungwon straight-up pointed. “you. two.”

yn’s eyes widened in mock innocence. jay rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool.

“what?” yn asked, blinking.

“no way,” ness said, jaw dropped. “don’t even try to deny it—your hair is different, jay’s shirt is wrinkled, and you’ve been gone for exactly twenty-three minutes.”

heeseung gasped dramatically, grabbing a pillow and clutching it to his chest like he was in a soap opera. “y’all really did it in the bathroom?!”

jay opened his mouth to deny it, as did yn, both ready with some pre-decided excuse—but before they could even begin, the entire group cheered. loud, chaotic clapping, whooping, heeseung nearly falling off the couch.

“no shame!” ness shouted. “i knew it was gonna happen, but not like this.”

“you two are disgusting,” heeseung added, though he was grinning ear to ear.

jay and yn looked at each other, stunned for a second—then just gave in and laughed, cheeks flushed but not entirely from embarrassment.

she shook her head. “i hate you all.”

“you love us,” ness beamed, reaching out to pull her into the couch with them. jay followed after, dropping onto the floor beside her, his knee brushing against hers.

he looked up at her, eyes shining with mischief. “so… we’re really not denying it?”

yn leaned back, smirking. “they made it impossible.”

he grinned. “good.” because maybe it wasn’t supposed to be a secret anymore.

it was a lazy sunday afternoon.

the type where the sun slanted perfectly through the kitchen window and the city buzzed quietly in the background. the apartment was a mess — leftover containers from last night’s takeout on the coffee table, a blanket half on the couch, and jay’s hoodie thrown across one of the dining chairs. a spotify playlist hummed low in the background, something soft and indie and painfully romantic, not that either of them would admit to putting it on.

yn stood in front of the open fridge, hair tied in the world’s most unstable bun, a sour look on her face. “did you seriously eat all the mango yogurt?”

jay, sprawled across the floor with his back propped up by the couch. “it was expiring soon.”

“you ate four cups, jay.”

“i was being responsible.”

“you’re an idiot.”

he smiled, slow and wide, like he loved being called that by her. “and yet you’re dating me.”

she groaned dramatically, slamming the fridge shut. “god, what a mistake.”

he laughed, actually laughed, before sitting up and patting the spot beside him. “come here, mistake-maker. you can yell at me up close.”

yn rolled her eyes, but she crossed the room anyway, dropping down beside him and stealing the throw pillow from behind his back just to spite him. 

jay turned to her, watching her face like he still couldn’t believe he got to look at her this close. “you love me,” he said smugly, like he was stating a universal truth.

she snorted. “sure.”

“no, say it,” he leaned in closer, lips brushing the side of her cheek. “say you love me.”

“i like you.”

“love.”

“tolerate.”

he kissed her then — just because he could. because it had taken them a whole mess of jealousy, broken friendships, midnight drives, stupid parties, and one too many bad decisions to get here. and because even through all of it, all the bickering and banter, the push and pull, she was his.

when they broke apart, yn was smiling — soft, teasing.

“i love you,” she whispered.

jay grinned like it physically pained him not to kiss her again. “told you so.”

she shoved him lightly. “ugh, i change my mind.”

but she didn’t. she never could.

and even as they argued over what to order for lunch five minutes later (because of course they did), even as she threatened to smother him with a pillow if he didn’t stop playing with the light switch like a five-year-old, it was obvious to everyone — to ness, to heeseung, to the group chat that never slept — that this was it for them.

a love built on chaos, stubbornness, endless teasing, and the kind of loyalty that stuck around — even when it was hard.

even when it was them.

© ikeu05, 2025

[glamourscat]

Hello ma'am! I have a good idea (I think). It's low key based on a visual novel but imagine tim just assuming that reader knows he has a big fat crush while reader is convinced tim has no clue about her own crush. they both think it's unrequited until one day tim just casually mentions his own crush and they both bluescreen because "What do you mean you LIKE ME–" "what do you mean YOU DIDN'T KNOW??" Have a nice day and either drink water or exercise, you choose 🫶

-tda (tim drake anon)

sorry for the wait tim drake anon <3 but here it is!! i hope u like it :))

it happened on a tuesday.

You're both sat on the floor of tim's apartment, surrounded by case files and empty take out containers, when he casually says, "can you pass me that file, love?"

you freeze. your brain makes the windows shutdown noise.

"what did you just call me?"

tim doesn't even look up from his laptop. "love. like i always do?" now he does look up, because you're making a strange choking sound. "are you okay?"

"since when do you call me that?!"

"uh, since we started dating?" tim's typing slows. "three months ago?"

the room temperature drops about twenty degrees. Or maybe that's just your brain short-circuiting.

"we're WHAT?"

now tim's fully stopped typing. "we're... dating?" his confidence wavers. "right? we go out for tea every morning. We have dinner dates twice a week. You literally wore my clothes to the manor yesterday after sleeping over in my bed with me."

"i thought those were friend things!" your voice hits a high pitch note that Ariana Grande was shaking in her boots. "like friend-dates!"

"i bought you flowers!"

"you were being nice!"

"i kissed you goodnight last week!"

"ON THE CHEEK!"

tim puts his head in his hands. "oh my god. i thought... when i told you i liked you at the carnival..."

"YOU WERE DROWNING IN POPCORNS AND TALKING ABOUT COLD CASES!"

"it was romantic!"

"it was a MURDER INVESTIGATION!"

A slow, moment of silence passes by while Tim looks like he's contemplating jumping out the window. "I... have a massive crush on you, you absolute idiot! I LIKE YOU." he says looking at you, hair sticking up in different places.

there's another moment of silence. Tim's face goes through about seventeen different emotions.

"so... you like me?" you say quietly, to double check.

"YES!"

"and i like you."

"You do-? I mean-- yes, I hope so?" He cringes at his anxiety.

Both of you stare at each other speechless unable to understand what the hell happened. And then Tim starts laughing. Actually laughing, the kind that makes his nose scrunch up and his eyes crinkle. "we're idiots," he manages between breaths.

you collapse next to him on the floor, feeling giddy and ridiculous and so, so happy. You two are truly two idiots indeed.

"do it" you murmur after a few moments.

"do what?" he says breathless, pulling you closer, his voice soft. That glint you like so much still present in his eyes.

"kiss me properly this time, dumbass."

And so he does.

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[n0vazsq]

Mi vida | FC43 x Reader

pairing . . . franco colapinto x rbr!driver!reader

summary . . . What's better than one chaotic F1 driver? Two! And that's the story of how you got together with your boyfriend, Franco

request . . . no!!

word count . . . N/A

warnings . . . none! story set few days before monza! cringe-ish (??) dialogue at the end?

faceclaim . . . girls from pin!

alexavia yaps . . . woohoo!! finally wrote a smau again and its for my boy franco!!! kinda short but yeah i made franco and y/n gen z pr nightmares!! hope yall enjoy it <3

yourusername

liked by francolapinto, maxverstappen1, yourbsf and 2.3M others

yourusername look at my driver dawg he's losing this race Tagged: francolapinto

click to view all comments

maxverstappen1 he's in a williams

yourusername and?

maxverstappen1 him losing shouldn't be a surprise

francolapinto 😔

yourusername MAX DONT BULLY HIM

maxverstappen1 ill make sure to tell him sorry when i lap him

francolapinto what did i ever do to you max

maxverstappen1 say lewis is your idol

username1 i live for the rbr teammates and franco fighting

username2 raw. next question

username3 girl went to f1 and became a whole new person (cough franco terroriser cough)

yourusername i need to put him in his place, I AM the one with the redbull seat not him

username3 Y/NRPLIED HOLY SHIT

username4 praying for their pr managers

username5 i just know they made max's life a living hell

username6 i'm shaking for the interviews because i know y/n and franco will be menaces

username7 franco's f2 interviews and y/n's interviews now scream 'i will destroy your life'

username8 woah

username9 y/n please post more y/n

francolapinto who's that handsome man

yourusername me

francolapinto you can't be this beautiful

yourusername wow okay tell that to your next girlfriend because WERE DONE

francolapinto dont break up with me before my first f1 race ill ram you into the wall

yourusername ill crash in fp1

francolapinto noo mi vida youre so sexy pls dont die haha

yourusername forgiven 😊

username10 are we just going to ignore them breaking up in a comment section

username11 that happens like thrice every day just ignore them

username12 man i love them

username13 goats of f1 frrr

username14 theyre so iconic being the first couple in f1

username15 meow

username16 real

username17 screaming crying throwing up

username18 manifesting franco ends up in the points

username19 what about y/n??

username18 queen always ends up in the points

username19 mb mb

username20 franco calling her 'mi vida' MY HEART CANT TAKE THIS SHIT

francolapinto

liked by yourusername, alex_albon, bizarrap and 1.1M others

francolapinto life is hard (p12 in my first race) but at least mi vida got p8! and we did the track walk together 😊🫶 Tagged: yourusername

click to view all comments

username21 i REFUSE to believe franco typed that caption

username22 FRRR like its too innocent and peaceful

username23 their pr managers took over

username24 HOW IS HE SO PRETTYYYY

username25 my kind of love frrr

username26 no.1 couple argument closed

username27 sigh i wish i was a wag

alex_albon photo credits?

yourusername up my ass

francolapinto no mi vida only i can see up your ass

yourusername what he said

alex_albon tmi....

username28 theyre back!!!!

username29 i live for their chaos

username30 got me on my KNEES

username31 what id pay to be her

bizarrap ayyy ¿cuándo vas a hacer que nos veamos? (ayyy when are you going to make us meet?)

