#Interview Prep Guide

[businessabroad]

List of Questions used in Competency-Based Interview #17

Decoding Competency-Based Interview Questions for the UN

The questions asked in a UN competency-based interview are not just inquiries—they're a window into your professional soul. Our "List of Questions Used in Competency-Based Interview - UN Jobs #17" video is your cheat sheet to understanding and mastering these probing questions.

From teamwork to leadership, this video breaks down the questions, reveals what interviewers are really looking for, and how to frame your experiences in a way that aligns with the UN's core competencies. It’s time to turn those questions into your stepping stones for success!

#UNCompetencyInterview #JobInterviewQuestions #UNJobHunt #CareerStrategies

[manasastuff-blog]

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[ambersky0319]

Arghidjdjxvcnzgcndgsbf

I have multiple things I need to do tomorrow and I dont wanna do any of them

[acid-ixx]

ch.1: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1, chapter five pt 2,

read until the end for an author's note.

if there was one thing you hated more than the crime-filled streets of gotham, it would be empty promises.

when was the last time they attended your birthday? or your school ceremonies? or any special event that meant for you to be the center of attention?

plot twist, there was no last time, or a time before that or any day that they were there for you.

not your eldest brother, dick, not your dead brother, jason, of course tim wouldn't be there for you, damian's absence is a given, not even your sisters would come, and most especially not your father, bruce wayne.

you never wrote wayne as your last name. in every test, it would always be your mother's last name. in every document that you had to fill, you would violently scratch in the name of your father, wishing it wasn't required at all so you wouldn't have to hang your head in shame everytime someone looks at you incredulously for having the bruce wayne as your father but never once appearing to be with you.

you can't recall a time you had called him your dad, or even considered him as one.

if you could count the times you have seen him in person, it wouldn't even fill ten fingers. even interviewers and paparazzi have more luck in coming across him than you would, his child.

it sucks, really, how despite having nearly sharing the same age as tim, you never once saw him outside of his room. you thought you would've been the closest to him, but the most you have seen him was when you were watching the news with the "new" robin popping up, or worse; when bruce would be seen guiding tim through the paparazzi and not you. alfred had to drag you away from the tv that day because you were already suffering through a panic attack just seeing those two act so close; ripping your hair out just from watching the news wasn't a good way to cope.

you remember being so jealous of him, of how bruce would always spend time with him and not you. it made you wonder, were you special enough? tim is so brilliant, you could admit. and you were, too, having enough comprehensibility as a child to find out they were vigilantes a year or two after living in the manor— but you weren't good enough like tim. you weren't cut out to be like a detective or a fighter.

it was no wonder why bruce chose them over you.

it came to you in the form of talking to tim that had you discovering that no one ever mentions your name inside the house, proving it to be true when tim had hesitated calling your name and even stuttered through pronouncing it. and then he left after finding you were of no use to help him. alfred had to stifle your sobbing after tim left the room, allowing you to cry on his chest whilst you sat beside him.

(name) wayne was so, so lonely.

you would've accepted their absence long ago, but you were a stupid child who needed care and reassurance because your mother left you for good at the age of five. you were too naive into thinking you would receive the same love from your family just like the other kids in elementary would. you were a child who expected too highly of your father, thinking that he would pick you up from school with that picture perfect photographed smile of his and kiss your forehead and tell you that you did a great job at school today.

it was your teachers who would be the one having to walk you up the stage whenever you achieved an award. alfred would be too busy sometimes to attend your school ceremonies because he had to assist bruce with missions. of course, you understood his priorities. after all, he tried his hardest to make you feel less lonely inside the mansion, it wasn't enough but he was there at least.

it was long ago that you stopped praying for your family to attend at least one of your birthdays.

it's ironic, really, for a child to prep and plan for their own celebration just to hope that a single member of their family to even walk by the kitchen and join them in on their already lonesome celebration.

too bad everybody only goes to the kitchen when alfred cooks for them. who would want to taste sadness in a sloppily made birthday cake, right? nobody, not even you would have the appetite to eat your cake with the knowledge that it was you who had to put all the effort to bake it because you didn't want alfred to feel obligated to. knowing nobody would celebrate birthdays with you, save for alfred, it was expected that you started to prefer cupcakes.

because then you wouldn't be scolded for making such a mess.

you never cooked family meals after the incident where nobody came and to not waste food, you had to bring in large containers to bring to school so you could celebrate your birthday there.

it was there that you find more solace in your small group of friends compared to the desolate rooms of the mansion. your family celebrates holidays together as a whole, but you never once attended after that one time where everybody had forgotten to get you a gift for christmas, save for alfred who gave you a bracelet (one that you cherished deeply). you only smiled weakly and hopelessly, sneaking into your room before the family dinner.

it was alfred again who bought you leftovers and sat on your bed for an hour to encourage you that there's still more christmas's to go.

you never believed what he said. not anymore.

there was a period of time where you hated them more than anything, blamed them for everything and became more rebellious, purposely failing tests, fighting your classmates and disrespecting teachers in hopes that for once your father would bat an eye on you. that only resulted in you being taken out of the school and being transferred into another, for a behavioral reform is what alfred stated to you when you annoyed him for answers.

damian started to bully you a bit more harder after that incident, calling you immature and childish, a weakling, an attention seeker. how someone at your age should've known better. you were convinced that he was relishing in the heartbroken glare you gave him, ignoring the way his eyes widened momentarily at your reaction before sneering and walking away.

alfred gently scolded you, but you were too choked up and instead you almost tripped running inside your bedroom, locking yourself in for what seems like hours.

you don't want to remember the immense breakdown you had that evening too, screaming on your blankets and destroying your things and hurting yourself because... because you had lost your old friends for nothing! your caring teachers, your academic progress, everything! every single thing for an ounce of attention! because he didn't have enough energy to come with you to the guidance counselor and he only had you transfer out so you wouldn't ruin the wayne's reputation!

you hate him, you hate bruce fucking wayne so much and you hate clinging onto their empty promises and sorry's to make it up for you. you hate how their promises were never even said directly to you, you hate how alfred was your only source of hope for a medium of communication.

you hate them all.

and worst of all, you hate yourself for drowning in hope. for wishing you were physically stronger so you could at least bond with them through training. for dreaming about a day where they could surprise you and told you they were just testing you and that you actually had worth inside this manor. for praying nightly that they'll smile at you like the heroes you see in tv rather than that of pity.

you wished there was a universe where gotham was safer, more protected with no criminals littering the streets. maybe then they would have more time to notice you crying every night, writing self destructive entries in your diary, sketching what would've been a happy family. they wouldn't have to wear their silly costumes to fight crime and instead would save you from your own demons.

if...

if you were brutally tortured and killed by the joker, or forced to choke on the fear toxin by the scarecrow— hell, even beaten to near death by some random goons; would they have given you a sliver of their love? would they finally look at you and save you from yourself?

because despite your resentment, you would never lie and say you didn't feel blessed that you were thrown to a family of talented individuals.

your drawings of a complete and happy family holding hands together and a diary filled with rants and fantasies of spending time with them proved just that.

you were blessed with them yet cursed at the same time to never reach the same level to be even considered part of their lives.

you were hopeless. you never amounted to anything. you were just, you.

thirteen years have passed by then, and in those years you were proud to say your development as a person, albeit slow, transformed you from a child that succumbed to neglect to an independent person who managed to maintain a comfortable circle of friends, a scholarship for a college far away from gotham, and an apartment of your own (you were a bit in debt due to having to pay for your own because no way in hell would you ask for your father for financial support).

allowance was scarce, your food supplies weren't infinite compared to back when you were living at the wayne manor, and you weren't greeted to michelin star restaurant meals cooked by alfred— but you were content, and that was enough.

though content translated to nightly breakdowns whilst finishing projects or writing essays, the point still stands! at least you had celebrated your eighteenth birthday with drunk smiles and your friends spoiling you to death when you had opened up about your first lonely years of life. everything was going well for you, truly.

you were so, so happy for the nice turn of events. and you wouldn't have made it so far if you hadn't slapped yourself out of the delusion that they actually cared for you.

look at you now! independent and with a life of your own! you'd give yourself a pat in the back.

you hadn't blocked them at all, but their contacts were empty (save for a few desperate messages that date back years ago) and you were fine with that. it's not like tim or bruce or barbara considered you important enough to be stalked. hah, as if!

alfred communicates with you time to time, reminding you to eat a complete meal rather than those one dollar priced noodles that tasted like pure salt. he told you he misses you a lot, you and your annoying, daily rants about life and school. he misses your awkward smile and when you would help him cook whenever the others aren't around. he misses it when you imitate his posh accent when you taste test his food and give commentary about it.

you miss him, too. growing up, you realized just how much effort alfred would exert just to spend a lot of his time on you.

now, he told you that you are still welcome to the manor whenever, and how he cleans your room weekly in case you'll visit him.

whenever you audio call with him, you'd tear up just a bit at the realization that alfred was more of a father figure than your own biological father. because he at least attended your graduation to make up for the other times he was unable to join you.

what's even better was that he gifted you something you had always wanted for your birthday. despite it being delivered to your door rather than him giving it to you face to face (since you had refused to give him your location and him respecting that decision at least), the heartfelt letter he left you was more than enough to let you cling onto pieces of your past. after all, it was him who greeted you by the door when you were first introduced into the family, bruce being too busy with paperwork that day when you were a measly five year old.

you had started to teasingly call him 'alfie' and a few more nickname after that, which results with a chuckle over the phone every time you had come up with a cheesy name for him whenever you get a wee bit irritated at his own way of making fun of you.

if only this was your life years ago, then maybe you wouldn't have been jealous of all your other friends and pushed them away that day, maybe you would learn that sometimes, family comes in the form of the people outside of your house rather than inside.

that reminds you, maybe you should reconnect with your old friends back in elementary and apologized for your sudden explosive behavior.

you were laying on your bed, phone in hand and opened your inst*gram app to stalk through the names you could remember. well... that was what you should've done, if not for the fact that a notification popped up the very moment you pressed on the search bar and you had accidentally opened a chat with your oldest brother, dick.

you would've ignored the desperate messages you have sent him from the past which all varied from inviting him to eat dinner with you or to at least join you to play in an arcade or anything to convince him to talk to you, all of which were unseen, if not for the fact that it was him who sent you a sudden "hey baby bird!!! <333 long time no see! how are you?!" message, alongside a few more replies that spammed through your phone...

oh!

... that was enough to make you sit up and want to hurl.

dick grayson was a man of many talents. the mature eldest child, the ideal good leader despite his anger issues from time to time, and the same guy who set the standards high for the future robins. he is bruce's greatest achievement.

it was safe to say that if not for the support of many, then he would've suffered so many falls and would've never been strong enough to stand up despite the pain and continue his fights. nightwing was what many superheroes strive to be, an image of light in a grove of darkness such as gotham.

so why was it that he felt like he has failed so deeply right now?

inside your room, dick stands with furrowed brows. it felt too clean to look used. your furniture was polished and look untouched, the lights were too bright and the windows were bolted shut. there were no signs of life other than the notebooks and sketchbooks that were neatly tucked on the middle of the bed and the trinkets that scatter through your desk.

dick stalks through the room, careful to not make a noise as he walks over to the closet, opening it and finding nothing.

he bites his lips at the implication that this was probably the second time he visited your room and how it was also the longest time he remained here. compared to his other siblings, you were the one he noticed the least and... now he feels bad for dismissing you.

didn't he promise to take you out for dinner months ago?

damn it, he was way too focused on his mission that night and ended up ditching and forgetting you! oh god, dick facepalmed and clenched his teeth, seething in some air because no fucking way did he actually remember to feed damian's dog, titus, the same day but forgot to take you out for an important event...

it occurred to him that that was the same day you scored a perfect on "the hardest test of my life!" you had bragged to him awkwardly when he wasn't listening nor looking and you, wanting to celebrate what was a small achievement for dick, chose him to spend time with you!

dick had to carefully breath through his mouth then gulp down the shame he feels right now. he- he has no time to focus on the past but rather the present. he has to find out why the hell is your room so lifeless, yeah... then he'll make it up to you today, definitely.

huh?

is it just him, but why does the room seem so small? it looked like it was meant to be for a kid. clearly, there wasn't enough space for a growing individual like you... did bruce not provide you with a bigger bedroom? ah, dick would definitely tell bruce to relocate you to a bigger room, the current one is too small for even a dog in a manor to sleep in.

dick doesn't want to admit it at all, but... he hasn't seen you for the past few months, or not all, really. sure, he had only recently visited the manor since he's bludhaven's vigilante now, but even through his time in gotham he had never seen you other than the times you pulled his sleeves from back when you were a child.

back when you were a child.

how old are you now? you were so small back then, innocent too. he can recall your curious eyes, your chubby cheeks and the way you stutter through your words as you try to talk to him.

you were significantly younger than jason, and was adopted a week before tim was introduced to the family. he remembers you peeking through alfred's back, gleaming with curiousity and whispering to the butler if it was really the dick grayson. he smiled fondly at your dumbfounded expression, the way your mouth shaped into an "ohh," when he was the one who answered that, yes, it was him. then you whispered again if you can take have an autograph from him, to which he chuckled and told alfred that he'll help accompany you to your room.

when your five year old body tried to waddle closer to his body for an ounce of warmth when he had been guiding you up the stairs, that was also the first time he called you baby bird, with the way you coddled him so closely. his hands find itself patting your head, ruffling your hair and grinning as you both make your path through the halls.

he comes to immediately regret leaving you alone after he had introduced you to your room, remembering his duties as a vigilante than that of a brother.

but despite his early memories of you, he wants to see his baby sibling all grown up now.

had it really been years?

when was the last time you ever had a full-on conversation with him?

was there even a time that he had approached you by himself?

he had always called you baby bird after the first time you meet because of the age gap you two shared. the rare times he acknowledges you, you gave him that look filled with such adoration, like you were proud of him for being your older brother. why did he not notice you?

oh, his baby bird...

dick gulped, trying to ease his shivering by sitting on your neatly folded blankets and taking a worn diary in his hand, one at the bottom stack of books. well, if it was a personal diary then maybe you would've hidden it better, right? he figures since it was all placed on the center of the bed like a piece of treasure that... it would be alright to take just a glimpse.

to confirm if you still see him as your favorite brother.

dick's heartbeat spiked, hoping your entries would be filled with, he doesn't know, anything that didn't implicate some sort of hatred for the family, for him. hoping that despite his lack of attention towards you, that there would still be a spark of love for him. if what he thinks was actually true then... he doesn't know what to do with himself.

he flips through the first page, noting how it was bulkier than the others. the paper was filled with glittery decorations, sequence beads and cheap stickers sparkling at every angle the light hits. it was meant to be a design for the 'front cover' of the notebook, colors blended in a cacophony of rainbows and butterflies and flowers beyond the messy calligraphy that merely states "(name)'s diary!"

dick stifles a grin just from skimming through at the amount of mistakes and erasures, clearly written by the the younger version of you; naive to the world and its cruelty. he commends your creativity, his eyes softening at the few doodles that were written on the corners of the pages.

you're just too adorable for your own good, so much so that the thumping in dick's heart beats louder and louder, ears wringing uncomfortable inside your unventilated bedroom. but he just couldn't rip his eyes away from the diary, daydreaming about how proud you must've been when designing your own diary. he could picture your wide eyes, shy and harmless, and your feet kicking back and forth whilst you decorate your stuff.

everything was what he expected it to be on the first few pages of the diary. all your little rants about your daily life, your eargerness to meet your entire family from your father's side, and the hurt you experienced from your mother's sudden abandonment.

he would've skipped through another diary, one that lacked design and color, save for the name plastered on the front, if not for the grim undertones at every end of your entries despite the child-like manner it was written in.

it all started with "i wish to see my father soon and my big brother dick again!", "alfred told me my father can't come to the parent-teacher conference, he says he's in a veryyy important meeting :( but alfred would come!", "dick told me he can't help me with my science project but he promise he'll help me with something else later!" which halfway through the diary, your style fluctuates and lesser effort was exhausted on the writing.

one entry in particular, written on the last page of your diary, shattered a sliver of hope within dick, his breathing momentarily ceased from reading through your sentences; uncharacteristic of you, too mature for someone at the age of ten to write.

"XX/XX/XXXX.

dear diary, it's my tenth birthday today. i celebrated with my friends at school. they told me i always look down whenever it's my birthday. they think that bruce would throw a fancy celebration for me. i tried to hide my laughter from them. it's a really funny joke. i haven't seen him for months. i told dick that he was invited but i don't think he remembers it's my birthday today. alfred told me to come out of my room, he said he cooked my favorite dinner, that he's sorry he got my present late, but i don't want get out of my room. i heard dick is gonna watch a movie with tim later. i don't feel so good, my chest hurts, but i don't want to get out right now.

i'll eat the cupcake tomorrow."

it had been nearly two hours since dick had sat on your bed, eyes dilating whilst reading through your first diary. the cold season had already pricked his skin, but his entire body felt so unnaturally warm, a warmth that scorches him, searing deep into flesh. a lump had form in his throat, accompanying the hellish throbbing of his heart.

"fuck..." he brought his fingers to his head, carefully massaging his forehead but it relieves nothing. he wants to see you right now— he needs to talk to you. god, he has to apologize, he needs to see what you look like right now, needs to know if you're alright.

you're clearly not.

he has to oppress the urge to punch the walls, reminding himself that it's your room he's in and if he damages your already delicate property, then he's proving himself worse than he already is.

he rushes to grab another diary, the one at the top of the pile, skipping to the end of the page.

nothing. all the entries were months ago, all written in vague detail like you were starting to hide secrets. his teeth grinds against each other, frustration seeping through his veins.

he needs to— shit, he needs to find you right now. he needs to find his baby bird and make up for the all bullshit him and his family had done. if you were gone for months, even years; he doesn't even want to think about it.

but how?!

there were no signs of you. anything written your diary, your drawings, the trinkets on your bedside table— they signal no clues whatsoever, all dating back to months, even years. it's not possible at all, for nobody to notice your disappearance. dick would've noticed sooner. he should've noticed sooner. oh, he doesn't even want to think about the dangers that await you outside the mansion. with how naive you were about the outside world, you wouldn't last at all.

his baby bird wouldn't survive gotham's streets, especially not when winter was nearing.

think, grayson, think...

his phone!

he immediately reaches into his pockets to grab his phone, clammy fingers swifly encoding his password and opening his contacts.

your number was the quickest to find, it was the only one without an icon of you and an endearing nickname. he makes a mental note to change that soon and replaced your default name to your nickname.

then, without hesitation, he typed, "hey baby bird!!! <333 long time no see! how are you?!" sending the message without rereading, foot tapping impatiently against the floor as he scrolls through all your previous messages.

messages that he should've replied to with the same level of enthusiasm as you. skimming through the past, unseen texts as your motivation began to dwindle the further he refused to reply back. he promises he'll never make you feel invisible again.

seconds feel like hours for him, as he blows raspberries to pass the time, too concentrated an ounce of a reply to even notice the entirely new presence inside the room.

it's alright to call you, yes? after all, dick just wanted to check in with his baby bird and see if you're doing swell and dandy and... safe without him...!

his thumbs pressed on the call button before he could think through his actions, his other hand runs through his hair, sweat running down his forehead as if he had ran a marathon.

he waited, and waited, and waited until the call beeped and provided its automated response. he calls you again but the line immediately cuts off, he tries to spam you with more messages but they weren't delivered.

you blocked him.

fuck, he messed up big time. he needs to get to the batcave. he needs to find your fucking location before it's too late. dick needs to see you again before he loses it.

but before he could carefully place your sketchbooks back to its rightful place, he sees a silhouette at the corner of his eyes; short figure, arms crossed, and a sneer on his eyes already tells him who it was.

damian wayne.

he forgot to train with damian today.

but it doesn't matter, damian has to see it for himself— what made dick so disheveled, so delirious. damian has to finally see just how much of a wonderful sibling you are.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: this was 4,600+ words and it drained the energy out of me. it was supposed to be posted tomorrow but i was too motivated !! i'm also quite proud of this chapter. it was a pain characterizing dick grayson and the reader. i really hope this is as good as the prequel because it's 3am right now and writing dick's part was a pain in the ass ^^' as always, please do comment or send asks if you like it for quicker updates!!!

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @alishii, @ruiroku, @okaybutfullhomo, @trasshy-artist, @obsessedwithromance, @deadinside-09, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa (shoutout to her specifically because i got motivated from their comment!)

[ghostskarth]

how tha hell do u prepare for an interview without gouging out your eyes

[orcelito]

Tonight would be such a lovely night if I didn't have this damned manager meeting to do in a bit over an hour 😠

[hughes-your-daddy]

media girl

pairing: jack hughes x fem reader

summary: game day in the hughes household is a busy day for you and jack

warnings: none

you groan, flipping over in bed to turn off your blaring alarm, feeling the arms slip loose from around your waist.

