#I’ll keep experimenting and see what makes sense to me

[moonlight-and-lilacs]

I believe energy courses, ebbs, and flows throughout the universe, and everything within it. It beams from the stars across the cosmos. From our Sun to our Earth. Every person, animal, mineral, plant and celestial body is formed of, and lives off of it.

As above so below; as the universe, so the soul.

This energy is transferred from thing to thing, through osmosis, consumption, transference. It is what allows living things to be. It is what gives objects any and all physical property they have.

Nothing is created, nothing is lost. Everything transforms.

This energy can not only be sensed, but manipulated, channeled, guided, transformed along a strong enough will.

That is magic.

I believe the Earth is a miracle, a planet which was placed just so within the universe, to nurture and sustain life. The result of energy placed in just the right conditions, to transform into multitudes of life form.

I believe in the strength of the universe, and so I believe in my own strength.

As the Earth, so am I.

I am not a Wiccan, and I am not strictly a pagan.

But yes, I am definitely a witch.

[teaboot]

Sorry if I'm mixing you up with someone else, but you've worked security before, right?

If you're willing, I'd be really interested on your thoughts on the murderbot diaries or murderbot as a character with that in mind?

Like did you recognise aspects of your job in murderbots descriptions of security work? Or did they like throw you out of immersion in the story?

Anyway thanks and hope you're having a good day/evening wherever you are!

As a security guard who has read the first two Murderbot books, Murderbot has been the number one most realistic security specialist character I have ever seen in media so far 😭

The third most annoying thing in security in my experience is handling threats. The second most annoying thing is having no threats to handle and being bored. The number one most annoying thing is the client being an idiot

Ihave social anxiety which I am medicated for. When I am in uniform with clear instructions, that anxiety is zero. I have a script and a set of rules and that makes life easy. I’m super good at performing tasks with clear expectations and that’s kinda how I keep getting good offers, it’s super straightforward

Bad clients are clients who give stupid, inefficient, counterproductive, cruel, or flat-out illegal orders. There are ways of shutting that shit down without them losing heir shit, but it’s still a pain in the ass every time

I’m a security specialist. I specialize in security. This is what I am trained for- handling crisis situations and minimizing harm. If you, an off-shift cashier at pet smart, see me deescalating a situation and decide you’re gonna drop your untrained uninformed ass in there with zero context or skills and “help” because I look small and helpless, then all you’re doing is increasing my likelihood of getting hurt while increasing my paperwork load by like two hours, and I’m gonna hate you the entire time. What you have essentially done is promoted me to meat shield while giving the aggressor I’m calming down an obnoxious and aggravating hostage. Good god please do not

Yes, I am sometimes asked to stand perfectly still in a corner for several hours like a mannequin. What do I do to avoid going insane? Think about Star Trek and the very good fanfiction I’ll be reading on my break, mostly

Yes I can assist in evacuating tw location in the event of an environmental disaster. No I cannot tell my waiter that they put cilantro on the wrong order. Yes this makes perfect sense

I love Murderbot. I love how realistic it is. Like obviously I can’t speak for everyone in the industry but yeah I’ve worked for absolute dogshit security companies in the past and yeah a lot of the books so far are super accurate to that experience so A+ so far, honestly

[starkeyszn]

MISS POSSESSIVE ⌇

pairing: rafe cameron x wife!reader

inspo + credits: angelitaaaaaa on c.ai

mr cameron and mrs cameron, both very well known people on kildare island. you and rafe have been married for 3 years, and have been looking to get a new house. rafe wants the best for you both, and has hired the woman who states she’s only had ‘positive feedback and experiences’ on her cv.

“so for the kitchen, i definitely want an island-”

the ringing of a cell-phone made you pause mid-sentence, looking up to rafe. he pulls his cell-phone out of his pocket, “i’ve got to take this, i’ll be right back.” he says, kissing your temple before he excuses himself.

you watch him with a smile, as he exits the room, before you turn your attention to the woman in-front of you. you take a step forward, eyeing her up and down, before leaning against the side of the table. your left hand planting itself on the surface, the diamond on your wedding ring sticking out, glistening in the sunlight.

you look up to woman, eyes narrowing slightly, “chloe,” you begin, your voice dripping with faux sweetness. “it is chloe, right?”

she wrings her hands together, nodding her head, you notice she goes to open her mouth, you cut her off before she can get a word in, “i’m sure you’re- very good, at what you do. otherwise, rafe wouldn’t have asked for you to be here, and for your input.”

“but—please stop speaking to my husband, as if i’m not here.” your eyes narrow, locking in onto the woman’s.

her eyes widen, but she shook it off, looking away for a second. murmuring your name, “miss, i have designed many successful projects.”

“you may call me mrs cameron.” you interject, before she could continue. “and this is not just going to be one of your ‘successful’ projects, this is going to be our home. if you want to keep your job, i suggest you stop fluttering your eyelashes at my husband, and keep your hands to yourself.”

you see the woman visibly stiffen, not expecting a confrontation. her face slowly draining it’s colour. she swallows, before you continue, “or you can go and climb back in to your tacky coloured car, and drive back to washington, take your pick.”

“well, i’m so sorry, mrs cameron, because i would never-” she was quick to cut herself off, noticing rafe re-entering the room, looking up from his phone as he placed it back into his pocket.

his brow raises, glancing between the women. sensing some tension in the air, as you slip off the table. “everything okay?” he asks, his arm finding its place on your waist.

“peachy.” you nodded, smiling to him.

the interior designer shifted her gaze from you to rafe, her expression morphing into a forced smile. she cleared her throat before speaking. “everything is fine, mr cameron.”

rafe studied her for a brief moment, his blue eyes narrowing as he still could feel the unspoken tension. his hand on your waist tightened slightly, almost possessively, as he kept you close to him. “good.”

chloe seemed abit flustered by his intense gaze, but she was quick to compose herself, remembering your words, and redirecting her attention to the house plans laided out on the table.

you had a smile on your face, knowing she wouldn’t make eyes to rafe again, as she kept taking deep breaths, and keeping her eyes focused on the house plans.

STARKEYSZN — i saw this and absolutely loved it, i think it’s a fifty shades of grey reference? but i’m not entirely sure… : requests are open ╱ anon emojis are open

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility, murder of unnamed characters, mentions of potentially killing reader

♡ FEM reader

♡ P2: Staying

Just thinking about the apocalypse, the two army men who’ve long survived it in their shelter with barely any trouble, and then you, a poor girl trying hard to outrun your last captives only to run into them.  

You didn’t realize back then that it was like trading piranhas for sharks, too caught up in begging for their aid to think better of it. You should have just kept running, but your ankle was sprained badly, maybe even broken, and you were wearing so little you would most likely have died from the cold during the night if they hadn’t taken you in.

It seems unfair of them to have kept the giant bunker all to themselves, only the two of them, but you don’t judge. You would likely have kept it all to yourself as well.

This new world has bred new humans, and they’re all monsters. It’s honestly quite surprising they’d even let you in, given this is what they’re protecting, this sanctuary from the past, a comfort most people would kill their closest friend in exchange for.

Trust is all but dead, and so is honor or any other morality—you would know, you’ve lived out there for it all, only having survived by spreading your legs at the right moments. It’s a shameful tactic, and many times, you’ve wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to spare yourself and just die. What was the purpose?

This—you think. This must be it. They have showers and working hot water.

You don’t know how it’s possible—the original owners of the shelter must have been some type of millionaire. You haven’t had a warm shower since the world went to shit—years ago. It’s been a choice of waiting for rain or finding a lake, hoping it wasn’t rancid. Meanwhile, they have soap—scented soap, the lush kind you’d forgotten existed. It feels so nice you have to cry—rejoice—sobbing while lathering yourself, watching all the filth go down the drain, leaving you smooth-skinned once again for the first time in forever. You can’t remember having ever been so clean before, feeling reborn.

They have fresh clothes for you too—new socks and underwear, all clean fabrics, so much more than what you wore—pants, a shirt, and a sweater to keep warm. You didn’t know there still existed people who lived like the old days—you’d thought it was long gone, a bittersweet dream you sometimes have the pleasure of at night instead of the usual nightmares. Never had you thought you’d experience anything even remotely similar, but here you are—looking yourself in the mirror after so long, surprised to see a human looking back at you.

And they feed you. Not scraps, not leftovers, not rot, or days-old flesh from the last successful hunt—but freshly baked bread, vegetables, fruit—for fuck’s sake, they even have juice. You cry again while eating, and then you find yourself begging them again, “Please, let me stay—please, I’ll do anything. I can cook, clean, work—anything at all, I can do it, just please let me stay…”

You’re on your knees, forehead pressed to the heated metal floors—toasty and comforting, you think you could sleep better than ever right there.

“We’ll think about it,” one of them mutters as he gathers the plates. His voice was so harsh he might as well have said, not a chance. It’s clear by his frown that he’d rather send you right out again, leave you to the monsters.

“We’ll at least let you stay until your ankle heals, so don’t worry.” The other is more sympathetic, helping you up. “For now, let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted.”

It hadn’t crossed your mind that they’d have beds—actual real soft downy mattresses and duvets and pillows. The two of you help make it together. It feels so foreign that you wonder if you might have died earlier. Some years back, you wouldn’t have thought heaven would resemble a prison cell, but now it only made sense—safe metal walls and a bed. What more could one possibly want in the world?

“I’ll wrap your leg for you if you sit.” He holds out a bandage roll, gesturing to your ankle.

Blinking, you can’t even register what he’d just offered until he’s getting down on his knees before you.

You panic, then. Bandages are hard to come by—it hardly seems worth it. “There’s no blood, you shouldn’t waste it—”

“It’ll heal better and faster this way,” he adds reassuringly. His voice is so soft and compelling that you find yourself sitting down without further quarrel, even when it makes you feel spoiled.

He’s gentle with you—holding you steady while wrapping it just tightly enough to be supportive. There hasn’t been a man who’s touched you like it.

“Does that feel okay?”

You can barely tell he’s talking to you. It’s all so lost on you that you can only wordlessly nod your head.

He fastens it just as carefully before standing. “Is there anything else you might need?”

You shake your head just as wordlessly. You can’t believe how nice he’s being. It makes no sense at all. Not in this world. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to lock the door,” he apologizes with a sheepish look once standing on the threshold.

You’d been stuck thinking about how warm the room was, trying to remember a single time you hadn’t been freezing during the night. “That’s okay, I understand,” you say. After all, what’s a locked door in comparison?

“Good,” he smiles—it’s likely the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. “Alright then, good night.”

Once again, you’re left stunned. The last time you’d heard those words spoken must have been from a loved one long since dead. It makes your lip wobble again as you say it back, “Good night.”

It's strange—they could have left you for dead but didn’t. They don’t seem gullible—they can’t be if they’ve managed to protect this place for so long—but you suppose there still exist men who have a soft spot in their hearts for helpless damsels in distress.

As you sink into the comfort, draping your duvet atop your battered body, you don’t even care about the camera in the ceiling—blinking red while watching you.

“Did you have to bandage her up?” he grumbles as the other walks into the bedroom after having said his goodnights to you. 

He’s already in bed, observing through the cameras on a tablet—you were currently curling into the duvet, wrapping it around you close for comfort. You’d likely not slept on anything so soft in a while—it wouldn’t surprise him if you preferred the floor. But no, you drift asleep quite quickly.

“You know how badly things can heal without proper support,” the other answers, regarding it as no big deal. “And besides, it’s not like we often need it—we have plenty to spare.”

He removes his clothes and crawls onto the bed as well, lifting the covers to slot himself right next to the other man, who still has a scowl on his face.

“Oh, come on…” he drawls. “She’s exactly what we’ve been talking about, isn’t she?”

The grump doesn’t answer, still with keen eyes watching you, even as you’ve fallen asleep—as if waiting for you to do something befitting a wild animal in a cage. The other’s eyes fall to the screen as well, but he only awes in delight.

“Look at her, already fast asleep,” he purrs while zooming in on your face. “I mean, did you see how she was begging earlier, what she said? I’d do anything,” he continues, almost whining. “So cute, I could have fucked her right then and there.”

The other man sets the tablet aside with a disagreeing sigh. “We’ll wait at least a week for her system to detoxify from the wasteland,” he says strictly. “I’m not touching her before then, and neither are you unless you want to sleep alone.”

The other groans then, flopping down on his back. “Yeah, yeah, you and your safety protocols,” he dismisses before a smirk creeps up his face, glee twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at his grouchy counterpart. “But then we keep her, right?”

“Tch—we don’t even know if she’s fertile. The wasteland could have made her barren as long as she’s been out there,” the other shuffles down into the sheets as well, turning to look at his partner and the awfully keen look on his face.

“So we test her. Give her a medical check,” he says, again as if it’s not a problem, even when it very well could turn out to be.

They’ve already broken quarantine rules by letting you in here—and who knows what your real objectives truly are.

“I don’t trust her,” he states.

The other pouts. “I don’t see what one little lady can do—she’s hardly a threat. And we already purged the group that was following her. I doubt any of them made it out alive.”

True, he had gone out and sent several gas grenades into the settlement. Surely, none of them managed to escape, but then again—

“Pest control only works when you kill them all, and we’ve just let one inside our own house,” he grumbles.

The other one sighs. “Okay, so if it turns out she isn’t as cute as she looks, we’ll deal with her like the rest. But if I’m right, and she really is just a harmless little thing, we keep her, and I get to have the first go.”

Suppose there isn’t anything better to do aside from killing you straight away, which would only have been a waste of food, water, clothes, and bandages. 

“Fine.”

The other grins at the agreeance, humming, “I guess until then, we’ll just have to make do with each other—I've been hard since we watched her shower.” He leans forward for contact but is shut down as his bedmate rolls around with his back turned to him.

“Tch—take care of it yourself.” Tonight has been too stressful to tug each other’s dicks. 

He can hear him whine behind him, but he settles down soon enough.

Suppose it would be nice fucking a woman again. It’s been so many years he figured he wouldn’t need it anymore. They’ve made do with each other so far. But even he can’t deny, once you’d washed all the blood and muck off, once he saw the dewy hue of your soft skin and the silk of your hair, all those plush curves, and not to mention that awfully sweet look on your face—he felt the tug in his pants too.

He'll do a medical check on you tomorrow. He hopes you’re fertile. But even if you’re not, he might give in to the other’s wishes and keep you anyway. After all, they might have many luxuries, but the comfort of pussy is one they haven’t had in a long, long, long time.

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta, ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka, ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑

w.c › 6.6k

warnings › bottom male reader. A faceclaim for him, if you need visuals. Based on my short Drabble. Changed some things to keep it fresh.

plot › a stalker (you) who becomes an idol, experiences withdrawn feelings from not being able to stalk your bae anymore due to scheduling issues. So your sister forces you to make some online friends, one you get particularly close to.

kinks › phone sex

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Arakawa Naoki had a stalker.

Naoki couldn’t exactly remember when you began watching him. He just randomly noticed you appearing in places you weren’t before. At first he was creeped out—wondering what trusted adult he should tell.

Until he saw you trip over your own shoelace when trying to discreetly follow him into a grocery store.

Then he just started seeing you as a kid who wanted attention but would rather die than directly ask for it.

You were pretty harmless. After six months of your ‘stalking’, you began leaving him gifts and food. It was mostly his favorites too. How could he not appreciate you?

Once he had graduated middle school and moved to high school, he honestly expected to never see you again. Until he noticed you in his assigned classroom. Judging by how quickly you shoved a book in your face—you weren’t expecting him.

His luck.

That’s when he learned your name.

Momoi (Name).

Your last name was cute. Peach well? Adorable even.

He couldn’t find you scary at all. Though your classmates seemed to disagree. No one would talk to you or even glance your way unless they had no choice. He didn’t understand why, you were cute.

Sure, you didn’t put any efforts into your looks. Your tie was a mess, white shoes that were caked with dirt, cardigan missing buttons, a strange black stain on your blouse. Your face was permanently in a frown, eyes staring off into space if they weren’t looking at Naoki.

Okay.

Okay, maybe you weren’t cute to the average person.

But Naoki saw past that. He began paying attention to you—how could he not? He noticed that you were into music. One of the rare times you actually did something that wasn’t dedicated to him.

He saw you staring almost longingly at the music club last week. But you didn’t attempt to walk into the room, opting to quickly walk away.

You hardly knew how to hide your diary, having it out on your desk, wide open even when you left to the restroom. It made sense, no one ever went near you at all. Only Naoki cared enough to see what you could’ve possibly written.

5月10日 Arakawa-San recently got a bad haircut.. it’s really bad… but he’s still cute… so I’ll ignore it

5月11日 Sis keeps bothering me to audition, stupid. How do you nicely tell someone to shut up?

5月16日 Sis told me writing in the diary everyday would help me but honestly I feel like a psycho. Besides, I’m not sure what to write sometimes, should I just put nonsense?

5月17日 クククククククククククククククララララララララララ, おぉ〜 ??????? 悲しい嬉しい !!!!!!!! What if I jumped in front of the train, would it be an instant death? Hm

Mostly nonsense for the most part. Especially after May 17th. Seemed like you gave up actually writing your feelings in it. Oh well, it was a nice look into his weird stalker.

“Don’t you think Momoi-San is a bit… strange…?”

Naoki glanced up from your diary. He had taken it up from your desk yesterday and it seemed you hadn’t noticed yet. You were both now seniors and were once again in the same class.

“What do you mean?” Naoki questioned, glancing back at your diary. His friend, Nakamura groaned as he rubbed at his hair. He scooted closer which caused Naoki to quickly position your diary so Nakamura couldn’t get a passing glance.

“I feel like he follows you around! I’ve just started noticing!”

Naoki held back a laugh. Nakamura was about four years late.

“You’re imagining things. Why would anyone follow me? I’m not anyone important.”

“I guess… but…”

10月4日 Momo-Chan died yesterday. I didn’t think hamsters could live ten years. Sis really cared for that rodent

11月7日 I’ve been watching 悪い髪 for four years now but I haven’t even spoken to him this is bad, I got rejected from the university he applied to I haven’t even told mom and dad I only applied to one… they’ll kill me

12月19日 forgot I had this stupid thing sis is dragging me to an audition next year maybe by then she’ll forget I can just be a full time stalker

3月23日 she didn’t forget—it’s next week. Oh god, 行きたくない、行きたくない！姉さん、お願いだから

“Naoki! Since when did you read???” Nakamura snapped his fingers, catching Naoki’s attention.

“What?” Naoki closed the diary and shook his head, “you have no proof. No sense in getting paranoid over hearsay. Just leave it alone.”

Nakamura sighed and rolled his eyes, “fine. But I’m not being weird, that guys a freak. I won’t be surprised if he has nothing going for him after we graduate.”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

もとも

To say Nakamura was dead wrong would be an understatement. You and your sister must’ve went to that audition and passed with flying colors. Because next thing Naoki knew was that you were on a poster at his part time job with your sister, teasing your debut. Mo to Mo.

You had cleaned up nice for the photoshoot, Naoki felt validated for thinking you were cute underneath all that ‘dirt.’ It seemed the agency was leaning heavily into an alternative and more edgy look with you and your sister.

Naoki didn’t think he’d ever seen your bare arms before until that poster. That stare that your past classmates saw as terrifying was oddly sensually. He was happy that you had something going for yourself, his stalker.

But…

He didn’t expect that meant he’d only get to see you on the tv from now on.

2 years later

“(Name), stop wallowing in your stolen hoodie please. You can’t keep getting so sad every time it’s his birthday.” Hiyori, your sister said, kicking your back as she walked past you to the kitchen.

You only whimpered, curling into Naoki’s sweater that you stole on December 19th, your 2nd year at high school. He had left it in his locker one day and you just wanted it, luckily he often forgot to lock his locker.

“But… Sis…” You whined, wiping away a few tears with your hand. “I only know what university he went to… I have no time to see him anymore.”

“It’s not like you ever spoke to him.” Hiyori muttered, tossing an apple up and down as she walked back over to living room. She kicked you once more before plopping down onto the couch, resting her feet on your body.

You made no effort to move. “But… I liked seeing him… even if didn’t say anything to him. Seeing him.. helped.”

“You’re lucky he never noticed just how insane you are. You could’ve been in jail right now.”

“Mhm.” You glanced over at your phone, tapping on the screen. “Do you think he’s having a good birthday?”

Hiyori only hummed, “maybe. Arakawa Naoki, right? How’d you even start stalking him?”

“He helped me.”

“Helped. Yea, that’s enough information,” Hiyori shook her head, deciding she was done with you for the time being. She began tapping away at her phone, occasionally giggling. Probably her girlfriend.

You watched the time tick on your phone, right when it reached midnight. The day was now December 25th, Christmas Day. No longer Arakawa Naoki’s birthday. You groaned and turned off your phone, glancing over at Hiyori.

“Merry Christmas…”

“Merry Christmas. Let’s go to the aquarium, that’ll cheer you up.” Hiyori said, taking her feet off your body.

“Aquarium…” You muttered, shifting over to glance up at her. “Tokyo Sea Life Park?”

“If that’s what you want. It shouldn’t be too busy when we go.”

It was very busy.

“What the hell?” Hiyori groaned, pulling down her hat to cover her face. She squeezed past a group of students pressed against the windows. “Tch, these kids have no respect. Hogging up the glass, can’t even see shit.”

You hummed absentmindedly, glancing around. “It’s fine. I just want to see the voyagers.” Your face was properly covered with a mask and sunglasses, a hat resting on the top of your head.

“It’s a Sunday—why are so many people here! I’m sweating too much.” Hiyori complained, her mask slipping down a bit. “Go off without me, I need a water.”

“You sure?”

“Go!” She waved you off, already walking away.

“Ah, okay..” You only shrugged. Better to let her cool off than aggravate her any further. You dodged and weaved through the crowds, coming across couples and families that were taking photos of the fish. It had been two years since visiting Tokyo Sea Life Park in Edogawa City.

You’d come frequently on Mondays and Wednesdays because Naoki would usually have baseball practice. Despite how much you loved him, watching him practice could only be so much fun after awhile.

“Look, isn’t he cute?”

“Ah, don’t point at him! It’s rude.”

“Is he a model?”

“You can’t even see his face, his hat’s hiding it!”

You glanced over at the two girls whispering about, not paying any attention to the fish swimming behind them. Ah, young love. Cute. You shook your head and looked over at the sign on the walls. Voyagers of the Sea… Voyagers of the Sea…

“Excuse me, are you looking for something?”

“Ah,” you glanced up, coming face to face with an employee. They were dressed a bit weird. Wearing a hat and mask. Could employees wear something like that? “Uh, hm, where’s the Voyagers of the Sea? It’s been awhile since I’ve been here.”

The employee turned their head to the map on the wall, muttering to themselves. Shouldn’t an employee know where everything is? You were about to just tell them to forget when they suddenly reached over and grabbed your hand.

“I found it. C’mon.” They sounded like a man. You gasped as he tugged you along. The path was bumpy, constantly having to skid to a stop due to the large crowds. You winced each time you bumped right into his back. Gosh, he had broad shoulders.

Two more sharp turns and another knock to your nose on his shoulder, you arrived at the Voyagers of the Sea. You rubbed your nose, groaning to yourself before glancing over at the tanks.

You couldn’t help but grin. “It’s still pretty.” You whispered mainly to yourself, stepping close to the glass. “Bluefin tuna,” you pointed as it swam past, “eagle ray, scalloped hammerhead.”

“Y’know,” you glanced back at the employee who was standing near you. He hadn’t left yet surprisingly. “Bluefin tuna are the largest tuna species. My sister says they’re also the tastiest. And scalloped hammerheads have a 360-degree vision, but then that means they can’t see in front of them. One time, when I was here as a student, one of the fishes was hiding in front of the scalloped hammerhead’s nose. And—”

“—You really like these things. Are you a marine biologist?” He suddenly interrupted you, tilting his head.

“Oh, sorry. I’m not. I couldn’t study something like that.” You didn’t elaborate. You glanced down at your hand, the employee’s hand casually holding yours. “Uhm. You, uh, don’t need to—”

“—Sorry.” He quickly dropped your hand as if he was burned. “Sorry. You just have… soft hands. Very comfortable.”

“Thanks,” you glanced at his name tag. “Nakamura-San.”

“Naka—?” He interrupted himself letting out a laugh, nodding slightly. “Right, right… I’m Nakamura.”

“Mhm. That’s what your name tag says.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Nakamura laughed. “Do you have anymore fish facts?”

“Aren’t you working right now? I don’t want to bore you.”

“It’s okay. I’m interested in learning.”

“Ah. Okay. Well, hammerheads give birth to live pups, and usually a female hammerhead can fertilize her own eggs without a male. But as soon as she has the pups, the baby hammerheads learn how to survive all on their own.”

“Really? They don’t need a parent?”

“No. They do just fine.”

“Self sufficient.” Nakamura hummed, pulling down his hat. “You’re interesting. Are you in school?”

“No. I uhm, work in the music industry.”

Nakamura perks up at that, looking over at you. Though you weren’t too sure due to his hat covering his eyes. “Really? Do you know Mo to Mo?”

You felt yourself freeze. “Ah, uhm, I’ve heard of them…”

“My friend really likes them. She blasts their music all the time, I think I know the lyrics by heart by now.”

“Mhm, they’re good, so I’ve heard.”

“Yea, have you—”

“—It’s Momoi Hiyori!!!!”

“Hiyori-San, sign my tits please!!!”

“Sign my forehead!!!”

“Momoi Hiyori?” Nakamura whispered as you felt yourself panic. The sounds of fans grew louder with the accompaniment of loud heels clicking against the floor.

There, your sister, hat long gone and mask off entirely, was sprinting your way. She was frantically motioning for you to start running as a crowd of fans were right on her heels.

“Crap.” You whispered, ready to book it but Nakamura grabbed your arm.

“Wait! Can I get your LINE ID?”

“LINE ID?” You whispered in shock. Only your family and manager had your LINE ID.

“Hurry up, Seabrain!!!!” Hiyori yelled, rushing past you.

You cursed and pulled out your phone, fumbling to open up LINE and show your QR code. “Here, here. Just scan it and add me.”

Nakamura rushed to scan the code, humming once he got it. “I got it. Let’s—” but as soon as he glanced back up, you were long gone.

“—hang out sometime…?”

He pulled off his hat and rubbed at his head. “He’s fast…” he glanced down at his phone and looked at your account.

Account Name: シーブレイン

“ぱらぱら” — 好きです

The profile picture was of a koi fish, a hand reaching into the pond to touch its scales.

“Seabrain? Cute.”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

ナオイス

シーブレインちゃん, hi~ it’s ’Nakamura’

“Good, good. Lean down further, please. Beautiful.” The photographer said. The sounds of camera flashing and continuous talking almost caused you to miss your phone ringing. Which was strange.

You had little to no contacts. Who could be texting you? It had been nearly two weeks since you had went to Tokyo Sea Life Park. You opened LINE and were surprised to see a request.

“Naoise? Naoise?” You struggled to pronounce the name, tilting your head. What type of name was that? It was just nonsense. “Seabrain-Chan? Is he making fun of me…?” You huffed and turned off your phone, placing it face down on the table.

“Who’s making fun of who?”

You squeaked, glancing up to see Hiyori. She was dressed in a skintight bodysuit, hair slicked back with copious amounts of gel, sharp dark eyeliner and black lipstick. “Hah, answer me.” She said, reaching over to grab your phone.

“Ah, wait!” You reached over to stop her but she easily grabbed both of your wrists in one hand and unlocked your phone.

“Hm? N-Nao-Naoise? Hm, strange name. Seabrain-Chan, hi, it’s Nakamura. Who’s Nakamura?”

“Just an employee at the Tokyo Sea Life Park. He asked for my LINE ID before we had to leave.” You grunted, trying to pull your hands free. How the hell was your sister stronger than you?

“Aren’t you going to answer him? He’s your first contact that’s not family or a coworker. Here, I’ll answer for you.”

“Wait!!”

シーブレイン

(⌒▽⌒)☆ hey, Nakamura-Kun~ I thought you’d never text me

“Are you insane?! Why did you use the a text face?!” You whined, as Hiyori showed you the text she sent. “And I sound so desperate!”

“Why not? It’s cute.”

“Cute?!” You groaned. “Not at all, only kids use that!”

“Not true. My girlfriend sends them to me all the time.” She released your wrists and hands over your phone, pulling out her own to text her girlfriend. “Anyway, talk to this Nakamura guy, maybe he’ll get you to forget Arakawa.”

You frowned. There’s no way you’d ever forget him. Not someone like him.

ナオイス

Aren’t you cute? 悪いな, 海洋くん。

I got busy, my parents and siblings came to visit me since they missed my birthday Couldn’t refuse them

Marine-Kun? You rolled your eyes. Well, it wasn’t like he knew your name. You didn’t really feel like entertaining this any longer but you thought about how your life has been so far. Sure, you technically had fans but you did feel a bit lonely.

Back then, you could watch Naoki and feel moderately okay. Just seeing him was good enough to brighten your mood. But you haven’t been able to see him in two whole years.

Maybe you should… try to forget him?

You shuddered at the thought. Okay. Not forget him. Just, gain a friend.

シーブレイン

気にしない 。

I was busy too. I have to prepare for an upcoming single

ナオイス

Single? Woah

Are you a producer? Songwriter?

シーブレイン

Ah

“Sis!!!” You suddenly shot up, startling Hiyori. She glared at you. “What should I do?”

“What? Why are you screaming?”

“I told him I have to prepare for a single! But! I don’t know what to say? Who do I pretend to be? A singer? Or maybe a makeup artist? Songwriter? I told him I worked in the music industry, I can’t possibly be a makeup artist, oh what should say—!”

“Just say you’re a backup vocalist and are participating in the music video.”

“Ah.” You grin. “Smart. You’re so smart, Big Sis!” You give her a wet kiss on the cheek that she quickly wipes away with a groan, turning your attention back to your phone.

シーブレイン

Backup vocalist. I was just asked to participate in the music video.

ナオイス

mjk? すごい！

You’re cool. I’m just studying meteorology.

Probably become a weather forecaster ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

シーブレイン

Weather forecaster? Is that what you want?

ナオイス

No way

I was a baseball player but

Fucked up left leg, it was bound to happen, I already sprained it once

シーブレイン

それな are you okay now?

ナオイス

Yea. It’s been a year now, I’m

ksnjdnwbdow

You froze, raising an eyebrow. “Ksnjd… is this roman alphabet slang I don’t know?” You began typing the letters into the search bar when he suddenly texted you again.

ナオイス

悪いな。

I need to head back to work, almost got caught by my boss (＞人＜;)

See ya~ シュモクザメ (^_^)/~~~

“Hammerhead shark?” You grumbled, unable to hide the slight smile on your lips. “He’s going to call me everything in the ocean…” you finally took the time to actually see his profile picture. It was of a teddy bear, brown with an eye missing, close to the camera. Though you could still see the background of beach sand.

“That was fast, did you forget about Arakawa by now?”

“Never!”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“I’m not doing that again, Nakamura, those aquariums are stressful.”

Naoki sighed, shoving his phone into his back pocket. His hair was pulled into a ponytail as he slipped on some gloves. He began cutting up some fish.

“Why are you even in the kitchen?”

Nakamura rolled his eyes, “it’s my mom’s restaurant, I can go wherever. But c’mon, please? They’re only free on Sunday and I used up most of my vacation days already.”

“Sorry, I can hardly handle standing in here for three hours straight. I’m not doing your job for you again.” Naoki held up the knife, pointing it at Nakamura when he attempted to get close.

“Didn’t you get some guys LINE ID because of me?”

“Because of you?” Naoki chuckled, shaking his head. “Keep talking and you’ll replace this tuna.” He slid the knife clean against the tuna’s body, the head off without a second slice.

Nakamura rubbed his neck. “Sheesh. Fine fine. I’ll figure something out… so cruel. Ah, that Momoi kid is having a comeback soon. Do you still keep up with him?”

“No.” Naoki muttered, pulling out the spine from the tuna. “I haven’t since my accident. He stopped stalking me.”

“I still can’t believe you actually liked that he was stalking you.”

“You wouldn’t get it. But I’ve gotten over him, alright?”

“I’m glad I don’t. Try to form a healthy relationship with this new guy, okay?”

“Stop asking me to take your Sunday shifts for your mysterious babe, okay?”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

4 years ago

You were a senior in middle school, staring down at the lake beneath you. Your shoes were placed down beside you. Your backpack resting on the ground as you peered over the railing. You were a bit short back then, still lagging behind the other boys who were finally getting tall.

