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[yuta-nakamots]

Dive Into You - L.Haechan

Pairing - Boyfriend!Haechan x University!AFAB Reader

Genre(s) - Fluff, Smut, University!AU

Warning(s) - smut, unprotected sex, reader wears a bikini, slight public sex (more like just public indecency and really heavy petting), dry (wet?) humping, creampie, multiple orgasms, marriage, reader and haechan have a kid 

Summary - After a whirlwind semester, Haechan sweeps you away on a surprise getaway after finals are over. Between salty kisses and soft-spoken promises, you both begin to realize that Fridays mark more than just the end of the week, they mark the beginning of something new. 

Word Count - 7.5k 

Author’s Note - I meant to get this out on his birthday but got caught up in life so I guess happy belated birthday to Haechan haha

Taglist - @k-vanity @cosyhomenet @neocity-net @k-films @cinneorolls @dinonuguaegi @tinyzen @fancypeacepersona (join my taglist!)

Written for the Resonance Beach Collab originally hosted by @loeycity. Part of the K-Films Summer Event 2025 hosted by @k-films. Also part of my NCT Dream: Seven Days Collection. 

Now playing: Dive Into You - NCT Dream, Bahama - aespa

You first met Haechan in a music theory class halfway through the semester. You were taking it for your degree, as was he, though he hadn’t managed to show up to a class thus far because of his busy idol career. On his day off, he finally attended class for the first time, slipping into the back row of the lecture hall ten minutes late, wearing sunglasses indoors and a hoodie too big for the late-spring weather. Yet no one batted an eye. That’s the thing about university, you could be a celebrity or a sleep-deprived caffeine gremlin and still get away with everything as long as you looked miserable enough. 

He sat beside you, even though the rest of the row was empty. “Your notes looked better than mine,” he remarked. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you even enrolled in this class?”

He grinned, teeth flashing beneath the shadow of his hood. “Technically.”

“Technically,” you repeated, unimpressed, as you angled your notebook away from him. 

“Come on,” he whined, nudging your elbow with his. “The midterm is next week, I haven’t studied, and my manager thinks I’m watching video lectures at home right now. Help a guy out?”

You sighed, already sliding your notes a little closer. “If I get caught helping you cheat, you better buy me lunch.”

“Deal,” he agreed, a little too quickly. “And maybe a song.” 

“A song?” You questioned.

“You’ll see.”

Your friendship with Haechan started just like that. A few shared notes, a couple late-night study sessions in the campus café when he had time off in his schedule. He hummed next to you while you worked on your laptop, occasionally changing songs halfway through the phrase just to annoy you. You quickly learned that when he wasn’t on stage, he was a menace with too many inside jokes, an alarming stash of memes, and a knack for making your cheeks hurt from laughing. 

The first time you let him into your apartment, he tripped over cables hooked up to music equipment. He made it up to you by immediately assisting in layering harmonies onto the half-finished chorus of a demo track you made. “This would sound so good with a weird falsetto ghost vocal,” he commented, already recording himself singing off your cheap microphone like it was a stadium stage. 

Somehow, you didn’t mind because somehow, his chaos just fit with yours. You made music together, half as a joke, half because it felt right. You teased him about his idol life, and he teased you about your messy desktop and how seriously you took your plugins. He never stopped talking, but you never wanted him to. Somewhere between 3AM laughter, breathless studio nights, and his fingers brushing yours over a keyboard, you stopped writing love songs about people who didn’t exist. 

One night, when your midterm projects were due and sleep felt like a forgotten luxury, he popped by your apartment with fast food and insisted on ‘helping’ you mix your final track. The ‘help’ amounted to him curling up on a chair next to you with a can of soda and randomly hitting keys on your MIDI keyboard while proclaiming it to be ‘art’. 

You swatted his hand away from your laptop for what had to be the tenth time. “You’re going to make me fail.” 

“I’m inspiring you,” he countered, leaning over your shoulder to peer at your project window. “See, this part? Needs more chaos.” 

“You are chaos.”

He laughed, dropping his chin to your shoulder. “I’m glad you finally noticed.”

You turned to look at him, a comeback ready, but the look on his face made the words freeze in your throat. You didn’t realize until that moment just how badly you wanted to kiss him, his lips looking so full and soft mere inches from you. Your breath caugh,t and Haechan heard, but didn’t move away. 

“If you keep looking at me like that,” he said quietly, the usual teasing in his voice softened by something more sincere, “I’m going to think you like me.”

Your eyes flickered to his. “What if I do?”

The words hung there, suspended in the space between your breath and his. You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but suddenly the distance didn’t exist. His lips met yours in a kiss that tasted like soda and secrets you didn’t want to keep anymore. It was gentle, slow, and careful, like neither of you wanted to break whatever this was turning into. 

When Haechan pulled away, his eyes searched yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, his usual bravado stripped away. 

You swallowed, heart thudding in your chest, and your brain fighting with every reason why this shouldn’t have happened. “Haechan,” you started hesitantly. “You’re…you. And I’m just me. This isn’t right.”

He tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Do you think I don’t know that?” You blinked. “I’ve thought about this, all the reasons it could go wrong. But then I think about how you save lecture notes for me, how you roll your eyes at me, but still tolerate me when I make a bad joke. I think about how I’ve never heard music the same since I first met you.” You looked down at your hands, the weight of reality pressing against the lightness you felt just seconds ago. “Hey.” He reached for your hand. “I can’t promise it’ll be perfect, but I can promise I’ll show up. For you, for this, for us.” 

Your eyes meet his again. There was no cockiness there, just quiet determination and something you realized had been growing behind all his jokes and late-night harmonies. It was real, terrifying, beautiful affection. You nodded slowly, lips drawing up into a small smile. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He echoed, eyes widening. 

“But if I end up in a dating scandal, you better write me a hit breakup song.”

He laughed, his fingers lacing through yours. “Deal. But I’m aiming for a love song first.” And somehow, it felt like the beginning of one. 

Your relationship didn’t erupt like the drop of a chorus, it eased in like a warm synth line, subtle but impossible to ignore. Somewhere in the haze of long nights and low battery percentages, between split headphones and shared playlists, Haechan became the rhythm you moved to without even realizing it. 

One night, long past midnight, you both sat sprawled on the floor of your apartment, surrounded by tangled cables, empty ramen bowls, and the fading echo of a demo track you’d been layering harmonies into. You lay back, arms spread out, gaze unfocused on the water-stained ceiling. “I want to do this forever,” you swooned. “Not the ramen-for-dinner part, I mean the music. Producing, composing, I want it to be my life.”

Haechan was quiet for a beat, then shifted to lie next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “I think about that too,” he said. “I think about what I’ll do when the spotlight fades, if I’ll still be making music, if I’ll still be me without the stage.”

You turned to look at him. In the dim blue haze of your laptop screen, he looked less like an idol and more like just a boy who loved music too much to let it go. “I think you’ll still be you,” you murmured. “Just…a  little less glitter and a little more sleep.”

He laughed at that. “You think I’ll sleep? I’ll be recording your songs. That’s what my future looks like. You, writing chaotic brilliance in your studio, and me, still trying to convince you to add in a nonsensical adlib.”

“I don’t pay you enough for this,” you joke. 

“You don’t pay me at all.”

A grin spread across your face. “Exactly.” That night ended like most did these days, with your head on his chest, fingers tangled, some indie R&B track humming softly in the background. 

But finals week and a new comeback changed the tempo. You barely saw him after that. He was swallowed by comeback promotions–early call times, live broadcasts, and late-night rehearsals. You, in turn, were drowning in projects, caffeine, and academic despair. The apartment was filled with the evidence of the struggle, empty energy drink cans, abandoned sheet music, and forgotten takeout containers strewn across the floor. 

You missed Haechan in moments that didn’t make sense, like when your headphones didn’t sit quite right, when a melody sounded a bit lonely, when your mind wrote a joke only he would laugh at. So when your last exam ended on a bright Friday afternoon and you staggered out of the lecture hall blinking like a mole, you didn’t expect to find Haechan standing just outside the door. 

He was wearing sunglasses indoors again, paired with an all too large hoodie, like it was the first day you met all over. But this time, he was holding two plane tickets. “Fridays are meant to be fun,” he said, grinning like he had a secret, “so I made one just for you.”

You stared at him, eyes going wide. “What?”

“Hope you have your passport, because we’re leaving like, now. Tropics. You, me, no deadlines.”

“Haechan.” You deadpanned. “Are you kidnapping me?”

He pulled down his sunglasses just enough for you to see him wink. “Only a little. You seem like you could go for some sleep and peace, and actual food for once.” 

You huffed a breath, somewhere between laughter and disbelief. “You’re insane.”

“I’m you’re insane,” he corrected, curling a finger into the strap of your backpack to tug you closer. “This is me keeping my promise.” So you let him take your hand, let him lead you out of the building and into the very beginning of your own song. There’s no chorus yet, just an opening note that felt like freedom. 

You were half-asleep by the time the plane took off. At some point during the flight, you woke up with Haechan’s hoodie draped over your lap and his hand curled loosely around yours, his thumb moving in slow, absentminded circles. You wanted to be annoyed, you really did. He hijacked your post-finals crash and turned it into a spontaneous getaway with little to no time for packing. Who does that? But as warm sunlight spilled through the plane window and Haechan softly hummed a tune you vaguely recognized as one of your demos, annoyance melted into something warmer. 

By the time your feet hit the sand in the Bahamas, you’d accepted two things. One, you were exhausted, but you were here with Haechan. Two, you wouldn’t be getting any rest with Haechan looking at you like that. 

The private villa he booked looked like it had been pulled straight from a honeymoon brochure with whitewashed walls, a hammock strung lazily between palm trees, and the sea glittering just beyond your doorstep. You barely had time to toss your bag onto the bed before Haechan grabbed your hand again, pulling you out to the beach with the urgency of someone racing daylight.

You squinted against the sun. “I can’t believe you kidnapped me.”

“You say kidnapped, I say rescued,” he replied smugly, already kicking his slides off, dragging you toward the shoreline. “You were on the verge of becoming a coffee-addicted music gremlin.”

“I think you missed the part where I already am one.”

Haechan gasped like you just confessed to a felony. “You admit it? Bold.”

You shot him a look. “You say that like you haven’t seen me crawling on the floor at 4AM trying to find a flash drive.”

He grinned. “I’ve also seen you fall asleep with a pencil in your mouth and four open Ableton projects on your screen, so yeah, it was time for an intervention.”

You barely had time to reply before a splash of water hit your shins. You gasped, stunned, looking down at your now-soaked pants. Haechan stood a few feet into the waves, a boyish and playful smile on his face as he cupped more water in his hands. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Did you just–” Before you could finish the sentence, he splashed you again. “Haechan!” you shrieked, stumbling backward as cold water hit your thighs. 

You kicked off your shoes and chased him into the water, shrieking as the ocean soaked through your clothes. Haechan laughed wildly, arms flailing as he tried to evade you, which didn’t work out all that good for him when he tripped and nearly face planted into a wave. You pounced on him. 

The two of you wrestled in the shallows, screaming and splashing like kids on summer break. At one point, he scooped you up bridal style only to dramatically dunk you, then immediately panicked when he thought you might actually be mad. You emerged like a sea monster, hair dripping and clinging to your cheeks, and tackled him right back into the water.

“Timeout!” he gasped between laughs, hands raised in surrender. “You’re actually kind of terrifying like this.”

“You deserve terrifying,” you shot back, breathless from laughing. “I’m still in my clothes, you maniac.”

He swam closer, catching your wrist under the surface. “Okay, but like, you’re also kind of hot when you’re angry.” You rolled your eyes, heart racing not just from the chase, but from the way Haechan was looking at you. His hair was plastered to his forehead, skin glistening with saltwater, and his thumb rubbed against your wrist like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “Come on,” he said softly, tugging you toward the shore. “Let’s go change and swim for real. I want to see you in that bikini set I know you packed.”

You changed in the bathroom of the villa while Haechan took forever in the outdoor shower, emerging half-wet and humming something suspiciously romantic under his breath. When you finally stepped out in your bikini, adjusting the strap at your shoulder, you didn’t even get the chance to say anything.

Haechan stopped mid-hum, jaw slack. “...Okay,” he said after a beat. “I lied. You’re not terrifying, you’re going to ruin my life.”

You raised a brow, crossing your arms. “That’s a bit dramatic.”

“No, no, no,” he stepped closer, eyes never leaving you. “You’re not allowed to look like that and expect me to behave. I brought you here for relaxation. This is not relaxing.” You laughed, flushed and flattered, but his tone shifted as he got closer. His hand skimmed down your arm, deliberate now, no more teasing in his touch. His fingers slipped just under the curve of your waist. “Mine,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “Everyone else can look at the ocean while I look at you.”

You swallowed hard. “You brought me to paradise, and now you’re acting like you want to keep me locked in the villa.” 

Haechan leaned in, mouth brushing just below your ear. “I absolutely want to keep you locked in the villa.” Your breath hitched, and the air between you shifted, lazy heat turning into something far more dangerous. His hands didn’t leave your skin. “But I promised a beach day,” his voice dipped, sounding like velvet and fire, “so you better walk ahead of me and give me something to look at.” 

You smacked his chest, laughing. “You’re impossible.” 

“And you’re unreal,” he countered, grin crooked, pupils blown wide. “Let’s go swimming before I forget how to be decent in public.” 

You hadn’t even made it ten steps outside before Haechan was at your side again, fingers laced with yours, palms tight against each other like he couldn’t stand even that much distance. The sand was warm underfoot, powder-soft between your toes, the ocean glittering like a postcard dream just a few yards away. 

The water was perfect. Warm, clear, and so inviting, it almost made you forget the way Haechan’s eyes had darkened the second he saw you step out from the bathroom. He followed you into the ocean like a man possessed, hands already reaching before the waves even reached your hips. You squealed when he caught your waist from behind, spinning you in the water with a triumphant laugh. 

“Don’t act surprised,” his lips brushing your exposed shoulder. “You came out here looking like that and expect me to behave? Please.” You rolled your eyes at his theatrics, but your pulse was a dead giveaway. 

His hands were everywhere, drifting down your spine, splaying wide over your stomach, teasingly tugging at the strap on your shoulder like he was two seconds away from snapping it. When you waded deeper, Haechan followed like a shadow, grabbing your hips under the surface and pulling you flush against him, salt-slick skin on skin. You twisted in his arms, giggling, trying to push him away, but he only groaned low in your ear and held you tighter. “You think I’m playing,” he muttered, fingers trailing under the water, slipping between the thin stretch of your bikini top. You gasped as he cupped one breast, his thumb circling with infuriating slowness, masked by the motion of the waves. 

“Haechan—” you whispered, scandalized and breathless. 

He just smirked. “No one can see us. We’re underwater.” You weren’t sure if that was true or if he just didn’t care. Probably both. He kissed you then, salt and heat and something greedy in the way his tongue brushed yours. The kind of kiss that melted your knees even in the water, the kind of kiss that left you breathless and aching and already wishing you were somewhere more private. 

His hands didn’t behave. One stayed low on your waist, the other sliding beneath the fabric again, bolder this time, palm warm and rough where it wasn’t supposed to be. He kissed you harder when you gasped again, like he wanted to devour every sound. 

“Don’t you dare,” you scolded when he started to push a little further, slightly nudging the strap of your top to the edge of your shoulder. 

“Don’t I dare what?” he asked, all innocence and sin. “Touch my girlfriend?” You splashed him in the face. He laughed, full-bodied and beautiful, but even then he didn’t let go. His arms circled your waist, drawing you against his chest like he couldn’t live without his skin on yours. “I love this swimsuit,” his lips moving against your cheek. “I love how it looks on you. I also love that I’m the one who gets to take it off later.” 

You swatted at him again, face burning, but he caught your wrist and kissed your knuckles, then your inner wrist, then the inside of your elbow, making his way back up your arm like a man worshipping something divine. You hated how easily he made you fold. 

Eventually, the two of you migrated back to shore, half-drunk on heat and horniness. The sun dipped low on the horizon, turning the sky into a watercolor gold and flame. You sank into the warm sand belly down, his thigh pressed against yours as he lay on his back, your fingers tangled together with his. You propped yourself up on your elbows, drawing shapes in the sand with your free hand. 

“Mmm,” Haechan hummed, his eyes following your finger in the sand. “This is almost enough to distract me from the fact that I can see the curve of your ass through that bikini.” 

You snorted and looked away from him. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“I’m in pain, actually,” he said, reaching over and placing a palm on the back of your thigh, fingers sliding upward. “Real suffering is happening right now.” 

“You’re the one who dragged me here. This is your fault.”

“And yet,” his eyes traced over your body like he was memorizing every sun-kissed inch, “I would do it again. A hundred times. Just to watch the way you move with barely anything on.” Your heart stuttered. Haechan pulled back to meet your gaze. “We should head back,” his voice rougher now, molten and thick. “Or else I will fuck you right here, right now.” You could tell he meant it. 

There was nothing joking in his eyes now, only heat and hunger, tethered just barely by your hand in his. You stood slowly, tugging him up by the wrist. “Then let’s go,” you say confidently. “Before you really lose your mind.” 

Haechan groaned like you’d just given him the best present of his life. “Race you to the villa,” he prompted, already grabbing your hand. But you didn’t run. You walked slowly, skin still tingling, Haechan’s hand never leaving yours, practically pulling you as the sky burned orange above. 

You reached the edge of the villa’s patio just as the last sliver of sun kissed the horizon, casting everything in warm honey and soft firelight. Haechan tugged you toward the outdoor shower, barely glancing over his shoulder as he flicked the water on. “Get in,” his voice low and coaxing. “You’re all sandy.”

You looked him up and down. “So are you.”

“Guess we’ll just have to help each other out,” he said, eyes gleaming.

The water was lukewarm, cascading in soft rivulets over your sun-warmed skin. Haechan stepped in behind you, crowding your space like he had no concept of personal space, his hands sliding up your waist, over your stomach, until resting under the swell of your breasts. You shivered when his fingers slipped beneath your bikini again, cupping one breast with no hesitation, thumb brushing over your nipple until it peaked under his touch. 

“Haechan,” you warned, breath catching.

“I know,” he practically growled, pressing closer, hips grinding slowly against your ass. “We’re technically at the villa…” His hips rolled, unhurried yet firm. You felt him, thick and hard beneath the wet cling of his swim trunks, grinding into you like he was seconds away from losing his sanity. 

You gasped as he moved your bikini top aside completely, exposing your breasts to the air and the spray of the water. “Haechan–”

“No one’s out here,” he whined, mouth finding your shoulder, biting it lightly. “We’re still on our villa property.”

“There’s only trees, no fence,” you hissed. “Anyone could walk by–”

“Let them,” he muttered, grinding harder, one hand sliding down to palm at the softness of your thighs. “Let them see how pretty you are when you let me touch you.” You moaned at his words, reaching behind you to grab at him, palm sliding down his abdomen, fingers slipping beneath the band of his trunks. 

He groaned through his teeth, thrusting forward involuntarily. “Fuck, baby,” he breathed. “I want you so bad I’m gonna die.” 

“We can’t,” you insist, even as you arch into his hold on your breasts from how good his hands felt. “We can’t do it out here.”

“Why not?” he begged, kissing up your spine. “We’re dripping wet, you’re practically naked, I’m hard, just let me–”

“No,” your voice firm while grabbing one of the towels hanging by the knobs of the shower and moving your top back into place. “Inside. Now.” You barely managed to toss it around yourself before his hands found your waist again. You glared at him, and he growled in frustration, eyes dark and glassy, but the second you turned toward the villa, he was grabbing a towel and he was on you again, barely letting either of you dry off before he was hauling you through the door. 

The door had barely clicked shut behind both of you when Haechan was already reaching for your towel, mouth crashing into yours like he’d been starved for days. But you pulled back before he could drag it off you entirely, palm firm against his chest. 

“Hold on,” you command, eyeing the growing puddle surrounding the two of you. “You’re soaking wet. We’re dripping all over the floor.”

“I’ll clean it up later,” he muttered, stepping closer to kiss along your neck, but you pushed at him again. 

“No, you’ll slip and die before we even make it to the bed,” you say playfully with a smirk, grabbing the towel he’d brought in with him. “Stand still.”

His brows furrowed, his hair wet and wild over his forehead. “Wait…what?”

You only smiled and tossed the towel over his head. “I said, stand still.” 

Haechan stood frozen as you began to dry him off, starting at his head, rubbing the towel gently over his hair. Your fingers massaged his scalp as you worked, slow and soothing, watching his eyes flutter closed under your touch. Then you moved to his neck, the hollow of his throat, the slick curve of his shoulders. “You’re really gonna take your time with this, huh?” he asked, unamused. 

“Uh-huh,” you respond, dragging the towel down his chest, deliberately slow, the plush fabric skimming over his nipples. He twitched slightly under your touch. 

You made a show of dragging the towel over every inch of him, his stomach, the sharp cut of his hips, the waistband of his swim trunks. Then you dropped the towel lower, pressing your palm over his length through the fabric of the towel. 

Haechan cursed under his breath, thighs tensing. “Baby–”

You rubbed slowly, palm flat, teasing pressure, feeling how hard he already was. His hands hovered like he didn’t know what to do with them, torn between grabbing you and obeying. “I thought you wanted to be dry,” you cooed, glancing up at him through your lashes. 

“I do,” he groaned. “I do. But, fuck, you’re killing me.”

You squeezed his length softly, just enough to make him choke on air. “Is that better?”

He threw his head back, jaw clenched. “You’re evil. I’m gonna die. Actually die.”

You leaned in, kissing a droplet of water from his collarbone, your hand still moving against him through the towel. “Maybe. But at least you’ll die warm and dry.”

He whimpered, actually whimpered, hips rolling into your hand. “Please,” he begged, desperate now. “Let me touch you, let me taste you, anything. I need you.”

You let the towel slip from your grasp, the object of Haechan’s agony falling to the floor. “Then take me to bed.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice. In a blur of motion, he had you pressed against the bed, your towel forgotten. You barely caught your breath before he was on you again, hot, hungry, and entirely yours. 

Haechan’s hands found your waist again, pulling you flush against him as his hips began to grind with a desperate, jagged rhythm. You gasped at the friction, the slick heat of him pressing through the damp fabric of your bikini bottoms. His fingers tangled in your hair, his breath ragged as he nuzzled your neck. “You feel so good,” he murmured, voice rough and needy. His movements grew more frantic, less controlled, as if holding himself back was a losing battle. 

Your hands roamed his chest, nails scraping lightly over his skin as he ground harder, hips rocking against you in a slow, scorching tease. You could feel the pressure building in him, thick, pulsing, utterly relentless. Haechan’s grinding slowed just enough for you to feel every inch of him pressed through the thin fabric, teasing and maddeningly close. His breath was ragged in your ear, words lost to the haze of want and heat. Your hands slid under the waistband of his damp shorts, fingers curling around the fabric as you tugged gently but firmly. Haechan froze for a second, chest rising a falling fast, then gave a breathy laugh. 

