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favefandomimagines · 1 month ago

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Radio Silence (f.l)

Summary: violence against healthcare workers is ramping up all over the country...Y/N just never thought she'd be on the receiving end of it.

Request: @darkxdemonx Can I request a Frank Langdon x reader where they are married

This might be a bit long but like when Dana got punched out in the ambulance bay, reader goes out to take a break out in the ambulance bay but gets stabbed and she collapses and no one knows where she is, like she's not answering any of her pagers, Dana then goes out for her smoke break and finds her in a massive pool of blood. Like really angsty, nearly dead when found, maybe goes in a coma from blood loss. Meanwhile Frank is a mess and losing his mind, wants to help but not allowed, Robby shouts at him to leave. Happy ending tho!!

Again sorry it's so long i had a vision😂

AN: we got some more angst up in here lol similar to my fic ‘Nightmare’ but different because violence against healthcare workers is a very real thing! the united states health care system is not fun so please be kind to your healthcare workers (nurses, doctors, techs, receptionists, etc.)

The halls of a hospital never truly slept.

The Pit, the nickname for the ED, got its name for good reason. No matter what hour of the day, it was always on the edge of boiling over.

Dr. Frank Langdon leaned against the trauma bay sink, scrubbing blood from beneath his fingernails. It wasn’t his patient. He’d just stepped in when the intern froze, eyes wide at the sight of arterial spray. Another Wednesday night turned battlefield.

Frank had worked here for almost five years. He’d seen everything: stabbings, crashes, shootings, overdoses, children dying in their parents’ arms. But these days, his reaction to the madness had changed. He still worked like a machine—focused, methodical—but he carried more weight now.

Because somewhere in this chaos was Y/N.

Dr. Y/N L/N. Internal medicine with a trauma focus. Brilliant, steady, beloved by patients and staff alike. She was the calm eye of the hurricane, a quiet counterbalance to Frank’s intensity. They'd met four years ago during a particularly nasty Christmas Eve shift. He'd been elbow-deep in a gunshot wound; she’d been treating a hypothermic homeless woman in the next bay. Their first real conversation was over coffee and an argument about the hospital’s underfunding.

They’d gotten married two years later in a small ceremony on a rooftop in downtown Pittsburgh, surrounded by all of their coworkers, with, ironically, the sound of sirens echoing faintly in the distance. It was perfect.

Frank glanced at the clock: 12:54 p.m.

“Have you seen Y/N?” he asked Dana, the charge nurse, as she passed by.

Dana exhaled through her nose and sipped her Diet Coke like it was the only thing holding her together. “She said she was heading out for a break about twenty minutes ago. Ambulance bay, I think. Didn’t even take her coat. I told her it was too cold.”

Frank nodded, trying not to let the worry show on his face. “I’ll check on her in a bit.”

“Don’t take too long. Triage is drowning and psych just offloaded another patient.”

“Business as usual,” he muttered.

Y/N rubbed her temples as she leaned against the cool brick wall outside, the night pressing in around her. The hum of fluorescent lighting spilled out from the ambulance entrance behind her. Somewhere down the block, a siren wailed. She could still hear the garbled voice of the dispatcher over the radio inside. Another incoming GSW. ETA twelve minutes.

Just twelve minutes of peace. That’s all she wanted.

It had been a hard day. Her patient in Bay 4 had coded. A young woman with lupus and sepsis—gone before they even got the second round of epi in.

No one said it aloud, but the attending had paused long enough that Y/N could see the uncertainty on his face: Should we even keep going?

“Sometimes I hate this place,” she whispered to herself. And yet she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Her pager buzzed softly, but she ignored it for now. Just one more breath.

“Hey,” came a voice.

Y/N turned, expecting to see one of the residents or maybe a paramedic coming in from a call. But it wasn’t a face she recognized.

The man standing in the shadows of the ambulance dock was disheveled. Gown askew, shoes missing, an IV still taped to his wrist.

“I’ve been sitting in there for hours,” he said, voice slurred but angry. “No one does a goddamn thing.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said gently, instincts kicking in. “Let me take you back inside and get someone to—”

“You people think you can just ignore people like me,” he snapped. “Let us rot in the waiting room while you just pick who you treat.”

“That’s not true,” she said, cautiously stepping forward. “I promise you—if you’ll come with me, I can help.”

He didn’t move.

And then something flashed in the dim light.

Y/N’s eyes widened.

“No—wait—”

The knife plunged into her abdomen. Once. Twice. A third time, as hot pain exploded in her core and blood began to soak her scrubs.

She gasped, stumbling backward into the brick wall. Her legs gave out beneath her. The man turned and ran, his footsteps vanishing into the night.

The world tilted. The air turned cold. She tried to reach for her pager, for anything.

Frank… she thought, before her vision blurred into black.

The clock ticked toward 1:30pm, and the ER pulsed with the uneasy rhythm of a shift that had gone on too long. Monitors beeped in overlapping tones, overhead pages droned, and the smell of antiseptic and stale coffee hung thick in the air.

Frank was elbow-deep in a consult on a ruptured spleen. He should have been entirely focused—the kid on the table was pale, blood pressure tanking—but something gnawed at the edge of his consciousness.

He hadn’t heard from Y/N in almost an hour.

That in itself wasn’t that unusual; sometimes they were just too busy to check in. But he’d texted twice. Paged her once. Silence. No read receipts. No reply. The longer it went, the more the unease in his chest spread like a slow bleed.

“Dr. Langdon, do you want to hang back and walk the family through the consent?” asked one of the interns.

Frank blinked, realizing he’d been standing still, staring at the surgical consent form without reading it.

“No,” he muttered. “You go. I’ll be back in a few.”

He checked his phone again. Still nothing. He sent another message. You okay? Where are you?

No answer.

“Hey, Dana,” Frank said as he approached the central nurses’ station, tension wrapped tight in his voice. “Has Y/N come back from her break? I haven’t heard from her in a while.”

Dana looked up from the computer, frowning slightly. “Not sure. That was about, what, forty, forty-five minutes ago?”

“That long?” he asked, his voice tightening.

“She probably ran into a call or went upstairs. You know how it is.” She reached for her coat and half-empty pack of Camels. “I’m heading out for a smoke. I’ll keep an eye out.”

Frank gave her a small nod, but the unease was already rising, thick and bitter in his throat.

The wind had picked up since earlier, biting through Dana’s thin hoodie as she pushed open the door to the ambulance bay. She lit her cigarette with one hand, shielding the flame from the wind, and took a long drag.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

The rust-red bricks along the far wall glinted under the fluorescent security lights. One of the gurneys had been left by the door, probably by the last EMS crew. Dana glanced around, exhaling a stream of smoke. She turned to lean against the concrete barrier—

—and froze.

There was something wrong with the ground just past the dumpsters.

A shape. Crumpled. Still.

Dana took a slow step forward, her cigarette falling from her hand and landing in a puddle with a soft hiss. Her eyes adjusted. Her breath caught.

“No… no, no, no—”

Y/N’s body lay curled on her side, her scrub top soaked in dark red. Blood had pooled beneath her, so much blood that it had started to dry around the edges where the wind had cooled it. Her pager blinked weakly in the dirt beside her, flashing with unanswered alerts.

“Oh god! Somebody help!” Dana yelled, her voice cracking as she sprinted the remaining distance. She dropped to her knees beside Y/N, her hands shaking as she checked for a pulse.

It was there—thready. Weak.

But there.

“Hang on, sweetheart. Hang the hell on,” Dana whispered, pulling her phone out with fumbling fingers.

She slammed her fist against the emergency call button near the entrance, and the alarm echoed inside. The ER doors burst open seconds later.

“She’s here!” Dana cried. “It’s Y/N! She’s been stabbed! Get a crash cart—now!”

The emergency doors burst open as a trauma team scrambled into the ambulance bay. Y/N was already on the gurney, Dana at her side, pressing gauze to her abdomen.

“BP 60 over palp! We’re losing her!”

Frank heard the shouting from halfway across the ER.

“Trauma code in bay two!”

Then he heard the name.

“Y/N.”

He was already moving, sprinting through the corridor like a man possessed. He shoved past techs, interns, anyone in his path.

“Make way!” someone shouted.

He turned the corner and stopped cold.

There she was.

Pale. Unconscious. Her blood soaking the sheets of the gurney. The paramedic was holding pressure to her abdomen. A nurse straddled her on the gurney doing compressions. Dana stood off to the side, her face streaked with tears.

Time slowed.

His ears rang.

“No…”

He surged forward.

“Frank -- stop!”

Dr. Robby appeared, physically blocking him as the trauma team wheeled her toward Trauma Two.

“Let me in! That’s my wife!” Frank shouted, his voice raw and cracking.

Robby grabbed him by the shoulders. “Frank—listen to me! You can’t go in there. You know you can’t!”

“I can help her! She’s dying—Rob, please—”

“You’re too close!” Robby shouted back. “You’ll make a mistake! Let us do this!”

Frank stood frozen as the doors slammed shut between him and Y/N.

He heard the words no doctor ever wants to hear.

“Get the paddles!”

“Clear!”

“She’s coding!”

He leaned against the wall, sliding down until he hit the floor, fists clenched in helpless fury.

Somewhere behind the trauma doors, they were fighting to save the love of his life.

And for the first time in his career, Frank Langdon couldn’t do a damn thing.

The ICU felt like a different world from The Pit. Here, the chaos dulled to a constant, rhythmic hum—ventilators sighing, monitors beeping steadily, a far-off intercom calling for someone who wasn’t going to answer anytime soon. It was colder here. Quieter. Too quiet.

Y/N lay motionless beneath crisp white sheets in Room 6. Machines surrounded her bed like silent sentinels—an IV tower hung with fluids and antibiotics, a central line dressing at her clavicle, a monitor displaying a sluggish heart rhythm, and a ventilator that rose and fell with an eerie mechanical breath.

Her face, usually so expressive and animated, was pale and still. The only color came from the bruises along her collarbone and the deep purple dressing taped across her abdomen—evidence of the emergency surgery that had saved her life.

Barely.

They’d told Frank she lost almost half her blood volume. That the knife had nicked her iliac artery. That she flatlined twice on the table. That it was a miracle she even made it to the ICU.

But none of that mattered now.

She hadn’t woken up.

Two days. Forty-eight agonizing hours.

Frank sat beside her, still in the same rumpled scrubs he’d worn since the night she was brought in. His white coat was draped over the back of the visitor’s chair, stained and wrinkled. His hands—usually so steady in the trauma bay—trembled slightly as he brushed a piece of hair from her forehead.

He hadn’t left her side.

He couldn’t.

A soft knock came at the door. He didn’t look up.

Dana stepped in quietly, holding two cups of coffee. She paused at the edge of the room, looking at the woman in the bed—her friend—and then at Frank.

“You look like hell,” she said gently.

Frank exhaled, but didn’t smile. “Thanks. Just what I needed to hear.”

Dana set the coffee down on the tray table. “She’s strong, Frank. Stronger than anyone I know.”

“She shouldn’t have been alone out there,” he whispered, voice raw. “She shouldn’t have gone out there by herself.”

Dana sat in the other chair, watching the rise and fall of Y/N’s chest beneath the blankets. “We all take breaks. That’s not on her. And it’s not on you.”

“I’m her husband,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s face. “I’m supposed to protect her.”

Dana blinked hard. “You’re not Superman. None of us are.”

Frank didn’t answer.

They sat in silence for a long moment, the kind that only happens when grief and exhaustion weigh heavier than words. Eventually, Dana stood.

“I’ve got a shift starting downstairs,” she said. “Page me if anything changes.”

He nodded, barely perceptibly.

When she was gone, he took Y/N’s hand in his, carefully avoiding the IV line in her wrist. Her fingers were cold but pliant. Not lifeless. Just… sleeping.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You’re probably sick of hearing me talk to you. I don’t even know what day it is anymore. They say I should go home. Get some sleep. But I can’t. Not until you wake up. Not until I see those eyes again.”

His voice caught.

“I miss you. I keep thinking about stupid things, like how you always steal the last dumpling or leave your coffee half-finished. And the way you laugh when you’re too tired—like it slips out without your permission.”

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the back of her hand.

“I would trade places with you if I could. In a heartbeat.”

The monitor beeped steadily beside him. A nurse came in quietly to check vitals, adjusted a setting on the ventilator, then nodded and slipped out again without a word.

Frank closed his eyes.

“Come back to me, Y/N. Please.”

The silence was so complete, so constant, that Frank almost didn’t notice it when something shifted.

A tremor.

Not in the machines.

In her hand.

He opened his eyes slowly, sure it was a trick. But no. Her fingers twitched again. Slight, but deliberate.

He sat up sharply. ��Y/N?”

The monitor picked it up a beat later—heart rate climbing, irregular but stronger.

Her eyelids fluttered.

“Y/N. Hey—hey, it’s me. I’m here. I’m right here.”

Her eyes cracked open just barely, unfocused and glassy. Her lips moved soundlessly.

Frank hit the call button like his life depended on it.

“She’s waking up!” he shouted, heart slamming in his chest. “She’s waking up!”

The nurse from earlier burst back in with another in tow, both rushing to her side. A doctor followed moments later. The ventilator hissed louder as they began to adjust her settings.

“Pupils reacting. Respiratory effort increasing. She’s coming out of it.”

Frank stepped back only when they made him. But he stayed in the room. Wouldn’t be anywhere else.

Y/N’s eyes drifted toward him. Not quite focused. But there was something there. Recognition.

A tear slipped down his cheek.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “You came back.”

And she squeezed his hand.

Y/N was already awake when the first light filtered into the ICU room.

She hadn’t slept much. Her body still ached with a dull, bone-deep heaviness, and her dreams remained fragmented with flashes of blood, pain, the cold pavement of the ambulance bay… and Frank’s voice, calling out for her through it all.

But today wasn’t about that.

Today was about moving forward.

She was going home.

Slowly, she turned her head and looked around the room that had been both prison and sanctuary for the past two weeks. The IV pump next to her bed had fallen silent. The heart monitor still blinked lazily, a green line rising and falling with steady rhythm. The ventilator had been removed days ago—thank God—and her throat was no longer raw, just hoarse.

And there, in the recliner next to her bed, was Frank.

Sleeping.

If you could call it that. His posture was too stiff, one hand curled into a loose fist, the other resting on the side of her bed as if he couldn’t bear to let go even in unconsciousness. He hadn’t left her side. Not once. Every shift change, every sunrise, every IV bag swapped—he’d been there.

She reached out, her hand trembling slightly from residual weakness, and brushed her fingers over his knuckles.

“Frank.”

He stirred immediately, like her voice had sliced through whatever shallow dream he was caught in. His eyes flew open—still bloodshot from days of sleep deprivation—and landed on her.

“You’re awake,” he said softly, voice cracking as if speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile peace.

“I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye to the place,” she whispered, a crooked half-smile forming.

Frank chuckled under his breath, half-relieved, half in awe. “You’re the only person I’ve ever met who gets sentimental about the ICU.”

“Only because I lived,” she replied.

The smile faltered for a second as the weight of that truth passed between them. She had come dangerously close—too close—to not surviving. And Frank had been the one forced to watch it all unfold.

He reached up and cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing gently just below her eye.

“I almost lost you,” he said, barely audible.

“But you didn’t,” she answered.

And that was all that mattered now.

Nurse Harper arrived with the discharge kit—paperwork, instructions, prescriptions, a light wheelchair, and a pair of hospital-issue grip socks that had somehow made it into Y/N’s collection of personal effects.

“You get to keep the socks,” Harper joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Best part of this entire experience,” Y/N deadpanned, her voice still raspy.

Frank helped her change slowly, his hands moving with reverent care, as if she might break from even the lightest pressure. He’d seen every inch of the damage—the surgical dressing on her abdomen, the fading bruises across her ribs, the angry red line where the chest tube had gone in.

But now he was dressing her in something soft and warm: a loose hoodie and sweatpants she had worn on call too many nights to count. A symbol of normalcy.

“Thank god I’m getting out of here before I hit a three-week ICU bill.” she muttered as he gently eased the hoodie over her shoulders.

Frank smiled but didn’t answer. He was too busy memorizing the curve of her smile.

Dana arrived with coffee and a ridiculous pink balloon that said “YOU DID IT!” in rainbow foil letters.

“I figured something sparkly was in order,” she said, setting it down at the foot of the bed.

Y/N laughed, then winced. “You’re trying to kill me all over again.”

Dana gave her a careful hug. “I still can’t believe it. You being here. Walking out. There were moments we didn’t think you’d make it.”

“I had good people,” Y/N said. “You. The team. Frank.”

Dana turned to Frank. “You should’ve seen him. Total menace to every intern and med student on shift. I think Robby almost sedated him.”

Frank shrugged. “I’d do it all again.”

The door opened again, and this time Dr. Robby himself entered. He looked uncomfortable, like the emotions he’d been suppressing for two weeks were threatening to break through. He carried her discharge summary, eyes darting to Frank and then back to Y/N.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “Vitals stable. Labs look good. You’re officially kicked out of the hospital.”

“Such warmth,” Y/N said with mock affection.

He handed her the paperwork, then added quietly, “You’re a fighter. I hope you know that.”

Y/N’s smile softened. “Thank you for keeping me alive.”

“Wait!” Y/N stopped him. “What about work?” She asked.

The entire room froze.

Dana choked on her coffee.

Frank’s head snapped around so fast Y/N half-worried he’d pull something.

Even Robby blinked.

“Excuse me?” Dana sputtered.

Frank leaned forward, gripping the back of the chair. “Y/N. You just woke up from a coma. Two weeks ago. You were nearly exsanguinated in a parking lot. Maybe take a beat?”

Robby crossed his arms, giving her a look that hovered somewhere between clinical concern and sheer disbelief. “You’re seriously asking about your next shift right now?”

Y/N shrugged, wincing slightly as her stitches pulled. “I just… I want to know what the path back looks like. I don’t want to sit around doing nothing. The longer I’m away from trauma, the more I feel like I’m forgetting how to do it.”

Dana leaned in, deadpan. “You forgot how to breathe on your own. Let’s maybe start with that.”

“I’m not saying next week,” Y/N said, a little sheepish now. “I just… I need a goal. Something to work toward.”

Frank crouched down beside her so they were eye level. “Hey. You’re not less of a doctor because you need time. Okay? You lived through something people don’t come back from. You’re not behind. You’re alive.”

That word hung heavy in the room.

Alive.

Y/N looked down at her hands, at the bruises fading on her wrists from countless IVs. She hated feeling weak. Hated feeling like a patient. But Frank was right.

Robby finally broke the silence, voice softer now. “We’ll start with outpatient follow-ups. PT. Maybe some consult work once you’re cleared. Low-intensity stuff. You won’t touch a trauma case until we all agree you’re ready. Mind and body.”

