#‘but it’s the middle of the day!’ i literally could not give less of a shit what time it is. people study during the day. they need quiet.

[unopenablebox]

i admit that i find it a little bit frustrating how Wildly Astonished other antizionist jews act when i tell them my israeli jewish family have lived in the region since [some unknown length of time before 1800 when there start being records about it]

[lannisterdaddyissues]

ok i’m never going to ask people who are inconveniencing me if they can inconvenience me a little less ever again

[taeghi]

game changer

your investigation into the rivalry between the baseball and hockey teams takes an unexpected turn when both captains, heeseung and sunghoon, vie for your attention. and now you find yourself in the middle of a story that promises to be bigger than any game.

PAIRING : hockey captain!sunghoon x sports reporter!yn x baseball captain!heeseung

GENTRE: SMUT, love triangle, threesome duh, oral, unprotected sex, cum eating lol, praise, degradation. uhhh probs more but i forget ily

WC : 20.2k

mdni

truth be told, you hated sports. 

you hated the religious jerseys, the chants, the complex rules– how it was so boring. 

but, sometimes the athletes were hot. 

in junior year you joined your college’s newspaper, you thought it would help your journalism major. your boss had told you the only opening was for the college’s sports reporter since the previous one had “given up”. although you had repetitively asked if there was literally any other opening, sports was the only one. 

and thus, you have become your college’s sports reporter. 

your college has multiple sports teams; basketball, baseball, rugby, football. but the teams that your college are most proud of– the teams that would fill the bleachers every game– is the baseball and hockey teams. 

honestly, you don’t get either sport. one was on grass and the other was ice and you try to get some object in a net. you could care less. 

the baseball and hockey teams have a hatred for one another that the students at your school seem to enjoy. though, the reason for the strong hatred is unknown. you’ve asked your friends in passing about the teams, but their answer is always a prediction or suggestion. 

the real reason is kept by the baseball and hockey teams, like a secret only they can know. 

and so, you’ve made your number one goal as sport’s reporter to find out what that secret is, and nothing will stop you– not even the awful smell of the change rooms.

the captain of the baseball team is lee heeseung. you know he was appointed captain quite early into his college baseball career. you remember everyone talking about it during your freshman year, about how odd it was for a freshman to become captain so quickly. 

you also know lee heeseung is fucking hot. 

he is extraverted and outgoing, a real sweetheart. you’ve heard people refer to him as a golden retriever before. the way he’s so playful, enthusiastic and friendly to everyone. 

but sometimes, that friendliness turns into flirting, and no one can deny lee heeseung’s flirting. he can easily charm anyone into bed with him with just his words and dazzling smile. he has an uncanny ability to captivate anyone. his natural charisma and genuine warmth make him irresistible. which leaves a trail of admirers just for him. 

the hockey team’s captain is no other than park sunghoon. 

sunghoon is enigmatic to say the least. he gives an aura of mystery and danger that seems to draw people in like moths to a flame. he’s known to have gotten into a lot of fights on and off the ice, almost losing his captain privilege once or so you’ve heard. 

sunghoon’s strong presence practically commands attention wherever he goes. his trademark smirk has gotten him into a lot of fun and a lot of trouble. you’ve seen him at a party, alone in a corner, pretending to talk to his friends, as he scans the party for a decent girl. once he’s fixed you with his intense gaze, smirk and nods in silent invitation, any girl is powerless to resist following him up to his bedroom.  park sunghoon and lee heeseung’s opposed allures are undeniable, their appeals irresistible, but you are determined to not fall for it. you must stick to your duty of finding out the secrets of the baseball and hockey teams– even if it means resisting the most desirable men at your college.

your first day on the job is picture day for all the athletes at your school. you are tasked with asking a few of the athletes some questions you had to come up with about their sport and how they are feeling about the upcoming sport season. 

it couldn’t be too bad you think. 

“everyone!” coach davis calls everyone’s attention, “we have a new reporter today, her name is y/n.” 

suddenly, it feels like every single pair of eyes on this soccer field is looking at you. you’re surrounded by what feels like one hundred men at once. 

“what happened to kevin?” someone calls out to the coach, the boy is on the soccer team by the looks of his uniform. 

“he quit.” coach davis explains. 

“no, he had a mental breakdown.” a boy in a basketball uniform clarifies. 

your head tilts in concern at the information. you were only told that the previous reporter had quit. no alleged mental breakdown was mentioned in your interview with your manager. what the hell happened to kevin with this job?

coach davis sighs beside you, his fingers pressing his nose bridge, “anyways, as i was saying,” the coach gives you a look of sympathy, “y/n here is our new reporter, so please treat her nicely like i know you all can. and take it easy on her, it’s her first day.” 

there is a mixed reaction from the large crowd in front of you and you don’t know where to look besides the ground. a few of them reply with “yes, coach”, while others are trying to stifle a laugh or are laughing. you can practically feel them judging or teasing you from across the field. by theirs and the coach's reaction, you wonder if they had a part in kevin’s “mental breakdown”. 

you have no idea how today is going to go.

after each athlete has done their team and solo photo for the year, they’re gonna line up for you to ask them a few questions for the college newspaper and yearbook. the first team that is done is the baseball team. there is about 20 of them in a circle when you walk up to them, your heart palpitating once you realize how many of them there are and how tall they all are. 

one of the baseball players notices you walking up and nods to the rest of the group, “there she is. ready for a mental breakdown?” 

a few of his teammates laugh while one nudges him to shut up. 

“well, i didn’t really plan to have one today, but if it happens, then it happens.” you shrug, making the baseball player laugh in response. 

“my name’s jake,” he reaches his hand out for you to shake. 

“yeah, well jake here,” the teammate who nudged him earlier puts his hands on jake’s shoulder, “is gonna go to the back of the line where he can learn to be nicer.” 

jake scoffs, “heeseung, i was just joking with her.” he turns around to face his captain. 

it’s then that you finally get to look at lee heeseung in his baseball uniform. he’s taller than you thought, and he’s more tan than ever- probably from practicing baseball recently. but up close like this, he really is so attractive. 

“i don’t care, coach said to be nice and go easy on her today,” heeseung’s voice is stern, playing his captain role, “go to the back of the line you’ll go last.” 

jake doesn’t say much more before he walks to the back of the line, his teammates teasing him as he passes them. 

heeseung steps forward to you, “sorry about that, our previous reporter had a, uh…” 

“a mental breakdown?” you finish for him. 

a pretty smile spreads across heeseung’s face, “well yeah, i was trying to make it sound a bit better, but yeah he did.” 

“so, i’ve heard. but don’t worry,” you put your hand on your heart, “i promise to try to not have a mental breakdown today.” 

heeseung laughs, “yeah that'll probably be for the best.” he steps closer to you, reaching his hand out like jay had done, “i’m lee heeseung.” 

your hand meets his, “yeah, i know.” heeseung tilts his head with a smile as you try to ignore your stupidity. “i’m y/n y/l/n.” 

heeseung smiles at you as you try to ignore how much longer his hands are compared to yours, “so what questions do you have?” 

“oh right,” you snap back in reality as you snatch your hand away from his, instead you start to flip through your notebook. you clear your throat when you look at the first question you had written down specifically for lee heeseung. you press record on your voice recorder and hold it up between the two of you to catch your voices. “uh, how do you feel about being the captain of the baseball this year?” 

heeseung smiles at your question, it not faltering on his face as he answers, “it’s a big responsibility. but i love it, you know? the team is like a family to me.” 

you nod at his sweet answer, not expecting anything else but it. your eyes glance down to the second question on your notebook. you know the next one may cause his perfect smile to drop. “so, everyone on campus knows that there’s always been a rivalry between the baseball and hockey teams. as the captain of the baseball team, do you have anything to add onto that?” 

you notice heeseung’s smile falters at your mention of the hockey team, but it doesn’t completely fade from his face like you had thought it would.  instead, he answers calmly to your question. “i mean, we just try to focus on our own game. we don’t let some tension affect how we play.” 

you nod, biting your lip at how professionally he replied. it wasn’t exactly the answer you wanted, but he did acknowledge that there was in fact some tension between the two teams. “okay, and lastly, what do you think is the biggest misconception about the baseball team?” 

heeseung’s smile brightens again, “i think people think we’re just jocks, but there’s a lot of heart and hard work behind what we do. we’ll definitely be winning a lot of games this year.” 

you smile at his answer and stop your recording, “thanks heeseung, that was great.” 

“it’s no problem,” he points with his thumb behind his shoulder, “good luck with the rest of them, if they give you any trouble just let me know.”

“i’m sure i’ll be fine, heeseung. but thanks,” 

heeseung smiles again, “i’ll see you around then, y/n. i’m looking forward to it.” you notice his eyes run over your face, scanning your features, before they briefly glance over your body until they meet your eyes again. his smile never leaves his face. 

you pretend to not notice his eye path and smile back at him, “see you, heeseung.” heeseung turns and walks towards coach davis. 

you look down at your notebook again, clicking your pen and checking off that lee heeseung’s interview was done. the field is loud around  you, and you look around at all the athletes in their different uniforms. you sigh, thinking about how long a day of this is going to be. but hopefully you’ll be able to get a good story out of it for your report. 

you’re reading all the names on the attendance sheet coach gave you, recognizing some names and unfamiliar with the others. you feel someone looking at you, and you glance around the busy field. through all the boys goofing around and laughing, you notice one that’s stood still from a few meters away. 

it only takes a moment for you to realize that it’s park sunghoon. he’s surrounded by a small group of his teammates and they’re all busy with each other except for sunghoon, who’s looking straight at you from over his friend’s shoulder. his black hair is falling into his eyes and you can see his famous moles on his face from here. 

as you make eye contact with him, catching him staring at you, he doesn’t look away. unlike heeseung, who would instantly smile back and beam a golden light, sunghoon’s facial expression doesn’t change. his eyes are piercing and cold as they stare at you. you can tell there’s a hint of curiosity on his features as he analyzes you from across the field. he doesn’t smile, his plump lips stay in a straight line. 

you couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t intrigued by his demeanor. that you weren’t interested in how focused, and almost stubbornly, he was staring at you. his eyes maybe staying on your bare legs from your skirt for a little too long than anyone else would. you thought about interviewing him next, seeing if he would have anything more to say about the rivalry than heeseung did. 

“hey, reporter girl! jungwon wants to be interviewed next!” a boy suddenly calls out to you. you turn and see that it’s another baseball boy, and he’s pointing to a boy beside him who’s probably named jungwon. you smile at them and nod. you turn your head over your shoulder to look back at sunghoon, but he’s not there anymore. you frustratedly pout as the other captain isn’t there anymore. but make your way to the baseball players again. hopefully they will give you more information.

you groan in your desk chair, staring at the scattered papers and notes in front of you. you had spent hours going over the interviews and information you gathered from picture day, but most of it was useless. the answers you got were vague and unhelpful, leaving you with more questions than answers.

you rub your temples, trying to soothe the growing headache from your relentless efforts. the only thing you can confirm is that there is a rivalry, and everyone knows about it. but no one seems willing to spill the details. it’s like they’re all under a gag order.

you glance at the attendance sheet coach davis gave you on picture day, every name was checked off that you had interviewed– except for park sunghoon. he had disappeared before you could interview him. the field was empty before you realized that you had missed him. 

your frustration bubbles over as you huff, pushing your notebook away. this investigation was turning out to be much more challenging than you anticipated. you thought being the new sports reporter would be relatively easy, but it turns out it’s harder than you imagined. it felt like you were running in circles. 

but at the same time it makes you more determined to uncover the truth. the headline you’ll be able to release makes you excited and you know it’ll be good for your career once you graduate. but for now, you let out another groan and sink back into your chair, contemplating your next move.

the journalism office door opens and blair, the arts and culture reporter of the college, who is also your friend, walks in with a concerned look on her face once she sees you slumped in your chair. 

“are you frustrated?” she asks, setting her bag down on the desk next to you.

“very.”

blair leans against the desk, her eyes sparkling with an idea. “well, if the athletes won’t speak, maybe get information from the students.”

your eyes widen at her suggestion. “blair, you’re a genius!” you exclaim, a renewed sense of determination flooding through you. you jump up from your chair, grabbing blair by the arm.

“what—?” she starts, but you’re already on the move, scooping up your notebook and pen in one swift motion.

“come on, we’re going to get the information from the public. the people who spread the rumors,” you say, practically dragging her out of the journalism office. you’re determined to get some answers. 

you usher blair to get her phone out, recording your interaction with students as you use a makeshift microphone; your voice recorder attached to a ruler. you tell blair to start recording, you start slowly walking back, talking into the “microphone” as you introduce the video. 

“today, we are at enha university,” you speak confidently, “there is a years long feud between the hockey and baseball teams– but what is the reason for it? today we will be asking the students that go to enha university for their opinion.” 

blair stops recording and puts her phone down to smile at you, “that was good, let’s go.” 

you first head out to the main quad, and walk up to a group of students who are sprawled on the grass. “hey guys, mind if we ask you some questions for the school newspaper?” the students all nod and blair pulls out her phone to record again, with her signal, you start, “so what do you know about the feud between the baseball and hockey teams?” you ask, holding up your makeshift microphone, you shove it in the student’s faces. 

“oh, it’s wild,” one student says, eyes wide. “i heard the baseball team thinks the hockey team was behind some major equipment theft. like, they’re convinced the hockey team took their bats!”

“yeah, and the hockey team thinks the baseball team has been spreading rumors to get them disqualified from big games,” another adds.

“okay, but what’s causing them to steal equipment and try to get them banned? what started it?” you press the two of them. 

the students shrug. “don’t know,” one says.

you look at blair’s camera with a frustrated expression, then turn back to the students. “thanks,” you say bluntly before moving on.

at the library stairs, you find a couple of students taking a break. you walk up to them with blair’s phone recording and your microphone up to your lips. 

“have you heard of the baseball and hockey team rivalry?” you ask them once you’re on the stairs with them. 

“oh god, who hasn’t?” one student says, rolling their eyes.

“what have you heard?” you tilt your head and pass the ruler microphone to them. 

“i heard the hockey team once accused the baseball team of planting false reports about them to the administration.”

“and the baseball team is sure the hockey team is trying to sabotage their top players,” another student on the stairs adds.

“thanks for the info,” you say, not pressing further, and nod for blair to follow you. 

once inside the school, you decide to head to the cafeteria. since it’s lunch time, it’s extremely busy. you approach a random group of students that are sitting at a table near a window. 

“what can you guys tell me about the feud  between the hockey and baseball teams?” you ask them, moving to sit beside them at the table. 

the students take note of your microphone and blair’s phone recording before they answer with a laugh. “someone said the baseball team trashed the hockey team’s frat house during a party.”

“yeah, they like, broke furniture and some alcohol bottles or something.” 

you note the details and move on to another group of students nearby.

“what’s up with the rivalry between the baseball and hockey teams?” you ask the trio. 

“some crazy stuff,” one student says. “i heard the hockey team took the baseball team’s playbook.”

“what playbook?” you ask, confused.

“it’s this book full of all the girls they’ve hooked up with over the years,” the student explains. “apparently, the hockey team thought it’d be funny to steal it.”

you exchange a look with blair, “thanks.” 

you and blair step outside into the main quad again. you plan on going back to the journalism office to review the footage and information you and blair recorded. 

“that was definitely some progress,” blair nods at you as she scrolls through the multiple videos on her phone. 

you nod, “yeah i think the playbook rumour was a good start.” 

“right?” blair agrees excitedly, “i mean a book full of all the girls they’ve hooked up with? that’s disgusting, no wonder there’s a feud.” 

you hum, “i wonder where that playbook is now.” 

blair gives you a look like you're onto something, both of you laughing as you continue to walk. she passes you to the phone so you can see how many recordings she got of your interviews. “we sure got a lot of footage,” you start, but blair cuts you off. 

“hey, isn’t that guy on the baseball team?” she says, pointing to a guy walking toward you. you look up and see him glancing down at his phone, a baseball bag slung over his shoulder with the enha university logo.

you recognize him as jake, and you quickly shove blair’s phone into her hand. “record.”

blair starts the recording as you jog over to jake, microphone in hand. “jake, you’re on the baseball team!”

jake glances up, noticing the microphone and blair recording. he chuckles, clearly not surprised. “well, yeah.”

“how do you feel about having a rivalry with the hockey team?” you ask, trying to get straight to the point.

jake raises an eyebrow, clearly puzzled by your question. “why do you want to know?”

you dodge his question and ask, “do you know anything about a playbook?”

jake looks at you, slightly confused. “uh, no?”

“how about a party where things got destroyed?” you press.

jake shrugs, “uh, every party has something destroyed after. what’s this about, y/n?”

you sigh and tell blair to stop recording. “i’m trying to find out the reason for the rivalry between the teams,” you explain.

jake laughs. “good luck with that. it’s just one sided from the hockey team. heeseung’s a good captain.”

you give him a determined look. “what do you mean by that?”

jake chuckles and starts walking away, “see you around, y/n.”

you watch him go across the main quad, determination flooding through you as you cross your arms over your chest. 

“i’m going to find out blair, no matter how hard it takes to break these athletes down. i will find out.” 

blair nods, and links her arm through yours, “yeah, but first, let’s get lunch. i’m starving.”

you remembered how park sunghoon had skipped your interview during picture day, leaving you with only one comment from one of the captains involved with the rivalry. 

so, you decide to make your way to the hockey rink on campus. 

you’ve heard that sunghoon shows up an hour early to practice. so you think that if you find him now, alone, he’ll be more forthcoming. you figure it’s worth a shot. 

when you reach the rink, you spot him skating alone on the ice, the sound of his skates slicing through the rink echoing in the otherwise quiet space. you glance down hesitantly at the ice below you. it’s clean and shiny and hard. you had never been good at skating. the fear of falling and hitting your head was too big of a fear for you. 

but you glance over at sunghoon, who hasn’t noticed your presence yet, too enthralled by skating.  you watch as he jumps in the air, twirling. and you’re suddenly taken aback by how graceful the jump was. you thought hockey boys were aggressive and rough. you’ve seen them tackle each other on the ice all the time, body checking each other into the rink. but now, sunghoon looked delicate and soft as he glided around. 

you take one more glance at the ice below you and sigh, knowing that you’ll have to face your fear and step onto it. the story was too good to pass up because of a childhood fear. 

you take your first step on the ice and figure that it’s okay. you keep walking slowly over to where sunghoon was. as you approach sooner, almost forgetting that you were even on ice, you feel your foot slip up into the air. you feel yourself falling, but before you can reach the cold ice, an arm catches you to hold you up. 

you open your eyes, and see sunghoon’s face over yours, his arm wrapped around you. he has an annoyed expression on his face as he looks down at you. like he’s judging you for falling. 

but you’re struck by how close you are to him. his skin is as pale as the ice beneath you, and for a moment, you just stare at him, caught off guard by his striking features.

“you should be careful,” he says, his voice as cool as his demeanor.

you pull away and stand up on the ice, still uneasy. “i am careful,” you retort, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

sunghoon raises an eyebrow, his expression distant. he looks you up and down, his eyes landing on your notebook and pen in your hand. “are you here to interview me about hockey?”

you frown, feeling defensive. “uh, i don’t know anything about hockey.”

sunghoon’s curiosity piques. “why are you the sports reporter if you don’t know sports?”

your irritation flares. “look, just tell me about the rivalry between the hockey and baseball teams.”

unghoon’s lips curl into a small, enigmatic smile as he laughs for the first time. the sound catches you off guard, leaving you both confused and nervous.

“the feud that the baseball team started and is constantly complaining about? why don’t you go ask them?” he says, his tone dripping with indifference. “i’m busy.”

sunghoon starts to turn around, but you question him, “how come you’re so good at doing those spins?” 

he stops and turns to look at you over his shoulder, “i’m not good.” he starts to skate off to the other side of the rink. 

you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. park sunghoon is a real piece of work. you start to slowly turn around, your lip pulled between your teeth as you look down at your feet on the ice. you feel your heart start to pound as you try to move across the ice to get off the rink. the ice is just so slippery. you can tell it was cleaned recently. 

suddenly, you feel a firm grip around your waist, and before you can react, sunghoon scoops you up in his arms and skates swiftly over to the side of the rink. you’re shocked at how fast he moves; it’s like he’s gliding on air. you’ve heard that he’s the fastest on the ice, but now that he was skating with you, you could tell how fast he really was. he deposits you gently on the edge, where you stand, stunned.

“uh, thanks,” you manage to stammer, still trying to process what just happened.

sunghoon scoffs, giving you a quick, dismissive glance before skating back to the center of the rink. you watch him, feeling a mix of confusion and embarrassment. you turn to leave, feeling defeated and empty-handed for your report.

“hey, yn!” sunghoon’s voice calls out, making you turn around.

“yeah?” you respond, already halfway to the door. 

“why do you want to know about the rivalry anyway?” he asks, his tone oddly curious.

“because it’s my job to know,”

with that, you spin on your heel and leave the rink, leaving sunghoon to his practice. 

as you walk back to the journalism office,  your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts. park sunghoon and lee heeseung are polar opposites, and it’s no wonder they can’t stand each other. 

sunghoon is so cold like the ice he practices on. he’s distant, wrapped up in his own world. there’s a certain intensity about him, a focus that’s almost intimidating. he’s methodical and precise on the ice, every movement calculated and deliberate. he’s almost unapproachable with his piercing gaze. 

and then heeseung is warm, outgoing and easy to talk to. he’s got this effortless charm and friendliness that makes everyone around him feel at ease. he’s the guy who lights up a room just by being in it, and it’s clear he’s well-liked, even if he’s a bit of a show-off.

you wonder what might have caused such deep hatred for one another. what could it be that connects them besides their role on a sports team. they’re just too different. 

your frustration mounts as you think about how little you’ve uncovered so far. both of them are so closed off to your questions. but it doesn’t make you any less determined to get to the bottom of their feud. no matter how much time it takes. 

there’s a story here, and you’re not giving up until you’ve got it all figured out.

on friday night, coach davis insisted you attend the baseball game, claiming that it was crucial for your report. so since it was your job, you went. even though you barely understood how baseball worked. still, you found yourself in the bleachers, a notepad in hand, surrounded by other students. 

the game began, and you tried to focus on the actual game, but your eyes kept drifting to heeseung on the field. it was the first time you’d seen him without a smile on his face. his expression was serious, concentrated and his eyes never left the ball. 

you watched as heeseung sprinted across teh field. the crack of the bat echoed, and heeseung was off before anyone else, to catch the ball. you held your breath, washing as he dove and grabbed it from the air. 

the bleachers erupted in cheers, the students jumping up and down around you as sat still. they were all screaming and calling his name. heeseung stood up, his charming smile spreading across his face as he held up the ball, showing off his catch to the audience. 

amidst the chaos, you could have sworn he winked at you.

on monday morning, after a long weekend of thinking about both captains and the rivalry. ou've been pouring over your notes, trying to piece together the story. you realize you need to hit this head-on. so, you storm into the boys’ hockey changing room first thing in the morning. 

the first thing you notice upon entering is the smell. it's a potent mix of cologne, sweat, and shampoo that makes you turn up your nose in disgust. some of the boys notice you immediately and start teasing you. 