“Can’t wait any longer, huh?” you teased, dragging the shorts down over his hips and thigh before he kicked them off.

He was fully naked above you now, his skin gleaming under the fading light of sunset, every muscle taut and trembling with need. His hardness pressed sharply against your stomach through the thin fabric of your bikini bottoms, twitching with each shallow breath. Haechan’s eyes were dark, glazed with want, and he didn’t hesitate to lean forward, mouth finding your collarbone as his hands roamed over your skin. His hips began to move again, slow and deliberate at first, pressing with a teasing persistence over you, every brush of skin against skin setting fire to your nerves. 

Haechan’s hands slid up your sides, urgent but reverent, until they cupped your breasts over your bikini. His thumbs circled your peaked nipples through the damp fabric, coaxing a gasp from your lips. “So soft,” he muttered while kneading your breasts, voice wrecked like he was in a dream he couldn’t quite believe. “So perfect, all for me.”

You arched into his hands, breath catching, and he took that as permission to push the fabric aside once more. Your nipples were pebbled in the open air, and then his mouth was on you, hot and wet, tongue swirling, lips sucking, his teeth lightly scraping. His hips kept moving, grinding against your clit through the soaked barrier between you, the pressure maddeningly precise. “Haechan,” you breathed, your nails digging into his shoulders, your body thrumming with tension. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered between kisses to your chest, hips never stopping. “Gotta make you feel good. I need to–fuck, baby–need to feel you fall apart.” 

Your hips lifted instinctively, chasing the drag of his cock against your clit, even through the layer of clothing. His cock twitched, leaking pre-cum that smeared slick against your skin and mixed with your own arousal, making the friction even worse. It was so good it was almost cruel. He rutted harder now, sweat and water making his glide even easier, messy and hot. “Oh my god,” Haechan groaned, hips stuttering. “Fuck…fuck, I’m–”

You felt it before you saw it, his cock jerking between your bodies as he came hard, hot ropes of cum spilling onto your stomach, dripping down your sides as his thrusts slowed, then faltered. He collapsed forward, breathless laughter bubbling against your chest. 

“Are you proud of yourself?” he rasped, barely able to lift his head, still panting. “You wrecked me.” 

You smiled, eyes fluttering shut. “A little.” But then you felt it, his cock, still hard, twitching again as he looked down at the mess he made. Haechan moaned low in his throat, eyes glassy as he licked a stripe of cum from your stomach, lips brushing your skin in an obscene way. 

When he reached your navel, he looked up to you with something dark and hungry. “Inside this time,” he whispered. You didn’t say a word, you just nodded. 

He surged up to kiss you, slow and deep, tongue sweeping into your mouth as he pressed his length against you again. The kiss was different now, less frantic, more deliberate, and you could taste remnants of his cum, tangy but slightly salty as it mixed with the lingering seawater on your skin. You reached between your bodies, tugging your bikini bottom to the side. He groaned as his cock slid through your slick folds, the head catching just below your clit before dragging down again. He did it twice, three times, coating himself in your arousal. Each pass made your thighs shake. 

When he finally pressed in slow and steady, stretching you open, you gasped, grabbing his biceps. Haechan held your gaze, even as a tremor ran through his whole body. “You feel unreal,” he whispered. The thrusts were slow and deep at first, hips rolling, not just to chase pleasure, but to memorize how you felt around him. Every drag of his cock against your walls had you gasping, thighs locked around his waist. 

Earlier, he had been desperate to lose himself in you. Now, he was desperate to stay in this moment. His forehead pressed to yours. “Let me see you cum,” he pleaded, one hand driving down to circle your clit, the pad of his finger working you in slow, steady circles while his cock filled you over and over. 

The pressure built fast, your body was already primed from how he had bullied your clit with his cock earlier, the way he had made you ache from the rutting of his hips before he even got inside you. You cried out, clenching around him, your orgasm snapping sharp and intense as you clenched around his cock. 

Haechan moaned as you pulsed around him, his rhythm faltering. “Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing me so tight, so good.”

You felt him tremble above you, like it took every ounce of willpower not to cum. His cock twitched inside you, but he held still, panting against your lips, eyes wide and shining. “Don’t move,” he said, more of a command to himself than to you. “I’m not done.” 

Before you could reply, he pulled out slowly, his cock dragging slick and heavy against your walls. You whimpered at the loss, but he was already shifting, already flipping you onto your stomach, handling you like something precious but breakable. Your cheek pressed into the sheets, and you barely caught your breath before you felt his hands spreading you apart, his cock sliding between your soaked folds, grinding up against your entrance and ass, teasing and filthy. 

“Shit,” he breathed, rutting forward, dragging the head of his cock through your folds before rocking it between the cheeks of your ass. “You’re so wet…you want it like this, huh?” His voice cracked on a moan as he rocked forward again, not quite slipping in, but close enough to make you ache. 

“Please, Haechan,” you whined, writhing back into him, greedy for the weight of him inside you. “Put it back in. I need you.” That was all it took. He pressed into you again, entering you all too easily, your body welcoming him soft and hot and soaked with everything he’d pulled from you. His cock sank in deep, and he groaned loud against your ear, collapsing over you like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. 

“Fuck,” he cried, rutting shallowly, hips flush to your ass. “Fuck, you feel too good. I can’t–I can’t stop.” His arms slid beneath you, wrapping tightly around your chest. One hand curled over your breast, squeezing as he buried his face in the curve when your shoulder met your neck, teeth scraping gently at the skin there. The other traveled down, urgent and clumsy, until his fingers found your clit again. He rubbed you with no tempo, no restraint, just pure desperation. “Wanna feel you cum with me,” his voice was shaking. “Wanna feel you clench around me, while I’m inside, while I fill you up.”

The angle had him pushing in deeper, the stretch unbearable and perfect, your entire body wound up beneath his. You could feel it coming again, the pressure sharp and devastating, your moans helpless as he rutted harder against you, gasping every time you clenched around him. Then it hit, sudden and overwhelming, tearing through you as you sobbed his name into the sheets. Your walls fluttered around him, tight and wet and trembling. 

Haechan cursed, cock throbbing deep inside you as he finally let go. He came with a broken cry, hips stuttering against your ass as he pressed as deep as he possibly could, like he never wanted to leave your body again. His cum spilled inside you, warm and thick, and he held you tight, still moving in tiny thrusts, dragging it out as long as he could. Afterward, he didn’t move, just breathed against your back, arms still wrapped around your chest like he was afraid you’d disappear. 

You didn’t speak for a long time. Just the two of you, tangled together in the afterglow, his breath fanning hot against your shoulder, your heartbeat slowly syncing back to something steady. His arms stayed wrapped around you, even as his cock softened inside you and your bodies finally relaxed into the sheets. You could feel the sweat cooling on your skin, the dampness between your thighs, the faint ache in your hips, and still, you didn’t want to move. 

Eventually, Haechan shifted just enough to slip out of you, making you whimper at the emptiness, but he hushed you with a kiss to your shoulder blade. He pulled away only long enough to grab the towel off the edge of the bed and gently cleaned between your thighs, mumbling quiet apologies when you flinched at the sensitivity. Then, he crawled right back into bed, curling himself around you like he belonged there. 

Your legs tangled instinctively. His hand found your waist under the sheet, warm and steady, and he tugged you closer until your back was snug to his chest, your head nestled under his chin. “You good?” he asked softly, voice scratchy and slow. 

You nodded, a faint smile playing on your lips. “Yeah. You?”

He hummed in response, then kissed the top of your head. His thumb rubbed idle circles into your hip bone. For a while, the only sound was the lull of waves outside, still crashing softly in the dark, echoing the pulse of your bodies slowly calming down. Then, so quiet you almost missed it, he said, “I want every Friday like this.” Your heart stuttered in your chest. “This one…” He hesitated, tightening his arms around you, like he needed to hold the thought together with his hands. “This one feels like the start of something.”

Your breath caught. You twisted just enough to look at him over your shoulder. His face was half-lit by the moonlight cutting across the room, but you could see the sincerity there. His eyes were warm and tender, never leaving yours. You reached up to brush his hair back from his forehead. “It does,” you whispered. “It really does.”

He smiled, slow and soft, and leaned in to kiss you again, gentle, no heat this time, just truth. Neither of you said anything else. You didn’t need to. Not when you were already wrapped up in what was starting, and not when Friday had never felt this good. 

The next morning, the light changed everything. It slipped in slowly through gauzy curtains, bathing the villa in soft gold. The ocean beyond the villa was calm now, like it had worn itself out from singing you to sleep. The salt-heavy breeze drifted in and made the white linen curtains sway, lazy and warm. 

You were still asleep when Haechan stirred. He didn’t move much, just shifted enough to lean up on one elbow, the sheet barely clinging to his hips. His gaze drifted to you, still curled beneath the covers, one hand tucked under your cheek, lips slightly parted. Your hair spilled across the pillow like something he could get lost in, and maybe he already had. 

He reached out, touched your shoulder gently, tracing the faintest circles with his fingertip. Not enough to wake you, just enough to feel the shape of you, real and here. You made a sleepy noise in your throat, but didn’t open your eyes. He smiled to himself. “What would life look like with you?” he pondered quietly, not really expecting an answer, just letting the thought live in the morning light. His finger trailed down your spine, leisurely. “Would we have a house?” he mused, voice low and thoughtful. “Backyard? One of those little ones who tugs at your shirt after preschool and asks for snacks and cartoons?” He paused, the smile spreading wider, eyes fond. “A kid who likes Fridays.”

You shifted under the sheets, breath catching on a sleepy laugh. Your voice came muffled against the pillow. “We’ll find out,” you murmured, still half-asleep. “One Friday at a time.”

His heart pulled tight. God, he wanted that. Not just the house, not just the child, but this–this exact moment, you still drowsy in his bed, the sound of your voice soft from sleep, your warmth next to him, as natural as breathing. He leaned down and kissed the bar curve of your shoulder, lingering there like a promise. “I’d give you every one,” he whispered. “Every Friday I’ve got.”

When you finally opened your eyes and turned to look at him, sleepy and smiling, it felt like maybe you believed him. Because this one, this Friday, felt like the start of everything. 

Years later, Fridays still hold meaning in your house. They always have, and probably always will. You hear them before you see them, your daughter’s giggles echoing down the hallway, pure and breathless, followed by the familiar thud of Haechan’s socked feet on the hardwood floor. 

He’s carrying her on his hip, her backpack slung over his other shoulder, her tiny hand clinging to the collar of his shirt. She’s still wearing the glittery pink hair clip she insisted on this morning, slightly askew now from whatever adventure she had at preschool. Her cheeks are flushed from the walk home, smiling brightly as she talks excitedly about something that happened on the playground. 

“She made a painting today,” Haechan calls out as he steps into the living room, his voice loud and proud. “It’s us. All three of us. And the sun has hearts in it because she said that’s what Friday feels like.” 

You set your laptop aside, rising from the couch just as your daughter wriggles in your arms, reaching for you. “Mommy!” she squeals, arms flung wide as Haechan lowers her carefully into your embrace. 

“She missed you,” Haechan murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple before dropping her backpack by the door. “And she may or may not have convinced me to stop for strawberry milk.”

Your daughter pulls back just enough to show you her pink-stained lips and a guilty smile, causing you to laugh. “I see that.”

Later, after dinner and bath time and a chaotic attempt at brushing her teeth, the house quiets again. The dishes are done, the toys are tucked away, and the soft glow of your living room lap spills across the floor as Haechan settles beside you on the couch, one arm thrown over the backrest, content. There’s something in the stillness that feels earned. 

You glance at him, your body relaxing instinctively in his presence. Even now, with fewer stages and more studio days, he’s still unmistakably him. His voice still sells out records, his face still flashes in LED lights on billboards from time to time. Fans still recognize him in grocery stores, still send letters with inked hearts in the margins. But here, like this, barefoot with his daughter’s preschool painting in his lap, he’s just Haechan. Yours. 

And somehow, you’re not just the girl who loves music anymore, you’re in it. You belong to the music world just as much as he does, not as a spectator, but as a contributor. Your name rolls across credits on streaming platforms, buried between synth programmers and vocal producers. Your beats pulse through earbuds across continents, your songs make it into playlists people fall in love to. You’d once dreamed of this life from behind classroom desks and secondhand headphones, back when it felt impossibly far away. Now, it’s home.

Haechan turns to you, brushing his hand gently across your knee like he can read your thoughts. “Didn’t think I’d end up with the label’s most in-demand producer,” he says, voice soft with admiration. “Kind of a dream for me.” 

You smile, a little shy even after all these years. “Didn’t think I’d end up working for my husband.”

“Mmm,” he hums, leaning in with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Technically, I work for you. Have you seen the way everyone treats you in the studio now?” You laugh, shaking your head as he shifts to press a kiss to your cheek. “I’m serious,” he adds. “You walk in and it’s like ‘oh my god, it’s her.’ You earned that. Every bit of it.” You let the words settle in your chest, warm and solid. A breeze moves through the curtains, the night quiet and full. 

You’re searching for a charger in the drawer of the side table next to the couch when your fingers graze against paper, thin, crips, and familiar. You pull it out and smile as the memories rush forward. Plane tickets, the villa, that first real Friday. 

Haechan sees what you’re holding, and his expression shifts into something fond. “You kept those?”

“Of course I did,” you tell him, brushing your thumb over the dates. 

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes tracing the curve of the old boarding pass in your hand. “Best Friday of my life.” 

You glance over at him, then nod toward the hallway where your daughter’s bedroom door is cracked open, the glow of her night light spilling out. “Until the next one,” you murmur.

That night, the three of you end up in the same bed. It wasn’t planned, just one of those nights where the world outside felt far away. Your daughter lay between you, her fingers curled around the edge of your shirt, breathing steadily and even. Haechan reaches for your hand in the dark and squeezes it when he finds it. You squeeze back. And you know, just as you did back on that villa in the morning light, that this is the start of everything, all over again. 

Fridays are still yours. They always will be. 

Autoplay: If you liked this, you may also like Some Kind Of Wonderful - L.Mark

[sl4sh3rsub]

rz michael myers hcs (nsfw: mdni)

rz michael myers x reader (AFAB, AMAB, FtM, MtF)

warning: a lot here. mikey has a monster cock, insecure + inexperienced michael, he doesn't talk but makes noise + mouths words + grunts syllables sometimes (selectively mute ig?), oral sex (both giving and receiving), excessive creampies, fingering (receiving), no lube we die like men his dick n spit does it for him, masturbation, rimming (both giving and receiving), knife kink, excessive mentions of precum + spit + cum, creative use of cum/arousal fluids in arts projects, musk kink, choking (receiving), mentions of sex toys, thigh humping, mention of canon SA and violence (nothing w/ or directly involving reader), p in v + anal (all unprotected - pls stay safe irl), cum eating, slight somnophilia, bruises and hickeys, cockwarming, slight worship (receiving), dry humping, handjobs, 2 mentions of him having a mini shrine to you, mentions of needle hrt in ftm + mtf bits (feel free to ignore), mentions of the institute/asylum

a/n: sorta edited. tried not to be too ooc, but it's more focused on a softer side of michael - personally i think his character is very different to og/peepaw myers! rz mikey is more based in instinct rather than previous experiences/societal expectations, so there's more general hcs than separate sections this time. NOTE: feel free to read any sections, tried my best to not use gendered terms in agab sections but lmk how i can improve :3

order: general hcs first then amab + afab then ftm + mtf, different sections = different content n tried not to repeat much

_ _ _ _ _

general hcs

as michael is very inexperienced with kissing, he'll smash his lips against yours and become a huffing mess after he gets worked up from your breath mingling with his and your darkening gazes meeting

if you play with his hair and gaze into his eyes, he can't help it if he gets half-hard - his body will always needily react to your attention and affection

he's most at home in grey sweatpants - he's very used to wearing them while making his masks and associates them with comfort and the years of creatively honing his craft

so naturally, don't be surprised when his already impressive girth pulses and thickens at the sight of you bending over or reaching something off a high shelf

mikey will absolutely make you your own special mask!! although, the glue he uses for your personal paper mâché mix is a bit more,, personal. he'll also use your arousal to paint the inner layer of his favourite mask :( he simply needs to have some semblance of you with him at all times, especially whenever he's out on the town and away from your embrace

he's borderline hypersexual and gets half-hard and extremely sensitive without reason, however he doesn't always feel the need to act on his urges with you. expect him hiding his arousal during mundane activities, getting flushed and shy when he realises that you notice :<

if he's comfortable on the couch, he'll make himself at home with a horrendous manspread. naturally, this leads to him getting flustered whenever you kneel in between his legs with a mischievous glint in your eye. if you ask him sweetly, he'll be more than happy to sit you in between his strong thighs and let you hump into his hand while you both watch a movie

if he's not feeling like he wants to be inside you, he'll lie on his back with his knees up, pulling you to straddle his waist and lean back against his thighs. from this angle, he's able to watch you play with yourself and masturbate above him while feeling your weight grounding him, just out of reach but almost close enough to taste

he loves taking you from behind and kissing the base of your neck, your breathless giggles echoing in his ears as his long hair tickles your shoulders and back

michael loves having you cockwarm him while he makes his masks!! he adores it when you doze off with your cheek smushed into his shoulder during a late night arts-and-crafts session, the slow pulse of his heartbeat deep inside you

he's so, so incredibly thankful for you, that he's able to unleash his frustrations into you, whether it be about a ripped mask or just about pentup emotions. he's eternally thankful for your love and under the table support

you are mikey's angel, his true saving grace. after his long bout at the institute, he was fully convinced that being loved by anyone was impossible for him. your welcoming arms and gentle praise proved him wrong and completely changed his image of heaven - to michael, it's no longer a cloudy sky mentioned in those old books, it's your warm embrace and loving gaze. it just took him a little while to realise that he was in his own little paradise with you

he tries his hardest to treat you with absolute reverence and adoration T-T he's devoted to making you feel good with him, no matter what. usually, this means holding back from skullfucking you at a brutal pace whenever you give him head. your throat is just so tight around him :( it's got him steadying himself against a wall with his hand, shaking and sweating from holding back, with his gorgeous, garbled moans encouraging you to swallow the saltiness of his length

mikey's wandering hands always end up on your ass or tummy whenever you cuddle together, it's just comforting for him

he's one of the strongest, largest men to ever walk the earth, but the way he gently traces your facial features makes you forget that completely. michael handles you like you're made of porcelain, only using soft pressure unless you assure him he won't break you easily

he has a big, strong and beefy body. lord knows how he maintained it in the institute but with you, he's gonna try his damnedest to put all of his strength to good use - whether it be getting you off while fingering you, his toned forearms barely breaking a sweat or his tree trunk thighs tensing while you ride them

mikey is not trimmed or well-groomed downstairs, his pubes are a wild and unkempt cloud of blonde and light grey hair, so you know he's not caring about how you look at all. you're a fuckin deity in his eyes and he'll dispose of anyone who makes you feel anything other than heavenly

michael is uncut, big and thick, with a large vein running up the underside - so heavy and large that it can't even stand up against his belly, instead slightly bobbing with his pulse and hanging low. it's the type you see in lewd magazines, where it tilts down even when fully hard

when you're on your knees for him, expect his weepy cockhead to drip onto your face while you kiss and nip at his heavy, full balls

oh yeah, this man has the definition of breeder balls; hanging low, swollen and filled to the brim with his potent cum. he truly has so much to give, so you'd better be ready for multiple loads throughout the night

in contrast to michael's hard cock, his nipples are soft and incredibly sensitive. if he's trying to cum as fast as possible, he'll sneak a hand up his shirt and pinch at them relentlessly - make sure they're puffy and spit-glazed after you've been ontop, he goes absolutely feral would really appreciate it

mikey has massive hands too - his fingers are enough to fill you considerably, but he often resorts to stuffing your mouth with them or using his palm to muffle your noises if you're being vocal. he definitely doesn't want the cops called on you just because he's great at pleasuring you

his cock feels heavy inside you, almost like he's deep in your chest whenever he bottoms out. the weight is absolutely dizzying as it stretches you out each thrust and rubs all of the right places. he easily gets drunk on the feeling of you clenching around him, leading to his head being tossed back with drool dribbling down his chin at the sensation

he has the biggest size kink possible but he really doesn't want to get carried away when exerting his strength and size on you - he doesn't want to get carried away or hurt you too badly :(

michael uses whatever knife he can get his hands on during foreplay to add a bit of risk and edge. cutting off your underwear and shirt, tracing down thighs and hips and gently nicking your skin every once in a while, but he quickly tosses it if you beg him to fuck you desperately enough - he doesn't wanna hurt you that bad, not before he's even gotten started

mikey is incredibly insecure about himself and his own worth as a person. he fears your love is only temporary and that you'll move on, leaving him behind as a memory or an adrenaline rush of foolish regret :( for that reason, he's terrified to go too hard or hurt you badly - he's convinced you'll be in pain and be fearful of him if he fucks up. be sure to reassure him when you're together after you have a rougher time and he's manhandling you more <3

initially when he learnt about dry humping, he was confused as to why he craved the friction so desperately but he's learnt to give in - michael will almost immediately cum in his pants if you quietly reassure him you'll clean up the mess you're both bound to leave on his clothes. half the fun (in his eyes, at least) is seeing you get flustered over the sheer amount of his load that's seeping into his boxers from just that little bit of friction

his favourite place to have you is on his lap - cockwarming, cuddling or napping, he does not care. he needs to have your face pressed into his neck with his larger frame providing you with warmth and stability

will rarely fist his cock but if you ever catch him, you might be able to make out his lips repeating the shape of your name over and over

for a long while at the start of your.. arrangement, he had no idea how to initiate sex. he'd just hover close to you, desperately hoping you'd notice the heat radiating from his massive, obvious bulge. would start to bite the inside of his cheek and guide your body towards him in a desperate hint if you didn't clock it immediately

he also did not know shit about the human anatomy, so he'll need you to guide him to where you want to be touched and with a bit of coaching, he'll learn the correct pressure and pace to get you off easily

if you tease him while he's in his overalls, the sight of his lower region slowly darkening with his endless pre and the sound of his haggard breathing devolving into animalistic grunts is nearly enough to make your knees give out

michael isn't a massive fan of fucking you on your bed, especially if your room is in a similar layout to his back at the institute. haunting memories brought on by the guards cast negative clouds across his mind and that is the last thing he wants with you. he'd much prefer to go at it against a wall, the couch or even the floor. most of the time, around his desk is where the action happens and your bed is solely reserved for sleep <3

he loves smearing his precum all over your face, loves letting his musk seep into your skin while your eyes glaze over with lust

he cups your chin, cheek and jaw whenever you have his full attention and his heart melts when you nuzzle into him - his thumb plays with your bottom lip and if you decide to suck on it to keep your mouth occupied, so expect to have mikey silently begging you to cockwarm him while his brain goes fuzzy

while you relax for the evening, watching a movie together, expect him to position you with your head on his thigh (your face way to close to his crotch ofc)

michael loves you sucking on his soft cock and warming him with your mouth, he adores the slow feeling of him growing hard as you moan and gag around his length

when you introduce him to the concept of the sixty-nine position, he absolutely short-circuits. what do you mean you can both suffocate in each other's musk while getting each other off?? what do you mean he can prop himself up above you so he can spend time teasing you while forcing you to choke on his length???