She nodded, subdued but still determined.

Dana sighed. “God help the next resident she precepts. They’re going to get a surgical evaluation and a motivational speech.”

Y/N smirked. “I’ll start charging by the hour.”

Robby handed over her discharge paperwork. “No shifts. No heroics. No ‘I feel fine, let me just assist on this one case’ nonsense. If I so much as hear you peeked into the ED, I will personally sedate you and send you back up here.”

Frank raised his hand. “I volunteer as the sedative delivery system.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth lifted.

She folded the paperwork across her lap and glanced between the three of them—her mentor, her best friend, and her husband. All of them looking at her like she was precious and maddening and slightly out of her mind.

“Okay, okay,” she relented. “I’ll behave.”

Dana snorted. “We’ll believe that when we see it.”

The air outside felt like another world. Clean. Brisk. Fresh in a way the ICU air never could be.

Y/N paused on the hospital steps, squinting into the light, her hand shading her eyes. She turned her head slowly and looked at Frank.

“You ready?” he asked, the car keys dangling loosely in his hand.

“No more hospitals,” she said.

“For a while,” he added.

“For a long while.”

He opened the passenger door, and she eased in with a quiet grunt of effort. He adjusted the seatbelt for her, checking three times to make sure it wouldn’t press against her surgical site. When he closed the door and circled to the driver’s side, he paused for a second, staring at the hospital behind them.

Then he climbed in, started the car, and reached for her hand.

Y/N laced her fingers through his.

They drove away slowly, the hospital growing smaller in the rearview mirror. The road ahead was long—and healing would take time—but they were together.

And that was enough.

#imagine #the pitt imagine #the pitt #dr frank langdon x reader #dr frank langdon imagine #frank langdon x reader #dr frank langdon #frank langdon #frank langdon imagine

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pomelace · 2 months ago

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mouse and the red bull

pairing: frank langdon x afab!intern reader

content warnings: fluff, no physical desciptors used for reader, reader is an intern, doesn't take place during the shows timeline, medical imagery, blood (mention), suggestive tension, let me know if I missed anything!

magui speaks! : I’m such a slut for workplace slowborn romance, especially since I have a major crush on my much older coworker lol. I hope you all love this as much as I loved writing it, I may or may not write a part two. as always, j hope you enjoy!

word count: 2021

There’s a particular kind of panic that sets in when Frank Langdon walks through the door—like your brain short-circuits and your coffee sloshes over your knuckles before you even register the burn.

He always arrives at the same time: ten minutes to seven, just before shift change, with his black backpack slung over one shoulder and his sweater dangling from his hand.

The first time you saw Frank, he was arguing with a vending machine. You should’ve known right then he’d ruin your peace.

He’d punched E7 four times before realizing the machine had taken his money and offered no drink in return.

“You’re robbing me in broad daylight,” he muttered. To a vending machine.

You stood ten feet away, pretending to check your phone, pretending not to watch the way his jaw clenched and his shoulders tensed under his black scrubs. How he cursed under his breath and hit the glass—just enough to make the machine rattle, not enough to get written up.

There was something about the way he stood there. Frustrated. Alone. Fighting something small because the big things were too much to name.

Minutes later, he knew your name. Two weeks later, you were his favorite intern.

“Morning,” he says, voice low, right behind you before you even hear him approach.

You nod. Try to answer. End up choking on lukewarm coffee instead.

He leans casually over the counter beside you, the scent of his cologne cutting straight through the sterile air.

“You’re quieter than usual, mouse,” he says, the nickname curling around your throat and making speech even harder.

Mouse.

He called you mouse. His excuse? You worked quietly. A person of few words, but always focused, always reliable. That’s why he kept you close—stealing you away from the other attendings, handpicking you for his rounds, his patients.

He liked you.

Liked the way you listened. No interruptions. No “buts.” Just quiet attention, steady hands, and quick learning.

“I know we’re not supposed to have favorites, but you’re mine, mouse,” he’d whispered once, bent beside you over a deep gash you were stitching, like it was a secret meant only for the thread and your trembling fingers.

“Just tired,” you finally manage, turning your head slightly to meet his gaze.

His blue eyes lock onto yours, sharp and unrelenting. You smile, like you always did when it came to him.

Then your eyes drop to his hand. Empty. No Red Bull, for once. He always had one in the morning—more times than you could count on your fingers.

“Vending machine’s empty,” he says, like he’d read your mind.

“No drinking yourself into cardiac arrest today, thank god,” you blurt out before your brain had time to veto it.

He chuckles, but you see something flicker across his face—surprise, maybe. Like you’d caught him off guard for once.

“You gonna start rationing my caffeine intake now?”

“Someone has to,” you reply, tone light, even as your pulse jumps.

He leans in slightly, like he might say something else—something to make your breath hitch.

“If my heart ever stops, I know I can count on you to start it again,” he whispers.

You freeze, cup in hand, half-turned toward him. It was nothing. Meant nothing. Just a compliment. A nod to your competence, your training. Textbook professional.

And yet your pulse flutters in your throat like it’s already preparing to fail.

“Don’t give me a reason to,” you say, quieter than you mean to. Steady, but barely.

He smiles. That same crooked, effortless smile that never quite reaches his eyes.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, mouse."

You turn away before he can see what that nickname does to you—how it slinks under your skin, curls up in the hollow of your ribs like it belongs there.

The coffee’s gone cold in your hands, but you take a sip anyway. Bitter. Grounding.

Behind you, the silence stretches. Not awkward. Not quite. Just full.

“Good morning,” a voice cuts between the two of you, slicing clean through the moment. It gives you both an excuse to look away.

Dr. Robby walks towards you, coffee in hand, his gaze flicking between you and Frank with a hint of curiosity.

“Mind rounding everyone up for morning rounds?” he asks Frank, setting his cup down by his computer.

Frank gives a small nod, brushing past you with the faintest graze of his hand agaisnt your back. It could’ve been accidental. You both know it wasn’t.

“On it,” he says, already halfway past the nurses station.

You keep your eyes on the counter, pretending to study the steam curling up from Dr. Robby’s coffee. Anything but let your gaze follow Frank.

Dr. Robby takes a sip, watching you over the rim of his cup.

“Everything alright?”

You nod, too quickly. “Of course.”

But your voice doesn’t sound quite like your own.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

After rounds, just like always, Frank asks for you—claiming your time before any of the residents or even Dr. Robby could pull you into a case.

His hand rests lightly on your back as he guides you, steering you toward one of the rooms. As you walk, he explains the case in detail—his voice low, confident, precise.

You try to focus on his words—the vitals, the imaging, the differentials—but it’s hard not to feel the warmth of his hand through the thin fabric of your scrubs.

“This one’s tricky,” he says, glancing sideways at you.

“Thought you’d like it.”

You hum in response, trying to sound neutral, professional.

“You mean you thought I could handle it.”

A small smile plays on his lips. “Same thing, isn’t it?”

You don’t answer. Not right away.

Inside the room, a patient waits—young, pale, anxious. A dinner fork juts out just above their collarbone, the prongs buried deep in soft tissue of their neck, surrounded by a bloom of dried blood. It’s an ugly wound, surreal in its domestic absurdity.

You slip into your role with practiced ease, letting your voice settle into something calm and clinical. You feel his eyes on you as you speak to the patient. Not in the way that makes you self-conscious, but in the way that makes you hyper-aware. Seen.

The patient shifts, wincing as you approach, and you take a steadying breath, refocusing. You reach out to examine the wound, careful, methodical. The metal feels cold beneath your gloved fingertips, the jagged edges of the fork pressing against the skin like it belongs there.

“Stay still,” you murmur, your tone soothing, even though your mind races through protocols and possibilities.

"We should get her to X-rays," you say to Frank, your voice steady, before turning back to the patient.

"From there, we can figure out the next steps."

You meet the patient’s anxious gaze, offering a reassuring smile.

"The X-rays will help us check for any underlying damage—nerves, blood vessels, anything important that might be caught between the fork. We just need to be cautious."

You remove your gloves slowly, methodically, your movements deliberate as you step aside to give Frank room to take the lead. His words fade into the background, your focus narrowing to the way his lips move, the steady rhythm of his hands as he works.

It’s almost like you're watching him in slow motion, and for a moment, nothing else exists except the quiet hum of the room.

"Hey," Frank's voice cuts through, pulling you back to the present. You meet his gaze, steady and intense.

"Get her line in for the X-ray, and everything else looks good. If you’re up for it, I might just let you pull this one out," he says, his tone casual.

A smile tugs at your lips, excitement flickering in your eyes as you nod, barely containing the rush of adrenaline.

You walk away, the tablet pressed close to your chest as you make your way toward the nurses' station.

The X-ray comes back clear—no major damage, no vessels hit. The fork is safe to remove, and Frank’s words bring excitement to your face.

You stand over the patient, gloved hands moving automatically as you adjust the patient, positioning her on her side.

The fork is lodged in the side of her neck, gauze wrapped around the area, the injury fully exposed under the bright light overhead.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Frank says, standing across from you, his eyes focused, though his posture tenses slightly.

You nod, wiggling your fingers inside the gloves, shaking off the rush of adrenaline. You take a steadying breath. You move closer, fingers gripping the fork carefully as you prepare to remove it.

Slowly, you ease the fork out, steady and controlled, until it slips free. You drop it into the metal tray with a soft clang. A small smile tugs at your lips as you glance at the patient.

“It’s out,” you say gently, already reaching for gauze to clean the wound.

You move with practiced care, cleaning the area and checking for any sign of bleeding. Once you’re done, you step back and peel off your gloves, your eyes finally lifting.

Frank’s already watching you, a faint smile on his face.

He doesn’t say anything—but he doesn’t need to. You can tell. He’s happy with your work.

After checking in with the patient one last time, you both step out into the hallway.

“So, how did that feel?” Frank asks, his tone casual but curious.

“Great,” you say, unable to hide your grin.

“Really great.” The excitement still buzzes in your chest, warm and electric.

He watches you for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes—then he looks away.

“Good. Now get the prescription written and the discharge papers ready,” he says, his voice shifting—firm, all business again.

That familiar sharp edge returns to his expression, like the moment between you never happened.

You follow his instructions without hesitation—talk the patient through her prescription, explain the aftercare, hand her the discharge papers.

Once everything’s done and she’s officially discharged, you walk her out of the room, offering a kind goodbye as a nurse takes over and escorts her down the hall.

Frank’s at the nurses’ station when you spot him, hunched slightly over a computer, his focus locked on the screen. You hesitate for a beat, debating whether to approach.

But you do.

“She said thank you,” you offer, stopping beside him.

He doesn’t look up. Just hums, eyes still glued to whatever’s on the monitor.

“You did a good job,” he says, flatly—no warmth, no real inflection. It lands wrong, and you feel it immediately.

A small twist in your gut.

You turn to leave, footsteps already starting to shift away, but something keeps you rooted. You pause, then glance back at him.

“Did I do something wrong?” you ask quietly, not sure if you're overthinking or missing something important.

He finally looks at you.

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, frustration, maybe even regret—but it’s gone before you can name it. He straightens up, pushing a hand through his hair.

“No,” he says. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You nod, unsure if that settles it or not. The air between you still feels off. You glance at the counter, then back at him.

“I, um…” You reach into the pocket of your surgical pants and pull out a cold can of Red Bull.

“You said you couldn’t get one this morning and I guess I want to support your unhealthy relationship with caffeine today.”

He blinks, then actually smiles—small, real, the kind that barely lifts the corners of his mouth but feels like more than any words he’s said today.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, but he takes it anyway, his fingers brushing yours for just a second too long.

“I know,” you say simply, trying not to let the warmth in your chest show on your face. “But I wanted to.”

He looks down at the can, then back at you, like he’s trying to say something without saying it.

“Thanks,” he says quietly.

And for the first time today, it feels like he actually means it.

©pomelace 2025

#the pitt #frank langdon #frank langdon x reader #patrick ball #the pitt x reader #dr langdon x reader #the pitt hbo

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konansock · 4 months ago

Text

Mod Update: Club & Business Activity Expanded

Sul Sul, Simmers! Sorry for taking so long to update this mod, I hereby announce that my Custom Club Activity Project is now officially renamed to Club & Business Activity Expanded.

In the new version, not only is all the activities updated to be compatible with new update, a lot of new activities were added specifically for Small Business - Like Tend Market Stalls, Offer Occult Training, and Tend Gravesite!

You can have a detailed list of all the activities and whether they're available as Club Activities, Small Business Customers or Small Business Employees here.

Base Game: View Aquarium, Attend to Babies, Back Float, Bake and Eat Cake, Bake Cake, Bake Cupcake, Charity, Complain, Cowplant, Cowplant's Cake, Critique, Critique Art, Cupcakes, Dig for Treasure, Friendly Ghost, Ask Future Cube, Game Livestream, Gossip, Haunting Ghost, Open Holiday Cracker, Do Erratic Things, Lounge on Chairs, Brag, Play with Molding Clay, Mourn the Dead, Parent-Kid Activities, Write to Pen Pal, Take Photos, Take Photos, Take Photo for Others, Sell Art, Use Social Network, Talk about Vampires, Tell Stories, Tip Performers, Care for Toddlers, Care for Infants, Help with Homework, Rummage Trash, WooHoo, Try for Baby, Practice Typing, Use Toilet, Witness Death, Fruit Punch Fountain, Use Vending Machine.

Cross-Pack: Care For Birds, Play with Birds, Be Mean to Birds, Order Street Food, Tend Market Stalls, Give Gifts, Go Shopping, Window Shopping, Listen to Stories, Offer Makeover, Toy with Motives, Influence Other Sims, Create Negative Emotions, Spread Positive Emotions, Freeze, Mind Control, Transform Objects and Sims, Play with Animals, Be Mean to Animals, Make a Wish at the Well, Offer Occult Training, Request Occult Training.

Cats & Dogs: Be Mean to Pets, Train Pets, Use Vet Objects, Craft Pet Treats.

City Living: Ask for Bribe, Ask for Donation, Bubble Bottle, Critique Food, Critique Performances, Deface Murals, Fireworks, Attend Festivals, Attend The Flea Market, Attend The Romance Festival, Try To Find Love At The Romance Festival, Attend Geekcon, Attend Spice Festival, Attend Humor & Hijinks Festival, Join Jokesters at Humor & Hijinks Festival, Join Pranksters at Humor & Hijinks Festival, Be Friendly to Talking Toilets, Be Mean to Talking Toilets, Have Fun with Talking Toilets, Sabotage Talking Toilets, Paint Murals, Haggle, Sing Karaoke, Watch Living Statue, Collect and Trade Posters, Collect and Trade Snow Globes, Protest, Play with Hand Sparklers, Play Console Game, Watch Speech.

Cool Kitchen: Make and Eat Ice Cream, Make Ice Cream.

Cottage Living: Collect Farm Products

Dine Out: Color Placemat, Discuss Food

Discover University: Grade Homework, Ride Bikes, Play Ping Pong, Play Juice Pong, Use Keg Stand, Do University Coursework, Write Research Papers, Contribute Knowledge

Eco Lifestyle: Craft Candles, Drink Juice Fizzing Products, Recycle and Compost, Dumpster Dive, Play in Acid Rain, Sketch Blueprint

For Rent: Snoop On Others, Clean Mold, Spread Spores, Spread Mold, Cook Tomarani Cuisine

Get Famous: Perform Scenes, Flaunt Fame, Flaunt Wealth, Interact with Fans, Play in Money Pile, Use Streaming Drones

Get To Work: Contact Aliens, Dance with Mannequin

Growing Together: Play on Treehouse, play in Splash Pad, have Pillow Fights.

Horse Ranch: Ride Horses, Be Friendly to Horse, Be Mean to Horse, Use Horse Obstacles, Harvest Prairie Grass

High School Year: Ride Pier Attractions, Make and Eat Ice Cream, Drink Boba Tea, Use Photo Booth.

Home Chef Hustle: Bake Pizza, Make Waffles, Make Prepped Ingredients

Island Living: Ride Aqua-Zips, Collect Seashells, Go Sailing, Sand Activities, Play with Dolphin, Sunbathe, Make and Drink Kava, Make Kava.

Laundry Day: Watch Laundry

Life & Death: Tend Gravesite

Movie Hangout: Discuss Movies

My First Pet: Play with Rodents, Be Friendly to Rodents, Be Mean to Rodents, Study Rodents, Clean Rodent Cage

My Wedding Stories: Collect Message in a Bottle, Prepare for Wedding

Outdoor Retreat: Roast Food on Campfires, Use Tents, Brew Herbalism Potions.

Paranormal: Explore the Haunted House

Parenthood: Show Gross Manners, Make a Mess, Play with Doctor Playset, Work on School Project Carefully, Work on School Project Sloppily, Shout Forbidden Words, Write Private Journals

Realm of Magic: Have Magic Duels, Set Fire, Offer Magic Training, Read Magic Tomes

Seasons: Bond with Bees, Disturb Bees, Give Romantic Gifts, Give Mean Gifts, Play in Kiddie Pool, Rake Leaves and Shovel Snow

Snowy Escape: Attend Light Festivals, Attend Youth Festivals, Buy Simmi Capsules, Eat Hotpot

Spa Day: Soak Feet, Get Foot Massage, Get Body Massage, Polish Nails, Ask for Manicure and Pedicure, Take Soak Baths, Relax in Sauna, Use Face Masks

Spooky: Carve Pumpkins

Strangerville: Hail to Mother! Use Listening Device, Military Spar, Do Military Training

Vampires: Dark Meditation, Vampire Duel, Have Vampiric Training

Vintage Glamour: Use Vanity Table, Play with Makeup, Study Globe

Werewolves: Werewolf Spar, Hunt for Food, Scavenge for Relics, Mark Territory

DOWNLOAD HERE.

Translation update: @kimikosoma created the French update for my Additional Bucket List mod, check it out here! https://www.curseforge.com/sims4/mods/mod-additional-bucket-list-skills-par-rex-trad-fr

#konansock #modupdate #ts4mod #s4mod #mod update #ts4cc #s4cc #ts4 mods

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lex-the-flex · 9 months ago

Text

34 + 35

Hugh Jackman x reader

Summary: After attending a long and exhausting event, all you want to do is enjoy a coffee espresso, but life has other plans.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warning(s): MEGA FLUFF, Hugh being a LITERAL sweetheart + gentleman, slight angst, dealing with a walking red flag, mentions of stalking (?), BRIEF & MINOR sexual assault/situation, brief cursing, minor violence (just an idiot getting punched in the face), Hugh being your shield, and me gushing about museums. (I'm envisioning this taking place when Hugh was a bit younger).