francolapinto pronto pronto (soon soon)

bizarrap dame una fecha exacta hermano (give me an exact date bro)

francolapinto cuando vienes al gran premio (when you come to the grand prix)

bizarrap vale vale (okay okay)

username32 I SEE THE AESTHETIC VISION FRANCO

username33 shes so pretty omgggg

username34 idk if i want to be y/n or franco

username35 holy shit hes gorgeous

username36 came here for franco stayed for y/n

yourusername woah youre so hot

francolapinto youre hotter

yourusername nahhh youre way hotter

francolapinto kiss me if im wrong but im hotter

yourusername then i wont kiss you because youre hotter

francolapinto fuck i didnt think of that

yourusername ill still kiss you just come over to my driver room

francolapinto 🏃🏃

maxverstappen1 should i be worried or....?

yourusername mind your business max

maxverstappen1 i'm the one who's going to here those disgusting noises not you

yourusername too bad

alex_albon i feel like i should be grateful its not happening in williams

francolapinto im here mi vida where are you i cant see you

yourusername im right here in the room??

maxverstappen1 WHAT IS FRANCO DOING IN MY ROOM

francolapinto shit wrong room

yourusername hurry up franco

francolapinto On my way!

maxverstappen1 let me leave the garage first

username37 man i love them

username38 HELP FRANCO GOING TO MAX'S ROOM???

username39 did max just expose them or

username40 i feel like im intruding reading the comments between them

yourusername

liked by francolapinto, maxverstappen1, bizarrap and 2.8M others

yourusername haters wish they were on our level fr Tagged: francolapinto

click to view all comments

username41 if being in a parasocial relationship with them was a crime id be executed

username42 THE PICS??? EXCLUSIVE SUBSCRIPTION??? EXCUSE ME???

username43 how are they both so good looking

username44 the face card is INSANE

username45 I NEED THIS SO BADLY UGHHHHHHH

username46 STOP not the matching glasses

username47 need a boyfriend who will take me on bike rides while i wear my redbull helmet and he wears his williams helmet

francolapinto i dont want to see my beautiful face i want to see YOUR beautiful face

yourusername but youre so pretty how can i not put your face more than mine

francolapinto mi vida your face isnt even on there

yourusername yes it is

francolapinto its covered by that ugly helmet

redbullracing 🤨

francolapinto this one is ugly i like her own customised helmet

yourusername aww amor 🫶 i love your helmet and i love you

francolapinto i love you more

yourusername no i love you more

francolapinto no

alex_albon if you continue with this sappy stuff ill vomit

yourusername okay 'goodmorning baby'

alex_albon SHUT UP

yourusername oi francolapinto we found his weak spot

francolapinto lets get ready to terrorise him

yourusername bet

username48 if they need a third im always available

username49 i want to see mother and father but theyre more like mommy and daddy

username50 erm

username51 if my bf aint like this ion want him

alex_albon ill admit this is actually cute

yourusername thank you!!

francolapinto we're not cute we're hot

yourusername we're both tho

francolapinto true

alex_albon why'd you have to ruin such a beautiful and innocent moment

francolapinto life

yourusername WORDS 🗣️ 💯🙏❗

username52 legit can't decide who's better looking

username53 oh how i need this more than oxygen

maxverstappen1 franco doesn't how to play padel

yourusername he beat me

maxverstappen1 anyone can beat you

francolapinto don't bully her like that

maxverstappen1 or what

francolapinto brazil 2018 pt2

maxverstappen1 DONT YOU DARE

yourusername ok max thats it go stare lovingly at charles or idk

maxverstappen1 ???

francolapinto we all know max dont worry

maxverstappen1 ??????

username54 so um whens the wedding

username55 man i need me a francoyn relationship

username56 did they just confirm lestappen?!?!??!?!

username57 im sighing dreamily at these pictures

bizarrap ah so youre the girlfriend?

yourusername yes yes i am

bizarrap y'know i cheer for you and not franco because you get higher places

yourusername im flattered 😊

francolapinto this is a betrayal you should be cheering for ME only

username58 THE PICS.

username59 giggling blushing and kicking my feet

username60 when will y/n post more y/n sigh

francolapinto how are you so gorgeous

yourusername i should be asking YOU that

francolapinto mi vida you are the prettiest girl i have ever seen in my life and you call ME gorgeous?

yourusername fuck yes

francolapinto i love you

yourusername love you more

williamsracing

liked by francolapinto, yourusername, alex_albon and 1.3M others

williamsracing can you spot the odd one out? Tagged: francolapinto, yourusername

click to view all comments

username61 how to kms no borax no glue

username62 people DIED (i'm people)

username63 they haven't commented yet???

username64 ikk it's so weird

username65 they usually hop on after like 6 secs

username66 its not a want its a NEED

username67 MILF = man i love franco (and y/n)

username68 i just KNOW their kids will be BEAUTIFUL

username69 face card never declined

username70 and never will

redbullracing don't go stealing around our drivers

williamsracing im just the admin 😔

redbullracing me too 😔

username71 driverS????

redbullracing that was typo

username72 IS FRANCO GOING TO REDBULL??????

username73 redbull admin x williams admin

username74 the otp fr

username75 the lack of franco and y/n is concerning

username76 WHERE ARE THEYYYYYY

francolapinto add more photos of mi vida i want to see her beautiful face

yourusername i want to see YOUR beautiful race

francolapinto running

username77 there they are

maxverstappen1 admin why now i have to hear them make out for the next 3 hours

williamsracing sorry?

username78 3 HOURS???

username79 theyre more chaotic than we thought

username80 aww y/n looks so cute

yourusername shit where's franco i want to see his face

williamsracing we want to see YOUR face

yourusername oh...😊 admin you make me blush

francolapinto admin?

williamsracing im sorry pls dont kill me

francolapinto i wont just because you take photos of me for mi vida

williamsracing i love you y/n

yourusername love you too admin

yourusername and you too franco

francolapinto love you more mi vidaaa

francolapinto

liked by yourusername, alex_albon, bizarrap and 1.1M others

francolapinto to mi vida, the love of my life, happy anniversary to us and i love you forever Tagged: yourusername

click to view all comments

username81 deleting all my socials after this

username82 they are SOULMATES vro

username83 this screams 'forever and always'

username84 'mi vida' OKAY BRO BYE IM LEAVING THIS EARTH

username85 legit fairytale vibes

username86 imagine being this in love

bizarrap ¡enhorabuena a los dos! ¡que sean muchos más! (congratulations to you two! here's to many more!)

francolapinto gracias hermano, lo aprecio (thanks bro, i appreciate it)

yourusername gracias!! (thank you)

username87 the caption is from a song i refuse to belive franco wrote it

username88 i am JEALOUS, ENVIOUS, GREEN.

username89 poetry fr

username90 they ARE the main characters

username91 FRR like everyone else is just a side character

username92 alex play 'that should be me' by justin bieber

alex_albon congrats to you two! least favourite couple i know!

francolapinto thank you alex!

yourusername thank you!!!

alex_albon did you just ignore my statement

yourusername yes we chose to ignore it

username93 this is the kind of love ppl write books about

username94 STOP NOT THEM CONGRATULATING EACH OTHER ON THE RADIO IN THE LAST RACE

username95 if they break up then love isnt real

maxverstappen1 you two deserve it! take care of my little sister francito

yourusername MAX STOP

francolapinto will do

yourusername i love my life

francolapinto and i love you

username96 i just know they are each other's ride or dies

username97 where to buy a franco asking for a friend

username98 if i could id just take over one of their bodies to experience this love

username99 im waiting for the fics

username100 straight out of romeo and juliet

yourusername i love you so much, and ive did since forever. you are everything to me, i could never let you go. you deserve everything, mi amor

francolapinto youre my everything too, and im keeping you forever, no takebacks. if I deserve the everything, it’s only because you’re MY everything, mi vida. every star, every light, it all reminds me of you. te amo más de lo que las palabras pueden decir (I love you more than words can say)

yourusername STOP IM GOING TO CRY 🫶🥹 I LOVE YOU SO SO SO MUCH

francolapinto I LOVE YOU MORE THAN EVERYTHING MI VIDA

fin.

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl ,, @awritingtree ,, @freyathehuntress ,, @chilling-seavey (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[saerotonins]

actor!toji headcanons

ft. fushiguro toji x reader

content warnings: fluff, parent!reader, megumi is yalls son, just overall cuteness

wc: 918

note: this is my apology for that nanami angst i posted days ago heh

jjk actor au masterlist

as an actor:

very intimidating man, from his aura to his build, oh boy, who wouldn't be scared

but to everyone's surprise, he's actually just a really goofy and adorable man with a really good resting bitch face lmfao

is actually a household name in the acting industry! definitely those types of actors that once casted into a show, it's guaranteed to get hella VIEWS AND RATINGS

has been in the acting industry for YEARS and has a ton of experience but is still very humble

is actually very shy when his co stars tease him whenever his fans thirst for him whenever he's on screen and he's just a blushing mess LOL

i mean he's a literal dilf so 

believe it or not, this man has been in more romance shows and movies than action, especially as a VILLAIN

his fans couldn't believe it either

so when he was first casted in jjk as a villain who kills CHILDREN they were so ecstatic!

and boy were they so happy when toji SURPASSED their expectations because he was so good!

also so happy that he was casted together with his son, megumi, in the same show!