“morning baby.” you hear jack mumble in his morning voice as he presses a gently but firm kiss to the back of your neck, before you turn over to place a kiss on his lips.

“morning j.” you smile before slipping away, pulling on some of jacks sweats, moving to the kitchen to make breakfast and prep lunch.

you quickly make two coffees one in an mug for you and the other in a travel cup for jack, and make some scrambled eggs when a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

“hello mrs hughes.” jack smiles, resting his head on your shoulder gently swaying yous.

after getting married a month ago, the two of you haven’t had time for a honey moon with jack still in hockey season, so for now he’s making the most of the newly wed lifestyle.

“hiya husband.” you giggle turning your head to meet his lips again.

“will you be here when i get back from morning skate?” he asks, moving to get his back ready and packed.

“probably not, it’s a home game, you know how busy these days are, especially the hughes bowl.” you sigh, a small pout on jacks lips.

“here for my pregame nap?” he asks, giving puppy dog eyes.

“i’ll try to get away for lunch.” you smile seeing the boys frown turn to a smile, before he grabs his mug, slinging his bag over his shoulder and is over to give you one last kiss

“i love you.” he smiles against you lips.

“love you too, see you later.” you smile gently patting his cheek before he’s out the door on the way to the arena.

you quickly serve up and eat your breakfast before you’re heading back to your bedroom, setting your coffee on your vanity before moving to shower and wash your hair.

you quickly finish up and dry your hair, putting a loose curl in it before starting your makeup. you decide on just a light look, throwing on a pair of jeans and a jumper knowing you’d be getting ready later one.

you quickly grab your badge and keys, tossing them in your bag before heading down to the parking garage and heading to work.

the drive isn’t too bad as it’s earlier in the day, not many fans on their way to the arena yet. you show your id at the door, allowing you to park up and head inside.

you first head to your office setting your bag down, taking out your laptop, setting up for the day, and grabbing your camera, before heading out to the rink. a little ritual you and jack had every game day, catch him at morning practice where he’d pass you a puck. a little good luck charm he created.

you stand side of rink, camera in hand next to one of the trainers eloise.

“morning y/n.” she smiles, as you send her one back.

“morning el, how they looking today.” you ask knowing there’s been quite a few injuries these past couple weeks.

“luckily nothing bad,” she smiles, as you begin to take some pictures of the boys at practice.

“ah y/n, how are you.” nico shouts across the rink, waving with a big smile like always on his face, causing jack to spin round. seeing you a smile spreads across his face as he skates over, guiding a puck with him before he gently pops it over the barrier, you catching it just in time.

“feeling good?” you ask, as he leans his elbows on the barrier.

“gonna be a good game, quinn is wanting to take us out after.” he smiles.

“i’ll try and get out as quick as possible.” you say, knowing how late you can get held up after a game.

he sends a wink your way before heading back over to the practice.

they don’t continue for much longer, before they’re heading back out into the tunnel to their changing rooms, so you head back to your office, to begin sorting out the plan for the press tonight.

since your colleague was off sick you were also in charge of photos tonight as well as interviews so you were busy.

typing away on your laptop, you don’t realise the figure at the door until he knocks, clearing his throat to get your attention.

“oh sorry, didn’t realise you were there.” you smile, watching him drop his bag at the door and move a chair next to yours at your desk.

“what you doing?” he asks, leaning over your shoulder to see.

“sorting press for tonight,” you sigh, turning to face him. his eyes scan your face before he leans in, hands on your knees and pressing his lips to yours.

“don’t wear yourself out yeh, need my lucky charm here for tonight all healthy.” he smiles, pulling away.

“i won’t.” you reassure him, before luke’s knocking at the door, waiting for jack.

“hiya, y/n, love you and all, but i need jack to take me home, i need a fat nap.” he smiles, looking exhausted.

“you ok?” you ask the younger boy.

ever since you met jack in high school, you always felt protective of luke like a mother or an older sister. if he’s not feeling great then you’re usually the first he calls.

“just need a minute to chill i think.” he sighs, sitting down in the chair opposite your desk, leg bouncing.

you look between the two brothers, luke about to pass out in the chair and concern written all over jacks face as he watches.

“grab your stuff.” you say abruptly, shutting off your laptop and packing your bag.

“i thought you had work to do.” jack asks, confused at your sudden movement, luke also feeling the same.

“i can do it from home, luke you’re coming back to ours, sleep in the spare room. im gonna make that pasta and chicken you guys like,” you say moving across to the door, a they just stare at you in disbelief, “well, are you coming?” you asks and the two rush to get up and out into the corridor.

you laugh at their behaviour, before the three of you head out to the car park, jack driving like home whilst you drive yourself.

you get home before the two boys, deciding to just get on with the food, checking the time. 11am. plenty of time, the boys don’t need to be back until 5.

you take off your coat hanging it over the back of a stool before slipping on an apron to begin cooking. you manage to get done quickly, so you just leave it on a low heat to keep it warm until the boys come in.

taking off your apron, you move around the island sitting down at the stool to get back on with your work, when you hear the door open.

“sorry we took so long, stopped off at luke’s to get his stuff.” jack calls out, before the two shuffle their way into the kitchen.

“all good, foods ready if you’d just want to help yourself.” you smile seeing the two go over to the stove getting their serving before moving over to eat on the couch some old hockey game playing in the background.

you keep on with your work, pretty much finishing the plan for tonight when luke comes over, standing beside you.

“thanks y/n for this, really appreciate it.” he says, his hoodie hood up over his head, eyes slightly brimming with tears.

“oh lukey,” you frown, standing up to wrap the younger in a hug, “you know i’m here if you need to talk yeh?” you asks, the taller boy nodding into your shoulder.

“yeh, definitely,” he smiles pulling away, a small sniffle coming from him, “just had a lot of pressure recently, fans are really blaming me for some of our losses.” he mumbles, looking down and fidgeting with the end of his hoodie.

“you know that’s not true luke, jack could even testify for that,” you say seeing him scoff, “and not because he’s your older brother, but because he’s your alternate captain who watched you train harder than anyone in that ice every day ok?” you ask and he looks up nodding.

“ok, not go take a nap, you look exhausted.” you smile, patting his shoulder as he lets out a small chuckle before heading off to your spare bedroom.

“your incredible you know.” you hear jack say from the couch, as he leans over the back, resting his head on his hand.

“i feel bad for him.” you sigh, walking over to join jack, sinking into his side on the couch.

“i know, he’s been really bad after games, not talking to anyone just getting showered, changed and then leaving. i’m getting worried.” jack frowns, his fingers running up and down your arm.

“hopefully he’ll feel a bit better after this game, seeing quinn should help.” you smile, leaving up to face jack.

“i think it’ll help us all abit,” he smiles down at your pressing his lips to yours before pulling away, “nap now?” he asks, those puppy dog eyes back on display.

“yes, we can nap now.” you say, jack excitedly pulling you up and heading to your room, not before peeking into the guest bedroom seeing luke peacefully asleep. you see his shoulder relax a bit more, as he guides you into bed.

you change into one of jacks old t-shirts as he just strips to his boxers before the two of you climb into bed setting an alarm for 2, giving you around 2 hours of sleep before getting up.

next thing you know, you sat touching up your hair and makeup, before choosing on an outfit to wear while jack was getting changed into his own suit

you decide on a black pant suit, a slightly oversized fit, with a white tshirt underneath, paired with your black louis vuittons that jack got you as a wedding present.

“i love those on you baby.” jack smiles at you through the mirror as he fixes his tie.

“special day, special shoes.” you smile back, adjusting your top slightly before turning to make sure everything is back in your bag ready for tonight.

you head out to the living room seeing luke sat, beanie on head, ready to leave.

“that sleep help luke?” you ask quickly pouring some coffee into your travel mug.

“yeh, actually really helped, thanks again.” he smiles, standing up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, as jack comes out with his own bag.

the three of yous head out to jacks car, him driving you there before you separate from them, heading to your office to drop off your stuff before quickly heading out to meet the rest of the staff for tonight outside the changing rooms.

seeing the pre-game press build outside the changing rooms you realise how chaotic tonight is gonna be.

“y/n!” you hear shouted from down the hall, turning, you spot a certain older brother, a smile on his face.

“hey quinn,” you smile, quickly going over to hug him, “how you feeling?” you ask, pulling away.

“good, really excited. you’re coming out tonight right?” he asks, almost bouncing with excitement.

“yeh, definitely, might be a bit late but will be there.” you smile before he has to head off to get ready himself.

warmups run around quickly as you follow the staff out to the bench, taking some pictures of warmups, smiling when you see quinn meet his two younger brothers in the middle. you wave to get their attention before the come round to pose for a quick picture. you take a few before pulling the camera down giving them a quick thumbs up, the three skating off to continue warm ups.

the game finishes quickly, the devils taking a lead 4-3, and before you know it, you’re waiting outside the changing rooms with a bunch of press trying to get in.

you wait for the go ahead over your ear piece to make sure the boys are all decent and ready before you lead the press in, earning smiles and waves from the boys as you walk past, a certain pair of eyes lingering on you for a while longer than normal.

most of the press head over to jack and luke, a few wanting to see nico as well. you stay around for a bit until the beginning to simmer away having gotten the answers they wanted leaving the boys to finish getting changed. you take one last look at jack, the boy sending a quick wink towards you before leaving heading down to your office.

you settle down at your desk, sending off social media posts as well as some clips from the press that have already made it out to the media. it doesn’t take you long before jack comes bouncing in through your door.

“that was such a good game, did you see my goal? i don’t even know how i made that.” he rambles coming over behind your desk before pressing lips his to yours, before pulling away grinning.

“i did see the goal, you played amazingly.” you smile, standing up and adjusting his suit lapels slightly.

“did you know we’re matching today, i think it was a good luck charm to be honest.”

you giggle looking down at both your outfits not realising you had pretty much picked the same ones.

“mmh, we look hot.” he smirks, gently pulling you closer by your waist.

“yeh?” you ask, lips brushing his, before he nods pulling you in for a proper kiss. you pull away before he goes deeper, moving to grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

“come on, your brothers are gonna be waiting.” you smile, walking out jack hot on your heels before you meet quinn and luke out at the parking lot.

“good job, mr two goals.” you smile, side hugging luke, “told you you’re good.” you smile up at him seeing him laugh it off before you give quinn’s quick hug too.

quinn drives him and luke while jack drive you too off to meet their parents at a restaurant in town. you just order a simple chicken dish, the night going quickly and before you know it, yous are heading back to your apartment where luke and quinn are spending the night to make the most of the time with the oldest brother.

yous all change into some comfy clothes before piling onto the sofa to watch a film. jack on your left, luke on your right and quinn on the other side of luke, everyone bundled up in blankets, watching step brothers.

“i really appreciate what you do for us you know?” jack whispers, you leaning into his chest further.

“you guys are my family, it’s the least i could do.” you smile, feeling him press a small kiss to the top of your head.

[howslemon]

Breaded Butter

Jo Yuri x Male Reader

Words: 2k+

Part 1

You poured a packet of brown sugar into your coffee, stirring slowly until it dissolved. The first sip drew a quiet sigh from you, the warmth helping to shake off the remnants of sleep.

"Thank you for the update. We’re pleased to hear Yuri’s interactions went smoothly. Please ensure she’s well-prepared for today’s interviews. Keep us updated on any concerns or adjustments needed." Your eyes skimmed the higher-up’s reply to your report from last night, the iPad rested on the table beside your coffee.

“Good morning, oppa,” Yuri mumbled, shuffling toward the table, her hair slightly messy as she rubbed her eyes.

“Morning,” you replied, setting the iPad aside.

“Did you make me sound better in your report?” she asked, sliding to the seat next to you.

You took a bite of the avocado toast that you ordered from room service, glancing at her with a straigh face. “I made you sound worse.”

Her hand shot out, swatting your shoulder as she gave you a mock scowl. “I hate you.”

Suppressing a laugh, you watched as she grabbed her own toast, taking a bite with a pout. “Be thankful this tastes good,” she muttered, her glare darting sideways.

For someone so bratty, she really couldn’t take a joke. It always amused you how easily annoyed she gets.

“They just said good job,” you added, sipping your coffee.

Yuri’s pout melted into a smirk as she took bite after bite of her toast, chewing it like a squirrel. “Mm, it’s good.”

“How many interviews do we have today again?” she asked after finishing her toast. She reached for her orange juice, sipping carefully.

“Ten, some influencers, journalists, and a couple of reporters,” you said, finishing your own toast. “Did you prep your answers?”

Her lips curved into a proud smile. “Oppa, I’ve been prepping for ages.”

“Oh, and you’ll be with Siwan-nim as well in some of those. He’ll be guiding you if you stutter.” You added.

She smacked your arm, rolling her eyes. “I don’t stutter.” Seriously, it’s so fun to tease her.

A smirk tugged at her lips as she leaned back in her chair. “Siwan-oppa will probably just end up praising me anyway.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I’m sure he’s thrilled to babysit you again.”

Her playful pout returned as she grabbed her orange juice. “Tch, you’re just jealous because he’s nicer to me than you are.”

Draining the last of your coffee, you stood and started stacking the plates and cups onto the room service tray. “We leave at eight. Better start getting ready.”

Yuri swung her legs playfully, leaning back on her chair. "Oppa… Why don't we shower together to save time?" she teased, her voice filled with mock innocence as she clapped her feet together.

"Pass," you replied, your tone as cold as the untouched butter packets on the tray.

Yuri pouted, resting her chin on her hand. "Come on oppa, we could finish early if we do it together," she said, her eyes locking on you. "It’s better to be early, right?"

"Still no," you said bluntly, turning to walk toward your room.

"Why nooot?" Yuri trailed after you, whining like the brat she is.

You sighed, your patience wearing thin. "Just go start getting ready. We don’t want to be late," you muttered, trying to end the conversation as you reached your room’s door.

Yuri wasn’t done. She grabbed your wrist, stopping you mid-step. "Just this once oppa, pleaaase?" she pleaded, her puppy eyes so exaggerated they might as well have been rehearsed.

You hesitated, feeling your resolve waver under the weight of her gaze. "...Fine," you muttered.

“Yayy! Wait for me,” she squealed, running back to her room like a puppy hearing the word ‘treat’.

A sigh escaped you as you opened your door, “This brat,” you muttered, stepping straight to the bathroom.

The warm spray from the shower eased up the tension of this LA trip off your shoulders. Your hand softly ruffles your hair against the running water. Steam began to rise, softening the chill of the marble tiles beneath your feet.

Just as you were about to forget that Yuri was coming over, the bathroom door suddenly opened. You glanced though the fogged-up glass, seeing her silhouette as she stepped in.

She slid the glass partition open and handed you the shampoo, body soap and a loofah she brought from her room. “Hold this for me oppa,” she said, completely unbothered by your naked body.

You placed her stuff down on the marble ledge, “At least knock the door before you enter,”.

Yuri untied her bathrobe, hanging it beside yours. Her movements were unbothered and natural, almost as if stripping down in front of you was the most normal thing for her.

She knocked on the glass before stepping in the shower, “There’s your knock,” she said, giving you a mocking smile.

As much as you’re tempted to stare at the idol’s naked body, you turned your back to her out of respect.

The water cascaded down Yuri’s body. "Ah, this feels so good," she murmured, tilting her head back to let the water drench her hair. She reached for the shampoo you’d set on the ledge.

Your focused on washing yourself up, trying to ignore Yuri’s presence. However, it’s almost impossible to ignore her quiet hums as she softly scrub herself with her pink loofah.

It was almost calming, the sound of water splashing the marble tiles, the warm water steaming the area, and the quiet hums of the woman behind you.

“Oppa, can you help me with my back?” Yuri breaks the calming sounds. Hesitation kept you in place for a moment before slowly turned to face her. There she was, her gorgeous back facing you, with the loofah that she’s holding on her shoulder for you to take. Your gaze flickered over her slender figure, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders, and the faint outline of her curves undeniably irrisistable.

Your feet silently stepped forward to reach the loofah from her hand. “Thank you oppa,” she said softly as you took it.

You brought the loofah on her back, the damp object warm against your palm as you work in slow, steady circles. Yuri’s shoulders relaxed under your touch, her head slightly tilting down.

Your hand shifted lower, careful enough not to reach somewhere restricted, not to linger for too long. The warm water hitting you only amplified the heat coursing through your body.

A faint smile formed on Yuri’s lips as she glanced over her shoulder. “Oops,” it was teasing, she purposely shifted backwards just enough to press her soft butt cheeks against your length that’s in a state between rest and readiness. It lingered just for a moment before you stepped back instinctively, heat rushing through you as you act unfazed by her action.

“My bad,” she turned her head to you biting her lip, it was almost mocking.

Without a word, you handed her the loofah, your head shifted to the side avoiding her blurred reflection through the fogged-up glass panel. You quickly turned towards the wall, hearing the sound of her fingers brushing the loofah’s surface.

A sudden touch on your back made your tense body jolt in surprise. “Let me wash your back too oppa,” her whisper carried a hint of her voice, low and intimate, carrying enough weight to send shivers down your spine.

Your body slowly relaxed as Yuri worked on your back softly. The abrasive but soothing sensation of the loofah felt like a massage. She traced deliberate circles that slowly went lower. You closed your eyes as you surrender yourself further into a relaxed state.

You were caught off guard as you felt something soft pressing against your back. “You’re so tense oppa,” that’s the moment you realized your loss, your heat had already consumed you and took over your body.

“Let me help you relax,” The loofah slipped from her hand, landing softly on the tiles beneath you, completely forgotten as you felt her hands slide on your sides.

You opened your eyes seeing the pink loofah lying down the floor. Her hands softly exploring your abdomen, pressing her breasts firmly against your back.

“Yuri…” you surenderred to her touches as your head tilted up, feeling her hands dangerously creeping lower somewhere that’s supposed to be private.

“You’re so much better when you’re relaxed like this oppa,” she murmured, planting soft kisses along your back. Before you could react, her fingers wrapped around your now semi-erect cock.

A low moan escaped you as she began to move. Her soft hands worked steadily around your hardening shaft. You were left speechless at her touch, her free hand cupping your balls. “You’re so full for me oppa,” her seductive whispers and touches are working, your cock now standing fully erect against her palm.

You escaped from her touch as you turn to face her. “Yuri…” you growled quietly glaring at her, annoyed by that fucking grin on her face. “Yes oppa?” She bit her lip, stepping closer to you.

Your hands found her waist pulling her closer. Your stiff cock pressing against her navel as you leaned forward to kiss her. It was hungry, full of passion, your tongues intertwining each other.

The warm water cascaded over both of you, amplifying the heat radiating between your bodies. Your hands moved instinctively, gliding over her skin as you rinsed away the lingering soap. Each stroke felt deliberate, your fingers tracing the curves of her waist and the smooth plane of her back.

Yuri's breath hitched against your lips as your mouths met again, her hands tangling in your damp hair. She tugged gently, pulling your face closer, deepening the kiss. Her fingers tightened in your hair, guiding your face as the water streamed down your intertwined forms.

She moved a hand lower reaching your cock that’s pressed against her. You let out a moan through the kiss as you felt her stroke your length expertly.

Your hands didn't stop their work, skimming the remaining soap from her skin, full of purpose. The softness of her hand along with the smooth surface of her navel against your cock sent shivers across your body as you murmur her name through her mouth “Yuri…”.

“Yes oppa…?” her seductive whisper was so quietly loud hitting your ears. She bit her lip feeling you squeeze the soft cheeks of her bossom.

“You’re all clean now, you can get out,” you leaned closer to her ear and whispered, your voice soft but firm.

She froze for a moment, “W-what?” her hand stalling mid-stroke blinking up at you, her confidence faltered quickly.

“I said you’re all clean, you can get out now,” you repeated your words with a smirk on your face. You turned the shower dial, stopping the rainfall above you. Her grip on your cock loosen as you gently took her by her shoulders.

Before she could protest, you guided her out of the shower. The cool air met your damp skins as you reach for her robe, draping it over her shoulders with care. Her eyes blinked in confusion, clearly caught off guard with the sudden shift in the moment.

“Better hurry up, we’re going to be late,” you said in a mocking tone as you usher her towards the bathroom door.

Grabbing your own robe, you glanced over to see her frozen by the door, still trying to process what just happened. “I’ll bring your stuff to your room later, just go.”. She stepped out of your room silently, her expression still dazed in confusion.

“That girl…” you let out a dry laugh looking at your reflection in the mirror, shaking your head. “We’re so fucking late.”

