#and eventually they learn to not just laugh and try to wave off what they see as empty threats

[sleepyone2three]

A piece of dialog I plan to use at some point in Little Knowledge, Lotsa Heart, but just had to share. Because it's honestly a mood with the stress those idiots put the poor reader through.

"Attraction has nothing to do with the matter; sexual or otherwise," you huffed, indignant at the very suggestion in and of itself. "I'd yell at and embarrass every single one of my numbskull crewmates if meant keeping them from getting needlessly killed."

[sincerelyneo]

so high school | l.hc

“no one’s ever had me. not like you…”

📀now playing: so high school by taylor swift

❯ summary: Hyuck doesn’t care that high school was years ago; after learning his girlfriend’s experience was shitty, he’s determined to rewrite it for you. After all, he’s nothing if not smitten.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, fluff, eventual smut

❯ words: 6.4k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni, swearing, fingering, dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, exhibitionism, reader uses she/her pronouns, lots of gendered female terms, slight begging, brief possessiveness and jealousy bc it’s me, a brief cheating accusation but it’s stupid, hyuck being a cute boyfriend for 6k words.

an: did someone say haechan lover boy smut for valentine’s day? (they didn’t, lol. i wrote this for me, i love men in love)

“I fucking loved high school,” Hyuck says, placing down his yearbook on the coffee table.

It had to be a few years old by now, stuffed at the back of one of your bookshelves. You’d found it while doing an annual declutter and handed it to him on a whim. Knowing your boyfriend, you figured he’d find it nostalgic, or funny, or both.

You glance at him from your spot on the couch, eyebrow arched. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He shifts, sitting up straighter.

“You were on the football team, babe. Voted prom king, had good grades, and probably never had to eat lunch alone,” you list off, counting on your fingers for dramatic effect. “I’d be shocked if you did hate high school.”

He laughs with a shake of his head, sinking back further into the sofa. “Okay, fine, maybe I was a little... popular.”

You roll your eyes, but a laugh slips out before you can help it. “A little? I bet you walked through the hallways like you were the lead in a drama or something stupid like that.”

He nods. “Damn right. I was the shit.”

You scoff, tossing a pillow in his direction. He’s such a cocky bastard—but you love that about him.

“Jealous?” he shoots back, smirking.

You try to playfully roll your eyes, but instead, a small frown pulls at your lips. You know he’s just teasing, messing around, but memories of junior and senior year creep into your mind uninvited. You’d never been outright bullied, but high school wasn’t exactly a highlight reel for you. 

It was a blur of sitting in the back row, trying to make yourself small enough to avoid attention. Lunches alone in the library. No group of friends. No teenage dream. Dances you skipped, pretending you didn’t care when your chest ached from watching your classmates gush over photos the Monday after.

So yeah, you were a little jealous.

“Yes, actually,” you say finally, voice quieter. “High school sucked for me.”

His grin falters, posture straightening. “What?”

“I mean, it wasn’t all bad,” you rush to explain, suddenly self-conscious. “I got through it, you know? I just wasn’t... you.”

Hyuck leans back, studying you with a look you don’t see often on him—concern, worry. “What do you mean you weren’t me?”

“I wasn’t popular or cool or good at sports. I didn’t have a big friend group, and I definitely didn’t win prom queen…not that I even went.”

Hyuck doesn’t respond right away, and when you finally glance up, you find him staring at you with an expression you can’t quite place. There’s no teasing glint in his eyes, no cocky smile playing at his lips. He just looks... sad.

“Wait,” he says, his voice softer now. “You didn’t go to prom?”

You shrug. “Didn’t really have anyone to go with.”

He blinks at you like you just told him you spent your teenage years stranded on a deserted island, which for the likes of Hyuck, not attending prom was the justified equivalent. 

“Are you serious?”

“Hyuck, it’s not a big deal,” you say quickly, waving him off. “High school just wasn’t my thing.”

“Not a big deal?” he repeats. “Babe, prom is like... the peak of high school. It’s the one night everyone remembers forever. How did no one ask you? I can’t wrap my head around that.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite the tightness in your chest. “Not everyone peaked in high school, Hyuck. Some of us just... took it for what it was: school.”

His expression softens even more, guilt creeping into his features as he scoots closer, his thigh brushing yours. “You know you deserved better than that, right?”

“Hyuck—”

“I mean it,” he says firmly, cupping your face in his hands. “If I’d been there, you would’ve been my prom queen. Hell, I’d have skipped the whole damn thing just to hang out with you if you didn’t wanna go.”

The honeyed warmth in his voice makes your throat tighten, and you hate how easily he can do this—take the ache of old memories and replace it with something softer, lighter. Something you almost want to believe.

“Too bad we didn’t meet until after high school,” you say, forcing a smile.

Hyuck falters—but only for a moment. His gaze lingers on you as if a thought is forming behind his dark eyes.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “Too bad.”

You don’t think anything of it when he pulls you into his chest, resting his chin on your head as the conversation drifts elsewhere. But later, when he’s holding you close and you’re half-asleep, Hyuck is still thinking. Planning.

Because Lee Donghyuck might not be able to rewrite your past, but he’s damn sure going to be the best part of your future—trust. 

Hyuck just couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The coolest person he’d ever met—his girlfriend, his soulmate—hadn’t gotten to live the high school teenage dream. No prom, no stupid corsages, no dancing barefoot at the end of the night because the heels were too much. Nothing.

It didn’t make sense. You were too fucking beautiful to be treated as background noise by those losers. Hyuck remembers the day he met you—a fully grown man—and you made him a stuttering mess. He’s never asked Mark for flirting advice ever in his life, but fuck, he wasn’t about to miss his chance with you. 

How could they just disregard you?

He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. How did no one ask you out? Were they blind? Or just stupid? What kind of idiot couldn’t see what he saw every day?

The thought of you sitting at home on prom night, like it didn’t matter, made his chest ache. He couldn’t picture it—because you were you, the type of person every cheesy teen movie was written about: beautiful, funny, and so damn perfect. And yet... those assholes in high school had somehow missed it.

And even though the sick, selfish, possessive side of him is so fucking grateful that he’s the only one that’s ever had you, and those assholes missed out, he still can’t help but obsess over it. He couldn’t change the past, no matter how much he wanted to, and that realization burned. 

Hyuck groans, tipping his head back. “I’m losing it,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

But he couldn’t let it go. And because he was Lee fucking Donghyuck, when something got under his skin, he acted on it. Which is why, two days later, he finds himself standing in the middle of a small-town gymnasium, arms crossed over his chest as he surveys the scene in front of him.

“Is this the best you can do?” he asks, unimpressed.

Mark, balancing precariously on a ladder while stringing up fairy lights, glares down at him. “Dude, shut the fuck up,” he snaps. “You gave us two days to put this together. Do you even know how hard it was to convince the principal? I had to name-drop you!” 

Hyuck ignores him, his eyes sweeping over the room again. Mark wasn’t wrong—he had given his friends next to no time to work with. But that didn’t stop him from wanting it to be perfect. You deserved perfect.

A cheap speaker sits on the ground, currently blasting some old prom playlist Mark had found online. The string lights slowly started taking shape, casting a soft glow across the gym. There is a table in the corner with a bowl of something pink and suspicious-looking, and a few chairs scattered around. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either.

Mark climbs down from the ladder, dusting his hands on his jeans. “I think it looks fine.”

“Fine?” Hyuck repeats, scoffing. “Mark, this is a high school prom. It’s supposed to be magical or whatever. This just looks like... a school event.”

“Because it is a school event,” Mark shoots back, rolling his eyes. “Look, man, if you wanted a five-star gala, maybe you shouldn’t have sprung this on me last minute.”

Hyuck sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t trying to be an ass, but he wanted, needed, to do this for you. You’d brushed off your high school experience like it was no big deal, but he could tell it meant something to you. Maybe not in a way you wanted to admit, but it was there.

And now it was his job—no, his mission—to fix it.

“Just... add more lights,” Hyuck says finally. “And maybe some balloons? Chenle, do we have balloons?”

Chenle, who was sweeping the floors, looked back with a shake of his head, scurrying off before he got caught in the crossfire. 

Mark groans. “Hyuck, if we add any more lights, the entire gym’s gonna blow a fuse. And no, we don’t have balloons. You’re lucky I even managed to get lights.”

Hyuck sighs again, running a hand through his hair. He had money, sure—that was the only reason he’d managed to rent out the gym on such short notice—but even he couldn’t buy time.

Still, as he looked around the gym, he felt a flicker of pride. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. He’d move mountains for you if he had to. And if this half-assed prom was the closest he could get, then so be it.

Mark claps a hand on his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Hey,” he says, softer now. “She’s gonna love it, dude. Stop stressing out.”

Hyuck nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah.”

Your boyfriend’s acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.

Hyuck’s always been a little odd—but that’s one of the things you love about him. The endless hobbies he picks up and abandons in a week like juggling, the random facts he collects from late-night YouTube rabbit holes, and his never-ending need to one-up his friends in bets and challenges. But this? This feels different. Like it’s more than some dumb dare or fleeting obsession.

For the past two days, he’s been unusually secretive. You’ve caught him whispering with Mark on the phone more than once, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush whenever you’d walk into the room. And then there was yesterday—when you brought coffee to his rehearsal. You barely stepped inside before the entire group went awkwardly silent, and Hyuck practically herded you back out the door. Hyuck, who usually couldn’t keep his hands off you in public and loved showing you off, suddenly turning shy…suspicious doesn’t even begin to cover it.

And let’s not forget the disappearing act last night. He came home late, shrugging off your questions with a grin and the vague excuse of “guy stuff.” Guy stuff. That was the moment you knew something was up.

And so, you’ve been sitting on the couch, stewing, waiting for him to get home from rehearsal. The seconds drag, and with each passing minute, your frustration builds. By the time you hear the jingle of his keys in the door, you’re ready to burst.

Hyuck stumbles in, his hair slightly mussed, a garment bag slung over his shoulder. He looks exhausted but excited, strange. He barely gets a foot inside before you’re on him.

“Are you cheating on me?”

His jaw drops, the grin on his face disappearing instantly, eyes blinking at you like you’ve just accused him of arson. You’d honestly prefer it if he had. “What?! No! Why would you even—what the fuck?”

“You’ve been acting so weird!” you snap, crossing your arms. “The sneaky phone calls, the late nights, the whispering, the weird excuses—guy stuff? Do you think I was born yesterday?”

That makes him laugh and you swear you see red. He thinks this is funny? You’ll show him funny. 

“If you wanted to break up with me, Hyuck, don’t insult me by sneaking around! Just—just tell me to my face!” Your voice wavers, hurt bubbling in your throat as you glare at him.

Hyuck’s expression softens instantly, his eyebrows furrowing. “Hey, hey, wait—babe, no. That’s not what’s happening here, I swear.”

You narrow your eyes, pointing at the garment bag. “Oh yeah? What’s that, then? Some outfit for your other girlfriend?”

His mouth drops open, and then he barks out a laugh, though he quickly smothers it when he sees your glare. “No! Oh my God, no. Look, just… this isn’t how I wanted to do this,” he pinches his temples “Could you just go upstairs and put this on, okay?” He holds the bag out to you, practically shoving it into your hands.

“Excuse me?” you quirk an eyebrow.

“Just—trust me, babe. Please. Go upstairs, put this on, and come back down when you’re ready.”

You stand there, staring at him like he’s lost his mind. Because he must have. “Hyuck, I am not—”

“Please,” he interrupts, his voice softer now. “Just this once. Do this for me. It’ll all make sense.”

His eyes meet yours, and for all the frustration boiling under your skin, you can’t ignore the quiet sincerity in his voice. Because even though his recent actions have been enough to make your paranoia spike, he’s still your Hyuck—and you trust your Hyuck.

With a sharp huff, you snatch the garment bag from his hands and stomp upstairs, slamming the bedroom door behind you before he can say another word. Your pulse is racing, irritation curling hot in your chest as you yank the zipper down and pull the dress out with more force than necessary.

It’s beautiful. And that pisses you off even more.

Who does he think he is? Sneaking around all week, ignoring you for days, then showing up with a pretty dress and expecting you to put it on without question?

Annoying. He’s so annoying.

Still scowling, you step into the dress, the silky fabric gliding over your skin like it was made for you, and knowing Hyuck he’d probably ask someone to do that for him. It fits perfectly, hugging every curve, and when you catch your reflection in the mirror, your anger stutters—just for a second. It’s beautiful. You look beautiful.

Damn it.

You swipe at your eyes before anything ridiculous like tears can form and square your shoulders. Fine. You’ll wear the dress. But you’re not going to let him off the hook so easily. Throwing the door open, you march downstairs, irritation simmering beneath the surface of your foundation. “Lee Donghyuck, you better—”

But you freeze.

Because he’s standing at the bottom of the steps in an equally beautiful suit, rocking on his heels, with a small, nervous smile playing on his lips. He’s holding a corsage in his hands—delicate flowers wrapped in silk, matching your dress perfectly.

And then, all at once, it clicks.

That fucking yearbook you found. The conversation that came after it. The sneaking around. The secrecy. 

Your breath catches in your throat, warmth creeping up your neck as a blush dusts his skin. He chews his lip, eyes flickering up to meet yours, and if you didn’t know him any better, you’d swear he was nervous.

Hyuck never gets nervous.

“Do you wanna rewrite prom with me?”

And just like that, you break.

Tears slip down your cheeks before you can stop them, and Hyuck’s smile falters just slightly as he steps forward, hand reaching out to you, as if he’s ready to catch you, to hold you close, if you were to fall. But you don’t fall. You just nod, because it feels impossible to do anything else.

How could you say no to him? How could you possibly deny the one person in the world who would do something like this for you—not because he had to, but because he wanted to, because he loves you to a point you never thought possible because he needs you to be happy.

“I love you,” you choke out through your happy tears, the words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them.

Hyuck’s worry shifts into something warmer, something softer. He steps closer, brushing his thumb gently against your cheek to wipe away the tear.

“Does that mean we’re not breaking up, then?” His voice is teasing, but there’s a tenderness underneath, a soft hope in his eyes that mirrors the love you just confessed.

Your heart skips a beat, and you nod through blurry eyes, a small smile breaking through. “Not even close.”

His face splits into the brightest grin you’ve ever seen, and before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you into his arms, rocking you side to side like he’s never going to let go. It’s overwhelming—the warmth of him, the scent of his cologne, the steady beat of his heart against your ear. And for once, you let yourself lean into it, let yourself feel just how much he loves you, because God, does he know how to show it.

“I love you too, you know,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, meant just for you. “Like, stupidly. Like, I’m gonna remind you every day until you’re sick of me, because I never want you to think I’m cheating on you ever again.”

You huff a laugh, sniffling. “I don’t think I could ever be sick of you.”

“Mm, we’ll see about that.” He pulls back just enough to look at you, taking in the glassiness in your eyes, the heat in your cheeks. Then, with a smirk, he presses the corsage into your hands. “Your favourite colour.”

“Now,” he says, stepping back and offering his arm, “if we don’t leave soon, Mark might actually rip my balls off.”

It takes you a second to register what he means, and when you glance past him, you see Mark leaning against his car, arms crossed, exuding pure suffering. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, but you know your Hyuck can be very convincing. 

“Are you two done?” Mark calls, exasperated. “Because I have better things to do than play chauffeur for your little rom-com tonight.”

“Liar!” Hyuck yells, dragging you toward the car. “If you weren’t here, you’d be playing video games with Chenle or something. Your life is boring and bitchless!”

Mark groans but doesn’t deny it.

“Wait! One more thing,” Hyuck gasps, stopping you just as you’re about to step into the car. Before you can question it, he’s already sprinting back inside. A few seconds later, he bursts through the door, holding up a letterman jacket that doesn’t match your old school’s colours, but his. 

And when he drapes it over your shoulders, his fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary, his gaze catches on his surname stitched across your back. His cheeks flush that familiar shade of pink, and for once, he’s the one left speechless.

You clutch your hands to the jacket, making sure it doesn’t fall off and you can’t stop smiling. Because even though he was just being a fouled-mouthed menace to his friend. He’s clearly only ever sweet and soft with you. Hyuck opens the car door for you and he slides in beside you, lacing his fingers through yours like it’s second nature, like they belong. You look down at your joined hands, his thumb stroking slow circles against your skin, and warmth blooms in your chest.

The corsage, the letterman, the chauffeur to prom. It’s silly. It’s cheesy. It’s the kind of thing you used to roll your eyes at in movies as a teenager. But right now, with him, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. Because he’s rewriting how you feel about the cheesy stuff, giving you the giddy, reckless kind of love you never got to have. 

Letting his hand rest on your thigh, making you stifle your sighs as it slowly crept up your flesh. His touch is heedless and uncaring as if Mark wasn’t inches away in the front seat. It’s compulsive, carless, and so ridiculously juvenile—it’s so high school.

Which feels very on-brand as you pull up to an old brick building. Mark cuts the engine, allowing Hyuck to round the car and open your car door before holding your hand tight and walking you towards the football field.

So many memories flooded back to you as soon as he opened the gate that led to the field. Heels on the grass, on the sacred sanctuary you never had the chance to belong on. Suddenly you’re sixteen again and Hyuck leds you over to the bleachers, climbing up several rows before taking a seat and pulling you down next to him. 

"Are we trespassing right now?" you ask, slipping your arms into his letterman to ward off the winter chill. "I know you love me, but you don’t have to commit a crime for me."

Hyuck scoffs, a playful smirk on his lips. "Please, you know I wouldn’t think twice about committing a crime for you if you asked me to." He pauses, then adds, "But no, we’re not trespassing. This is my old high school, and since I'm such an outstanding alumni, I had some strings pulled. They left me the key for tonight."

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile. "So they did all this just for you, huh?"

“Don’t look at me like that, this is for us.”

"Uh-huh," you tease. "I must say, knowing how to ball in high school seems to have its perks. I was in the wrong clubs clearly. You’re basically the only person I know who managed to continue peaking after high school."

Hyuck’s smile falters, a flicker of something sad crossing his face. His eyes drift downward, and you catch that same troubled look he had when you found his yearbook—when he learned how different your high school experiences were. You don’t want him to feel like that, not when he’s trying so hard to fix it. But you don’t want him to fix it either, because as messed up as your teenage years were, they led you to him. No one’s ever had you. Not like him anyway. 

You slide your hand over his, squeezing gently as you move closer. “You didn’t have to do all this for me, you know?”

Hyuck chuckles, that flicker of sadness vanishing as quickly as it came. “Don’t say that. You haven’t even seen what I’ve got planned inside yet. I had all the boys stressed over fairy lights and balloons all week.”

Knowing how much effort he’s put in makes you smile, your fingers drifting up to trace the curve of his cheek. He’s so beautiful. So in love. So undeniably yours.

“I’m excited to see it,” you say. “But right now, I just want to be here. Is that okay? I never really got to hang out on the bleachers.”

“Will you yell at me if I say that a sick part of me loves that you never cheered for other guys playing football?”

You shake your head with a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying,” he continues, undeterred. “Yeah, I wanna kill those assholes for never inviting you to a game, for not taking you to prom. But I also love that I get to be the one to do it with you. Even if we’re adults.”

You bite your lip, feigning hesitation. “Well, I have some information I think you might like.”

Hyuck raises a brow. “Oh?”

“I always wanted to make out under the bleachers,” you admit, heat creeping up your neck. “Call me cliché, but when I was a freshman, I imagined having my first kiss with Lee Felix under there.”

His nose crinkles instantly. “I don’t know who that is, but I hate him.” Hyuck scoffs, but his hands are already sliding around your waist, pulling you closer. “Still… this night is about me making your fantasies come true. So fuck that guy and let me kiss you, baby.”

And you do—let his lips capture yours, kissing you until they’re swollen and puffy, until they mould perfectly to his, like they were always meant to. Until there’s no doubt that they, and you, belong to him.

Hyuck wastes no time, scooping you into his arms with ease, carrying you into the shadows beneath the rickety metal frame. And then his lips are on yours again—hungry, unrelenting. It’s everything you ever imagined. No—better. Because it’s him and you. 

His hand trails up your body as he presses you against one of the cold metal pillars, calloused fingers graze your thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Years of football have roughened his touch, but it’s the way he holds you—like he can’t get enough, like he never will—that really makes your breath hitch. And you almost want to laugh, because you’re pretty sure most people fuck after prom, not before it. But this is you and Hyuck. You’ve never played by the rules, never followed the scripted path. You never wanted to.

And that’s exactly why a soft, desperate “Please,” slips from your lips as his fingers venture higher, until they’re brushing against the hem of your panties.

“Cute,” he smiles and murmurs against your lips, grinning as his fingers slip beneath the fabric, his cool touch grazing your clit. You shiver, and it only makes him that more pleased—more proud. His other hand glides up your stomach, sneaking beneath your dress until he’s palming your breast, his thumb teasing over your nipple.

“You know…” he muses, voice dripping with amusement, “I paid good money for this dress. It’d be a shame to ruin it.”

“Please. You’d never buy me a dress you didn’t plan on ruining.”

Hyuck giggles, shaking his head, but before you can run that smart mouth of yours again, his finger slips so easily into your pussy, and you gasp, clinging to his shoulders.

“Fuck,” he breathes against your ear, voice thick with need. “I love that you know me so well.”

His fingers keep working you, desperate and wild—because if you know Hyuck so well, he knows you even better. Knows your body like it’s his to worship. And when he adds a second finger, stretching you open, pleasure floods through you so intensely your eyes flutter shut, your head tipping back as a moan catches in your throat.

But that won’t do.

Hyuck likes to watch you. Likes to see the way your lips part, the way your brows knit together, the way your pupils blow wide with nothing but him. He wants you to know—no, needs you to know—that he’s the one making you feel this good. That it’s his touch unravelling you, his name you should be thinking about, whimpering, crying out.

So the second your lashes flicker, his fingers slow, teasing, withholding. You whimper, forced to open your eyes again, hazy and weak—just the way he likes them—just the way he needs them to be before he picks up his pace.

He’s meticulous, careful—determined to make you cum right here, right now. If your fantasy was just to make out under the bleachers, Hyuck is going to take it further, push it past anything you ever imagined. He’s going to make you cum here, again and again, until this moment is burned into your memory. Until you can never think about high school, about this field, about these bleachers, without thinking about him. About the way he touched you. About the way he made it perfect. He always makes everything perfect. 

“Need you to cum all over my fingers, pretty girl. Come on,” he murmurs, pinching your clit as he tries to coax an orgasm out of you. And it doesn’t take long. The honeyed rasp of his voice, the relentless rhythm of his fingers, the way his eyes stay locked on yours—it’s all too much. You shatter around him with a high-pitched moan.

“Atta girl,” he breathes, watching you with nothing but admiration. “So fucking pretty when you cum for me.”

Your mind is fuzzy, his words melting into white noise as you come down from your high on shaky legs. If it weren’t for the pillar at your back, you’re certain you’d be a puddle on the floor. Hyuck holds you close, his hand stroking your hair as he murmurs soft praises against your ear—something about being so pretty, so good, so his. But all you can focus on is the growing bulge in his pants, the evidence of just how much he wants you. A bulge you put there. One you’re aching to take care of.

You start to drop to your knees, and he sucks in a breath, his eyes locked on yours.

“Stop,” he commands harshly, stepping back as if something’s shifted. It forces you to stand up straight again, confusion crossing your face.

“Don’t you want me to—”

“Oh, I fucking want you to, and you’re going to,” he growls. Then, he peels off his suit jacket and drapes it on the concrete floor between you two. “Now, you can get on your knees for me, Y/N,” he orders, his voice rough and commanding, but then it cracks, desperately. “Please.”

You lower yourself onto his suit jacket, kneeling before him, palms pressing firmly against his thighs. His erection is hard, straining through his suit pants, but he’s waited—waited until he knew you’d be most comfortable because that’s just who he is. 

“Look at you,” he says, running his thumb over your mouth. “Puffy lips parted and ready for me. Big fucking eyes, so innocent, so needy.”

“Only for you, Hyuck,” you breathe softly as you start undoing his belt and his jaw visibly ticks.

You’ve sucked his cock before—of course you have, and you love it. And still, he looks at you like it’s the first time, nostrils flaring, pupils dilated, as he drinks in every detail of your eagerness. He’s so hungry to feel you, to get lost in you—so feral.

Using his forefinger, he lifts your chin, forcing your chin and attention on him. “I know, baby. Only me. Always me.”

You run your tongue over your lower lip, and he tracks the entire thing, looking like some kind of predator.

“Take it out.”

You comply, dropping his pants to his ankles and tugging his boxer briefs down with them. His cock springs free, angry veins visible and the tip glistening. The sight of his straining cock right in front of you pulls this desperate sound from deep in his throat. He traces every inch of your face as if he plans to paint it soon, and you’d let him.

His palm glides over your head again, fingers weaving through your hair, cupping the back of your skull to keep you anchored in place. Rough and dominant—just how he likes it, and just how you crave it.

“I need to fuck your mouth, baby. Seeing you cum in my letterman has got me so damn hard. I need this pretty mouth,” he whimpers as his palm rests on your scalp. “You’re gonna let me do that aren’t you? Because you’re such a good fucking girl.”

You nod and squirm in anticipation, using the tip of your tongue to lick a path over his slit, savouring the salty taste from the bead of precum. His eyes instantly roll back and you grip his shaft with one hand and lick a path from root to tip.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Just like that,” he hisses between his teeth as his entire body vibrates.

You look up at him, fluttering your lashes over heavy eyes. Because the only thing Hyuck craves more than his own pleasure is the sight of yours. You round your lips, sucking him in slowly. Your head bobs as you work your tongue in sync with your lips, but he’s so big, a fact you’ll never get used to. He hits the back of your throat and you hold him there, swallowing around his tip, tears welling at the corners of your eyes as your throat tightens with a gentle choke.

"Fuck—" He lurches forward, one hand gripping the pillar for support while the other tugs at your hair, pulling you off him just long enough to catch your breath—because he's nothing if not considerate.

Hyuck runs his thumb by the corner of your eye, gathering the moisture that pooled there.

“I’m ruining your makeup,” he muses, lips curling into a smirk. “I had prom pictures planned.”

A blush creeps on your cheeks, “We don’t have to take them.”

“We’re taking them.” There’s no question in his tone. It’s simply a statement. A demand. “Then I’m keeping a copy in my wallet, so next time I’m on tour, fisting my cock, I can think about you. About this."

You nod, breath hitching. "O-okay."

"Okay." His thumb drags over your lip again, teasing until you part for him, wrapping around it. He presses down, tugging lightly. "So agreeable. So obedient. Aren’t you?"

"Yes," you breathe.

His smirk deepens. "Good. So you'll keep sucking my cock, won't you?"

You don’t even bother with words—too eager to please, too determined to finish what you started. Your fingers wrap around him, stroking once before you take him back into your mouth, sucking deep before pulling off with a lewd pop. Then you do it again, following his cues, giving him exactly what you know he loves. A slow flick of your tongue along the underside of his head, a firm squeeze as you cup his balls, and then you’re taking him to the back of your throat. His entire abdomen tenses. His breathing turns ragged.

"Fuck." His curse is sharp as he pulls back, just enough to look at you. "I’m gonna cum. You gonna let me cum in your mouth, baby?"

You nod eagerly, mascara streaking your cheeks, spit glistening at the corner of your lips. "Please, Hyuck."

His smirk is wicked. "Are you gonna be a good little girlfriend and swallow it all for me?"

You nod—far too enthusiastically.

"Good. Now, take a deep breath, baby—'cause it’s the last one you’re getting for a while."

He runs a gentle thumb over your cheekbone before guiding your head forward. Your lips part instinctively, wrapping around him as he sets the pace, fucking your mouth with a steady rhythm. His palms cover your ears, his hips roll with precision—nothing but pure pleasure as he chases his high. And you let him. You take it, let him use you because he’s done all of this for you tonight. Because he deserves his reward.