they usually go to the shoot together and even when he doesn't have a scene to shoot and only megumi does, he drives him off to the shooting site whenever his time permits

it's actually so adorable 

in contrast to jjk!toji, he's really a hands on father to him and is actually very supportive of megumi going to the same career path as him

megumi is also the definition of nepo babies who deserved what they got but that's another discussion 

at first though, he is kind of hesitant especially knowing how toxic can it get with the industry but when he saw his son's determination, he eventually gave him a green light and supported him along the way

this man is so fucking strong OML the producers are so grateful the most of the time he helps cleaning up with the equipment once filming is done

literally lifts them up like it's nothing BYE

listen, this old man is RIPPED and really likes to work out 

he's like pedro pascal who is like really chill but really cheeky when it comes to fanservice LOL he is so adorable 

megumi is kinda cringing though 😭 it's understandable though because that's literally your father trying to act cute and he's a teenager so i don't really blame him

also a big gentleman, again, contrary to his role, he is actually very good with the ladies and often checks with his co stars especially when a fight scene is being filmed

profusely apologized to satoru when their fight was filmed because he literally has to do the stunts himself and make everything believable as much as possible 

has ig and twitter but barely posts unless it's a promotion or a thank you post for the team

he's very active in stories though 😭

and i mean VERY VERY active

you know that point where a person posts too much stories and the lines above almost look like dots??? 

yeah that's him 😭

mostly posts the behind the scenes and his family there!

has a pet chicken that he posts there too

no he's not vegan... he just doesn't eat chicken 😭

as a husband:

oh yeah another married man on set sorry ladies he’s off the market

a very romantic and private lover

especially when you're the only one in the family who is not involved in show business

looks forward to coming home to you all the time

the type of husband who says, "i miss my spouse," on set out of nowhere and his co stars just sigh in faux annoyance 

this man is WHIPPED 

his lines is always and SHOULD always be practiced with you, because aside from his fans (not really though since he's already an established actor), the only approval he looks for is from his lover

is really happy and giddy (almost like a teenage boy like SIR you guys are already married for YEARS) when you praise him and has this really boyish smile which happens very often btw

he's such a fucking sap please

as mentioned, he is kinda shy about the thirst but is not uncomfortable and actually goes along with it

you on the other hand GO HAM with it LOL

you're one of the fans lmfaoooo

a very BIG ONE

unlike him who is not active on twitter, you actually reply to fans and agree what they were saying and fangirl/boy with them which is actually so adorable LOL

his fandom is having a field day of you gushing about your husband like you're not married to him and have a literal CHILD with him bye

both megumi and toji, especially toji, are very protective of you so any slanderous rumors from the tabloids and any defamation will immediately face a lawsuit 

and fans love it when y'all fight back!!

if they stan either toji or megumi, it's immediately a given that they also stan you LOL

your boys both find it cute that even you have a very supportive fanbase like theirs

[bangtanbeom]

'*•.¸undeniably yours¸.•*'

୨♡୧ part one / part two / part three / bonus ୨♡୧

pairing: beomgyu x femreader genre: fluff, strangers to friends to ....? , college AU, slow burn summary: you and beomgyu are partnered for a group project, the connection starts off as simple friendship. but as you share quiet moments, unspoken glances, and moments of vulnerability, the lines between friendship and something more begin to blur. w/c: ~4k warnings: not entirely proofread, fluff (might be cringe), an attempt at humor a/n: its been 10 years since i last wrote something (which was on wattpad) and actually published lol so many drafts ;-; so bear with me. i usually don't write fluff, i always leaned more to angst or smut yet here i am. i hope it's a little bit enjoyable <3

it wasn't love at first sight.

there were no sparks flying across the room, no fireworks, no swelling background music with flower petals twirling and glitters shimmering.

just a tuesday morning lecture, and a pair of tired eyes locking briefly across the room before looking back down at a notebook.

"i've assigned the partners already," the professor said, tapping his laptop. "check your emails."

you opened yours with a sigh, not expecting much. then paused.

partner: choi beomgyu

"huh?"

beomgyu? that guy who always sat in the third row by the window? who always wore those oversized hoodies, and had a habit of twirling his pen when he was deep in thought?

beomgyu. that guy with the soft brown eyes and the eternal bedhead. the one who always had a half-smile playing on his lips as your eyes met. you'd shared a few classes before, exchanged nods and awkward hellos in group discussions, but never really talked.

until now.

you agreed to meet at a nearby cafe the next day—neutral territory. the project was due in 15 weeks, and you didn't want to be the partner who slacked off. you arrived first and chose a small table by the window. you heard the soft jingle of the door and looked up just in time to see beomgyu walk in, ruffling his hair and looking around until his eyes landed on you.

he offered you a small wave, walking over with a grin. "hey."

"hey, beomgyu." you returned, sending him a kind smile.

"that's me." he slid into the chair across from you. "sorry if i'm late. i had to rescue my hoodie from my roommate's dog. he thinks it's his now."

you laughed before you could stop yourself. "did you win the battle?"

"barely. this is a peace offering," he said, holding up a slightly crumpled banana milk. "also, i brought you one. it's not coffee, but it's got charm."

you blinked, surprised. "you brought me one?"

"figured i should start off as a decent partner," he said with a casual shrug. "if you hate banana milk, i'll take it back and cry about it later."

"i like it," you chuckled softly and sent him a smile. "thanks."

your first meeting was mostly small talk and note-sharing. beomgyu was surprisingly organized, though he admitted he did most of his work at 2 a.m.

"that's when i'm the most powerful." he said with a mock serious face, earning a laugh from you.

both of you got to work quickly—organizing tasks, dividing responsibilities, setting deadlines. it was professional. efficient. but something about the way beomgyu spoke—soft and easy, laced with dry humor—made you feel oddly comfortable.

he wasn't trying hard. he didn't have to.

but what struck you the most was how easily he listened as much as he talked. he wasn't just nodding along. he remembered things, like how you preferred tea over coffee, or that you hated typing on your laptop without music playing.

by the end of that first meeting, you'd laughed more than you had all week. that was the first moment you realized he wasn't what you expected. not just the class clown or the guy who wore headphones walking down the hallway.

thoughtful, a little odd and disarming in a weirdly comforting way.

the collaboration soon settled into a comfortable rhythm. study sessions alternated between the library, the cafe, and occasionally, each other's homes. each meeting, their conversations began to drift beyond the confines of their project.

both sitting on the floor of beomgyu's living room, while his roommate was away and surrounded by open books and notes, beomgyu strummed his guitar absentmindedly.

"you play?" you asked, nodding towards the instrument.

he glanced up, a sheepish smile on his face. "a little. it's more of a hobby."

"can i hear something?"

he hesitated for a moment, his fingers softly grazing the strings. "alright, but no judging."

you nodded and his fingers danced over the strings, producing a soft melody that filled the room. you watched, captivated by the way he immersed himself in the music. as the final note lingered, you clapped softly.

"wow," you said under your breath, afraid to break the silence. "that was beautiful."

beomgyu's ears turned pink, luckily for him, his hair covered most of his ears. "thanks. it's just something i do to unwind."

"do you write your own songs?"

"sometimes," he admitted. "mostly when i can't sleep."

you leaned forward, intrigued. "i'd love to hear one sometime."

he met your gaze, a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. "maybe one day."

"so, tell me something weird about you." beomgyu said as he was scrolling uninterestedly through his phone.

beomgyu was sitting on the couch, leaning with his back against the arm rest and his feet resting on your lap.

you looked up from your phone, turning your head to him as you raised an eyebrow. "weird how?"

he shrugged casually, putting his phone down, meeting your gaze. "like... you eat cereal with water, or you sing to your houseplants. something unexpected."

you grinned. "okay. i have this very serious superstition that i have to wear mismatched socks on exam days."

beomgyu blinked. "you... what?"

"they bring me luck!" you quickly defended yourself, but couldn't help but laugh a little.

"that's extremely specific. i like it." he said, his fingers touching his chin as he nodded.

"your turn," you challenged.

he thought for a moment. "sometimes i talk to my laundry."

you frowned your eyebrows before you burst out laughing. "your laundry?"

"yeah, like if i'm folding a shirt and it refuses to cooperate, i'll scold them, or just yell at them."

you clutched your stomach, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. "you are—wow." before you could finish your sentence, you began to laugh even harder.

he was now reenacting the scene.

"i'm never looking at laundry the same again." you said, trying to stop yourself from laughing.

beomgyu was effortlessly funny, the kind of person who could make you laugh without even trying. he'd mimic professors, come up with ridiculous nicknames, or read lines from their textbook in dramatic accents just to see you smile.

"wait, you've never watched spirited away?" beomgyu asked one evening, scandalized. "we need to fix that. immediately."

"i just never got around to it," you defended. "you're making it sound like i committed a crime."

"you kind of did." he grinned. "movie night. right now."

you rolled your eyes, but your lips slowly curved into a smile, betraying you. "fine. but i'm picking snacks."

the group project finished early. neither of you mentioned it, but you kept meeting up anyway.

it was the little things that began to chip away at the wall around your heart. the way he'd always wait for you outside class, even when it wasn't necessary.

how he remembered your favorite drink and brought it to study sessions without asking. the way he looked at you when you laughed—like you were something he'd been waiting to see bloom.

and it was how he didn't rush it.

even when your fingers brushed for a second too long, or when you stood closer than necessary, or when the silence stretched a little too comfortable—beomgyu never pushed.

he just let it happen, slowly, unforced, easy.

after a particularly grueling study session, both of you decided to take a break. the city lights shimmered as you wandered through the quiet streets, hands tucked into both of your pockets as the hot summer came to an end and the rainy fall was approaching.

"do you ever feel like you're going through the motions?" beomgyu asked, his breath visible in the cold air.

you glanced at him, surprised by the sudden introspection. "sometimes. university can feel like that. but then there are moments that remind me why i'm here."

