#and i'm finally getting around to posting now

[houseofaegon]

ooo maybe needy/desperate bob with reader. (saw this on another blog where he has an oral fixation with readers breasts, so maybe a breeding thing going on there as well?) if youre feeling up to it, maybe he DOES knock the reader up (by accident or on purpose, your choice) and him just taking care of the reader/what he'd do

Yours ✩ Bob Reynolds

Pairings: Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolt!Reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. unprotected p in v, oral fixation (breasts), breeding kink, accidental pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms & test scene, found family, fluff, emotional comfort, soft and needy!bob.

Summary: What started as another desperate night tangled in Bob’s arms becomes something so much more. Two weeks later, something in your body changes—and Yelena and Bucky are the first to notice. When the test confirms it, you’re terrified. But when you finally tell Bob… he drops to his knees. Because he meant every word he’s ever said. And now it’s real. He’s yours. And you’re his. Forever.

Author's Note: oh my god i'm screaming rn, i'm getting bombarded with request of bob with a breeding kink ughhhhhh and i am not complaining, keep them coming cause its hot as fuckkkkkk!!! this one's shorter lol. i've been writing a loooott these past few days jeezzzz, i'm so obsessed with bob i can't take it anymore. bob being a dad is all i need in this life. my baby deserves happiness!!! <3 i might’ve taken a lot of inspiration from the headcanons i posted yesterday about bob having a breeding kink lol im giggling like an idiot right now. thank you for the request!! i have so many in my inbox now i promise i will get to them soon, im writing a lot of them right now so i will probably be posting them these next days <3 ty again for all the love and support!! i love u all

Bob's hands were already tearing your shirt off.

You’d barely even started to lift it when he groaned and got impatient—fingers grasping the hem, tugging, mouth already on your skin before it was halfway over your head.

“Fuck, baby,” he gasped, lips grazing the curve of your breast as it bounced free. “You're so beautiful.”

You could feel him shaking. His mouth closed over one nipple like it was instinct, and he moaned, deep and wrecked.

“Bob—” you whimpered, back arching up as his tongue swirled slow and messy around your hardened nipple.

“I can’t help it,” he groaned into your chest. “They're so perfect. So full. You were made for me.”

You were already wet. Just from this. From his mouth, his need.

He sucked, switching sides like he couldn’t get enough. Like he’d die if he didn’t taste every inch of you.

“You want it again, baby?” he asked, voice thick. “Want me to fill you up?”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes—Bob, please…”

He was already pushing your legs open, pulling his sweats down just enough to free himself. He didn’t tease. Just lined up, pushed in slow, groaning.

“Gonna make you mine all over again,” he whispered, thrusting deep and steady. “Gonna fuck you so full you won’t be able to think straight.”

His mouth never left your chest. Kissing, sucking, moaning into your skin.

“You're everything,” he whispered. “You’re mine.”

He came with your nipple in his mouth, deep inside, holding you down as he spilled into you with a low, broken groan.

“Look at you,” he whispered, resting his hand on your lower belly, still buried deep inside you. “So fucking full of my seed. Gonna have you leaking for days.”

You laughed softly, breathless. Teased him—called him obsessed.

He just grinned, kissed you again, slow, messy, tender. He pulled you into his arms and tucked you beneath his chin.

You fell asleep on his chest, lulled by the rhythm of his breathing.

Neither of you knew what you'd done.

Not yet.

But you would soon.

Two weeks later, you couldn't sleep. Something in your body felt off, too sensitive, achy, warm in ways that lingered longer than they should. It hit you in waves: nausea in the mornings, dizziness in the evenings, a strange heaviness in your chest that wasn’t just physical.

You knew the signs. But you didn’t want to believe it.

The gym was warm. You were mid-spar with Yelena, sweat clicking your back, knuckles stinging with every hit, but something wasn't right. Your chest felt tight. Too tight. Your balance, off. The world tilted just a little too much as you threw your next punch.

You stumbled.

“Whoa—whoa, easy there.” Bucky was at your side in a flash, strong arm wrapping around your back, catching you before your knees hit the mat. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, too quickly, breath catching in your throat.

Yelena wasn’t convinced. She stepped forward, arms crossed, that sharp look in her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay, dollface? You look like you’re gonna be sick.”

“I’m just lightheaded,” you muttered, brushing them off. “Didn’t eat breakfast this morning, that’s all—”

But then your stomach twisted. Your throat burned. And you turned.

You ran.

Straight down the hall, straight into the nearest bathroom. You barely made it to the toilet before your stomach gave out.

Bucky was right behind you, kneeling next to you without hesitation, one hand rubbing your back, the other gently pulling your hair our of your face. “Hey. Breathe. Just breathe, okay?”

Yelena stormed in seconds later. “Move over, Barnes. Let me see her face.”

You slumped back against the wall, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Sweat beaded at your temple. Your hands were shaking.

Yelena crouched in front of you, her expression surprisingly sof.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “We’re going to ask this one more time. Are. You. Okay.”

You looked between them—Yelena’s raised brow, Bucky’s furrowed one—and sighed.

“I don’t know.”

That afternoon, you were sitting cross-legged on the bathroom floor with Yelena beside you, both of you hunched over the pregnancy test box. Bucky was sitting on the edge of the tub, arms crossed, visibly trying his best not to panic.

You held the test in your hands—upside down, because you couldn’t look yet. You weren’t ready.

"Okay, so hypothetically, if you’re pregnant, what’s the plan? Hide it? Cry? Run to Russia and live off-grid? Because I vote off-grid. Maybe Monaco or Hawaii.”

"Yelena," Bucky muttered.

“What? I’m being supportive.”

You stared at the stick, hand trembling. “I can’t do it. I can’t look.” You handed it to Bucky.

He looked confused. “Me?”

"Please, Bucky. I can't do it."

He sighed, gently taking the test from your hand.

There was a long beat of silence.

You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until you looked up at him. His eyes met yours. And that was it.

You knew.

Bucky didn’t say a word. Didn’t have to.

Your hand flew to your mouth. Your heart dropped, rose, twisted.

Yelena blinked, leaning in, yanking the test from Bucky's hands. “Wait—wait. No fucking way.”

You didn’t speak. Just nodded slowly.

Yelena’s jaw dropped as she stared at the test. “You’re actually pregnant?!”

You nodded again, and then—Yelena shrieked, the test flying off her hands and landing on the floor.

“Oh my god! That golden retriever of yours did it?! I knew your boobs looked bigger!”

“Yelena!” Bucky barked.

But she didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug, pulling you against her like you were made of glass.

“I got you, babe,” she whispered. “We’re gonna figure this out.”

And Bucky—he didn’t say much. But he sat beside you, one big hand landing gently on your shoulder.

“I’m here too,” he said, quiet. “Whatever you need. But you gotta tell him."

Bucky and Yelena left your room a couple minutes after that. The test was still in the bathroom. Your hands were trembling.

Pregnant.

The word echoed in your head. Your legs felt like they might give out.

You sat on the edge of your bed, clutching a pillow to your chest, trying to calm your breathing when the door opened.

"Hey, baby," Bob's voice was warm. He sounded so happy.

You looked up. He was still in his tactical suit, unzipped halfway, sweat in his collarbones, golden curls messy from his field training. Walker and Ava's voices echoed down the hall behind him, fading away.

Bob's smile widened when he saw you. "You okay? I missed you. You didn't text after your traning—I figured you were tired, but…”

You cut him off.

“Bob,” you said quickly. “Wait.”

His smile faltered.

“I—I need to tell you something. Just… listen, okay?”

His face went still. That happy smile was gone, replaced by a look of concern.

You stood slowly, your hands shaking.

"Baby, what's wrong? Are you okay? Did something—"

You cut him off again.

"I'm pregnant."

Then the world stopped.

Bob froze where he stood, eyes locked on you. He didn't move. Didn't blink. It hit him slowly, like a wave. First, his mouth opened, then closed. Then again. His breathing picked up.

"Please say something," your voiced cracked. Eyes filled with tears almost instantly.

“Are you serious?” he said, voice cracking, almost breathless. “Baby—please tell me this isn’t a joke. You’re really…”

You nodded, heart pounding. You were crying already.

“I’m pregnant, Bob.”

He walked towards you and dropped to his knees.

Just like that.

His hands found your waist as he pressed his face to your stomach—nothing even showing yet—and sobbed.

“Fuck,” he choked. “Oh my god. Baby, you’re pregnant. You’re really pregnant.”

You ran your hands through his hair, gently cradling his head.

He was shaking. Laughing through tears. His whole body trembling as he kissed your stomach, again and again and again.

“A baby?” he whispered. “Oh god. I’m gonna be a dad.”

He looked up at you and smiled.

“You have no idea how happy I am right now,” he said, voice breaking again. “God, I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

He kissed you—fierce, messy, wet with tears—and rested his forehead to yours.

You sobbed, a big grin on your face as you held his face softly.

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he promised. “Of both of you. I promise, baby."

And the way he hold you in that moment? You knew he meant it.

Because he meant it. Will all his heart.

He'd always wanted a family, someone to love, someone to care for. And now he had you. Forever.

⊹             ⊹            ⊹             ⊹            ⊹          ⊹             ⊹             ⊹

taglist ⊱☆⊰ @the-a-word-2214 @favestxrboy @uraesthete @abbysbenchpr @sammystarswrite @pey2618 @qardasngan @lunaoieoie @orithyia-eriphyle @amatiswayland @madzzz6958 @all-by-myself98 @dark-silhouette @ghost-ghost-13 @wyvernthekriger @gayfiretruck @watermeezer @lvmxla @novausstuff @mommymilkers0526 @natureartisian @feralgoblinbabe @misaki-evans (if you want to be tagged in my future works lmk! <3)

[the-offside-rule]

Oscar Piastri (McLaren) - Miss Possessive

Requested: yes

Warnings: jealous!reader

Note: this has made me wanna do McLaren drivers x Tate McRae songs so like....the Indy boys, f1 boys and then idk maybe Alex or something too with Tate McRae inspired fics what we thinking??

The bass thumped through the Monaco club like a heartbeat, the air thick with sweat, champagne, and victory. Oscar Piastri sat in the corner booth, one arm stretched across the back of the seat, drink in hand, eyes still sparkling from his P3 finish earlier that day. Y/n sat beside him, legs crossed, sipping her cocktail and basking in the post-race glow. It had been a perfect day—until she showed up.

One of Magui’s friends. Y/n didn’t catch her name, just the way she leaned too close when she spoke, how she laughed a bit too loud at things Oscar barely said, and how her hand always seemed to find its way to his arm. At first, Y/n let it slide. Oscar didn’t like it when she got too possessive, and truthfully, she didn’t either. But this wasn’t innocent flirting. This was a challenge.

Y/n watched carefully as the girl slid in beside Oscar, her laughter now high-pitched and deliberate. She said something Y/n couldn’t quite hear, and Oscar, ever polite, just gave a small smile. Then the girl placed her arm around the back of the booth, fingers brushing against Oscar’s shoulders like she had some sort of claim.

That....was.....it.

Y/n leaned in, voice calm but firm. "You comfortable there, yeah?" The girl looked up, clearly surprised. "Sorry?" She asked. "Are you-"

"No, I'm being serious. Get your hands off my man." My man? Where the hell did that come out of? "I’m just being friendly." She said with a forced laugh. Y/n’s expression didn’t change. "I’m all for friendly. I was friendly too, right before I got Oscar. But this?" Her eyes flicked to the girl's hand. "This isn’t friendly. So how about you back off and know your place." The girl blinked, scoffing. "You need to calm down." She turned to Oscar as if hoping for backup. "She’s very possessive." Oscar’s response was easy, slow, deliberate. He rested a hand on Y/n’s thigh and gave it a firm squeeze. "Yeah." He said with a soft smile. "She’s Miss Possessive."

The girl paused, realization finally dawning. With a flick of her hair and a dramatic eye-roll, she stood and walked off. Y/n exhaled, ready to return to her drink, but Oscar’s arm wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her close. He leaned down, lips brushing her ear. "What you just did?" He murmured. "It did something to me." Y/n took a sip, trying not to let the smirk show too quickly. "Yeah?" His hand was climbing higher up her thigh now, fingers trailing with intention. He pressed a kiss to her neck. "We should probably get out of here." She didn’t need to be told twice.

Grinning, she stood and grabbed his hand. As they weaved through the crowded club, Y/n made a detour to Magui and Lando, who were laughing near the DJ booth. "We’re heading out!" She said casually, but loud enough for someone else nearby to hear. "Oscar and I are going to celebrate in our own way. I’ll see you both at breakfast?" Magui grinned knowingly. "Can’t wait."

Y/n shot one last look over her shoulder, meeting the other girl’s eyes for half a second before turning away with Oscar’s hand tight in hers. Together, they disappeared into the Monaco night—ready to finish the celebration in private.

[whisperofaflame]

I have a fic idea-I don’t know how to write it but i just wanted to get it out and I’d like to hear your thoughts- so anyway R has flashbacks sometimes because of trauma and her name she uses is a nick name but her legal name brings back lots of trauma-she never told Wanda and nat because she didn’t think anything about it would come up but then the three get in a argument and one of them ends up in one of them yelling at R with there legal name-a panic trauma response ensuing angst and then some hurt comfort and then them helping R change there name to get it out of Rs life as much as they can.

Oh my god, this unleashed something within me and I just spent the last hour hammering out my interpretation of this prompt -- I really love it! It's not proofread but I'm gonna post now because it's 00:30 and I still need to get ready for bed whoops... ♡

(Also I really hope this is okay, I am slightly worried that I misinterpreted you and you just wanted my approval to write it yourself?)

By Any Other Name

Content Warning: implied past experiences of abuse

---------⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅---------

When you first met Wanda and Natasha, you had introduced yourself with your nickname, and that’s all they had ever used to address you in the months since. They needed nothing else, nothing more — they had a catalogue of cutesy pet names to employ, after all. But you knew they were aware of your full name, though they had never spoken it. They’d no doubt noticed it, on the letters from the bank which they passed blithely to you after sorting through the post. It had never been discussed, not even in a teasing way. So you just assumed they’d pieced it together themselves, and it never occurred to you to explain, to be explicit about your feelings towards that haunted moniker. Until it came back to bite you.

It was a silly argument, really. You had broken the rules, failed to update them of your whereabouts and gone AWOL on a Friday evening. They had every right to be angry, and you ought to have bowed your head and offered apologies. But you were feeling emboldened by the alcohol, and a little frustrated by the events of the evening (your friend had ditched you for some guy, leaving you alone at the party searching for her for at least an hour, before someone finally informed you that she had gone). You were pissed off at her, and taking it out on your dommes. Petulant, pathetic. But you didn’t have the clarity of mind to realise it. So you just kept on pushing…

---------⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅---------

“You had us worried sick!” Wanda tells you, her concerned frown causing a pang of guilt in your chest, an ache you didn’t anticipate, and haven’t prepared for. So you bat it away, and purse your lips in an obstinate display of indifference.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Natasha interrogates you, clearly riled by your lack of remorse.

“It’s a Friday night! I have every right to go out!”

“Honey, you know the rules…” Wanda begins, but Natasha cuts her off.

“Don’t baby her, detka, she’s being a brat.”

“Oh… fuck off,” you reply, crossing your arms initially through defiance, and then increasingly as a means to protect yourself from the flash of fury in Natasha’s eyes.

“What did you say to me?”

Your heart is almost pounding out of your chest, knowing you’ve pushed it too far, stepped well past the line of brattiness and into dangerous disrespect. But your drunken ego decides to double down. And you turn away, arms still crossed around your chest, your head slightly tilted up as you look to the corner of the room, away from their piercing, disapproving looks.

And then Natasha says it, growls it out like a dog. Your full name, the extra syllables emerging from her lips like something inedible she is forced to spit out. She continues speaking, finishing her sentence with some chastisement you can’t hear. Because all that reverberates in your head is another voice, shouting your name with unbridled fury. The sound is like a whip that cracks through your body. It splits everything in its wake, leaving only stinging, screaming pain. You can’t think, but you don’t need to. Your body responds, because your body remembers…

You stumble back, your legs recalling the need to retreat. 

Flight? 

Your hands raise, hovering in a loose stack at chest height, ready to form a fist should you need. 

Fight? 

But when a body advances towards you, you are struck with their height, and overwhelmed by their physical supremacy. Your fingers quiver as you lift them higher, splayed out in anticipation, ready to shield your cheeks. 

Flinch? 

Your back meets the wall, and the first option you clung to is suddenly no longer available; there is no chance to flee when two bodies are between you and the door. And they both approach even closer, their arms outstretched, rendering your other two options futile in such close proximity. 

So you just surrender to the last available instinct. You slide down the wall, and curl up in a ball. 

Freeze.

How long has it been? Were you lost? Were you dreaming? You continue to feel an intermittent tug in your stomach, your muscles clenching as they anticipate a blow. But nothing ever comes. No pain accompanies the images flashing through your mind. There is only silence. Only space.

“Y/N?”

A soft voice breaks through. It doesn’t belong here. Not that tone, not that name. It doesn’t match the memories replaying in your mind.

“Honey, we’re here. You’re okay.”

It sounds so foreign, so unbelievable. The strangeness of the words, of the sweetness, begins to disrupt the cacophony of fear. The images begin to blur, and the edges of your body seem to come back into focus. You can feel where the space ends, and your body begins. Even in the darkness of your tightly-shut eyelids, you can feel that you are back. Back home. Not the old one, with the old name. But the new one. With them. 

“I’m just here. I’m right by you. Wanda is too. We’re here, when you’re ready.”

You can hear how close she is now; you can almost feel her presence in the air. She doesn’t sound angry anymore, but you’ve been tricked before by others. Lured out of safe spaces, just to be met with the wrath anew. 

You clutch your knees a little tighter, trying to grip on to this reality, and avoid being swept away again. The alcohol even feels like waves, lapping at your skin from within, uprooting your sense of balance and stability as the world continues to sway. 

You open your eyes, hoping to gaze upon something stationary, to find something to anchor yourself to. When you do, the first thing you see is Natasha, kneeling before you with her hands resting on her thighs. Wanda sits cross-legged beside her, tears brimming in her eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Natasha whispers, her voice wavering with regret. “I shouldn’t have said it. I should have known.”

You wish you could reassure her, but your mouth is so dry and there’s still a lump in your throat, like a physical lid you have somehow evolved over the years when backchat was a threat, and the stopper could save you. 

“I promise you, I will never say it again. Ever,” Natasha pledges, and she looks so serious and sad that you don’t think you could ever doubt it. 

Wanda’s tears break through, and begin to stream down her cheeks. Natasha doesn’t break her gaze from you, but her hand reaches out for her wife, and Wanda takes hold of it, accepting the small comfort while you remain unavailable for touch, for reassurance of their love for you, and yours for them. Your skin prickles, and you’re not sure if it’s from the lingering fear, or the burgeoning need. 