••••••••••

Happy New Year!! Yuri in Squid Game is sooooo cutee! (Watch it now if you haven't yet!) She's now starting to blow up more and more, I'm so proud of her ㅠㅠ 2025 is going to be a big year for her so let's continue supporting her!

[effieotto]

Effie was canonically the most human (games related) person in the entire Capitol, and i don’t think we give her enough credit for that.

When the Quell was announced, the Capitol filled with tears. People cried, fainted and shouted so that everyone could see how they felt about the unfairness of it all, while still gathering to bet and cheer for the Games just like they did in any other year. Meanwhile, Effie refused to react at all -in the books, when the prep team had no problem in showing how sad they were for having to watch Katniss and Peeta going back to the Arena, with no real sympathy whatsoever for her as a human being, Effie maintained composed into her professional persona throughout the whole week of preparation, hiding her feelings behind her Escort mask of false cheerfulness and pragmatic detachment. Although she showed up for breakfast with red eyes and a puff face from crying herself to sleep, she always left the room when she felt truly emotional, not enabling anyone the privilege to witness her tears. Unlike the others, her sadness was real. Her feelings were genuine, and she would not allow other people to trivialize her pain by turning it into a dramatic display

In the movies, when Katniss was getting ready for her interview in the backstage, she asked Haymitch if anyone was buying Cashmere’s act, and he pointed to all the other Escorts and Prep teams sobbing in front of the Tv. Effie was also there, but she wasn’t crying. She clapped instead and said “she is really good” -because she knew it was all an act and she wasn’t willing to join the fake tears game

So yeah, Effie might had been a dramatic character from the beginning, wining and complaining about frivolous things while kids were literally being slaughtered, but the feelings she wasn’t fabricating for her Escort persona were powerfully real. She cared, and loved, and grieved with such strength and honesty that she only did it in the privacy of her own heart. She was not a rebel, her actions were not guided by a greater purpose. She wasn’t trying to play with the odds or foment a rebellion…all she ever wanted was for her Victors to get the greatest life they could get. Her actions were motivated by love -pure and genuine care for her children…

and this is the most human thing she could do

[niallerspayno]

My Sunshine

Masterlist

You’re the bubbly, optimistic junior stylist working with One Direction. While you easily connect with the other boys, Zayn Malik is a different story—quiet, grumpy, and distant. But as you share quiet moments and unexpected sparks fly between you two, you can’t deny the chemistry building. As tension grows, you both must face your fears and open up, finding that sometimes opposites really do attract.

Tags: grumpy!Zayn x sunshine!reader, slow burn, fluff

…

Your nerves flutter in your stomach, but you smile widely, trying to hide the way your heart races. This is your dream job. Being here, working alongside Lou Teasdale, the stylist behind some of the most iconic looks for One Direction, is everything you’ve ever wanted. You’ve trained for this moment—learning the ins and outs of makeup, hair, and fashion—but nothing could have prepared you for actually being here.

The tour itself is massive, with sold-out shows all over the world. The band is bigger than life itself, and you’re the junior makeup and hair stylist, the newest addition to the team, tasked with making sure the boys look flawless for every performance, photoshoot, and press interview. It’s a big responsibility, and you’re determined to prove yourself.

“Alright,” Lou says, her voice cutting through your racing thoughts, “Let’s go introduce you to the boys.”

You nod enthusiastically, trying to keep the nerves at bay. Lou leads you into the spacious backstage area where the boys are gathered, laughing and joking as they prep for their first show of the tour.

There they are, standing in front of you like a dream: Harry, with his signature curly hair and laid-back grin; Liam, who looks every bit the leader, confident and always on point; Louis, playful as ever, giving you a quick nod as he catches your eye; Niall, looking like he could charm anyone with a simple smile; and Zayn. Zayn, with his intense gaze and quiet demeanor, barely acknowledges your presence at first, lost in his own thoughts.

“Boys, this is the new addition to the team, Y/N,” Lou announces, her hand on your shoulder as she turns toward you. “She’ll be working closely with me as a junior makeup and hair stylist. She’s excited to be here, and I’m sure you’ll all make her feel welcome.”

You smile as brightly as you can, even though your hands are shaking slightly. “Hi, everyone. I’m so excited to work with you all.”

The boys offer various greetings—Liam gives you a friendly smile, Harry winks playfully, and Louis cracks a joke, making you laugh nervously. But it’s Zayn who catches your eye last, his expression unreadable.

“Nice to meet you,” he says quietly, barely glancing in your direction before turning back to the rest of the group.

You don’t mind. You know you have to prove yourself, and you’re ready to dive in.

Lou pats your back, guiding you toward the hair and makeup stations. “You’ve got this,” she says, her confidence in you making you feel a little less jittery.

As you follow her, your eyes flick back to the boys one last time. Zayn still doesn’t seem to notice you much, but you’re sure that will change once you start working with him. And even if he doesn’t seem impressed now, you’ll show him just how good you are at what you do.

…

A few weeks into the tour, and you’ve already settled into your role, though it’s a lot busier than you ever expected. Lou’s been an incredible mentor, always there to guide you, offering tips on everything from makeup application to the way the boys like their hair styled.

The boys, too, have been incredibly welcoming, with Harry cracking jokes to keep the mood light, Liam offering tips on staying organised, and Louis never missing a chance to tease you in the most endearing way possible. Even Niall, with his ever-present smile, has a way of making you feel like you belong.

The camaraderie is easy to find with everyone, except for one person—Zayn.

He’s quiet, distant, and rarely engages in the easy banter you share with the others. You’ve tried to crack him. You’ve dropped a couple of harmless comments about his style, attempting to draw him into conversation. You’ve tried joking around with him while you fix his hair or touch up his makeup, hoping that your bubbly energy will wear down his walls.

But Zayn isn’t easily swayed.

His responses are always short, and while he’s polite, it’s clear he’s not exactly interested in bonding with you. Every time you get a few words in with him, it’s like trying to break through a brick wall.

“Morning,” you greet him one day, trying to keep the mood light as you set up your station for the show’s makeup touch-ups.

He looks at you, nodding once, but doesn’t return the greeting with his usual warmth. “Hey.” His voice is low, uninterested.

You’re undeterred, though. You’ve cracked harder nuts than him.

“You know,” you say, leaning in as you prep the makeup brushes, “I think you’d look even better in a bit of eyeliner. Just a suggestion.”

Zayn doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking to you for just a second. There’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes, but he quickly masks it. “I’m good, thanks.”

You sigh dramatically, dropping the brush. “What’s it going to take to make you crack, Zayn?”

The corner of his lips twitches, but he remains silent.

“You’re tough, I’ll give you that,” you say, winking at him, determined to keep pushing. “But I won’t give up. Eventually, I’ll get you laughing.”

He doesn’t answer, but there’s a slight shift in his demeanor—a subtle, almost imperceptible change. You know you’re getting under his skin, even if he’s not showing it.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Zayn mutters, walking away. But you swear you see the smallest smirk tug at his lips, and it’s enough to keep you going.

You’ve got your work cut out for you, but you’re determined. Zayn’s grumpy exterior doesn’t stand a chance against your sunshine.

…

It’s show day, and you and Lou are busy prepping the boys for their performance. The air is full of energy as you move between each of the boys, touching up their hair and makeup, while Lou adjusts their outfits. The camaraderie between everyone is infectious—Harry is cracking jokes, Niall is teasing Louis about his shirt, and Liam is chatting with Lou about some of the tour’s logistics.

But it’s when you move toward Zayn that the real fun begins.

“So, Y/N,” Louis calls, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he gives you a once-over, “We’ve been meaning to ask… Were you a big fan before you got this gig?”

You freeze for a split second, caught off guard by the question. You glance at Lou, who gives you a knowing smile, and the rest of the boys turn their attention to you, eagerly awaiting your answer.

“Well…” you say, clearing your throat and trying to play it cool, “Yeah. I mean, I’ve always liked your music. Who doesn’t, right?”

There’s a burst of laughter from Harry. “So you were stalking us before you showed up?”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile that plays at your lips. “Okay, fine. Maybe I watched a few interviews. Maybe I definitely knew all the lyrics to your songs before this tour.”

The boys erupt in teasing, and even Lou shakes her head with a grin.

“No shame in that!” Niall chimes in. “I’m sure you weren’t the only one.”

“Alright, alright,” Liam says, putting a hand up to stop the chatter. “But now, the big question… Who was your favorite?”

You pause, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. It’s a loaded question, but you decide to own it. After all, you’ve been trying to keep things light with Zayn, even if he’s always a bit distant.

“Zayn,” you answer without hesitation.

The room goes silent, and you feel all eyes on you. There’s a moment of stunned silence before Louis grins mischievously.

“Zayn? Really?” Louis teases, waggling his eyebrows. “The quiet, brooding one?”

“Are you sure you’re not just saying that to avoid getting murdered by one of the rest of us?” Harry adds, grinning.

You laugh, shrugging with a playful smile. “Yeah, I mean, Zayn’s just… different. I like his style.” You pause, trying to find the right words. “He’s… got that quiet cool thing going on, you know?”

The other boys exchange exaggerated glances, eyes wide.

“Well, I’ll be,” Niall says, stepping forward. “I think we’ve got a match here, lads. Opposites attract, right?”

“Totally,” Liam agrees, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “So when’s the wedding?”

You roll your eyes, but the teasing continues to come.

“I mean, just look at them,” Harry says, putting on a dramatic voice. “Zayn’s the cool, mysterious guy, and Y/N is… well, sunshine in human form. It’s practically written in the stars.”

Louis snickers. “I think we need a duet, huh? Maybe ‘Opposites Attract’ for the setlist?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Zayn mutters, barely looking up from his phone, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe?

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” you say, trying to keep a straight face. “You guys are hilarious.”

But the teasing doesn’t stop.

“You know,” Liam says, nudging Zayn with a grin, “I think you’ve got some competition now. Better watch out, mate.”

“Don’t worry,” Niall adds with a wink, “I think we’re all just waiting for the first romantic gesture.”

Zayn’s lips twitch slightly, but he doesn’t respond. His usual cool exterior is still there, but there’s something about the way he’s reacting—like he’s not entirely opposed to the idea.

“Alright, alright,” Louis says, raising his hands in mock surrender. “We’ll stop. But we’ve definitely got team sunshine and team stormcloud here, don’t we?”

You laugh, even though you can’t help but feel a little flustered. “Sure. You’ve had your fun.”

As you finish up with Zayn, you exchange a brief, knowing look. There’s a subtle shift in his expression—a slight smile, maybe—before he looks away, as if pretending the entire conversation didn’t happen.

But you can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, you’re getting closer.

…

You’re on your second cup of coffee, trying to shake off the early morning fog as you bustle around the dressing room, adjusting outfits and making sure everything is set for the boys’ interview. Lou’s beside you, just as busy, but she’s got the kind of calm efficiency that only comes with years of experience.

The rest of the boys are still trying to shake off the sleepiness. Harry’s running around the room like a ball of energy, Liam is focused on his phone, Niall’s sipping his coffee with a grin, and Louis is picking at his outfit, clearly trying to make himself look ‘effortlessly stylish.’

Then there’s Zayn.

He’s slouched in a chair, arms crossed, eyes half-closed, clearly not a fan of this early start. You can’t help but grin at him.

“Good morning, Zayn!” you chirp, walking past him.

He grumbles something incoherent, his eyes narrowed as if the mere sound of your voice is too much.

“You’re way too happy for this time of day,” he mutters, his voice rough from sleep. “How can you be this cheerful this early?”

You laugh, raising your coffee cup. “Second cup. It’s my magic potion,” you tease.

He shoots you a deadpan look, clearly not impressed, but there’s something in his eyes that says he’s not entirely annoyed either. Maybe just a little intrigued.

“Must be nice,” he grumbles again, but the usual edge of annoyance is missing.

As Lou moves to touch up Niall’s hair, you continue bouncing between the boys, making sure everyone’s ready for the interview. Your usual banter flows easily—Louis teases Harry about his outfit, Niall jokes with you about your coffee addiction, and Liam quietly observes, nodding at the various preparations.

But through it all, you can’t shake the feeling that Zayn is watching you.

Every time you move across the room or make eye contact, you catch a glimpse of his dark eyes lingering on you for a fraction longer than usual. At first, you tell yourself it’s nothing—just Zayn being Zayn. But it happens again, and again.

You’re not imagining it. Zayn is watching you.

You try not to let it throw you off, keeping your usual bubbly self going as you continue with the boys’ preparations, but something in the way Zayn looks at you now feels different. It’s subtle, but it’s there—like he’s studying you, or maybe… waiting for something.

As the boys finish getting ready, you make your way back to Lou, trying to act casual. But you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips when you glance over at Zayn again.

It’s like something’s shifted, but you’re not quite sure what yet.

…

The concert has just ended, and the venue is buzzing with the lingering energy of thousands of screaming fans. You step outside, seeking a moment of quiet in the cool night air. The distant hum of voices and equipment being packed away drifts through the stillness. Rounding the corner, you stop short when you see Zayn leaning against a brick wall, a cigarette glowing between his fingers.

For a moment, you consider turning back, not wanting to intrude on what looks like his private time. But before you can retreat, he glances up, his dark eyes meeting yours through the thin curl of smoke.

“You hiding out too?” you ask, stepping forward cautiously.

He doesn’t say anything at first, just shrugs and takes another slow drag from his cigarette. But he doesn’t seem annoyed by your presence, so you take it as a good sign.

“You were incredible tonight,” you say, leaning against the wall a few feet from him.

“Thanks,” he mutters, his voice low. He exhales a cloud of smoke, looking up at the night sky. “Crowd was good.”

You nod, watching him for a moment before your gaze flickers to the cigarette in his hand. He notices, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“You smoke?” he asks, holding it up slightly.

You shake your head with a laugh. “Never tried it.”

That catches his attention. He turns his head toward you, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “Never? Not even once?”

“Nope.” You grin. “Guess I never had the urge.”

He considers you for a moment, then holds out the cigarette, the embers glowing faintly in the dim light. “Wanna try?”

You hesitate, your gaze shifting between him and the cigarette. “I don’t know… I mean, isn’t this the part where I’m supposed to say it’s bad for me?”

He smirks, his voice tinged with amusement. “Probably. But who listens to that, right?”

With a small laugh, you reach out and take the cigarette from his fingers. “Okay, but if I choke and die, it’s on you.”

He smirks, watching as you raise the cigarette to your lips. “Just take it slow. Don’t try to inhale too much at first.”

You follow his instructions, but the moment the smoke hits your throat, you cough violently, your eyes watering as you hand the cigarette back to him.

He smiles, shaking his head. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Okay, fine,” you rasp, wiping your eyes. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Relax,” he says, his voice softer now. He steps closer, holding the cigarette out to you again. “Try it one more time. I’ll walk you through it.”

There’s something in his tone—calm, almost encouraging—that makes you take it. He positions himself beside you, his hand hovering near yours, his presence close enough to feel the warmth of his body in the cool night air.

“Take a smaller drag this time,” he instructs, his voice low. “Don’t rush it. Just… let it fill your mouth first.”

You do as he says, more cautiously this time. The smoke feels strange, but not as overwhelming, and when you exhale slowly, it curls out in a thin stream.

“There you go,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips.

You hand the cigarette back to him, shaking your head with a grin. “You’re such a bad influence.”

He chuckles, taking another drag as he leans back against the wall. “You didn’t have to try it.”

“Yeah, but you made it look so cool,” you tease, rolling your eyes.

He laughs softly, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual.

“Wait a second,” you say, narrowing your eyes at him. “Did you just laugh at me?”

His gaze flickers to you, and for a split second, there’s a flash of guilt before he smirks. “Maybe.”

“You totally did!” you exclaim, pointing at him. “Zayn Malik, laughing at my expense. Unbelievable.”

He chuckles softly, and this time it’s unmistakable. You stare at him, momentarily stunned.

“Oh my God, I cracked you.” You break into a wide grin, unable to hide your triumph. “I’ve been waiting for this moment. Feels good to know I’m funny enough to make you laugh.”

He shakes his head, the smirk lingering. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” you fire back, your tone light and teasing. “You should laugh more, you know. It looks good on you.”

He raises an eyebrow, skeptical. “Yeah, right.”

“I mean it,” you say, softening. “You’ve got a great laugh. And your smile… It’s really nice.”

His smirk falters, replaced by something quieter, more unsure. “Dunno about that.”

“Well, I do,” you reply simply, your voice steady.

He looks away, exhaling smoke into the night air, his brow furrowing slightly. It’s as if your words are too much for him to process, too sincere to brush off entirely.

For a moment, the air between you feels heavy—not with tension, but with something tender, something new.

“I’m serious,” you add gently. “You should let people see that side of you more often.”

He doesn’t respond, not directly. Instead, he stubs out the cigarette against the wall, his fingers lingering on the spot for a moment longer than necessary. When he looks back at you, there’s something different in his eyes—like he’s trying to figure you out, and maybe himself, too.

“Guess we’ll see,” he mutters, his voice low.

And just like that, the walls you’ve been chipping away at feel a little less insurmountable.

...

The dressing room is a whirlwind of activity, the hum of pre-show excitement hanging in the air. You and Lou are working in sync, moving between the boys as they sit in front of the brightly lit mirrors.

“You’ve got ten minutes!” a stagehand calls from the doorway.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re almost done!” Lou shouts back, grinning as she flicks a strand of Harry’s hair into place.

You turn to Zayn, who’s scrolling on his phone, already styled to perfection except for one finishing touch. “Alright, Zayn, I’m bringing it up again. Eyeliner. Just a little bit. What do you think?”

He glances at you, his expression neutral but not dismissive. “Why’re you so obsessed with this?”

“Because it would look amazing on you,” you say, grabbing the pencil from the makeup kit and holding it up for emphasis. “Trust me. It’ll make your eyes pop under the stage lights.”

“Mate, she’s got a point,” Niall chimes in from across the room. “You’ve got the look for it.”

“Since when do you care about eyeliner?” Zayn shoots back, raising an eyebrow.

“Since she started nagging you about it,” Niall says with a grin.

You roll your eyes, turning your attention back to Zayn. “Come on. One try. If you don’t like it, I’ll never bring it up again.”

He hesitates, his gaze shifting to Lou, who’s watching the exchange with an amused smirk. “Don’t look at me,” she says. “This is all her.”

Finally, with a quiet sigh, Zayn leans back in the chair. “Fine. Do your thing.”

The room goes silent for a beat before Harry’s voice cuts through the air. “Wait. What?”

“You’re actually letting her do it?” Louis asks, his jaw dropping.

“You never let anyone touch your face like that,” Liam adds, his tone laced with disbelief.

“Guess she’s got the magic touch,” Lou teases, winking at you.

You try to suppress a smile as you step closer to Zayn, the eyeliner in hand. “Hold still,” you murmur, your voice softer now.

He watches you carefully, his eyes steady and dark as you lean in. The room is quiet again, save for the occasional rustle of movement from the other boys. When you finish, you step back, capping the pencil with a satisfied grin.

“There. Told you it’d look good.”

Zayn turns to the mirror, his expression unreadable as he inspects your handiwork. After a moment, he shrugs. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” Louis echoes, laughing. “That’s the most praise I’ve ever heard him give anyone.”

“I’m just surprised he let you do it,” Niall says, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’ve definitely got him wrapped around your finger.”

“Shut up, Niall,” Zayn mutters, but there’s the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips.

You meet his eyes in the mirror, your own smile softening. “Glad you trust me.”

For a moment, it’s just the two of you in the reflection, the noise of the room fading into the background. Then Lou claps her hands, snapping everyone back to reality.

“Alright, showtime!” she calls.

As the boys file out of the room, you catch Zayn glancing back at you, his expression unreadable but lingering just long enough to send your heart fluttering.

…

Later that night the bar is buzzing with life—laughter, music, and the steady hum of conversation creating the perfect escape after a week of chaos. Your group claims a booth tucked into a corner, a round table surrounded by curved seating that’s already too small for the number of people cramming in.

“Alright, everyone, shift your arses!” Niall declares, sliding into the booth and dragging Louis in beside him.

The others follow, jostling for space. You hesitate at the edge, scanning for an open seat. Of course, the only spot left is sandwiched between Zayn and Liam.

“Go on, love, we don’t bite,” Liam says, giving you an encouraging smile as he pats the seat next to him.

“Much,” Louis adds with a wink, earning a laugh from the group.

Rolling your eyes but unable to hide your grin, you slide in. Your thigh brushes against Zayn’s as you sit, the warmth of him seeping through your jeans. He doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t acknowledge it either, his focus seemingly on the drink in his hand.

“Cozy, isn’t it?” Niall teases, smirking as he watches you settle in. Across the table, you catch Louis giving him a knowing look, and it clicks—they planned this.