A/N: I can TOTALLY imagine this being one of my MANY meet-cutes with Hugh and a girl can dream! Feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll please follow me back to the dining hall, we will now open the bar and you are free to wander through the museum at your leisure. Thank you for all of your hard work and enjoy the remainder of your evening.” The museum’s director announces, leading the group back inside the building.

Sighing in relief at the cool night air, the instant relief of being able to finally stretch your legs after sitting for more than two hours hits you hard. Glancing down at your watch, you read the time; 11:28 pm.

Silently groaning to yourself, all you wanted to do was take off your makeup and go to sleep in your hotel room. But you couldn’t. The event wasn’t scheduled to end until one in the morning, and the truth was: you secretly wanted to die. While you weren’t the biggest fan of wearing dresses, much less an elegant, custom-made slip gown that was dyed a deep charcoal, this one had its charm. You felt like a warrior adorned for battle.

Heading back inside the grand museum, the elegant dining room never fails to revive your soul. The dark atmosphere accompanied by the warm lighting felt unreal, like you shouldn’t even be here. But here you were, standing in one of your favorite places in the entire world. Walking towards the bar, you spot an empty seat on the end, so you take the opportunity before anyone else can.

“What can I get you?” The bartender asks.

“Um, may I have an espresso martini?” You ask, setting down the drink menu.

“It’ll be about five minutes. We just finished cleaning the machine.” She replies, taking your drink ticket.

“Okay, that’s fine.” You answer.

Smiling back at you, the bartender hands the ticket stub back over to you now dotted with a black check mark. Leaning against the bar, you patiently wait for your drink and decide to look up some of the works of art that were on display in the building. You start to finally feel relaxed knowing you’re allowed to walk freely throughout the art gallery and the mere anticipation makes butterflies rise in your stomach.

However, the excitement comes to a dead stop the second you accidentally look up from your phone and make eye contact with some young, blonde rich-looking scumbag who was sitting at the other side of the bar. Promptly leaving his seat, the man makes his way over to you.

“Hey, what’s your name? I’m Max.” He flirtatiously asks.

Bracing himself against the edge of your personal bubble, you try your best to ignore him and the scent of vodka on his lips. Returning with your drink, you thank the bartender and spin in your chair to stand, but the partygoer stops you.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart. I just want to know who I’m meeting.” Max explains, taking a hold of your shoulder.

The cold sensation of his hand being incredibly unwelcome on your exposed skin sends a threatening chill down your spine.

“I’m sure any other girl would enjoy your company. So leave me alone.” You rebuttal.

Chuckling at your response, the guy leans closer, breaking your precious personal bubble. Max’s fingers hover around the bare skin of your naked thigh, dancing above your freckles. The echoing sound of your heartbeat fills your ears as you couldn’t breathe.

“Come on, baby. What do you say we get out of here, huh?” He whispers in your ear.

Seeing red, you instinctively shove Max away from your body.

“No!” You exclaim.

At the same time, however, someone else was pulling him off of you. Stumbling against a spare fridge, Max knocks into the stranger that had the decency to save you.

“Look bud, she said no. She’s with me, you understand? So back off.” The stranger threateningly explains, letting his thick Austrian accent take over.

Cowering away from him, Max playfully raises his hands in defeat.

“Alright man. You win.” Max teases before walking into the crowd.

Watching him walk away, you turn your attention towards the kind soul who saved you from something potentially traumatic.

“Thank you.” You manage to say.

“You’re welcome, it’s the least I can do.” He replies.

Standing from your seat, you flash him a quick smile before heading to the art gallery. Exhaling at the entire encounter, you manage to find a wooden bench in the middle of the room and sit down. Rubbing your fingers together, you notice that your hands haven’t stopped shaking, so you reach into your bag for a moment, only to realize that you left your phone at the bar.

Scoffing, you hesitantly pull yourself together, ready to make the walk of shame back into the dining hall when the sight of the kind stranger stops you in your tracks in the doorway.

“Hi.” You say.

“Hi.” He replies with a smirk.

Walking towards you, he holds up your phone in his hand.

“You uh, left this at the bar and I didn’t want that asshole to have it. So I thought I’d return it to you.” He says.

Handing your phone to you, he sits down next to you.

“Thank you. …And thank you for helping me at the bar. That was the last thing I expected to happen tonight.” You admit.

Forcing the rising wave of tears back down, you finally put your phone away before deciding to break your shyness to meet new people.

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” You introduce yourself.

Extending your hand to the handsome stranger, he gently takes your hand in his, holding it like a gentleman should.

“It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Hugh. And I’m glad I got to know your name before that asshole.” He replies.

Laughing at his answer, Hugh lightly chuckles along with you. Looking up at him again, his light hazel eyes and dark brown hair seem to put in a near trance-like state, including the fact that he looks amazing in just a regular suit and tie. Glancing back into your e/c orbs, you feel safe with Hugh by your side, and you didn’t seem to know or understand why. It just felt right.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what's a normal person like you doing here? This place definitely seems out of your league.” Hugh asks.

Furrowing your brows, you lightheartedly place your hand over your heart, and pretend to gasp.

“Wow. I can’t believe you, Hugh. You actually think I’m normal?” You tease, earning yourself a laugh from the man across from you.

“You know what I mean.” He responds.

“The company I work for wants me to expand my idea for this article I’m writing. They actually want to know if rich people, including celebrities, truly appreciate the arts and other historical pieces in history.” You explain.

“Ouch. That hurts you know. Well, if it’s any consolation, I for one do enjoy the arts. I mean, you’re talking to a theater kid here. So the arts sort of come naturally to me.” Hugh replies, feeling hurt for a moment, but he quickly shifts the tone.

“Then can I interview you? You seem like one of the few knowledgeable people here. I wish more people like you would attend these events than the rich boys who are thriving off of their parent’s money and think they can get away with–” You begin, but slowly trail off in slight terror.

Suddenly, appearing in the doorway, Max appears to have found you, and that he has been eavesdropping on your delightful conversation.

“What is it?” Hugh asks, going off the look on your face.

Turning around to the doorway, Hugh’s kind look drops almost instantly, and you stand from your spot at the bench. Following suit, Hugh fixes his jacket before giving you all of his attention.

“What did he exactly do to you, Y/N? We can go if you like.” Hugh firmly states, stepping closer to you.

Briefly holding the brim of Hugh’s jacket, you inch closer so that Max wouldn’t hear.

“Hugh, he… He tried to…” You can’t bring yourself to tell Hugh, allowing your tears to shed.

Instantly understanding what you mean, you swear that Hugh’s once calm and peaceful eyes light up with fury, now knowing that this douche tried to violate and humiliate your charming and innocent soul. Hugh understood that you, a young woman such as yourself shouldn’t have to experience something like that.

So he knew what he had to do, regardless if it would get him banned from this museum for life.

“Look, buddy l’m not looking for trouble. I do appreciate you keeping her company, though.” Max tries again, hoping to win you over. Except this time, he’s a little more drunk.

“God, when will you learn? Some women actually have the common sense to avoid guys like you.” Hugh spits.

“Well, most women prefer the young rich guy who can take them places instead of the boring washed-up actor who still chooses to be in shitty superhero movies!” Max shouts, causing you to flinch.

Attempting to walk towards you, Max doesn’t seem to take the obvious hints, and he unfortunately takes the blunt end of the stick. Punching him in the face, you and Hugh watch Max fall to the floor. Groaning in pain, Max wipes his bloody nose as Hugh takes you by the hand, leading you out of the museum.

Taking your shoulders, Hugh calmly recenters himself.

Pulling Hugh in for an embrace, he welcomes it and tightly holds your frame. Squeezing his broad shoulders, Hugh calmly sways you from side to side.

“It’s alright. He won’t bother you anymore. I promise.” Hugh announces.

“Thank you, Hugh. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if you hadn’t showed up.” You reply, slowly ending the hug.

“Of course. Now, what do you say about starting that interview?” He asks, waving to the valet employee.

“I’d love to.” You answer with a smile, knowing that this is the start of something spectacular.

wolverine/hugh taglist ~

@dreamliners

@chronicallybubbly

@dontfeedthebigbadwolf

@the-resident-vampire

@ovaryacted

@misssarcasm15

@yellow-eyed-sams-wife

@lost-in-horrorland

@peterparkernotfound

@pcrushinnerd

@quillycrow

@till-hes-90

@the-moth-archives

@stilllivindue2spite

@wolviesgal

@mostly-marvel-musings

#hugh jackman #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman x y/n #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman fluff #hugh jackman fic #hugh jackman angst #hugh jackman imagines #hugh jackman headcanons

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phant0mth1ef · 10 months ago

Text

when i’m around, slow dancing in the dark.

ua wasn’t known for their reputation of doing normal school activities, and not once in your three years of being there had you ever thought that you’d get the normal highschool experiences.

like dances, attending school sports games, or even regular normal school festivals where everyone is welcome & allowed to interact with the students.

so when ua announced that they’d be throwing a winter formal for the third years due to the war they were forced to fight in back in first year, oh you could be all your money that you & the girls were going to go all out.

in the weeks leading up to the dance, the hall was filled with decorations, people asking other people to the dance, and even just a cheery feel in the atmosphere.

you’d nearly shrieked when kaminari snuck up on you asking how he should ask jirou to the dance, of course you’d helped him.

once kaminari let it be known that you were the one to give him such flawless advice, many men from your class came to you looking for help in their endeavors.

tokoyami wanted to ask asui. midoriya wanted to ask uraraka. iida wanted to ask hatsume. ojiro wanted to ask hagakure. kirishima wanted to ask ashido. even awase from class b wanted your help when he asked yaoyorozu.

even through all this, you still hadn’t managed to find a date for yourself.

“pst.”

you’d turned your head, unable to find the source of the noise.

“pssst! over here!” the whisper grew louder as you walked in the direction of the noise.

monoma neito met your eyes as he tugged you into a hidden portion of the hallway, nearly tripping you in the process.

“listen. i don’t have a date. you don’t have a date. i don’t want to look like a loser. connect the dots, if you will.” he spoke hurriedly as your face contorted into a look of confusion.

“i thought you would go with kendo?”

“she’s bringing some guy from shiketsu. it infuriates me, yes, but not more than the possibility of me not having a date. it can be strictly platonic, i just can’t show up alone.” he grabbed your shoulders, trying to make sure you understood completely.

“oh. yeah sure i’ll go with you.” you nodded, and with those words he disappeared. likely a quirk he stole in action as you were left there by yourself.

you’d been bombarded once you arrived back at 3a’s dorm, the girls huddling around you and whisking you away while giggling about how monoma was going around bragging that he had a date.

in the corner of your eye you swore you could see s tuft of blonde hair staring at you, his mouth slightly agape as you were shoved into hagakure’s room.

he’d wanted to ask you. of course he’d wanted to ask you. you’d been his best friend since second year, the one person to really understand him and his motives.

the night of the dance came rather quickly, and in the days leading up to it monoma had shown up at your dormitory a few times, coming to pick you up so that you could go find a dress and so he could color coordinate his suit to yours.

because “he’d be damned if you showed up looking a mess to his big night.”

each time he’d picked you up, bakugou would scoff. making his dislike for the boy very unknown.

the dance itself wasn’t much fun. monoma was great and all, but he wasn’t him.

kendo had come up to you both about an hour into the dance, saying she had to urgently talk to monoma. and a few minutes later, he was grinning at you with a thumbs up as they both danced together in unison, the slow song blasting through your ears.

the sound of a chair scraping against the floor echoed through your head as you looked at the noise, your best friend taking a seat with an angry scowl on his face.

“did copy machine just ditch you? that’s fucked.” he scoffed, a glass of punch in one hand as he looked at monoma and kendo.

“nah, we just came with each other so none of us would look stupid alone.”

“are you sayin’ i look stupid because i’m here alone?!” his face turned into a look of realization as you snickered at him.

“a bit, yeah. i dunno. thought you’d ask someone.” you spoke, a look of disappointment on your face.

“eh. don’t like anyone in that way”. you’d looked down at your dress, the fabric bunched in your hands.

“y’know next time you should go with someone who wouldn’t ditch ya. like todoroki or something.” that took the cake as you rose from your seat.

“if you wanted me to go with someone who wouldn’t have left me so bad, then maybe you should’ve asked me yourself!” with that, you turned on your heels retreating back to your dorm room quickly.

he sat there, shocked before he snapped back to reality and followed you.

your heels were discarded once he’d reached the dorm, and you were lying on the couch in the common room as you watched 500 days of summer.

you’d gotten up when you saw him, racing back to your room but he was just too fast.

he grabbed your wrist, prompting you to turn around as he saw slight traces of your mascara had been running across your face.

were you crying?

“look. okay wait stop, just look.” you’d tried to wriggle out of his grasp before deciding to listen.

“fuck. okay. i’m not good with.. this. i dunno. i’ve never done this before. how the hell was i supposed to know you wanted to go with me?” he rambled, tripping over his words. god this was so unlike him.

“i dunno, katsuki. maybe the fact that you’re the only guy i spend time with is part of it!” you were still mad, and tears were pooling in your eyes.

“i know that! okay! i know that! but in my defense, i was going to ask you but then i found out you were going with fuckin’ monoma of all people. who the hell wants to go out with monoma besides kendo? and he wasn’t exactly making it known that you were going in a platonic way.” he’d grumbled the last part.

“i’m sorry, okay? i’m sorry i ruined your night.” you’d pulled him into a hug, he stood there in shock before he hugged back.

“s’not ruined.” you mumbled into the crook of his neck, his eyebrows raised.

“c’mon.” he broke away from the hug, his hands still on your wrist as he led you outside onto the patch of grass that was in front of ua’s dorm.

“gonna look stupid. but i don’t care anymore.”

the music from the dance could still be heard from where you both stood, a slow song beginning to play as he grabbed your waist. instinctively your arms reached for his neck, wrapping around him.

he began to spin you around to the music, the light shining from the moon engulfed the both of you.

you were slow dancing, with bakugou katsuki, in the dark. away from everyone’s eyes.

and when the the song finished, your lips captured his as he returned the action.

#mha #myheroacademia #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff

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cherrynflowergarden · 6 months ago

Note

Hello fellow desi motorsports fan🫰🏼

I want to send an ask for carlos Sainz on love fair (angst)

Carlos with a desi supermodel reader wife. They are going through a rough patch but something drastic happens and they almost part but he has a clearance and tries to win her back (does so after a lot of begging)

જ⁀➴ fractured frames || carlos sainz

an; hii fellow motorsport fan thank you so much for participating my love!!! i hope i did justice to the request :3

────🍧────

carlos stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of his penthouse, gazing at the skyline. the city lights blurred into a puzzle of chaos, much like his thoughts. his phone lay face-down on the marble counter, unanswered messages piling up. on the screen, her name glowed persistently. the love of his life. his wife. the woman he was on the verge of losing.

their once-vivid love story now felt like a fading photograph. he couldn’t pinpoint the moment it started to unravel—was it her endless photoshoots and runway shows or his late nights at the studio? their careers, once their greatest pride, had turned into an invisible barrier neither could breach. words turned to silence, and silence became a chasm.

the final blow had come weeks ago at a gala they attended together. carlos had hoped it would be a rare moment to reconnect. he watched from the sidelines as she floated through the crowd, dazzling in a gold saree that shimmered with every movement. cameras adored her, fans swarmed her, and carlos—despite being by her side—felt like a ghost in her world.

the argument that night was explosive. and destructive.

“you don’t care about us anymore!” carlos had snapped, voice sharp with frustration.

“and you think i don’t see how distant you’ve been, carlos? you bury yourself in work to avoid facing us!” she shot back.

harsh words were said and it ended with her walking out, tears streaming down her face. the door slammed shut, echoing the silence he dreaded.

she moved back to her parents’ house shortly after, leaving carlos alone in their shared home. their marriage, once brimming with laughter, had reduced to strained texts and awkward silences during mandatory public appearances. the thought of divorce loomed unspoken but heavy between them.

on one rainy and gloomy evening, carlos received a call that sent his world into a tailspin.

“mr. sainz, there’s been an accident.”

the words hit him like a punch. she had been on her way to a fashion shoot when her car skidded on the wet roads, colliding with a truck. carlos barely heard the rest of the details as he raced to the hospital.

seeing her there—bruised, unconscious, hooked to machine tore him apart. he dropped into the chair beside her bed, gripping her hand, tears streaming down his face.

“i’m so sorry, mi vida. i never should’ve let us get here. please… wake up. i need you.” his voice cracked, the weight of his guilt suffocating him.

she woke up a few hours later, groggy but alive. her first word was his name.

he leaned closer, his heart leaping at the sound. “i’m here, mi vida. i’m not leaving.”

the accident became a turning point. while her injuries weren’t life-threatening, they required weeks of rest and recovery. he stayed by her side, tending to her needs, refusing to leave even when she insisted.

in those quiet moments—no cameras, no public personas—they found fragments of what they had lost. he read to her from her favorite novels, brought her masala chai just the way she liked it.

carlos refused to let her slip away without a fight. he knew grand gestures wouldn’t fix the cracks in their marriage, so he focused on the little things—the ways he had once shown his love for her before life got in the way. he started with handwritten notes, each one a reminder of their happiest moments. he tucked them into her bags, sent them with her morning chai, and even left one at her favorite café, where they’d spent countless evenings laughing together.

carlos made sure to support her in the ways she needed most. he showed up to her fashion shoots unannounced, quietly cheering her on from the sidelines, and sent her playlists of songs that spoke of longing, love, and hope. on her toughest days, he didn’t push her but made his presence known, offering her the comfort of silence if that’s all she needed. he wanted her to feel what he had failed to show in recent months—that she was always his priority.

“i was an idiot, jaan. i let my ego and work come before us. i see that now.”

“it wasn’t just you,” she admitted softly. “i didn’t make space for you in my world either. i was so caught up in being ‘the supermodel’ that i forgot to be your wife.”

“i’m not giving up on us,” he whispered one night as she sat on her parents’ terrace, gazing at the stars. “even if it takes years, i’ll wait for you, mi vida. you’re worth every second.” his voice broke, but his determination didn’t falter, and for the first time, she let herself believe that he meant it.

it wasn’t a grand gesture that brought them back together but a quiet moment.

“i miss you,” she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. he pulled her into his arms, holding her as if she might disappear. “i’ll never let you feel alone again,” he vowed.

rebuilding wasn’t easy, but they took it one day at a time. they carved out space for each other amidst their chaotic lives, learning to communicate and prioritize their relationship.

their story wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs—messy, beautiful, and worth fighting for.