“Just nod when you’re ready,” Wanda suggests, wiping her tears with her free hand and giving you a wobbly smile of encouragement. We can take it slow. But I’d really love to hold you, when you’re ready.”

You try to steady your breaths, each one an effort to fully release before drawing more in. When the ache begins to ease, you give the tiniest nod of your head. 

Wanda lets go of Natasha’s hand, and opens both arms to you, scooting forwards a little on the floor, closing the gap. Your head spins a little as you lean it down to rest on her shoulder. But Wanda holds you steady, her arms enveloping you and her fingers gently stroking your spine and the hair on the back of your head.

“Shhhh…” she whispers. “I’ve got you.”

Her loving arms and tender tone break down your thorny defences, and your body begins to shake with suppressed sobs, now released in the safety of her hold. She lets you cry it out, murmuring sweet nothings, all the while stroking you and keeping your close. Natasha remains nearby. Silent but steady. Waiting for when you are ready to accept her back in. 

When you begin to wipe your eyes, Wanda knows she can release you without letting you drift away. Your eyes find Natasha’s once your head lifts from Wanda’s shoulder. And you find her eyebrows knitted with concern as she studies you, clearly trying to gauge your feelings towards her. 

“Natty?” you whisper, the first word that emerges despite her being the one who pulled the trigger. The simple call of her name tells her everything she needs to know. You forgive her, and you need her forgiveness too.

“Come here, baby,” she says gently, though she doesn’t make you move of your own accord. Instead, she pulls you to her, and hums a mixture of approval and relief when you begin to wrap your arms and legs around her, settling your full weight in her lap.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” she whispers in your ear. “Can you forgive me, milaya?”

“Mm-hm,” you murmur, from your position tucked tightly in her arms. Words are hard right now, but you try. “Forgive me?”

“Of course I do,” she assures you. “You made a mistake, but it’s okay, my love. We can talk about it tomorrow. Tonight is just for cuddles, and feeling better.”

You nod against her, your cheek brushing against the skin of Natasha’s sternum. 

“Tomorrow we’re going to sort it, honey,” Wanda says, her voice gentle but decisive. “We can get it changed properly; we can figure it out together.”

Natasha hums her agreement, and you feel your breathing slow as you process Wanda’s words. Natasha brushes back your hair, and when you glance up at her you see that she’s looking down at you with such solemnity and love.

“We’ll make sure the only name you ever need to see or hear again is your own, okay?” She tells you, echoing Wanda’s sentiment that they’ll help you heal this wound.

Your fingers find her hand, and you give it a gentle squeeze. Your name is your own. But you? You are theirs.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Do you still write?if so you write cuddling with cat koing but then he suddenly changes into his human form?

Okay so, I just finished my Mer!König au series, so I think it's finally time to tackle some of these asks. I definitely do still write for it, I just had a little blip around January-early May where I was going through a lot. At some point it might be worth posting about, but the point is that I'm better now and I hope to write more!

Now, this is a very interesting ask because I think this would only go one way.

König likes cuddling. Sometimes, a bit too much. He's an obnoxiously cuddly cat. He'll brush your face with your tail as you're blowing on soup while watching youtube. He's insufferable. However, he sometimes loses control a bit.

The last few times König lost control, it was when you were asleep. He'd be rolling around on his back while you slept and then, all of a sudden, poof! König would shift into his human form and smother you with his back. As soon as he shifts he shifts back, but let me tell you, reader probably goes to a doctor for a couple of months because waking up to something crushing you only to open your eyes and see nothing? Genuinely terrifying.

Well, that all comes to an end on a Friday night. Horangi is chilling and sitting on the chair in your room, sleeping soundly as he likes to do in the evening. König, however, is desperate for attention.

He's just living the best life and rolled on his back in your lap. His big yellow eyes are bright and his pupils have fully expanded as he's looking up at you.

You're watching youtube when you feel his paws reaching up at your face.

"König, stahp," you grumble as he knocks your food off your fork.

He mews and bats at you again.

"What's going on with you?" you mutter bitterly.

Seriously, this cat.

He merps again and you look down. As soon as you do, you sigh. He's just too cute to ignore.

You groan as you put away your laptop and put your plate down to focus your attention on your sweetest cat.

His eyes go even wider as you start to rub his cheeks. His purring is infectious, and soon you're smiling and cooing at how pretty your little prince is. You're just loving the feeling of rubbing his cheeks and you giggle when he drools a little bit. He's looking completely blissed out when, all of a sudden...

Poof!

It takes a minute for your brain to catch up as a giant man flops off the bed and onto the floor.

You're frozen in place, staring at the spot König once was as you hear someone profusely cursing in German.

You slowly turn your head to look up, and there you see a giant man with bright blue eyes staring down at you. His face is shrouded in a black hood with an all-too-familiar set of red tear tracks and his body is covered in that dreadful tactical clothing.

Him, you thought, it's Scary Big Bastard Man. And he's... He's in my lap???

"König?" you squeak.

"König what the fuck!?" you hear a man scream behind you.

You whip your head around to see a Korean man glaring at him. His eyes snap to you and he gulps.

The friendly Korean man.

"Okay, so, um, let me explain-"

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!"

You throw your laptop at the big man and your plate at the other and they curse and scramble towards the door.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AND WHAT DID YOU DO TO KÖNIG!?"

"I didn't do anything!" man mountain screeches as the other rips him out through the door.

"I'M GONNA KILL YOU!!!"

You're running at them and grabbing anything you can to throw at them as they go.

"THE DOOR! GO TO THE DOOR!" the Korean man yells and shoves the man down to the kitchen floor.

You grab a knife and throw it at them, lodging it squarely in the big man's foot.

He screeches and in an instant...

Poof!

The knife clatters to the ground and where the big man was is now your dear sweet precious baby König, mewling with a bloody back paw.

Your eyes widen and you look at the Korean man glancing between you and König.

"Um," he looks down at König whining on the floor, "hi? My name's Horangi? You might know me as your pet cat."

You look down at König then back up at him.

"You know, like, nyah?"

You throw a knife at him too.

[wosospacegirl]

So...um I'm having thoughts...😳

The cigar stays. Cocky Leah with a cigar as you ride her I mean what? 🫣

Overachierver - Leah williamson

a/n: I know I said I was only going to be back at posting in June, but well, Leah Williamson exists and lesbiansm too, so let's go.

Sorry for any typos, I literally just blurred every thought I my head, it might be a bit messy, too- but I think we like messy in this blog ;)

warnings: (+18) oral, fingering and use of strap (all r receiving)

..

Leah was cocky.

You knew that already, long before actually dating her. It stood out in the way she carried herself, walked, talked, and styled her clothes–but especially in the way she leaned over you when you first met, hand boldly on your waist as she asked if you wanted to go home with her.;

Arsenal had just won their second Champions League trophy, beating one of the best teams in Europe: Barcelona.

Arsenal were the underdogs. They had lost big and small games, gone through a series of injuries and a change in managers.

All odds were against them.

But still, Leah continued to be smug. 

She knew the capacity of her team. 

She knew her childhood club could do it.

And they did.

As soon as the whistle blew, you were screaming for Leah from the stands, feeling all kinds of excitement in your chest.s

When you saw her, you didn’t care about the flashing lights or the people watching as you threw yourself into your girlfriend’s arms.

You weren’t a player. 

The pitch wasn’t a normal place for you. But here with Leah, you were comfortable, happy, proud of her and everything the team had accomplished.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t stick by her side for the rest of the day.

The team had to walk back to the locker room, which you couldn’t go into. But judging by the pictures, they had a lot of fun.

Then they went to the party.

It was small, but each player could bring their family and friends. 

Of course, you were there when the team, mainly Leah, walked in with the trophy in hand and a gold medal around their necks.

Then the singing started, and the drinking continued.

You had a few yourself, Leah too, but you were more wasted than she was..

As everybody celebrated, Leah kept you at arm’s reach. 

She held your hip in place, her hands cupping your jaw as she kissed you in one of the corners of the room, away from watchful eyes, making promises about when you two would get to the hotel.

She promised she would sneak out of her room to get to yours.

When you realised you were getting too ahead of yourself with the alcohol, you sat alone in one of the chairs. 

Leah, like a puppy, was next to you, giving you water and some snacks, the smug smile on her face never faltering.

She sat on your lap, the light from the dance floor reflecting on her medal. It gave you a slight headache–or maybe it was all the Heineken.

Leah had drunk more than you. How could she look so composed? She looked beautiful, smelled amazing, even after playing a whole 90 minutes in a Champions League final.

She was so close to you.

You wanted a bite.

So you took it.

Your teeth held the skin of her neck. It wasn’t gentle. It was desperate.

“No,” Leah said. “Not now.”

“Why?” you pouted. “You won. You deserve it.”

“Deserve what?” Leah grinned. “A hickey?”

“Yes,” you mumbled, your head dizzy with alcohol.

You wrapped your arms around her torso, pulling her close onto your lap.

It felt weird, Leah was taller than you, but you wanted her against you anyway.

You kissed the place you had bitten. It was already turning red. 

Leah’s skin was too pale; you could barely touch it before it was turning that purple shade you liked so much.

“I fear you might be too drunk,” Leah said, turning her head to look at you. “You’re not used to drinking.”

“I wanted to celebrate,” you whined. “But my head hurts now.”

“It’s okay,” Leah said, kissing your mouth. “It’ll be better tomorrow.”

“Are you still going to my room?”

“Yes,” she answered. “I much prefer to spend the night with my girlfriend than with Kim.”

“Good,” you mumbled.

Your hands were under her shirt, circling her belly, but now they were up, almost at her bra  “Want you.”

“I know you do.”

“Right now.”

“Be patient.”

“Okay,” you agreed.

You were very good. Very patient.

As the party was ending, Leah called a taxi for you. She paid and got you inside, told you to get to your room, put on a comfortable shirt, and wait for her on the bed.

You did just that.

But when you woke up the next day, Leah wasn’t naked beside you. You didn’t have sweat on your body. Your cunt wasn’t wet. The sheets were clean.

“You were sleeping when I got here,” Leah said.

She was sleeping on your side, her Champions shirt still on, her medal still around her neck. Her hair was messy, and her face was creased from the pillow.

She leaned on her elbow, kissingg your mouth gently, slipping her tongue inside. It was a messy kiss, just how you liked it, just how you both wanted.

“I’m sorry,” you said as Leah began trailing down your body, her warm lips sucking your neck determinedly.

“Don’t be sorry,” she said, taking your shirt off. “I was wasted too…wouldn’t be able to eat you out properly.”

You whined, no words left in you.

Leah took a nipple into her mouth. She bit it, sucked it, then kissed it.

“My pretty girl,” she murmured as she took the other tit in her mouth. “My lucky charm, you are.”

Her hand was caressing your underwear, her fingers circling your clit lazily.

“Got my trophy, got my medal, and now I get my pussy.”

You spread your legs open, inviting her in.

More. You wanted more.

She played with your wet hole, spreading the wetness before putting a finger in. 

Then two. 

Then three. 

You were panting already, heart beating hard against your ribs as Leah moved her fingers.

Her mouth found its way back to your tits as her medal rested on your stomach, giving you chills. 

It was cold.

Leah made you cum.

You bit your own arm so the others wouldn’t hear it. The orgasm took complete control of your body. But Leah didn’t stop.

She was an overachiever.

She took your underwear off, spread your big lips apart, and looked at your clit before kissing it gently. Her tongue circled it before she wrapped her lips around and sucked.

You had never felt so much pleasure in your life. 

Well, maybe you had–because seconds later, Leah hit a spot even deeper inside you, and you were coming again, harder than before, harder than you ever had.

“Oh, fuck,” you heard Leah say.

You opened your eyes. 

You hadn’t realised they were closed.

She was looking between your thighs with the same look she had yesterday, when she was awarded the trophy.

She kissed the inside of your thigh, carefully, gently.

“You squirted, baby,” she said, lapping at your pussy again, cleaning it. “You okay?”

Squirted? 

You didn’t realise you had. But you were also very confused, very dizzy. 

You couldn’t feel your legs, not really. Your arms were too heavy.

You couldn’t formulate thoughts or words.

So you just whined, closed your eyes again, and let Leah take care of you. Which she did.

You felt a warm cloth between your thighs. It hurt.

“Sorry,” she said in a low voice. “You’re sensitive. It’ll be over soon.”

It was true. She quickly cleaned you and put on clean underwear. Then she was back at your side, kissing your face, murmuring things you didn’t understand.

She kissed your cheeks, then your nose. Your forehead was next. But the place she kissed most was your tits.

She laid her head on your chest and latched onto one of your nipples.

You both took a nap like that.

It felt good. Close.

But she left soon after. She had to take the plane with the other girls.

Had to be back in England for the trophy parade.

After she left, you tried to get some dignity back. You took a shower, did your hair, and also left, ready for your flight back home. You were meeting Leah there; you just couldn’t go on the same plane.

The next day, you were there with her again.

The trophy parade was over when you found yourself at her house once more.

Leah still wanted more.

Again–overachiever.

She had a cigar in her mouth, the godforsaken gold medal on her naked chest. 

She picked one of her biggest dildos, it was Arsenal red, because, of course, it was. 

She strapped it around her waist and told you to come sit in her lap.

You took your clothes off quickly and spread your legs as you hovered over her. 

She spread lube on the dildo and held your hips, pulling you down onto her cock.

She filled you up to the brim, her cock hitting your cervix as she held your hips, dictating the pace of your ride. 

It was good that she was in control, because you weren’t in the right state of mind.

You didn’t know what Leah did to you, but she always found a way to take control, always had the upper hand in every situation.

You loved it.

She chewed on her cigar before taking it out, holding it with two fingers, and cupping your jaw, bringing your mouth together.

You didn’t like the taste of cigars, but Leah tasted good.

So good. :)

Leah broke the kiss, putting the cigar back in her mouth.

“Ride your champion, baby,” Leah said. “I deserve it.”

You did just that.

..

a/n: sorry if it's bad, im not used to writing in first person pov, it's still a bit complicated for me, im a third person pov girlie.

[jinxyvvrites]

-- morning after

Warnings:

writers own interpretation of Steve Harrington, extreme fluff, post sexual encounter.. kissing / cuddling, that's about it. Reader is female and a roommate of Steve's. If anything I'm warning you about is gonna get your panties twisted, maybe don't read?

Word Count:

615 ... this is just a short lil blurb to wrap up do not disturb, fyi.

Pairing:

Steve Harrington x Roommate!Female reader.

Snippet:

He can't move because you're practically on top of him, you have been for hours, but even if he could move he wouldn't.

The rise and fall of your chest, those quiet little snores are just starting to lull him back to sleep when he hears the door to the apartment creak slowly.

Seconds later, Robin leans in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear as soon as she sees you in Steve's bed and puts two and two together.

“Did you guys finally crack?”

Steve grins and its sleepy. Followed close by a yawn as he nods.

The rain is softer now, a constant pitter-patter against the window as bleak sunshine begins to leak in through the edges of the blanket Steve has tacked over his window.

He can't move because you're practically on top of him, you have been for hours, but even if he could move he wouldn't.

The rise and fall of your chest, those quiet little snores are just starting to lull him back to sleep when he hears the door to the apartment creak slowly.

Seconds later, Robin leans in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear as soon as she sees you in Steve's bed and puts two and two together.

“Did you guys finally crack?”

Steve grins and its sleepy. Followed close by a yawn as he nods.

Robin can just look at him and tell that maybe this time its real and it'll last. After all, she was around to witness your crush on Steve the first time around, first-hand.

You're just starting to wake up but its early and his body is big, all soft muscles and warmth and you just don't want to let go. You trace a line up and down his chest and he presses dry lips against your forehead.

“I haven't slept that good in a really long time,” you admit through a yawn in a whisper quiet voice. Steve nods in agreement because he hasn't, either. 

“Are you hungry or anything?”

“Uh uh. I don't want you to move.”

“Okay, I wont.” He promises with soft and husky laughter.

He shifts you around a little and the whine hes met with is just so cute he can't help but stare down at you, pepper your face in sleepy kisses. Kisses met with enthusiasm and pleading for more.

If I wasn't already a hopeless idiot, he thinks, oh boy would I be so royally fucked right now.

Your stomachs are growling. He looks down at you already starting to doze off again and snickers quietly. “Okay, as much as I swear I don't wanna move, princess..” he frowns at the prospect of prying himself away from your soft and warm little body, “We need food.”

“I'm totally fine.” you insist, pouting when he starts to move around again, sitting up with you in his lap.

“Hey..” soft bribing kisses fall against your messy hair, “what if I carry you, hm?”

You bite your bottom lip. Pouting for a second before giving a nod. “Okay, fiiine.”

He slips out of bed, you're hanging onto him as tight as you can as he makes his way down the hall and into the kitchen where Robin sits at the table, smearing cream cheese on a blueberry bagel.

You're sat on the counter and before he pries himself away to gather what he needs to make you both something to eat, he pecks you softly on your forehead. You pout and slip your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a real kiss.

Robin smiles to herself at the sight of it, grinning at the two of you. “So..” she looks from you to Steve and back again, “does this mean Nance and I can finally have time to ourselves?”

Steve flips her off but he's laughing as he nods yes. You’re as red as the strawberries that sit on the counter beside you but you smile at her and nod too. 

“Good. I'm gonna go crash.” Robin excuses herself, putting her purple coffee mug into one side of the sink. You lean against Steve, smiling as the sound of his heartbeat lulls you.

As far as he's concerned, the day is perfect.

And hopefully, Steve thinks, this is just the beginning.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It | Jeon Jungkook | Part Ten

Summary: Throwing a baby shower for your best friend should be fun but of course it wouldn't be you if something didn't happen to ruin it. Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 3.7k~ (Shorter than the last chapter but it was at a good stopping point) Warnings: An argument and a little angst. A little bit of suggestive/almost sexual content but yeah lol a/n: So a bit of a time skip after the last chapter since I want the story to progress a little bit more but yeah...enjoy! p.s. Barely edited and I kinda decided last minute to post this but yeah lol Start from the beginning

"Jina?" Jungkook calls out for her from the backyard.

"Yeah dad?" she asks, coming out of the kitchen and walking over to him, seeing how he's struggling with the placement of the 'Baby in Bloom' banner.  

"Is this high enough?" having gotten one side secure but unsure as to how far apart or how high to put the other.

"A little to the left, up, up, up, stop! That's perfect" she says making his whole form tense up before reaching for the piece of tape he had pulled out for it. 

"Thanks dad" she smiles softly and he nods. "I want this to be perfect for you and the little one" he says softly, her placing his hand on her stomach when she feels her moving inside. 

"I think Jangmi's a fan" she chuckles and Jungkook's smile is too beautiful not to document.

They both hear a soft click from the camera I've been carrying around to take pictures of the flower themed bridal shower for Jina and her little one.