michael always cums a bit too quickly and a bit too much - the moment he enters you for the first time, he can't help but fill you up immediately (good thing he's blessed with inhuman stamina)

he's also the biggest fan of you offering to clean up the mess of his cum dripping down his shaft - if your ass is a bit tender and sore from his rough pace, he's more than happy to soften in your mouth while the two of you catch your breath and wind down

mikey isn't very confident with toys and would much rather pleasure you by himself, but he wouldn't mind learning slowly what you prefer over time

he's also not a fan of lube - it feels too cold on his skin and the slippery nature of it scares him a little, so the best way to get him all coated in pre (for your comfort ofc) is to rim him. his tip drools and spits out so much of his arousal whenever you fuck him with your tongue, rest assured it'll bubble down his shaft and drip onto your chest. the delicious flush of his neck and upper chest is a glorious sight to behold

he first feels the urge to make love to you slowly after he sees a steamy, romantic sex scene with a married couple on television - he wants to give you the warmth and care the actors portray on screen

when you first offered to give him head, he tentatively slapped his cock against your tongue to test waters and see if you liked the taste but ended up addicted to the feeling. he'll smack it against your lips and tongue every time you're on your knees for him

his heavy balls slapping against your chin while he floods your mouth with salty, thick warmth is one of his favourite sounds

he starts breathily whimpering in his gravelly voice whenever he fully bottoms out in your heat, one of the rare moments when he totally loses control over his lust for you

he grunts out the syllables of your name when he's about to cum, digging his fingers into your hips and nipping your neck, leaving deep marks on your skin

mikey gets the same rush whenever you both cum together as to when he stabs someone and kills them after a long game of cat and mouse - there's a reason why the french call it 'petit mortis', a little death

the first time the two of you had sex, it brought out such intense emotions from michael that he was left shaken, crying from confusion about the onslaught of feelings he just shared with you. he is originally torn between holding you close and never letting you go as well as instantly leaving and isolating himself in his own space - like he's used to. he needs time to fully mull over the situation and new sensations he experienced but he would really like to have you nearby incase he needs a hug :(

on a long day, after you've given him head, he'll softly catch his breath while watching you blissfully hum and rest your cheek against his thigh. he huffs a small chuckle as you press light kisses into his softening cock

myers really doesn't want to hurt your ass or bruise your upper thighs too much as he needs to have you perched on his lap whenever he can, but you can expect tender skin from his hips slapping into you as well as bruises from his grip on your waist and hips

if he was too rough with you the night before (maybe accidentally leaving bone-deep bruises or purple marks and scratches along your body), he'll disappear early next morning and return during breakfast with a fistful of fresh tulips as an apology, with their stems partially crushed. just be sure to rinse off the dirt still attached to the roots, it's the thought that counts :<

michael may be inexperienced and bashful but he'll try anything once if it gets you off and brings you pleasure

michael loves to place his hand around your throat, just as a reminder of his sheer strength and power over you. with the slightest amount of pressure, he could make your brain go dumb and your tongue loll out

he chokes you until your eyes become unfocused, your little gasps and whines becoming softer and softer. the proud glint in michael's eyes is deserved, as you fully trusted him with your life while you were in your most vulnerable position. he holds you close while you unsteadily catch your breath, mumbling about how good you are to him and stroking your hair all the while

if you're too shy to look up at him while he fucks you or gives you head, he'll tilt your chin up and groan when your cheeks flush at his blown out pupils

he's the type to not pull out after, needing to soften and catch his breath while still feeling connected, inadvertently overstimulating you without fail as his whole body is racked with aftershocks

if he's feeling mean, michael will make you hump his thigh while he palms at his dick during one of his arts and crafts sessions

he wipes the last dribbles of his cum on your inner thighs after he pulls out. he'll clean it either way - with a damp towel or his tongue, it's up to you <3

occasionally after a spree, he'll need to let his mind rest and will use you as his cute little fleshlight, burying himself deep inside you while guiding your hips along with his rhythm at a bruising pace. if you pay close attention, you'll see his lips forming silent prayers and whispers of apology whenever you yelp from the pace

his post-kill musk is potent enough to make your head spin. if you rest your cheek against his pectoral, you'll be able to feel his heartbeat start to slow against you :<

his guilty pleasure is pulling out while cumming thick spurts, slapping his tip across your skin while smearing his load all over you, be it your lips and cheeks or ass and thighs

michael doesn't want to disturb your sleep if he's needy, so he'll slip your hand in between his boxers and pajama pants to feel your smaller hand against his throbbing bulge. he's content to doze like that but expect to feel him humping into your fist while he sleeps. you may wake to the sound of sheets rustling as he licks up the mess he made, much too tired to change sheets but not wanting it to dry and soil your sheets

he insists on placing his hand firmly on the back of your neck whenever he takes you from behind - to stop you from fucking yourself back on his cock and squirming at his pace

after sex with mikey, it's a common occurrence for you both to be a panting mess on the floor when he's done, your throat sore from mindless babbling and loud moans - all complete with a wet, drool-covered spot on your shirt from his grunts through gritted, gnashed teeth. when he's floated back into the right headspace, he's absolutely mortified by his behaviour and is tentative to even glance at you in a less than innocent way for the next couple hours

if your soft body goes limp in his arms after a mind-blowing orgasm, he gets scared at first and stops his thrusts. he's worrying he hurt you but, once he realises you're alright, he'll support your head and neck and go completely feral, thrusting and grinding until he reaches his high as well

whenever you fall asleep ontop of him, he needs to have your face tucked into the crook of his neck - the scent of your hair and sex in the air lulls him to sleep quicker than any sedative could

he adores your attention while you both bask in your respective afterglows - your hands gently cradling his face while he tucks himself away is one of his favourite, most soothing actions of yours. he'll always rub circles into your skin in return

_ _ _ _ _

amab hcs

michael is inexperienced and completely driven by instinct when it comes to giving head - he wouldn't be deep-throating, instead focusing on your tip and licking along your veins. he's a master of giving handjobs, with the amount of spit he shamelessly coats you with (not to mention his rougher hands)

if he's particularly needy, he'll come up behind you and gently undo your belt while tracing his fingers over your zipper, nosing at your jaw and softly rutting into your ass while panting above you

the moment your fly is undone, his breathing gets ragged and drool nearly starts dripping down his chin

cages you against a bench or wall to rut against your ass and breathe in your scent after a long day at work

if you introduce him to rimming,, lord save your soul. his scruff rubs your ass raw with how often he goes to town on your tight, puckered hole. his favourite bit is pulling back and admiring how you glint in the light with his spit shining all over

of course, the extra spit only helps his efforts of bullying his throbbing cock into your poor hole

whenever michael is close to the edge while buried deep in you, he starts uncontrollably twitching and bumping your prostate, causing you to let out a pitchy whine at the unexpected feeling. every time without a doubt, his eyes roll back and growls into your ear at you clenching around him

he has a small photo shrine of your cocks together, a mess of cum and spit framed for his appreciation (he's a romantic)

his dirty fantasy is getting your attention while you're on the phone in bed by mouthing and groping at your cock, working you through the fabric of your pants

michael is obsessed with rutting his cock against yours, covering each other in your arousals, cum spurting up onto your chests as you nip and kiss at each other's chest and throat

_ _ _ _ _

afab hcs

mikey loses his mind a little each time you cream on his shaft, feeling your arousal dripping down to his balls and coating the insides of his thighs. just the thought of your slick coating him is enough to make his eyes roll back

he rips or cuts your underwear off you if he's too impatient to wait for you to fully undress

once michael is fully stuffed inside you, he gently traces where you meet, in awe of how he manages to fit in your heat

his large hands span over the bulge of his cock in your tummy, making you tear up at the pressure and drip onto the sheets

leans his head closer to your ear just to make sure you hear his groans and grunts while he destroys your pussy

his favourite sight is his pearly globs of cum oozing out of your puffy, soaked hole - made complete by the fucked out glaze in your eyes as you stare at the blurry spectre of a giant between your thighs

he tentatively gropes your thighs and enjoys warming his hands by sticking them up your shirt. if you both happen to make an appearance in public, expect him to crowd around you to try and shield you form from wandering eyes - he may be yours but you're also his, so no one has a right to touch or even look at your precious body (especially not your soft tits or ass, they're for him only)

teach him to tie his hair in a messy bun or acquire a hairband for him to keep his hair from getting sticky whenever he does down on you, slurping and worshipping your pussy like it's his god-given purpose on this earth

once he tries taking you in a mating press, he accidentally discovers heaven. he can fully dwarf you in his shadow and also cradle your pretty face while erratically thrusting and groaning in that raspy voice you love. if he fucks you dumb, he's more than happy to wipe away your tears

sometimes michael hesitates pushing into you for fear of it hurting too much, unintentionally resulting in him working you up by teasing your entrance with his thick cockhead then nudging your clit, fully soaking his length in your arousal

_ _ _ _ _

ftm hcs

mikey initially gets scared if you administer hrt yourself with a needle - he knows what happens to rowdy patients who get the needle back at the asylum. however, as he slowly notices physical changes in your body, he'll marvel at your form developing before his very eyes

michael's sadistic side comes out when he spanks your cock until your sloppy boycunt is drooling onto the mattress. he makes sure to gently slip his finger in your hole every so often, his delight in your whines is very evident when you can feel him throbbing under you

his strong forearms easily hold down your hips to stop them from rutting into his mouth whenever he sucks you off, making you shiver with every thrust of his tongue. his dick is neglected while he goes to town, not that mikey minds at all. he knows he'll be able to go balls deep after you've cum at least once to loosen up for him

due to his strength, he'll keep you still even while you become overstimulated, the pleasure bordering on pain but he's too far gone to care - this man becomes so pussydrunk that he can barely process that he's stained all of the material in your immediate vicinity with your arousal; your pants, his shirt, the carpet and not to mention the couch or bedsheets from his erratic wiping of his fingers when they get too slippery

loves to have you bouncing on his cock - grabbing your hips until they're bruised to control the pace and depth, pushing you to take all of him inside

sometimes if you look extra delectable while attempting to reach something off of a high shelf, michael may not be able to control himself and his craving for your taste - he will bend you over with no hesitation and make out with your cunt, nose glistening in your folds as his chapped lips graze against your tdick and his chin dripping with your pre. his massive hands groping your ass as he spreads your legs for better access

the rhythmic clapping of his heavy balls slapping your sopping cock is forever engrained in his mind, sometimes resurfacing at the most inconvenient times - he will be forced to rush home in the middle of an attempted spree just to feel your body against his

_ _ _ _ _

mtf hcs

mikey initially gets scared if you administer hrt yourself with a needle - he knows what happens to rowdy patients who get the needle back at the asylum. however, as he slowly notices physical changes in your body, he'll marvel at your form developing before his very eyes

michael chases the sensation of having you pressed up against him while you're wearing clothing he's gotten you

he loves you feeling pretty whenever you're on top, tucking your hair behind your ear and using his thumb to swipe his cum off your chin

he will make you do your makeup before you fuck, needing you to feel as beautiful as possible while he absolutely destroys your hole - lipgloss smeared, mascara running, hair mussed and bruises all over your hips. he views you as a goddess, so expect him to make you feel like one

when you guide him to take your balls in his mouth, he'll eagerly suckle on them then return to your tip for his reward, eager to lap up your arousal with obscene slurping noises and proud huffs of satisfaction

he has a small shrine of your panties he's borrowed, keeping the ones with the dainty floral details for 'creative inspiration'

mikey gently squeezes on the back of your neck when preparing to take you from behind - he cannot simply cum from you squirming in impatience and grinding into him, he's not even inside you yet (it would be a waste quite frankly)

as his stubble rubs you raw whenever he eats you out, prepare for the bubbling heat beneath your skin to return tenfold whenever he fucks your thighs like a madman

_ _ _ _ _

sorry if writing quality dropped, this took so long lmao. art the clown is next btw, look out for that.

thanks for reading. lmk if you liked it. if i got anything wrong, don't hesitate to tell me.

stay safe.

[shadowkoo]

Troublemaker

→ Summary: Jooyeon needs help finishing his song and the only way to do that is by unraveling you. You're the missing piece; the only voice he wants to layer into his track, the only one he craves to hear making those breathy little moans that already have him on edge. But as the recording session goes on, it’s no longer enough to just listen to you like that, he needs to be the reason you sound that way.

↠ jooyeon x f.reader | 3.1k words | 18+ ↠ genre: idol!au, smut

→ Warnings: y’all getting freaky in the studio (as deserved), mutual pining, begging, fingering, unprotected sex, orgasm control, multiple orgasms, dry humping/grinding, breast play, PRAISE PRAISE PRAISEEEEE (did i mention praise? no? well there’s a good amount of praise lol), dirty talk, mild exhibitionism, pet names (you’re his fave troublemaker ofc duh)

→ Networks: @ksmutsociety @k-vanity @keopihaus @lapydiaries @cosyhomenet

→ Author Note: this is a belated birthday gift to myself bc sometimes the fics you want to read you have to write lol. also a big shoutout to aeris @aeristudios for creating a gif for me from a very specific vid that i needed to make this banner <3 i had a vision and it came to lifeeee | divider credit

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“Thanks for agreeing to this,” Jooyeon says with a nervous grin tugging at his lips. “I really appreciate it. I know I asked for the favor super last minute.”

He and his band, Xdinary Heroes, have been grinding nonstop on their upcoming full-length album. It’s a personal project packed with some killer new singles, plus deeply personal solo tracks written, performed, and produced by each member. All in all, it’s shaping up to be their most anticipated album yet.

Jooyeon’s been pouring himself into his solo track for days now, getting lost in the lyrics and layering harmonies late into the night. It’s different from anything he’s done before. It’s slower, sultrier, a little more exposed, maybe even a little dangerous.

It’s so close to being complete, but something is missing. And it’s been driving him crazy trying to figure it out. That is, until last night, when it struck him like a lightning bolt; what Jooyeon wants to add is the right fit, it’s just not the right voice.

He doesn’t need just any voice, though. He needs yours.

The one that has haunted his thoughts more than he’d ever admit. The one belonging to the woman who always brushes off his flirting with a smirk and an eye roll. Like he’s just playing a teasing game. Like he couldn’t be serious about you.

But he is.

“It’s no problem,” you reply with a gentle smile as he holds the studio door open for you. “I’m always happy to help.”

Jooyeon watches you settle onto the couch, then crosses the room to grab the lyric sheet from the soundboard. He sits beside you, just close enough for his knee to graze yours.

Together, you start to go over the song. You read through the verses, pausing to smooth awkward phrasing or tweak the flow, marking spots for vocal layering, planning out subtle additions.

He talks through the nuances of harmonies and breathwork, and you decide exactly where your voice should slide in without overpowering his. It’s more like a dance, your parts should wrap around his, complementing him. Keeping it intimate, intricate.

Once you're both satisfied with the new arrangement, Jooyeon runs through it, testing how it feels when he sings.

"I like it," he says, glancing up at you with a nervous smile. "What do you think?"

You lean back, giving him a slow once-over before smirking. "I think you'd better warm up that pretty voice of yours, I’m gonna need to hear it for real before I let you know my honest thoughts."

He chuckles before ducking into the recording booth and slipping on the headphones. You move to the soundboard, adjusting levels and offering feedback, telling him which takes hit hardest, when to push his tone, when to let it fall softer.

You do your best to stay composed, acting like his voice isn’t crawling all over your skin, like the shift between his sharp high notes and his deeper rasp isn’t doing something to your insides. But every time he looks at you through the glass with his lips parted, brows drawn in focus, it gets harder to pretend you're unaffected.

Jooyeon’s always been a triple threat; insanely talented, unfairly gorgeous, and effortlessly magnetic in the most maddening way. You had the biggest crush on him back in your trainee days, though you’d never dared to act on it. The kind of crush that made it hard to breathe whenever he was around. The kind that never really faded, just got buried under layers of sarcasm, eye rolls, and distance.

But now, hearing him sing this kind of song, watching the way he pours himself into every note, you’re not so sure you can keep pretending those old feelings are still locked away.

"I've always hated how fast you’re able to wrap up your parts," you tease through the studio mic, doing your best to sound casual.

Jooyeon laughs, tugging off his headphones and letting them dangle from the edge of the music stand before stepping back into the room.

"You're so annoyingly perfect," you add with a dramatic roll of your eyes, trying to deflect the growing heat low in your stomach.

"What's wrong with that?" he grins, cocking his head and raising his eyebrows in that boyish, heart-melting way he always does, like he knows exactly the kind of effect he has on you.

"Just—whatever," you grumble, losing your train of thought completely as you push out of your chair, grabbing your water bottle on the way to the booth.

The studio is always too warm, so you shrug out of your sweater and toss it over the back of a chair, left in just your tank top and flared leggings. You slip on the headphones, adjusting them over your ears as the track cues up. Jooyeon’s voice echoes in the background as you add the breathy textures and moan-like embellishments the song calls for.

When the section wraps, you glance through the glass, locking eyes with him.

"How was that?" you ask, a little breathless yourself.

Jooyeon doesn’t answer right away. He’s staring at you, or through you, and his face is completely unreadable. It’s as if he’s caught somewhere between thought and instinct, and you suddenly feel far too exposed under his hard gaze.

"Jooyeon?" you inquire, heart beating faster.

The sound of his name seems to snap him out of it. He clears his throat roughly, fumbling to press the talk button. "Uh, yeah. Let’s, um—let’s run that again, if you don’t mind."

You blink, surprised. "Not at all," you say, adjusting your mic slightly. "Anything you want me to tweak for this next take?"

He hesitates, and when he does, his voice is lower as if almost strained. "Just...make it a little more believable, more…sexual.”

A slow blush creeps up your cheeks as you nod. You close your eyes, letting the music flow through you, trying to feel it, be it. But it still feels off. Too fake, too forced.

You crack one eye open and give Jooyeon a small, frustrated shake of your head. He pauses the track immediately.

"It still doesn’t feel genuine, does it?" you sigh, raking a hand through your hair.

Jooyeon leans forward, "Are you open to an idea?"

Without waiting for an answer, he sets the track on a loop, steps away from the soundboard, and steps into the booth with you. The space begins to feel even smaller with him in it.

He grabs the chair off to the side of where you’re standing, dragging it back against the wall. Then he lowers the mic stand to match the new setup. Sitting down, he pats his thighs with a steady hand.

"Come sit."

You blink, your heartbeat picking up once again. "What?" you ask, half-breathless. "Why?"

"Just trust me. Come sit," he says, voice low but insistent, his eyes locked on yours.

Against better judgment, you do as he says. Carefully, you settle onto his lap, feeling the solid heat of him beneath you. His hands are patient but firm as he adjusts your headphones, slipping one ear off so you can hear him while the track hums softly into the other.

Jooyeon’s voice brushes your exposed ear, low and coaxing. "Now just relax. Feel the music. Feel me." His hands trail slowly down your arms as you start to sing the first section of harmonies.

Heat floods to your core almost instantly, and you can’t help the way your thighs instinctively press tightly together. He notices and lets out a pleased chuckle before his lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck.

A soft, involuntary moan slips from your mouth, your head tipping back against his shoulder.

"That’s it," Jooyeon murmurs, his voice low against your ear, careful not to let the mic catch it. "That’s what I want to hear."

His hands gliding over your upper thighs before sliding up, fingers hooking lightly at the waistband of your leggings. He lingers there, teasing, testing your boundaries.

"God, you’re trouble," he breathes, his voice thick with want. "Do you trust me?"

You nod without hesitation, your whole body buzzing with anticipation.

"Then open your legs for me," he says.

The second you obey, he slips his hand beneath your lower layers of fabric, fingers skating lower and lower until he finds the soft heat of you, brushing against your clit with a featherlight touch that makes your breath hitch.

You bite your lip hard, struggling to stay composed as the track plays on, your own voice layered under Jooyeon's. You sound breathy, aching, just the way he envisioned.

His touch is light at first, just enough to drive you mad, tracing slow circles over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips twitch without meaning to, seeking more pressure, more friction, but he holds you still with a firm arm wrapped around your waist.

"Easy," he murmurs, dragging his mouth along your jawline. "We’re not in a rush.”

You whimper softly, the sound melting right into the music, blending so naturally that if anyone else heard the track later, they might think it was just another embellishment, another perfectly captured emotion.

Jooyeon's free hand slides up, slipping under your tank top to palm your breast through your bra, thumb brushing over the hardening peak. Every touch, every movement of his is purposely slow, calculated to wring every ounce of sensation from you.

"You’re doing so good," he whispers.

Your hands find his thighs, gripping tight as his fingers slip lower, teasing at your entrance before gliding back up to circle your clit again, just a little firmer this time. Pleasure coils hot and sharp inside you, tightening with every lazy pass of his fingers.

"Joo, please," you gasp, not even sure what you're begging for. More of something, anything. Everything.

Jooyeon groans low in your ear, the sound vibrating through you as his fingers slip lower once again, this time dipping two into your slick heat.

“O-Oh god,” you mewl loudly, not caring what gets picked up by the mic anymore. He stiffens below you, his hard length pressing against your backside.

"My favorite little troublemaker makes the prettiest sounds for me," he murmurs against your skin, voice dark and possessive.

His fingers curl deeper inside you, finding that devastatingly perfect spot that has you gasping sharply, your whole body jolting against him. “You feel so good, trouble, you’re so wet for me.”

Jooyeon speeds up just enough to tip you closer to the edge, and when your head lolls back against his shoulder again, he captures your mouth in a slow, devastating kiss.

It’s messy, and when you finally break the kiss to gasp for air, your body shudders against his as the first waves of release start to crash over you.

"That's it," he rasps, working you through it, keeping his movements steady. "Sing for me."

And you do. A high, broken moan spills from your lips, right on cue, weaving seamlessly into the track playing in your ear as pleasure tears through you, leaving you shuddering helplessly in his lap.

For a moment, all you can hear is the thundering rush of your heartbeat and the faint echo of the music. But then reality crashes back in.

Jooyeon’s hand is still tucked inside your pants, his breath still hot against your ear, his voice still murmuring sweet, dizzying things meant only for you.

Panic surges inside your body, choking you. You tense, jolting upright, desperate to put space between you. Scrambling off his lap, you make a move toward the door, the walls of the studio feeling like they’re closing in.