────🍧────

#cherrynflowergarden🦢🌹🍒#༘⋆𐙚 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝟏𝐤 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x y/n #carlos sainz angst #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz fanfic #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 fanfic

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altocat · 6 months ago

Note

How do you think Sephiroth reacted to Angeal's death

I've explored variations of this scenario many, many times. And will keep doing so until we have a canon reaction lolol so let's have another then, shall we? Tasty angst for Alto 😈

At first...Sephiroth has no reaction at all. His body is on autopilot, filing away his reports, making his rounds, stoic and blank-faced.

Because of his lack of a real reaction, Zack assumes that he never cared at all, avoiding him like the plague, their fragile bond momentarily shattered. Sephiroth wasn't a friend. Just an unfeeling machine.

At the funeral...they don't talk.

For the next few weeks, Sephiroth still seems perfectly composed, performing his usual missions, training, attending his usual bimonthly checkups in the lab. Zack avoids him. Sephiroth doesn't seem to care.

If anything, he is even MORE quiet and unapproachable than he was before. He doesn't mingle. He rarely seems to take his mind off of work. He doesn't eat or sleep. A mindless machine, drifting from hour to hour.

Until THAT afternoon.

It starts out like any ordinary briefing between colleagues. Lazard gathers Sephiroth in Zack in his office. They're the only currently remaining Firsts. They're going to have to pick up the pace to make up for the lack of numbers in the ranks. Doable if they balance their schedule. And Lazard will be happy to compensate them with extra vacation time in between. Really, it won't be nearly as bad as one might initially--

Sephiroth throws the glass he was holding halfway across the room. He punches the wall and leaves a huge dent, backing up into the corner, breathing heavily, scratching his arm.

Turns out, there's only so long you can suppress yourself, running on autopilot. Sooner or later, particularly in the white noise of perfectly mundane conversations, the intrusive thoughts arrive. Just as they had every night. Every hour. Every second. It began with a whisper. It mounted into a scream.

Zack has no idea how to react, watching Sephiroth gasp and tremble, his hands shaking, lost in the vertigo, his shoulders hunched, torso heaving.

Lazard comes to the rescue just in time, calling for a sedative. He promises Sephiroth he will NOT permit Hojo to enter his office, meeting Sephiroth's eyes.

"Take the rest of the day off. That's an order."

"He wanted the body."

"We'll regroup tomorrow and discuss your schedule. Retract my previous statements."

"He wanted the body, Lazard. He told me."

Zack looks on in stunned awe and stupefaction as Lazard gently guides the silver warrior to the oval chair in the corner, making him sit, watching him swallow one pill at a time.

"Take a few minutes to yourself."

"My apologies."

"Save your apologies, Sephiroth. Rest."

He allows Sephiroth to catch his breath, guiding him past the orderlies and back into the hall, step by careful step, escorting him towards the confines of his personal quarters.

Zack knocks worriedly on Sephiroth's door every few hours. No response. He buys Sephiroth a fancy bottle of wine, wrapped in a bow, promising to meet up to reconcile when they can.

Lazard spends a sleepless night in his office, staring at the cold, clinical text on the screen, rubbing wearily between his eyes.

It isn't personal.

It never was.

None of this was personal at all.

He has only one regret.

"I'm sorry, Sephiroth."

Soon, it will be his turn.

#asks #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephcanons #sephiroth #crisis core #final fantasy vii #angeal hewley #zack fair #lazard deusericus

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goosewriting · 9 months ago

Text

Class is now in session

summary: reader is in university and starts taking a liking to a certain redhead.

relationship: college AU biker!Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: cameo fest, mentions of alcohol, cal punches a guy, idiots in love 😩💞, gets a lil spicy at the end 🫣 this might border on crack tbh

word count: 11k because i am deranged

A/N: this started out as an innocent college AU with jock!Cal, but my insta feed brought me back to the depths of biker guys x booktok girlies so this idea cemented itself into my brain and i just ran with it. this is 100% self-indulgent, packed with every trope i could think of, and got completely out of hand. i am not sorry. bon appetit :)

[all masterlists] 🪶 [star wars masterlist] 🪶 [ao3]

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

A/N2: please excuse the pacing at the start, it's a bit of a mess. but i promise it gets better! also i use college and university interchangeably here because i’ve personally only been to uni, so sorry if it's confusing ;;-;;

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

As you’re leaving your first class at the new college, you think back to orientation week where you met Sabine. She’s the only one you know here now, other than Ahsoka, a friend from your home town who’s come to this university too for her masters. You have no idea how, but Ahsoka somehow managed to have you move in after her roomate left, so that you now share the flat, which you’re super happy about. At least one thing (or person) less to worry about.

In the class that just finished, you sat with Sabine, and she introduced you to Ezra, her friend from high school. So that’s now two people you at least know by name here.

You hurry to get to your next class which is basically across campus in one of the bigger auditoriums, and it’s the biggest class by far. Sabine and Ezra don’t attend this one, so you don’t know anyone here. You look around as you cross into the room, observing how the students swarm in in waves, quickly taking their seats. Walking down to the middle row, you quickly scan the group, thinking who seems approachable to eventually start chatting.

The class goes by rather quickly, being the first one and all, it was more about formalities than actual content. Someone had arrived just on time as the professor also walked in, a redhead that caught your eye, but the moment the class was over, he left quickly. In fact everyone leaves quickly, and you can’t help but be dragged along by the mass of people and you find yourself in the hallway, which just as quickly as it filled, is empty once more.

For lunch you meet with Sabine and Ezra, and you all get to know each other a little better. At first you thought they might be dating, judging by how close they seem, but they never mention it during your meal. If Sabine is willing to have boy talk with you, you make a mental note to ask her about it at some point.

In the afternoon, you start your job at the library. A tall and elegant woman, Shaak Ti, shows you the ropes, and soon you’re left to your own devices at the desk, doing some smaller tasks to get you started. Not soon after, Ahsoka comes by for a quick visit to say hi.

Your shift is almost over when someone comes up to the check-out desk where you sit. You hear them approaching, and as you lift your eyes from your work, you recognise it’s the redhead from today’s class. Putting on your best customer support smile and voice, you ask how you can help, and he says that the self check-out machine isn't working.

How strange, you think, remembering how Shaak Ti showed you earlier how it works, and it did so just fine. But it’s quicker to just ring up his book now, and you could check the machine later. So you take the two books from him as well as his student ID and scan everything, doing your thing. You see his name on the ID: Cal Kestis. So that's what he's called. Maybe if you meet in class again, you could say hi. It would be super awkward if he didn't recognise you, though.

Shaking away your thoughts for the moment, you repeat to him what Shaak Ti told you earlier about the borrowing of materials, the e-mail notice and that he can check the return date on his university account. Taking his books and card, Cal thanks you with a smile and leaves. Standing up from the desk after a moment, you go to the self check-out machine to see what’s wrong with it, trying to remember if Shaak Ti gave you the number for the technician. You try out the process several times with a random book and your ID and it works perfectly. Strange, you think again.

By the time you get back to your dorm, which is a short bus ride away from campus, it’s already evening. You enter your room, grimacing a bit at how empty and lifeless it still looks. But you know you’ll be quick to decorate it and fill the space with your things to make it feel a bit more like home, albeit a temporary one.

Arriving at uni the next day, you get off the bus and walk towards the building. A motor bike passes you and parks in the designated area, your eyes unintentionally following the person, and you check them out a bit. The whole outfit, leather jacket and all, do look good, and you stare for perhaps a second too long. When the person takes off the helmet, you realise it’s the redhead from yesterday. He catches you looking at him and gives you an acknowledging nod and smile. Your head immediately turns the other way, cheeks burning at getting caught, and you walk away hastily, knowing this interaction will haunt you for the rest of the day since you could have just smiled or waved back instead of being so obvious.

Back in the big class, he spots you again and gives a short wave and an unsure smile. This time you make sure to smile and wave back at him.

After lunch with Sabine, you’re at your locker, picking up some things, talking to her and Ezra who joined you as well. They both suddenly look over your shoulder behind you, and you turn around only to be faced with him.

“Seems like I keep seeing you everywhere,” Cal says, leaning sideways onto the lockers. “I think it’s time we finally get properly introduced, don’t you think?”

It doesn’t go unnoticed by you that he exchanges a look with Ezra, which you can’t really decipher, as you don’t know either of them well enough.

“I’m Cal,” he introduces himself. “But I think you already knew that.”

You tell him your name, and as Ezra joins the conversation, it turns out they’re actually friends.

“So how do you know him?” Sabine asks, her eyes going from Cal to you.

“ We share a class, and he came by the library yesterday,” you explain, taking a look at the time. “Which I actually should be heading to now. My shift starts soon.”

Sabine gives you a strange knowing look too, to which you don’t know how to respond. But before you can ask what’s up, she says that Ezra and her have another class, so they leave.

Cal walks you to the library, claiming he has to go to practice and it’s on the way (its not). It’s a short walk but you’re racking your brain for something to fill up the silence. Unable to come up with anything better, you tell him that if he wants to check out another book, you can show him how to use the self check-out machine.

“You said it was broken,” you say, tilting your head slightly in confusion. “But I checked and it worked just fine.”

“I know,” he responds after a second, and you turn to him with a ‘Huh?’. Smiling, he adds, “See you around.”

And with that he leaves you by the library entrance, even more question marks circling in your mind. To your surprise and further confusion, you find that he didn’t leave you with just questions, but also a bit of a racing heart.

Finally the weekend rolls around, and Ahsoka is out with her best friend Rex and his buddies, so you invite Sabine over for a movie marathon and lots of snacks. Since it’s just the first week of class, you don’t have that many assignments yet, which you want to take advantage of while you can.

As you’re both cosied up on the couch, you ask her about Ezra and if there’s anything between the two, and her face makes you laugh out loud. She says he’s more like a brother to her, since they’ve known each other for so long. But then she asks if there’s anyone you’re interested in.

You find yourself stumbling over your own words and end up somehow confessing to both her and your surprise, that you may have a teeny tiny crush on Cal. Sabine’s almost too excited about it and says you should tell Ezra so they can set you up on a date or something. But you make her promise she won’t tell either of them, to which she ends up agreeing. You don’t need the drama or the distraction; you just want to focus on classwork after all and survive one semester at a time.

On Monday you have the big class again, and you stay after it’s done to ask Professor Kenobi something. Everyone is leaving the room, and he’s packing away his things as you approach his desk, starting to formulate your inquiries, but you see his eyes going past you for a moment, then looking at you again with a soft smile.

“Why don’t you send your questions to my e-mail,” he offers. “Isn’t it your lunch break now? Wouldn’t want to hold you off, especially when there seems to be someone waiting for you.”

You blink a couple of times, then turn to look to the entrance door where, sure enough, Cal is waiting for you, leaning back onto the wall. He gives a short wave, which you quickly reciprocate, and you excuse yourself from the professor with heat prickling at your cheeks, telling him that you will do just that.

As you reach the door, Cal pushes himself off the wall to walk beside you. Before you can ask him what he’s up to and why he waited for you, he talks first.

“Are you eating at the cafeteria today? Wanna grab lunch together?”

You consider his offer for a moment, but then give him a short shrug.

“I’m not really super hungry and the menu today didn't have anything that I particularly crave, so I think I’ll just get something from the vending machine.”

“You sure? You shoudln’t skip meals, you know.”

“It’s fine, really,” you chuckle. “I’ll just get early dinner and I promise to eat something substantial.” “Yeah, you better,” he jokes, lightly pushing you with his shoulder.

Turning your face away to hide how flustered you’re getting at not just his playfulness but the fact that he waited for you, you reprimand yourself for a moment for getting your hopes up. Wanting to grab lunch with a classmate is normal! This is normal! Stop being weird, you tell yourself.

Just as you want to face Cal again to change the subject, you hear some voices from the hallway around the corner where the vending machines are. You think you recognise them, and you don’t know what on Earth compels you to, but you walk the few steps to take a peek. At the end of the hall, you see Professor Kenobi with a man. He’s tan, has broad shoulders and is very handsome.

“Hello, my love,” Kenobi says in a low voice barely audible to you, and quickly leans in to kiss the stranger.

Your hand shoots up to cover your mouth before any sound of surprise can come out, and you quickly spin around, directly into Cal’s chest with an oomph.

“Wha–” Cal holds onto your shoulders to keep you from falling with how quickly you tried to recoil. “Whoa there, you okay? What’s wrong?”

“I feel like I just saw something I wasn’t supposed to,” you admit, hiding your face in your hands for a moment, then looking at him with big eyes.

This intrigues him, and Cal steps past you to take a look.

“There’s no one there…?”

You look around the corner again as well, and the hallway is indeed empty.

“Prof Kenobi was just there a second ago, with someone else. Kissing,” you add the last part under your breath.

“Oh?” Cal raises a brow, sounding strangely interested. “Well, let’s go see where they went.”

You shoot him an alarmed look.

“What? Why?”

But he’s already walking, looking over his shoulder and gesturing for you to follow with a playful smile. So you follow suit. You’ve never been to this part of the building, and compared to the bustle back where there were constant streams of people walking to and out of the cafeteria, here it’s surprisingly quiet.

“I wonder where they even went,” Cal thinks aloud and stops where the hallway ends in a dead end. There’s several doors to the left, offices from the psychology faculty judging by the signs next to the doorframe. On the right there’s the big door leading to the staircase. There’s a paper sign stuck to it with tape that catches your attention, so you step closer to read it.

“Seems like the floors below are currently closed off because of repairs,” you paraphrase the warning sign. “So they must have gone up.”

You turn to look at him, and see realisation wash over his face, which quickly changes into a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Oh, is that where we are.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him in suspicion.

“I heard that there was an off-limits floor in this wing. It’s been like that for years actually, not because they’re reparing something but because strange things happen there.”

You scoff, giving him an incredulous look.

“Didn’t take you for the superstitious type,” you deadpan.

“I’m not.” He looks at the sign and back at you. “But c’mon, aren’t you a little curious? They say it’s haunted, but if you go there and come back out, then you’ll have good luck in… passing your exams.”

“...Did you just make that up?” you question, crossing your arms over your chest defensively and raising a brow at him.

“...No?” Cal retorts, and it’s anything but convincing. Taking a step closer to you, he adds, “Come on, don’t you feel the call of adventure?”

“The only call you’ll feel is your emtpy stomach when you’re training,” you say, taking one last glance at the big door, then looking at Cal. “Shouldn’t you be having lunch right now?”

“I can eat later,” he shrugs.

“I thought skipping meals was a no-no.”

“I can make an exception today. For both of us.”

Before you even have a chance to stop him, he pushes open the door to the staircase, and you see there’s a chain blocking the way to the stairs leading down, but he steps over it, looking back and offering his hand to you.

You look up, listening for anyone who might be coming downstairs, but it’s still silent. Almost eerily so. You look at Cal’s face for a moment, and sigh in defeat, taking his expecting hand. He grins in victory.

“You’re being a horrible influence, you know that?” you say with a playful smile.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a little bad every now and then,” he points out with a wink, and you roll your eyes at him to hide the beat your heart just skipped.

You both walk down the stairs, taking out your phones to use as a flashlight since it’s so dark. Cal pushes open the big door to the main hallway, and you’re hit with the typical smell of a basement; it’s humid and a little musky, but not necessarily unpleasant. You take a look around, and it’s a mirror of the floor above. The doors to the offices are open though, one is even missing the door completely, and Cal walks in without hesitation, so you follow him.

You’re not normally one to get scared about things like these, especially knowing that the haunted story has probably started as a rumour that got way out of hand throughout the years. This section probably just got closed off because of a water leak or something.

“One of the guys on the team told me that there used to be meetings of a secret cult down here.”

“Okay, now you’re just messing with me,” you laugh, and you point your light to him to see him. He blocks the light from his eyes with his hand but you can see the goofy smile on his face.

“I can’t believe I followed you down here,” you say, taking a step towards him, but something behind him catches your attention. You direct your light to the wall, and he turns around to do the same. There’s a pinboard full of old notes and photographs. Looking at the small table underneath it, you can see a lot of the things that once hung on the wall have since fallen down, decaying. Inspecting the remaining notes on the pinboard though, you notice that there are many that seem newer, the papers are clearer, crisp, untouched by the humidity down here. Many of them are simply just letters and numbers, like… initials and dates? You’re about to take a closer look at what’s written on them when a reflection from the table catches your eye.

Directing your light down onto the table, you move away some scattered papers to reveal the object that was partially hidden beneath: a locket in the shape of a heart. You stretch out your hand to pick it up but Cal stops you.

“Maybe- maybe don’t touch that.”

“Why not?” you ask without looking up. You can faintly make out the engraved letters “P&A” on the metallic surface.

“It could have lead. Or something.”

“That’s… a good point, actually,” you agree, and you retrieve your hand, your nose crinkling slightly in disgust at what could be lying around. “It’s the first time you’ve made sense since we got here. Who knows what else is here. Actually, we should leave–” You turn to where Cal was standing earlier, a couple of steps away, but you find him standing right in front of you now, caging you in between himself and the table behind you. He’s still holding his phone with the light aiming up, so his face is contoured in sharp white, highlighting the scars across his face. You had noticed them before, and thought they added character to his face. But now, with his eyes gazing into yours like that, momentarily flickering down to your lips and back up, you feel the urge to reach out and trace over them.

The air has completely shifted between you two, and your heartbeat quickens at the realisation. His free hand has somehow found its way around your wrist, and he’s leaning in closer ever so slowly.

You open your mouth to say something but you’re cut short by a sudden thud. You both flinch in surprise, aiming your lights to where the sound came from. You see a book, now on the floor, that hadn’t been there before, and a small cloud of dust settling around it. Aiming the light a little to the side and up, you can clearly see the spot where it fell out of the shelf, as there’s no dust on the wooden surface.

“We should– I think we’ve overstayed our welcome,” you say after clearing your throat.

“Right.”

You quickly step around Cal and head for the staircase, swiftly walking up the steps and, after momentarily listening for any bypassers, climb over the chain. Cal follows closely, and you both pocket away your phones. You’re reaching out your hand to open the heavy door that leads back into the building, when he quickly grabs your wrist, holding your shoulder with his other hand to pull you away from the thin vertical window next to the door.

“Wait, there’s someone out there.”

“So what, we could have come from upstairs,” you say, trying to ignore the way your skin tingles where he’s holding you again.

He peeks through the glass, his eyes going wide for a moment, then stepping away again, a silly smile playing on his lips.

“It’s Kenobi. And he's not alone.”

You dare take a peek through the glass, and catch a quick look at Kenobi and the man from earlier, both coming out of one of the offices with slightly dishevelled hair.

“If he sees us, we’re so dead,” you say under your breath and lean back away, out of view. On one hand, you’d definitely be in trouble because from the short time you’ve known him, Professor Kenobi seems like the type of person to be really good at reading others, so he’d definitely know you two were up to no good if he confronted you two, especially you; you’re not a good liar. But also he saw Cal waiting for you after class, so surely he’d think something was going on between you two. Then again, would that bother you? Is there something going on between you and Cal? Do you want there to be something? You’re not entirely ready yet to answer that for yourself, especially not right now after what happened earlier, whatever that was. He was totally going to kiss you, right? In a basement of all places?