"look who decided to pay us a visit," one of them says, grinning. "if you wanted to see us so bad, you could've just asked."

you roll your eyes, snarky in your response, "trust me, i'm not here because i wanted to see you.” 

another boy chimes in, "kevin never barged in on us while we were changing." he mentions the previous sports reporter you replaced, and you try to ignore their lack of shirts. 

before you can retort, sunghoon appears, his presence commanding attention. "okay, knock it off. go to class," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

the boys groan, but they obey, mumbling about how sunghoon is no fun. as they leave, they wink or nudge you, adding to your frustration. finally, it's just you and sunghoon left alone in the changing room. you notice he's shirtless too, and it makes you gulp.

sunghoon's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you forget why you're there. his skin is pale, his muscles defined, and he exudes a calm confidence that's both intimidating and intriguing.

"what do you want, y/n?" he asks, his voice steady and cold.

you take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "i need to know about the rivalry between the hockey and baseball teams. i can't write my report without the full story."

sunghoon narrows his eyes slightly, studying you. "and you think barging in here is the way to get answers?"

"i think it's the only way," you reply, your voice firm despite your nerves.

he scoffs softly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “well i’m showering.” 

you stand your ground as you watch him turn and walk towards the showers, only in his boxers. “so? are you gonna help me or not? i’ll do anything.” you sound desperate and you hate it. sunghoon turns on the shower. the water warming up. 

sunghoon turns to face you, his arms crossing over his bare chest and he quirks his eyebrow, “anything?” 

“anything.” 

a mischievous smile spreads across his face, “then get on your knees and show me just how badly you want it.” 

your breath catches in your throat as you process his demand. he chuckles at your appalled demeanor. he bends down and takes off his boxers, your eyes widened as his semi-hard cock is revealed. he steps back into the shower water– the water pouring over his pale, muscular body. his black hair becomes darker over his eyes. 

you think quickly of your choices. walk away with pride and no story? or give the hot hockey captain a blowjob and get a great story? 

you choose the latter with no further thought. 

you glance around one more time, the locker room is completely empty. you sigh as your hands pull your shirt off of your body, leaving your torso bare for sunghoon to see. his eyes stay fixated on your exposed skin. a smirk grows on his lips as he realizes that you really will do anything. 

you reach down and pull your skirt off, not wanting your clothes to become wet in the shower, and you step into the shower. you slowly sink to your knees, feeling the warm water hit your body now. your heart is pounding in your ears, but you can’t deny the arousal you’re feeling at the same time. 

“that’s it,” sunghoon encourages you, his voice like velvet against the shower walls, “now sow me what that nasty mouth of yours can do.” 

your hands shake as you reach up to touch his warm skin. his cock is harder now, so thick and veiny. you can’t help but let out a soft gasp at the sight. 

“you’ve wanted my cock in your mouth for so long haven’t you?” sunghoon taunts you, his hand reaching down to tangle in your damp hair. “go on then, taste it.” 

you lean forward, your lips wrapping around the sensitive head of his cock, tasting the tang of his arousal. you swirl your tongue, teasing the slit, as sunghoon groans above you.

“fuck, that's good. take more of me," he urges, his hips bucking slightly.

you oblige, taking him deeper into your mouth, relaxing your throat to accommodate his length. your lips slide down his shaft, your breath ghosting over the sensitive skin as you start to bob your head.

"ah, fuck, yes," sunghoon hisses, his hand tightening in your hair. "you're a natural at this, aren't you? sucking cock like a good little slut."

you moan around his thickness, the vibrations sending a shudder through him. the sound of your pleasure seems to spur him on, and he begins to thrust his hips in a slow, steady rhythm, fucking your mouth gently.

"take it,” he growls out at you, “you’re always getting yourself into a mess with that mouth, i think you need to be quiet for a while. so take my cock down your throat like the whore you are.”

his words are degrading, but they only serve to heighten your arousal. you never thought that you would be in this predicament before. so many girls would beg to be on their knees for park sunghoon. you never thought that you would be here, pleasuring him. though, you suppose both of you get something out of it. he gets to cum, and you get information for your story.

you hollow your cheeks, sucking harder, your tongue flattening to lick and tease his cock as you go. 

“oh god,” sunghoon groans out as he stares down at you. you force your eyes to stay open so they can look into his. you can see pure pleasure growing in his eyes. his eyebrows furrowed as he lets the pleasure take over his body. 

“fuck i’m gonna cum,” sunghoon grunts out, his grip on your wet hair tightens and he pulls your mouth off of his cock, leaving a string of saliva to connect your swollen lips to his sensitive tip. “tell me that you want me to cum down your throat.” 

you swallow before you speak, “i want you to cum down my throat, sir.” 

sunghoon hums in response, pleased by your answer. and honestly, you wre thrilled at the thought of tasting him, of having his hot release flooding in your mouth. because even if he was an asshole, he was very hot. you want to give him sexual pleasure, to milk him dry and feel his satisfaction. 

sunghoon shoves his cock back into your mouth roughly. you gag around him and it only makes him grunt out more. you continue to bob up and down his length at a fast pace, wanting him to cum. “fuck yes!” 

sunghoon tenses, his hand fisting in your hair, pulling on it, as he holds you firmly in place. with a deep grunt, he begins to unload inside your mouth. his ropes of hot, sticky cum shoot down your throat. 

and you swallow it all greedily, moaning at the taste. your fingers dig into his thighs. 

sunghoon lets go of you, his body relaxing back into the shower wall. both of your bodies are wet from sweat and the shower water. he’s panting as he catches his breath. his body is slightly shaking as he rides out his orgasm. “that mouth of yours is something else, reporter girl.” 

you raise an eyebrow up at him, his nickname for you brings you back to reality, “right so how about you use your mouth now to tell me my story.” 

sunghoon chuckles as he watches you stand up and exit the shower. you grab a spare towel and dry your body and hair, all while sunghoon stays in the shower, watching you silently. you try to not let yourself get intimidated by his staring. you’re sure that he gets off on making girls intimidated by how attractive he is. him knowing how attractive he is isn’t good for anyone besides him. 

you start to get dressed, your wet hair clinging to your face and neck. 

“i can’t believe you actually gave me a blowjob,” sunghoon grins, amused. you can see an annoying glint in his eye. 

“well you said you would tell me the story.” 

sunghoon shrugs, “yeah i said that. but i don’t have to tell you my story.” 

your jaw drops in disbelief. “are you kidding me? you tricked me!” 

“you’re easier than i expected,”

your anger flares up, cheeks burning. "you think this is funny? you just wasted my time for nothing!"

he crosses his arms, still smirking. "just give up on the rivalry story, y/n. you aren't going to find anything. go back to writing about the sports games. that’s what you were hired for anyways."

you grunt in frustration, grabbing your bag. “you’re so annoying, sunghoon!” you yell as you storm towards the exit. as you leave, you hear his chuckles turn into laughter as they echo in the locker room. 

"see you at the game, reporter girl!" he calls out, his voice mocking.

you don't look back.

on friday night, you’ve still gotten no new information about the rivalry all week, despite your best efforts. you’ve started to wonder if sunghoon was right and you should give up on the story. even if you really don’t want to. 

you’re sitting at your desk in the journalism office, frustrated. your name plate sits on your desk in front of you with bold letters underneath it that write : sports reporter. and you’re starting to hate looking at it. 

you’ll have to write about the rugby team’s game from the night before for monday’s paper. but your heart isn’t in it. you want to write something more substantial than scores and plays that the rugby players did. 

then, blair walks in, a little pep to her step as she glides through the empty office and straight towards you. “still nothing?” she asks, leaning against your desk. 

“yeah, nothing new,” you reply, staring at your blank screen.

 “maybe you should take the weekend off from this. let’s go to a party tonight.” blair’s eyes light up at the suggestion, her eyes wanting you to agree with her. 

you look up, curious. “whose party?”

 “lee heeseung’s.”

you scramble to grab your bag and swing it over your shoulder as you stand up, “let’s go.” 

blair laughs as you pull her through the office, “don’t you want to change first?” 

you stop and glance down at your plain blouse and plaid skirt, “no, this party is for work. i’ll play later.”

you rush blair to hurry up, your mind set on the party. all you can think about is getting more information about the rivalry. it’s going to be the death of you, but you’re determined to get to the bottom of it.

when

you and blair arrive at the party, the noise and energy hitting you as soon as you step inside the frat house. it’s just as crowded as you expected, and you’ve heard it’s a no hockey team allowed party.

you glance around, trying to spot the baseball players. your eyes land on jake standing by the backdoor. you turn to blair and say, “i’ll see you later,” before heading over to him.

jake notices you approaching and smiles. you can tell he’s already intoxicated just from looking at him. the cup he’s holding is sure to have alcohol in it. 

“hey, y/n!” 

“hi jake!” 

“i didn’t expect to see you here of all people.”

you laugh, “yeah, me neither.” 

jake spreads out his arms to show off the busy house, “well welcome to our party!” 

you nod along, laughing at house extraverted and drunk he is. “yeah, how is the team doing?” 

“we’re doing great! heeseung’s been killing it all season.” 

you tilt your head at the mention of heeseung, “right, i heard he’s pretty good.” 

jake nods enthusiastically. “yeah, he’s the best. i’ve known him for a while.”

“really? how did you guys meet?”

“we went to the same high school,” jake explains. “he was already a legend back then.”

you nod along, smiling, but your mind is racing. you realize that jake could be a goldmine of information about the rivalry. he must know something. you’re determined to get as much out of him as you can.

“that’s cool,” you say. “so, what’s the deal with this rivalry with the hockey team? seems intense.”

jake’s expression shifts slightly. “yeah, it’s complicated. a lot of history there.”

you’re about to press him more when another baseball player bursts in, shouting, “jake, come outside! jeongin is doing a beer keg!”

jake grins, “one sec!” he turns back to you and says, “i’ll see you later?”

you nod, “yeah, sure.”

jake smiles and runs out to join his friends, leaving you alone. you huff in frustration, looking around the crowded room. blair is nowhere in sight.

you start to weave through the crowded rooms, the partiers dancing around you. your eyes scan for any sign of blair, but she seems to have vanished into the sea of people. you turn a corner and nearly collide with someone.

“hey,” a familiar voice says.

you look up and find yourself face to face with heeseung. up close, his attractiveness catches you off guard again, and you’re momentarily speechless. “oh, hi heeseung,” you manage to say.

he flashes a charming smile. “i’ve literally never seen you at a party before, let alone my own party.”

you laugh nervously, “yeah, it’s not really my thing.”

heeseung’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “oh, so why’d you choose to come to this one?”

“uh,” you hesitate, your mind racing. you can’t exactly tell him you’re here to gather information about the rivalry for your report.

heeseung raises an eyebrow, his smile turning slightly mischievous. “to see me?”

you laugh awkwardly, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “well, i mean…”

heeseung laughs too, a warm, genuine sound that makes you feel a bit more at ease. “i’m just messing with you. i’m glad you came, though. it’s nice to see you.” 

you’re really shocked at how good he is at flirting. it makes you almost forget why you’re here. makes you forget that you’re trying to write what is basically an expose on him. 

heeseung’s laughter fades into a soft smile, and he leans against the wall, looking at you with a curious expression. “so, you’re really not into parties? what do you usually do on weekends?”

“mostly just catch up on school work, maybe hang out with friends.” 

he nods, seemingly interested, and then his eyes widen as a thought enters his mind, “

oh wait, you’re in my bio class, right?”

you blink, slightly surprised. “yeah, i am.”

“can you come look at this one question i need help with for my paper?”

you give him a cautious look, unsure of what he’s up to. “uh, sure.”

“cool, it’s up in my room. come on.” before you can protest, heeseung grabs your arm gently and starts weaving through the crowd. you follow him, your heart pounding a little faster with each step.

he maneuvers through the throngs of people effortlessly, his grip on your arm firm yet gentle. he takes you up the stairs, away from the crowds of people below. he leads you down the hallway and finally stops in front of a door and gestures for you to go in first, “after you.” 

you step inside, glancing around his room. it’s surprisingly tidy for a guy’s room, with a few baseball memorabilia scattered around. heeseung closes the door behind you and walks over to his desk, rummaging through some papers.

as you look around, you notice a small, leather-bound book lying on his nightstand. you pick it up and flip it open, curious. “what’s this?” you ask, holding it up.

heeseung turns from his desk, his eyes narrowing as he sees what you’re holding. “oh, that’s just a journal I keep for tracking my training sessions and stats. it’s nothing special.”

you nod, putting the book back in its place.

you notice a picture of heeseung and jake from when they were younger, and you’re reminded of what jake had told you earlier. now that you think of it, jake seems to really look up to heeseung, admiring him almost. you suppose it’s because they’ve known each other for a while. 

the rest of heeseung’s shelves have multiple baseball trophies and medals. something you’d expect from a baseball captain. 

“did you find the paper yet?” you ask him after a few minutes. 

heeseung hisses in frustration and turns back to his desk. “no, i can’t seem to find it.” 

“oh,” you nod, not sure of what else to say as you stand before him in his bedroom, his own party lively right downstairs. 

but maybe you can help me with something else.”

you raise an eyebrow, turning to face him. “like what?”

"well," he began, stepping closer to you. his cologne filled your senses, a mix of musk and citrus that perfectly matched his confident persona. "i've been meaning to tell you, i think you're really sexy."

your mouth dropped open, shocked by his forwardness. "me?” you squeaked, feeling yourself blush with bewilderment. 

"yeah," he continued, a mischievous glint in his eye. "the way you look as you report, taking notes, biting your lip as you concentrate on writing... it's fucking hot.”

you felt your body temperature rise as his words washed over you. no one had ever told you that the way you worked was attractive. you always thought your lip-biting was a nervous habit, but hearing heeseung describe it as sexy made your heart skip a beat.

"i'm so glad you're at my games now," he went on, his voice low and intimate. "it makes me want to do my best, knowing you're watching."

you were speechless, stunned by his admission. you never thought that you would catch the attention of lee heeseung. he was so popular and desired by everyone. there’s no way that he would ever want you. 

without warning, heeseung stepped even closer, his body brushing against yours. you could feel the hardness of his muscles, his strength, and his lean frame. he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear, and whispered, "i want you, right here, right now."

your breath caught in your throat as his desire washed over you.

"i want to feel you, taste you," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "let me show you how sexy i find you."

you nodded mutely, unable to form words, your body responding to his touch, to his raw, passionate desire. heeseung gently pushed you back toward his bed, his hands roaming over your body, mapping every inch of you with his strong, skilled hands.

"you're so beautiful," he growled, his eyes dark with desire as he looked at you.

you blushed under his intense gaze, feeling yourself grow wet at the way he was looking at you.

with gentle but firm hands, he guided you backward until the back of your knees hit the bed, and you sat down, your legs slightly apart. heeseung didn't waste a moment, moving between your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours.

"you have no idea how many times I've thought about this," he confessed, his voice hoarse as he reached out to stroke your cheek. “since the first day i saw you out on the field, when you were interviewing me.” 

you let out a shaky breath, your body buzzing with anticipation. no one had ever made you feel so desired, so wanted. you let him start to undress you, removing your blouse and skirt. it reminded you of when you were in the locker room with sunghoon. how different that encounter is to this one. heeseung’s taking his time with you, wanting to pleasure you. meanwhile sunghoon could only care about getting himself off. 

but both of them are able to get you so wet. 

heeseung's eyes traveled down your body, taking in your heaving chest, your nipples tight with anticipation, and the dampness between your thighs.

“you're so wet for me already," he observed with a groan. 

before you could reply, Heeseung lowered his head, his tongue snaking out to taste you. you gasped as he lapped at your core, his tongue probing and teasing your folds. he was relentless. his mouth kept licking and sucking at your most sensitive spots. he was able to find them so quickly it surprised you. 

"oh fuck," you moaned, your hands tangling in his hair as he ate you out with enthusiasm. "heeseung, I—"

"you like that, huh?" he asked, looking up at you briefly before diving back in, his tongue insistent, seeking out your swollen clit. "you like my tongue right here?"

"yes!" you cried out, your hips bucking involuntarily as he teased you with his mouth. "oh god, heeseung, don't stop!"

heeseung chuckled, the vibrations sending pleasant tingles through your sensitive core. "i wanna make you cum so hard, baby.” the pet name sent shivers (good ones) down your body, your stomach tightening as he was so gentle with you. 

and true to his word, he kept going, his tongue not stopping as he laps and probes at your pulsing clit. he suckled and nibbled, his fingers joining in, probing and stroking your slick entrance. you moaned and writhed under his gaze, his hands holding your thighs open. 

"heeseung, please!" you begged, your hands clutching at the bedsheets. "i’m so close!"

"cum for me, baby," he urged, his voice hoarse with desire. "let me taste you."

and with that, he suckled your clit gently between his lips, flicking it with his tongue, and you shattered. your back arched off the bed as a cry escaped your lips, your orgasm washing over you in waves of intense pleasure. heeseung didn't stop, licking your sensitive clit through your orgasm, drawing out every last drop of pleasure.

as you slowly came back down to earth, heeseung crawled up your body, his lips seeking yours. you could taste yourself on his mouth, and it only served to heighten your desire for him. his lips are gentle on yours, but needy. you could tell how sweet heeseung was. his praise was so different from sunghoon’s degrading. 

but for some reason you couldn’t help but crave both.

“let me fuck you, y/n.” heeseung whispers out, his face still close to yours. his eyes are so intense as you look at them. 

you nodded eagerly, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your orgasm. heeseung reached into his nightstand, pulling out a condom, but you stopped him.

"no," you whispered, your hands covering his. "i want to feel you, all of you."

heeseung's eyes flashed with surprise, and then understanding. "are you sure?"

you nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "i'm on the pill. i want to feel you."

a deep grin spread across heeseung's face, and he quickly shed the condom, his eyes never leaving yours. "fuck, you’re so hot.” he leans down again and kisses you with hunger. you don’t hesitate to kiss him back. 

with gentle hands, he positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his hard cock brushing against your slick folds. you felt his girth, his length, and your breath quickened at the thought of taking all of him.

"you ready?" he asked, his voice gruff with need.

"yes," you breathed, your eyes fluttering closed as you prepared for his cock to stretch you out. 

in one smooth thrust, Heeseung filled you, stretching you deliciously as he slid deep within you. you moaned loudly, your body welcoming his, the sensation of being so full sending you into a frenzy.

heeseung stilled for a moment, giving you time to adjust, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "so fucking tight," he growled, his voice raw with desire. "fuck, you feel amazing."

you opened your eyes, looking into his, and nodded. "move," you pleaded, your nails digging into his arms. "please."

with a grunt, heeseung began to move, pulling out slowly until just the tip remained, and then slamming back into you. you cried out, your back arching off the bed as he set a brutal pace, his hips snapping as he plunged in and out of your tight heat.

"oh god, heeseung!" you moaned, your body on fire, the pleasure building again. "harder!"

heeseung complied, his hands gripping your thighs as he pounded into you mercilessly. the bed creaked with the force of his thrusts, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

"that's it, take it all," he grunted, his eyes screwed shut in concentration. "you're so tight around me, baby."

"don't stop! please!" you begged, your nails digging into his shoulders. "fuck me, heeseung! make me cum again!"

heeseung's eyes flew open, locking with yours, and he increased his pace, his hips a blur as he drove into you with all his strength. "cum for me again," he demanded, his voice harsh. "let me feel that sweet pussy clenching around my dick."

your orgasm built like a tidal wave, the pressure in your core becoming unbearable. and then, with a loud cry, you shattered once more, your body tightening around his. heeseung groaned, his eyes rolling back as he felt your tight channel convulsing around him.

"that's it, baby, milk my cock," he encouraged, his thrusts becoming erratic as your spasming walls milked him. "fuck, I'm close!"

you whimpered as he pounded into you relentlessly, his balls slapping against your sensitive core. "cum inside of me, heeseung," your eyebrows furrowed together as you watched him continue to thrust in and out of you. “fill me up please, i want it so bad.” 

with a final moan, heeseung exploded within you, his hot cum flooding your pussy. he thrust a few more times, emptying himself completely, making a mess. 

heeseung leaves his face close to yours, making it easy for him to press his lips onto yours. they linger on yours for a while, soft and tender, as if he’s savoring the moment. when he finally pulls back, his eyes are warm, a stark contrast to the usual playful glint they hold. he brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

your mind is still hazy and your body is coming down from its high. you can almost barely feel his touch as he caresses your skin softly. 

you okay?” he whispers, his voice soft, filled with genuine concern.

you nod, feeling a strange flutter in your chest. “yeah… i’m okay.”

heeseung smiles at your breathlessness, thinking to himself how cute and worn out you look underneath him. your cheeks are flushed pink and there’s a thin line of sweat on your forehead. but he can’t help but think how beautiful you look.

heeseung seems to be fully present, fully focused on you. it makes your heart pound. he’s not rushing anything. 

he reaches over to grab a bottle of water, uncapping it and offering it to you first. “drink,” he says, his voice still gentle.

you take a sip, the cold water a sharp contrast to the warmth still lingering in your body. heeseung takes the bottle back, drinking after you, and then sets it aside. he pulls you close, kissing your forehead. 

then, he pulls away from you slowly, his lips brushing against yours one last time before he sits up. he moves with a certain tenderness, like he’s afraid to break whatever fragile thing has settled between you two. as he gets up, you watch him disappear into the bathroom, your heart still racing, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

he returns moments later with a towel in hand. you’re surprised when he kneels beside you, the soft light from the lamp casting a warm glow over his face. without a word, he gently begins to wipe your skin, careful and considerate. the gesture is intimate, unexpectedly so, and it makes your heart pound even harder.

you lie there, watching him in stunned silence as he moves with a gentle focus, his eyes soft and his touch deliberate. it’s almost like he’s caring for you in a way you didn’t expect—a way you hadn’t even thought possible.

you had heard that the captain of the baseball team, the one before you right now, was a player, that he was charming and friendly and he would suck you in before you even noticed. you wondered if this was his usual routine. the routine that had gotten so many other girls to fall for him, for so many hearts to break. 

heeseung meets your eyes briefly, offering a small smile, one that feels genuine, almost affectionate. “there,” he says softly, once he’s done, folding the towel and setting it aside.