"like what?"

you thought for a moment. "like this. walking through the city, just talking. it makes everything feel... real."

he smiled softly. "yeah..."

you walk in silence for a while, the distance between you two narrowing with each step. his shoulder brushed yours once, then again, but neither of you moved away.

you found yourself on beomgyu’s couch as the rain pattered against the window, a classic film playing on the tv. you curled up with a blanket, while beomgyu sat beside you, your shoulders touching.

the room smelled faintly of buttered popcorn and cinnamon tea.

beomgyu had taken over the popcorn bowl, cradling it like some priceless artifact in his lap. he was deeply focused on it. more so than the movie, picking through the pieces like a kid separating marshmallows from cereal.

you arched a brow. "are you seriously removing all the unpopped kernels?"

beomgyu didn't even glance up. "yes. they're a menace. one wrong bite and it's over. i have sensitive molars."

you laughed and shook your head slightly. "you're so dramatic."

"i'm a victim of snack sabotage," he said with a solemn nod. "you wouldn't understand."

he looked up then— eyes shining, lips curled in that typical lazy grin of his—and you blinked, caught off guard by how different he looked like that, handsome even. like summer even though it was raining. like something warm even though the windows fogged with the cold.

you shook your head and grabbed a handful of popcorn from his 'safe pile.'

"thief," he accused, his lips slightly parted as his eyes followed your hand full of his popcorn.

"you owe me for picking the movie," you said casually through a mouthful.

"which, by the way, was way too sad." he responded witty , looking down at his safe pile that was looking much smaller now, a pout growing on his lips.

"hey. you voted for it!" you said defensively.

"i was tricked."

"you literally said—and i quote—'that one has cool vibes.'"

beomgyu gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "i did not sound like that."

"oh you did."

the laughter bounced around the room like the rain outside, soft and constant. the movie flickered on, mostly forgotten now, serving as a backdrop to something that felt... safe.

beomgyu leaned back on the couch, stretching until his arm rested casually along the back, his fingers inches from your shoulder. not touching. almost.

you pretended to focus on the screen, but you couldn't help but notice how close he was. how normal it felt.

how not-normal that normal felt.

when did it become this easy to be around him? when did he start looking like that?

beomgyu glanced over at you just then, mid-thought, and you caught him. his hand twitched like he might move it closer—then didn't

he grinned instead. "you've got popcorn salt on your cheek."

you blinked. "i do not."

"you do."

you tried wiping your face with the back of your hand.

"nope, other side."

you tried again. he squinted dramatically.

"closer," he teased. "warmer... almost... oh no. now it's smeared."

"seriously?"

he leaned in then, brushing his thumb lightly across your cheekbone. just a second. just enough.

"got it."

you froze. not from the touch, exactly—but from how something about it lodged itself under your ribs and stayed there.

that shouldn't have felt like anything, you told yourself.

but it had.

beomgyu didn't move away immediately. he looked at you, eyes scanning like he was trying to solve a puzzle. like he was trying to read you.

he wasn't smiling anymore, not really. it wasn't serious, but it wasn't just playful anymore.

why do i keep noticing the way she looks at me? why does her laugh sound like something i want to hear first thing in the morning?

that moment hung there—brief, silent, almost something.

the you grabbed a pillow and whacked him, maybe a little too hard.

"okay that was dramatic. you made it a whole moment."

he barked out a laugh, delighted, instantly recovering, his head tilted to the side. "i was being helpful! you're lucky i didn't use a napkin like an old man."

you narrowed your eyes. "you definitely would've done the whole spit-on-the-thumb thing, huh?"

beomgyu gasped. "do i look like a mom at a school drop-off?"

you looked him up and down pointedly. "you do own a cardigan that says otherwise."

he placed a hand to his chest, fake-offended. "that cardigan is a fashion statement."

"it's a threat to society."

he snatched a handful of popcorn and launched a piece at you. it bounced of your blanket.

"you're just jealous," he muttered, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "you wish you looked that cozy."

"i do look cozy," you said smugly, hugging the bowl to your chest now like it was a trophy. "and now this popcorn's mine."

"oh you think i'm gonna let that slide?" he said inching closer.

you tightened your grip. "don't test me."

your eyes locked in mock-serious challenge. then, without warning, beomgyu lunged. both wrestling over the bowl like two kids at a sleepover, laughing so hard, barely holding it together.

limbs tangled, the blanket twisted, and somewhere in the chaos, your hand ended up resting against his chest, and his leg slid beside yours, warm and solid.

both of you froze—not on purpose, but as if something instinctual told you this was different. the laughter trailed off in small, breathless remnants, but neither of you moved right away.

you looked up, realizing how close you were. his hair was a little messy now. he was smiling—but softer. not his usual teasing, lazy grin.

your fingers curled slightly into the fabric of his hoodie before you pulled them back.

beomgyu didn't say anything. he just shifted onto his elbow, resting his head in his hand, watching you as you sat up and set the popcorn down beside the couch.

the room was still. not awkward nor heavy. just full of something unspoken.

you turned towards the screen, tucking your legs underneath you again.

"you're not so bad for a popcorn snob." you said lightly, not looking at him.

"thanks," he replied, his voice softer now. "you're not so bad for a popcorn thief."

the both of you sat in silence again, this time more aware of it. more aware of each other.

it was supposed to be a quick study session. an hour, maybe two. just enough to finalize the concept sketches and finish your part of the layout. you'd done most of the work already—beomgyu had helped a lot more than you expected him to, even stayed up late editing the small mistakes you made when you were too tired to keep your eyes open.

so when he texted you that afternoon—

"you free to review the last presentation slides? i promise i'll bring snacks + my charming presence."

—you'd rolled your eyes and typed short yes.

unfortunately, the rainy season wasn't over yet. today the rain started like a whisper, then turned into a roar.

it poured down so hard, you could barely see the street from your window.

thirty minutes later, he was standing in your doorway,

drenched.

like fully soaked. hair flat. hoodie sticking to his arms. his sneakers squelched when he stepped inside.

he looked half amused, half miserable.

you blinked, your eyes traveling over him from head to toe. "did you walk here?"

beomgyu nodded, blinking rain from his lashes. "i was halfway when the sky opened up."

"why didn't you bring an umbrella?"

"i was trying to be dramatic."

you stared at him.

he smiled sheepishly. "also... i forgot."

you sighed, shaking your head, already turning to grab a towel.

he wasn't planning on getting caught in a storm, but maybe, deep down, he wanted an excuse to stay longer.

the professor gave the class another project, but you both finished it, mostly.

but that wasn't the reason he'd wanted to come over.

he liked your apartment. the plants in teacups. the art prints taped to the walls instead of framed. your weird little snack drawer organized by mood. it all felt warm, like you lived in comfort space, like you weren't trying to impress anyone.

and he liked your company, though he was still figuring out what to do with those thoughts about you that kept popping occasionally.

he liked the way your mind worked. the way you made things feel calm yet entertaining.

so yeah, he walked through the storm. and maybe he didn't care.

"guess i'm stranded." he said as you returned, holding a towel and a worn grey sweatshirt in your arms.

you tossed both at his chest.

"you're lucky i'm nice." you muttered, turning around, back to the living room.

he caught the sweatshirt midair and laughed, peeling off his soaked hoodie. "no, i'm lucky it's you."

you didn't answer him. you didn't want to read too much into it. beomgyu said things like that. he flirted for fun.

but your heart noticed.

he also didn't usually look at you like that.

you tried to ignore the way your heart sped up when he pulled your sweatshirt over his head. it looked better on him than it did on you, of course. and something about seeing him in it made the room feel smaller. closer.

you turned away and focused on making tea.

the rain hadn't stopped. it got heavier.

by that time, you both ended up on the couch under the blankets, the storm had turned the apartment into a little cave—safe, warm, cut off from everything else.

the tea steamed gently on the table. the movie played, but neither of you were paying attention. you sat shoulder to shoulder, legs tucked up, knees barely touching.

and still, you could feel him. every little shift. every glance.

you saw him look at you once. then again. and a third time.

"hey," he said, eyes on the screen, voice barely above a whisper.

you turned your head slightly. "hm?"

"i'm really glad we got partnered together." he said referring to early spring.

he wasn't sure why he said it. but he did.

thump, thump.

you weren't sure why your heart was speaking before your mind could process everything.

maybe for him, it was because the rain softened everything. maybe it was because the blanket was warm and you were warm and something about being near you made everything easier.

but he meant it.

he didn't look at you, his gaze still glued to the tv. still, he felt you turn slightly towards you.

"me too," you said, and there was a smile.

that did something to his chest, a tiny smile growing on his face.

"you know, i used to think you were kind of quiet," he said, trying to keep his tone light. you raised a brow. "but you're actually... kind of weird."

you elbowed him softly. "what... thanks, i guess?"

beomgyu grinned. "no like... you say weird stuff. the thing with your mismatched socks, talking to your plants like they're your babies. your enormous snacks collection based on your mood. but it's cool. it's interesting."

you didn't say anything, more like not knowing what to say. so you just looked at him.

your eyes, soft, kind. more than words ever could.

"your sweatshirt smells like you," he murmured, completely out of nowhere. "like laundry and cinnamon."

your heart flipped.

"that was almost romantic," you teased, pretending to be unbothered by your heart, almost jumping out of your ribcage.

he reached for his tea, brushing your hand in the process. sipping from his mug, his eyebrows dancing. "almost?"

"try harder next time."

he laughed, but his heart stuttered, ‘next time?’ he thought to himself. why did i even say that. hiding his thoughts behind a smile.

from his perspective, you didn't seem to mind, you didn't make it weird. thankfully

the thunder cracked louder now, rattling the windowpane.

you checked the forecast on your phone and frowned. "yeah you're not going anywhere."

beomgyu looked up from where he had flopped dramatically across your couch, his hair still slightly damp and sticking to his forehead.