Hiyori had teased you’d probably end up her height. Lo and behold you were only an inch taller than her in the present.

“Is that… hm, what’s that one?” You whispered, pushing on your toes a little, trying to see what was floating above the water. It was a bit hard to see—the sun going down being your only source of light.

“They really need to make more light posts.”

You pulled at your uniform to only to feel your button pop loose, falling into the lake below. A curse was on the tip of your tongue as you looked down. It fell with a quiet plop, not even making enough noise or movement to seemingly bother the inhabitants of the lake.

The drop wasn’t high by any means. But the lake wasn’t safe for people to get in. It was deep and the current was surprisingly fast. Once you got swept in, it would be hard to leave. You were honestly wondering if this was actually a lake. It had to have been a river that was just unnaturally wide.

As you pondered what to actually call the body of water underneath the bridge, you heard someone yell.

You glanced to your left just before you tackled to the ground. A delayed cry left your lips from the sudden force. You awaited the pain but didn’t feel anything. The person who tackled you had managed to take the fall damage, now that you were laying atop of them.

You slowly gazed down, noting their middle school uniform, and to your shock—a leg brace on their left leg. A shocked gasp left your lips, catching sight of their forgotten crutches on the ground not too far from you.

This person… was insane?

Said person began to cough violently, their hands digging into your back. You sat up and made sure to not accidentally touch their left leg. The sunset was your only light at this point. Yellow-orange rays shined down on the boy beneath you.

His black hair formed around on the ground, resembling a halo. A little cut on his cheek. On his right cheek there was a mole, almost directly on his cheekbones. His hands slowly slide down your back before falling limply to the ground.

“Hey… Oi. Did you hit your head?!” You whispered, reaching down to touch the back of his head. Sure enough, as you brought your hand back, there was a bit of blood on the tip of your fingers.

You fished out your phone and quickly called for an ambulance. As you waited, you heard a little laugh. You glanced down to see the boy staring up at you, his lips slowly pulling into a little grin.

“At least..” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “The ambulance is for me.”

“What…? I—did you think I was going to jump?”

He didn’t answer, his gaze unfocusing. You gently rubbed his cheek, hoping to keep him awake.

“I was just looking at the water. I’m sorry, please don’t be too hurt because of me…” You frowned. The only reason your shoes were off was because the right shoe had torn open. You were just waiting for Hiyori to get back from the nearby convenience store with some flip flops.

Now you were waiting for an ambulance.

“Prob… just a concussion.” He suddenly whispered, humming slightly. “Don’t worry.”

“Don’t fall asleep. What’s your name?”

“Arakawa.. Naose.”

“Naose?”

“Se?” He began to giggle. “Did I say se? Nice? Ki… meant Ki.. Naoki…”

“Naoki?”

“Hm?”

“Stay awake, please. They’re almost here. Think about, ah, maybe the amount of sea life that can live in a river. How they live different to like, uh, ponds or lakes? Do you like koi fish?”

“Sorry… but that’s really boring…” He muttered, groaning. “I’m falling asleep.”

“Sea life is boring to you?”

“Very… but it’s nice that you like it. I think.. I like.. the sky? Dunno, heheh. Koi fish, is that your name?”

“Huh?”

“Koi-Kun, you… hehe, should be… hm… what was I gonna say?” He began to giggle, raising one hand to gently point at your nose. “Do you, poke fish noses?”

“Fish noses?”

“The weathers nice.” He changed the subject, eyes struggling to stay open. “Y’know… legs’ real ‘urt. Tink ade t rse. Heheh.. ably never play gain.”

“Play what?” You gently patted his face, causing him to open his eyes again.

“Baseball. Mhm… just for a second… lemme..”

You tapped him again. “Stay awake please.”

“So mean…” he gazed over at you, a little smile on his lips. “You…. Pretty.. in a weird way. Koi-Kun.”

The sound of sirens caught your attention before you could respond. “Ah, they’re here! Hey, hey, Naoki-San, Naoki-San!”

That was how you met him, giving him a concussion and perhaps ruining his baseball career.

Young love (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

ナオイス

くらげさん, おはよう～(・ω・)ノ slept well?

シーブレイン

Jellyfish? That’s new, are you going to stick with a nickname or just keep calling me new ones each time?

ナオイス

∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ of course～ でも！you know the kanji for jellyfish, right?

シーブレイン

海月? Umi? Tsuki?

ナオイス

Ya, Sea Moon, if you directly translate it in English wwwww

It’s what I think of you, cold and deep, so mysterious, like the sea～ and round, bright, and shiny, like the moon～

シーブレイン

Bright? The moon?

Most people wouldn’t agree with that, the moon doesn’t provide its own light

ナオイス

Right

But it still shines, even if it needs some help

Think of me as your sun, helping you shine,

Sea Moon～ (⁎⁍̴̛ᴗ⁍̴̛⁎)

Later, I have class

“Holy shit.” Hiyori cursed, staring at your phone in shock.

You and ‘Nakamura’ have been chatting for around two months now. The conversations were pretty boring for the most part. Honestly you assumed he’d stop talking to you due to how dry and cold you were. But he’d always respond quickly.

He always made time to respond to you. He even said his name wasn’t ‘Nakamura’ but he never told you his actual name. Not like you asked, you probably should.

He was really into using text faces. At first you viewed them as childish but you got used to them. They could be cute, occasionally.

You two shared pictures but never of yourselves. Just of dinner or any other item that was interesting enough.

“He.. he must like you!” Hiyori whispered, looking over at you. “Who could say something so.. casually?!”

“He can’t. He doesn’t even know what I look like! Or who I actually am! He’d freak out.”

“I doubt that.” Hiyori sighed, rubbing her hands through her hair. “You should try sending something, see if he’s just those friends who are poetic platonically.”

“What would I send?”

“Something sexy.”

“No way.”

You sighed, rubbing at your face as you stared down at your phone. Okay, you’ve always had a problem with saying no to your sister’s ideas. After some goading, you reluctantly took a video.

Hiyori already told you what to say once you pressed send. The video was just of you recording yourself in one of the outfits for your recent music video. It was one of your more scandalous outfits, skin tight pants with holes throughout. A see through shirt and a choker. Chains decorated the outfit.

It was a whole thing.

The video was only about ten seconds. You made sure to have your face out of frame as you pointed your phone down at your pants. There was a mirror right across from you, you laid on a couch, legs spread out, back slightly arched. Your hand was shaky as slid down to your crotch.

Pants button was already open as you gently gripped the edge of your shit that was tucked into the pants, slowly pulling it out. The slightest glance at the thin, tight black briefs you wore before quickly ending the video.

Hiyori’s ‘excuse’ was a simple and planned: “oooh, sorry sorry! I didn’t mean to send this video!” Then you’d send a normal video just showcasing your outfit in the mirror, standing up.

Good enough excuse since you could feign innocence, both videos did have you in the same outfit. And so long as you goaded ‘Nakamura’ into asking for what you wore for the video—it’d make sense.

Hiyori had said that ‘Nakamura’ would either forget and push past the video, or get horny.

You didn’t know what exactly you wanted.

You were a bit scared at the thought of making him uncomfortable—losing your first and only friend you have right now. But there was a small little part of you that was curious, deadly curious to how he felt about you.

ナオイス

Did you go to bed yet?

I can’t sleep (｡ ́︿ ̀｡)

You shot up from bed, staring at your phone.

This was your chance.

シーブレイン

Still awake

Is everything okay?

ナオイス

I’m ok (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵) just a bit of pain in my leg again

But it stops after a few minutes

What���did～you～do～today～？ᶘ ᵒᴥᵒᶅ

シーブレイン

I filmed the music video

It was for a b-side song for the artist’s album that came out a few weeks ago

Very fun, so busy, the outfits were nice

ナオイス

wowowo ♪( ´θ｀)ノ すごいね！

What were the outfits? The singer didn’t make you wear trash bags so you wouldn’t outshine them, right~? (ﾟoﾟ;;

Today I just had class, my friend was blasting Mo to Mo’s new album, it’s catchy

シーブレイン

ww no they didn’t do that

We got good outfits

Oh, you changed your profile pic

You glanced at his picture, taking note of the new one. It was of that same teddy bear now directly in the sand. A human hand held out a peace sign, acting as if that was the teddy bear’s own hand.

シーブレイン

You really like that teddy bear

ナオイス

You noticed?

Yea, I do, it was given to me in my senior year at middle school

Don’t remember who gave it to me, just woke up in the hospital with it in my arms

Mom said the person left a note, just telling me sea life isn’t boring wwwwwwww ╭(╯3╰)╮

Anyway~ send send!!

You paused. Sea life isn’t boring? No, it couldn’t be. You shook your head. Sure, it was very specific, but—you couldn’t be the only person to write a note like that. Besides, that teddy bear is basic. Yea, it’s not you. No way. No, way.

You rubbed your face as you pulled up the video. You hesitated. Should you really do this? Wouldn’t it be more mature to just ask him if he might like you romantically? That would be smarter. Less manipulative.

Not like you could talk. You stalked a boy for four years straight. The only reason you stopped was because your schedule was overwhelming and any free time you had, you just wanted to sleep. Besides, you didn’t know where Arakawa Naoki really was anyway.

Sure you knew the school but it was a well known and large university. There were so many students. You didn’t even know what major he went in for. It’d take you awhile to find him.

Just as you were debating to yourself, your finger pressed against the screen. You glanced down to see that you sent the risky video.

Well—

You almost screamed in panic, ready to unsend the message but it was too late. It showed that he saw it. He viewed it. He more than likely just finished watching the full ten seconds.

Oh god.

It was a slow and agonizing minute as you stared at your phone, almost waiting for him to cuss you out. But instead, you got a video.

Your finger hovered over the video before pressing play. You quickly paused it though, reaching over for your headphones. Even if your room was on the other side of the shared apartment, you didn’t want to risk it.

After a deep breath and the little beep telling you the headphones were connected—you pressed play once more.

The video was a bit dark, the soft glow of the moonlight being your only light. A shuddered sigh left ‘Nakamura’ before he pointed the camera to his pajama pants. He tugged at the waistband, pulling it far before letting it snap right back against his skin.

A tight grunt left him just as the video ended.

ナオイス

Am I overthinking things?

It wasn’t an accident, right?

シーブレイン

It technically was

But I recorded the video with you in mind

Silence. You almost wondered if you went too far.

ナオイス

Can you show me more?

シーブレイン

Like another video?

ナオイス

Yea

I’ll send too

Not even a second later, he sent another video. You didn’t hesitate to play it. The video was mostly silence, the sound of sheets rustling as he kept the camera at his pants. His free hand returned to the waistband and tugged, but this time his pulled it further down.

You expected him to have been wearing boxers but to your surprise, his cock was now free. It was already leaking wet—coating white pre cum on his soft stomach. Now free, his hand grasped his cock, his thumb rubbing the pre cum across the head.

ナオイス

Kinda, hard to type one handed

Do me a favor

Masturbate like you’re alone

Don’t hold back

Your body involuntarily shivers as you reach over and turn on your fairy lights, allowing a little bit of light. You pointed the camera to your lower half, kicking the sheets off the bed.

You hesitated for just a moment before pressing record. Should you talk? You didn’t really speak a lot in general unless spoken to. Shaking your head, you slip two fingers into your mouth and suck, coating them with your saliva.

Despite feeling a little anxious, you didn’t attempt to muffle the wet sounds. You pulled your hand away and reached down, using your thumb to pull down your boxers. Your cock plopped out free, beginning to harden due to your rising excitement.

A low sigh left your lips as you reached down between your legs. Because of the angle, he wouldn’t be able to see much. But he would be able to hear the squelch as you easily slipped in two fingers inside your ass.

He would be dumb to not realize you must’ve masturbated an hour or so ago.

You ended the video just as your cock sprung to life, pressing send immediately. The wait for his response almost felt like torture. Your cock leaking dejectedly on your stomach. Your legs shifted on the bed as you tried not to continue on to reach your third orgasm of the night.

Not even a minute later he replied to you.

His video was straight to the point—the teasing long forgotten.

His hand grasped his cock as he jerked himself off. The sound of his shallow breaths and wet gasps filled your ears. You forgot all about recording another video, thrusting your fingers in and out, easily reaching your prostate.

You dropped your phone and gripped your cock, sighing at the relief. His moans were driving you insane—you wanted to hear it in person. Wanted to be the one touching him. Hearing every sharp gasp, watching his body shake from the pleasure.

“….gonna.. cum…”

A grunt your lips at his words. It sounded as if he struggled to even say those two words, his voice wet and shaky. You couldn’t hold back anymore. Being overstimulated from your previous masturbation didn’t help. A rub right against your prostate and a wet stroke of your cock, you were cumming right as he released a wet whimper.

You bit your lip to muffle yourself as much as possible, eyes threatening to roll to the back of your head. Your phone pinged again just as you remembered you forgot to record something.

ナオイス

Sorry, haven’t really

Properly masturbated in awhile

Did you cum at least?

シーブレイン

ええ

I came early too, don’t worry about it

It’ll be longer next time

ナオイス

Next time? ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

Do you like me, Sea Moon~?

You paused. You liked him enough to masturbate but. You wiped your dirty hands on your boxers. The word like was always associated with Arakawa Naoki.

Even now. Even after your little session with ‘Nakamura’…

You could only see a mole on a cheek and messy hair.

No. You didn’t like him.

Just as you were about to respond, he sent a picture. You opened it without a second thought, expecting a risky photo.

But the sight caused you pause.

It was of him.

‘Nakamura’.

Even with only the moonlight as your guide, you knew him. You knew Arakawa Naoki. Even if only half of his face was visible. The infamous teddy bear was in his arms. Half of his face resting on the pillow, a shy grin on his lips.

The mole rested on the same spot it always has, greeting you in the moonlight.

His hair messy and wild. You wondered if you were delusional for thinking it looked like it formed into a halo on the pillow.

ナオイス

Since you can’t actually see me

Post sex wwww (*ﾉωﾉ)

Pretty, right~?

神ってるね?

You couldn’t think. What should you say? Of course he was pretty. He’s been the only person you’ve ever constantly thought about. Even in two years that you haven’t seen him—he’s only gotten more beautiful.

But, you couldn’t possibly do this to him. Stalking him for four years and suddenly you had semi phone sex with him. Sure Hiyori never out right said anything but you knew she wanted you to act more ‘normal.’

Especially with you now in the public eye. You can’t just watch him in the shadows. You were an adult, you had fans, two years of leaving Arakawa Naoki alone to live his life peacefully.

You should end it here.

But here’s the thing about you.

You needed Arakawa Naoki as much as you needed air to breathe.

And here he was, offering himself on a silver platter.

Two years without him and it felt like torture. It felt as if you couldn’t live without him. Before you could watch him from afar and survive but now…

Now you can’t stand by anymore.

You’ve experienced life without Arakawa Naoki and you promised yourself to never experience it again.

シーブレイン

荒川直樹

ナオイス

???

Huh? How’d you get my name?

From my account? Did I tell you and just forgot?

You smirked at your phone, going to your account and changing your name. It really was him. To think he returned your affection after all these years.

シームーン

You probably don’t even know my name, but I’ve been watching you since our senior year in middle school

I thought I lost you

But you’re here, it’s like you were waiting for me

Were you, Arakawa-San?

ナオイス

Momoi-San…?

Did you

You knew this entire time?

You ignore me for two years then knowingly make me believe I’m texting someone else this whole time?

You’re sick, is that singing career of yours not fun enough? Your girlfriend?

Some man you are — I hope the videos were worth it

He was typing too fast for you to even respond to one of his messages. Girlfriend? You didn’t know he was Arakawa until today, what the hell was he talking about?

シームーン

What? What are you talking about?

Hello?

Arakawa-San?

Each message you sent was sent with an error. You tore off your headphones as you sat up, staring down at your phone in complete shock.

He blocked you.

Lol. Yall want a part two? You’re basically turning into a yandere btw. Comment if you wanna be tagged!

Words/Slangs:

クククククククククククククククララララララララララ, おぉ〜 ??????? 悲しい嬉しい !!!!!!!! — Kukukukukukukukukukukukuku Klaralalalalalalalala, ohhh ??????? Sad and happy !!!!!!!!

悪い髪 — bad hair

行きたくない、行きたくない！姉さん、お願いだから — I don't want to go, I don't want to go! Please, sister

“ぱらぱら” — 好きです — “parapara” I love it (it’s the Japanese onomatopoeia for rain sounds)

悪いな, 海洋くん — sorry, marine-kun

気にしない 。— don’t worry

mjk? — まじか (majika) Roman alphabet slang. Means “really”

すごい！— amazing

それな — Sorena, to express sympathy

くらげさん, おはよう～ — morning, Jellyfish-San

でも — but

wwwwww — Japanese’s lol or lmao

ええ — mhm

神ってるね? — heaven-sent; out of this world. He’s basically asking if his looks are godly

シームーン — sea moon

Tag list: @the-ultimate-librarian @tehyunnie @star-3214 @ning1e @anchoredphoenix @cherry-blossoms-187 @kiiyoooo @chill-guy-but-cooler @iwishtobeacrow @mello-life25 @smellwell @ofclyde @yuzuukix @remdayz @rhetorical-conscience @mooncarvers-world @castocipher @tomoeroi @love-kha1 @secretivemessenger @bensontrechic

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 10: The Meeting

As the Megamycete watches as you stomp around your room and vent your frustrations about the last few days, it begins to wonder how the Bats came to remember their little black sheep and why they are so insistent you return to Gotham.

It searches through your memories and experiences all the sadness, fear, anger, hatred, and loneliness you experienced for years, all those emotions still so potent even after your departure from the manor four years ago, having been dredged up by their unwelcome visits. It was clear that, besides the butler, none of them considered you a part of their merry band of misfits, not even bothering to spare you a passing glance.

The exception to this is the youngest one, Damian, who constantly went out of his way to make your life harder by mocking you, hurting you, and releasing his menagerie of pets on you, forcing you to run through the endless halls of the mansion barricade yourself in the closest room you could find.

Now, after four years after your escape and maintaining little contact with the family butler, they show up on your door, one after the other, trying to force you to leave your perfect life for one that brought you nothing but pain and misery.

Why?

Why do they want you so much?

Why do they insist on you returning to a place you clearly hate?

Why do they now wish to give you the love they denied you for so long?

Why—

Wait, they are meeting in their little cave, gathering around the massive computer in the center of the massive cavern.

Its roots have long since surrounded the cave and it is still connected to the main colony back in Gotham, but when it took you as its host, it has had no need to tap into its roots to see the world above when it can see the world through your eyes and experience it through your senses.

Using its roots to see the outside world no longer has the same appeal when your senses are far more vibrant and provide far more detail.

When it proposed you become its host, it must admit, it never thought it would be so mutually beneficial. Of course, it would be able to leave the cavern and finally experience a world firsthand that had been forever just out of reach for over four-hundred years, but you would recover from your injuries and be akin to a god among men with your newfound abilities. You were the one who had more to gain from your joining, but it was willing to trade one prison for another if it meant finally seeing the world above and having someone to talk to.

But you proved it wrong.

When it became a part of you, you treated it like a person, not a thing. You value its input and alter your plans if it desires to see or experience something. You frequently talk to it, telling it things that you haven’t told anyone else and speaking to it like it was a lifelong friend.

It has no further use for that toxic city and its citizens when it has the warm haven of Goodsprings and you to keep it company.

It has come to admire you, even going as far as to see you as a friend and confidant, and wants nothing but the best for you as you so rightfully deserve and to see you suffer teaches it a new definition of rage.

“Running blood tests,” your failure of a father says as he types on the keyboard, causing a machine next to the massive device to make noises.

“If Master Y/N does test positive for the Meta Gene, what do you intend to do, Master Bruce,” the butler, the only one in this crowd it respects, asks.

“If Y/N is a meta, I’ll have to find out what his powers are and how to counter it.”

So that’s what this meeting is about, they managed to put the pieces together that you are no mere human. But how did they manage to get a sample of your blood? Since your joining, you have had no need for doctors as its influence makes you immune against common illnesses and diseases.

“Getting his blood was a simple task,” Damian taunts. “Honestly, this would have been solved already if you sent me, Father.”

Of course. It should have known the little menace gave up too easily.

While you hate Bruce Wayne in every sense of the word, Damian Wayne is right behind him. From the moment you met him, he went up of his way to make your life a living nightmare and was allowed to get away with impunity due to obvious favoritism from Dick Grayson.

The memory of Dick defending Damian after he gave you a scar made the Megamycete furious. No matter his upbringing, he had no right to harm you, and yet, he was allowed to draw his sword on you. It was only pure luck that you managed to move to avoid being critically wounded, only resulting in a scar.

The Megamycete has seen your many fantasies of hurting Damian and making him feel inferior and wants to help you make them a reality.

“Results are in,” Bruce announces, making them all crowd around the computer.

“No Meta Gene,” Tim remarks, staring at the monitor with alarming intensity.

“Yeah, but look,” Jason exclaims, pointing at one of the results. “He’s got something in him that doesn’t belong.”

“For once, Todd is right. The tests show foreign substances in his blood.”

“Wait,” Tim mutters as he leans over and begins typing on the computer, bringing up an extensive menu and going through various files. “That looks so familiar.” An image is pulled up on the monitor. “Here it is! The stuff in his blood matches the stuff found in what remained of Joker.”

Well, this is rather unfortunate. It had hoped that there would be very little of the clown left to examine after his execution by your hand, but as usual, these people cannot resist poking into areas they do not belong.

“If this is substance is in Master Y/N’s blood, does that mean he is responsible for Joker’s death?”

“Bruce, you can’t lock up Y/N after bringing him home,” Dick whines. “You have to admit, your thing with Joker was only going to end one way!”

“We don’t even know if Y/N killed Joker,” Tim interjects. “It’s possible this strain of mold was in both of them and Joker’s was somehow activated, killing him.”

“That’s not exactly comforting, Drake,” Damian responds, glaring at Tim. “That means that Y/N could be in danger. If I had my pick, I would he be responsible for Joker’s death. Knowing he can take down as formidable as the Joker is proof he is a Wayne and my brother.”

If it had eyes, the Megamycete would roll them. This insecure little terror spent years making it clear he saw you as an interloper into his “perfect world” and not as a brother and that you are a disgrace to the Wayne bloodline (although that bloodline was tainted far before you came to be). He has some nerve to call you his brother now.

It still made it angry that he had the nerve to critique your mother (your memories of her painted the woman as a saint) when his mother, the daughter of a millennium-old maniac with delusions of grandeur (yes, you are very aware of his familiar secrets) who drugged Bruce in order to bring him into the world.

“We need to bring him back here, Bruce,” Dick says, defusing a fight between the two. “If he’s in danger, he needs to be back home.”

“I agree,” Bruce responds. “Cass, you and I will go. I’ll distract him and while he’s busy yelling at me, you’ll sneak up behind him and inject him with a tranquilizer.”

The mute nods and the Megamycete wishes it has a mouth so it can scream. Not only is it offensive that they believe you are stupid enough to fall for such an obvious trick, but that they believe they have the right to decide something like this on your behalf.

If they have failed to realize that you want nothing to do with them after you have yelled it at them, perhaps they will understand if it tells so itself.

And it knows the perfect form to take.

He stands up from the chair and makes his way to the armory where they keep the tranquilizers meant for the larger criminals, like Bane and Killer Croc.

He hates the thought of using such methods against you, but you’ve made it clear you aren’t going to come back to Gotham willingly and the discovery of this mysterious mold inside you has forced their hand.

Nevertheless, improvisation is one of their many skills, a requirement in their line of work. Once they have you back home, they’ll be able to conduct more in-depth tests and be able to find out what’s wrong with you and go from there.

As much as he hates the idea of you possibly being in pain and may even be in danger, he can’t deny there’s a small inside him that’s glad this has happened. This discovery accelerates their plans and will have you brought home far sooner.

And, there’s the chance that this mold may explain most of your hatred towards them. Sure, he knows you have every right to despise them, but when he saw the look in your eye when you pushed him down that night of the award ceremony. He could tell you enjoyed inflicting pain on him.

This stuff in you must’ve made your temper more volatile and made you lash out at them.

It’s the only explanation.

“Excuse us,” a familiar voice calls throughout the cave, stoping his dead in his tracks.

That voice… No, it can’t be. There’s no way…

He turns around to see you, standing in the cave, all of them looking right at you. The small smile on your face making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“We believe there are some things we should talk about,” you say as you walk closer to them, making his children back up with each step you take.

“No fucking way,” Jason remarks, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Wait,” Tim says as he rushes over to the computer and rapidly types on the keyboard. “You can’t be Y/N. His phone says he’s still in Goodsprings and we’ve been monitoring his GPS signal, so there’s no way you could’ve come all the way to Gotham from Nevada without us knowing!”

That’s right, they’ve been monitoring your phone ever since Alfred helped them remember you, tracking you every move and committing your searches, social media usage, and all your texts and phone calls. They would’ve done the same to your computers that are linked to your phone, but your cybersecurity is tougher than they anticipated (clearly custom) and they haven’t been able to crack the encryption.

He knew you were skilled at making videos games, but he didn’t know your skills with technology expanded into cybersecurity. Ever since they made that discovery, Tim’s spent nearly all day trying to pierce your firewalls, but hasn’t made any progress. He’s also made it clear he wants to have lengthy conversations on computers and programming with you once you’re back home.

So, you’re still in Goodsprings, so who the hell is this, why the hell would they take your form, and how the hell did they get into the Cave without setting off any of the dozens of alarms or sensors?

“Who are you” Damian hisses, taking a defensive posture. “And what gives you the right to assume the form of my brother?”

“You have some nerve calling him your brother,” the Not-You hisses back, the smile morphing into an all-too familiar snarl. “He is too good for you, for any of you.”

Even though he knows this isn’t you, hearing those words in your voice still hurts him.

“Do you know Master Y/N,” Alfred interjects, trying to bring tensions down, most likely so he can learn more from this person.

“Yes, we do,” Not-You responds, looking at the butler, the snarl morphing into a look of… admiration? “And we know you, Alfred Pennyworth. We know of you and how you helped him during his stay in this wretched mansion. You have our gratitude.”

“Look, whoever you are, stop taking Y/N’s form,” Steph exclaims. “You’re obviously a shapeshifter, so turn back to normal! Or the very least, take a different form!”

“Oh, do you all wish for us to take another form,” the Not-You asks, a ghost of a smirk gracing “your” face.

“Yes,” Bruce says without hesitation.

It’s bad enough to see you look at them with such hatred, he won’t tolerate some imposter doing the same thing.

“Very well.”

Before them all, the Not-You turns into a shifting mass of some type of black organic mass before taking on a humanoid shape once again and Bruce’s heart stops when he takes in the new form.

“Hello, Bruce,” the shapeshifter says in a voice he hasn’t heard in years.

Not since that fateful night in Crime Alley.

“Good God,” Alfred says, his eyes wide and his jaw practically on the floor.

In front of them is his mother, every detail exactly how she was that night, still adorned in her favorite pearl necklace and wearing her green dress.

As he stares at her looking at him with those eyes that use to look at him with nothing less than unconditional love, he feels his breathing start to become erratic and eyes begin to mist up.

“What’s wrong, Bruce,” the shapeshifter says in her voice (god, even her voice was exactly how he remembered) as they begin to walk towards him, making him step back. “I thought you would be happy to see me. It has been so long since I was killed.”

“No,” he says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “You’re not her. You can’t be.”

“But I am. Do you not see? I know everything you have done.” His mother’s face then morphs into a disgusted snarl, making him sick to his stomach. “And I am absolutely disgusted in you! Why did we have to die that night? Why not the disgrace we once called our son!”

He knows this isn’t his mother and she never would’ve called him a disgrace, but hearing those words in a voice he’s longed to hear for so long makes him want to cry.

He’s had dreams of seeing his mother’s in the flesh again and now he has to endure this berating? Is he truly that horrible of a man to deserve this?

“Stop it, you bitch,” Jason exclaims as he steps between Bruce and the shapeshifter. “Take another form or get the fuck outta here!”

“Oh, you want us to another form?” His… the shapeshifter shifts once again and in his mother’s place is…

“Hiya, Dead Hood,” Joker exclaims before exclaiming in that all-too familiar cackle and waving around a crow bar in his hand. “Did you miss me?”

It doesn’t take a detective to notice Jason tense up and his breathing stop; Joker left a mark on Jason that unfortunately will never be erased (another shortcoming that eats away at Bruce everyday) and whenever news of Joker escaping Arkham would bring up all the anger, fear, and sadness that was planted in Jason that night he died.

After Joker was killed, he noticed a weight seemed to be lifted off of Jason’s shoulders. Sure, he made jokes about the clown burning in hell, but Bruce could see he was genuinely happy and was ready to move on form that horrible chapter in his life.

And now, all that trauma is about to be dug back up after four years.

“You have five fucking seconds to take another form before I beat the shit outta you,” Jason says in a tone that says he means business, his eyes flickering into that shade of Lazarus green.

“How about this form,” the shapeshifter says in Joker’s voice before changing into John Grayson, making Dick tense up. “Or this form?” John Grayson then shifts into Janet Drake, making Tim tense up.

“Alright, you made your point,” Barbara shouts. “Just turn back into Y/N.”

And with that, the shapeshifter takes your form again.

“Who are you,” Bruce growls, pissed that his sons have had their trauma jabbed at. “We know you’re not Y/N, but you know him and us.”

You may call us the Megamycete.”

“Megamycete,” Tim asks. “So, you’re not human?”

“No, we are a super colony of mold given sentience via a Lazarus Pit.”

“Of course a fucking pit’s involved,” Jason mutters.

“What’s your tie to Y/N,” Dick interjects.

“Y/N is our host. Before, we were confined to a cavern beneath this city, but when we joined with him, we were freed from our prison.”

“So, you’re using him.”

The Megamycete glares at Bruce for his accusation.

“No, he and us operate on mutual trust and respect. Y/N is a respectable young man.” A smirk appears on “your” face. “A trait he clearly did not inherent from you.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Even though this thing is probably the reason why you feel so much hate towards them, it still pains him to know this is his reality.

“Were you responsible for the Joker’s death,” Steph chimes in. “We found weird strains of mold in his remains and you’re a walking, talking pile of mold.”

“While we are not directly responsible for the Joker’s death, we do not deny we were involved. That night, Y/N took us out to Amusement Mile to celebrate when we learned the Joker was sighted in an arcade. Upon seeing the many deaths left in his wake, our host took matters into his own hands and eliminated the biggest threat this city had ever seen.” It gives Bruce a wide smirk. “In a single night, our host did more to help Gotham than you and your brood have done in years.”

Knowing you were responsible for killing Joker didn’t sit well with him. Sure, he’d accepted that Joker’s games were only going to end with one or both of them being dead a long time ago, but knowing that you, his son, had killed him…

“What about Harley,” Dick asks, breaking Bruce out of his thoughts. “He killed her too?”

“She forced his hand. He had no choice.”

“What do you mean he had no choice,” Dick shouts. “Did you force him?”

“Do not be stupid,” it says, glaring at his first son. “Our host was in complete control of his actions that night. We no more control his actions than you. The woman was a lost cause, without Joker to keep her in line, she would have punished all of Gotham as retribution for the loss of her love. Also, she would have informed you of him, causing you to devote all your resources to finding him. In order to both save Gotham from her wrath and himself from your scrutiny, Harley had to die.”

No, this thing has to be lying. There’s no way you, one of his sons, could ever rationalize killing someone. It had to have forced you to kill them. It had to…

“How did you even find Y/N,” Damian interjects.

Upon being asked that question, it smiles. And not a normal smile, but a smile that says it knows something they don’t know and something tells Bruce he’s not going to like it.

“He was thrown into our cavern after being left for dead.”

Bruce hears the words, but they just don’t process.

You were… left for dead? When? How?

“It was four years ago, while the butler was on his vacation. That day, his boss was forced to retire due to Gotham’s high crime, so he was forced to find another bus stop within Crime Alley as he had no other way of returning here, where he was unfortunately captured by three thugs and takes to a cabin in the nearby forest. They intended to ransome him off for a high price due to his school uniform.”

You were held hostage? Why didn’t you call for them? For him?

He knows you have no reason to think he’d help you with homework, but surely you’d call him if you were ever—

Just then, memories from that time frame kick in.

Random…

Phone call…

Oh… Oh no…

“Since the butler was out of the country, he actually reached out and gave the thugs the phone number for this manor.”

He so desperately wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“You said all your children were with you and you all laughed and mocked the leader of the thugs.”