“thank you,” you whisper, not really sure what else to say.

he nods, brushing a thumb over your cheek before standing up again. “i’ll be right back,” he says, his voice still soft, as he heads back into the bathroom.

you’re left lying there, heart still racing, as you try to make sense of the situation. you hadn’t exactly planned to be here, naked in lee heeseung’s bed. but you aren’t disappointed. 

when you had started this investigation, you had only heard surface layer information about heeseung. but now you know that there is so much more to him. 

as you lay there, the warmth of heeseung still lingering on your skin, your mind suddenly remembers the investigation. the reason you were even here in the first place. you sit up abruptly, the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. you glance around the room. this is like an evidence goldmine. 

you spot a sweater on the floor and quickly throw it on. you know you have to be quick before heeseung comes back. 

your eyes scan the room, searching for anything that might give you some sort of clue, something that could move your investigation forward. but as you rummage through his things, you mostly find random stuff—some useless, some funny. an old baseball glove, a few crumpled up notes from class, a pack of gum.

but then, tucked away in a drawer in the far back, something catches your eye. you reach for it and pull out a small photograph. it’s a picture of heeseung and sunghoon, arms wrapped around each other, both of them smiling brightly. your jaw drops as you stare at it, your mind racing. they were friends at one point—close friends, from the looks of it. this changes everything.

before you can fully process the revelation, you hear footsteps. you quickly tuck the picture behind your back just as heeseung reappears from the bathroom.

“what’re you doing?” he asks, eyebrow raised in curiosity.

you force a casual smile, trying to act normal. “nothing, just… finding my clothes,” you say, glancing around as if you’re looking for them.

heeseung points to a pile near the bed. “they’re right there. but you can keep wearing my sweater if you want.”

you glance down and realize you’re indeed wearing his sweater, the fabric warm and soft against your skin. you smile, a little sheepishly. “oh, thanks.”

its awkward suddenly, maybe just on your side since you have his picture behind your back without him knowing. but thankfully, heeseung is the way he is and breaks the silence. 

“want a drive home?”

“yes, please,” you smile real big at him. 

when you’re dressed again and heeseung is driving you home, the night is quiet, with only the soft hum of the car engine and the gentle music playing in the background. the city lights blur past the windows, and you find yourself staring out at them, lost in thought. under the sweater heeseung let you borrow, the photograph you took is safely tucked away, its edges pressing into your skin like a guilty reminder.

you can’t stop thinking about how kind heeseung has been to you tonight. the way he looked at you, touched you so gently, and cared for you in a way that felt almost too genuine. it makes your heart ache, knowing that you don’t deserve any of it—not with your ulterior motives, not with the secrets you’re hiding. the guilt twists in your stomach, a gnawing sensation that won’t go away.

as the car pulls up in front of your apartment, you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. you glance over at heeseung, who’s already looking at you with that soft smile that makes your chest tighten.

“thanks, heeseung,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “for tonight.”

"no problem, y/n.” he smiles at you so genuinely it hurts, “just remember, i gave you a ride home—so no bad reviews in your next report."

you laugh, thinking about how little he knows about your intentions and investigation. but you nod anyways, not being able to say anything else. 

before you head inside, you turn back to him, catching his gaze one last time. “goodnight, heeseung.”

he smiles, waiting until you’re safely inside your apartment. you wave at him through the window, and he waves back before driving off into the night.

but as you close the door behind you, the emptiness settles in. the nausea in your stomach twists tighter, making you feel sick in a way that’s more than just physical. you hate this feeling—the way the guilt eats away at you, the way it taints every good moment you shared with him tonight. it’s a heavy weight, one you’re not sure how to shake off.

you wish you didn’t find the picture, but you know you can’t. there’s no turning back now, no undoing what you’ve set in motion. all you can do is push forward, even if it means sacrificing something you didn’t realize you wanted until now.

the journalism office was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that only late nights could bring. every other reporter had gone home, leaving you alone with just the glow of your desk lamp and the faint hum of your computer screen. the deadline for the week’s sports report was tonight. the empty word document on your screen taunting you as you struggled to figure out what to write.

your thoughts were a jumbled mess, torn between the story you knew could blow open your investigation and your gnawing conscience. the picture of heeseung and sunghoon from years ago sat on your desk beside you. it was a huge piece of evidence that could unravel everything. yet, the idea of exposing it felt wrong. 

you leaned back in your chair, running a hand through your hair in frustration. the memory of heeseung’s kindness gnawed at you, how he’d been so gentle, so sweet, kissing your forehead like he actually cared. and sunghoon, despite his aloof exterior, had ensured the other hockey players left you alone.

you sighed, staring at the blinking cursor on the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. should you follow your morals and keep the picture hidden, protecting them from whatever fallout might come? or should you chase the story, the career-making headline that could propel you forward?

your heart ached with indecision. another thought of heeseung drifted through your mind—how he’d smiled at you, how he’d been so careful and tender, treating you like you mattered.

before you knew it, you were typing and the headline that was in bold across your screen read : 

Football Team Has Another Injury

you exhaled slowly, sending it to your professor before closing your laptop and turning off the lamp, plunging the office into darkness. you grabbed your bag and left the office.  as you walked out into the cool night air, all you could think about was your bed—ready for the quiet, for the thoughts to finally stop swirling about both of the captains.

you’re sitting in the quiet corner of the library. it’s midday and the library is somewhat busy. though, you’re alone at your table. your mind is racing, thoughts swirling about how to move forward with your investigation.

you’ve made such a big deal out of this investigation, but now you want to stop because of a picture you found?

you’ve examined the picture more carefully whilst you’re alone. it’s not crumpled or scratched in anyway, which means heeseung cared about this picture, unlike everything else thrown away in the drawer you found it in. 

suddenly, someone sits down in the chair in front of you. 

your eyes widen when you realize who it is, which his dark black hair over his eyes and his pink lips pulled straight. 

“uh, hi?”

“hey,” sunghoon replies, his tone as cold and unreserved as ever. he leans back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest like this is just another day.

you’re confused, to say the least. the last time you saw him things didn’t go as planned and he was exactly nice to you. so why’s he here, in front of you in a crowded library.

you close your laptop slightly, your curiosity piqued. 

“what are you doing here?” you ask, your voice coming out as reserved and cautious. 

“can’t i sit here?” sunghoon asks, his eyebrow quirking. 

you cross your own arms across your chest, your defensive side coming out. you didn’t care how hot or popular the man was in front of you; he was an asshole. 

““well, after last time, i didn’t think you’d want to,”

“what?” sunghoon’s brows furrow, his expression hardening.

you roll your eyes, the frustration from your last encounter bubbling up. “you were so awful to me last time. why would you want to sit here like nothing happened?”

sunghoon’s face changes. his shoulders slump slightly as he puts his head in his hands, not saying anything. the shift in his demeanor catches you off guard, and you’re left staring at him, waiting for him to speak. but the silence stretches, growing more awkward by the second. you don’t understand him. 

finally, you groan, tired of the tension and the weird atmosphere. you start to pack up your things, ready to escape whatever this is. but before you can finish, sunghoon reaches out and gently grabs your arm, stopping you. you look up at him, and his usual cold, detached expression is replaced with something you’ve never seen from him before—desperation.

“what is it?” you ask, your voice softening despite your earlier frustration.

sunghoon takes a deep breath, his hand dropping to his lap. “i’ve been under a lot of stress. with school, with the team... and i know it’s no excuse to be mean to you. i’m sorry.”

his words hang in the air between you, sincere and a little vulnerable. you weren’t expecting this at all, and it makes your heart soften toward him. you nod slowly, understanding that everyone has their breaking points.

“do you want to talk about it?” you ask gently, offering him a way to unload some of the weight he’s carrying.

he shakes his head, a small, almost sad smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “no, it’s fine. i just... i really am sorry. you don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

the sincerity in his voice and the look in his eyes make something inside you shift. the frustration and resentment you felt start to melt away. 

“it’s okay,” you say quietly, offering him a small smile. “i understand how stressful it can be in your position.” 

sunghoon nods, looking relieved, and for the first time, the tension between you eases. the silence that follows isn’t awkward anymore; it’s almost comforting, like a weight has been lifted.

“thanks,” he mutters, almost too softly for you to hear.

it’s silent between you in the library. both of you processing the shared moment. you think you’re starting to see park sunghoon in a different light. one that you didn’t think he had. 

“so,” you say, making your tone deliberately brighter, “you must be having a really tough week if you’re sitting in the library with me and not finding a girl to bring home tonight after the game.” 

sunghoon looks up at you, his eyes widening slightly before he laughs—a genuine, warm sound that surprises you. it’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh, and it catches you off guard how much you like it. it’s not the cold, sarcastic laugh you’ve heard before. 

“is that what you think of me?” he asks, still chuckling, his mood noticeably lighter.

“oh, come on,” you tease, grinning. “you have a bit of a reputation, you know.”

sunghoon shakes his head, still smiling. “maybe i should work on changing that, then.”

“might not be a bad idea since just, everyone on campus knows about it,” you reply, playfully nudging his foot under the table.

sunghoon shrugs, “i don’t care what everyone else thinks of me,” his voice softer, “i only care what you think about me.”

you tilt your head to the side at his answer. his soft smile lingers on his face and with the way he’s looking at you now, you think that you’re seeing a side of park sunghoon that not everyone gets to see. you aren’t sure how to respond to him. you aren’t sure what he wants from you. 

“anyways,” sunghoon shakes his head at your lack of answer, “how about i walk you to class?” 

you nod with a smile, still partially processing his words, “sure!” 

you start to gather your things, ready to leave the library with him. you sling your bag over your shoulder, something slips out and lands on the floor by sunghoon’s feet. sunghoon’s gaze drops to the ground, and his expression freezes when he sees what it is.

the picture of him and heeseung—the one you stole from heeseung’s room—stares up at both of you from the floor.

his previously soft, almost content expression hardens in an instant. his eyes darken with a mix of anger and confusion. he bends down, snatching the picture off the ground before you can react.

“where did you get this?” his voice is low, but there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach twist.

you swallow, trying to keep your voice steady as you admit, “uh, heeseung’s bedroom…”

sunghoon’s expression shifts from confusion to something sharper, more painful. his eyes narrow into slits, “you fucked heeseung?”

the volume of his voice rises with each word, drawing the attention of the students around you. the quiet library becomes suddenly too loud with the whispers and curious stares directed your way. you feel the heat rising in your cheeks as you snatch the picture out of his hand, your frustration boiling over. why would he automatically assume that you had sex with heeseung anyways? 

“why do you care who i get intimate with?” you shoot back, your own voice louder than you intended. “why do you only care what i think of you?”

sunghoon’s jaw clenches, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “i don’t!” he snaps, but the way his voice wavers makes you doubt him.

“then what is it?”

for a moment, he looks like he’s about to say something—something important, something real—but then he shakes his head, the anger in his eyes cooling to something else.

“nothing, just nothing, y/n.” his voice is quieter now, more defeated. “have fun with your investigation.”

he turns on his heel and storms out of the library, leaving you standing there, alone with the picture clutched in your hand and the weight of everyone’s eyes on you.

your heart races, but all you can think about is the look on sunghoon’s face right before he left—how hurt he looked, how quickly his mood changed the moment he saw the picture. 

part of you wants to chase after him, to demand answers, to figure out why he cares so much, but the other part of you just wants to get out of there, away from all the curious stares.

you take a deep breath, shoving the picture back into your bag before grabbing your things and hurrying out of the library. your mind is full of sunghoon’s sweet laugh and heeseung’s charming smile.

you toss and turn all night, your mind racing with thoughts of sunghoon and heeseung. no matter how hard you try, you can’t shake the image of sunghoon’s hurt and angry face from your mind. it’s a look you never thought you would see on his usual cool and collected face. it clings to you, gnawing at your conscience. you wonder if you liked it more when sunghoon didn’t show any feelings towards you at all and remained as cold and mysterious as ever. 

you start thinking about heeseung, too—how sweet he was, how he took care of you after, how you felt safe in his arms. but then your thoughts twist, imagining the look on his face if he ever found out you stole that picture from his room. how betrayed he’d feel, how that charming smile of his would disappear.

you sigh, sitting up in bed as the weight of your actions presses down on your chest. the more you think about it, the more you realize you can’t just let this go. you have to do something, anything, to make this right.

so you swing your legs over the side of the bed and grab the picture from your bag. 

you know the one place lee heeseung would be at this early in the morning; the baseball diamond. 

you slip on a hoodie and some sneakers, not bothering to change out of your pajamas and head out into the cool, early morning. the air is crisp, a sharp contrast to the warmth of your bed. 

when you finally reach the baseball diamond, you see heeseung’s figure against the light sky. you hesitate for a moment before stepping closer, clutching the picture in your hand. you start to rethink your actions and the words you practiced to say to him over and over again.

“y/n?” his voice suddenly calls out to you from across the field.

you glance up at him, and force a smile on your face and start to approach him. “hey,”

“hi,” he gleams at you, happy as ever. “what’re you doing here? it’s so early.” 

you shrug and look down at your shoes, slightly soaked from the morning dew. 

“y/n?” heeseung questions you, his hand reaching down to lift your chin back up so you’re looking at him. his face is contorted into concern. “what’s wrong?” 

you sigh and know that lee heeseung can read you like a book. so you take the picture from behind your back and give it to him without a word. 

you can tell by his face that he’s confused. the way he gently takes the picture and looks at it. 

“how… did you get this?” 

you bite your lip at the question you had hoped he wouldn’t have asked, but reluctantly tell him the truth. 

“from your room, when you were in the bathroom.” 

heeseung only nods, his eyes still stuck on the picture before him. so you continue with your apology. 

“i’m so sorry heeseung, i know it was wrong of me. i felt guilty as soon as i took it. i just– i get so caught up in reporting sometimes that i don’t think of the people that i’m reporting ons feelings. so, i’m sorry.” 

heeseung smiles again, and it surprises you, really. you thought he would react similar to how sunghoon reacted when he saw the picture. but then again, you know how different sunghoon and heeseung are. polar opposites. 

“it’s alright y/n.” heeseung nods, and you let out a sigh. “thanks for telling me the truth, i appreciate it.” 

“no, of course. it was wrong of me to take it without your permission.” 

“it’s okay, i guess i didn’t realize how important this investigation was to you.” 

suddenly there’s a scoff from behind you, causing both you and heeseung to glance back in surprise. 

there, stands park sunghoon. his face is held in an annoyed glare as he looks at the small distance that you and heeseung are standing at. 

“i guess you didn’t realize how important the investigation was to y/n.” sunghoon chuckles, “but i did. i knew it when she sucked me off to get information.” 

your jaw drops at sunghoon’s admission. you can’t believe he would say this in front of heeseung. 

you hesitantly turn to look at heeseung, who’s poor face is contorted into confusion as he glances between you and sunghoon, his rival. 

“is that true, y/n?” heeseung asks you, his voice softer and less cruel sounding than sunghoon’s. 

you can barely look at him, but you nod, silently. you feel ashamed for playing both of them, wanting to keep it a secret from one another that you had hooked up with both of them. 

you feel like you can’t be angry at anyone but yourself. 

heeseung brushes a hand through his hair, stressed. you think he’s going to cuss you out, but instead, he turns and looks at sunghoon. 

“why’re you here anyways, sunghoon? you never step foot onto the field.” heeseung’s voice is angrier now. 

sunghoon steps forward, his shoes brushing against the aggregate. “i came to let you know that even if you’re hooking up with y/n– that,” sunghoon hesitates as he looks at you,”that, i like her too, so.” 

your eyes widen in shock at sunghoon’s words. you never would have thought that park sunghoon would have liked you. you start to question all of his previous intentions with you. you had thought he hated you, but really, he had liked you? 

heeseung on the other hand groans, his body is unable to stay still as he steps around in disbelief. he angrily turns to sunghoon, “god this is so like you, sunghoon!” 

“what the fuck does that mean?” sunghoon barks back. 

“you always want what you can’t have sunghoon. you see something good and suddenly you want it too.” 

sunghoon’s jaw clenches and he steps forward too so him and heeseung are only a few inches apart. “are you forgetting that y/n hooked up with me first? god, this is so like you, hee.” 

you’re standing right in the middle of them, scared for both of them. upset at yourself for making them this angry at each other. 

heeseung chuckles, “yeah? and what am i like then?”

“you always have to make everything about you! lee heeseung, the golden boy, has to be the centre of attention all the time!” 

heeseung seems like he can’t believe what he’s hearing, “what the fuck are you talking about?” 

“you’re making this about you when it has nothing to do with you! this only involves me and y/n.” 

heeseung turns to you, his expression softening slightly as he meets your eyes. “y/n, do you really want to get caught up in this? in whatever the hell sunghoon is trying to pull?”

sunghoon steps forward, his voice lowering but still laced with tension. “y/n, i know i haven’t been the best to you, but i’m being honest now. i like you, and i didn’t know how to deal with my feelings for you before.” 

you swallow hard, feeling the weight of their gazes on you. this is too much, too fast. you’re not even sure how you feel about sunghoon’s confession, or how this affects whatever’s going on with heeseung.

“i… i don’t know what to say,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

sunghoon looks at you with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “just tell me if you feel anything for me, y/n. because if you do, then maybe we can figure this out.”

heeseung crosses his arms, his expression guarded as he waits for your response. “and what about me, y/n? where do i fit into this?”

you feel like you’re being torn in two different directions. the two boys in front of you are completely different, but you feel an attraction to both of them whether you like it or not. you don’t know which direction would be best for you and it wouldn’t hurt the other. 

“i… i need time to think,” you finally say, your voice trembling. “this is all just… a lot.”

sunghoon’s shoulders slump slightly, but he nods, understanding. “okay. take your time, y/n. but just know that i’m serious about this.”

heeseung looks at you for a long moment before sighing. “yeah, take your time. we’ll figure this out.”

the silence that follows is thick with unspoken emotions, and you feel the need to get away, to clear your head. you turn and start to walk away, leaving the two of them on the baseball diamond alone. 

as you walk, you can’t help but feel the weight of their confessions pressing down on you.

god, you hated sports.

soon, heeseung starts to offer you drives home after school. his voice is always soft and considerate. it makes your heart warm. the car rides are always sweet and genuine and you find yourself reveling in how kind lee heeseung is.

he never rushes you out of the car when he pulls up to your place; instead, he walks you to your door, making sure you get inside safely. before you step inside, he leans in and kisses your cheek, his lips brushing against your skin in a way that sends a gentle warmth through you. it’s a sweet, lingering moment, and you can’t help but smile as you say goodnight.

when you walk into school in an early morning, goosebumps leveled on your skin from the fall breeze, you run into sunghoon who has his skates slung over his shoulder as he heads to the hockey rink. 

without a word, he slips off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. it’s a bit oversized on you, the warmth of it immediately comforting against the chill that has consumed your body. you instantly recognize his jacket as his hockey one– with his number embroidered on the back. he skims past you once he’s happy with the way it sits on your shoulder and leaves you in the hall. 

as you walk down the hall, sunghoon’s jacket still wrapped around you, you feel eyes on you, whispers following in your wake. even jake catches your eye from across the hall, his expression concerned when he realizes whose jacket you’re wearing. you find yourself holding onto the sleeves of his jacket, keeping the warmth and sunghoon’s cologne tight against your skin. 

heeseung always seems to know when you’re struggling with homework. he shows up when you least expect it and slides into the seat beside you, ready to help you with whatever you’re struggling with. he places his neatly organized notes on the table in front of you. 

“here, these might help.” he says, his tone casual, but there’s that familiar warmth in his eyes that makes your chest tighten. he doesn’t mind taking the next hour walking you through the material, even though he’s late for his next class. 

when you forgot your money on your kitchen table for lunch, you sit alone in the cafeteria, trying to distract yourself from the hunger rumbling in your stomach as you focus on your homework. a sandwich suddenly appears beside your book. you glance up and see sunghoon, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“you need to eat,” he says, his voice soft but firm. it’s a simple gesture, but it means the world to you in that moment, you really were so hungry. 

when you take a bite, he smiles and heads back over to the table he was previously sitting at with his friends, he doesn’t stop glancing over at you to make sure you’ve eaten the whole thing until you’re throwing the empty wrapper into the trash can. 

both heeseung and sunghoon are trying to prove themselves to you. competing for your attention. each of their gestures gets a little sweeter than the last. you’re caught between them and you’re unsure of what you should do. 

when you’re sitting in the journalism office, staring at your computer screen, the blinking cursor mocking you as you try to piece together your next report. your thoughts are a jumbled mess. the office is quiet, which should be good for you to think, but it’s not for your loud mind that won’t stop racing about one million things. 

suddenly, there’s a noise at the door, followed by grunting and muffled yelling. you glance up, confused, just in time to see the door burst open and both sunghoon and heeseung stumble into the office, each carrying two drinks. they’re both shoving at each other, jostling for space as they try to make it inside.

“stop! what’re you doing? they’re gonna spill!” you shout, standing up from your desk, your heart racing as you watch them struggle.

they both freeze when they see you, eyes wide like two kids caught in the act. for a moment, the room is silent, and then they both start talking at once.

“i was just bringing you a drink because i know how hard you work,” heeseung says, holding up his drink like it’s a peace offering.