"tragic," he said, voice dry. "guess i'll have to endure your tea and fluffy blankets a little longer."

you gave him a look. "endure?"

he looked at you with his usual playful grin, hugging a throw pillow like it was a long-lost pet. "okay, luxuriate inn. happy?"

"ecstatic," you said, tossing him a second pillow to the face.

he caught it swiftly and immediately started building a pillow wall between you. "this is for my safety."

"from what?" you asked with a raised eyebrow.

"you. you're feisty when sleep-deprived. remember your mood last week."

"you literally tried to eat expired instant noodles last week."

"and i survived, didn't i?" he said proudly and had a smug smirk on his face.

"barely."

"i am a man of mystery. i live on the edge."

"you live on convenience store snacks." you said and rolled your eyes. you pushed yourself off from the couch and his attention was now on you.

"you want me to grab something to sleep in?" you asked, voice soft with sleep.

he gave you a thumbs up from under the pillow fortress.

you came back with a pajama pants covered in tiny frogs, dropping it on his lap.

beomgyu's eyes lit up as he noticed the frogs. "i bet i'll still look handsome in this." his tone layered with confidence.

you rolled your eyes and shook your head slightly.

"whatever. i'm going to bed." you said after grabbing him a couple more blankets, since it was getting colder.

beomgyu nodded and prepared the couch to a comfortable bed.

"goodnight frog boy," you mumbled as you were walking towards your bedroom.

"goodnight popcorn thief." he said back. he was already laying comfortable, under the blankets and pillows.

the morning sunlight crept through the clouds, pale and hesitant casting a soft glow. the storm had finally passed.

you stirred awake to the faint clink of dishes and the sound of cupboard doors opening and closing.

beomgyu.

you blinked a few times, sitting up slowly. your hair was a wild mess around your face. a yawn escaped from your lips and you pushed yourself up from your bed.

you padded into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes. "what are you doing?"

beomgyu turned around, spoon in his mouth and a box of cereal tucked under his arm like a prized possession. his hair was fluffy now, dry but still unbrushed, sticking up like he'd rolled straight from the couch into the pantry.

he pulled the spoon out and shrugged. "breakfast obviously."

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "you have your own place."

"you don't have plain boring cornflakes," he said, lifting the box of choco rings slightly like it was a trophy. "you have joy."

you sighed, but your lips curved upward. "help yourself, i guess."

"oh i have been," he said with a playful wink, already reaching for a second bowl from the shelf.

the next ten minutes were filled with quiet munching and the soft sound of the morning news on low volume in the background. beomgyu sat across from you at the small kitchen table, still wearing the frog pants you'd given him the night before, like they were the peak of fashion.

"you've got milk on your chin," you said, half-smiling as you pount at him with your spoon.

beomgyu blinked, swiping at the wrong side of his face. you rolled your eyes, leaned over the table and wiped it with the corner of your sleeve.

he froze—just for a second. the kind of pause that hung in the air a beat too long. you felt it too, the sudden silence stretching between you.

"thanks." he said softy, eyes lingering on yours a little longer than usual.

you nodded, quickly looking down at your cereal. the clink of your spoon against the bowl suddenly felt too loud.

after a moment, he leaned back in his chair and tilted his head toward the window. "the sun's finally out," he said, his voice light again. "i was starting to think we'd be stuck in a tragic indie film forever."

you snorted. "you'd love that though."

he smirked. "depends. do i get the girl in the end?"

huh?

you stared at him—just a second too long. an unreadable expression on your face.

but your heart knew what was behind that expression, even if your mind was in denial.

he looked back, like he was trying to read something in your face. then he blinked and grinned, brushing it off like it was a joke. "kidding. unless you think i'd make a good male lead."

his usual teasing tone was evident in his voice.

you laughed, shaking your head. "you'd definitely cry at your own monologue."

"and steal the show," he said, eyebrows dancing, popping the last choco ring into his mouth.

you watched him, the sun catching his hair now, and something soft settled in your chest—warm and confusing.

"what?" he asked, catching your gaze.

"nothing." you said quickly. "just... your hair looks ridiculous."

"you say that like it's not my brand. and it's called trendy." he said and sent you a wink playfully, a light-hearted joke.

but why did my heart take it seriously?

୨♡୧ part one / part two / part three / bonus ୨♡୧

© bangtanbeom 2025

[doomedmoth]

Better kind of best friend (part 3)

Pairing : Reader x Alexandra Saint Mleux x Charles Leclerc | Poly & bisexual fem!reader

Warnings : obsessive/possessive/manipulative behavior, suggestive content/smut, fluff then angst then dark fluff, inaccurate racing calendar and school programs, polyamory, use of y/n

Synopsis : When you left the UK for a year long art restoration program in Monaco, you mainly wanted to make some friends. What you didn't expect was to find your best friend on the first day. And then fall in love with her. And then get tangled in the web of Monaco high society as her boyfriend came back to town, unaware of your little affairs. What the fuck happened to you, you just wanted to make some friends...

Moth's prophecy 💡 : Your favorite omen of doom & cringe is baaaack ! I wanted to give a special thanks to all the precious cryptids who have asked for the part three for literal weeks, always staying patient, nice, and sending messages so sweet I rot my teeth on them and made a collection of screenshots in my notes to motivate me. I never thought anyone would like my writing, let alone wait for it, so thank you. Y’all are my lights. On the subject of Better kind of best friend, a fourth part was not planned at first, but will make the ending smoother, so I’m sorry, this is not the end yet ! For those just discovering the series, you can find part one here and part two here, or in in the masterlist ! Enjoy !

“Ah per favore… Tell me you’re not dressing up like that for her.”

“Ah please, tell me you’re not giving your opinion when no one asked for it.” Chiara popped her tongue at your cold answer, and stayed in the opening of your door, clearly judging you.

You had been going through your closet for about an hour now, and the floor seemed to only disappear more and more under the layers of clothes thrown onto it carelessly. Nothing seemed good enough, partly because you had no idea what to expect for the evening, and mostly because no matter how much you refused to admit it, Chiara was right. You wanted to look pretty for someone else than yourself. For two people exactly. The thought of how quick you had thrown away all of your big principles when faced with fluttering eyelashes and pink cheeks almost made you sick.

Yet when they both got up from the table, Alex running to your arms with a smile and Charles blushing, eyeing you up and down, you thought that Chiara should just shut up once in a while. This was too good to not enjoy.

And you had promised yourself this would not be the same this time. They were your friends, they were dating, and you would keep a healthy relationship with both of them. But then Alexandra softly kissed your cheeks, and took your hand in hers. You would limit any type of confusing physical touch, and make sure to not give in to sweet pet names. But then she led you to Charles, who put his hand, much bigger and more calloused than his girlfriend’s, on your waist, and brought you closer to greet you. You would not let your fantasies take over facts, and you would keep all communication clear and honest to ensure your best friend stayed exactly that. A best friend. But then he told you you were gorgeous, and she giggled while still holding your hand, and they had your favorite drink already on the table, and suddenly you forgot everything you had told yourself in the mirror while getting ready. Surely it would come back to you if it was that important. Right ?

Back to you it came, in the form of Alex’s gorgeous friend and one of your workshop colleague, Luca. Almost falling on you as you exited the bathroom, he seemed like he had had one too many drinks already, and didn’t plan on stopping any time soon.

“Oh mais regarde toi, quelle beauté !” He grabbed at your waist and kissed your cheeks, blabbering on and on in French about your makeup and outfit. “Who are you trying to impress by looking so gorgeous, babe ?”

You chuckled and pretended he was wrong, but could not help and steal a glance. Of course you wanted to impress them, what a joke to pretend you did not care. Why for, even you had no idea, but you knew you would be satisfied as long as they kept their eyes on you. Which they had stopped doing for a while now, seeing as they were cuddled up on one of the couches, Alexandra sitting on Charles’ lap, hands in his hair, while he peppered her neck and shoulder with soft kisses. You could hear her giggles from afar, smell his shampoo, or maybe you just knew them too well for your own good.

You knew you were staring, knew Luca would be quick to catch on to what was happening if you did not get a hold of yourself, but it seemed that even the music and lights had faded in favor of the scene in front of you. It was hypnotizing, seeing her give in, seeing him take charge, knowing in your heart you should be there but never would be. Cheeks heating up, you turned back to Luca.

“I actually wouldn’t mind some company, if anyone here shares your opinion tonight.” Beaming, he hooked his arm with yours and took you straight to the bar to get a refill, which would inevitably end up spilled on the floor when he made you dance until you saw stars.

You don’t know how long you had danced for when he came to you. Hands sliding down your waist to your hips, his hot breath making the hairs on your neck dress up, you did not look up. You knew it wasn’t him. Because you knew how his hands felt from that one time he caught you from falling, because no man in their right mind would dance that way with their girlfriend’s friend in a crowded club, because it would never be your neck he buries his face in. But just for a few seconds, maybe minutes, you caught yourself hoping it was true, dreaming you would turn around and get a glimpse of green eyes before his lips crashed into yours. But the eyes were dark, the hair too blonde, the hands too soft. And yet you still let him kiss you, and when his slim fingers brought your dress higher on your buttcheeks, you even moaned in his mouth. Desperate was an understatement at this point.

“I’m going to put my fist so far up his ass he’ll be lucky if…” Alex’s sentence was cut short by Charles’ hand slamming against her face, flashing an apologetic smile to the friends they were chatting with and dragging her away. “Who even is that ? I’m going to get a bouncer to kick him out.” Charles had to tighten the grip on his arm to finally get her to look at him.