He sees all his children tense up at the realization and Alfred looks at him to see if it was true. Based on the butler’s look of shock and disbelief, he knows it’s the truth.

“The one time he reaches out to you for help, you laugh and mock. He needed you and you failed him in the worst way possible.”

He remembers that night. He thought it was so stupid that someone would think he wouldn’t know when one of his kids were missing. He said all his children were with him and meant it.

God, he really is the worst, isn’t he?

“After that phone call, the leader took all his frustrations out on our host, beating him until he could cry out for mercy no longer before shooting him in the head.”

He wants to cry when the image of you being beat up enters his head, and based on the way he flinches, so does Jason, who looks like he wants to cry.

Alfred looks like he’s ready to go nuclear and Bruce doesn’t blame him. Hearing all this years later and he had no idea what happened just proves he was never worthy of being your father.

“He was on the brink of death and had he not accepted our offer to become our host, he would be dead and the world would have been deprived of a brilliant mind.”

The thought of you dying brings a brunch of thoughts to the surface.

How long would it had taken him to notice you were missing?

How would he reacted upon learning you were dead?

Chances are your body would’ve never been found and all there would be to remember you by would be a tombstone with your name in the Wayne Cemetery. Hell, you’ve made it clear you want nothing to do with the Wayne name, so you probably would’ve never agreed to be buried with the rest of the Waynes.

“Our joining restored him to full health and gave him access to many powers, including our records.”

“Records,” Tim asks, clearly interested in this.

“We have existed for four-hundred years, our roots expanding towards every corner of this city. As our roots touched those buried beneath the ground, not only have we watched the goings-on of Gotham, but we absorbed the memories, knowledge, and structure of the deceased. As horrible as the city is, it has attracted many brilliant minds, like artists, scientists, engineers, and many more. He has access to the knowledge of these people, making him one of the smartest humans alive.” It chuckles. “In fact, many of your employees are in our records and he used this knowledge to get revenge on you, selling the secrets of your company to Lex Luthor for a tidy sum.”

You were the one who did that? He’s been racking his brain and reviewing network logs to find any sort of security breach and it was you using the remains of his dead employees.

“Alright, so that solves a lot of mysteries,” Dick interjects. “But that still leaves one: why are you here?”

“We have been by our host’s since that fateful night, peering through his memories and seeing the world through his eyes. Ever since he was forced to move to Gotham, none of you ever made him feel welcome here. For years, he wanted nothing more than to return to his rightful home, where he knew nothing but love. Now, after four years since his departure from this wretched manor, you appear, one after another, trying to bring him back to a place he despises more than anywhere else. We wish to know why.”

“He’s my son,” Bruce answers, not liking what this thing has to say.

“He’s family,” Dick adds. “Of course we’d want him back.”

“But none of you have ever made him feel that way. And if you are honest with yourselves, you never saw him as one of your own. You only want him because you feel guilty about how you treated him, and that guilt is making you believe you are owed a second chance. And you seek to obtain that second chance, no matter how much harm it does to him.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re taking about,” Jason exclaims, clearly getting more and more pissed. “Yeah, we fucked up! But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a part of this fucked up family!”

“He was never a part of this family. We know for a fact that he wishes he could take out the Wayne DNA and return it.”

“That’s because you’re manipulating him,” Damian interjects. “Nothing will change the fact that he’s my blood brother.”

“It is funny you say that when the last interaction you had with him was a fight.” It lifts hits arm and manifests a gold pen in its hand. “Do you remember this? This is the pen you tried to steal from him and then threw out into the rain when he gave you a much deserved slap upside your head. Do you know the significance of this item to our host?”

Bruce gets the feeling that he’s not going to like why that pen is so important to you and based off Alfred’s expression, that feeling gets even worse.

“This pen once belonged to his mother, made by her father when she set out to become an author. When she was taken from him, this pen was the only thing he had to remember her by. And you, the arrogant beast that you are, felt you had the right to take this, his most treasured possession, from him.” It turns its gaze from Damian to the rest of them. “And the rest of you supported this irreverent mongrel and condemned our host without listening to him before passing judgment.”

It seems like a day can’t go by that Bruce feels like the scum of the earth; ever since he learned of how he neglected you for years and forgot you even existed, his sense of worth has taken hit after hit. He was thinking about that argument you had with Damian and how furious he was when you refused to obey him not too long ago, thinking how stupid it was for you to cause so much trouble over a simple pen. Now to find out that “simple pen” was the only thing you had to remember your mother by…

It just never ends, does it?

He could spend the rest of his life atoning for everything he’s ever done to you, spend his last dollar to make your wildest dreams come true and he’d never come close to earning your forgiveness.

He knows he’s not the best father for his children, but he was never worthy of being your father and he’s certainly not that now.

“Y/N,” he whispers, knowing this isn’t you, but it has your face, your vice, and your memories, so it’s the next best thing. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He knows tears are falling from his eyes, surprising both Alfred and his children. He doesn’t want them to see him like this, but he can’t help it; the last few days have been one emotional turmoil after another and he’s reached his limits.

He failed his baby in every way possible.

“Now you understand,” it responds as it walks closer to him. “You fulfilled your purpose, Mr. Wayne. You brought Y/N into this world and had him brought to Gotham, where he was delivered into our custody. Now please, do not worry for him, we assure you we will provide him with true happiness. Go on, all you have to do is stay in Gotham and out of our host’s business.”

“Father,” Damian exclaims. “You can’t possibly be considering this!”

“Bruce,” Dick adds. “You aren’t going to actually do it, right?”

“Don’t fuck this up, Bruce,” Jason adds.

“We can’t just give up on him,” Tim adds.

“Yeah, he’s your son,” Barbara adds.

“He’s our brother,” Steph adds.

‘Family doesn’t give up on one another,’ Cass signs.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred warns, clearly not pleased at the thought of giving up on you.

He should, though. He knows that he’ll never be worthy of calling himself your father and you’ve made it clear you hate him and your siblings in every sense of the word. You wanted to go back to your childhood home in Goodsprings, a place that made you feel loved, something his home never made you feel. And the last four years were good to you based off your appearance and success. Plus, you had the Megamycete, that apparently has been more of a family to you than them.

If he was a good person, he’d put your needs and wants ahead of yours and agree to leave you alone and tell his children to do the same. Repeatedly harassing you would only make you hate them more and widen the gap between you and them. You don’t need them and clearly learned how to live without them. Over the past few days, he’s gathered every piece of information about you he can find and from what he sees, you love it in Goodsprings and fully intend on living in the house you and your mother lived.

But he’s not a good person, not by a long shot.

The night his parents were gunned down like animals in that disgusting alley, his sadness had turned into a bright inferno of rage; he wanted to inflict on every criminal that he met every ounce of his never ending vengeance and make them so afraid of him that they refuse to step outside whatever hole they call home, so that no one ever has to lose a child, a parent, a friend, or a loved one to some scumbag with a gun. That was his reason for donning the cowl.

After his parents were taken from him, he made it his mission to never lose anything of his ever again and two things that he holds dear more than anything in this world are Gotham and his family. And as long as he’s breathing, he’ll hold onto those two things until the bitter end.

Is it possible that in his mission to protect his city from Arkham’s inmates have made him forget the little details? Of course, Gotham needs Bruce Wayne as much as it needs Batman.

Is it possible that his need to hold onto his children with an iron grip has made him lose them on multiple occasions? Absolutely, he’s constantly remembering that his children are their own people and that even though they may leave him, they’ll always come home.

And that’s what his situation is with you. He knows he fucked up with you and he can never undo the damage he’s done to you, it doesn’t change the fact that you are his blood, his son, his firstborn.

You belonged to him the moment you were born and there’s nothing that can change that. He wishes he could go back in time and accept the gift of your affection that his past self spurred, but he can’t (his time as a Justice League member has taught him that going back in time is more trouble than it’s worth) and his only option is to move forward and make you see that the only place in this world for you is with him and your siblings here in Gotham, a city that has and always will belong to the Waynes.

And right now, this Megamycete is an obstacle standing in his way of completing his family. And if there’s one thing Bruce is very good at over the years, it’s overcoming obstacles.

“No.”

“Pardon,” it says, confusion etched onto its face.

“No,” he says loudly, making it clear he has no intention on letting you go. “Y/N is my son and their brother. He belongs here, with me and his family, not in some backwater town with some sentient mushroom. We’ll find a way to bring him back here and separate the two of you. And when we do, he’ll have all the time in the world to realize this is where he needs to be. Once he realizes that, all of Gotham will celebrate his return.”

He looks around and sees not only does his family seem happy with that statement, but they think the same as him.

The Megamycete looks at him, silent, seemingly shocked at his statement.

Then, it begins to laugh. First, just soft chuckles, then a laugh so loud, it echoes off the walls of the cave.

“Our host was right, you have clearly lost what sanity you had left. You reject him for years and now that you realize your folly, you seek to make amends? Please, spare us your delusions. This has nothing to do with our host and everything to do with your guilt. The moment you feel absolved, you will return to the status quo and forget he exists.” It motions to his children. “You have plenty of children here to drown in your need for forgiveness, surely you can make do with one of them.”

Then, it leans closer towards him, a smug look adorning its face.

“Also, Y/N belongs to us. He has the moment he fell into our cavern and will continue to until the end of time. Attempt to take him from us and you will suffer the same fate as those three thugs who left him for dead.”

It’s then another mystery gets solved: the slaughter at My Alibi. The three men in the back of the dining room who looked like they had gone through a meat grinder. That was your doing and they had been the ones to kidnap you and leave you for dead.

While he never advocates for killing people, he’s more than happy to make an exception for them. If they tried to kill you, they deserved to be slaughtered.

He only wishes they were still alive so he could pay them a visit before being turned over to Red Hood.

“We’ve fought plenty of Metas in the past. Do you really think you’ll be any different?”

“We have the knowledge and wisdom of countless people over the course of four-hundred years, all of them at the disposal of our host. You still think of him as that timid little thing from all those years ago, but he has become so much more since our joining. You believe yourselves superior than the rest of the general population, but you will find our host far surpasses you in every respect. He also possesses one thing your past adversaries never will.”

“And what’s that?”

“Unbridled hatred towards you.”

He wants to laugh at that. This thing must not have watched too carefully if it thinks people like Joker, Penguin, Poison Ivy, and so many in Arkham don’t hate his guts. He’s spent years being cursed at by all of Gotham’s rogues and beating all of the Riddler’s countless murder attempts to know Batman is at the top of many people’s Most Hated lists.

“If you don’t think half of Arkham doesn’t have dart boards with our pictures on them, you’re not as smart as you think you are,” Steph mocks.

“We do not doubt the genuine animosity the inmates hold towards you, but they are too far gone to imagine a life without any of you; you have foiled many of their crimes so many times, it has become one of the few constants in their lives. Every time they are put back in Arkham, they devote their time to coming up with their next attempt to best you until it is the only thing they care about. If any one of them were to ever defeat you, they would eventually realize how empty their lives are without you and their victory would soon sour.

“Joker would be a perfect example of this as he was as obsessed with you as you were of him.”

As much as he hates to admit it, the talking pile of mold is right. The clown made it clear that as much as he hated Batman, he was just as obsessed with him, going as far as to go after any criminal that took up too much of his time, Harley included in that.

And Bruce was just as obsessed with Joker, coming up with countless contingencies to counter any plot his sick and twisted mind could come up with, as well as devising security protocols and measures for Arkham to keep him contained and treatment plans to find a way possible bring his sanity back (assuming he had any to begin with).

“But our host is not like them. He has longed for a life free of you lot and now that he has that, he has no intention of surrendering it. Attempt to force him to return to this wretched manor and he will be more than happy to bring his fantasies of killing you a reality.”

He knows you hate them, but hearing that you hate them enough to fantasize about killing them cuts him deep.

“Please, I tried to kill Tim and Bruce back when I returned to Gotham,” Jason mocks, but Bruce can see Jason’s obviously concerned about hearing you thinking about killing them. “And Damian took a few tries at Tim. Everyone in this fucked up family’s got anger issues, it’s nothing weird.”

“You are kidding yourself if you believe you and that monster can a hold a candle to his fury. Your so-called anger is nothing more than a candle compared to the inferno that is his rage. You will feel the full might of his righteous fury, which will swallow you whole and leave nothing behind. And when you all are dead, you will be denied entry into our records.”

“So you don’t plan to absorb us,” Dick asks.

“Our host is the one who made that decision. To be added to our records is to be a part of us, and to be a part of us is to be a part of our host. He refuses to have you in his life in any way.” A small smile etches across its face. “We agree with his way of thinking. When you are gone, there will be nothing left and the world will forget any of you ever existed. And that is when our host’s revenge will finally be complete.”

It takes everything Bruce has to not flinch.

With this… thing inside you, what are you capable of? Would you really attack them with intent to kill? Would you really murder your own family?

“Make all the threats you want, creature,” Damian boldly states. “Nothing will stop us from bringing Y/N home.”

“Then this concludes our meeting, we suppose. We had hoped that we could convince you the best thing for you and our host would be to leave him alone and let the past rest, but we see now you all are too deep into your delusions to see reason. We look forward to seeing our host tear you apart, bit by bit.”

In the blink of an eye, the Megamycete turns bone white and crumbles like chalk, scattering all over the floor, leaving them all to stare at the remains in silence.

“So,” Alfred says, breaking the silence. “Was anyone ever going to tell me about a call regarding a random?”

The tension becomes so think, Bruce thinks he’ll start to choke on it. He racks his brain to come up with any answer, but doesn’t find any. At lease not one that won’t make Alfred pissed.

Clearly his children came to the same conclusion, because they remained silent as well, looking away or at the floor when he met their gaze.

“I have to say out of all the disgraceful things all of you have done throughout the years, this definitely takes the cake. I know Master Y/N wasn’t a priority for any of you, but I never would’ve dreamed you would allow him to be put in danger like being held hostage by common thugs.” Every word he says is dripping in venom. “I am absolutely disgusted with all of you.”

The words cut him deep and he deserves it. It was thanks to his incompetence that led to you being kidnapped, beaten to a pulp, shot in the head, and tossed into a cavern like trash and left for dead in a place no one would ever find you.

There’s nothing he can do that will ever make up for all that he’s done to you. He can apologize until he loses his voice permanently, spend all his money to buy you apology gifts, and subject himself to whipping by your hand until he’s lost every bit of his skin and he’d never scratch the surface of everything he’s done to you.

You came to him, a scared little child who just lost his mother and was forced to move to a massive city to live with a man he’s never met and all you wanted was for him to tell you that he loved you and that everything was going to be alright, but no, he was too caught up in his work as Batman instead of finding a healthy way of dealing with losing Jason.

But that’s not all he did, was it?

As much as he wants to, he can’t deny that he replaced you with Tim after the boy lost his parents. He suffered the same loss as you, but he gave Tim the help he needed while denying it to you. But that’s his fault, not Tim’s. His inadequacies are his alone to deal with, not any of his children’s (a lesson he keeps forgetting).

And he did the same thing several more times, bringing in more children and giving them all the love and affection you were denied as a child. He can’t help but wonder what went through your mind as you saw him spending time with them, both in groups and individually. And when you watched them hanging out in the dining room when they came home from patrol, enjoying themselves and each other while you were left alone in some room barely the size of a closet.

God, how many times did you wonder when you’d be asked to join before giving up?

When exactly did you give up on them?

And of course, he can’t forget about how he handled you and Damian meeting, another sign he was never fit to be a father. He knew Damian’s LoA upbringing left him unable to interact with others the proper way, but he still allowed him to see you (because he never considered your safety a priority) and allowed the boy to draw a sword on you, give you a scar on your face, and make several threats on you and insult your mother.

And what did he do after that?

Did he do the responsible thing by taking away the sword, scold the boy for his unacceptable behavior, and make it clear you were his brother and that he’s not allowed to hurt you?

No, of course not.

He did nothing but carry Damian off while allowing him to shout even more threats and insults, thinking nothing about the harm you just experienced and thinking Damian would just outgrow of his behavior on his own.

If he had to guess, it was probably that day you realized you didn’t matter to him and that Damian was the only one he considered a biological son.

Y/N, his baby boy.

He’s so sorry.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Bruce finally says, making his family turn their eyes to him. “We still need to bring Y/N home. Meeting this Megamycete just makes it more important we get him back to the manor.”

“And if Master Y/N fights you? Based off what you were able to gather from both crime scenes, this Megamycete appears to make him a formidable opponent.”

“We can find a way to neutralize it,” Tim chimes in, motioning to the crumbled remains. “I’ll analyze the remains to find a weakness.”

“And if that’s not enough, it said it has roots all over Gotham,” Barbara adds. “I can use the Clocktower to locate the closest sample.”

“Say you manage to subdue Master Y/N and rid him of the Megamycete. What then?”

“Then we make it clear he’s a part of our family now. And we’ll keep telling him that until he believes it. And when he does, we’ll give him the love we should have given him.”

Alfred looks at him before glancing at his children, all of them nodding in agreement.

“I shall hold all of you to that promise. We have a second chance to right our wrongs. I highly doubt we’ll be given another. But don’t think for a second this conversation is over.”

And with that, the butler turns on his heel and promptly makes his way out of the cave, clearly still furious at them.

“Alright, everyone,” he says, getting their attention. “We have work to do. Barbara, get to the Clocktower and start searching for the Megamycete’s roots. Tim, start analyzing the remains and see what you can find. And be ready to receive new samples. The rest of you, be ready to go out and retrieve the roots.”

They nod and set out to work, leaving him with his thoughts.

Fuck, after hearing all that, his mother probably sees him as a failure now. He had so many opportunities to make this right, but he being the complete and total fuck up that he is, missed them, leaving you all alone to fall into the hands of low-life thugs and a sentient mushroom.

He balls his fists so tight so tight he draws blood, but not caring at the pain or the drops of crimson falling onto the cave floor.

All he had to do was be there for you, love you, tell you he’d always be there for you, but he couldn’t do that. When he first learned of you, he was shocked to hear that he had actually been stupid enough to not take precautions to prevent getting a woman pregnant and actually thought you were an inconvenience, blaming you for something that wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t asked to be born, you didn’t ask to lose your mother in such a tragic way, and you sure as hell didn’t ask to be given to a man who had no right to be called a father.

He—

No, this line of thinking isn’t doing him any favors.

He takes a deep breath and releases it, throwing all his thoughts and emotions into a dark corner of his mind and locking them behind a massive door (like he always does instead of dealing with them in a healthy way). He’s done the same thing to so many other thoughts and feelings, what’s the harm in doing it now?

What he needs to do now is find a way to deal with a Megamycete and figuring out a method of getting close to you to administer it so they can bring you back home. While that’s already an uphill battle, the true war will be convincing you that they’ve changed and that you need to come back to the manor and live with them.

You’re his son and the brother to his children. And as much as you want to deny it, you have Wayne blood coursing through your veins, tying you to him and Gotham. You belong here, by his side.

And when this is over, he’ll throw the largest gala Gotham’s ever seen to show his love for you.

He’ll do whatever it takes if it means having you back home so h and your siblings can bathe you in their love and affection.

Even if it means taking away your powers and dragging you back here.

Like he said, he’s not a good person.

Tag List: @space1crow @lunaluz432 @type-ink @bat1212 @eyeless-kun @deathbynarcisstick @minkyungseokie @orbitingtraveler @1s3v3n1 @nosyrobin @roseytheteacup @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @bellethesleepypotato @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @exactlynumberonekryptonite @paolexsstuff @fantasyhopperhea @c0l1fl0r @ellaprime7 @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @ratchetprime211 @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @bunbunbread @starsdotalk @luna57765 @solelifauna @jsprien213 @diejager @lizz-lrm @v0idl1nq @chericia

[hoe4hockey]

NSFW A-Z Quinn Hughes

Warnings - smut and mentions of smut. DNI if you are a minor.

Is it even a hockey themed blog if you aren’t posting Quinn Hughes content? 👀

A - Aftercare

Very important to him. Wants to make sure you are well taken care of and well looked after. If anything can be a bit too intense at times. “Quinn someone who just fucked me so hard and I’m pretty sure bruised my cervix can’t then turn around and hand feed me and wipe sweat from my forehead.”

B - Body Part (Their/Yours)

Loves his hands, loves how strong they are and how long his fingers are. Like that he catches you watching him flex his fingers and his veins running along his hands makes you almost drool.

Loves your smile, doesn’t always come off as a fun loving guy but anytime you smile whether it be because of him or literally anything else he eats it up.

C - Cum

Comes hard and lots. Doesn’t care where it ends up as long as he can see it dripping from you or out of you.

“That’s it baby, stick your tongue out and show me how good I taste.”

D - Dirty Secret

Hasn’t ever tried it and wouldn’t know how to ask but wants to try anal. So bad. Like he dreams about it. You walking around the lake house in a skimpy little bikini doesn’t help the situation at all.

E - Experience

Has had a few partners but when you first started dating everything was still a bit clunky as he stumbled around and learned every little thing you like, what made you tick. Now he can make you come from flicking and tweaking your nipples alone. You fear Quinn Hughes may have ruined you for anyone else.

F - Favourite Position

Loves missionary. Loves looking into your eyes and swallowing your moans with kisses while he feels you fall apart around him. Also like to have access to your neck to wrap his long fingers around it.

G - Goofy

Quinn thinks there is a time and place for goofiness and the bedroom isn’t one of them. He can make you giggle and laugh after he’s ruined you.

H - Hair

Dark thick hair that he keeps neat and tidy, connects to a snail trail that when he stretches and his shirt lifts it drives you insane.

I - Intimacy

Very very big on intimacy, in any sense. Loves being close to you and knowing that you are his and his alone.

J - Jerk off

Might do it once or twice a week. Doesn’t really have the need if you aren’t there. His teammates have joked after he drilled into them at practice that maybe he needs to blow off some steam.

“The only thing I’ll be wrapping my hand around is my girls neck and I think that will be exactly what I need.” He says to Brock, leaving him standing in shock in the hallway. He couldn’t look you or Quinn in the eye for a few weeks.

K - Kink

Choking - big fan of choking. He likes his hands knows you like his hands and knows you like them too. Got drunk one night and you wrote necklace between his thumb and pointer finger then placed his hand around your neck. He legitimately almost came in his pants.

L - Location(Favourite places to do it)

Strictly a bed guy, likes having you spread out before him so he can do whatever he wants to you.

M - Motivation (What turns them on/gets them going)

You being a brat. It spins his head and flips a switch inside him.

N - No(Draw a line In the sand)

Will not have sex with you anymore if his brothers are around. Only because they either have some sick intuition and have walked in on you guys in some not so pg13 positions.

O - Oral

Giver, could spend hours buried between your thighs. Wants to feel your thighs squeeze his head and watch them quiver as he tastes you on his tongue over and over again.

P - Pace

Likes to take his time and savour every moment. Would never go fast and want it to be over quickly unless absolutely necessary.

Q - Quickie

The only time they are required are during the off season when you and him offer to go and pick up dinner so you can have a little fun in the car before you get home. Yet somehow Jack still texted midway through and requested you guys pick up some extra stuff.

R - Risk

Quinn is very calculated and thinks about things heavily before he does them, in life, in hockey and also with sex. Doesn’t love the idea risk at all. In any sense, especially when it comes to you.

S- Stamina

Has stamina thanks to working out and training but he really just is a sleepy guy at his core. Loves doing what needs to be done then watching a movie and cuddling into you afterwards.

T - Toys

You have them but you only use them together. He caught you once when you didn’t hear him come through the door and the “punishment” that followed was almost worth doing it all over again.

U - Unfair(How much they like to tease)

Loves it, will tease you any chance he gets. Even in public he is so good at it and sneaky about it the only person who knows are you and him.

Hands in you underwear at a team dinner, check.

Laying on the couch watching movies with his family during the summer and his hands are cupping your breast under your shirt, check.

V- Volume (how loud they are or/what noise they make)

Moans and groans into your ear or your neck, the action sending vibrations all over your body.

W - Wildcard (random head cannon)

Has terrible nightmares, wakes up sweaty and breathing heavily gripping his chest. Looks over and see’s you and suddenly everything feels better again. Will hold you close and almost inhale you while he drifts back to sleep.

X - X-ray

Above average in length. Used to be insecure about it but has definitely learned to use it.

Y - Yearning(how high is there sex drive)

Doesn’t think he has a particularly high sex drive until he isn’t with you then it feels like he could quite literally stretch his skin off. Makes it even worse when he comes home from a roadie and then you can’t walk the next day.

Z - ZZZ(how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Has trouble sleeping in general. Does enjoy staying up and watching you cuddle into him, when he eventually does drift off has an arm firmly wrapped around you.

[holyblonded]

chipotle bag | stargirl

pairings: vicky lopez x platonic!reader, alexia putellas x teen!reader

summary: you get a tattoo behind alexia’s back

warnings: mention of needles, implied illegal tattooing?

notes: this is based off a a real life experience 😭

“Are you sure about this?” Vicky asked as the two of you jogged behind the group during training, keeping your voices low to avoid being overheard. She looked at you with skepticism, her brows furrowed.

“So sure, man. I’ve begged Alexia, but she keeps saying no. Olga’s more open to it, but even she can’t change Ale’s mind,” you muttered, glancing ahead to where Alexia was leading the pack, her focus fully on the drills. “I’ve tried everything. Sweet-talking, pouting, even doing extra chores. Nothing works.”

Vicky sighed, shaking her head as she dodged a stray ball. “And you really think this plan of yours is going to work?”

“It has to,” you said, determination tightening your voice. “They’ve got date night tonight and are staying in Madrid. I’ll have the car all to myself. This is my only chance.”

Vicky rolled her eyes but a smile played on her lips. “Alright, what do you need me to do?”

Your face lit up with a mischievous grin. “Just be ready by seven. I’ll pick you up, and then we’ll get the supplies. After that, it’s game on.”

Vicky’s eyes widened, a laugh escaping her. “You? Driving? This might be my last day on earth. I didn’t know Alexia even let you near her car keys.”

You scoffed, feigning offense. “I’m a great driver!”

“Sure you are. Just last month, you almost took out the trash bins,” Vicky teased, dodging your playful shove. “This better be worth risking my life.”

“It will be,” you promised, a spark of excitement in your eyes. “You’ll see. It’s gonna be epic.”

“You’re so—” Vicky’s retort was cut off by the sharp blast of the coach’s whistle. “Enough chitchat! Let’s see some pace back there!”

Both of you straightened, picking up speed to catch up with the rest of the team. But the grin on your face didn’t fade, and neither did the anticipation bubbling in your chest.

The sound of your car’s engine hums low as you pull up in front of Vicky’s apartment. Vicky is already standing by the door, her excited energy almost radiating off her as she waves you down.

You roll the window down and lean over the passenger seat. “Ready to break some rules?”

Vicky grins, hopping into the car. “You bet I am. Let’s do this.”

As soon as she shuts the door, you floor it, the engine roaring to life, and the two of you take off, heading toward the tattoo parlor. You turn the music up loud, blasting a random playlist of 90s hits to set the vibe.

“So, uh, you have the address, right?” you ask, glancing at her.

She shrugs confidently. “Of course I do.” She pulls out her phone, tapping it a few times. “It’s just, uh, down the street… or wait, no. It’s like, off a weird little alley or something? Okay, yeah. Turn left after the second roundabout.”

You frown. “Vicky, I don’t think that makes any sense. There’s no second roundabout on this road.”

She waves a hand dismissively. “Just trust me. Turn left, then take the first right after the… uh… well, you’ll see.”

You’re already halfway through the intersection, trying to figure out where “the first right” even is. “Okay, you’re gonna have to be more specific. Are we looking for a big sign? Anything that looks like a tattoo place?”

Vicky squints at her phone. “Hmm, no, I don’t think so… Oh! Wait, maybe it’s on the street with the coffee shop that looks like it’s from the 80s?” She gestures vaguely out the window.

You glance at her, your grip tightening on the wheel. “Vicky, that coffee shop was four blocks back. What are you talking about?!”

Her eyes widen in a mild panic. “Okay, okay, don’t freak out. I know where it is! Just… keep driving straight. Maybe it’s on the next street? No, the one after that! Uh, no wait, I think I missed it. It’s fine, we just have to go back.”

You groan, hitting the turn signal for the third time. “We’re lost, Vicky.”

“No, we’re not!” She insists, trying to stay calm. “We just need to find the place. You’ll know it when you see it.”

“Is it next to a pharmacy? Is there like a… giant neon skull or something?” You’re about ready to pull over and Google it yourself when she shakes her head.

“No, no skulls. But I think there’s a place that sells leather jackets nearby? It’s kind of like… vintage-y.” She sounds less and less certain with each word.

You slam on the brakes, and she nearly hits the dashboard. “You think?! We’re literally driving around in circles.”

“I swear, I know the area,” she mutters, her eyes darting around, trying to spot any signs of the tattoo parlor.

“You don’t!” you exclaim. “Vicky, you’re killing me right now.”

“Okay! Okay! I got this,” she says, suddenly pulling out her phone again and tapping furiously. “I’m looking at the map, I just need to—”

“Do you know how to read a map?!” you ask, half-laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

“I’m an expert at Google Maps. Trust me!” Vicky declares, but then her phone starts buffering. “Wait, no. Why isn’t it loading? Why isn’t it loading—”

A few more circles around the block and a couple more near-misses with pedestrians later, you finally spot a familiar coffee shop on the corner. Vicky shrieks triumphantly. “THAT’S IT! THERE! It’s right past the alley!”

You make an abrupt turn down the alley, heart racing. You can’t believe you’re actually following Vicky’s instructions. The car bumps over uneven cobblestones, and you finally pull into a parking spot, nearly knocking over a trash can.

“Well,” you sigh, throwing the car into park. “At least we’re here.”

Vicky’s face lights up in victory. “See? Told you! We made it!”

You smirked and looked at your best friend, “Let’s go get my tattoo.”

You sit in the tattoo chair, nervously fiddling with the hem of your shirt, trying to keep your hands still. The buzzing of the needle fills the room, and you can feel your stomach flip with every faint pulse of electricity that hums in the air. You try not to look at it as the artist preps, but Vicky is already hovering over you, her face twisted into a mix of awe and disgust.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” Vicky’s voice is high-pitched with disbelief, her hand clutched to her chest as she watches the needle touch your skin.

“Yep. Gotta represent,” you mutter, flashing her a grin. You’re trying to look casual, but your leg is already bouncing nervously.

The artist, a heavily tattooed guy with a sleeve of intricate designs and a steady hand, raises an eyebrow at your nervous fidgeting. “You alright, kid?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say quickly, shifting in the chair, trying to act cool, “It’s just a tattoo. I’ve had worse.”

Vicky looks like she’s about to faint just from watching, her eyes wide and her hand gripping the edge of the chair like she’s preparing for a battle. “Nope. Nope, nope. I can’t. I can’t even watch this,” she says, turning her head and looking away dramatically.

“Oh, come on,” you laugh, trying to act like it’s no big deal, even though the needle is digging into your skin. “It’s not that bad.”

Vicky’s eyes snap back to you, but only because you let out a small, involuntary hiss of discomfort. “See?! You’re hurting already!”

“I’m not hurting,” you grumble, attempting to act all tough while your fingers dig into the chair’s armrest. “It’s just a little sting.”

The artist grins, clearly enjoying your internal struggle, as he starts outlining the numbers “113” on your wrist. It’s a big, bold move, representing your club and your country, but in this moment, you kind of wish you could be anywhere else. Maybe on a beach. Or in your bed, watching a movie, wrapped in blankets. Something comfortable.

Vicky snorts. “Little sting, huh? Your face is turning pale. You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“I’m fine,” you insist, trying to give her a steady look. You grit your teeth, feeling the needle trace the curve of the “1” on your skin. It’s sharp. It’s… a lot sharper than you anticipated.

“Uh-huh, right,” Vicky scoffs, her eyes flitting between you and the artist like she’s watching a horror movie. “That’s why you’re squeezing the life out of the armrest. I swear I saw your eye twitch.”

Your whole body stiffens as the artist begins shading in the numbers, the buzzing filling the room again. It stings. A lot. You try to act like it doesn’t bother you, but then you let out a little yelp when he goes a little too deep into the shading.

“See?! Told you!” Vicky points at you, her fingers trembling as she gestures to your squirming body. “You’re going to need a break in a second. I just know it.”

“I do not need a break,” you insist, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m… I’m fine.”