"Y/N, wait—" Jooyeon’s voice is sharp with concern. He reaches out, catching your hand before you can leave, his fingers wrapping around yours, grounding you. "Please. Don’t go."

There’s a hint of fear in his voice now, a crack in his usual easy confidence. It stops you cold; you’re torn between the overwhelming urge to flee and the equally powerful pull to turn back to him.

"I'm sorry," Jooyeon says, voice low and rushed. "I'm sorry if I took that too far. I acted impulsively and overstepped. I should've thought about your boundaries instead of getting caught up in my own feelings."

He drags a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding through every word. "I put myself first, and I’m sorry. I know you probably still see me as just a friend. I... I’ve liked you for years, and I got wrapped up in the moment. If you want, I'll scrap the whole recording. We can pretend it never happened."

"Wait, what?" you blink up at him, stunned.

"I’ll throw the whole song away," he says quickly, almost tripping over his words. "Start over. I don’t care."

"No. No, I don’t want that," you cut him off, heart pounding. "But...what did you say before?"

He hesitates, eyes darting nervously across your face.

"I, uh..." He chuckles awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "I said I’ve liked you. Probably since the day I met you. That’s why I was so excited when you agreed to help me with this. I just…" He stops himself, tilting his head slightly, trying to read you, trying to see if he’s ruined everything, if you’re about to walk out for good.

But before he can figure it out, you close the distance between you and crash your mouth against his, silencing every doubt burning in his mind.

Your hands tangle into his long hair, fingers threading through the blonde strands, tugging just enough to draw a low, needy growl from his chest. His arms wrap around you tightly, hauling you against him before spinning you and pressing you back against the padded wall.

You gasp into his mouth, and he devours it as he lifts you effortlessly. Your legs wrap around his waist, anchoring yourself to him as you grind down instinctively, a moan slipping free when you feel the heat of him, hard and ready, pressed against you through his jeans.

Jooyeon breaks the kiss just long enough to breathe, his forehead resting against yours.

"Are you sure you want this?" he asks, his voice rough, his eyes searching yours like his entire world depends on your answer.

You smile, tracing your fingers down the line of his jaw. "There’s nothing I want more than you," you whisper, tugging him back in for another kiss.

He sets you down gently, his hands lingering on your body as he peels off your tank top. Your pants follow next, pooling at your ankles, leaving you bare and burning under his gaze.

His clothes are stripped away just as quickly, until there's nothing left between you but body heat.

Without another word, you're back in his arms, pinned between his body and the wall. He slides a hand down, lining himself up, his tip slowly circling your entrance. His teasing has you whimpering against his lips.

"Mmmm, still so wet for me, trouble," he growls against your skin, the deep rumble of his voice making your thighs tremble around his waist. "I think I could fully sink into you in one move. What do you think?"

His mouth trails hot kisses along your jaw, down the sensitive column of your throat. "Can you take all of me at once?" he murmurs, his voice dark and possessive, like he already knows the answer.

You tilt your head back, offering him more of your neck, your chest heaving as you clutch at his bare back, desperate for him. "Yes," you gasp breathlessly, wrecked already from just the anticipation. "I want you inside me, Jooyeon. Please."

That single word shatters the last thread of his restraint.

With one smooth, devastating thrust, he buries himself fully inside you. He fills you so perfectly that you cry out, your body arching against him. The stretch is intense, making your walls flutter helplessly around him.

"J-Jooyeon," you moan, your voice breaking, raw with pleasure.

He holds you there for a moment, just letting you feel every thick inch of him, nestled so deep it feels like he’s part of you. His forehead presses against yours, his breathing just as ragged while he composes himself.

"Fuck," he groans, grinding his hips in a slow, punishing circle once he’s got a hold of himself. "You feel like heaven...squeezing me so tight already. So perfect for me." His hands grip your thighs tightly enough to leave marks.

You whimper, rolling your hips to meet his, and he curses again. His control slips even further as he pulls out almost entirely, only to slam back into you, setting a rhythm that’s brutal and achingly perfect.

Each thrust rocks you harder against the wall, pleasure clawing up your spine until your nails are digging into his back, desperate for more. So much more.

"You’re my little troublemaker," he growls against your ear, voice rough, possessive, as he drives into you over and over, each snap of his hips pushing you closer to the edge. "Say it."

"I’m yours," you choke out, stars bursting behind your eyelids.

"Again," he demands, thrusting deeper, making you sob out the words.

"I’m yours, Jooyeon. Only yours."

He captures your mouth again, swallowing your cries hungry kiss, claiming every sound you make as he pounds into you mercilessly, bringing you closer and closer to falling apart.

Your walls clench helplessly around him as you shatter. You sob his name into his mouth, your body spasming in his arms as he fucks you through your orgasm, never never letting up.

The rush of heat and sensation leaves you dizzy, your vision white-edged and blurred.

Feeling you fall apart around him drives him over the edge, too.

"I’m gonna–" he gasps, his voice a whisper against your lips. He buries himself deep with one final, punishing thrust, his whole body tensing as he comes inside you. His forehead drops to your shoulder, his heart pounding against your chest while he catches his breath.

For a long moment, you just cling to each other, trembling, your bodies still fused together, the air thick with the scent of sex and the sound of your heavy breaths.

Slowly, Jooyeon lifts his head, brushing your sweaty hair back from your face with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.

"You okay?" he asks gently, his voice low.

You nod, still too wrecked to form words, and he smiles breathtakingly before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Good," he murmurs, a teasing glint in his eye. "Because I can be ready for round two in a few minutes."

You throw your head back and laugh, loving how effortlessly playful he can be in any situation. “Maybe we should focus on editing that recording first. Then maybe you can fuck me into the couch out there. After you lock the studio door, of course.”

It’s his turn to laugh, his chuckle rumbles through the room while his arms instinctively tighten around your body. You nuzzle closer into him, skin still tingling, breathing in his scent.

And you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

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[blueberri-blu]

Learning You...

Raph ♡

[Bayverse] Slowly getting to know Raph ♡

Leo ♡⁠˖ Donnie ♡⁠˖ Mikey ♡⁠˖

Meeting him...

He rescues you from some foot soldiers wanting to get some extra cash

At first, he's angry, thinking you'll run off

He's already on the defense, immediately saying "What! Yer not gonna thank the monster that saved ya?"

You just look up at him in surprise and say "well I was going to until you got all passive aggressive"

And he tries to suppress his shock that

1, you're talking to him,

2 you weren't scared of him and

3, that you talked back to him

Raph just sorta half laughs at you and says "Well shit, ya got me there doll"

He "begrudgingly" walks you home

And after that you ask for his number, which he gives

Befriending Him

You two are sass and sass

Always going at one another, you are much calmer however

He'll invite you to train with him (lifting weight, etc.)

Whenever he gets mad, he'll go to you to vent

You may even get a punching bag for your apartment so he can vent and punch

You put him in his place whenever goes overboard with the insults

Or you give him a genuine hurr look and he'll stop

I personally think Raph cooks very well

So he'll try out recipes with you

Not around his brothers tho, so they don't see him all soft

He might teach you how to knit

As one of his only friends, he wants you safe even if he won't admit it

So, he'll teach you some basic self defense skills, and let you use them on him

All in all, as a friend, it takes time for Raph to trust you, but once he does, he is an absolute sweetheart (most of the time)

First Date

These sessions of self defense usually include

Lingering stares

Bashfully looking away

and Blushing at the smallest of touch

These drive Raph absolutely insane

His confession probably takes place when you two are blowing off steam sparring together

You walked into the layer a bit upset, having had a bad day

And when you got the, Raph was already pissed

(he has been trying to think of ways to ask you out, and his brothers ideas aren't good enough)

So, you two are sparring and you start getting up close and personal

Finally, Raph ends up pinning you down

And you see just how mad he is, so you ask him about it

And in the heat of the moment he just yells

"Can't find a good fucking date to take you on!"

You both freeze

Raph is shitting bricks, having gone pale and has a face of utter horror

You are just as shocked and staring at him, overwhelmed

You finally move to close the space

And give him a kiss on the cheek with, "Well, I recently took a trip to Joanna, so we could hang at my place, watch movies and knit"

Raph feels as though the weight of the world was just lifted off of him, he is in complete disbelief, but accepts

He comes to your home 15 minutes early with his needles

He greets you a little awkwardly and asks to borrow your kitchen, you let him

And he makes the absolute best dish ever

As you eat you pick a series to watch (hells kitchen)

And as you two eat, you and Raph yell at the TV and criticize along with Gordon Ramsey

Once your done eating you each start knitting

Or you watch him knit

At the end of the night, he's done with his little project

It's a little tapestry knitted to look like his mask framed

He helps you hang it up

And gives you a goodnight kiss good bye

After this, he is all but floating back to the lair, just content that you share his feelings

Dating Him

As long as you've been able to cultivate a proper and close friendship with him before you start dating, he isn't as rough around the edges as you'd think

There are somethings he still hasn't told you

But those will come with time and patience

Dating Raph means Actions > Words

Although he'll call you things like Doll, Doll face, Babe, and even Sweetheart (in private)

He mainly shows his love through trying to solve your problems, similar to donnie

And really appreciates quality time

And from you, he'd really appreciate words of affirmation

Raph wants you to not only tell him, but show him you really love him

Private cuddles and sweet nothing's are his favorite

You laying on his chest while he knits

Him cooking your favorite meal to take for lunch

If you ever need help with heavy lifting, he near teleports to you

Can't open a jar? He's there Can't seem to lift the couch to mop? He's there Wanna rearrange your furniture? He's there

Even though Raph acts like he is bothered, he takes pride in taking care of you

He wants you to know just how meaningful you are to him

And if you stay up late enough while you two cuddle

You'll hear him express just how much you mean to him

"I know I don't say this often but, to me yer irreplaceable. Nobody makes me feel the way you make me feel. It's like ya have some sort of calming spell around ya. I really appreciate ya sweetheart"

[goldfades]

★ TO BE KNOWN IS TO BE LOVED ─── NM¹⁰

❪ requested -> "ON MY KNEES for clingy nika hcs/fic" ❫

─ warnings | nothing but sweet fluff and mention of deadlines (like schoolwork)

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my wcbb masterlist!

"BABY," NIKA POUTED AS she gazed up at you, her brown eyes filled with neediness and slight irritation.

You glanced back at your girlfriend for a split second before looking back at your computer screen. "Yes, babe?"

You had a project due tomorrow afternoon and you didn't wanna wake up early to finish it up or rush, so this was the only time you could do it. However, your girlfriend had other plans.

She'd just got done with practice and barged into your dorm, Nika dropped her gym bag on the floor and flopped onto your bed, her presence adding a layer of distraction to your already cluttered mind.

"I missed you," Nika continued as she gazed up at you, her voice tinged with a mix of exhaustion and longing.

You couldn't help but smile at her, despite your mounting stress. "I missed you too, Nika," you replied, reaching over to ruffle her hair affectionately.

"Then act like it," Nika rolled her eyes as you sighed.

"Nika, I really need to get this done," you said, trying to keep your tone gentle but firm.

Nika crossed her arms, her expression softening as she looked at you with those big, pleading eyes. "I know, but it feels like you always have something to do. Can't you take a break, just for a little while? We haven't spent any time together all week."

Guilt washed over you. She was right; between classes, assignments, and everything else, your time together had been scarce. You glanced at your computer screen, then back at Nika, who was now sitting up, her eyes never leaving yours.

"Alright," you said finally, closing your laptop with a sense of finality. "But just for a little while."

Nika's face lit up with a smile, and she immediately scooted over to make room for you on the bed. You joined her, and she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close. "I promise, it won't be long," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

"That was easier than expected," Nika mumbled into your hair as you looked up to send her a glare. "Sorry! I knew you wanted to cuddle too, I could see it in your eyes."

"Oh really?" You held in a laugh as you teased her. "And what else do my eyes reveal?"

Nika grinned mischievously, her fingers tracing patterns on your back. "Hmm, let's see... They say you're secretly hoping I'll make you some pasta after this cuddle session,"

You chuckled, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her lips. "You know me too well," you admitted, feeling a wave of affection wash over you.

Nika's smile softened, and she tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I love knowing you," she murmured, her voice filled with sincerity.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[mrsclrakey]

hey i love your writing so much!! I was thinking maybe a clarkey fic where the girl is part of chrismd or willnes production team and she meets george over the course of productions and george has a crush on her… eventually asking her out

Tysm for this request I loved writing it I changed my writing style for this one I hope u like itttt

STORY NAME - 📸Lights, Camera, Heartbeat📸

You never imagined that joining the production team for one of YouTube’s hottest channels would change your life. When you first started working behind the scenes for the ChrisMD production crew, you were focused on mastering every detail—from camera angles to perfecting the sound design. You were passionate, determined, and quietly brilliant, though you hadn’t yet noticed the way someone’s eyes would often linger on you during late-night editing sessions.

A New Role, A New Beginning

On your very first day, you found yourself amidst a whirlwind of creative energy. The set was buzzing with activity as the team prepared for another energetic shoot. In the midst of the controlled chaos, you caught a glimpse of George Clarkey—a charismatic presence with an easy smile and a quiet intensity that set him apart. He was one of the key creative minds behind the channel, known not just for his production skills but for his uncanny ability to make everyone feel at ease. Over the following weeks, as you collaborated on numerous projects, those fleeting glances grew into genuine smiles and warm conversations.

Moments Behind the Scenes

During a particularly hectic filming day, while you were busy adjusting the lighting for a challenging shot, George walked up and offered a hand. “Need a hand?” he asked, his tone light yet sincere. You smiled, accepting his help, and in that small act of kindness, something stirred. As the camera rolled and the crew hustled around you, there were moments—quiet, stolen instances—where it seemed as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. Over cups of coffee during breaks and late nights spent reviewing footage, your conversations wandered from technical details to shared dreams, favorite films, and even the little quirks that made you both who you were.

George’s interest wasn’t sudden or overwhelming; it was built gradually, like the careful layering of a perfectly edited video. He’d find excuses to discuss creative ideas with you or ask for your opinion on a scene, and each time you spoke, his admiration was unmistakable. It was in the way he listened intently, the way his eyes lit up when you described a new concept, and the subtle compliments that made your heart flutter.

The Unspoken Connection

As more projects rolled in, so did opportunities to spend time together off set. One evening, after a long day of shooting, the team gathered at a local diner to celebrate a successful production. Amid laughter and shared stories, you and George found yourselves lingering at the edge of the conversation. He recounted a mishap during filming that had everyone in stitches, and you laughed, feeling completely at ease in his company. In that moment, the casual banter slowly revealed something deeper—a spark of mutual understanding and attraction that had been quietly building over countless behind-the-scenes moments.

There were days when you doubted whether a personal connection could flourish amid the demands of high-energy production work. But every time George’s gentle humor and sincere interest broke through the professional veneer, you found your resolve strengthening. You began to look forward to his thoughtful texts, the small notes left on your desk, and the way he’d ask if you needed help long after the cameras were turned off.

A Heartfelt Confession

Then came the day when the production schedule finally slowed down—a rare moment of quiet after a whirlwind of projects. The set was nearly empty, and the soft hum of the studio was a welcome contrast to the usual clamor. You were reviewing footage alone when you heard footsteps approaching. Turning around, you saw George, his expression unusually tentative yet earnest.

“I’ve been meaning to say something,” he began, his voice low in the quiet room. He confessed that over the past few months, he’d come to admire not just your talent and creativity, but your kindness and the passion you brought to everything you did. Each shared laugh, every thoughtful discussion about a scene or a storyline, had deepened his admiration until he realized that his feelings had grown beyond professional respect.

Standing there, heart pounding, you listened as he continued, “I know we’re part of a busy world of productions and deadlines, but I can’t ignore what I feel when I’m with you. Would you… would you go out with me, maybe grab dinner, or even just a quiet walk after work?”

In that moment, the room seemed to fill with a hopeful warmth. All the little moments—the shared glances, the after-hours conversations, the unspoken connection—had led to this genuine, heartfelt confession.

New Beginnings On and Off Camera

You found yourself smiling, the kind of smile that reached your eyes and melted away any doubts. Saying yes wasn’t just an acceptance of a date; it was an embrace of a new chapter—one where creativity met emotion, and professional admiration blossomed into something more personal and profound.

As you left the studio together that day, the lights and cameras that had once defined your world now served as the backdrop to the start of something beautiful. The production team continued to create incredible content, but now, behind every shot and every edit, there was the subtle reminder that sometimes the best stories are those that unfold naturally—one shared smile at a time.

In this story, your journey from a dedicated production team member to the recipient of George’s heartfelt confession is woven together by the magic of creative collaboration and genuine connection. Whether you’re behind the lens or in front of it, every moment brings you closer to the realization that sometimes, the best productions are the ones that capture the true essence of the heart.

[writingrock]

petals of longing

pairing: katsuki bakugou x reader (gender neutral) summary: after spending time with bakugou, you couldn't help but make the dire mistake of falling in love with him.

notes: angst, unrequited love, hanahaki disease, mentions of blood, college! katsuki bakugou, rejection

word count: 2.2k

a/n: I lied, I have more angst in my drafts.

edit: there's a continuation here

Has he ever noticed you?

After listening to Bakugou talk about training for the past hour, you couldn’t help but rethink about your presence in his life. The two of you are in his dorm room, having another one of those late night conversations. You weren’t sure when but having late nights together became normal.

It didn’t matter whose room or what the conversations were. The only thing that mattered was that it had to only be the two of you. At first, it started off as night study sessions but it devolved into something more casual.

The two of you got close by chance. It all started with some assignment where the two of you happened to be paired up. From the beginning of the project, he had displayed his frustration to be paired with you. Something about being paired with ‘some extra’. You paid no mind to his comments and essentially forced him to comply with you.

Bakugou did eventually get used to you. Working with you was effortless. Not like he'd ever admit that. He liked working with someone who cared like you. It was refreshing to see someone match his hardworking nature. There were late nights and countless revisions over this project. It was tiring. You could recall how badly you wanted to yank your eyeballs out during certain nights.

But the two of you kept encouraging the other, keeping each other alive and motivated. Bakugou always specifically made sure you were eating. To the point where he cooked for you during those study sessions. It was always paired with his long spiel about how important it is to take care of your body. Ironic, considering the number of sleepless nights the two of you shared over this project.

But it was all worth it when the assignment returned highly-graded. The look on Bakugou’s face when he read the commendations from the professor was memorable. Pure satisfaction. These two words describe his expression perfectly. The way his eyes gleamed with a sense of achievement when he read the professor’s comments.

You’d never seen such a proud grin stretched on his face. “We make a pretty good team.” he remarked as he admired the result displayed on your laptop’s screen. You should have realised then that you saw him differently. Whilst his eyes remained glued to the screen, yours were admiring him.

You thought that would be the last you’d see of Katsuki Bakugou. That the two of you would return to being strangers after the project. Afterall, he wasn’t ecstatic in being your project partner initially. To your surprise, Bakugou started hanging around you. In subtle ways of course. It started with small texts about lectures— asking about deadlines, exchanging notes and arranging study sessions.

At first, you didn’t think much about it and figured it was beneficial to both parties to become study partners. But it slowly became more than that when he started inviting you to do stuff with him. Accompanying him to the grocery store because he needed help with the groceries. Making you watch him cook so you could learn and try his new recipe. Then eating with him because he made too much.

Before you knew it, the two of you became friends. A friendship that most did not expect and even questioned. Spending time with him brought the two of you closer. Peeling back the layers of Bakugou and uncovering the nuances that uniquely made him who he is. Learning easy details about him like his favourite foods and hobbies. Occasionally, you'd hear snippits of his deeper thoughts if he'd allow.

You even got used to his insults, forming witty comebacks in response to them. It stunned him when you fired back at his words for the first time. Resulting in endless banter you deal with daily. His brash exterior you once deemed unnecessarily aggressive became something you understood. The closer you got, the softer he became. However, with that came a flower.

A tulip.

A blood-stained, pink tulip that you retched out one night. You jolted awake one night, gasping desperately for air. Your breaths came in short, ragged gasps as the coughing fit intensified, each spasm more forceful than the last. Did you get sick? Another violent cough wracked your body. No, this is definitely something else. Fear gripped your heart when you realised how clogged your throat felt. The panic you felt that night was unmatched to anything you’ve ever experienced. Throwing the covers off your body, your mind raced for answers. The air felt thick, suffocating, as you stumbled out of bed. You barely made it to the bathroom, the cold tile floor sending a shock through your bare feet. What was happening to you?

Falling to your knees in front of the sink, your reflection in the mirror blurred by the tears welling up in your eyes. Your heart pounded hard against your chest. With a final, desperate heave, the mystery lodged in your throat finally gave way. You doubled over the sink, feeling something solid and foreign in your mouth. Trembling, you opened your lips, and a delicate pink tulip fell into the sink, its petals slightly crushed but unmistakably beautiful. The vibrant colour stood out starkly against the white porcelain, its soft edges smeared with the faintest trace of blood. A cold wave of realisation settled in your gut like a stone. You have it don’t you. You weakly draw a slow breath. Hanahaki disease—the tragic, unspoken affliction of the lovelorn. A disease born from unrequited love.

You just had to fall in love with him.

The tulip in your hand was just the beginning, the first bloom of many. And as you stared at its delicate beauty, you felt the bitter sting of irony—the same love that had once filled your heart with warmth and hope was now destined to consume you, one petal at a time.

花言葉 Hana ko to ba: チューリップ Tulips [ pink ] - caring, attachment, happiness

Has he ever noticed you? Did he notice the times you’ve hurriedly excused yourself to throw up these plague of flowers? How much weaker have you been? Or even the trail of pink petals you leave behind? Your eyes find him leaning against the bed frame, scrolling on his phone. Oblivious to your suffering. How you wish you could be blissfully ignorant too. It’s been a month since you learnt of your condition. You’ve tirelessly tried to fall out of love with Bakugou. Avoiding the areas he frequents and making lame excuses that you can’t see him. Texting him less and telling yourself that he’s just some asshole. He’s not even that good looking. Right? His deep, rumbley voice isn’t attractive at all. Bakugou’s voice belongs to an old man who eats cigarettes. Plus, his attitude sucks. There's absolutely no reason for you to love him.

Oh, but… one look at him and it all crumbles down. His eyes, fierce and crimson, are like molten embers—burning with a relentless fire that you’ve always admired. Those wild locks you love to run your hands through. His chaotic crown of ash-blond spikes that comedically defy gravity. It frames his face in a way that accentuates his sharp features. Specifically his irritatingly perfect, sculpted jawline. And, of course, his voice never did sound like a senile smoker. You’ve always found his gravelly undertone to be hot. His looks weren't the only thing that made you gravitate to him. The air around him crackles with raw energy and confidence. He's strong-willed and fierce, he's unforgettable. You want to be by his side and watch him achieve his ambitions. Aside from all that, it's how soft he becomes when it's just the two of you. No matter how much you told yourself you didn’t love him, he only needed to appear for your heart to race. Lying to yourself was useless.