The first round of drinks arrives, and Lou raises her glass. “To surviving another week of madness!”

“Cheers!” everyone echoes, clinking glasses around the table.

The conversation flows easily, laughter rippling through the group as stories and jokes fly across the table. You’re quick to join in, throwing in quips and teasing remarks that earn loud laughs from Niall, Louis and Harry. Even Liam, always the polite one, leans into the banter, his grin wide as he engages you in a playful back-and-forth about your questionable taste in music.

Zayn, however, is quieter, his comments few and far between. Still, you can’t help but notice the way his gaze lingers on you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

At one point, Louis launches into a particularly outrageous story about their last tour, leaving you laughing so hard you throw your head back, accidentally bumping into Zayn’s shoulder.

“Sorry!” you say quickly, glancing at him.

“It’s fine,” he murmurs, his voice soft, though there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“You could at least pretend to have fun,” you tease, leaning toward him slightly.

“I am having fun,” he replies, his tone deadpan.

“Sure you are,” you shoot back, grinning. “You’ve got the brooding loner thing down to an art.”

To your surprise, a quiet chuckle escapes him, and the sound sends a thrill through you. You’ve been waiting to crack him, and now that you’ve gotten even a small laugh, you’re determined to push further.

Across the table, Niall points at the two of you. “Oi, Zayn, d’you know you’re sitting next to the life of the party?”

“Please,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous? Of you?” Harry pipes up with an exaggerated laugh. “Never.”

“She’s not wrong, though,” Liam says with a warm smile. “You’re keeping us all entertained. Even Zayn looks like he’s enjoying himself.”

“Barely,” you quip, nudging Zayn’s knee with yours.

Zayn glances at you, his lips curving into the faintest smirk. “I’m just waiting for you to tire yourself out.”

Louis cackles. “God, you two are like an old married couple.”

Your cheeks flush, but you shrug it off with a grin. “Please, like Zayn could handle me.”

“That’s probably true,” Liam chimes in, smirking. “You’d talk him into the ground.”

Zayn shakes his head, leaning back slightly. His arm stretches along the back of the booth, his fingers brushing your shoulder—a casual gesture that feels anything but.

“I’d survive,” he says quietly, his voice low and laced with something you can’t quite place.

As the night continues, the group’s energy swirls around you, but you’re hyperaware of Zayn. The way his leg stays pressed against yours. The subtle glances he steals when he thinks you’re distracted.

When Harry insists on another round, you volunteer to go with him to the bar. As you slip out of the booth, your leg brushes Zayn’s again. This time, his gaze locks with yours, and for a moment, the rest of the room fades.

“Don’t miss me too much,” you tease, winking as you step away.

Zayn chuckles softly, his voice following you. “No promises.”

At the bar, Harry leans in with a sly grin. “You’re really something, you know that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Zayn,” he says simply, raising a brow. “He’s watching you like a hawk. You’ve got quite the effect on people, sunshine.”

…

The night wears on, and the bar grows louder as the drinks flow freely. You’re halfway through a spirited debate with Louis and Niall about the merits of your favorite movie when you glance around the booth and notice Zayn’s absence.

You scan the bar, your brow furrowing. He’s nowhere to be seen—no cigarette in hand by the doors, no figure tucked into a corner with a drink. It’s unlike him to disappear without a word, and curiosity tugs at you.

“Where’d Zayn go?” you ask Lou, who shrugs.

“Probably went for some air. You know how he gets in places like this.”

That’s all you need to hear. Excusing yourself, you slip out of the booth and weave through the crowd, heading toward the quieter side of the bar. The night air hits you as you step outside, cool and refreshing after the stuffy warmth of the bar.

It doesn’t take long to find him. Zayn’s leaning against the side of the building, a cigarette balanced between his fingers, the soft glow of the embers casting shadows across his face. He looks up when he hears your footsteps, his dark eyes meeting yours.

“Thought you disappeared,” you say lightly, walking over to him.

“Needed a break,” he murmurs, taking a drag from his cigarette.

You lean against the wall beside him, letting the silence settle for a moment. “Big crowds aren’t your thing, huh?”

He exhales smoke into the night air, his gaze distant. “Not really. It’s fine for a while, but… it gets too much, y’know?”

You nod, watching him carefully. “Yeah, I get it. Everyone always expects you to be ‘on.’ It’s exhausting.”

He glances at you, a flicker of surprise in his expression. “You’re always ‘on,’ though. How d’you do it?”

You laugh softly, crossing your arms. “Lots of coffee. And… I guess it’s just how I’ve always been. It’s easier for me to focus on making other people happy. Keeps me from overthinking.”

Zayn studies you for a moment, his cigarette forgotten between his fingers. “Guess we’re opposites, then.”

“Seems that way,” you agree, offering him a small smile. “But opposites attract, right?”

His lips twitch, the ghost of a smile appearing. “So they say.”

The quiet stretches between you again, but it’s not uncomfortable. You glance up at the stars, feeling the weight of his gaze on you.

“Do you ever feel like… I don’t know, like you’re carrying this invisible weight?” he asks suddenly, his voice softer now. “Like no matter what you do, it’s not enough?”

You look at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. “Yeah,” you admit, your voice just as quiet. “All the time. But I try to remind myself that it’s okay not to have it all figured out. It’s okay to just… be.”

Zayn exhales deeply, dropping his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his heel. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” you say gently. “But it helps when you let people in. Even just a little.”

He huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Hey, someone’s gotta look out for you,” you tease, bumping your shoulder against his.

For the first time, his smile reaches his eyes. “Thanks,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Anytime,” you reply, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the moment you’ve shared.

The silence between you stretches, filled with the quiet hum of the night. You can feel Zayn’s presence beside you—steady, grounding. For someone who’s always been so closed off, he’s letting you in, little by little, and it makes your heart ache in a way you can’t explain.

You glance at him, noticing the way his dark lashes cast shadows against his cheeks, the soft curve of his lips as he stares out into the distance. His face is unreadable, but there’s a tension in his posture, like he’s caught between wanting to say something and holding it back.

“Zayn,” you say softly, and his eyes flick to yours, guarded yet curious.

“Yeah?”

You take a breath, your heart beating faster. “I meant what I said before. About your smile. And your laugh. I wish I could see them more because… I like them. I like you.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his expression unreadable. Then, almost imperceptibly, he leans closer. “You don’t have to say that.”

“I’m not just saying it,” you insist, your voice firm but gentle. “You’re so hard on yourself, Zayn. You don’t see what I see. You’re kind, and talented, and—”

You’re cut off as Zayn closes the space between you, his lips brushing against yours so softly it feels like a question. Your breath catches, but you don’t pull away—instead, you lean into him, answering his unspoken ask.

The kiss is tentative at first, like he’s still testing the waters, but as your hand comes up to rest on his chest, it deepens. His lips are warm, slightly rough from the cigarette, but his touch is careful, reverent. It’s the kind of kiss that makes the world blur at the edges, leaving only the two of you in sharp focus.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours. He’s breathing a little heavier, and his eyes search yours, vulnerability etched across his face.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he murmurs, his voice low.

“Regretting it already?” you tease, though your voice is soft, not wanting to break the moment.

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth—more genuine than any you’ve seen from him before. “Not even close,” he says, his thumb brushing against your wrist where your hand still rests on his chest.

For a moment, you stand there, the air between you charged with something you’re both too afraid to name yet. But as his eyes linger on yours, you know this won’t be the last time Zayn lets you in.

“C’mon,” you say eventually, your voice light to mask the way your heart is racing. “Let’s go back before they send out a search party.”

Zayn chuckles softly, and the sound makes you smile. “Alright,” he says, his voice softer now. “But let’s keep this… between us for now.”

“Whatever you say, rockstar,” you reply, nudging him gently before turning toward the bar.

You can feel his gaze on you as you walk, a warmth spreading through your chest. Maybe you haven’t completely cracked Zayn yet, but this—whatever it is—is a start.

…

It’s one of those days when everything is a bit too much. You’re rushing around backstage, trying to get the boys styled for the show while keeping your nerves in check. The usual upbeat energy you carry is nowhere to be found today, replaced by a mounting pressure that makes every little thing feel like a big deal.

As you dash past the dressing room, a tangle of cords trips you up. Your foot catches, and before you can steady yourself, you fall forward, hitting the ground with a sharp thud. For a split second, everything freezes—the hustle of backstage, the noise of the boys and crew—all of it. You’re just sitting there, stunned.

You hear a soft voice break through the silence. “Are you alright?” It’s Zayn, kneeling down beside you before anyone else can even move. He’s the first to reach you, his hands gently helping you sit up.

The other boys are quick to hover, crowding around you with their usual teasing and concern. “You good, love?” Niall asks, a grin on his face, though his eyes are laced with concern.

But it’s Zayn who stays calm, his gaze focused on you in a way that makes the noise around you fade. He can see it. The way your shoulders are tense, the slight tremble in your hands. It’s not just the fall. It’s everything.

“Hey,” Zayn says quietly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lightly grazing your cheek. His voice drops lower, just for you, “Come with me.”

Without waiting for anyone’s response, he helps you up and leads you away from the others. You don’t protest, too grateful for the space to let the walls you’ve been holding up start to crumble. He pulls you outside to a quiet spot, away from the chaos of the dressing room.

Once you’re out in the open, Zayn releases your arm but stays close. You can feel the tension from the kiss days ago, still lingering between you, but neither of you has addressed it. It’s there, unspoken. And now, as the weight of the day catches up to you, you realize how much it’s been bothering you.

“I’m fine,” you say, trying to brush it off, but your voice cracks. You’re not fine. You’re anything but fine. You’re exhausted, overwhelmed, and a part of you just wants to break down.

Zayn doesn’t let you off the hook. He takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours. “You sure? You don’t look fine. I saw that back there… you’re not okay.”

You let out a shaky breath, and before you know it, the floodgates open. The tears you’ve been holding back start to spill over. You can’t stop them, not with everything that’s been building up. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you choke out, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ve been trying so hard to keep everything together. It’s all just too much…”

Zayn is silent for a moment, processing your words. Then, without saying another thing, he steps forward and wraps his arms around you in a hug. It’s warm and firm, like a shield from the world around you.

You don’t know why, but you break, your arms winding around him and letting yourself sink into his embrace. His scent, his presence—it’s all grounding. And for the first time today, you feel safe, like you can just let go.

His voice is soft, barely a whisper. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be strong all the time. We’re all just… figuring things out, yeah?”

You nod against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat soothing. There’s something about Zayn’s calm, unspoken support that makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to do everything on your own.

He pulls back slightly, his hands still resting on your shoulders as he looks at you with those dark, understanding eyes. “You’ve been running yourself ragged,” he says, voice steady. “You deserve a break.”

You smile weakly up at him, still feeling a little shaky but grateful. “I don’t even know what a break feels like anymore.”

Zayn smiles, but it’s softer than usual. “Maybe it’s time you learned.” He gives you a gentle squeeze before stepping back, though his presence still lingers. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. We all need help sometimes.”

For the first time in days, you feel a flicker of relief. The weight on your shoulders isn’t gone, but it’s lighter now. Zayn’s not just the quiet guy you’ve been trying to figure out. He’s here for you in a way that feels real, that feels like more than just words.

“Thanks, Zayn,” you murmur, your voice steadying. “I needed that.”

He gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, his expression softening just a little. “Anytime.”

As you and Zayn make your way back into the dressing room, the cool air from outside still lingers on your skin, but the chaos of the tour quickly rushes back in. You take a deep breath and, as if flipping a switch, slip back into your more familiar bubbly personality. It’s a little quieter now, more subdued than it was before, but it’s still there.

You give Zayn a small smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes the way it usually does. “Thanks again, Zayn,” you say, your voice light but carrying the quiet gratitude you feel.

Zayn just nods, the same unreadable expression on his face. There’s a softness there now, something that wasn’t there before. Something unspoken.

As you re-enter the dressing room, Lou and the boys are all immediately on you, crowding around, but you put on a brave face.

“Everything okay?” Lou asks, her voice gentle, as she takes in the shift in your mood.

“I’m fine, really,” you say, flashing a smile that doesn’t quite hit the mark. “Just a little trip, nothing serious.” You wave off the concern as best as you can, but the boys aren’t having it.

Liam arches an eyebrow, eyeing you with a look that knows something’s up. “You sure? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something,” he jokes, though his concern is genuine.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I’m fine, just… one of those days.” You try to brush it off, but the boys are too perceptive.

“Well,” Niall says, giving you an exaggerated wink, “seems like someone was quick to swoop in and save the day.” His eyes flicker to Zayn, who’s just standing off to the side, arms folded as he watches the interaction with his usual calm demeanor.

Harry laughs and nudges Zayn. “Looks like someone’s got your back, mate.”

You try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck as the teasing starts. You glance at Zayn, his posture casual, but there’s a glimmer in his eye that you’re not sure if you should be worried about.

“Don’t start,” you warn, though the words lack their usual edge. You can feel your heart skip a beat at the thought of what’s been simmering between you and Zayn lately.

But the boys aren’t backing down. Louis grins, shaking his head. “So, is there a special reason Zayn’s the first one to swoop in, or are we just lucky today?”

You roll your eyes, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays the fact that you’re trying to keep it together. “I’m fine, really. Zayn just didn’t want me to look like an idiot in front of all of you,” you say, the banter coming more naturally now, despite the lingering emotions from earlier.

Zayn doesn’t respond right away, but his expression softens just slightly. He glances your way and offers a small, quiet smile—barely noticeable, but it’s there. The others catch it, though, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Is there something going on here?” Liam says with a teasing grin, eyeing the pair of you. He leans in toward Niall, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear. “I think we’ve got some chemistry brewing. Look at them.”

You feel your face heat up again, and you glance at Zayn, who seems unfazed by the attention, but you catch a slight shift in his stance—a subtle tension that’s never been there before.

“Stop it,” you say quickly, trying to deflect, but your tone is a little less forceful than usual. “There’s nothing going on, okay?”

“Right,” Harry says, sarcasm dripping from his voice as he crosses his arms. “Nothing at all. Just a little ‘hero rescue’ moment, is that it?”

The group bursts into laughter, and you can’t help but chuckle along, even though you’re not sure whether you should feel embarrassed or flattered. The teasing doesn’t stop, but there’s something different in the air now. It’s as if everyone’s starting to pick up on the subtle shifts between you and Zayn, the unspoken tension that neither of you has fully addressed.

Zayn stays quiet through it all, his arms crossed as he leans against the wall, his gaze flicking between you and the boys. He doesn’t join in the teasing, but the small smile that tugs at his lips tells you he’s aware of it. He knows what they’re getting at. And maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t mind it so much anymore.

“Alright, alright,” Lou says, laughing at the exchange. “We’ve got a show to get ready for, yeah?”

But as everyone goes back to preparing for the night ahead, you can’t help but notice that the teasing hasn’t really stopped. It’s subtle now, though, more of a knowing glance here and there, a comment made just loud enough for the two of you to hear. It’s like the boys have figured it out—there’s something between you and Zayn, even if it hasn’t been fully acknowledged yet.

…

The dressing room hums with the usual pre-show energy—hairbrushes, makeup palettes, and chatter filling the space. You’re darting between the boys, fixing hair and smoothing stray strands, trying to keep the chaos under control. Lou stepped out a while ago, trusting you to finish up, but you’re starting to think she might have left you to fend for yourself on purpose.

“Nearly done, Harry,” you say, running your fingers through his curls to set the final piece.

“Thanks, love,” he replies, grinning at you in the mirror. Then, with an exaggerated stretch, he stands and grabs his jacket. “Think I’ll grab some water before we head out.”

You glance at him in surprise. “You don’t need a touch-up or anything?”

He waves you off. “I’m flawless, darling. You know that.” He winks, strolling toward the door.

“Subtle, Harry,” Louis mutters as Harry slips out.

“I’m getting coffee,” Louis announces next, his tone far too casual to be convincing. He’s already halfway out the door before you can respond.

Niall follows with a cheeky grin. “Might grab something to eat.”

“Think I’ll check on the stage,” Liam adds, standing and stretching.

Your brow furrows. “All of you, at once?”

None of them answer, though Liam shoots you a knowing smile before disappearing into the hallway.

The door clicks shut, leaving you alone with Zayn. The silence is deafening in their absence. You glance at him in the mirror, catching the way his eyes flicker to yours and linger.

Your heart begins to race, and you turn back to your station, pretending to fuss with a comb. “Guess it’s just us then,” you say, your voice too light to sound casual.

He doesn’t reply at first, but you feel the weight of his gaze. “Yeah,” he finally murmurs.

The tension in the room is thick, the air charged in a way it hasn’t been before. It’s been a week since the kiss at the bar—a week of stolen glances, quiet moments, and a magnetic pull you’ve both been ignoring.

When you finally meet his eyes again, his expression is unreadable, but his lips part as if he’s about to say something.

“Zayn…” You don’t even know what you’re about to say, but the words don’t matter.

He stands, moving toward you slowly, deliberately. “I’ve been thinking about that night,” he says softly.

Your throat tightens. “Me too,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

The distance between you shrinks. His hand brushes yours, his touch light and hesitant, like he’s giving you a chance to pull away. But you don’t. Instead, your breath catches as he tilts his head, his gaze locked on yours.

When his lips finally meet yours, it’s like a spark igniting. His mouth is warm, firm yet gentle, and he tastes faintly of spearmint gum. The kiss starts slow, testing the waters, but when you respond, his hands slide to your waist, pulling you closer.

The world narrows to the two of you—the faint hum of the dressing room lights, the subtle scratch of his stubble against your skin, the way his fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt. Your own hands move instinctively, tangling in his hair, the soft strands slipping through your fingers.

His kiss deepens, more urgent now, and you’re vaguely aware of the counter pressing into your back, grounding you. His lips trail from yours for a moment, brushing the corner of your mouth before returning, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

You lose track of time, the kiss consuming every thought, every sensation—until the door creaks open.

“Seriously?” Louis’s voice cuts through the haze like a bucket of ice water.

You and Zayn break apart so fast you nearly trip over yourself. Your cheeks burn as you turn to see all four boys standing there, grinning like they’ve just won the lottery.

“I knew it!” Niall crows, pointing at the two of you.

Harry smirks, crossing his arms. “Didn’t think you’d actually do it in the dressing room, though. Bold choice.”

“Oh, come on,” Louis says, clearly enjoying himself. “This tension’s been unbearable. You two were practically begging to be caught.”

You groan, covering your face with your hands as your embarrassment bubbles over. Zayn doesn’t move far, though. His hand stays on your waist, steadying you, and when you glance up at him, there’s a flicker of amusement in his expression.

“You all planned this, didn’t you?” you demand, your voice muffled behind your hands.

“Maybe,” Liam says with an innocent shrug, though his grin gives him away.

“Doesn’t matter, though,” Louis says, smirking. “We’re just glad it finally happened.”

You groan again, but as Zayn’s hand lingers on your waist and his thumb brushes a small, comforting circle, you can’t help but feel like the teasing might just be worth it.

The boys are still grinning like a pack of mischievous schoolchildren, their delight at catching you and Zayn mid-makeout entirely too obvious.

“Alright, alright,” Zayn mutters, stepping slightly in front of you as if to shield you from the onslaught of teasing. His voice is low but firm, though the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile. “You’ve had your fun. Leave it.”

“Oh no, mate,” Louis says, leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed and smirk firmly in place. “This is gold. We’re not letting this one slide so easily.”

Harry winks at you. “We were wondering how long it’d take for you two to finally crack.”

Your cheeks burn hotter, but you manage to find your voice. “Okay, fine! Yes, we kissed. Happy now?”

Louis arches a brow, his smirk widening. “Kissed? As in, just now, or—” He pauses for effect, dragging it out. “Have there been… other moments we should know about?”

Zayn tenses slightly beside you, and you glance at him. There’s an unspoken question in his eyes, like he’s asking if it’s okay to share. You sigh, deciding there’s no point in hiding it now. “There was… one other time,” you admit, your voice quieter. “At the bar. A week ago.”

The room erupts into laughter and groans of mock disbelief.

“You mean to tell us,” Niall starts, pointing between you and Zayn, “you’ve been sneaking around for a week and didn’t say a word?”

Liam shakes his head, chuckling. “No wonder things have felt so off. The tension was starting to get unbearable.”

“You’re telling me,” Harry says, throwing up his hands. “We’ve all been walking on eggshells thinking something was up. Turns out, it’s this.”

Louis whistles, leaning back against the wall like he’s settling in for a good story. “And here I thought Zayn was the mysterious one. Looks like you’ve both been keeping secrets.”

You groan, rubbing your forehead as the embarrassment bubbles up. “It’s not like that,” you mumble.