Truthfully, watching Hyuck unravel beneath you—knowing you’re the one making him this needy, this desperate to cum—is your own reward. Because seeing him lost in pure bliss is the hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed.

Your fingernails dig into his skin, leaving faint crescents as he keeps his pace—steady, deliberate—but always mindful, always making sure you can breathe. He checks in with his eyes, just like you said—considerate.

You moan around his length, hips shifting instinctively, searching for friction. And of course, Hyuck notices. He always notices.

"Are you getting turned on from sucking me off, Y/N?" he taunts, through a tight restraint breath. "So wet, even after I already made you cum." He pulls out of your mouth, gaze dark. "Show me. Show me how wet sucking my cock has made you.”

Heat prickles your skin as you reach under your dress, the one he bought, and gather your arousal on two fingers. You bring them up, letting him see the proof, the evidence of just how much you want him.

“Fuck,” he growls, as deep brown eyes turn black as they lock on your fingers. “So fucking obedient.” 

Hyuck leans in, grasping your wrist before guiding your fingers into his mouth. His tongue flicks over the tips, slow and careful, savouring the taste—the proof of how badly he’s wrecked you. Of how much you like him, love him. 

He nods toward his cock, covered in your saliva, hard and twitching, ready to cum. "Make me cum, baby. Please."

You hold his eye contact, grip his cock, and bring your mouth back to cover him. He moans, head falling back, and you work his length with your mouth and hand, doing your best to take what you can’t handle. It doesn’t take long until his hips jerk in short, sloppy movements. His breath comes out in ragged gasps, moans soft but pitched, the sound of him unravelling.

“Y/N,” he cries out your name in a whimper of desperation. One hand finds yours, holding it tenderly, while the other braces on the pillar behind you. Then, he cums—hard.

He tries to keep his eyes locked on yours, because that’s his favourite part, but the sensation overwhelms him, and he has to shut them. Every muscle in his body tightens as hot, forceful pulses hit the back of your throat.

“So pretty like this,” he pants breathlessly. “Mouth full of my cum.” The pad of his thumb traces down the line of your throat. “You’re gonna swallow it, aren’t you?”

It’s not a question, and you don’t hesitate. You swallow all of him, but it’s not enough. You need more—need him inside of you.

“Fuck me, please, Hyuck.”

He shakes his head, a teasing smile tugging at his lips and then he laughs. He uses the hand he’s had entangled with yours to pull you up to your feet, steadying you gently. “I can’t. Not here.”

You pout, disappointed, your body aching for him. “Why not?”

His smile widens as he adjusts your dress, pulling the fabric down to cover you properly, the moment feeling suddenly too sweet considering he was just fucking your throat.

“Because,” he draws out playfully, “I planned a prom, and like all cheesy teenagers, I don’t plan to fuck you here.”

You quirk a brow, crossing your arms across your body. But before you can say anything, Hyuck fumbles with his suit jacket, dropping to the floor to search the pockets. His hands hover for a second before he pulls out a room key, holding it up like some kind of trophy.

You scoff with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “Very cliché.”

He grins at you. “I think we have pictures to take.”

[himasgod]

Can i ask for Ruggie x reader with super long hair that’s always styled on a daily basis(kinda like marcille from dungeon meshi: braids, half up and half down, twintails, side ponytail, buns, etc)

RUGGIE X READER

Where your hair is very very long and always styled

The first time Ruggie saw you, he thought you were a noble.

Not because of your attitude—you weren’t snooty or anything—but because your hair was so perfectly styled it looked like you had a personal stylist on call 24/7.

One day it was a side ponytail with a gold clip, the next a fishtail braid that looped into a bun.

Then there were the low twintails with ribbon cuffs, and his personal favorite—the half-updo with the cascade of curls.

“Oi,” he called, squinting at you one afternoon as you passed by in your braided crown.

“Do ya have a secret team of forest elves helpin’ ya out in the mornin’, or what?”

“Nope. All me. Just wake up earlier than most.”

“Earlier than me?” he said, walking backward beside you. “That’s sayin’ something.”

What started as curiosity grew into a lowkey obsession.

Ruggie would start to guess your hairstyle of the day. He’d try to act cool about it, but he always noticed.

“Bet today’s a messy bun,” he’d mutter to himself before seeing you.

“Ugh. Side braids again. I’m off my game.”

But he loved it—loved it. Even when you were stressed, your hair never looked out of place.

He also started to learn which styles meant

High, tight bun? You were stressee.

Loose waves down your back? You were feeling relaxed and casual.

Tiny plaits hidden in your hair? You were bored and fidgety earlier that morning.

He even caught you doing a touch-up in the mirror once, and without thinking, blurted,

“…Can I help?”

You blinked in surprise, then held out a few pins.

He fumbled. He was awful at it. His fingers were nimble from pickpocketing and stealing, but somehow a bobby pin defeated him.

Still, you smiled.

“You’ll get better.”

And he did. Not perfect, but he started watching those hair tutorials you watched “for research.”

Eventually, on lazy weekends, you’d sit on a stool while Ruggie braided your hair clumsily but carefully, tongue poking out in concentration.

"Ya know," he said one day while looping a ribbon into your braid, "you're real high-maintenance... but like, in a cool way. You're like, fancy, but not snobby. Stylish, but not stuck-up. I like that."

You smiled at him through the mirror.

“You’re better at this than you think.”

“Well, I am a man of many talents.”

It was a regular morning.

Students shuffled around half-awake in cafeteria, and Ruggie was already swiping an extra pastry off someone’s tray, probably Grim.

He turned, mouth full, eyes scanning the room—mostly out of habit, partially to catch you and see if he was right about your "hairstyle of the day" prediction.

“Alright, today’s gotta be buns with those little beads you like—”

Then he saw you.

Hair down. Completely down.

No braids. No pins. No ribbons.

Just a long curtain flowing down your back like you’d rolled out of bed and didn’t look twice in the mirror.

He froze mid-chew.

“…Huh?”

You didn’t look tired exactly. Just… different. And not in a bad way. But to someone like Ruggie, who had never seen you skip a style, it was like walking outside and realizing the sky was green now.

He jogged up beside you.

“Oi. Hey. Uh… where’s the rest of you?”

You blinked at him, confused.

“The rest?”

“Yeah! Your… hairstyle. You always got, like, ten things goin’ on. It’s like your signature spell or somethin’.”

You laughed softly, rubbing your eyes.

“Didn’t sleep well. Woke up late. Didn’t feel like doing anything with it.”

Ruggie tilted his head.

“You sick or somethin’? You feelin’ okay?”

“Just tired. Needed a break.”

Ruggie went quiet for a second.

“…You know,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, “you don’t gotta dress up for people all the time. I mean, yeah, you look real fancy every day, and I love that. But, like… even without all that, you're still you. Still cute.”

“…Cute?” you echoed, a smile tugging at your lips.

He gave you a cheeky grin.

“Well, don’t go gettin’ a big head about it.”

You rolled your eyes. “And here I thought you’d make fun of me all day.”

“Oh, I will,” he added quickly, slinging an arm around your shoulder as you walked toward class.

“You look like you just came down from a mountain, y’know. Hair all wild and free. You some kinda cryptid now?”

You nudged him in the side. “Maybe I’ll make this my new look.”

Ruggie grinned.

“Only if I get to braid it later.”

“Deal.”

And some headcanons <3

Ruggie secretly collects little accessories he finds—cute clips, ribbons, even decorative pins—just to gift you for your next hairstyle.

He said that your hair could double as a makeshift rope if they ever needed to escape Crowley’s office.

He once tried doing his own hair in twin buns to match you and got laughed at by Leona.

Ruggie lowkey brags to others: “Yeah, my lover? Does their hair better than any princess I’ve ever seen. Every day.”

[moonlightwritingf1]

Shattered Trust | LN4

𐙚 summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N discovers that she is pregnant with Lando's child. Instead of confiding in him about the unexpected news, she decides to keep her pregnancy a secret and, overwhelmed by fear and uncertainty about the future, she chooses to have an abortion without telling him. Eventually, Lando learns about her decision.

𐙚 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

𐙚 word count ━━━━━━━ 7.3k

𐙚 warnings ━━━━━━━ pregnancy, abortion, angst

Based on this request.

It was a Friday evening when it happened: Y/N returned to her apartment, coat still damp from the drizzle, her heart racing with a nameless dread that had been building for days. Standing in the glow of the kitchen’s overhead lights, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the black glass of the microwave door. She set down her purse and a small paper bag—an banal bag to anyone else, but to her, it held a possible turning point for her entire life. Inside were two pregnancy tests.

She had worked her usual shift that day, trying in vain to ignore the persistent knot in her stomach and the unfamiliar heaviness in her limbs. Something felt off. She made small talk with colleagues, forced a few polite laughs, and drank coffee like her life depended on it, but nothing helped chase away that apprehension. So, during her short walk home, she had ducked into a pharmacy, heart pounding, and bought the tests. The moment she walked out, she wanted to turn back and return them, to pretend none of this was happening.

But it was.

Steadying herself against the kitchen counter, Y/N drew in slow, shaky breaths. Every mental pep talk she had rehearsed on the way home slipped away like leaves in a storm. Even though she and Lando had been together for two wonderful years—two years filled with laughter, shared secrets, and stolen glances—this was not what she wanted right now. Not what she had planned. She couldn’t be pregnant. Not at this point in her career.

In the small bathroom adjacent to her bedroom, she carefully unwrapped the first test. Her hands trembled. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, illuminating the pale tiles, her own frightened face in the mirror, sweat glistening on her brow.

She took the test, set it on the counter, and hovered over it like it might spark and burn. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she hoped she was overreacting. Perhaps her period was just late. Maybe it was stress. But the truth stared back in a painfully short amount of time: the telltale cross, positive.

It felt as though the world held its breath. She scrambled for the second test, praying the first was a fluke. But the second test told the same story: positive.

“No… oh God, no,” she whispered.

Her breath came in ragged gasps as she sank onto the cool tile floor, back pressing against the wall. The tests rolled away from her trembling hands. A wave of panic descended, bringing with it a vivid vision of an entirely different future—her career hopes overshadowed by an unplanned pregnancy. She closed her eyes, tears stinging, her mind a whirlwind of images: Lando’s laughter, Lando’s bright smile, and the way his eyes might light up at the idea of a baby. But in the next moment, her imagination shifted to her own tears, her own sense of being trapped, her career halted or derailed. She couldn’t do it. She felt certain she couldn’t.

That night, she barely moved from the bathroom floor. Eventually, she dragged herself to bed, the pregnancy tests stuffed into the little paper bag. She didn’t sleep; she just stared at the ceiling, numb, thoughts darting in every direction. When she finally drifted off, it was to restless half-dreams—nightmares of crying infants, undone deadlines, and a future she had never planned.

By Saturday morning, Y/N could think of only one way forward. She did not want this pregnancy. She wasn’t ready—not emotionally, not mentally, and certainly not in terms of her career. Lando’s always away, she reasoned. Even though he spent a lot of time in the UK, he still traveled constantly for Formula One, his life under perpetual media scrutiny. She felt certain the responsibility would fall entirely on her, and she wasn’t ready.

So, she decided: she would get an abortion, and she would never tell him. A trembling kind of finality sank into her veins as she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror that Saturday. She hoped her reflection might look resolute. Instead, she looked terrified.

She turned on the shower, letting scalding water cascade over her tense shoulders. She practiced what she might say if a coworker or friend asked about her weekend—little lines like I’m fine, just busy with some errands. A lie, but one she felt she had no choice but to tell.

The weekend dragged by in a haze of secrecy. She thought about calling her parents but dismissed the idea almost immediately; she didn’t want them to worry or, worse, to try to dissuade her. By Monday, her resolve had hardened.

During her lunch break at work, she locked herself in an empty conference room, phone in hand, voice shaking as she prayed no one was outside listening.

“Hello, yes, I’d like to book an appointment,” she whispered. The person on the other end asked for details: earliest availability, whether this was her first time. She swallowed hard at that question, her heart hammering as she confessed that yes, this was the first. They offered her a Wednesday slot.

She wrote down the clinic’s address and instructions on a sticky note, then tore the note to pieces in a wave of paranoia. She would memorize it. No evidence. She was certain Lando must never find out.

The rest of Monday passed in a blur. She forced her usual smiles, tried to gather her scattered thoughts in a marketing meeting, but her mind spun in circles around what was to come. By day’s end, she felt wrung out—physically and emotionally.

Wednesday dawned gray and drizzly, the sky mirroring Y/N’s mood. She had taken the day off, feigning sickness. It wasn’t entirely untrue; nausea churned in her stomach, her nerves coiled tighter than springs.

The clinic’s waiting room was smaller than she expected—quiet, almost too quiet. She filled out the forms with trembling hands, avoiding looking at the other women who were also waiting. Each had her own story, her own reasons, her own heartbreak.

When they called her name, she followed a nurse with shaky legs. The procedure itself was a blur of instructions, bright lights, and a suffocating mixture of relief and sudden, sharp sorrow. She told herself she was certain. She reminded herself that this was what she wanted. Still, flickers of doubt gnawed at the edges of her mind.

Afterward, the pain was more intense than she had braced for. Her lower abdomen cramped viciously. A nurse told her to rest, to avoid strenuous activity, and to call if anything seemed amiss. She forced a weak smile, nodding mechanically, all the while wanting nothing more than to disappear into her apartment.

She stumbled home, barely registering how she made it through the front door before collapsing onto her bed. The moment her body hit the mattress, a sharp, searing pain shot through her abdomen, making her curl in on herself instinctively. The cramps tore through her like knives, relentless and punishing, far worse than what the clinic had warned her about. She pressed her hands against her stomach, trying to breathe through the agony that wracked her body, waves of pain rolling over her in cruel succession.

But it wasn’t just the physical pain that consumed her. The emotional weight of it all settled heavily in her chest, raw and suffocating. Not because she regretted her decision—she didn’t. She knew with certainty that this was the right choice for her, for her future. But as she lay there, body trembling from exhaustion, the loneliness crept in like a shadow she couldn’t escape. She had done this alone. She had made this choice alone. And now, she had to suffer through the aftermath alone.

For a fleeting moment, she considered calling her mother, just to hear the soft, familiar voice that had once soothed her through scraped knees and sleepless nights. But she knew she couldn’t. She knew what her mother would say—how the disappointment would lace her tone, how she might try to convince her that she had made a mistake. And then there was Lando. She thought about what he might have done if she had told him. Would he have been angry? Hurt? Would he have begged her to reconsider? Or would he have just held her, wiped her tears away, told her that no matter what, he would be there?

But none of that mattered now. She had made her choice, and she refused to feel ashamed of it. She had been terrified that if she told anyone, they would criticize her, judge her, tell her she had done something wrong. And so she had kept it to herself. This was her burden. No one else could know. No one else should know.

Still, as she curled deeper into the blankets, pain wracking her body, she wished—just for a moment—that someone was there to hold her through it. But there was no one. So she gritted her teeth, wiped her tears, and endured the consequences.

Thursday and Friday, Y/N forced herself to return to work, ignoring the stabbing pains whenever she moved too quickly or twisted in her seat. She ran on frayed nerves and adrenaline, quietly popping painkillers to get through meetings. She told coworkers she had a lingering stomach bug, which explained her fatigue and occasional winces. Thankfully, they seemed to believe her.

All day Friday, she counted the hours until she could crawl under the covers and rest. But fate intervened. Late that afternoon, her phone chimed:

Lando: Hey, love, you busy tonight? I’m in London—surprise! I want to see you. Text me when you’re out of the office. x

Her stomach dropped. A flicker of warmth passed through her, a reminder of the comfort his presence usually brought. Then panic seized her. She didn’t know if she could hide her pain for an entire evening, and she certainly hadn’t expected him.

Still, she forced a casual tone in her reply:

Y/N: Surprise indeed. Sure, come over. We can have dinner in.

He replied with a string of heart emojis and “Can’t wait.” She took a shaky breath, promising herself she would manage.

By the time Y/N let Lando into her apartment, the sun was slipping behind the skyscrapers. He arrived with a casual jacket, jeans, and that familiar, excited glow on his face. In his hands was a plastic container that smelled richly of pesto and parmesan.

“Hey, baby,” he said gently, leaning in to press a warm kiss to her forehead. The instant his arms circled her waist, a twinge of pain shot through her abdomen, making her tense. He noticed.

“You okay?” he asked, concern evident in his voice as he pulled back to study her expression.

“Just a bit tired from work,” she answered, forcing a smile. “Long week.”

He nodded but still looked worried. “I brought dinner, so you don’t have to lift a finger. Just relax.” He held up the container. “My mum’s recipe—pasta with creamy pesto sauce. I promised you I’d learn how to make it one day, remember?”

The sincerity in his voice tugged at her heart. “That’s sweet. Thank you, Lando,” she murmured. A surge of guilt lanced through her—he had no idea that she’d had an abortion just two days before.

She led him to the small dining table near the windows. He portioned out the pasta, adding a sprinkle of grated cheese while she poured water into glasses. She tried to appear normal, but each time she shifted in her seat, her body reminded her of reality.

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Lando asked partway through the meal, setting his fork down. His concerned gaze roamed over her. “You look… stressed.”

“I’m fine. Really,” she lied, mustering another smile. “Just a lot going on at work.”

He exhaled, reaching across the table to take her hand. She flinched slightly; the brush of his thumb over her skin stirred a rush of conflicting emotions—remorse, sadness, love, and anxiety, all tangled together.

“Hey,” he said softly, “you can tell me anything, you know?”

Her throat tightened. “Of course,” she whispered, dropping her eyes to her plate. She couldn’t… not this. Not now.

They finished dinner in relative silence. When the plates were emptied, she rose to collect them, but Lando stopped her, moving them himself to the sink. “I’ll rinse off,” he insisted. “You go sit on the couch, okay? I’ll join you in a second.”

Relieved to have a moment alone, Y/N slipped onto the sofa, pressing a hand to her aching lower abdomen. She heard the sound of running water in the kitchen, the faint clink of dishes, and let her eyes drift shut.

Moments later, Lando dropped onto the cushion beside her. “Done,” he announced, a small grin lighting his features. He placed a hand on her thigh. “I missed you,” he confessed, voice low. “You’ve been distant. Hardly texted me all week.”

She offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I guess I’ve just been in my own head.”

His brow furrowed. “Right. Just promise me if something’s bothering you, you’ll tell me.” He paused, swallowing. “I love you, you know. I hate seeing you like this.”

His simple words—I love you—nearly undid her. Her eyes stung with tears, and she struggled to keep them at bay. If he only knew.

He noticed her reaction and tried to lighten the mood. “Wanna watch something in bed?” he asked. “Movie night?”

She nodded, her voice tight. “Sure.”

Hours later, having half-watched a comedy on Netflix, they decided to turn in for the night. Y/N, braced by painkillers, made her way to the bathroom first. As she washed her hands, she remembered the pregnancy tests.

A jolt of panic coursed through her. Oh, God. Where are they? She had thrown them in the bathroom trash, but had she fully disposed of them?

She left the sink running, peering into the small bin under the sink. It was mostly empty, just a tiny plastic bag and some balled-up tissues—except for that faint flash of white plastic. Damn it. She grabbed the bin, intending to quickly transfer its contents to a bigger trash bag in the kitchen, but she heard Lando’s footsteps approaching.

“Hey, babe,” he began, stepping into the doorway, “do you have any—?”

She froze, bin in hand, looking guilty. “Uh, nothing, sorry—”

He frowned, spotting the white plastic in the bin she held. In a disastrous stroke of timing, one test fell out, landing on the floor with a soft clink. Instantly, Lando recognized what it was. He bent to pick it up.

“What’s this?” he asked, curiosity turning to shock as he saw the tiny window indicating a plus sign. “Oh… Wait, is this—?”

His eyes snapped to her, excitement and confusion mingling in his expression. “You’re pregnant?” he murmured in disbelief. “Is that why you’ve been so… off all week? Why didn’t you tell me?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing emerged. He looked at her, a hundred emotions warring across his features—hope, wonder, fear. But he seemed happy, above all.

“Are we having a baby?” he asked, voice hushed.

Her mouth went dry. She could only shake her head. “No,” she managed hoarsely. “No, we’re not.”

He glanced at the test again. “But… it’s positive. I don’t understand.”

She swallowed hard. “It was positive,” she said, tears brimming in her eyes.

“It was?” His brow furrowed. “I still don’t—”

She realized there was no escape. The truth would come crashing down on them both. “Lando… I had an abortion,” she whispered, voice barely above a breath. “On Wednesday. It’s gone.”

Silence saturated the small space. Lando’s complexion went ashen, his jaw falling slack. Slowly, he set the test on the counter. His eyes, now shimmering with tears, lifted to her face.

“What?” he rasped, hardly able to form the words. “You were pregnant and… you…” He couldn’t finish. His breaths came in uneven gasps as disbelief gave way to deep, staggering hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her head dipped, shame burning in her cheeks. “I was scared,” she admitted, voice quivering. “I didn’t want it. I was terrified you’d try to force me to keep it.”

“Force you?” he repeated, stepping closer, heartbreak etched on every line of his face. “Why would you think that?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, tears rolling down her cheeks. “You love kids, Lando. You always say you can’t wait to be a dad. You get that look whenever you see children at the track. And I… I couldn’t do it. Not now. My career is just taking off, and you’re traveling so much. I felt like I had no choice.”

He let out a shaky exhale, rubbing a hand over his face. “I can’t believe you kept it from me,” he said, voice cracking. “We’ve been together two years. Did I ever make you think I’d force you to do something you didn’t want?”

She sobbed openly, tears glistening on her cheeks. “No… but I was scared. I thought you’d beg me or persuade me otherwise. And I wasn’t strong enough to say no if you did.”

The anger, heartbreak, and confusion on his face were almost tangible. He placed the test on the counter, turning back to her with tears rimming his eyes. “What was right for you…” he echoed bitterly. “So I didn’t even factor in?”

She tried to speak, but words stuck in her throat like stones. Finally, she managed to say, “That’s not fair. It’s my body, and I had to make a choice.”

He shut his eyes, tears spilling onto his cheeks. “Of course it’s your body,” he said, voice shaking. “But we’re together, aren’t we? You didn’t even give me a chance to be there for you, to help or… or just hold your hand.”

She choked out an apology. “I’m so sorry, Lando. I never wanted to hurt you. But I was so afraid of losing everything I’ve worked for. I panicked.”

He sank onto the edge of the bathtub, tears still falling freely. She had never seen him cry like this. “When did you find out?” he asked quietly.

“Last Friday,” she admitted. “I found out alone, here, after work. I called the clinic Monday and got an appointment for Wednesday. I was in so much pain afterward, and… I kept it from everyone. I didn’t want to risk anyone telling you.”

He let out a hollow breath. “Days… you spent days alone, in pain, not telling a soul.”

He buried his face in his hands, shoulders shuddering. Y/N felt her heart break at the sight. Ignoring her own discomfort, she knelt on the tiled floor and rested a trembling hand on his knee.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, voice raw. “I didn’t want to break your heart. I… I just couldn’t handle what a baby would mean right now.”

He lowered his hands, eyes red. “Afraid… were you afraid of me?” he asked, voice thick.

“I was afraid of letting both of us down,” she answered, tears hitching in her chest. “Afraid I couldn’t stand by my decision if you pleaded with me. I know you love me, but I felt cornered.”

He let out a shaky sigh, wiping his tears with frustration. “I thought we trusted each other,” he whispered. “We’re supposed to be a team. And now…” He trailed off, voice cracking. “I can’t explain how much it hurts to know you went through something so huge, so painful, alone.”

Her hand found his, and he didn’t pull away. “I know,” she murmured. “It wasn’t about distrusting you. I just… I didn’t trust myself.”

He inhaled sharply, tears still falling. “I’m sorry you felt that way,” he said brokenly. “But God, it hurts. We could have had a baby. And now… we don’t. And you never even told me.”

A fresh wave of guilt crushed her. She inched closer, wrapping her arms around him. He froze for a moment, then sagged into her embrace, the two of them sobbing against each other. The heartbreak was palpable, a heavy weight neither knew how to handle.

Eventually, they pulled away from one another, both of their faces streaked with tears and their eyes red from crying. Lando stood first, then gently helped Y/N to her feet. His voice was rough with emotion as he said, “Come on. You need to rest. We can’t just… stay on this bathroom floor all night.”

She nodded mutely, allowing him to guide her into the bedroom. He arranged the pillows so that she could sit back comfortably, then frowned at the harsh glow of the overhead lamp. With a few quick steps, he switched on the softer bedside light instead, filling the room with a gentler warmth.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Y/N could sense the storm of emotions roiling behind Lando’s eyes: hurt, anger, sorrow. Finally, he cleared his throat, his voice still trembling. “When exactly… did you do it?”

Her breath hitched. “Wednesday,” she confessed. “I pretended to be sick at work and went in the morning. I was home by noon, just… in pain.”

He nodded almost imperceptibly, eyes shutting as anguish pinched his features. “You came back… alone?” he echoed quietly. “No one knew? No one drove you?”

She shook her head, shame creeping over her. “I took a cab. I told no one,” she whispered.

Lando grimaced, running a hand over his face in an attempt to steady his breathing. “God,” he muttered, voice raw, “the thought of you going through that all alone—” His voice cracked, and he let out a shuddering exhale. “I would have been there for you. Even if I disagreed, even if we argued… I would have been there, if you’d just told me.”

Tears slid down Y/N’s cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Truly. I wish I could change it.”

He inhaled sharply, still fighting the turmoil in his chest. “I’m devastated,” he admitted, meeting her gaze. “Not because you chose to have an abortion—I get that it’s your body, your choice. What kills me is knowing you went through all that alone, and worse, that you thought so little of me that you believed I’d try to force you to keep the baby. That you hid this from me… It hurts more than anything.”

Fresh tears welled up in her eyes as she reached for his hand. “I was terrified,” she said brokenly. “I was worried about how it might affect your career, mine… everything. I thought if you knew, you’d beg me to keep it, and I wouldn’t be strong enough to say no. I never wanted to lose you or disappoint you.”

“F1 is huge,” Lando acknowledged softly, tears escaping down his cheeks. “But it’s not bigger than you—or the family I hope we can have someday. But only when you’re ready.” His voice trembled as he continued. “I’ve pictured marrying you, Y/N. I’ve thought about us having kids… not now, but eventually. I never—” He broke off, swallowing hard. “I never wanted you to think you couldn’t come to me. I never wanted you to go through something like this alone.”

A trembling breath escaped her. She blinked, her vision blurring with tears. “I didn’t know,” she admitted, voice cracking. 

Silence settled over them as each grappled with the weight of their mutual insecurities. At last, Lando reached out and brushed a tear from her cheek. “We both messed up,” he said thickly. “But please… don’t hide something like this from me again. I would have supported you, no matter your decision. I would have carried you out of that clinic myself if that’s what you needed.”

“I won’t,” she promised, tears spilling anew. Her voice wobbled as she added, “I’m so sorry I misjudged you.”

He leaned in, pulling her carefully into his arms. Even in his own pain, he was gentle, cradling the back of her head. She felt his heartbreak in every shaky breath, but she also felt his unwavering love.

“I’m so angry and sad,” he murmured into her hair. “But I love you. I can’t just leave you over this. I just… need time to process it.”

She pressed her face to his chest, her sobs muffled against his shirt. “If you need space,” she began, voice muffled, “I understand.”

Lando shook his head, resting his cheek against the top of her head. “I don’t want space. I just want to figure out how to move forward.” He pulled back enough to meet her gaze. “Are you still in pain?”

“A bit,” she admitted, wiping her cheeks. “Cramping.”

His face twisted with concern. “Let me get you something—a hot water bottle, painkillers?”

She offered him a watery smile. “A hot water bottle would help, yeah.”

He stood up, quickly returning with the hot water bottle and placing it gently over her lower abdomen. Then he climbed onto the bed beside her. She nestled against him, tears falling quietly as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“I love you,” he said again, his voice catching in his throat. “Even after all of this, even though I’m hurting. I don’t want to lose you.”