Deep in your lungs, you could feel a tightness that’s been building for weeks. You knew it was getting worse yet you refused to confess. But this curse wasn’t going to give you time. It hits you hard. You catch on quickly that this flowery misfortune is flaring up now. With you sat on the floor of his dorm. The pain in your chest intensifies, a sharp, burning sensation that spreads to your throat. Your stomach twists with anxiety and fear, but beneath it all, there’s a quiet, desperate hope. It dawns on you that you are unable to keep your secret for much longer. You have to tell him now. It doesn’t take long for Bakugou to take notice of your pain. Alarmed, he goes to your side, putting his hand on your back.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You don’t look too good.” His voice carries a gentle warmth, confused with the sudden change from you. Softly, he rubs circles on your back in an attempt to soothe you. Unfortunately for you, his concern only makes the tightness worsen.

“Katsuki, I have to tell you something– ” Your voice trembles as you utter those words. You’re barely holding it together from the twisted pain. Just as you take one shaky breath, a cough forces its way through. A red petal lips past your lips, falling to the floor. The petal alone being the confession you were meant to voice. You press your hand over your mouth, letting out a sob.

花言葉 Hana ko to ba: チューリップ Tulips [ red ] - declaration of love, true love, eternal love, romantic love, believe me

“I… love you Katsuki. I’ve always loved you.” The words come out in a rush, each one a painful release. “From that moment we got assigned together, you’ve taken my heart.” You can’t stop the tears now; they spill over, sliding down your reddened cheeks. Each breath you take brings another cough, another handful of those red petals, each one soaked in the essence of your clandestine love. The petals start to fall faster now, flooding the floor with these red tulips.

Bakugou is frozen in place. His widened eyes stuck onto the floor that is now scattered with red petals and tulips. The moment that petal flew out, he knew what you’ve been suffering with. Reluctantly, he turns to look at you. “You…” What does he even say in this moment? Words lose him as his mind races for a solution for this whole situation. Something has to ease your pain. Is there a cure for this unforgiving disease? Bakugou knows himself and the reality of this situation. The cold, harsh reality is that he doesn’t love you. His features harden as he grits his teeth, swallowing hard. “You… hopeless idiot. Fucking hell.” Is all he manages to say. He can’t bring himself to crush you with the raw truth. His lips twist into a scowl. Why did you fall in love with him? Why did you make the mistake of loving him? You absolute fool.

“I never wanted you to fall for me.” he wished to say.

He doesn’t need to say it. Another flurry of petals erupt from your mouth. These red tulips are stained with blood. The fluid sticking on them in sickly sweet fashion. His hesitancy is the only answer you need. His silence speaks volumes. Bakugou does not love you. Your heart sinks as you find the courage to face him. To take one look at the handsome face you’ve grown to love. However with one look, you regret ever catching a glimpse of him. That detached, impassionate expression of his shattered your heart. How could he look at you with such indifference as you regurgitate your declaration of love. You didn’t blame him for not feeling the same way. But the way he looks at you makes you feel sick. You couldn't accept how he's looking at your pain as if it were meaningless.

He looks at you like you’re nothing to him.

“Look.” With your remaining strength, you fist up a bundle of these petals. Shoving them in front of his distant gaze. You wanted him to see them, the raw consequences of your love for him. Red petals, dripping in red secretions in your grasp. Blood dripping from your fingers to the floor. “I am literally head over heels for you,” You spat, a few more petals leaving your mouth. Facing his glare with your own. It’s hard to speak but you need to. You need to scream at him. Did all of your memories with him mean nothing? To look at you with such an apathetic expression hurts you more than this wretched disease. There never was a chance for the two of you.

“But here you are,” You scoff as you lower your hand. Letting the petals sink to the floor. You should have known better. He's right. You're just a pathetic fool. A fool that can't even bring herself to hate him even now. “indifferent to everything that I’m feeling.” A full bulb of a tulip tumbles from your mouth. The final, yellow tulip lands silently by their feet. Your heart sinks, and the pain in your chest doesn’t disappear. Why does your quivering heart still beat with such passion for him? The yellow tulip stands alone, its petals vibrant and golden, glowing softly in the light. Blood clinging onto its velvety surface and seeping into the grooves of the petals. Everything dissipates, you only feel despondent.

花言葉 Hana ko to ba: チューリップ Tulips [ yellow ] - brightness, sunshine, hopeless love, unrequited love

You pull away from his embrace, accepting the rejection. Wobbling as you rise to your feet and turn to the door. Bakugou tries to reach for you, trying to find the right words. You don’t entertain him, swatting his hand away as you shake your head. Turning to the door before he could catch sight of the fresh tears in your eyes. You walk out the door with heavy steps and an aching heart. Now with every breath, flowers bloom within you to remind you of a love that will never be reciprocated. Your unrequited love.

a/n: just something quick because my brain was rotting. I don't offer free therapy on my blog, sorry :) @chocogoldie

In case you needed me to say it, hanatokoba is japanese flower language.

Reader's last words are from the angst prompts over at @me-writes-prompts !!!

border credits: @enchanthings & @adornedwithlight

© writingrock 2024 do not copy, translate or repost.

[bandsofmarv]

Hi!!!! I just read The One Who Stayed, and that was so good. Very good work. Could I request for a fluffy and a little smutty fic with Tony Stark x reader? :)

Of course! I’ve been wanting to do a Tony one.

Breaking through the iron shell

A shy new recruit joins the avengers and catches Tony’s attention. Determined to draw you out of your shell, Tony’s teasing and charm lead to unexpected sparks.

- fluff , slight smut.

The Avengers compound was overwhelming, to say the least. You’d been recruited for your engineering skills, but being in the same building as some of the greatest heroes in the world? That was enough to make your stomach churn with nerves.

You’d spent most of your first week keeping your head down, avoiding small talk, and burying yourself in the projects you’d been assigned. But Tony Stark wasn’t the kind of man to let someone go unnoticed.

It started with little things.

“Hey, genius,” Tony called one afternoon, leaning casually against the doorway to the lab where you worked. “You realize we have a coffee machine that does more than just sit there and look pretty, right? Go get yourself a cup. You’re gonna burn out those circuits, and I don’t just mean the ones on the desk.”

You froze mid-solder, heat rising to your face as you registered his presence. “I-I’m okay,” you stammered, keeping your eyes fixed on the tiny wires in front of you.

“Hmm,” Tony mused, stepping into the room. “Shy. Didn’t see that coming.”

You glanced up briefly, your heart pounding at the sight of him. Tony Stark was larger than life in person, his presence magnetic.

“I’m not shy,” you mumbled, though the flush on your face said otherwise.

He grinned, tilting his head as if considering you. “You’re not shy, huh? Then what do we call the mumbling, no-eye-contact thing? Modest? Reserved? Or are you just saving all the charm for the next guy who walks in?”

You let out a nervous laugh, unsure how to respond.

From that moment on, Tony seemed to make it his mission to draw you out of your shell.

He’d swing by your workspace daily, leaning over your shoulder to comment on your work. At first, his teasing left you flustered, but over time, you started to anticipate it. His compliments—hidden beneath layers of sarcasm—helped you feel like you belonged.

“You know,” he said one day, watching as you calibrated a new piece of tech, “I think you’re giving me a run for my money. Don’t get too good, though. I’ve got an ego to maintain.”

You smiled, a little more comfortable now. “Don’t worry, I don’t think I’ll outshine Iron Man anytime soon.”

“Flattery,” he said with a smirk. “Not necessary, but appreciated.”

It wasn’t until a late-night work session that things shifted between you.

You were finishing up a prototype when Tony walked in, a glass of scotch in his hand.

“Burning the midnight oil, huh?” he asked, his voice softer than usual.

You nodded, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. “Just wanted to get this done.”

Tony set his drink down and leaned on the workbench beside you. “You’ve been killing it, you know. I don’t say that lightly. Well, maybe I do, but this time I mean it.”

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment. “Thanks. That means a lot coming from you.”

He studied you for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “You’re different from the others,” he said. “Quiet, but not in a bad way. Makes me wonder what’s going on in that head of yours.”

You shrugged, suddenly feeling exposed under his gaze. “Just… trying to do my job.”

He reached out, gently tilting your chin so you’d meet his eyes. “You’re doing more than that, sweetheart.”

The intensity in his gaze made your breath hitch. There was something magnetic about the way he looked at you, as if you were the only person in the room.

The kiss was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

One moment, you were standing there, caught in his gaze. The next, his lips were on yours—soft, warm, and surprisingly tender.

You froze for a second, unsure of how to react, but when his hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer, you melted into him.

The kiss deepened, his free hand tangling in your hair as he pressed you against the workbench. Your hands found their way to his chest, the fabric of his shirt soft beneath your fingers.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“Too much?” he asked, his voice husky.

You shook your head, your cheeks flushed. “No. Definitely not.”

————————————————————————

The following weeks were a blur of stolen kisses and lingering touches. Tony’s teasing didn’t stop, but there was a new warmth to it now—a softness that made your heart race.

He didn’t just make you feel wanted; he made you feel seen.

And as you grew more confident, you found yourself teasing him back, matching his wit with your own.

“Careful, Stark,” you said one day, grinning as you adjusted the specs on a shared project. “Keep complimenting me, and I might start thinking I’m the genius here.”

He smirked, leaning close enough that you could feel his breath on your neck. “Oh, you are, sweetheart. But don’t forget who taught you everything you know.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable.

Tony Stark had a way of breaking through your walls, and for the first time in your life, you were glad someone had.

[youre-ackermine]

⋆⁺₊❅. Celebration ⋆⁺₊❅.

❅ Prompt 06 "Office Holiday party"

❅ Characters Levi x Fem!reader - Erwin

❅ Content Modern AU / Coworkers / Making out / Suggestive

❅ Warning Suggestive / MDNI 18+

❅Wordcount 1765 approx.

❅ Requested by @sixpennydame

The holiday cheer hit you the moment you stepped into the room, and you let the feeling sink in and slowly dissolve the stress of the past months. Tonight marked the start of a short holiday break, and you felt thankful at the thought of a few quiet days of well-deserved rest.

The open-plan office looked entirely different tonight, removed from its usual bustling atmosphere. The fairy lights adorning the tall, glittering tree beside you twinkled softly in shades of gold and red. Desks had been repositioned along the walls and draped in festive cloths to display an assortment of drinks, colourful punch bowls, bottles of champagne set in silver ice buckets and sparkling glasses, next to trays of festive finger foods and delicacies.

Part of the room had been left clear to serve as a dance floor later on. Garlands and fairy lights decorated the walls and oversized, shimmering ornaments hung from the ceiling. A collection of festive paper bags were nicely arranged under the tree, complimentary gifts from the CEO, to show his appreciation for the staff’s dedication.

While your colleagues were captivated by Erwin’s deep, powerful voice, your gaze drifted across the room, drawn to Levi who stood beside him. His expression was unreadable, but you couldn’t help but appreciate the poised and elegant way he carried himself.

You had been working together for months, and while your first impression of him had been rather off-putting, your admiration had grown over project discussions and late-night brainstorming sessions.

Now, as Erwin started to praise Levi's leadership, you drank in the sharp angles of his face, the shiny ink of his hair, the smooth curve of his lips. And when Levi glanced briefly in your direction, your pulse quickened, your focus narrowing to the intensity of his gaze before he turned away.

"Our financial team, under Levi's steady leadership, has been the backbone of our stability throughout a challenging year."

With a smile, Erwin slightly turned to his righthand standing by his side. Arms crossed over his chest, Levi gave him a curt nod.

"And last -but not least- I would like to highlight the remarkable efforts of our Marketing Department," Erwin added. "Your creativity and hard work have driven this company towards success. And," the CEO raised his glass of champagne in your direction, "a special thanks to you for leading the charge."

A ripple of applause filled the room and you felt a flush rise to your cheeks after your boss’s praise. As soon as Erwin had wrapped up his speech, your team gathered around you, leading you to the buffet in a cheerful whirlwind.

⋆⁺₊❅.

The holiday party soon was in full swing, the open-plan office filled with chatter and the faint hum of festive music. You stood near the punch bowl now, pretending to focus on your drink while sneaking glances at Levi.

Tonight, in his perfectly tailored suit, a discreet holiday-red handkerchief that matched his tie peeking out of his breast pocket, he looked devastatingly handsome.

Your heart hammered as you caught him looking straight back at you and you took a sip of your overly sweet drink to hide your sudden blush.

For months of exhausting deadlines and endless meetings, your teams had worked side by side to achieve the company's goals.

Levi's manners were blunt, yes, but working long hours with him had revealed layers of dedication, intelligence, and even dry humour hidden beneath the surface.

Somewhere along the way, you had found yourself admiring him.

Well, not so much admiring him as crushing on him.

Looking deliberately at the fairy lights twinkling along the walls to distract yourself from the flustering thought, you took another sip of your punch.

"Not drinking the spiked one?" Levi’s voice startled you.

He had appeared at your side, holding a glass of what looked like water.

You swallowed hard, trying to muster the courage to reply something. Anything.

"I…I didn't want to…lose focus."

He raised an eyebrow. "It’s a party, no need to be so serious."

"Says the one who's drinking water," you shot back before you could stop yourself.

He glanced down at the glass in his hands and chuckled.

"Guess I’m not one for parties."

"But, you're here though," you remarked.

He paused for a brief moment, his gaze flicking around the room as if weighing his answer, before stopping on the CEO.

"Well, as usual, Erwin guilt-tripped me. Told me it'd be good to celebrate the team's hard work."

He turned his attention back to you.

"I admit he was right. Your department really did a good job."

The praise caught you off guard.

"Thanks. But it wasn't just us… Your team has been incredible too. And you…"

You hesitated, feeling a warm flush creep up your neck.

"You’re an amazing leader, Levi."

His expression softened, almost imperceptibly, but enough to catch your attention.

"You're not too bad yourself."

Silence settled between you for a while as you both sipped your drinks. Levi's gaze shifted to the improvised dance floor, where a handful of coworkers were already swaying to the music.

"I’m sure Erwin would love to see you dance," you teased.

Levi snorted. "Not happening."

Feeling a surge of boldness, you nudged his arm. "What if I asked you to dance with me?"

He turned his head slightly towards you, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "You’d want to dance with me?"

The question lingered in the air, and your heart raced.

For a moment, you thought you had overstepped, but then Levi set his glass down on the table and held out a hand. "Come on, then."

You stared at him, bewildered. "Wait, seriously?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Don’t make me say it twice."

You hesitated only a second before slipping your hand into his. His grip was firm and warm as he led you to the dance floor. The music had shifted to a slower melody, and Levi turned to face you, his other hand settling at your waist.

"I’m not good at this, you’ve been warned," he deadpanned.

"You’re doing fine so far," you replied in a soft voice, trying to calm the butterflies fluttering in your chest.

The soft glow of the twinkling lights illuminated his features, sharpening the angles of his face yet softening his gaze.

Your heart raced as you realized how close you were, close enough to catch the faint scent of his cologne, to see the flicker in his eyes as they darted between yours and your lips.

"Levi," you whispered.

"Yes?" His voice was soft.

"Thank you. For this. For everything."

The grip of his hand tightened slightly on your waist.

He averted his gaze and clicked his tongue, visibly flustered. "Don’t have to thank me."

But you wanted to, in more ways than one.

Gathering your courage, you leaned in and pressed a tentative kiss to his cheek.

You felt Levi's body stiffen, his eyes widening for a split second before his expression softened.

"That was…unexpected," he said, his tone almost teasing.

"Oh… I’m… I’m sorry!" You stuttered, suddenly ashamed of your boldness.

Instead of answering, Levi leaned in. His lips brushed against yours in a brief, soft kiss that instantly made you weak in the knees.

When he pulled back, a faint smirk played at the corner of his mouth.

"Let’s go celebrate somewhere else, over dinner maybe?"

You were so dizzy after the kiss that you could only nod.

One hand at the small of your back, he motioned towards the exit.

⋆⁺₊❅.

"Gotta grab my coat in my office first," he said when you got out of the room, the echo of the party turning to a blur behind you.

After months of pining for him, you couldn't believe that, at this very moment, his warm, smooth hand was lightly squeezing yours as you walked down the hallway.

Your mind still in a daze, you cast tentative glances at him. His sharp jaw, his shiny hair, the delicate shape of his nose, every part of him was attractive.

A sudden rush of warmth spread through your body at the sight and Levi caught you smiling to yourself.

"What with the smile?" He asked, his expression faintly amused.

"Hmm… Nothing."

His brow furrowed and you chuckled awkwardly.

"Really."

⋆⁺₊❅.

All awkwardness left you the second his office door clicked shut behind you.

In the blink of an eye, you found yourself held tight in his arms, your own arms wrapping around his neck as your lips met in a fervent kiss. Levi's hands glided all over your back, sending shivers across your skin. The feel of his mouth on yours was everything you had dreamed of and you let out a soft sigh when his tongue slid between your parted lips.

You had never felt anything like this before, you didn't even know a kiss could be so otherworldly. Your heart raced as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss and you melted into his embrace, revelling in the heat of his mouth and the minty taste of his tongue.

Your fingers found their way through his hair, grazing his undercut, tangling in the soft locks to finally grip them and draw him impossibly closer. The sensation was overwhelming, warmth spreading through your whole body like a tidal wave.

Eyes shut and head spinning, you slightly pulled apart to take in a sharp breath, but Levi’s mouth didn’t leave your skin, trailing kisses up your neck, along your jaw.

His hot breath tickled your ear when he whispered your name.

"Been wanting to do this for so long…" His voice was like honey to your ears and stirred a ravenous need in your core.Your mind was so clouded that you could only utter a lewd moan in response.

"Fu-uh- I… I don’t think I can make it to the restaurant," he panted.

"Oooh…go-od…Levi… Me…me neither," you managed to stutter as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck.

"You sure you wanna do this?" His husky voice couldn't be more alluring.

You didn’t even think twice and didn't stutter either this time. "Never been so sure of anything else before."

That was all Levi needed to hear.

He leaned in to press his lips against yours again and locked the door behind you.

His hands slid up your thighs to cup your ass, and, with a swift movement, he hoisted you up as if you weighed nothing.

Your tongue in his mouth and your legs around his waist, you gripped his broad shoulders to keep your balance as he carried you to his desk.

❅ A/N Not beta or proof read / English is not my usual language

❅ All graphics by me

❅ ❤︎ REBLOGS APPRECIATED ❤︎ ❅

Holiday drabbles Masterlist

[physalian]

Whatever project you're too afraid to start, just go for it

I know a lot of my posts lately have been video/content creation-related but I just want to say:

The learning curve that I have had to climb in the past week alone has been both frustrating as hell and ridiculously rewarding.

Already, I had to refresh my memory on basic video editing and sound comping, but for the first seven episodes of my little series I’d accepted the average quality of my voice recording as cest la vie, I’m not sinking money into this without proof of concept, you’re supposed to be a little rough around the edges when you’re first starting out. But one thing I couldn’t get over was the clipping from some technobabble shenanigans with frequencies that isn’t important here.

What I thought was a quick fix—replace and double the RAM in my laptop—was absolutely not the source of the problem and suddenly I was in the deep end trying to fix broken audio in post while also troubleshooting an issue no one else seemed to have between my microphone and my recording software and I was about tempted to just use my desktop mic, the built-in, because at least I could somewhat fix that in post.

After far too many hours deep in discussions with strangers on the internet who were very helpful, I half-fixed the problem. My mic stopped clipping, but it was distorting pretty heavily between two different processers and my recording software hated it for a whole different reason.

Reluctant Plan B was to record gameplay live, but record audio separately/after and then sync them in post. If you’ve ever made a gaming video like these, you’re staring at probably 15+ clips of useable content over the course of recording sessions, which means 30+ clips with all the separately recorded audio, and since I can’t hit start/stop congruently with both programs, they would always be a little bit off, which meant more tedious editing.

Why? Because I was recording in Program A, fixing audio in Program B, and editing the video together in Program C, and Program C is for like, tiktoks, not professional youtube videos. I was only using it because I was already paying for it in an Adobe package with InDesign.

Enter DaVinci Resolve.

It’s like, Photoshop compared to MS Paint, a free one-stop-shop for video and audio editing (and visual effects, this thing is used to make blockbusters) and here’s me still confused by all these audio terms like ratio, attack, threshold, etc.

So I’m still wading through tutorials, all while my mic only works through Program B, Audacity, with an episode deadline looming over me. From the time I committed to initially fixing my audio by replacing the RAM, to episode release date, I had 6 days. Today is day 4.

And I’m still without a proper recording setup because Program A hates my microphone. But I am not missing this deadline, not just for the youtube algorithm, but because I know I can make it.

So episode 8, at the time of writing this, I have only 9 minutes and 25 seconds all edited and ready to go, out of 22-24 that I usually publish. So what have I done?

Fuckin’ taught myself DaVinci Resolve and committed to recording my vocal track in post just this once, doing it over and over again until it sounds as genuinely live as it can, and doing regular voiceover and music montages wherever else I can to fill the time with meaningful content.

All to buy myself time for my replacement mic to deliver so I can get back to proper live recordings, because at this point, the time it takes to fix terrible audio in post isn’t worth it, when I can spend a little bit of money for a mic that isn’t 8 years old and is built for gaming, not podcasting (but I am keeping the problem child as a backup, because it’s not broken).

I’m waiting for a timelapse to render while I write this, staring at a workflow with one video source and 3 different audio layers—game sound, vocals, and music—and I can almost turn my brain off when trimming things because that part I already know how to do.

This thing is a mess, to be clear, but it sure as hell won’t look like a mess when I hit publish on time two days from now.

But like…. 3 weeks ago I knew next to none of this, beyond basic video editing I learned back in college. And here I am with my double-wide monitor up and professional video making software quietly churning along in the background.

So just—if you want to do it? Go fuckin’ do it. Whatever it is that you’ve been holding off on pursuing. When I started I already owned things like a gaming laptop (that I bought to run photoshop so I could paint), an 8-year-old podcasting mic from a dropped podcast attempt, my game of choice, and I was already paying for the bare bones version of Premiere: Premiere Rush.

But heck, even if I had none of the fancy equipment, the only limiting factor would have been my computer’s processing power to run all these programs at once, and I would have figured it out.

I’m a perfectionist bound and determined to fix my audio, but I didn’t hear any complaints when it was jank, and I’m learning all this because the whole process, not just the gameplay, is just so fun and fascinating.

[yuta-nakamots]

Dive Into You - L.Haechan (Teaser)

Pairing - Boyfriend!Haechan x University!AFAB Reader

Genre(s) - Fluff, University!AU (Smut to be included in the full fic)

Warning(s) - none for this teaser but there will be lots for the smut in the full fic lol

Summary - After a whirlwind semester, Haechan sweeps you away on a surprise getaway after finals are over. Between salty kisses and soft-spoken promises, you both begin to realize that Fridays mark more than just the end of the week, they mark the beginning of something new. 