"I'm sorry, I just had to" I give them both a soft smile and show them the image on the digital screen. "Thank you" Jina says and mirrors my smile and I nod. "Of course" I respond but before either of us can say anything else the doorbell rings.

"I'll get it" I say and head to the front door where I can already hear the buzz of conversation on the other side. 

"Hi! Oh my gosh it's been so long since we've seen you!" a group of girls we had gone to college with come piling in, each of them saying something to that effect to me while they walk in, giving me a short hug while I direct them to the backyard where most of the party decorations have been put up.

Seems from their reactions that Jina hasn't poisoned them against me which is comforting. Although I can see a hint of confusion along with pity laced in their greetings, seeing as though the last time they had been here was for my engagement party.

I hover near the door, ready to greet everyone for Jina so she can enjoy being outside and mingling instead and soon Jungkook has found his way back over to me.

"You're a pretty good host" he says, placing a hand on my waist from behind before pressing a quick kiss to my temple. "I haven't hosted many parties before but I'm glad you think so" I turn back to look up at him, opening the door for the next couple of girls that walk in.

"Who are they?" he whispers in my ear, faces he doesn't recognize in the slightest. "Either friends she's made since we graduated or coworkers" I whisper back, giving them a welcoming smile and gesturing towards the backdoor where a mix of many different excitable conversations are coming from. 

It seems as though after a final trio has walked in the guest list has been completed since Jina sticks her head in and waves for us to come back outside. 

The backyard is now full of friends, old and new as well as a few members of Jungkook's side of the family, namely his mom and a few of his aunts.

Yes it was awkward to be reintroduced to them as his girlfriend. Yes they're still glancing over at us anytime we get close to one another. And yes I can tell there are mixed reviews.

Something in me though tells me that his mom can see that we're happy together although I'm sure the age gap is going to be a hurdle for anyone to jump over.

"Seeing how your family reacted makes me worried to tell mine" yes, we still haven't told anyone in my family about us.

"It might be a bit of a shock to them but they'll come around" he says softly and kisses the top of my head, hoping to ease my nerves but as long as his family and mine are uncertain about us I don't think I'll be able to truly relax. 

Or at least until we tell them.

Jina claps her hands together a few times to get everyone's attention and announces that the baby shower games are about to begin and I walk over to help her but he pulls me back and cups my face. 

"I love you" those three words from him are the thing that makes all this uncertainty worth it. This mess of emotions, heartbreak and betrayal have all lead up to this. Having him say those three words to me are something I never knew I needed so much.

"I love you" I reply shyly, closing my eyes when he places a kiss on my forehead before he nods towards Jina. "She needs you" he says softly and I look back and see how she's trying to decide on which game to go with first, a deep frown on her face and so I head over to help her sort things out. Essentially taking on the master of ceremonies role so she can enjoy herself.

~~~~

After the games are done and everyone has eaten to their heart's content we sit down to watch Jina open her presents.

Cooing and cheering are the reactions that come out as the various baby items are revealed, each one even cuter than the last. 

Moments later I hear a rather loud car pull up with music blaring, giving me a pit in my stomach making me immediately turn towards Jungkook, my hands slightly shaking.

He can tell who it is right away but luckily with the 'ooos' and 'awws' from the group of girls Jina hasn't noticed. 

"I'll take care of it" he says softly but I shake my head, "I'm coming with you" I say and before he's able to convince me otherwise I'm already halfway out the door, faced with the devil himself walking up our driveway.

"Heard my ex girl is throwing a baby shower for my baby mama. How quaint" Jared says, his cocky, smug smile is one I wish I could claw off of his face. I can feel how Jungkook is poised to step in whenever I deem fit but he knows I can handle him myself. 

"Ah, so I see she got you on a leash" he chuckles but Jungkook shrugs in response. "At least she cared enough to put a collar on me" he replies, his heir of giving zero fucks about whatever insults Jared might try to throw his way has me turned on a lot more than I'd like to admit.

Jared catches the shine that the delicate 'JK' charm  on my necklace casts and I can see a muscle feather in his jaw.

"What are you even doing here Jared?" his name tasting like poison on my lips.

"This is a baby shower for my baby mama and my little baby girl so I have every right to be here" he says, his try at staking his claim just makes him sound like a little boy, crying to his mom about getting a toy that he wants.

"Baby showers aren't for men. You weren't invited" I say and he clearly glances up at Jungkook to counter my argument but he knows it's pitiful at best and the look I give him is response enough. 

"Look, can I just talk to you? Alone?" Jared asks, revealing his true motive for being here since he's cracked under pressure within minutes of being here. 

"I have nothing I want to say to you and I have even less of an interest of being alone with you. Ever" giving emphasis to the last word, backing up a few steps to where Jungkook is, him placing a possessive hand on my waist.

"You know, I always thought you were naïve but I never thought you'd whore yourself out to the first man who gave you even a single shred of sympathy when you had your heart broken" he spits out and Jungkook snaps, his fist clashing with Jared's jaw. 

"Fuck!" Jared chokes out, coughing and on all fours, his world spinning with a single punch. I walk up to him and lean down, tilting my head an catching his furious glare. 

"What was that you said about a leash?" I chuckle and when he tries to say something else Jungkook kicks him in the stomach, the wind knocked out of him as he gasps for breath. 

"Try it" Jungkook says, egging Jared on but he quickly scrambles to his feet and spits off to the side to get rid of the blood in his mouth. "I could sue you!" Jared says but Jungkook scoffs, "I know the full extent of the law boy" he says, talking down to him and Jared's brows furrow, having forgotten the fact that he is an attorney.

"Then you know that means I could get you thrown in jail for this" he counters, practically shaking in his boots. "Which further proves that I know how to get around it" Jungkook says, shaking out his hand for a second. 

Jared winces as he tries to grind his teeth, cradling one side of his face with his hand, his fiery glare poised to kill if possible, aimed straight at Jungkook. 

"Go home" I say to Jared, his eyes coming back to me where again Jungkook is standing by my side, Jungkook's eyes in contrast are cool, calm but sharp, one wrong move ending with Jarred tied up in so much legal litigation he might as well take a plea bargain before even getting caught. 

When he tries to open his mouth again to say some thing I repeat myself, emphasizing both words until Jared realizes he's lost this round. 

But let's face it...he's never going to win. 

We'll just have to wait and see how stupid he is and how long it's going to take him to figure that out.

Once Jared speeds away in his shitty car that matches his equally shitty personality I turn to Jungkook and grab his right hand immediately.

"You're hurt" I mutter, assessing the bruising, swollen fist that he stretching out, a couple of the knuckles busted. 

"I'm fine darling, nothing a little ice can't fix" he says, cupping my face with his other hand after smoothing out the crease between my brows. He tilts my chin up to get my attention off fussing over him, distracting me from what Jared had said.

"Are you okay?" he says softly, looking in my eyes and showing that what Jared said couldn't be remotely true and I know that, deep down and at surface level I do but it doesn't make it hurt any less. 

I haven't let Jina or Jared's words get to me ever since everything happened but if I don't process it all soon I feel like I might snap, and the person I would snap at would probably be Jungkook.

"I'm sorry" I say, looking to the side and blinking back the angry tears that I feel are starting to fall. Angry at them, at myself, at everything. 

"I wanted this to be a day about Jina and I'm trying really hard to compartmentalize it so I can be happy for her but-" I cut myself off with a sob, covering my mouth to muffle the next.

Jungkook pulls me in, not telling me to stop crying, not saying anything at all. He knows I need time to ride this out since I usually stop it as soon as it starts.

I'm trying to mend the bridge between Jina and I and although things will never be the same I don't want him to feel like he has to choose between me or his daughter. Having her around more, seeing her pregnant and happy again has hit something in me that I didn't realize I had been missing. 

If things had been different maybe that would've been me.

If Jared was a different man, a man of respect and integrity then maybe I would've been the one expecting. Happily married and bringing a life into this world that was a symbol of the love I shared with my husband.

I don't want Jared. 

Not in the slightest but I guess I truly haven't morned the life that I thought I was going to have. 

One where I was happy and ready to share my relationship with everyone I know. 

One that people wouldn't judge at a moment's glance. 

One that would be accepted, celebrated even. 

One I didn't feel the need to hide from the ones that I love.

"Hey" Jungkook says softly, pulling back and cupping my face, feeling a shift in my cries, the tears I'm shedding different now. 

"You know I love you right?" he says, cupping my face again with both hands, wiping away the tears that haven't stopped but I nod weakly, my bottom lip jutting out as I try to choke back the sobs.

"And you know that no matter what I want you to be happy" I nod again and look up at him this time. 

"If this is too much for you I understand" he says, his eyes now changing, the way his brows are pinched together as if what he's saying pains him but he's forcing it out for my wellbeing. 

"No. No don't you say things like that!" I shake my head and pull away from him. "You don't get to say things like that because you think you know what's best for me"

"I was just-"

"No! If you can't handle this then fine but you do not get to make this decision for me" I say, my tears going from angry, to sorrowful, to heartbroken again. 

He takes a step closer but I take one back. 

"Tell Jina I'm sorry" I say and walk into the backyard, hiding away from the guests inside and going to that same clearing I had found months ago to process, not thinking that this time he would be one of the reasons for my tears.

~~~

The background noise of laughter and conversation soon dies down and I'm left alone with my thoughts, but when I hear a twig snap behind me I know my time of solitude has ran out.

"I don't want to hear it Jungkook" I say over my shoulder. 

"He told me what happened" Jina says, her voice catching me off guard, making me jump.

I wipe the now dried up tears off my face as though it would make me more presentable, my eyes no doubt a bloodshot red.

"I'm sorry" I mumble, hugging myself foolishly trying to keep the summer night chill away but a warmth is draped around my shoulders, her having brought out one of Jungkook's oversized coats for me which I accept, his scent bringing me comfort even if at this point I'm too scared to face him. 

"The girls were all raving about the party. Saying you did an amazing job with the theme and everything" she says, distracting from the true reason she came out here. 

"I hope I didn't distract you from the party" I apologize, feeling as though my dramatic exit from the short lived argument might've been observed from the inside.

"You didn't. I mean we were wondering where you had disappeared to but my dad just said you weren't feeling well and wanted the rest of us to keep having fun" she says, making me feel a little bad but I know that wasn't her intention.

"I know I fucked up...and I know you'll probably never trust me again. But if you ever need anything or want to talk...?" she trails off and I nod and utter a quiet thanks under my breath. 

"Maybe we shouldn't host parties here anymore...seems like this house is cursed" she makes a weak attempt at a joke and I hum, not really reachable at the moment. 

"My dad and I took care of cleaning up so if you want to go back inside now the place is back to normal" I nod again and she lets out a bit of a disheartened sigh.

"Thank you for the party, it really meant a lot to me" she says the last part a little bit softer and I turn around to look at her, not wanting her to think that I'm angry at her because truthfully I'm not.

"I'm glad you had a good time" I say and give her a sad smile which she takes as a small win. "Get home safe" I add and she says a quick thanks as well and takes her leave moments later but pauses just at the edge of the clearing and turns back.

"You guys are good together, and I can tell you really love him" she says, words I never thought I'd hear from her. 

"I do" my voice breaking and she nods, returning the sad smile I had given her just moments ago.

"I'm never calling you mom though" she jokes making me let out a halfhearted chuckle. 

"My dad says stupid stuff sometimes thinking he knows best but don't let it get to you" she says and when I try to say something she gives me a knowing look. 