She looked up, eyes swimming with guilt and relief. “I love you too,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I broke your heart. If I could redo it… I’d tell you right away. But I still wouldn’t have kept the pregnancy,” she added, her voice trembling with a fresh wave of emotion. “I’m sorry that hurts you.”

His breath shuddered. “It does,” he admitted, “but I’d never want you forced into something you don’t want. I just wish I’d known. I wish you’d trusted me enough to let me be there for you.”

A tear rolled down her cheek, the regret so palpable she could barely speak. “Me too,” she whispered, taking his hand and squeezing it.

A lingering pause enveloped them. At last, Lando spoke, his voice quiet. “Do you still see a future for us? Maybe a family one day, when we’re both really ready for it?”

He looked at her with fragile hope, grief etched in every line of his face. Y/N felt her own tears threaten again. “I do,” she murmured. “Just… not right now.”

His shoulders slackened, a relieved breath escaping him. “Okay,” he said, voice unsteady. “That means a lot.”

They sat there, the bedside lamp casting a warm glow around them, an island of soft light in a sea of darkness. Eventually, she rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. She wondered if they could ever get back the easy laughter and carefree moments they once knew. But for now, she focused on the steady thump beneath her cheek—the sound of him staying, of him loving her through the pain.

And despite the sorrow, it was a comfort she clung to with all her heart.

Sleep was fitful for them both. The weight of everything that had been said, everything that had been revealed, settled over them like an unshakable fog. Around three in the morning, Y/N woke from a restless doze, her abdomen throbbing, cheeks still damp with tears. Lando’s arms were around her, holding her close even in sleep, though his grip occasionally tightened as if, even subconsciously, he was afraid of losing her.

She shifted slightly, wincing as another wave of pain rolled through her. The physical ache was still overwhelming, a sharp reminder of what her body had been through. But the emotional turmoil lingered too—the knowledge that she had believed, deep down, that Lando would have forced her to keep the baby if he had known.

As if sensing her discomfort, he stirred, blinking blearily before his gaze immediately found hers. He brushed a thumb across her damp cheek, voice still thick with sleep. “You okay?”

“It still hurts,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “All of it.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, the gesture so heartbreakingly tender that it made her chest tighten. “I know,” he murmured. “I hate that you’re in pain. I hate that you thought you had to go through this alone. But I’m here. Let’s hold on to each other tonight.”

She nestled closer to him, craving the warmth of his presence, even as her heart ached with the realization that this—this moment of fragile vulnerability—was what she had feared. That he would love her despite it all. That he wouldn’t abandon her, no matter what.

His scent—soap, faint cologne, something unmistakably him—brought back memories of better days. Lazy weekends tangled up in his sheets. Impromptu dates that always ended in laughter. The way he would tease her, endlessly, just to see her roll her eyes and fight back with that fire he adored.

She clung to those memories, hoping they could anchor her through the storm still raging inside her.

They drifted in and out of sleep until the early light crept around the blinds. Y/N stirred, blinking up at the ceiling, only to realize Lando was already awake, watching her. His expression was unreadable, somewhere between sorrow and quiet determination.

She turned her face away, self-conscious, but he gently pulled her back, fingertips brushing her chin. “Hey,” he said softly, eyes searching hers. “I’ve got you.”

Her throat tightened. “I’m scared,” she confessed. “Scared you won’t look at me the same.”

Lando exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a brief moment as if the thought physically hurt him. When he opened them again, they were glassy with emotion. He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he pulled her even closer, his lips pressing to her forehead in a lingering, silent reassurance.

“I won’t lie,” he admitted, voice thick with emotion. “This changes things.”

Her breath hitched.

Not because she regretted what she had done—but because of how deeply she had misjudged him. Because she had truly believed he wouldn’t stand by her. Because she had been so convinced she was alone.

Lando pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his fingers threading through hers. “But not in the way you think,” he continued. “Not because of what you did. Not because you had an abortion.” His thumb brushed soothing circles over the back of her hand. “It changes things because now I know how much you believed I’d try to control you. That you thought I’d take away your choice.”

Tears burned at the edges of her eyes again.

He shook his head, jaw tightening. “That kills me, Y/N. But I need you to hear me when I say this—I will always support you. No matter what.”

She let out a trembling breath, the weight of his words settling into her bones.

“Together?” she whispered, clinging to that word like a lifeline.

His grip on her hand tightened. “Together,” he promised. And this time, she believed him.

That morning, Lando insisted on taking care of her. He moved cautiously, helping her to the bathroom, making sure she took her painkillers, and bringing her a warm drink. She managed a few bites of toast, and he hovered protectively until she was done.

They ended up on the couch, the morning sun spilling through the windows to illuminate the living room. The hum of traffic emphasised the tense quiet between them. Finally, Lando broke the silence, voice tentative.

“Do you think… we should talk to someone about this?” he asked. “A counselor or therapist, maybe. It feels like something too big to handle alone.”

She fiddled with the edge of a throw pillow. She had never considered counseling before, but the weight of her guilt, his grief, and their mutual pain felt overwhelming. “Maybe,” she agreed softly. “If you’re willing, we could look into it.”

He gave a small, sad smile. “I think it could help,” he said. Then he slid closer and took her hand in his. “I’m still so hurt,” he added, eyes fixed on the carpet. “I can’t pretend I’m not. But we can’t go back in time, and if we just shut down now, we’ll lose each other.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she smiled shakily at him. “I don’t want to lose you,” she said. “I love you so much.”

He was quiet for a long moment, then gently guided her head to rest on his shoulder. They sat like that, taking halting steps toward mending the rift. The grief lingered—a heavy companion in the room—but beneath it, there was love, fragile but steadfast.

Hours crept by in slow motion. Lando stayed nearby, drawing a bath for her, massaging her back when the cramps worsened, handing her tissues whenever tears struck without warning. She apologized again and again; he told her that he forgave her, but also that trust would take time to rebuild.

Occasionally, she caught him gazing at her with tears in his eyes, heartbreak flashing across his features at the thought of the baby he would never meet. Guilt nibbled at her each time, knowing she had kept him in the dark. And yet, he never lashed out in anger. He was gentle, if deeply wounded—proof of how deeply he cared for her. It humbled her and made her chest ache all at once.

By the time night fell again, Y/N was curled on the couch under a blanket, eyes hollow from crying. Lando had stepped away to the bathroom; when he returned, he settled next to her, exhaustion etched on his face.

“Remember when we used to talk about the future?” he asked quietly, eyes distant. “About traveling more, maybe living somewhere else, getting away from the city for a bit?”

She nodded, recalling those late-night talks and the sense of possibility they used to share—how different everything seemed now.

“I still want those things,” he said, turning toward her. “And I want them with you. But I need you to come to me with things—even if you think it’ll upset me or disappoint me.” A tremor of emotion caught in his throat. “I can’t handle being shut out again.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “I promise,” she said, voice unsteady. “I promise I won’t ever hide something like this from you again.”

He studied her face for a moment, then nodded, a flicker of relief showing. “Good,” he whispered, slipping an arm around her waist.

She let her head rest on his shoulder, fresh tears slipping onto his shirt. This time, the crying felt like a release rather than a collapse. He stroked gentle circles on her back.

They stared out the window at the glow of the skyline. The silence between them was heavy but not hostile—more like two people trying to piece themselves back together after a storm.

A few minutes passed in silence, the soft hum of traffic below filling the quiet. Then, Y/N cleared her throat, turning to look at Lando with fresh tears gathering.

“I know I keep apologizing,” she began, voice trembling, “but I need you to know something important.”

He watched her intently, his own eyes rimmed with red. “What is it?” he asked softly.

She drew in a shaky breath. “I don’t regret having the abortion,” she said, her voice steady for the first time since this began. “I truly believe it was the right decision for me… for us… for now. And I’m so sorry if that hurts to hear.”

His face flickered with pain, but he gave a small shake of his head. “It doesn’t hurt to hear it,” he said, pressing his lips together. “I promise. I’m not… I’m not upset about the decision itself. I know it’s your body, your choice.”

The relief in her eyes was immediate, though guilt still lingered. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I needed to say that out loud.” Her gaze dropped to their joined hands. “But I’m devastated that I didn’t tell you as soon as I found out. The moment I took that test, I should have… I should have told you. I just—” She paused, swallowing hard. “I was so scared.”

He nodded, his grip on her fingers tightening briefly. “That’s what hurts the most,” he admitted, voice thick. “Not that you ended the pregnancy. But that you believed I’d try to make you keep it.” He exhaled shakily, the corners of his eyes glistening again. “It feels like you thought I’d trap you or force you. That you trusted me so little.”

Hearing the crack in his voice, Y/N felt fresh tears surge. “I didn’t want to think of you that way,” she whispered, “but I… let my fear win. I convinced myself that you’d beg me to keep it, and I wouldn’t be able to stand firm.” She shifted closer, her free hand moving to rest gently on his forearm. “Seeing you like this, knowing how much I hurt you by not telling you—” She broke off, choking on a sob. “I’m sorry, Lando. I’m so, so sorry.”

He swallowed, blinking against his own tears. “I’m hurt because it’s us. We’ve been together for two years, and I thought… I thought you knew me better than that. I would never have wanted to force you into anything, and I would have respected your decision from the start.” His voice wavered. “I would have been there in that clinic, waiting, holding your hand, driving you home. All of it. If only you’d told me.”

That last sentence sent a wave of guilt crashing over her. She leaned in, pressing her forehead against his shoulder as she cried silently. His arm came around her, holding her close.

When she finally lifted her head, her eyes were red, but there was a fierceness in her gaze. “I know,” she said, voice raw. “And I hate myself for letting fear overshadow everything else. For making you feel like I didn’t trust you.”

Lando eased back against the cushions, tugging her gently with him so that she rested against his side. “I understand why you were scared,” he murmured, staring at the city lights through the glass windows. “But it doesn’t make the hurt vanish. It’s going to take time.”

She nodded, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I know,” she whispered. “I’m prepared for that. I’ll do whatever it takes. I just want you to know I’m not… I’m not sitting here wishing I could go back and keep the pregnancy. I’m wishing I could go back and trust you enough to tell you from the start.”

His gaze slid toward her, sad and searching. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I need to hear that.”

She exhaled unsteadily, dropping her head against his shoulder. “You’re so hurt,” she murmured. “And every time I see it in your eyes… It breaks me. Because I’m the one who caused it.”

He pressed a tentative kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll heal,” he said. “We both will. But you have to promise me, from now on, you’ll come to me. Even if you think I’ll be angry, or disappointed, or anything else. Just… don’t shut me out.”

Her voice cracked when she answered, “I won’t. I swear. I’ve learned my lesson the hardest way possible.”

They stayed like that for several beats of silence, the city’s ambient glow lending a soft halo around them through the windows. After a while, Y/N shifted to look at him directly.

“Do you want anything?” she asked quietly. “Tea? Water? Another blanket?”

He half-smiled, a worn expression. “I think I could use some water, yeah.”

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze before standing. Her steps were ginger; she was still sore, but the pain was easier to bear now that the guilt wasn’t crushing her every breath. In the kitchen, she filled a glass with water. She grabbed one for herself as well.

When she returned, Lando accepted it gratefully, taking a few careful sips. She settled back beside him, drawing a throw blanket over both of their laps.

“I promise,” she said suddenly, “I’ll never lie to you like this again, never keep something so big a secret.” Her voice trembled, but her eyes shone with conviction. “I know it won’t erase what I’ve done, but I need you to know that.”

He nodded, setting his half-finished glass on the coffee table. “I believe you,” he said, “but it’ll take time for that trust to feel… complete again.” He glanced at her worriedly, as though fearing his honesty might wound her further. “Are you okay hearing that?”

She swallowed, tears threatening once more. “Yes,” she said, forcing herself not to look away. “It’s what I deserve. I hurt you, and I can’t expect that to vanish overnight.” She paused, taking a ragged breath. “But I’ll do whatever it takes to show you I do trust you… that you are the most important person in my life.”

He gave a short, pained laugh. “Funny how we both felt we were doing what was best for each other—me wanting to be supportive no matter what, you wanting to protect my career and your own.” He shook his head. “But we ended up hurting each other more.”

She rested a hand against his cheek, wiping away the tears on his lashes with her thumb. “I’m done letting fear guide me,” she said. “I want us to heal, Lando.”

Silence fell again, broken only by the quiet city hum and their unsteady breathing. Finally, Lando sighed, releasing some of the tension in his shoulders. “Let’s talk about something—anything else—just for a minute,” he suggested, voice still laced with sadness but carrying a faint glimmer of hope. “Not to pretend this didn’t happen, but… I feel like I can’t breathe if we keep circling the same pain.”

She nodded, understanding. “Okay.”

They sat there for a moment, and she found herself hesitating. Then she mustered a small smile. “I had an idea for a holiday, before all this. Nothing extravagant—maybe just a road trip through the English countryside, or a quick hop somewhere in Europe for a weekend. To get away from the city stress.”

His expression softened. “I remember you mentioning wanting to see the Lake District again.”

She nodded, shoulders relaxing a fraction. “Yeah. Maybe we could go there. It’s calm… quiet. Might give us space to just be.”

He reached for her hand again, a gentler hold this time. “That actually sounds… perfect,” he admitted. “No pressure, no big crowds. Just us.”

They exchanged a tentative smile, the first real glimmer of something lighter passing between them since the revelation.

After a pause, Y/N brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For listening. For not walking away. For understanding that… I don’t regret the abortion. Only how I handled it with you.”

Lando studied her face for a moment, then lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss there. “I love you,” he said, his voice still heavy with emotion. “I wish this had never happened the way it did, but I’m still here. And I still want you… just you.”

She blinked back fresh tears, nodding. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like I didn’t trust you. You’re the only person I’ve ever truly loved, and I hate that I made you doubt it.”

He squeezed her hand. “We’ll work through it,” he said quietly. “One day at a time. As long as we’re both honest from now on.”

She breathed out, her shoulders slumping in a mixture of exhaustion and relief. “Yes,” she agreed, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. “One day at a time.”

Outside the apartment windows, the city moved on as always—lights pulsing, cars streaming, life going on. But for the two of them, everything felt changed. They hadn’t escaped the storm entirely, but they had survived its fiercest gusts.

Wrapped in each other’s arms on that couch, they found a fragile peace—not because they had forgotten the pain, but because they had acknowledged it, felt it fully, and decided to keep moving forward together.

[redc0ree]

Keys to Your Heart

Kris Dreemurr x GN Reader 4k Words Desc: You're forced to take piano lessons from Kris for a month. Tags: Fluff, Pre Canon, Misunderstandings, Author doesn’t know how to play piano, Reader is mentioned having parents, Crushes CW: None

You sighed as you lay idly in your room, waiting for your family to come back from some sort of neighborhood meeting.

Apparently, in a passing conversation, Toriel mentioned to your family that her kid used to play piano. One thing led to another, and you eventually received a phone call from your family letting you know that you had to take piano lessons from the Dreemurr’s kid.

“It won’t take that long,” You tried hard to make out their voice through the sea of surrounding sounds; the other side was strangely loud.

“It’ll only be for a month, then you can quit.” 

You wanted to tell your parents to screw off, that you weren’t interested in learning. But you remember the promise you made to them that you'll pick up an actual hobby this year. Plus, a month didn't seem that long compared to years of nagging.

“...I guess so.” You cautiously agree to their terms as you stare up at the ceiling.

“Your first lesson will start tomorrow after school, okay? Great then, love you, bye.” They hang up, but not before you’re faintly able to hear club music in the background.

You sigh as you turn off your phone and place it on your nightstand, somehow already beginning to regret your agreement.

You always had a small crush on Kris Dreemur. It was never anything serious, though; it was one of those crushes that you develop just to keep yourself entertained, the ones that never last more than a year. They were silent and mysterious enough that you could project all you wanted onto them, a blank slate of an identity. It felt weird that you were going to have to spend time with them, let alone have them at your house to teach you piano.

But it was time for you to put your feelings aside and get shit done.

—

You try to find Kris the next day at school to talk about the lesson plan, but you’re too swamped with work to find the time. You had to finish all your homework in class, considering you wouldn’t have as much time after school that day. When you came home, you tossed your backpack to the side to sit at the piano. You laid your hands along the tiles, grazing your fingers just enough to feel the smooth ivory under your fingertips. Your mind wandered, back to when the piano was gifted to you by an old family friend for your birthday. When you told them that you didn't know how to play, they simply told you that you'll learn someday.That was eons ago; you never found the time to learn as the piano slowly picked up dust over the years. But better late than never . You thought.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a ring at the front door; it looked like Kris was already here.

You listened in as your parent greeted them. You give an awkward wave as they approach you, quickly retreating your hands to your lap. “Umm…Hi.” You didn't know why you felt so sheepish all of a sudden. They looked identical enough as to how they presented themselves at school, except only now could you really see them up close. You noted the small dark circles under their eyes, or at least from what you could see through the curtains of their deep brown bangs.

They give a small nod back, looking into the distance. “Nice to meet you.” Their voice was something that you rarely had the chance to hear. It was low and hushed, unenthusiastic. You felt sympathy rush through you; it looks like you weren't the only one who got forced into this by their family.

It made you feel better somehow.

The first lesson was basic enough as they helped you become familiar with the keys, and you watched as they effortlessly played. Whenever you tried to copy their moves, however, you always messed up. You tried to laugh it off, but frustration slowly began to bubble inside you as you made yet another mistake after basic mistake. “Sorry I'm making this so difficult. You groan in frustration, slouching your shoulders.

Kris had an empathetic look on their face. “Don't worry about it… I was the same way when I was learning. Just- keep practicing and you'll figure it out.” You could tell they were trying to make you feel better. In truth, it didn’t work. You silently wondered just how much your family was paying to have them put up with you. You knew you had to cooperate if you wanted to get yourself through this.

“Alright.” You take a deep breath and try again.

The first few days were nothing out of the ordinary; the two of you spent that time getting familiar with the notes and basic scales. The agreed-upon schedule was every other day after school that you'd spend time together, no more than an hour. Though you were able to learn basic information about Kris through small talk, you noticed how they kept their distance throughout, like they always had somewhere better to be.

You couldn't blame them.

—

One day Kris came with their backpack; it was unusual, but you didn’t question it.

“I think it might be time for you to learn your first song. I brought sheet music.” They pulled out a binder and took out multiple crumpled, worn-out papers. You could tell they’ve been used for a long time. “What do you want to play?”

You sit in bewilderment as they suggest that you know any beginner-level songs. “I, uh—I’m not sure; I don’t know any songs yet.” You look around, chuckling awkwardly.

You could see their face flush slightly in embarrassment. Looks like they forgot just how little time they’ve been teaching you for.

“Right…” They picked out a piece of sheet music. “I guess we could do a nursery rhyme or something, like Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”

You felt slightly nervous as you played the keys. It took a while, but you eventually got a basic hold of it.

As the lesson came to an end, Kris turned to ask you something. “Would it be okay if I did my homework here for a bit?” You froze. They were getting permission from you.

“Uhm—yeah! Of course!” Your hands fumble as you point to the couch situated behind you. “Feel free to sit wherever." 

You silently watch as Kris picks up their backpack and sits down to where you pointed.

That was where you usually did your homework. 

It looks like you had to do your work upstairs; it felt too awkward to sit next to them on the couch.

—

The next day at school you give Kris your social media. It was their idea for you to start sending them recordings of your practice sessions to track your progress. Today wasn’t a lesson day, so when you went home, you recorded a short playing of a song you were learning. They replied with a simple thumbs-up emoji. It was a small gesture, but it made you smile. It slowly became a routine, with you going after school to record short minute-long videos of you playing piano. Kris always responded, usually with an emoji or a small one-word message. The feedback wasn't very constructive, but it still made you feel good.

—

It was the last week of lessons, and you made significant progress in your piano skills. You were now able to play basic nursery rhymes without making too many mistakes.

“I think we can move you onto something more challenging.” Kris places a sheet of paper on top of the piano. “Here, it’s an old song I used to play at the church.”

You take the sheet and look at the notes, silently humming the tune to yourself. It was slightly longer than what you were used to.

Kris sat next to you, giving you the key to start. As you start the song, Kris plays along with you from the other side of the piano.  There were a few mistakes at first, but Kris' playing helped you get yourself back on track.

Your final tries had you play from memory for the first time, without the sheet music to guide you. Kris gives you a nod of reassurance as they place their hands on the keys. You start, closing your eyes as you let the keys guide you through the sound… It felt natural. You didn’t notice it at first, but Kris stopped playing halfway through.

They were focusing on you. 

A sigh of relief escapes as you press your fingers against the last note. You open your eyes to see Kris staring at you, a semi-proud smile to themself. “That was great.” They nod.

You felt your face heat up. “It was nothing, really…” you say sheepishly. 

“You’re a fast learner.” Their eyes were genuine.

“...But your positioning is off, can I?” Kris asks, standing up and stepping behind you. You quickly nod without hesitation nor thinking.

You tense up as they lay their hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you into position. “You need to sit up like this.” Your body memorizes every second as their guidance trails down your shoulders onto your hands, encasing them.

“...your hands need to be positioned like that.” Kris’ fingers were cold to the touch; shivers ran down your soul.

“Don't shake so much either; you need to be confident.” They mumble as they give a gentle squeeze to your wrists. Through your daze, you notice their nails, chipped with black nail polish. You felt hot, your face was hot, and Kris was definitely hot. You mean —what???

“Did you get that?”

You couldn’t focus on a single thing Kris was saying; all you could pay attention to was how close they were as they guided you from behind. You heard white noise as the sound of your heartbeat echoed inside your head.

“Mhm… uh-huh, yeah, yeah—thanks.” Your words jumble together as you silently thank the universe they couldn’t see how heated your face was. You could’ve sworn they were doing this on purpose. 

They couldn’t have known… Could they?

“Good.” Their hands were still on you, touch lasting a few moments longer than it should have, but they eventually backed up. Holy fucking shit . It took everything inside you not to explode at that very moment.

The rest of the lesson went as usual, but your mind kept going back to that specific moment. The feeling of their hands still lingering on you. After the lesson ended, you stormed to your bedroom to silently scream into the nearest pillow you could find.

Your crush on Kris was getting worse by the day. What once was just a figment of your daydreams was now crashing into your life at full speed. They were the cold, weird kid next door. It wasn't possible that they liked you back… It shouldn't be.

That motherfucker was being paid by your family to torment you.

You lift your face up from the pillow; in the corner of your vision, you spot something. It was a small apple-shaped keychain you got as a prize from an arcade some months ago.

You pick it up, and you decide that tomorrow would be a good time to test your theory out, get your feelings out of the way through rejection. It'll be the best for the both of you.

—

You didn’t consider yourself religious; you haven't since you were little—so your parents took it as a surprise when you suddenly told them you wanted to go to church on Sunday. They obliged, taking you with them for the first time in years. You decided to take out your church clothes to wear something nice. 

As you sat in your seat, you fidgeted with the keychain in the small velvet box it was included with. You couldn't help but hold on tight– as if it was about to slip away from you any moment now. Somehow, it felt heavier in your hands than it did last night.

After an hour of various sermons and songs, you could finally stand up to look around for Kris, who was nowhere to be found. You spotted Kris’ mother at the juice table, however– who gave you a smile and wave as you walked towards her.

“Hi, Miss Toriel.” You try your best to be friendly.

“Nice to see you here, child. How have your lessons with Kris been?” She smiled. Her breath smelt faintly like wine.

“Good, good. I’m actually learning a lot more than I thought I would.” You nodded, pouring a cup of juice for yourself.

“That’s great to hear! I’d love to see you two play together someday.”

“Uhh yeah…” You awkwardly chuckle. “Me too.” 

“Speaking of Kris…” You turn the conversation around. “Have you seen them anywhere?”

“Hm…” She furrowed her brow as if she needed to recall her memory. “Kris went outside to take a phone call half an hour ago; they should be finished by now.”

“Okaygreatthanks-”

You quickly excuse yourself and rush out the door to continue your search for Kris. Outside, you scoured around the perimeter, but they were nowhere to be found. You sigh. They must've ditched the service early or something.

Right as you were about to turn back inside, you spotted a figure emerging from the forest surrounding the shelter. You took cover behind the church walls, peeking in like some kind of spy.

It was Kris.

They looked surprised to see you as you suddenly appeared, like they were caught in some kind of act. They quickly turned off their phone and shoved it in their pocket. “Uhm…” You could do nothing but stare at Kris for a moment, feeling yourself shrink under them. “Hey Kris,” You look around, past the woods. “What are you doing out here?”

They look away. “... needed to take a break where it’s quiet…” They mumble as they put their hands in their pockets.

“Yeah, I understand that feeling.” You give a small smile, choosing to ignore how painfully suspicious they were acting at the moment. “I, uh…” You jolt back to the script you rehearsed as you almost forget your reason for being here in the first place. “I wanted to give you this.” You hand the present out to them. “It’s for all the stuff you taught me.” God, you hope that didn't sound corny.

Kris’ eyes become wide open. A slight flush appeared on their cheeks as they took the small box. There was a long pause in the air as the keychain sat in their palm, like they were mentally deciding which words to choose.

After what seemed like forever, they finally spoke. 

“Thanks.” Kris said indifferently, quickly shoving the keychain inside their pocket. You could only watch as they opened church doors to head inside.

Thanks…

That's all they had to say.

You froze in place as your hand instinctively went up to your chest. You didn’t know why your heart stung— it was just a shitty gift worth 2 bucks; of course they wouldn’t care. 

Maybe you just thought they'd appreciate the gift a bit more, that they'd treasure anything you'd give them. But who were you to think that they needed anything from you? Disgust runs through your body. Kris wasn't some type of dilemma for you to rescue, they never were.

You crush the plastic cup of juice in frustration, tossing it in the bin with full force. You were lucky service was over.

At home, you sighed as you covered your face in your hands. You felt so stupid. It turns out they didn't like you, great—now you could finally move on with your life and stop living in delusion. You look at your calendar, tomorrow will be the last week of lessons. 

That gave you some reassurance.

—

Kris wasn’t at school the next day. You wondered if that phone call from Sunday had anything to do with it. You wanted to message them to ask if you’d still be meeting, but you restrained yourself. You needed to give them space; they could text you if they wanted to. Plus, their absence was enough proof that they probably weren't willing for lessons today. Once school ended, you skipped the piano and headed straight towards your bed. You knew you had to practice, but something made you want to skip today.

Maybe it was the weather, or maybe it was the absence of Kris.

A few hours of being on your phone pass by and you hear the doorbell ring, followed by the sound of your name being called. You were surprised, you weren't expecting anyone. As you came downstairs, you could silently hear the sound of the piano being played. 

It was the song you were learning.

Kris was already sitting at the piano, seemingly waiting for you. They looked up as they noticed you, they had dark circles under their eyes.

“...Hi Kris.” You couldn't help but fidget with your hands as you walked over to them. ”I kinda assumed we weren’t doing lessons since you weren’t at school today.”

Kris places their hand behind their neck. “... yeah, I was busy with something…” They mumble, sounding like they were being put on the spot. “Sorry for not giving you a message. If this is a bad time for you—”

“Kris…” You don’t know why, but your heart felt heavy. “If you want to stay here, you can.”

You watched as their gaze softened by your words. There was something different about them today. They looked more tired than usual, their hair was out of place. You wanted to ask what was wrong, but you knew you couldn't for whatever reason.

Kris hesitated a bit before asking. “Do you have anywhere I could charge my phone?” They ask as you sit down and take your seat next to them on the piano. That's when you notice something. The apple keychain, the same keychain you gave to Kris was attached to their phone. 

Kris must’ve noticed how surprised you looked; they turned their eyebrows in worry. “Why do you still have that?” Your words come out harsher than you wanted them to.

“Because you gave it to me.”

Oh.

You couldn't help but start laughing. “This whole time, I thought you didn’t like it!” You say as Kris stared in confusion.

It looked like they weren't happy with your assumption. The corners of their mouth tilt downward for just a moment… “Why did you think that?” There was hurt in their voice.