“no, i was bringing you a drink,” sunghoon interrupts, his tone competitive.

heeseung scoffs, “please, she likes peach, not strawberry.” he glances towards sunghoon’s drink. 

“what? you obviously don’t know her, she loves strawberry.” 

they start bickering, each one trying to convince each other that their drink is the one you’d prefer. you feel your head start to pound, their voices overlapping and filling the small office space with tension.

“enough!” you finally shout, cutting them off mid-argument. they both go quiet, staring at you with wide eyes. you take a deep breath, trying to calm the frustration bubbling up inside you.

“i appreciate the gestures, i really do,” you start, your voice softer now, but firm. “but i need time to sort out my feelings, and i can’t do that if you’re both around me all the time. it’s… it’s too much.”

they both look at you, guilt flickering across their faces. they exchange a glance, then nod, understanding in their eyes. “sorry,” they both mumble at the same time, looking down at the drinks in their hands.

without another word, they each set a drink on your desk, their earlier competition forgotten. heeseung gives you a small, apologetic smile, while sunghoon just nods, his expression more subdued. they turn and leave the office, the door clicking shut behind them.

you let out a long sigh, the tension slowly draining from your shoulders as the silence of the office envelops you once more. you look at the drinks on your desk, a bittersweet feeling settling in your chest.

you sit back down at your desk, staring at the unfinished report on your screen. your mind is a swirling mess of thoughts, caught between sunghoon, heeseung, and the weight of your investigation. you press your fingers to your temples, trying to push the stress away, but it lingers, heavy and suffocating.

what are you going to do?

it’s been a week since you’ve seen heeseung or sunghoon. the silence between you and them has been unnerving, like an itch you can’t scratch. your mind keeps replaying your last encounters, the tension, the unspoken words, the way things were left hanging in the air. you’ve thrown yourself into your work, trying to distract yourself, but even that hasn’t been going well.

your boss has noticed your distracted state. she’s been getting increasingly frustrated with your recent reports, her critiques growing harsher each day. she’s told you more than once to at least act like you’re interested in sports when you’re writing. but your heart isn’t in it, and she can tell. tonight, you’re staying late at the journalism office again, trying to push through the mental block that’s been holding you back.

you’re staring at your screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, when you hear footsteps approaching. you glance up to see blair walking over, her bag thrown over her shoulder, clearly ready to leave for the night.

“hey, this came for you,” she says, holding out an envelope.

you blink, caught off guard. “what is it?” you ask, reaching out to take it.

blair shrugs, a casual smile on her lips. “i don’t know. but don’t stay too late, okay? take care of yourself.”

you nod, offering her a small smile. “of course. have a good night.”

“you too,” she says before heading out the door, leaving you alone in the dimly lit office.

you look down at the envelope in your hands, your name scrawled on the front in neat handwriting. there’s no return address, no indication of who it’s from. curiosity piqued, you tear it open and pull out the folded sheet of paper inside.

as you unfold it, your eyes widen at the title printed at the top: the truth behind the rivalry of the baseball and hockey teams.

you quickly skim the note, your breath catching in your throat as you realize what you’re holding. the note is brief, but the implications are massive. and they’ve chosen to share it with you. at the bottom, the note is signed simply: anonymous.

you sit back in your chair, the paper trembling slightly in your hands. the weight of the situation hits you all at once. your mind races, torn between the thrill of a potential breakthrough in your investigation and the fear of what this could mean for you—and for sunghoon and heeseung.

you reach towards your keyboard, typing out the headline you’ve thought about since the beginning.

your boss let you go home early today, she’s extremely happy with your work finally. she said it was the best report they’ve had all year. the school was buzzing, everyone congratulating you on the story. your article has sold more copies than ever. 

but still, you feel a wave of guilt continuously wash through you. 

you barely had time to settle into the quiet of your apartment when a knock at the door pulled you out of your thoughts. your heart jumped in your chest, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach as you opened the door.

heeseung and sunghoon stood there, both looking pissed. 

“uh, come in?” you stammer, stepping aside to let them in. they walk in, tension radiating off them.

heeseung is the first to speak, his tone sharp. “you told y/n what happened?”

sunghoon’s jaw drops, his eyes wide in disbelief. “no, i didn’t. you told her what happened, didn’t you?”

“no i didn’t,” heeseung snaps back, his voice rising. “you’re lying like usual.”

the argument escalates quickly, their voices overlapping in heated accusations. you can feel the situation spiraling out of control, and you step in, raising your hands.

“guys, guys,” you say, trying to cut through the chaos. “neither of you told me, alright.”

they both stop, turning to you with matching expressions of confusion. heeseung’s eyes narrow slightly as he processes your words. “then who told you?” he asks.

you shrug, feeling a bit uneasy under their intense gazes. “i got an anonymous tip.”

“a what?” sunghoon repeats, his voice laced with suspicion.

“i got a letter,” you explain, pulling the envelope out of your bag and holding it up. “signed by anonymous.”

heeseung’s expression darkens. “let me see this letter,” he demands, holding out his hand.

you hand it over, watching as they both lean in to read it together. the room is thick with tension, their silence as they read almost unbearable.

when they finish, you speak up, your voice cutting through the heavy silence. “is it true? sunghoon, you slept with heeseung’s girlfriend in high school?”

sunghoon’s mouth opens in a protest, his voice ringing out, “no,” at the exact moment that heeseung says, “yes.”

the word hangs in the air between them, their conflicting answers sparking another round of glares and tension. they turn on each other again, the hostility simmering just below the surface, ready to erupt.

“are you seriously going to lie about this, sunghoon?” heeseung says, his tone icy.

sunghoon glares back, his voice filled with frustration. “i’m not lying. it wasn’t like that, and you know it.”

“then what was it like?” heeseung fires back, his anger barely contained.

“maia told me you were on a break!” sunghoon shouts with anger. 

“well we weren’t!” 

“well how’s that my fault?” 

you watch them, feeling the situation spiraling again. their voices are rising, the tension thickening with each passing second.

you step between them, your hands up as if that could physically separate their anger. “enough, both of you,” you say firmly. “this isn’t getting us anywhere.”

they stop, their chests heaving with the effort of holding back their tempers. the room falls into a tense silence as they both look at you. 

“can you guys speak calmly, and listen to the other?” you ask them seriously, tired of them yelling all the time. 

heeseung is the first to speak again, “i don’t know why maia would tell you we were on a break, but it still doesn’t fix the fact that you were my best friend and slept with my girlfriend.”

sunghoon’s face twists in frustration, his voice pleading as he responds, “i know, i know, but i wouldn’t have done it if she wasn’t so upset. she told me you were on a break! she said she needed someone, and then all of a sudden, it just… happened. and we were done, and she left!”

heeseung covers his eyes with his hands, the weight of the memory clearly bearing down on him. “that’s not what maia told me, hoon.”

sunghoon’s brows knit together, his tone desperate. “what did she say?”

heeseung’s anger flares, his voice rising as he pulls his hands away to glare at sunghoon. “i don’t know, just that you told her to come over, and then it happened.”

sunghoon scoffs, shaking his head. “i told her to come over because she called me crying, saying how she messed things up with you and her! i didn’t tell her to come over so i could hook up with her!”

the room falls into a heavy silence as the words sink in. heeseung looks like he’s processing everything, trying to fit together the pieces of a puzzle that’s been broken for years. finally, he sinks down onto your couch, the weight of the situation pulling him down.

sunghoon hesitates for a moment before sitting down next to him. his voice is softer now, laced with a deep regret. “hee, you were my best friend. i would never do that to you. she told me you were on a break, and she was upset! i’m sorry that it happened, i really am. if i could go back and change what i did, i would, i really would.”

heeseung nods slowly, his anger ebbing away as he looks over at sunghoon. “alright, i’m sorry for not hearing you out earlier.”

sunghoon lets out a chuckle, the sound laced with a bittersweet edge. “yeah, you’re like, 4 years too late.”

heeseung laughs, the sound breaking through the tension like a breath of fresh air. it’s a small moment of reconciliation for the two of them.

you clear your throat, drawing their attention back to you. “well, now that that’s sorted out… i’m sorry for posting the report, i am.”

heeseung waves it off, a small smile on his lips. “no, it’s fine. you got us to speak instead of fight for once.”

sunghoon nods in agreement. “yeah, but who was the anonymous tipster?”

the three of you exchange glances, all shrugging as the question hangs in the air. none of you have a clue who it could be.

sunghoon clears his throat, the serious expression on his face returning as he looks at you. “i just… i hope that what you found out in the report doesn’t change your feelings for me. i want you to know that i never meant to hurt heeseung, and i truly thought they were on a break.”

you meet his gaze, searching for any hint of dishonesty. but all you see is a mix of vulnerability and hope in his eyes. after a moment, you nod slowly. “it doesn’t change my feelings, sunghoon. if you’re telling the truth, and you really thought they were on a break… then i believe you.”

a small, relieved smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and you can feel the tension between the three of you start to ease.

but then heeseung, still seated on the other end of the couch, shifts slightly, drawing your attention back to him. “so… have you made up your mind about who you’re going to choose?”

your breath catches in your throat as you look between the two of them. the question you’ve been avoiding is suddenly right in front of you, and you realize that you’ve been dreading this moment. your heart races as you shake your head, a quiet “no” escaping your lips.

sunghoon leans back, a contemplative look on his face. “well, then,” he starts, his voice carrying a hint of playfulness that makes you raise an eyebrow. “how about we help you with your decision?” 

heeseung glances at him, “what do you mean?” 

sunghoon grins, and you can’t help but feel a little nervous at the mischievous glint in his eyes. “i think we should both get a chance to prove to her that we are the right one for her,” he explains. “so, whoever makes y/n feel the best wins her.”

“how so?” you ask, trying to process what he’s saying.

“easy,” sunghoon shrugs, “we both get to fuck you.” 

heeseung seems to mull it over for a second, before a smirk spreads across his face, “i’m game if y/n is.” 

you blink, your mind racing as you try to process what’s happening. of course they are turning it into a competition, that’s all they know. 

the idea seems ridiculous, but at the same time, it intrigues you. 

before you can fully think it through, you hear yourself saying, “okay.”

the boys quickly shift on the couch, making room for you to sit between them. you move to sit down, your heart pounding in your chest as the reality of what you’ve just agreed to starts to sink in.

as you settle into the space between them, you can feel the tension building again, but this time it’s charged with a different kind of energy. sunghoon is on one side of you, his hand resting lightly on your knee, while heeseung is on the other, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

“are you sure, y/n?” heeseung asks you, as sweet as always. 

you bite your lip, “i am, but are you sure you both want to do this? i don’t want things to get weird between us all.” 

“don’t worry about y/n, me and hee both know that whatever you decide will be fair. we both just want to make you feel really good.” sunghoon speaks into your ear, his body warm against your side. 

you can't help but feel a surge of desire at their words. seeing the two of them so determined and eager to bring you pleasure has your body buzzing with excitement. "okay," you agree, your voice a little hoarse. "let's do this."

your breath quickening as Heeseung presses a soft kiss to your neck, his lips gentle and sensual. sunghoon's hands begin to roam over your body, sliding up your thighs and under your shirt, his touch electric. heeseung's hands join his, exploring your body with a mix of tenderness and hunger. their touches are different yet equally captivating—sunghoon's bold and demanding, heeseung's gentle and seeking.

you moan softly as their fingers trace patterns on your skin, igniting fires everywhere they touch. they take their time, exploring every inch of your body, drawing out your pleasure until you're a quivering mess between them. "you like that, don't you, baby?" sunghoon whispers, his lips brushing your ear. "you like being touched by both of us."

"yes," you breathe, your voice husky with need. "feels so good."

heeseung chuckles, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. "and we're just getting started, baby."

they continue their assault on your senses, mouths and hands working in sync to tease you. their fingers tangle in your hair, grasp your hips, and stroke your thighs. you feel yourself falling deeper under their spell, your body surrendering to their expert touches.

"let's go to your bedroom," heeseung suggests, his voice thick with desire.

you nod wordlessly, unable to speak as sunghoon plants sloppy, harsh kisses along your jawline. they help you up from the couch, their strong arms steadying you as your legs feel like jelly.

in your bedroom, the pace intensifies. heeseung and sunghoon waste no time in stripping you of your clothes, their eyes dark with desire as they take in your naked body.

"so beautiful," heeseung whispers, tracing a finger down your arm, sending goosebumps across your skin.

sunghoon's eyes shine with a mischievous glint. "you’re so sexy, can’t wait to hear you begging for more.” 

you swallow, a thrill running through you at their bold words. they guide you to the bed, their hands never leaving your body, always exploring, touching, teasing.

sunghoon positions himself between your legs, his gaze locking with yours as he begins to kiss and nip at your inner thighs. heeseung moves to your side, his fingers tangling with yours as he brings your hand to his lips for a soft kiss. "we're going to take such good care of you," he murmurs, his breath washing over your sensitive skin.

you feel sunghoon's breath fan over your core, his tongue flicking out to taste you. a gasp escapes your lips as he laps at your folds, his tongue confident and skilled. heeseung's fingers thread through yours as you experience wave after wave of pleasure, his thumb stroking your palm in time with sunghoon's tongue.

"he's good, isn't he?" heeseung whispers, his voice full of satisfaction as he watches your face contort with pleasure. "but I plan on being even better."

sunghoon chuckles against your sensitive flesh, sending vibrations through your body. he looks up at you, his eyes full of promise, before dipping his head to continue sucking on your clit. 

the feeling of sunghoon's tongue on your clit, coupled with heeseung's gentle caresses, is overwhelming. you feel yourself spiraling toward the edge, your body tightening like a coil. "hh god," you breathe, your hips bucking involuntarily. you weren’t use to having so much attention on you. it sent you to the edge so quickly. 

heeseung's fingers tighten around yours as sunghoon sucks your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling relentlessly. "come for us, baby," he urges, his voice husky. "let us know how good we make you feel."

you cry out, your body arching off the bed as you climax, waves of pleasure rippling through you. sunghoon rides out your orgasm, his tongue relentless until you're left boneless and breathless.

as you come back down to earth, heeseung's lips find yours, kissing you deeply as his hand strokes your cheek. 

"your turn.” sunghoon signals to heeseung, his voice laced with challenge. 

heeseung shoots him a determined look as he moves over your body, his hands exploring your skin. his eyes are full of heat as he looks down at you. 

sunghoon slips away, leaving you on the bed with heeseung, who takes his time exploring your body with his hands and mouth. he’s so caring and gentle, different to how dominant and rough sunghoon is. 

heeseung strokes your clit until your a writhing mess beneath him, your body crying out for more. “please”, you beg, “i need your cock.” 

heeseung smiles, “i know, baby, i know.” 

he aligns himself with your entrance, teasing you with slow, shallow thrusts that have you crying out with each movement. "tell me how good it feels," he demands, his voice thick with desire.

"feels so good," you whimper, your fingers digging into his back. "please, more."

sunghoon, who has been watching from the sidelines, moves closer, his lips brushing your ear. "you like his cock inside you, don't you?" he murmurs, his fingers trailing down your body to toy with your nipples. "you like being stretched around his thick cock."

Your words are incoherent as heeseung begins to pound into you, his hips snapping against yours as he finds a relentless rhythm. sunghoon’s hands and mouth continue to touch you and whisper dirty nothings into your ear. 

“that’s it, take his cock like the slut i know you are,” sunghoon urges, his voice in your ear driving you closer to the edge, “take it all.” 

you cry out as heeseung’s thrusts become harder, deeper, your body meeting him with each thrust. the pleasure builds within you again, an ache that begs to be satisfied.

sunghoon’s lips find yours, kissing you deeply as his hand slips between your bodies to rub your clit in time with heeseung’s thrusts.  "come for us again, slut" he commands, his voice firm. "let go."

“god, please cum, baby– wanna feel your walls tighten like a good girl.” heeseung moans out to you. his eyes are set on where his cock is meeting your pussy. 

your hands grip tighter around heeseung’s arm as you shatter around his cock, crying out his name as your body convulses with pleasure. sunghoon doesn’t stop his fingers from working on your clit, extending your orgasm until you’re sobbing and shaking and heeseung is cumming inside of you. he fills you to the brim with his warm cum, the feeling makes you whine out. 

as your orgasm subsides, heeseung slows his movements, his breath ragged as he pulls out of you. sunghoon moves in, his eyes dark with desire as he positions himself at your entrance.

"my turn," he growls, his voice thick with need.

you hardly have time to register what's happening before sunghoon fills you with one swift thrust, making you cry out at the sudden fullness. he buries himself to the hilt, his eyes closing briefly as a shudder of pleasure racks his body.

"fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his hips snapping as he begins to move within you. "so tight and wet."

heeseung moves to your side, his hands caressing your body as he watches sunghoon fuck you. "she does, doesn't she?" he agrees, his voice satisfied. “such a good girl for us.” 

before you can process his words, heeseung leans in, his lips capturing yours in a hungry kiss. his tongue tangles with yours as sunghoon continues his relentless pace, your bodies moving in sync.

you're overwhelmed by sensations, sunghoon's cock driving you wild, heeseung's lips demanding and insistent. their touches are everywhere, driving you closer and closer to the edge. "oh god," you moan, your body tingling with overstimulating pleasure. "i—"

"come for me," sunghoon commands, his voice a deep rumble. "i want to feel you fall apart around my cock."

his words are your undoing, your body surrendering to a powerful orgasm that has you crying out their names. sunghoon quickens his pace, chasing his own release as heeseung continues to kiss and touch you, driving you wild.

"so beautiful," heeseung murmurs, his lips brushing your ear.

sunghoon grunts, his body tensing as he finds his release, filling you with his warmth. he buries his face in your neck, his breath coming in sharp pants as he rides out his orgasm.

you feel spent and satisfied, your body still buzzing with the aftermath of your intense releases. your pussy is filled with both heeseung and sunghoon’s cum. your breath was ragged, your skin glistening with a sheen of sweat, and your heart was pounding in your chest. 

heeseung and sunghoon share a smirk that you don’t catch, their eyes still filled with desire as sunghoon pulls out of you. they both knew that they weren’t done with you yet. 

“why don’t we clean you up a bit?” heeseung suggests to you. 

sunghoon nodded in agreement, “yeah, we don’t want to waste a single drop of your juices, princess.”

you could only watch them as they spread your legs again, enough for both of them to fit in between. they wasted no time then, their eyes locking on your glistening, leaking pussy. they leaned in together, their tongues darting out to taste the mixture of your juices and their cum.

you gasped as their tongues flicked against your sensitive clit, sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body. they lapped at your pussy greedily, tasting each other's cum mixed with your essence. their tongues mixed together, swirling and twirling as they devoured you. 

"mmm, you taste so fucking good,"sunghoon moaned, his voice hoarse with desire. he nipped at your clit gently, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your veins.

heeseung hummed in agreement, his tongue delving deep into your hole, probing and exploring as he savored the flavor of your arousal. "so sweet.” he hummed. 

you whimpered as they licked your pussy. their tongues working in unison to bring you pleasure. their hands caressed your thighs, holding your legs open. 

"oh fuck, that's so good," you panted, your hands gripping the sheets tightly. “both of you eating me out.” 

heeseung chuckled, the vibrations of his laughter sending delightful sensations through your core.

sunghoon looked up at you, his eyes smoldering with desire. "tell us what you want, princess, and we’ll do it.”

you bit your lip, feeling bolder than you ever had before. "i want both of your tongues on my clit," you whispered, your voice thick with need. "please, make me cum all over your faces."

a growl escaped from heeseung's throat as he pulled sunghoon closer. "as you wish, baby."

together, they focused their attention on your clit, their tongues swirling and flicking in tandem. heeseung sucked your pearl into his mouth, his tongue working furiously while sunghoon lapped at your juices, coating your pussy with his saliva.

the sensation was indescribable. having two mouths, two tongues circling and sucking your pussy. you moaned loudly, your back arching off the bed as they pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

"that's it, baby, cum for us," heeseung urged, his hands squeezing your thighs. 

sunghoon added his fingers to the mix, thrusting them into your wetness as he curled them to hit that magical spot inside you. "cum for us, y/n.”

you shouted as the orgasm hit you. your body convulsed, your juices flowing freely as you rode out the intense waves of pleasure. heeseung and sunghoon continued to lick and suck, milking every last drop of your cum, savoring the taste of your release.

gradually, the intensity of your orgasm subsided, leaving you boneless and sated once more. heeseung and sunghoon looked up at you, their faces glistening with your essence, proud smiles on their faces.

"that was fucking incredible," you breathed, your voice husky and filled with satisfaction.

heeseung and sunghoon laughed at your bewilderment, their mouths and lips covered in their own cum and your juices. 

after the intensity of what just happened, the three of you collapse into a warm, comfortable silence. the room is quiet, only the sound of your breathing and the faint rustling of sheets filling the space. sunghoon is the first to move, his touch gentle as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his eyes soft as he watches you. heeseung shifts beside you, his hand sliding over your back in slow, soothing circles.

“you okay?” heeseung murmurs, his voice low and filled with concern.

you nod, feeling a strange sense of peace settle over you as they both take care of you in their own ways. sunghoon leaves and returns to hand you a glass of water, making sure you drink, while heeseung pulls a blanket over your body, tucking you in.

as you start to drift off, you feel heeseung press a soft kiss to your temple, and sunghoon’s hand remains on your waist, grounding you. you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the comfort of their presence, and before you know it, you’re asleep.

when you wake up, the room is dimly lit, the soft glow of the evening filtering through the curtains. you blink a few times, disoriented, before realizing that you’re dressed in an oversized hockey jersey and a pair of shorts that don’t belong to you. the jersey smells faintly of sunghoon, and you can’t help but smile at the thought of him dressing you while you were asleep.

you get out of bed, stretching a little before heading out to the living room. as you step into the room, you’re greeted by the sight of heeseung and sunghoon sitting on the couch, a bowl of cereal in each of their hands. they’re watching a movie, the light from the screen casting a soft glow over their faces, and you’re struck by how at ease they seem with each other.

heeseung is the first to notice you, his face lighting up with a smile. “hey, sleepyhead,” he says, patting the spot next to him on the couch. “come sit with us.”

you walk over, still trying to wrap your head around the sight in front of you. it’s almost surreal, seeing the two of them together like this, so relaxed and comfortable in each other’s company. it’s a far cry from the tension and anger that had been simmering between them just a short while ago.