"That's something you're gonna have to deal with while being with an older man" she chuckles and walks off, leaving me alone again with my thoughts.

~~~~

Ten or so minutes pass by before I decide it's cold enough to face going back inside.

When I walk in through the sliding glass door I see him sitting on the couch, waiting up for me. 

"If you stayed out there much longer I probably would've sent out a search party" his tone playful and I hum, sitting on one of the armchairs facing the couch.

"I shouldn't have sprung that on you while you were already feeling vulnerable. That was a bad call on my side" he admits, getting straight to the point. 

"It just hurts that you think my love for you is so fickle" I say softly and he immediately kneels in front of me, taking my hands in his. 

"I don't doubt your love for me. I see it every time you look at me. Your eyes, your smile, your body language are all very honest and show me just how much you care but I just feel as though being with me is a burden to you" he says softly and at that I'm starting to understand where he's coming from. 

He's doubting himself. He thinks he's holding me back. He thinks that he's hurting me.

I cup his face in both of my hands and make him look at me, seeing how his eyes have gone glossy, his furrowed brow now the one I'm smoothing out.

"Being with you is not a burden. You've shown me what true love is. Selfless, kind, passionate and unapologetic. Our love might not be the most conventional but there are so many things in life that aren't either and they're praised for that fact" I say and he smiles a bit. 

"In another life if we find each other again maybe things will be easier but I am very happy with the life we're living now" I say and wipe away a stray tear that had fallen from the corner of his eye.

"Are you?" I ask and he nods, sniffling a little and leans forward to kiss me. "So so happy" he whispers, a soft smile spreading on my lips. 

"Now no more sadness and no more trying to push me away otherwise I'll start to think you don't like me anymore" he tilts his head at that, acting as if he was contemplating my statement and I push on one of his shoulders making him lose his balance. 

He grabs my wrist and pulls me down with him as he falls on his ass from his knelt down position which mind you isn't a far fall but he makes it worse by pulling me with him, pushing him onto his back while toppling onto him.

"What'd you do that for?" I chuckle as he groans, acting as if it was such a hard fall. "You're the one who pushed me" and I roll my eyes, "You're fine, now come on" I say and hold my hand out to help him up. 

Once he's standing though he tosses me down onto the couch, making me squeal at the surprise attack, him hovering over me. 

"I think I forgot to tell you how beautiful you look today Bunny" he says, cupping my cheek and wiping away some of the smudged mascara off my cheek. "I probably look like a hot mess" I roll my eyes and he chuckles and shrugs, "Still hot" he counters as he peppers kisses along my neck.

"What's gotten into you?" my voice breathless making him smile against my skin. "Can't I make out with my girlfriend?" he pulls back and my nose crinkles.

"Don't say it like that" I cringe and he lets out a scoff. "Say it like what? You are my girlfriend still right? Or are you looking to change that already?" he asks, sliding his hand under my dress and up my thigh. 

"Girlfriend is okay for now" I shiver, goosebumps rising wherever he's touched. 

"So are you still protesting?" he hums, kisses more deliberate, more sensual. 

He knows what he's doing.

"No" I squeak out and he lets out a cocky chuckle.

"That's my girl. You did such a good job today, hosting and acting like the woman of the house" he hums, his hand now resting on my hip, grinding against me, my eyes fluttering shut. 

"Acting?" I breathe out, calling him on his bullshit.

"My mistake" he says and trails his kisses back up my neck, placing soft but lingering kisses on my lips. "You are the woman of the house. My perfect girl always taking care of me" he hums and I smile, wrapping a leg around his thigh, pulling him closer. 

"Needy tonight are we?" he says, his hips having more space now, grinding down harder, pressing against me so I can feel how much he wants me. 

"Fuck I can't wait to make you my wife" he mumbles out, my breath hitching at that. "You like that? Want to be my pretty little wife?" he taunts, his tone making me dizzy, whining when he bites my shoulder as a reminder to respond. 

"Yes" I breathe out and although this isn't a real proposal his true intentions show me he wants a future together, although he's always made that very clear.

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[jensthwa]

the rhythm of our hearts (KYS x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

Yeosang, with his camcorder and his looks from afar, ignites your curiosity in a way that makes you act a little dumb and against your friend’s judgments. When you finally get tired of him not approaching you, you decide that the night is young and life’s too short to not find an answer to your questions. On a dirty rooftop, your newfound friendship with him might just be the most surprising outcome of the whole ordeal. Is it enough to make you stay, though?

PAIRING: law student!yeosang x dancer!afab reader.

GENRE: strangers to friends to lovers (slow burn).

WORD COUNT: 17.5k (jesus christ)

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) (in the next part), attempt !!! at comedy, dual pov, reader uses female pronouns, drinking, a tease of violent behavior, choi yeonjun shows up in this story again AND almost beats yeosang up, step up 3d inspired scene as you can see from the banner of the story lol, yeosang gets accused of being a stalker but there's no intentional stalky behavior i promise!!, yeosang is shy, many implied conversations (lol sorry, just know that they talked and talked on that rooftop okay?), unbearble chemistry (sigh), so much unnecesary yearning, the inevitable passage of time, the slowest of burns guys i'm so sorry i promise next part will be juicy i just needed to stablish them, lap sitting, almost kisses the same way gabriela and troy from hsm2 were almost kissing, wooyoung being a menace (you know the deal).

NOTES: this fic is part of a pocket universe you can find in my navi link or in the link at the top of this post. there's a lot of things here that only make sense if you read the other stories first but if you ignore them (since they're not at the core of the story) it can be read as a separate thing lol. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: 05/27/2025

permanent taglist: @kyunlov @monsta-x-jagi @tinyelfperson @0115degrees @strawberrymars98 @faerouzia @honeybeehorizon @daniela-f-uwu @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @kyeomooniee @getouttamygrillxoxx @fairylover68 @sushiinmidnight @hwalighters @qveenbunni @calmoistorm @yoonglesbae @potatomountain @beckxisxinxlovexwithxjin @svintsandghosts @lemonkait00 @blue5ummer @fancypeacepersona @hyukssunflower @i-love-ateez @miracle-sol @alsomimi @xielian-i-guess @e3ellie @mady-66 @hwallazia @st3ft0n3s @ginevrsstuff @hotteokkay @xylatox

masterlist.

The neon lights reflect on your skin as you move through the crowd, foreign sweat mixing with yours in the process. 

It’s packed tonight, hardly any free space for you and your friends to claim as yours but you manage. There’s a free table that you all but run up to and when you and your friends crash into it, you all laugh before fixing it in its place. 

Routine takes over and the same person suggests going to get you all your usual drinks, which you say yes to. You don’t want to get distracted and you need to scan the premises to figure out if the person you’re looking for is here tonight. 

You don’t actually know his name. You know your friend Yeonjun almost beats him up, you know he’s been filming something (you) around the club for what seems months now. This person has never actually spoken to you before, hence the almost getting beat up by your most protective friend. 

Taking into account all the red flags, it’s a little crazy that you still feel the need to look for him in between the dancing bodies and the people making out in the dark corners of this club. Your club. Where the bouncers know you and the bartenders discount your drinks because you and your friend group are one of the regulars here. 

It took you a while to gain this status, one you’re very proud of. It’s a reminder of what you’re sacrificing everytime you decide to show up, what you’re risking. And even though it’s been a while and you’re an adult who can make their own decisions, the same adrenaline rushes through your veins everytime. As Yeonjun returns with your drinks and hands you yours with a flirty smile, the same feeling takes over your body, never really growing old. 

The first time you came here, you were a freshman. You came of your own volition, knowing no one at the time. You see, as a ballet dancer there’s a lot of restrictions, a regime you must follow to fit in with your classmates that you, up to the middle of your first semester, followed at face value. You didn’t have any reason not to, after all this was what you’ve worked so hard for, for years and years. 

Years of special diets and hours of training and practice to get where you were, full scholarship in what was supposed to be the first steps of your ballet career. So you followed these restrictions not because you were supposed to, or because your family forced you to pirouette a certain way in the path of perfection, but because you wanted to. 

As a child, you sat down and watched every single dance movie available on your local cable. You watched the nutcracker and then you watched the barbie version of the same tale over and over again until you knew the steps by heart, even if you didn’t know the name of them or how to execute them properly. 

You loved the way they all looked while dancing, the delicate atmosphere in such complicated moves and the ability they had to hook the audience in without saying a word, all they could convey even through a screen. So, in a way, it became your dream to be immortalized the same way. 

But in having that dream, you created this aura of expectation around you that you fell prisoner of the second you understood what it meant. The second you begged your mother to sign you up to classes and then you begged your father to take you seriously when you said that ballet was what you were going to do for eternity, you got trapped into it. Your father swore at the time it was just a phase and you, stubborn as the man in front of you, needed to prove him wrong. 

And you did prove him wrong. You grew in the industry, you started to get eyed by recruiters early on and you gained scholarship after scholarship, made valuable contacts and stayed friends with people who are able to move you forward in case you fall behind on something. You were smart about it, you are smart about it, but yet again the pulsing of your heartbeat syncs with the beat of whatever noisy song is blasting in the club’s speakers and you forget the strict regime and the diets and the sacrifices made to get where you are. 

It’s the same type of rush you felt when you were told someone was following you, filming you. The usual panic one can feel at the thought of being stalked dissipated the second you realized he didn’t have any cruel intentions towards you or the rest of your friend group. You did, kind of, save him from getting beat up by Yeonjun.

You had to rush towards a campus that’s not yours and make your way through the crowd of nosy people to get to them, but as soon as Yeonjun saw you he stepped away from the guy and followed you and your friend Kazuha out of there. You did spare the guy a glance and recognized him from the club, gave him a tiny smile and made sure he was up on his feet before fully centering your attention on your friend.

And pushing him in the chest as hard as you could. 

Kazuha sighed, pushing his chest as well “What’s wrong with you, Yeonjun?” 

“He’s been filming us— Filming you!” He pointed in your direction and you shook your head.

“I thought we established he’s not dangerous! And even if he was, Yeonjun, you could get in serious trouble for just— Behaving like a criminal!” 

“Like a criminal?!” 

“Like a punk with not one care in the world!” You answered, nodding and reinforcing the jab at your friend, who looked like a child being scolded for something they didn’t do. The thing is, if you didn’t get there on time, he probably would’ve. 

Yeonjun is a great, loyal friend. Always has been. And so you obviously forgave him and now, as he takes your finished drink from your hand and settles the cup down into the table just to drag you to the dancefloor, you think you read his intentions clearly, his looks and smiles lately and the way the carefully grabs your waist to move to the rhythm of the r&b track playing.

Understanding has been taking over you these past few days. 

But it doesn’t really matter when he has a rooster of people waiting for his texts and calls, patiently staying in place until he gives them the time of day and you know that’s the treatment he would give you too if you give him a chance. 

So you ignore the spark on his eyes as you sway your hips and turn around, your back against his chest and your butt against his crotch as he follows the rhythm you’re marking. Always taking the lead, always guiding everyone else’s steps makes it easy to ignore everything around you, when you close your eyes and let the atmosphere take you completely too. 

It’s like everything else disappears. The expectations and the fact that you have to wake up early the next to massacre your feet in order to continue your career, your graduation approaching fast, the last showcase and the weeks that follow it, in which you'll have to wait for an offer, for an opportunity. 

It’s just you and the music and Yeonjun hands spinning you around and around again. It’s just you and the ache on your feet and your heavy breathing being muffled by the sound around you, drowned by the rest of the heavy breathes everyone else is letting out. It feels so familiar and yet so exciting, like you’ve never experienced it before. 

Euphoria moves around you in what it feels like a neon glow, it makes everything feel slowed down and too fast and, most importantly, it makes your heart beat in a way no other thing or being makes it beat. 

Except maybe when you open your eyes and catch the stranger who’s always filming staring right at you. 

He’s far away, but you can see him clearly. He’s the only one on the floor standing still, camcorder in hand and you notice that he’s filming someone else, not you, but he’s staring in your direction either way and it makes you smile a little. 

There should be a limit at how much a person is allowed to stare at another before it makes it creepy. Again, there’s a thousand red flags you should be considering but the only thing it brings to you is unsated curiosity. 

And so you don’t think twice before detaching yourself from Yeonjun and moving in the stranger’s direction. Neither of them expect it, because the guy opens his eyes a little wider and you hear your friend’s voice over the music. 

“Y/N, are you serious?! We’ve been here less than forty minutes!” 

What he means is that you’re about to disappear for the rest of the night, like you usually do. It’s not that you always leave your friends behind, especially not when you come here with them to share the night with the group, but you do tend to disappear for like an hour or two. 

And the term disappear is something they use only to bother you because, in reality, your location is shared with all of them and the way you get lost is usually in between the dancing bodies. If they look hard enough, they’ll be able to easily find you. 

Unless you found someone to kiss for the night. They don’t bother looking for you then. 

However, it is a little early to disappear on them. It must be around eleven thirty or twelve, twelve thirty at the very least. You tend to do your rounds at two, two thirty, normally. Maybe that’s why the stranger makes that face. Maybe he has you studied, your behavior noted down in that head of his you want to decipher so badly. 

You have been wondering for a few weeks now why he never approaches you. He seems contempt just to film you from afar, but tonight is different. He’s not filming you. 

There’s a tint of jealousy in your chest at the sight, a small crease in your forehead when you approach him. 

He takes a step back.

You want to laugh a little, but you take the hint, if he’s sending any in your direction. Getting into his space fully is not in your plan anyway. 

Yeosang shouldn’t be here. He should be studying or having dinner with his friends or something. 

He really shouldn’t be here. 

But he can’t help himself. Earlier, in his and Yunho’s dorm and while editing the footage he’s gotten in the last week or so, he decided that he needed clearer shots of the Hongdae club he’s been frequenting. 

It’s only a happy coincidence that that’s the club you usually go to, the one where he can find you most of the nights. Very convenient, really. 

Ugh, who is he kidding? 

There’s this magnetic pull that he hasn’t been able to shake off ever since he saw you for the first time. At the very same club, a year before he started to go there with the purpose of seeing you. 

You were alone, not with the people he usually recognizes. You were dancing around a table, making some of the people sitting down at it laugh before becoming entranced with the way you moved. You tend to have that effect on people, he noticed earlier on, because when you move it looks simple yet extremely interesting, it looks natural, it looks almost magical and Yeosang convinced himself that the reason he kept coming back to that club specifically was because he needed to figure out how your movements were so sharp and yet so smooth at the same time. 

It’s his fault, really, because he’s shy and he should’ve just talked to you right there and then but he convinced himself he wasn’t going to see you ever again after the last time he went and you weren’t there. 

And then he joined a film class. An elective, one that he had in his curriculum for the last year and half of his career. He chose it because everything else seemed boring or too in touch with his law degree, which he was growing a little exhausted from. 

The only respite he had from studying endless pages about special criminal evidence rule was his cheering practices, and he had been benched for awhile for missing some of the important routines in order for him to get all his concepts right before his exams. And now he has to get ready for the internship he’s planning to apply to with a firm he’s been dreaming about since he was in highschool.

So joining that film class was a little stupid on his part, but he enjoyed it for the most part, before the final project was announced and the thing that came to mind was you and your dance moves. 

He had somewhere to start: a little documentary about dance and nightlife in Seoul. It’s a theme simple enough for him to do a little research, a few interviews that reflect the cultural significance of it all in modern society and he had Yunho and his dance team to avoid the need to go out of his way to look for more interviews or content outside of them. 

The thing is, his artistic vein itches every time he thinks about not including you in the film. He has zero justification for the way his chest hurts when the thought of putting his curiosity and tiny crush to rest crosses his mind. 

So he’s been filming from a distance and he’s been careful not to make you or your friends uncomfy ever since he decided to focus more on the nightlife aspect of the documentary instead of the dance part of it. That one time your friend found him, confronted him and pushed him to the ground for filming you all without clear consent doesn’t really count. 

That day, you smiled at him sweetly as you pulled your friend away from him. That had to mean you were okay with it, right? He should just ask you to clear the air up… But he had permission from the club manager to film anyway! 

He has a script, he has an outline of how he wants the film to turn out and he has almost everything to sit down and finish editing it before actually starting making an effort with that law firm and the internship… 

But he’s unable to shake the need to have you in the documentary. Anything will do, really: an interview, a clear shot of you dancing for the camera, anything to have you and his little obsession with the way you move immortalized on tape forever. The way you dance deserves it, the way you seem to control the ambiance around you, the people, the music, the club… He has never seen anything like it before. 

He swears he has been gathering up the courage to actually speak to you instead of lingering around like a creep. 

And tonight is the night.

He has to play it cool. He got there a little later than usual, he’s actually talking to the people he’s filming this time, he asks them for permission and then proceeds to talk with them as well as he can over the music. 

He pretends he doesn't see you and your friend group, including the guy that almost fixes his face, in the corner to the left of the dancefloor. He’s gathering the courage to walk over there and apologize for the misunderstanding, explain the nature of his documentary, ask you all formally to use the footage he has and ask you for a short interview with the questions he already has written down in the notes app on his phone. 

The person he’s filming has gone silent suddenly, just dancing to the r&b song playing and Yeosang does nothing but film them. He’s about to resume conversation when his eyes involuntarily look for you again. 

And he catches you on the dancefloor, the friend who almost punched him twirling you around to the beat of the song and grabbing your waist afterwards. 

There’s that magnetic pull again, that inability to look away from you even though he’s filming someone else. Your body glows in the red neon light and he’s mesmerized by the way you seem to be in your own world, encapsulated in your own bubble with your eyes closed and your body moving to the rhythm. 

He’s unable to look away even when your eyes open and the first thing you do is look at him. His breath catches, his eyes widen and he feels a little sweaty suddenly but he still holds your gaze, his eyes still follow you as you step away from your friend and move through the ocean of dancing bodies. 

Towards him. 

You are walking in his direction. 

Oh, God. Are you going to speak to him? Is this real life? He feels unsafe, unprepared all of the sudden. He takes a step back as you almost reach him. 

And then you smile widely, feline-like, like a big predator who’s playing with its prey just for the fun of it and he seems to get what you’re trying to do. For some reason, he feels like he reads your mind when you look down at the camcorder and then at him again. 

He bows at the person he was filming before, the ghost of the interview he was doing vanishing, before he could get any information that actually helps him or his script, and then his eyes follow you. You’re already walking away when he points the lens in your direction. 

Swallowing hard, he moves in between the dancing bodies to follow yours. He adjusts the lighting in his camera as he moves, he catches the neon before lowering it and finally catching you in the hallway of people that his friends like to call the makeout hall (because it’s kind of dark, the only lights that get to it are the neon ones nearby and the occasional moving leds that move around the club every few seconds so it’s intimate enough to kiss the one you like for the night). 

But no one is making out with anyone. There’s some people chilling against the wall and a few others dancing and they all smile as you move through them to the rhythm of the song playing. Some guy grabs your waist and dips you low and Yeosang smiles as he catches the moment clearly, the lead beams lighting up the space at the correct time to catch you coming back up. 

As he passes people by, they all try to dance with him as well. He shakes his head a little when the same guy grabs his waist and Yeosang blushes when he looks back up and you’re laughing at him. He shakes his head again but you keep moving, so he moves as well and he loses you when you turn the corner. 

Quickening his step, he follows as smoothly as he can but when he reaches the same corner you’re gone. 

Swallowing thick nerves down, he tries to ignore the exaggerated beat of his heart at the thought of that being the only interaction with you that night. He looks around and frowns when he can’t find you at all. Just when he thinks he can see you with your arms up, a guy that’s clearly too intoxicated to be in an environment like this gets in front of him and dances for the camera. He puts his hand on his shoulder and moves him to the side and the dude goes away easily but when he looks up that mirage he had of you in front of him is gone. You’re gone. 