“It’s not?” Harry teases, arching a brow. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks very much like that.”

“We haven’t even talked about it yet,” Zayn cuts in, his voice calm but firm. The boys all quiet down slightly at his words, their teasing smirks softening into looks of mild curiosity.

You glance at him, surprised by his honesty but grateful for it. “Yeah,” you add, shifting awkwardly. “We haven’t… figured anything out. It’s just—” You gesture vaguely between the two of you. “We’re still trying to make sense of it.”

Louis raises a brow, looking thoroughly unconvinced. “Trying to make sense of it, huh? Is that what you were doing just now?”

The room fills with laughter again, and you groan, covering your face with your hands.

“Alright, enough,” Zayn says, his tone carrying just enough weight to silence the chaos. “You’ve had your fun. Now give it a rest.”

Louis raises his hands in surrender, though his smirk remains. “Fine. But don’t think this is the last we’ll talk about it.”

With a chorus of knowing chuckles, the boys start to shuffle back into the room, resuming their pre-show routine. As the teasing dies down, you finally allow yourself to breathe, glancing up at Zayn.

“Well, that was mortifying,” you whisper, your voice barely audible above the commotion.

Zayn leans closer, his lips curving into a faint, reassuring smile. “Could’ve been worse,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear. “At least they didn’t walk in earlier.”

You laugh despite yourself, and the sound seems to ease some of the lingering tension. His thumb brushes one last circle on your waist before he finally steps away, giving you space.

But as the boys’ playful chatter fills the room again, you can’t help but notice the way Zayn’s gaze lingers on you from across the room—like even in a crowded space, you’re the only one he sees. And judging by the flutter in your chest, you’re starting to feel the exact same way.

…

The next morning the knock at your hotel room door comes just as you’re grabbing your jacket. Startled, you glance at the clock—it’s still early, barely past seven. Pushing down your curiosity, you open the door, and there he is.

Zayn stands in the hallway, his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, his hair slightly tousled like he’s been running his fingers through it. In his other hand, he’s holding two coffee cups.

“Morning,” he says, his voice soft and a little hesitant.

“Morning.” You blink at him, surprised to see him here, especially so early. “What are you doing here?”

He lifts one of the cups, offering it to you. “Brought you coffee. Figured you might need it before you head out.”

Your chest tightens as you take the cup from him. One sip confirms it—he’s remembered your exact order. The gesture is so small, yet it sends a warmth spreading through you.

“Thanks,” you say, stepping aside. “Do you want to come in?”

He hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. I—yeah.”

You step back, letting him inside. The room is quiet, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. Zayn looks around briefly before settling on the edge of the chair by the window, his shoulders tense.

You sit on the edge of the bed, cradling your coffee. The silence between you is thick but not uncomfortable, more like it’s brimming with unspoken words.

Zayn exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been thinking about this. About us,” he says finally, his voice quiet but steady.

Your heart skips a beat, but you don’t interrupt.

“I’m not good at this,” he admits, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Letting people in. Trusting them. It’s… hard for me. Always has been.” He looks up at you, his eyes raw with honesty. “That’s why I’ve been so stand-offish. It wasn’t because of you. It was me trying to protect myself.”

You swallow, his words cutting straight to your heart. “Zayn…”

“But you,” he continues, his voice softening, “you make it hard to keep those walls up. You’re… sunshine. You light everything up just by walking into a room, and I didn’t know how to handle that at first.”

Your breath catches, your chest tightening at his confession.

“I’m scared,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t want to keep shutting you out. I want to try. Really try. I want to be with you—for real.”

For a moment, you’re too stunned to respond. His vulnerability, his honesty—it’s everything you’ve been waiting for, and it fills you with a kind of warmth you didn’t know you needed.

“You’re scared,” you say finally, your voice gentle. “But you’re still here. That says a lot.”

Zayn’s lips curve into a small, tentative smile. “I guess it does.”

You set your coffee down on the nightstand and stand, moving to sit beside him. “You’re not the only one who’s scared,” you admit. “This isn’t… easy for me either. But I think we balance each other out, you know? You’re the calm when I’m all over the place, and maybe I can be the sunshine when you need it.”

He looks at you, his gaze softening, and you feel your chest tighten again. “I don’t just need it,” he says quietly. “I want it. I want you.”

You smile, reaching out to take his hand. “I want you too.”

The air between you shifts, the tension easing into something softer, sweeter. Zayn leans in, his hand lifting to gently cup your cheek. “You’re my sunshine,” he murmurs before pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is slow and tender, a promise wrapped in warmth. His hand slides into your hair, holding you close as your lips move together in perfect harmony. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in this moment.

When you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, your breaths mingling in the quiet.

“Guess that makes this official, huh?” you say softly, a teasing lilt to your voice.

Zayn chuckles, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

And as he pulls you into another kiss, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is the start of something incredible.

…

Part 2 - coming soon

Author’s note: I really enjoyed this one! Let me know if you’d like a part 2 or have similar requests💛

[puck-luck]

Quinn, Diamonds, Prompt #9 (option to include #1 - both are so good!!) 🫶🏻

warnings: using a camera during sexual acts, dirty talk WC: 575

“Aw, baby, this is just what you needed, huh?” Quinn asks, smirking devilishly through his grainy reflection. “You’ve been so stressed. That’s all over with now, right?”

You nod mindlessly, grinding back on his cock. You’d been preparing for this interview all week, over-preparing to the point that you’d be able to answer any hypothetical question that your (hopefully) future employer could throw at you. 

Quinn had helped you, of course. He’s a doting boyfriend who wants what’s best for you and he’ll help you in any way we can. Part of helping you was the promise of stress relief, or a reward for doing so well after you complete your interview. You had chosen the big reward, wanting to focus on prepping for your interview rather than getting distracted by sex, and Quinn had told you to trust him. 

After your interview ended, he closed your computer and replaced it with his own. He opened his camera and had you center yourself in frame, the way you had when you were talking with the hiring managers a few minutes before. Then, Quinn had done something surprising. He had stood behind you and kissed over your neck until you were melting into his touch. 

Then he’d unbuttoned your shirt, revealing your “pretty tits” and the bra that confines them. He’d cradled their weight in his hands, still kissing over the sensitive skin that covers your pulse point.

It hadn’t taken him long to get you standing. He’d pushed the chair away from you, then bent you over the edge of the desk with a gentle, guiding hand. Then, he had rid you of your pants and pulled your panties to the side, crooning into your ear as he entered you with a finger.

“My smart girl,” Quinn had said. “So capable. You killed it, baby.”

A second finger. “They’d be stupid not to hire you after that interview. Almost as stupid as you’re going to be when I’m done with you.”

It was a promise and he’s made good on it so far– he’s at the point where he’s long since abandoned using his fingers and is now fucking into you with sharp, precise thrusts. You’re clenching down on his cock like you’re trying to milk the cum out of him. Your moans are echoing throughout the bedroom, and occasionally Quinn will remind you to look at yourself on the screen.

“What would they think, baby, if they could see you now?” Quinn asks, bringing a hand to the back of your head and gripping your hair. “You think they’d like the show? Make you CEO right away just because you look so pretty when you’re squeezing my cock?”

“Oh my God,” you whimper, blushing at the mere idea of it. Quinn loves to humiliate you a little bit, especially after a hard week for you. It makes you looser, louder, more eager to come. He knows how to erase all of your thoughts with just a few words.

“Nah, you’d never let that happen,” Quinn muses. “Only I get to see you like this, isn’t that right?”

“Only you, Quinn,” you agree breathlessly, your head dropping forward again to rest on your forearms, entirely fucked out. 

“Ah-ah, baby,” Quinn corrects, pulling your head back up with a disapproving shake of his head. “Let the camera see your face when you come. I want to watch this back next time I go out of town.”

[calcitedraws]

Comet City Chapter 1

Yandere superhero x Vigilante Reader

No TW aside from general yandere shenanagins

His intro + context

Chap 1 Chap 2 Chap 3

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Patrolling during the night wasn't something you could do everyday, but you tried to do it at least four times a week. Statistics said that Comet City has most crimes occur between 7 pm and 1 A.M, so you are often tired the next day.

Patrolling consisted of mostly wandering around aimlessly until you heard or saw something suspicious. Recently, there has been a rise of so-called ‘super villains’, mostly just mutated folks who were desperate. Some were cocky and wanted attention while other's just wanted to get by. Sometimes ‘superheroes’ showed up in high profile situations, mostly at banks or high end stores. If the problem wouldn't affect anyone important then most of the hero's next to never showed up. That's where you stepped in.

You technically needed a license to work as a superhero. It came with a lot of nonsense like media coverage and having a PR team. You wanted to help people, good people who didn't have the privilege of being cared for by their government. It takes a lot of careful planning but you're able to make it work and keep your identity a secret while doing a lot of good. You didn't like the flashing lights of the paparazzi or being under the scrutiny of hero agencies that want a perfect pristine image. But there's one problem–a big flashy, popular problem.

His name is Zenith, the most popular hero of Comet City. He's full of himself  and annoying and stuck up. Everyone else loves him, though, quite intensely. Constant interviews, merch deals, and adoring fans followed him wherever he went. You didn't like him, even before the incident that gave you powers, but you didn't dislike him either. Your dislike only grew after realizing heros only protected the people they deemed of value. 

The problem? Zenith seemed to like you. Or at least, your vigilante persona, as he didn't know your real name even after pestering you every time you caught his eye. For that, you traveled in casual wear while obscuring your face, keeping your head down at all times. No need to get flashy when you want to stop real crimes. 

But sometimes it couldn't be helped. Sometimes you have to unleash your powers, letting everyone recognize it's you. And sometimes, people post it on social media. And sometimes, Zenith finds it and follows you around, like now.

You had stopped a car from hitting a child, and in turn, some influencer who was streaming caught you on camera. No biggie. It happened pretty frequently, and your disguise was good enough to avoid revealing your identity. You had guided the small child back to their sobbing mother, and turned around to go on your way, bumping right into the city's shining star himself, grinning down at you with pearly whites. 

You groaned under your breath, taking a step back to get some personal space. 

“Good to see you, again! Was almost convinced you were avoiding me.” Zenith beams, putting a hand on your shoulder, which you shrugged off as you turned around. You had only been a vigilante for two months and he already thought you two were chums. 

You saw his well-gelled blond hair from the corner of your eye as he floated beside you on his belly, his elbows down and his hands on his chin as if he was lounging. 

“Ah, so you are avoiding me?” He chuckles, “Come on, I thought we were friends. Let's get a coffee, I know a nice place across the street. Are you patrolling? You know every textbook recommends patrolling in pairs, right?”

Yeah, he yapped a lot. You learned a good bit about the inside of a hero's life through him, some of which was interesting or useful, rarely both. Apparently there's high brow prep schools to prepare young people with mutations into becoming super heros or at least sidekicks. He went to the best one, apparently. But, you didn't care about any stories about his school days.

“... I'll be fine. I'm not part of an agency, remember?” You sigh. 

“Yeaaaah, but that doesn't mean you can't join mine. You already have a good rep sheet! And with me as a reference, I'm sure you can land a spot on my team after going through the right avenues. I'd be willing to cover the expenses of such a… shining star.” He hums, brushing his shoulder against yours, lightly. 

“I have stuff to do outside hero work.” You say, putting your hands in your pockets. It was true, you had a life which you would prefer to remain undisturbed from his hands.

“Well… it's an open offer, darling. Like getting coffee is still an open offer! It's late and you look a bit tired.” He hums, shrugging off your subtle rejection.

Shaking him off was never easy. That's why you avoid him.

“... I had some before I left.” You seriously didn't want to get coffee with him. It felt too… casual. Like you were close or something. “But thanks, Zenith.”

“Zen. Just Zen.” He hummed, his voice warm and soft. You glanced at him for a moment. He had his chin on his palm, gazing at you with an oddly adoring look, his eyes half closed.

“You know, people are giving you a title! The Shadow of Comet City, because you're so secretive. I was thinking something cuter, like… Dove… I don't know, it's a work in progress, but you're kind of a dove.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

You looked down at your black hoodie and torn jeans. None of it screamed of the pristine or delicate  design of a dove. Zenith seemed to notice your assessment too.

“It's because you stand for peace.” He says, “But… maybe we should save it for when you join my team and get a makeover. Something… clean and neat, like myself?”

You looked at his bodysuit, a skintight suit of some high quality material you didn't know the name of. It was minimalistic but it looked good on him. 

“I think I'll stick to being nameless. Don't want to glorify being a vigilante.” You mutter. He deflates a bit, finally landing on his feet, stopping you by putting a hand on your shoulder.

“You know… you can't do this forever.” He says, suddenly quiet and tense.

You narrow your eyes, craning your neck back to side-eye him. 

“... Don't look at me like that. I'm just worried. You… can't keep fighting all of these bad guys on your own. You're going to get hurt, and… I don't want you to get hurt. Ever.” He says, eerily soft as his grip tightens. It doesn't hurt, it's just a firm hold.

Suddenly, you both hear his name called, leading to a group of fans emerging to surround the both of you in a circle

“Zenith, you're so cool!”

“Zenith! Zenith! Isn't that the new vigilante?”

“Zenith can I get your autograph?”

The chatter made you uneasy. You tried to slip away, seeing an alley nearby but he grabbed your wrist, stopping you. You felt the bones in your wrist protest from his grip.

“That hurts.” You whisper harshly, trying to avoid making him look bad in front of his fans.

“Please, just… stop pushing me away. I care about you, but… you're not the wisest with your safety.” Zenith pleads, trying to tug you closer to him. What the hell was he doing?!

“It isn't your place to decide.” You growl back. “Let me go, I have a patrol to finish. Go and, I don't know, have a photoshoot with your fans.” You finally manage to yank your wrist away from him, sprinting into the alley, hiding amongst the shadows. 

“Dove, please!” He calls out, before the crowd closes around him, forcing him to interact with them out of social nicety. 

You traverse the alley, fuming. You peel back your sleeve to find a nasty bruise forming. Your mutation set has given you quick healing but nothing like Zeniths. This bruise will be sticking around for a full day at most.

The rest of the patrol was quiet save for a few situations you had to deescalate. You managed to get home by 2 A.M, exhausted.

[cmdrfupa]

Masamichi Yaga ~~~~~~~~~~~~ New to this online dating so please, bare with me.Single. Divorced once. One grown son. Educator. I love knitting and crocheting. Looking for a needle to thread (I am sorry, this is cheesy but it's true.)

6.7k words (jjk au, fluff, smut, Yaga is a green flag)

a/n: Yaga, Yaga, Yaga. What a man. I wanted to give him love during the season of love. Enjoy and thank you for reading!

“Hello. My name is Masamichi Yaga and this is my twentieth years coming at the International Knitters and Stitchers Expo.” He spoke into the small vlogging microphone and watched as the interviewer rambled.

This was actually it. Year twenty. Year 10 of no longer being married and coming to these things. He wasn’t sure if it was the big banner showing his knitting clubs faces or seeing some of his long time friends bring their little ones to it this time around. But the feeling of being single and walking around wasn’t a pleasant one.

“Yaga! Its so good to see you again!” The elderly woman who was 2 feet shorter came up and gestured for a hug from the large man. “We would’ve missed your expertise for this years ‘Stitch your hearts or die’ event!

Yaga bent down to accept the warm, motherly hug before she pinched his cheek. “Good to see you also, Tita.” He took the badge with his name from the table:

Yaga M.

2025 K&SE

GOLD PASS

He didn’t hate this hobby of his. It was probably his favorite thing in the world outside of working in education. Student need a button put back on? Principal Yaga’s got it. Need a hem? He’s got his emergency kit on hand. Four newborns in the neonatal unit need some warm foot and hand mitts? Masamichi Yaga is on the scene with ten sets because he knows he will get a call for six more before the end of the month.

But twenty consecutive stitch expos for a man in his 40s is beginning to feel…

“Betsy cross-stitched some of the cutest flags for each of our home countries so we can wave them around during roll call! Gotta rep!”

He gave a half smile. “Yes ma’am..gotta rep.”

His group encircled him, smiling and greeting him as they would while he tried his best to stay in the moment.

He forced a smile. Another year surrounded by over three thousand people and he felt more alone than ever.

__________________

Yaga settled into bed post shower. It felt nice to be back in his own home after 4 days of nonstop conversation and photo ops with the “worlds largest knitting needle” recipient. He fell back into his routine: cleaning up, checking emails despite being off work for another 4 days, and meal prepped for the week before his wind down officially started.

He stared down at the open web-page on his phone, brows furrowed in concentration. "The Foolproof Guide to Dating: Master the First Three Dates and Win Their Heart!" The title alone should have been a red flag, but it had been a long time since he'd gone on a real date—long enough that he figured a little structure wouldn't hurt.

Yaga sat up in bed, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose and began to slowly read.

He tried not to be too hard on himself, it wasn’t as if he had time to fumble his way through modern dating customs. Between his work and his students, romance had taken a backseat for years. Now, thanks to Nanami’s insistence, he had a blind date scheduled with a woman who was supposedly going to be good for him.

He let out a breath and scrolled further.

“Date #1: Set the Perfect Tone!

Choose a location that showcases your best qualities.

Maintain strong eye contact to establish dominance. Let her know you mean business!

Pay a subtle compliment, but don’t overdo it! Keep her on the edge so she chases you!

Keep the conversation lighthearted yet intriguing. Who doesn’t love a man of mystery.”

  Yaga rubbed his temples. This was nonsense, wasn’t it? Showcase his best qualities? What did that even mean? Was he supposed to take her to a classroom and demonstrate his ability to keep a rowdy group of students in check? Pull out a ripped pair of pants and sew a patch on? He laughed silently, his large shoulders shaking as he put a sound to the belly laugh he expelled.

He sighed.”A man of mystery.” he repeated in a huff, setting his alarm and sitting his phone on the nightstand. “There’s no pressure, Yaga,” he talked to himself sternly, almost like a father speaking to his son the night of prom. “Its a date, not a wedding. Just enjoy the experience.” he turned over, closing his eyes to try and imagine what tomorrows date could result in. It was too late to back out now. He had to go in full speed.

The café Nanami suggested was a quiet, bookish kind of place, which Yaga appreciated. The soft hum of conversation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee, and the rows of bookshelves lining the back wall made it feel comfortable. Approachable. He could work with this. He settled into the arm chair, feeling confident in the afternoon.

Then you walked in.

He spotted you almost immediately and smiled, something warm and effortless about you. You stepped in like a dream. You waved at the barista and smiled, dress flowing as if you’d paid the wind to make it move with each step you took. Breathtaking.

“Uhh let’s do a honey latte with coconut milk today. And two lemon cookies, please.” He wondered what made you want a honey latte. Was it the honey? Perhaps you weren’t one for the strength of just straight coffee? His mind filled with scenarios as he watched you wait for your order.

“Yaga?” An unfamiliar voice walked up to him while he sipped his coffee.

“He’s not here.” His eyes stayed on you, not flinching.

“Sorry? Nanami told me you were my date?”

Shit. He turned to her and felt that guilty gut feeling at the confusion that stirred on her face.

“Oh gosh, so sorry. Yes, I-” He stood up and held his hand out and let her shake it. “I thought I saw someone I knew. My apologies. Call me Masamichi.”

“Oh! You’re okay. Happens to the best of us.”

“Would you like a beverage? I’ll get it for you.” he offered the chair right next to his. “Anything you fancy most?”

She pondered for a moment then smiled. “An americano with an extra shot of espresso.”

“Bold. You’ve got it.” He gave a warm smile and went to the front counter, walking past you as you scrolled on your phone waiting for your order.

He’s seen the viral clips of men bothering women and being called out about it. Was it really worth disturbing your peace?

‘Its for the best. And you’re on a date. Just leave it alone-’

“What are you thinking about getting?”

Your voice cut through his own dialogue and he froze from the neck down, turning to see you just a few steps closer to him. Your eyes were gentle, your voice sweet as honey.

“An americano.” he gruff voice lightened with his response. “With an extra shot of espresso.”

You raised your brow almost surprised at his answer. “Very… intense.” You laughed gently. “If you need something to help balance it out, I suggest the chocolate chunk muffin tops they have here. The perfect sweet treat to wash that down.”

“Oh, this isn’t for me. Its for my blind date.”

Amusement flickered across your expression and you looked subtly over your shoulder to see the woman sitting, waiting for you. "Exciting. Or nerve-wracking?"

He exhaled a quiet chuckle. "Both."

“Well, good luck to you! May the odds be in your favor.” Your order was called out and you grabbed your latte first, raising it in mock cheers before grabbing your plate of cookies and walking to a nearby table.

-

He sat across from his blind date, doing his best to focus. She was an amazing person—Nanami had vouched for her, after all. She had an easy smile, a soft voice, and seemed genuinely interested in getting to know him.