“what are you guys watching?” you ask as you settle between them, your legs tucked under you.

“our favorite movie from high school,” sunghoon explains, his eyes still glued to the screen. “we used to watch it all the time.”

heeseung grins, nudging your shoulder playfully. “yeah, we probably watched it a hundred times back then.”

you can’t help but smile at them. it makes you feel lighter, the weight of the past few weeks slowly lifting from your shoulders.

as the movie plays, heeseung holds out his bowl of cereal, offering you a bite. you take it, savoring the simple gesture of sharing, and it feels like everything is falling into place. 

there's a sudden knock on your door, startling you out of your thoughts. sunghoon, who had been lounging next to you, looks up and asks, "who is it?"

you shrug, getting up to answer the door. "i don’t know, i’m not expecting anyone."

when you open the door, you’re surprised to see jake standing there, holding a box of green tea. "oh, hi jake. what are you doing here?"

jake gives a small, awkward smile. "well, i know you might've been feeling down about writing the story on heeseung and sunghoon since you've been close to them recently. so, i brought you some green tea to make you feel better."

you smile, touched by the gesture, and start to close the door, but then heeseung and sunghoon come up behind you. their eyes widen when they see jake.

heeseung, his voice edged with confusion, asks, "jake? why’d you come here?"

jake stammers, looking caught off guard. "hh, I just... wanted to check in on y/n. make sure everything’s okay since the anonymous tip."

“right,” heeseung nods, you can tell he’s suspicious about something, “you saw her article right? i mean, you were there with us in highschool when it all happened.” 

suddenly it clicks in your head about what heeseung is trying to figure out. jake only nods slowly, a small smile on his face. 

“yeah and i mean, if me and heeseung didn’t tell anyone about what happened in high school, then who do you think would have given y/n an anonymous tip, jake?” 

jake gulps, “i- i don’t know, guys.” 

“how’d you know i got an anonymous tip anyways? the only ones who knew about it were heeseung and sunghoon.”

at that, jake suddenly sighs, his shoulders sinking down, “fine, it was me who tipped you off.” 

heeseung’s face darkens, his voice filled with hurt and confusion, “you tipped her off? why, jake?” 

jake takes a deep breath, trying to explain. "because I admire you, heeseung. you’re like a brother to me. and sunghoon, he used to be my best friend too. i thought maybe if the truth came out, you two could finally move on."

you, heeseung and sunghoon try to process jake’s admission. 

jake lowers his gaze, the weight of his actions sinking in, "i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to hurt anyone. i just wanted to help fix things."

as the room settles into an uneasy silence after jake’s apology, heeseung finally breaks it with a soft, reassuring tone. “it’s okay, jake. we all needed to hear the truth.”

sunghoon nods in agreement, a hint of a smile returning to his face. “yeah, you were my best friend too. i’ve missed hanging out with you and heeseung.”

heeseung’s expression softens as he adds, “let’s start fresh, guys. this has gone on way too long.”

jake looks up, relieved to see their smiles, “yeah, well, it wouldn’t have been fixed without y/n. she’s the one who wrote the great report.”

you blush slightly, feeling a mix of pride and relief. “it’s no problem, guys. it’s all i ever wanted.”

with the mood lifting, you look at jake, sunghoon, and heeseung and suggest, “why don’t we all hang out? you’re here now, so let’s drink some green tea together and watch the movie.”

they all nod and you all sit down together, sipping tea and enjoying the movie they all used to watch together.  

the end of your investigation was one that you didn’t expect, but it was a happy one to say the least. you think that this is the end of your sports journalism career– you’re ready to write more thrilling reports once you graduate. 

but still, there was still one more question that you had to answer: who would you pick out of lee heeseung and park sunghoon? 

you’re lying in bed, heeseung’s arms draped comfortably across your stomach. his messy hair is sprawled across the pillow, a relaxed smile on his face as he sleeps. the warmth of his embrace is soothing, and you can’t help but feel content. heeseung has always brightened your day with his kindness and charming smile.

you don’t know what you’d do without him. 

then, sunghoon walks into your room, his pale, muscular chest on display. he hands you the daily newspaper with a gentle smile and quietly settles down beside you, careful not to wake heeseung. his presence is dominating and calming, and he leans over to press a soft kiss onto your forehead.

you glance at the newspaper’s headline: 

Ex-Sports Journalist Dates Two Captains

a quiet giggle escapes your lips, and just as you’re about to comment, heeseung stirs. 

“i wonder who that’s about,” he murmurs, still half-asleep.

sunghoon rolls his eyes playfully and says, “shut up, hee.” 

heeseung chuckles and replies, “gladly,” as he pulls both you and sunghoon into his arms.

the three of you collide together, making you and sunghoon squeal in surprise. the warmth of heeseung’s embrace and the closeness of your boyfriends together makes you relax, the headline long forgotten already. 

even though you can’t tell the difference between a homerun and a hat trick, you still managed to fall in love with both of the most popular athletes on campus. and, amidst the very long hockey and baseball lessons, and your hatred for sports, you’ve still managed to score a win in the game of love. the ultimate game changer. 

@ taeghi, 2024. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

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[whateveriwant]

I know you already did the 141 boys when their wife gives birth (which was fantastic btw) but maybe if they missed the birth because of a mission or whatever else your brilliant mind can think of!

Don't give me compliments because then I'll follow you home like a cat and you'll never get rid of me 😖

Price

(This goes for all the men, really) but he's absolutely gutted to not be with you as you're giving birth

Honestly, if he had the choice, he would've rather lobbed off his own arm than miss such a momentous occasion in both your lives

It’s nothing less than the literal fate of the world that's keeping him from you, and he makes sure to reiterate that over and over again

The only thing that gives Price a bit of peace of mind when leaving you at a time like this is knowing you have a strong support system to help you through it

And boy oh boy does he put those friends and family members to use by having them constantly text him with every update imaginable

What time your water breaks, how far apart your contractions are, how much you've dilated, so on and so on. He wants to know it all

While he has to remain focused during the bulk of the mission, when he's able to, he's whipping out his phone to scroll through the literal hundreds of messages that await him

The updates are so plentiful and detailed that if he tries hard enough, he can almost pretend like he was right there beside you all along

And once he gets to the pictures of you holding your little one for the first time, well… he's not afraid to admit that he sheds a manly tear or two at the sight

Soap

He kicked up quite the storm at work when he realized he was going to be missing the birth of his child

He did everything in his power to try to get out of the mission – to try to get back to you – but, ultimately, he had no other choice than to go

But he's not just going to go gently into the night. No, he has a few tricks up his sleeve to make it as if he's still there with you in some capacity

Like Price, Soap takes comfort in leaving you with a huge support system to help while he's away

And also similarly, he's recruiting your loved ones (more so their phones) into letting him video chat with you whenever he gets the opportunity

(Does that mean he snuck his unauthorized smartphone into the middle of a battlefield? …. Yes. Yes, he did. .……....… Don't tell Price)

You'll be in the midst of a call with him and a bullet will fly right by his head and embed itself in the wall behind him

Of course, this has you incredibly concerned, worrying over how you're distracting him when he should be focused on his mission

But he assures you there's no need to fret, dear. He's perfectly safe and everything’s completely fine

(Oh, and just disregard that sound in the background, hun. No, it wasn't a bomb. Heavens, no! It was a… a… piano falling out a window)

Gaz

Even when he's away on mission during normal circumstances, he's calling home all the time to check in with you

But given your current state, now he's checking in twice as much as he usually does

Expect a minimum of three calls a day just to ensure things are still all hunky dory on your end

It's during one of these calls that your water breaks, and as you fly into a state of panic, forgetting everything you're supposed to do, Gaz has to calmly walk you through the steps of what you'd planned

He's able to talk you down and make sure you get yourself to the hospital in one piece, but then after that call, weirdly, you don't hear from him again

It's not until several hours later when you've already delivered your child that you're awoken by the feeling of someone beside your bed

You look to see who it is and it's none other than Gaz himself – still dressed in his full gear, covered in all sorts of dirt and grime, a hushed apology pouring from his mouth

He's so sorry he couldn't get there quick enough, beautiful. He left as soon as he could once he'd pulled a few strings with Price

But you don't even care about the excuse because you're quickly enveloping him in a hug. With tears in your eyes, you assure him it's alright. He's here now, and that's all that matters to you

Ghost

When he was informed he was being shipped off to a remote location less than a month before your due date, he was livid

No phone, no radio, no communication of any kind with the outside world and he was supposed to be okay with that? He very much wasn't

The higher-ups had to really hammer home the whole “safety of the world” thing to convince Ghost to go, and even when he did, he did so grudgingly

He finds that as he sits in this shoddy shack halfway across the planet from you, all he can do is keep a mental tally of everything he’s missing

Going with you to your final check ups, helping you pack your hospital bag, holding your hand as you begin to push, etc. etc. etc.

But what about things he might not know about? What if something's gone wrong while he's been away?

He can't let himself think on it too much because he'll end up putting his fist through the drywall, and he needs at least one good hand to hold his child with when he meets them for the first time

Seven weeks, four days, and nine hours after he shipped out, Ghost is on a plane back home

He doesn't stop to talk to anyone when he touches down at base (not even to report to his superiors). He just gets into his car and books it, not letting off the gas until he's parked outside your home again

And when he finally reaches the front door, an unexpected tremor passing through him as he grabs for the handle, he closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath, and walks inside, beginning the next chapter of his life

[l4ndonorizz]

stuck / lando norris x reader

pairing: lando norris x reader

song: the neighbourhood - stuck with me

summary: you're lando's pr manager and you're fuming because he made a mess again. but he solves the problem when you're stuck in an elevator.

wc: 1.3k

“How are you feeling about this?” you asked, adjusting your bag over your shoulder as you both stepped into the elevator. You didn’t even look at Lando as you spoke, already feeling the headache building at the base of your skull. This wasn’t the first time you had to clean up after one of his slip-ups, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

Lando sighed heavily beside you, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly? I’d rather be anywhere else,” he muttered, his tone casual, almost as if this was just another day at work.

You shot him a sharp look, your patience already wearing thin. “Yeah, well, you wouldn’t have to be here if you hadn’t caused a media circus in the first place, would you?”

Lando raised an eyebrow, smirking at your response. “Oh, come on. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Not that bad?” You could hardly believe what you were hearing. “You literally gave the media a goldmine, Lando! And now I have to deal with the fallout because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Again.”

Lando leaned back against the elevator wall, crossing his arms, clearly enjoying your frustration. “You’re cute when you’re mad, you know that?”

You glared at him. “Don’t start with me. This is serious.”

“I’m always serious,” he said, his tone completely at odds with the grin spreading across his face. “I just think maybe you’re overreacting a little. I mean, it’s my job to get attention, right?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to hold back the irritation bubbling up inside you. “There’s a difference between getting attention for winning a race and getting attention because you’ve said something stupid.”

Lando shrugged, seemingly unbothered. “Yeah, but the media loves a good drama. You should be thanking me for giving you something to do.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed, but it was the kind of laugh that meant you were one second away from snapping. “Oh, right. I should be thanking you for making my life harder? Because now I have to smooth this over so you don’t look like a complete idiot?”

Lando’s grin widened. “Maybe you’re just jealous, huh?”

You blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said, leaning in slightly, his voice teasing. “Maybe all this stress is because you’re a little jealous of the attention I’m getting. You know, from the fans, the press...the ladies.”

You felt your face heat up, a mix of anger and embarrassment rising to the surface. “Jealous? Of you? Absolutely not.”

“Sure,” he said, dragging out the word, clearly not buying it. “You definitely weren’t fuming when that journalist asked me out last week.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I was fuming because it was unprofessional, and we were in the middle of a press conference. Not because I’m jealous.”

Lando shrugged again, his smirk still firmly in place. “If you say so.”

Before you could respond, the elevator suddenly jerked to a stop, the lights flickering for a moment before everything went still. You both froze, glancing around the small space.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, pressing the button for the next floor. Nothing. You pressed it again, harder this time. Still nothing.

Lando looked at you, eyebrows raised. “Well, this is awkward.”

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. “Of course. Of course this would happen today.”

Lando, ever the optimist, leaned back against the wall again, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. “Guess we’re stuck.”

You shot him a look of pure exasperation. “We can’t be stuck. We have the press conference in less than an hour. I don’t have time for this.”

He patted the floor beside him, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Come on, sit down. Might as well get comfortable.”

You huffed but eventually gave in, sliding down the wall to sit beside him. You were both quiet for a moment, the weight of the situation settling in.

“This is just perfect,” you muttered. “Now we’ll miss the conference, and everyone will assume you’re dodging questions.”

Lando chuckled softly. “Hey, at least we’ll have a good excuse. ‘Sorry, we’re trapped in an elevator.’”

You glared at him. “This isn’t funny, Lando. You’ve put yourself in a bad spot, and now I have to be the one to clean it up. Again.”

He looked at you, his expression softening just a little. “You’re really stressed about this, huh?”

You sighed, leaning your head back against the wall. “Yeah, I am. It’s my job to make sure you come out of this looking good, and you keep making it harder.”

Lando was quiet for a beat before nudging you lightly with his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know I’m a pain sometimes.”

You rolled your eyes, though the edge in your voice had softened. “Sometimes?”

He grinned, clearly relieved that you weren’t completely mad at him anymore. “Okay, most of the time. But hey, you’re amazing at what you do. You always fix it.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “I have to be, with you around.”

“See?” Lando said, his voice light again. “You should really be thanking me.”

You shot him a playful glare, nudging him with your elbow. “Don’t push it.”

The tension between you softened as the teasing subsided, replaced by something more subtle. Lando looked at you, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than usual, and suddenly the air in the elevator felt different. There was a shift, something unspoken but undeniably present. You were close, closer than you realized, and for the first time, you could feel a kind of weight behind his gaze.

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you just how much I appreciate everything you do for me.”

You blinked, not expecting the sincerity in his tone. “Lando, it’s my job—”

“No,” he interrupted, leaning in just slightly, his expression serious. “It’s more than that. You put up with me, you deal with all my shit, and... I don’t know. You’re always there.

His words hung in the air, thick with meaning you didn’t quite know how to process. Your heart was pounding, and you could feel the heat rising in your chest as the silence stretched on. Before you could say anything, the elevator jolted, the lights flickered, and the soft hum of the machinery kicked back in. The doors didn’t open yet, but you knew it was only a matter of time.

But then, in that suspended moment, Lando moved closer, his eyes searching yours, and before you could fully process what was happening, he leaned in and kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed or hesitant—it was a slow, deliberate kiss, as if he’d been thinking about doing this for a long time. His hand came up to cup your face, and for a second, you forgot about everything—the press conference, the mess he’d caused, the fact that you were his PR manager.

The kiss deepened, your hands instinctively reaching for his shoulders, and for that brief moment, nothing else mattered. Just the two of you, in this small, confined space, finally letting the tension between you spill over.

The elevator doors dinged softly, snapping you both back to reality. You pulled away, your breath coming in short gasps, eyes wide as the situation hit you.

Lando let out a soft, breathless laugh, his forehead resting against yours. “Guess we’ll have to finish that later.”

You could only nod, still too stunned to form words.

With one final smile, Lando stepped out of the elevator, and you followed, your mind still reeling from the kiss that had just changed everything.

[scoops-aboy86]

Steve as a late night radio DJ, with Robin as his producer (because my partner has made me watch so much Frasier lol). He's got the sexy voice and Eddie, frontman of successful metal band Corroded Coffin, still remembers him from Hawkins and, ugh.

But, well, his manager set up the interview and it would cause more of a stir to no-show than it would to turn up and bicker with some washed up former high school bully. It's a different city, a different decade; maybe King Steve won't even remember him.

So Eddie turns up, and he actually beats Steve there. To the point of the show starting and it's just him in the booth, chatting awkwardly with Robin to fill the air. It gets less awkward the more they talk, idly catching up on old small town bullshit and what it's like to go from isolated baby queers ("I thought I was totally alone!" "Really? You didn't clock the black bandana hanging out of my pocket for five of my six years in high school?" "Sorry old timer, I was still in middle school for part of that." "Oh fuck off, Ms. 'I went to Sarah Lawrence and all I got was this awesome girlfriend.'" "Sorry Eddie, we can't all be super late bloomers like you.") to Actually Successful And Functioning Adults. (She's kind enough not to mention his single but unfortunately well known brush with rehab, other than to congratulate him on his seven year chip.)

And then Steve bursts in, huffing and puffing and diving for the headphones and mic to apologize to both them and the audience for being late. He doesn't even try to offer an excuse until Robin asks, "Uh, Steve? Want to share with us why your arm's in a sling and one of your eyebrows looks like it got flambéd right off your face?"

Which turns into a very put-upon but entertaining retelling of Dustin Henderson ("Oh damn, Henderson! I fell outta touch with him ages ago. How is that little shit?" "Married. He didn't end up converting to Mormonism, but they still have enough kids to make up half a basketball team." "Is that... a lot?" "Six, Munson. They have six kids." "Which is funny, because he made soooo much fun of Steve for wanting that many back in the day." "Yeah. Showed him." "Fuck, my condolences to his wife if they all inherited his big head. You gotta give me his number after this. Or—DUSTIN, if you're listening to your babysitter's show, come to my next concert and there'll be two backstage passes with your name on it! Or, well, that embarrassing nickname your radio girlfriend used to call you, since I think I've blurted out your full government name by now." "That girlfriend is actually his wife now." "No shit?! Wow, I can't believe one of my little lost sheepies has managed to keep the same girl for over a decade. Is she really hotter than Phoebe Cates?" "Oh, she is smokin." "Robin, don't make it weird." "Oh it's okay, she already knows. I told her.") ... A very put-upon but entertaining retelling of Dustin Henderson coming over to discuss plans for Ma Henderson's birthday, and bringing a cherries jubilee that Suzie had made so he could literally demonstrate the flambé presentation ("Listeners, I swear I did not know, when I asked Steve about his flambéd eyebrow, that it was a literal flambé accident. Eddie, can you confirm?" "I can confirm, Robin. We received no heads-up calls or messages from Steve before or during the show. It was serendipitous irony, 100% pure.") but poured waaaaay too much brandy on, and then Steve tripped in his mad dash for the fire extinguisher ("He was no help at all, just stopped dropped and rolled right there in the middle of the damn kitchen." "How are his eyebrows?" "Ugh, I have more of them than he does right now but at least his match. Don't worry everyone, he's fine. No nerds were injured in the course of this improv slapstick comedy routine that is my life. I swear to god, I need a girlfriend or a boyfriend or someone reasonable to hang out with besides all you weirdos." "Aw, you love us." "Yeah Stevie, what would you do without your loving nerd squad?" "Yeah, yeah... But don't try to leave yourself out of this Munson, as far as I'm concerned you're still the king of all nerds. And if you're reconnecting with Dustin, you're stuck with us too.") and had to stop by urgent care on the way to work.

Throughout all of this, Eddie is not twirling a lock of hair around one finger... but only because it's tied haphazardly back to keep it out of his face for the day. Steve is different from the guy he remembers strutting the halls of Hawkins High. Still all freckles and hair and charismatic grin, but he carries himself differently. More solidly built in his mid-thirties than his late teens, with a layer of softness that suits him. Calmer and settled, with the kind of confidence that comes with growing up. And the girlfriend or boyfriend thing? Holy shit. Holy shit. King Steve? Who knew? But, well, it explains why Steve and Robin are so close, Eddie guesses.

The Steve Harrington that Eddie had known back in the day hadn't exactly been the worst of the bullies, but he'd been friends with them, and they had spouted plenty of homophobic shit. And Steve had been looking right at him as he'd said it, like he's aware that Eddie is terminally single and maybe, just maybe, there was a flicker of a question in his eyes.

Eddie has been publicly out for a while now, and the thing is... Steve is definitely his type. So he leans into it a little, testing the waters. And Steve responds to it like a sunflower greeting the sunrise.

By the end of the show Robin is slapping post-its on the glass partition that read "Get his number dingus" and "Get a room" and Don't make that face at me, yes I do know that he can see these too and I don't care, GET IT or I will recruit Dusty-dun to my cause" and "To clarify, the cause is getting you laid. Eddie, take note, he's allergic to latex."

Permanent tag list (ask to be added, but since I have gotten an influx of new followers lately just know that I write a lot of weight gain kink so like... just be aware): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @tangerinesteve

[swordsandholly]

Treat Me Gently (Because No One Else Will)

Ch 1: The Arrangement | next | masterlist | Ao3

Ghoap x reader | MDNI 18+ | cw: PiV sex, fingering

You yawn and stretch, back popping all the way up as you finally give it some reprieve from your hours of sitting at your low coffee table that doubles as your work station. As much as you try to stop hunching like a goblin, you always slip back into it. It’s hard when your mind gets lost in the words and the pages flying by. Good posture seems to equal bad writing, unfortunately.

Your knees pop slightly as you stand up from your cushion that doubles as a ‘chair’, decidedly clocking out for the evening. Really, you should have stopped two hours ago, but you just can’t get this one damn scene right. You sigh, heading to your dresser to change out of your “work” clothes and into a ratty, oversized shirt and pajama shorts. Your phone dings just as you go to stand in front of the fridge that you already know is practically empty.

S >> Come over?

S >> I got takeout.

You snicker. Perfunctory and presumptuous, as usual. He timed it out for when he knew you’d be done with work - even taking in your propensity to go well passed your designated office hours. He probably knew you were out of food, too. Not that you’d ever expect less from Simon Riley.

>> Give me 5

You pad across the the hallway between your flats, the dangling of your keys echoing off the old walls. The floorboards always creak, announcing your presence before you could even knock on the door. Simon’s place is bigger than yours - a one bedroom as opposed to your studio. Both have small balconies, his furnished with only two fold-out chairs. You’ve tried to convince him to get a plant or something, but he just insists it will die in a day despite that being literally impossible. The whole of the apartment is sparsely decorated - the main features being that of his well worn L-shaped couch and the fancy surround sound system Simon installed. The rest of it made up of shelves lined with physical media and books.