Vicky grins in that sarcastic way only she can. “Sure. Sure you are. I’m just waiting for you to start crying out in pain, like some kind of dramatic soap opera star. You know, when the tears fall and you scream ‘¡Ay, por favor!’—”

“Vicky,” you growl, “shut up. Please. I’m trying to be tough here.”

You feel your leg trembling. The artist leans over and starts on the cursive “Mi estrella brillante” beneath the numbers, and you have to hold back a whimper as he glides the needle over your skin. It’s definitely not getting easier. You swear, if you weren’t in public, you might just break out into a full-on sob.

Vicky, of course, is no help. She’s practically holding her nose now, scrunching her face like someone just hit her with a wave of terrible smells. “Why does it sound so squishy? Is that… is that the blood? Do tattoos make you bleed?”

“No,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper as the needle continues its maddening pattern. “That’s just… the ink. You know, the stuff that actually makes the tattoo. We’re good. This is fine.”

Vicky makes an exaggerated gagging sound and turns away, dramatically clutching her stomach. “I’m going to be sick, I swear. Someone hand me a bucket.”

“Stop acting like you’re the one getting tattooed,” you snap, but you can’t help the small laugh that slips out.

“I don’t need a tattoo,” Vicky says, crossing her arms and tapping her foot. “I’ve got my own ways to show off my style. Like… my hair. Or my shoes. Or…”

You groan in frustration. “Why are you still talking?”

She smirks at your pained expression. “Because it’s fun to watch you suffer,” she says, leaning in closer to you like she’s watching some kind of dramatic slow-motion action scene. “You’re doing great, though. Keep pretending you’re tough. You’re almost there.”

“I’m tough,” you mumble, though you’re pretty sure you just made a weird, high-pitched noise when the needle hit a sensitive spot on your wrist.

After what feels like an eternity of needle-poking and you acting like it doesn’t bother you, the artist finally pulls away, revealing your finished tattoo. The numbers “11:13” are bold and clean, the cursive script of “mi estrella brillante” curling gently below, a tribute to Alexia and everything she’s meant to you. You blink at it for a moment, letting the reality sink in.

You look at Vicky, who’s still half-turned away, but peeking through her fingers. She gives you a thumbs-up. “Not bad, not bad. You didn’t pass out… though I was really hoping for that. Would’ve been hilarious.”

You flip her off weakly with the hand that’s now sporting the tattoo. “Yeah, well, you should try it sometime. You might survive it.”

“Uh-uh,” she shakes her head vehemently. “Not me. I’m gonna stick to my ear piercings, thank you very much.”

You roll your eyes, but a grin sneaks across your face. You’ve got the tattoo, the number, and the phrase that represents you, Alexia, and everything you’ve worked for.

The sun is just starting to rise, the warm glow filtering through the trees, but you’re already at the pharmacy, standing in front of the aftercare aisle like it’s a battlefield. You’re trying to focus on the lotions and creams, but the reality of having a tattoo is starting to hit. It feels weird—like, really weird. It’s not sore, but there’s something about it that feels… permanent. And a lot more real than you anticipated. You don’t think you can look at it much longer without getting a little too emotional, so you’re just going to grab the essentials and get out of here as quickly as possible.

You reach for a bottle of ointment, eyeing the label as you feel a pair of eyes on you. You glance to your left and freeze.

“Well, well, well,” Alba grins at you, leaning casually against the aisle like she’s been there for hours. “I knew I’d find you here.”

You panic for a second. “Alba, what are you—”

“Oh, please. You think I didn’t notice the whole ‘I’m sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night to get a tattoo’ vibe? Plus you accidentally butt dialed me yesterday,” she teases, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I might not be a tattoo expert, but I know what a sneak looks like. And you, Estrellita, are definitely a sneak.”

You try to act casual, but you’re pretty sure the constant fidgeting is giving it away. “It’s not that big a deal, Alba. I just wanted a tattoo to, uh, commemorate some things.”

Alba smirks. “Uh-huh. Sure. And you picked 11:13 because you just randomly picked numbers out of a hat, right?”

“Stop it,” you groan, but it’s too late. Alba is already snapping her fingers like she’s won a prize.

“You got the numbers AND the mi estrella brillante part, didn’t you?” She laughs, pulling the bottle of aftercare lotion from your hand and reading the label dramatically. “How adorable. You’re a walking tribute to Alexia. I love it.”

You groan, leaning against the shelves for support. “Why does this feel like such a big deal now that you’re here?”

“Because you’re a rebel now, Estrella,” she says, crossing her arms. “You’ve joined the dark side. You can’t just get a tattoo and then expect to go back to your regular life. You’re officially one of us now.”

“Ugh, you’re impossible,” you mutter, trying to turn away and grab some bandages, but Alba is quick, blocking your path with her body.

“Uh-uh, no way,” she says, grinning. “You’re not getting off that easy. I’m following you home, and I’m definitely gonna be there when you show it off to Alexia.”

“Please don’t,” you say quickly, your face going pale at the thought. “She’s already going to be mad at me for getting it in the first place. She’s going to lose her mind if she knows you were involved.”

“Too late,” Alba chirps, clearly pleased with herself. “I’m in this now. And there’s no way I’m missing this show.”

You take a deep breath and try to focus. “Fine. But just… please, don’t let her freak out too much, okay? Please. I don’t want her to flip.”

“Relax, Estrella. I’ve got your back,” Alba says, giving you a thumbs up as she grabs a bag of bandages and a bottle of ointment. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t throw a fit… or I’ll at least try.”

The two of you walk back to the house, Alba chatting about random things while you mentally prepare yourself for the inevitable explosion when Alexia finds out. You’re so focused on preparing for her reaction that you almost don’t realize when you walk through the door.

That is, until you hear the familiar sound of Alexia’s voice.

“¿Estrelleta?” she calls from the kitchen, and you freeze, eyes wide as your heart starts pounding.

“Hide it,” Alba whispers, pushing you toward the living room as she steps in front of you, blocking your arm from view.

“Alba, no,” you hiss, your stomach twisting in knots.

“Relax,” she whispers back, a mischievous grin playing on her face. “I’m gonna do some expert blocking. You’ll be fine.”

Alexia enters the room just then, her eyes flicking from you to Alba suspiciously. “What’s going on here?” she asks, arching a brow. “Why is she acting so weird?”

Alba steps in front of you with perfect timing, her body perfectly positioned so Alexia can’t see what you’re hiding. “Oh, nothing,” Alba says casually. “Just making sure Estrella is getting some proper care after her… uh, minor surgery.”

Alexia looks at her, confused. “Surgery? What are you talking about? Is everything okay with Estrella?”

“Yes, yes,” Alba says, acting like this is all perfectly normal. “Just… normal stuff. You know, you don’t have to worry about her.”

Alexia narrows her eyes. “What is she hiding behind you? Estrella, what’s going on?”

You instinctively move your arm behind your back, but Alba shifts so her body is blocking every angle. Every time Alexia takes a step forward, Alba steps with her, perfectly positioning herself so Alexia can’t get a good look at you.

Alexia, now thoroughly suspicious, moves closer. “Seriously. What is that about? What are you hiding?”

You keep shifting uncomfortably. “Nothing! Nothing, I swear!”

“Estrelleta,” Alexia says, her voice dropping to a more serious tone, “Stop hiding. What’s going on? Show me.”

Alba is still in full blocking mode. “You don’t need to see it,” she says, her voice overly casual. “It’s nothing. Just a little… thing. A secret thing. Nothing that should concern you.”

Olga enters the room just then, raising an eyebrow at the weird tension in the air. “What’s going on?”

Alexia takes a step forward, trying to peer around Alba. “I don’t like this. Estrelleta, why are you acting so weird?”

“Seriously,” Alba mutters under her breath, taking a step forward and blocking Alexia’s path once again. “It’s nothing, Alexia. Nothing to see here. Move along.”

But Alexia isn’t letting up. Her eyes narrow, suspicious. “Enough, Alba. Move. What are you two hiding from me?”

“Fine!” You finally snap, knowing you can’t keep this charade going forever. You pull your arm from behind your back, revealing the freshly inked “11:13” and “mi estrella brillante” in delicate cursive.

Alexia’s jaw drops, and Olga’s eyes widen. There’s a long, charged silence.

“What the hell? You got a tattoo?!” Alexia asks, her voice a mix of disbelief and frustration.

“I… um… yeah,” you mumble sheepishly, looking down at the tattoo as if it might vanish. “I thought it was a good way to… you know, commemorate everything.”

Alba immediately steps forward, clapping her hands. “You see? It’s not that big of a deal. It��s just a little ink. She’s not hurting anyone.”

Alexia glares at you. “You went and got a tattoo without telling me? After I told you no god knows how many times? Do you know how permanent this is?”

“I—I didn’t want you to upset you,” you say, voice shaking slightly as you try to explain yourself.

“This isn’t just a tattoo, Estrella. This is something that’s going to stay with you forever! Forever!” She takes a breath, clearly struggling to stay calm, but it’s not working. “Do you have any idea how much I worry about you already? And now this? Do you have any clue how scared I get when you do stuff like this? You’re sixteen! You shouldn’t be getting tattoos on a whim!”

There’s a long pause. Finally, Alexia takes a deep breath, calming herself, her voice softening. “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, you’d be in deep trouble right now.”

“I’m… I’m sorry?”

Olga just laughs, shaking her head. “Honestly, I’m impressed. It’s… a nice tattoo. I like it.”

“I’m still not over the fact that you went behind my back,” Alexia says, arms crossed.

“I didn’t want to get a lecture,” you mutter, feeling like you’re five years old again.

Alba shrugs, a playful glint in her eyes. “Hey, she’s her own person now. Let her live.”

Alexia sighs, glancing at your tattoo one last time. “Fine, but don’t think this is over.” She points at you. “We’re talking about this later.”

You nod meekly, knowing there’s no escaping the conversation that’s coming.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I’ve seen fics where Joaquin is hurt, so I thought why not do things a little differently…I’m unhealthy addicted to this man. (Have since the show but didn’t capitalise on writing for him then, grave mistake tbh though there still wasn’t much for him back then either.)

The mission with Sam and Joaquin was a success but one reckless misstep caused you to be put right into a hospital bed with a uncharacteristically quite Joaquin by bedside, his hands clasped together tightly in front of his face as his beautiful dark eyes seemed distant and unfocused as they gazed at the wall across from him.

‘You can quit mentally going over funeral arrangements for me, I’m still alive to continue being a pain in your ass.’ You tell him once you had awoken, but it seemed as though your attempts of making light of a serious situation only seem to put Joaquin even more in a sour mood.

‘You sure have a weird way of trying to comfort me you know? Making jokes about your own hurt and thinking that I’ll just laugh along?’ Joaquin said as he looked at you, eyes sharp but filled with worry as they looked over your bandaged figure. ‘Is nearly dying really a funny experience for you?’ He then adds rhetorically. It was obvious that you being hurt had more of an affect on Joaquin then it did you, maybe because you had time to be accustomed to how dangerous the job was, which resulted in giving you a weird sense of fucked up humour when you find yourself on the hospital bed.

‘Joaquin-‘ you began as you reached out for his hand but it seemed as though your friend and mission partner wasn’t quite done.

‘Do you know how I felt when I found you hurt?’ Joaquin starts, unable to keep the feelings with him any longer then he already had, hating how helpless he felt upon finding out that you were hiding an injury as serious as this as though you didn’t view yourself as someone valuable. ‘And the fact that you kept it from us, from Sam but most importantly,’ Joaquin paused when he felt himself letting his emotions rise to the surface as tears brimmed his beautiful eyes, ‘you kept it hidden from me, we’re meant to be partners y/n, partners.’ He adds in a way that made you know that what he felt towards you was a lot deeper then you two just being partners.

‘Are we not partners?’ Joaquin asked.

‘Of course we are!’ You replied without hesitation, reaching out and grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers together. ‘You’re my best friend and the best mission partner I could have ever asked for-‘

‘Then why did you feel the need to hide your hurt from me.’ Joaquin interrupts you, though you noticed how tightly he held onto your hand as though he was scared to let go of you, and in the moment you hated yourself for making Joaquin worry over you like this. You truly were the worst when it came to these things but with Joaquin you wanted to be as transparent as possible with him, expect when it came to needing help and your feelings for him it seems, and you couldn’t help but feed into the idea that due to this Joaquin deserved better…better than you at least.

‘The mission comes first Joaquin you know this as well as I, so why should it matter if I’m hurt or not.’ You said to him, hating how it seemed as though Joaquin could see through you whenever you looked in his dark eyes, bringing you under the impression that he seems to know you better then yourself and you feared that that was the truth. You wish you could hate him but you knew you’d be lying if you ever said that because you knew you’d love the man until you couldn’t, making you fear how far you’d actually go for him and vice versa.

‘Well it matters to me! You matter to me! So sorry for not wanting to watch my best friend and love of my life die on a hospital bed.’ Joaquin exclaims suddenly, taking you both aback by the outburst of repressed emotions but Joaquin pushed through as he moved his hand from your grasp, moving to hold your face within his hands instead as he rests his forehead again yours. ‘Especially not when I have so much to say to you that I should’ve said far, far sooner instead of hiding.’ He adds softer this time as he moved to press a tender kiss your forehead, making you smile softly at the feeling, before pressing his head back against there.

‘And what would those things be my dear falcon.’ You asked analog sheepishly as your hands reached to keep his hands again your face, caressing the backs of them with your thumbs, smiling at how while this wasn’t the ideal place for you to admit your feelings but it didn’t feel any less magical then it did right now.

Joaquin smiles for what felt like the first time since he’s been sat beside you. ‘We’d be here for a really, really long time if we want to go into specifics,’ you both laughed at this, knowing that you would spend just as long listing of the things you loved about him in return, ‘but to keep it short all you need to know is that you’re the best part of me, my better half and the one person who could make me feel like this when I’m under the impression that I could one day loose you forever.’ Joaquin sighed and closed his eyes, leaning further into you as though trying to convince himself they you were still here with him.

‘I don’t ever want to see you like this ever again, not as long as I can do something about it to keep you safe from this day onward.’ Joaquin admits and you felt yourself becoming warm and giddy it made you forget why you were in the hospital for brief moment in time, for you were too focused on the beautiful and brave man in front of you holding you like you were everything and to him you very much were.

‘Then I can only promise to be more carful on missions from here on out if it’s to keep your heart from breaking, for I wouldn’t want to hurt someone as important to me as you Joaquin,’ you then moved your hand to wipe away the unshed tears from his eyes, taking your time with it as well as you caressed his tear stained cheeks with care and held the weight of a death as though you were in fact scared of hurting him. ‘I never went to see you shed a single tear more of my reckless ass.’ You add and this time Joaquin laughed along with you as he kissed your palms sweetly, smiling against them.

‘Then I guess you’ll have to deal with me being a little overprotective on the future missions.’ Joaquin says barely above a whisper.

‘I wouldn’t mind that at all, not a single bit.’ You replied, kissing his nose and smiling, happy to know that your feelings weren’t unreciprocated like you originally thought, but also happy knowing that your heart was in the safest hands you’ve ever known.

[glossykissies]

clark and his gf who’s all sad because her friends keep ditching her and he’s trying to make her feel better.

love you so much on both blogs!

i like this as bsf!clark who’s in love with you so he hangs out with you and all your girl friends and is basically apart of your group — just so he can be near to you.

you’d planned a girls night, and clark was fine with that because… well, he had stuff to do around the barn anyway. you’d been excitedly rambling about it all week — buying facemasks, ordering pizza and pulling out the best girly romcom dvds to ensure a perfect night… until they all cancelled.

you were a sweet, sensitive soul who didn’t take well to disappointment, so clark’s heart sank when the phone rang, your best friend picking up only to be met with your snivels.

“look, hey, don’t cry — i’ll come over, okay?” he coo’s, his natural instinct being to coddle you and just hope it didn’t come off as patronising. you usually seemed to like it.

“what— what about the barn? ‘said you were busy with it tonight—”

“ah, the barn can wait.” he blows it off. you can’t see him but you know he waved his hand as he said it as if to convince you even more of its unimportance. “my old man’ll understand. he thinks you’re a total angel. infact i think he’d be more mad at me if i didn’t go to see you.”

you sniff, twiddling pathetically with the phones curly wire. “well… if you’re sure…”

“completely sure. i’ll be over there as fast as i can.”

clark was a little too excited, having to convince himself not to use his super speed.

he didn’t expect you to be so upset however, ending up beside you on the couch with a hand on your back as you cried. he knew it would be rude to ask if your emotions had anything to do with your menstruation cycle, he wanted to slap himself for even thinking of it — but he wondered if that had a part to play.

“i just feel like i always put in effort with people but there’s always something more important.” you rant, swiping beneath your eyes in frustration. clark shuffles closer, tentatively placing a hand on your back.

“mhm?” he urges you on in a gentle tone, hoping to ease you into a more relaxed mood.

“i was excited.” you pout, turning to face him — seeming to be at the end of your meltdown. he presses his lips together with a sympathetic smile.

“yeah, i figured. i mean, look at all this effort you went through setting this up.” clark validates you, lifting a hand to gesture to the way you’d decorated the living room with snacks and movie options, blankets strewn across the couch creating a comfortable atmosphere. “i suppose we’ll have to enjoy it just the two of us.” he grins, mindful of his tone — not wanting to seem like he wanted to take advantage of this situation, even if he secretly did.

“you’ll even do facemasks with me?” you let a smile slip, peering up at him through wet eyelashes. he grimaces like he’s pretending to think about it as you giggle, now being the one to shuffle closer to him.

“you gonna put cucumbers on my eyes?”

“oh yes, the full spa experience.” you tease, and clark can’t help but reach up and brush the final tear off your cheek with a fond smile. you lean happily into his hand, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“i’m lookin’ forward to it.”

clark effortlessly takes your mind off things, a natural at distracting you with dumb dad jokes, debating over pizza toppings and lastly making silly observations about the rom-com you’d landed on.

you’re sleepy — clark had noticed you always got sleepy after eating a big meal, and after tearing through copious amounts of pizza you’d allowed yourself to lay on his chest, tired eyes glued to the screen as he strokes your back, afraid to even breathe wrong incase you come to your senses and crawl off him.

you couldn’t help it, he was just so big and warm — it would be a waste for him to take up all that space and for you not to use it. you figured you were close enough to cuddle anyway, thigh cocked up in a half straddle on his lap, sleepily giggling at a point he made.

“i just don’t get why the main love interest is being played by a forty year old.” he shrugs and you chortle harder against him.

“y’so warm.” you muse out of nowhere, drunk on tiredness. it had to be nearing 2am at this point; and you’d totally let your guard down. you feel his heart skip a beat against your ear.

“uh— really? oh, well… thanks. i think?”

“s’a good thing clarkie.” you shift until you’re looking up at him, faces inches away, body to body. clark licks his lips, brows furrowed slightly as tries (and fails) not to glance at your mouth. “thank you for hanging out with me.”

“y—eah.” he rasps, voice breaking at the low volume. he clears his throat, and you take an extra second longer to look at him before dropping your head back down, body getting heavier over the minutes that pass as you slowly succumb to sleep. clark stays awake, unable to sleep a wink, too consumed by the feeling of you on top of him.

[wongyuseokie]

Theories & Heartstrings | k.m.g

Chapter 2: Cuddles and Chaos

Summary: As a writer with a mildly cynical take on love, you’ve always believed people have a “type”—a pattern they never stray from when it comes to dating. And Kim Mingyu? He’s the textbook definition of someone who wouldn’t go for someone like you, nor would you go for him. But you test your theory when a fateful run-in with your charming neighbour sparks an unexpected attraction.

The plan? Go on dates with him and count how many it takes before your heart gets involved—if it ever does. But Mingyu is unpredictable, effortlessly breaking down your carefully constructed walls with every smile, every late-night conversation, every moment that feels too easy to be just an experiment.

The real problem? Secrets never stay secrets for long. And when Mingyu finds out the truth behind your so-called theory, will it prove you right, or that love doesn’t follow the rules you thought it did?

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕smut

Word Count: 16,477 words

Pairings: Neighbor! Mingyu x Journalist! Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Neighbours AU! Fake Dating AU! (but only one is fake dating. It’ll make sense when you read it, lol). Non-Idol AU!. 

Content Warnings: There is slight body insecurity—it’s not much, but it’s a smidgen. She just feels insecure after seeing a pretty girl, but there is nothing graphic or too triggering. some jealousy (lies) ALOT of jealousy and petty ass fighting and just alot of drama. Alcohol consumption, food consumption. drama because yn thinks he’s cheating and he’s not she just wont let him explain. very heavy on the miscommunication. LOTS OF DRAMA, BUT YES THE STORY IS FINALLY BREWING HEHEHEH. LOTS OF ANGST AND HURT.

Smut Warnings: shower sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, big dick mingyu because duh. teasing, lots of it, mingyu is just so hot and yn is only human. facesitting because yay. very slight ass play, very slight. lots of sex ig, they're very horny. Author's Note 1: I'd be remiss if I didn't thank the lovely people who helped beta this monster of a story. thank you @lovetaroandtaemin @nebulousbrainsoup @strxwberry-skiess for your patience time and love thank you guys so much!! Author's Note 2: welp here it is guys my last fic, ever, but good news, this is only chapter 2, and the rate at which i keep increasing my word count, it'll be a while before this is all over. Series Masterlist

The following week had flown by, and before you knew it, the evening of the housewarming party had arrived. You found yourself in Mingyu’s kitchen, sleeves rolled up, meticulously pouring in the limes into the jug as while your other hand stirred a jug of freshly made cocktail mix. The sweet and citrusy aroma filled the room, and you couldn’t help but hum to yourself as you mixed the ingredients, tasting it with a little spoon to make sure it was just right.

In the living room, Mingyu was moving furniture around, occasionally stopping to check his phone for the playlist he had put together. You glanced over at him, watching as he adjusted the position of the coffee table for what had to be the third time.

“Gyu, it’s a housewarming, not a photo shoot,” you teased, grinning when he shot you a mock glare.

“It has to look nice,” he replied, half-serious, half-amused. “I can’t have people thinking I live like a caveman. Plus, Seokmin and Cheol will literally roast me if the place doesn’t look good.”

You laughed, wiping your hands on a towel before grabbing the cocktail shaker. “Trust me, no one’s going to notice the coffee table’s angle when they’re tipsy off these drinks. I’m making a batch of margaritas and something fruity for the lightweights.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow. “Are you calling me a lightweight?”

You smirked. “I’ve seen you after a couple of shots. You’re definitely not the heavyweight you think you are.”

He put a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “That’s a bold claim. I’ll prove you wrong tonight.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Sure, big guy. We’ll see who’s carrying who to bed later.”

Mingyu paused from his rearranging to lean against the doorway, watching you with a soft smile. “You look really cute when you’re bossing me around in my own apartment; you know that?”

You gave him a playful glare. “I’m just making sure this place doesn’t become a disaster zone. Someone has to keep you in check.”

He chuckled, walking over to help you slice the remaining fruit. “I’ll admit, I’m not the best party planner. You make it look easy.”

You shrugged, pouring the freshly mixed cocktail into a large glass dispenser. “It’s all about preparation. If you keep everyone’s glasses full, they’re happy. And if you have good snacks, they’ll never want to leave.”

Mingyu nodded, watching you expertly garnish the glasses with lime wedges and salt rims. “You’re a natural. Maybe you should be in charge of a ll our parties.”

You shot him a look. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to do any of the work.”

He leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like watching you take charge. It’s... pretty hot.”

You bit back a smile, trying to focus on not spilling the drink you were pouring. “Save that energy for later. We’ve got a party to run.”

Mingyu smirked, finally relenting and heading back to finish hanging some lights above the window. You couldn’t help but glance at him as he stretched to hook the string of fairy lights, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of toned skin. You shook your head, focusing back on the drinks.

After a few more minutes, Mingyu stepped back, admiring his handiwork. “Perfect. This place looks great. You think it’s good?”

You took a step back, surveying the room. The living room looked cozy yet lively, the fairy lights giving a warm glow, and the cocktail station was well-stocked. “It’s perfect. You did good.”

He looked at you, a hint of pride in his eyes. “We did good.”

You grinned, handing him a small glass of the margarita mix. “Taste test?”

He took a sip, eyes widening. “Okay, that’s dangerous. It’s way too good. People will be wasted in no time.”

“That’s the plan,” you joked, taking a small sip yourself and savouring the tangy flavour.

Mingyu took the opportunity to drape an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side. “You know, you didn’t have to go all out. But I really appreciate it.”

You leaned into him, your head resting against his chest for a moment. “I just wanted to make it nice. It’s your first party here, and I wanted it to feel special.”

He kissed the top of your head. “It already does. Because you’re here.”

You looked up at him, catching the fondness in his gaze. For a moment, you forgot about the party entirely, lost in the way his eyes softened when they met yours.

After making sure the cocktails were perfectly set up and the living room was finally arranged to Mingyu’s satisfaction, you stretched your arms over your head and glanced at the clock.

“Alright, I should probably go back to my place and shower, get ready,” you said, wiping your hands on the dish towel and giving Mingyu a small smile.

He looked up from where he was fiddling with a Bluetooth speaker, his brows lifting. “You’re not just gonna rock the oversized T-shirt and sweatpants look to the party?”

You snorted. “As tempting as that sounds, I don’t think your friends would appreciate my just-rolled-out-of-bed aesthetic.”

He smirked, eyes trailing over you for a moment longer than necessary. “I dunno, I think it’s pretty cute.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you kept your cool. “I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t burn the place down while I’m gone.”

Mingyu shot you a cheeky salute. “No promises.”

You rolled your eyes and headed out the door, crossing the hall back to your own apartment. Once inside, you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. Being around Mingyu for too long was like standing too close to a fire — all-consuming and just a little too hot to handle. After grabbing a clean towel and some comfy clothes, you made your way to the bathroom. As the hot water poured down, you couldn’t help but replay moments from earlier. The way Mingyu had looked at you while you were making cocktails, how his touch lingered just a bit longer than usual. You bit your lip to hide the stupid smile spreading across your face.

Once you’d washed away the sweat and stress of the afternoon, you wrapped yourself in a towel and headed back to your bedroom, still combing through your wet hair with your fingers. You opened your closet, glancing through your options and mumbling to yourself.

“Something cute, but not too dressy... not too casual either... ugh.”

You’d barely pulled out a dress to inspect it when a knock sounded at your door. You froze for a second, heart racing. Quickly making sure the towel was secure, you called out. “One sec!”

You tiptoed over, peeking through the peephole to see Mingyu standing on the other side, looking far too relaxed in his own sweats and a plain white T-shirt. You cracked open the door, peering out. “Gyu? What are you doing here?”

He grinned, holding up a plastic bag. “I realized I have no mixers left, so I raided your fridge. Thought I’d be polite and ask first.”

You gave him a look. “You couldn’t just text me?” Mingyu just shrugged. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t fall asleep or something. Plus, you left your phone on my counter.”

You glanced at his hand and sure enough, your phone was right there. You huffed a laugh, reaching out to take it. “Thanks.”

His eyes flicked over you, and you suddenly remembered that you were still just in your towel. You tightened it instinctively, a little heat creeping up your neck. Mingyu didn’t seem to notice your discomfort — or if he did, he was doing a great job of hiding it.

He cleared his throat. “You, uh, smell good.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Shampoo. You should try it sometime.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “Rude. I smell great.”

You leaned against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow. “Debatable.”

Mingyu gave you that lopsided grin you’d come to love. “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair. Just wanted to let you know about the mixer situation. Also... you need help picking an outfit?”

You hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “Sure. Might as well get a second opinion.”

He perked up instantly, stepping inside without hesitation. You led him to your room, keeping a grip on your robe just in case. You motioned to the dress hanging on your closet door. “What do you think of this one?”

Mingyu eyed it thoughtfully, then shook his head. “Too fancy. You’d look amazing, but it’s a bit much for a house party.”

“It’s not formal,” he said as he crossed to your closet. “Just wear whatever makes you feel hot.”

“I want to look good,” you replied, brushing past him to rifle through your wardrobe.

“You always look good,” he muttered, eyes following the sway of your robe.

You didn’t notice his stare until you let the robe drop from your shoulders and reached for your bra.

Mingyu froze. “Fuck.”

You jumped slightly, realising a second too late that you were now standing completely bare in front of him.

“Sorry—I forgot I was only wearing this.”

Mingyu stood behind you, voice low. “Let me help.”

You swallowed thickly, nodding.

He moved with precision, sliding your panties up your legs, guiding them gently into place. You were keenly aware of every brush of his fingers against your skin. When he reached for the dress, you muttered. “I need a bra.”

“No, you don’t,” he said without missing a beat, his hands moving up to your chest, thumbs brushing gently across your nipples.

“Right now, I definitely don’t.”

He helped you into the dress, tugging the fabric into place and smoothing it over your hips.

“Perfect,” he said, voice husky.

You turned to face him, narrowing your eyes. “You’re such a horndog.”

“You’re just so fucking irresistible,” he murmured, pushing you down gently onto the bed. ~~ A half hour later, after some very distracting ‘help’ with your outfit, you were at Mingyu’s apartment, helping set up the drink table and food.

“Y/N,” Seokmin greeted with a warm grin. “You look amazing.”

“She does,” Mingyu said proudly. “I helped her get dressed.”

You gave him a warning glare.

Seokmin smirked. “I’m surprised you didn’t just try to get her out of it.”

You turned hid shyly behind Mingyu, who, bless him, actually looked sheepish.

“Hey, did you hear? Mia’s coming later. She just texted me.” Seokmin added. 

Mingyu raised a brow, pausing mid-step. “Really? She’s back in town?”

Seokmin nodded, barely containing his excitement. “Yeah, she’s visiting for a few weeks. Said she’ll swing by tonight if she finishes up early.”

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course she would. It’s been ages since she’s hung out with everyone.”

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but the name “Mia” stirred something bitter in your stomach. You glanced at Mingyu, trying to gauge his reaction, but he just seemed relaxed and happy about the news.

“Oh, right. Mia.” You forced a smile, taking another sip of your cocktail. “She’s... a friend of yours?”

Mingyu nodded, still grinning. “Yeah, we go way back. She’s pretty tight with the guys, too. Used to hang out all the time before she moved.”

You hummed noncommittally, trying not to show how that made you feel. The rational part of your brain knew that Mia was just a friend, but the way Seokmin seemed thrilled and Mingyu didn’t look the least bit uneasy was enough to twist something sharp in your chest.

“Man, Mingyu, remember that one time Mia convinced you to sing at that karaoke bar? Absolute disaster.” Seokmin burst into laughter, and Mingyu rolled his eyes with a smile.

“She was the one who picked a ballad for me. She set me up for failure,” Mingyu grumbled, though there was no real annoyance in his voice.

You couldn’t help but chime in, voice a little colder than you intended. “Sounds like you two were close.”

Mingyu glanced at you, noting the tightness in your tone, but Seokmin just kept laughing. “Oh, they were! Mia and Mingyu were basically inseparable at one point. He had such a crush on her, would look at her with heart eyes.”

You raised an eyebrow, the words sticking to you like burrs. You wanted to ask more, but you couldn’t bring yourself to sound interested. Instead, you took another long sip of your drink, pretending to focus on the music rather than the irritation bubbling up inside you.

Seokmin seemed oblivious to your change in mood, but Mingyu wasn’t. He nudged you lightly with his shoulder. “You okay?”

You plastered on a smile. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, clearly not buying it. “You sure?”

You shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. “It’s just... interesting, that’s all. Didn’t realize you had such... close friends around here.”

Mingyu blinked, clearly confused by your shift in demeanor. “Well, yeah. I mean, Mia’s been part of the group for a long time. It’s not a big deal.”

“Right,” you replied, forcing a bright smile. “Not a big deal.”

Mingyu gave you a slightly exasperated look, like he knew you were holding something back but didn’t want to push. “You’re acting weird.”

“Am not,” you said, trying to sound breezy but probably failing miserably. “I just didn’t realize you had karaoke buddies. Next time, you’ll have to take me.”

Seokmin snorted. “Oh, trust me, you don’t want that. Mingyu’s voice could probably clear a room.”

Mingyu shot him a glare. “You’re one to talk, Seok.”

But you were too wrapped up in your own thoughts to laugh. Suddenly, the idea of Mia just waltzing in, sharing inside jokes and old stories, made your skin itch. You hated how petty you felt. You knew logically that Mia was probably just a friend, but the casual way Mingyu talked about her like she was some great part of his past grated on your nerves.

You didn’t want to look jealous. You didn’t want to act childish. But the frustration kept prickling under your skin, making you more and more irritable. When Mingyu reached out to brush his hand over yours, you pulled away, pretending to adjust your shirt.