“I… don’t know.” You feel embarrassment creeping in. “I jump to conclusions easily, I guess.”

There was a pause in the air.

Finally, Kris broke the silence. “I'm… Sorry for the way I acted on Sunday…” Their hand came up to cradle the back of their neck. “I was in a hurry; I should’ve—”

You cut them off. “Kris. You don’t need to apologize.” You place a hand on their shoulder out of instinct, forgetting any anxiousness you’d otherwise feel at touching them.Their mouth opens for a moment, like they wanted to say something—but they stay silent, giving a breath out in relief.

Despite the time you were spending with each other, it felt like you knew absolutely nothing about them. It was like there was a giant glass wall between you two.You realized that you felt the urge to hug them, to tell them that everything was going to be okay. But that was weird; you were weird. They’re your piano teacher, for crying out loud. They’re only doing this so they could get paid by your family.

But you were tired of all this guesswork, it felt wrong to push these assumptions onto them. You wanted to know Kris, the real Kris: their favorite songs, what made them laugh, everything you could because you could tell they were hurting.

“Hey…” You give them a soft smile. “Do you think we could do something else today? Like—just relax?”

Kris stays still for a moment, and you immediately start to regret your question. You put your hands down, preparing yourself for whatever excuse they were going to come up with for not hanging out with you.

“...I’d like that a lot, actually.” There's a slight flush in their cheeks. “What do you want to do?”

Your eyes widen. “Uh—maybe we could watch a movie?” You point to the couch behind the both of you.

Kris follows your gaze. They give a small nod.

—

You both sit on the living room couch with a large blanket comfortably smothering you.

You give Kris the remote, letting them pick what the two of you watch. They enthusiastically decide on some gory slasher film about a bat-wielding murderer. In truth, you were scared shitless. But you tried to play it cool as they press play.

You keep yourself mostly composed for the majority of the movie, but as the main character peeks around the corner, you feel a cold hand graze up against yours. You almost jump out of your seat, and the hand quickly backs off. 

You look over to your side to realize it was just Kris, looking embarrassed. They interlock with your fingers. Their hands were cold, but they slowly warmed up over time. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or the feeling of their skin on yours, but your heart was basically beating out of your chest the whole time.

“Don’t worry…” Kris mumbles, looking straight at the screen. “I’ll tell you when it’s coming.” You held on tighter as the killer jumped from around the corner, only for the main character to pull out their gun for the final blow.

You give a sigh of relief as the credits start rolling. The movie was over, but you were still holding hands with Kris.

“Maybe I should’ve picked something else…” There was a guilt in their voice.

“I actually kind of liked it… It wasn’t as scary as I expected.” You lied; you were actually going to have to sleep with the lights on for a full week.

“Right…” They didn’t seem to believe you, and you could’ve sworn they were definitely trying to hold back a laugh. “You should pick the first movie next time.” Their cute smile makes you blush.

Next time.  

Kris wanted this, you realized. Your heart flutters at the idea of a potential next time, spending more and more time together like this.

The next few hours were spent watching different films of various quality. You noticed Kris’ slightly crooked teeth whenever they laughed, it was endearing. Their hands slowly warmed up over time as you held them in yours. Sometime during the movie marathon, your head ended up lying against Kris’ shoulder, they only gave you a tender stare as you lay up against their sweater. 

It felt natural.

The clock eventually hits midnight, and your parent comes downstairs to tell the two of you to sleep. You look over at Kris, asking if they needed to call their parents. “It's fine…” Their voice was slightly pained, as if an unpleasant memory just crossed their mind. You decide not to pry into it, telling your family that Kris is going to sleep over for the night. The night was spent just taking time to talk with each other. Talking about piano and the shitty movies you just watched. You laughed with them like you’ve done this for years. 

It felt nice. 

Kris felt nice.

Eventually, it was time to go to sleep. You watched Kris as they fell asleep next to you. Their long lashes gently fluttered, and their chest moved up and down as their mouth stayed slightly parted. It was nice seeing them so peaceful. 

You didn’t think about tomorrow, you could only think about the smell of Kris’ apple shampoo as you slowly drifted asleep by their side.

AN: Had this fic sitting in my docs for the longest time, so I just decided to hit post or else I’m gonna be editing endlessly. This is the first x reader fic I've posted publicly, so there's a few mistakes here and there. I still hope it's at least readable and somewhat enjoyable. I also wanna clarify again that I’ve never played an instrument in my life, so I sincerely apologize for any pain this fic might cause to actual piano players. 

I'm still deciding what I want this account to be about, so if you have any requests/questions my asks are open! ^^

[felinecyan]

Untouchable

[Katsuki Bakugo x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When a classmate breaks a well-known rule within the dorm, you decide to take it upon yourself to “fix” the issue.

WC: 2863

Category: Mega Fluff, Kindhearted!Reader, Todoroki being an icon (like always 💅)

I don’t know about you guys, but writing for Bakugo is the single hardest thing I have ever done. He is SUCH a difficult character to get right 😭

I believe I did him justice, though 🙏🙏

『••✎••』

Kaminari had a death wish. That was the only logical explanation for why the electric blonde was currently in the common room with a shit-eating grin plastered to his face, along with a bowl of ramen that just so happened to belong to one Katsuki Bakugo.

Food was the one thing the explosive hero didn't joke around with, and the rest of Class 1-A was painfully aware of that fact. It was like a rule that had been ingrained into everyone's minds after spending any amount of time around the temperamental blonde.

Do not, under any circumstances, mess with Bakugo's food. Ever.

So the moment you had walked out of the kitchen and saw the familiar spice-infused soup in Kaminari's hands, you knew there was about to be a disaster. And that disaster was going to happen at the cost of the boy's life.

You were about to warn Kaminari when a familiar voice stopped you, its monotone quality giving away that it belonged to the heterochromatic hero. "Don't."

Todoroki shook his head at your concerned expression, a sigh leaving his lips. "It's not worth the effort; he'll learn the hard way. I would suggest standing back unless you want to get hit."

As if on cue, the sound of a bowl shattering against the floor echoed through the common room, and you flinched as bits of ramen and broth splattered your pants and shoes. You could only imagine what kind of mess it would have made if you had been standing any closer.

At the same time, Jiro sighed, plugging her ears as she muttered, "So much for getting some peace and quiet today."

Kaminari stood a few feet away from the mess, his entire body trembling in fear. He was too scared to move, frozen to the spot. His golden eyes were glued to the blonde standing before him, a murderous aura surrounding the ash-blonde.

"Bakugo, look, I can explain—"

The blonde's crimson eyes flashed in anger, and his face contorted into a feral snarl as he cut the electric user off. You couldn't stop the flinch that shook your body at the tone. "You... you..."

"It's just one bowl of ramen, dude! I'm sure you could easily make another one!" Kaminari exclaimed, waving his hands in front of his chest frantically. "I mean, come on, I know you love spicy food, but surely you're not that much of a monster that you'd kill me over it! Especially with something so mild as that!"

The room went silent, and Kaminari's words echoed in everyone's ears, but it only took Todoroki’s comment for the tension to change from fearful to downright chaotic.

"That was his last packet."

It was almost comical how fast the blood drained from Kaminari's face and how fast it returned a second later. The electric blonde gulped, a nervous laugh escaping him.

"B-Bakugo, listen—"

He was cut off again, this time by an explosion, which had been aimed right at his face. Thankfully, Bakugo missed on purpose, but the sound had been enough to startle everyone.

"You're so dead, Spark Plug!"

And thus began the chase, with Kaminari being chased around the room by an enraged Bakugo. Kaminari's screams of terror and Bakugo's threats and explosions filled the air, and everyone watched on in amusement.

Well, everyone except for Iida. He was chasing Bakugo, trying to calm the blonde down and yelling at him for using his quirk indoors, but his efforts were fruitless.

"Stop running around the room! You're going to destroy the furniture and break something!"

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, DUNCE FACE! GET BACK HERE SO I CAN KICK YOUR ASS!"

Typical afternoon in the U.A. dorms.

After what felt like forever, the chaos eventually died down, with Bakugo calming down enough to sit and stew in his anger and Kaminari passing out from his quirk short-circuiting. You helped Iida clean up the mess that had been left behind, and everyone else returned to their activities.

But you felt bad for Bakugo. Yes, the blonde was a little intense and downright mean sometimes, but you knew what it felt like to crave something you didn't have. Especially when you physically buy that ‘something.' So, you decided to go out and get the angry Pomeranian a replacement packet.

Of course, given the fact that being empathetic was a common occurrence for you, the explosive hero wasn't at all surprised to see you walking toward the doors of the dorms with nothing but your wallet and a smile.

And he was not pleased.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

You stopped in your tracks, turning around to face the blonde, who had an unreadable expression on his face. Honestly, you were still shocked that he was still in his uniform, given he usually changes the moment he walks through the dorms. Not to mention, he even started wearing it properly, which was a feat in itself.

"Umm..."

"If you're about to say the damn store, I'll blow your ass to the moon," he threatened, and you couldn't help the frown that tugged at your lips.

"I'm just going to get you some more packets, okay? It's not a big deal," you said, your eyes softening. "I don't like seeing people upset, especially not over things that can easily be solved."

"Like hell, I'm upset!" He snapped, but the lack of bite in his voice gave him away.

You raised an eyebrow but kept your mouth shut. After knowing Bakugo for as long as you have, you've learned that the best way to deal with him is to keep your thoughts and opinions to yourself—at least, all thoughts and opinions about him.

"I'll be back in an hour, okay?" You said, offering him a kind smile. "Is there anything else you need?"

Something about the look in your eyes and the kindness in your voice was enough to make the blonde falter, his resolve slipping. He clicked his tongue and crossed his arms over his chest, a scowl on his face.

But, since he didn't respond, you figured that was all you were going to get from him. So, you turned back around and headed for the doors, intent on leaving.

You hadn't gotten very far, however, when the sound of the couch squeaking alerted you. You turned your head just in time to see Bakugo jump over the back of the sofa, his slacks making a thud sound as he landed, snatching his phone off the coffee table before he headed in your direction.

He grumbled something incoherent under his breath, causing you to tilt your head, but before you could say anything, your wrist was being grabbed, and the front door was opening.

"If we're gonna get the damn ramen, then I'm coming with. It's annoying when people come back with the wrong shit, so it's better to go myself."

"Oh," you hummed, not expecting him to follow you. You smiled up at him, and the scowl on his face deepened. "Well, alright, then. The more, the merrier."

Bakugo grunted in response, dropping his grip on your wrist so he could shove his hands into his pockets. "Just keep up, alright? I don't want to wait for your slow ass."

With that, the blonde walked out of the dorms, and you were quick to follow.

For those twenty minutes, you couldn’t help but be amazed at how quiet the walk to the store was. Normally, Bakugo was yelling at someone for one reason or another. Whether it was because they were stupid, slow, or a bunch of other reasons that seemed to only make sense in his head, he was never silent.

But, currently, it was different. Bakugo wasn't talking, or yelling, or grumbling, or doing any of the things he normally does. He wasn't even walking fast, keeping his pace slow just enough so you could keep up.

He didn’t have a scowl on his face, either. He wasn’t smiling, of course, which would actually terrify you if he was, but there also wasn’t a sign of irritation or anger on his face.

In fact, he was the most relaxed you had ever seen him, his muscles not as tense as usual, and his posture was straight, yet not rigid. And his crimson eyes seemed to have a hint of softness in them, something that you had never noticed before.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn’t even realized that the two of you had arrived at the store until the ash-blonde had started walking through the automatic doors, not waiting for you to catch up.

Shaking your head, you hurried inside, quickly scanning the store for a sign that pointed to the aisle where the ramen packets were. Bakugo was a couple of feet ahead of you, with a look of indifference on his face as he followed the sign. However, he stopped once he reached the right aisle and turned around to look at you.

"Hurry it up, nerd," he growled, his impatience getting the better of him.

You rolled your eyes, a playful smile on your face. "I'm going, I'm going."

Bakugo didn't say anything as he turned back around and started walking through the aisles, and you were hot on his heels. Believe it or not, you were on a side mission, determined to not just grab the ramen for him.

He got distracted, and the two of you weren't in a hurry, so you went around and grabbed a few things that you knew your classmates had mentioned wanting. If you were going to take the time to go to the store, you might as well make it count.

After a few minutes, you ran into Bakugo, who had his arms full of different flavors of the ramen brand he liked. He took one singular glance at the contents of your basket and rolled his eyes.

"The hell are you getting all that shit for? I ain’t helping you carry anything."

"Well," you huffed, a pout on your face. He seemed to realize you were about to give him an entire speech because he immediately let out the most dramatic groan you had ever heard from him and began walking away.

You didn't care, though, and continued speaking, following him around the store.

"Well, I was just going to get the ramen and be done with it, but then I ran into Mina, who told me she was craving some 'chocolatey goodness,' which are her words, not mine," you explained, pulling out the package of chocolate-covered strawberries.

"Anyway, so, then I ran into Kirishima, who was complaining that there were no manly snacks in the pantry, and the last of his protein bars were eaten the other day, ironically also by Kaminari," you added, showing him the small box of protein bars. "So, I figured I'd get him some more and make sure Kaminari has his own snacks."

Bakugo groaned once more, still refusing to look at you. And, again, you ignored him and kept speaking.

"Also, Sero wanted more chips, and Koda was asking for some extra treats for the animals," you continued, showing him the chips and animal treats. "I didn't run into Midoriya, but he’s been awfully kind with his notes, so I'm pretty sure he would appreciate some gummies and pocky."

"Alright, I get it," Bakugo grumbled, a grimace on his face.

"Mineta also asked if I could grab him a new bag of limes, but I figured, after that little stunt he pulled in the changing room, that he doesn't deserve to have his gross habits indulged." You scoffed, trying to make a dramatic gesture but failing, given the items in your arms.

Bakugo paused in the middle of the aisle, turning around to finally face you, his arms still full. "You done?"

"Hey, you asked." You shrugged, a smile on your face. "I wasn't finished, though. Jiro wants more popcorn, Ojiro needs some more protein powder, Hagakure needs—"

"Is any of that shit even for you?" He cut you off, narrowing his eyes at you.

You pursed your lips and tilted your head. "No. Why?"

"You came all this way, wasting money on everyone else's crap, and didn't even think about grabbing shit for yourself?" He asked, his eyes narrowing further. "Are you stupid or something?"

"Um, well, no?" You answered although it came out as more of a question. "It's not a big deal. I was already going here, anyway."

Bakugo clicked his tongue, shaking his head. He walked forward and, without a word, dropped his armful of ramen onto your own. "Hold these."

Before you could protest, the ash-blonde walked past you and disappeared from view. Confused, you spun around and tried to follow him, but the sudden weight in your arms made it hard to move.

"Bakugo, wait up! I can't move!"

"Then stop moving, idiot." His voice was muffled by the shelves, and you couldn't tell where exactly he was. But, as if he had a sixth sense for things like this, Bakugo returned to the aisle, his arms full of random snack foods and drinks.

"What are you—"

"Shut up and follow me," he said, not letting you finish your sentence. You opened your mouth to speak, but a sharp glare from the blonde made you close it.

Bakugo led you through the aisles and dropped the items onto the conveyor belt, much to the surprise of the cashier. The young girl didn't dare comment on the large pile of utter junk food, however, and merely rang it all up, her eyes never leaving the screen.

Once the total came up, you pulled out your wallet to hand the girl the money, not wanting Bakugo to waste any of his own money on you, but the blonde snatched the bills from your fingers before you could pay.

"Hey, what—"

"I said, shut up." He clicked his tongue and turned away, his back facing you. You could hear the rustle of his pockets as he fished out his own wallet, and you were quick to shake your head.

"Bakugo, the whole point of me coming here was so I could pay. You were the one who got his last packet stolen, so I was supposed to be paying for the new one, and—"

"Do you ever shut the hell up?" Bakugo interrupted, his voice gruff. He didn't turn around to face you, but his tone was enough for you to shut up. "I don't give a shit about the money. It's my own damn fault for letting that dunce face near my food, anyway."

"But—"

"And it's not like I need the money," he added, pulling a couple of bills from his wallet and handing them to the cashier. "My parents are loaded. It's not a big deal."

Way to show off, Blasty.

But you knew better than to say that. Instead, you closed your mouth, your eyes softening. It didn't make sense to you, though, because not only was he buying his own replacement ramen, but he was also buying an abundance of junk food, which, while tasty, wasn't for him or you.

It's always about repaying the favor with him, but this was just... unnecessary.

"Thank you," you said instead, knowing that he would only get irritated if you kept protesting. "That was... unexpectedly nice of you."

"Don't make a big deal out of it," he grumbled, picking up a few of the bags. He handed them to you, and you struggled to balance the weight, but you didn't complain. "It was your fault for being too damn nice."

You blinked, not sure if you were supposed to take that as a compliment or an insult. Either way, you didn't say anything and merely nodded. Bakugo didn't spare you a second glance as he grabbed the rest of the bags and began walking toward the exit.

"You coming, or what?" He called out, not looking back at you.

A smile grew on your face, and despite him not even looking at you, something told you he could sense the happiness radiating from you. You hurried forward, struggling a bit to balance the bags in your arms and keep up with Mr. Grumps, but the smile didn't leave your face.

"So... does this mean we're friends now?"

"The hell? No!"

"I think we are, Blasty."

"Don't call me that." He narrowed his eyes at you, but you merely giggled.

"Would you rather it be Kacchan? Kaminari's been using that one a lot lately."

"Call me that, and I'll blast you into the fucking sun."

"Blasty it shall be, then."

Needless to say, the walk back to the dorms was the complete opposite of the walk to the store. But, just as the silence between the two of you was comfortable then, the bickering and teasing and overall playful nature of the conversation was comfortable now.

Bakugo would never admit it, and you knew better than to ask, but he didn't have a problem with the nickname or the new friendship that blossomed between the two of you.

And you didn't have a problem, either.

[neeeooon]

shut me up ;

21 | best friends, baby!

ft. fem!reader & bachira, shidou, rin, sae, isagi, chigiri, nagi, kunigami, kaiser

cw. cussing, threats? of violence (boys being boys), y/n’s hand is shown (only focus on the nails; picture her however you want!)

“what are you all doing here?” you asked through your giant smile as a crowd of young men filtered into the restaurant where you worked. bachira and shidou eyed the menu with hungry eyes before eventually setting their sights on you. “free food?”

you let out a laugh that sounded more like a scoff. “discounted food.”

you don’t usually work nights, so you weren’t sure what to expect throughout your shift, but the five men definitely made you feel a lot lighter. they found their own seats, and you handed over some extra menus and napkins.

“kaiser got held up,” rin informed, though you never asked. “said you were working tonight.”

figures. he’d probably use your unusual shift as an excuse to bring someone over and be louder than usual. you chatted with them until they decided what to eat and then disappeared to relay their orders to the cook. when you returned, the restaurant was relatively empty and all remaining guests had been served, so you slipped into the available seat beside bachira and tugged the bag of guitar picks from your pocket.

“here! i ended up painting them all so you guys could pick and choose which ones you want…” you dumped the contents onto the table and spread them out for all five boys to see. “i already pulled the ones i made for chigiri, so these are all for you!”

bachira leaned into you, tossing his arm around your shoulders as shidou pretended to weep into one hand while reaching across the table and grabbing your hand with the other. “you’re so sweet to us, y/n!”

your cheeks warmed up slightly at the compliment. “it’s the least i could do. you’re the ones who have been sweet and accepting!”

“cause we’re best friends, baby!” bachira cheered as he snatched the dolphin pick up before anyone had the chance. his yellow eyes sparkled when they turned to you. “you really were listening to my dolphin rant?” you nodded and recounted some facts you learned from him as bachira smushed his cheek against the top of your head. “we are keeping you forever.”

you left to grab their orders and told your coworker you were going on break after dropping it off. he waved you off, saying the place was closing soon anyway.

“did you all pick one?” you asked when you realized the pile of guitar picks was gone. sae held one up and balanced his cheek on a closed fist. “those three are hoarding them.”

“don’t lie! we let you take, like, two. and rin doesn’t need a pick, anyway!”

“that one had a skull, though…”

you smiled as the boys argued, but it dropped when another one of your coworkers leaned on the back of your chair and laughed. “i didn’t realize you had a little baby sibling, y/n! i think my sister stopped drawing pictures like that when she.. was…” he trailed off, and when you lifted your head, you noticed all five men staring straight at him.

their faces were meticulously blank; you could feel the tension radiating off their shoulders. shidou shifted like he was about to stand, and your coworker was suddenly on the other side of the store, admiring a fake plant. you blinked, and they returned to normal.

“i’m gonna hang it on a chain and never take it off,” shidou promised while showing the pick off to sae (for the third time).

bachira sighed at his dolphin. “i won’t lose it, but if i do, will you paint me one just like this?” you nodded. no words had come out of your mouth since the encounter with your coworker, and you could tell they were trying to help you get comfortable again.

“y/n! what if you paint our nails next?”

“oh, yeah!” isagi added. “kaiser and rin used to get theirs done all the time. not detailed like your picks, but the fans loved it.”

shidou reached forward and hugged your hands. “would you do that? i’ll paint yours in return—i won’t mess up!”

you smiled, slow and soft. “that sounds like fun!”

masterlist // previous (ch 20) // next (ch 22)

notes -> sooooooo thoughts on what’ll happen next? might be introducing a new character 😅🤭

tags -> @x3nafix @n0tbelle @nensi @ohagiyo @tired-child00 @melinana @chaoslibra @kaidostwin @bubybubsters @miss-aesthetic-13 @ihsoti @arwawawa2 @lonigiri @realrintaro @mivqko @sorasushik1 @pookalicious-hq @higuchislut @tofumiarchives @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 @rainychi2 @ch4rstxr @sapph1r3x @sagging-saging @5-laska @tuna-toes @seinuis @sindulgent666 @evilari111 @newinhalerpls @kisses2kanao @sugacor3 @meizumi @90s-belladonna @meowstertruck420 @kyutiipie @ranzess @cookiesandcreammy @nevvynev @stwberri @mikeymyfav @dontmindtheevie @kaikaidenkai @mizukiblogs @ravenbc @yvanllie @cyberasterrr @lily-isalittlegirl @yourlocaleffy @hanamatopoeia

© neeeooon, 2025

[sdmnpact]

Injury.

Roommate!George Clarke x Reader, Roommate!Arthur Hill x Reader, Roommate!Chris MD x Reader, fluff

[] requested 💕

[] "can you do something platonic with Arthur hill, George and Chris. Reader lives with them and does something similar while drunk like George did with the lime bike, so the boys look after her. Thank you 😊 "