“Evenin’.” Simon says from his kitchen as you let yourself in. He stands at the island, broad shoulders hunched as he fiddles with something.

The lock clicks behind you when you shut the door. Some soft classical music drifts from the speakers. You don’t recognize it, but you also know that asking will result in a lecture that will undoubtedly become a pop quiz at a later date. You don’t need another Tchaikovsky incident on your hands.

“Sushi?” Your brows raise as you eye the rolls and sashimi. He really went all out. “What’s the occasion?”

Simon shrugs, plating the food up on his uniform black, square plates. Yours sits neatly on a plate of it’s own, soy sauce and all. Sometimes you wonder if he keeps an index of your take out orders or if his memory is just that good. “Shipping out soon. Figured I’d get it while I could.”

You grin and move behind him. He shivers slightly as you push your cool hands up under his shirt to run along his strong core. “Doesn’t have anything to do with the whole aphrodisiac thing?”

“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, bird.” Simon feigns ignorance. The corner of his mouth briefly quirks up before he forces it back down.

“Sure, sure.” You retract your hands, wandering over to pick up the TV remote off the well worn coffee table. “Which movie are we on?”

“Blackwell Ghost 5.”

You settle in your usual spot on the couch, leaning on the right armrest. Simon has always liked the middle - he says it’s the best for his back. You know it’s just because he likes to manspread five miles wide. It doesn’t bother you, as you generally prefer to curl up in the corner with your feet tucked. The movie rolls and you eat in comfortable silence, humming around the fresh food. He really does spoil you, sometimes.

You eye Simon while you eat. With anybody else this would all be pretense - an unnecessary preamble to imply, somehow, that this is more than a booty call. Not with Simon. Never with Simon. This is just as important as the rest of it. You watch the way his hands practically dwarf the single-use chopsticks, the way his body melts into the cushions. Your eyes rake over the strong planes of his face littered with various scars; his nose broken one too many times, the ear that’s been slightly clipped by a bullet. His hair has grown out and more stubble sprinkles across his jaw than he usually allows.

“Wotcha lookin’ at?” Simon mumbles around some tuna.

You tilt your head, smiling. “You’re fun to watch.”

“Creep.” He nudges your foot with his knee.

“Freak.” You push back.

“’ow’s the book goin’?” Simon asks.

You groan, shoving your last piece of sushi in your mouth while you debate your answer. “S’fine. Slow. My agent is being a real pain in my ass.”

He hums, that slight smirk gracing his lips. If you knew him any less you might have missed it entirely. “Need some inspiration?”

You sputter out a laugh, placing your plate on the coffee table. “Very smooth, Riley.”

“C’mere.” Simon rumbles, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you over his lap. It’s almost uncomfortable how far you have to stretch to accommodate his hips, but its so worth it as his hands rest on your waist, grinding you down against him. You gasp, giving him entrance to press his lips to yours - tongue flicking over your lower lip.

One hand tangles in his hair, the other caressed downward, shoving his shirt up and tracing the lines of muscle across his torso. You’ve always loved bodies - loved taking in their shapes and texture, their variety - and Simon’s has so much to take in. Ridges of muscle and scars, plus that little plush layer over his middle he gets while home from deployment. You tug on his shirt, only breaking the kiss long enough to yank it off and toss it somewhere on the floor.

“Y’so fuckin’ pretty…” Simon mumbles, hands wandering from your waist, to your hips, to knead at your thighs and the curve of your ass.

You squeak as Simon lifts you, locking your legs around his waist. No matter how many times he does it, his strength still catches you off guard. He doesn’t unlock from your lips, moving back to his room purely based on muscle memory. You have to resist the urge to tease him about the time he knocked your head against the doorframe in this exact position.

Your hands drift over the curvature of his broad shoulders as he lays you back on his bed. You can’t help but be fascinated by him - all hard muscle and sinew. So different from your own soft figure. Even the pads of his fingers are rough as they push under your oversized t-shirt, kneading at the soft layer over your middle.

“This okay?” Simon mumbles in your ear. You nod vigorously as his hands move up, up, up until he’s pulling your shirt and bralette off in one swift motion.

Simon buries his face in your chest, nipping at the sensitive skin before taking a nipple in his mouth. You arch into the touch, unsure of where to put your hands and opting to let them wander.

“May I?” He murmurs, fingers catching in the hems of your underwear and sleep shorts. Again, you nod, forgetting that isn’t enough for him at this stage. “Use your words.”

“Yes! Please, Si.” You whine, rolling your hips against the too-light touch.

Simon chuckles at you, pulling your bottoms off and dropping them onto the floor somewhere. He runs his fingers between your folds, obviously reveling in the way your breath catches and your chest heaves when he finally circles your clit. His lips connect with yours, swallowing every gasp and moan as he presses a finger inside.

“Fuckin’ tight t’night, bird.” He grumbles into your mouth. “‘ave I been neglecting you?”

Quite the opposite. If anything, he’s fucked you silly this past week, but you can’t exactly argue that when he presses against your g-spot and retakes your nipple between his teeth.

“Oh, fuck!” You moan as a second finger joins the first. Your nails dig lightly into his shoulders when he pressed his thumb against your clit, moving in short circles to the rhythm of the fingers inside you. You swear he’s too dexterous to be human sometimes.

You keen, body tensing as stars dance behind your eyes. You can feel the slickness of your cunt on your thighs, the squelch of Simon’s slowed movements almost too lewd.

He only disappears long enough to shuck off his pants before he’s hovering back over you, tucked into the crook of your neck. Simon gives you a moment to come down, cooing praises in your ear. “Doin’ so good f’me. Always so good f’me.”

He sits back to lightly tap his cock against your pussy, sending jolts up your spine, obviously enjoying your reaction. He grinds his cock against you, sliding easily between your soaked folds. “Christ.”

Simon reaches into the nightstand, plucking a condom out from their designated spot. He hands it to you for inspection, as always. You don’t really understand why he still does it after the two of you have had this standing agreement for so long, but it’s not a gesture you’re going to call into question. Some of Simon’s sexual habits are simply best left as they are - they’re always for your mutual benefit, anyway. You flip it over in your fingers briefly before passing it back.

No matter how many times you take him, it’s always a stretch. He’s not the biggest you’ve had, but thick enough the sensation would teeter into pain without any preparation. That’s another thing he insists on: pain has no place in intimacy.

Your lips fall open in a pitchy moan - hands fisting the sheets on either side of you. Simon falls onto his forearms resting on either side of your head. You revel in the way he cages you in, the way his tongue laps at the sweat-slicked skin of your collar bone. You both sigh in sync as his hips finally settle against yours.

You wrap your legs tightly around his back as he begins to move. A solid rhythm slowly turning into something more desperate. Simon sits up, his weight suddenly off you. Just as you crack your eyes open his hands grab tightly onto your hips, lifting them just off the bed. The new angle ruts him against that spot inside you, pushing you over the edge into another orgasm faster than you can process it.

He eventually lets go of your hips, one hand braces by your head, the other tracing your body. Plucking at your nipples, kneading at the flesh of your thighs, pressing onto your soft stomach to emphasize the fullness with him inside you.

“Give me another.” Simon demands, thumb pressing to your clit. His eyes bore through you, watching your every minute expression. “C’mon, one more, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. A rarer pet name - one you’d probably be pissed about coming from anyone else. With Simon it melts into your bones, pooling at the base of your spine. Your eyes roll back, pathetic sounds and babbling falling from your lips as you cum again in such a short span.

“Fuck.” He grunts, voice low and breathless in your ear. “Cunt feels so fucking good when you cum f’me.”

You whine, useless under him. Your limbs are utter jelly. Even as you try to roll your hips with his, your movement is stuttered. Uncontrolled. You know he enjoys how sensitive you are, how pliant you become. It feeds his ego - the part of him that needs to do things right. Your body shudders under Simon’s as he groans, all depth and gravel, his hips stuttering and slowing as he cums.

You both stop, for a moment, foreheads pressed together as you catch your breath enough for Simon to push himself up, tying off the condom and tossing it before falling into his back beside you.

A silence lapses over you - the only sound in the room is that of your breathing with a slight pitch difference between your breaths. You’ve always loved this part. The quiet afterglow. The gentle way Simon will reach over to soothe down your hair while you lazily meet his eye. No words, no expectations. Just existing with someone in your vulnerability. With someone you know is safe.

“Go piss.” Simon points to the bathroom as soon as his breath is even.

You snort, pushing yourself up on slightly shaky arms. “So demanding.”

“So considerate.” He quips back. “It’s important.”

“Fine, fine.” You throw your hands up and pad off to the bathroom. You pause, looking at yourself in the mirror. What is it about Simon’s bathroom that makes you so much more beautiful than your own? Your skin glows nicely, your hair shines even as it’s mussed up from getting fucked six ways to Sunday.

When you come back Simon’s sitting up against the headboard, scrolling through something on his phone. You crawl back into bed beside him, flopping on your back and staring at the ceiling fan as it circles, circles, circles.

“When do you have to leave?”

He sighs, dropping his phone back onto the nightstand. “End of the week.”

You nod, accepting the oncoming semi-dry spell as usual. You’ve always wondered what he does when he’s gone - if he has another you out there. Another arrangement. You can’t imagine Simon going more than a couple days without someone. That’s what brought you into this in the first place - a mutual benefit. You don’t truly feel the need to ask; it’s more curiosity than anything and you don’t want the question to go misinterpreted. Not that Simon would, necessarily, he’s always been good about taking your words at face value.

With a sigh, you roll onto your side to face him, head propped on your hand. “Know where you’re heading?”

“Mexico.” Simon grunts in that tone that signals you to stop asking questions.

You trail your fingers over his chest, through the dusting of blonde hair. “Wanna go again?”

“Fuck yes.” He rolls over. You can’t help but giggle as he knocks your knees apart and eagerly plants himself between your thighs.

banner by @the-aesthetics-shop

[headspace-hotel]

re: ohio chemical disaster

OP of the post I reblogged earlier regarding this turned off reblogs (understandable have a nice day) but I got a request to put the information in its own post, so here.

First thing: PLEASE be careful about claims that "The Media" is suppressing something as part of a malicious agenda, or that an event has been purposefully manufactured by "The Media" to distract from something else.

Not only is this a really common disinformation tactic (not only urging you to share/reblog quickly, but discouraging you from fact checking), treating "The Media" as a monolithic entity with purposeful agency and a specific, malicious agenda—particularly one that manufactures events to "distract" from other events—is a red flag for conspiracy theories.

There's already a post in the tag attributing the supposed lack of media coverage to "reptilians." Please connect the dots here.

Second—"the news isn't focusing on this as much as I think they should" is not a media blackout. Every major USA news source is reporting on the Ohio train derailment. Googling returns at least 4 pages of results from major news media sources. Even just googling "Ohio" gets you plenty of results about it.

This is an unusual amount of media attention for a U.S. environmental disaster.

Because this kind of thing happens all the damn time.

The "media blackout" narrative gives the impression that this is an unusual event that isn't receiving wall to wall coverage only because it's being suppressed—when the reality is that similar disasters happen a lot, and hardly ever get the attention the Ohio disaster is getting.

Consider this example, not too far from my local area: A few years ago, almost 2,000 tons of radioactive fracking waste were illegally dumped in an Eastern Kentucky municipal landfill, directly across from a middle school. Leachate from that landfill goes into the Kentucky River, which is where most of the central part of the state gets its drinking water. As far as we know, the radioactive waste isn't leaking yet, but it could start leaking at any time.

Zero national news sources covered this. Why? If I was to hazard a guess, I would say "because it's business as usual for the fossil fuel industry."

Consider also the case of Martin County, KY, which has had foul-smelling, contaminated drinking water for decades. Former coal country in Appalachia is poisoned and toxic, and laws have little power to punish the companies that created the destruction.

What happened in Ohio is just a little window into a whole world of horrors.

The Martin County coal slurry spill that is still poisoning the water 20 years later killed literally everything in the water for miles downstream (a book Mom read said 70 miles of the Ohio river were made completely lifeless). It was 30 times larger than the Exxon-Valdez oil spill, and it was in some sense "covered up"—in the sense that the Bush administration shut down the investigation because the Republicans are buddies with the fossil fuel industry, and proceeded to relax regulations even further.

Seriously, read that wiki article to get pissed enough to eat glass.

Hopefully the Ohio chemical spill will inspire real action to institute regulations to prevent shit like this from ever happening again. It's not the end of the world. It's not radically different from what industries have been causing the whole damn time. It is pretty bad.

I would urge everyone to actually search up information about it instead of getting news from Tiktok or Twitter, because the more false information gets distributed, the less momentum any effort to respond with improved regulations and changes to prevent future disasters will have. Plenty of facts here *are* public and being publicly discussed and pretending that they're not is actively detrimental.

[nomazee]

Um hello! Is the 1k event thingy still up?? If so I would like to request a classmate! Dr ratio x reader at 2:47 am?

it's actually sickening how much fun i had with this i was giggling at my own jokes while typing this out... this was so fun to write THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING!!!

my 1k event!

—°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.—

A blaring, aggravating, shrill sound wakes you up. Your hands go to cover your ears, protecting your sanity from the noise ringing somewhere from the tangle of sheets on your bed. Hands flailing around desperately to find the source of the piercing chimes, you writhe around in agony until you finally latch onto your phone. 

The brightness of the screen digs into your corneas as you lift up the device to see the caller ID of whoever had the guts to bother you on a school night. 

It comes to no surprise that the caller name reads “VERITAS FUCKING RATIO” in all caps with no contact photo. Your eye twitches and the grip on your phone tightens, just a hair away from leaving finger-shaped dents in the metal. 

Begrudgingly, you answer the call, tucking the phone next to your ear with nothing less than displeasure. “Veritas. Why are you calling me at—” you pull your phone back to check, “—almost three in the morning?” 

“The works cited page,” Veritas Fucking Ratio informs you matter-of-factly. There’s no hint of sleepiness in his voice, nothing that could possibly chip away at his good image, of course. “You did it in the wrong format. It’s supposed to be APA. This is a science project, not a literature project.” 

You might kill him. The project in question is to be presented tomorrow— today at ten in the morning. Ratio and you had been working on it for an entire two weeks, broken up into intermittent hour-long sessions because he was adamant that you split up the work instead of rushing to do it all the night before. Stupid self-righteous gorgeous beautiful academic genius-freak. Yeah, it definitely helped you in the long run, but he acted so sanctimonious about it that you refused to admit the benefits. 

“Veritas,” you imbue the syllables of his name with poison, as much as you can when you’re swaying as you sit up on your bed and fighting demons to not fall back asleep. “This is such an easily-fixed thing. Do you know what time it is right now? Why are you even awake? You know, I am supposed to get a full seven hours of sleep every night, and I was already cutting it short today, and you woke me up before I could even hit REM sleep. Do you know how upsetting this is? Fix the goddamn works cited yourself!” 

For once, Veritas is at a loss for words. The other end of the line is so quiet that you have to double check and make sure he hasn’t just hung up on you. Perspiration builds on your palms, thinking that this is it—this is the exact moment that you make Veritas-Fucking-Ratio snap and delete your name off the project credit slide, and you’re going to get a 0 because he will wipe off any evidence of your work from this plane of existence, and you will spend the rest of your measly life chasing after your MLA-turned-APA works cited page, too-little-too-late. 

“I’m awake because the— well.” He pauses, and his voice sounds so far away and unobtrusive that you’re almost worried. Your breath stills in the middle of your diaphragm. Waiting. “The works cited is one thing. But I wanted you to look at the slides, if you can.” 

If you can, he says, as if he’s giving you a choice, which he literally never has during this entire process. You had no role in choosing the topic, or the slide theme, or what days you worked on the project, or how often you worked on the project (because god forbid you procrastinate a little bit, right?!), but now, at almost three in the morning, Veritas is saying something along the lines of oh please my dearest project partner, I request that you open the Google Slides at once, but only if you would like to! I would never infringe on your free will at three in the morning, because I respect you as a partner. Or something like that. That was pretty much the gist of it. 

A raspy sigh escapes you, and you claw your busted laptop off the nightstand next to you, opening it up and squinting at the LED screen as you punch in your passcode. “You know, I have done a good job at going along with all of your whims, Veritas, the least you could do is fix the works cited for me. Seriously, how did you even miss that? You’re so detail-oriented, but you didn't even realize the format was wrong until tonight? Who even cares, seriously… it’s just a slideshow…” 

Your voice trails off as the slideshow presentation finally loads in. You see Veritas’ default profile picture blink in the upper right-hand corner, signaling that he’s viewing the slideshow with you. The slideshow which has apparently undergone a huge makeover. 

It’s—pleasant to look at. This entire time, you and Veritas had been editing a default, white-background black-serif-font-text slideshow. He refused to change it, telling you that it’s unprofessional to do anything too embellished, to which you fruitlessly said, Veritas, we will die early deaths because of the hole in the ozone layer, would you at least make it easier on my poor soul by letting me choose a pokemon-theme slide? Veritas had pretended like he couldn't hear you (in a very quiet library room, mind you), but the twitch in his brow gave him away. 

Now, though, the slides are decorated. It’s a really nice theme, complete with custom icons and graphic blobs of color—your favorite color, might you add. It’s—pretty. Dare you say, cute, but you think Veritas would vaporize your entire presentation if you called it cute. 

“Did you— this— did you pay for this slide theme?” 

“You— n— mn,” he trails off into an unintelligible mash of mumbling, and you hear a loud THUD that sounds awfully like the phone being thrown onto a mattress. Fabric shuffles around, before you hear Veritas’ voice again, clear and composed. “Sorry. I dropped my phone.” What a loser, and a liar, and an endearing freak. You really wish he video called you because you need to see his totally-very-ugly face. 

“I thought this was unprofessional, Veritas,” you say teasingly, a smile lining your words as you try not to giggle right into the phone. “What made you have a change of heart?” 

“Nothing,” the typical firmness of his voice has returned, much to your dismay. “The works cited is still wrong. You have to fix it.” 

“Oh, whatever you say, honored Ratio,” you open up your trusty citation-generator, ready for a long fifteen minutes of copying and pasting information. “Hey, you must be free after class tomorrow, right? Since the project is pretty much over, right?” 

“Yes,” Veritas answers after a moment of hesitation, only a hint of doubt in his voice. 

“That’s great. Keep your schedule clear, then.” 

(You fix the works cited slide, wish Veritas sweet dreams, and then wake up in the morning to completely ace your presentation. The minute the period ends, you drag him out of the classroom and into a coffee shop, paying for some five dollar pastry and joking that it’s payback for the cute slideshow theme that he definitely paid five dollars for. Veritas is an awful liar, and you tell him that, and he can’t even find the strength to deny it.)

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

gen taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin

fill out my event taglist (pinned) or general taglist (navi) to be tagged in upcoming works!

[cupcakeinat0r]

A Nerdy Middle-aged loser Miguel with a dad bod who teaches your genetics class

In celebration of 1k followers, I give you Pt.5 <3

Enjoy! - Cupcake

Since that day you kissed Miguel on the cheek, the dynamic of y’all’s relationship had totally changed, but not drastically. Miguel was back to acting soft towards you, greeting you upon your somewhat late arrivals, getting you little gifts that reminded him of you, and the subtle exchange of glances in class.

Professor O’Hara was a little handsy during your tutoring sessions before, but now he was even more so, your little peck on his cheek was all the encouragement he needed. For sure, his job was on the line since anyone could’ve walked in and seen the two of you like this, but it was worth the risk. Just as long as you both acted this way in his office, the coast was clear.

The head messages had doubled, footsies was played underneath his desk, and he’d even find any excuse to have his hand on yours while you both worked independently, sitting in peaceful silence with each other. You found it hard to complete the research questions when his thumb kept caressing your knuckles, yet, you never protested. His flirt game was rusty, his advances limited to innocent touching and praise, but nonetheless, it was adorable to you the way he tried.

After that day in his office, tutoring sessions became less about tutoring and more just about being in each other’s company. Instead of spending an hour practicing formulas, you both would mingle while organizing the lecture hall or filing research papers. Anything to help Prof. O’Hara, or rather Miguel, since y’all are officially on a first-name basis.

A new development was when you started staying after to help him grade papers. The two of you would use this time to talk one-on-one more, no one there to interrupt. Miguel was just as handsy during this time, too. As mentioned before, he’d find any excuse to touch you, and in the most innocent ways. For example, if he saw a strand of your hair falling on your face while you were grading a paper, he’d simply tuck it behind your ear for you, or when the necklace he got you was crooked or facing the wrong side, he’d gently fix it for you while you spoke to him about one of your current interests, following along with low hums and ‘mhm’s. It’d make you blush and stutter mid-sentence, inflating his otherwise small ego.

Miguel wasn’t a very vocal person, you knew that, but you can see by his actions that he really really liked you. You continued to show your appreciation by leaving treats on his desk, keeping note that his favorite was black coffee and a quesito from the bakery he showed you on campus. A pastry not too sweet, and goes perfectly with a cup of cafécito.

But you were just too sweet and Miguel completely fell for it. He saw how eager you were to help other people in the class, and seeing how willing you were to stay with him to help him with anything you could. He admired that. It also confused him for so long because how has no one swept you off your feet? You were literally perfect? Certainly, people have tried, there’s no way he would believe that no one has. It’s apparent now that the both of you share feelings that are beyond platonic, it’s just a matter of time before someone makes the next move. Given the circumstances, for now, Miguel is taking things microscopically slow with you. He doesn’t wanna scare you off. The last thing he wants is to ruin his chance with you.

His feelings for you were growing, which slightly terrified him given that you are still, in fact, his student, no matter how grown you were. He couldn’t help it. His dreams about you were turning less lustful and more wholesome. When he sleeps, he would see himself coming home to you, cooking with you, reading books next to each other, or even cleaning with you. Just mundane day-to-day tasks, only they’re with you. Maybe for now, they’ll just stay in his dreams. Maybe.

<3

The lecture had just finished and you sent your new best friend, the transfer, away with a European farewell, kissing both of his cheeks. Without you knowing, Miguel watches on with an unamused smirk, remembering how he mistook your relationship with the transfer as a romantic one.