Mingyu’s smile faltered. “Okay...”

You cleared your throat, glancing at Seokmin, who was still happily oblivious. “I should go check on the snacks. Make sure we’re not running out.”

Without waiting for a response, you hurried off to the kitchen, your heart pounding. You knew it was silly, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe you weren’t quite as special to Mingyu as you thought.

Back in the living room, Mingyu frowned, watching you leave. Seokmin nudged him, completely missing the tension. “You good, man?”

Mingyu sighed, eyes still on the kitchen doorway. “Yeah... I just don’t get it. One minute she’s fine, the next she’s acting like I did something wrong.”

Seokmin gave a low chuckle. “She’s jealous, you idiot.”

Mingyu’s eyes widened. “Jealous? Of Mia?”

Seokmin nodded sagely, patting his friend’s shoulder. “Oh, definitely. And you’re too dumb to notice.”

Mingyu opened his mouth to protest, but then realization dawned on his face, and he couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his lips. “She’s jealous...”

Seokmin smirked. “Yeah, and if you want to keep your head intact, maybe go check on her before she decides to break one of your precious cocktail glasses.”

Mingyu didn’t need telling twice. He got up and made his way to the kitchen, determined to figure out exactly what was going on in your head.

You were elbow-deep in a bowl of popcorn when you heard footsteps approach from behind. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was—Mingyu’s quiet but certain walk was becoming something you could recognise even over the hum of your own sulky thoughts.

He leaned against the fridge, arms crossed, watching you in silence for a beat. You didn’t look up.

“Hey.” His voice was low, almost hesitant.

You kept your eyes trained on the bowl as you stirred. “Hey.”

“Are we gonna talk about whatever that was?” Mingyu asked, voice laced with more confusion than annoyance.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and gave a half-hearted shrug. “It’s nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing,” he replied, stepping closer. “You kind of acted like I told you I still loved my ex or something.”

You dropped the popcorn scoop with a clatter,

Before the words could escalate into something sharp, the kitchen door creaked open, and in walked Joshua with a slice of pizza and a poorly timed smile. “Oh, hey. Didn’t mean to interrupt the brooding.”

You didn’t say anything. Mingyu gave a tired smile, barely there.

Joshua bit into his pizza. “So, uh… you two aren’t fighting about the Wonwoo thing, are you?”

The silence after that was deafening.

You blinked slowly. Mingyu’s eyes didn’t leave you. “What thing?”

Joshua’s mouth froze mid-chew. “Wait. You didn’t know?”

“Joshua,” you warned.

Mingyu’s voice was quiet. “What thing?”

Joshua grimaced. “I thought she told you. It was just… a kiss. One kiss. Before you two—” He waved the pizza vaguely.

“Joshua,” you snapped again.

“I’m just gonna… go,” Joshua said, already backing out the door. “You guys got this.”

The door clicked shut.

You turned to Mingyu slowly. “I was going to tell you.”

His brow furrowed. “And yet… you didn’t.”

“I didn’t want it to ruin things.”

“You think that’s how trust works?” He asked, his voice even. Too even. “You just edit the truth when it’s inconvenient?”

“I didn’t mean to hide it,” you said, stepping forward slightly. “I was scared.”

“Of what? Me?” Mingyu let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “I’ve been nothing but honest with you. And you keep giving me the edited version of everything.”

“It was just a kiss.”

“It was a lie of omission,” he said. “Which sucks worse.”

You didn’t respond. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t sound like an excuse.

Mingyu rubbed the back of his neck. “I need to cool off.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

He lingered for a second, looking like he wanted to say more. But then he just turned and walked back toward the living room, slipping seamlessly into the laughter and noise of the party like nothing happened.

You stayed in the kitchen, hands braced on the counter, trying to steady your breathing.

No crying. Not here. Not now.

After a few minutes, you straightened up, smoothed your dress, and followed the hum of music back into the party.

The music had shifted to something warmer, deeper—bass-heavy and slow, perfect for the cozy, slightly overcrowded atmosphere of the living room. Fairy lights strung above cast soft amber glows, and bodies moved through the space with ease, cups in hand, voices rising in laughter and inside jokes. You were leaning against the arm of the couch, watching the party unfold with a drink balanced delicately in your hand, half-smiling at Seokmin's loud declaration that he was the “unofficial DJ of vibes.” Mingyu was across the room, perched on the arm of a chair, laughing with someone you didn't know—his expression open, relaxed, like the kitchen conversation hadn’t happened at all. Like he hadn’t looked at you two hours ago like he wanted to scream.

You were still reeling, replaying the way he’d pulled away from you when Joshua dropped that half-truth bomb in the kitchen. The way his face had shifted, gone taut with a kind of disappointment you didn’t know how to soothe. He hadn’t said much after. Just, “I need to go back out there,” before brushing past you, leaving you holding a bowl of popcorn like it had offended him personally.

You'd rejoined the party five minutes later, after touching up your makeup and trying to will your breathing back into something calm. Now, you nursed your cocktail and kept one eye on Mingyu as he drifted from conversation to conversation.

Then the front door swung open.

“Mia!” Seungcheol called from somewhere near the stereo, his voice rising with familiarity and welcome.

Your stomach tightened before you even saw her.

Mia stepped into the apartment like she belonged there, hair tucked perfectly behind one ear, wearing a burgundy two-piece that fit her like sin. She laughed as she kicked off her shoes, her eyes scanning the room until they landed on Mingyu.

And he lit up.

His smile reached all the way to his eyes, soft and immediate. She crossed the room with purpose, and before you could blink, her arms were around his neck.

It wasn’t a polite hug. It wasn’t a “hey, long time” side hug. It was full-bodied, both arms thrown around him as she pressed her cheek to his shoulder. Mingyu hugged her back just as tightly, one hand curling behind her head, fingers slipping into her hair with practised ease.

You didn’t realise you’d stopped breathing until Seokmin’s voice startled you. “You okay?”

You blinked and nodded too quickly. “Yeah, totally. Just—want a refill.”

“You haven’t finished that one.”

“Then make it stronger,” you said, shoving your cup toward him.

Seokmin raised an eyebrow but took it. “Okay, but I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just sound like you walked out of a rom-com’s dramatic midpoint.”

You didn’t answer. You were too busy watching Mingyu and Mia finally pull apart, only for her to say something that made him laugh—a real laugh, the kind he used to make at your dumb jokes, when things were easier and fewer secrets lived between your ribs.

Then she leaned in and whispered something in his ear.

And he didn’t flinch. He just grinned and nodded.

You looked away, forcing a tight smile as Seokmin handed you back your cup.

“Trouble in paradise?” He asked, trying to keep it light.

You didn’t take the bait. “Do you think Mia always looks like that on purpose, or is it just genetic cruelty?”

He blinked. “Wow. Okay. That’s the gin talking.”

“No, that’s me. The gin just amplifies it.” You took a long sip. “Cheers to that.”

Seokmin gave you a look, like he wanted to ask more, but someone called him over to the speakers, and he gave you a mock salute before turning away.

You glanced back toward Mingyu. He was still talking to Mia, though his eyes flicked to you for a brief second.

And you didn’t smile.

You turned on your heel, heading for the kitchen again—not because you needed anything, but because you couldn’t stand the way your chest ached when he looked like he belonged to someone else.

Or worse—like maybe he did. ~~ You didn’t move right away.

The muffled bass from the living room thrummed through the floor. Laughter and glasses clinking together floated just beneath it. The hum of the party was still alive, unaware that something in you had started to dim.

Still, you couldn’t hide in the kitchen forever.

You smoothed down your top, pressed your fingertips against your cheeks to chase away the warmth, and grabbed a drink that wasn’t yours but felt earned all the same. Steeling your nerves, you walked back into the crowd.

It didn’t take long to spot him.

Mingyu was leaning against the back of the couch, drink in hand, smiling politely while nodding along to something Mia was saying. She looked even prettier up close — black heels, glossy hair, a red lip that said I’m effortlessly bold and know it. His head tipped slightly when she laughed.

Your stomach twisted.

Then he looked up.

And saw you.

There was a beat — a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes — before he set his glass down and motioned you over. You hesitated for a second too long, and he seemed to register it. Still, he crossed the space between you with ease.

“Hey,” he said, voice low. “You okay?”

You nodded, pasting on a soft smile. “Fine.”

“Good.” He reached for your hand — the smallest gesture — and laced his fingers with yours before leading you back across the room. “Come meet Mia properly.”

You swallowed, your steps a little too careful as you followed him. He brought you to her like he was presenting something special, and the way he held onto your hand didn’t go unnoticed.

“Mia, this is Y/N,” he said, voice lighter now. “My... neighbour.”

You blinked. Not friend. Not girl I’ve been having sex and confusing and half-falling for. Just neighbour.

You stretched a smile across your face anyway. “Hi.”

Mia returned it with a polite one of her own, eyes flicking from you to Mingyu’s hand wrapped around yours. “Oh, the girl with the bonsai.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Word travels fast.”

Mingyu coughed. “She may or may not have almost knocked me out with it.”

“I thought it was your nose she almost broke?” Mia added helpfully. “He mentioned it.”

You fought the urge to glare.

“Well,” Mia said, her smile widening a little, “it’s nice to finally meet you. I was starting to think you were a myth.”

You tilted your head. “Nope, all real.”

Mia let out a soft laugh and sipped her drink. “Touché.”

The three of you stood there for a moment, the silence awkward and polite and loaded.

You took a long sip of your drink after Mia drifted off to speak with someone else, your eyes trailing Mingyu across the room. He was back by the speakers now, joking with Seokmin and refilling his glass. You forced yourself to look away and joined a small group by the coffee table, feigning ease even though your shoulders hadn’t dropped since the moment Mingyu introduced you as his neighbor.

More people had arrived since you stepped away — the apartment was buzzing now, with drinks in hand and snacks being passed around. Joshua was animatedly telling a story in the corner, Wonwoo had somehow found his way to the balcony with a group of indie music lovers, and Seokmin was weaving through the crowd with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

He hopped onto the armrest of the couch and clapped his hands together.

“Alright, folks,” Seokmin grinned, drink raised like a toast. “We’ve reached that point in the night. Time for a little organized chaos.”

Groans and cheers rose around the room.

“No, no — none of that,” he laughed. “We’re playing a classic. ‘Never Have I Ever.’ Drinks up, voices loud, and shame on full display.”

“I hate you,” Seungcheol said, already sinking into the beanbag chair with a resigned sigh.

Seokmin ignored him. “Circle up! Gyu, Mia, you’re not escaping either. C’mon.”

You hesitated for a beat, but found yourself being pulled by Joshua toward the quickly forming circle in the living room. Mingyu caught your eye across the room. His mouth curved into a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes again.

He sat down beside Mia.

You took a spot beside Joshua.

“Alright, alright,” Seokmin said, once everyone was gathered. “House rules apply — if you have done the thing, you take a sip. If you haven’t, you survive with your dignity. Sound good?”

“Define dignity,” someone muttered, already laughing.

Mingyu took a long sip of his drink before glancing at Mia. She nudged him playfully with her shoulder.

“Fine,” Seokmin said dramatically. “I’ll start. Never have I ever… stolen someone’s underwear after a hook-up.”

A chorus of laughter broke out, along with a few gasps. Mingyu actually choked on his drink.

Joshua groaned. “Seokmin, for god’s sake.”

A few people hesitantly drank. You raised an eyebrow at Wonwoo, who kept his glass suspiciously still.

The game rolled on — the questions got bolder, the drinks stronger, the laughter louder. Then Seungcheol, already grinning like a man on a mission, leaned back in his seat.

“Okay,” he said, lifting his glass and fixing a smug look on Mingyu. “Never have I ever… written poetry for someone I had an unrequited crush on.”

A few oohs rippled around the group.

Mingyu narrowed his eyes. “Fuck off.”

Seungcheol just grinned wider. “Gyu wrote Mia sonnets, back in sophomore year. Literal. Sonnets.”

“I did not,” Mingyu groaned.

“You so did,” Mia said, laughing as she took a sip. “One was about my eyes. And my hair. And I think my ankle?”

“Your boots!” Seungcheol snapped his fingers. “It was definitely about the boots.”

You stared at your glass.

The group erupted into laughter. Mingyu smiled sheepishly and took a drink, his cheeks slightly pink — whether from the alcohol or the attention, you couldn’t tell.

You weren’t sure if you should laugh along or disappear entirely.

The bottle of soju in the center of the coffee table had been emptied, replaced, and emptied again. Someone had switched playlists, so now lo-fi R&B hummed softly in the background as Seokmin stood in front of the TV, theatrically announcing the next round of Never Have I Ever.

“Okay, okay!” He grinned, slightly flushed from drink and laughter. “Never have I ever... hooked up with a roommate.”

Half the room burst out laughing. Someone groaned and took a sip, followed by Mia with an unapologetic smirk.

“Guilty,” she said with a shrug, nudging Seungcheol beside her. “Freshman year. We don’t talk about it.”

“Oh, we talk about it,” Seungcheol grinned. “It was chaos. She almost broke his desk chair.” You forced a smile, reaching for your drink and taking the tiniest sip just to avoid standing out. Mingyu didn’t drink on that one. You didn’t either. Still, your eyes flicked to him.

He was already looking at Mia, lips twitching in amusement.

Joshua leaned into your side, voice low. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied smoothly, setting your drink down and clasping your hands together.

He didn’t believe you. You knew that. But he just nodded.

Seokmin raised a hand to quiet the giggles. “Okay, okay, next one’s mine again—because I’m hilarious. Never have I ever... been lovesick over a best friend.”

“Dude,” Mingyu groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

Mia snorted. “Seriously?”

“Oh come on,” Seokmin said, practically gleaming. “Tell me that wasn’t Gyu during second year. We had to stage an intervention when he started writing shitty guitar songs.”

“Excuse me,” Mingyu said, pointing at him with mock offense. “They were sincere guitar songs.”

“Yeah, sincere trash,” Seungcheol chimed in, laughing. “You used to mope outside Mia’s studio like a dog in the rain.”

Your heart thudded unevenly.

“She had a boyfriend,” Mingyu shot back, laughing even as his ears turned red.

“You were still so in love with her,” Seokmin teased. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Mingyu didn’t say anything. He just rubbed the back of his neck, grinning, and took a long sip of his drink.

You blinked at the rim of your cup.

That’s fine. Of course he had history. Everyone did. It didn’t mean anything.

Except it did.

The way Mia smiled at him — fond, a little smug — and how comfortable she looked next to him, curled into the couch like she'd done it a hundred times. Like she'd never had to earn her spot there.

Your throat tightened.

“Y/N?” Someone called, snapping you out of it.

“Huh?”

“It’s your turn,” Seokmin said.

“Oh.” You blinked. “Right.”

Your fingers curled around your cup.

Don’t be obvious. Don’t be petty. Don’t make it worse.

You offered a bright smile. “Never have I ever... been serenaded in public.”

A few people groaned. Seokmin drank. Joshua drank. So did Seungcheol.

Mingyu didn't. “Not even once?” You asked, your tone light.

Mingyu shrugged, leaning back against the couch. “Nope. Not my thing.”

Mia tilted her head. “You almost did it for me once.”

“Keyword being almost,” he said, flashing her a small grin.

Something cold and sharp settled in your chest.

You laughed again — a little too high, too quick — and took a big sip of your drink just for something to do.

Joshua leaned closer. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m good,” you replied, your voice bright and brittle.

“Because you’re doing the thing.”

“What thing?”

He gave you a look. “The thing where you pretend you’re having fun but your fingers are clenched so hard you’re about to snap the glass.”

You blinked down at your cup.

“Oh,” you said, loosening your grip. “Didn’t realize.”

Joshua sighed and draped an arm over the back of the couch behind you. Protective. Anchoring.

“Gyu,” he called casually, “can you pass the bottle?”

Mingyu did — eyes flicking to you for half a second before you looked away — and conversation resumed around the circle.

But the ache in your chest stayed.

And even though you kept smiling, kept playing, kept sipping your drink...

You couldn’t help but notice that Mingyu never once looked your way again during the game.

“Alright, alright,” Seungcheol said with a mischievous grin, slouched sideways in the beanbag, already halfway into his next drink. “Here’s one for the romantics. Never have I ever started falling for someone and totally denied it to everyone around me, even though it was obvious as hell.”

The room broke into oohs and laughter.

“Oof, Cheol’s feeling messy tonight,” Seokmin said, raising his eyebrows.

“God, that’s specific,” someone added.

Joshua chuckled and reached for his drink with a murmur of “we’ve all been there.” A few others followed suit.

But your eyes went straight to Mingyu.

He didn’t reach for his glass. He just froze.

His hand hovered near the bottle, indecisive.

It wasn’t just you who noticed.

“Gyu,” Seungcheol said, voice full of amusement. “C’mon, you’re not drinking? We all had front row seats, dude.”

There was a ripple of chuckles.

You felt the air still. Your pulse fluttered in your throat.

Mingyu’s lips twitched — not in amusement, but like he was chewing something back.

“Maybe I just don’t want to play along,” he said evenly, setting his drink down instead.

The teasing shifted quickly into silence.

And for a moment, all you could hear was the hum of the music and the fizz of a nearby seltzer can being cracked open.

You forced out a light laugh. “Okay, this just got intense. Time-out. I’m getting snacks.”

You stood a little too fast.

“Need help?” Joshua asked quietly.

You shook your head, smiling. “All good. I just need to… stretch my legs.”

You slipped into the kitchen, your hand curling tighter around your glass with each step. The second you were out of view, you leaned against the counter, taking a breath.

That was stupid. You weren’t supposed to care, not like this, it was still too soon.

You weren’t supposed to react.

But hearing it phrased that way — having it exposed like some public game clue for everyone to dissect — had felt like someone reaching inside your chest and yanking something raw to the surface.

You busied your hands with a snack bowl. Pretzels. Chips. Something crunchy and loud enough to mask how unsettled you felt.

Behind you, you didn’t hear footsteps.

But you still knew he was there.

Mingyu’s voice was quiet when he spoke.

“You didn’t have to leave.”

You didn’t turn around.

“I needed a break,” you said, gently tipping pretzels into a bowl. “Thought the snacks were looking lonely.”

“Y/N…”

You sighed and looked over your shoulder. “It’s fine, Mingyu.”

His brows pulled together, the crease between them deeper than before. “It’s clearly not.”

You shrugged and turned back to the cabinet.

“I’m not mad,” you said softly. “I’m just… tired of feeling like the punchline.”

He hesitated, hands curling at his sides. “You’re not.”

You gave a hollow laugh and finally turned to face him. “Aren’t I? Because it kind of feels like that’s the bit I’m playing in this group. The clueless one. The girl you’re maybe into when it’s convenient.”

Mingyu’s jaw clenched. “That’s not fair.”

“Neither is the fact that Seungcheol talks about you being in love with Mia, and you just… sit there and let it land like it means nothing.”

“I didn’t ask him to say that,” Mingyu shot back.

“But you didn’t correct him either.”

There was a silence. Tight. Frayed at the edges.

You softened just enough to look at him clearly. “I know we haven’t figured us out yet. And I’m trying to be okay with that. I really am. But sometimes I feel like I’m on the outside of something I’m supposed to be part of.”

Mingyu looked like he wanted to say something — maybe reach for you, maybe apologize.

But instead, he just nodded.

And you turned away again, just munching on the pretzels. 

~~

You lingered in the kitchen for ten full minutes — ten long, dragging minutes of quietly crunching chips, sipping a flat drink, and trying to calm the thrum beneath your ribs.

Eventually, with a deep breath and a plastered-on smile, you picked up your glass and slipped back out.

The living room had only gotten louder.

Someone had turned the music up, bodies now shifting to the beat while others hovered around the island with their half-filled cups. The drinking game had dissolved into a mix of laughter and scattered stories. You scanned the room for a familiar anchor — Joshua. Maybe he’d be ready to head out with you.

You spotted him near the hallway, surrounded by three people who were talking animatedly, hands flying with every sentence. Joshua was grinning wide, nodding along, clearly invested. You thought about cutting in — but the words caught somewhere in your throat.

He looked happy.

And you didn’t want to ruin that.

So you turned away, gaze sweeping the room once more.

And then you saw them.

Wonwoo.

And Mia.

Out on the balcony.

You hadn’t even noticed the sliding door open. The light from inside spilled faintly onto the patio, casting just enough glow to make out their silhouettes. Both had drinks in hand — hers a wine glass, his something darker in a tumbler. They were standing close, too close. She was laughing at something he’d said, one hand reaching out to lightly smack his arm. He smirked in response, leaning in to murmur something else.

Your stomach dropped.

You shouldn’t care. Not really.

But the sight made something tighten sharply in your chest.

The memory of that one kiss you and Wonwoo had shared flickered across your mind like static — stupid, harmless, forgettable. That’s what you’d both said. That’s how you’d justified it.

But it didn’t feel so harmless now.

Especially not when he was standing out there laughing with the same girl who had already been a minefield in your night.

You shifted back half a step, heart thudding in your ears.

You didn’t know what you felt. Jealousy? Guilt? Resentment? All of it layered over itself until it buzzed under your skin.

You turned quickly, almost bumping into someone as you ducked away toward the hallway.

Maybe fresh air.

Or maybe your coat.

You needed out — even if just for a few minutes.

You turned the corner in the hallway, heart set on grabbing your coat and slipping out before anyone noticed. But just as you reached the entryway, you stopped short.

Mingyu was there, leaning against the wall with a half-empty drink in his hand. His eyes flicked up the second he saw you. His expression was unreadable — but his jaw was tight.

“Leaving?” He asked coolly.

You hesitated. “Just getting some air.”

“Right.” He took a slow sip from his cup. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mingyu gave a half-laugh, dry and low. “It means every time things get even a little bit uncomfortable, you vanish. Kitchen. Couch. Front door. Doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“I’m not vanishing,” you shot back. “I just—I needed a break.”

“From what? A party?” He said sharply. “From people asking questions or making jokes? You think I wasn’t uncomfortable when Seungcheol decided to talk about Mia like we were some old married couple?”

You blinked at him. “That’s not what this is about.”

Mingyu stepped forward. “Isn’t it?”

The hallway suddenly felt much narrower.

“You keep acting like I’m the one who’s keeping things from you,” he said, voice low but simmering. “Like I’m the one still playing games. But you know what? You hid the fact you kissed Wonwoo from me.”

Your breath caught.

Mingyu shook his head, eyes dark. “You say you want something real, and then the second things feel hard or messy, you bolt. You run, Y/N. Every time.”

You flinched. That hit too close.

“I’m not running,” you whispered.

He raised a brow. “Aren’t you?”

Silence. Thick and heavy.

You looked away, pressing your lips together as you struggled to push down the swirl in your chest.

“I just need a minute,” you finally muttered, reaching for the doorknob.

Mingyu didn’t stop you. He just watched, his knuckles whitening around his glass, and said quietly,

“Of course you do.”

And then he turned back toward the living room.

Leaving you standing alone in the hallway — your coat in one hand, and your heart doing laps in your chest.

~~ It wasn’t until you were halfway down the block that the weight of your choice hit. You had no destination, no real plan — just anger and bitterness and a vague urge to walk it out. Your phone was in your pocket, but you didn’t want to use it. You didn’t want to call anyone. You just… needed to be alone.

Except, the further you walked, the more lost you became.

Every rustle, every crack of twigs made you twitch. You kept moving, kept walking faster, willing yourself not to break down. Eventually, miraculously, you spotted a familiar street name, which gave you just enough hope to return to your building.

You exhaled sharply when the elevator doors closed behind you. Safe. ~~ You reached your door and slid your keys out of your purse, hand halfway to the lock—when a voice stopped you cold.

“Y/N.”

Your fingers paused mid-turn.

Mingyu was standing in front of his own apartment, hoodie half-zipped, hands in his pockets, his eyes already on you. His hair was slightly tousled like he’d just run a hand through it too many times.

You gave a tired smile, trying to defuse the awkwardness lingering between you both. “Hey.”

But Mingyu didn’t smile back. “You might not want to go in right now.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I mean it,” he said quietly. “Just… wait a bit.”

You frowned, still gripping your keys. “Mingyu, I live here.”

“I know,” he said, gaze heavy. “But Wonwoo and Mia… they came back.”

Your heart stuttered. You let out a breathy laugh, trying to play it cool. “So? They’re friends, right?”

Mingyu tilted his head, the edge of frustration flickering in his expression. “Friends don’t usually come back from a party like that. And definitely not when he comes knocking on my door five minutes later asking for a condom.”

The words hit you like a gut punch.

You froze.

“I’m not trying to be cruel,” Mingyu added after a beat. “I just figured you’d rather hear it from me than… find out when you walked in.”

You let out a small, humorless laugh and leaned back against your door, suddenly feeling like the floor had shifted beneath you.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” you said, voice thin.

Mingyu nodded, eyes softening. “I wasn’t trying to rub it in. I just—didn’t want you to walk in and feel blindsided.”

You took a seat on the floor, back against your door, arms hugged around your knees like they were the only thing holding you together. The hallway was quiet, save for the faint muffled bass still pulsing from someone’s party playlist. You blinked slowly, trying not to think about anything. Especially not about what was happening behind that door.

Mingyu shifted from where he was standing. “Hey…” he said softly, crouching down in front of you.

You looked up, eyes heavy.

“Come inside.”

You blinked. “Gyu…”

“No,” he cut you off gently, voice low. “No expectations, no talking if you don’t want to. I just… You’re freezing.” His brows knit together. “At least let me make you tea. Or take a hot shower, or… hell, just sit on my couch wrapped in a blanket until you don’t feel like the world’s kicked you in the teeth.”

You stared at him for a long beat, and when you didn’t respond, he added—

“You can even crash in my bed. I’ll take the couch, seriously. You shouldn’t be alone tonight.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words didn’t come. You were too tired to argue, too wrung out to pretend. And the quiet sincerity in his face—no teasing, no passive digs—just soft concern and that familiar, maddeningly warm steadiness—it unraveled whatever was left of your resistance.

“…Okay.”

He nodded once, slow and quiet, like he was making a promise not to ask for more.

Mingyu stood and reached out a hand.

You took it.

And when he gently pulled you to your feet and guided you across the hall into the soft, familiar glow of his apartment, you exhaled your first real breath in hours.

~~

His apartment was warm, too clean — clearly a sign of restlessness that he felt, and in order to quell it, he decided to clean up after the party ended.

“Go shower, you can take any one of my shirts in my room.” 

You nodded and made your way to his bedroom, hands still shaking from the cold and the spiral in your head.

You stood by the bathroom doorway, fingers fidgeting with the hem of Mingyu’s oversized hoodie. You weren’t sure why your chest still felt tight, why the ache hadn’t eased yet—maybe because you still hadn’t said anything. Or maybe because you were waiting for him to.

Mingyu was folding a blanket over the couch when he paused, then glanced over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Before you go in…”

You looked up.

“I wanted to clear something up. About… Mia.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone.

“She and I never… We weren’t a thing,” he said, straightening up and rubbing the back of his neck. “I had a stupid crush on her during our first year at uni. Thought she was cool. Pretty. Funny. I followed her around like a lovesick idiot for a bit.”

You gave a tiny nod, waiting.

“But that thing Seungcheol said? About the desk?” He winced. “That wasn’t me and her. It was Seokmin and his ex. In the shared flat. I was literally in the next room, trying not to vomit from the noise.”

You couldn’t help the small, awkward laugh that escaped.

Mingyu smiled faintly, then looked down at his hands. “I just… I know tonight made you feel small. And that’s on me too. I should’ve shut that conversation down. I should’ve said something instead of letting you sit there feeling like a joke.”

You opened your mouth, but he beat you to it.

“And I shouldn’t have lost it earlier about Wonwoo. It caught me off guard, but you didn’t deserve that.”

“No,” you said quickly, stepping closer, heart thudding. “You were right to be upset. I should’ve told you. I was just… scared. It was before anything with us even started but I still felt stupid, and messy, and—”

“Hey.” He stepped forward gently, and before you could spiral further, he cupped your face in both hands.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said softly, thumbs brushing the edge of your jaw. “You don’t have to say everything perfectly all the time. You just have to tell me when something matters.”

Your breath caught.

He leaned in, not for your lips, but for your forehead—pressing a kiss there so soft it made your eyes sting.

When he pulled back, he gave you the smallest smile. “Go shower, okay? Take your time.”

You nodded, heart a little lighter.

It had been a half hour, and you were in the bathroom, not yet showered, simply looking at your appearance and wondering what Mia had that you didn’t. She got Mingyu’s attention once, and now Wonwoo, and you just looked at the mirror wondering what you lacked.

The bathroom mirror was cruel.

You stood there, picking yourself apart — everything you weren’t, everything she was.

“Y/N?” Mingyu called out now worried because you had been gone for so long. 

You didn’t respond.

Mingyu stepped in slowly, a towel in hand. “Hey. Stop that.”

“I just… wanted to see what I was missing.”

He sighed and gently helped you onto the counter, wetting the towel and wiping your face with steady hands.

“She’s pretty.”

“Stop. Do not tear yourself apart.”

“She has a great body.”

“Y/N look at me.”

You blinked at him.

“Can you shower? Or do you need help?”

“I don’t know. She got your attention and his, what does she have that I don’t?”

“Don’t do this, don’t tear yourself apart.”

You leaned into him. “Don’t pity me.”

“I’m not.”

His hands moved to your waist, slow, deliberate. “Nothing about this is pity.”

And then, he kissed you — soft, grounding, nothing like the others.

“I’m going to ask you again,” Mingyu murmured as he brushed his fingers gently against your jaw. “Can you manage to shower on your own, or do you need me to help you?”

You hesitated for a moment, then quietly pressed yourself into his chest. “I need you.”

Mingyu nodded wordlessly and began to strip, his eyes never leaving yours. “You know,” he said softly, “you are so fucking beautiful.” You looked down, unsure of how to respond. Mingyu stepped forward, tilting your chin up. “And I’m going to make sure you remember that.”

He guided you into the shower, and the minute the warm water hit your skin, you sighed. It was like the tension had been waiting to melt off your shoulders. Mingyu reached for the shampoo and ran his fingers through your hair, massaging your scalp so gently it almost made you tear up. He didn’t rush. He just took care of you. And for once, you let someone do that.

You were about to step out when Mingyu turned you gently and pressed your back to the tile wall.

His lips landed on your forehead first, then trailed down to your lips—soft, slow, and deliberate. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t about heat. It was about holding you there, steady, wanted. You kissed him back, curling your fingers into his hair, and he leaned into it.

His lips brushed along your jaw, then down your neck. He was leaving faint marks—reminders. “Just so you know you’re real,” he murmured, almost like he could read your thoughts. His hands moved up to your breasts, careful and reverent, making you gasp when he tugged at your nipple just right.

Mingyu dropped to his knees without a word, and you held your breath.

The way he licked you—patient, intentional—it wasn’t just about getting you off. It was like he wanted to remind you of what it meant to feel good in your body again. Your hands tangled in his soaked hair as his tongue moved through your folds, dipping into you, then teasing your clit with expert flicks.

Your orgasm crept up on you slowly, and when it hit, it rolled through you like a wave. Mingyu didn’t let go of you—if anything, he held tighter, anchoring you in place as you trembled through it.

“You look so fucking gorgeous when you fall apart,” he whispered, lips against your thigh. “Like this? This is mine.”

You whimpered at his words, your legs trembling. “Turn around, face the wall,” he said gently. “Can I—?”

“Please,” you breathed.

Mingyu pulled you into another kiss, your lips barely able to keep up with the emotion. Before you realised it, he was lifting you up, your legs around his waist, aligning himself with you.

“Is this okay?” He asked again, and the softness in his voice made your heart stutter.

You nodded.

The first push of him inside you made you gasp, and Mingyu held you steady, his forehead pressed against yours. “So tight,” he whispered. “So fucking beautiful.”

He rocked into you with more power than speed, and you felt your fourth orgasm build until you were practically sobbing into his shoulder. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, kissing your neck. “I’ve got you.”

“Cum inside me,” you whispered.

He nodded, kissed you hard, and thrust deeper, grunting as he spilled inside you. Your body quaked again, your walls clenching around him.

Even after he pulled out and gently set you down, Mingyu didn’t step away. He held your shaking body close, pressed a kiss to your forehead, and slid a hand down your stomach.

“One more,” he said, his voice almost a question.

You nodded.

He slid his fingers into you again, and it was too much, but in the best way. You came instantly, collapsing into him.