And yet, he kept glancing in your direction.

He tried to shake it off, returning his attention to the conversation. The guide had emphasized eye contact, active listening, and finding common ground. So he nodded along, asking genuine questions as he engaged in the conversation, offering polite responses. But every so often, his gaze drifted—just a flicker of a glance, quick enough that he hoped his date wouldn’t notice.

But he noticed. He noticed how you tucked a braid behind your ear, how you smiled at your book and widened your eyes and gasped in hopes of no one hearing you. How you tapped your fingers lightly against your coffee cup. It was distracting, pulling at the edges of his mind even as he tried to stay present.

Halfway through the date, he knew. He knew there wasn’t a connection—not the kind he was wanted to feel. His date was great, but she wasn’t the one keeping his attention without even trying.

By the time an hour had passed, Yaga took a breath and made up his mind.

“This was really nice,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. "You seem like a wonderful person, but… I don’t think there’s a connection here. I wanted to be honest with you before we parted ways."

His date blinked, then gave a small, understanding nod. "I appreciate that, actually. And I get it. No hard feelings. Good luck to your future dating trials."

They parted on good terms and Yaga walked her outside before he went back in to sit for a moment, tapping his fingers against the table trying to wrap his head around exactly what he was about to do.

He was never one to act on impulse. Impulsively buying a high dollar steak? Sure. But something in him told him he’d regret walking away without trying.

“Full speed ahead,”

So before he could talk himself out of it, he stood, walked over to your table, and cleared his throat.

"Hey. Uh." He shifted his weight slightly, suddenly aware of how ridiculous he must look—this broad-shouldered, serious-faced man struggling to find the right words.

You picked your head up from your book, a little surprised by his approach, “Americano! Hi!”

  "I know this might be a little unexpected, and I apologize. I know I told you I was on a blind date but… it has ended. I wanted to tell you that you are incredibly striking.”

Yous placed your bookmark and slowly closed your book. “Did you scare her off?”

“Oh no no. It’s just that there was no connection,” He tried to clarify his actions not realizing it may be doing more harm than good. “I found myself interested in getting to know you and I wanted to do it the right way.”

You couldn’t tell whether he was joking or just being a nuisance, but you were too intrigued to not find out.

So you sat quietly, smiling.

He cleared his throat. "Your, uh, shoes look sturdy."

A pause. Then, to his immense relief, you laughed.

"Wow. High praise. I was hoping to impress you with my charm after you decided to be so brazen, but if my footwear is winning points, I’ll take it."

Yaga felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders and laughed just loud enough for you to hear.

“To keep my momentum going, I’d love to take you out to lunch sometime to get to know you better.”

“What if I’m not single?” You stood up, letting your eyes trace over his defined shoulders and chest. “This would all be in vain.”

He hadn’t even thought of you being taken. His ears turned a shade of tomato red as he tried to figure out how he could recover from fumbling this badly. “I’ll pay for you next coffee if I’ve disrespected you and your partner. That wasn’t my intention.”

There was something endearing about this big man overthinking every other thought he had. It was obvious to you that he was not one for approaching strangers in public for things as informal as asking someone out. It was.. cute.

“After our first date, we can come here for a coffee then. I won’t say no to coffee with a handsome man with no name.”

“Cheeky.” You both laughed as he pulled out a card from his jacket pocket, passing it onto you gingerly. “Masamichi. And it would be my pleasure.”

=============================================

Six months. You’d been dating Masamichi for six and it was heaven on earth.

You’d come to know a mild giant for a partner. The perfect balance of love, laughter, and understanding. You’d complemented each other in every way imaginable, personalities intertwining like the branches of a sturdy oak tree, unshakable and resilient.

He was considerate, gentle, consistently showing that he would be there for you come hell or highwater. And you showed the same.

Two people swimming in the dating pool meeting by chance in a small pond.

Fate.

And now on your 6 month anniversary, you found yourself lost in thought, your mind wandering to the elephant in the room - or rather, the absence of it in your bedroom.

You sighed, tracing your fingers along the rim of the mug filled with now lukewarm green tea, a gift from Masamichi's grandfather. It was a small gesture, but one that spoke volumes about the sincerity and thoughtfulness that permeated your connection. Yet, despite the depth of your bond, there was one aspect of your relationship that remained unexplored, a chasm that seemed to grow wider with each passing day.

Masamichi was in the kitchen, the sound of pots and pans clattering as he prepared dinner, his humming a soothing melody that normally would have chased away any lingering doubts. But tonight, your mind was consumed by the gnawing uncertainty that had taken root in the pit of my stomach. You couldn't help but wonder if there was something wrong with you, if his hesitation to take your relationship to the next level was a sign of some deep-seated inadequacy.

You watched as he nodded his head along to the light jazz that filled the air. He was everything to you. And you didn't want to ruin the perfection you had cultivated together, the easy camaraderie and the deep respect that underpinned every interaction you’d shared all because it feels like you’re ovulating every other day.

But at the same time, the weight of the unspoken desires was beginning to take its toll, the deafening screams of wanting to be in the throws of passion grew louder with each passing day.

You knew you had to say something, to address the elephant in the room before it consumed you both. you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation that was to come, and made your way to the kitchen, determined to confront the fears and insecurities that had been plaguing your thoughts for weeks on end.

Masamichi looked up as you entered, a warm smile playing on his lips as he greeted you with a kiss on the cheek. "Almost ready," he murmured.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to find the right words. Masamichi sensing the uneasiness in your demeanor, set down the spoon he was holding and turned to face your fully, his brows furrowed in concern.

"Hey, is everything alright? You look like you've got something on your mind," he asked softly, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze your shoulder.

You nodded, swallowing hard before speaking. "Masamichi, we need to talk. About us, about... our relationship," you spoke with intention, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes widened slightly, and you could see a flicker of uncertainty in their depths. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair as he seemed to grapple with his own thoughts.

"I fear I know where this is going," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration. “I know you said the crochet thing wasn’t a big deal but it becomes one. Its just part of me..” He untied the apron from around his waist and lifted it over his head. “I know it isn’t for everyone.”

What a man. You smiled, rubbing his bicep before pulling him to the couch. “No no. I like your hobbies. It isn’t that.” You sat him down, his dark eyes brewing a storm as he tried to figure out just what you could be referring to.”

“Chi, do you find me attractive?”

He looked shocked, almost offended at the question. “A goddess among us mere mortals. You are beyond gorgeous. Where is this coming from? Am I not calling you beautiful enough?”

“God, you make it real hard to be assertive when you’re this sappy.” biting your lip and faintly laughing, you cleared your throat to push through the conversation. "I know we haven't... I mean, we haven't taken that step, and I can't help but feel like I'm disappointing you somehow in the attractiveness factor or you may not be ready which is totally okay! I just want to at least talk about it."

He paused, his gaze dropping to the floor as he struggled to find the right words. "The truth is, I want nothing more than to be intimate with you, to express the depth of my love and desire for you. But I'm scared," he confessed, his voice barely audible.

Your heart clenched at the vulnerability in his tone, and you reached out to take his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. "Masamichi, look at me," you followed his eyes, waiting for him to meet your gaze.

He did, and you could see the anguish and self-doubt swirling in his eyes. "You could never disappoint me," you assured him, thumb brushing against his cheek in a tender caress. "What we have is so special, so perfect, and I don't want to ruin it by rushing into something you may not be ready for."

You took a deep breath, choosing your next words carefully. "Masamichi. I love every part of you, including your kindness, your patience, and your unwavering commitment to our relationship. Our intimacy, whenever it happens, will be a natural progression of the love and connection we already share."

Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for saying that, for seeing me the way you do. I was so afraid that you thought there was something wrong with me, that I wasn't enough for you."

He pulled back slightly, his hands coming up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing the soft moon of your cheeks. "I love you so much," he murmured, his forehead pressing against yours once more. "I love your strength, your kindness, your unwavering faith in us. I don't want to mess this up, to do something that might hurt you or push you away."

You turned your head slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his palm before smiling. "You could never push me away, Masamichi. Your love, your respect, and your consideration for me are what make me fall in love with you more each day," You remarked, voice steady and sure. “And you’ll have to try harder if you want to get rid of me.”

Masamichi laughed, his wide shoulders moving as he enveloped you in his embrace. He closed his eyes, exhaling sharply with a shuddering breath. "Well you know I’m an older guy so it takes awhile to make sure my engines stay running for awhile.”

“Is there anything I could do to.. keep them running?” You were sincere in your curiosity.

Grinning and shaking his head, Masamichi squeezed your hand. “You could wink at me and the engine starts. Its just part of me getting a little older. I need time to..” He thought for a moment before continuing, “Time and maybe a boost to make sure the engine can run for as long as it needs to.”

“Oh!” you fanned him off, thinking you clearly understood what he meant until it actually clicked. Your brows raised. “Ohhhh..”

He chuckled, nodding. “Exactly.”

“Do you have that on like, standby? How does one obtain… engine boosting medication?”

“I’ll make an appointment and hopefully be seen next week. Easy as that.”

You hadn’t really thought about the implications of dating a ‘seasoned man’. He’s older, not old so you didn’t really think he’d need help I suppose. But it didn’t deter you by any means.

He was a one in a million kind of man and sex wasn’t everything to you. But he was.

“I want to do this right," he said, his voice filled with determination. "I want our first time to be perfect, to be a celebration of the love and intimacy we've built together. And I want to make sure that you're ready, that we're both ready, before we take that step."

“Respectfully, honey, I was ready the moment you picked up that love seat without breaking a sweat awhile back.”

“You’re an insatiable woman.” He leaned in, kissing you softly before lying you back onto the couch.

You nodded, a smile playing on your lips as you leaned in to press a soft kiss. “I’m sorry you are just too hot. I can’t help but be in awe of you.” you whispered against his lips.

“And just so we’re clear: I’ve thought of the many ways I want to ravish you. When I get my hands on you,” He ran his thumb ever so gently over your bottom lip. “I want you to be the only thing that can satiate my appetite.” His large hand traveled up your thigh, lightly allowing his knuckles to caress your soft skin until he stopped right at your inner thigh.

For the first time ever, you were rendered speechless, only nodding as he placed soft kisses across your collar bone and shoulder before meeting your lips.

His lips moving against yours with a tenderness and love that stole your breath away. "Together," he murmured, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you close. "We'll navigate this journey together, one step at a time, and build the perfect intimacy that we both deserve."

===========================================

As the candlelight flickered, creating the perfect cozy table for two, Masamichi couldn't help but steal glances of you from across the way.

The romantic dinner was going perfectly in his eyes. Dinner came out absolutely divine. He opted for the lighter style of Greek food to go along with the light and engaging conversation and playful banter flowing freely between the both of you. He had been looking forward to this moment for what felt like an eternity, his heart fluttering with anticipation and desire.

Reaching across the table, Masamichi gently took your hand, giving it a tender squeeze. "Tonight has been absolutely wonderful," he murmured, his thumb caressing your knuckles. "I'm so glad we could have this time together, just the two of us."

You smiled warmly, squeezing his hand in return. "I've been really looking forward to this," you admitted, a hint of mischief sparkling in your eyes. "And I don't just mean the delicious food and wine."

Masamichi felt a shiver run down his spine at the implication, his pulse quickening. "Is that so?" he asked, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Well, I think we both know where this night is headed, don't we?"

Slowly, deliberately, Masamichi stood up from his chair and walked around to his lover's side of the table. He held out a hand in invitation. "Dance with me?" he purred, wanting to feel your body pressed against his.

Accepting without hesitation, you rose gracefully to your feet. "I thought you'd never ask," you teased, melting into Masamichi's arms as he pulled you close.

He wrapped one arm around your waist, holding you flush against his expansive chest as he began to sway to the soft music playing in the background. His other hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to look at him. "You look stunning tonight." he whispered, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“Thank you. My boyfriend bought this for me.” You responded sweetly. “He said the color made me look like an ethereal beauty.”

He smiled down at you and continued to sway, the light air around him made him feel like he was in a romance film as you brought your lips to his, starting with a small peck that slowly moved into something more. He ran his finger tips down the center of your back, deepening the kiss the moment he felt your body shiver against him.

"I don't know how much longer I can control myself around you." He muttered against your lips.

Your eyes fluttered for a moment, a soft gasp escaping your throat. "Then don't," you breathed, leaning in to capture Masamichi's lips in a searing kiss. "I want you. So so badly.” you whispered into his mouth.

Masamichi's hands began to wander, exploring and caressing every curve of your body with a hunger that bordered on desperation. He slid his hands to the cutouts of your dress, relishing the feel of your soft, warm skin beneath his fingertips.

Breaking the kiss, Masamichi trailed his lips down the column of your throat, nibbling and sucking at the sensitive flesh. He could feel your pulse racing beneath his mouth, and it spurred him on, determined to mark you as his own.

Without thinking, he lifted you, an arm at the crease under your knees, carrying you bridal style towards his bedroom.

"Your skin tastes divine," he murmured against your throat, his voice rough with desire. "I want to leave my mark on every part of you, to show the world that you belong to me." He stepped to the edge of the bed and sat you down with the gentleness of a feather before he began to unbutton his shirt, his eyes never leaving you.

You could feel the heat of his gaze as he undressed. Watching the shirt fall to the ground your core tightened. That feeling flooded you.

His pecs were well defined, contoured by his chest hair. His body was hard, chiseled to perfection and for the first time, you were seeing it without any restrictions. He leaned over you, kissing the top of your head as he brought you up to your knees.

“Here. Let me help you.” He walked around to the side of the bed and sat on his knees behind you, running his knuckles along the straps of your dress, dragging slowly across the valley between your shoulders. He unzipped, leaving kisses on your newly exposed skin right until he got to your lower back

  He could feel you arching into his touch, your hands fighting to just reach behind you and pull him in by hair to hold him closer to you. "Yes," you hissed, tilting your head to give him better access. "Please, Masamichi… please..”

Masamichi groaned at the desperate plea, his hands sliding up to cup and squeeze the soft mounds of your breasts. He could feel your nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of your dress, and he couldn't resist taking one into his mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue over the sensitive peak. He let the dress fall to your thighs and reached around, taking a nipple into his mouth and groaning at the contact.

As he lavished attention on your breasts, his other hand slid down your stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of your panties to cup your mound. He could feel the heat emanating from your core, and he knew you were just as aroused as he was.

"You're so wet for me already," he purred, rubbing his fingers along your clothed slit. "I love how responsive you are to my touch. It drives me wild."

He continued his sensual battle, alternating between kissing, licking, and nipping at every inch of skin he could reach. He wanted to overwrite every thought in your mind with pleasure, to make it so the only thing you could focus on was the feel of his hands and mouth on your body.

Lie back, I’ve got you,” He whispered before stepping off of the bed, cradling you before crawling over you with a wicked grin. "I'm going to worship every part of you tonight," he promised, his eyes dark with lust. "I'm going to worship every inch of your body," he promised. "I'm going to make you scream my name until it's the only thing you remember."

Pinning you with his hips, he attacked your neck with open-mouthed kisses and sharp nips, licking your skin before blowing light breaths on each patch.

Masamichi gazed down at you, The sight of your bare body, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each anticipatory breath, sent a surge of desire coursing through him. He quickly shed the rest of his own clothing, eager to feel your skin against his own.

He settled himself between your spread thighs, his hands immediately going back to your breasts. He cupped the soft mounds, kneading and squeezing the pliant flesh as he brushed his thumbs over your nipples, feeling them stiffen under his touch.

He took his time lavishing attention on them, rolling and pinching the hardening peaks until you writhed beneath him, your back arching off the bed. His hands then trailed lower, skimming over your plush stomach, feeling your tense muscles flutter under his fingertips.

His thick digits dipped between your thighs, his fingers gliding through the slick heat he found there. He groaned at the evidence of your arousal, his cock throbbing with the need to be inside you. "You're so wet for me already," he murmured, circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. "I've barely touched you and you're dripping."

You whimpered, hips lifting to grind against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. "It's because of you," you panted, voice high and needy. "The way you touch me...the things you do to my body...I can't help it."

Masamichi smiled, a wicked glint in his eyes. "And I plan to make you even wetter," he promised, before sliding two fingers deep inside your fluttering pussy.

Just his fingers, stretching you, filling you. He pumped his fingers in and out, curling them to hit that special spot that made you see stars. At the same time, he leaned down to capture one nipple in his mouth, suckling and flicking the sensitive bud with his tongue as he worked you over with his hand.

Your body was tensing and he could feel it. Your inner thigh muscles clenching around his invading fingers as you climbed closer and closer to your peak. He knew you were getting close already, and he wanted to push you over the edge.

Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers, ignoring your protesting whine but kissing between your breast then your lips.

“My beautiful angel,” he whispered against your lips, “Want to taste yourself?” He brought his soaked fingers between you, glistening under the dim light and smiled as you did. Running your tongue between his pointer and middle made his cock jump. “My good girl.” He brushed the back of his hand over your cheek and kissed you, twirling his tongue around yours to savor your taste.

His fingers dipped back between your thighs to rub slow, deliberate circles around your clit and you arched into him. He could feel how swollen and sensitive it was, how it throbbed against his touch like a tiny, aching heart. With that, he slipped one finger inside and continued his barbarous pace. You clenched around his digit before trying to form words, but nothing came out except more teary eyed moans.

He leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to claim every inch of your mouth. He swallowed your moans and whimpers, relishing the way you tasted, the way you felt pressed against him. He captured every whimper and moan as he quickened his pace, the sound of your wetness now being muffled by his hungry grunts and the sensation of that engine revving magic pill suddenly reaching the places it needed.

He continued to grind and rub, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Just as he felt you start to tense, your body coiling like a spring ready to snap, Masamichi pulled his fingers away, stroking his cock with his now soaked hand while he reached for the pillow next you, then lined himself up with you.

“Are you ready?” He asked softly, eyes looking into yours.

“Are you?”

He looked down to where you two were almost meeting and chuckled at just how red the head of his cock was. “Maybe a little too ready.”

You lifted your hips and he placed the pillow underneath you. “Then please. Have me.”

With one powerful thrust, he sheathed himself fully inside of you, burying his cock to the hilt in your tight, wet heat. You both cried out at the sudden intrusion, body stretching and accommodating his thick length.

“God damn it.” He groaned, his hips pressed flush against the back of your thighs as he cautiously placed one leg over his shoulder.

The feeling of his hard cock buried deep inside you was almost too much to bear. You could feel every throbbing inch of him, stretching you wider than you ever had been before. It was a delicious mix of pleasure and pain, and you never wanted it to end.

Masamichi gave you a moment to adjust, fighting the urge to start moving. He could feel your inner walls fluttering and clenching around him, trying to draw him even deeper. It took every ounce of his self-control not to start pounding into you like a wild animal.

Instead, he leaned down to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulders and chest, his teeth grazing your skin. His hands slid up your sides to keep you with him, holding and caressing you as your heartbeat filled his ears.

Masamichi started to move, pulling his hips back until just the tip of his cock remained inside, before moving forward and burying himself to the hilt once more. He set a steady, deep rhythm, each thrust pushing the breath from your lungs in a rush.

"You feel incredible," he panted against your skin, his voice rough with pleasure. "So tight and perfect around my cock. I don't ever want to pull out."

The only thing you could muster was a moan in response, your body rocking forward with each of his intense thrusts. You reached a hand down to rub at your clit, desperate for the extra stimulation to push you over the edge.

Masamichi growled, a dark and feral sound, as he watched you lover touch youself. The sight of you lost in pleasure, impaled on his cock and chasing your own release, was almost enough to make him come undone right then and there.

He grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away and replacing it with his own. He rubbed at your clit with quick, firm circles, feeling it swell and throb under his touch. His other hand gripped your hip hard enough to leave bruises, holding you in place as he began to pound into you with wild abandon.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice a low rumble in your ear. "Come for me. Let me feel you come all over my cock. I need to feel you squeeze me like a vice as you scream my name.”

Masamichi could feel his lover's body tensing, your muscles pulling taut as you teetered on the brink of climax. He doubled his efforts, pounding into you with short, sharp thrusts that hit that special spot inside you with every drive of his hips.

"Yes, that's it," he urged, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Come on, baby. Let go. I want to feel you come undone, shatter in my arms."

You let out a high, keening cry, your back arching as your orgasm crashed like a tidal wave. Your inner walls clamped down around Masamichi's cock like a silken vice, rippling and fluttering as you came harder than you ever had before.

Masamichi groaned, the sensation of your pussy gripping him so tightly almost enough to make him lose control. But he held on, determined to bring you through your climax and prolong this feeling of pleasure for as long as possible.