Before leaving the lecture hall, you strut towards Miguel to give him your now-routinely kiss goodbye (on the cheek, of course…). As you walk, you see that he’s crouched over his computer, tired eyes glossing over the screen. The fatigue of finals season is beginning to show on him, and it was a pitiful sight that made you purse your lips. Although it made you sad, you couldn’t help but let a small puff of air out your nose with how his glasses sat low on his nose. He never bothered to fix them, so you were the one who’d fix them oftentimes, and every time, he’d give you a small, “gracias, mama.”

You set down your bag, the thud of it hitting the floor finally stealing Miguel’s attention away from the blue-lit screen. He looks you up and down over his lenses, the small, fine lines of his face showing his age and you loved ittt.

“Sweetheart, as much as I love it when you stay and help, I’d be happier knowing you’re at home getting the rest you deserve.” He softly speaks, this version of himself that is so different from the one he presents in front of his class and colleagues.

“You worry too much, Miguel.” You plant yourself next to his chair, leaning down to get a better look at what on the computer has him so worked up. “Jesus, Miguel, no wonder you look sick.” You scroll through what seems like an endless list of students who signed up for office hours. With the amount that registered, Miguel would have to work even outside of his office hours.

From Miguel’s seated position, he has first-class access to your sweet perfume and a million-dollar view of your neck and chest, his mind wandering for a moment.

“Are you listening to me? This is ridiculous, there’s no way you’re cramming this amount of students… is there not another professor who could tutor as well?” the small raise of your voice is enough to bring his attention upward, not that that was any better of a view. Now, he was just looking at your lips, and how your lip plump makes them looks deliciously kissable. He imagined how’d they’d look if they were-

“Miguel O’Hara!” He blinks once or twice, gaining consciousness again, “Excuse me, uh, yeah, no, I’m the only one who can. For this class, I mean.” He rubs one of his eyes, letting out a sigh as he looks at the heavily packed schedule displayed on his desktop. “Anyways, it’s my responsibility. This was in the job description, so I gotta do what I gotta do.”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, hands on your hips, “Okay, but that doesn’t mean compromising your own health. There are healthy and efficient ways of doing your job, Mig.”

There’s that nickname he loved. He melted every time you used it, the familiarity of y’all’s relationship shining through the most when you did. He especially loved it when you were upset. He thought it was cute.

“Let me tutor some.” This snaps Miguel back to Earth, but this time, he’s in disbelief. “You’d tutor other students?” This was a rhetorical question, of course, he knew you were serious. He knew how big your heart was. He guessed he was just in disbelief because, once again, he was beguiled by the existence of a literal angel sent to Earth. He can’t believe he’s been blessed by your presence and friendship (?). You were so kind, so intelligent, so put-together, extremely gorgeous… you were utterly perfect.

“If splitting the work meant you got some sort of rest around here, then of course I would! Mig…” You grab the nearest chair and pull it to sit next to him, placing a hand on top of his. His hand relaxes under your touch, “You’ll work yourself to death like this.” You send a warmth onto his hand and up his arm you rub circles on his knuckles, the same way he does it to you.

“You’ve done so much for me, Miguel. Let me repay you, please? Please let me do this?” You bat your eyes, Miguel’s kryptonite.

Miguel turns his hand to intertwine his fingers with yours, seeing the genuinity in your eyes. He gives it a small squeeze before saying, “What did I do to deserve you, hm?” it comes out just above a whisper.

“Plenty, Miguel. You’re the hardest working man I’ve ever met,” you cock your head to the side, your eyes tracing the muscles of his broad shoulders, counting in your head all the possible knots buried deep in there,” Here, sit back, please.” You say sweetly, standing back up to travel to the back of his seat.

“What’re you up to?” His eyebrows raised, but he eased again when he felt your small hands massaging the crooks of his neck. “Sshhhh, just relax, Mig. It’s ok.”

He furrows his brows feeling the scrumptious pain of knots unfurling and tension melting away, your soft hands kneading his back muscles like readied sour dough. You know you hit a good spot when he accidentally lets out small groans. You’re doing so good that it takes every thing in him to hold back any embarrassing moaning. You can see his fits clench around the arms of his chair. His breath shakes from the sudden touch, but it’s not in protest; just surprise. Astonished that the woman he dreamed of every night was currently giving him a message.

You can see his literal jaw unclench, happy to see him so relaxed. “Feel good?” You whisper in a sugary tone, Miguel nodding with his lips parted. He lets out a small noise of approval, urging you to keep going. With his eyes closed, you were able to closely examine all the sharp features that make up his beautiful, sculpted face. He was simply gorgeous. Slowly, his hands relax, signifying that he’s becoming comfortable with this, welcoming your soothing touch.

“S’good, mama… s’good…” he speaks under his breath as you knead out the stubborn knots on the stiff tissue of neck. Once you feel like you’ve ridden all the points of tension there, you slowly work your toward his clavicle. He lets you unbutton the first three buttons of his polo sweater. With your whole hands, you apply pressure there, offering weighted comfort to the area. He takes a deep breath and exhales with an open mouth, as if releasing all the tension and stress.

Then you rub up and down slowly, the sensation of his chest hair tempting you to venture deeper down his thick torso. Due to the immense relaxation, Miguel’s head begins to fall back onto your stomach, so you step closer to give him extra support.

He hums when he feels both of your hands cup his face. You then remove his glasses so you can work on his temples. His eyes are still closed, but you can see his lips slightly curl, which makes you smile. You wonder what he’s thinking about as you give his scalp a good rake.

Miguel is currently thinking about where he should get down on one knee for you. He’s thinking about what color you’d possibly want the cabinets to be in your shared home. He’s thinking about if y’all’s child will be as nerdy as him or as fashionable as you. Either way, he’d be the happiest man in the world. He’s on cloud nine as far as he’s concerned. He couldn’t remember the last time he relaxed like this. This train of thought is stopped by the sensation of your lips on his forehead. His heart stops as well.

Then he feels the soft smack of your lips on his left cheek, then his right, leaving behind a trail of lip gloss prints. Anticipating a potential fourth kiss somewhere specific, he slowly opens his eyes, your face inches from his. His head leans all the way back, resting against your stomach still.

It’s silent between the two of you. You lock eyes, completely drowning in the other's gaze. No words were exchanged, but there didn’t need to be.

Seeing no other action fit for this perfect moment, Miguel raises his hand above him to cup your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb. You inch down closer, your heart racing. His is, too. His thumb itches to move, brushing along your bottom lip softly.

In what would be considered “Spider-Man” style, you both share a kiss, so sweet, so tender, and so innocent. The perfect first kiss. After a few mind blowing seconds, you’re the first to pull away, but not wanting to stop just yet, Miguel crashes you back into his lips by adding his other hand to your head, extending the moment just a bit longer. You weren’t complaining, though, you’d stay here forever if you could.

Feeling your knees getting weak, you shift all your weight onto Miguel, your hands traveling from the sides of his face back down to his pecs underneath his sweater, his chest in a slow rise and fall rhythm. To deepen the kiss even more, Miguel's hands wrap around the back of your neck. You both come up for air for just a mere second, Miguel breathlessly letting out a weak, “Please.”

knowing what he meant, you smile, going back down again but this time, open-mouthed. Miguel groans into your mouth with the feeling of his tongue on yours, practically treating it like his lollipop. The kiss becomes hungrier with a nibble on your lip by Miguel, pulling on it while you get some needed air. It’s getting sloppy now, and your hands travel lower, meeting the softness of his belly. His breath hitches when he feels them there, half-expecting you to be revolted in any way, but your hands just sit there. In fact, you start messaging there as well, giving love to his whole body. The feeling of the softness of his body in your hands grants a small moan, loving every piece of him. Your hands drag up and down his whole torso with each wet collision of your lips. Your hands would go as low as the pudge sitting above his belt, all the way to up his knife-like jawline, and back down again, and repeat. It’s like you wanted him to know you worshipped his body, and Miguel wanted to show some in return.

Using his hands on the back of your head, he tapped you to pull away so that he could take your hand and guide you around his chair, pulling you to straddle his lap. “C’mere…”

Tongues are going down throats, moans are being heard, and hands are becoming desperate. The fingers tugging his hair, his hands squeezing the globes of your ass, him desperately lifting his hips to make some friction. It was like horny college kids fucking for the first time…. or at least maybe one of y’all felt that way. The other was just that. A horny college student.

There was no stopping either of you, except maybe for the knocking at the lecture hall door.

Both your heads snapped toward the thankfully semi-transparent, iced door. You scramble to get off Miguel’s lap, Miguel wiping your lip gloss off his face. You go to button his sweater and fix his hair as he calls out, “Just a moment.” You give him his glasses when you hear the voice of the student speaking about a tutoring session with Miguel through the door.

Miguel thinks he’ll go to the door, but he feels you grab his hand. “Hey,” you pull him in for one last peck, “I’ll take this one, mkay?” You smile up at him, a very dazed Miguel looking back at you. As far as he’s concerned, he’s floating right now.

“Anyways, it seems like someone,” you look down, motioning to the prominent bulge in his pants, “needs a moment to calm down.” You chuckle, practically gliding to the door as Miguel looks down at his excitement, wide-eyed and making his own way into his private office to… read about DNA Polymerase Replacement or something.

Want more Dadbod!Miguel? Here's my mastlist, bae!

A/n: I just wanted to thank you guys for 1k followers as well as all the appreciation on this lil story of mine<3 y’all so sweet n cewt, and it’s so much fun writing this fic n just writing in general! Ty for letting my creative juices fuel ur delulu <3 I also hope that this hot, wet, fat kiss made up for all the edging I’ve done, if not, sorry <3 Next chapter tho………….. but chu gotta stay tuned, yall hear meeeeee????

<3 Tags <3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson  @librababe99 @sariespi @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi @hyjionie @maomaimao @pomakori @rxckstarss @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow  @hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @ce3stvu @mintssanctuary @migueloharasoulmate @veyveys @theanbitchless @nebulositycloud @jh7ley @gothicteddybearhugs

[gumycandyyy]

୨♡ Ｗｉｎｔｅｒ Ｋｉｎｇ ＨＣＳ ♡୧

I am ashamed of tumblr for not making more fanfic of this funky fruit.

We got some general HCS and then some romantic ones under the cut! (I went a little overboard with the romantic ones, hehe!)

Gender-neutral

୨♡ Ｇｅｎｅｒａｌ ♡୧

-Man's self care routine is off the charts

-I'm serious, he has like- 80 different bubble bath concoctions.

-Smells like mint

-or some kind of cold scent.

-I feel like he loves dressing up fancy, so he has a closet full of sparkly suits

-maybe even some dresses if he's feeling special.

-Doesn't actually need to wear glasses, he just likes how they look.

-While he loves his winter wonder world, I feel like he'd enjoy rainy weather more than snow.

-He got rid of all his madness and sadness, yes, but I think he'd cry at something especially cute. Happy tears, y'know?

"Why are you crying, sir? Are you okay?" "Oh, it's nothing. *sniff* Just those two rabbits that are cuddling."

-He is really bad at any percussion instrument

-like.. REALLY bad.

-His hands are too delicate for such a garish instrument as the drums!

-He loves playing duets on the piano, but rarely has anyone to play with.

-I mean, he could always concoct up an ice creature to play piano with him, but that's honestly quite dull.

-His favorite movie would probably be an old Christmas movie, like It's a Wonderful Life.

-He gets kidnapped by the Candy Queen so often, that occasionally he brings a book or something snuggly to help him wait for his ice scouts to rescue him.

-He once got so bored while kidnapped that he tried to read to some of the mutilated candy people

-That was the last time he saw his favorite book.

-Safe to say he doesn't bring his favorites anymore.

୨♡ Ｒｏｍａｎｔｉｃ ♡୧

-Will literally spoil his love interest rotten.

-You want that thing you saw earlier?

-Consider it yours

-You'd like for it to snow outside?

-A sprinkle or a blizzard?

-Literally anything, this man will go to the ends of the universe to get you what you'd like.

-Love languages are definitely gift giving and physical touch

-probably acts of service too.

-Loves dancing.

-Loves dancing.

-Whether it be a slow dance or ice-skating, he will take every opportunity to dance with you!

-He adores short people.

-Good, because he's tall as a giant.

-if you're shorter than him, he will no doubt use you as an armrest.

-He always makes remarks on how cute you are.

-Even if you're only two inches shorter than him.

-If you're taller...

-hoo boy.

-Expect him to be all over you.

-figuratively and literally.

-Will want you to carry him everywhere, sit in your lap, rest against you, whatever.

-Just let him touch you.

-He'll talk about how strong you are, how you'd be the perfect chair, etc. etc.

-He does the stupid "How's the weather up there?" jokes.

-Loves your body, no matter what it looks like.

-You're skinny?

-You're easy to carry around and dance with.

-You're chubby or fat?

-Literally will always be holding onto or resting on part of you. He loves squishy people.

-Somewhere in the middle?

-He could not care less. He loves you regardless of what you look like.

-And he makes sure to emphasize his point by complimenting you endlessly.

-He will never leave your side.

-Even if you need space, he doesn't.

-So why wouldn't you?

-Back to our regularly scheduled fluff-

-Candy Queen hates your guts.

-She thinks you're an obstacle, keeping her from the Winter King.

-No doubt tries to kill you.

-Multiple times. a day

-Her plans are always foiled, but if she gets too close to genuinely hurting you, Winter will be so upset.

"Oh, Dearest, please tell me you're okay!" "You are?" "Phew. I don't know what I'd do if you were hurt in any way."

-His petnames for you are probably

-Darling,

-Dearest,

-My love,

-There are a lot more, but those are the main ones.

-LOVES kissing you.

-Anytime, any way.

-He finds it adorable when his nose bumps your face.

-Favorite place to kiss would probably be the back of your hand.

-He is a gentleman after all.

-Overall, he just adores you.

-And he sincerely hopes you love him just as much as he does you.

Headcanon requests are open for Winter King! Don't be afraid to send an ask, and be shameless! I know I am! (No smut tho. Some spice is okay, however.)

Have some free WK art for coming this far!

reblog for a beginner writer?

[lynnimini]

₊⊹ 𝘣𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ₊⊹

Description: fluff ⋆ headcanons ⋆ cute

⋆ In which the members of boynextdoor do whatever it takes to get the attention of their lover.

Words: 730

Pairings: bnd x gn!reader

Warnings: N/A

p. sungho

- he probably gets bored of just sitting across the room from you and stares at you every now and then

- you're just laying there doing whatever you've been doing on the phone for the past hour while sungho gets antsy and wants to spend time with you :(

- he would clear his throat and you'd look at him the first time, not understanding what he wants

- but when he does it 5 times you put your phone down and hold your arms out to summon him over

- he comes casually walking over as if he hasn't been indirectly begging for attention for the past 20 minutes

- he'll get shy and just lay his head on your lap so he can rest while you play with his hair and talk about your day

l. riwoo

- you've been doing so much housework while riwoo's been out on schedules that he feels guilty it's left to you and just wants to cling to you 24/7

- you'll be in the middle of doing dishes when he comes over and gives you a little hug

- "i'll help you so we can watch tv together quicker okay?"

- of course you agree. how could you not when all he wants to do is help to spend time with you?

- he splashes you with soapy water while you two laugh and try not to break any dishes

- he successfully distracts you and keeps putting dishes on his side of the sink so you have way way less

- once you're finally done he carries you to the couch and cuddles into you, putting on your favorite tv series and watching with you

m. jaehyun

- jaehyun always claims he's not like a puppy but never gives you any reason to think otherwise...

- he's the complete opposite of sungho

- will 100% come sit next to you and knock anything out of your hands (or carefully put your breakable/spillable things down for you) while laying all over you

- if you call him a puppy while he's doing all this he will most definitely get off you and pout on the other side of the room

- he would come right back in five minutes, still pouting, but he couldn't stand being away from you longer than he already has

h. taesan

- taesan would be more likely to make YOU go over to HIM

- he never wants to admit that he wants to cuddle or spend time with you

- instead, taesan will be walking into the room trying to silently seduce you by subtly flexing his biceps and fixing his hair

- meanwhile you're just thinking about how hot taesan looks because just look at him???

- he's so good at winning you over and pulling you straight to him that you've never even noticed his little tricks

- without fail, you always walk over to give him a kiss and he smiles all happy knowing his plan worked

k. leehan

- leehan's very blunt and not afraid to voice what he wants

- it'll literally just be a quick "come here so i can show you something" or "lemme sit with you" and that's that

- sometimes you refuse or purposely take really long to go over to him

- "okayokay, after i finish this", "make me move over then"

- however, be warned that if you tease leehan he'll keep it in the back of his mind until he gets a chance to tease back

- he'll pretend to be asleep if you want him to come to you, but he knows you'll end up coming over to him instead and laying on top of him, so it's still a win for both

k. woonhak

- woonhak is a gamble between shy and blunt

- sometimes he's in the type of mood where he'll just cozy up to you and lay his head on your shoulder to watch you do whatever

- other times he'll not so subtly look at you every now and then and wonder if he should go over to you or not

- you always notice his little glances and send him a text telling him to come over so you can show him an edit of him you found

- woonhak's ego always sends him flying straight over to see how amazingly handsome onedoor has made him look, forgetting all about his shyness while he playfully shoves you upon seeing a goofy edit of the way he falls over when being struck by an imaginary arrow

[dilfl0v3rss]

ony is the best baby daddy like he just has that energyyy 😫

rightttttt like he gets the kids on time and if he’s late he will always let you know. he knows how to do his daughters hair and always makes sure his son has a haircut. his kids are always dressed nice and he always makes sure they’re taking care of each other as well as taking care of their beautiful mother.

he still finds himself looking out for you too, always telling the kids to “order sum for mommy” when he takes them out to eat or to “always make sure mommy’s not working too hard”. even on days he isn’t supposed to have them he’d gladly take them if you were feeling overwhelmed. if you’re feeling sick he’ll literally sleep at your house, soup and medicine sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch as he slept just incase you were to wake up in the middle of the night.

he’d constantly “forget” money at your house after he leaves too, telling you to “just get yourself sum nice”. if you give the money back anyways he’d give it to his oldest child, telling them to put it in your wallet for him.

when it’s his weekend with the kids he’d call you every couple of hours to let you know he has everything under control since he knows how worried you could get when you haven’t heard from him i awhile.

he always speaks highly of you to the kids, telling his daughters stories of when the two of you were young and in love and telling his sons stories of how strong you were for him when he couldn’t be strong for himself. your kids would honestly be what got the two of you back together. they’d constantly tell you the stories their father would tell them, reminding you of how happy the two of you used to be and making you realize that you didn’t even know why the two of you called it quits in the first place.

as soon as you called ony he’d answer on the first ring, throwing millions of questions at you since you never really called unless he had the kids. you’d shut him up by asking if he could come over to talk for a little in which he replied almost instantly with a yes. he’d be over there in less than fifteen minutes letting you lead him to your bedroom to talk just incase your kids came downstairs for some water or a late night snack.

of course the two of you didn’t get to talk for more than ten minutes, his dick shoved deep into you as he held his hand over your mouth. “shhh mama you gotta be quiet. ion want you t’wake the kids” he’d whisper, fucking into you deeper as he watched your teary eyes roll to the back of your skull. you’d mumble back a muffled “mhm” as you felt the pad of his thumb begin to circle your clit. you’d whine and moan for him loader and loader, turning him on to the point where his grunts and groans began to come out at a higher volume as well. soon enough the both of you were deep in bliss, fucking on each other just like you used to. you’d tell him how much you missed him and how you’ve never stopped loving him and he’d gladly say it back, deepening his stroke as he left passionate kisses on your lips.

as the two of you finished ony would lay you back down, letting sleep claim you as he moved towards the door to check on his little angels. as soon as he turned the doorknob loud shuffles could he heard from the hallway, the sound of a bunch of feet running towards one of the bedrooms and little whispers of “sh sh shh” and “be quiet” coming from it as he made his way down the hall to check on his “sleeping” children. he couldn’t help but smile when he seen them cuddled up together on a large blanket of the floor, some of the smaller ones in bed with the oldest. they had different rooms, but chose to sleep together often since they were all so close.

ony couldn’t help but notice the small smiles on each of their faces, nothing but excitement and joy rushing through them as they thought about how happy much happier their parents will be now that they’re together again.

i didn’t even mean to write this i just let my brain leak all over the place…

[monimccoythings]

Cursed Cat! Alastor x Child!Reader (Platonic)

This fucker has consumed my entire mind. Everywhere I go, I see him. I need posters, keychains and a plushie of this entity of evil. Since the Sacabambapsis, I never laughed at anything as hard as I did with this little freak of nature (affectionate). Going to be a short one because I'm still laughing as I'm writing this.

This is not proof read, so sorry for any grammar and/or vocabulary mistakes.

All credit goes to @coma_0423 on twitter for simultaneously ruining and saving my life.

Tw: mentions of death

tags: @anonymousewrites, @nonetheartist, @littledolly2345, @sunnyx07, @ouroborostheunholy, @mo-0-o, @sydneyyyya @lbcreations-blog

Nobody really knows how he ended up as a cat. One day he just woke up like that.

The first time you see him your mind goes entirely blank. And then you laugh. Like, really loud. You don't remember the last time you laughed as hard as you were laughing now. You were rolling on the floor, tears running down your face and holding your tummy in pain.

You can see smoke coming out of his ears and static getting louder. But oh boy was it funny, he looks like he hasn't had a single thought in his entire life. He doesn't find it the slightest bit amusing, but you are truly laughing for the first time in years so he will let it slide.

He follows you around, being the protective cat-father he is. At some point your strides are too much for him to follow up with, so you have to carry him. And given your short stature he is just dangling in your arms with that stupid looking face, which, no matter how much you try to resist, makes you burst into laughing fits.

Won't allow any doors between you two. If you have to leave him out, he will serenade you with the song of his people until you let him in.

Can't stand seeing you spending time with anybody else, specially Lucifer. If he catches you two together in some bonding activity, he will dart across the room and jump him. You had to practically beg Vaggie to not use her spear as a baseball bat whenever he tried to pull that one on the King of Hell.

When you are sitting, he likes to loaf on your lap. Just keeping you pinned to your seat so you'll be forced to pay attention to him and only him. He won't admit it ever, but he absolutely adores being scratched behind the ears.