Mingyu held you up, whispering soft words in your ear as he washed you down carefully, wrapped you in a towel, and carried you to his bed.

He towelled your hair dry, slid a clean shirt over your head, and tucked you into bed with him, wrapping his arms around you like a safety net.

You laid your head on his chest and mumbled, “cuddly.”

“Always,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “How do you feel?”

You hesitated. “Fucked out. But safe. And wanted.”

Mingyu’s voice was quiet when he answered. “Good. That’s all I ever want you to feel with me.”

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the intimacy, but just as you started to drift off, you heard him whisper something against your hair.

“I’ll always only want you.”

~~

A couple of days later, you groaned, dragging yourself onto the couch and curling into a tight ball. “God, why does it feel like my uterus is trying to kill me,” you muttered, clutching a hot water bottle to your stomach. 

“I swear to god, fucking stupid moron,” you continued to swear, as every movement felt like punishment from your uterus.

“Okay, I just got here, so I know I didn’t piss you off,” Joshua said as he walked into the kitchen, eyebrows raised.

You glared at him. “You offering to help?”

“Not if you’re gonna bite me,” he quipped, stepping around you and grabbing the kettle. “Sit. You look like you’re two cramps away from burning down the building.”

You groaned and shuffled to the couch, burying yourself in blankets. “Ugh, I hate this. Everything hurts.”

Joshua soon joined you with a mug in hand. “Put in honey too. You're welcome.”

You smiled faintly. “You’re the best.”

“Obviously,” he replied. Then he glanced at his phone. “I wish I could stay, but I’m meeting Jihoon. He’s letting me preview his next drop.”

You gave him a weak thumbs up. “Rub it in.”

Joshua gave you a pointed look. “Also—friendly poke—but have you spoken to Wonwoo since the party?”

You groaned. “Ask me when I’m not bleeding like a stuck pig, okay?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Fair. You’re terrifying. Anyway, I’ll be back later.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead. “And if I’m not, Mingyu can take care of you.”

At the mention of his name, you peeked over the top of your blanket… just in time to see Mingyu walking through your apartment door like it was scripted.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, flopping back down and hiding again.

Mingyu laughed as he crouched in front of you. “Why am I apparently your designated caretaker?”

You sighed dramatically. “Because my uterus is revolting, and I’m slowly dying.”

“Right. Your monthly ‘not pregnant’ reminder.” Mingyu softened his tone. 

“Do you want a pillow?” He asked

You smirked. “You offering to be a body pillow now?”

“Absolutely. Way comfier.” Without waiting, he scooped you up and settled onto the couch with you draped across him, his leg propping up your back. “Better?”

You nodded against his chest. “So much better.”

For a while, it was quiet, his fingers lazily carding through your hair.

“Gyu?” You murmured, your voice drowsy.

“Yeah?”

“You must have been a solid ex-boyfriend, because this is top-tier boyfriend behaviour.”

He paused, then answered softly. “It did serve me lots of brownie points with my ex.”

You tilted your head to look at him. “Sorry, we don’t have to discuss it if it’s a sore subject.”

“Nah,” he shrugged. “It’s part of the story, you know? I thought she was the one, for a while.”

“You’re a romantic,” you whispered.

Mingyu smiled. “Guilty. I like the idea of something that makes you feel so seen, so loved… something that sticks.”

You let out a soft breath. “I used to be like that. But every time I like someone, they like someone else. So... what’s the point?”

“Do you not believe in love anymore?”

“I do,” you admitted. “Just not for me.”

“Why? You don’t think you’ll find it, or you don’t think you deserve it?”

Your eyes fluttered shut. “Some people get it. Some people don’t. I think I’m the latter. Can we change the topic? Discussing this on my period is a bad idea.”

“You brought it up,” he said gently.

“And now I’m regretting it,” you muttered, making him laugh.

He adjusted slightly, his hand resting over yours. “Should I go?”

You pulled back to look at him. “You’re leaving because I don’t want to dissect my emotional trauma?”

“I’m leaving because I feel like I’m always walking on eggshells around you. One minute we’re laughing, the next you’re distant. It’s hard to keep up.”

You turned your face away. “Now you get why I don’t believe in this fairytale crap. Love is supposed to be this all-forgiving, unconditional thing. If I can’t even be friends with someone because of my moods, then what hope do I have?”

He was quiet for a beat, then gently pulled you into his arms again. “Okay. What if we just hang out for a week? Just friends. No sex. We get drunk, eat junk food, watch movies—see if we even like each other without the orgasms.”

You snorted. “That sounds kinda fun. After the period from hell, though.”

He smiled down at you. “Of course.”

“Gyu?” You whispered.

“Hmm?”

“You’re not leaving?”

“Nope. Couch is comfy. I’m lazy. And you’re warm.”

You smiled and snuggled into his chest, placing a soft kiss on his jaw.

“What was that for?” He asked.

“Because you’re a sweetheart.” ~~ You woke up groggy, face buried against something firm and warm.

“Gyu,” you mumbled sleepily, blinking at the early morning light creeping through your curtains.

“Hm?” He muttered, voice raspy and barely awake.

“Can you get up?”

“Why?” Mingyu mumbled sleepily, arms still wrapped around you. “M’comfy.”

You shifted slightly, your forehead creased. “Because… Wonwoo could walk in and see us like this, and you two haven’t gotten off to the best start.”

Mingyu blinked his eyes open at that, head lifting slowly from the pillow. “Oh,” he said softly. “Right.”

You frowned when he didn’t move, when his arms didn’t immediately pull away. “Gyu?”

He took a breath and looked at you—not annoyed, not defensive. Just thoughtful. “Can I ask you something?”

You nodded slowly.

“How do you feel? About him. About… everything that happened with Mia.”

Your stomach twisted. You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling. “I don’t know.”

Mingyu didn’t speak, giving you the space to figure it out. You could feel the weight of his gaze though, and something about that steadiness made the words come easier.

“I think… I think part of me was always holding on to this idea of him. The possibility of it. But then I saw him with her—saw how easy it was for him to move on and smile like it never meant anything.”

Mingyu stayed quiet, his hand brushing over your knuckles gently.

“And I felt stupid,” you whispered. “For believing it ever meant anything. For hoping.” He nodded slowly. “You don’t have to explain it to me.”

“But I want to,” you said, turning to look at him. “Because I don’t want you to think that I’m still stuck on him. I’m not. It just… it still stings a little.”

“Of course it does,” Mingyu said quietly. “You cared.”

Silence hung between you for a beat. Then he reached over and tugged the blanket over your knees.

“I’m not trying to replace anything, Y/N,” he said, voice gentle. “But I need to know that I’m not a rebound. Or someone you lean on because you’re lonely.”

“You’re not,” you said without hesitation, sitting up a little. “You’re… kind, and patient, and safe. And I’m scared because I don’t want to screw this up.”

Mingyu gave you a tired, crooked smile. “We already did the screwing up part, remember?”

You let out a small laugh, wiping at your eyes. “Right.”

He reached for your hand again. “Then let’s just try. Slowly, if we have to.”

You nodded, the lump in your throat softening.

Mingyu tilted his head. “Now, can I hold you again without the threat of a third-party walk-in ruining the moment?”

You chuckled and pulled the blanket tighter around you. “Okay. Just don’t squeeze my stomach too hard. I’m still cramping.”

He smiled, already settling back down beside you, warm and close and quiet.

“I’ll be gentle,” he whispered, tucking you closer. “Always.”

And for the first time in a long while, you believed it.

~~ About an hour later, once you’d both recovered enough to joke about heating pads and your questionable snack choices, Mingyu stretched with a sleepy grin, tugged on his hoodie, and ruffled your hair. “Alright, nurse Gyu’s off the clock, I need to actually attend a meeting,” he teased. 

“Text me if you need anything, okay?” You nodded, smiling as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead before heading to the door with one last wave. Just as the warmth between you and Mingyu settled into something quiet and safe, the front door creaked open, and in walked Wonwoo, fingers laced effortlessly with Mia’s.

“Oh,” Wonwoo said awkwardly, holding hands with Mia. “Didn’t know you were home.”

You stared at him. “I live here.”

Mia glanced down at her feet. “I’ll be in your room,” she said softly.

You watched her walk away, then turned to Wonwoo with a blank stare.

“Why did I see Mingyu leave just now?” He asked.

You scoffed. “Why do you care?”

He sighed, rubbing his temple. “Look… Mia and I… we connect. In a way, I just couldn’t with you.”

You blinked. “What the hell does that mean?”

Wonwoo paused. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete and utter dick.”

“Too late.”

He winced. “You told Joshua you liked me. Loudly. I heard you. And since then, I guess I’ve been trying to like you back. But… I couldn’t.”

You swallowed. “Thanks for the ego boost.”

“I thought something must be wrong with me if I couldn’t like someone like you. So I tried. We’re great as friends, but I wanted to see if maybe something more would grow. I thought… maybe if I kissed you, maybe if we got closer, it’d click. But it didn’t.”

You sat down. Your body was numb.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said softly. “I know I still did. I’m sorry.”

You nodded. “Does she make you happy?”

Wonwoo smiled, slowly and real. “Yeah. She does.”

“Then I’m happy for you. Or I will be. Eventually.”

He smiled back. “Thanks.”

As he turned to leave, you spotted something tossed over the back of the couch—Mingyu’s leather jacket.

“Does he make you happy?” Wonwoo asked, following your gaze.

You hesitated. “He’s… good in bed.”

Wonwoo gave you a look. “Y/N.”

You groaned. “Fine. Maybe. I don’t know. It’s too soon.”

“Then find out. You deserve to feel the kind of happiness you’re wishing me.”

You stared at him—and suddenly your brain clicked into gear. “Holy shit, you just gave me an idea.”

Wonwoo blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Never mind. I’ll tell you later.” You were already darting to your bedroom, mind racing. “And I’ll be nice to Mia. Promise!”

He stood in the hallway, looking vaguely concerned, as you disappeared with your laptop.

~~ The cursor blinked back at you as you deleted the title of your current draft.

“What is a Type?”Gone.

You typed quickly:

“How Many Dates Until You Know?”

You hit send on the pitch, and within minutes, your editor responded:

Approved. Run with it.

You smiled. For the first time in a long time, your fingers didn’t hesitate.

And the first person you wanted to write this with—the only person who had stuck around long enough to earn that role—was Mingyu.

~~ “So Keira,” you began, twirling your pen between your fingers, “I’m basically going to go out with him today. It’s not a date, but somewhere during the hangouts, I’ll bring up the idea of a date. I’ll essentially make him take me on one and see how long it takes for me to fall.”

Keira narrowed her eyes. “You’re using your hot neighbour for an investigative romance piece.”

You grinned. “Exactly.”

“Y/N,” she said, voice half-worried, half-exasperated, “while I love this chaotic plan, let’s keep it confidential. I don’t want him getting hurt and then suing us.”

You raised your hands in mock surrender. “He won’t! Okay, it’s six—I gotta go meet him for our ‘friendly’ workout.”

“Use protection!” Keira called as you walked out of her office.

You rolled your eyes and muttered, “Not that kind of workout…”

And maybe you’d forgotten to mention that you’d already slept with him. Repeatedly. But that wasn’t important. This wasn’t about sex anymore—it was about connection, chemistry, and curiosity. This was research.

For journalism. Obviously.

~~

“You wore heels to a workout?” Mingyu asked, raising a brow as you walked up to him outside your office.

“Relax,” you said, spinning slightly on your toes. “I’ve got my workout gear in my bag; I just needed to look cute for work.”

“You always look cute.”

You blinked. “Okay, that’s not helpful.”

“What?” Mingyu asked, smirking. “You looked at me like I was the dessert tray.”

You glared. “You’re literally sex on legs, and you know it.”

“Flattery will get you in the car faster.” He gestured to his sleek black Mercedes.

You paused. “Not to be that person, but… nice wheels.”

Mingyu stiffened slightly. “It was a gift. From my ex.”

You blinked. “A car?”

“Yeah,” he said, starting the engine. 

“We dated through high school. Her family was loaded. When I told her I wanted to become a photographer, she freaked. She said it didn’t fit her image; she expected that when it was appropriate, I’d marry her and we’d run her family business.”

“Oh, that’s not fair, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“She bought me shit like this to keep me around. Said if I failed, I could sell the gifts. Thought I’d be her trophy husband.”

Your hand found its way to his thigh. “Damn. Well, with you’ve been through with her, it’s impressive that you still believe in love.”

“I didn’t. Not for a long time. But then I found dance again. Music. Something that loved me back. And it taught me how to love myself, too.”

You were quiet for a second.

Then leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You’re such a softie.”

“Oh, also, I’m taking you rock climbing, so buckle up.”

~~

You didn’t expect the receptionist to be so… pretty.

And smiley.

And touchy.

Your stomach twisted when Mingyu greeted her like an old friend. “Nice to see you again.”

“You brought a friend this time,” she said, giving you a pointed once-over.

“I am the friend,” you said, deadpan.

She asked for your shoe size and handed you climbing shoes. You followed Mingyu into the locker room, already irritated.

“You good?” he asked, eyes watching you closely.

“Fine,” you snapped.

“Then why were you glaring at her?”

“Yuri?”

You scoffed. “Yeah Yuri, Pretty receptionist with perfect tits? No reason.”

“I didn’t notice her tits,” he muttered. “But thanks for pointing it out. Should I go admire them up close?”

You glared. “Why are you trying to piss me off?”

“Are you jealous?”

You blinked. “No!”

He tilted his head. “Okay. Then change and meet me outside.”

~~Ten minutes later, you nearly choked when you found Mingyu shirtless by the climbing wall.

“Put your shirt back on,” you said immediately.

“Why? You don’t care who I talk to or what I do.”

You rolled your eyes. “Show me how this works before I commit murder.”

Mingyu smirked. “Yes, ma’am.”

He scaled the wall effortlessly, muscles flexing in all the right places.

You hated how hot he looked.

Also, you slipped on your third attempt and scraped your knee.

“Fuck—Y/N!” Mingyu was by your side instantly, kneeling next to you.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, wincing.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Just a scratch.”

“You’re stubborn.”

“And you’re cute when you’re worried.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes but helped you up. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

~~ You changed back into your dress, only to find him chatting—again—with Yuri at the desk.

Laughing. Like, she was the funniest person alive.

Your blood boiled for no reason. Rationally, you knew this. Emotionally, you wanted to hurl your climbing shoes at his head.

“Hey,” he said, noticing you. “Have you been waiting long?”

You shrugged. “Was Yuri too distracting?”

Mingyu’s expression dropped. “You know what? I’m tired of this.”

Your arms folded automatically.

“I can’t talk to anyone without you jumping to conclusions. You keep saying you want to be friends—but if I have to tiptoe around your feelings and mine just to keep you from blowing up, then what’s the point?”

You blinked. “I… I care. Okay? Maybe too much. But I do care.”

Mingyu softened, reaching up to hold your face. “Then tell me that. Don’t shut down. Don’t make it weird.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

~~

Back at his place, you were both sprawled on the bed, slurping noodles and giggling through Ratatouille.

Somewhere around your fourth glass of wine, you tried to get up.

“I should head home.”

Mingyu caught your wrist. “Or stay. You’re comfy to cuddle.”

You turned, eyes locking with his.

You didn’t say anything.

You didn’t have to.

Because in that moment, the line between friendship and something else blurred again—and this time, neither of you pulled away.

“How’s your knee?” Mingyu asked quietly a little later, his hand tracing soft circles along your lower back. You were curled into him, trying to relax, but your body was tense. “It’s okay,” you whispered, voice low. Then he moved his thigh slightly, and you gasped.

“Shit—did I hurt you?” He said instantly, sitting up slightly in concern, his expression soft and serious.

“No—no,” you rushed to reassure him, shaking your head. “You didn’t. It’s just… the way you’re moving your thigh—um—it’s kind of… turning me on.”

Mingyu blinked, then cracked a small, surprised smile. “Yeah? Like this?” He flexed again, watching you melt into his chest with a tiny groan. “God,” you whispered.

“Get up,” he said, and you obeyed without even thinking, legs already trembling. Mingyu sat up and glanced down at his sweats. “Look at this,” he said with a soft huff, gesturing at the wet patch. “You’ve been sitting here, all innocent, no underwear under your oversized shirt?”

You gave him a shy nod. “Didn’t think it’d matter.”

Mingyu ran a hand down his face, eyes raking over you. “Is that why you took forever in the shower earlier? Were you thinking about me?” His voice was low, teasing—but the vulnerability behind it was clear. He wanted the truth. And you gave it to him.

“Yeah,” you admitted quietly.

That single word was all he needed. He reached out gently, pulling you back into his arms. “Lie down with me.” His tone had softened. “Do you have work early?”

“No, I start at ten.”

“Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Then just stay. Let’s just… be here.”

There was a pause. “Okay, don’t freak out, but I don’t really sleep with clothes on,” he whispered into your ear, like it was some confession. “I can wear boxers if it makes you uncomfortable—”

“No,” you said softly. “I think I might take this off too.” You tugged at the hem of your shirt.

He watched you, his eyes warm, not predatory. “That’s okay. We can just hold each other. You don’t have to do anything you’re not up for.”

But the warmth building between your bodies said otherwise. You were curled up in bed, bare skin on bare skin, when you started to squirm. Mingyu’s arms tightened instinctively around you. “Stop moving, baby,” he groaned. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“I’m trying to get comfortable.”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “You keep this up and I won’t be able to think straight.” You pushed back into him, feeling how hard he was. Your voice was low, almost shy, but certain. “Then… maybe do something about it.”

He chuckled, but his gaze turned tender. “Only if you want me to.”

“I want you.”

That was all it took. Mingyu gently bit your shoulder, then pulled the duvet off your legs. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Come sit on my face, pretty girl.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

“C’mere,” he murmured, guiding you up. You positioned yourself above him, heart pounding, thighs trembling slightly from nerves. But Mingyu was nothing but reverent, his hands supporting you gently as he looked up with nothing short of adoration. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

The first touch of his mouth had you gasping. He didn’t rush—he never did. Every flick of his tongue was patient, slow, deliberate, like he wanted you to feel cherished, not just desired. Your hands found his hair and tangled there as you let your head fall back.

He pulled you down for a kiss, then whispered, “hands and knees.” You obeyed shakily, still breathless. Mingyu slid into you slowly, almost carefully, groaning as he filled you. “You feel so good… I’ll go slow, baby.”

But it didn’t stay slow for long. Your body welcomed him like it was made for this, and soon he was pounding into you, every stroke sending shivers down your spine. He kept murmuring soft praise in your ear between kisses on your shoulder, telling you how perfect you felt, how beautiful you looked.

When you whimpered that you wanted to taste him, he stilled and pulled out, letting you turn around. You wrapped your lips around him, taking your time, and he groaned, one hand tangled in your hair, the other resting gently on your back like an anchor.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me—” His breath caught as he came, and you swallowed him down, still licking softly until he whimpered. “God, you’re unreal.”

He didn’t even let you sit up before scooping you into his arms and carrying you to the shower. “You made me beg,” he teased with a breathless laugh. “Now it’s my turn.”

You didn’t remember how long you were in there. Mingyu kissed and licked and touched you like it was his sole purpose in life. He whispered soft encouragement, asked if it felt okay, and held you steady when your legs gave out. And when you squirted for the fourth time, he kissed your temple and whispered, “There she is. My perfect girl.”

Back in bed, you were a puddle of emotion and sensation. He dried you off with the softest towel, pulled his shirt over your body, and crawled in beside you. His arms wrapped tightly around you as you buried your face into his chest.

“Cuddly,” you whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

He chuckled softly. “How do you feel?”

“Fucked out. But…amazing.”

Mingyu held you tighter, resting his chin on your head. “I’m glad.”

And just before sleep pulled you under, you thought you heard him murmur against your hair. You didn’t ask, but you felt him smile into your hair. ~~

“You’re comfy to cuddle,” Mingyu said again, voice barely above a whisper as his fingers curled softly around your wrist.

You raised an eyebrow. “You said no sex while we’re hanging out.”

“I did,” he replied. “But cuddling isn’t sex.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “With you, cuddling is basically foreplay.”

He chuckled, tugging you gently back down until your head was resting on his chest again. “Then I’ll behave.”

You sighed as you curled into him, feeling the warm rise and fall of his breathing. His fingers returned to threading through your hair, slow and rhythmic. You hated how much you liked it. How right it felt.

“Mingyu?” you mumbled into his shirt.

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever wondered why we do this? Sleep together, fight, make up, but still act like we’re not… anything?”

Mingyu didn’t answer right away.

Then—“All the time.”

Your eyes lifted to his, but he wasn’t looking at you. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, like he was trying to hold something back.

“I don’t know,” he added softly. “Maybe it’s because every time I think it could mean something, you push me away.”

You winced. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” He finally looked at you. “The moment I get close, you panic. The moment I pull away, you come running.”

“Mingyu…”

“No, it’s fine,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re not wrong either. I’m probably addicted to the way you confuse me.”

You sat up, suddenly too warm, too vulnerable.

“I’m not trying to confuse you,” you said quietly.

“I know,” he said, sitting up too, face inches from yours. “I think we’re both just… scared.”

You didn’t know who moved first. Maybe you leaned in, maybe he did. All you knew was that the air between you cracked with tension, and then—

Your lips were on his.

Slow. Soft. Cautious.

And then not cautious at all.

Mingyu’s hands tangled in your hair, yours clutched the front of his shirt, and the kiss deepened into something familiar, something dangerous. You were already straddling his lap before you realised what was happening, the promise of “no sex” evaporating like steam off a kettle.

He pulled away, panting, forehead resting against yours.

“This is a bad idea,” he whispered.

“Yep,” you whispered back.

Neither of you moved.

His thumb traced along your jaw. Your nails curled against his chest.

“Mingyu…” you said, voice trembling.

“Yeah?”

You swallowed. “We’re fucked.”

He smiled.

And kissed you again anyway.

~~ The room was quiet, save for the low hum of the city through the window and the sound of Mingyu’s breathing—slow, steady, grounding. His arm was draped over your waist, anchoring you to the warmth of his body, skin still slick with the afterglow. You lay there tangled in sheets and each other, your cheek pressed into his chest, fingers lazily tracing the dip between his ribs.

“You okay?” Mingyu murmured into your hair, his voice husky from both exhaustion and softness.

You nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Yeah. You?”

“Mm.” He shifted slightly, just enough to press a light kiss to your forehead. “More than okay.”

You smiled at that, closing your eyes for a moment. But even in the comfort of his arms, that familiar unease stirred in your chest. The intimacy didn’t scare you—not exactly. But what it might lead to did. You could feel the questions hanging between you, heavy like unsaid words always were.

Mingyu sensed it too.

“I know this wasn’t... nothing,” he started, his voice careful, like he didn’t want to break the calm. “But I also know you don’t like labels. Or expectations.”

You sighed, biting your lip. “It’s not that I don’t like them,” you said slowly. “It’s just... whenever things get serious, I panic. I start convincing myself I’m not ready, or that I’ll mess it up.”

Mingyu nodded. “That’s fair.”

You looked up at him, surprised. “It is?”

“Yeah,” he said with a soft chuckle. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want more with you. But I also know what it’s like to feel like you’re sprinting when everyone else is just learning how to walk.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know,” Mingyu said. “And I don’t want to pressure you. I like this. I like you. And if this—us—is just a maybe for now... I’m okay with that.”

You swallowed, then nodded. “So we’re not... together.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Not exclusive.”

“Nope.”

“But we like each other.”

Mingyu gave you a lazy grin. “A lot.”

You smiled at that, something warm and relieved blooming in your chest. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he echoed, tightening his arm around you and pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “So we just… keep doing what we’re doing?”

“For now,” you said softly. “We take it slow. No pressure. No promises.”

“Cool,” Mingyu said. “Though I reserve the right to make you breakfast.”

“And I reserve the right to avoid your protein pancakes.”

He gasped in mock offense, and you both burst into quiet laughter, limbs still tangled beneath the sheets. Maybe it wasn’t a fairytale. Maybe it wasn’t official.

But it felt real.

And, for now, that was enough.

~~

“Walk of shame at eight in the morning, nice,” Joshua commented, glancing over the rim of his coffee mug as you tried to sneak past him unnoticed. “Seriously, is he that good in bed? Because, girl, you’re limping.”

You shot him a withering glare, cheeks flaming. “He’s amazing, okay?”

Joshua grinned, the kind of grin that said I told you so without saying a word. “Oh my god, you’re smiling like the Cheshire Cat. Do you like him?”

You shook your head a little too quickly. “No… I mean… I’m just… seeing if I could?”

Joshua blinked at you, setting his mug down. “What?”

You gave him a sheepish smile. “So… my next article? It’s going to be titled How Many Dates Until You Fall in Love.”

Joshua raised a brow. “Okay, that’s kinda cute. And honestly, kinda cool that Mingyu’s down to be your guinea pig.”

You froze. “He… doesn’t know.”

Joshua just sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Y/N.”

“What?”

“Are you out of your mind? Do you know how bad that looks? You’re literally using him for a story.”

You folded your arms. “Not if I end up liking him. Then it’s a romance arc.”

“Y/N, you can’t—”

“If I fall for him, it’ll be adorable!” You cut in, and then quickly added under your breath, “and journalistic.”

He groaned. “I hope your gravestone says, ‘killed by stupid decisions.’”

Before you could retort, Wonwoo strolled into the kitchen with a yawn and a stretch. “Okay, what’s going on? What dumb shit has she done now?”

“She’s writing an article called How Many Dates Until You Fall in Love,” Joshua muttered.

“And she’s using Mingyu to figure it out,” Joshua added before you could stop him.

“Oh, and she hasn’t told him,” Joshua finished, arms crossed.

Wonwoo gave you the slowest blink known to man. “You will tell him, right?”

You offered a shrug and a weak smile.

“Y/N!” They both yelled, startling you into a small jump.

“Okay, okay!” you snapped. “It’s not like I’m trying to ruin his life. If I fall for him, it’s mutual happiness!”

Wonwoo scoffed. “And if you don’t? Then what, you get a byline and he gets heartbreak?”

You groaned. “Fine, I’ll tell him. Eventually.”

Joshua narrowed his eyes. “Don’t wait for him to find out, Y/N. Please.”

You gave a tiny, guilty nod and quickly grabbed your bag. “Okay, well. Work calls!”

~~At the office, Keira looked up as you handed her your notepad. “So? How was the date?”

“It was good. Just… a hangout. Some flirting. A lot of chemistry.”

Keira arched a brow. “Ooh. Promising.”

You grinned. “We ended up watching a movie at his place.”

You left out the part where Mingyu had practically rearranged your internal organs. No need for those notes on file.

Keira smirked. “Is he at least hot?”

You winced, cheeks heating again. “Very. Tall. Gorgeous. Kind. Built like a Greek statue sculpted from sunshine.”

“Aw, a muse,” she teased. “Wouldn’t it be funny if this article landed you a boyfriend?”

You laughed quietly, mostly to yourself. “Yeah. Hilarious.”

~~

Later that evening, you decided on a spontaneous plan: two bottles of soju, your favourite snacks, and Monsters Inc. You wanted a comfort movie, and for some insane reason, you wanted Mingyu there beside you.

You knocked on his apartment door, only to be greeted by Seokmin. “Hey Y/N, ooh movie night?” 

“Did we make plans?” He asked, smiling.

“No, but I brought soju and a Pixar classic. Just thought…” Your voice trailed off as another figure appeared from behind him.

She was wearing his shirt.

Your shirt.

The same oversized hoodie Mingyu once slipped over your shoulders when you complained about the chill in his car. The one that still faintly smelled like his cologne days later, when you returned it.

The girl stood in the entryway of his apartment, tugging the sleeves over her hands, barefoot and blinking blearily. “Oh—sorry. I didn’t know anyone was coming by,” she said, startled as her eyes landed on you.

She didn’t sound smug. Just surprised.

Still, it sent your stomach plummeting.

Your gaze darted to Mingyu standing a few feet behind her, hair slightly rumpled, holding a coffee mug. He looked as caught off guard as she did.

But he didn’t say anything.

No rushed explanation. No, hey, it’s not what it looks like.

Just silence.

You nodded slowly. “Right. Of course.”

Mingyu took a step forward. “Y/N—”

“No need to explain,” you said, your voice light, falsely bright. “We’re not anything.”

You weren’t angry. Not yet. Just hollow.

He opened his mouth again, but the words didn’t come fast enough. You were already backing up.

“Enjoy your evening,” you added, and turned around before he could try again.

—

Your hands were trembling by the time you made it to your door. You fumbled with your keys, hating yourself for it. You shouldn’t feel this way. You didn’t even know what the two of you were. You weren’t together. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

But it still felt like something in your chest had been kicked open.

“Y/N?”

Seokmin, who had followed you out, asked, his voice was soft, concerned. He’d seen you bolt past. Of course, he had.

You didn’t turn around. “Yeah?” You managed.

“Everything okay?”

You nodded, but your voice betrayed you. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

Seokmin stepped closer. “That girl, she actually–?”

You shrugged. “Don’t I don’t want to kno,w okay?”

He hesitated. “But, Y/N, you’ve got it all wrong.”

“I doubt it, thank you for checking on me, but I just need some space okay?” You glanced at him, your smile watery. He looked at you like he understood — and didn’t.

“If you need anything,” he offered gently, “just knock.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump as you slipped into your apartment.

~~

A knock rattled your front door.

You didn’t move.

You already knew who it was.

The knock came again, quieter this time. More hesitant.

“Y/N?” Mingyu’s voice filtered through. “Please. Just let me explain.”

You exhaled sharply, your eyes still fixed on the flickering screen in front of you.

Another pause. Then the door creaked open.

You’d left it unlocked. Stupid.

Mingyu stepped inside, still in the same clothes from earlier. His hoodie—the one now burned into your memory—was gone, replaced by a tight, uncomfortable silence.

You didn’t look at him.

“I saw your face,” he said quietly. “Please believe me when I tell you, nothing happened.”

You finally turned toward him, face unreadable. “She was wearing your shirt, the same one you let me wear.”

“I know.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Her name’s Jiwoo. She’s my assistant. We’ve been pulling extra hours for this new gallery thing and—” He sighed. “This morning, I spilled a full glass of orange juice on her shirt while we were working in the kitchen. I offered her something dry. It just happened to be that hoodie.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Convenient.”

“I get how it looked, but it wasn’t—” He took a step forward. “Y/N, it wasn’t anything.”

You tilted your head, your voice calm but cold. “And you couldn’t say that when I was standing there? When she walked out like that, and you just stood there like I caught you red-handed?”

Mingyu flinched. “I froze. You looked… devastated.”

“I was,” you said, standing now, arms crossed. “Because I trusted you.”

“You said we weren’t exclusive.”

“I said we weren’t ready for labels,” you shot back, “not that I wanted to see you playing dress-up with another girl five minutes after I left your bed.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his voice tightening. “You’re twisting this into something it’s not.”

You stared at him for a long moment. “Maybe I am. Or maybe I just don’t want to be the fool again.”

Mingyu’s expression faltered. “I never meant to hurt you.”

You shrugged. “And yet.”

Silence filled the space between you.

He stepped back, the fight draining from his shoulders. “Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ve said what I came here to say.”

You nodded once, keeping your voice steady. “Thanks for the explanation.”

He hesitated. “If you ever want to talk—”

“I’ll let you know,” you interrupted, already turning away.

The door clicked shut behind him, but the ache didn’t leave with him.

It stayed. Quiet. Heavy. Unanswered.

~~ Later, curled into your couch, hair damp from a too-hot shower, you stared blankly at the muted credits of a movie you hadn’t really watched. The hoodie you had tossed into the laundry still sat in the basket, crumpled and untouched.

You weren’t mad.

You were hurt. Quietly. Deeply.

Because it was one thing to say “we’re not a thing.”

It was another time to be reminded of it in a hallway you used to share with him.

And it was something else entirely to realise you wanted to be one.

You crumpled where you stood, body folding inwards as the tears spilled freely.

Time blurred after that. You didn’t remember curling up on the couch, but that’s where Joshua found you hours later, wrapped in a blanket with a half-finished glass of wine on the table.

“Y/N, honey. Wake up.” His voice was soft as he knelt beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek.

Your eyes blinked open, dazed. “Shua?”

“You’ve been asleep for hours,” he murmured, voice tender. “Thought I’d bring you back to your bed. Come on, bubs.”

He helped you up slowly, one arm wrapped around your shoulders as he guided you into your room. You didn’t fight him. You barely said a word.