[] tw: drunk, injured reader, mentions of blood and flesh wounds

~~~

"Another round ladies?" The bartender asked you and your friends. "Ugh no, I cannot drink any more. I'm literally going to throw up." You giggled moving hair out of your face. "Yeah, we should get going, thank you!" Becky told him.

You were out on a night out with a couple of gal pals, including Becky, one of your favorite humans. You were much closer with her in the group that the others so you two leaned on each other as you made your way out of the crowded pub.

You walked into the cool, crisp street of London, people moving around you causing you to become weary of your drunken state. "It's okay, cmon." Becky reassured dragging you along the street. The group split up as the night was coming to an end. You and Becky trying to find some form of transit to go back home.

"Hey girl, damn you looking fine as shit." A deep voice muttered from behind you. You turned around to face a tall, blonde guy standing in front of a couple others. You assume he's the one who spoke. You didn't have a significant other at the moment and you weren't quite thinking clearly so it seemed okay to speak to this guy.

"Thanks boy, not too drab yourself." You beamed, still holding Becky for support. She threw you a look of concern but you waved her off. "You girls wanna hang out with us?" He asked rubbing his hands together as if he were a tiger eager for his dinner.

You looked over to Becky, she was already beginning to disassociate but was still unsure of the entire situation. You pulled her arm, trying to convince her without words. Your eyes darting towards his direction then back to her. She eventually gave in and you agreed to the man's offer.

Fourty minutes later, you were with, who you learned was David, and his group of friends, drinking and chatting the night away. Some of his friends, messing around with a skateboard, David holding one of his own.

"You've ever skated before?" He asked, his voice deep and raspy as you smiled up towards him. "No, but I'm not beside learning." You giggled. He smirked, dropping his board in front of your feet beckoning you to hop on.

You chuckled, as he held onto your waist, both your feet shaking as they stood on the board. Almost slipping, you held onto his shoulders, your grip tight, your fingers digging into him. He smirked as he held you, your face showing just how scared you were. "You'll be fine." He laughed. You gave him an unsure look as he slowly pushed you forward, his hands still gripping your waist.

You two laughed, as he guided you down the now empty sidewalk. The more you rode, the more confidence you gained. The alcohol giving you a sense of adrenaline and eagerness to show off your newly found skills. After a couple more tries with David holding you, you insisted that you could do it alone. He gave you a look of concern but you waved him off. He shrugged him shoulders and let you go.

With the loss of David's hand, you slowly became more unstable. Your legs wobbled as you slowly moved forward, both your feet still on the board. With one swift kick of your foot, you pushed yourself forward. One nick on the pavement and you were sent flying to the ground, face first.

"Oh my god!" Becky shrieked as she ran over to check on you, the group now silent as they watched in horror and fear of the repercussions. "Look at me." You heard Becky say, holding onto your arms helping you sit up. You didn't feel pain, you didn't even realize just how hard you fell, you were more embarrassed than anything.

"Babe look at- oh my god!" She yelled, reaching into her bag quickly. You still didn't know what was going on, slightly disorientated from the fall, you looked around to see everyone's face drained of color and some were covering their mouths as if they were going to vomit.

Becky held up some napkins to your cheek, applying pressure. "What are you doing?" You asked confused, trying to push her hands off so you can stand up. "There's a large gash in your cheek! You're bleeding so much, can't you feel it?" She said, placing her hand on you cheek again after you gave up.

"It doesn't hurt, it can't be that bad. Come on, a couple more bevs can't hurt." You said finally standing up much to Becky's dismay. "I think we should get you home. Thanks for inviting us but we must get going now." Becky said pulling you away from the group.

"Wait, can I get your number?" David said, Becky stared at him in disbelief. "She's literally got her skin falling off her face and you still want her number?" She asked, shock evident in her voice. "Yeah, I mean whenever you're okay we can hang out again." He smiled at you, making you smile back with a cheesy grin. Becky rolled her eyes and quickly pulled out a pen and paper, scribbling a jumble of numbers on it. "Here, have a nice night." She said, pulling you away towards a taxi.

"Did you give him my number?" You slurred. "No, not giving that bloke the time of day." You rolled you eyes, huffing like a baby as you got into the cab. "Let's get you home." She said, giving the guy your address.

---

A few minutes later you were stood in front of the flat you shared with some of your best friends. You punched in the numbers on the keypad numerous times, not being able to punch it correctly. "Are you sure this is your flat?" Becky asked as if she hadn't been here numerous times.

"Yes of course! Look here, me and Arthur chose this doormat together. 'Happy Little Home.'" You said pointing to the doormat with those words written on it above a small blue house surrounded by different colored flowers. The memory of you and Arthur Hill standing in a random thrift store aisle debating which mat would look nice in front of the flat. You two stood there for ages before deciding on this one, it was just, perfect.

You continued punching in the wrong code for the next five minutes before a voice startled you. "Y/n? Becky? What are you two doing?" George asked coming down the corridor. You turned to face him, his expression turning to one of shock as the blood drained from his face.

"Oh my god Y/n! What happened!? Let's get you inside!" He said quickly inserting the correct code. He grabbed your arm and lower back, guiding you towards the couch, sitting you down. "Um, I fell." You said casually as if it were a normal thing. You are prone to accidents but this it was way worse than usual.

"I can see that. But what exactly happened?" He asked, looking towards you for an answer then to Becky after realizing you were going to be no help. "She got on a skateboard and fell on the pavement. I would've stopped her but... I was distracted." She said getting quiet, hugging a pillow off the couch. "She was making out with some guy!" You shrieked, breaking out into fits of laughter as she threw you a dirty look. "It's been a night!" She said falling deeper into the couch.

"Y/n, are you okay? Does it hurt? Let me get you something better." George said leaving, and coming back a few seconds later with a bath towel. He gently removed the balled up bloody tissue paper from your face, replacing it with the soft bath towel. "I hope Chris doesn't mind." He murmured, making you chuckle thinking about how annoyed Chris gets when you use his things.

"Here, hold it against your face, I'm gonna ring Chris." He said grabbing your hand, placing it against the towel. You nodded, holding the towel against your face.

'Hey Chris, um sorry to bother you but Y/n's been injured-'

'WHAT!' You heard over the phone, laughing at George wincing.

'Yeah she has a huge gash on her cheek. What do I do?'

You couldn't hear the rest of the conversation because you pulled your phone out and looked at yourself in the camera. You had a large cut across your left cheek, dried and fresh blood all over your face, dried mascara trails running down your cheeks, and your eyes were bloodshot red. You were definitely not in the best state right now.

Your focus changed to George who walked over to Arthur's door, pounding on it until a sleepy Arthur opened it. George explained what happened and Arthur's expression turned from angry to concerned as he quickly made his way over to you.

"Oh my god, Y/n!" He shrieked, grabbing your hand. "Jesus Christ you look terrible." You chuckled, this boy is never serious even in a situation like this. "Thanks for that Artie." You said patting his head. "Shouldn't we take her to the hospital or something?" Arthur said turning back towards George. "Oh, yeah that probably should have been the first move I made." George said, pulling his phone out.

Suddenly the door flung open to reveal Chris panting heavily. "Guys, why the hell are you still here, let's fucking go to the hospital!" He shouted. George and Arthur quickly pulling you up, leading you out the door. "What about Becks?" You asked looking back to see her fully passed out on the couch. "Something tells me she'll be fine." Chris said leading the way to the Uber outside.

---

You walked into the hospital, Arthur and George still holding onto your arms as Chris talked to the receptionist. "Here let's sit you down." Arthur said, guiding you towards the seating area. You looked at the boys, panic and worry still evident on their face as they fumbled with their phones.

"Okay the doctor should be able to see her in a few minutes." Chris said as he came back taking a seat next to Arthur. You definitely felt yourself crashing as the time passed by. Your eyelids felt heavy and you were struggling to stay awake scarring the boys in the process.

green = hill, orange = chris, blue = george

"Shouldn't she not sleep or else she dies?" "No you idiot that's for concussions." "Well we don't know what she has yet?" "Guys she's gonna be fine." "But what if she's not, if she dies..."

"Judging by the fact that I'm still somewhat competent, I think I'll be fine." You reassured, laughing slightly at how worried they were getting. "Well if you were gone, who am I suppose to go thrift shopping with?" "And who's gonna bring me meals mid stream and force me to eat?" "And who's gonna help me take care of these two idiots." You smiled widely as you remembered all the fond memories you created with these lot over the last year of you moving in. 'They would be helpless fool without me, wouldn't they?' You thought to yourself.

"For Y/n Y/l/n." The nurse called out. The boys helped you up and walked you towards the nurse. She took hold of you leaving the boys behind as you walked down the cold corridor of the hospital.

Half an hour passed and the doctor finally finished. You only received a few stitches and the doctor said it wasn't as bad as it looked. She told you to rest for another half hour in your hospital room since you looked completely out of it. After she left the room, you heard the shuffling of footsteps outside the door followed by the entrance of your three favorite boys.

"Oh thank god." Arthur breathed as they saw you all cleaned up and not completely covered in blood. "Back to normal, Chucky." George snickered pointing to the stitches across your cheek making you push his shoulder lightly. "You're so annoying." You said to him as he gave you a sassy look, brushing it off. "How do you feel?" Chris asked, examining your stitches. "I'm fine. I told you, I've been feeling fine this entire time. There was some slight stinging earlier but other than that, I'm fine." You smiled.

"Well, we're relieved to hear that, Arthur and George were shitting themselves for the last hour." "Um, no. All of us were shitting ourselves Chris." "Okay well we were all just very concerned." Chris said throwing George a dirty look causing you to laugh.

"I'm glad I have you three dorks in my life." You said, tears brimming in your eyes.

---

A while later, you guys finally got back to the flat. Bloody tissues and finger prints all over everything. "Guys I'll clean this up." You said walking to get some napkins for the mess. "Y/n, don't even worry about it. Chris will clean it up." George said pushing you towards your bedroom. "I never agreed to that!" He shouted as you reached your bedroom door.

"Lay in bed and get some rest. It's been an eventful night for all of us." He said releasing a deep sigh as you slipped into your comfy bed. The soft fabric immediately calming you down, making you feel drowsy. You felt yourself drifting off to sleep until your stomach made the loudest noise you've ever heard it make.

You looked at George, as you two broke into laughter. "Did you even eat tonight?" George asked in between laughs. You shook your head, throwing your feet over the side of the bed, ready to stand up again.

You two made your way towards the kitchen, where Arthur was putting away some dishes. You looked over to the living area to see Becky still passed out, curled up on the couch while Chris cleaned around her. You chuckled at the sight as you sat on one of the stool at the counter.

"Arthur, can you make me a cheese toastie please?" You pleaded, giving him puppy eyes. "After the night you've had I would literally make you a full gourmet meal." He chuckled pulling out the ingredients. "Well in that case-" "Don't push it." He said pointing a pan at you as you sat back in your seat.

"I'll even add extra cheese, just how you like it." He said, turning on the stove. "Thank you!" You praised, turning around to see Chris finishing up. "And thank you, Chris, for cleaning." You gushed as he walked over, throwing all the napkins he used in the trash.

"No problem but Arthur make that two extra cheesy cheese toasties." He beamed causing Arthur to throw him a dirty look as Chris just scrunched his face and raised his shoulders, mouthing a 'thank you'. He took a seat next to you as George came back from wherever he went and sat next to you two.

The night went on as you four talked about your day, your thoughts, and just about anything that came up in conversation. A night full of chaos finally winding down to a nice gathering of friends feeling safe in eachothers comfort.

[ssahotchnerr]

Aaron struggling to get out the door in the morning because first it was reader clinging onto him in bed

Then it was Ellie (age 2 or 3?) holding onto his pantleg for dear life as they’re all standing in the doorway, trying to kiss Aaron goodbye for work.

aww yes!! 🥹 fem!reader (i also have a very similar fic about this in the works, so stay tuned!!!! reader, not ellie <3)

your internal alarm clock wakes you a little bit before aaron's actual alarm goes off, so that gives you the opportunity to securely cling onto him 😭 your arms are wrapped around his middle, so he's met with your tight embrace as he wakes up <33 aaron sleepily mumbles a good morning to you, allows himself a few minutes to enjoy the warmth of your body besides his, savoring your presence before a long work day. especially since there is the chance he won't be home tonight if a case takes him away 🥺

finally he has to pry himself out of bed, so he tries to lift his body, but stays put as your grip is not lessening on him at all. hehe he laughs softly and says, "sweetheart, i have to get up." and gives you a few kisses in persuasion. you whine gently in protest, and attempt to talk him into staying in bed for just a moment longer (although your definition of 'a moment longer' is quite different from his 🥰) but eventually you let him go :(((( because you know he doesn't want to be late, nor do you want to be the reason he's running behind.

and ellie 🥺 she's in your bed far too early, and stays there as you and aaron get up and get ready for the day, watching a cartoon all bundled up in your comforter 🥰💕 sometimes she'll even trail into the bathroom as aaron's brushing his teeth, chattering away and simply just talking his ear off. his answers are inevitably all muffled as his toothbrush is in his mouth 😭 or she'll follow you into the closet, and help you pick out your outfit for the day 🥹🥹🥹🥹

so when the two of you move out of your room - to get breakfast started, to get jack up, etc - ellie's literally your shadow (mainly aaron's 🥹). she's following him around, insists on sitting on his lap during breakfast, asks him to play dollhouse, is insistent he gets her ready, anything to delay him (like mother, like daughter 🤭). and when it's time for aaron to leave, she won't let go of his leg 😭 she's telling him not to go, omg she even says "don't you love me anymore🥺" which BREAKS. HIS. HEART and aaron kneels down to her level all, "of course i do, i just have to go to work. but you'll have a super fun day with mom and i can't wait to hear all about it when i get home." 😭😭😭😭 you're the one who eventually pries her off aaron, hoisting her on your side and the two of you travel over to the window, to wave goodbye as he drives away 🥹💕

and in result, because of her comment, aaron calls you multiple times that day to check in and talk to ellie 😭 for example, he phones during lunch and ellie gives him a very thorough analysis of what she's eating LOL 😭 she just wants to talk to him 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻💕

but as she gets older and learns that there's a chance he won't be home that night - the clinginess in the morning worsens 🥺 she's a daddy's girl through and through <3

[veejiez]

I want to kiss you / キスしたい

G. Satoru

NOTE: i recently started learning to write in japanese for not much reason other than to occupy my mind with something new. this little daydream came to me and i can't stop thinking about it, i think falling in love despite a language barrier is one of the purest and sweetest ways to fall in love.

WARNINGS — it might be fem reader idk, kissing 👍, ur married w him at the end, not proofread lol i'm snuggled up in bed ok

Satoru cant speak english and you cant speak japanese; Suguru is the translator friend. You met him online years ago, who knows how. But you hit it off, and four years of friendship rolled by.

Satoru heard all about Y/n and saw you many times when Suguru facetimed or called you. You and him had many cute, playful interactions, ranging from making hearthands at each other to flipping each other off and laughing about it. Sometimes Satoru would be sat off-camera, overloading Suguru with things to translate, because he had a lot to say to you. One time, Suguru left for a few minutes to get a pizza delivery, and then Satoru got very quiet and the two of you blinked at your screens.

"Hi."

"Hi."

And then you two for some reason started laughing with your whole chests, Suguru walked in with a confused smirk. He joked, "Sooo... what did you and Satoru talk about while I was gone?" He asked, gentle accent coming through in soft waves. "The mysteries of the universe." You replied. Satoru was already diving into the pizza box, but he still listened to you speak; he wondered what you had said, maybe you used some fancy words to say that you liked him? He'd be lying if he said he didn't memorize variations of "i like you" after that. He was paranoid that he could miss you saying that you liked him.

You managed a slow, meticulously-pronounced nice to meet you in Japanese when you finally visited Tokyo. It was at the airport. You and Suguru had shared many hugs — good grief, you'd seen height comparisons many times but none painted a real idea of just how big these boys were. But Satoru? He was loudmouthed on a screen and surprisingly shy in person. Eventually he hugged you and didn't let go. He even got so comfy as to hang and cling to your body like you saw him doing with Suguru in countless photos and videos.

Though you could barely pronounce the little Japanese that you picked up, Satoru felt giddy to hear your pretty voice in his language. He listened to you like you were reciting love poetry to him, fists under his chin and eyes starry. But you were just saying basic phrases, boring things — nothing that articulated your thoughts properly.

He was far too embarrassed to try and speak any English when he first met you, even though after developing a crush on you he did start learning some English on the side. He knew quite a bit, but listening was so impossibly difficult it frustrated him like nothing else. He was also self-conscious of his English accent, though Suguru tried to assure him that he sounded very cute and almost oddly British.

So often instead of attempting to speak tiny phrases to you, Satoru threw a lot of hand motions and signals your way which got the two of you and Suguru laughing — poor Sugie, he was always translating even the smallest things you said even if you muttered them under your breath, because Satoru was eager to know every little thought and expression you had, even if you were simply commenting on the weather.

Once you commented that it was so hot, you were visiting during a heatwave-filled summer. Satoru raised his brows at Suguru expectantly, and you heard a familiar translation;

暑い。

It's hot.

There was such a frustrating language barrier between the two of you, it became more evident when you had finally flown over the sea to meet them.

Yet you and satoru fell in love silently and beautifully, your love flowing like a river in the most unexpected directions. You felt his affection emanating from his irises. You and him joked around, and talked — though you had no idea what the other meant most of the time. Sometimes the two of you gave up and you talked in English, he responded with Japanese, and it went on like that very comedically until Suguru came back to bridge the gap.

Lots of time was spent putting your heads together over your phone, reading translations of what you wanted to say to each other.

One day, when Suguru left the two of you alone in his apartment kitchen so that he could hop to the convenience store, Satoru typed something into the translator and let you read it. Your face warmed up.

キスしたい。

I want to kiss you.

He looks at you expectantly.

You type back to him.

Then kiss me.

それからキスして。

He blushed and hesistated, the two of you making electric eye contact for a while before he boyishly pecked your lips to test if you liked his kiss, but oh that's all the two of you needed to realize just how much you liked each other. You melted into each other like your bodies were made for nothing else but to embrace and be one. He shook a little, tentatively gliding his lips over yours. His hands nervously cupped your cheeks. With the way he handled you so carefully, you'd think you were made of porcelain.

Your reciprocation meant everything to him. His confidence flourished. The soft smacking, wet sounds got louder when he kissed you more passionately. Those gentle hands found their way to the back of your neck, and he softly pressed you closer to him as if he was scared you would pull away. What if you changed your mind mid-kiss? He was overthinking and you wouldn't have even guessed it, because you thought he was in the same blissed out dream state as you were. So high on kissing that the world fell away.

The two of you started smiling embarrassedly, grinning so hard that you couldn't continue kissing. Then the two of you just giggled against each other's faces — a subconscious realization swept him; laughter and kissing are their own languages.

Yes as years passed and you visited time and time again, your Japanese improved and his English improved. When you moved to Japan, eventually you adopted a messy mix of Japanese and English with Satoru. He liked showing off how perfectly he could pronounce things, and you liked showing off that you could write very neat kana.

Years and years and years passed and when you and him were married in your own little apartment, starting a life together, a very fluent Satoru reminisced about how the two of you fell in love despite barely speaking to each other.

"It was your eyes for me." You said.

"Oh really? It was your voice for me. I didn't know what you were saying, but it sounded nice." He said.

"Mmm I liked your voice, too." You said, snuggling your head on his shoulder. He basked in the attention, though it was common, it always felt special for him. The smallest hand touches and wrist kisses made his heart lurch.

"Remember when I always nagged Suguru to translate every little thing you said?"

"Yeah, you worked him to the bone." You chuckled.

"I just wanted to know what you were saying. I had such a crush on you, looking back now it was even ridiculous how much I liked you considering the barrier and all."

"Ooh, did you?"

"How is this surprising? We're married??"

"Oh yeah."

[stars-eclipsing]

This is Torture!!

summary: It almost seems as though Invincible lets you get away with committing petty crimes on purpose...

its just a littleeee suggestive, nth serious. Reader is a villain & has a compulsion quirk

wc: 1.2k

The smirk that stretched across your face was entirely involuntarily as you watched Invincible cower before you. Darling, really. Though you suppose anyone bends under your thumb eventually. It was only a matter of time.

You tut, “Look what the cat dragged in…” Classic villain of the week introduction, but you really couldn't help yourself. Invincible has been trying to catch you for months with not even a single close call on your end. This time, you decided to stick around after he had “apprehended” you. It was an entirely sadistic move. All to show him that even if he did catch you, (Which –lets make it clear– he will not) you’d immediately overpower him. 

It isn't your fault you were blessed with compulsion. Those who didn’t know you, called you honey-tongued. Though who did know you, called you a lying, conniving bitch. Which is a little harsh because you weren't really a liar.

“What did you do to me?” He spits. The poor thing was stuck in place while your lackeys made quick work of the bank’s vault. You’d thank them later by sparing their lives. 

“Answer me!” 

You sigh. You loved the guy to an extent, really you did. But sometimes he could get very annoying before he could be cute. 

You huff, putting a hand on your hip and shaking your head at his poor manners, “Invincible,

"how about you walk with me?” 

The effect of the compulsion takes place. His eyes dilate noticeably, and they seem locked on yours for a few moments. Then, when you start to walk he follows. The face he makes is visibly confused as to why he would obey you. 

“What–” 

“And don't talk, please.” His tongue complies and remains at the roof of his mouth. He knits his brows together further. 

You walk into a random executive’s office and shut the door behind you with a click. 

You sigh, as though thoroughly inconvenienced, “So, what is it this time?”

He crosses his arms and gives you an annoyed look. You raise your eyebrows, then it hits you with a laugh. 

“Oops,” You say insincerely, you wave your hand, “Speak.” 

Again, it's like he’s in a trance for a few moments, then he shakes his head, ���What is it this time?” He groans, “You are robbing a bank!” 

You shrug, “So?”

“You did the same thing last week!” 

“I blew the money on a yacht made of pure gold and the motherfucker sank, what can I say?” 

He squints his eyes, though you couldn't tell by his big fat goggles. However, his displeased frown does more than enough to let you know what he’s thinking, “Bullshit! You know damn well you could just hypnotize someone into getting you a new one! Why even bother?” 

You shake your head, “Language. You are so vulgar for a pacifist.” 

He seems to forget his earlier point in favor of defending himself, “I am not a pacifist! But you don't make it easy to not pull my punches.” He’s fuming. He's fuming and you think he looks like a kitty cat.

You put your hand to your cheek, as though endeared by the sight in front of you, “You’re going to learn, some people are evil for the sake of being evil.” You purr. 

He scowls, “So you’re the worst of the worst, huh?” 

You stalk towards him till you’re right in front of him. Your grin is all cheshire, “I'm the best of the worst.” 

Unable to help yourself, you run a finger along his exposed cheek. He slaps it away a few seconds too late. 

Still, you don't deter, “What about you?” You smirk, “Don't tell me you’ve never thought of wearing ear plugs before coming to face me off, do you?” 

His heart beats a little faster in his chest, and he hopes you can't hear it. He glares at you with his arms crossed and his teeth grit. But he doesn't say anything in his defense. 

“Invincible,” The way you say it makes him retreat on himself further. Your eyes run along the planes of his face with the smile of a vixen. Though, you’re next words are laced with an undeniable threat, “Tell me yourself or ill drag the words out of you. Take your pick.” 

Shit. 

He can't do it. He can't contain his flush anymore. You could probably– no, definitely tell. 

Still, he keeps quiet, trying his best to retain a modicum of dignity. 

“You force my hand needlessly,” You lament, but grab his chin anyway, making him look at you, “Tell me.” 

His mouth speaks of its own accord, “Because I like it.” 

You raise your brows. Oh? That's interesting. Not unexpected, you figured as much. But interesting. 

His face is a tomato now. He wants to crawl into a ditch and die. He could, probably. You haven't forced him to stay put. But… 

“I don't think anything I can say is more embarrassing than the truth, huh?” You run your finger along his jawline. Worst part? He lets you. 

“Tell me,” You start, voice low, “How fast do you rush over when you see my face on TV?” He shivers, and presses himself further into the desk behind him, “Do you deny other heroes to come see me? And just for what? To catch me slipping away…?” You mutter. You’ve only recently noticed the pattern, but was too prideful to see every move was made with intention. You wonder how long he’s been waiting to get caught in your web… 

He shakes his head, turning away, “No…” 

“No? No, what?” He presses himself flush against the desk, and you against him. Really, it was shame worthy. Your power had a silly amount of drawbacks, the victim needed to be looking at you and hearing you for your compulsion to take effect. You’ve seen how fast Invincible is. If he wanted to, he wouldn't even need to look into your eyes before feinting to shatter your spine, “No, i'm not a sick pervert?” You chuckle, “Because that's a stupid lie…” 

He swallows. He’s imagined this scenario over a double dozen times while biting his pillow, his dick in his hands as he fists it hopelessly. Each time he’d close his eyes and picture you commanding him to do something downright humiliating. That would be enough to make his hips stutter into the fleshlight and come with a muffled scream. 

You snap your fingers in front of his face with a grin, “Invincible? Hello? Don't tell me you're so rude that you won't even answer when you’re spoken to?” You sigh. 

His stomach flips. God, he can't believe himself. He grits his teeth together so as to not make an embarrassing sound, “I don't talk to lowlife criminals.” 

You look utterly pleased with yourself, your smile a permanent feature on your face, “Oh, but I suppose having wet dreams about one is dignified?” 

He chokes. How could you have– 

The door swings open, and you both turn at the same time. The man at the door doesn't in the least look confused, a glossy fog permanently on his eyes thanks to your compulsion, “It's done, boss.” 

You throw him a smile that doesn't reach your eyes, “Faster than last time. Good.” Then, you turn to the superhero in front of you. A soft ringing assaults his ears, your compulsion taking root. He can't even wince. 

“You’re not going to move from this spot until you hear me get away in the car.” 

“I am not going to move from this spot until I hear you get away in the car.”

[hyunjinlosthisamericano]

Whispers and Walls

synopsis: Y/N and Seungmin start as best friends in university, growing closer over years of shared moments and unspoken feelings. When Seungmin finally confesses his love on a rooftop, their friendship grows into a passionate relationship.

Y/N’s first day at university was not what she imagined it would be. She had fantasized about it often — breezing into campus with confidence, sipping overpriced coffee, laughing with new friends as they headed to lectures. But reality was far less glamorous.

She had gotten off at the wrong bus stop and arrived late, sweaty and nervous, with her campus map half-crumpled in her bag. The buildings were larger than they looked online, the halls too long, and the students too fast. She was clearly out of place — a freshman in a sea of people who already looked like they belonged.

After wandering around for a while, too embarrassed to ask for directions, she ended up in the cafeteria — not where she was supposed to be, but at least there were tables. She was starving, stressed, and trying to hold back a small wave of panic. She scanned the room for an empty seat and spotted a guy sitting alone at a corner table. He had earbuds in, one foot tapping lightly to a beat, and a sketchpad open on the table beside a half-eaten sandwich.

As she hesitated, he looked up, made eye contact, and calmly pulled out one earbud.

“You can sit,” he said, with a slight smile.

“Are you sure?” she asked, cautious.

“Yeah. You look like you need a break.”

She smiled in relief and sat down. “I got lost like three times already. This place is huge.”

“I know,” he said, chuckling. “I got locked in a supply closet my first week. And I didn’t even realize until my professor asked why I missed the lab.”

That made her laugh — the genuine, easy kind. And just like that, something shifted.

“I’m Y/N,” she said after a moment, sipping from her water bottle.

“Seungmin. Second year.”

“Ah. That explains the calm energy.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Calm?”

“Yeah. You’re just sitting here like the world’s not spinning out of control.”

He smirked. “Give it a week. I’m just good at faking it.”

That lunch turned into something more. After that day, they kept bumping into each other — on campus, at the library, in the shared courtyard near the dorms. Eventually, they stopped pretending it was coincidence and started planning it instead.

Seungmin became her anchor in that chaotic first year. He helped her find her classes, taught her which professors were strict, where the good vending machines were, and how to use the glitchy printer in the engineering building. He always waited for her outside lectures if they ended around the same time, and even stayed late in the library when she had a test to prepare for.

She was drawn to how steady he was — not loud or flashy, but quietly reliable. He didn’t try to be funny, but he was. He didn’t try to be comforting, but he was. He made her feel like she wasn’t alone, like maybe she could actually handle this whole “university” thing.

Their friendship wasn’t born from drama or big moments — it was built in between things. In half-eaten sandwiches during study breaks. In long walks across campus. In movie nights that turned into 3 a.m. talks. He saw her at her worst — when she cried over a failed quiz, when she panicked before a presentation, when she stayed up all night and couldn’t form sentences the next morning — and never once pulled away.

She, in turn, learned him in small ways. That he liked his ramen extra spicy. That he always cracked his knuckles before writing. That he had a playlist for every mood but never let anyone else hear it. That he was quieter when he was stressed, but not distant — and if you just sat beside him, he’d eventually say what he needed to.

They became inseparable.

By the time Y/N was in her second year and Seungmin in his third, everyone assumed they were together. “You guys are literally joined at the hip,” their friend Mina joked once. “If you’re not dating, what are you doing?”

Y/N had laughed. So had Seungmin. It became the running joke among their group — teasing glances, mock love songs, fake wedding invites. They always played along, brushing it off with the same old line: “Best friends. That’s all.”