Teaser Word Count - 1.1k

Author’s Note - Happy early birthday to Haechan! 

Taglist - @k-vanity @cosyhomenet @neocity-net @k-films @dinonuguaegi @tinyzen @fancypeacepersona (leave a comment or send an ask to join the taglist!)

Written for the Resonance Beach Collab originally hosted by @loeycity. Part of the K-Films Summer Event 2025 hosted by @k-films. Also part of my NCT Dream: Seven Days Collection. 

Now playing: Dive Into You - NCT Dream, Bahama - aespa

You first met Haechan in a music theory class halfway through the semester. You were taking it for your degree, as was he, though he hadn’t managed to show up to a class thus far because of his busy idol career. On his day off, he finally attended class for the first time, slipping into the back row of the lecture hall ten minutes late, wearing sunglasses indoors and a hoodie too big for the late-spring weather. Yet no one batted an eye. That’s the thing about university, you could be a celebrity or a sleep-deprived caffeine gremlin and still get away with everything as long as you looked miserable enough. 

He sat beside you, even though the rest of the row was empty. “Your notes looked better than mine,” he remarked. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you even enrolled in this class?”

He grinned, teeth flashing beneath the shadow of his hood. “Technically.”

“Technically,” you repeated, unimpressed, as you angled your notebook away from him. 

“Come on,” he whined, nudging your elbow with his. “The midterm is next week, I haven’t studied, and my manager thinks I’m watching video lectures at home right now. Help a guy out?”

You sighed, already sliding your notes a little closer. “If I get caught helping you cheat, you better buy me lunch.”

“Deal,” he agreed, a little too quickly. “And maybe a song.” 

“A song?” You questioned.

“You’ll see.”

Your friendship with Haechan started just like that. A few shared notes, a couple late-night study sessions in the campus café when he had time off in his schedule. He hummed next to you while you worked on your laptop, occasionally changing songs halfway through the phrase just to annoy you. You quickly learned that when he wasn’t on stage, he was a menace with too many inside jokes, an alarming stash of memes, and a knack for making your cheeks hurt from laughing. 

The first time you let him into your apartment, he tripped over cables hooked up to music equipment. He made it up to you by immediately assisting in layering harmonies onto the half-finished chorus of a demo track you made. “This would sound so good with a weird falsetto ghost vocal,” he commented, already recording himself singing off your cheap microphone like it was a stadium stage. 

Somehow, you didn’t mind because somehow, his chaos just fit with yours. You made music together, half as a joke, half because it felt right. You teased him about his idol life, and he teased you about your messy desktop and how seriously you took your plugins. He never stopped talking, but you never wanted him to. Somewhere between 3AM laughter, breathless studio nights, and his fingers brushing yours over a keyboard, you stopped writing love songs about people who didn’t exist. 

One night, when your midterm projects were due and sleep felt like a forgotten luxury, he popped by your apartment with fast food and insisted on ‘helping’ you mix your final track. The ‘help’ amounted to him curling up on a chair next to you with a can of soda and randomly hitting keys on your MIDI keyboard while proclaiming it to be ‘art’. 

You swatted his hand away from your laptop for what had to be the tenth time. “You’re going to make me fail.” 

“I’m inspiring you,” he countered, leaning over your shoulder to peer at your project window. “See, this part? Needs more chaos.” 

“You are chaos.”

He laughed, dropping his chin to your shoulder. “I’m glad you finally noticed.”

You turned to look at him, a comeback ready, but the look on his face made the words freeze in your throat. You didn’t realize until that moment just how badly you wanted to kiss him, his lips looking so full and soft mere inches from you. Your breath caugh,t and Haechan heard, but didn’t move away. 

“If you keep looking at me like that,” he said quietly, the usual teasing in his voice softened by something more sincere, “I’m going to think you like me.”

Your eyes flickered to his. “What if I do?”

The words hung there, suspended in the space between your breath and his. You weren’t sure who leaned in first, but suddenly the distance didn’t exist. His lips met yours in a kiss that tasted like soda and secrets you didn’t want to keep anymore. It was gentle, slow, and careful, like neither of you wanted to break whatever this was turning into. 

When Haechan pulled away, his eyes searched yours. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, his usual bravado stripped away. 

You swallowed, heart thudding in your chest, and your brain fighting with every reason why this shouldn’t have happened. “Haechan,” you started hesitantly. “You’re…you. And I’m just me. This isn’t right.”

He tilted his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Do you think I don’t know that?” You blinked. “I’ve thought about this, all the reasons it could go wrong. But then I think about how you save lecture notes for me, how you roll your eyes at me, but still tolerate me when I make a bad joke. I think about how I’ve never heard music the same since I first met you.” You looked down at your hands, the weight of reality pressing against the lightness you felt just seconds ago. “Hey.” He reached for your hand. “I can’t promise it’ll be perfect, but I can promise I’ll show up. For you, for this, for us.” 

Your eyes meet his again. There was no cockiness there, just quiet determination and something you realized had been growing behind all his jokes and late-night harmonies. It was real, terrifying, beautiful affection. You nodded slowly, lips drawing up into a small smile. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He echoed, eyes widening. 

“But if I end up in a dating scandal, you better write me a hit breakup song.”

He laughed, his fingers lacing through yours. “Deal. But I’m aiming for a love song first.” And somehow, it felt like the beginning of one. 

Your relationship didn’t erupt like the drop of a chorus, it eased in like a warm synth line, subtle but impossible to ignore. Somewhere in the haze of long nights and low battery percentages, between split headphones and shared playlists, Haechan became the rhythm you moved to without even realizing it.

[turn3tifosi]

how abt a pepe college fanfic >< like u developing romantic feelings for e/o while doing a project by pair together hehe love ur works!!!

did i fall in love (with my partner)??

college!pepe marti x project partner!reader

masterlist

You had heard a lot about Pepe before you met him. Whispers of his kindness and undeniable charm circulated through the campus, but nothing could have prepared you for the reality. The first time you saw him, standing by the entrance of the library, his thick, dark hair catching the light just so, you understood immediately why everyone seemed so in love with him.

The professor’s voice echoes in your mind as you walk towards him, repeating the instructions for your paired project. It’s a critical part of your grade, and your stomach is a jumble of nerves. As you approach, Pepe looks up and smiles, a genuine, warm expression that seems to light up his entire face.

“Hey, you must be my partner,” he says, extending his hand. His grip is firm but gentle, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. “I’m Pepe.”

“Yeah, I’m… uh, I’m really looking forward to working with you,” you manage to say, hoping you don’t sound as flustered as you feel.

As you and Pepe sat across from each other in the library, laptops open and textbooks scattered, the air was charged with a mix of tension and focus. You'd been paired together for this semester-long project in your college literature class, and while you initially thought it would be a breeze, you hadn't anticipated how distracting Pepe's smile could be.

"So, what's the plan for tackling this?" you asked, trying to keep your tone professional, despite the warmth that spread through you whenever Pepe looked your way.

He leaned in slightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he explained his ideas. Pepe was more than just good-looking; he was genuinely passionate about the subject matter, and his enthusiasm was infectious. You found yourself drawn to his insights and the thoughtful way he articulated his points.

As the weeks went by, you spent more time together, discussing literature, debating interpretations, and slowly unraveling layers of each other's personalities. Pepe was surprisingly witty, matching your sass with a playful banter that kept you on your toes. It was refreshing to find someone who could challenge you intellectually while also making you laugh.

One evening, while proofreading each other's sections of the project, you glanced up to find Pepe watching you intently. "What?" you asked, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks.

He smiled softly, shaking his head. "Nothing. Just realizing how well we work together."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Yeah, yeah. Don't get all sentimental on me now."

Pepe chuckled, his gaze lingering a moment longer before returning to his laptop. "Seriously though, thanks for being an awesome partner."

The words hung in the air, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of something unfamiliar in your chest. Maybe it was the late nights spent arguing over thesis statements or the way he always seemed to know when you needed a coffee break, but you were starting to realize that your feelings for Pepe were more than just admiration for his intellect and charm.

As the semester progressed, so did your feelings for Pepe. What started as admiration for his intellect and charm blossomed into something deeper. You found yourself eagerly anticipating your study sessions together, relishing every moment of shared laughter and intellectual debate.

One rainy afternoon, you found yourselves holed up in the campus café, seeking refuge from the downpour outside. Pepe was animatedly explaining a complex literary theory, his eyes alight with passion. You listened intently, captivated not just by his words but by the earnestness with which he spoke.

"You know," he said suddenly, looking at you with a hint of uncertainty in his gaze, "I've really enjoyed working on this project with you. It's been... surprisingly fun."

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "Yeah, who knew analyzing obscure texts could be this entertaining?"

Pepe chuckled, his smile lighting up his face. "It's not just the texts. It's... well, it's you. You make it fun."

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, the noise of the café seemed to fade into the background. There was something in Pepe's tone, something that hinted at wanting something more than what you two had currently. Could it be that he felt the same way?

Before you could muster a response, a notification chimed on your phone, ruining the moment. It was a reminder about an upcoming event on campus—an open mic night. You glanced at Pepe, an idea forming in your mind.

"Hey, there's an open mic night happening this Friday," you said casually, trying to keep your voice steady despite the sudden surge of nerves. "Would you... maybe want to go together?"

Pepe's eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his features before a slow smile spread across his face. "Yeah, I'd like that," he replied softly. "I'd really like that."

And just like that, amidst the clatter of coffee cups and the hum of voices around you, something shifted. The project that brought you together had become the catalyst for your potential romantic relationship.

As the weeks passed, your bond with Pepe grew stronger. You discovered shared interests beyond academia, from music tastes to favorite hiking spots. Each moment spent together felt effortless, as if you had known each other far longer than just a semester.

On the night of the open mic event, you found yourselves seated in the front row, fingers intertwined as you watched students take the stage one by one. When it was your turn to perform—a poem you had written during one of your late-night study breaks—Pepe's loud cheers from the audience kept a wide smile on your face.

Afterward, as you walked back to campus under a sky speckled with stars, Pepe stopped suddenly, turning to face you.

"I'm really glad we met," he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight of sincerity that made your heart swell.

"Me too," you replied softly, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from his face. 

And as you stood there, under the gentle glow of campus streetlights, you knew that with Pepe by your side, the chapters of your own story were just beginning. And you couldn’t wait to read them.

Author's note: ty sm for the request!! i was actually thinking about college pepe and he just seems like the guy who would study literature (as one of his minor subjects) and talk about it all the time , because i read @httpiastri's college!pepe au's and so pepe's forever going to be a STEM guy in my head.

[hawkdisaster]

Bucky love Bob. Bob love Bucky. And the two of them are idiots in love.

Characters : Bucky Barnes, Robert "Bob" Reynolds Triggers warnings : None Words count : 2 659 words

(Credit goes to saradika-graphics)

Starry Night & hot chocolate

Ava doesn't consider herself stupid, and she's certainly not blind. So she's convinced : there's something between Bucky and Bob. With her fork, she stabs rather than pricks a piece of pancake from her plate before bringing it to her mouth, far too concentrated on watching her two teammates to pay even a semblance of attention to her plate. There's something between Bucky and Bob, she's convinced of it. When she entered the Tower's communal kitchen this morning, eager to have a solid breakfast because she was so hungry, they were already there. So busy preparing pancakes for a whole regiment and so engrossed in a most fascinating conversation that she'd almost had to shout to get their attention and get some pancakes. But she can't help smiling when she sees how close these two idiots are to each other, far too close. Bucky says something, Bob starts laughing, and a big smile spreads across Bucky's lips. It's... cute, and she means it. But if there's nothing going on between them, she's willing to self-condemn herself to complimenting Walker for the rest of her days. It's a prospect that makes her shiver with horror from head to toe, even if the idea of upsetting Walker by complimenting him - is she sincere ? Is she lying ? - amuses her more than she'd like to admit.

— Oooh, do we get a pancake breakfast ?

— Yes ! Good morning Yelena, good morning Cap... Sam, Bob greeted them both with a smile. Yelena's hair is wet, a sign that she's just got out of the shower after her morning training session. Sam, on the other hand, graciously accepts the plate full of pancakes handed to him by Bucky. Sam Wilson in the Watchtower, or rather, the Avengers's Tower. That's new too. Ava passes around a piece of pancake with a sip of orange juice. Bucky had been stubborn, but he'd finally managed to patch things up with the new Captain America. And while their reconciliation had not only led to the ‘freedom’ of the Thunderbolts, now free to act independently and no longer for the US government, it had also led to the merging of their respective teams into one. Ava can't deny it, it's a good thing things have worked out : it's nice not to feel like a child being forced to put up with Mum and Dad's divorce, and Valentina's face at the news that their team could now do without her services without her being able to do anything about it, on pain of another impeachment attempt by Congress, had been most memorable.

— Any plans for today ? asks Yelena as she drizzles a thick layer of maple syrup over her pancakes. Ava pours herself another glass of orange juice :

— There's nothing planned for me.

— I've got a few errands to run and a training session at the end of the morning. Interested Buck ?

— Sorry, I'm taking Bob to see some of the museums in town.

Ava raises an eyebrow as Sam asks Bob which museums he and Bucky are planning to visit. Since when was her team leader - she was sure Bucky shared that title with Captain America here - a fan of museums ? She shrugged before swallowing her last piece of pancake. In the end, what does it matter ? Her teammates are grown men, free to come and go as they please without having to undergo a full interrogation.

— In fact, maybe we should get ready to go ? There are still some pancakes in the fridge for Joaquin, Alexei and John if they want some, says Bob before accompanying Bucky to the lift. And when the doors open and Bucky steps aside to let the youngest in first, Ava is sure to see her hand slide down Bob's back before the doors close.

— And here I thought Bucky only had a thing for blonds...

Sentry is blond. Ava finishes her drink in one gulp. So she was right, there really is something between Bucky and Bob.

He hadn't managed to fall asleep. So, as usual, rather than tossing and turning in his bed, he had gone to his almost customary armchair in the living room. His armchair, a brown monstrosity unearthed in an antiques shop - if absolutely nobody in the team had been really surprised to learn that John was a passionate American history buff, they had all been surprised to learn that he loved going to antiques shops to find something to satisfy his passion - but so comfortable that he loved settling in it to read a book, take a nap or just contemplate the city as his armchair had been set up so close to the windows. With a sigh, he curled up a little more under his blanket, enjoying the warmth and softness of the object. The blanket was a gift from Yelena, so he couldn't help but adore it. Tonight, however, neither the warmth nor the softness of his favourite blanket could soothe him to sleep. He blinks, again and again. The lights of the city below burn his eyes, but he can't fall asleep.

- Tough night, isn't it ?

He jolts, much harder than he'd like to admit, when he hears Bucky's voice raised behind him. In the almost darkened living room, the former soldier is an imposing, almost frightening presence. But his smile is a little sad. Far too resigned. So Bob lifts part of his plaid, accompanying his silent invitation to join him with a shy smile, more than happy to make room for Bucky when the latter joins him in his armchair. And the next morning, when Bob is awakened by Alexei's powerful voice bringing him coffee, he is once again alone in his armchair. As if Bucky had never been there. But the memory of falling asleep with a warm body pressed against his remains unforgettable.

- A dollar for your thoughts ?

The question brings him back to the present, and is accompanied by a huge mug of hot chocolate topped with a little whipped cream. They're both in Bucky's flat, Bucky still paying the rent for some reason Bob doesn't know and doesn't see any point in asking. The cup of chocolate - he's never been able to appreciate the taste of coffee - is hot but not burning, and it warms his hands pleasantly. The hot chocolate is delicious, like a wonderful reward after this long but exciting morning spent wandering around the museums his boyfriend had taken him to see. Bucky had even bought him a hoodie from the Brooklyn Museum - he loves baggy and comfortable clothes - and a sketchbook of Vincent Van Gogh's ‘Starry Night’ from the Museum of Modern Art. Bob didn't consider himself very good at drawing, but he had found that putting some of his thoughts on paper, whether writing or drawing, helped him a lot. He allows himself a few moments to savour his first sip before answering the question with a smile:

- Our first night together.

These words brought a big smile to Bucky's lips, and Bob felt himself melting at the sight. A fool in love, that's what he is.

- I have to admit, you're a pretty comfy chair and an excellent hot water bottle.

- Sentry gets his powers from the sun, so it's only natural that our body temperature should be so hot.

Bob feels his smile falter, just a little. Being a man-sized hot water bottle, managing to do a few chores on his ‘good but not great’ days and getting his ass kicked in hand-to-hand training is all he's good for. Training... If Bucky, Yelena and John had all agreed that he knew how to hit - the kind of experience he'd been forced to acquire when he'd found himself forced to sleep on the streets and sometimes forced to come to blows to protect the few things he cared about - all three had also agreed to take it in turns to train him so that he could defend himself without risking The Void taking control. The youngest felt his cheeks heating up. If his training sessions with Yelena or John resembled in every way what hand-to-hand training should look like, most of his training sessions with Bucky usually ended with a completely different kind of hand-to-hand training. A completely different kind of training that left him sore but fully satisfied every time.

Bob gasped, his chest rising and falling at an accelerated rate as he tried to catch his breath. He tries to speak, but the words choke in his throat. He's so thirsty... Bucky is leaning over him, his hands clasped around his wrists - Bob is far too tired to even try to free himself - and, to add insult to injury, he doesn't seem the least bit out of breath. Super soldiers and their endurance...

- You're doing pretty well. You managed one minute and twenty-three seconds today.

One minute and twenty-three seconds is... pitiful. Bob can't help but feel frustrated. How is he supposed to become an effective member of their team if he can't even last more than a minute and twenty-three seconds in close combat! He knows that nobody's asking him to be as good as Yelena or Bucky himself, just to be able to defend himself, but he knows that his poor skills make him a very poor fighter.

— This sucks... I have to do much better than this.

— And you will. Bob, don't let it go to your head, okay ? You can only get better, and that will come the more you practice. The question is... how are you going to get out of this position if your opponent is stronger than you ?

Sentry is probably stronger than you. He thinks those words, but he can't get them out. How are you going to get out of this position if your opponent is stronger than you ? OK, so his over-confident, bright side might be stronger than Bucky, but Bob isn't. And if Bob can't get out of this position, then he's not strong enough. And if Bob can't get out of this one fair and square... His body reacts far faster than his brain can contemplate the idea that, perhaps, what he's about to do is going to land him a punch in the face. Bob stands up, as much as he can with his wrists still pinned to the floor... and puts his lips to Bucky's, taking advantage of the surprise effect to reverse their positions a few seconds later.

— ...

If he wasn't afraid of taking one in the face, he'd probably be tempted to laugh at the shocked look on the face of the former (?) congressman, now lying on the floor.

— Bucky, I'm sorry ! I'm so sorry ! I know you're not supposed to kiss people without their consent, and it's quite likely that you prefer women and... !

His apology died in his throat, along with the perfectly well-founded - and entirely deserved! - of taking one in the face because Bucky had just kissed him back !

— To tell you the truth, I've been dreaming of kissing you for weeks, but I don't know how to go about it without scaring you, smiled the latter, and Bob felt his heart quicken a little more, as happy as he was relieved. That said, it was a cunning riposte Bob... but well played. Your technique still lacks subtlety, but it's pretty good.

— So teach me to do better.

He may have been a poor hand-to-hand combatant, but neither John, Yelena nor Bucky himself could deny that he always paid close attention during his training sessions.

- Bob ? (Bucky's flesh hand rests on his shoulder.) I'm in love with you for you. Not for the equivalent of the Sun or absolute Void, both of which are a part of you. I'm in love with you for you and only you.

Oh. Is that... nice ? Bucky's smile is soft, reassuring, and Bob has only one desire : to slap himself. His boyfriend has just made one of the most beautiful declarations of love anyone has ever made to him - which is pretty easy, since no one has ever proclaimed their love for him - and he still finds a way to doubt it.

— Prove it ?

Bob regrets his words as soon as he utters them. But instead of Bucky taking offense - and he probably has every reason in the world to do so - he gently forces Bob to stand up, and soon the young man is on the super-soldier's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Straight to the bedroom.

— You're okay Bob ?

The question was almost pointless, as one look at the young man was enough to give him his answer. His companion - it still feels strange, in a good way of course, to call Bob that, but the transition from teammate to boyfriend has been so easy that loving him has become for Bucky as natural as breathing - is leaning against one of the elevator walls, silent but with an almost blissful smile on his lips. Bob looks happy, and boy, does Bucky love that. Bob looks happy, and Bucky feels stupidly proud to be the cause of it. It's nice to be the cause of a smile for once, and not the cause of screams or tears. It's nice to be in love - an fool in love, that's all Bucky is - and to have with him what he'd always hoped to have with Steve, but never dared to take the first step, too afraid to ruin everything and lose the friendship of his best friend since childhood. But Steve's gone, and Bob's not Steve.

— Here you are, at last, for movies and pizzas night ! Alexei greets them as the elevator doors open. The Red Guardian points to the rest of the team already seated here and there. While John occupied an armchair opposite to Sam's, Joaquin, Yelena and Ava were seated side by side on one of the sofas. Ava's face lit up with a big smile as they arrived :

— See Walker, I told you they're together so you owe me twenty-five bucks !

— What ? Fucking hell...

If Ava seemed very pleased with herself as she pocketed the few bills handed to her by John, who himself seemed more exasperated at losing his money than anything else, Bucky was... offended.

— You bet on Bob and me ?

— I already knew, announced Yelena, busy choosing a movie on the giant screen. And Bucky, if you break my little brother's heart, I'll kick your ass.

Understood, the message had gotten through.

— Sam confirmed my doubts this morning, Ava continued. John didn't believe it, so he wanted to bet there was nothing between you.

— You already knew that ?! Give me back my money ! Walker snarled, abandoning his spot to try and grab Ava, but she shifted out of the way and laughed, waving the bills near her face like a fan.

— Walker ?

It was coming from Bob. He looked at the other super soldier with surprise and a little fear.

— What ? Just because I was in the army doesn't mean I'm a fucking homophobe ! I more or less don't give a shit if Bucky's on top...

— He's not... He's not always on top..., Bob stammered, his cheeks flushed. And even Bucky felt his cheeks heating up.

— Thank you for that extremely important clarification Bob, Walker laughed, before receiving a cushion in the face, cutting short his hilarity. Yelena.

— Bob and Bucky are a couple, the sky is blue, the grass is green and we've got movies to watch, so everyone settle in before the pizzas get cold.

The Black Widow stared at everyone in the room, daring them to say anything. And no one dared say a word. Bob barely bothered to put down his day's purchases in a corner before joining Bucky's arms on one of the sofas still free.

— On the other hand, if you start making out in front of us, I'll make you eat my shield.