“Y/N, what happened?” He asked gently once you were sitting on the edge of your bed.

You gave a hollow laugh. “Guess my article’s gone to shit.”

Joshua didn’t react. Just waited.

“Mingyu didn’t take it well?” He finally asked.

You shook your head. “He doesn’t know.” Your voice cracked. “I went over… and there was another girl, wearing his shirt, he claims it’s his assistant, and only wearing his shirt because”

Joshua sat down beside you, jaw clenched. “God.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s like Wonwoo all over again. I tried so hard with him… and when he found the right person, he just knew.”

You glanced up at him. “You think he’s found the right person?”

“I don’t know,” Joshua said honestly. “But I know you’re not okay.”

You nodded. “It’s just better if I stay away. Every time I’m around him, we end up tangled up in each other, and I can’t keep doing that. I just end up hurt.”

“So… you’re going to ghost him?”

You shook your head. “No. Just… not bother anymore. I’ll be polite. Distant.”

Joshua nodded slowly, then pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Men are idiots.”

You laughed weakly. “Amen to that.”

Joshua smiled and blew you a kiss as he stood. “I’ll give you space tonight, yeah? Just text me if you need anything.”

You nodded, curling up on your bed as the door closed gently behind him. ~~

The next few days blurred together. You managed to avoid Mingyu, though not exactly gracefully. You’d duck around corners, fake a phone call, or pretend you didn’t hear him when he called your name. Childish, maybe, but the alternative was worse.

You thought about scrapping the article altogether. Maybe turning it into something more generic—interviewing couples about when they fell in love, turning it into a cute, breezy column. Something that didn’t rip your heart out with every paragraph.

It was Friday evening, and you were halfway through a MasterChef marathon when you heard your bedroom door creak open.

“Y/N?”

You turned and saw Mingyu poking his head in, doe eyes wide and sheepish.

Your stomach dropped. “How did you get in?”

“Um. Joshua hyung let me in. Said something about my ‘big pitiful puppy energy.’”

You groaned and sat up, folding your arms. “What do you want?”

Mingyu stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him.

“You’ve been ignoring me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Have I?”

“You have,” he said quietly. “I told you she was my assistant, nothing happened between us.”

You sighed and admitted. “I know it just hurt to see you with her.”

He gave you a soft smile, “I understand, but you do not need to worry, I like you too much to screw it up.”

Your eyes widened. “I should have just listened, I screwed up–”

Mingyu cut you off with a kiss.

It was soft. Hesitant. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed. Like he didn’t want to scare you away.

“I don’t know what this is yet,” he said when he pulled back. “But I know I want more. I only want to be around you, only kiss you, hell even when we went climbing, even though we’d argued, I couldn’t stop smiling. The way you furrow your brows when you’re focused, the way you yell at me for being annoying… It’s like I’m drawn to you, even when you make me want to throw things.”

You laughed, and he smiled.

He sat down beside you on the bed, pulling you into his lap.

“I don’t know exactly what I feel,” he whispered, “but I know that when you walked out of my apartment crying, I wanted to run after you and kiss every tear away.”

Your heart was pounding.

He looked at you, eyes searching. “Tell me to go, and I will. But if there’s even a small part of you that wants to see where this goes…”

You didn’t let him finish. You leaned forward and kissed him again.

Mingyu kissed you back with the kind of softness that felt like a second chance—warm, hesitant, laced with something unspoken. You pulled away first, letting your forehead rest against his, catching your breath.

“You always say the sweetest things right before emotionally confusing me,” you whispered, trying to keep your voice light.

He laughed quietly. “What can I say? I’m a man of duality. I’ve got layers.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t move from his lap. His arms were still around your waist, steady and grounding, like if he let go, one of you might float away.

“So,” you murmured, “what now?”

His hands moved in slow, absentminded circles on your lower back. “I don’t know. But I know I want to keep seeing you.”

“Even if I’m kind of a mess?”

“Especially because you’re a mess,” he teased gently.

You laughed, but it wobbled. “Gyu… I’m scared.”

“I know.” His voice softened. “Me too.”

The quiet stretched out again. You could hear the hum of the building's heating system and the faint sound of a neighbor’s TV. But inside this room, inside this little bubble the two of you created—things felt still. Tentative. Hopeful.

After a moment, he pulled back just enough to look at you properly. “How about a real date? Something simple. New. Clean slate.”

You lifted a brow. “You’re asking me out, Kim Mingyu?”

He grinned, his ears slightly pink. “I guess I am.”

“And will there be a warning if you plan on kissing me again? I need emotional prep time now, apparently.”

“Nope.” He smirked. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

You groaned. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

He beamed at that, but then paused. “Friday?”

“Friday,” you echoed.

“Fancy?”

“How fancy are we talking?”

“Fancy enough to make you feel like you’re the only girl in the room.”

Goddamn him.

Your stomach flipped. You tried to play it cool, but your smile gave you away. “I’m going to wear heels, and I’m suing you if I trip.”

“I’ll catch you,” he said, standing up and helping you to your feet. “I always do.”

He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your cheek—a featherlight promise—and stepped toward the door.

“I’ll see you Friday,” he said, pausing at the threshold. “Try not to ghost me before then.”

You gave him a mock salute. “No promises.”

Mingyu laughed and disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing there like an idiot, grinning at the closed door.

And then your eyes landed on your desk.

On the black leather-bound notebook you hadn’t touched in days.

You walked over, hesitating as you opened it to the last page. The column you’d created—How Close Am I to Falling for Him?—mocked you in perfect, even handwriting. You stared at the number you’d written after your first date. A six.

You flipped the page and wrote one line at the top.

Date three: A ten. I’m so completely fucked.

Then, you closed the journal and shoved it into the drawer, burying it under a stack of abandoned notebooks. You weren’t ready to destroy it—but you didn’t want to look at it either.

Not tonight.

Not when you still hadn’t told him the truth.

Not when everything suddenly felt too close to something real.

You stared at the drawer for a second longer, then turned away and crawled back into bed.

This time, you let yourself smile as you pulled the blanket over your head.

Because whatever happened next—you’d deal with it.

After Friday.

[lyvhie]

nct dream having a s/o who's shy during sex

nct dream x fem!reader (18+ mdni) a/n: reposting this one bcs somehow this just disappeared from my blog and i remembered to repost it now 😭😭 cw: smut, oral (f), fingering, petnames.

MARK seemed taken aback at first. like, he didn't want to make you uncomfortable, he wanted this moment to be good for you too, so he kept asking if you were sure and if it was okay to continue. when you gave him a green light, he would nod and take things slowly with you, checking to make sure you were fine with what he was doing and reassuring you that it was fine to be shy. he let you wrap your arms around his neck and hide your face there, knowing that this was your way of cooperating with the situation.

he was understanding and patient, knowing that you needed time and didn't want to push too quickly. he loved having you close to him like that, everything seemed more intimate when you were close together. it was like a whole new level of intimacy and he couldn't really explain it with words, but it just felt right to him.

“babe, please,” he murmurs against your forehead, his voice shaky with restraint. “think you can relax a little for me? your tightness is amazing, but i need to move,” as soon as you relax, he begins to move his hips slowly, savoring every inch as he pushes deeper into you. each stroke hits just the right spot and elicits a soft moan from your lips. he showers you with praises as he makes love to you tenderly.

it seemed like there was an unspoken contest between you and JISUNG over who could be the most bashful in that moment. and, just as usual, you managed to claim victory! despite seeing himself as the one to lead, he was surprisingly unsure of his next steps, attempting to put you at ease as best he could. with a gentle determination, he whispered reassurances in your ear about making it feel good and creating a memorable experience for you. yet, every word he uttered only seemed to amplify the heat in your body.

but through all the nervous laughter and flustered glances, you could sense jisung's genuine care for your wellbeing. as his hands explored your body, they were hesitant yet firm, as if trying to learn your every curve by heart. he gently nuzzles your neck as he speaks, his breath hot against your skin. "i promise i'll take it slow. just tell me what feels nice.”

HAECHAN remembered how he saw you struggle to just take off your clothes, how embarrassed you seemed, so he figured he'd take the opportunity to help. initially, he was gentle and supportive, telling you it was all right, and you could take your time. however, when you were underneath him, hiding your face with your arms and holding back your cute moans, oh boy, that's when he would get really devious. he'd force you to look at him and whisper dirty words in your ear, really making you squirm and, more important, he would make sure to tease you enough to make you beg.

“look at me,” he would say demanding. “i’ll stop moving if you close your eyes again,” as he says this, he's already thrusting into you in an agonizingly slow pace. it would be so much worse if he just stayed still.* “n-no, hyuck, p-please,” you stutter out in a pleading tone as you open your eyes quickly and look at him. “please what? i said you have to use your words, love,” he leans close to nibble on your earlobe, making you shriver. he loved how responsive you were. “please… f-faster, i…” you tried to move your hips to match his rhythm but his grip on your waist tightens, keeping you exactly where he wants you. "mmh, i'm listening,” he nuzzle against your neck, patiently waiting for you. "i want to c-cum again, please, go h-harder,” you say in a frustrated tone, burying your face in his neck to hide yourself. he was pleased with you words, his smirk widen and he feels his cock throb with excitement. he would let you hide this time. “can’t deny it if my love asked so nicely.”

seeing this side of you, the vulnerable and timid one, was something truly endearing to JAEMIN. “my bold princess is feeling shy today?” he asked, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth as he pressed a light kiss to your quivering lips. “there’s no reason to be,” he assured before placing another tender peck. gently coaxing your arms away from hiding your chest, he encourages you with another kiss, his thumb tracing lazy circles on cheek. “you’re stunning, princess,” his lips soon follow suit, moving down to your neck, leaving trails of kisses as he goes.

jaemin’s breath is hot against your skin as he nuzzles further downwards, pausing at your collarbone. he flicks his tongue across the delicate flesh, the sensation makes goosebumps break out on your skin, causing you to shiver slightly. “you’ve got nothing to hide from me,” his hands move to unclasp your bra, freeing your breasts completely. with a low groan, he finally takes one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling lightly.

CHENLE would be so confused. he was trying to make you feel good, but you were making things difficult. it wasn't because you didn't want it, so he was even more confused as to why you weren't letting yourself enjoy it. "baby, why are you doing that?" he asked with a puzzled look, raising an eyebrow as he saw you closing your legs. "stop closing your legs," he said, making you look away from him. “n-no, it's... i-it's embarrassing..." you mumbled, biting your lower lip. he let a small "oh" escape his lips when he realized what was happening.

"aw, are you feeling shy? you're so cute!" he said, letting a small sigh escape his mouth as he ran his hands gently up and down your thigh. the touch was comforting, his hands caressing the skin as he leaned in closer. "what about this? keep your eyes closed and let me take care of you, just relax,” he kissed your thigh, his voice so gentle it made your heart flutter. the thought of just letting go and giving him control was enticing, so you nod and kept your eyes closed as he requested. with a wicked grin, he pushes your legs further apart, revealing your beautiful, swollen center. he takes a moment to appreciate the sight before leaning down to taste you, his tongue sliding effortlessly inside. you gasp and grab onto his shoulders, trying to steady yourself as he begins to explore every inch of you.

JENO had come to understand your behavior patterns, he knew that you would react just this way. you were always the type to talk too much and do less, specifically in regards to your flirting. you seemed to derive a lot of fun from sending suggestive texts, spicy pictures that didn't give too much away, raunchy voice messages and all. yet when it came time for the actual act, you seemed to always shy away from it. he had learned to read your subtleties, and this time he didn't let you ran away.

"aww, look at you now," he says, his voice low and teasing. "you were all fire and ice earlier, sending me those naughty texts and photos, making my imagination run wild." he leans in closer, his breath hot against your cheek. "but now that we're here, you're suddenly shy?" he held your chin to force you to meet his eyes. "what happened to the feisty little thing that had me on edge all day?" before you could try to say something back, he shut you up with a hard thrust, making you gasp. "you know, you really shoudn't start something you can't finish."

RENJUN knew you were naturally shy about physical contact, he wasn't surprised by your reluctance. in fact, he knew that you would be a little coy whenever the physical intimacy went up a level. he knew your shyness would make this a delicate process, so he decided to start things off gentle. "that's it, just spread your legs a bit more, darling," he asked softly in your ear, continuing to keep you in a gentle hug from behind. you could practically feel your heart beating out of your chest. you had asked him not to look at your face since you felt nervous, and he agreed. but he was lying, he just had to move his head a little to capture your expressions.

he starts gently caressing your inner thighs, sending shivers up your spine. he feels your pulse quickening and your breathing becoming more ragged, which makes him feel even more determined to give you pleasure. he continues to tease you, getting closer and closer to where you really need him to touch. he traces his fingers lightly over your wet panties, feelings your arousal seep through the fabric. he slowly pulls them aside and slips a finger inside you gently, pumping slowly as he watches your reactions. your breathing quickens and your moans get louder with each thrust, so he adds another finger, stretching you just enough to feel amazing. as he continues to move inside you, he presses his thumb against your clit, massaging it in slow circles. he’s careful not to go too fast or hard knowing that anticipation can be just as satisfying as release.

[finnbbl]

The Rival's Heart - A Min Ho Fic

Ch. 1: “Pipsqueak”

Next Chapter

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Swearing, mention of deceased parents

It was hard to believe that you were here, standing in front of KISS. It was an over-the-top school, to say the least, and definitely not one you ever expected to get into. The past couple of years had been far from easy, and there were a lot of things that you wanted to leave behind. In your first year of high school, you decided to study abroad in America. That turned out to be the worst decision of your life. It only took a semester for things to start escalating during your freshman year. Despite your family, especially your brother Dae, checking up on you often, they knew very little of what was going on in your life. You endured conflict, heartbreak, and lost friendships. At first, it wasn’t easy for you to keep this from them. You always confided in your family. But after seeing how stressed they had been with their own lives, especially with the passing of you and Dae’s mother, you’d decided that your problems would only worsen that. Not to mention, it wasn’t like you wanted to leave America. And knowing them, if they sensed things were too hard on you, they would make you return to Seoul. So, you kept them in the dark. 

You were so hopeful that things would turn around for you, but that wasn’t the case unfortunately. With that, after your second year, you’d decided you had enough. That’s when you came to the conclusion that moving back with your family was for the best. It was simple. You applied for a scholarship to the same school that your brother went to and moved back to Korea, pretending as if the past two years hadn’t happened. You caught the soonest flight the day after classes ended, eager to leave the horrible memories and experiences behind. Summer went by quick. You spent the few months catching up with your family (Leaving out the details of course), and spending as much time with them as you could.

Fast forward, and now it was the day of orientation where you’d get your class schedule, your dorm room number, and find your classes. You know, the first day stuff. The two of you found out there was a welcome party that night, and your brother pleaded for you to go. Parties were something you despised, but you gave in considering it was a school event. 

“I’m so glad you transferred back; it’ll be nice to attend the same school as again.” Dae spoke and you smiled at him. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you with the new experiences in America and such but...” He trailed off, and you pushed a smile onto your face. “I missed my sister.” He said as he gave you a side hug, forcing your fake smile into a real one. “I missed you too.” You said back. As the two of you were about to walk into the entrance, Dae’s phone dinged. You both came to a stop so he could respond. You noticed that his facial expression faltered ever so slightly, “Hey, sis I gotta go but I’ll see you at the welcome party, okay?” You nodded, slightly concerned but decided to let it go. “Okay, see you.” Waving goodbye, he took off in the opposite direction. You pulled your luggage behind you getting in line to get your dorm number. The line seemed to move extremely slow. And as one would do, you pulled out your phone to pass the time. A few moments later, a voice sounded from behind you. “Uhm, hello? The line has moved.” It came off rather rude, and the speaker had a thick accent. And a recognizable one at that. You sighed before turning around, knowing exactly who it was.

Min Ho.

Based on his lack of surprise when you faced him, he knew it was you as well. He sighed as you pursed your lips. “So, you’re back.” He said, very unenthusiastic. Your mouth curved upwards into a fake smile. “Yeah, and you’re also attending here. Lucky me...” Looking him up and down as your fake tone faltered at the end of your sentence. You’d known Min ho for years. He was Dae’s best friend, but you’d never been particularly fond of him. His ego was high, and his personality was unlikable. You watched as his eyes glanced behind you. “Uh, you’re next pipsqueak.” Min Ho said in a rushing tone, waving his hands gesturing for you to move forward. You rolled your eyes at the name he’d called you. It wasn’t anything new. He was well aware it annoyed the hell out of you, which is why he did it. “Let’s hope I don't see you around,” you said before turning on your heel to make your way up to the counter.  

"Hi, name?” The lady smiled at you. “Kim Y/N.” She began to flip through an assortment of files before her muttering in confusion. Patiently, you waited as she switched her search to another pile, watching her face suddenly light up. “Ah, here it is. It was in the wrong file.”  She laughed it off.

“No worries, thank you.” You spoke in Korean as you took the file from her hands. That was when you started your walk to find your dorm building. Examining the paper, you made a mental note of the number. Then the next thing you knew, you were on the floor. It all happened so suddenly; you glanced up to see a girl sitting on the floor next to you. And that girl was none other than Kitty.

“Kitty?!” Her face lit up as she recognized you, “Y/N!” The two of you abandoned your things on the floor as you embraced.  Kitty was a girl you met while she was on vacation in Seoul. You quickly bonded, and eventually her and Dae started dating. Yet, she lived in America, but you still considered her your closest friend. “What the hell are you doing here?” You asked in disbelief.  “I applied for a scholarship, and I got in!!!” A smile plastered on your face. “That’s amazing, oh my god. Why didn’t Dae tell me?” 

“Actuallyy, I was planning to surprise him. He has no idea that I’m here.” Kitty was sure a different type of person, but she was also one of the sweetest. “That is crazy, if I’m being honest but I’m sure he’ll be so happy to see you.” The both of you started to pick up your stuff as you announced you had to get going to find your dorm. “Oh, think you could help me find mine?” She showed you her paper, and you noticed that it was the same building and dorm number. “Oh, that's actually mine too. Looks like we're rooming together.” You announced with an excited shrug. “Come on, we’ll find it together.”  

"So, what made you move here? There has to be some other reason than Dae, right?" You questioned as you adjusted your bag on your shoulder. She nodded before speaking, "Well, I found out that my mom had went here in highschool. I think I could learn a lot about her and feel more connected if I attended the same school she did." Your face fell into a sad smile, you'd known that Kitty had lost her mom when she was rather young. She had no memories with her, so it was natural for Kitty to wanna experience what she did.

"I'm kinda surprised your parents let you," You laughed it off. "Believe me, it took a lot of convincing.."

It didn't take either of you too long to find the dorm. The first thing you guys noticed when you walked in was the rather roomy space it had, despite how small it was. The two of you walked into a room to see two different bags sitting there already. “I wonder where our other roommates are...” Kitty said rather quietly, you responded with a hum. “Probably out socializing, or whatever students do here.” You both decided to settle into the other room. “Oh, I was about to face time my dad, do you wanna say hi?” You debated for a moment, “Hmmm... Maybe next time, I should get some rest. Dae wants me to go to the welcome party; despite knowing how much I hate parties." You couldn't help but roll your eyes, the things you did for your brother. She nodded as you headed out into the common room, letting her have some privacy. It wasn’t long before you dozed off on the couch. You weren’t sure how long you were asleep for, but it was long enough for you to be started when she woke you up. “Shit, what time is it?” You rubbed your eyes before seeing the event starting soon. The two of you got ready in a rush. Luckily, it was a 3-hour long event, and you wouldn’t be there for an extended time anyways.  

You decided to wear a rather short, light blue dress with matching, but subtle eye shadow. The white heels complimented your makeup rather well. Compared to Kitty, you’d gotten ready decently quicker. “Are you okay if I go ahead and head out? Dae will bite my head off if I’m not there soon.”  You said, sighing. With your question, Kitty nodded. “Yeah! Go ahead, I’ll see you there.” She shot you a smile and went back to touching up her makeup. “Thanks, Kitty. And good luck with Dae, see you there.” And with that, you left.  

As you made your way to the building for the welcome party, your phone had gone off. When you looked at the screen, you saw a trail of messages. Most were from Dae, asking where you were since you had dozed off for longer than intended.  

Dae: Where are you?  Dae: Do you know when you’ll be getting here?  Y/N: My bad, I fell asleep LOL  Dae: You’re late   Y/N: Yeah yeah, I’m on my way 

As you swiped out of the thread with your brother, you then noticed messages from an unknown number.  

Unknown: I see you transferred away  Unknown: You know, you honestly lasted a lot longer than I thought you would here. 

You suddenly felt a pit in your stomach, having a strong idea of who those messages might be from. Regardless, you blocked and reported them. This year, you were going to put everything behind you. 

As you walked into the building, you did your best to push the messages out of your head. The first thing you noticed about the party was the very fancy decorations. Your jaw dropped in awe before you mumbled to yourself, “Wow, KISS really went all out...” The next few moments were spent by you admiring all the details put into it. Schools in America were rarely this fancy, and if they were you had to be rich to experience something even close to this.  

“Y/N!” With the call of your name, you glanced in the direction. You had expected to be met with Dae, but you ended up seeing someone else. “Q, Hey!” And it wasn't long before you two were hugging. Q had been your absolute number one best friend. He was there through all of your tough times. Well, those that he knew about. And anytime you needed advice, he was the one you went to because of his logical and realistic thinking.

“How have you been? I heard you were transferring back from Dae... But I never expected to run into you soon. Especially since you hate parties.” His voice was laced with slight confusion. 

“I’ve been good.. And, Dae’s the one that convinced me.” Q nodded in acknowledgement. “Oh, but also-” A groan interrupted your sentence. You sighed when you saw Min Ho out of the corner of your eye. “You talk just as much as I remember.” He complained in Korean. Your lips pursed and your head leaned over to glare at him. “Well, you’re also free to just, I don't know... Leave.” Min Ho clicked his tongue at you. “Ha ha, very creative.” You rolled your eyes at him as he had taken a sip of his drink. And if it couldn’t be worse timing, (for him) someone had bumped into him from behind. This caused him to spill his drink all over his shirt.  

“Oh my god, watch where you’re going!” You made no effort to stifle a laugh, “Nice job Kitty.” You commented off to the side, in a non sarcastic tone. It was enjoyable watching things like this happen to Min Ho. Q only watched before offering you a drink from a nearby table, which you gratefully accepted.

“So you do speak English...” Kitty mumbled. You sighed and rolled your eyes as Q shoved a towel into his chest. "Haha, busted."

"Seriously Min Ho? You still pull that shit on people?" You asked in a lecturing tone.

"Shut up Pipsqueak." You groaned at the name, "How long are you gonna keep calling me that?" You said, throwing one of your arms up so slightly before letting it fall back at your side. He leaned down to your level, even though you two were a decent distance away. "As long as it annoys you." He smile at you in a condescending way, in which you stuck your tongue out at him. "Anyways, welcome to KISS!"

"Don't feel bad, he loves to pull this move on people. He did it to me the first time we met." Q commented before something caught his eye. He immediately nudged Min Ho from the side, causing him to spill his drink once again. "Goddamit Q!" Min Ho raised his voice, complaining about his expensive clothes getting ruined. This caused you to let out another giggle at Min Ho's distress. "Shut up about your clothes for a second, look at our boy!" You turned your head around to see your brother walking in.

"Where did Dae get that suit?"

"Yo, Dae!"

You couldn't help but nudge Kitty and smile. You then watched as they ran into each others' arms. It made you happy to see Dae with someone that could very much be his for the rest of his life. Apparently, he'd been feeling lonely due to your guys' mom's passing, and you studying abroad didn't help. Of course, her death affected you as well, but you dealt with it in your own ways. The two of their eyes were filled with so much love for each other. Well, that's what you thought...

Suddenly, some girl that you didn't quite recognize, linked her arm with Dae's. Your eyebrows furrowed, fairly confused. You watched as Kitty rushed off and out of the building. Your mouth hanging open in shock and disbelief as you tried to process what just happen.

What the hell just happened?

[emchante]

ln4 or op81 + “Wait—uh—do…do that again.” + ❛ such a good boy/girl. making me feel this good. ❜ 👀

good boy | o. piastri

thank you for submitting, nonnie! i went with oscar for this as i no longer write for lando<3 enjoy some sub!oscar!!

oscar piastri x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ content, oral (f receiving), sub!oscar, praise, hair tugging.

oscar looks up at you from where he’s kneeling, his cheeks flushed, hair slightly tousled, and a mixture of nerves and excitement in his hazel eyes. his hands rest tentatively on your thighs, his touch warm and feather-light.

“are you sure you want me to..?” his voice is soft, uncertain, but there’s an unmistakable spark of curiosity beneath it. you know he wants to do it badly, but he wants you to be comfortable. that’s his top priority.

you smile, fingers threading into his hair, tugging just enough to make him bite his lip, holding back a little moan. “yes, oscar. i’ll tell you what to do, don’t worry. and you know i’d tell you if we should stop.”

he swallows hard, nodding, and you can see his body visibly relax for two reasons– because you reassured him, but also submitting to you and what you’re going to make him do. you guide him closer, licking your lips as you feel his shaking breath against your core. the first tentative touch of his tongue makes you gasp—he’s hesitant but eager, clearly trying to figure out what you like.

“good,” you murmur, stroking his hair encouragingly. “that’s good osc, just like that.”

his movements grow more confident, the flat of his tongue pressing against you in slow, deliberate strokes. you can feel the effort he’s putting into getting it right, the way he keeps glancing up at you for reassurance, and it sends a warm rush through you. he moves closer and as he does his nose bumps against your clit unexpectedly.

you arch slightly, a soft moan escaping your lips as he hits the right spot. “wait—uh—do… do that again,” you breathe, and he doesn’t hesitate at your shaky command, repeating the motion with a newfound sense of purpose.

“that’s it,” you sigh in a daze, your fingers tightening in his hair as he continues, the hesitant boy from moments ago quickly being replaced by someone more confident, more determined. you couldn’t stop yourself from tugging him closer, allowing oscar to bury deeper into your cunt.

his hands grip your thighs a little firmer now, holding you steady as he starts to experiment, his tongue flicking and swirling in ways that make your head spin. your praises fall from your lips easily, a mix of encouragement and want, and oscar feels his head spinning now too.

“such a good boy,” you murmur, and the way he groans against you at the praise makes your lips curve up into a smirk.

oscar pulls back just slightly, his breath hot against the inside of your thighs as he looks up at you– lips glistening, brown does eyes widening and cheeks impossibly red. “you—you like that?” he asks, his voice hoarse but filled with pride. he’s panting, trying to regain his breath as he licks his lips.

“mmhm,” you hum, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “you’re doing so well, baby. such a good boy f’me. keep going,” you praise gently, moving your hand to cup his cheek momentarily as your thumb brushes against it. the way he leans into your cheek makes you feel something deep within you.

his lips curve into the faintest of smiles before he moves back and dives back in, this time with more confidence than before. you guide him when needed, a soft “a little to the left” or “gentler” slipping past your lips, but mostly, you let him take the lead, let him learn you.

by the time you’re arching and trembling under his touch, his name falling from your lips in a breathless moan, oscar looks downright triumphant.

as you come down from your high, panting and glowing, he rests his head against your thigh, grinning up at you with a mix of pride and exhaustion.

“so...was that okay?” he asks, and the sheepishness in his tone makes your heart flutter. you couldn’t believe the boy who just ate you out like his life depended on it, was now back to acting all shy.

you laugh softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “better than okay, osc. you’re a natural.”

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

yandere!Conner kidnapping reader after she rejects him😔

(I'M HAPPY YOU'RE DOING WELL<3)

Yandere connor Kent x reader

Conner Kent was used to losing things—control, stability, even his sense of self—but he didn’t think he could lose you. Not after everything. You were the only person who didn’t look at him like a walking science experiment or a Superman knockoff. You didn’t ask him what it felt like to have two dads who didn’t care enough to stick around. You didn’t treat him like a weapon in waiting, either.

You just saw him, the way no one else did.

And for someone like him, who had spent his entire existence clawing for meaning, that sight was everything.

So when you said no, when you told him you didn’t feel the same, it was like a fist to his gut. He played it cool, shrugged, tossed out some half-hearted "No big deal," before walking away. But inside, something cracked open. Something dark.

Because rejection wasn’t just rejection—it was abandonment. And Conner Kent had been abandoned enough for one lifetime.

When you woke up, the room was dimly lit, with the faint smell of leather and motor oil clinging to the air. The bed beneath you was soft, but the weight of an unfamiliar blanket felt suffocating. You blinked against the hazy light, your brain sluggish as it tried to make sense of where you were.

The faint sound of music hummed in the background, something low and grungy that vibrated through the walls. You tugged at your wrists and realized, to your growing panic, that they were tied—not tightly, but enough to keep you from slipping away.

"Morning, sunshine," came a voice from the corner of the room.

Your head snapped toward it, your heart lurching as you spotted Conner leaning against the wall. His leather jacket hung off his broad shoulders, and his arms were crossed over his chest, muscles taut beneath his white t-shirt. His face was unreadable, but there was something dangerous in the way his blue eyes caught the light.

"Conner?" Your voice came out small, shaky. "What the hell is going on?"

He smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "Relax. You’re safe. Isn’t that what everyone wants to hear?"

You struggled against the restraints, your panic mounting. "Safe? Are you kidding me? Let me go!"

He pushed off the wall and sauntered toward you, his boots heavy against the floor. When he stopped beside the bed, he crouched so his face was level with yours.

"Yeah, that’s not happening," he said casually, his tone almost bored.

Your stomach flipped. "Conner, this isn’t funny! You can’t just—"

"I can’t just what? Take care of you? Make sure no one hurts you? Because guess what? I’m already doing a better job at that than anyone else ever could."

"You call this taking care of me?!" you snapped, tears welling in your eyes. "This is insane!"

His jaw twitched, and for a second, you saw the cracks in his cool exterior. "What’s insane," he said quietly, his voice low and sharp, "is thinking you could just walk away. Like I’m nothing. Like I don’t—" He stopped himself, exhaling harshly. "Do you know how many people have walked out on me, [name]? How many times I’ve been left behind like I didn’t matter?"

Your breath caught as you saw the raw, unguarded pain flicker across his face.

"But you?" He continued, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You were different. You made me feel like I was more than just some half-baked clone. And then you threw it all away like it didn’t mean anything."

"Conner, that’s not—"

"Save it," he cut you off, standing abruptly and running a hand through his messy black hair. "You don’t get it. You don’t see what I see. But you will. I’ll make sure of it."

He turned back to you, his smirk returning, though it was laced with something darker now. "You’ll thank me eventually, you know. Once you realize I’m the only one who gives a damn about you."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you stared at him, your fear and anger warring with the flicker of pity you couldn’t quite suppress.

"Conner," you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady. "This isn’t love. This isn’t how you treat someone you care about."

He froze for a moment, his expression hardening. Then he scoffed, shaking his head. "You don’t know what love is," he muttered. "But don’t worry. I’ll teach you."

And with that, he turned and walked toward the door, his boots echoing in the small room.

"Get some rest," he said over his shoulder. "You’re gonna need it."

The door closed behind him with a resounding click, and you were left alone, the weight of his obsession settling over you like a heavy chain.

(A/n: sorry for the wait! I've been writing all day, my hands are aching there's like 15 asks edited in my drafts 😭 TYSM FOR THE WORRY though you don't need to, im fine😛 but not today.. This is my last post before I go to a short hiatus, maybe for 1 or 2 weeks? Either way, I'm not gonna post for awhile because of mental health issues, exams, and chirstmas. Merry Christmas everyone!!)

[fairyysoup]

his hands

pairing(s): hairdresser!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: How do you make getting a haircut an erotic experience? You have Eddie Munson as your hairdresser, of course.

cw: explicit, smut, unprotected piv sex, mirror sex, workplace sex, hand kink, choking, dumbification, dom!eddie, touch-starved!reader, semi-sort-of subspace happenings, referring to genitals with gendered pronouns, slight body worship, getting weirdly horny over a head massage, sexual tension, negative self talk, hair cut/style mentioned but no description of hair color/type, the aftercare is the haircut lol, implied 90s au, eddie's like 30, reader's age unspecified, eddie is employee of the month in my heart, not proofread, no beta we die like men

a/n: this is weird. and came from an interesting experience i had at the hair salon. and yes that is corpse's hand in that pic i didn't want to spend all day looking for a header pic shut up shut up shut up

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Your hands twitch on the copy of Elle magazine in your lap. The familiar waiting area of your local salon has new furniture, which still smells a bit like the cellophane it came wrapped in, and hasn’t been worn out by patrons just yet. You’d asked for your usual stylist, Melissa. Except, you haven’t been here in so long, and apparently Melissa doesn’t work here anymore. 