But even Y/N couldn’t deny that things had started to feel… different.

It wasn’t just the way he waited for her after class anymore — it was how his eyes always searched for hers in a crowd. It wasn’t just the friendly teasing — it was how she remembered every look, every touch, every quiet pause between conversations that hung a little too long.

And Seungmin felt it too.

He couldn’t pinpoint when the change happened. Maybe it was when she fell asleep on his shoulder during a boring lecture and he realized he didn’t want to move because it felt right. Maybe it was when she danced barefoot in the rain after finals and he couldn’t look away. Maybe it was all the little moments that added up into one undeniable truth.

They were still best friends, yes. But now the air between them was heavy with something else — something waiting to be spoken.

By Y/N’s third year, their bond had reached that rare kind of intimacy where nothing needed to be said, but everything was felt. They still weren’t together. Still not kissing, not holding hands — not technically. But her heart beat faster when he was around. And his voice softened just for her. And every time someone teased them, it stung less because maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t a joke.

She started imagining it. Him holding her hand for real. Kissing her forehead before an exam. Whispering “I love you” when they were alone on the rooftop like they always were.

And maybe, if she had the courage, she would’ve confessed. Maybe. But before she could even think about it seriously…

He texted her one afternoon.

Lunch. Terrace. Just us.

And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t know what to expect.

The terrace wasn’t unfamiliar to them.

They’d been there countless times before — skipping crowded cafeterias, escaping the noise, sitting with their backs against the warm wall as the city stretched before them. They’d talked about everything up there. The future. Regrets. Family. Stupid dreams. Secrets neither of them told anyone else.

But that day, something was different.

Y/N could feel it in the way Seungmin had texted her — simple words, Lunch. Terrace. Just us. — but laced with a quiet urgency. No emoji, no teasing tone. Just him, asking her to come.

So she did.

The sun was high but gentle, casting soft golden streaks across the rooftop. The wind stirred her hair as she stepped out onto the terrace, squinting slightly. And there he was — leaning against the far railing with his hands tucked into his pockets, head tilted slightly toward the city skyline. He looked calm, but his jaw was tight. Like he’d been rehearsing something.

When he turned to face her, everything around her slowed.

He didn’t smile right away, didn’t joke like he normally would. Instead, he walked over to her silently and took her hand — fingers lacing through hers with a certainty that made her heart flutter.

She let him guide her to the railing, standing shoulder to shoulder, staring out at the world like they had so many times before.

Only this time, he was holding her hand like it meant something more.

“I don’t know how to start this,” he said quietly, voice soft and uneven, “because I’ve never done this before — not like this. Not with someone who already means everything to me.”

Y/N’s breath caught, her fingers tightening around his.

“I didn’t plan on falling for you,” he said, eyes still on the skyline. “It just… happened. Somewhere between showing you around campus and sharing playlists and fighting over the last slice of pizza — I fell for you.”

He finally turned to her then.

His eyes, usually so cool and composed, were wide open — stripped of sarcasm and shield. They held only sincerity.

“I used to tell myself it was just friendship. That what we had was rare, but not that. But then I started noticing all the little things — like how my day doesn’t feel real until I see you. How I remember every damn thing you say. How the world just… dulls when you’re not around.”

Her heart pounded.

He stepped closer, so close their arms touched, so close she could feel the nervous thump of his pulse.

“I love you, Y/N. Not just as a friend. Not as someone I’m comfortable with. But as someone I want to keep beside me — long after we graduate. I want more. I want us.”

Y/N stared at him, every second crashing into her all at once — the shared looks, the teasing, the way his hoodie smelled, the way she’d always felt safest in his presence, how she’d started craving his voice on bad days.

She felt full and breathless and exposed.

And yet… she’d never been more sure of anything.

“I don’t even know when it started either,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “It just became you. Always you. In every part of my life. And now I can’t picture it without you.”

Seungmin’s breath hitched. His grip on her hand tightened.

“I love you,” she said, the words finally free.

The silence that followed was thick with everything they had waited so long to say. And then, like gravity had been waiting for permission, they pulled each other in — fast, fierce, but tender.

Their first kiss was the kind that only happens once — the kind that tasted like every memory, every laugh, every moment they’d ever shared. His lips were soft but certain, hers searching, both of them melting into the truth they’d tried so long to ignore.

And when they finally pulled apart, breathless, their foreheads pressed together, the wind catching their hair in lazy twists, Seungmin whispered, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Y/N smiled. “Guess we’re finally not ‘just friends’ anymore.”

He laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Not even close.”

The next ten months felt like something out of a quiet, golden dream.

Their relationship didn’t explode into chaos or burn too hot too fast — it simmered, slow and steady, unfolding like pages of a love story that had already been written long before either of them realized it.

It was natural — too natural — the way everything simply shifted from friendship to love without feeling like anything had been lost. They still laughed over dumb memes, still argued over song rankings, still had inside jokes that made no sense to anyone else. But now, there were soft kisses in between lectures, fingers intertwined under cafeteria tables, jackets shared when it got cold. The world hadn’t changed — but they had. And it made everything feel warmer.

They supported each other more than ever — celebrating wins, soothing failures, anchoring one another through the stress of assignments and late-night breakdowns. Seungmin had a way of calming Y/N with just a look, a hand on her back, a few whispered words. And she brought light to him on his heaviest days, reminding him who he was when self-doubt crept in.

They loved being with each other. Not just in the big, cinematic ways — but in the small things. The shared playlists during bus rides. The way they instinctively bought each other’s favorite snacks. The nights they stayed in, curled up in bed watching old movies, legs tangled and voices barely above whispers. The forehead kisses, the sleepy cuddles, the soft hums of “I missed you today” even if they’d seen each other that morning.

It wasn’t perfect. They had their moments — little arguments over nothing, stubborn silences, and rare miscommunications. But the beauty of them was always in how they came back. How they never let anything fester. How love was always louder than pride.

And slowly, quietly, their physical relationship grew.

It started with stolen kisses that deepened over time, with lingering hands and playful grazes that turned into undeniable want. One night — after a late dinner and hours of talking in Seungmin’s dorm room — the kisses didn’t stop. They stretched longer, deeper, hungrier, until there was no space left between them. Every look, every breath felt charged. And when Seungmin pulled her onto his lap and whispered, “Stay,” she did — without a second thought.

Their first time wasn’t rushed. It was soft. Intimate. A little awkward, a little messy — full of laughter, gasps, and gentle guidance. Seungmin was careful, attentive, learning her body the way he had learned her heart. Y/N felt safe — worshipped even — like every part of her was seen and wanted.

And from there, things only grew more intense.

The next few months were filled with passion. They couldn’t get enough of each other. Sex became an extension of their love — sometimes slow and tender, sometimes desperate and loud. Seungmin memorized every sound she made, every place she trembled. Y/N learned how to unravel him with her hands, her lips, her body pressed tight against his.

There was trust in every touch. No hesitation, no shame. Just two people exploring one another with deep affection and raw need.

Some nights it happened after long study sessions, Seungmin still in glasses, Y/N perched on his lap, moaning into his mouth as books lay forgotten on the floor. Other nights it was quiet, under blankets, with slow thrusts and breathless “I love you”s echoing in the dark. And sometimes it was hot — messy kisses against walls, clothes half-on, a hand muffling moans because the dorm walls were too thin.

They learned each other’s rhythms, boundaries, and desires. And Seungmin, ever the observant one, started noticing things — like how Y/N’s breathing would hitch when they weren’t supposed to be doing anything. How she’d bite her lip harder when the door was unlocked. How her eyes darkened whenever there was a slight risk of someone overhearing them.

It was subtle — not something she ever said aloud. But it was there. And Seungmin didn’t miss it.

He knew her well enough to see it — that little thrill she got from the possibility of being caught. From knowing someone might hear her. From the danger of discovery wrapped in the comfort of his arms.

And he planned something.

He didn’t bring it up immediately �� didn’t want to scare her off or push anything she wasn’t ready for. But the idea sat with him, turned over in his mind during long classes, quiet showers, late-night thoughts. Until finally, the perfect opportunity came.

All he had to do… was ask her to meet him in that one block. The one no one ever used.

But that came later.

Because for now — for those ten months — all they knew was the beauty of loving each other completely, emotionally and physically, wrapped in the kind of connection most people never find even once in a lifetime.

It was a rainy Wednesday when Y/N let it slip.

They were tangled up on Seungmin’s bed, half-dressed and flushed from the kind of lazy morning sex that always felt better under grey skies. Her head rested on his chest, fingers tracing light circles across the faint lines of his abs while his hand ran idly through her hair.

They talked about everything after sex — about the weird dream he had last night, about the professor who always said "okay?" after every sentence, about what they should order for lunch — and then, somehow, about that one time in the music room when they almost got caught.

“I still can’t believe we didn’t get caught,” Seungmin said, laughing. “Your face when the doorknob rattled…”

“I was terrified,” she giggled, burying her face in his chest.

“But also kinda into it?”

She froze — just a little — and then sighed.

“…Maybe,” she murmured. “Not, like, in a crazy way. But I don’t know. There’s something about the idea of… someone hearing. Like — the risk of it.”

Seungmin’s hand stilled in her hair.

“…Say that again?”

Y/N laughed, suddenly shy. “Don’t make it a thing. It’s not even really a kink. It’s just… I don’t know. I like the idea of someone almost knowing. That thrill.”

Seungmin didn’t say anything at first.

But she didn’t miss the way his fingers started slowly stroking down her spine. Or the way his chest rose a little deeper beneath her cheek. Or — most dangerous of all — the quiet, devilish little grin tugging at his lips.

“Oh,” he said, tone casual but his eyes anything but. “Interesting.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Seungmin.”

“What?” he asked, clearly too smug. “I’m just saying… interesting.”

She shoved him lightly, but the way his mind was clearly racing made her heart pound a little faster.

Two days later, he texted her during class.

“Bunk your next lecture. Meet me at the west block. Second floor.”

She stared at her phone.

And then stared again.

The west block?

No one used the west block anymore. It had been partially shut down for renovation last year — now it was mostly just empty rooms and forgotten desks. Except for the cleaning staff who used the bottom floor as a break space, no one ever went up there.

Which made it… very quiet.

And very secluded.

Her stomach flipped.

By the time she arrived — heart thudding, palms damp — Seungmin was already waiting at the side entrance, hoodie up, hands in his pockets like this was just another normal Friday.

He gave her a look. That look. The one that started in his eyes and sank all the way between her thighs.

“Took you long enough,” he murmured, voice low as he reached for her hand.

She didn’t ask questions.

Didn’t need to.

He led her through the side stairwell, up to the second floor where the lights flickered and the halls echoed just a little too loudly. There was an old classroom at the end — door half-closed, chalkboard still dusty with some abandoned formula from semesters ago.

He nudged the door shut behind them and turned to face her.

“You trust me?” he asked, voice calm but something burning behind it.

She nodded.

“Good.”

And then his lips were on hers.

The kiss wasn’t slow. It was deep. Hungry. Filled with all the pent-up energy of knowing exactly what she’d said, exactly what she’d meant, and the fact that they were both willingly, eagerly here to make it real.

Her back hit the nearest desk as he kissed her harder, hands slipping under her shirt, thumbs brushing over her ribs like he already knew her skin would light up from the touch. She moaned into his mouth, breathless already, grabbing fistfuls of his hoodie as he pulled her flush against him.

“You know,” he murmured, lips dragging down her neck, “you really shouldn’t have told me that.”

“Told you what?” she breathed, eyes fluttering shut.

“That you like being heard.”

She whimpered, hips twitching forward on instinct.

He smirked against her throat. “Yeah. That.”

In one swift move, he lifted her onto the desk, spreading her thighs and stepping between them. His hands were everywhere — pushing up her skirt, tugging down her underwear, fingers sliding through her folds like he had all the time in the world.

“Already this wet?” he whispered. “From the idea alone?”

She blushed, looking away — but he caught her chin, forcing her to look at him.

“No hiding. Not today.”

And with that, he dropped to his knees.

Y/N nearly screamed the moment his mouth met her.

He licked her slowly, deliberately, tongue curling up against her clit while his hands pinned her thighs wide open. The contrast of the cold desk under her and the heat of his mouth made her arch off the surface. She grabbed a fistful of his hair, eyes rolling back as he groaned against her — like he was the one being wrecked.

But then — footsteps.

Somewhere below.

Y/N froze.

Her entire body tensed, her hand flying to her mouth instinctively.

Seungmin didn’t stop.

If anything, he went deeper — tongue flicking faster, lips wrapping around her like he wanted to pull every moan out of her lungs.

“M–Min… someone’s—” she gasped, muffled by her own hand.

“I know,” he muttered against her, and the vibration of his voice nearly made her come right then.

She squirmed, panicked and aroused and desperate all at once.

But Seungmin just held her there — fingers digging into her thighs, eyes dark and locked on her face like he was daring her to fall apart.

And she did.

Biting her palm, thighs shaking around his head, she came with a force that made her vision blur. And he didn’t stop until her legs were trembling, until she had to push his head away, too sensitive to take more.

When he finally stood, his lips were slick, eyes wild with desire.

“You’re not done,” he said simply.

He undid his belt, jeans pushed down just enough and pulled her forward by the waist.

“Face the desk.”

Y/N, still catching her breath, obeyed without hesitation. She bent forward, cheek pressed to the cool surface, her skirt still bunched at her waist. She felt him slide his cock between her thighs — hot, hard, already dripping from just tasting her.

And when he entered her, slow but deep, she nearly sobbed.

“Fuck,” he groaned, one hand gripping her hip, the other sliding up her back to pin her down. “You feel so good when you’re trying to be quiet.”

Because yes — the footsteps were still there.

Closer.

In the hallway.

She bit down on her knuckles as he started thrusting — deep, rhythmic strokes that filled her perfectly. He wasn’t being rough. Not yet. Just intentional — like he wanted to make every movement echo in her core.

She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

Could only feel.

He leaned over her, chest against her back, lips brushing her ear.

“You like this?” he whispered. “Being fucked where someone could hear? Where anyone could walk in?”

She whimpered a yes, too breathless to speak.

“Say it.”

“I— I like it,” she choked out. “I like being heard.”

He growled low in his throat — and slammed into her harder.

The desk creaked. Her hands scrambled for something to hold onto. The sheer danger of the moment, the way her body was pressed open and vulnerable while Seungmin held her steady, pushed her to the edge again.

When she came the second time, her mouth was wide open but silent — a strangled, shuddering mess against the desk.

And then he came too — deep inside her, groaning her name into the crook of her neck as his hips finally stilled.

They stood there for a moment, panting, dripping with sweat and something more, their bodies still tangled, the air around them buzzing.

When they finally pulled apart, cleaned up, and fixed their clothes, Seungmin leaned in, brushed a soft kiss to her forehead, and whispered:

“You’re mine. Everywhere. Even here.”

Y/N smiled, cheeks still flushed, heart still pounding.

“You planned that.”

“Of course I did.”

And as they left the quiet, echoing block hand-in-hand, still high from the thrill of what they’d just done, Y/N knew one thing for sure:

This boy would be the death of her. And she’d let him.

Dividers: @saradika-graphics©

© [2025] @hyunjinlosthisamericano. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

MASTER LIST TAGLIST

[cherryaichi]

My Sweet Little Stalker

Manjiro “Mikey” Sano x Fem Reader

WORD COUNT : 4.5k!!

WARNINGS : Yandere-ish themes, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of gore? (Mild descriptions and sounds), mild cursing, minor character death, mentions of blood, small mentions of stalking, first official post (trust it needs its own warning)

cherry’s note : if you feel any warnings were missed please let me know!! I also wouldn’t mind polite critiques on this work so that I can improve my writing! This is my first post so do assume with low expectations 🙂‍↕️

You stared at Takemitchi, shocked by the news he had finally confessed, as the four words he yelled out made you wonder how to even react. "I'm a time leaper," he declared with hesitance, staring at the floor as his voice trembled.

“I'm from 12 years in the future.. the current future that this timeline has been the worst one I've seen by far," he continued, the words coming out of him like a never-ending stream as you were forced to listen due to your freeze up from shock.

"It's a shitty future Y/N. Toman goes down a horrible path and completely goes against their current morals. I've been trying to change the past...well, this present...so that Kisaki doesn't kill Hina and so that our friends don't end up dea-" "Wait hold up that guy Mikey assigned to lead Hayashida's division tries killing everyone in the future?" you yelled in shock, cutting him off on accident as you stared at him as if he was some sort of anomaly.

You paused when you saw the look of defeat and dejection on his face, realizing that he most likely assumed you didn't believe him due to your reaction. Panicking, you waved your hands as you tried to explain yourself.

"Takemitchi, I believe you!" You exclaimed as he looked at you with semi wide eyes as you sighed. "It's just, I was expecting you to say the reason you looked so angsty recently was because you and Hina got into some sort of argument, not that you were carrying everyone's fate in your hands.”

You awkwardly laughed as you tried finding a way to explain “besides it makes sense, when the Mobius attack happened, you were very dead set on saving Ryuguji-Kun, which was honestly creepy with how you practically guessed...or well knew... he was going to get stabbed."

The rest of the conversation was a blur, him explaining everything he knew so far about the current and past futures. It felt weird calling it 'past futures' as the future is never something you can dwell on in memory.

While the ideology was confusing, you slowly realized how Takemitchi avoided mentioning what your future held, and just as you had pestered him earlier to spill what had him looking like a continuously constipated man, you pestered him to answer your current confusion.

"Y/N.. I don't really think it's best for me to tell-" "You already told me how everyone's going to die in the future bro, if I'm dying too I'll accept it," you groaned in annoyance as you shook the faux blonde as if it would make him speak.

Eventually, he did. Albeit reluctant with his words, he still caved in and told you the truth as your shock from earlier raised, plot twist after plot twist.

He mentioned how he didn't know much, only knowing that in the eyes of the world, you were deemed 'missing' for almost 6 years, your case being closed off with the pretense that you were most likely killed off due to past connections with the Toman gang.

The harsh truth though that Naoto —who you learned became a police officer and an investigator— had learned was that your disappearance was a kidnapping, only ruled off as a death due to people tasked with the case being paid off.

As to who kidnapped you? It was unknown, but Takemitchi reassured you... or more like reassured himself that whoever kidnapped you in the future would be discovered, and whatever hell you had to endure then wouldn't ever happen in the up and coming timelines.

You were glad it wasn't some gruesome death that would have you paranoid of every single little thing in your life to hopelessly avoid it, but the underlying curiosity had you wonder what would have led up to you being kidnapped.

"Do you know who would have wanted to kidnap you?" he mumbled curiously, as if doing the math himself while you deadpanned. "Yes Takemitchi, I definitely know who wants to kidnap me 12 years in the future," you scoffed as the earlier tension of the conversation dissipated back into the sibling-like banter you both held.

°˖✧✿✧˖°

That's what brought the two of you to the night lights of Shibuya, spying on whatever the main group of Toman was doing. You gave a distasteful look towards Takemitchi and his horrible disguise, looking like a thief rather than someone trying to blend in with the crowd.

"All black clothes, a sun cap, and sunglasses in the fall?.. Dude, what is this, a sci-fi thriller? It's night time.. that just makes you look suspicious-er." You made small jokes as you adjusted your scarf to cover your lower face, having dressed in your normal wear for the cold fall times.

"So we're looking for anything to help prepare for a death-free Halloween?" You confirmed as the two of you subtly followed the group at a five-yard distance.

"Anything that helps us understand why Baji was killed during the fight and why he joined Valhalla, because he looks like he's having the time of his life right now!" Takemitchi said, frustrated and confused as to how Baji could join Valhalla so suddenly in the future when he was clearly enjoying his time with the Toman captains and vices.

"Maybe he wanted an excuse to beat long held grudges out of them? I'd like to do the same," you snorted as you turned to the side, pretending to adjust your scarf to cover your face when you saw Mikey turn around, as if searching for something before turning back forward.

It felt almost like a routine, you and Takemitchi brainstorming possibilities while following the group, blending further in with the crowd whenever one of them miraculously turned around.

You, however, started to catch on how it was prominently Mikey who turned around, as if specifically searching to confirm something was there before turning around.

..

Searching to confirm something was there?.. Holy shit did he know you and Takemitchi were following them?

Just as you were about to exclaim your possible discovery, Takemitchi shushed you as he pointed towards the group. "They're splitting up! They're all going one way and... Mikey's going another?" he muttered in confusion as you felt your head get hot from nervousness as you could piece together why they most likely did it.

"Takemitchi I think we should end it for today"

"You go after Mikey and I'll follow the others"

"....." you both paused in silence, turning to each other in confusion at the opposing statement the other said. "Leave? Y/N, we're so close to getting such important info!" he pulled you into the crowd —most likely where they previously stood— as you realized he was dead set on splitting up.

"Takemitchi, I think they know we're following them," you muttered nervously as he stopped walking, turning to you with a determined look.

"They couldn't have noticed us! They probably split up cause Mikey needed to quickly do something. I promise after they meet up again, we'll leave and put together what we've got so far," he said with full confidence, pleading as you could only stare.

You knew Takemitchi was far from naive, especially if he currently possessed the mind of a 20 something year old male, but it felt so stupid how he couldn't believe the two of you had been figured out.

But at the same time, a pang of guilt grew in the back of your mind as you saw his smile, one that you knew held many hardships and burdens for what he was trying to do for you and the others. The task of trying to save those you hold close was a responsibility you knew was hard for him.

You knew he would eventually concede with you if you convinced him enough to just drop it for today, but you knew how important this was to him, even if all you gained was knowing what gang members did in their free time when in the city.

You sighed as you reluctantly nodded, looking in the direction you saw Mikey go as you turned back to Takemitchi with narrowed eyes. "Hanagaki if they catch your ass you better play dumb and wait for me to give a proper alibi. Just-" you paused as you looked at the stores around you.

"-say that we were trying to ask Mikey and Draken about what Emma likes, since Hina didn't know what to get for her birthday. If they say we were stalking, just say that it was us trying to catch up but getting sidetracked," you said with some confidence in your half-done plan.

Takemitchi nodded as you both went in different directions. You felt a huge wave of unease as the area you followed Mikey to was starting to become more isolated, the crowd slowly dispersing the more you followed until it became dead silent.

You didn't know if this was intentional, but it definitely added to the difficulty of following him at a good distance. It slowly became you having to guess which way he turned due to the vacant streets, which resulted in you turning into some alleyway as you ventured forward.

You continued venturing, concluding that Mikey knew you were following him and was deciding to play a harmless little prank like he usually would. You let a sigh of relief when you hear footsteps, pinching the bridge of your nose as you spoke before turning around.

"You know you're a real pain in the side, Manjiro. You could have just turned around and asked why I was-", you cut yourself off as you were met with an unfamiliar man, an awfully strong scent of rum hitting your nose as your brows furrowed at the unusual scent.

Just before you could call out to the male, you paused when you saw 2 more men coming in the alleyway, their sluggish movements making you pray the man in front of you truly was who you thought he was and wasn't with the 2 drunk men behind him.

But of course, the consequence of your actions of continuing to follow Mikey came to light when they slacked forward, the small gap of moonlight from the height difference of buildings showing that it was in fact not Mikey, but instead another drunk man.

They were speaking, but with their speech being so slurred and low, you could barely hear what they were saying as you subconsciously matched their footsteps, one step forward for them equalled one step going back for you.

Only when your back softly touched the brick wall, you realized how much you worsened your already slim chance of getting away. You cursed under your breath as they came closer, trying to calm your panic as you pulled out your phone to dial Takemitchi.

As you tried turning on your phone, the quietness of your thoughts wondered where Mikey was. Were you really just that paranoid of him acknowledging you stalking him? Was it really the case of thinking someone was acknowledging you and worrying about what they thought when in reality, they didn't even care?

Your thoughts were cut short though when you heard a sick sounding CRACK, having you pause your actions as you and the other two men turned to where their friend once stood, now on the floor unmoving as an unrecognizable silhouette stood in his place.

The atmosphere was cold, the realization of the dead man not processing in your mind as you clutched your phone, trying to move and press the dial number for Takemitchi, but fear kept you still as you could only watch the events play out.

The silhouette then moved to the next male, kicking him to the wall. As it sent a hard punches, more sounds of bone audibly breaking hit your ears as you and the man you had mistaken as Mikey earlier stood still, confused and flabbergasted.

You could only flinch, your back now completely against the wall, as the silhouette moved from one to the next, except this time it never stopped punching. One hard punch to the face sent the drunk male down, the silhouette sitting atop the male's stomach as it sent repeated, rigid, and unyielding punches to the male, the sound of flesh and blood mushing together alongside the sounds of fractured bones making your body fill with disgust and horror.

Your earlier grimace at the blinding of the dark was now replaced with gratitude at the fact you could only paint a mental image of what was happening rather than visually digest the gruesome scene.

That momentary gratitude was sadly cut short when the silhouette stopped its macabre attack as you finally realized who it was. "Holy shit... Manjiro? That was you?!" you yelled in shock as you immediately circled behind him, using the advantage of him staying in place on top of the male, granting yourself the opportunity to run off if needed.

Just like how you earlier backed away from the drunken males, Mikey followed your footsteps. This time though, it felt as if a game for him rather than when it was a borderline heart attack for you, his mocking movements making you wonder if you were the next one to get beat.

"Manjiro, did you.. kill him?" you whispered, loud enough to hear even though you got silence in return. The uncanny feeling worsened when you felt the heel of your shoe step in a thin layer of liquid, immediately recognizing it as blood as you carefully continued backwards as to not trip.

While you stood closer to the entrance of the alleyway, Mikey stayed near the discarded pile of junk that was mordantly under that gap of the moon's soft glow. There, you saw the blood covering his fists and clothes, smeared in some places and dripping from others as you held back a gag at the hideous sight.

The look in his eyes was...blank. No soul behind it, as if he was possessed in the tense moment while an unusual creepy smile of his made way onto his face.

"You know, I always thought the thrill of stalking was to be the observer, not the one being stalked," he drawled out, those voided eyes meeting yours, the emotion behind them unreadable as you stood like a statue. "But it was so weird seeing you and Takemitchy follow me and the rest.. I thought maybe I'd finally be able to understand what emotions you have when being watched over."

Your once rising fear vanished, replaced by confusion at his words as you tried to process. "Knowing.. what I feel when being watched? Manjiro, why would I know what it's like having someone stalk me to find something out?" you asked, a tremble in your tone as that uncharacteristic smile of his widened even further.

"Don't you ever wonder what that weird feeling is when you're walking alone? The feeling that's so horrible, it makes you look around to see if you really are the only person in the area? You do it every time you get off the bus after going to the grocery store, especially last friday night," he said with such casualness, you didn't realize what he was implying at first.

"W-Well yeah, everyone gets that feeling if you're alone. It's just a common para... Manjiro, how did you know that?" you already knew the answer to the question, but the words came out before you could think as you saw him glance to the junk pile next to him, crouching as he pulled out a pipe that was surprisingly in good condition, inspecting it as he responded.

"The question should be how naive are you? I try to make my feelings obvious; I do everything I can to have you notice me, yet you act like I'm just anyone else in your life. You think I just let anyone call me Manjiro?" he asked as he turned to you.

"You think I go killing others to save just anybody?" He asked as you glanced to the most likely dead men behind him,

"Do you really think I go through the hassle of knowing every small detail of you for nothing? Your habits, your likes, your dislikes, your routines, everything I could get my hands on?" he continued, the rhetorical questions adding to your unease, especially the underlying confirmation of him actually stalking you making you want to cry on the spot from being over whelmed.

"You know—" he slowly started walking forward, smile long gone"—if I didn't have any self control, leaned into my impulses, I really think I would have taken you all for myself. I wouldn't have put this much effort, trying to win you over the right way and give us a cute little sappy love story to tell our future kids." The more he spoke, the more you wanted to run, but your body didn't want to listen to your brain.

"I could care less about the consequences of taking you, I would have made it work because that's how much I need you in my life. Why can't you love me back, Y/N?.. Why can't you love me just like how I love you?" he asked eerily, this whole situation feeling like a fever dream until it clicked.

'leaned into my impulses' 'take you all for myself'

Was he truly the one who kidnapped you in the future?

The Mikey that threw a tantrum over his meal not having a flag, the same one who'd always pester you to make him some sort of dessert, the one who'd always find a way to put a smile on your face..

The Mikey who just admitted to stalking you, the one who was stained with the blood of others, the one who has shown in rare moments he was truly mentally unstable.