Looking at the screen of his camcorder, he tries to zoom in and hopefully distinguish you between the dancing bodies and moving lights but he can’t see you, he can’t— 

He feels a presence over his shoulder, a little behind him. Entranced and a little terrified, he turns his head slowly. 

He’s almost nose to nose with you when he does. 

His breath catches. You’re close to him, your face almost resting against his shoulder as you pretend to look at the screen a few seconds longer than him. When you look up, there’s a tiny smile curving your lips upwards and Yeosang can’t help but to give you one back. 

“What are we looking for?” 

Oh. 

He realizes he’s never heard your voice before. He certainly imagined it but whatever it was he knows it doesn’t make it any justice.

Even with the loud music, you’re so close and you speak loud enough for the sweet velvet of your timbre to make him inhale a sharp breath. There’s this slight edge to your stare, a flirtatious energy in the way you laugh at him when he opens his mouth and then closes it again, not really sure of what to answer.

“Cat got your tongue?” 

“Y-you,” he manages to stammer out and then he swallows hard again. “I w-was… I mean, you disappeared for a second.” 

“I just went back around,” you point with your thumb over your shoulder to the entrance of the makeout hall and he nods, understanding, spacing out and hyperfocusing on the situation at the same time. “I thought you were able to keep up,” you pause, eyes tracing his face for a quick moment. You lean in, lips dangerously close to his ear and then you say clear as day the words that might be the reason he loses his sanity: “Can you keep up?” 

Yeosang is a mildly competitive person. He is competitive for the love of it, not because he feels like he has to win. He likes to win, however, it’s not going to be the end of the world if he doesn’t. That’s something he tells himself often, with the career path he’d chosen there’s going to be a lot of highs and a lot of lows, same with cheering, same with anything he ever does in life, really. 

So why is his heart beating so fast at the thought of you daring him to keep up? It’s not the end of the world if he can’t keep up, really. 

But he feels the need to prove you wrong somehow. He senses that you see him like a coward, and in a way he is one, but tonight is the night he finally gets to meet you, to tell you his name, to know yours. 

So he nods once, gaze still holding yours and breath still caught in his throat “Try me.” 

That seems to be the answer you were looking for. You smile fully and Yeosang commits it to his memory, takes a mental picture of it before you’re stepping away and into the crowd of sweaty bodies again. 

And this time, Yeosang is able to keep up. 

He follows you swiftly through the crowd, he doesn’t get caught between the bodies, his eyes don't’ let go of your silhouette at all as you guide him up the stairs, looking over your shoulder only once when you bump into a couple making out against the wall and laughing at them when they shoo you away with their hands. 

His heart is beating so loud he feels it in his ears, the throb of it on his throat and he swallows down the feeling in an attempt to stay calm as it gets louder and louder. You turn a corner he’s never even seen before, into a dark hallway where he has to squint his eyes to not trip over anything. No one else is there and his nerves spike, only to come crashing down when he slams into something, into you. 

Your back against his chest and you don’t really say anything as you try to get a door in front of you two open, he hears the clink-clanking of the lock and he hears you softly curse when you fail at getting it right the first time. It makes his lips curve slightly upwards, it makes this whole thing a little less surreal and a little more human. 

He’s not sure why his body is registering it as a dreamlike experience in the first place. 

The music has faded away slightly. He can tell there’s speakers nearby but none in this space, so that might explain why no one is here. Couples making out and people grinding against each other have a behavior pattern he easily recognizes even if he doesn’t participate in either normally: They like being seen. 

Yeosang could never understand that. 

Even as you get the door open and guide him to what looks to be (judging by some cables on the floor, the pvc pipes and the back of the neon sign that always greets him at the entrance) the rooftop of the club, you hurry him inside and close the door behind you. Resting against it, Yeosang watches as you take in a breath and let it out slowly. 

“Sorry, I’m one of the only few allowed here and we don’t want anyone else finding out they can access this space.” 

“Oh,” he nods, focusing on the camcorder screen again and filming the roof with all his might. He wants to turn to you, keep looking at you in the lights the streetlights cast against the roof and both your faces. “And you got this special treatment because…?” 

“I will answer your questions…” he hears you say and that’s when he takes the chance to look at you, curiosity glinting in your eyes in a way he’s sure it’s reflecting his. “But first you have to answer mine.” 

Yeosang is not sure why he’s trying to play everything off in a cool manner when he’s sure you can see right through the way he puffs out his chest and secures his stance before saying a simple: “Fair enough.” 

And you do, you laugh and peel your back from the door only to walk a few steps, nearing the edge of the roof. You sit down there and his heart quickens before dropping for a completely different reason than before. 

You must see it in his face because you laugh again and shake your head “There’s a tiny balcony, owner’s office. You can come and see if you want.” He doesn’t, instead he nods “I believe you,” he clears his throat and closes the screen of his camcorder, recognizing that maybe this is not the moment to have it ready to record, although he wants to keep fresh and in video everything that’s happening right now. 

That’s the only way he would believe it did happen tomorrow, when he wakes up confused and wondering if he dreamt the whole thing. 

Your smile looks pretty real, though. And also it looks pretty, period. 

“Are you afraid of heights?” 

“Is that your first question?” He can tell he’s stalling, prolonging the moment unconsciously and he swallows his monologuing back down and shakes his head. “No, I’m not, I just trust you.” 

“Why? You don’t know me.” 

“My camera does,” he shrugs, looking down at it and then back up at you again. “I feel like I get to know you a little every time I edit a clip of yours, too.” 

“That camera almost got you an ass whip. You’re welcome, by the way.” 

It’s his time to huff out a laugh “Well, you didn’t exactly give me any time to say anything to you that day.” 

“Well,” you tilt your head, your eyes focusing on the ground for a few seconds, “my friend didn’t exactly give me a choice either.” 

“Thank you.” He finally says, after a bit of silence where the memories of that day came back: The confusion, the realization, the push to the ground and the look you gave him as you pulled your friend away. He’s actually very thankful, taking into account that he wouldn’t know how to throw a punch and not feel bad about it five seconds later. 

“It was really dumb on his part, but I mean… You understand, right?” 

That your friend wanted to beat his ass instead of talking it out like normal human beings? No, he doesn’t understand but he nods anyway. 

“You’ve been filming us for a while now. He thought you might’ve been…” You trail off, not really wanting to say it so he says it for you.

“Stalking you.”

“Yeah,” there’s a soft smile on your lips that leads him to believe you didn’t think that yourself. Is either that or you feel a little bad for him, which is way worse, so he decides to trust his first thought. “What’s all the filming for?” 

“A documentary.” 

That seems to surprise you, your eyebrows raising and falling and your eyes widening a little bit. 

“On clubs?” 

“Dance,” he corrects with a tiny smile of his own, “and the nightlife in Seoul. It’s for my class.” 

“Oh, right, you’re going to school,” you nod as you remember probably the only piece of certain information you have on him, or so he thinks. “So you’re studying to become a filmmaker?”

“A lawyer, actually.”

“Wow,” huffing out a laugh, you shake your head in a little disbelief, “didn’t expect that at all.” 

Yeosang laughs too, a nervous sound more than anything. 

“I don’t look the part?” 

Pausing, you take him in: from his outfit (he is sporting all-black attire today, black shirt, black short sleeve button shirt on top of it and baggy black pants) to the way he stands a safe distance and your eyes even go from his face to his hair. He feels like staying still while you gather whatever information you need to answer, but then he also has the need to fix his fringe and tug his button shirt down a little even if it does nothing. 

“You look like a very artistic guy.” 

“And lawyers are not artistic,” he nods and then squints his eyes at you a little, joking at the best of his abilities right now. “Is that what you’re trying to say?” 

“I just never met one who was,” you say in return, squinting your eyes back at him. “Guess now I have.” 

He can literally feel himself blushing. 

This is bad. This is very bad. 

Lucky for him, you don’t notice or, if you do, you don’t make any comments about it. 

There’s another beat of silence that stretches and Yeosang decides to walk around the roof. He’s careful to not step on anything he’s not supposed to as he walks towards the back of the club’s sign. 

He turns to you after looking at the metal foundation of it for a solid minute, blinking rapidly when he finds you got up and walked closer, standing where he was before “Do you have more questions?” 

“Why me?” 

Yeosang swallows hard for the umpteenth time tonight. He has a hundred million ways to answer that question and he’s trying to pick the one answer that doesn’t give any more of this weird crush he has on you fully away. 

However, he can’t help to go the truthful route about it. 

“I like the way you dance. I… I saw you a long time ago, before picking up the film class, and I was just completely, um…” He pauses, tongue wetting his lips in a nervous tick and he swears he sees you follow his unconscious movement with your eyes, but it hardly matters when he's at a loss for words. “I was really entranced by your dancing, I guess you could say. And so when I started the documentary and saw you again I just… There’s no way I couldn’t have you in it, even from afar.” 

“And why didn’t you explain this to me before?” 

“I don’t know.” 

He answers that too quickly, without any hesitation and it makes him blink a few times before laughing it off. 

“I mean, I wanted to, I just n-never found the right time, I g-guess.” 

Slowly and after a few seconds, you give him a nod. 

When you open your mouth to answer, Yeosang feels like everything's in slow motion: Here it comes, the moment you call him a coward, the moment you mock him for taking so long in approaching you. Even tonight, he wasn’t the one who initiated this, you were. 

“You’re shy.” 

Instead, he’s relieved by the knowledge that you’re more understanding than what he initially thought. Yes, he is shy. He’s shyer than usual when it comes to pretty people, even more when they poke at his curiosity and fascination. 

“I should’ve guessed that you were, hm,” you nod again, laughing a little aftwards. “I don’t know why I thought there would be this whole mystery behind you not coming over and talking to us.” 

“Have you thought about it before?”

Yeosang swears he said it in his head. To his account, he asked the question in his mind while he nodded and came up with a response that takes him out of the hole he dug himself in. But you look up at him with raised eyebrows and a curl to your lips that he’s growing used to.

“I have,” you answer without an ounce of shame pouring out of you. You seem proud of it, even, and Yeosang wonders if you're as outspoken in every other aspect of your life as you are with him. “When someone films you from a distance and doesn't even tell you their name it makes you wonder just a tiny bit.” The last part seems to be a joke and Yeosang's lips curl upwards in return. 

“I'm Yeosang,” he doesn't extend a hand for you to take, he stays put in his place as his own name sounds foreign coming out of his mouth. “I… I'm s-sorry I didn't introduce myself before. I'm—”

“Shy.” You answer for him and he shrugs a second later. 

“That's not really the reason, I… Oh, this is going to sound so weird,” he mumbles under his breath but you manage to hear him and laugh a little, shaking your hand to signal that it doesn't matter. “I thought it would, I don't know, break the magic a little?” 

Your expression turns from slightly amused to slightly disappointed again in a second and he regrets following your lead and being honest with you as well. 

“The magic?” 

He needs to find better words to explain himself, but nonsense comes out of him without a second thought and he can physically feel himself cringing at the words. 

“Yeah, like it would actually force me to get this over with,” he shakes his camcorder and then closes his eyes, eyebrows scrunched as he, once again, attempts to climb up the hole he dug himself in. “—I mean, talking to you would mean asking for the interview that I want to ask for and, once I get that footage, I feel like I'm never going to see you again.”

Getting in out in one breath, Yeosang opens his eyes to find you staring at him with something he can't figure out. 

It goes away after you scan his face with your eyes and find something he doesn't know what it is. 

“That's a little dramatic, don't you think?” 

Now, when you put it like that…

He huffs out a laugh and then takes in a little bit of air that he desperately needs “I guess.” 

Laughing at him for what it feels like a thousand times tonight, you look at him up and down and seem to consider something. After a few seconds pass, your smile turns soft and it’s your turn to take in a breath. 

“Y/N.” 

“Hm?” 

“My name,” you say, almost cutting him off. “You didn’t ask.” 

Yeosang wants to smash his head against the neon sign. 

“O-oh of course, sorry. Y/N,” he repeats with a nod. “Pretty. Your name!” He corrects himself immediately. “I-I meant your name is pretty, not you— I mean, you are! You are really pretty a-and…” 

Yeosang watches helplessly as you seem to revel in the state you put him in with the simple whisper of your name and the accusatory joke. 

But you don’t mention it, only turn around and let your knees touch the floor, near the edge of the rooftop again. This time, you rest your chin in your hand and your elbow against the edge and you signal at him to sit down next to you. 

He does. 

“You wanted to interview me?” 

Now he can answer that without messing things up “Yes.” 

“Hm,” your eyes turn from him to the part of the street visible from the angle you’re both sitting at and then your brows almost touch each other as you think. And think. And Yeosang can do anything but stare at your profile and swallow hard at the realization that the neon lights and the darkness of a club would never do your beauty justice. 

Now, he had seen you in broad daylight before. But it was quick and he was mildly distracted by the almost getting beat up emotions so he didn’t appreciate it fully. Now, even though it is nighttime and the neon sign casts a shadow over you, he realizes it’s the first time he gets to see you upclose. 

Up close and in silence, not like the few minutes before where he managed to embarrass himself like no one has probably ever embarrassed themselves in front of their crush. 

“I think,” you say, after a while of just staring at the street where he was quietly watching you instead, “that you really overestimated me and how interesting I can be.” 

“What makes you say that?” He asks in a whisper and you smile, turning to him.

“My story is no different than the story of my friend Kazuha downstairs. Or my classmates. Or any other ballet student in this city.” 

“You do ballet?” 

There’s this trace of surprise on your face that must mimic his, but he thinks it’s because you thought he knew that already. 

“Yes, I’m… I go to K-Arts, Yeosang.” 

“I didn’t know that.” 

“You didn’t?” 

He laughs a little again and shakes his head “Not a stalker, remember?” He attempts to joke and it works because you’re scrunching your nose and nodding the second after. 

“Right, we already established that.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Well, I go to K-Arts. I’m a senior, I’m supposed to focus if I want to get into the university’s dance company fully and all.” 

That catches his attention “Fully?” 

“Yeah, I don’t mean to brag or anything,” you start and your tone gives away that you are, in fact, bragging. Yeosang doesn’t mind it a bit. “But I’m good at ballet, too, not just at… Shaking my ass to a Kendrick song.” 

He giggles and you roll your eyes with a smile on your lips still. 

“So I have joined them for a few performances based on my grades and skills and all of that.” 

Humming, Yeosang looks down at his camcorder and then at you again “And all of your classmates get to do the same?” 

“No,” you answer in a murmur, frowning. “Why?” 

“Then that makes you different from, at least, some of them.” 

He can’t tell if you look annoyed or impressed at the fact that he managed to turn your words against you, but you blink rapidly a few times and Yeosang speaks up before you can tell him anything in return. 

“Let me interview you. This film probably won’t leave my classroom and then it will gather dust in my hard drive for eternity after I pass the class, but it would feel very incomplete without you.” 

You say nothing and he clears his throat, feeling a little dumb for even trying but before he can backpedal on the offer, you’re speaking. 

“Right now?” 

The question doesn’t have any shyness laced to it, but it’s soft. It’s like you can’t believe fully that he wants to interview you and he wants to ask if that’s the case, but he also doesn’t want to accuse you of anything or, worse, assume your feelings. 

He’s big on assuming, he’s trying to be better. 

“Oh,” he shakes his head quickly. “Not if you don’t want to! I… D-don’t feel pressured to say yes, I was… Was that too pushy? I’m sorry.” 

“Yeosang—” 

“I mean it! I have pleeenty of footage. My friend Yunho actually it’s on the documentary too! He’s such a talker, he loves to talk, so I have like a thousand hours worth of interviews and—” 

His rambling comes to an end when you hand closes over his on the rough material of the edge of the roof. He looks at it and then at you and he notices he’s breathing a little hard and that his heart is racing so fast he can barely hear the already faint sound of electronic music and the voices that served as your background music since you two got up there. 

“I want to do it,” you assure him and he swallows hard when your thumb traces three small circles on his skin. One, two, three and then your touch is gone and he can finally breathe. “Just not tonight. I look like a mess.” 

“You truly don’t,” he mumbles without really thinking about it and you smile. 

“Do you have something to do tomorrow night or can you come over here for the interview?” 

“Here?” 

“Mmmhm,” you look around the roof and then at the back of the neon sign, and then you turn a little and point to where the light the neon sign casts is clear and cover a spot on the roof large enough for both of you to sit. You get up and he doesn’t. “That must look cool on video, don’t you think? I got a lot of pictures there already.” 

When you turn around, that’s the first time Yeosang catches a trace of shyness on your face. 

“If you want.”

He smiles fully, widely and the corners of his mouth hurt a little because of it. 

You walk backwards, towards the door and Yeosang knows you’re making your big escape so he doesn’t follow you at all. “See you tomorrow, then?” You yell when you almost reach the exit and he nods.

“See you tomorrow!” He yells back and, when the roof is devoid of that life you seem to bring into everything or so he thinks, he turns to the street and catches the bouncer looking up at him.

He looks angry.

He’s also a very big dude.

“Shit.” 

Yeosang believes that it was a blessing to romanticize the idea of who you were before actually meeting you. Because, as much as he thinks you’re the prettiest person he’s ever seen, his crush tells him that he wouldn’t mind becoming your friend instead. 

He came back the next night and the night after that and the night after that… No, wait, that night he stayed in and studied for a quiz he had the next day and then the next day he went back to see you at the club. 

It was obvious by the third night that the both of you were using the interview and documentary as an excuse. Yes, Yeosang did film a few bits and precise questions here and there, but the rest of the time you two spent together was just an endless conversation that he could stay in for the rest of his days. 

Not one dull moment, Yeosang had never met anyone who makes him talk so much. He usually just listens to his friends and adds to the chat if needed but you don’t even need to ask him a question to get him going.

It makes his heart soar, it feels fulfilled of a need he never even knew he had: Being heard. 

Being heard and understood. 

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to do anything at all.” You tell him one night, on week two of this extended interview. 

He doesn’t even have your number yet. 

But he’s unable to think about the rationals and specifics of whatever the hell is going on when he’s staring at the stars, his back on the cold and dusty roof, his head next to one of those pipes and his arm brushing against yours. 

“Nothing at all?” 

“No,” you breathe out, your other arm resting above you, your fingers reaching and ghosting the hairs that stick out of the hat he’s wearing. “I want to dance and then I want to eat something yummy and then I want to sleep. I don’t want to…” you trail off.

And he understands.

“You don’t want to worry.” 

“Exactly,” you return right away, in a whisper and then after two seconds you turn to him. 

He’s already staring at you. 

“I don’t want to worry.” 

“I don’t want to worry either.” 

Yeosang is not sure where this vulnerability is coming from. 

Maybe his mind tricked him into thinking he was better off not sharing certain things with the people who love him the most. 

He’s glad you’re allowing him to explore that talkative part of himself without any real judgment. You give him faces and once over when he says something silly, something not usual, something out of his comfort zone in terms of sharing… And then you go back to being understanding, to furthering the conversation and actually ask him about it instead of talking over it like he notices he’s been allowing others to do all these years. 

Not that they realized they were doing it either. His friends have never been malicious in their actions or intentions, but they are much more outgoing than he is. 

And so are you. 

But you seem to have a special interest in what he has to say. 

And so it becomes really difficult not to share and grow closer every night. It comes to a point where he can start to read your eyes and expressions, where he starts telling what you’re feeling without actually asking about it. 

One night, as you both sit under that part of the roof that catches the neon light of the club’s sign, he catches you staring at his camcorder with something somber crossing your features. 

“We can stop doing this anytime you want, you know?” 

His murmur takes you out of whatever is actually going through your head and that little crease in between your eyebrows goes away, softness coating your eyes a second later and, when they look up at him, he all but feels his heart stop. Which is incredibly dangerous. 

“Did you get all the videos you need already?” 

“Maybe,” he shrugs, “but that’s not why I keep coming back here. I feel like you know that already.” 

Lips curling upwards in a soft smile, you nod “I want you to tell me anyway.” 

Yeosang hesitates for a second, trying to find the way to put into words what he actually meant by that, but he fears he doesn’t really know either. 

He decides to go with what his heart is telling him “I like spending time with you beyond the interview.” 

Your smile grows wider. 

“Me too,” you whisper back, like it’s a secret. “You’re also not a good interviewer, Yeosang.” 

It’s silent for a second and then you both laugh. 

“Ouch,” he pretends to be hurt in between laughs and you push his arm a little. “Noted.” 

Laughter dies and you seem to be thinking something over. You open your mouth and then close it and Yeosang imagines you’re weighing the possible outcomes of what you’re about to tell him. Although, when you do, he doesn’t think it’s anything crazy. 