“We have a new stylist in her place,” the greeter at the front desk told you kindly. “I could fit you in if you’d like that same station?” 

The station doesn’t matter to you; they all look the same and have the same tools. Obviously, when it comes to getting your hair cut, the stylist makes the difference. But, since you’re a couple months too late to catch up with Melissa, a new stylist is who you’ll be working with. 

The PA still plays some sort of weird pop-rock fusion that mixes Nat King Cole with Billy Idol, but you just try to focus on it to keep your leg from bouncing. You always get anxious like this when you come in for an appointment, even though you always tell yourself the same thing. It’s just hair. If you don’t like it, it’ll grow back. Or, if worst comes to worst, you could always shave it.

You hear your name being called, and you look up to the person who’d just approached the waiting area around the partition that blocks off the styling area. You blink, your mind going fuzzy as you try to make sense of what you see.

“Looks like I’ll be cutting your hair today,” the man standing at the end of the row of chairs says, with a grin that puts boyish dimples on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”

Eddie the Hairdresser is a bit more than you can handle right now. Between his long, curly hair, and the shirt he wears that gives you a view of the tattoos crawling up his arms, you think your knees might already be made out of jelly as you try to stand. But then he sticks out his hand for you to shake, and he’s wearing big, chunky rings that glint in the light, and you think you might swoon like a Victorian damsel.

“I’m, uh–” you begin intelligently, as you fit your hand into his big one. He squeezes just the tiniest bit and smirks at you. “I– I’m trying to, uh–”

“First time?” Eddie asks you with a tilt of his head. His brown eyes crease at the edges with mirth.

“Oh, um, no,” you mutter, looking everywhere but at his dimples. He has a tattoo on his neck of a dragon. You stare at it for a moment too long. “I used to come and see Melissa, forever ago.” 

“Oh! Yeah, Melissa was great. She trained me,” Eddie starts jabbering as he tilts his head and leads you around the partition. You’re met with the smell of hairspray and the sound of blow dryers getting louder. “She’s a hard act to follow, but I hope I can do well enough. Let’s get you started with a wash, hm?” 

You smile as he winks at you conspiratorially. You always feel a little bit awkward as you sit in the chair for the wash sinks, but Eddie ushers you into it with a little wave of his hand and gently– more gently than you can remember even Melissa being– lifts the ends of your hair and places a soft towel around your shoulders.

“What kept you away all this time?” Eddie asks pleasantly as he tests the water temperature. “Melissa’s been gone for a while.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I was working a lot,” you stumble into an explanation, your cheeks heating up a bit. It’s hard not to feel like you need to repent for not coming in to get a trim every month. “Last time I came in, I got my hair cut really short, so it wasn’t like I needed to come in for a trim for a long time, and by the time I really needed one it was long enough that I could do it myself… so, I just kept doing that.”

“So, what are we doing today?” Eddie inquires as his fingertips brush along your temples to tuck your hair back behind your ears and into the wash basin. With gentle prompting, he tilts your head back into the bin and begins to wet the ends of your hair.

“I figured it’s time I go short again,” you tell him, more confident than you really feel about it. It was a split second decision, one that you made because the reflection in the mirror was looking back at you with such a dead expression that you decided you needed a change in a bad way. For a lighter note, you supplement, “I’m tired of brushing tangles out of my hair every morning, and the other day I had a whole bird’s nest at the back of my neck, y’know.”

“Pssh, I know all about tangles. You saw my hair,” Eddie chuckles as the lukewarm water touches your scalp. Goosebumps rise on your arms while he rambles on, “I have to comb my hair wet or else I look like I got electrocuted. I never used to care about that sort of thing before I went to school for this, but once you start learning about proper treatment it’s kind of hard to ignore. I used to wash my hair with bar soap. Dry as hell, no conditioner. I’m surprised I got it long to begin with.” 

You find yourself smiling just thinking about it. “Bar soap? With those curls?”

“Don’t tell anyone, my reputation will be ruined,” Eddie leans down and whispers to you while he reaches for a bottle of shampoo. You hear a crack of a bottle cap, and then his hands are in your hair again, working the sweet smelling soap into your roots. “I’m trying to get employee of the month, but they’re never gonna give it to me if they know I used to sabotage my own hair with Irish Spring.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you tell him sweetly, but you’re barely paying attention to his words anymore. His fingers are pressing into areas on your head that haven’t had a proper massage in forever, and months of tension headaches are being brought to the forefront of your mind. 

You never consider how oddly intimate having someone wash your hair is until you’re in the thick of it. Eddie’s thumbs massage circles into your occipitals with just a perfect amount of pressure, and the muscles down the back of your neck slowly melt and relax, moving with the swell of his fingertips. You suddenly feel very relaxed and very sleepy, and your eyelids drift closed as Eddie’s thumbs trace the line of your skull up to your hairline.

It even takes a moment for you to tune into the fact that he’s humming. Under his breath, he’s singing along to the notes of the song on the PA. He’s doing it in such a way that you’re sure he’s not even aware of it, himself, and you’d comment on it if you weren’t afraid that you’d embarrass him. His fingers are massaging circles around your temples now, and while you’re trying to focus on the sound of him harmonizing with the music, your mind is again trying to distract you with the feeling developing at the base of your spine. A ticklish, warm feeling spreads between your hips, disrupting the lull you find yourself in and forcing you to blink your eyes open. 

Oh, no. We’re not doing that right now.

You can’t say you’re surprised that this is your response. His hands are all over your head and you haven’t been touched by anyone in… well, a very long time, to say the least. You’re probably a little starved for it, all things considered. But this is really the wrong time and place to be getting turned on by a guy’s touch.

You shift in your seat, trying not to be too obvious about it when Eddie pulls his hands away and begins rinsing your hair again. Crossing your legs would be a dead giveaway, but the warm feeling is turning into a subtle throb between your legs, and Eddie’s hands are back on your head, now gently combing the conditioner through the length of your hair as though he’s petting you.

After a few torturous minutes of trying to ignore the blooming arousal deep in your gut, Eddie cuts the water and wraps your hair in the towel to secure it. 

“Now comes the hard part,” Eddie says, probably not meaning to make it sound so suggestive, but your mind seems to be taking its sweet time loitering in the gutter. 

You stare dazedly up at the ceiling. Now is the hard part?

Eddie leads you to what used to be Melissa’s station, and swings the swivel chair around for you with a flourish. “Step into my office, sweetheart. I’ll get you all dressed up in a sexy robe and everything.” 

You stifle a giggle as you slide into the seat. His “office” is one table in a row of other tables, and two feet away an older woman is getting her hair bleached by a girl with an undercut. As Eddie spins you around, the stylist shoots him a look. 

“He’s a shameless flirt,” she tells you, making eye contact with you in the mirror. Eddie lays a smock across your front and buttons it at the back of your neck.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve been minding my manners very well,” Eddie huffs with feigned indignation as he unwraps your hair and tosses the towel onto the table in front of you. He still winks at you in the mirror when he leans around you to pick up a comb. “So far.”

You can’t help the way that your jaw clenches. He’s really not going to make this easy on you. You wonder if he knows where your mind has been for the last ten minutes.

Eddie moves around to the back of your chair and presses on a lever to raise it up, but nothing happens. 

“Dammit,” Eddie curses under his breath, and turns to his coworker, who’s still loading tinfoil into the woman’s hair until she looks like something from Close Encounters. “I can’t believe you gave me the crap chair.”

“Early birds get the good chairs,” the stylist replies. 

Eddie sighs and turns back to you, and finds you looking at him curiously in the mirror. “This is the only broken chair in the whole salon, and everyone hates it, so it tends to move around. You never know if you’ll get the crap chair.”

“That’s sabotage,” you giggle.

“I know! So I have to bend down to style you, I’m sorry.”

“I think I can handle it.” You watch him give you a look in the mirror that makes you shift in your seat again. 

“So,” he begins, looking down at your head as he begins detangling your hair. “We’re going short?”

“That’s the plan,” you say with a puff of your chest. Please, god, don’t let it be horrible. 

“How short?” he prompts, eyeing you in the mirror. “Shoulder length? Close cropped?”

You reach up a slightly shaky hand and pinch the length that you want between two fingers. “Here’s good.”

Eddie nods, looking somewhat pleased. “Are we doing layers?”

“Yeah, I think layers would be good for the long term.” 

“Gives you more flexibility,” he agrees. He picks up a pair of scissors and begins measuring out the length that you want. “I’ll start with the length and then we’ll move to bangs, all right?” 

“That… sounds good.” You’re temporarily discombobulated by Eddie taking the sides of your head and tilting your head down just the slightest bit. 

“Stay just like that for me, okay?” he says quietly.

You blink down at the table in front of you, feeling your mouth go dry. “No problem.” Your hands nervously twitch beneath the cover of the smock across your body.

He goes back to humming along with the music on the PA, and you don’t have the heart to interrupt him. You’re trying to focus on anything but the nerves in your system and the way his touch keeps making you want to jump out of your seat.

After a moment, he stops humming and dusts a bit of hair off of your shoulder. “There we go. Good girl.” 

You blink up at Eddie in the mirror, and then see the transformation from long hair to short on your head. 

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks, leaning down to pinch the ends of the front and measure the evenness of the length. You stare at his fingers, and the tattoo of a bat just above his thumb on his left hand.

“Ten pounds lighter,” you joke. It feels like you’ve swallowed a lump of hot coal, but he doesn’t need to know that. Eddie grins, and his dimples make a glorious reappearance. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, and again positions your head where he wants it, staring directly forward. “Honestly, even if you wanted to stop here, it would suit you. I don’t think there’s a way to make you look bad, sweetheart.”

“You’ve never seen me with a hangover,” you scoff, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat. 

Eddie smirks at you in the mirror while he starts working on giving your hair layers. “My guess is that you still look just as cute, but with a bit more of a grumpy look around here.” He gestures to your brow with one finger, and reaches over to set aside the texturizing scissors. 

“So, what I’m hearing is, you think I’m cute?” you say, still trying to play up the confidence that you don’t really have. Your hand squeezes your thigh under the smock you wear, your nails digging in for purchase.

“No, I think you’re gorgeous,” Eddie says swiftly, like it’s just a matter of fact. “But, I think you’d also be cute when you’re hungover. Plus, with this hair, you’d probably look all unkempt and I love the mental image that’s creating.”

His hands fluff the layers that he’s put into your hair, ruffling them gently and carding his fingers through them to measure their length. You’re sure that he’s not aware of the moon-eyed look you’re giving him in the mirror. 

Except, then he moves around you to start working on your bangs, and the smirk that comes across his face when he looks down at yours is enough to make you lose your composure. He knows everything that’s going on in your head, you’re sure of it. 

Cocky bastard.  

“I like your tattoos,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear over the music and the sounds of blow dryers all around you. He’s face to face with you, so close that you can count the freckles on his pale face.

Eddie’s eyes light up. “Yeah? What about ‘em?” 

“Well,” you lick your lips, your eyes flicking down to the one on his neck, and the one peeking out of his collar. “They’re colorful, and they look like you put a lot of thought into picking out each one. They’re pretty.”

“Hmm. You flatter me,” he remarks, trying to hide his grin and failing. If you look closely, there’s just the slightest pink tint to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. He finishes trimming your bangs, and just before he stands up, he chucks you lightly under the chin. “Keep it up and you might get a freebie.”

A free what? You’re imagining he means some sort of a free hair wash or something, but you can’t keep your mind from going to unprecedented places. 

“All right. Bear with me, I’m gonna blow dry you now.” He turns your chair away from the mirror to get you a bit closer to the blow dryer, and for a few minutes, there’s a lull in the conversation. 

Then, all at once, the blow dryer shuts off, and Eddie leans down towards you. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Eddie, you’re gonna make me nervous.”

“Well, we don’t want that.” You just barely turn your head to look at him; just enough that your noses barely brush. You steal a breath that comes from his mouth, and then, Eddie turns you to the mirror. “Like I said,” he murmurs, “There’s not a way to make you look bad.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe. And holy shit is right– he’s done a complete number on you. Your hair is voluminous, framing your face in a way that you haven’t seen it before.  

“What do you think?” he asks, and for a moment, you think it’s a rhetorical question.

“I think you’re way better than Melissa,” you tell him, once you realize that it’s not rhetorical and he’s really asking you what you think. You’re sure that he’d make adjustments if you needed, but you don’t need him to. He’s read you like a book. He’s made you look better than you could ever have hoped for. 

“I’m gonna need that in writing,” he tells you, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen. “For employee of the month, and all.”

“Tell me where to sign.”

He jerks his head, and all at once the fog lifts. You follow him to the front desk like a lost puppy, feeling like you don’t actually want to leave. You want to sit in his chair while he cuts your hair until you have none left. You want to keep his attention on you and stare at his smile, his hair, his eyes, his tattoos, for the rest of time. 

“I look forward to next time, princess,” he tells you, but you’re hyperfocused on the touch of his hand to your lower back. 

You watch him telling something to the girl at the front desk, his hand wrapped around the edge of the table and distracting you for the umpteenth time. You watch his silver rings glint in the light, and you think about them weaving through your hair; you think about his fingers and how they’d feel on places besides your head.

“So, when did you want to schedule an appointment?” 

You blink a few times, and in a dazed glow you come back to where you are. At the front desk. Paying for your haircut. “Sorry, what?” 

“The… next appointment? For your trim?” The secretary tilts her head, smiling at you kindly. “When did you want to come in?”

“Oh,” you murmur, looking down at the keyboard that she’s typing on. Eddie has disappeared back around the partition with a sweet smile and a wave cast in your direction. You just want him to come back again. “What would you suggest? Y’know, for this kind of a cut?”

“Hmm,” the girl hums, and sizes you up. Not in a way that makes you doubt yourself, but in a way that tells you she’s taking your question seriously. “Probably about four weeks. See if the length is something you’re happy with?” 

“Great. Four weeks from now. With Eddie.” You peer down at the rack of business cards on the deck, and pick up the one farthest to the right. 

Eddie Munson, Stylist. Set an appointment today!

By four weeks, your hair has already reached your shoulders, and the ease of maintenance is starting to wear off. When you get a call reminding you about your appointment with Eddie, your head reels with the knowledge that you’ll see him again.

You calmly assert to yourself that this time, there will be no mooning over him. He’s just your hairdresser. You figure he just has a job to do, tips to earn, and so on. You don’t know if he’s available, you don’t know if he’s single or if he even likes you the way that you like him. You don’t know anything about him, really.

False. You know that he used to wash his hair with bar soap.

You snicker to yourself as you sit in the waiting area yet again. The only available slot for him today was 6:30; pretty close to closing time, but for a Wednesday you figured it was best for you to come late, since you’d have time to get yourself together after work.

You’ve never been in the salon so late. It’s getting dark outside, and the overhead lights cast a semi-yellow glow around the waiting area. Business is dying down now. Not as many people love the idea of getting their hair cut so late, you suppose, but it was either this or wait another week to get an appointment with Eddie, and with the rate that your hair is growing, you’d probably be going insane by then.

“Hey, you,” Eddie says, popping his head around the partition with a grin that makes you nearly melt in your seat. His curly hair hangs in a curtain out in midair, and his long neck stretches out for you to take a gander at. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

You smile at him. “Well, you’re the only person I trust with my head.”

What the fuck did you just say?

Eddie smirks, glowing pink around the ears. “I’ll keep that in mind, princess. Let me clean up my station real quick and I’ll getcha goin’, all right?”

You swallow back the lump in your throat. “Yeah, sure, no worries.”

When Eddie disappears again, you slide down in your seat and clap your hand across your eyes. You’re sort of glad that nobody was in the waiting room to see that ridiculous exchange, but you still have to sit with your embarrassment while Eddie cuts your hair. Again.

There will be no pining. There will be no getting weirdly turned on by him washing your hair. Nope, not happening this time.

This time, when Eddie ushers you back behind the partition, there’s only one two other stylists who are there cleaning their stations. The PA has been turned way down, so you can barely register what it’s playing at all.

“You actually came at a good time,” Eddie tells you as you trail after him toward the wash station. “You’re the last person for the night, so I can really take my time with you.”

“O-oh.. really?” You beat back your perverted thoughts with a stick. “To do what?”

“Oh, y’know,” Eddie shrugs as he lays a towel around your shoulders again, just as gentle as he was the last time. “We could do something totally crazy. Who knows what’ll happen?”

His voice is animated, pleasantly filling the empty space where your thoughts might become too much if you let them wander. 

Over the past month, after you’d recovered from your last meeting with Eddie, and as you were preparing for this one, you came up with a few things that you could ask him about– just to keep your mind from going to places you didn’t want them to. To save yourself the embarrassment and the ordeal of having to play whack-a-mole with your libido, and all. 

“Did you get employee of the month?” you begin with.

Eddie laughs, and then sighs. “No, our manicurist got it. I’ll get it this time, I just gotta stay on my A-game.” His blunt nails rake your hair away from your forehead and temples, and a lukewarm stream of water hits the crown of your skull.

You nearly want to jump out of your skin at the feeling. “Was it because they gave you the crap chair too many times?”

“Probably. But I got here early today, so the good news is you don’t have to sit in the crap chair this time.” 

“Aww, I kind of liked the crap chair. Kept me grounded.” You hear him huff a laugh as he starts lathering shampoo through your hair. Trying to keep your mind running so you don’t focus too hard on how good his rings feel scraping against your scalp, you ask, “How’d you get into this line of work?”

“Honestly, it’s kind of a weird story,” Eddie starts, beginning to massage his fingertips into your skull in a way that makes your toes curl in your shoes. You tighten your hands on the arms of your chair and take a deep breath. “So, it took me three tries to graduate high school, right? I was terrible at it. And, y’know, I figured I’d only end up working in a garage or something for the rest of my life. But I was cutting my mane all on my own, and eventually I started cutting my friends’ hair too, because they were all in college and it’s cheaper than going to a salon. I mean–” he chuckles, and begins rinsing your hair– “believe me. I know all about it. And it just came to me really easily, ‘cause I used to be great at drawing and crafting and stuff. And it’s kind of the same thing– once you learn the medium, it’s smooth sailing from there.”

The salon has gone eerily quiet, and by the time Eddie wraps your head and sits you up, you realize that the other stylists have gone, and you and Eddie are the last people in the building. You’d be a little nervous about it, but you got Eddie on a roll, and honestly, he makes it so easy to listen to him.

“Anyways, one day my friend Robin says to me, ‘You should totally get your credential for this,’ and I said, ‘You have to go to school for this shit?’” You blow a raspberry of a laugh, no longer feeling anxious as he sits you down on his not-crap styling chair. He drapes a smock over you, and cracks a grin at you in the mirror. “I know! So, I’ve never been great at school, and I can’t afford to pay for beauty school tuition on the pay I was making at the time, so my friends… they pooled together some money to at least pay for my first semester. And then– get this– I got on the fucking Dean’s list.”

“No way.”

“I did! Yours truly!” He does a little bow, and while you’re still giggling, he begins detangling your hair. “So, I got grants. And I finished top of my class, because as it turns out, when you don’t hate what you’re studying it’s really easy to do well. I got my certification framed and everything. Show that to my damn high school principal.” He shakes his head, but the smile is still on his face when he says, “But now I just have to get that fucking employee of the month.” 

“Anything I can do to help?” you offer, admiring his face in the mirror again without even realizing you’re doing it. You love seeing him grin, showing off his dimples and the smile lines around his eyes.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs with a cute scrunch of his nose. “Just make sure you write my boss a letter saying how fantastic and amazing I am and how there’s no other hair stylist like me and how you’ll never find anyone as cool and sexy anywhere else. Something subtle like that oughta do it.” 

“Shouldn’t be difficult,” you tell him smoothly. “I already had that one drafted.”

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling when he reaches for his scissors, but you still notice the faint blush on his cheeks that he tries to hide behind his curtain of hair. “Flattery. You know what that gets you with me.”

A freebie. You hear his voice echoing in your head, and you swallow past the dryness in your throat. “Like… what? A mohawk?”

“Would you want a mohawk?” he asks you, pausing his movements to peer at you. “Because that’d be metal as hell, I’d be so down.” 

You laugh. “I appreciate it, but I think… probably not today.”

Eddie hums, and returns to smoothing your hair back away from your face. “So we’re just doing the same as last time?” 

“Yeah, not too flashy.” 

“Gotcha. It’s a shame, though. I’m always up for a challenge.” 

“Well, I think that short hair is just easier to maintain,” you tell him, at a loss for what else to say. He glances up at you in the mirror, and locks eyes with you. “And it doesn’t make my neck look as stumpy as it is.”

Eddie tilts his head with a confused pout, and then he reaches down and wraps his hands loosely around your throat. Your breath stalls in your chest, your eyes focused on the sight of his hands on you, his thumbs gently stroking the nape of your neck and his ring clad fingers pressed just below your chin. His fingers link and hold you, creating a necklace that you’ll never be able to find anywhere else.

Oh, shit. Oh, fucking hell. Everything below your waist draws up tight and hard, your thighs clamping together like that’s going to somehow will away the hold that Eddie has on you.

You lift your eyes and find his in the mirror, dark and focused in on you. You hold each others’ gaze for a prolonged moment, not saying anything, you barely even daring to breathe. You can’t imagine what the expression on your face looks like. You’re too busy staring at the one on his– like there are a million thoughts running through his head, and you’re desperate to know every single one of them.

“Nah, I think you’re perfect.” And just like that, Eddie moves on like nothing happened, picking up his scissors again. Like he didn’t just fry your brain. Like you’re not halfway to cardiac arrest.

You’re dumbstruck as he starts trimming the ends of your hair. You told yourself there would be no mooning over him. No pining. But here, you are, turned on beyond belief, and having to deal with the heartbeat pulsing between your legs, and not shift around, because you don’t want to fuck him up. 

When he pinches the ends of the front to see if they’re level, you’re staring directly at him in the mirror. Not even trying to hide it, either. If you did try, you’d most certainly fail. Eddie frowns in concentration, a bit of a crease to his brow as he peers at his hands.

Eddie tuts. “I’m trying to figure out– is it–?” He grabs the back of your chair, and suddenly you’re being swiveled around to face him. “Sometimes these mirrors don’t even help a guy out at the worst goddamn times…”

Your breathing is way heavier than it needs to be. Is it hot in here? Did they crank up the heat in this place specifically to spite you? Eddie’s face is so close to yours, and you’re not sure if the fact that you aren’t in the crap chair is helping. You’re higher up now, and he doesn’t have to bend down as far to get level with you, and his eyes are the color of dark chocolate, and you–

Eddie’s hand comes up and snips the tip off the right side. “There we go. One side was all fucked.”

“Well, we don’t want anything getting fucked, do we?” you mutter under your breath. What’s left of it.

Eddie pauses and his eyes flick up to yours. His eyelashes are long and flutter as he holds your gaze again, while you try hard not to look away. There’s that unreadable expression on his face from earlier, morphing slowly into something like amusement, but that could also just be your mind playing tricks on you. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his li–

“Screw it.” Eddie tosses his scissors to the ground and his hands come up to grip your face, smoothing your hair back tenderly before he kisses you. 

You open your mouth and Eddie is in it, searching, feeling. His hands hold your head firm and you feel the metal of his rings digging into your cheeks, and you’re splitting apart at the seams from the way he’s completely invading your senses. He smells like warm, spicy cologne and hairspray. He tastes like cigarettes and cherry coke. He moans into you, and the sound is like heaven. 

You lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, and he grunts before he pulls away just the tiniest bit to give you breathing room. 

“This is highly unprofessional, Mr. Munson,” you whisper to him, as if you don’t have him caged in with your thighs.

“I don’t… actually fucking care,” Eddie admits, his nose just nudging against yours. “Got so fuckin’ hard the minute I saw you. What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“Dunno,” you murmur against his mouth, “I’m waiting for you to tell me.” 

“C’mere.” He pulls you out of your seat, and you practically trip over the smock he clipped around your neck. 

“Get me out of this thing,” you giggle, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder. You inhale a deep breath of his cologne, feeling his chest shake with his laugh. 

“Aww, but you look so cute,” Eddie coos, but his hands come up to undo the button at the back of your neck. The fabric slides to the ground, and Eddie kicks it aside as he crowds you back against the table. Your ass hits the edge of it and your hand falls onto a comb when you try to steady yourself. He pulls you flush to his body, his hands caging you in. Eddie’s tongue dances over your bottom lip and you moan, lifting your hands to tangle in the fabric of his shirt.

He ducks his head to help you pull his shirt off before he tosses it somewhere to the side. You’re distracted by his tattoos, each one of them beautiful and detailed, standing out against his pale skin.

Then, you remember something that he told you earlier, and you connect some dots that you hadn’t even realized were there. “Did you draw these?” 

Eddie’s grin could blind the sun. He blushes pink down his neck and shoulders. “Yeah, I did.” 

“They’re gorgeous. I meant what I said before– I really like them.” 

He sucks in a deep breath, and then his lips are on you, everywhere they can manage. On your face, your neck, trying to get at your collarbone but your shirt is in the way. He fists it in his hands, making a petulant noise in the back of his throat. “Help me out here, sweetheart.”

Your shirt lands somewhere near his. You don’t see exactly where, because he’s pulling the straps of your bra down your shoulders so that he can mouth kisses across your breasts, pulling down on the cups until he can graze his teeth over your nipple. It takes you so off guard that you bite back a squeal, tugging at his hair and rubbing your thighs together to stave off the incessant throbbing between them.

When you look down at him, his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black. Your heart thuds erratically in your chest, your breath not coming even though you gasp and pull at the air with everything you have. You can’t really fathom why he has you so worked up– just that it’s been so long since anyone touched you like this, and now that you have it it’s like every little point of contact is on fire.

Eddie grazes his teeth across your breast, and your knees nearly buckle out from under you. You grab his face, guiding him back up to you. 

“What were you thinking when you grabbed my throat?” you ask him, your voice hoarse in the back of your throat. 

His hands are on you now, grabbing at your waist and hips, squeezing like he’ll never let go. “I can show you, if you want,” Eddie answers, and he sounds just as wrecked as you. Maybe more. 

There’s absolutely no way you’re going to refuse that. Not with the way you’ve been lusting after him since meeting him. You nod. “Eddie, please–”

He kisses you hard again before mumbling against your lips, “Turn around and take off your pants.”

You do what he asks without a second’s hesitation. You watch him in the mirror as he follows your movements, undoing his own belt, and you kick your jeans and underwear off without thinking about why you’re here, without wondering about the repercussions. You figure you can probably do that later.

Right now, Eddie’s smoothing his hand up your spine, and the feeling of his fingers dancing along your skin sends shivers through your body. His fingers weave through the hair at the nape of your neck, and he pulls just slightly, until you bare your neck. 

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your heart hammers as you watch him, dark eyes and hair and rosy cheeks in the mirror, his carnation colored lips twisting into a wicked grin at you. He kisses your shoulder so gently it’s like the fluttering of a feather. 

“‘Stumpy neck,’” Eddie scoffs under his breath, and you tremble. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

He bends you forward until you’re face to face with yourself in the mirror– but you’re looking at him, gazing into your eyes while he teases himself at your entrance.

“Oh my god,” you groan, dropping your head almost immediately at the feeling. Your head is spinning, your body rigid with anticipation and breaking out in a cool sweat already. 

“Mm-mm,” Eddie hums condescendingly, and a hand clamps around your throat, hoisting your head up again. A gasp tears from your lips. In the mirror, his eyes are blazing. “You look at me while I fuck you. That’s the only way this is gonna happen. Got it?”

You nod. You want to shrink away from the heat in his gaze, but you want him to fuck you way more than that. You shudder as he leans forward, pressing in until his chin nearly rests on your shoulder.

“I need to hear you say it, baby.” His thumb strokes lightly along your pulse point, and you make a soft noise in the back of your throat without thinking. “Tell me you understand.” 

“I understand,” you tell him, barely a whisper, but he hears it all the same. 

“Good girl.” 

Eddie grins, kisses the nape of your neck, and pulls back. When he does, you’re barely able to take a breath before he pushes his hard cock into you, and the noise you make is almost embarrassing in its volume. 

“Ohhh, you’re absolutely soaked, baby. She’s practically dripping– is this just for me?” Eddie murmurs in your ear, grinding his hips up against your ass for emphasis. The lewd noise that it makes has your toes curling and the tips of your ears burning.

“Fuck,” you moan, ginding back against him to push him deeper. He’s so thick and you’re so sensitive that your mind is completely blanking at the feeling. 

Eddie notices, and he chuckles as grabs your waist with one hand as he thrusts his hips forward. “I’ve barely gotten my cock in you, princess. Don’t go getting all dumb on me already.” His voice goes straight between your legs and your cunt pulses around him, making him hiss through his teeth. The hand on your throat tightens just slightly. “I asked you a question.”

You keen, your mind reeling as you search for words. You manage to nod, babbling out, “Yes, it’s– it’s all for you, Eddie, been wanting you so bad, s’all I can think about–”

Eddie coos, grabbing your chin to shut you up while a particularly hard thrust of his hips knocks the wind out of you. He turns his head and grazes his lips against your cheek, eyeing you in the mirror as he says, “I knew it.” 

Your eyes are on him, on his hand around your neck, on his rings pressed into your skin. All that your fucked-out mind can think is that it’s hot, and you like him and his strong hands and his pretty eyes and the way his cock is reaching places inside you that make thoughts really difficult to come by.

Eddie whispers something against your skin, and you miss it because you’re hooked on the way his eyelashes flutter for just a moment while his lips are pressed against your cheek. You lift your hand, until it rests over his against your throat, his fingers just barely laced with yours. 

“Again,” you say– it comes out like a command, but you mean it like a question. You don’t know what the fuck he just said. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeats, and his voice nearly cracks with the desperation in it. His sweat slick chest is pressed against your back, his thrusts rocking your hips into the table and jostling it into the wall, but his voice is so tender. “So perfect for me.” 

Your mouth falls open, your hand tightening on his. You pull, until he loosens his grip and his hand comes away with yours. You kiss his palm, then his fingertips, holding his gaze in the mirror as you slowly, gently swirl your tongue around his middle and forefinger. 

Eddie’s eyes narrow coyly at you, while his thrusts make you mewl and clutch at the table with your free hand. You suck his two fingers deep into your mouth, earning a pleased groan from him in your ear– a sound which you want to hear again and again, no matter what it takes. 

“Look at you, sweet little thing, gettin’ my fingers all wet like that,” he whispers to you, biting his lip as you grind back against him. “Wanna do something with ‘em?”

You moan, letting his fingers slide from your mouth with a wet pop. You guide his hand down your chest, down your stomach, until his fingers slide between your legs. 

“There you go,” Eddie coos, taking over from your guidance as his fingers start rubbing small circles against your clit. “Atta girl, showin’ me what you want. Just needed me to fuck you stupid first, hm?”

Your cunt pulses, and you cum with a loud moan that echoes off of the mirror in front of you and around the empty space. Eddie cries out, and you feel his warmth fill you as he cums. He slows until he stills inside you, and then he holds you, panting against your cheek, his arm wrapped around your middle and his hand on your throat.

You haven’t moved your hand away from his, you realize, after a few moments of bliss in the aftershocks. You drop your hand to the table with a thud, earning a soft, breathless chuckle from him. 

“Can I take you out to dinner?” Eddie asks you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“I think you can do whatever you want with me,” you murmur dazedly, just barely shifting and making him hiss. He’s still inside you, trying to hold you steady while he calms himself down. 

“Good.” There’s a kiss to your cheek, and Eddie grunts as he slowly eases out of you. “I still need to finish your goddamn haircut.”

“Eddie, we’re naked.” 

“And?” His hands are moving quicker than your mind is, yanking a kleenex from the table so that he can bend down and wipe the insides of your thighs. You jump at the sudden touch, but he clamps a hand around your hip to hold you still. “The sooner I finish your hair, the sooner I close up, and the sooner we go get dinner. You like Italian?”

“I didn’t think your pillow talk would involve finishing my haircut,” you grumble, but there’s a smile worming it’s way onto your face even as you say it. 

“That’s the name of the game, sweetheart,” Eddie says, tossing the tissue into the trash. He picks up your underwear, and the smock from the floor. “Now, sit your cute ass down. I’m not gonna get employee of the month by dishing out orgasms and not bangs, y’know.”