He gentled his thrusts, rolling his hips in a slow, sensual circle as he worked you through the aftershocks. His hand never stopped its relentless rubbing at your now sensitive clit, coaxing out every last bit of your release until you were boneless and spent beneath.

Masamichi leaned down to capture your swollen lips in a deep, passionate kiss. He poured all of his love and desire into the kiss, wanting you to feel the depth of his feelings.

“Please.” The faint sound of your voice filled his ears, The shudders and tremors started to subside, and he finally let himself go. “Please cum for me.” You reached up to drag your nails down his torso and he threw his head back, losing every ounce of willpower he tried to hold onto. With a hoarse shout of your name, he buried himself as deep as he could go and pulled out the moment the flood gates opened.

He covered your stomach, spurt after spurt of his hot seed, painting you white as he emptied himself completely. His hips continued to rock and jerk, working himself through the intense pleasure until he had nothing left to give.

Collapsing onto his hands, caging you in, he peppered your neck and shoulders with soft kisses, his hand finding its way to roaming over your curves with a tender, almost reverent touch.

He finally mustered the energy to get up. “One moment, I need to get you a towel to clean you off.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and smiled before walking into the bathroom.

The grin on your face grew with each moment you lied there waiting for his return. The sound of the running water turning off made you sit up on and elbow.

His large figure walking back in made you feel butterflies.

“Hi.” you spoke softly, clearly giddy.

He grinned, sitting on the side of the bed and wiping your stomach with the warm towel. “Hello, darling.”

You giggled, bubbly and absolutely over the moon.

He finished cleaning you and went to toss the towel in a hamper before returning to your side, lying and immediately taking you in. You sighed contentedly, melting into his strong embrace.

You felt safe, cherished, and utterly fulfilled in his arms. His scent enveloped you, a mix of your own perfume and the musky aroma of sex, and it made you feel deliciously claimed.

His hands continued their gentle explorations, now soothing caresses rather than the heated touches of before. He ran his fingers through your soft coils brushing it back from your face, before trailing down to trace the delicate line of your jaw and the column of your throat.

The rise and fall of your chest pressed against his own, a soothing, hypnotic sensation that made him feel at peace.

Masamichi pressed a tender kiss to your temple, letting his lips linger for just a moment. "Being with you, like this...it's everything I've ever wanted."

You turned your head to meet his gaze, eyes soft and hazy with contentment. You reached up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over his lower lip in a loving caress. "For me too," you whispered, a small smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "I never want this moment to end."

Masamichi turned his head to press a kiss to your palm, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the taste and feel of your skin. "It doesn't have to," he promised, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "We can stay like this for as long as you want. I'll hold you all night long, if that's what you need."

Eyes shining with happiness. You snuggled back, tucking your body even closer to his own. "I want that,” you closed your eyes now, feeling the warmth of your deepened intimacy filling your heart. “I want that with you. Always.”

[openmindcrimecook]

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[ihaveathingforwomen]

Mock Trial - Professor AU

Professor!Alex Cabot x Fellow!Casey Novak

Chapter 1 - Masterlist

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Casey Novak is a star pupil and aims to assist one of her favorite professors. Fortunately, Professor Cabot wants to assist her as well.

A/N: I hope ya'll like angst. (Don't worry, it leads to some great smut) Lots of longing and yearning. Mutual yet unprofessed love, of course.

Casey Novak is on her way to becoming top of her class at the University of Oregon School of Law, as is apparent by her grades, her final internship, and her connections. To top it all off, her friends finally convinced her to interview to be a fellow. The interview took place at the end of her second year, and she breezed through it with confidence and grace. Over the summer though, she found herself feeling nervous about the results, though she couldn’t place whether it was anxiety or excitement. She learned that, as a fellow, she would be assigned to a specific professor and one of that professor’s courses. From there, she would assist younger students by guiding them through topics and the professor’s preferences, and she would also help the professor by grading some assignments. Outwardly, she pretended to not care about what professor she was assigned to, but internally, she knew exactly which professor she longed for. 

Her favorite professor used to work for the District Attorney’s office in Portland, where Casey took the opportunity to intern during her last summer before completing law school. The entire time, she found herself hoping to see Professor Cabot around every corner. Most of her superiors in the office remembered her fondly, often reminiscing about her time there and wishing she hadn’t left. This gave Casey all the hope she needed to keep daydreaming about seeing her while assisting with casework. 

The spring of her first year, Casey was fortunate enough to take Alex Cabot’s Criminal Law course. Every concept seemed to click for her, despite her being minutely distracted by the professor’s beauty. Then, in the fall of her second year, she was able to take her Evidence with Professor Cabot. Again, she received the top grade, but not without help. Of course she had the fellows for the courses, but she also started to make a point to meet with the professor to discuss the more complex topics. During these meetings, she felt as though she’d formed a genuine connection with the professor. Her sensible mind knew that their meetings were always strictly professional, but the yearning part of her had hoped that the tension she felt around the professor was mutual. 

Now, a week before her final year begins, Casey takes her time prepping her bag before her pre-semester class. While packing, her computer pings. She pauses and turns to look at the screen, only to find it’s an email with the results of her interview. Everything in her hands landed on her bed as she flung herself at her computer, clicking the email with precision. 

Her eyes scanned the words before her and she rolled her eyes. Leaning back in her desk chair, she rested her forearms on her forehead in frustration. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she whispered into the quiet air of her bedroom. The results were simultaneously relieving and sickening. She was, in fact, chosen to be a fellow for Criminal Law and Evidence courses, but the email did not inform her what professor. Disappointed and antsy, she closed out of her email and went back to preparing for her class that evening. Despite her disappointment in not knowing, she knew that she wouldn’t be without her favorite professor. 

She decided to take this pre-semester class last minute when she found out that Professor Cabot was the one teaching it. In the back of her mind, Casey already knew that she was going to make a point to meet with the professor as often as she could manage. Even if their interactions were strictly professional, Casey knew that Alex Cabot would be a great connection to have. During her internship, Casey had learned that Alex (she still feels sinful for calling the professor by her first name, even if only in her mind) has family in New York City. Her family is involved in the legal system and politics there and could make for a beneficial web of connections outside of Oregon, as Casey had always dreamed of moving East. 

Casey’s walk to class was filled with thoughts of her professor. She tries (and fails) to withhold the excitement she feels about telling her professor about her time at the District Attorney’s office, how she was planning on applying to the Manhattan DA’s office, how she was going to be a fellow… As Casey approaches the door to the classroom, she takes a deep breath to steady herself. She hadn’t realized it, but her heart had started to race and her core felt warm. Normally a nice feeling, her nervous nature made her stomach ache. Taking these few moments to relax, she couldn’t help the daydreams that came to her rescue. 

As she stood at the large windows along the hall, allowing her to stare at the city below, she pictured the blonde woman standing next to her. As she quietly stood, she would rub her hand down Casey’s back and reassure her about her upcoming courses. Casey closed her eyes for a moment in thought, focusing on her breathing. In doing so, she realized that her daydream was becoming quite realistic as she felt faint pressure on her lower back. No, she thought, this is real. Who the fuck? 

Casey turned around and when she saw the figure beside her, she nearly lept out of the window. 

“Oh my god, you scared the shit out of me,” she said, exhaling the stabling breaths she’d been taking. She immediately regretted her choice of words. 

The blonde before her smiled, “Sorry,” she chuckled. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

The professor smiled and slowly removed her hand. Keeping her gaze focused on Casey's features, she couldn’t help but admire them. “It’s fine,” the student muttered with a smile. 

Casey caught Alex’s eyes and held them for a moment, tension-filled silence shared between them. Alex finally diverted her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat, “I also wanted to see if we could talk after class today?” 

Casey, unaware that Alex’s cheeks turned a light pink upon asking, felt a shiver down her spine and her mouth dry up. She blinked, glancing out of the window and then back to the classroom door, anxiously shifting on her feet. “Yes, absolutely.” 

Alex grinned again, appreciating Casey’s nervousness. While she secretly hoped that Casey was nervous because she liked her, she realized it was likely because she thought she was in trouble. Quickly, Alex elected to reassure her, “it’s nothing bad, I promise.” She paused, trying her damnedest not to stare into the redhead’s green eyes, “it’s about your fellowship.” 

Casey’s knuckles were white as they gripped the railing in front of the window. She nodded, trying to act cool but noticing every bead of sweat on her body as it escaped. “Oh, okay. Yeah,” she was starting to stutter, “that sounds good.” 

To diffuse the tension, Alex checked the watch on her wrist and tilted her head towards the classroom. “Lead the way,” she directed. Her star pupil took direction well and as she passed in front of her, Alex couldn’t help but put her hand on her back again. As they crossed the threshold, she removed her hand and went straight to the podium. While setting up the lecture, she silently hoped that no other students saw where her hand had been. At the forefront of her mind, she constantly berated herself for being so infatuated with a student and for letting it happen. The demon on her shoulder, though, reassured her that Casey is a full-blown adult and could make her own decisions. Furthermore, the demon continued, the advances are not manipulative and the interactions are mutual. Casey had made many attempts to meet with Alex, supposedly under the guise of discussing academics, but their conversations often ventured into personal matters. 

The angel on her other shoulder, sorely disliked by Alex most of the time, advocated for the ethical dilemma of becoming involved with a student, regardless of age. For some time, the angel had been winning the argument, pleading with Alex to not jeopardize not only her job, but also her career as a whole. This summer, however, Alex couldn’t help the fantasies that passed through her mind. Not all of them were sexual, of course, some were mere yearning for company. Now, having found out shortly before class time that her request had gone through, she couldn’t help but daydream about experiencing Casey’s playful banter, her genuine conversation and concern, and her presence on a consistent basis for the academic year to come. 

The lecture seemed to get longer each time Casey glanced at the clock on the wall, just above her professor. Fortunately, the content was intriguing and Casey was glad to be learning it. However, it could not hold her attention for long in comparison to the sight before her and the nervous thoughts at the front of her mind. Had the interview actually gone poorly and the other faculty sent Cabot to deliver the news? Was Cabot going to inform her that the professor she’d be fellowing for was not herself? Or, was she fellowing for Cabot but the professor felt that Casey would need extra guidance? 

While the anxious bot in her brain droned on, the deviant in the back of her bran ran rampant. Each time she caught herself staring at the professor’s jaw line, or her fingers, or her skirt, she would force herself to look down at her notes and copy every word on the slide before her. While doing so muddled her actual notes about the content, it kept her eyes from wandering and potentially making the professor uncomfortable. Her brain wrote the words without intention so that it could create visions in Casey’s mind’s eye; she envisioned her meeting with the professor afterwards, waiting for everyone to leave the room and then placing her hands on her hips and professing her attraction. 

The speaking finally stopped and all anyone could hear was pens on paper, the clacking of computer keys, and the turning of pages. Casey glanced up from her notebook to find the professor scanning the room and looking down. “I think it’s time for dinner,” Alex stated and the attention of her pupils was promptly redirected. She glanced at the clock behind her and turned around, “the readings for the week are in your syllabus, be sure to have your case outlines prepared for tomorrow. We’ll be discussing the facts and developing potential resolutions.” She gave a curt nod to the rows in front of her, “see you tomorrow, thank you.” Turning her back on the class, a chorus of papers and zippers began.

She, too, gathered her things and turned back to search the crowd of students for her favorite one. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the redhead reach the landing and walk towards her, eyes glimmering as she smiled. Alex was oblivious to it, but Casey was painfully aware of how her hands tremor as she approached. 

“You ready?” Alex asked her plainly, her thin red lips smiling sweetly at Casey. 

If Casey had no self-control she would have swooned. “Yes,” she answered. She anticipated that Alex would just talk to her there, but instead, Alex started to lead them out of the room. Casey’s heart beat faster somehow as they made their way down the hall and to the elevator in silence. 

When they reach the elevator, Alex presses the button for them and then glances over her shoulder to look at the younger woman beside her. Casey, fighting the tension, kept her eyes straight ahead. Alex did the same, her inner monologue trying to gaslight her into believing she wasn’t that attracted to her. The elevator didn’t take long, both of them silently thanking the universe, and dinged at her floor. Alex exited first and went straight to her office, unlocking it and waving Casey inside. 

“You can close it,” she instructed Casey as she set down her belongings. The office was one of the few tidy ones, as most professors didn’t have time to organize their files upon returning to the office, electing to set them on their desk instead. 

Casey, whose cheeks were now bright red and burning, making her almost nauseous, slowly shut the door, clicking it closed. She took slow steps towards the chair in front of Alex’s desk, waiting for further instruction. 

Alex looked up, her eyes moving up and down as she observed Casey’s nerves. She chuffed, “You can sit,” she nodded at the chair. Casey took her seat as instructed and watched as Alex moved around her office, simultaneously putting things away and getting things out. “I’m sorry,” she stated, startling Casey from her observation. 

“Why?” she asked, tilting her head to the side as Alex set down a collection of files. Alex took a stance, sitting on top of the desk, her legs loosely crossed. Against her self-control, Casey’s eyes traveled down the professor’s body, lingering on her bare legs. 

Alex grinned, noting the subtle action and saving it for later in the back of her mind. “For making you nervous. It really isn’t anything bad,” she tried to reassure, looking down on the woman before her. 

Casey leaned back in the chair and crossed one leg over top of the other, trying her best to appear nonchalant. “Well,” she let her eyes search the floor, “what is it?” 

Her eyes returned to her professor’s expression, who smiled, a sweet glint in her eye. She clicked her tongue as she opened her mouth to speak, “you’re going to be my fellow. I asked if I could tell you myself.” 

Casey tried but couldn’t hide the way her face lit up. “That’s awesome,” she said awkwardly, her hand running through her hair. “I had hoped I would be your fellow.” 

Alex took her bottom lip between her teeth for a second, trying to push down the giddiness that rose in response to Casey’s comment. “When I found out that you interviewed, I requested you.” 

Casey felt her stomach flip excitedly. She knows her cheeks are giving away her feelings. “Really?” 

Alex nodded, happily, her hands wandering to the stack of files. “I also wanted to talk to you because I wanted to get a feel for where you’re at with the topics. I know you took the courses a while ago.”

Casey raised her head, starting to nod, and suddenly feeling self-conscious. “I think I feel pretty good about them. I think I feel ready,” she told her professor, hoping for quick reassurance. 

“Are you?” Alex asked, intending for it to sound like pride. The subtle ways Casey’s face fell indicated that it was not received that way. “You did really well in both courses, so I have no doubts you understand the content.” She tried desperately to build Casey back up as the girl’s green eyes wandered around the room. “But, I pulled these files together to help refresh your memory on some things and to give you some tips for guiding them.” 

Alex’s cheeks reddened and her chest tightened. She hadn’t intended to hurt Casey’s feelings, but she couldn’t take it back now. She handed Casey the stack of files, which she took graciously and started flipping through them. As Casey studied them, her strawberry blonde hair fell around her face, making her push the strands behind her ear mindfully. Alex felt the impulse rise in her chest and fought to ignore it. 

Her fighting was for nothing, “I was wondering if you’d like to discuss it over drinks?” In her mind’s eye she smacked herself, shook her head, and vomited. 

Casey’s lips turned up into a smile, one of disbelief. She wasn’t sure she’d heard what she thought she did. “What?” She asked, her shoulders tensing as she closed the files and watched Alex closely. 

Alex swallowed the lump in her throat and held her composure as much as possible. She removed herself from the desk and walked around to sit behind it. Now, across from Casey and at eye level, she noticed Casey’s cheeks slowly return back to their sweet ivory, peppered with freckles. “I mean, after you go over the files of course. We could get coffee, alcohol…” her breath caught in her throat as she thought, “other drinks.” A nervous laugh made its way out of her throat. 

Casey’s tongue darted over her bottom lip and pulled it between her teeth, the smile pulling to her cheeks. Her mind screamed as she realized that ‘professional matters only’ was becoming a thing of the past. Now, the genuine connection she’d thought they had was coming to light as reality. “I would love to. Coffee is always a great option,” she answers, her chest fluttering. 

Alex released the breath she’d been holding, “great.” A deep replacement breath while her eyes were trained on Casey’s lips. “Tomorrow morning?” 

Casey nodded, “that sounds perfect, Professor.” In that moment, uttering the word ‘professor’ felt almost like a tease. Her mind swam with fantasies, as it had done earlier, but now they felt possible. She stood and gathered her things, taking the files in her arm. She started to leave, but turned with a question, “what time?” 

Her tone was almost sheepish but it got Alex’s attention. Alex stood and made her way to her student, a sticky note in hand. She shrugged, her confidence in her role returning. “How about ten?” Casey nodded, her eyes staring at the sticky note in her professor’s hands. “Here,” she stuck it on the top of the files. “My number, you’ll need it for questions about the class you’re helping. Text me and I’ll send you the address for coffee tomorrow.” 

Casey felt overwhelmed, unable to process the gravity of the gift. She nodded, “Okay, will do. Thank you,” she looked her professor in the eyes, her gaze only lingering on her lips for a moment. 

“No, thank you. I know I’ll appreciate your help this year.” 

“Of course,” Casey responded sheepishly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Alex felt a ping of sadness as Casey opened the door to her office, “see you tomorrow, Novak.” 

[jooheonspinky]

Trivia: Love Part 5 -Final

Characters: Namjoon x Female Reader

Genre: idol!au, angst, fluff, smut

Warnings: set during the COVID pandemic, mentions of mask-wearing and COVID tests, fluff, fingering, unprotected sex (both get STI tested before visits, as per contract. Not specified in story, but Y/N takes birth control).

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Part 5

Word Count: 5.3K

November 30, 2021

His day off turns out to be one of my favorite days ever with him. After Mr. Choi comes over to watch us complete our daily COVID test, we spend time reading on the couch. Well, he’s reading while his head rests in my lap and I’m studying for the exam I’ll have a week after I return home.

It’s peaceful and relaxing. Any time I have any dark thoughts about how we will probably never have a day like this ever again I push the negativity away doing my best to hold on to the present time.

We have lunch, and just like at breakfast, we talk. The two of us provide one another with glimpses into our personal lives. The information we’d kept to ourselves, afraid of oversharing in the past, now flows freely between us. The more he tells me, the more my heart warms. The more I want time to stop, to keep us locked in this day where it’s just the two of us and no worries of ruining careers or receiving hate and threats just because we want to be together.

“I have an idea,” he announces as we wrap up lunch and gather our dishes.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

He doesn’t say but grins instead as he leaves the food cart outside the suite’s door. I watch as he casts his phone to the TV and pulls up a website. I smile fondly at him as I see what loads. Namjoon beams at me before sweetly kissing my temple.

“I thought I’d share one of the places I love to spend time in.” He guides me closer to the screen, his arm snaking across my lower back to rest gently at my hip. “This is one of my favorite artists…”

I blink rapidly, willing away the moisture gathering in my eyes. The excitement in his eyes and voice makes me long for things I know I can’t have and it hurts. It feels wonderful, yes, but it hurts even more as I hear him explain each piece of art as we move through the virtual rooms of the various art exhibits. A few hours pass as he encourages me to share my interpretations of what I see and he does the same, the two of us grinning when our views synchronize. We laugh when what I get from the work is vastly different from what he does.

But it’s all perfect. Exactly how I imagined it would be if we were to attend a museum or exhibit out in the real world together.

I’m astonished when I see that night has fallen beyond the windows of our blissful oasis. Tomorrow the interviews, practice, and sound check begin again as we come upon the last two concert days. Soon Namjoon will have to go to bed to have enough sleep to get through the hectic schedule. The idea of wasting precious time sleeping has my stomach clenching. I clutch my abdomen and Namjoon looks down at me.

“Are you hungry?”

The thought of food doesn’t sit well with me and I shake my head, my nose scrunching.

“No, but if you are… that’s ok.”

“Why don’t I order us something light and we just chill the rest of the night?”

“Ok.”

I nod and wonder to myself if he’s trying to extend this day as long as possible as well. After tonight, we’ll only see each other for a few hours in the morning before he leaves and then again when he comes back after the concert where he would only have a few hours to catch some sleep before he has to get up again to prep for the last concert. 

Time is passing extremely fast, and my visit coming to an end much too quickly now that we know exactly how we feel about each other. 

“Food should be up in just a few minutes,” Namjoon informs me.

“Mhm,” I murmur.

I’d been so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t even heard him make the call. I smile at him as he approaches me, his knuckles coming to skim down my cheek.

“Are you ok?”

The low, deep tone of his voice rumbles in my chest and makes my smile widen. He’s so sweet and in tune with my emotional state. I don’t think I could lie to him, even if I wanted to. He would know.

“Not really.” I sigh. “My mind keeps drifting to the day I have to leave. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to do that.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows pinch together, his jaw clenching and unclenching. It’s difficult now not to see his feelings for me. How I could ever have been so blind is a testament to my own insecurities and I try not to dwell too much on all the wasted time because of it. 