“I want to see you in daylight,” you start and before he has the chance to agree, you keep going. “I mean, I already did, at your school. But that was for like… thirty seconds. And I wasn’t really paying that much attention to you. But now I am and I want to see you under the sun.” 

Yeosang fucking blushes.

Again. 

His reply comes as soft as if he’s not having heart palpitations and shortness of breath at the moment.

“I’m sure we can arrange that.” 

You nod and then blink a few times, thinking it over it seems. 

“It’s spring,” you start and Yeosang nods, “and I like flowers…” 

He takes a mental note of that.

“And there’s a pretty glass dome at the botanic greenhouse…” 

Setting his lips on a straight line so he doesn’t laugh at how cute you look trying to invite him to it without actually doing it, Yeosang contains himself and then nods one last time “Tomorrow?” 

He enjoys making you smile so wide. 

“At ten.” 

When gets to his dorm, Yeosang tries everything in his power to not label it as a date. 

You’re friends.

He’s happy being your friend. 

If he could tell his heart to keep it down, he would. 

Kazuha frowns at you, arms crossed as she leans into the doorframe of your room. 

You both live in one of the bigger dorms, Zuha’s family has money and she brought you along after insisting she didn't want to be alone in this two bedroom apartment with a shared bathroom. 

Because that's what actually is, a freaking apartment. 

It's truly more than what you deserve, truly, but she's not one to back down when she truly wants something. 

Like right now. 

“So you're going on a date with this guy.” 

“Yeosang,” you correct her, “and it's not a date.” 

She sighs, a little exasperated, and shakes her head at a flower-pattern dress you hold up for her approval. “Too on the nose. What do you call it then?” 

“Hanging out with a friend.” There's really no doubt in your voice even if you're scavenging your closet for something that makes you look extra nice. “So, not a date.” 

“You haven't stopped talking about him so I guess you can see why I assumed it was a date.” 

You look up at her, a smile pulling at the corners of your lips “Then you know his name is Yeosang. Caught ya.” 

Zuha rolls her eyes and you decide to go with one of your regular feel good outfits, one that you know makes you look good without trying much. 

“I don't care what his name is! That's not my point!” 

“Then what's your point?” 

“He's a… dude.” 

“That I've formally known for almost a month.” 

Throwing herself in your bed, your lips curl upwards again when you catch her dramatic expression and hear the over exaggerated huff she lets out. 

“Could you maybe communicate what you're actually thinking instead of doing… whatever this is?” 

She braces herself in her forearms and looks at you with a frown “You said it was cute the last time!” 

Last time you went out with someone, she means. It was nothing serious, merely a movie and a dinner and a kiss at your doorstep before deciding dating took a lot of effort and a lot of time you didn't have. 

So that's why this thing with Yeosang is not a date. 

Expectations can't go up if it's not a date. 

But last time your friend was also just being dramatic to commit to the overprotective bit, saying Yeonjun rubbed on her and what not. 

This time, you can tell she means it. 

So you give her a look and her indignant expression dissipates until she's pouting and letting herself fall on the bed again. 

“I mean, why can't you hang out with him in the club? Where are we all three minutes away?” 

She's so cute. 

“Because I told him that I wanted to see him during the day and the club is closed.” 

“You invited him?” 

You stare at her disbelief with a raised eyebrow and her expression goes away when she realizes the dramatics are truly not working on you. 

“Okay, I’ll shut up.” 

Smile widening, you shake your head at her “There’s truly nothing to worry about, Zuha.” 

“You’re my best friend,” she argues, with a pout, “of course I worry.” 

Kazuha lets out a tiny screech when you pout back at her because she knows that, in the next few seconds, you’re going to tackle her with a bear hug.

And that’s exactly what you, before she even gets the chance to stand up from your bed. She pushes you to the side and you both stare at the ceiling for a second, giggling and breathless. 

“You must really like him if you asked him out. You don’t ask people out.” 

Suddenly, you feel like your breath is fully taken away. You think about it for a second but there’s no use in denying the obvious. You were never someone who fought to suppress their emotions, someone who shy away from what they truly want, but when it comes to things like this (love or attraction, you suppose) it’s a little complicated. 

Because you have no issue going home with someone you met at the club, making out with them in a dark corner outside of it or in the middle of the dancefloor if the time calls for it, but you don’t ever talk to them. 

Not like you’ve been talking to Yeosang, anyway. 

“I really do.” 

When you hear her sigh, you both giggle again.

And then she helps you get ready with soft city pop coming out of your laptop’s speaker and hooks one of her necklaces around your neck. It has your birth flower as a pendant and, when you ask how she has this, she simply answers: “Boys will give you anything as a gift as long as it looks feminine enough. He didn’t know my birthday.” 

It’s no mystery why she’s exclusively dating women now. 

Fifteen more minutes pass and, just as you’re heading out the door, a paper slides underneath it. You hear the heavy steps of the building’s manager (who is insistent in delivering mail the old way, just to get a chance to snoop in your personal lifes) as they pass your door and the next one and only when the sound completely disappears, you pick the mail up. 

One envelope is for you, one is for Kazuha. 

And it suddenly hits you both. 

The company results. The ones that tell you if you got in or not. 

Gulping, you notice the difference between your envelope and Zuha’s. Hers has the K-Arts logo and yours is blank. 

Your gut tells you what the results are before even opening it, but you follow your best friend to the couch and sit down in front of her before rushing her to open the envelope. There’s barely an ounce of patience in your system as she reads the words and you follow the movement of her pupils. 

“O-oh my god, Y/N, I got in!” 

“Into the company?” 

“Yes!”

You’re sure your neighbors are tired of hearing your screams. Of joy, of anger, of whatever. They must be tired.

But right now that’s the only possible reaction and your heart is heavy with both happiness and pride. You’re so proud of her, you tell her as much and hug her and then get up and jump up and down a little with her still in your arms before the moment passes.

And now it’s your turn. 

If she notices the difference in appearance of the envelopes, or the way your face falls with worry and your fake smile doesn’t even hold, she doesn’t mention it. 

It doesn’t take even half a paragraph to read your rejection from the company you’ve dreamed of joining. 

“Wha… Why?” your friends ask and you shrug. 

“It doesn’t say— Wait,” you notice that the letter is folded at the bottom so it could fit properly inside the envelope. When you unfold it and read the text, you let out a scream of surprise. 

Zuha pushes your shoulder and then leans in, trying to read as well “Read it the entire thing to me!” 

“They rejected me here but it says: However, we took the liberty of sending your profile to the internationally renowned classical ballet company, The Royal Ballet, and they have decided to offer you a spot in their school to further your education and train with their techniques for no longer than a year.” You stare up at Kazuha and her mouth is hanging open, her eyes are wide as well and you feel the familiar prick of tears in your eyes, but you blink them away. “If your performance is up to their standards, they have decided to offer you a spot as a member of their corps de ballet, with a full salary after six months of your second year with them.” 

Lowering the letter, you stare up at your friend again. There’s silence for a few seconds where you two try to make your brains compute the information and what it all means, what it all implies, what would happen if you say yes to this opportunity.

When you say yes to this opportunity. 

And then you’re both screaming again, her arms around you as she pushes you up to your feet to jump in a circle, excitement pouring out the both of you. You realize you’re crying when a sob escapes you and she stops jumping to hug you even tighter. 

“You deserve this, Y/N. Of course they wouldn’t let you stay in this small company, of course they wouldn’t— Oh, your makeup!” She reprimands when she pulls away to catch your eye, but her thumbs are swiping away the tears either way. You pout. “A full salary after a year and half, too!” She pauses and her mouth mirrors yours, her eyes filled with tears as well. “I’m so proud of you.” 

“Zuha…” 

“— So, so proud.” 

It isn't until she pinches your cheeks that you remember you have somewhere to be. 

“Oh fuck, what time is it?” 

She rolls her eyes. 

“He likes you,” she says with a tiny smile, “he’ll wait.” 

That calms your sudden panic and you nod, her fingers pinching your cheeks one more time. 

“Okay.”

“He better.” She adds in a threat and you laugh. 

“Okay.” 

Yeosang waits for you, just as your best friend said. 

He leans against the entry wall with squinted eyes because the sun is shining bright today and before you get to him you get a second to take in how he looks in the daylight.

His skin glistens slightly, like he put on moisturizer and sunscreen before he got here (all green flags in your opinion) and he’s dressed in all black again, casually. You realized that when he goes to the club he’s a little dressed up, as you are every night as well. Or, at least, the way he stylizes his clothes makes him look different. 

It’s okay, you think, I’m also someone else entirely during the day time. 

You ignore the weight in your heart at the thought that you’re possibly leaving him and this newfound friendship behind in a few months. 

Why is it that the good things, the ones that excite your spirit, always last so little? 

“I realized,” he starts as soon as he sees you, a smile brightens up his face immediately, “that I don’t have your number.” 

That didn’t even cross your mind. It should’ve, but it didn’t. You see, you can’t even start imagining a text thread with Yeosang. With him, everything feels like it should be this way. 

With him, in front of you. In person. 

Your heart aches a little again but you push it away. You won’t let very obviously good and rewarding news get in the way of this not-date. 

Even if you’re dying to tell him. 

Instead, you shrug and offer him your sunglasses “You never asked.” 

He looks at what you're offering and frowns and then you point up at the sun. 

“It’s bright inside as well?” 

You nod. 

“You’ve never been?” 

He smiles like he’s been caught and your mouth drops open, a little scandalized by this new information. 

“Yeosang!”

“You never asked.” 

Rolling your eyes, you head to the booth that sells the tickets to go inside but he hurries to get in front of you… Two tickets in hand. 

Coming to a full stop, you tell your heart to behave. It shouldn’t react this way over something so simple. 

And yet, it does. 

“I forgive you for twisting my own words against me.” 

“I forgive you for being late,” you’re about to tell him he’s doing it, again, but then he drops his head to the side and looks at you with a little worry in his eyes. “Is everything okay?” 

More than okay, actually. Everything is spectacular and I haven’t even told my parents about the offer. I haven’t told you and I might be getting your hopes up even though I’m leaving. Oh, I also didn’t get in the company I told you about. And I’m terrified of leaving the country and possibly spending the rest of my days somewhere I can’t even call home.

“Yeah,” you nod and, to possibly distract him from the way the pitch of your voice went up a little, you take his arm in yours and start walking towards the door, “everything good. Got a little too carried away with the whole get ready part of the day.” 

If he notices the way you’re not even glancing in his direction, he doesn’t mention it at all. 

“Well, you look beautiful.” 

Now, that makes you look at him. 

He coughs a little and looks away. 

“You always do.” He adds and you all but laugh at the way he’s so bold and then so shy. 

“You look really good too, Yeosang. Always,” you add as well, bumping your hip into his softly. “Now that I’ve seen you in broad daylight, I can confirm.” 

Now it’s his turn to laugh a little and he turns to you as you walk down the initial part of the building. There’s a few rooms to walk through but you both seem to disregard that, walking straight to the conversatory automatic doors. Your breath gets a little caught up in your throat. 

He truly is a beautiful man. 

“Not an ounce of disappointment?” 

Faking an offended gasp, you shake your head. “Not at all!” 

Yeosang nods, taking a look around the room. 

“Good,” his voice comes out in a murmur, but you are close enough to hear him. “I’m glad.” 

Finally, you only smile and look around the room as well. 

It’s been awhile and there’s some things that have changed, but the place gives you the same feel it did when you first came. Like a year after it opened, because it was packed every single day before that. Now, not so much. You see a woman with two kids and a stroller, an older man with his hands behind his back walking around without staring at the plants much and a tourist-looking couple taking a picture in front of a massive potted plant. 

It was hot then and it seems even hotter down, the humidity clinging to you almost immediately. They are trying to replicate a tropical forest in this area, so the plants that thrive in the conservatory climate all require this level of humidity anyway. You should’ve mentioned that, or remembered it before even stepping in. 

You came with your family, you took pictures in front of some plants you’ve never seen before, you bragged about it to the kids in your ballet class and then never returned. But it is really—

“This place looks so not like I expected it to look.” 

Not only does Yeosang manage to make it seem like you both are thinking about the same thing all the time, he also sparks your curiosity like no other person ever has. 

“How come you’ve never been here?” You ask as he lets go of your arm, taking out a small (but semi-professional) digital camera. He doesn’t turn it on, just secures the cord around his wrist and turns to you at the questions. 

“I don’t really enjoy crows. I guess I said that I would come when the buzz of the opening died down and then never remembered to check it out after that.” 

His answer makes you tilt your head as you think. 

“You don’t like crowds?” 

He shakes his head at you. 

“But you went to the club almost every single night?” 

Again, he looks like he’s been caught doing something ridiculous. There’s shyness oozing off of him, but also a hint of shame that you don’t like at all. 

“Is it the right time to admit that I went to that club to see you?”

You squint your eyes “And to film your documentary.” 

“Yes,” he nods, “but there’s only enough footage one can get before it becomes a little obvious that I was there only for you. Not only the last few weeks, I mean…” 

You’re guessing he’s expecting you to be a little freak out by that, but you’ve both discussed this before, that first night when you two finally got away from the crowd to talk. So you’re not freaked out but you are a little nervous because you know what it means.

You’ve always known what it means. 

It’s just a little bit heavy on your heart today because you know you can’t fully carry this out without hurting him or yourself in the process, not when you’re leaving anyways. 

Again, you almost let that feeling ruin the moment, this moment, these days that’s exclusively for the two of you to enjoy. Those feelings don’t belong in this, in the soft embrace of Yeosang’s company and understanding. He also deserves to enjoy the little tour you’re about to give him, to enjoy the ambiance the fake waterfalls and rocks provide. 

“Okay,” you say with a smile that seems to get rid of the shame in his expression, “I’m flattered— and glad, to be honest. I enjoy your company.” 

“I enjoy yours.” He says back and offers you his arm again. You take it without thinking twice. 

“Let’s see how much you enjoy it after I talk your ear off with my guided tour.” 

He laughs “I get one of those?” 

“For free,” you add with a nod, turning to him, “or, well, the small price of your sanity.” 

He pretends to think about it for a second but after you squint your eyes at him in suspicion and fake offense at all the thinking, he concedes. “Sounds good, reasonable even.” 

“Mhm.” 

Feeling giddy, you go on and on about the place. About what you remember from the actual guided tour you paid for back in the day. About the plants and the importance of the place during the cold winter months and Yeosang listens to you even though what you’re explaining is obvious. 

You drag him to the second floor and then to the seed room (a room where they explain the different types of seeds) and then to the library and then to the cafe to take a tiny break from the heat that follows the conservatory and the rooms around it. 

Yeosang takes photos the entire time. He records, he takes your picture in front of an emulated dessert and a few cacti with tiny and beautiful flowers blooming from them. He lets you take his arm and, by the time you’re both out of the dome and into the path that leads to the park attached to this botanical garden, you’re both walking shoulder to shoulder. 

And your pinkies are brushing. 

“You shouldn’t have,” you say to break the comfy silence you’re both in as you enter the bridge connecting one side of the park with the other. “Next time they’re on me.” 

Shaking your coffee cup, he huffs something close to a laugh but when you look at him from the corner of your eye, his face is flushed. 

“Love when you say that.” 

Behave, beating heart. 

“What?” You ask in a whisper. 

“When you say there’s going to be a next time.” 

Oh, the universe is funny. Silly. A goof, a meanie even, for playing with your emotions this way. 

“Yeosang…” 

You can tell the moment he makes the decision. One that takes a lot of bravery, one that steals the breath from your lungs and makes a shiver run down your spine. He intertwines your finger with his, slowly, with a caress when you reach the end of the bridge and move to the side to let other people, who are not even paying attention to you, pass by. 

A few seconds later your hand is fully intertwined with his and you try no to cry because he’s looking at you with a speck of hope in his eyes. Hope for a future you can’t offer.

Because you’re leaving. 

“You told me that you like when I tell you things,” he starts and you lick your lips, nodding as a reply because you can’t find your voice even though you should. You should stop him. You should stop this. “And I feel like there’s no point in not saying out loud what you already know. Because you know, don’t you?” 

Even now, when there’s a joke at the tip of your tongue, the only thing you can do is soften your kind of worried expression and nod again. 

“I like you,” he breathes out and he doesn’t say it in a whisper, like you expect it. 

He doesn’t say it in between kisses and loud music, with the purpose of getting you into a dark secluded corner and having his way with you, or with the intention of getting you home and ghost you the next day like you’re used to. 

When Yeosang tells you that he likes you, it comes with the soft spring breeze grazing your face and a halo of light behind him. It comes with the sun coming down, with the tiredness that comes with spending the entire day laughing and talking and walking around with someone you care about, with the faint smell of coffee and the cold of your cup freezing the palm of your free hand even though you feel warmth spread inside of you. 

“I don’t expect you to say it back because we just met a few weeks ago. And I also don’t want you to think that my tiny crush is what motivated me to include you in my documentary. Or film you. Or be a borderline creep around you or your group of friends in the club, I just— I’m okay being your friend,” he clarifies and you want to huff out a tiny laugh because he looks so nervous and yet his voice doesn’t waver once, not like when you first met. He’s sure of what he’s saying and you believe him immediately, too. He let’s go of your hand to gesture with his, “I’m okay with you not liking me back. I’m sure I’ll grow out of it or tell you if I can’t move on, but—” 

“Breathe.” 

“—But I want you to stay in my life. I like spending time with you and I—” 

“Yeosang.” 

He blinks, realizing that he’s word vomiting for literally nothing. 

Because, at his confession, you can’t help but smile widely. And then that smile shrinks a little at the sudden realization that you need to tell him. 

Now. 

But you want to give him the grace of not outright rejecting him at the edge of the bridge.

“Come here.” 

Taking his hand back in yours, you ignore his confused stare and drag him towards where you initially wanted to enjoy your coffee: There’s a small pond where you can sit at a reasonable distance, to not interfere with the birds drinking from it and the fishes swimming in it. 

From your bag, you take out the tablecloth you stole from your living room table (with Zuha’s permission, of course) and lay it down on the grass before practically throwing yourself in it. 

As you sit, Yeosang does as well and you let out a sigh, thinking about the pond. 

Admiring it from a distance, like Yeosang admired you for months. 

Possibly the same way you’ll have to admire him now that you’re leaving. 

“I didn’t get in.” 

He turns his head to you, a frown creasing his eyebrows “What?” 

“They rejected me today, that’s why I was a little late,” you curve your lips into a tense smile and at the realization that you might be feeling a little guilty for lying to him (you are), he shakes his head. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize for something so silly, I don’t mind waiting for you,” he says and you can’t help but take the meaning of his words and extend it to the situation he knows nothing about yet. “What do you mean they rejected you?” You shrug as an answer and he lets out a breathy, indignant laugh “Why would they do that?” 

The fact that he’s getting offended on your behalf assures your entire being that he cares. He cares, he cares, he cares and you’re about to leave someone who cares about you behind. 

You’re about to leave so many people behind. 

“They rejected me because another company wants me to join their team and they probably wanted to narrow my options,” you shrug again and you watch as his face turns from offended to confused to surprised to happy for you in just a few seconds and he changes his weight to his knees, his arms opened and you answer the question before he even gets to ask. “The royal ballet.” 

“The royal ballet?” 

You roll your eyes, wacking the arm closest to you with minimal force “Do you even know what that is?” 

“Of course I know what that is! Y/N!” He wiggles his arms and you get on your knees as well, rounding his neck with yours, hugging him close to you. He hugs you back and it’s tight, it’s warm, it’s friendly and at the same time it feels weighted with his romantic feelings towards you. You enjoy it, you enjoy it even more when he sways you side to side, like something within him knows he has to comfort you. “Congratulations!” 

“Thank you,” you return softly and start following his movements, swaying you both as well until it gains enough impulse to make you fall against the soft material of the tablecloth and grass almosts gets in your eye but you pay it no mind because Yeosang’s arm is under your head and he’s so close to you that you feel like screaming (in the best way possible). “If you know what the royal ballet is, do you know where the main school is located, right?” 

He nods.

“You understand they want me to go there, right?” 

He nods again and you take in some air. 

“Yeosangie…” 

He smiles at the nickname. 

“I like you,” you start, soft again as if saying it louder would make the words that follow it hurt any less. They hurt you, they are going to hurt him as well. “But I think we should be friends, I think— No, I’m sure I’m taking their offer.” 

Yeosang stays quiet for a few seconds. You cuddle into his touch further, without really wanting it to and he raises his hand, his knuckle caressing your cheek softly. 

It’s not a platonic touch, it’s not a platonic scenario either despite what you just told him and you’re sure he’s not doing it on purpose. You’re not doing it on purpose. 

It just feels natural to move closer to him. To revel in the feel of his fingertips against your skin. 

“You do know I didn’t show up at the club night after night just to be romantically involved with you, right?” 