— Shut up, Walker.

Bob's laugh was the most beautiful sound in the world.

[hwaslayer]

project: make you love me (jyh) | eleven.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader x park seonghwa

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 3.2k

—chapter content/warnings: sawrrry this is a bit of a filler chapter 🤠 more development between these two, cussing/mature language, another seonghwa flashback, small kisses hehe, these two are still shy (but so in luv 😙), making out, naps with yuyu <33

"Yunho." You whisper as you tap his chest.

"That's me." He says deeply, huskily; it makes you giggle to yourself a bit. 

"Wake up." You pout as his eyes slowly flutter open.

"Time is it?"

"Around 5AM."

"Goooood lord." He shuts his eyes again and pulls you closer. "Absolutely not."

"Yunho." You whine. "Let's go watch the sunrise."

"Y/N, you are very cute and I would do anything to make you happy." He says groggily. "But, it's only been about 3 hours since we fell asleep. Don't you wanna get more sleep?"

"I've tried sleeping more but I can't."

"You really wanna watch the sunrise?" 

"Yes." He opens and eye to peek down at you— indeed, you are very, very awake. He can't help but chuckle a bit because you're giving him that cute smile while tucked underneath his arm.

"Okay then."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He stretches a bit and yawns before fully waking himself up. "Just need to get dressed. You don't have any clothes to change into? It's probably freezing outside."

"Gonna need to stop by my apartment before we go."

"Okay then, let's get going." But before you can get up, Yunho gently puts his arm in front of you to prevent you from moving any further and squints his eyes at you, as if he was observing you very closely.

"What?" You ask him, eyes wide and alert.

"Damn, you really are serious about this." You snort and playfully hit him on the arm.

"Please, I've never been able to catch the sunrise." You pout.

"And you wanna do this with me?" He chuckles a bit.

"Of course I do." You give him a small smile and he nods.

"Okay then." You watch as he gets up first to stretch again, walking over to his closet to find you a jacket to throw on for this spontaneous journey you crazily have him agreeing to.

The tiny trek back to your apartment wasn't too bad, being that Yunho's jacket had added a protective layer and shielded you from getting too cold. You could see your breath in the morning, crisp hair; the sky still dark and patiently waiting for the sun to rise. You quietly step into your apartment, dashing into your room to grab a change of clothes and to wash up a bit better before heading out. Yunho sits on your couch and waits, scrolling through his phone to find random screenshots Mingi had sent him from the party last night.

mingi: dude last night was wild

mingi: did you end up leaving with y/n? i cant remember.. is she okay?

yunho: yeah, she's good.

mingi: did you guys hook up? how was it? 😏

Yunho furrows his brows and chuckles a bit, responding to Mingi quickly to get his nose out of his business— because he knows this is going to be relayed to Seonghwa. Not that he cares, but he'd like to keep Seonghwa guessing a bit more. 

yunho: we just chilled, relax. lol

mingi: i have to tell you about last night

mingi: but are you fr? you guys didn't hook up?

Yunho's eyes shift to the hallway when he hears a door creak open, a wild Soobin popping out of the frame.

"Oh." Soobin sleepily walks out with rough bedhead, eyes barely open when he heads to the kitchen to grab water. "Yunho, hey." He says sleepily with a wave. 

"Hey." Yunho says as he watches him pop open a water bottle and take a few swigs. 

"Feel like shit." He mumbles before pointing towards the bathroom. "Y/N in there?" Yunho nods. At that moment, you quietly slip out, surprised to see Soobin up and walking.

"The heck?" You giggle seeing his current state and playfully ruffle his hair.

"Shut up. Where are you going?"

"To watch the sunrise."

"That's crazy. You let her talk you into this?" Soobin looks at Yunho, and Yunho gives him a simple, pursed smile in return. "Goodluck. I'm going back to bed." He mumbles before lazily waving at you and Yunho, slipping himself back his shared room with Seungmin. You shift your attention back to Yunho, slowly walking towards him in your newly changed outfit. He thinks you're the cutest— dressed in your leggings, those legwarmers, uggs.

That oversized, olive-colored jacket.

The thick scarf wrapped around your neck.

Your cream beanie.

"Speak now or forever hold your peace." You mutter and Yunho laughs, standing on his two feet.

"Come on. We gotta get there to catch the sunrise in time."

"Get where?" You lock up the front door before following Yunho to his car. 

"I think I know the perfect place to catch the sunrise." He stands near the opened passenger door, patiently waiting for you to get inside. You giggle to yourself before hopping in; settling into the seat just as Yunho sits in the driver's seat and immediately turns on the heat. 

"Sorry."

"For?" Yunho raises his brow.

"Dragging you out of bed." He chuckles.

"I mean, truthfully, I can feel myself dying by the minute." You playfully smack him on the bicep, making him laugh a bit louder this time.

"Yunho, don't play. I feel bad. Let's just—"

"I'm kidding, Y/N. I meant it when I said I'd do anything to make you happy." 

"But, I want you to be happy, too."

"I am." He gives you a small smile before caressing your chin. "Promise."

"Okay, Jeong Yunho. I'm taking that to heart." He chuckles.

It isn't too long before Yunho's pulling into a lot of a nearby hiking trail. He reassures you that there's a shorter path that'll take you up the hill, where there is a bench you can sit to enjoy the view and catch the sunrise. You let him take the lead to guide you on the right path, but he stops when he finds the coffee cart nearby. The coffee cart sits near the small welcome center, lights on the overhead illuminating the cart brightly during this dark morning.

"Want hot chocolate? Coffee?"

"Ou, hot chocolate sounds bomb."

"It does. I'll grab us some." He jogs over to the cart, smiling at the middle-aged man who is patiently waiting for time to pass, for more customers to arrive. He's quick to fix the two cups of hot chocolate, Yunho walking back over within the next 5 minutes. "Here. Drink up while it's warm."

"Thank you, Yunho." He smiles, walking alongside you— keeping a bit of a lead to guide you and show you the way. "I don't think I even knew about this place."

"Hm. It's a hidden gem, really. Everyone usually goes to the busier hiking trail nearby."

"Do you come here often?"

"Nope." Yunho chuckles. "But, my aunt took me and my mom here when they visited awhile ago."

"Sweet. I love how you're close to them. I hope I get to meet them one day." You say without really thinking about how it sounds, or how it comes off. When you do realize, you shoot Yunho a look and apologize for having assumed where you two stood. "Oh, I mean, you know. If they happen to be on campus again and what not—" Yunho laughs.

"You'll get to meet them outside of campus. Don't worry." You shyly blush and break eye contact, looking out at the path ahead. It's actually not that far of a walk, seeing that the bench Yunho had mentioned was only a few feet up ahead. It's perched on the side of the hill that overlooks the other side of town, with the trail continuing on past it. Both you and Yunho take your seats, sitting close enough to feed off of each other's body heat.

It's comforting.

You're perfectly content sitting next to Yunho, watching the sun slowly begin to rise.

"There's the sun." Yunho lets out a breath before sipping on his coffee. "We made it in time."

"Yay!" You look up at him again. "Can't believe we're catching the sunrise. You really are the best."

"Just want you to be happy because you deserve it, all of it." Yunho says, firmly believing in his own statement. He's not that great with affection and words, but you absolutely deserved way better than Park Seonghwa.

He couldn't even reach the bare minimum.

"You're too good to me."

"I'm being honest." You sip on your hot chocolate in peace, occasionally tracing the lid with your finger. It's quiet as the rest of the sun begins to slowly show itself more and more past the horizon. Eventually, Yunho is the first to break that silence and ask: "Can I ask you something? You don't have to respond either if you don't want to."

"Of course."

"Has Seonghwa tried reaching out to you?" You shake your head.

"Absolutely not. And he shouldn't."

"Hm." He hums. "So, you don't see yourself going back to him?"

"No, Yunho. Why would I put myself through that again, right?"

♣︎ FLASHBACK

"Hwa, wait." Seonghwa pauses in his steps just as he's about to make his way to the car. He cocks a brow up, watching as you take a picture of the sunset.

"What're you doing?"

"Isn't it pretty?"

"I guess? It's like any other sunset." He shrugs. You continue to snap a few pictures, making the impatience grow in Seonghwa a bit. He huffs, shifting his weight from one foot to another before continuing off to the car. "Y/N, come on? I just wanna get home." 

"I'm just taking one more picture."

"The food you asked for is gonna get cold." You roll your eyes and waddle over to the passenger side, sliding into the seat before strapping your seatbelt on. It's a quiet drive for the most part, Seonghwa already annoyed with the fact that you asked him to stop by for some food post-practice. You don't really care much, though. Overall, you had a good day with your friends and you weren't gonna let him ruin it entirely.

"Seonghwa."

"Hm?" He hums, eyes still glued to the road ahead.

"We should catch the sunrise one day." He snorts.

"For what? What's up with you and the sun?"

"I just like it. It's pretty."

"Baby, I can barely get my ass up for class. You're up earlier than me. You should do it."

"I want to do it with you, though." He laughs and it kinda hits you right in the feels, hits you right in the pit of your stomach. 

You try, and you try, and it goes nowhere.

You don't understand why you do this to yourself.

"You don't have to do everything with me, Y/N. Don't wait for me. You should do it if you wanna."

"Yeah." Is all you respond with, nibbling on your bottom lip hearing yet another rejection from Seonghwa.

♣︎ END

"I mean, you had your good days and bad days with him, too."

"I know. He's just in the past now, though. Something I definitely want to move on from and keep him where he belongs in the past. I think he just did more harm than good, and I hated feeling so small and replaceable to him. Like nothing."

"I get you." He says.

"I have no intentions of going back." You give him a tiny, toothless smile in response to his reaction. "Promise."

"Okay. I'll hold onto every word of yours." It's quiet again while the two of you continue to watch. This time, after an or so, it's your turn to break the silence; pondering about the sudden question Yunho asked.

He must be worried, right?

Worried that you'd crawl back to Seonghwa, fall into his games, traps.

You get it. You get Yunho.

Seonghwa is only a mere passing thought at this point.

"Yunho."

"Hm?" He sips on his coffee

"I know I was kinda drunk, but I meant what I said on the phone while I was away."

"What did you say?" He smirks, subtly biting onto the lid of his cup while his eyes are glued onto yours. You giggle and shake your head, taking a sip of your hot chocolate before looking back out at the view.

"Nothing." You tease back.

"Aw, really? Like that?" He gently nudges you with a small chuckle. "I guess you didn't really mean it, then." He shrugs.

"Hey." You whine. "I did mean it." You look at him with a pout and he continues to smirk that smirk of his until you give in. God, he was becoming your weakness. "I meant it when I said I like you, Yunho." His smile grows.

"I meant it when I said I like you, too."

"I'm glad we're on the same page, then." He nods.

"I feel a bit silly explaining this, but last night.." He lets out a breath. "I hope you don't feel like you did anything wrong because you didn't. I just really wanna do things right with you. I meant that, too."

"I know." You look down at his free hand dug into his pocket. You hesitate a bit, but you eventually slip your hand into his pocket and lace your finger with his— a gesture that makes his heart melt and adore you even more. 

The both of you sit there while quietly sipping on your drinks and watching the rest of the sun rise from its slumber. It's still cold, and you can still see your breath in the air. But Yunho is warm next to you; his hand is warm, his company is warm.

"So, am I off the hook with reading your lit reviews?" He teases again, making you laugh.

"No, please. I still need your help for the rest of the semester if it doesn't bother you."

"I'm kidding. It doesn't. I wanna help." You lean into his arm a bit more, trying to recover with his warmth. "Are you cold?"

"A bit."

"Do you wanna head back then? Sun is up." You nod.

"Yeah, I think I'm good. Thank you again for watching the sunrise with me." You look up at him, planting a kiss on his cheek. However, before you could pull back completely, you feel Yunho gently tug on your hand— signaling for you to stay close. 

So, you do.

And Yunho dips forward to give you a sweet, chaste kiss on the lips. You giggle and bite your lip when you catch how red the tip of his ears have become.

"That's better." He chimes in before standing, keeping your hand laced with his in his pocket. "What are you gonna do when we get back, though? Are you gonna hang out with your roommates?" The both of you toss your empty cups into the nearby trash can.

"Maybe, yeah. Take a nap." You chuckle. "What about you?"

"Same since I feel myself crying for sleep now." You laugh. "Do you wanna nap at my place?" He looks at you before clearing his throat. "I mean, totally up to you. I don't mean to be forward but just wanted to put the option out there. B-but, don't feel—"

"I'd love to nap with you." You blush.

"I swear I won't take any more time away from Chaery." 

"She'll be okay." You giggle. But, just as you reach the bottom of the hill, your phone starts to beep from incoming texts.

"You sure about that?" Yunho smirks when he sees you flash your screen his way; Chaery's name popping up a few times.

chaery: shit it is so early but i swear i heard you come in earlier. did you??

chaery: i'm also kinda bleh from the alchy last night. so my bad if not, hehe. i guess you're still with yunho?!

chaery: i'm gna go back to sleep but come back soon. imy. but i hope you're having the time of your life with your man <33 get it girl!!

"She's okay. Promise. She's just wondering where I'm at and if it was me that walked in earlier." You try to text back using your free hand, letting your bestfriend know you'd be at Yunho's for a bit longer.

you: it was me, sorry for waking you, love. i am with yunho! i'll prob head back in a few hours. hehe get some more sleep! 

"Y/N." You tuck your phone back into your pocket and look up at Yunho.

"Yes?"

"Are you sure? About the nap?"

"Yes. Unless you take your invite back." 

"Of course not." Yunho briefly lets go of your hand to open the passenger door. You slide in, watching him jog over and start the car to get the heat going as soon as possible. He takes a moment to get settled before he's driving off, his hand open and resting on the middle console— waiting for you to lock your hand with his again. 

"Hope you don't mind me borrowing your clothes all the time. I still have to wash the stuff I wore to bed." He chuckles.

"It's okay, I don't mind."

"Is Yeosang up already?" Yunho looks at the time on his dash.

"Probably not. There are rare days when he gets up early to gym or go for a run. But I doubt it after last night." 

"Is he dating anyone?" Your curiosity gets the best of you.

"Not that I know of. He hasn't had someone over in awhile."

"But.. he has?"

"You're cute." Yunho laughs. "He has. And to be honest, there are some moments I don't really wanna remember." You snort.

"Wow, was not expecting to hear that. Good for him."

"Yeah, he's a good guy. He deserves to have some fun sometimes. Plus, it's nice that he's away from the computer."

"That's true, too." You yawn, leaning your head near the window. "Okay, now I can't wait for that nap."

"You see?" Yunho laughs, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

The drive is a quick 20 minutes, with the rest of the ride falling silent besides Yunho humming along to the songs. You completely feel the exhaustion hit you as soon as Yunho pulls into the familiar lot. The both of you drag yourselves back upstairs and into the quiet apartment, padding into Yunho's room to change into another set of his comfy clothes. You opt for one of his longsleeves and joggers, slipping yourself back into the sheets with Yunho following shortly behind. He tucks you under the covers well before pulling you into his arms and letting you tuck your head near the crook of his neck.

"You're so warm." Yunho lets out a small, breathy laugh when he feels you shiver against him, adjusting his position and keeping you close.

"Feel better?" You look up at him and nod.

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me." He says softly, pausing in between his responses. "Y/N?"

"Mhm?"

"Can I kiss you again?"

"I'd like that." You giggle, watching as Yunho dips his head down to kiss you. You smile into the kiss when you realize he doesn't want to pull away— instead, chasing after your lips for another, and another;

And another.

Until the kiss deepens, the both of you indulging in each other through every bit, every second. His hand gives your side a gentle squeeze when he feels you bite onto his bottom lip and let out a breath in between kisses. But, even if the kiss feels like it continues to intensify, even if the fireworks grow with every move, every touch; there is no need, no push, to take things further. 

Just taking him in, as he is with you. 

At some point, Yunho slows down and is the first to pull back. His eyes remain on you though, his hand coming up to brush the hair away from your face. He gives you a tiny, toothless smile before pressing a sweet peck to your forehead, down to the tip of your nose;

To the corner of your lips.

"You're so pretty." He sleepily says, making you giggle and snuggle against him. "Let's sleep."

"Okay." You shut your eyes, slowly falling asleep to the sound of Yunho's soft breathing.

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @marsattacks @mxnsxngie @h-nji @mundayoonimnida @jalapeno-princess @nakiiko @asjkdk @kunikku @idkwgoh @kyeos4ng @agust-d2 @araknoid @bintificreads @primoppang @betray-the-light @aurorasjoongie @wineyoungie @yunholuvrsblog @mingigiggles @jaerisdiction @ignoretheskies @luminouskalopsia @naeviscall

[saphig-iawn]

Dress Shopping - A Session Story

This story is about a real session with real hypnosis.

A sweet darling goes out looking for a dress, but finds a boutique with a little more than just clothes.

Transcript below:

One of my darlings wanted a little story woven for her, a story that embodies everything she loves; feeling admired, being put on display, and a pretty, pretty dress. I had an excellent plan and we had quite a good amount of time to do it, she was oh so ready to be mine.

I brought her down into trance, taking the long scenic route. I brought her on a lovely walk through rolling countryside and then when she was fast asleep on my lap all soft and safe that was when I took a length of ribbon and wove it between her fingers and then wove it in her mind. The rolling countryside faded away into rainy streets. Old Victorian townhouses, tall and battered by the weather, towered over her, making her bundle into her coat even more. She dressed comfortably wrapped up in layers that were hidden underneath her pea coat, but she was wanting something different. She was looking for a pretty and beautiful dress. All of the shops that she trotted past didn’t seem to catch her eye until she spotted a little green boutique with beautiful dresses on display on mannequins in the window.

Her face lit up and she nervously pushed the door open but the ringing of a doorbell scared her a little and betrayed her stealthy entrance, announcing her presence to the owner. The owner turned around and greeted her with a beautiful smile. The girl wanted to burrow even deeper into comfortable clothes. The owner was so pretty, wearing a wonderful halterneck dress, in a beautiful green that shone in resplendent shades and highlights as she moved through the space. There were enough petticoats that made the dress stand out so perfectly. She felt herself blush in sight of the owner and meekly asked about finding something pretty. She regretted her choice of words, feeling a little out of her depth, but the owner gracefully walked over in high heels and pointed her to the arrangements of blouses, skirts, and even little playsuits. 

There were so many to choose from, beautiful fabrics, satins, silks, flowing sleeves, bows, frills, all of them is so pretty and so hard to choose between. Suddenly a clunk, hollow and plastic, rang out from the little door behind the desk and was followed by an exclamation. Being a helpful soul she asked out if everything was okay and peeked in through the door. She saw the owner cradling a mannequin that had a big crack across its blank face. She jumped to help, bringing the mannequin up and the owner thanked her so much. She was saying that she was bringing it downstairs to put a new dress that she had made on it and rather than bringing it down fully dressed and possibly damaging what she had made she thought it would be wiser to bring the mannequin down first.

“Would you like to see the dress?“ the owner asked brightly.

Words failing her she nodded, almost disappearing into her scarf and coat with shyness. The owner took her by the hand and whisked her upstairs. The room upstairs was quite different to the room downstairs. Up here was very clearly the owner’s creative space, half finished projects, inspiration boards, collages; the girl could feel the care that went into everything she saw downstairs. The owner was stood by a table, very proudly, and she beckoned the girl over. Even though the dress was laid out flat on the table the girl could see all of the beautiful decisions the owner had made in creating it. Long billowing sleeves with a tight cuff to accentuate the shoulders, a bow at the collar to bring focus, a wonderful green satin. The skirt was almost floor-length, perfectly measured to almost scrape the floor. It gripped her heart with how good it looked. The owner, with a glint in her eye, asked the girl, “would you like to try it on?“

The girl blushed deeply, the red in her cheeks became an excellent compliment to the green of the dress. She nodded, it was the only expression she could manage. Her heart was racing, her breaths were quick. She only wanted a small treat, and now she was fulfilling a dream of being someone’s little fashion project. The owner asked if she needed privacy and pointed to an ornate screen in the corner of the room and then left to tend to the mannequin downstairs. The girl hurried over as if the offer was a command and began to undress. Her comfy clothes pooled at her feet and something within her felt the need to neatly fold them and place them, her excitement bringing with it a curious but pleasant obedience. She peeked around the screen to see if she was still alone and with the coast clear she scurried over to the dress and put it on.

The dress fit her perfectly, every single cinch, every single billow, the way the fabric draped on her form was perfect. It felt almost like the dress was made for her. She twirled letting the skirt fan out in its fullest. She swayed her arms like a ballerina just to watch the sleeves billow and move. She hadn’t noticed that the owner came back. Not allowing the girl to feel embarrassment of being surprised this way, the owner swept up to the girl and began to tweak and zhuzh, little adjustments here and there. “You look beautiful!“ The owner said, gesturing with her finger for the girl to do another spin. That pleasant obedience sank in and the girl turned as if she were on a turntable. “You will look perfect!“

Will be perfect? What did she mean, will? The girl thought to herself.

She went to continue turning but found her feet stayed put. The skirt obscured her view of what was causing her to stick. Trying to save face she tried to move her feet in little ways but found they were not responding. No words rose from her throat to save her. How was she going to explain what she was feeling to the owner? It is not every day that someone’s feet just suddenly stop moving. The owner asked if everything is okay and a whimpered little affirmation squeaked from behind the girl’s lips, but she was now finding that her legs were no longer cooperating either. That was when the owner’s eyes lit up and gently lifted the skirt of the dress. In the mirror close by, the girl could see that her feet and her legs were turning to plastic. She looks to the owner in a bit of panic but there is something in her eyes that let her know it was all okay. Her fingers began to tingle and she tried to speak but instead felt her lips gently purse and freeze. Her words became gentle muffles that slowly silenced as her arms began to stiffen. In no time at all the girl was now a mannequin. A worry and a panic began to bubble inside her but they quickly began to quell as the owner’s eyes began to drink her in. She could feel her gaze it felt like a pleasant sunbeam on a cool summer’s day, it felt like the gentle but dominant touch of a hand in the small of her back guiding her forward. Her mind was awash with the heightened pleasure of being admired, of her dress being tweaked, so much so that she didn’t even notice that she had been brought downstairs. Any thought she had seemed to bend and soften into pretty little mannequin thoughts. It didn’t even remember being installed in the window. All it could think with those pretty little thoughts and how good the gazes felt on its body.