Satan fobid if you get a hold of a laser pointer. You can see him literally vibrate, eye twitching, trying to resist the siren call of the light. (He eventually gives in)

Any pests? He will take care of them, you can find him casually munching on the carcass of some dead animal in the middle of the hall, talk about being classy. And then he'll have the nerve to call you out for chewing too loud.

Get ready to wake up to him staring at you unblinkingly, with his snout mere centimeters from your nose. The first time he did it, you screamed and fell out of bed. He checked to make sure you were okay, but still found the situation very amusing, given the way his smile widened.

It is impossible to take a pic of Alastor in that form. He is always hypervigilant since he knows the damage it could cause to his reputation as a feared overlord. All pics of him are either blurry or distorted. You don't have the heart to tell him that it just makes them more hilarious.

You don't know how to turn him back, Lucifer seems to not know how to do it (or maybe he does and is having way too much fun with this), but maybe you'll keep him like that for a little while; as a cat, you dad is practically harmless, or at least less dangerous than he was as a demon. Also, it feels nice going to sleep with him curled into a fluffy ball by your head, his static filled purrs lulling you to sleep.

[2btheanswertothequestion]

(part 3 of November Paramedic; part 2 is here.)

When Gareth mentioned a plan to locate Eddie’s paramedic in shining armor, Eddie assumed it'd be him getting into various accidents all over Indianapolis. It's something the little shit would've found funny, okay! But, Gareth's plan is much less hazardous and slightly more logical: lurk around the university until they spot him. Like a pair of drug dealers trying to tempt the goody-two-shoes protagonist into addiction and sin on an 80s Saturday morning cartoon.

It's not the simplest task since they don't know when Steve might be there. Also, other responsibilities mean they can only spare so many hours loitering. So, thirteen days post-hatching plan and nineteen days post-meeting Steve (not that Eddie's been counting or anything), with nothing to show for their ethically questionable behavior, Eddie is ready to give up. Especially since both of them have a rare simultaneous day off. Usually, those are spent jamming, smoking, playing D&D… literally anything other than this.

"This is fucking stupid," he says, cigarette clenched between his teeth. "We're not gonna run into him."

"Sure we are," Gareth says. He drops his butt among the dozens they've chain-smoked and lights another without meeting Eddie's gaze. "We're getting closer. I can feel it."

"The only thing you're feeling is delusional. It's time to give up."

"Eddie, c'mon-"

"Nope." One last drag and Eddie stomps out his cig. "Fuck this; I'm out."

He stalks toward his van at the far end of the parking lot. Gareth curses before running after him.

"Dude!" he exclaims, jogging to keep up with Eddie's longer strides. "You can't just give up! What about what you said-"

"I was being stupid. What was I even imagining? We orchestrate another meeting and, what, I use my freakish wiles and seduce him? And then we'll live happily ever after…" Eddie shakes his head. "It doesn't work like that. He'd probably turn out to be a douche anyhow."

"No, listen!" Gareth seizes Eddie's arm and yanks him to a stop in the middle of the lot. "You always do this. Self-sabotage and cut things short, even when there's potential."

Eddie scoffs. "You know what else always happens? I end up liking them more than they like me. It's not fun."

"You don't know it'll be like that this time. You have to try."

"No."

Eddie takes a step back. He's done; he's out. Gareth reaches for his wrist to pull him back in. He jerks away, almost losing his footing and stumbling into the burgundy car behind him. Gareth's arms shoot out to help, but Eddie steadies himself before crashing. For a second, silence reigns as they assure everyone's on solid ground. Then Eddie opens his mouth to once and for all-

"Eddie? Gareth?"

Their heads snap to the side, eyes landing on… Max? Looking unusually dressy in high-waisted shorts and a fitted top under an oversized jacket, and her hair in a high ponytail. She's got her skateboard under her arm, a messenger bag with a textbook sticking out, and a confused furrow between her eyebrows.

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

Fuck. They can't tell her the truth – she'll never let him live it down. Fortunately, Gareth realizes this too, because he says:

"Uh, I go to school here? What are you doing here? The math building is way over there."

She rolls her eyes and leans on the burgundy car. It's a shiny BMW M5 – the limited anniversary edition. Jesus fucking Christ, Eddie almost dented that thing! It's worth more than his life. And Max is slouching against it like it's nothing. He could warn her not to scratch it, but she's unlikely to care; she's always been metal that way.

"Waiting for my friends," she says. "We have dinner on Tuesdays."

Eddie's ears ignite. Dinner? With friends? While wearing what's basically a date outfit?

"Ooohhh…" he says, sharing a grin with Gareth. "And do these friends include someone special?"

She shrugs, looking anywhere but at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon, Red! You're killing me! I need to know if he's good enough for you."

His fingers hover over her ponytail, as if to tug at it. She slaps his hand away.

"You're annoying."

He laughs. This terrible day just became infinitely better. He won't rest until he gets what he wants – or until she punches him, which'll probably come first. He's about to tell her so when a voice calls her name. Both turn to look, and…

It's a boy Max's age. He's beaming and waving, quickening his steps toward her. She smiles too, almost shyly, as she waves back. It's the perfect opportunity for teasing, if Eddie's day hadn't just become infinitely better.

His tongue is heavy, his skin is itching, his heart is bruising his ribs from the inside. Sweat is gathering in his pits and it's getting a little hard to breathe. Because walking half a pace behind the boy, carrying a huge duffel with such ease it might actually be stuffed with feathers, is… is…

"Yesssss!" Gareth hisses next to him. He may also be fist-pumping. Eddie isn't looking.

"Hey!" The boy stops in front of Max. "Sorry, practice ran late."

"It's okay," she says, cooler than ice, though her eyes are glittering. "I just got here."

She says something else, or maybe the boy does? It's all background noise, because Steve has caught up. Steve, in jeans and a polo that must've been tailored to his exact measurements because oooooooooohhhh boy. Steve, unshouldering the bag, muscles shifting and straining under his shirt with the movement. Steve, smiling, his golden eyes flying over Eddie.

"Hey! Eddie and Gareth, right?"

Eddie draws a sharp breath. He remembers!

"Y-Yeah!" he squeaks, hands fluttering to either wave or shake hands, ultimately doing neither. "Hi! You're here!"

"I am," Steve says, casual, as if inane conversations with former patients happen on the regular.

(It better not – Eddie doesn't do well in competitive settings.)

Max, keen eyes darting between them, asks, "You know each other?"

"Met at work," Steve says. "Or, I was working and he…"

"Ah." Max taps her temple. "That."

"How do you know them?" the boy asks her.

She points at Eddie. "Neighbor. And that's the guy who dumpster dives outside our apartment building."

Gareth flips her off. Eddie would laugh, but he's busy pretending he doesn't know what Steve looks like shirtless. It's hard (pun slowly growing more relevant) – his gaze keeps dropping to the polo's undone top button. Steve is just as gorgeous out of uniform, and now Eddie's thighs are tingling with want. He could stare at him forever…

Unfortunately, 'forever' is cut short by a woman arriving in a flurry. Wait, no. 'Flurry' implies some sort of graceful whimsy, while this person… she's a hurricane crashing into a house.

"Sorry I'm late! Nielsen wouldn't stop talking and got angry when people started leaving because it's an important lecture so this girl called him out for not keeping time because he goes on all these tangents and he said they're interesting tidbits and she said it's disrespecting our time and-" She pauses for breath. "You don't care, do you?"

Max, Steve, and the boy shake their heads.

"Right. Sorry." The woman turns to Eddie and Gareth. "Hi! I'm Robin. And you are?"

"My neighbor and his friend. Steve treated his concussion," Max rattles off, glaring at them. "You didn't answer my question: why are you here?"

Gareth frowns. "I told you," he says, pointing at the building. "School." He points at himself. "Student."

Max glares harder. "You don't have class on Tuesdays. And Eddie doesn't go here at all."

"I had stuff I needed to drop off."

"Is tagging along a crime? Jesus."

Max doesn't reply, though her glare remains.

Robin hums. "Okay, so this is super-enjoyable, I love just standing around, but I'm starving, so…" She looks at Steve, who nods.

"Yeah, we're going," he says, but neither moves. He glances at Eddie, which makes her glance at Eddie, and then they make a series of eyebrow-movements at each other, ending in a shared smile. Steve asks, "Have you guys eaten yet?"

Eddie shakes his head, pulse racing. Is this going where he thinks it is?

"D'you wanna come with? There's this diner we like…"

Holyshityesitis!

"Yeah!" Fuck, too eager. "I mean, uh, sure, sounds good."

"Cool." Grinning, Steve clicks a remote car key; the burgundy BMW beeps. What the fuck? How high is a paramedic's salary?! "Did you drive here?"

"I, uh…" Eddie falters. Shit, wasn't he supposed to? It's been three weeks and he feels fine – he thought he was in the green!

"Nope! I did!" Gareth says, 'proving' it by hauling his house keys from his pocket and jingling them.

Steve nods. "Should be safe for you to drive again, but the less strain you put on your brain, the better. Even a mild concussion isn't anything to sneeze at."

"Y-Yeah, I've been taking it easy. Basically done nothing. Until now."

Max snorts. Eddie is going to pour coffee through her mail slot.

They decide Eddie and Gareth will follow Steve's car to the diner, since Steve can't fit all of them (the real reason he asked if they drove here, duh). It's good because Eddie gets the chance to panic/gush/collect himself in the privacy of his van. It's bad because Gareth drives, lest their fib be revealed. Gareth spends the ten-minute journey gloating about driving Eddie's beloved girl, interspersed with 'I told you so!'s.

The diner is cozy, all wooden furniture and sepia photographs on the walls. A graying waitress who smells like tobacco directs them to a booth and takes their orders. An awkward silence then falls as they wait for someone to speak.

The boy clears his throat. "My name is Lucas, by the way. I don't think I said." After shaking his hand and introducing themselves, Lucas says to Eddie, "I think Max has mentioned you."

"Oh yeah? I've been dying for her to mention y- Ow!"

Eddie rubs where Max kicked his shin. Her glare is murderous. Lucas is blushing happily, though.

"So, what d'you guys do?" Robin asks.

Right. Time to small-talk like adults. Eddie gets his job as a mechanic out of the way, then gives the word to Gareth, who tells them he's a creative writing major. Robin turns out to be getting a masters in linguistics and Lucas studies biology.

"I don't actually know what I want to do, but biology feels broad enough to give me options, y'know? I can go to med school, or forensics, or, I don't know, paleontology?" he says. Max glows brighter with every word that comes out of his mouth. Cute.

This then segues into talking about their friends, who by the sound of it lead incredibly interesting lives.

"Dustin's at MIT, Mike's at Oxford, Will's in San Francisco…" Lucas says, counting on his fingers.

Max interjects, "El's in Africa building houses and teaching kids English."

"Erica is still at home, finishing high school and drowning in early acceptance letters to, like, every Ivy League there is," Steve says with a look of pure pride.

"Nancy and Jonathan – they're our age – are chasing scoops in Afghanistan… " Robin says.

"... and Argyle is also in California," Lucas finishes.

Eddie whistles. "And here we are, still in Indianapolis."

"Dude, I'm surprised I got this far," Steve says. "Wouldn't've managed without her."

He jerks a thumb in Robin's direction, who preens at the acknowledgment. Robin's cool, Eddie decides. Garrulous but fun and nice… and verrrrrrrrry close to Steve. The kind of close where they're always in each other's space. Where they wordlessly transfer food between their plates. Where Steve unceremoniously wipes a speck of ketchup off Robin's chin after she repeatedly fails to get it. They're comfortable, but not necessarily romantically affectionate. Like they're siblings rather than lovers.

(Dear God, if you are in heaven, let them be siblings.)

Conversation flows. They joke around, tell stories, swap opinions. Robin gets passionate about tonal shifts when stage shows are adapted to film, and Eddie tries not to stare at Steve's mouth as he eats. And then, once their plates are cleaned and they're waiting for dessert, Gareth leans his elbows on the table and fixes Steve with a purposeful look.

"I figured out where I've seen you before."

Eddie stiffens.

Steve blinks. "At campus, right?"

"Thought so, but no. I realized it's actually…" Gareth chuckles. "It's ridiculous, but uh, my mom had this calendar…"

Steve recoils, red flooding his face. Robin, Lucas, and Max shriek in delight, Robin grabbing Steve's arm and shaking it as he hides behind his hands.

"And my mom," Gareth says between bursts of laughter, "she's shameless, all right? She kept it in our kitchen. So during, what was it, November?"

"November," Steve confirms, muffled.

"For 30 days, if I wanted to check the date or make a notation… I saw you."

Tears stream down Robin's face, she's laughing so hard. She and Max have started chanting 'Slut! Slut! Slut!' at the still crimson Steve.

"You don't understand," Lucas says, gesturing for emphasis. "We've been waiting for someone to come up and say 'hey, weren't you…?' for years. Thank you so much!"

"Hey, thank my mom," Gareth says. Eddie's quite stunned he'd throw his own mother under the bus like that. She's a really nice person, too!

"Makes sense," Max says. "Moms love Steve."

"All parents do," Lucas says.

Cackling, Robin pinches Steve's cheek. "Gotta hide your mom and your dad around Steve!"

Steve bats her off, flushed but smiling. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. You got your wish, now shut it."

That only makes the three restart the chant to ridicule him for his harlotry. Steve's indignant squawk that 'it was for charity!' merely has everyone laugh more.

And Eddie? Well. As he sits beholding this man who works as a paramedic and drives a luxury car, who models for charity and allows his friends to mock him for it, who blushes and giggles when they lovingly call him a whore…

All Eddie can think is that he's in fucking trouble.

Afterward, it only makes sense for Eddie to drive Max home. Steve shakes his hand outside the diner, saying it was nice to see him again. Eddie, not knowing how to ask for Steve's contact info without seeming weird, agrees. He waits until the BMW drives off, then tells Gareth to get the fuck out of his seat. Gareth relocates to the backseat, whining since Max already called shotgun.

The initial minutes, they're quiet. Then Max turns to Gareth and says:

"When were you telling me Eddie is your mom?"

"Huh?"

"You said you knew about the calendar because of your mom. But that's not true."

The warmth drains from Eddie's face; his knuckles crack around the steering wheel. Gareth's expression is the epitome of 'oh shit' when he meets Eddie's gaze in the rear-view mirror.

"Yes, it is," Gareth says.

"It's not," Max says.

"It is!"

"It's not! The calendar was for 2021, and in November '21 you were a freshman and had already moved into the dorms! If your mom kept it in her kitchen, you wouldn't have seen it!"

She scowls at Gareth, mouth pinched and eyes flashing, daring him to contradict her.

Gareth swallows thickly. "It… wasn't for 2021."

"Yes, it was."

"How do you know?"

She puts her hands in her lap and lifts her chin, almost primly. Eddie gasps as the penny drops.

Gareth screams, "WHAT!"

"You have it?" Eddie cries. "Why do you have it?"

She scoffs. "You know why – you've seen his pecs."

"I don't- Okay, how're you so sure it's me?"

"Because you spent all of dinner looking like you wanted to crawl inside his mouth and live there." Her nose wrinkles. "At least I hope it was his mouth you want to crawl into-"

She's cut off by Gareth shouting "I can't hear you! Lalalalalalala-"

Eddie crumples in his seat. He's depleted of blood, air, life, everything. Behind, Gareth is grilling Max for information: are Steve and Robin together? Is Steve single? Is he queer?

Max replies: no, yes, and 'that's not for me to tell, moron'.

Gareth nods, satisfied. "That means he is. If he was straight, you'd say so." He slaps Eddie's arm. "You got a shot, man!"

"You… don't know that…" Eddie wheezes.

Max tuts, shaking her head. "You actually want to hit on my chauffeur."

"He prefers the term 'seduce'," Gareth says.

Eddie smacks his face into the steering wheel at the next red light.

------------------------------

Tag list: @rougenancy, @raisedbylibrarians, @yourebuckingkiddingme, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @emma77645, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @eddielives1986, @stevesbipanic, @the-redthread, @fandemonium-takes-its-toll, @henderdads, @gay-little-bitch, @lordofthepointygerbils, @lenore1232, @imzadidragonfly, @zerokrox-blog, @eddiemunsonswife, @cherrycolas-things, @ediewentmissing, @princess-eddie, @atombombbibunny, @ajamlessbaby, @dogswithforks, @grimmfitzz, @cutiecusp, @cuips-not-cute, @manicallydepressedrobot, @messrs-weasley, @madaboutmunson, @mightbeasleep, @suikatto, @brassreign, @snapshotmaestro, @bea-sayan, @courtjestermunson, @csinnamon-fox, @steveisabicon, @spectrum-spectre, @spinmewriteround, @just-super-fucking-gay, @escapingthereality, @oneweirdcryptid, @deehellcat, @misticageri, @lovelyscot, @olivethenerd16, @linkydinky06, @rynnytintin, @anything-thats-rock-and-roll,

I won't be adding more to the tag list because there are already so many of you. Instead, I'll be tagging the four remaining parts (it'll definitely be seven in total, btw) as #steddie fic: november paramedic. Hopefully, they'll show up in the tags and you'll see them that way.

Thank you for reading 🖤

Part 4

[andy-wm]

i'm wondering how your thesis of "idols will come out when they want" fits into your insane shadow analysis attempting to prove jimin and jungkook fucked in the middle of their travel show (amongst other things)? like do you get joy out or trying to drag someone out of a closet they might not be in? or is it something else? just curious! 😀

Hey wdcmaxy

Since you have the guts to use your name I'll respond :)

So, you read my thesis?

*Sips whisky*

Cool. And you read my insane shadow analysis too?

Hmmm... do you come here often?

Let me answer your question then.

I think we both know the shadows analysis isn't really insane - it's based on very basic earth science. Shadows grow longer as the day progresses because of the rotation of the earth on its axis. You sound reasonably literate so i assume you know this already.

I guess your description of my shadow analysis ( I think I'll name my next racehorse 'Shadow Analysis') as insane is an attempt to discredit the idea that a fair bit of time passed while Tae was out of the house? But that was kinda silly on your part. Even children know that shadows change as the day passes.

Nothing insane about it.

He was gone for hours, no debate.

Now let's move on to the fucking part, and when and how idols choose to come out.

This is actually worth discussing.

As flattered as i am that you think my tiny insignificant blog could be a game changer for anyone, let's be real.

How many people, besides yourself, do you think read my blog?

Serious question.

I'm estimating maybe 100. Double that on a good day. Maybe 300 if i write something REALLY profound which doesn't happen often.

I am way less excited about my impact on the world than you are, because I'm a realist.

BUT if by some strange twist of fate my blog came to the attention of someone whose opinion mattered (I'm not counting you, don't worry) do you think they would take it seriously? Do you REALLY imagine a random tumblr post about shadows could make someone believe that an idol was gay if they didn't already believe it?

Here's a great example of how that wouldn't happen:

You, dear reader.

You're my example.

You came here to tell me I'm speaking shit and that I should pull my head in, correct? My insane shadow analysis hasn't changed your beliefs at all. You're here, throwing a tantrum on my page, because you don't agree with what I'm saying, not because you suddenly believe it.

Or ...

Perhaps you suspect it's true and that scares you. Maybe you can't be absolutely sure I'm wrong and that's why you need to yell at me? Could that be it? Time for a bit of self reflection?

Either way, it's not going to make an iota of difference in the grand scheme of things.

We are all just dust motes floating through time and space, my friend. You dont need to worry so much. The universe is unfolding exactly as intended.

However... There are a couple of things we should agree on:

The fact is that the shadows grew long and therefore, time passed. And Tae was out for several hours. Maybe he went out for a bit of afternoon delight himself? Maybe Jimin and Jungkook played Pokemon Go all afternoon, or prayed, or practiced their English, or braided each other's hair.

Regardless of whether they did or didn't fuck, or how many times, or on what surfaces, the time still passed.

And whether I write my blog or not, people will believe what they believe. And they will be gay or they won't be gay.

And even though I never mentioned anything about them fucking in that post, whether you like it or not Jimin and Jungkook might be fucking right now, as you read this.

One last thing...

Please bear in mind, through all of this, that fucking is not the be all and end all of life. Sure its a lot of fun if you do it right but the notion that it's more meaningful than sharing your innermost thoughts and feelings, or giving someone your time and energy, is bullshit.

You can have a roots-deep love for someone and never even think of fucking them. Or you can meet someone in a public toilet and have at it, and leave without even knowing their name.

Sex does not equal love. Fucking is not that big of a big deal.

Unless...

Unless you're fucking someone the patriarchy doesn't want you to fuck. Then its a major issue.

Hear me out.

The need to control who we fuck is based a patriarchal need to control material wealth.

To control material wealth, the patriarchy needs to control reproduction (so they can be sure their wealth stays with their bloodline, because wealth is built over many generations) and to do THAT they need to control womens' bodies.... and to do that, of course they need to control who women fuck. And who men fuck too!

Do you know what the ACTUAL issue is with men who like dick? They don't automatically buy into the patriarchal way of life. (where's the solidarity, lads?)

Why don't they?

Because lifelong monogamy and marriage and nuclear families don't matter as much when you're not equating love with sex, and sex with reproduction. When your goal isn't to accumulate wealth and pass it down to your children.

Same thing applies to women who love women. They aren't focused on being demure and pleasing the men in power. They aren't focused on making themselves wife material. They will challenge the status quo and maybe even (shock! horror!) decide not to have children. How the heck do you make sure your money and power stays in the family, how do you build an empire, when the women are perfectly happy having sex with each other and don't want to love, honour and obey??

And whose fault is all this?

Its got to be the damned queers, right? They're making people think there might be other ways to share your life with those you care about! That's why its important to squash down gayness whenever you can, right, wdcmaxy?

Look at them destroying the fabric of society!

If Jimin and Jungkook ARE fucking every chance they get, good for them. I hope they're balls deep and breathless, hitting all those sweet spots for each other having a really good time.

And if they're not fucking, it actually doesn't matter to me because the way they support each other and share their hearts is beautiful. (I do think they are fucking though)

Truthfully, whatever they're doing, as long as they're happy I'm happy.

Can you say the same, wdcmaxy?

Peace.