“The coast is clear,” Cal finally says, and your reeling mind can come to a halt again. He looks down at where his hand is still holding onto you, and quickly lets go, taking a step back, clearing his throat. “Sorry about that. Uh, after you.”

He holds the door open for you, and you walk through, dusting off your clothes of anything that may trace you back to the forbidden underground. Cal makes his way to the office he saw Kenobi come out of and inspects the sign, chuckling to himself.

“Ah, look at that,” he says, and you approach, seeing the name on the sign: ‘Cody Kenobi’. So the man earlier was his husband.

“Get it prof, I guess,” you mutter more to yourself than to him, but Cal snorts at your comment.

“C’mon, let’s go,” he says, and you two make your way back to where you initially came from.

Since Cal still has to get food, you part ways and he heads to the cafeteria. And just like that, you’re back at the vending machine, yet again plagued by the decision of what to get, as well as a million questions racing through your mind.

When your shift at the library ends that day, it’s already the late afternoon. It was pretty slow today again, you mainly just spent your time cataloging some new books and putting back returned ones to their respective spots.

As you’re approaching the bus stop, you can see the bus already there, so you fall into a light jog to catch up on time. Except that everyone is standing outside instead of being inside the bus. The driver is standing on the sidewalk as well, talking on the phone in an irritated tone.

“What happened?” you ask one of the people sitting on the bench.

“The bus broke down,” she explains with a tired sigh, pointing to where the engine door has been lifted, and you can see some faint smoke coming out of the vents. “The driver said we have to wait for the next bus.”

You don’t need to look at the timetable to know that at this time of day, the busses get more and more infrequent. You might as well walk home. It won’t necessarily be quicker than waiting for the next one, but you don’t want to just sit still for the next half hour.

After saying your thanks to the person, you keep walking down the sidewalk to start your trek home. Luckily, there’s a pedestrian path away from the street that is actually quite picturesque to walk, partially going through the woods too, so at least you’ll have a nice view as you ruminate over the day’s events.

To get to the path leading into the forest, you take a shortcut through the parking lot, which to your surprise is not as empty as you would have imagined at this time. You’re not really planning on running into anyone, already lost in thought, so it takes you very much by suprise when you hear your name called out. You turn around to see Cal standing by his bike, waving to you. You wave back with a smile, which is quick to disappear though as you remember your interaction earlier. You just want to get home to crawl into your bed and wallow in self-pity for a bit, but the redhead calls you to him.

“I saw the bus broke down,” he says as you get closer, zipping up his leather jacket and tucking his helmet under his arm. “Need a ride home?”

No, you think, being near you is short circuiting my brain and I need to sort that out.

“I’ve never been on a bike before, though,” comes out of your mouth instead.

“Well, lucky for you I’d be the one driving,” he says with a smile. “As a backpack you just have to lean into the curves, but there’s not much more than that.”

“Backpack?”

“Ah, yeah, that’s what we call the person sitting behind the driver.” You spot the faintest of blushes creeping onto his face, adorning his freckles. “So, what do you say?”

His face, full of expectation, leaning into childish glee almost, is impossible to resist. Heaving a sigh, you laugh a bit to yourself, throwing your hands up in surrender.

“You know what. Why not. We already went to a haunted room today, might as well get ‘riding on a motorbike’ off my bucket list today, too.”

“Great!” Cal’s face lights up at your positive response, and he seems to notice it and clears his throat to take his excitement down a notch. He moves to the side a bit so you can take a better look at the bike, telling you its name is BD-1, and doing the whole introduction thing where he points to you, then to the bike and back, saying your name, BD, BD, your name. You have to bite back a smile at how endearing you find that. After what happened today, it’s nice to see that he also has this cute side to him. Playing along, you greet the bike with a ‘Hi BD!’ and pat the handlebar as if it was a dog. Cal chuckles, and produces a second helmet seemingly out of thin air, presenting it to you.

“Wha– Where did you–”

“A biker never reveals his secrets,” he says with a wink, and puts on his own helmet. Your grips tightens lightly on the one you’re now holding as you avert your gaze from his visor. This guy will absolutely be the end of you.

Cal helps you put on the helmet, adjusting the buckle strap underneath your chin and making sure it’s comfortable but not too loose. Turning to the bike, he folds down some pegs on either side of the back wheel, indicating that that’s where you’re going to put your feet, then he gets on first.

“Once you’re on, you can either hold onto me or place your hands here–,” he shows you, patting the round, elevated part of the bike in front of him. “– on the tank.”

Then he instructs you to hop on by placing one foot first to lift yourself off the ground and swing your other leg over. Holding onto his shoulders for balance, you do just that, tightening the straps on your own backpack (pun unintended) so it doesn’t move around once you’ll be on the move. You scoot in your seat a couple of times until you feel your balance settle.

“You good?” he asks, and you realise you’ll surely have a hard time hearing him once you’re driving, over the sound of the engine and the wind.

“Yup!” you reply, taking a shuddering breath that seems to resonate within your helmet, as you snake your arms around his waist, interlocking your fingers.

You feel his torso tense up ever so slightly at the touch, and he kicks up the stand.

“If I pat your leg it means to hold on tighter, okay?”

“Got it,” you confirm, and he tests it out by patting the outside of your knee twice, and you lean even more into him, if that’s possible, tightening your grip. You just hear him chuckle, then start the engine.

He makes a round or two on the parking lot so you can get used to the feeling, and once you feel more comfortable, he heads out onto the street.

As you’ve already mentioned at some point that you live at the dorms, he knows where to take you. You can tell he’s riding extra carefully, not zooming through in-between cars and making sure that the stops and starts at the traffic lights are smooth.

Because of the noise and the helmets, having a conversation is unfortunately impossible, so you just enjoy the sensations. The whistle of the wind rushing by you, the humming of the engine, which you can feel in your whole body, both through the bike itself and Cal. The way he taps your leg when you loosen your grip without noticing. At least it was on accident the first time. After some minutes you tried it again, slowly letting go, and his gloved hand was on your leg again, lingering this time until you held on properly. Then he placed his hand over both of yours, giving a light squeeze. Ah, did he catch on?

Alas, the ride is already over by the time you feel like you really mastered being a proper backpack, and the bike slows down as Cal drives into the street of your apartment complex.

Once he fully stops and kicks down the stand, he gives your arms a pat, indiciating for you to hop off. Misjudging the height and being slightly sore from the unfamiliar seating position, you don’t properly step onto the ground, your knee giving in and the rest of your body threatening to follow. But Cal is quick to catch you and bring you back to your feet without even having gotten off completely himself.

“You alright?” he asks, sliding off the seat completely, then taking off his helmet and running his hand through his hair. His red fiery hair, now messed up from the helmet… You really want to run your own fingers through it.

At your lack of response, he leans a bit closer into your visor, repeating the question. You snap out of your trance with a sheepish laugh, trying and failing to undo the buckle on the helmet strap. Cal takes off his gloves and skillfully opens it, helping you remove the thing. You don’t even want to know what your hair looks like right now, so you try your best to smooth it out blindly.

“I’m good, yes. Guess getting on is easier than getting off the bike.”

“It gets easier with practice,” he responds. “That is, if you ever want to ride again. You can. I mean with me. If you’d like.”

He looks around, the driveway is luckily empty, so no one can see him embarrass himself by stumbling over his own words. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you; he’s too cute.

“I’d love to, if you’ll let me.”

“Of course. You did good today.”

You look in the direction of your dorm, then down at the helmet you’re still holding.

“Guess you need this back, then.”

“I don’t have any way to carry it right now, so why don’t you hold onto that for now,” he starts, scratching the back of his neck as he leans back a bit to half sit on the side of the bike. “Besides, the bus might break down again. Why don’t I give you a ride to class tomorrow morning, too?”

By now your heartrate is absolutely out of control. How does he look so effortlessly cool? And he’s inviting you to ride again? Maybe more than once?

You involuntarily hug the helmet to your chest, hoping the sound of your erratic hearbeat doesn’t echo through it and make it loud enough for Cal to hear. Taking out his phone, he suggests exchanging numbers so you can text him when to pick you up and he can tell you when he’s on his way. Taking it from his hands, you type in your number and call, hearing your own ringtone coming from your pocket, and give it back. You don’t see what he types in as your contact name as he’s quick about it, putting the device away again.

“See you tomorrow, then,” you say, swaying back and forth lightly on the ball of your feet. “Thank you for taking me home. It was fun.”

“My pleasure,” he says with a genuine smile. “And don’t forget your substantial dinner.”

With that, he puts on his helmet. As he gets onto the bike and kicks back the stand, you consider running up to him one last time to place a kiss on his helmet, but you find yourself paralysed by… what exactly, you don’t know.

“Drive safe!” you call out to him instead with a wave, as he drives onto the street. He gives you a two finger salute, tires screeching on the pavement as he takes off. Yeah, he was definitely being considerate of you when you were on the bike.

You feel like you’re floating on a cloud and being pulled down by a gravity tenfold as strong, all at the same time. You’re clearly into him. It seems he’s interested as well. What’s holding you back? These and many other questions roam your brain as you try to fall asleep that night.

The next morning, as promised, Cal is waiting for you. This time he brings a proper biker jacket as well, which is padded in the important places. Where he got it from and how he knows your size, you don’t even bother asking, knowing he wouldn’t tell.

Despite the buses working just fine, form that day on it becomes somewhat of a routine. Whenever your schedules will allow it, he’ll take you to class and back home. You offer paying for gas since going by your place is out of his way, even though he insists it isn’t. He never takes you up on your offer.

Weeks go by in the blink of an eye, both of you getting more comfortable around each other, engaging in friendly banter bordering in flirtations, but never really crossing the line or making an actual move. Before you know it, exams are just around the corner, so the library is busy. Still, you manage to study in the slower hours. But you keep catching yourself looking at the entrance, waiting for a certain someone to walk in.

After exams are over, Sabine and Ezra organise a well deserved party at her place. Her family is away for the weekend, but they were okay with a party as long as it doesn’t get out of hand. Ahsoka also invites a handful of her friends so there’s a decent amount of people of different ages. You have friendly chats with many of them, who also give you good tips on studying, the best places to get coffee near uni, or tell you funny stories about the teachers.

The party is where you meet Anakin and Padme, Ahsoka’s best friends aside from Rex, who are more or less the power couple at the university. They’ve been together since the first year and everyone knows about them. Even you have heard a lot about them; there are some wild rumours around. But you’re seeing them for the first time now, and you can’t shake the feeling that they look familiar.

As you, Sabine, Ahsoka and the two are standing in the kitchen, sipping on your drinks, the conversation somehow flows into urban legend territory. That’s where Padme tells you and Sabine about the lovebird legend, saying that there is an off-limits room in the uni building where it is said that a couple died tragically as the ceiling came down on them.

“Despite the tragedy, the legends still make people go down there to leave their pictures and love notes,” Padme explains.

“Alleged tragedy,” Anakin interjects with a playful roll of his eyes. “If something had actually happened down there, they would close it off properly.” He turns to you as he sees your blank expression, which he interprets as being scared, and gives you a reassuring pat on the back. “Nothing happened down there, trust me.”

Except that your face went blank not out of fear, but because you finally connected the dots.

“Yeah, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” Padme reminisces, linking her arm onto Anakin’s, who looks down at her with an adoring smile. “Even we went down to leave our own note, remember? And it seems it worked.”

“How could I forget,” Anakin laughs. “Initials, picture, locket; we did the whole package.”

The locket you saw that day in the basement comes to your mind. The engraved initials: P & A.

Padme and Anakin.

And now you can also vaguely recognise their younger selves in one of the pictures you see on the wall.

Snapping back into reality, you look at Anakin.

“Is this… common knowledge?” you ask, fidgeting with the drink in your hands. “Does everyone know that’s what it is? Or are there some people who think it’s haunted?”

“Not really?” Anakin shrugs. “I don’t know of anyone who’s ever thought it was actually haunted. Again, the accident is just a rumour to make it more tragic.”

“Yeah, everyone who hears about the story knows people go there hoping to ensure a good love life,” Padme confirms.

“Huh, is that so…” you trail off, heat quickly rising to your face, visible to everyone no doubt, but you can’t be bothered to hide it right now. So Cal knew? He must have known, right?

Sabine elbows you into the side, almost making you spill your drink.

“What’s got you so flustered suddenly?” She narrows her eyes at you, full of mischief. “Don’t tell me, you want to go leave a note for you and you know who?”

That seems to get you out of your trance, and your head snaps back up, frantically looking around to make sure Cal isn’t anywhere near you two. But he’s actually nowhere to be seen, probably outside with his team buddies who are hogging the grill.

“Do you still need to leave a note when you’ve already been there with the person in question?” you ask at no one in particular, and Ahsoka exchanges a knowing look with Anakin and Padme.

“You what?!” Sabine whisper-screams. “How? When?”

“Uuh, a couple of weeks ago,” you say, suddenly remembering the other thing you saw that day. “Also, did you know Kenobi is married? And that his husband is part of the psychology department? They totally made out in the husband’s office.”

Sabine’s face morphs into several different things consecutively, first confusion at why you’re bringing that up now, then questioning why you even know that, then wondering if she even wants to know.

“You know,” Padme interjects. “Obi-Wan and Cody Kenobi were actually one of the first ever couples to leave their note in the basement. If they’re still together, then it really must work, huh.” She leans in ever so slightly, lowering her voice as she asks you, “Why, is there anyone you’re interested in? Someone who wouldn’t happen to be here right now?”

You pull a bit of a grimace and look to Ahsoka, who had followed the whole thing with amusement but without intervening. Seeing your pleading look, she nods, indicating that Padme is trustworthy with these kind of things.

“Yes, actually,” you reply in a small voice. “To both.”

Padme clasps her hands together in delight, asking if you’ll show her the person in question. Anakin just laughs, saying he’ll go find something to eat, and Ahsoka joins him. So it’s just you, Padme and Sabine left. You walk around for a while until you find your favourite redhead leaning on the open doorframe that leads to the yard, talking to one of his teammates. They’re all wearing their team jackets, and you can’t help your eyes roaming his body for a moment, enjoying the view.

As if he could feel your eyes on him, he suddenly turns his head to you, and you get caught yet again staring. But this time you don’t look away in shame, you stand your ground and give him a smile and a small wave, which he returns, then goes back to his conversation as if nothing happened.

You turn back to the girls, both of them giving you a knowing smile and little giggles.

“Oh, shut up, you.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” Sabine says.

“Your face said it all.”

“Yeah, as did yours,” she teases.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. You might as well be on actual fire right now, as hot as you feel.

“I’m getting another drink,” you say, pinching Sabine in the cheek and looking to Padme. “Please make sure she doesn’t embarrass me any further.”

Padme laughs but agrees, promising to keep an eye on her.

You walk to the kitchen, where a new group of people has claimed the space to have their conversation. You quickly refill your cup, excusing yourself from them with a polite nod, and leave through the other door, looking for a way outside to get some fresh air. But you find yourself in what seems to be the dining room. This house is so big, I think I might actually get lost here, you think, looking around for another exit.

You turn on your heels when a guy, evidently drunk, approaches you. Givng him a quick once over, you find that you don’t recognise him. While this was a closed invitation party, unfortunately there’s always the few people who think it’s okay to just bring another buddy along who also brings their friend, leading to a handful of people that no one really invited or even knows. This is one of them.

You intend to walk past him, but he takes a side step to block your path. Taking a quick step back to have some distance between you and him, you try the other side, but again he cuts you off.

“Can you let me through?”

“What are you doing here all alone?” His words are slurred, and he suddenly grabs onto your wrist with a strong grip.

“Wha–? Let me go!” The back and forth until you finally manage to get your arm free makes you spill your drink onto the floor.

He seems unfazed by this, grunting in annoyance and trying to grab you again, but you evade his movements this time, taking several steps back.

“I said back off! Leave me alone!”

Now he has you cornered against the wall, and you consider your options. He stretches out his hand again to take ahold of you, but before he reaches you, Cal has appeared through another archway to your right and grabs the guy by the collar of his shirt, pulling him away from you. Two of his football buddies follow.

“Which part of ‘back off’ do you not understand?” he growls at the guy, letting him go with a shove. “Get lost.”

“And who do you think you are? You’re interrupting–” the guy starts, grabbing Cal by the shoulder and turning him around, but before he can even finish his sentence, Cal clocks him in the jaw, and the guy falls to the ground ungracefully, landing in your puddle from earlier with a grunt. The two other guys that arrived with Cal grab him, one arm each, and carry him away, probably outside to kick him out.

Cal turns to you, shaking the hand he hit the other guy with.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he approaches you, wanting to hold your arms, but his hands only hover over you as he looks you over for any injuries.

“I’m– I’m okay. Thank you,” you croak out, blinking repeatedly to process what just happened. Cal gingerly holds your wrist up, inspecting it. You can already see some dark marks forming where the guy before had grabbed you. Cal’s thumb strokes over the inside of your wrist soothingly, his eyes finding yours, and you’re unable to look away. He’s about to say something when voices call out to you. He turns around to see Sabine, Ahsoka and Ezra approaching.

“Are you okay? What happened?” she asks, seeing the puddle on the ground just in time and walking around it.

“Some guy was really drunk, he grabbed my arm and–”

“And I punched him,” Cal finishes.

Sabine raises a brow at that, giving you a look.

“Ugh, I’m so sorry,” Ezra apologises. “I told everyone to not just show up with random people. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“Ezra, it’s okay. Really guys, I’m fine.” You swallow down whatever is trying to bubble up, be it a nervous breakdown after a scary situation or just the fact that Cal saved your bacon. Shoving it all into the back of your brain to deal with later, you smile at your friends. “The jerk is dealt with, it’s all good, really. Now let’s go back to enjoying the party. I heard you have a karaoke machine?”

“Yeah,” Sabine says and gives you a questioning look. ‘You sure you're okay?’ At the insistence in your own eyes, she nods. “Okay then, let’s go sing our lungs out. C’mon, guys.”

Ezra apologises again before following Sabine. Ahsoka asks you if you’re sure you’re good, you insist that yes everything is fine, so she leaves as well.

You look to Cal with a grateful smile, about to head out as well, but he stops you.

“Uhm, actually, I’ve been meaning to ask,” he says, again scratching his neck in that adorably shy manner, and your breath might or might not have hitched there. “Next week we have a big game against another school team. Do you want to come? And possibly cheer for us?”

“I was wondering if I could ever go to one of your games,” you reply sincerely, smiling up at him. “I’ll cheer for you.”