Nodding, his hand on your face slips down a little and he cups your chin with your fingers. 

“I’m happy with us being friends, I’m happy with you staying in my life.” 

“But I’m leaving…” 

“London it’s not that far… It’s like—” 

He looks like he wants to say something but instead he frowns and looks to the sky, a slight pout on his lips you feel the need to kiss. 

“Yeosang?” You ask after what feels like a minute.

“Eight hours?” 

“Huh?” 

He laughs a little “I think it’s an eight hour difference. I can stay up late, you can wake up early, we can find a way to keep in touch.” 

Turning back to you, his hand cups your cheek instead and his thumb slides against the skin. When he turned back to you, he moved a little bit closer. You’re sure it wasn’t intentional but then the words he said just a few minutes ago make your heart race.

I’m happy with us being friends.

Why? You don’t want him to be happy with you two just being friends. You want him to kiss you. You want him to not understand you and to disregard your wishes and tell you he wants you forever. 

You know that you couldn’t extend the same sentiment to him. But he’s patient and kind and so, so polite and you’re not sure how anyone here or all the way in London could compare to him. 

Again, your heart is mourning the loss of something you never truly had. 

But you try to learn from his patience and let out a tiny sigh before resigning your result to insist on whatever you two have going on. 

“Okay.”

It’s your turn to look at the sky above you, the orange gradually fading into the perfect canvas for stars to paint allows you to finally, finally let the entirety of the news sink in. 

“Oh, my god.” 

“Hm?”

You sit up straight, mouth open and a crease in between your brows.

“Oh my fucking god. I’m going to London and my parents don’t even know about it yet.” 

“They don’t know?”

“I had a date with you!” Looking at him, you don’t miss the way he blushes and you feel yourself heat up a little too at your choice of words. “Only Zuha knows… She was with me when we got the envelopes.” 

“Well… Do you feel like you want to tell them in a special way? Because you can just call them, if you want.”

Gulping, you shake your head slightly “M-my mom hates calls.” 

He pauses for a bit, you see him blink twice and then stare at the corner of his lips as they lift up a little.

“Are you nervous about telling them?” 

You realize you are. You’ve never been nervous about telling them anything at all. They celebrate your successes and help you through your hard times even if you hold your chin up and insist you’re okay. You’re sure they’re going to be over the moon about the news. 

Why are you hesitating to tell them, then?

“Do you… Do you think they’ll let me go?” 

He smiles fully now, sitting up as well. “I think they’re proud of you and they’ll be proud of you whether you’re here or in London,” he shrugs and then he adds, “I’m proud of you.” 

It makes you smile. 

“And I just met you. I can’t imagine how they must feel,” your eyes roll instantly at the attempted joke but you huff out a laugh anyway, “and they’ve known since forever, I mean—” 

You extend your arm to push him a little and he falls back down into the tablecloth with a fake cry. “Shut up.” 

“Did I lie?” 

“Kang Yeosang, shut up.” 

The next few months feel like a montage you can see in one of those coming of age movies. Not a romantic comedy, but a coming of age. 

You tell your parents about London and they go through all the stages of grief before congratulating you and telling you they’re proud, they’re happy for you. You tell your friends and it’s a similar experience, except that, instead of celebrating with hugs and a dinner at a fancy restaurant, they drag you to the dinner at a fast food joint at the side of the street and then to the club. 

They celebrate Kazuha’s acceptance into the university’s company as well, of course, and the next morning you both nurse a hangover that repercutes on you days after that as well. It’s all worth it, it is every time but Zuha and you make sure to complain every day until it fully goes away. 

You still hang out with Yeosang. Every single time there’s an ache in your heart that dreads the moment you part (for the day but also… forever, maybe?) and you conceal it with smiles and teasing jokes that don’t cross the line. You hang out with him at his dorm, which you were hesitant to do at first but he explained: 

“My roommate is never here anymore. His girlfriend got a new apartment and so he basically lives with her.” 

You turn to the side of the room, where there are pictures of said roommate with Yeosang and a few people you think you recognize from the club, but you also can’t be sure. You take the guy in every single picture is Yunho, his roomie, and the girl he’s kissing on the cheek is his girlfriend. She looks your age, so you turn to Yeosang with a raised eyebrow and he laughs a little.

“They’re rich.” 

“Him included?”

“Mhm,” he sighs, clicking away on his computer to chop some footage and add some in its place, “he likes to cosplay being poor.” 

“That’s insane.” 

He gives you another affirmative sound and you move around the tiny space two times before calming your nerves of being alone in a room with him and sitting down in his bed, facing his left side since he’s sitting at his desk. 

“More room for you, I guess.”

You notice his smile fading bit by bit, lips forming a tense line a second after. “It’s a little lonely,” he admits. “All of my friends are really busy lately. Which, you know, it’s fine. It’s life. We’re all growing up and I feel like I can’t quite catch up to them.” 

“You did just get into the firm you wanted to, though. You feel like you can’t catch up to the direction they're going?” 

He smiles “Well, first of all, I got an internship—” 

“And they’re giving you the job after the internship ends, we all know this, Yeosang!” you interrupt him and he gives you a look that makes you smile for a second before pretending he’s annoying you. “Whatever.” 

“Like I was saying— I got an internship in the firm, not into the firm,” he finally gets to say and you look back at him, the somber look returning to his face after the second of respite your interruption provided. “But, I mean, we’re starting to see each other less and less— Should I keep this in?” He points at the screen and you frown at the sudden change of topic but then, when you see a frame of you making a weird face for the camera as he sets it up, you get why. 

“Don’t you dare,” you extend your leg and push your feet into his side, he recoils like you stabbed him with something but then recovers quickly. There’s a second where you both smile, your leg coming back to the bed, and then you push a little for the feelings he was explaining before. “You’re seeing each other less and less?” 

“Yeah. I get it, obviously, Hongjoong has this mini tour he needs to plan— That’s my friend who’s in a band,” he explains, “so he’s barely in our hang outs anymore. Yuhno just found love for the first time ever so he’s in the honeymoon phase and the rest of them are just trying to survive their last year of college or jobs.”

“Like us,” you nod.

“Like us,” he whispers in agreement, “and yet we still have time to see each other. I’m guessing some of them see each other often, too, I just… Never really had that with any of them. They’re good friends, the best of them really—” 

“And that would be my group of friends, but okay.”

He laughs and then continues. “But I never really… Connected like that, one on one, with anyone. Jongho, maybe, but he’s going insane trying to keep his grades up to stay in the team and maybe go pro for a few years afterwards and—” 

Sliding to the edge of the bed, you get up from your position to bring your arms around your friend. You can tell it’s really getting to him. You have your own shit going on, the whole I’m leaving my whole life behind and starting over, kind of, in a new city thing but you haven’t put yourself in the shoes of those you’re leaving behind, their own worries about their futures plaguing their thoughts as well. 

“It’s all too much… And I haven’t even finished editing the documentary.” 

“You’re almost done.” 

“It’s due in five days.” 

“You’re almost done,” you repeat, pulling away a little while looking down at him. He looks up, almost pouting. “You got this, Yeo.” 

And then the inevitable tension that comes into the room the second you two touch for longer than five seconds enters and you both let go at the same time. You swallow hard, he coughs and then the topic of conversation switches until you both forget the fact that electricity runs through both your spines whenever you hold each other. 

So Yeosang never touches you. He holds your hand, hugs you goodbye but he never insists. By your final performance, two days later, where he is in attendance and sits next to a very (but not as much as before) skeptical Yeonjun, you wonder if the small bouquet you see on his lap all the way from the stage is a purely platonic gesture. 

Because when you do your final bow as a student, eyes filled with tears, and get down to the backstage, the first person you see it's not your dad, your mom or Yeonjun. It's him. 

But the bouquet he extends to you it's as beautiful as it is not unique. When he sees Kazuha, he offers a similar one to her and she accepts, breathless, emotional and a little bit confused. 

So you start to wonder if he stopped liking you as the days went by, you start to wonder if you're the only one who fell deeper even though you're the one who decided for the both of your to not pursue the constant tension between you both, to put aside your confessions in honor for your friendship to flourish and outlast the incoming physical distance your future is going to put between you two. 

That's why you don't entertain the thought much, just lean in to give him a hug that screams I'm in love with my friend to all of your classmates, Yeonjun and your parents (who you see from the corner of your eye entering the room before you close them), which doesn't really help your case at all. 

“Thank you, Yeosang,” you whisper into the skin of his neck, for only him to hear, “for coming, for being there for me, for the flowers and for everything.” 

“You sound like you're saying goodbye to me,” he whispers back, pulling away just a bit so he can see you. “You're not leaving yet. Let's not do that until then, please?” 

And because you've been learning a lot of things from him, patience being one of them, you smile a little and nod in agreement. 

But you don't miss the way his eyes take in your features and stop to look at your lips for a few seconds too long. You can't help when you do the same, either. 

Your heart sings a hopeful song. A dumb, dumb melody filled with wishes of the things you can't indulge in, not right now, not ever. 

Because that song has a beat you think you’ll be able to dance to, choreograph it in a way only you and him understand and you’re so sure it will give you the same euphoric feeling being the middle of the dancefloor at a packed club or performing variations of your favorite classic characters on stage give you. 

And that is enough to make you want to stay. 

But you can’t. 

Your acceptance to the royal ballet proposal, once it came into you and Zuha’s shared apartment, has been already emailed and signed, sealed, delivered through physical mail.

It’s confirmed that you’re leaving later this month, at the start of the new semester for them. 

For you as well, you guess. 

And since you learned that, time seems to turn into thin dust in your hands, slipping from your fingers and blowing away in the wind. 

So you really should put a stop to your feelings for Yeosang, but they only grow stronger. 

You move back home to try and spend a little more time with your family and that makes his dorm farther away than before but you still show up to see him edit anyway. 

And when he finishes the documentary, he refuses to show you it because he claims he needs time and a bigger screen. 

But you're not sure you two have that much time at all. 

And involuntarily do that thing where your face drops even though you're still smiling and his lightbulb lights up. 

“A farewell screening party!” 

“A… A what?” 

“You know,” he clears his throat a little and you see him blush, “a party for you and for me at the same time. It can be your farewell party and the screening of my documentary because God knows Yunho will force me to show it to all of our friends either way.” 

You purse your lips, clearly trying not to laugh and he levels you with a look. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, that’s…” you cough your giggles away, “adorable.” 

“Right.” 

You take a sneaky step forward and he barely notices but his eyebrow raises. He seems to know what you're trying to do but you're a little bit distracted by the edge on his expression so your lack of immediate action makes him lower his guard. 

And you lunch for the computer without thinking twice. 

“No!” 

“You're not even going to let me see a snippet of it, Yeosang?!” 

You laugh but avoid him and you’re literally opening the video library of his computer when you feel two hands grab your middle and pull you back. He falls into Yunho’s mattress and you fall with him. 

Squeaking and then letting out a laugh, you realize too late that Yeosang has pulled you into his lap, his palms secured on your hips, his breath on your neck. As you turn your head to look at him, smiling slowly fading from your lips and his, you also notice that this was not what he intended to do in the first place. 

But you’re both frozen in place. 

Eyes not looking up at his face, you open and close the palms of your hands over the part of his chest and arm you’re just realizing now you’re holding. You blink a few times and from the corner of your eye you see his adam’s apple bob, you hear the sound of him swallowing tightly and feel against your shoulder the rumble of his chest when he speaks, low and soft, unsure like he doesn’t really know what’s the correct volume to use right now. 

“It’s a surprise.” 

“A surprise,” you repeat in the same tone, dumbly, a little bit distracted by his scent, “of course,” and then you frown, curious as always. “Why is it a surprise again?” 

He huffs out a short laugh. “If I tell you, it’ll ruin the surprise.” 

“Of course.” 

You should move. He should let go. Someone should do something because this is blurring the lines of your friendship entirely. 

But his lap is comfy and you can feel his heart beating against your skin and, instead of being in high alert and in a reactionary mood, your body just relaxes against him. 

He feels it and the touch against you relaxes as well but stays in its place. Yeosang’s head moves a little bit forward, his chin resting against your shoulder like the action alone is not enough to make the butterflies in your stomach go insane. 

“I just hope you like it.” 

The tremor on his voice gives away that he’s genuinely nervous about it, so you tilt your head and let your temple touch his. 

“I probably will, Yeo.” 

Lifting his head a little, your nose bumps slightly with his nose and your eyes widen at the feeling. 

It truly shouldn’t be this difficult. You should lean in and kiss him or he should lean in and kiss you but the boundaries you drew stand tall in between you. 

You wonder if the need that burns in his eyes when you look at him also burns in yours. You wonder if he sees it. You wonder if it’s enough to make the spoken rules of your relationship crumble. 

Breath shaking a little, you push a bit forward, lips parted and waiting for him to take the last step, to confirm that the rules and boundaries and the conversation you two had about the nature of your dynamic goes to hell and you get to finally have him like you want to have him. 

Yeosang looks like he’s thinking the same thing as you and, just when you’re about to close your eyes again and let this whole thing be…

The door swings open. 

And you practically fly off his lap, trip with a pair of shoes that are not yours and shouldn’t be there in the first place and almost fall to the floor. A hand you are not familiar with catches you and you look up to find Yunho of all people preventing your face from banging against the floor.

“Are you okay?” He asks and you turn to Yeosang instead of replying, for some reason. 

Yeosang is very still, paralyzed in fear even for a few seconds before his brain seems to catch up to the situation because he stands, grabs your shoulders and stabilizes you fully on the ground. 

You clear your throat and then turn to Yunho: “I’m fine,” you say, voice very small and the answer is a little dumb because everyone can see you’re clearly not fine. “Thanks.”

“Of course…” He turns to look behind him and that’s when you realize. 

Oh, this is mortifying. 

There’s three other people behind him: Wooyoung, who you recognize because one time he facetimed Yeosang while you two were together and you catched a glimpse at the screen, and two other guys you assume Yeosang has probably mentioned before, but you can’t recall their names right now.

Your head is not functioning properly right now. 

“This is—” Yeosang starts.

“Y/N!” You say for him with a nod and a big smile. 

“She’s my friend that I met at the club and—” 

“Your co-star,” you point to Yunho, “supporting actress of the documentary, really, I’ve seen him edit it and you are the main star.” 

“— her name is Y/N.” Yeosang finishes.

You clasp your hands together in front of you and it makes a loud noise, bow a little too. “That’s me.”

From the corner of your eye you see how Wooyoung turns around, trying not to laugh, and then one of the guys punches him in the arm. 

“We can, uhm…” Yunho is trying really hard not to laugh as well and you fail to see what about this embarrassing situation they found funny. “We can come back later if you guys want.” 

It’s even more embarrassing when both you and Yeosang basically scream a: “No!” at the same time. 

Which only makes Wooyoung break into a giggle that’s soon muffled by the hand of the second guy you don’t recognize at all. 

So you turn to Yeosang fully, leaning down to pick up your bag from where you dropped it on the floor. 

“I have to go and help Zuha with the—” 

“Oh, that’s right! Of course.” 

You don’t need to help Kazuha with absolutely anything. 

“And I guess you need to tell them about the party—” 

“Yup, I’ll tell them, um…” 

There’s an awkward silence for what feels like forever (two seconds, max) and then you both give each other a quick hug before you’re practically running for the door. 

“It was very nice to meet you all.” You say and it sounds weird because your throat is dry and you stumble it out. 

You don’t wait to hear their responses as you grab your shoes from the floor and then open and close the door behind you fast. 

Yeosang can deal with whatever they’re going to do, the ways they’re probably going to tease him. They’re his friends after all. 

And even though you feel the heat of the embarrassment on your cheeks and your heart racing, you smile at the laughter you hear through the wood of the door. It follows you as you walk through the hallway and there’s only one thing going through your head as you get secure your bag around your shoulder and start to head home: 

There’s the possibility Yeosang would’ve kissed you if they never walked in. 

There’s the possibility he still wants you the same way you want him. 

Yeosang has never been more flushed in his entire life. 

He watches you back until the door closes and then a second of silence passes by before everyone starts to laugh.

Everyone but him, because it’s not funny at all. 

Lips still aching at the thought of kissing you, he barely gets time to roll his eyes at his friends before they’re all but throwing him on the bed and tickling his sides. 

He doesn’t really want to laugh but his body’s reaction leaves him no choice. 

“You should’ve texted me that you had a girl over or something, dude!” Yunho starts and Yeosang huffs in response. 

“I thought you said the two of you were just friends, though?” San asks and he all but rolls his eyes. 

“What did you just see, Choi San? I swear to god you and Yunho are—” 

The mentioned one gasps dramatically and cuts Wooyoung mid sentence “What did I do now?” 

“Clueless!” Wooyoung says and he laughs a little at that. 

They stopped tickling him but they’re all still on top of him on the bed and the mattress makes a weird noise at that. It’s a dormitory mattress, after all and it can barely handle two people. 

Or you in his lap, he guesses. 

Dear God. 

Seonghwa sighs like a mother tired of her children’s shenanigans and even though it’s hard to see with three bodies on top of him, Yeosang sees him with his arms closed at the edge of the bed “Guys, could you all just… Get off Yeosang for a second?”

“Yeah, he needs to explain himself!” Wooyoung is the first one off of him and he feels like can breathe better. 

“There’s no explaining to do, you sound like Gyuri.” 

“I beg,” Wooyoung pauses dramatically, for effect and everyone in the room groans, “you pardon?” 

“No, sit the fuck down.” 

“Okay,” Yeosang says now that he’s free and he stares at his friends, at San first. “We are just friends and it’s not what it looks like.” 

“So you weren’t about to kiss her?” 

He short circuits at that “Well—” 

“You were?” 

“Guys,” Seonghwa interrupts once more, “let him talk.”

He feels like it’s the first time in forever since he’s been able to speak about anything with his friends. His heart feels at home and yet his nerves spike, his head hurts a little too and it might be the endless hours of editing catching up to him or the thought of you leaving that makes it hurt. Either way, he needs to tell them.

“I was about to kiss her and it wouldn’t have been a mistake because we didn’t want to, because we both like each other,” he explains, “so we do want to but it would've been a mistake because she’s leaving.” 

“What?” 

“You didn’t tell me that,” Yunho lets out softly and Yeosang shrugs. He’s the one that knows the most about you since he’s the one Yeosang has been able to speak with the most these past few months. 

“That party she was talking about,” he doesn’t really answer Yunho but addresses everyone in the room, “I need help organizing it. It should be a viewing party and a farewell party as well. She got accepted into the Royal Ballet.” 

“Huh?!” 

Now everyone turns to Yunho at the sound he lets out and he’s covering his mouth and then shrugs as well, a little ashamed of himself. 

“I’m not a ballet guy but I know what that is. They were on tour here last year… And I went.” 

“Are they good?” San asks and Yunho nods frantically as an answer. “So that means she’s good as well.” 

“She is,” Yeosang feels himself deflating, falling into the mattress with a longing sigh. “She lied to you, she’s actually in most of my documentary.” 

“I think you forget I’ve seen you editing it before, Yeo.” Yunho laughs.

“Mhm.”

He looks at his friends and both Seonghwa and San look like they want to press him to speak about his feelings but they’re biting their tongue, Yunho’s leg goes up and down and he looks like he's about to apologize for something dumb but no one talks. Yeosang doesn’t want to talk about it, either. 

So Wooyoung comes to the rescue. 

“A farewell party, now that’s something I can help with!” 

San laughs “And a viewing party, don’t forget about the viewing part.” 

“The documentary first and then everyone is getting drunk and silly, okay?” He points at Yeo Sang and he nods, reluctantly because he knows what that means. 

“I think I actually have a place for it,” Yunho swallows tightly and Yeosang scrunches his eyebrows in worry. “I mean, I was going to tell you all when we were together but, uhm, I think I’m starting my own dance studio. I received a… fat check this month.” 

“Are you sure that’s not the money your father is giving you to try and get you in his company long term?”

“Whatever!” Yeosang laughs and San gets up and puts a mouth over Wooyoung’s mouth for the second time in the last thirty minutes. Seonghwa rolls his eyes. “I got a place and it has a second floor I’m planning to make into a setup for video games and whatnot. I already ordered the projector, it’s what I’m trying to say,” he shrugs and looks at You Sang again. “We can have it there, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he agrees softly. 

And as San lets go of Wooyoung and Seonghwa sits next to him to give him a hug (because he knows that’s better than any words right now), Yeosang can’t help but wonder if now that the party is happening and him and your friends are saying goodbye to you for good, it’s finally time to let go of his feelings for you.

But then, as he watches Yunho sit down in his bed, in the same space where he had you on his lap and with his lips close to yours, the voice in his head that’s been nagging him about the whole thing all these months returns. 

And it laughs at him.