“Calm. Down.” This seemed to only piss her off more, but before she could start another rant, this time aimed at her boyfriend, he grabbed her by the neck and kissed her, giving him the advantage of surprise to then speak in her ear. “I know. But love, just look around you. At least half of this party knows us. I’m not sure punching a guy flirting with…” Unsure of how to call you to appease Alex, he opted for simplicity. “Y/N, and making a scene like a jealous wife is the best way to get her back.”

She sighed, head rubbing against the palm of his hand, before raising her doe eyes at him. “Then do it, Charles.” Getting closer to him, Alexandra brought her lips to his, her breath intoxicating like syrupy almonds. “Everyone knows you. Everyone loves you. Who would even dare to say something to Mr. Golden Boy.” Fluttering her eyelashes, she knew exactly how to get him. Sweet as honey, sharp as glass. “Why don’t you be a good boy and go fetch her for me, hm Charlie ?” He only managed to nod pathetically, his whole body aching to get on his knees and have her sit on his face.

The tension in his muscles was still present by the time he got to the bar stool where you were sitting, and he thought he might actually end up smashing the guy’s face against the counter. You were laughing like he had never heard before, the kind of sultry giggles that belonged to cab rides and hotel hallways, only an invitation for the hand already sat on your thigh to go up further. He barely had time to think of consequences, and you to realize he was standing behind you, before his hand fell to the guy’s shoulder, and he started speaking in his ear. The music was too loud, you were getting really drunk, so when the man’s eyes got wide, and he apologized before leaving in a hurry, you were unable to guess what Charles could have told him.

“I’m sorry, doll…” It wasn’t the first time he called you that, yet everytime it left your heart pulsing, and your core aching for more. You felt your legs wobble as he slid between them. “Seems he wasn’t interested in much more than a quick fling.” His fingers ran up your thigh and you almost fell the dig of a nail, before he took the hem of your dress and brought it back down to its usual length. The exhale that came out of your mouth felt like the first one in hours. “And you’re worth more than quick, aren’t you ?” At this moment, no, you weren’t worth more than that, you were yearning for someone to take your mind off the shitshow that was your heart, even if it meant bending over a bathroom sink for any nameless guy. But you smiled through the shivers and thanked him, even daring to put your hand on his. Everything was spinning, your ears were ringing, but he was smiling back at you, so maybe this evening wasn’t so bad. “Party’s over, let’s go home, doll.”

On the way back, Alex sat in the front of the car, but kept her hand on your knee the whole way, tracing small circles on your exposed skin. It almost seemed to you that with every sharp breath you took, you saw her smile in the car’s mirrors, but you fell asleep without being sure.

Even Charles was annoyed now. Maybe he could buy you a leash, make sure you were never straying too far. A tag too, so that you wouldn’t get lost. One with his name etched into the metal, just so there’d be no doubt. Just so that everyone knew who you belonged to. Would you be good ? Obedient ? He barely managed to get back to reality before his face got as red as his suit. Knee bouncing restlessly, his eyes were unable to leave you, bent over his car as a mechanic showed you his seat. If he could see you, it meant everyone could. And that was starting to get on his nerves.

“Sorry I found a pretty one” Alex whispered, sliding up behind him, her voice a low hum of amusement against his ear. “Sometimes I wish I could lock her up too…”

“I mean you could.” Charles knew he was fucking up. The words had tumbled out before he could stop himself, the implication behind heavy with something he would not dare to name. He knew his girlfriend had been teetering on the edge lately, and that any idea fueling her possessiveness would be considered, no matter how immoral. He knew he was supposed to be the voice of reason. Your soft way back to her, to them. Like the web to the spider. But this new mechanic he was definitely going to get fired was now making you try a headset, and he was playing with your hair, and the image of you getting yanked back to his feet was taking too much place in his brain. So when Alexandra stared at him, he simply shrugged, surrendering. “I don’t want her to stray too far when I’m on track. Who knows what could happen to her.”

When the free practice started, and Alexandra sent you to get her painkillers from the “infirmary”, you didn’t know what you were getting into. As the door locked behind you in the small storage room, you became painfully aware that you had no idea how this world worked. You had followed her instructions blindly, not really knowing anyone, and not wanting to cause trouble. And now you were banging on the door, feeling the air slowly get out of your lungs as the panic took over your body. There wasn’t any light in the room, and you could faintly hear the rumbles of the cars in the distance. Everyone was probably busy either watching or working on the track. No one would hear you scream, yet you begged for help with every bit of energy left in you.

Claustrophobia had been the fear you never got over. Taking stairs rather than elevators and walking over crowded buses, you had mostly managed on your own. But there you were, stuck in what seemed smaller than your bathroom at the residency, wondering if you were about to suffocate to death between tyre blankets and wires in Abu Dhabi. Charles had told you the practices lasted about an hour. But would you ? And even if your lungs hadn’t burnt from the thick air then, would someone find you right away ? Who could even come to look for you, in such a foreign place, with no friends other than two of the busiest people there could be this weekend ? Tears streaming down your face, you found yourself wishing you had never left their side. Maybe that would have been childish, but you would have been safe.

“Y/N ? Y/N are you in there ?” Anywhere in the world you would have recognized this voice. The only one that would understand your pain because she knew your fears. You screamed her name and heard rustling in the hallway. For a second when the door opened, she stood bathed in the clinical white lights, and you thought you had died. No angel would ever come close to such a vision. “Y/N ! Mon chou come here oh my god” She fell to her knees, opening her arms, and it felt like coming home. To hell with the physical distance, to hell with the principles. She had found you. She had saved you. Your head in her neck and her hands in your hair, you tightened your arms against her even when she gasped, but pulled you even closer. The tears falling down on your cheeks weren’t yours only, and you could barely make out what she was saying.

When the buzzing in your ears finally calmed down, she had cupped your face, whispering inches away from it. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you you’re safe. Please don’t leave me anymore. Please please please Y/N I beg you I got so scared, you weren’t coming back and I thought something had happened to you, it’s not safe here.” Rubbing your cheek with her thumb, she even kissed repeatedly your forehead as you could only nod, still crying. “Stay by my side, please never do that again. I thought I had lost you, I thought…”

You said yes, over and over again, apologizing as if it had been your fault, promising to be good like a prayer to a benevolent deity.

When Charles got out of the car and saw you holding Alex’s hand, your whole body twitching while she was beaming, he could not help but smirk. On a counter next to his phone, the keys to one of the storage rooms sat innocently, gleaming under the lights.

The weeks following the incident felt like a blur, as if your mind was slowly sinking into the mist of December mornings, and the last of your independence with it. Wherever you turned, Alexandra’s warmth and Charles’s steady hands were there, lingering at the edge of your vision, too close to be a coincidence.

But it was too comforting to not bathe in it. Your mind kept on replaying the moment your friend had found you in the storage room so many times it became a mantra, a balm to soothe the fear that still clawed at your thoughts at night. She found you. She saved you. She would never leave you. Charles too, after making a scene at the race and demanding the lack of safety in the infrastructure to be investigated, had made a point of shielding you from anything he deemed not safe. Which now that you were back in Monaco, seemed to be everything and everyone. You caught him glaring more than once at strangers, his body always carefully sliding between you and anyone who got too close.

Yet you had also been witness to the ugly side of fame since, the shadows it casted and the vultures it attracted, and trusted them to keep you away from it. All celebrities seemed to like their private life to stay, well… Private, and so when he brushed a stray hair from your face and told you he wouldn’t let any creep bother his dear friend, you believed him.

And truth be told, you loved the attention. That’s what you wished for, all you ever wanted, you told yourself as Alex braided your hair on the couch of the residency, Charles scrolling on his phone, his knee brushing absent-mindedly against yours. It was sweet, how they cared so much. Your roommates had given up on understanding, as long as the mood was not as icy as it had been the past month, they were fine with pretending nothing had ever happened. Life itself seemed to be so much easier with just them anyway. Why bother looking elsewhere, for what even ?

“I thought you were really cute, and I just wanted to give you my number, if you ever wanna go on a date.” The French accent snapped you out of your thoughts, and you nodded, blushing, as the barista winked at you. Your gaze immediately darted to the side, as if they’d be standing there, watching. But you had come alone, like stepping outside without a coat, not sure how you were now feeling about the decision. No matter what, it seemed their presence clung to you like a second skin.

They weren’t stopping you from dating, or making friends out of the internship. But it had been a while since you had thought about anyone else in that manner, and stepping out of the comfortable bubble you had built around the three of you now seemed like such an effort, on top of being scary. A voice in your head, your voice probably, even though it sounded too much like Alexandra’s, always ended up whispering : What else do you need that you don’t already have ?

The barista’s number scribbled on a napkin stayed untouched in your bag. Charles’ eyes had lingered too long on your phone screen one night, and when you mentioned in passing the way the uber driver had complimented your makeup, Alex had tilted her head just slightly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes, her tongue brushing faintly against her canine. But they laughed it off, and you laughed with them, sinking into a soft net that felt more silk than cloud.

Had you been more careful, maybe you would have seen the signs. The way stuff in your bedroom seemed to change places, or even disappear. The deleted messages sent from your own phone, asking to be left alone, confirming you weren’t interested. The delicate touch of a hand on your arm, the oh-so-French kiss on the cheeks you always seemed to receive whenever a flirtatious wink was sent your way. But you had missed her, and you liked him so much, and for nothing in the world you would go back to a world where those weren’t your best friends. No matter how hard it was to fall asleep picturing them running their hands further than morality authorized.