Before you knew it, you were running as fast as you could out of that alley, adrenaline taking you to speeds you never knew existed as you tried reconnecting with the crowds of Shibuya, not wanting to even guess what he was deciding to do with that pipe he picked up.

You fumbled for your phone as you slowed down, calling Takemitchi as you continued to try and find the public. Your thought process was that if you were able to get back to the crowd, you'd be able to make an easier attempt at escaping the whole situation and avoid the risk of Mikey doing something.

"Y-Y/N?" you heard his tremoring voice on the other line as you spoke at light speed. "Takemitchi, where are you? " You asked at lightning speed as you made entered and exited many empty streets and alleyways.

"We're at the Bakery, why?" Those words made you mutter curses under your breath. You didn't know if his slip-up was intentional, but you could tell the captains on the other line heard it too, as the sound temporarily cut off, probably giving some harmless threat.

You knew they wouldn't hurt Takemitchi, but it still put you on edge with how careful you had to be when speaking now, your worries and panics just worsening with everything happening.

"Okay, you're at the bakery? Were you able to find out if they mentioned anything about her?" You asked, having a mental plan of how to 'unintentionally' have the Toman captains find out why the two of you were stalking them.

A few seconds later, Takemitchi unmuted, a timid "What do you mean?" coming from the phone, guessing that the others were telling him what to say so they could investigate.

"You idiot, I'm talking about whether they mentioned anything about Emma. You know, this whole situation about Hina not knowing what to get Emma for her birthday is stupid. You should have just had the courage to ask Manjiro or Ryuguji what she likes, not pray and hope they'd miraculously mention her a MONTH before her birthday," you scoffed as that eerie feeling of being watched came back, heightening your awareness of what was around you.

You groaned when you heard Takemitchi's confusion as you quickly simplified. "Draken, Takemitchi. I'm talking about Draken. You could have asked Mikey or Draken. I'm pretty sure Draken and Emma are dating so he would have been one of the firsts you'd ask." you could hear the suppressed laughs on the other side of the call, alongside Draken's hushed denial of your claim as you held back from saying his initial denial was from denial of his feelings.

"But forget that, Takemitchi, if I send you my location, do you think you can come? I have a horrible feeling about Manjiro right now." You paused your walking as you did a once-over of everything around you, the conversation with the man in question resurfacing in your mind as you went on a quick recap of what happened.

"This guy just killed three drunk men on his own and is currently chasing me with a metal pipe. I don't know if he's on something right now, but I don't even want to think about what he's planning to do with that thing. He was like.. smiling and stuff when talking about how me stalking him was like a mutual thing and how it was—" you cut yourself of as you remembered what Mikey mentioned about the not so subtle hint towards kidnapping as you.

The quicker you could let Takemitchi know of the possible candidate who was responsible for kidnapping you in the future, the quicker it'd be for him to be able to figure out a plan with Naoto in the future to save you and allow you and him to save the others without worry.

"Wait Takemitchi, he actually mentioned stuff about—" Before you could continue, you felt a sudden sharp and excruciating pain in your leg as you fell to the ground, phone flying out of reach as you saw a familiar pair of shoes in your vision walk towards it and pick it up.

"Ken-chin, Y/N and I will catch up with you guys in a bit m'kay? Give us a few minutes." Mikey hanged up the phone as he sighed, his grip giving the phone a small but audible crack as he turned to you.

It all felt like a blur, the tears in your eyes as silent sobs emitted from you due to the unbearable pain coming from your ankle as you tried pushing your upper body up. You tried to stand up and continue your escape, but only fell as he stalked towards you, like a predator getting it’s prey.

"You shouldn't have run away, Y/N.. I almost feel bad for you, but seeing what you did makes me remember that this was necessary," he said, crouching down as he gently held your face with one hand as his eyes softened, that usual look in his eyes coming back.

Now with the once void-like eyes were now replaced with normalcy, it felt like the 180 switch felt like it turned off. His once creepy smile was now replaced with his usual childish one, his words no longer as bone-chilling as earlier. He acted as if everything was normal as he gently sat you up before carrying you and maneuvering you onto his back with ease.

"You should never run away from your boyfriend during an argument, especially after you’ve confessed." He playfully scolded as you could do nothing but listen to his playful scolding, words being blocked out from the throbbing pain in your most likely broken ankle, causing your head to be fuzzy.

"I knew one day you'd recognize your feelings for me, but never did I think it'd be so scandalous when I found out," he teased, not minding the fact that you were on the brink of being unconscious. "I never knew you loved me just as much as I did for you... the others will be shocked when they hear the news."

He turned to you, delusion taking over his mind as he gave a small kiss to the crown of your head, the feeling of your body slumping on his making him feel like a child winning a prize. His words were a complete contrast from earlier, going from asking why you couldn't share the same love to how he never knew he loved you the same.

When he made his way to the city streets of Shibuya, he ignored the looks he got from the people walking past him at the blood that was illuminated on his clothes from the city's glow, and the fact that he was carrying a barely conscious girl on his back.

"Yo," he said with a small smile when seeing his friends, seeing Takemitchi about to ask about what had happened to you as he interjected.

"Y/N hurt her ankle on the way back. She wasn't paying attention to the junk on the ground when she kept holding the phone away from me!' he whined as he played off your earlier words on the phone.

"When I told her she'd get Karma for joking about me acting like some psycho killer, I didn't realize she'd twist her ankle 5 seconds later," he huffed as he turned to Takemitchi.

"Next time you need something, just ask, no need to go stalking us as if you're trying to get some secret information," Mikey said, the underlying threat that only Takemitchi could decipher as the others laughed about it, teasing Takemitchi about being a scaredy cat on top of being a cry baby.

"You can tell Hina that for Emma's birthday, the two of you can do a double date in the mall with her and Ken-chin. Courtesy of Y/N's idea." He turned around as he bit back a smile at seeing his friend flustered as the group once again erupted into a loud sound.

"Anyways, I'm going to take my girlfriend to the hospital. Later." The male departed coolly as the others gave their farewells, one by one realizing the title Mikey used as he heard their yells of shock, a smile coming to his face as he continued walking.

This was just the beginning of his declaration. If you wanted to give him trouble when you woke up and found out about this new relationship, he'd find a way. He'd always find a way to get what he wanted. He wasn't Toman's captain for nothing; he worked to get what he wanted and if he had to work his ass off to have you stay by his side until death then so be it.

If you knew what was best for you, you'd know your attempts would be futile against trying to leave him. He'd give you the benefit of the doubt that you were just nervous about getting into a relationship with a delinquent, but he knew you were smart enough to accept your 'feelings' if you didn't want the relationship to go downhill.

You loved him, and he loved you; that's just how it was going to be, no matter what. Life took many precious things away from him, and he knew it planned to take more, but you were the compensation for all the hardships he had to endure, and that was what made it worth it, delusion or not, you were what kept him stable.

And if he had to give you a few more broken bones to prove it, then so be it.

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio DP x DC Nobody Knows AU Part 8

Part 7

Shockingly, it turns out Danny knows how to cook. He's good at it, even, and when Tucker expresses his disbelief at the practiced way Danny moves in the kitchen Danny snorts.

“You know what the Fenton kitchen was like. When I got out of there and had access to food and kitchens that weren't biohazards, I learned eventually. I have a very distinct appreciation for good food nowadays, and I like being able to make it myself.”

He puts music on through a little Bluetooth speaker on the counter, invites them to participate, and they cook.

It's fun. They dance, they drink, they sample ingredients as they put their pizzas together. There's a minor flour war that sets off rounds of giggling and shrieking - more importantly it makes Danny cackle in a way she used to love and hasn't gotten to hear since they were teens.

It's exactly the same, and she missed it. Pure impish delight and mischief.

For as many things that are the same, there are ones that have changed.

Danny has a grace to him now that he didn't used to, and he moves near silently. He sways easily and elegantly to the music without thinking about it as they talk and make mischief with each other.

The oven and the adjusted thermostat make it much more comfortable in the apartment after a while, but Danny doesn't shed the pullover sweater he wears at any point. He didn't even roll the sleeves up to cook.

Come to think of it, when they entered high school he started doing that too. He wore long sleeves even in the summer - Sam tries not to think about abusive households or self harm. She hopes it's not that, but…

She puts the thoughts aside as well as she can.

Tucker had mentioned it before to her, but with all the grinning and laughing tonight Sam can see that he was right and Danny's teeth are sharper than she remembers. All four canine teeth are almost startlingly pointy.

She doesn't mention it. What she does mention is the apartment.

“This is a really nice place, Danny. You got a secret sugar daddy you haven't told us about?”

Tucker gapes at her and smacks her arm. Danny bluescreens for a moment before he snorts an ugly laugh and descends into near hysterics.

“Oh my God! Ancients, no! No, no sugar daddy. Just a well paying engineering gig lately, and some money I saved up before I left Amity. Holy shit, Sam.”

She shrugs, some tension she didn't know she was carrying leaving her shoulders. “Had to ask. Would have had a shovel talk to deliver.”

Danny starts laughing again, and Tucker groans and puts his head in his hands.

“I cannot believe you actually just asked him that,” Tucker moans.

“I can,” Danny responds with a chipper grin, Tucker's answering snort overlaid by the ding of the oven timer.

Danny knocks back the rest of his drink and waves in the vague direction of the living room area.

“I'll take this out and cut it. Go sit and we can eat it around the coffee table in case we want to watch a movie or something?”

The sitting area is spacious and comfortable, couches black leather. There's a heavy, fluffy white throw over the back of one that looks soft as all get out, but she and Tuck quickly decide to settle on the floor.

The coffee table is low enough that it's more convenient for reaching food and drinks set on it.

Tucker whistles appreciatively at the TV, so it must be a cutting edge new model. Fucking nerd.

Danny trots over not long after with two serving boards balanced precariously on one arm, his refilled sangria in one hand, the pitcher of sangria in the other and another beer held against his side by an awkward elbow.

Tucker and Sam both shoot to their feet to try and mitigate a disaster, but miraculously it all makes it to the table unharmed.

“It's almost like you guys don't trust me,” Danny pouts, his grin ruining it. “Careful, it's hot.”

“You are a perpetual accident waiting to happen,” Sam tells him scathingly, and he snorts with a peculiar look on his face.

“You don't know the half of it.”

As they all reach for slices of pizza, Danny takes them by surprise by taking a piece of Sam's, not Tucker's.

Tucker gapes at him. “Dude. Tell me you haven't betrayed me like that.”

Danny snorts, shoulders shaking with quiet chuckles. “Nah, I still eat meat. It's just sometimes I have spells where it kind of bothers me and I feel a little sick about it? I'm in one of those lately, but usually I'm still a huge burger and steak guy. Don't worry.”

“Huh. That's weird.”

Danny shrugs, taking a bite of his pizza despite his own warnings and cringing when it burns his mouth.

“Been like that since high school, actually. Used to be worse then,” he mumbles through his attempts to cool a mouthful of molten cheese.

Sam doesn't remember him ever having issues with it in middle school. She wonders what happened to change his outlook, but puts it aside. They're here to hang out and catch up. Have a good time. Not interrogate Danny.

They end up spending hours watching trashy TV and heckling the screen, making small talk and letting each other in on bits of their lives all the while. Everyone's well on their way to tipsy by the time they're done eating, though Danny a little more than Sam and Tuck.

He's loose-limbed and happy, sprawled across both of them in the haphazard pile they've ended up in. He seems incredibly content, and it does Sam's heart good to see him so relaxed.

She and Tucker are sitting with their backs against the couch, Danny's legs slung across Tucker's lap and head in Sam's. It's probably why he notices her shiver a little - it's still a little chilly in the apartment.

Lazily, he points up at the back of the couch. “You can pull that down and cover us if you want. It's really warm.”

Sam offers him a quiet thanks and reaches up to do just that, though she's startled to find that though the top is fluffy, the underside of what she'd thought was a throw is velvety and smooth. Like hide.

It's a real fur - hopefully ethically sourced. Decorated too, there are ornaments threaded into the corners and dangling that she can't pin the origin of. They're very pretty, shells and claws and beads.

As she pulls it down, she flips the edge up to peek at the underside and is startled to find the skin a distinct, familiar ectoplasmic green.

“Um. Danny. What kind of fur is this…?”

“Yeti,” Danny replies offhandedly, sipping his drink before freezing like the question and his own answer just caught up to him. “Uh.”

Masterpost

[songbirdseung]

good graces / yang jungwon

where you are yang jungwon's first girlfriend, leading you to constantly remind him on the things he should do and should not do. reminding him to stay in your good graces. Boy it's not that complicated genre fluff, est. relationship, new relationship, clueless wonie

yang jungwon had always been calm, composed, and confident when it came to leading his group or making decisions, but being in a relationship? that was entirely new territory for him. you, his first girlfriend, had quickly realized that while jungwon was sweet and kind, he was very inexperienced. it didn’t take long before you found yourself gently reminding him about the little things he should or shouldn’t do, ensuring he stayed on track to be the best boyfriend he could be.

“okay, jungwon, remember—when we’re out, no hugging every single person you meet!” you said, poking his cheek playfully as the two of you walked hand in hand through the park. jungwon chuckled, his eyes squinting in that adorable way you loved.

“but i’m just being friendly!” he protested, grinning at you. “it’s not like i’m—”

“too friendly,” you interrupted with a teasing smile. “there’s friendly, and then there’s you giving a bear hug to every girl we meet.”

jungwon blinked, clearly realizing he might have been overdoing it a little. “oh… was that bad?”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “it’s not bad, wonnie, it’s just… some people might misunderstand, and i’m pretty sure i don’t want to fight off every girl in the neighborhood because they think you’re available.”

he nodded, a sheepish smile appearing on his face. “got it. no more bear hugs.”

but despite the little reminders, jungwon was still learning. one time, the two of you were sitting at a cafe, enjoying a cozy date when a group of girls from his class spotted him. jungwon, ever the polite and friendly guy, waved them over. you watched with a mixture of amusement and mild concern as he casually engaged in conversation with them, all while you sat quietly beside him.

“jungwon…” you muttered under your breath as one of the girls leaned a little too close to him, laughing at something he said. he glanced at you, clueless as always, before turning back to the girls.

“oh, right! this is my girlfriend, yn!” jungwon suddenly introduced you, making the girls blink in surprise.

“girlfriend?” one of them echoed, clearly taken aback. you could see the realization hit jungwon like a ton of bricks as he finally noticed the tension in the air.

“um… we should get going, right?” he said quickly, standing up and grabbing your hand.

as soon as you left the cafe, jungwon sighed and looked at you apologetically. “did i mess up again?”

“just a little,” you teased, squeezing his hand. “you’ll get the hang of it eventually. i mean, you don’t have to announce that i’m your girlfriend every time. just maybe don’t give them a reason to wonder, okay?”

jungwon smiled bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck. “i’ll try harder. i promise.”

there were also cute, innocent moments where jungwon was just trying too hard to be the perfect boyfriend. like the time he spent three hours trying to bake you cookies because he wanted to surprise you. when you arrived at his dorm, the kitchen was a disaster zone—flour everywhere, chocolate smears on the counter, and jungwon covered in what you could only assume was a mix of cookie dough and regret.

“surprise?” he said, holding up a plate of oddly shaped cookies.

you burst into laughter, unable to contain it. “oh my god, what happened here?”

jungwon pouted, looking down at his ‘masterpiece.’ “i just wanted to do something nice for you… but i think i need more practice.”

you took one of the cookies, biting into it despite its appearance. “hmm, not bad,” you said, trying to stifle a laugh. “but maybe next time, let’s try baking together?”

“deal,” jungwon agreed, his face brightening.

despite his little mishaps, you couldn’t help but find them endearing. it wasn’t about jungwon being perfect, but about how hard he tried. even when he messed up, he was always eager to learn, always wanting to make you happy.

one night, after a long day, you both collapsed onto his couch, exhausted but content. jungwon snuggled up next to you, resting his head on your shoulder.

“thanks for being patient with me,” he murmured softly. “i know i still have a lot to learn.”

you smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “you’re doing great, wonnie. and besides, it’s kinda fun teaching you.”

“uh, yn?” he asked hesitantly, eyes shifting from you to the screen and back again.

“yeah?” you replied, not really paying attention, focused on the movie.

“so… am i supposed to put my arm around you now? or is that only in the movies?” he whispered, clearly overthinking the whole situation.

you couldn’t help but giggle, loving how clueless he was. “you don’t have to, jungwon, but you can if you want.”

his cheeks flushed pink as he slowly, awkwardly draped his arm over your shoulders, pulling you close. “how’s this? is this okay?”

“perfect,” you murmured, snuggling into him. despite his nervousness, he let out a relieved sigh, clearly pleased that he’d managed to get it right.

another memorable moment happened when jungwon tried to impress you with his "boyfriend skills" at an arcade. you’d suggested going for a fun day out, and jungwon, being the competitive person he is, immediately decided he was going to win you something from the claw machine.

“watch this,” he said confidently, inserting the coins and cracking his knuckles. “i’m gonna win you that teddy bear.”

you watched with an amused smile as he attempted—and failed—three times in a row. the claw kept slipping off the bear, and jungwon’s face grew more and more determined each time. after his fifth try, you couldn’t help but tease him.

“so… are you winning it for me today or should we come back next week?” you grinned.

jungwon shot you a playful glare but couldn’t hide his smile. “i’ll get it, just you wait.”

he finally managed to hook the bear on the sixth try, and he turned to you with a proud smile, holding the prize up triumphantly. “see? i told you i’d win it!”

you clapped, pretending to be overjoyed. “wow, my hero! six times the charm, huh?”

he rolled his eyes but handed you the bear with a grin. “hey, i still won it, didn’t i?”

but despite all his adorable efforts to be the perfect boyfriend, jungwon still found himself in hot water from time to time—usually because he was just a bit too friendly. like the time you both went to a classmate’s party, and one of his female classmates kept chatting him up. jungwon, being the polite guy he was, didn’t think much of it, but you noticed the girl was a little too eager to be close to him.

“jungwon,” you said under your breath, tugging at his sleeve. “maybe tone it down a little?”

he blinked at you in confusion. “tone what down?”

“you’re being too nice again,” you replied, nodding toward the girl, who was still lingering nearby.

jungwon’s eyes widened in realization. “oh… i didn’t even notice.” he then wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “sorry, i’ll be more careful.”

you couldn’t stay mad at him. it wasn’t like he meant to do it—he just had a natural charm that made people gravitate toward him, even when he wasn’t trying.

there was another time when jungwon tried to surprise you with a cute text, but it didn’t exactly go as planned. it was your first anniversary as a couple, and you were expecting something sweet from him. instead, you received a message that made you burst out laughing:

jungwon: "happy first adversary, baby!"

you quickly texted him back: "uh, wonnie… you mean anniversary?"

his response came quickly, followed by a series of embarrassed emojis: "omg, i meant anniversary. ignore that please."

when you met him later that day, you couldn’t resist teasing him about it. “adversary, huh? are we enemies now?”

jungwon groaned, his cheeks bright red as he buried his face in his hands. “please don’t bring that up again. i was nervous!”

you grinned, patting his head. “don’t worry, it was cute. i love my ‘adversary.’”

“stop it,” he whined, but the smile on his face told you he wasn’t really upset.

and of course, there were all the little moments where jungwon was simply too clueless for his own good. like the time he tried to surprise you by cooking dinner but ended up setting off the smoke alarm instead.

you’d rushed over to his dorm when you received a panicked call from him, only to find jungwon waving a towel at the smoke alarm, coughing and laughing at himself. “so… maybe cooking’s not my thing,” he admitted sheepishly as you opened the windows to let out the smoke.

“you think?” you teased, unable to stop giggling.

he pouted, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. “hey, at least i tried. it’s the thought that counts, right?”

you shook your head, wrapping your arms around him. “yes, it is. but maybe next time, let’s just order takeout.”

jungwon let out a relieved laugh, hugging you back tightly. “deal. no more setting off alarms.”

as your relationship with jungwon continued, it became clear that he was growing more comfortable with the dynamics of being a boyfriend, though the cute little slip-ups kept happening. but that was part of the charm—watching him learn, adapt, and still manage to mess up in the most endearing ways.

one weekend, you and jungwon had plans for a picnic date in the park. it was a sunny day, and he was eager to show off his newfound cooking skills after the infamous smoke alarm incident. he had insisted on preparing all the food himself, and although you were a little skeptical, you were excited to see what he came up with.

you arrived at the park, and jungwon was already setting up the picnic blanket under a big oak tree, the basket of food placed neatly in the center. you smiled as you walked over, admiring how cute and eager he looked.

“hey, chef wonnie!” you called out, teasing him a little. “what did you cook up this time? no fire alarms, i hope.”

jungwon grinned, standing up to greet you with a quick hug. “no fire alarms this time, i promise. i made sandwiches… and something special.”

you raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “something special?”

he opened the basket, pulling out a small container and handing it to you. “open it.”

you took the container, curious, and popped the lid open to reveal… a heart-shaped rice ball. you blinked, surprised by how cute it was.

“you made this?” you asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

jungwon scratched the back of his neck, a little shy. “yeah. i thought it’d be cute, you know… since you’re always saying i should do more romantic stuff.”

you couldn’t help but laugh softly, touched by the effort he’d put in. “it’s adorable, jungwon. i love it.”

“really?” his eyes lit up, clearly relieved. “i wasn’t sure if it was too cheesy.”

“it’s cheesy, but in the best way possible,” you assured him, leaning over to give him a peck on the cheek. “you’re getting better at this boyfriend thing.”

he puffed out his chest proudly. “well, i do have the best teacher.”

the two of you sat down on the blanket, enjoying the food and each other’s company. it was peaceful, with the sun shining and a light breeze rustling the trees. you couldn’t remember the last time you felt so content.

after a while, jungwon pulled out his phone and started playing some music, soft and relaxing. you leaned your head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you, and for a moment, everything felt perfect.

“hey,” jungwon suddenly said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“yeah?” you replied, tilting your head up to look at him.

he hesitated for a second, then said, “i’ve been thinking… i wanna be better at this.”

“better at what?”

“you know, being your boyfriend,” he admitted, his voice soft but serious. “i know i mess up a lot, and i’m still figuring things out, but i really want to make you happy.”

your heart melted at his words. “jungwon, you’re already doing an amazing job. you don’t have to be perfect.”

“i know, but…” he trailed off, looking down at you with those wide, sincere eyes. “i love you, and i want to keep getting better for you.”

you smiled, your heart swelling with affection. “i love you too, jungwon. and honestly, the fact that you’re trying so hard is more than enough for me.”

jungwon’s face softened, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “i’ll keep trying, okay? for you.”

“and i’ll keep helping you,” you teased, poking his side.

he laughed, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly. “deal.”

later that day, as you walked home together, hand in hand, jungwon spotted a couple walking in front of you. the guy wrapped his arm around the girl’s waist, pulling her closer, and you could practically see the gears turning in jungwon’s head.

without saying a word, he mimicked the couple, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in a little awkwardly. you chuckled, glancing up at him.

“what are you doing?” you asked, amused.

“being a good boyfriend,” he replied with a determined look on his face, though you could see the shy smile tugging at his lips.

you smiled, leaning into him. “you’re such a dork.”

“but i’m your dork,” he shot back, a playful glint in his eyes.

you laughed, shaking your head. “can’t argue with that.”

as you continued walking, jungwon suddenly stopped, pulling you to a halt too. you looked at him, confused.

“what’s up?” you asked.

he looked down at you, a hint of nervousness in his expression. “i… i wanna say it.”

“say what?”

“i love you,” he said quietly, his voice soft but full of sincerity. “i don’t think i say it enough, and i want you to know.”

your heart fluttered at his words. “i love you too, jungwon.”

he smiled, looking relieved, and pulled you into a tight hug. you stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world around you fading away. it was just you and him, and in that moment, everything felt right.

“you’re doing great, jungwon,” you whispered into his shoulder. “you really are.”

he chuckled, his breath tickling your ear. “thanks… i’m learning from the best.”

you pulled back slightly to look at him, grinning. “yeah, you are.”

he laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “i’ll keep getting better,” he promised.

“i know you will,” you replied, your heart full of warmth.

and as you walked the rest of the way home, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but think that even though jungwon was still new to this whole relationship thing, he was already perfect in your eyes.

[hwaslayer]

the space between us three (jyh) | eight.

⇢series masterlist | series playlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, smut

⇢word count: 7.3k

⇢chapter content/warnings: cussing, a glimpse of seora in her athlete mode, more yunho x seora moments, more yunho x oc moments hehe, yunho opens up to oc about eunha, making out, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), soft sex!!, lots of tender moments

⇢on rotation: be alright - yunho | savior - kyuri

“Ace." Yunho calls for Seora just as she's about to run off to the court. "Goodluck. Kill 'em out there, hm?" Seora smiles up at her dad before doing their handshake.

"Will do my best, daddy-o!" She salutes before running towards the coach and her team, setting up on one side of the court. Yunho settles onto a seat in the bleachers of the school gym, making sure to leave some space for Mingi— whenever he gets here. 

Yunho waves and acknowledges a few parents walking in, all of them staying within the same area of the bleachers to support their kids in front of them, the right team. He takes a moment when a select few squeeze him on the shoulder or come to sit next to him for a quick chat, checking in on him and seeing if he's doing okay. He appreciates the gesture, and he also appreciates seeing what everyone has been up to since he doesn't normally do much with the other parents besides Chan-mi's. 

And that's really only to coordinate shopping dates or sleepovers.

Just as tipoff is about to begin and the teams getting ready out on the court, Mingi comes strolling in, plopping himself right next to his bestfriend.

"About time." Yunho says with a small laugh. "Almost missed tipoff." 

"I would never." Mingi and Yunho look out to the court, watching as Seora gets herself situated in the center for tipoff. She gets into position, bending at the knee ever so slightly to prepare for the jump. She quickly looks over at her dad, giving him a subtle nod when he acknowledges her by tapping the left side of his chest where his heart is. She gives him a tiny nod right before the ref blows the whistle and tosses the ball up.

Seora times herself perfectly and jumps up for the ball— able to tip it into their side of the court first.

Yunho and Mingi cheer loudly, watching as she storms down the court to execute a play. They continue to watch the team score repeated baskets, Mingi finding it a good point to start bringing up a conversation with his bestfriend

"So.. I see Hwa couldn't make it." Mingi chuckles a bit, making Yunho subtly shake his head.

"Well, Yoori was gonna find out sooner than later." Yunho responds, keeping his eye on the court and cheering in between.

"Is he with her right now?"

"Yeah, he is. I think she pulled an ultimatum on him. It's either he gets his shit together and starts getting serious or she's done completely."

⇢FLASHBACK

Seonghwa isn't sure if he feels guilty about what he did during the club, and maybe that speaks volumes as to where he stands with everything. Because he's not gonna lie, he did enjoy it. Noeul was fun. She's like that shiny new toy that he's still excited over. 

But yet, he's here. Having coffee with Yoori because a part of him feels like he needs to make it up to her without really making it up to her. 

To try to figure out what it is he really wants.

To see if Noeul really is just that shiny new toy to him and if his heart has truly belonged to Yoori all this time.

He doesn't wanna think anymore. 

And his mind agrees when the buzzer on the table goes off, signaling their drinks are ready to be picked up. Seonghwa doesn't really think at all, leaving his phone behind to go pick up the drinks at the counter and return the buzzer. Yoori keeps her gaze outside of the window until Seonghwa's phone vibrates on the table, causing her eyes to shift down to the notifications coming up on the screen.

Noeul?

She knows of her, but they've never really interacted like that.

And as far as she knows, Seonghwa hasn't either until now, apparently.

When Seonghwa comes back to the table, he can easily tell the mood has dropped. Yoori's got her brows knitted, her chin resting on the palm of her hand.

"Here." He carefully passes her coffee over.

"Since.. when did you know Noeul?"

"Oh, cause of Yunho and Y/N."

"But, you guys text like that?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Since when?"

"Since we all hung out. What's with the questions?"

"News to me."

"I can't make friends?" She rolls her eyes and sips her coffee. Intuition tells her that it's definitely more than that because why the hell is he suddenly making a new friend? One that's sending him text after text. 

Let's not forget the emoji next to her name.

He doesn't do that shit. Even if she put it in his phone herself, he would've changed it so quick.

"Yoori. I know you're not mad about that."

"I know you're not lying to me again." Seonghwa is taken aback by the statement, but deep down, he's honestly panicking and losing it. Anxious. 

Does she know exactly what happened?

"What happened when you guys went out?"

"Nothing!" He says a little too defensively, and it's definitely the cherry on top for Yoori to start tossing her things into her bag— setting her untouched coffee aside. "What are you doing?"

"Why the hell am I here if you're just gonna keep lying to my face, Seonghwa? Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Yoori, I—"

"You know what." She looks at him. "We do this time and time again, and I don't know why I put myself through this when we aren't even serious. Why the fuck do I bend over backwards for you when I know you wouldn't do the same for me?" She scoffs. 

"Wait, wait. Stop. Just sit. Let me explain, will you?" She sighs, pausing in her motions. "I— I fucked up. But, it didn't mean anything to me. I was just drunk and she just happened to be all over me and—"

"If you're gonna keep pulling this, I'm done. I'm not doing this anymore, I'm done—"

"Yoori, please. It wasn't shit. It was literally just a drunk night out and I'm sorry I fucked up. It didn't mean anything to me, she didn't mean anything."