“For my team or for me specifically?” he remarks with an inquisitive grin, but to your relief, the music from the living room hits your ears before you can even come up with a smooth reply.

“Oh, that’s my jam, c’mon!” You hook your arm around Cal’s and drag him to where everyone’s waiting, both of you laughing.

— — — — —

The match is intense. You don’t really know all the rules, but you can feel the tension in the air.

You cheer for Cal from where you sit on the bleachers with Sabine, Ezra and everyone else, all of you shouting and cheering. You haven’t even entirely recovered from the karaoke session, so this surely isn’t helping your vocal chords, but you don’t care.

Every now and then he looks up from where he is on the field, searching for you in the crowd. He pats the outside of his knee twice when he does, and every time you can feel the rush of heat and giddiness crashing over you. It’s the same gesture he does when you’re on his bike. It’s like a secret signal between the two of you. You don’t care about biting back the giant smile on your face or trying to hide how flustered you look every time he spots you among the audience, and Sabine catches on.

The timer on the giant screen counts down the last seconds of the match, both teams are tied. Cal goes into the offensive, and they make one heck of a play, scoring the last point just before the timer buzzes. Everyone in the audience stands up cheering, clapping, whistling. You as well.

As the announcer wraps up the game and the players leave for the changing rooms, Sabine and you head down to the entrance. Many are already leaving, since the match is over, but friends and family of the players are waiting for them to come out to celebrate.

Sabine and Ezra exchange curious looks with each other, and Sabine elbows you into the side.

“So?” Ezra asks.

“So what? “ you retort.

“Are you gonna make a move?” Sabine chimes in.

“On Cal?”

“Who else!"

“I don’t know…” you respond, unsure. “I don’t want to read too much into it–”

“Ohmygod,” Ezra groans as he shakes you by the shoulders. “You’re both so smitten with each other, it’s starting to be unbearable to watch.

You laugh nervously. Does he really think that?

“Guys! Here they come,” Sabine interrupts you two as she spots the winning team.

Ezra lets go of you after one last shake, and you all turn to face the players, now showered and changed back into their normal clothes.

Cal’s eyes roam the space until they find yours, and you think you might go blind by his smile. He’s positively glowing. You’re just expecting to maybe hug him, congratulate him on the win, and then you’ll all go get food together as you’ve planned.

Instead, Cal doesn’t slow down as he approaches you, throwing his arms around your torso and lifting you into the air, spinning you around a couple of times. You hold on to him with a squeak of surprise, and he laughs so heartily, you’re actually glad he’s holding you in the air, because your legs surely would have given out.

Once gently placed back onto the ground, you just kind of look at each other, until Ezra loudly clears his throat, and Cal quickly lets go of you. After you guys say your congratulations to Cal and the rest of his team, you head out to the restaurant. It’s nearby so you decide to walk, the weather is nice even though it's the evening.

The rest of the night, you and Cal seem to tiptoe around each other, like there’s suddenly an invisible line that has been drawn, and you’re both waiting for the other to cross over first. You exchange smiles, glances, accidental touches followed by apologies.

Once the food is gone and the adrenaline starts depleting, it’s time to head home. Cal offers to walk you home, since you’re still relatively close to the dorms. Anakin drove to the game, so he takes the rest back with him in his car.

After you say your goodbyes to the group, not without getting some definitely non-inconspicuous looks from your two besties, it dawns on you that once you’re home, Cal will be stranded there. You bring it up to him, and for a minute you actually consider offering for him to stay the night, but you’re actually not mentally or emotionally prepared for that. So you’re glad when he says he doesn’t mind, he’ll just get a cab or something when he's there, since he got a ride with his coach to the game today and didn’t ride his bike.

You’re walking down the street in comfortable silence, surrounded by the darkness that's already taken over the sky. You look up expecting to see stars, but you’re disappointed to see clouds. In fact, dark, low hanging clouds, threatening to spill over any moment.

“Huh, when did it get this stormy,” you wonder aloud, and as if on cue, a gust of wind picks up, sending some leaves and debris flying over the street.

“I’m pretty sure there was no rain announced today–”

The moment Cal says that, it comes pouring down all at once.

“What the–! Argh!” you groan in frustration at the sudden downpour, but Cal just laughs, taking your hand as he pulls you away.

“Come on!”

You let yourself be led to take shelter under an awning. You look down at yourself, already soaked even though you were exposed for mere seconds. The sound of rain hitting the ground drowns everything else. You look out with a pout, knowing you’ll have to wait out the weather to get anywhere.

Suddenly you feel a weight on your shoulders. You look to the side to see Cal placing his varsity jacket on you, and you’d be lying if you weren’t welcoming the warmth. Given that today was supposed to be a clear night, you didn’t really have that many layers, so you gladly slide your arms into the sleeves, hugging yourself.

Instead of letting go completely of the jacket though, Cal keeps readjusting the collar, tugging on one side so that you turn until you’re fully facing him. A droplet of water falls from his hair onto his cheek. You uncross your arms, slowly bringing your hands up to his forearms, shyly holding onto them.

“Can i kiss you?” he asks without looking away. And you couldn’t have even if you wanted to, it’s like his ocean eyes held yours in a tight embrace, unable to move. You don’t answer immediately, despite every fiber in your body screaming yes!

“I’m scared,” you finally say in a small voice, almost getting drowned out by the raging rain. Cal’s head backtracks a bit in surprise.

“What of?”

“It’s silly,” you pout again, this time looking away, but his hand finds your cheek, bringing your gaze back to him.

“You can tell me,” he assures you. You let out a sharp breath of frustration at yourself.

“I’ve just… never felt like this before,” you admit. “I'm scared of how much of an effect you have over me, I suppose, and as such making a fool of myself. I want you to like me, so badly.”

Cal tilts his head slightly to the side, offering a warm reassuring smile.

“I can assure you, I feel the same way about you.”

“I don't believe you,” you retort with a scoff. “You always look so collected and confident and just generally cool.”

“On the outside, maybe. But trust me, I'm freaking out on the inside. Check for yourself.”

He takes your hand and places it on his chest, leaving his hand on yours. His heart is beating at a quick pace. The moment you look up again and meet his eyes, the pace picks up. In the faint light you can see a blush spreading on his face, heart pounding against his ribcage, with yours to match.

“Same here,” you say.

“I know,” he replies with a bit of mischief, his other hand on your cheek moving down a bit to your neck, where you now know he can feel your pulse.

You know he’s still waiting for your answer, but you decide to tease him. Just a bit. Besides, this question has been burning on your tongue for what feels like an eternity now.

“When we went down to the basement, you knew it wasn’t haunted, right?” you ask, and he has to adjust to the sudden change of topic, looking surprised at first, then laughing heartily. You continue, “You knew it was a thing that couples do?”

“Ah, you got me,” he replies with a light shrug.

“Did you plan the whole thing out from the start?”

“Actually, no.” He looks away for a moment with a faint smile, thinking back to that day, then meets your eyes again. “I did want to go there with you but didn’t know how to ask. Then I saw you at the vending machine, and the whole thing with Kenobi happened, and it was just too good of an opportunity to pass.”

“I can’t believe I got played like that,” you say with a dramatic sigh. “You know, had you told me back then that you liked me, I would have gone willingly to the basement to leave a note.”

“Guess I was scared, too.”

“That’s fair,” you say, your hands coming up to his face to hold it properly now. You smooth your thumb over his cheekbone, and he leans into your touch. “Well, now that that’s sorted out: yes, yes you can.”

Cal leans in, catching your lips in his, and he holds you so tenderly, you might as well melt down and get swept away by the rain. Your whole body burns, and you grab a fistful of his shirt in an attempt to pull him closer. His hands travel down your arms to snake around your waist between his jacket and your damp shirt, holding you up as you involuntarily put more of your weight on him, the legs under you threatening to give in completely.

He breaks the kiss and pulls back only enough to pepper your whole face in little kisses, making you giggle.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” he remarks, trailing kisses down your jaw, then coming back up to place one last kiss on your lips, which you chase after as he pulls back again, and he chuckles.

“We should get going,” he says, taking your hands in his. “The rain stopped, we should get you home before you catch a cold.”

“Right,” you mumble, still trying to come down from the high of that kiss.

You start walking down the street hand in hand, and you swing them back and forth between the two of you. You’re almost at your place when he gets a call. Taking his phone out, he picks up and puts it on speaker; it’s Anakin. He asks if Cal needs a ride because of the sudden rain.

“You’re asking now?” Cal laughs. “Well, you sure took your time.”

“I assumed you were… occupied.”

Your face burns up yet again, tips of your ears on fire, as Cal shoots you a funny look.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he says into the phone.

“Oh my god–!” you squeak, hiding your face in your hands as you hear Padme’s cheering in the background. “But yes, please come pick him up. Or he might get sick. We’re both soaking wet.”

Cal holds back a laugh, and you grab onto his wrist to bring the phone closer to you.

“From the rain! Soaked from the rain!” you say firmly into the phone. “Geez...!”

After some more snickers, Anakin and Cal coordinate where he should pick him up. It’s just a street over from your dorm, so you have to part ways there.

“Let’s go somewhere this weekend,” Cal suggests as you’re hugging him goodbye.

“Like where?”

“I’ll show you one of my favourite spots. How about that? Bring your helmet.”

“Ooh, roadtrip with BD. I’m in,” you agree.

Cal leans in to leave a lingering kiss on your cheek, but before he can pull back completely, you sneak in a peck on the corner of his mouth. Even in the darknes, the streelight the only source of illumination, you can see the furious blush on his face. If it were up to you, you’d kiss him until the sun comes back up, but the both of you really need to take a warm shower and get to bed.

“It’s a date then,” Cal says with a wink and takes a couple of steps back, waving at you, then turning fully to walk towards the pick-up spot.

“Yeah, a date…” you whisper to yourself dreamily.

— — — — —

True to his word, Cal takes you to his favourite place. You packed some food and drinks for the road, then headed out. By now you’re far more comfortable on the bike, so you can actually enjoy the view as well. The farther away you get from the city, the more you’re surrounded by forests, farms and you even cross a lake. Starting to gain elevation as he drives up the meandering narrow street, you arrive at a vantage point of sorts. There’s a small parking lot by the road, with a public restroom and some picnic tables. You two get off the bike, walking to the fence which feels to be right at the edge of the cliff, showing a fantastic view into a giant valley.

Your date takes its course; you eat, you chat, you even remembered to pack some cards so you play a couple of rounds on the table.

When it’s time to head back, you’re packing your things, both of you standing by the bike.

“So, how’d you like it?” he asks.

“It’s beautiful,” you reply, letting your eyes roam over the landscape once more. You arrived here in the early afternoon, and now the sun is just about to set.

“Anything else you’d like to do before we head back?”

You think it over. You already ate, took some pictures, enjoyed the view. There’s really not much else to do here. But then a thought occurs to you.

“I, uhm…” For some reason you get shy with your request. “Is there any way we can sit on the bike facing each other? Not to drive, just to chill here a little longer. I’d like to see the full sunset.”

His brows rise in surprise, the slight blush on his cheeks not escaping you, and you wonder what it was about what you’re asking that caused it.

“Sure. Here–”

He grabs you from underneath your arms, picking you up as you wrap your legs around his waist. He holds you like you weigh nothing, and swings one of his legs over the bike to take a seat like he normally would, placing you onto the tank. You unwrap your legs so that they’re hanging over his things, and that’s when you realise you just asked for you to straddle him. Not that you’re opposed to the result.

You try finding your seat on the round tank, but you slip down further into his lap, now fully sitting on him.

“Whoah, sorry,” you try to scoot back up but you’re essentially stuck. “Is this okay? Should I move back?”

“Don’t worry,” he says, looking to the side for a moment as he holds you by your waist, trying to hold you still, and he clears his throat nervously. “This is every biker’s dream, believe me. Are you comfortable?”

You hum in positive response, trying to accommodate to the position in his lap by squirming a little, and his grip on you tightens again. You hear him take a sharp breath though his teeth.

“Ah, sorry…” you say as you realise what you’re doing. You place your hands on his chest, trying to hold still. For a moment you just sit there, looking at each other in silence, both of you starting to relax into each others’ holds.

Then a gust of wind picks up, ruffling up his hair. Golden hour hits him just right, the fiery red strands on his head shine gold and copper in the sunlight, his hundreds of freckles seem to glisten on his skin, begging for you to trace over them with your fingers, his ocean eyes now have a hint of green and specks of gold in them, darting up and down as he studies your face as well. Your heart all but bursts at the sight.

“What?” he asks after a while, chuckling.

“You're breathtaking,” you blurt out in full honesty, holding his face, wondering how it was possible for such a beautiful human being to exist? And he chose to be with you?

Your answer definitely takes him off-guard, as his face blushes violently, from his neck to the tip of his ears. He can’t hold your gaze, looking to the side. It takes a couple of attempts to form a proper sentence.

“You can’t say that with such a straight face, damn,” he laughs nervously. He leans his forehead on your shoulder in an attempt to hide his burning cheeks, but you cup his face and bring him back up to look at you.

“Besides,” he adds after a moment, “You only say that because you haven’t seen yourself. If you think that of me, then you’re nothing short of ethereal.”

So much for watching the sunset. You can’t take your eyes off of him, and his words pierce your very heart, but in a good way. Not really knowing what to reply to that, you kiss him instead, burying your fingers in his hair.

Cal reciprocates just as intensely, and you can’t help but arch your back into him, thus rolling your hips into his, to which he groans. Your brain is instantly turned to mush, your body now in charge. He tilts his head to the side, his tongue tracing over your lips, and you gasp as you grant him access. Right now, Cal tastes like honey and cool mornings and the pine trees surrounding you. Your senses are on overload, your skin burns as Cal’s hands slip underneath your shirt, slowly travelling up your back, pressing you into him even more.

Finally breaking for air, Cal kisses your jaw, your neck, biting where your pulse is, and if you could still hear yourself, you’d probably be embarrassed about the noises you’re making.

Then he pulls back rather suddenly, you notice his jaw is tense but you notice his dishevelled hair more, as well as his puffy lips, and the dazed look in his eyes which you’re surely sporting yourself too. You’re both panting, trying to calm your breathing. His hands slide back down and out of your shirt, staying on your thighs instead.

“Maybe,” Cal says between breaths, “Maybe we should take this somewhere… else.”

You run your hand through his hair in an attempt to smooth it out.

“I think Ahsoka is out for the rest of the night,” you say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

He raises a brow at you. You give him an innocent smile.

“Let’s head back then,” he says, picking you up again like before, this time to get you off the bike.

You finish packing up everything, hop on and start your way back to the dorms. All the while, his hand is either on yours or on your leg, lovingly stroking the side of your thigh.

His biker gear really does suit him and you like how he looks in it, but for once, you can’t wait for him to take it off.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

�� taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane , @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven, @alternatescififandomelover, @lovelyygirl8, @cathyket, @wildefire, @ghostkestis, @reckoning-star, @wyvernthekriger

#goose feathers #college!au #college!au cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x reader #star wars cal x reader #jedi fallen order x reader #jedi survivor x reader #star wars x reader #also hey i changed the format a lil bit. what do you think? c:

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isecuritysystem · 1 year ago

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#attendance punching machine in delhi #face recognition system #attendance machine dealer #fingerprint attendance machine in gurgaon #attendance machine dealer in noida #time attendance machine in noida #biometric attendance system in noida #attendance machine dealer in gurgaon #fingerprint attendance machine in noida #attendance machine dealer in delhi

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 2 years ago

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20 for the tav/astarion ask😊

A/N: Reminder that this is based off the Ace!Tav from "I Want It All" and therefor also a bard. I'm picturing this after they get together.

Also, small note. Obviously, I’m still happy to do the prompt, but in the future when making a request, remember to at least say please. I’m not a machine neither is any other writer on this platform.

Prompt: bandaging/stitching up an injury

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

Your hand was throbbing; a steady reminder of why you usually kept to the back in most fights. Your strength lie in talking, not throwing punches. Still, there were times it couldn’t be helped. Luckily for you, Astarion was there to give you as much grief about it as your body already was.

“You really ought to have Shadowheart take a look at this,” he said, carefully dabbing away the blood on your knuckles with a damp rag.

You shrugged. “It’s not that bad. Besides, she’s got her hands full with Wyll and Karlach.”

He hummed in obvious annoyance. He knew you were right, but he didn’t have to like it.

“It may have escaped your notice, but you have spells,” he pointed out. “Next time, I’d suggest using them.”

“Maybe,” you allowed, “but you have to give me points for efficiency.”

He let out an exasperated sigh as he grabbed a fresh bandage and began to wrap your hand.

“Have you always been so quarrelsome or am I just lucky?”

“I prefer the term scrappy. Has a certain charm to it.”

He scoffed. “What like a mutt?”

“A really cute one,” you elaborated. “One of those you just want to clean up and take home. Such as…”

Your eyes went to your joined hands and the very gentle way he was attending to your injuries.

His eyes narrowed before pulling the bandage just a little too tightly.

“Ow,“ you said, dryly.

He raised an eyebrow, daring you to argue.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. If I get into a tavern brawl again, I promise to hide under the table and let somebody else do the fighting.”

He gave a low chuckle. “Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, darling.”

He tied off the bandage, allowing you the chance to test the feel. Your hand still stung, but at least you wouldn’t have to worry about further straining it.

“Tell me doctor, will I ever play the violin again?” you asked, dramatically.

“It’s impossible to say,” he said, matching your performance. “But if there is any hope of recovery, I suggest you spend the remainder of the evening in the arms of the most beautiful man you can find.”

You nodded solemnly. "If I must, I must. Where is Gale?”

Astarion frowned and the next moment you were being pulled into his lap, as his arms wrapped tightly around you.

“Bold words for an injured mutt,” he growled into your ear.

“Woof.”

He didn’t have anything smart to say to that, deciding to silence you with a kiss. You conceded, happy to stay right where you were for as long as he’d have you.

You really needed to try punching things more often.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion baldur's gate #astarion bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate iii #asexual!tav #asexual!reader #bard!tav #asexual #astarion x ace!tav #astarion x evie

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oldguydoesstuff · 1 year ago

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I was in highschool in the late 1970s, and our "new" computer was a DEC PDP-8, that was five years old or so.

However the school was still largely running on punch cards, and older IBM equipment from the 50s. Attendance for instance, was handled by each home room teacher putting an absent students punch card in an envelope that went down to the computer room, a process that had probably been going on for decades.

There the cards were sorted, and fed into this beast, an IBM 405 alphabetic accounting machine. This is basically a SQL statement implemented in steel, wires, and relays. It would print off a report using fields on the cards fed into it, and could be programmed via a plug board:

I will never forget the IBM service guy coming in to change the oil on this, the whole bottom of it was relays that just kind of sat in an oil bath.