As you lingered by Marco’s door, his bed still a wreck even though he had left a week ago, you couldn’t help but sigh. The house was so quiet, barely troubled by the faint swirl of wind in the garden. You thought you would like it this way. Even though it had been fun, living with seven other art students had been… Messy. Now everyone had gone home, and there was no need for fighting over the thermostat or Sunday mornings rush to get groceries anymore. Only the handmade decorations were left behind, like ghosts of their absence.

You couldn’t explain to yourself why you had resisted going home. On the phone with your mother, you had brushed it off with excuses about the time-consuming art pieces, the flights, and how it would be easier to stay. But when the clock struck midnight on the 22, and the thought of waking up alone for the next few days clawed at your chest, you booked the next available flight. You’d surprise your family. Sitting at the table and laughing at their jokes and going for a walk after lunch. You’d come home.

The morning of the 24th greeted you with hope, and then a storm. Nice’s airport’s fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows on the crowd’s disappointed faces as flight after flight turned red on the departure boards. You tried to stay calm, fiddling with a trinket tied to your bag, but when the announcement came that no flights would leave until the storm cleared, something inside you cracked. You were stuck. Not home. Not Monaco.

You stared at your phone, thumb hovering over Alexandra’s contact. You hadn’t told them you were leaving, hadn’t wanted to explain why the urge to run away, and why you were now desperately crawling back. The empty airport felt like punishment, and your fingers moved before you could second-guess yourself. Faced with her warm voice, the words tumbled out on their own. The storm. The canceled flights. The panic of the crowd slowly but surely spreading to you.

“You stay there, we’re coming to get you”. You barely had time to protest before the call ended.

When their car pulled up outside the terminal, the storm still raged, rain lashing against the windshield as Charles parked. Alex hopped out, an umbrella barely covering her as she ran to you, her sparkly short dress illuminating the pavement. “Oh, mon chou, you must be freezing,” she cooed, wrapping her coat around your shoulders and guiding you to the car.

Charles was waiting, heater blasting, his smile soft as he looked back at you from the driver’s seat. “You should’ve told us you were leaving,” he said, a hint of reproach softened by his tone.

You shrugged, sinking into the warmth of the car. “It was a last-minute thing.”

Alexandra clicked her tongue, clearly disapproving, as she slid in beside you. “At least you have your bag ready.” You barely had time to register what was happening as you saw Charles type in an address that was definitely not the residency. Before you could ask, his eyes met yours in the mirror.

“You’re not spending Christmas alone, doll. I called my mom on the way, so I hope you like oysters.” He broke eye contact as you opened your mouth to protest, his voice much lower, daring you to defy him. “Don’t argue with me, it’s already settled.”

Their idea of Christmas was something out of a dream. Charles’ family home in Monaco was decked out in soft lights and greenery, the smell of mulled wine and myriads of meals filling every corner. His family welcomed you with open arms, and Alexandra’s parents, who had joined as well, treated you with the delicate attention of pretending like your presence had always been planned.

The day went on as if you were stuck in the flow of a warm river, feeling the deep call you but unable to move a muscle to swim against it. You hadn’t been allowed to lift a finger, Charles steering you away from the kitchen when you offered to help, pressing a glass of wine in your hand instead. “Absolutely not. You’re a guest, Y/N. Relax.”

Everytime someone asked how you were enjoying the day, one of them was always quick to describe how “special” it was to have you here, and how glad they were to finally be able to introduce you. Their attention was always on you, always ready for any request you might have. What had become a natural habit, developing over the last few weeks, was now exacerbated under the glimmering lights, and the Christmas tree seemed to wink at you, knowingly, as if it was in on whatever elaborate spectacle Charles and Alexandra had orchestrated. Their care was overbearing but left no room for complaint. By the time dessert was served, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. An intricate figurine in a glass case, too precious to touch but constantly on display. Anytime Charles called for his doll, you got dizzier.

When everyone gathered around the fireplace to open their gifts, the cook gave you a knowing look and gestured at another glass of wine left on the kitchen counter, before swiftly exiting the room. You gladly took it and observed from afar the parade of extravagance. Designer clothes, limited-edition art pieces, concerts tickets in another country. If you thought your own Christmases back home were lavish, it was no comparison to the Leclerc’s.

“Here, mon chou.” Alexandra purred, pressing a carefully wrapped small box in your hand. “We planned on giving it to you next week but now’s even better.”

You hesitated, feeling your cheeks heat up as everyone turned to you. This was not planned. You did not have time to get either of them anything, even less their families. It all felt like a show you had never agreed on being a part of. “You really didn’t have to-”

“Open it.” Charles interrupted, his grin infuriating, dimples bigger than ever. He lounged back on the sofa, one ankle resting casually on his knee, his gaze fixed on you. With a brush of his hands, he pretended to swish away your worries. “We’ll go and change it if you don’t like it”.

The box revealed a delicate bracelet, platinum with tiny diamonds winking along its length. Sucking in a breath, you felt their eyes on you, expectant, hungry for your reaction. “It’s pretty, no ?” Alexandra’s voice was eager, her fingers brushing yours as she took the bracelet to clasp it around your wrist. It was too much. The alcohol made your head pound and you felt like throwing up. Raising your eyes, the guilt hit you like a wave. They had done so much for you, gone out of their way to include you, and you couldn’t even summon the gratitude they deserved ? The metal was biting into your skin as if in reprimand, your whole body feeling like fire since you had finished your glass. Taking a deep breath, you excused yourself to “freshen up”.

The low hum of voices faded as you found a quiet room in the labyrinth that was the house. This is what you’d always wanted, wasn’t it ? To be cared for, adored, treated like the most important person in the room ? Then why did it feel too much ? Why did it feel like drowning ? You thought back to October, and quickly recognized the signs of your love barging through the door, demanding the best place at the table. You couldn’t let either of them know you were back on your stupid feelings, or they would leave you again. And then ? You had seen the pain, for everyone involved. Good friends. Best friends. Nothing more. Nothing less. You exhaled, praying for your thoughts to shut up, concentrating on the wind outside.

It was Charles that came for you, sitting carefully next to you on the bed, as though you might shatter if he moved an inch wrong. Turning away from the frosted window, you murmured. “Just needed a breather.”

“I’m sorry.” Before you even had time to ask what for, he sighed, gesturing vaguely towards the door. “For all of this. We just wanted to make you feel welcome but… It’s obviously not working.” Running a hand through his hair, betraying his frustration, his other one went tentatively to yours, and your fingers laced together. “I can see you’re not enjoying this, and I know it will never be the same as being with your family.”

“Charles, I don’t-”

“I can arrange a plane.” He was rambling on, a habit they seemed to share, and in the soft light of the moon, you could swear his eyes were red. “First thing in the morning, have you be home before lunch. We love having you here, doll, but… I think it might have been selfish of us.” There. You had made him sad. He had made you feel like family and you had fled like a spoiled child. If anyone was selfish here, it was you.

“No !” You blurted, the word too loud, startling even yourself. Moving towards him on instinct, you threw yourself in his arms, hands gripping to his back, fingers curling against the smooth fabric of his sweater. He tilted his head, questioning, but you only buried your face against his chest. “I… I don’t want to leave. I’m sorry if I’ve seemed ungrateful. I didn’t mean to. It’s not too much, you’re not too much. You could never be. I’ll try harder, I’ll appreciate it more, I’m sorry I-” It seemed the habit had also infected you, and your monologue was stopped by Charles’ thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“Shhh” The hand that was in your back went up to your head, softly rubbing your hair, as you lost yourself in his eyes. Were those freckles or just beauty spots ? Had those always been here ? You felt tempted to touch them but froze up when your lips opened up on instinct. Seriously, how many drinks did you have ? “You don’t have to apologize. I just want you to feel welcomed and… Appreciated.” The moment stretched, world narrowing to the warmth of his arms and the pulse of your heart as he opened your mouth even more and slid his thumb past your lips, your teeth, and to rest against your tongue. “And loved.” His gaze was fixated on your lips, and for a brief moment, until footsteps were heard in the hallway, you thought he was going to kiss you, or maybe slap you. You wouldn’t have protested either.

His lips went to brush softly against your forehead, and it took every last ounce of self-control in you to not bite down on his thumb as he took it out of your mouth. His fingers traced down your cheek, your jaw, down to your neck, where he softly closed his fingers around your throat as the moan that had been stuck in there was finally let free. You wanted this moment to last forever, almost wished he would choke you out so you would never have to go back to reality. But something snapped suddenly in his eyes, and he ruffled at your hair before standing up with a confidence that made you question if the moment had truly happened, or if the cook had spiked your drink. In the white light of the night, his finger shined briefly with saliva, and you followed him back to the living room like a dog who had gotten the sweetest treat.

The floor length mirror stared back at you, unkind in its honesty. You leaned in as Alexandra gently titled your chin up with her fingertips, her voice humming as she added the finishing touches to your makeup. The sharpness of your features seemed amplified under their bedroom golden light, and your reflection felt foreign. Maybe it was the week, and its endless swirl of champagne, parties, and faces you couldn’t remember. Or maybe it was the memory of Christmas Eve, and its almost-kiss which kept replaying in your mind like a broken record you didn’t have the strength to discard.

Charles hadn’t mentioned it. Not a word. The morning after, his smile came on as easy as ever, his voice smooth and jokes easy, as if nothing had happened. Alex had thrown herself onto him, bathing him in affection, as though your world hadn’t turned upside down in that hidden room. Even now, as his hands brushed against your shoulders, slipping the straps of your too-short dress into place, you were wondering if you hadn’t dreamed it all.

“Stop squirming” He teased, smoothing out the fabric and pulling up the zipper.

Alexandra laughed and stepped back to inspect her work, two fingers still holding your chin. “She’s not squirming, she’s just nervous.”