"Then why are you guys still texting? Do you want to be with her?"

"No."

"Then?"

"I'm just being nice."

⇢END

"Do you think he has feelings for Noeul, though?"

"I don't think so." Yunho lets out a breath. "Which is unfortunate that he had to pick her that night because Y/N told me she thinks Noeul is already super smitten with him despite the circumstances."

"Oh shit, really?"

"I mean, think about it." Yunho looks at him. "He was hella handsy with her, wouldn't leave her alone all night. Grabbed her number and texted her for awhile, then distanced himself when Yoori found out."

"Yeah, I guess you've got a point."

"And Yoori didn't even find out through Seonghwa, it was seeing Noeul's name pop up on his phone for the first time ever. She had to question him about it."

"Yikes, maybe he should've played his cards right." Yunho furrows his brows at him.

"Maybe the both of you should stop playing games in general. The hell am I gonna do with you two?" Yunho returns his attention to the court, finding Seora in the middle of a steal before barreling down the court into a layup. She makes the shot, but her momentum crashes her right into the wall— causing Yunho to stand.

"Ace!" Yunho calls out. She winces a bit and grabs at her shoulder before she's sprinting back down to the court. She throws him a quick thumbs up before he's slowly sitting back down and watching his daughter slip herself back into the game with ease.

"Jesus. She plays hard."

"Always." Yunho lets out the breath he's been holding.

"Competitive as hell like you."

"Well." Yunho chuckles a bit.

"How are you and Y/N doing?"

"Good." He smiles at Mingi. "Really good."

"So, what's the plan here? Ace still doesn't know?"

"No, she doesn't. But, I plan on telling her soon."

"You're making it official?"

"I want to, yeah. I haven't really planned how, or if I should tell Seora and get them to hang out first. I don't know. I'm at the point of just.. going with whatever feels right. Whatever comes first, however it should come first."

"You're not scared, are you?"

"I am. I just know Seora's gonna have a hard time adjusting."

"You never know, it could be different."

"Maybe. But, it's the first time someone else is coming into our lives after Eunha." Mingi nods silently, cheering along when Seora's team makes another shot to keep them in the lead.

"It'll all work out, okay?" Mingi gives his shoulder a squeeze. "She wants you to be happy, and I know she'll warm up to Y/N. She's a sweetheart, there's no way Seora wouldn't enjoy having her around."

"I just don't know how to make it clear that we're not replacing her mom. Ever."

"She'll know. She'll understand, even if it takes some time." Mingi breaks away from the court and briefly glances around, his eyes falling on the entrance. "Hey, isn't that Ara?" Yunho turns his head to see Ara sliding onto a bleacher next to a few people.

"Oh, shit. Yeah." Her eyes land on Yunho's and at first, she's surprised. Then, her smile dies down and she gives him a tiny wave that he returns.

"That'll be fun."

"Guess she's meeting Seora."

"You two still haven't talked?"

"Nah. Which is fine, but.. it’d suck if she was really holding a grudge against me."

"She'll get over it."

"Mm, I still care about her as a friend so yeah, hopefully things will get better between us." Yunho and Mingi continue to watch the game until the tiny half-time break in between. Seora quickly raises over to greet her Uncle Mingi in all her sweaty glory, teasing him and playing around before heading back to the team.

The rest of the game goes by eventfully— lots of ups and downs between scores, keeping the crowd on edge. This would be the game that would secure their spot in the playoffs, so both teams were giving their best.

In the end though, Seora makes the winning shot and Yunho finds that these are the moments that make him proud to be her father. She has grit, she's smart and she's independent— Eunha would be so happy to see how much she's grown and who this young lady is today. Yunho and Mingi cheer loudly, along with the other parents, standing and yelling as the team celebrates on the court with group hugs. Once the hype has died down, they congratulate the other team for their hardwork on the court, exchanging good sportsmanship before it all ends and the players are finding their way back to their parents and families.

"Goodjob, ace!" Mingi ruffles her hair before Yunho pulls her into a big hug and swings her around.

"That's my girl." Seora laughs as Yunho gives her one final hug and presses a kiss to the top of her head. "You did amazing out there, ace."

"Why, thank you." She does a bow.

"Starving?"

"Majorly."

"What do you wanna eat?"

"Can I come?" 

"No, you just want me to buy you food." Seora laughs at her dad and uncle bickering.

"Daddy, just let him come." Yunho clicks his teeth.

"Fine, but we play russian roulette."

"Fine! Where should we go?"

"You know all the good spots."

"Ace, what're you craving for?" Mingi scrolls through his phone with her. Just as they get busy scoping their options, Ara walks over, a small smile on the corner of her lips.

"Hey."

"Oh, hey." He nods at her. "What're you doing around these parts?" She chuckles.

"My niece is on the other team. I should've known I'd see you here. I don't know why it didn't click for me." Yunho chuckles.

"All good—"

"Dad, we finally found a spot." Seora tugs on his wrist, making him turn his attention to her. She looks at him, then at Ara, then raises a brow.

"Nice." He sees the questioning look on Seora's face. "Uh, this is Ara. She's a nurse at the hospital."

"Hey Seora, you did amazing out there!" Seora tugs on her bag straps and smiles. "Congrats on making it to the playoffs. My niece was on the other team and said you guys were really good. It was a tough game."

"Thank you!" She laughs a bit. "Now I gotta work extra hard on the next ones." Ara laughs.

"I'm sure you'll make it all the way to the end with that drive." Seora nods. "Anyway, there's an ice cream truck outside. You should convince your dad to let you get some before you head out." Her eyes light up as she looks at her dad.

"Oh, please?! I played so hard today!" Yunho laughs.

"Okay, go." He hands over his card.

"Chan-mi! There's ice cream! Let's go, I have my dad's card!"

"Aye, not the whole truck, though!" He calls out, making Mingi laugh behind him.

"Well, it was nice seeing you and meeting Seora. She seems sweet." She pauses for a bit. "See you around?"

"Yeah, it was. I'll see you." Yunho responds before she's off to meet her family, talking to Seora and Chan-min a bit when she falls in line behind them with her niece.

"That wasn't so bad."

"I guess so. Still felt awkward." Yunho looks at Mingi. "So, where are we eating?"

"Shake Shack. She saw it come up and got super juiced about it."

"Okay, fair."

"You covering for me?"

"The fuck am I? Your sugar daddy?"

"If you wanna be." Mingi smiles.

"You're full of shit—" Yunho glares at him.

"Dad!" He shifts his attention to his daughter, who is also dragging Chan-mi by the arm with their ice cream in hand. "Can I sleepover Chan-mi's again tonight? Please! I forgot our show has a new season releasing and we wanna watch it together!"

"Seora, you were literally just at their house last weekend. Why don't you guys stay at the house this time?"

"Because we wanna go to the community pool, too. Please!" She pleads again.

"I promise it's okay, my parents said yes." Chan-mi softly says with a small nod, making Yunho chuckle.

"Okay, fine. But, you need to give them a break, Seora."

"Yeah, sure!" She squeals with Chan-mi just as her parents come.

"Sorry, I really appreciate you guys taking her for another weekend." Yunho says to her parents and they give him a reassuring nod, laughing it off.

"Swear, Yunho. It's fine with us. We love having her over. Take more time for yourself." Chan-mi's dad squeezes his shoulder after a few pats.

"Thank you. Next time is on me." He responds before looking at Seora. "We need to eat and you need to pack up some things." He pinches her cheek, making her whine in protest. "What time can I bring her over?"

"Oh, we can pick her up in a few hours? We were going to be in the neighborhood to stop by his uncle's birthday party." Chan-mi's mom says, pointing at her father.

"You sure?"

"Yes! 100%." She laughs.

"Alright, thank you." Yunho shifts his attention back to Seora. "Let's go so you can be ready for when they pick you up."

"Okay!" She waves. "See you later!" Yunho and Mingi bid their farewells before they're splitting ways and off to Shake Shack.

After Shake Shack [that Mingi graciously paid for], Yunho brings his bestfriend home since he took an Uber earlier— claiming he was too lazy to drive and deal with traffic. Seora continues to poke fun at her uncle from behind his seat, poking him and pinching him before laughing loudly. Yunho thoroughly enjoys seeing them like this, especially when they bicker playfully like they did while eating. Seora is the same with Seonghwa, but she does it a lot less knowing he doesn't have as much patience as Mingi.

She loves him nonetheless. She wouldn't stop asking for Seonghwa during their meal, wondering why he couldn't make it to the game and Yunho couldn't really explain.

Too bad she could already sense it had something to do with ‘Miss Yoori that popped up on his phone.’ All Mingi and Yunho could do was shrug. Well, until Mingi ratted him out and said he did something that she wasn't happy about so he was trying to make up for it.

Which, leads Yunho to where he is now: loading the laundry before Seora pops next to him with a grave question.

"So, dad."

"Yup?" Yunho is tossing the clothes into the wash.

"What exactly did Uncle Hwa do to make him spend all his time with her? To make up for it?"

"Trust me, you don't wanna know. You can't, anyway."

"Why not? He kissed someone else?" She helps throw the clothes into the wash. Yunho doesn't answer, and that's enough of an answer for her than anything else. "But, they aren't serious, right?"

"Ace. It doesn't matter if they're serious or not. You don't do that to someone you claim to care about and spend a lot of time with. You're just hurting all parties involved. So yeah, Uncle Hwa has a lot of things to fix and work on."

"Huh." She says, closing the door for her dad so he can immediately run the wash and get things going. 

"Yeah, huh." Yunho mocks her before laughing. "Are you packed? Chan-mi will probably be here any minute now."

"Yup."

"Charger?"

"Yes."

"Your prescription cream?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Yunho heads to the kitchen to sort through the fridge and see if there's anything he can whip up for himself.

"What're you gonna do when I leave?"

"Well first of all, find myself something to eat. Gotta get some groceries tomorrow for sure."

"Hang out with Uncle Mingi again?"

"No, god no. I've had enough for a day." Seora laughs. "I can just hang out here all by myself since my little one likes to leave so much."

"Daddy." Seora clings onto him like a koala, making him laugh. "I won't sleepover for awhile after this! We can go on our usual dates. Camping!" She reminds him and he nods, dragging her along to his room while she clings on.

"If you say so." Suddenly, her phone starts blaring in the kitchen. She quickly hops off to look out the window in her dad's room seeing Chan-mi's car out front.

"She's here!" She squeals loudly and rushes to the living room to grab her phone and all her things. "See you later!"

"Hey, hold on." Yunho comes out furrowing his brows. "You're gonna leave without a proper goodbye? For real?" She laughs before waddling over to hug him tightly, letting her dad plant a kiss to the top of her head. "Be safe, have fun, don't give them unnecessary headaches, please."

"I won't." Seora whines a bit. "I'll text you when I'm ready tomorrow?" Yunho nods.

"Love you, ace. Call me tonight."

"Will do!" She waves before rushing out the door, leaving Yunho to stand behind and wave at Chan-mi's parents as he watches his daughter throw her things into their trunk and climb into the backseat. Soon, they drive off with one last goodbye, leaving Yunho to his lonesome. 

He lets out a sigh as he drags himself into the house to finish cleaning around. He loves the fact that Seora has a close group of friends she can surround herself with, but he truly does hate these moments when he's home alone. No Seora to fill the void, the empty space.

It feels so fucking lonely.

Yunho tries to brush off the feeling until he's done with his chores, neatly folding all of the laundry and setting Seora's half onto her bed so she can put it away when she gets back. He looks at the clock noticing it's already past 6pm and the sun is setting. He makes his way to the convenience store, deciding to call you on his way over in case you were already back from spending the day with the girls. You had told him Noeul wanted to get her mind off of things so you and Sian offered to take her out for some retail therapy.

Luckily, you answer just as he swings the door open to the store, a smile instantly coming up on his face. 

You must be back.

"Hello?" Yunho bites his lip.

"Hey you." He slowly walks the aisles, trying to gauge what he's in the mood for.

"Yunho, hi." You giggle. "You okay?"

"I will be. Maybe. Depending on the answer to my next question."

"And what question is that?"

"Free tonight? My tiny bestfriend left me to go be with her other bestfriend." You laugh.

"Aw, sleepover at Chan-mi's again?"

"Mhm. Kinda lonely." Yunho teases.

"Well, you're in luck cause I am free now. What do you wanna do?"

"Just chill. Head to the beach or something with some convenience store food."

"I'm down for that."

"Want anything specific, love?"

"No, anything you choose is good with me." You laugh. "Surprise me."

"Cool. Can I pick you up in the next 30 minutes?"

"Of course you can."

"See you soon, baby." You smile to yourself. You set down the phone and quickly change into something more fitting for the beach, even though it's not too cold out. You slip on a matching, two piece grey sweatsuit— your jacket halfway zipped, a cami poking out from underneath. You take your turn to tidy up around your apartment, setting out new plugins to make your space smell fresh. You clean up the little trinkets and other items laid out across your coffee table, kitchen counter, bathroom and nightstand before getting your purse together and grabbing your shoes.

Just in time for Yunho to make his way up and to your door.

You hear Yunho lightly knock three times, making the butterflies in your tummy go wild. You swing the door open, immediately smiling when you see him leaning against the wall with a small bouquet in hand.

"Yunho." You poke out your bottom lip as you hug him tightly.

"Hey beautiful." You pull back and kiss him on the lips. "These are for you."

"I swear, you always pick the best bouquets." You smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He taps your nose, making you scrunch it in return.

"Let me get them in some water then we can go."

"No rush." You hurry off to find a free vase to stick them into, giving them a good amount of water to sit in.

"Where'd you get these?"

"Don't worry about it." You laugh, gently setting the vase on the table near the doorway. 

"We don't keep secrets between us."

"We don't. Except this. Let me handle buying the flowers for you." You shake your head and lock your door, letting Yunho slip his hand into yours effortlessly as you head down the steps.

"Can't even protest." Yunho swings the door open for you and waits until you slide in to get comfortable before shutting the door close.

"Thanks for hanging out with me, pretty."

"You don't have to thank me, Yunho. I love spending time with you." He smiles as he drives off towards the nearby beach. "How was Seora's game today? I'm sorry, I was so busy earlier just trying to keep up with Noeul and Sian."

"Good! They're off to the playoffs." Yunho chuckles.

"Aw, yay! Congrats! I'm sure they'll push it all the way through to the championships."

"Hope so! Ace is pretty competitive so I don't think she'll let it go unless they win it."

"Does she get that from you?" You tease and he nods.

"Honestly, hell yeah she does."

"Cute." You look at Yunho and gently press his hand to your lips while he continues to drive. He smiles, but you can tell there's something else on his mind. You assume he might just be thinking about Seora or he might just tired; but, something in his eyes says it's deeper than that, and you're not sure what it is.

"How was Noeul?" He softly breaks the silence with the question.

"I don't know, Yu. She seemed to be okay today, but she plays it off well. I know she's still thinking about it and is bothered by it, though."

"Mmyeah. I'm sorry, I don't really know what's up with Hwa." Yunho lets out a breath, driving effortlessly towards the beach. "I don't know what he wants and he doesn't know what he wants. He keeps saying he isn't ready for a relationship, but runs back to Yoori every time they get into an argument or fight."

"Then, he needs to figure this out soon before they both get deeply hurt. Did he say anything else about that night?"

"Not really. He tries not to talk about it around us. Well, especially me, because he knows I'll tell him stuff he doesn't wanna hear right now."

"Noeul also gets pretty attached. But, I think Hwa should have told her the truth. They were texting nonstop for awhile until he slowly stopped then ghosted her completely."

"I'm sorry, love. If I could, I'd talk to him, but I can't dictate what he does."

"I know. But, I'm sure he'll figure it out. Hopefully." You look at Yunho as he exits and starts cutting his way through the neighborhood to get to the beach.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, though. I hope she's okay. I'm not gonna say Hwa is a bad person cause he's not. He's just conflicted when it comes to what he wants in terms of a relationship."

"That's okay. It'll come to him. Noeul will be okay."

"Does she have feelings for him already?"

"I think so, but she's trying hard to suppress it." He finally pulls down the street and parks in front of the beach, letting out a sigh as he parks the car. He gives you a tiny, toothless smile and presses your fingers against his lips— giving your hand a squeeze. 

"Let's go and chill out on the sand." You nod. When you exit the car, Yunho grabs two blankets and a bag of food from the convenience store. He tells you that he grabbed fresh beef kimbap from the store, along with some fresh sweet potatoes, chips and other little goodies. He sets the blanket down before taking your hand when he sits. You snuggle up closely to him, letting the blanket drape over both of your shoulders.

The evening is still beautiful out— you and Yunho watching the last bits of the sun rest below the horizon as you eat and enjoy in small conversation about Seora, your family. Yunho reminisces about his childhood, remembering the days his dad used to take him to baseball and soccer games. Or, how his mom used to treat him to ice cream every time he got good grades on his school work. You feel sad for him when he talks about how things have drastically changed in their relationship and how he wishes he could have that back.

But, it can never be the same. Things can never go back to the way they were.

There's a small pause that allows you to break the sweet potato in half, sharing the other with Yunho while you listen to the waves crash along the shore and kids chasing after the water nearby. You lean your head against Yunho's arm while you hold onto it, finding comfort and solace in just being with him.

Then, things shift. 

And you'll forever remember this moment as the time Yunho finally opened up to you about everything.

The moment he was vulnerable, the moment he gave himself to you. The moment you were his and vice versa.

The moment you knew this was real.

"Despite the ups and downs, Eunha was always the peacemaker." He suddenly says, causing you to perk up and look at him— resting your chin on his arm as you listen closely and attentively. "She saw how my relationship with my parents crumbled over the years, especially when we kept Seora. But, she always gave them the benefit of the doubt. Always tried to see the other side of it regardless of how pissed off or frustrated I was. She tried to get me to see their side no matter what. She always tried to stay positive about everything." You continue to rub his arm affectionately, watching the way his Adam's apple bobs. He licks his lips, pausing in between his statements. You can tell he's digging up everything he's tucked away for so long; finally releasing all this pent up sadness, anger.

All this blue and grey.

The cloud that's been following him after all these years.

"When she passed, I didn't realize how much I needed that until I didn't have it anymore. It was just me, Seora and my thoughts."

"Yunho." You call for him softly and he looks down at you with a gentle smile. "Eunha seems like such a beautiful person."

"She is, yeah. She turned everything into something positive. She saw the silver lining regardless of how hard things got. She was always smiling, always happy to talk to people. She was the definition of selfless, always thinking about everyone else before herself. Always giving and giving, but never asking for anything in return. She loved going to the beach, being outdoors. She loved being crafty." Yunho chuckles a bit. "Seora's laugh, the way she gets loud and loves being super social. Loves journaling and scrapbooking. It's all Eunha. I see Eunha through Seora in so many different ways."

"She'll always be with you through Seora." You continue to rub his arm as he continues to look out at the water. There's a long pause before Yunho starts diving head first into the memories he purposely tried to forget. Afraid the pain will break him all over again.

Afraid he'll never recover.

"She was a graveyard nurse at a small hospice center nearby." Yunho says quietly. "That night—" He pauses and looks down at his hands, pressing his tongue to his cheek. You give his arm a quick squeeze to reassure him and it somewhat helps. He looks back out to the ocean and continues, although it's clear he's trying hard to hold back his tears. "She picked up another shift because they were short staffed. And even though she had been so tired, she volunteered. She loved that place, she loved her job. She believed she needed to be there, especially for the people who didn't have family stopping by to check on them during their last days. It was hard, but she really, really gave her life to that place." He sighs. "I kept telling her not to, especially if she was exhausted. Told her to give herself a break, let other people pick up the slack. But, she insisted. So, I let her go despite knowing I should've fought harder to keep her home so she could rest. I didn't think it'd be the last time I'd see her. I quickly said bye, gave her a kiss on the forehead and sent her off without thinking much about it. She was so close to home before a drunk driver collided head-on with her and that was it." He lets his tears fall freely, making you cry with him. He sniffs, quickly wiping away at his nose before he picks his head back up again. "Her parents seemed to have placed some kind of blame on me for her passing. And after all these years, it made me believe that it was my fault. It was my fault for not trying to stop her, for not thinking twice about sending her off that day."

"None of this was your fault, Yu."

"Then, why do I still feel like I should've done more?" He meets your eyes.

"This was out of your control." You say quietly. "You did your best no matter what, but there was nothing you could do to stop this. It's the shittiest thing about life, knowing our cards are laid out for us already." 

"I know, but at the same time, I wonder why it had to be her that night." He nibbles on his bottom lip, preventing it from trembling too much. "It still hurts until this day and I'm tired of wondering when it'll go away. I haven't even gone to visit her at the cemetery because I can't find the strength to."

"You just need to take your time with it. Everyone processes grief differently, and it doesn't matter how long it takes. But, you need to let yourself process it and feel it out. You can't keep it tucked away forever, babe." You run your hand through his hair to try and ease him. "You have me, and I'll always listen to you on your good and bad days. Let's get through this together." He lets out another small, shaky breath. Suddenly, you hear his cries picking up, making you hold onto him tighter;

Hoping he could feel your comfort through your soft, reassuring touches. 

"I lost her so suddenly, I didn't know what to do for the longest time." Yunho cries while you both continue listening to the waves crash against the sand. "I didn't even get to say goodbye properly and hold her one last time. The last picture I have of her is when I got the hospital and she was already gone." You feel the tears constantly welling up in your eyes as you watch Yunho finally release the feelings he had been harboring all these years. "I just— everything crumbled so quickly and I didn't even have time to process it. I've forced myself to bury this for so long because I didn't want Seora to think anything was wrong." You shake your head. "But, for the longest time, everything felt wrong. I felt so sad and empty, and I miss her so much every day." He cries harder.

"I'm so sorry, love. You didn't deserve any of that." You cup his cheeks and gently caress the surface, thumb swiping away at the tears that fall. "You both didn't deserve any of that."

"There's not a day that I don't think about her. But, it's so hard. It's been so hard." He can barely get out before he's crying more, leaning into your touch.

"And you're so strong. She sees it every day, she's with you every day. She never left. And I know she's so, so proud of you overcoming everything with Seora. For the way you two have persevered and blossomed from all of this." You look him in the eyes. "She is so happy to see how you've handled everything with so much grace and she knows you both love her so much. She knows, and she sees it." You cry, continuing to wipe his tears away until it subsides a bit. 

"Life has been so fucking hard without her."

"She never left, Yu. She's with you and Seora always." You repeat. He lets out a breath, his tears slowly coming to a stop when he gets a moment to gather himself. But, he can say that after all of this, he feels so relieved. Like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders because of this much needed release.

With you being here by his side.

"I'm sorry, baby." He laughs a bit to make the moment a little more lighthearted. "I didn't mean to."

"I'm glad you did, though. You needed to. And I'll always be here for you, no matter what. I meant it." He looks at you, staring deep into your eyes. He sees so much sincerity, so much comfort, so much love, and he sees Eunha.

Like Eunha sent you to be here with him, to be with him, to take care of him and Seora.

And that gives him the final push he needed to finally let her go, to release everything he's been needing to release into the ocean. Into the night sky.

To the moon.

You were genuinely heaven sent.

"Why don't we go see Eunha tomorrow? Together?" Yunho's lips curve into a tiny smile before he slides his hand into yours and gives it a good squeeze— kissing the surface before placing a kiss to your temple.

"Okay." Is all he says. "Thank you, Y/N. For being here for me."

"Always."

"No, you really have no idea how much I appreciate you." You look up at him as he presses a kiss to your forehead. "I needed this. And I wouldn't want anyone else to be here with me." You give him a toothless smile before the two of you sit in silence.

In peace.

After another half hour of just talking about life and showing you pictures Seora sent from Chan-mi's house, you and Yunho finally pack up and head back to your place. The ride is quiet, with the music softly filing the space while you continue to hold Yunho's free hand tightly. During the ride, you go back and forth between letting him be and asking him to stay because you aren't sure how he feels after the moment at the beach. You want to give him space, you want to avoid being too clingy and not giving him room to breathe.

But, you already hate the fact that you'll be home in the next 5 minutes and you won't be having Yunho until tomorrow again.

When he parks, he leans his head back against the head rest and looks over at you fondly, giving you a small, tired smile.

"Thank you again for coming out with me tonight."

"Always." You respond before he slips out to help you out of the car and up the steps. You get to your door, with Yunho behind you— hands dug deep into his pockets. "Goodnight, Yunho." You turn to him.

"Goodnight, beautiful." He gently grabs you by the arm to kiss you tenderly on the lips. "I'll see you tomorrow before I get Seora." You nod. There's something in the air that makes you feel like you should just ask him to stay, especially when he takes a few steps backwards, finding it difficult to pull his eyes off of you. And you, the same.

"Actually, Yu."

"Hm?" He hums and pauses just as he's about to go down the steps.

"Wanna stay?"

"Y-you sure?"

"More than sure." He looks at you for a moment before nodding his head.

"Is it okay if I leave my car there?" You chuckle and nod, unlocking the door and stepping inside your humble abode.

"Yes. You'll be fine there." Yunho slowly follows, kicking his shoes off to the side before locking your door and settling onto the couch. Even though he's been here, a part of him still feels like he's intruding in your space. But, the other part is happy to be here because lord knows he didn't wanna go home and be alone tonight. "You can help yourself to whatever you need in the kitchen. I'm just gonna change and get situated."

"Course." Yunho watches as you head into the bathroom, flipping through the Netflix options on your TV. A call comes through on his phone, Seora's name popping up on the screen. While you wash up and get yourself ready for the evening, you overhear Yunho talking to Seora on the phone and you smile to yourself. You love hearing the way they talk to each other, even if it's for a brief 5 minutes just for Seora to tell her dad she's off to bed. She sweetly tells him that she loves him 'more than anything in the world' and Yunho returns the statement before he hangs up. You finish in the next 10 minutes, coming out of the bathroom in your shorts and longsleeve, a huge smile on your face. "What?" Yunho chuckles, confused.

"You and Seora are just the sweetest."

"Oh, you heard?" He laughs a bit. "Yeah, she's off to bed. Which I highly doubt, but glad she called me before she could forget." You giggle and plop next to him on the couch, shifting your attention to the TV screen. 

"Find anything you wanna watch?"

"No, I'll leave it up to you."

"You sure?"

"Mhm. I'm just here to be with you, Y/N." You smile at him, positioning yourself to partially rest on his body while he throws an arm over you. 

The rest of the evening goes by just as you'd imagine— you and Yunho settling for a movie you both hadn't watched but heard lots about, barely able to get through most of it without falling into a debate about the plot from time to time. Everything feels so lighthearted, the way you both bicker and tease each other; sharing cute, intimate moments you'll forever cherish.

And one touch leads to another, a kiss leads to another.

Tension so palpable it's hard to ignore.

In the next moment, you find yourself on his lap; tongues dancing around in a fight for dominance as you subtly work your hips against his. Yunho hisses at the feeling, letting out a breath when you tug back on his bottom lip— peppering his jaw and his neck with light, feathery kisses. 

"Y/N, baby." He breathes out, craning his neck so you have more access to him. You leave hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat, his grip on your hips tightening. "Fuck." He breathes out. "Want you so badly."

"You can have me." You whisper near his ear before nibbling on his earlobe. He lets out a soft moan, his warm, large hand coming up your long sleeve to feel your bare skin.

"I don't wanna mess this up." He says lowly against your lips, grazing the surface.

"You won't mess anything up."

"You sure?" You nod. He takes one more look at you, trying to find any doubt hiding behind those beautiful, deep orbs. But, he doesn't see any. He doesn't see anything besides the same sincerity. The same comfort. 

The same love.

So, Yunho doesn't waste any time. He doesn't want to waste any more time when life is too short. He’s learned the hard way firsthand. He needs to make you his right here, right now. He needs to show you just how much he feels for you, how much he adores you.

How much his days don't mean shit without you now.

Yunho carries you in one, swift motion, lifting you with ease and tugging you close to his body while your legs wrap around his torso. The TV is a long, forgotten thought, a random preview playing for the next movie coming up on the autoplay feature. He gently lays you down on your bed, shedding off his shirt while you do the same with yours.

Shorts and jeans to follow.

Boxer briefs and panties off to another side of the bed.

Yunho's mouth drags across your skin, leaving kisses on every inch that he could possibly reach; hands roaming across every inch that he could possibly touch. He slots himself in between your thighs, lips pressing against your inner thighs before he's right where you need him to be. You let out a gasp, back slightly arching off of the mattress when he slowly laps away at your folds— sucking gently at your heat while your hands tug on his hair. He takes his time with you so as long as you can feel his adoration through his motions; tongue dragging deep in between your slit, continuing until you can't help but move against his mouth to lead you right to the edge. You moan loudly as your body jolts and allows your orgasm to wash over, Yunho placing soft kisses against you before he moves back up and hovers over you.

He coos and praises you, telling you just exactly how good you were for him in your ear while he adjusts his position. He nudges his tip at your clit, slowly sliding it up and down your folds before pressing in and inching himself deeper and deeper to the hilt. 

"Oh shit." He groans. "Feels too good." He lets out a shaky breath, trying his best to keep his composure. It's been so long for him that he finds himself struggling with his self-control, but he continues; only knowing how to relish in this moment, in you, as best as he knows. He keeps you close— forehead pressed against yours while he moves in and out of you at a steady pace. His fingers dig deep into the bare flesh of your hip, sure it'll leave some marks with the way he starts to pound into you.

Wanting, needing, yearning for you to reach your release. To see you reach your high, to see you on cloud nine.

"Want you—" He kisses your neck as he continues to plunge deeper, hitting that very spot that will send you spiraling in the next few minutes. "To be mine, baby." He groans against your skin. "Need you to be mine." Yunho goes faster, thoroughly loving the pretty sounds you make against him. Him too, close to reaching that high, taking his seat on cloud nine.

"Yours, Yunho." You whisper in his ear, just as he takes you further and further into bliss— doing a deep dive into the abyss of desire. "Just yours."

And in this moment, that’s all Yunho knows.

Just yours.

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