So if you have computer problems, just be happy changing the oil isn't one of them lol.

#vintage computer #ibm #1950s #retro computing #oldguyisold

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aletterinthenameofsanity · 10 months ago

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Edith Payne

The first thing that Charlie ever noticed about Edith Payne was the shade of her stormy gray eyes. How could she not? Edith Payne is one of the most buttoned-up girls that Charlie has ever met, and that’s saying something, considering that they both attend the same all-girls boarding school made for girls to become ladies so that way they can debut.

The one and only thing that Charlie’s father was ever right about was the fact that girls aren’t delicate, fainting things. Sure, he used it as an excuse to belt her, but Edith Payne is living fucking proof of the truth of his words.

How else would you describe a storm than Edith Payne shucking off her boots and jumping into that lake to pull Charlie out after the girls had pushed Charlie in after she stopped them from ripping apart the clothes of the new girl from Karachi, those garments brought from home? How else would you paint a storm other than Edith pulling Charlie out onto the shore of lake and pressing on her chest to get the water out before yelling at the girls who had forced her to leap in, the most gorgeous stormcloud miracle that Charlie had ever seen?

Charlie had been sure that she’d die in that water, unable to be released. Her father never taught her how to swim- that, he said, was something no lady ever needed to know.

But Edith Payne had stormed. Edith Payne had lit up the fucking world with the static charge of her lightning strike.

-aletterinthenameofsanity, there was something in the water (now that something's in me)

I keep a record of the wreckage in my life I gotta recognize the weapon in my mind I've tasted blood and it is sweet I've had the rug pulled beneath my feet Broke down and put myself back together again Stared in the mirror and punched it to shatters Collected the pieces and picked out a dagger I'm no sweet dream, but I'm a hell of a night

-Halsey, Nightmare (Reprise)

@immacaria @nix-nihili @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @hannaloony @tumblerislovetumblerislife

@every-moment-a-different-sound @gardenveela @verianal @tragedy-machine @queen-of-hobgobblers

@idliketobeatree @mellxncollie @pappelsiin

#sapphic payneland au #edith payne #edwin payne #edwin x charles #charles rowland #charlie rowland #charlotte rowland #moodboard #dead boy detectives #ao3 #fanfic #my fics #my edits #aletterinthenameofsanity

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eclipsaria · 4 months ago

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Pairing:

AI robot! Evan X human! reader X human! Heeseung

Warnings:

Usage of AI robots, fluff, mentioned of surgery, permanent amnesia if you squint, mentioned of alcohol,

Side characters:

Enhypen Jake and Sunghoon

W/C:

7 757

Note:

This actually appeared in my old wattpad account so I decided to rewrite it here lmaooo

@stvrrylove @sol3chu @firstclassjaylee

Song:

Enhypen Masterlist

The morning air still clings to the chill of dawn as you push open the café door, the soft chime of the bell slicing through the quiet hum of the early hours. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries greets you first, wrapping around you like a familiar embrace.

Behind the counter, Jake glances up, his eyes lighting up the moment they land on you. His smile—bright, easy, and just a little bit lopsided—feels like the first real warmth of the day. The nametag pinned to his apron reads Jake, though you hardly need it; you’ve known him well enough to recognize him without it.

His outfit is effortlessly stylish, as expected—an oversized knit sweater layered over a crisp white shirt, paired with tailored trousers and sleek sneakers. He looks like he stepped straight out of a fashion magazine, if not for the teal apron that hangs around his neck, tied loosely at the back. It clashes terribly with the rest of his ensemble, an unfortunate accessory that no fashionista could defend. And yet, somehow, on Jake, it almost works. Almost.

“Morning,” you say, stepping up to the counter.

Jake’s fingers are already moving across the register, his head tilting slightly with a knowing smirk. “The usual?”

You barely get the first syllable out before he presses the final button, the machine whirring to life as it prints out the receipt. With a practiced motion, he rips it off, sliding it across the counter toward you.

“Wait at the side,” he tells you, flashing another grin, one that feels a little brighter than necessary.

You decide to say nothing, slipping the receipt into your pocket as you step aside. Your eyes linger on Jake as he moves behind the counter, seamlessly shifting between tasks. He moves with a certain ease—grabbing a cup, punching in the order, steaming milk—all with a rhythm that suggests he’s been doing this for a while. The sleeves of his sweater are pushed up just enough to reveal his wrists, a simple bracelet clinking lightly against his skin as he works.

Your connection with him is simple—just a customer and a worker exchanging casual words in the early hours of the morning. And yet, you hesitate to call it just that. He remembers your usual order without fail. You know he has a girlfriend. He knows you’re single. You know he works here part-time. He knows your morning routine well enough to prepare your drink before you even ask. Just basic information about each other, nothing too deep, yet the way conversations flow between you feels natural, as if you’ve been friends for years.

Unfortunately, Jake attends a different school from yours. If he were a classmate, maybe your interactions would carry a different weight, something more than just fleeting morning encounters. Once, out of curiosity, you had asked him why he chose to work at this café instead of somewhere closer to his school.

His answer had been simple, paired with a sheepish laugh.

“Because I don’t want my classmates seeing me,” he had said, tapping the counter absentmindedly. “Just feel embarrassed that they might come in just to see me. You know, Gen Z moments.”

At the time, you had only nodded, amused by his honesty.

Nonetheless, you’re happy for him—for the way fate seemed to have nudged him into this café, where he not only found work but also met his current girlfriend. It’s a strange connection, one that feels both distant and oddly close at the same time.

Humming softly to yourself, you let your gaze wander around the café.

It’s cozy in a way that makes you want to stay longer than necessary. The earthy tones of brown and white blend seamlessly, creating an atmosphere of quiet comfort. The wooden tables and cushioned chairs invite customers to settle in, whether for a brief moment of peace before the day begins or for hours lost in conversation and work.

Your favorite spot—by the window, where natural light spills onto the pages of a book—is empty. A small bookshelf stands nearby, filled with novels and magazines left behind by regulars. You’ve spent many mornings there, sipping on your usual drink while flipping through stories that sometimes felt more real than your own life.

The soft hum of the espresso machine, the clinking of ceramic cups, the occasional murmur of customers—it all blends into a familiar morning melody. And within it, Jake moves effortlessly behind the counter, like he belongs here.

And maybe, in a way, so do you.

The thought of Jake’s relationship lingers in your mind, naturally pulling you toward a different kind of romance—one manufactured, calculated, and, as some might say, foolproof.

Love AI.

A scientific creation designed for people like you—pathetic solos, as society so kindly puts it. It’s a solution for those who can’t seem to stumble into love naturally, an artificial bridge to what some call the inevitable human experience. A shortcut for those who are tired of waiting.

Jake never needed something like that. He had no crushes, no admirers waiting in the wings, and yet, destiny lined up perfectly for him. One moment, he was just working his usual shift, and the next, he and his girlfriend locked eyes, and that was it—instant chemistry, love at first sight, all those things that sound too cliché to be real. But for them, it was.

Thankfully, they were both straightforward people. No unnecessary hesitations, no misunderstandings stretched out for dramatic effect. They met, they liked each other, and they made it official. No need for an AI to step in, no algorithm calculating compatibility, no forced conversations to build a connection.

Just natural, effortless love.

Something people like you—solo humans—could only dream about.

Love AI, for some, is a disturbing concept—an unsettling thought for those who have no interest in relationships or prefer to let love happen naturally. But for you?

You’ve been solo for quite some time, yet you’re not desperate. You can wait.

Your mother once told you that love defies explanation. It doesn’t follow logic, nor does it adhere to human schedules. It arrives unexpectedly, sneaks up on you when you least anticipate it. Some people resist relationships, only to find their heart betraying them. Others enter one, only to long for another. And then there are those who actively seek love but somehow never seem to find it.

In this situation, you are the third kind.

But you understand—love, much like fate, isn’t something you can rush. Relationships take time, and you are willing to wait.

Jake once mentioned, in passing, that it took him five years to break free from his single life. Five years of just living, working, existing—until, one day, love found him. Now, he’s happy, settled into a relationship that seems as natural as breathing.

If love could find him after all that time, then maybe, just maybe, it’ll find you too.

You don’t keep track of time, lost in your thoughts, but the moment Jake calls out your name, it jolts you back to reality. You straighten up, quickly reaching for your order with a small smile.

"Thanks," you say, offering a casual wave as you step back.

Jake grins, resting his hands on the counter. "See you tomorrow."

And just like that, you slip out of the café, the warmth of the drink in your hands contrasting against the crisp morning air. The ten-minute stroll to school is unhurried, your pace lazy as you take in the quiet streets. These morning actions repeat every day—simple, predictable, almost comforting in their routine.

But not all routines stay the same forever.

Later that evening, on your way home, the café comes into view once again. You're about to walk past it, your mind elsewhere, when movement near the back catches your attention.

A man stands by the dumpster, tossing out a bag of trash.

You’ve never seen him before.

His features are sharp—high cheekbones, a defined jawline, and eyes that carry an unreadable depth, even in the dim light of the evening. His hair is dark, slightly tousled, as if he didn’t bother to fix it after a long day. His outfit is effortlessly cool—oversized hoodie layered under a sleek jacket, paired with well-fitted jeans and sneakers that look expensive. He looks like he belongs in a magazine, much like Jake does.

But there’s one thing that disrupts his otherwise polished look—the same teal apron that Jake wears, loosely tied around his waist.

A new worker, you assume. He must have started after you left the café this morning.

You don’t know how long you end up staring, but the sudden buzz of your phone in your pocket startles you.

Frowning, you fish it out and unlock the screen. A message from your brother, Park Sunghoon, pops up.

Sunghoon: There’s a parcel outside the door. Pick it up when you get back.

You blink, confused.

You never ordered anything online.

Curiosity takes over, pushing away any thoughts of the unknown worker. Without another glance at the café, you quicken your pace, heading straight home.

It’s only when you reach your doorstep that you stop short, eyes locking onto the parcel lying flat on the ground.

Human-sized.

The box is sleek and plain, but your gaze catches on a small logo printed at the corner—bold letters spelling out a name you recognize instantly.

Love AI.

Your breath catches in your throat.

Oh.

You stare at it, your mind scrambling for explanations. You never placed an order. You never even considered getting one of these. And yet, here it is, sitting at your doorstep like an answer to a question you never asked.

For a moment, you just stand there, speechless. Then, snapping out of it, you pull out your phone and press the call button.

Sunghoon picks up almost immediately. “Yeah?”

"Come outside," you say, still looking at the box. "I need help carrying something in."

There’s a pause. "What did you even buy—"

"I didn’t buy anything," you cut in. "Just come out."

You hear a sigh from the other end before the call ends. A few seconds later, the door swings open, and your brother steps out, his eyes landing on the parcel. His expression shifts instantly.

“…What the hell?”

You point at the Love AI logo without a word.

Sunghoon follows your gaze, and his eyes widen slightly as realization dawns on him. "Oh."

No more words needed—just a quick exchange of glances before he sighs and grabs one side of the parcel while you grab the other. Together, you carry it into the living room, setting it upright with a small thud as it rests against the floor.

Now, both of you stand in front of it, arms crossed, staring.

The silence lingers for a moment until Sunghoon suddenly exclaims, “If Love AI was sent to you, that means… someone has a crush on you?!”

You click your tongue in annoyance. "Hey, I can be liked, okay? Don’t think low of me."

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I never said you can’t be liked. I’m just surprised someone actually took the time to—" He stops himself before finishing that sentence, wisely choosing not to test your patience.

Instead, he steps away, muttering, “I’ll get a penknife.”

As he disappears down the hallway, you remain where you are, eyes locked onto the parcel.

There’s a strange feeling settling in your chest—curiosity, unease, maybe even a little anticipation.

Once Sunghoon hauls the robot out of the box, you take a proper look at it.

Its skin is a natural human tone, smooth and eerily lifelike, yet there’s something about it that reminds you it’s still made of metal underneath. There are no visible wires, no mechanical joints peeking through—just a perfectly crafted human-like form standing right in your living room.

But what unsettles you the most is its appearance.

It looks… familiar.

As if you’ve seen this face before.

Your mind races as you recall what you’ve learned about Love AI. The robots are designed to resemble the person who has a crush on you. That means—whoever likes you must have similar features to this robot.

Which means…

He’s handsome.

You inhale sharply, shaking your head. That’s not the point right now.

Another fact you remember about Love AI is that these robots aren’t personally sent by the admirer themselves. Instead, it all happens automatically, thanks to the microchip implanted in everyone’s brains from birth.

It’s a system so deeply embedded in society that no one questions it anymore. The moment someone experiences feelings of attraction, the microchip detects it, processes the data, and sends a signal to the Love AI company. Once the company verifies the emotions and cross-references physical features, they create a custom robot and ship it directly to the person being admired.

Meaning…

Someone, somewhere, developed a crush on you. Their microchip registered their feelings before they even had the chance to process them, and now, standing in front of you, is the physical proof of those emotions—whether the admirer intended for this to happen or not.

Your heart beats a little faster.

Who could it be?

Sunghoon unfolds the instruction paper, his eyes skimming through the steps. With a slight shrug, he starts pressing buttons on the back of the robot’s neck, adjusting settings here and there. You watch as he follows the manual’s instructions with surprising ease—until the final step.

Without warning, Sunghoon snaps his fingers near the robot’s ear.

The reaction is immediate.

The robot’s eyes snap open.

A shiver runs down your spine as it blinks, its head turning left and right, scanning the room as if trying to take in its surroundings. The movements are unnervingly smooth, too natural for something artificial. Then, finally, its gaze locks onto you.

"Y/N, correct?"

You freeze.

The voice—it's familiar, yet unfamiliar. Premade, obviously. But if what you’ve learned about Love AI is true, then this must be the exact voice of your admirer.

You swallow and nod.

The robot seems to take a moment, its eyes scanning your face as if processing your appearance.

Sunghoon, ever the casual one, steps forward with a grin and offers a handshake. “Hey man, welcome to the world.”

For a second, you wonder if the robot even understands the greeting. But then—

It turns to Sunghoon and smiles. Naturally.

Too naturally.

"And I assume you are her brother?" The robot reaches out and takes Sunghoon’s handshake, its grip firm, its tone smooth and composed.

Sunghoon laughs, nodding. “That’s right. Looks like you’re pretty sharp, huh?”

The robot tilts its head slightly, as if amused. "It was an easy deduction, given your interaction with Y/N and your familiarity with her."

You cross your arms, still wary as you watch the exchange unfold. This thing—this robot—is not only realistic in appearance but also in behavior.

The robot’s gaze returns to you, and for a fleeting moment, you swear you see something—

A shift in its pupils.

A dilation, as if… love sparked in its artificial eyes.

Your breath hitches, but you quickly shake off the thought, turning to Sunghoon instead. “What should we name it?”

Sunghoon taps his chin, thinking. “Well, other than Love AI mirroring the admirer’s personality, all personal information is off-limits. Names, age, nationality—completely prohibited.” He then shoots you a look, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “So, I guess you can name it whatever you want. It is your admirer robot, after all.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue. Instead, you turn back to the robot, studying its face, its expression—eerily human-like, as if waiting.

A name…

After a moment, the name slips from your lips. “Evan.”

The robot blinks.

“Evan is your name then.” You smile, deciding it fits.

And then—Evan smiles too.

It’s not forced, not mechanical. It’s a genuine, warm smile, as if he truly loved the name you just gave him.

You and Sunghoon take turns introducing Evan to each room in the house.

“This is the kitchen,” you gesture, watching as Evan scans the area with quiet curiosity.

“The bathroom,” Sunghoon adds, barely stopping before moving on.

You pause in front of your bedroom. “And this is—”

Before you can even finish, Sunghoon snatches Evan away from you.

"Hey—what are you doing?" you protest, following after them.

Sunghoon ignores you, dragging Evan straight into the gaming setup in his room. You watch as he excitedly powers up his console, shoving a controller into Evan’s hands. At first, you don’t understand what’s happening—until Evan, with a calm expression, takes a seat and starts playing.

His hands move fluidly across the controller.

Precise. Calculated. Experienced.

And that’s when it clicks.

Right on the first day, your admirer’s secret is revealed.

Your admirer is a gamer.

A good one, even.

You lean against the doorway, watching Sunghoon and Evan battle it out on-screen. Sunghoon, who rarely finds worthy opponents, is actually struggling to keep up. Meanwhile, Evan remains completely composed, his fingers flying over the buttons with practiced ease.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips. You never expected this.

So, here’s your first hint—

Your admirer is one handsome gamer.

Your morning routine remains unchanged—waking up, getting ready, and eating breakfast with Sunghoon and Evan. Sunghoon is adjusting surprisingly well to having a love AI in the house, treating Evan like an extra sibling.

Evan, for the most part, blends in well. He greets you both with a polite "Good morning," and even offers to help prepare breakfast.

That’s when you notice it.

Evan drops everything.

Literally.

You watch as he attempts to pour cereal into a bowl—only for half of it to spill onto the counter.

Then, when he tries to pour milk, the carton slips from his hands, nearly toppling over.

Sunghoon snickers. "Dude, you’re worse than Y/N in the morning."

Evan frowns slightly, staring at the mess he made before quickly cleaning it up. “I… miscalculated my grip strength.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re a high-tech love AI, but you can’t even hold a milk carton properly?”

Evan looks at you, slightly sheepish. “It appears I still need some adjustments.”

Sunghoon laughs, clapping him on the shoulder. “Nah, I like this version of you. A little less perfect and a little more human.”

You shake your head, amused, before heading out for school.

After school, as you’re walking back home, you spot Evan again.

He’s standing near the front yard, attempting to carry in a grocery bag—but his grip completely fails him.

Right before your eyes, the bag rips, and everything tumbles onto the ground—apples rolling away, a carton of eggs landing with an unfortunate crack.

Evan just stares at the mess, seemingly processing what just happened.

You let out a sigh, walking over. “Seriously?”

Evan turns to you, expression neutral. “…Oops?”

Sunghoon, who had just stepped outside, bursts into laughter. “Oh man, this is gold. Your admirer is clumsy as hell!”

You roll your eyes but can’t help but chuckle. Second hint: Your admirer is a complete clutz.

Your morning starts like usual—except for one thing.

Evan is nowhere to be seen.

You furrow your brows as you step into the kitchen, expecting to see him attempting (and failing) to help with breakfast like yesterday. Instead, it’s just silence.

Sunghoon, already halfway through his cereal, barely glances up. “Yeah, he’s still asleep.”

You blink. “What?”

“He sleeps like a rock,” Sunghoon snickers. “I tried waking him up earlier, but he just groaned and rolled over.”