“Il y a pas de quoi être stressé, c’est le Nouvel An, pas une gardav’ non plus…” Not understanding the slang, you copied your friend’s reaction, and as she clicked her tongue, you rolled your eyes.

You felt like an imposter. How could you have let it get this far ? You were supposed to go back to being friends, that was the deal. Not over complicating things, not pushing boundaries of what they were giving you. But then every time one of their friends got curious about you, Alexandra would say you were “Just someone special”, her casual voice contrasting with her nails scratching on your thigh. Her eyes would flicker, the kind that warned you not to correct her, and you let yourself get locked up in this almost-relationship that you had so desperately tried to escape a few weeks before.

Reaching for the curling iron, she murmured, more observation than question. “You’ve been quiet today.”

“Just tired, I guess… We’ve gone out a lot this week.” You forced a laugh, aiming for nonchalance, but Charles simply raised a brow, not impressed.

“We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. We can just stay there, order some food, …”

You cut him off by twirling on yourself, the dress flaring so high it couldn’t have been conceived to cover anything. Alexandra groaned and caught you by the shoulders to steady you, apparently not satisfied with your curls. “When I look like that ? It would be such a waste !” The green-eyed boy chuckled and nodded in agreement. Dressed to perfection, your hair soft and shining, you looked exactly like what they wanted you to be : a doll. And truth be told, you enjoyed it. When he kissed his girlfriend on the cheek and they both looked at you with something that could be pride, you knew you owed it to them to have fun, at least tonight, at least the following months. At least until England called you back and you answered, leaving your summer love to rest on the green hills. You owed it to them to pretend you weren’t haunted by the ghost of “almost”, and maybe you could even pretend long enough to end up believing it yourself.

“Close it, you’re going to swallow a fly.” Charles pushed softly on your chin to close your mouth you had left wide in awe, before rubbing the nape of his neck. “Much funnier in French…” He mumbled before leaving his keys to a valet, and opening the way for you and Alexandra. The mansion was huge, its garden spilling to the edge of the woods behind it, and the music pulsing through the air carried promises of a night you might not remember in the morning.

It seemed everyone who knew a Formula 1 driver, directly or indirectly, had been invited. Some faces you recognized, but most not, and the shower of compliments you found yourself in as soon as you stepped foot in the main living room quickly felt suffocating. The polite flirting made you feel uneasy, their admiration like scrutiny, and before you even had time to cling to your anchors, they drifted away. “I’ll be right back, chou.” Charles’ hand brushed briefly against yours before he followed his girlfriend to go greet some friends, and you stayed right where they left you.

No matter how much you repeated your internal calming mantra, the vulnerability was creeping in. There were too many people you didn't know, and so you made it a mission to not lose again the only two that mattered. When they asked if you were having fun, you nodded, the lie automatic. For the following hours, it turned to truth, as you stuck close to them like a guard dog unwilling to stray too far from its leash. If Charles moved to refill a drink, you downed yours too quickly to follow. If Alexandra drifted to another conversation, your hand clung to her elbow, begging to tag along. You weren’t proud of it, but the dread clawed at your chest every time you stood alone for more than a heartbeat. You were enjoying yourself as long as you weren’t left to your own devices. Long gone was the resolution of making new friends, it seemed.

The air in the house had been filled with tension as midnight approached, and you felt like you had suddenly woken up. A glass of something golden in your hand, its fizz long forgotten, you were nodding along to Pierre’s story about an incident on a recent trip, while his girlfriend Kika hung onto his arm, punctuating his tale with playful jabs. You tried to listen, you really did, but something was missing, and you couldn’t help but give in to the voices bothering your every thought as he wrapped up his story.

“Have you seen Charles ? Or Alex…?”

Kika’s lips curled, mischief in her eyes, and she exchanged a look with Pierre who chuckled. “They’ve probably gone to enjoy the view, as usual.”

“Top floor,” Kika added, still giggling as she sipped her cocktail. “There’s a balcony up there that’s quite… Private.”

Mumbling a quick excuse, you set your glass down and slipped away, through the maze of guests and corridors of the sprawling mansion. The thud in your ears was soon more heartbeat than music, the knot in your stomach tightening between unease and anticipation. When you reached the top floor, the door to the bedroom was ajar, dim light coming from within and spilling onto the hallway. You closed it behind you, breath stuck in your throat.

There they were. Alexandra’s back was pressed against the railing, her sequined dress shimmering in the moonlight as Charles leaned into her. His hands rested on either side of her waist, fingers curling possessively over the iron, as he brought one knee up between her legs, silencing her laugh. He was working down her throat when she opened her mouth, eyes fixed on you, but did not stop kissing and biting, seemingly not caring.

“Oh darling, caught us” She purred, her voice thick with amusement. Her manicured finger pointed at you before curling, inviting you to come closer. You should not. You should flee. This was not your moment, it would never be. Also, you should keep a closer eye on your drinks because someone was definitely having fun drugging you lately, no way any of this was true. But your feet moved before your brain was done having a panic attack, and you found yourself gently pushed in the woman’s arms by Charles.

She probably saw your eyes jumping from one to the other, thoughts racing behind them at light speed, and with each hand on your cheeks, centered you back to her face. This felt like deja-vu, your lips so close, your perfume swirling together, like the wish you had screamed to the moon that night was finally becoming true, only a few months too late.

“I’m sorry.” Oh no. Oh not again. You were about to jump out of her embrace when you felt his body behind yours, closing back on both of you as his hands caught on the guardrail once more. “Stay. Please.” Not like you had much of a choice anyway. Charles was looking down at the garden over her shoulder, badly pretending as if he wasn’t inches away from the most private conversation happening tonight. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize what was going on between us. And I’m sorry I hurt you in the process. You deserve the world, not any of the mess I put you through. I hope one day you’ll forgive me.” She was already forgiven, how could she not when her apologies were whispered between your lips. “But I know where I stand now. And if you allow me, I’ll never give you less than the world. Because that’s what you deserve. Because you love me and I love you.”

“Ten !” Charles took a step to the side as the screams from downstairs echoed through the whole house. He leaned on the balcony, and you almost fell to the floor from the shaking in your legs. “Nine !” She caught you by the waist and pulled you back to her with a laugh, one so hesitant it could only be filled with honesty.

“Eight !” You were dreaming. You wanted to punch yourself to wake up, but without even knowing how, your hands had gone up to her arms, shoulders, neck, cheek. “Seven !” You had promised yourself, you had promised her, and Chiara, and the world itself, that you would be fine being just friends. “Six !” Why was she the one ruining all of your efforts ? Why was she still the one you would wait for, when everyone else was long gone ?

“Five !” Was Charles just going to stand there, and pretend like his girlfriend didn’t confess to someone else ? “Four !” Maybe they had talked ? Maybe they had been open this whole time and you hadn’t seen the signs ? Would he kiss you too ? “Three !”

You cupped her cheeks and it felt like the world exploded when your lips met. Or maybe it was just the fireworks. Maybe it was the culmination of months of pining, love and pain, that was giving her kiss a taste of blood, a taste of more. She switched your places, pinning you against the barrier and deepened the kiss as your hands tugged at her hair, undoing the curls she had so carefully crafted. Everyone was screaming for the New Year, but you felt like they were doing it for you. Is that how it felt, to love and be loved ? Like you would rather run out of oxygen than end the moment. Like teeths and tongues, being fourteen and messy all over again. Like a movie-worthy compilation of every smile she had flashed you for the last four months was playing behind your closed eyes.

When you opened them, her mouth now running wild on your jaw, it’s a green spark of amusement that was looking back at you, a slow whistle coming out of his dry lips. Shit. You had kissed his girlfriend. Or his girlfriend had kissed you. And he wasn’t moving to join in. Were you about to be thrown from the highest balcony in some sick kind of real-life Cluedo ? But he simply brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, and the small caress he gave to Alexandra’s back made her moan against your collarbones. “Les clés sont sur la porte mon amour.” She mumbled what you understood to be thank you, not sure why for, as he moved towards the door.

“Wait Charlie I’m…” It was difficult to talk with Alex, determined to kiss every inch of visible skin on your body, and there was a lot. “I’m sorry I… What’s happening ?” You could only hope they had not broken up, not because of you, yet you saw no world in which this situation would be acceptable for him. With his usual playful grin you had grown so fond of, he winked at you before exiting the room swiftly.

“There’s a time for actions, and a time for explanations. Happy New Year, doll.”

With every step that she took you followed, painfully aware of how much she knew you, much better than you would have thought. Kissing in all the right places, her grin was getting wider every time you winced under the dig of her sharp nails, and she hushed you as if the drunken screams downstairs weren’t covering your moans. But you were determined to be good, as you had been from day one, and so you bit the pillow and pulled at her hair, let her know it hurts and let her keep going, because you loved her and she loved you. And she would never leave you.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

Taglist : @sam-is-lost // @mangotaitai // @ilovechickenwings // @eroselless // @zreads111 // @crimson-spine // @inejismywife // @champomiel // @eternoange1 // @charizznorizz // @exactlycoralfox // @waitwhendidwegethere // @cluelessred3 // @spookystitchery // @erikasurfer // @catswag22 // @appl3-0rchard // @janeh22 // @boohoneyy // @sheslikeacurse // @customsbyjcg-blog // @urmotheris // @lewisvinga // @formulaal // @novocainenoon // @taytaylala12 // @esterdnebe // @jack0357 // @mortallyblueninja // @jexxy04 // @itsprashimusic // @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp // @annabellelee // @natsmywife // @daisyfreecs // @scorpiomindfuck // @themessietbihalive // @ananyasr1bughead