It was placed front and centre. Unbeknownst to the mannequin, a small crowd had already assembled waiting to see the owner’s latest creation. Having all of those spectators see it in its pretty new dress sent such pleasure through its body and mind. Like light refracting and turning to vibrant colour, it felt so alive being admired. Each person’s gaze felt like caring hands tracing all over its body. Every detail the owner had into the dress became a vessel for people enjoying the mannequin. Like a sweet marbled cake, its thoughts and memories soon became a kaleidoscope of indulgent moments. Streaks of adoration, gentle pockets of yearning, a warm and ever-present hum of enjoyment. 30 minutes can vary in feeling for so many people but for mannequins, especially this one, 30 minutes isn’t all that long. But it leaves a lasting impression, so much so that the mannequin didn’t even realise that it had been brought back upstairs. Soon the thoughts and sense memories began to fade into a gentle saccharine warm glow as the girl started to feel a little more herself again. Seemingly in reverse the hollow plastic began to return to how it used to be. Things felt hazy, woolly headed at first, like waking from an unexpected nap. The pretty thoughts turned to memories as her own internal voice found itself. She blinked with a great scrunching of her face, her eyes attempting to adjust. Noticing her head had fully turned back the owner beamed at the girl and said,

“Your work helped me get some orders for this very style of dress!”

The girl felt warm hands massaging the skin that used to be glossy white plastic. All of the tension was being worked away by the owner who was diligently making sure the spell was leaving no lasting affect. From behind her she heard the owner say,

“You’ll be paid, of course.” The girl couldn’t turn to see the owner’s face as her feet and legs were still stiff and plastic. “You did some excellent work after all.” the owner added with a cheeky chuckle. “You were only on display for a little bit, while the glue on the other mannequin was drying. You were such a good little helper.”

With the return to normal almost done, the owner brought her lips to the ear of the girl and whispered, “You can keep the dress, a little gift from me”. That whisper curled around the girl’s ear and she shivered, her closed eyes hiding the roll they just made.

Now on the main floor of the boutique, comfy clothes folded neatly in a bag and the dress fitting snug beneath her coat, the girl bid farewell to the owner of the boutique. Trembling she said that she would have been content with the clothes that were already on display and on the racks, but the owner looked at her and said that she looked like she needed something a little special something to make her feel cute and pretty. A grin, a knowing grin, spread across the owner’s face and she said with a delicious curl in her words,

“You know, if you ever wanted a break, a new look, or just to have fun, you can always come back”

That burning blush returned to the girl’s cheeks and as she retreated into the collar of her coat with bashfulness. She nodded. The owner smiled and bid her farewell. The rainy sky felt far less oppressive as the girl made her way home, the dress caressing her skin, she felt the happiness bloom. A disbelief bristled in her mind, but the way she was feeling, the sense memories of having the purpose of being adored be so rewardingly fulfilled; the doubts of whether her little gallivant was real or not quickly faded away.

[writingforstraykids]

Lessons in love - Chp.1

Pairing: Hyunchan (mention of Changlix | Minho)

Word Count: 4013

Summary: Chan and Hyunjin, both teachers at Stray Seoul University and roommates, are hopelessly in love with each other, too scared to admit anything. Chan's best friend Minho tries to help after he gets jealous of Felix and Changbin casually flirting with Hyunjin all the time.

Warnings/Tags: college!au, fluff, angst, mutual pining

A/N: So this whole thing is based on this reblog by miu @slutforchanlix and the following rambling with azzy @galaxycatdrawz. This developed into a series real quick and will focus on different dynamics between the rest of the boys as well. I hope you'll have fun reading🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

In the quaint corridors of Stray Seoul University, where ancient oaks whispered old secrets and the breeze carried the scent of fresh paint and old books, Hyunjin and Chan found their sanctuary a few years ago. The two of them were close friends and roommates, each harboring a secret that was as beautiful as it was terrifying. This secret was their unspoken love for each other, a silent symphony that played in the background of their everyday lives. It had been for years.

Hyunjin, with his delicate hands and bright eyes, was the Arts teacher. His classroom was on the third floor of the main building, a room with wide windows that bathed his workspace in natural light. Here, canvases burst into life under his guidance as he taught his students the dance of brush and color. His methods were something new, and his critiques were always constructive but layered with an enthusiasm that made every student feel like a budding Van Gogh. His passion for art was evident in the way his eyes sparkled when discussing the texture of a painting or the gradient of a sunset.

Chan, on the other hand, loved his position as an English teacher. His domain was just a corridor away, in a classroom filled with the rich aroma of old books and new paper. Chan’s lessons were a journey through the landscapes of literature and the intricacies of language. He had a reputation for making Shakespeare relatable and teaching grammar without the usual dread associated with it. His students loved his animated storytelling sessions and the way he could bring characters to life, making metaphysical poets as compelling as contemporary novelists.

Their home was a small apartment just a few blocks away from Stray Seoul University’s campus. It was a cozy little apartment, where each room was filled with the artifacts of their professions - Hyunjin’s sketches adorned the fridge, while plenty of Chan’s annotated copies often lay scattered on the coffee table. They moved around each other with comfortable ease, a rhythm perfected over time, shared smiles, and an occasional brush of hands that neither dared to acknowledge the way they’d love to.

Despite their closeness, both Hyunjin and Chan were guarded about their feelings. Their friendship was a delicate vase on the edge of a table, beautiful but terrifying in its fragility. Evenings often found them on their small balcony, where they talked about everything but those feelings. Hyunjin would describe his latest project, his hands painting the air as he spoke, while Chan would listen, his eyes often lingering a moment too long, full of words he couldn't voice.

At college, they maintained a professional but friendly demeanor. Students often speculated about their closeness, their seamless cooperation during faculty meetings, and their mutual admiration when discussing school projects. They were known for spending their lunch breaks together, and every student knew if there were a field trip planned, the other would be the additional teacher. Both were beloved for their dedication and the safe space they created in their classrooms. Their colleagues respected them for their talents and the subtle ways they supported each other - Chan providing literary quotes that Hyunjin might use in a lecture on art history, or Hyunjin recommending visual materials that could help Chan illustrate a point about descriptive narratives.

Yet, in those quiet moments between tasks, when the world seemed to slow down, Chan found his thoughts drifting to Hyunjin more often than he would admit. He remembered their first meeting, an accidental encounter in the university library back when they just started studying themselves. Chan had been searching for a particular book on Elizabethan poetry when he had spotted Hyunjin, a few shelves away, deeply engrossed in a book on Renaissance art. Their eyes had met briefly, and something unspoken had passed between them that neither of them could explain.

From that moment on, their paths seemed to intersect more frequently. Shared lunches in the cafeteria turned into evening strolls around the campus, and those strolls led to late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning. Each interaction was a new layer added to their growing bond, a bond that was as comforting as it was confusing for Chan.

He often found himself mesmerized by Hyunjin's presence. There was something about the way Hyunjin moved, with a grace that seemed almost ethereal, and the way he spoke, his words like gentle strokes on a canvas. Chan admired his friend’s passion for art, the way he could lose himself in a painting for hours, completely absorbed by the play of colors and textures. It was during these moments, watching Hyunjin in his element, that Chan felt the stirrings of something deeper, something that went beyond friendship. Shit, he was in love, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Hyunjin’s love for Chan had grown slowly over time, like a seed taking root in the fertile soil of shared experiences and mutual respect. He cherished their friendship, but the intensity of his feelings often left him breathless. He admired Chan’s dedication to his students and the way his face would light up when discussing a particularly engaging piece of literature. Hyunjin found himself mesmerized by the passion in Chan’s eyes, the way his hands would move animatedly as he spoke. It was in these moments that Hyunjin felt the stirrings of something deeper, something that went beyond friendship.

Every day, as they walked to the university together, Hyunjin would steal glances at Chan, hoping to catch a glimpse of the emotions that might mirror his own. The soft morning light would play on Chan’s features, highlighting the lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips, and the warmth in his eyes. Hyunjin’s heart would beat a little faster, a silent testament to the love he kept hidden.

One rainy afternoon, as they sat together in the university café, Chan was grading papers while Hyunjin sketched absentmindedly. The sound of rain tapping against the windows created a cocoon of intimacy around them. Hyunjin looked up from his sketchpad and watched Chan for a moment, admiring the way his brow furrowed in concentration.

“What are you working on?” Chan asked, glancing up from his papers and catching Hyunjin’s gaze.

“Oh, just a rough sketch,” Hyunjin replied, a blush creeping up his cheeks. He quickly looked down, feeling the weight of his unspoken feelings.

Chan smiled warmly at his friend's shyness. “Can I see it?”

Hyunjin hesitated for a moment before handing over the sketchpad. The drawing was a portrait of Chan, his features captured with an intimacy that spoke volumes of Hyunjin’s admiration. Chan studied the drawing, a look of surprise and something else - something tender - crossing his face.

“This is incredible, Hyunjin,” Chan said softly, his voice filled with awe. “You’ve captured…so much.”

Hyunjin’s heart raced as he searched Chan’s eyes for any hint of recognition, any sign that his feelings might be reciprocated. But Chan’s expression remained unreadable, and the moment passed, leaving Hyunjin with a bittersweet ache in his chest. “It's nothing,” he waved him off, taking it back.

Chan chuckled at him, fondly rolling his eyes. “Always so modest.”

Hyunjin hummed gently, staring out of the window as Chan continued working. He watched the raindrops painting their vivid pictures along the glass, but his eyes went back to Chan much sooner than he’d like. He often found himself caught in moments of quiet admiration for Chan, his eyes tracing the contours of Chan's face with the same intensity and focus he applied to his art. 

A sliver of late afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, breaking through the clouds and illuminating Chan’s profile. The light danced across his face, highlighting the arch of his cheekbone and the curve of his jaw. Hyunjin watched as Chan read, completely absorbed in his students’ work, his brow furrowing slightly in concentration. It was these unguarded, intimate moments that Hyunjin cherished most - the quiet, the soft rustling of pages, and Chan's expressive eyes moving swiftly across the text.

Chan’s beauty was not just in his features but in his movements and expressions. When he laughed, his eyes lit up, creasing at the corners, and his whole face seemed to brighten the room. When he was deep in thought, his lips would purse slightly, and his fingers would tap rhythmically on the surface beside him. These nuances, these small, everyday gestures, drew Hyunjin in deeper, his admiration growing with each passing moment.

Hyunjin's sketches often contained these details. His sketchpad was filled with lines attempting to capture the essence of Chan’s expressions. Each drawing was a silent testament to his deep affection - a collection of moments that Hyunjin treasured. 

The sound of the door opening pulled him from his thoughts, a soft smile covering his lips, spotting Felix. Felix, the owner of the cafe, was a charismatic Australian who had quickly established his little shop on campus as a warm, inviting haven. With his sunny smile and talent for remembering his customers' favorite orders, Felix had become particularly popular among the university crowd. His friendly banter and the occasional free pastry for his regulars only added to his charm.

"Hyunjin, Chan! Good to see you guys," Felix greeted them with his usual broad smile, putting aside his jacket. His gaze lingered slightly longer on Hyunjin, something that didn’t escape Chan’s notice.

"Hey, Lix," Hyunjin replied, his own smile a mirror of Felix’s enthusiasm. "It’s getting chilly out there, isn’t it?"

"Yeah, perfect weather for a hot cup of your favorite," Felix chuckled, already turning to prepare their usual orders, spotting their empty cups on the table. "The usual for you both?"

"That would be great, thanks," Chan interjected, trying to sound casual but feeling a twinge of discomfort at the easy banter between Hyunjin and Felix.

As Felix set about making their drinks, Hyunjin browsed through some of the new art magazines stacked on a nearby shelf while Chan watched Felix. He had noticed the way Felix moved with an effortless grace around the café, the way his eyes sparkled when he laughed, and how he seemed particularly animated, especially around Hyunjin a while ago. He knew Hyunjin and Lix got along quite well, and he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and destroy that. It still bothered him.

When Felix brought over their coffees, his hand brushed against Hyunjin’s as he passed him the cup. Chan’s heart sank a little at the sight, the warmth in Felix’s eyes seeming to hold a hint of something more than just friendliness.

"So, Hyunjinnie," Felix started, slipping onto the bench next to him with a casual air, "how’s the new project going? You were telling me about that abstract piece you were working on."

Hyunjin’s face lit up at the question. "It’s going well, thanks for asking! I’m trying some new techniques, so it’s a bit of a challenge, but I’m enjoying it."

"That sounds amazing. You’ll have to show me sometime. I’d love to get a better understanding of your process," Felix replied, his interest seeming genuine but his tone perhaps too eager for Chan’s liking.

Chan watched as Hyunjin nodded, his eyes bright with the prospect of sharing his work. "Definitely, I’d appreciate your feedback."

The conversation flowed smoothly, and Chan felt increasingly like an outsider, his contributions to the conversation feeling forced and hollow in comparison to the natural rapport between Felix and Hyunjin.

The rest of their café visit passed in a blur for Chan. He laughed at the right moments and engaged in the conversation when necessary, but his thoughts were clouded with an unwelcome jealousy. He found himself analyzing every interaction between Felix and Hyunjin, each smile and each glance adding to his growing unease.

Chan tried to talk himself out of his feelings. Felix was just being friendly, he reasoned; it was part of his charm and why the cafe was so popular. Yet, no amount of rationalization seemed to soothe his unease.

One day, driven by a mix of desperation and a desire to understand, Chan decided to confront the situation. He waited until he and Hyunjin were alone, their steps echoing slightly as they walked through the quiet university campus back to Chan’s classroom.

"Hyunjin, can I ask you something?" Chan’s voice was hesitant, a stark contrast to his usual confident tone.

"Of course, Chan. What’s on your mind?" Hyunjin looked at him with concern, sensing the seriousness in his friend’s demeanor.

"It’s about Felix… and you," Chan paused, struggling to find the right words. "Do you feel like he’s… well, flirting with you?"

Hyunjin looked surprised, his eyebrows arching slightly. "Flirting with me? I… hadn’t really thought about it. He’s always nice, but I just thought he was like that with everyone,” he said, pulling the door to Chan’s classroom closed after himself.

Chan nodded slowly, the response not quite easing the tightness in his chest. "Maybe, but it seems different with you. More personal."

Hyunjin considered this for a moment, then sighed. "I suppose I can see how it might come across that way. But he’s with Changbin; he can’t mean much with it,” he giggled. “Changbin does it too, and you never mentioned it.”

Chan anxiously chewed his lower lip, thinking of Felix. There was something undeniably captivating about Felix - his demeanor exuded a warmth and magnetism that drew people to him. Watching him, Chan couldn't help but feel a mixture of admiration and a curious twinge of envy.

Felix's laughter could fill the café, a sound that seemed to echo off the walls and infuse the space with an extra dose of vitality. His hair was tousled perfectly as if each strand had been artfully arranged to give him a carefree, effortlessly charming look. His eyes sparkled with genuine interest as he listened to his customers, making each person feel like the center of his world. It was this quality, Chan thought, that made Felix not just a great café owner but a person who seemed to love his life and his interactions genuinely. It was hard not to think of Felix as someone out of a feel-good novel - the charismatic, adventurous protagonist that made Chan sometimes feel like he was missing from his own life. Sitting there, sipping his coffee, Chan allowed himself a moment to imagine what it would be like to live with that kind of joy and confidence. He couldn’t really blame Hyunjin for preferring his presence over his own.

“Yeah…but Binnie has stated quite often that he’s joking,” Chan argued weakly, his thoughts lingering on Changbin, the PE teacher whose presence seemed to lighten the mood wherever he was. There was an undeniable vitality about Changbin, an enthusiasm that he brought to his classes and interactions. Changbin’s face wore a constant, warm smile, making him approachable despite his imposing physique. His kindness was not just in his gestures or words but in his eyes, which sparkled with genuine concern and interest whenever he engaged with his students or colleagues. Today, Chan had watched him from afar, helping a student perfect their volleyball serve, his patience evident in his calm demeanor and encouraging nods. Chan admired how Changbin treated everyone with the same level of respect and kindness, whether they were star athletes or struggling novices. It was this treatment that truly set Changbin apart in Chan's eyes, making him not just physically attractive but deeply admirable. 

Reflecting on this, Chan thought about the subtle strength underlying Changbin’s kindness. It was a reminder that true strength was not just physical but the grace with which one treated others. Changbin’s hands, so capable of demonstrating sports techniques, were also gentle in offering a reassuring pat on the back or a high five. There was a natural charisma about him that made people feel valued - a trait Chan not only admired but also aspired to include in his own teaching. 

Hyunjin remained quiet for a moment, frowning softly. “I’m sorry, Chan, I didn’t realize it was bothering you. I thought you liked Lix."

Hyunjin's words caught Chan off-guard, stirring a mix of feelings within him. "I do like Felix," Chan admitted, his voice tinged with reluctance. "He's a great guy, but seeing him around you like that... it made me feel unsettled. And I guess it's because..." Chan hesitated, the words stuck in his throat.

"Because what?" Hyunjin prodded gently, almost hoping for Chan to make a confession right here and now.

Chan sighed, the weight of his unspoken truths pressing heavily on him. "It's because I care about you, Hyunjin. More than I probably should,” he said, missing the hopeful glint in Hyunjin’s eyes as he stared at the floor.

Hyunjin's expression softened, his eyes conveying a mix of surprise and compassion. He reached out to place a reassuring hand on Chan's shoulder. "I care about you too, so much...so, please be honest. What’s suddenly bothering you about it?"

Chan looked into Hyunjin's eyes, finding in them a reflection of his own fears and hopes. "I just don’t want you to get hurt," Chan said, managing a small smile despite the tumult of emotions inside him.

“Oh,” Hyunjin nodded, forcing a smile onto his lips. “There’s no need, really. Lix just loves to flirt a little,” he said, swallowing down the bitter taste of disappointment lacing his throat. “I should get to class; I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” Chan nodded, staring after him. A shaky breath left his lips as the door shut close behind his friend, and the silence around him grew awfully loud. “Coward,” he whispered to himself, groaning softly. He checked his watch and nodded to himself. One more period until lunch break. Which meant his best friend had his break now, teaching a class later. Slipping his papers into his bag, Chan made his way to the faculty lounge, where he knew he would find Minho, the beloved Dance and Performing Arts teacher and his best friend since childhood. Minho was already at their usual spot in the corner of the university's bustling cafeteria, his tray filled with food. As Chan approached, Minho's face lit up with a welcoming smile.

"Channie! How's the master of Shakespeare today?" Minho teased, pushing a chair out with his foot for Chan to sit.

"More like the master of self-conflict," Chan muttered as he sank down into the chair, his shoulders slumping.

Minho's expression shifted to one of concern. "What's up? You look like you've lost a fight with a couple of your metaphysical poets."

Chan chuckled weakly. "It's not the poets giving me trouble. It's...it’s about Hyunjin."

Minho raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Hyunjin, huh? What about him? Don't tell me you finally confessed?"

Chan shook his head, stirring his coffee absentmindedly. "No, nothing like that. It’s just... Felix was flirting with him again, and I don't know; it made me feel weird."

Minho's laughter filled the air, a light-hearted sound that made a few nearby students glance over in curiosity. "Oh, Channie hyung! That’s classic!"

"It's not funny, Minho," Chan protested, though a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I can’t help feeling... jealous."

Minho burst out laughing again, covering his mouth with his hand. "Jealous? Of Yongbokie? That man flirts with anything that breathes—it’s probably just his way. But this is good!"

Chan frowned, puzzled. "How is any of that good?"

"It means you’re finally facing your feelings head-on instead of burying them in your lesson plans and Shakespearean monologues," Minho chuckled, then became more serious. "Look, Chan, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that you’ve got it bad for Hyunjin. Maybe it's time you did something about it."

“Do what? He’s probably happy about Felix showering him with love,” Chan sighed heavily. “He might…oh fuck you,” he snorted at Minho’s intrigued grin.

"Might fall for his devilish charms?" Minho finished for him, his voice dripping with mock drama. "Come on, Chan. Hyunjin’s got eyes for someone else, even if he doesn’t know it yet."

Chan sighed, knowing Minho was referring to him. "I wish that were enough to stop me from feeling this way. I just hate feeling so... powerless."

Minho reached across the table, placing a reassuring hand over Chan's. "Listen, hyungie, what you’re feeling is totally normal. But you can’t control how Felix acts or how Hyunjin responds. What you can control is what you do next. How about you focus on showing Hyunjin just how much he means to you?"

"And how do I do that without spilling my guts and potentially ruining everything?" Chan asked, his voice tinged with frustration.

"Subtly, Channie. Subtly. Start with small things. Be there for him, make him laugh, and share more of those deep poetic thoughts you keep locked up in your brain...do it with him for once instead of drooling all over my food during lunch break,” he teased softly, pulling a small smile from him. “Build the connection you already have. Trust me; actions speak way louder than confessions thrown out during a moment of jealousy."

"But what if it ruins everything?" Chan’s voice was tinged with worry. "Our friendship, our living situation... I can't lose him, Minho."

Minho nodded, understanding the depth of his friend's fear. "I get it. But consider this—what if telling him opens up the chance for something amazing? You won’t know until you try. Besides, Hyunjin's a great guy; he won’t let this ruin your friendship."

Chan considered Minho's words, the fear mingling with a flicker of hope. "I... I don’t even know where to start."

"Start with the truth. Tell him how you feel, how you've been feeling. It’s not about Felix or anyone else. It’s about you and him," Minho advised, his tone gentle yet firm.

"And if he doesn’t feel the same?" Chan’s voice was barely a whisper now, the weight of his unspoken love heavy on his chest.

Minho’s face softened. "Then you’ll deal with it like the mature, sophisticated intellectuals that you are," he said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Seriously, Chan, honesty is terrifying but liberating. Hyunjin deserves to know, and you deserve to be honest with yourself and him."

Chan considered Minho's advice, feeling a semblance of a plan forming in his mind. "Maybe you're right. I just need to be patient and more... proactive."

"That's the spirit!" Minho exclaimed happily. "And who knows? Maybe Hyunjin is closer to seeing the truth than you think. You've got to give some credit to our boy; he's an artist, after all. He sees beauty where others see the ordinary."

“Talk about being poetic,” Chan giggled at him, and Min winked at him fondly.

The bell signaling the end of the break rang, pulling them back to the reality of their day. Minho stood, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Think about it, okay? I’m here no matter what happens. And who knows? Maybe Hyunjin is waiting for a sign from you."

Chan nodded, feeling a mix of dread and determination settling in his heart. "Thanks, Minho. For listening... and not making too much fun of me."

Minho laughed, pulling Chan into a brief, tight hug. "What are friends for if not to listen to your romantic worries and push you out of your comfort zone? Now, go inspire the future lovers and poets. And think about what you want to say to Hyunjin."

"Thanks, Minnie. Really," Chan said, feeling genuinely grateful for the pep talk.

"Anytime, Chan. Now fuck off and finally be the leading man of your own love story," Minho cheered, giving Chan a playful shove toward the door, giggling as the older flipped him off. 

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

As their ways parted, his mind raced with possibilities and what-ifs. The thought of confessing his feelings to Hyunjin was daunting, but Minho's words echoed in his mind, a mantra of encouragement and challenge. Maybe it was time to stop hiding behind their friendship and take a risk that could potentially change everything.

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