You stare at him. "He’s a robot. Why does he even need sleep?"

Sunghoon shrugs. “Dunno. Maybe it’s part of his ‘realistic human experience’ programming.” He shovels another spoonful of cereal into his mouth before grinning. “Or maybe your admirer is just a certified night owl.”

That makes you pause.

Could it be…?

Deciding to see for yourself, you march to Evan’s room and push open the door. Sure enough, he’s still in bed. His limbs are tangled in the blankets, his face half-buried in a pillow. He looks peaceful—too peaceful.

Forgetting, just for a moment, that he’s not actually human, you step forward and nudge his shoulder.

“Evan,” you call.

No response.

You push a little harder. “Wake up.”

Evan groans, turning his head slightly. “Five more minutes…”

You blink.

Oh. He’s deep in character.

This love AI isn’t just designed to resemble your admirer—he’s actually mimicking their habits.

And that means…

Third hint: Your admirer is not a morning person.

After much struggle, you finally manage to drag Evan out of bed. He stumbles into the kitchen, looking groggy—which is ridiculous because, again, he’s a robot.

Sunghoon snorts. “Man, you look like you just ran a marathon in your dreams.”

Evan slumps into the chair, rubbing his eyes dramatically. “You wouldn’t understand, Sunghoon. The digital realm is exhausting.”

You give him an unimpressed look. “What?”

Evan sighs, looking at you like you’ve just asked him to solve quantum physics before breakfast. “I had to fight off a malware invasion in my sleep. It was brutal. But don’t worry, I protected my firewall’s honor.”

Sunghoon bursts out laughing. “Dude, what the hell?”

You press your lips together, refusing to laugh. “You’re literally making that up.”

Evan blinks, feigning innocence. “Am I?” He leans forward, voice dropping into something dramatic. “Or am I secretly a hero in the cyber world, fending off viruses while you sleep peacefully?”

Sunghoon wipes tears from his eyes. “Y/N, your admirer is a comedian.”

You shake your head, but you can’t hide your amused smile. Fourth hint: Your admirer is hilarious.

By now, you’ve accepted that Evan isn’t just some emotionless AI—he’s practically a walking, talking personality bomb.

And today? He drops another hint about your mysterious admirer.

The morning starts off as usual. Evan wakes up late (again), fumbles through breakfast (again), and makes some ridiculous joke about how to “enhance” Sunghoon’s brain capacity through a software update. Sunghoon, ever the instigator, laughs way too hard.

But it’s after school that things take a turn.

You come home feeling exhausted, tossing your bag onto the couch before flopping down with a sigh. Evan, who was in the kitchen, immediately notices.

“Tough day?” he asks, leaning casually against the counter.

You nod, rubbing your temples. “Yeah, just a lot of stuff going on.”

Evan hums in thought before walking over, standing in front of you. “Well, lucky for you, I have a solution.”

You glance up. “Oh?”

He smirks. “Yeah. Look at me.”

You raise an eyebrow but do as he says.

Evan then leans down, way too close, his face inches from yours. “Better?”

Your breath catches in your throat.

What.

He’s too close.

Sunghoon, who was walking past, chokes on air. “DUDE.”

Evan blinks, tilting his head. “What?”

Sunghoon bursts out laughing. “Are you serious?! You just pulled the oldest flirting trick in the book!”

It takes a second for Evan to process before his eyes widen.

“Oh.” He straightens up so fast he nearly trips over himself. His usual cool expression crumbles into panic, and suddenly, he’s looking everywhere except at you.

“I-I didn’t— That wasn’t— I wasn’t trying to—”

You blink, before a smirk tugs at your lips. “Evan.”

He flinches. “Y-Yeah?”

“You’re blushing.”

His whole system malfunctions. “I—I— NO, I’M NOT—”

Sunghoon wheezes, doubling over in laughter. “Oh my god, he flirts without knowing, but once he knows, he breaks!”

You chuckle, watching Evan desperately try to regain his composure. Fifth hint: Your admirer is flirty without realizing it—but when he does, he gets shy.

Since it’s your school break, you decide to head to the shopping mall with Evan. For research purposes. After all, the more time you spend with him, the more hints you gather about your admirer.

Evan, on the other hand, just seems happy to tag along.

Everything is going fine—until you pass by a gaming shop.

Evan immediately stops in his tracks. His eyes sparkle, and before you can react, he grabs your wrist and practically drags you inside.

“Wait, Evan—”

“Hold on, hold on, I need to check something,” he says, already making a beeline for the shelves lined with gaming keyboards.

You sigh, crossing your arms as you watch him inspect one with a fascinated expression. “You already have a keyboard at home.”

Evan barely looks up. “Yeah, but I can get more.”

“…Why?”

He finally turns to you, completely serious. “For my collection.”

You blink. “You’re collecting gaming keyboards?”

“Yes.”

You scoff. “You only need one.”

Evan places a hand on his chest, looking deeply offended. “You don’t tell an artist to have only one paintbrush.”

“Oh my god.”

Sunghoon isn’t even here, yet somehow, you hear his voice in your head saying: Your admirer is a gamer. A hardcore one.

Sixth hint: Your admirer collects gaming keyboards.

By now, you’ve gathered plenty of hints about your admirer. Handsome. Gamer. Clumsy. Funny. Flirty (but shy after realizing it). Obsessed with gaming keyboards.

And today? Another hint drops.

It starts with hunger.

Sunghoon is out, leaving you and Evan alone at home. After lounging around for hours, you finally sigh. “I’m hungry.”

Evan, who’s casually scrolling through game updates on his phone, perks up. “I can make something.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You cook?”

Evan grins. “More like I make the best ramyeon you’ll ever eat.”

You squint at him. “That’s a bold claim.”

“Then let me prove it.”

Curious, you let him take over the kitchen, watching as he moves around with surprising ease. No clumsy accidents today.

Minutes later, he places a steaming bowl of ramyeon in front of you, looking a little too confident.

“Try it,” he urges.

Skeptical, you take a bite— and immediately freeze.

What the—

It’s… good. Too good.

You take another bite, then another. The broth is perfectly balanced, the noodles cooked just right. It tastes like something out of a restaurant.

Evan watches with an amused smirk. “Told you.”

You narrow your eyes. “Why is this so good?”

He shrugs. “Guess I’ve got skills.”

You stare at the bowl, then at him. Seventh hint: Your admirer makes insanely good ramyeon.

It all starts with Sunghoon’s curiosity.

“Hey,” he says out of nowhere, glancing at Evan. “Can you drink alcohol?”

Evan, sitting beside you on the couch, blinks. “I mean… I don’t know? I’ve never tried.”

Sunghoon smirks. “Well, there’s only one way to find out.”

And that’s how you end up sitting at the dining table, three small glasses in front of you, a bottle of soju sitting in the middle.

You hesitate before pouring a little into Evan’s glass. “I don’t even know if this is a good idea. You’re a robot.”

Evan raises an eyebrow. “A robot with human-like functions.” He grabs his glass, looking unbothered. “Let’s just see what happens.”

Sunghoon grins. “Alright, cheers.”

The three of you clink glasses before taking a sip. You don’t react much, and Sunghoon handles it well, but Evan—

The moment the alcohol goes down his throat, his entire face turns red.

You and Sunghoon stare.

“Evan…?” you say slowly.

He blinks, then blinks again, looking completely out of it. “Huh.”

Sunghoon snorts. “Dude, you have Asian flush.”

Evan furrows his brows, clearly not expecting this reaction. “That’s… unfortunate.”

You suppress a laugh. “How do you feel?”

Evan blinks way too many times, rubbing his face. “Warm.”

Sunghoon laughs even harder. “Bro, you look like a tomato.”

Evan pouts, resting his head on the table. “I don’t like this.”

You shake your head, smiling. Eighth hint: Your admirer is bad at drinking and gets Asian flush.

Tonight, you, Sunghoon, and Evan end up at a karaoke bar. It wasn’t exactly planned—Sunghoon suddenly had the urge to sing, and Evan, being naturally curious about everything, wanted to tag along.

So now, you’re sitting in a private karaoke room, flipping through the songbook while Sunghoon scrolls through the machine’s playlist.

Evan leans over your shoulder. “I’ve never tried karaoke before.”

Sunghoon looks at him with amusement. “You’ve never sung before?”

Evan shrugs. “Not really. But I know a lot of songs.”

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

The night starts off chaotic—Sunghoon picks an upbeat song, belting out the lyrics dramatically, while you clap along and laugh at his ridiculous energy. You take your turn next, singing something more relaxed.

Then, it’s Evan’s turn.

“What should I sing?” he asks, looking at the selection screen.

“Anything,” Sunghoon says, handing him the mic. “Just sing whatever comes to mind.”

Evan hums, thinking for a moment before picking a song. The intro plays, and you and Sunghoon sit back, expecting something average.

But then—

The moment he starts singing, you freeze.

His voice is perfect. Smooth, effortless, completely in tune.

Sunghoon’s jaw drops.

“Wait, wait, wait—” he cuts in, pausing the track. “Dude, what the hell was that?”

Evan blinks. “What?”

“That was way too good.” Sunghoon points at the mic. “Sing again.”

Evan shrugs and restarts the song, singing flawlessly. His pitch is perfect, his tone ridiculously stable.

You and Sunghoon exchange looks, realizing another major hint.

Ninth hint: Your admirer has perfect pitch and sings flawlessly.

It’s a slow afternoon, and you’re lounging in the living room, scrolling through your phone while Evan sits beside you, watching something on TV. Sunghoon had gone out for the day, so it was just the two of you.

Out of nowhere, you sigh dramatically. “Ugh, life is exhausting.”

Evan glances at you, unimpressed. “You’ve been lying down for two hours.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

He shrugs. “You didn’t even go to school today. What exactly is exhausting?”

You narrow your eyes. “Emotionally exhausting.”

Evan doesn’t even hesitate. “Sounds like a you problem.”

You stare at him, offended. “Are you seriously giving me a reality check right now?”

Evan nods, completely serious. “Yes. You need one.”

You scoff, turning away. “You sound just like Sunghoon.”

At that, Evan grins. “Then that means I’m doing something right.”

You groan, grabbing a pillow and smacking him with it. Evan laughs, dodging your next attack, but the damage is done—you can’t even argue because he's not wrong.

Tenth hint: Your admirer is straightforward, gives reality checks, and is brutally honest—just like Sunghoon.

It was a fun day. Sunghoon had dragged both you and Evan out to a mini festival in the city, filled with food stalls, live performances, and games. At first, Evan seemed reluctant, but once he got there, he fully immersed himself in the experience—playing games, trying different foods, and even laughing at Sunghoon’s failed attempts at winning prizes.

By the time you all got home, Evan was quiet.

Like, completely silent.

You noticed it the moment you stepped inside. Earlier, he was joking and teasing, but now, he just plopped onto the couch, staring at nothing.

Sunghoon glanced at him and nudged your arm. “Your admirer’s battery is dead.”

You sighed, sitting beside Evan. “Are you okay?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

It clicked.

He wasn’t physically tired. He was socially drained.

Just like some people—he could gather energy for fun events, but afterward, he needed time to recharge.

You nudged him lightly. “You had fun though, right?”

Evan smiled a little. “Yeah. It was worth it.”

You let him be, allowing him to sit in silence and recover.

Eleventh hint: Your admirer enjoys social events but needs to recharge afterward—he has a limited social battery.

Going on a date with Evan wasn’t something you had planned initially, but after spending so much time together, you figured—why not?

The familiar chime of the café’s doorbell rang as you entered with Evan by your side. Jake, who was behind the counter, looked up as usual—but his reaction was priceless.

His eyes widened before breaking into a grin. “Oh? You actually got a Love AI?” He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Damn, I knew you were single, but I didn’t think you’d resort to this.”

You scoffed. “It’s not like I ordered one myself.”

Evan, as usual, remained calm beside you, offering Jake a polite nod.

Jake chuckled. “Well, congrats, I guess. Oh! Since you’re here, I should introduce you to our newest worker one day.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Not today, though. He’s off.”

You hummed in response, making a mental note of it before heading to your usual seat with Evan.

Sipping your coffee, you glanced at him. There was something that had been on your mind for a while now.

“Tell me more about you,” you started. “Not as my admirer, but you as a robot. What do you actually… do?”

Evan looked at you, thoughtful for a moment before answering.

“You already know that when humans are born, a surgery is performed to implant an electric microchip into your brain. That chip detects your true feelings, and when you start liking someone, it sends a signal to the Love AI company.”

You nodded. That much was obvious.

“That’s when my job begins. Once you activate me, my purpose is to make you fall in love with me.” Evan’s gaze was steady as he continued. “Every interaction between us sends signals to the chip in your brain. Once it confirms that we both like each other, my contract is considered complete.”

You tilted your head. “And then?”

Evan’s voice remained calm—almost too calm.

“I will then be erased from your memory as a robot. Every moment you’ve had with me will be rewritten as if they were real experiences shared with your actual admirer. The way you ‘met’ him will be based on what makes the most sense for your life.”

Your fingers tightened around your coffee cup. So that’s how it worked.

By the time you fall for Evan, he would no longer exist.

Instead, the person who originally liked you—the real human—would replace him in your memories, as if Evan had never been here in the first place.

You stared at Evan, but he only offered a small smile, as if he had no problem with this reality.

You weren't sure why you suddenly made this decision. Maybe it was curiosity, or maybe—just maybe—you wanted to test something.

So, you found yourself standing in front of Evan, arms crossed, announcing:

"Let's go on a date. An actual one."

Evan blinked at you, seemingly surprised, before his lips curled into a smirk. "Oh? Are you asking me out, Y/N?"

You rolled your eyes. "I'm testing something. Just shut up and get ready."

It was strange, going on a date with someone who wasn’t technically real. But Evan felt real—looked real—acted real. He was modeled exactly after the person who liked you, and you wanted to see…

Could you really fall for him?

The day started off simple—a casual outing to the shopping district. Evan, being himself, was too excited for a robot. He dragged you into different stores, picked out matching accessories, and even made you try ridiculous hats for his own amusement.

But then, he did something unexpected.

At some point, you got lost in the crowd. You weren’t worried, but before you could even pull out your phone, you felt a gentle grasp on your wrist.

"Found you," Evan said, his fingers warm against your skin. "Stay close, okay?"

You stared at him, momentarily taken aback. He sounded so human. The way he looked at you, the slight concern in his voice…

If you didn’t know better, you’d really think he was real.

The last stop of the day was the arcade. You should’ve expected it, considering Evan’s gaming tendencies. He was a natural, easily winning rounds, and at one point, he even won a huge stuffed toy for you.

"Here," he said, handing it to you.

You raised an eyebrow. "You do realize I don’t need this, right?"

"Too bad," Evan grinned. "It’s yours now. Think of it as… a memory of today."

A memory?

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head. This was getting ridiculous.

By the time you both got home, Evan was too quiet. Not in a bad way—just… different. You caught him staring at the stuffed toy in your hands, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Hey," you nudged him. "What’s up with you?"

Evan hesitated before saying, "I had fun today."

You scoffed. "Yeah, because you got to play games."

He chuckled but didn’t deny it. Then, after a beat, he added, "But I also had fun… because I was with you."

You froze.

Evan wasn’t looking at you, but his words hung in the air, heavy.

Your heart did a weird little jump before you shook your head, brushing it off. He’s just saying that because he’s programmed to, right?

Right?

It had been exactly one month since Evan arrived.

You had grown used to his presence, his clumsy antics, his teasing remarks, his way of making your dull days something worth remembering. And now, you knew your microchip had already sensed your feelings.

You liked Evan.

And that meant the contract was ending soon.

You weren’t sure how you felt about that.

You sighed, resting your chin on your palm as you sat alone in the café after school. Jake was behind the counter, busy with his work. Evan wasn’t with you today. He had wanted to stay home and "recharge" after your weekend outing.

You poked at your drink absentmindedly.

Then, a voice broke through your thoughts.

"Jake, where’s the extra stock? I can’t find it in the storage room."

That voice.

Your head snapped up so fast you almost knocked over your drink.

From the storage room, a figure emerged. Someone familiar.

Your eyes widened in shock.

Because standing there, wearing the same teal apron as Jake, was Evan.

No—not Evan.

A human version of Evan.

He was real. He was actually real.

Your heart pounded violently against your chest as your mind raced. Was this… Was this your admirer? The real Evan?

Your fingers curled around your cup.

This was the moment you had been waiting for.

So why did it feel so overwhelming?

You didn’t think.

Your body moved on its own.

Feet stepping forward, hand reaching out—your fingers brushed against his skin. Warm. Soft. Real.

Your breath hitched. The human version of Evan stiffened at first, his eyes wide with panic, but he didn't move away. Instead, he leaned into your touch—just slightly, just enough for you to feel the weight of him against your palm.

You weren’t imagining things. He was real.

And then—

"Now that you have seen what I did to you during the last month, are you ready to progress further on?"

A chill ran down your spine.

You tore your gaze away from the man in front of you, whipping your head to the side—Evan was right there.

Your Evan. The Love AI Evan.

He stood beside you, arms crossed, his usual playful smirk in place. But there was something in his eyes—a knowing look, a challenge.

Your fingers twitched, still resting on the human Evan’s face.

Your heart pounded against your ribs.

This was it.

The moment of truth.

The mirror reflected your carefully chosen outfit—elegant, fitting for a wedding, for your brother’s big day. But something was missing.

“Heeseung?” you called out.

Footsteps approached, and he stepped in.

Your fiancé.

Dressed in a tailored suit, he looked just like the man you fell for all those years ago. His eyes scanned you from head to toe before a chuckle left his lips.

He took slow steps toward you, hands gently resting on your hips as he leaned in.

"You look beautiful, darling."

You let out a small laugh, heart fluttering at his words.

"Which earrings should I wear?" you asked, showing him two options.

He tilted his head, considering seriously before giving you an honest answer.

You smiled, pleased, before leaning up to peck him on the lips.

Soft. Warm. Human.

Huh?

For a brief moment, you hesitated.

Somehow, you expected metal.

But there was no metallic sensation.

The air was crisp, filled with the aroma of fresh coffee as you and Evan sat across from each other at your favorite café.

He had just cracked a joke, something so stupidly funny that you burst into laughter.

"You’re ridiculous," you told him, shaking your head.

Evan only grinned, leaning in slightly. "But you like it, don’t you?"

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest told you everything.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned forward and pressed a quick, light peck to his lips.

Cool. Metallic.

Your eyes widened slightly at the realization.

Evan blinked. Processing.

Then, the corners of his lips curled up into a teasing smirk. "Oh? Making a move on me already?"

You groaned, hiding your face as he laughed, the sound pure, joyful, and real in its own way.

You hadn’t known then—

That one day, those metallic lips would turn warm.

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