“I’m not giving up on us,” he says firmly, tugging me by the hips so that I’m even closer to him. “We’re going to figure this out, so let’s not worry about it tonight.”

I want to share in the same hope; share in the belief that there actually could be a positive outcome to all this. I will that feeling into the smile I give him and lean up to peck his lips.

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

He returns the smile and urges me to the couch where we fall into it, cuddling and watching the baking show I’d had on the day before while we wait for the food to arrive.

December 1, 2021

My belongings lay scattered about the room—books, clothes, and fragments of the days I have spent here with Namjoon. He was at the venue, lost in the rhythm of practice and preparation for tonight’s concert. I wanted the hours to sprint by, each tick of the clock bringing me closer to him. Yet, on the other hand, I wish for time to slow, to savor these fleeting moments before our paths diverge.

I glance around, wondering where to start, but it’s not long before everything blurs as my mind wanders. I think of the contours of Namjoon’s face—the curve of his lips, the intensity in his eyes. How many times did we laugh here, argue there, and get lost in our passion in between? Our shared time here was etched into the walls, into the very air I breathe.

As the night deepens, I trace the outline of our story—the highs and lows, the crescendos and pauses. And I make a silent promise—to hold onto this thing we have, even when miles stretch between us. To remember Namjoon’s smile, the way he says my name and the constellation of moments that defined us.

The suitcase beckons, its emptiness echoing my heart. I close my eyes, willing time to bend—to linger, to stretch, to grant me one more stolen second. But the reality was unyielding. Tomorrow, I will board that plane, and Namjoon will go back to South Korea.

How does one prepare for goodbye? How does one fold deep feelings neatly into a suitcase, tuck it away, and carry on? And so, I pack not just clothes and books, but also the ache of longing—the bittersweet symphony of a farewell. Once everything is put away, I zip up the suitcase, set it by the bathroom door, and sit on the bed.

Outside, the world moves on, oblivious to my inner turmoil. Tomorrow, a driver would arrive—a silent accomplice in our farewell. The stadium would echo with music, and I would sit among the crowd, watching him perform. Applause would rise, but my heart would beat out of sync, knowing that it was quite possibly the final act.

I sigh softly, trying to shake off the sadness knowing Namjoon would be back soon. I climb out of bed and head to the living room to turn on the TV, wanting to be as close to the front door as possible for when he arrives.

The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows on the walls. I stand the moment I hear the door beep as the lock disengages. Namjoon steps in already showered and changed, his hair still wet. His hair that just this morning had been a dirty blond now glistens a deep scarlet as he approaches me. He walks with purpose, coming straight to hug me without a word. His skin is still heated from his activities on stage.

“Your hair.”

I smile fondly up at him and he returns the gesture, dropping a quick peck on my lips. 

Carding a hand through his damp locks he asks, “You like it? The stylists thought it’d be a fun change for the last two days.”

I nod.

“I like it. It looks good on you.” I offer the compliment and his dimples deepen. The smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes though. “You ok?” I ask.

“Can I just hold you for a little while?”

My smile widens and I nod. He tugs my hand as he settles onto the couch. I start to sit next to him, but he redirects me to straddle his lap.

“Oh!” I breathe as I acquiesce. 

He rests one hand on my waist, and the other at my lower back. I tuck mine under his, pressing myself into him and lying my head on his shoulder. We sit quietly for some time, his hand absently rubbing my back as he loses himself in his thoughts. 

What must be going through his mind? Most likely the same things I had been pondering on earlier. The hug is as much for him as it is for me. I could sense he was trying to pull comfort from the act, strength to get through our last night together.

Our last night. How had it come so swiftly? This couldn’t be it… could it?

I nuzzle into his neck, pressing a kiss to the soft skin there. Namjoon’s fingers dig into my hip, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he fists my top, gently hugging me tighter to him. I palm his cheek, my thumb grazing his cheekbone as I nip, lick, and suck at his neck, taking care not to leave a mark. His rumble of satisfaction as he squirms beneath me heats my blood, and my heart begins to race in anticipation. 

I can already feel him hardening beneath me and my hips instinctively begin to roll along his covered length. Namjoon lifts my top from me, tossing it to the side, my bra following soon after. His hands skim across my skin, as if he is trying to touch every inch of my body one last time. I swallow thickly, trying to stay in the moment, even while sadness washes over me. He reaches up, his hand on my nape guiding me down to his awaiting lips. He kisses me deeply before releasing me.

“Take these off,” he orders, his voice gravelly.

I stand to take my shorts and underwear off and he does the same before sinking back down into the couch. He stretches his arms out to me, guiding me down onto his stiff cock. We both groan as he stretches me deliciously. His hands immediately caress over my ass as I lean forward. Arching my back, my breasts are shoved into his face and he wastes no time to latch onto one of my pebbled nipples.

His name leaves my lips on a moan as my hips grind into him. His mouth moves to give equal treatment to my other breast while his hands on my ass help to push me down onto him, bringing him deeper inside me. The movements are slow at first, my stomach tightening as pleasure begins to build, but as he begs for more kisses, I oblige, our lips locking again as he picks up the pace. His hands shift to my hips to help me match his pace. It’s difficult to keep the kiss going, but it’s with our lips joined that we find ourselves cumming at the same time, our mouths swallowing up each other's blissful exclamations.

 We remain seated, him still inside me though softening by the second. With our fingers intertwined, I relax into him as our breathing begins to slow. Namjoon is a man of few words, but his eyes speak volumes. I can see the conflict within him—the desire to stay, to hold what we have close, and yet the weight of duty pulls him away. His job demands sacrifices, and this was one of them. We had known this day would come, but knowing didn’t make it any easier.

I lean my head on his shoulder again, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into me. The TV plays in the background, a mindless distraction from the ache in our chests. The characters on screen laugh, love, and face their own trials. It’s a cruel juxtaposition—our love story unraveling while fictional ones flourish.

“It’s not fair,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes as I break the silence.

My heart hurts the most it has ever and I feel as if it will shatter in my chest at any moment. I sit up a little so I can see his face. 

His eyes meet mine, his gaze searching. “I know.”

“What are we gonna do?” I murmur despondently.

He cups my face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears. “I don’t know,” he says softly. “But I’m not going to stop trying to figure this out.”

I nod, because that’s all I can do. 

“Come on. Let’s shower and then go to bed,” he urges as he begins to stand.

I slide off of his lap and let him pull me along to the bathroom. I feel numb as the warm water washes over us, his hands gentle as they glide over my skin, cleansing away the evidence of our lovemaking from moments ago. It takes all of my willpower to keep from crying again. I don’t want to make this any more difficult than it already is.

When I’m back home and by myself, I can let go then.

I help him shower as well and it’s not much longer before we’re done, dried off and lying beneath the covers. His arms envelop me, my body molding into his. 

With a kiss on my shoulder, Namjoon whispers, “Good night, my Nabi.”

“Good night, my Moonchild.”

December 2, 2021

Namjoon’s alarm cuts through my sleep and I jolt up in bed. 

“I’m sorry,” I hear him call from the bathroom as he rushes to the bedside table. “I forgot to turn it off when I woke up.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Not really.”

“Are you going to be ok to perform today?” I fret.

Namjoon shrugs, a small smile dancing on his lips. 

“Once the adrenaline kicks in, I’ll be fine.”

I nod and follow him to the bathroom. I wrap a robe around myself and then brush my teeth as he finishes getting dressed. He exits, and I follow, watching him lace up his shoes before standing and slipping his phone into his pocket.

“So this is it.”

He swallows thickly, taking my hand in his. We walk to the front door, pausing for a moment. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he says, his eyes locking on mine, the earnestness there bringing tears to my eyes. “It may not be tomorrow or a month from now, but I have to believe we are going to figure this out.” 

I hold back a sob as I press my lips to his, tasting the salt of my own tears. It’s a bittersweet kiss—a farewell and a promise rolled into one. 

Settling back down on my feet, I sniffle. “I love you.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen before pulling me to him. He hugs me tightly and our hearts beat in sync, as if trying to imprint this moment forever.

“I love you, too,” he murmurs into my hair.

We remain in each other's arms, both reluctant to let go. The buzzing of his phone breaks the moment. Pulling away, I rest my palm against his heart.

“I’ll see you at the concert.” I smile, through my tears. “I’ll be the one cheering extra hard.”

Namjoon chuckles, kissing me again. “I’ll look for you. Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Namjoon,” I whisper.

And then he’s gone, slipping out the door like a shadow. 

I stand there, the loss of his presence leaving me frozen in my spot. We were two souls caught in the crossfire of fate—a love that defied distance but couldn’t conquer it. And as the clock ticks away, I can only cling to the memory of his touch, the taste of his kiss, and the hope that someday, somehow, our paths will intersect again.

For now, I’m left with the echo of goodbye and the ache of a love that refuses to die.

The chauffeured car glides to a stop at the VIP entrance of the concert arena. As the driver confirms our post-concert rendezvous for the airport drop-off, a staff member approaches, her steps brisk and purposeful. After I step out, she closes the car door behind me, hands me a lanyard and a tote, then leads the way down a stark concrete corridor. My gaze flits about, seeking a fleeting glimpse of the guys before the curtain call. A pang of longing strikes me at the thought of seeing Namjoon one more time; yet, somewhere within, I know an encounter here woud best be left unfulfilled.

She points to the seat reserved for me by Namjoon and I join the sea of ARMY. I settle in, the weight of the moment settling with me. Delving into the tote, I unearthed an ARMY Bomb, a picket flaunting the group’s visage, a towel, shirt, and photo cards that whisper memories of melodies. I meet each of their faces, my gaze lingering on Namjoon’s photo. Within moments he grows blurry as emotions threaten to overtake me.

“Hi!” The chirp of a voice snaps me back to reality as a young woman nestles into the seat beside me. “Flying solo tonight?” she inquires, the smile in her eyes as warm as the stage lights.

A tear betrays me, but her kindness coaxes a smile in return. Though it’s hidden behind my face mask, I hope she can still sense I’m offering her one. 

“Yes, just me.”

She nods, understanding painting her features. “It’s super exciting and overwhelming, isn’t it?” she muses, offering a tissue with a motherly touch. “But hey, we’re seatmates now. Let’s make our cheers echo louder than the rest.” Her upbeat personality is infectious, a balm to the bittersweet symphony of the night. “My name’s Kyshanna.”

“I’m Y/N,” I introduce myself and we fist bump with a giggle.

As the lights dim, a raucous thunder of screaming and clapping fills the air. The stage, once bare, now thrums with the promise of the night’s enchantment. A VCR begins to play and there is a collective hum of anticipation as the video plays through. Suddenly, performers dressed in all white jumpers begin to get into formation on stage. The opening chords of ‘ON’ fill the arena, a melody that seems to resonate with the very beat of my heart.

The show unfolds like a dream, each performance a tapestry of sound and soul. I find myself getting lost in the rhythm, the lyrics a salve to the ache that had taken residence in my chest. The ARMY around me move as one, a sea of light and energy, and I let their joy buoy my spirits.

Interlude after interlude, the concert moves on, the time for me to have to go drawing ever closer. I watch as BTS split up between two orange motorized boxes filled with purple and white balloons, the clear plexiglass bearing their logo. They draw louder cheers from ARMY as they pass between the pit and level one seats, ‘Telepathy’ being sung collectively by ARMY and BTS. As the car approaches our area, my eyes lock on Namjoon and I watch him dance and hype up the crowd. I notice the instant he picks me out of the crowd. He looks down, but his hand clutches his heart before looking back up and nodding once. Jimin pats his shoulder, bringing Namjoon back to the moment.

Kyshanna elbows me gently, leaning in to muse, “Namjoon seems a little…I don’t know-” She shakes her head as she ponders what word best to describe what she’s sensing. “He seems really sad.”

I swallow thickly.

“Really?”

She nods. “I hope he’s ok. I know it’s been a while since they’ve performed at this large a scale. I just hope it’s not getting to him.”

“It’s the last day. He’s probably just bummed the tour is coming to an end,” I point out, guilt gnawing at me again.

“Hmm,” she hums pensively.

As ‘Telephathy’ comes to an end, the cart begins to bring the group back to either side of the stage, the music immediately going into ‘Stay’. Just as Jin completes his lines, the car drops them off and Namjoon makes his way across the stage, his rap carrying him towards the center pathway.

“Stay!”

Namjoon’s gaze finds mine again across the expanse of faces. It is fleeting, a mere heartbeat in time, but in that glance, a silent message is conveyed—this was not a goodbye that he wanted and he wished I could stay with him.

“Stay, stay, stay, stay (Always)!”

The words sounded like a plea and it breaks me with each exclamation. I decide in that moment I have to go. It is hurting too much to remain.

“Can you hold this for me?” I say to Kyshanna. “I gotta go to the bathroom.”

She’d told me she couldn’t afford an ARMY bomb, so I leave it with her along with the picket. I had others back at home. I did feel bad to leave without saying good-bye, but I can feel myself getting too close to bursting into full on tears. I leave then, my footsteps as quick as they can be in the crowded building. I flash my lanyard at the VIP doorway and a staff member helps escort me back to the awaiting car.

LAX is not far from the stadium and before I could relax enough, we were already arriving. The airport loomed like a threshold—a passage from one chapter to another. Security checks, boarding passes, and the hum of engines—the mechanics of departure. But emotions don’t follow schedules or protocols. They spill over, uncontainable. How could I step onto that plane, knowing that the sky could possibly separate us indefinitely?

An hour later I settle into my seat and imagine his voice—the timbre that makes my heart ache. His laughter, the way he holds me so gently when we kiss, as if he’s afraid to break me. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his skin. These memories were fragile, like paper birds caught in a storm. Was it too late to reach out and tell him we should keep the contract active? That I would rather have him a few times a year than never more?

The airplane begins to move up the runway and soon we are ascending. As I glance out of the window to the land below that is growing more and more miniature by the second, I can no longer keep the tears locked inside. They spill like rivulets down my cheeks as I make my way toward an uncertain future.

December 31, 2021

Curled up on the couch, the glow of my Christmas tree provides the right amount of lighting I need to read the words of the book I’ve chosen. Lo-Fi Hip-Hop plays softly in the background as I try to lose myself in the pages of the story, but if I am being honest, I couldn’t even tell you what I’d read so far. My mind just won’t turn off. Nothing is helping me get out of my thoughts this evening. Maybe I should have gone to a New Year’s party to ring in the upcoming year after all. Perhaps that would have proven a better distraction than staying home alone.

I snuggle deeper into my blanket and glance over at my tea and think, Nah, this is so much better than being out at a noisy party even if I can’t get out of my head.

I just am not in the mood to party, anyway. It’s been almost a month since I said my goodbyes to Namjoon. Aside from him checking in on me to make sure I made it back home ok, there had pretty much been no communication between us since then. And I didn’t blame him. I had seen the announcement from BigHit, letting ARMY know that BTS would be taking some personal time off in order to spend the holidays with their families, something they had not been able to do since their debut. Not wanting to impose on his family time, I have given him the space the company asked for.

It doesn’t mean I’m not a little sad.

This last visit with him had been a roller coaster of emotions. The two of us had definitely not played by the rules and were feeling the repercussions of it. Neither of us was willing to let this go, but neither of us really had figured out how we could make this work. 

I stare at the flickering lights of the Christmas tree, trying to lose myself in the gentle rhythm of their twinkle, when a soft knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. For a moment, I freeze, unsure if I imagined it. Who would be here at this hour, especially on New Year’s Eve? I reluctantly pull myself from the warmth of the couch, wrapping the blanket tighter around my shoulders as I shuffle to the door.

When I open it, my heart nearly stops.

Namjoon stands there, his eyes soft but intense, his breath visible in the cold night air. He’s holding a small bouquet of beautiful flowers in shades of purple, dusty rose and white, and his expression is one of determination mixed with vulnerability.

“Namjoon?” I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper, the shock of seeing him here rooting me to the spot.

“Hey,” he says quietly, his voice deep and familiar, filled with something that makes my chest tighten. “Can I come in?”

I nod wordlessly, stepping aside to let him enter. He steps inside and sets the flowers on the entryway table before turning to face me, his eyes searching mine.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he says, the words tumbling out as if he’s been holding them in for far too long. “I couldn’t stand being apart from you and having you think that you don’t matter to me.”

I blink, trying to process what he’s saying, the words not quite sinking in. “But… your family, the break—”

He shakes his head, cutting me off gently. “My family understand. I needed to see you. To tell you that I want to be with you. I don’t care about the rules, the distance, any of it. I just… I need you to know that I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

My breath catches in my throat, tears welling up in my eyes as his words wash over me. I can see the sincerity in his eyes, the determination etched into every line of his face. He’s serious. This isn’t some fleeting impulse; it’s a promise, a declaration.

“You… you really mean that?” I ask, my voice trembling as I try to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to spill over.

Namjoon steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup my cheek. His thumb brushes away a stray tear, and his touch is so tender that it nearly breaks me. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I want to be with you, and I’m going to do everything I can to make this work. No matter what.”

In that moment, I realize that all the doubts, all the fears that have been gnawing at me since our last goodbye, don’t stand a chance against the strength of what we have. I drop the blanket and lean into his touch, letting the warmth of his hand melt away the last of my reservations.

“Ok,” I whisper, my voice barely audible as the tears spill over. “Ok.”

Namjoon smiles then, a brilliant, relieved smile that lights up his entire face. He pulls me into his arms, holding me close, and I feel the weight of the past few weeks lift off my shoulders. In his embrace, I find the peace I’ve been searching for, the answer to all the questions that have been swirling in my mind.

As we stand there, wrapped up in each other, the soft glow of the Christmas tree casting a warm light around us, I know that we’ll face whatever comes together. Because in this moment, nothing else matters. Not the distance, not the rules, not even the uncertainty of the future.

All that matters is us.

January 1, 2022

My phone pings and I groan, kicking myself mentally for forgetting to switch it to Do Not Disturb earlier. Namjoon shifts beside me, a soft huff leaving his lips. I toss my arm out, blindly searching for my phone to change it to silent mode, but curiosity gets the better of me and I peek at the notification that had woken me up. I gasp, causing Namjoon to perk up.

“What’s wrong?”

His deep voice rumbles up from his chest, the tone thick with worry as he sits up. I wordlessly turn the device towards him, simultaneously switching on my bedside lamp with my other hand. His teeth bite down on his bottom lip, trying to stop a smile from forming. I click the notification in order to see the entire message and Namjoon reads right along with me. 

“Hello.

This is BIGHIT MUSIC…”

There’s a flutter in my chest as the reality of the message sinks in. There is no going back now. The announcement stating Namjoon is currently in a relationship has been posted for all ARMY, and non-ARMY for that matter, to see. The fact that the company included a request to respect Namjoon and his partner’s privacy only helps to settle my nerves a smidge.

“What are you thinking?”

His concerned voice breaks me from my thoughts and I realize I’ve been staring blankly at my phone for a minute. Shifting my gaze to his, I take in the pinch of his brow and the attentive curiosity in his eyes. His hand reaches out for mine and I look down at our entwined fingers before looking back up at him.

“I’m thinking that there is no taking this back.”

The corner of his lip quirks up. “No. Definitely can’t take it back now,” he chuckles. “You still cool with that?”

“I mean, I knew you were serious about being together no matter what, but oof.” I shake my head, a heavy breath escaping my lips. “Now that it’s out there like that…I don’t know.” I shrug. “I’m excited, but I’m scared. I’m scared of how ARMY will react.”

Namjoon kisses the back of my hand. “Yes, it’s scary, but you don’t have to be afraid. We are in this together and just like my brothers, I will protect you from any of the negativity that might come of it.” 

“Yeah?” I gaze at him with adoration and hope. 

“I promise,” he nods earnestly. “Besides, if anyone sends hate your way, they are not a real ARMY, so their opinion means nothing to me. True ARMY are going to be happy for us and it’s their comments that I’m going to choose to acknowledge.”

“Ok,” I smile, trusting him fully.

“Ok,” he beams back, his dimples deepening endearingly. “Come here.”

A shaky giggle full of nerves bubbles up from me, but Namjoon cuts off the sound with a deep kiss as he presses my body into the mattress.

Credits:

Text Divider by @xxbimbobunnyxx

Moodboard by me.

For moodboard, used:

InCollage for layout, title, butterfly and photos.

Except Namjoon’s photo. Credit to RM x GQ Korea, Vogue Korea 2021

Motionleap was used for the movement within the moodboard.

We have come to the end. My heart feels so happy to finally post it after working on it for so long. Thank you for taking the time to read it. I appreciate it so much. Feel free to comment, like, and reblog. Until the next time!

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