It laughs at his wishful thinking and then it reminds him that there’s no letting go of his feelings for you. Those are there to stay, for a good while, as long as you stay the same person and as long as your smile brings him peace. As long as your happiness brings him his, as long as the rhythm of your feet mark the rhythm of his heartbeats, he’s yours. 

He 's yours. 

Do you want him to be yours?

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. part 2 will be out..... someday in the next few weeks (I promise I'm working on it!)

© jensthwa, 2025.

[yoiisa]

HEEELLAURRR

can I request headcanon bllk boys anyone of your choice including sae 🙏🏻 with wifey reader during post pantrum depression since no one writes about it 😔 and it’s the boys just helping her out here and there??

ofc!!, I’ll do sae, bachira, isagi, and kunigami

all characters aged up (20+)! Tags: TW for depression, anxiety, self-loathing language, and feelings of inadequacy. Reader is struggling w depression in this fic, so proceed with caution for sure! major angst (argument between couple in Isagi's) with tiny doses of fluff throughout, hurt with only a tiny bit of comfort (except for kuni and maybe isagi)

if you ever find yourself struggling with ppd please call 1-800-944-4773 or visit postpartum.net i have so much respect for mothers out there, but please remember that the best mothers take care of themselves as well as their babies!! you got this babe, and with that let's get on to the fic

➜ at first, having a baby with sae itoshi was fine. everything was going smoothly- well, as smoothly as having a newborn could ➜ still, there was always that nagging feeling in the back of your mind that festered in you. it was dark and cold and rose like bile in your throat that you had to swallow down ➜ the monotony of every day settling in on you was only feeding the dread inside of you. waking at the ass crack of dawn for a diaper change or to feed, and then running around all day caring for your daughter's every whim and desire ➜ sae helped where he could, but obviously there were some tasks only you could accomplish, and it was driving you to a brink ➜ eventually, he had to leave to go to Spain for some work, and you swore up and down that you could handle him being gone for a couple weeks. he was reluctant to leave you alone, but duty called after all, so he left ➜ and suddenly, that darkness consumed all of you and it was too much. you just . . . snapped

Sae knew leaving you alone was a bad idea. He'd seen the ways you'd been tiring yourself out, running after Yuki, and without him around, he worried seriously for your health. Nonetheless, you'd insisted that he go to Spain for his work, instead of just trying to handle it all from Japan itself. "I'll be fine, you don't need to worry," you insist, you're head on his chest. "She's been at home for 4 months now, I've gotten our routine down to a science by now." Sae played with your hair, twirling the locks around his fingers as he hummed, "Okay. I'll go then." As he was leaving, he made sure you promised him that if anything happened, anything at all, that you would immediately call him and tell him. You'd just waved him off, which did absolutely nothing to quell the dread in his stomach about leaving. He knows you don't notice how attentive he really is to you, but he notices everything about you. He worships the smallest details that make you who you are, that make you his wife. With that in mind, it's so incredibly frustrating when you think he doesn't notice how your smile doesn't reach your eyes anymore, or how your skin has become dry because you haven't been drinking enough water. It's 2:41 A.M. when he gets the call. It's been a week since he'd left for Spain. He peels his mask off and blinks blearily at his phone, which vibrates along his hotel's night stand. It should be around 9 where you are right now, which is pretty early for you to be calling him . . . unless something happened. Sae instantly sits up alert, his heart racing as he answers and puts his phone to his ear, "Hello? Y/N, what's wrong?" You're silent for a moment, which allows him to hear Yuki screaming her lungs out in the background of the call. Finally, you croak, "Help. Please, she won't stop crying. She's been up since 1 in the morning, and I . . . I don't know what to do." Sae's breath hitches. "I'm coming home." He can tell the guilt is eating you alive as you whisper his name, but he doesn't care. He cuts off any protests you might have with a, "My girls need me. I'm coming home. I'll get on the next available flight. I'll see you soon. I love you." His heart shatters as you don't return the affection, instead just sobbing into the microphone, "I'm sorry."

➜ part of the reason bachira meguru fell for you was because of your smile ➜ you exuded happiness and joy with every step you took and he was drawn to that aura like a moth to a flame ➜ but after having your baby, bachira noticed that the glow you had once was drained from you like a sponge. you traded in your glowing eyes for dark circles and your frown seemed perpetual ➜ worse yet, he noticed how rarely you smiled at your son ➜ at the beginning, when things weren't as bad, you would offer up the occasionally tiny smile, but you'd become so distant from the boy as of late. you'd become distant from him as well ➜ and he hates it. he did what he could to try and pull you back to his side, to get him to tell him what's wrong, but nothing was working, and it was starting to make him feel in over his head as well ➜ he cracks eventually and calls his mom, completely lost on how to help you navigate your depression

It all happens in a blur. One minute, Bachira is walking into your son's nursery to put some laundry away and the next minute, his entire world tilts as you whisper, "I don't love him." You're standing over Kaede's crib, just staring down at the little swaddled thing. Your husband is at your side in an instant, his hands squeezing your arms as he's begging for an explanation. You practically fall into his chest, your legs weak as you fall to the floor. You're not crying or anything, it's like your body's too weak for even that. All you can manage is the quietest, "I don't . . . feel how I'm supposed to when I look at him. I don't know what's happening." Bachira and you stay curled up together on the floor for a while, until Kaede starts crying. You tense in his arms as the shrill sound pierces your ears. Bachira shoots up from the floor and tends to your son, leaving you lying there as helplessness washes over him. Once you've gone to bed later that night, he instantly is on the phone with his mom. "I don't know, is something wrong with her? Should I be scared for Kaede? I don't want him to get hurt," Bachira sighs, rubbing his forehead. "I don't think Y/N will hurt him," Yu sighs on the other end of the line. "She's probably just overwhelmed right now. A lot of women go through this when they first have their kids. We get told a lot that motherhood is this wonderful thing, but a lot of times, the amount of work it takes is exhausting and is completely glossed over. The stress of it all can cause new moms to get really bad depression. It can make you want to give up on everything sometimes." Bachira bites at the skin around his nails before asking meekly, "Did you want to give up on me?" "No," Yu replies fondly, recalling the days of Bachira's infancy. "Believe it or not, you weren't a fussy baby at all. It made being a single mother easier at first, but when you got older, well, you know." Bachira nods as Yu continues, "Why don't I come over for the next week or so? I can help Y/N take care of Kaede, and the two of you can also get some alone time, if I take Kaede off your hands for a while." "Seriously? You don't mind?" Yu shakes her head, her smile widening. "It'd be my pleasure. I'll also talk with Y/N as well. Hopefully she'll feel a bit better. I knew someone who had post partum depression . . . I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy."

➜ isagi yoichi hates feeling powerless more than anything in the world ➜ it's part of the reason he was able to adapt so well in the world of soccer after all. he encounters all kinds of players on the field, and he needs to be flexible with himself in order to make sure he doesn't sink underneath all the talent ➜ but babies are different. they don't operate on logic or patterns or anything like that. they feel everything in excruciating levels and the same can be said for depression ➜ when isagi notices that something's up with you too, in addition to the learning curve of having a newborn son around, he also gets thrown in way in over his head ➜ the two of you begin to have arguments a lot as a result. he is upset because the entire pregnancy, you'd been raving about how you couldn't wait to have a kid, and now? now all of that was gone ➜ after a particularly explosive fight, he finally sees the pain you're going through as well, best believe he'll do whatever he can to make sure you get the help you need ➜ after all, he can't do this by himself

"Yoichi please-" "I just don't understand," Isagi groans, kneeling in front of you. His hands are on your knees and his face is bowed. "I . . . I thought we agreed that this is what we wanted? Why are you backing out now that Ryuji's already here?!" "Who said I was backing out?" you ask incredulously. "Haven't I been doing everything I can? I've been feeding him, changing him, comforting him when he cries. I haven't showered in a week for fucks sake!" "And you look a million miles away throughout it all! You have this face- this horrible distant expression! I just don't understand, didn't you want this?" You slip up and shout, "Who would want this?!" and Isagi flinches back. The two of you stare at one another in horror, before your husband's face contorts to something between grief and anger. "The hell does that mean?" he growls and you lose it. You start bawling and screaming, "Who wants a life confined to just this?! To sore breasts and shit stains and hair pulling and the crying- he won't stop fucking crying! I can't make him stop, you can't make him stop! I don't know what to do!" You fall onto the floor, your hands stabilizing yourself on Isagi's shoulders as you continue to wail. "I want to be there with him! I want to hold my son and be happy to be a mother, but I just can't. Everything feels so big when I hold him, and I feel so small. I hate myself for it! I see other mother's and feel horrible, like why can't I just be them?! It . . . I hate myself so much. I'm horrible. I'm so horrible." Isagi's heart shatters as you cry and he instantly wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his lap. You tuck your face into his neck and inhale, breathing him in in a way you haven't done since long before Ryuji was born. You stay like that for a while before you croak, "You need to leave me." "What?" Isagi blanches. "I'm not cut out for this whole motherhood thing. I'm so scared one day, I'll do something terrible to Ryu. Something that'll hurt him. I'm not safe to be around. You need to leave me." Isagi stills, his heart pounding a mile a minute. Finally he manages, "I'm taking you to a doctor tomorrow. A psychiatrist at the hospital hopefully. Ryuji will go to my parent's house for a while until we can figure out what to do next." Before you can protest anything, he kisses your forehead. "And that step will not be to leave you. Not in a million years, so you can just forget about that."

➜ kunigami rensuke would quite frankly be the best person at helping you deal with your depression ➜ he knows the intensity of depression, and what it can do to people, especially when they are feeling isolated and alone. he did go through the wild card program after all ➜ he thinks back to how he was during his wild card training and the nel, and to know you're experiencing that kinda intense depression right now pains him beyond the telling ➜ ultimately, he just stays by your side no matter what. if you need space from your daughter, he's quick to help you get some quiet. if you need a shoulder to cry on, he'll hold you for as long as he can, letting your tears soak his shirt without a word of complaint ➜ after all, you've given him the gift of your daughter, so the least he can do is take care of her mother, and his wife, as well

You're sitting up in bed, your eyes closed and a cup of tea in your hands. It's only half drunk and starting to cool, but the cup is still warm enough to keep your hands from freezing, so you hold tight. Eventually, Kunigami steps into the bedroom, a soft smile on his face as he sees you. He walks up to you and sits beside you, his head resting on your lap. "Is Sakura asleep?" You ask, petting his orange hair. He hums in confirmation and peeks up at you through his lashes. You take note of the dark circles under his eyes and you look away, guilt eating at you. "I'm sorry," you whisper, and he tilts his head. "For what?" You purse your lips before sighing. You set the tea off to the side and close your eyes. "For making you do all the work. I wish I . . . I was a better mom and wife." He shoots up, immediately his hands going to your cheeks, brushing away imaginary tears. "Hey, hey none of that. You're an excellent mother, and a wonderful wife. Why on earth would you think otherwise?" "Because you've taken all the hard jobs like putting her to sleep and changing her-" "Because you've already done more than enough for her and for me. You keep her alive- hell you gave her life- and you continue to do other things around the house, like cooking amazing food for me. I couldn't ask for anything more, truly." You lean into his hands. A tear leaks from your eyes as you ask, "Really, Ren?" Kunigami nods and presses his forehead against yours. "Just keep doing what you're doing. If I need help, I'll ask, and if you need help, ask. I don't ever want you to feel like you're not doing enough or that you're alone. You're not, you never will be, not while I'm here." You sob, and he kisses you through it, his lips soft against yours. For the first time in months, you feel like you can properly relax.

a/n: this is prob gonna get a tad bit personal, but i just wanna reiterate how much love and respect I hold for mothers out there. all of the women in my fam have problems with their reproductive health, and it's likely that I will too when I'm older. Despite this, they've never been anything but incredibly mothers and role models and I love my mom, my aunts, and my grandma dearly

i also want to be a mom when I'm older and I encourage everyone who also wants this to do some serious research into what pregnancy/motherhood entails. it's rough out here for us girls and no one is gonna support us the way we will ourselves, and part of that means being educated on our bodies, despite the lack of proper research done with them a lot of times

anyways, rant over. love y'all and stay safe to all the mamas out there!

[chronosdawn]

I love the whole reverse isekai Caleb thing and I think I need more of it (Caleb or the other LIs). Thank you for that post🫶

Hi anon, I'm really glad you liked the reverse isekai Caleb post! Reverse isekai and isekai are some of my favourite tropes so I spend a not insignificant amount of time thinking about them. Because Caleb and Xavier are my top two faves, I have the most thoughts on them at the moment so here are my reverse isekai Caleb and Xavier headcanons (I will have a think about the other LIs and try to post about them at a later date ;) ).

Warnings for canon-typical Caleb behaviour and some mature implications in Xavier's section.

Also just for anyone who's not familiar with the term, reverse isekai is where a fictional character ends up in the "real" world. My take on it for Love and Deepspace is that the LIs have been able to percieve you as the player with MC effectively acting as their link to you in game before suddenly finding themselves in our world.

Caleb

As I alluded to in this post Caleb WILL basically take over when it comes to household chores. It's pretty hard to stop him as by the time it occurs to you that you should vacuum the floors or do the laundry, he's already doing it. He also makes it a point to learn what your favourite foods and in no time at all, he's making them to a higher standard than most restaurants.

Caleb wants to know everything about you, your likes, your dislikes, who you're close to in this world, your quirks, etc. He tried to glean as much as he could from the other side of the screen but now he's no longer confined to the game world, he's going to take advantage of it. He's very observant when it comes to you so he picks up on a lot without you ever actually telling him, meaning you don't necessarily catch on until you one day realise he seems to know you better than people you've been friends with for years.

If you have a good relationship with your family, Caleb will 100% want to not only meet them but also ingratiate himself into the household. He doesn't push, but if you mention going to see them, he'll suggest he comes along (he wants to make sure you get there safely and isn't it easier if you have someone along to carry your luggage?). It doesn't help that when he's making an effort to be likeable, Caleb's honestly pretty difficult for even the most stern parent to dislike. He's good-looking, very helpful around the house and so obviously dotes on you that chances are even if you insist the two of you aren't dating, you will then be faced with some level of doubt.

Speaking of which, basically everyone you end up introducing Caleb to (which is almost everyone you know because he is extraordinarily good at inserting himself into your life—dropping off lunch for you at work and meeting your colleagues in the process, getting you to introduce him to your friends when he comes to pick you up after a night out or after he encourages you to invite them over) will assume you're together because there is no other way to explain how he acts around you that makes even a single bit of sense.

On the subject of dating, Caleb absolutely does not push for it all, especially if you appear to have no interest. It's not that he doesn't want to be involved with you like that, he really, really does, but he's honestly just so happy to finally be in the same world as you, to able to take care of you like this, that he doesn't want to jeopardize that. You'll still be able to catch the longing in his eyes when he looks at you though.

Xavier:

This man is a complete menace in a reverse isekai setting and only about 50% of it is on purpose.

Do NOT leave Xavier unattended in your kitchen. He WILL try to cook for you and he is just trying to be helpful but he WILL almost burn your house down. If you like cooking for yourself, he'll also want to join in, you can get around this by giving him simple tasks that are far away from any sources of ignition.

While you're out at work or college during the day, Xavier will spend his time napping and making his way through your book collection. This doesn't sound particularly hazardous and it isn't unless your book collection contains any romance books featuring spicy scenes. If it does, then when you get home, expect to be met with the sight of Xavier lounging on your furniture, heavy lidded blue eyes looking up at you over the top of a book you recognise all too well as he asks whether you like that sort of thing. Unless you want to be part of a very enthusiastic re-enactment later on, you'll need to tell him a firm no.

In terms of the positives of suddenly having Xavier living with you, if you have a poor sleep schedule, he proves pretty effective at fixing it. As it turns out, it’s much harder to put off going to bed when you have a man with the face of an angel asking if you’re staying up because you don’t want to cuddle with him.

While he’s far less coddling than Caleb, Xavier’s also pretty good at picking up on your moods and acting accordingly. If you seem down, he’ll softly suggest you go out somewhere. If you’re worn out, you’ll find yourself being drawn into a nap on the couch.

If you introduce Xavier to any of your male friends, he’s not outwardly rude to them but prepared for him to subtly position himself between you and them while you’re talking, along with much more obviously linking his fingers with yours.  Also if you have any Love and Deepspace merch of any of the other LIs, maybe put it somewhere out of sight unless you want to have a hard time walking the next day.

[sharieb]

LADS X Non-Mc Random Thoughts Pt2

I was planning to wait a while before posting again, but I unintentionally opened the floodgate in my mind and now I'm currently drowning, so I might as well drag you all with me XD. Also, if there is anyone out there who wants to use any of my random thoughts as ideas for your own fanfic, by all means, do as you please, just make sure you tag me, cause I want to read it, please and thanks. This account will also be a backup account to my SharieB25 account as it's not working at the moment. Random Thought: Destiny Cafe We can all agree that we may have read various fanfics that have considered Destiny Cafe as being empty with no staff or customers whatsoever, but what if it wasn't?

Destiny Cafe may as well be a fairly well-known and successful cafe to the point that it has two different locations, so it may have its fair share of loyal customers. So instead, I came up with the idea that both location has a section in their buildings, maybe a room or floor that not many of their customers use or know about. That's where our LIs like to stay the most. Maybe at first, they visit the cafe due to it being recommended to them by their friends or coworkers due the their delightful atmosphere and menu items, or maybe just them stumbling upon the cafe's location that they all visit at separate times. During their first visit, each LI realised, at the time of each of their separate visit, how crowded the cafe was, despite the quick service at the counter, he were hoping to get a seat somewhere, but the cafe was full, until the old yet sweet owner/manager of the cafe noticed the LI and asked if he would like to sit somewhere more private. At first, each LI at the time was hesitant, but then agreed and followed the manager to either a small room around the back of the cafe or up the stairs to the second floor of the building. The moment they each entered the space, the LI couldn't help but feel drawn to this cosy, closed or open space (depending on which cafe they are at). The manager told the LI that the space was supposed to turn into a storage room, but they couldn't bring themselves to do so for some odd reason. The old manager cleaned the best spot in the space for them to sit (like it in the photo, which I don't own as a disclaimer) and then told the LI that he can stay there as long as he likes before leaving him in the quiet, cosy room. The LI stayed in the room for a time, enjoying both his ordered drink and possible treat(s) before getting comfortable and ending up lounging in the chair (just like in the game) for a while. That was until he sensed a presence near him The same outworldly yet familiar presence from earlier, when he interacted with Mc, was now in the cosy space as if engulfing the entire room, causing the LI to tense up for a moment. The LI who was currently occupying the room at that moment knew that he was supposed to be the only one here in this room, but he couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes on him. The LI should be weirded out or concerned as to whether there were hidden cameras in the room, but instead, he felt completely at ease as if he didn't want to leave this very room as he stared at the wall in front of him. Then he spoke out loud to himself as if greeting a close, yet maybe old friend, who was by the door. In his mind, he thought he was going mad at this point, talking to himself... There was until the presence replied to him

That startled him, but his body didn't show it was as if he currently had no control of his body anymore. In his scrambling thought, he can't help but compare the voice to MC, yet it was so completely different as well. Was it due to the cute accent/tone in its voice when the unknown presence speaks? Or was it because his whole body finally became so at ease and off-guard in a sheer short moment that made him both intrigued and uneasy? Soon, he saw a sudden shift in front of him, as if the presence in the room was becoming almost personified. And when it did, the Li's breath hitched. It was a person... well, more like a holographic/ghostly version of a person. The unsettling thing was... The person looks almost exactly like MC... but not truly her at the same time. This person in front of the LI didn't look perfect or flawless like MC always have been in every way... but at that moment his heart was crying out for the person before him, as if after many years if not centuries out at sea, battling the rough rolling seas, he found the shine of a lighthouse from a distance.

I finally found you.

[smoulderingocean]

On June Osborne and Grief

I've been thinking a lot about June and grief in this final episode of The Handmaid's Tale. While there are some flaws, the more I've sat with it, the more I've come to appreciate the brutal and raw honesty of it.

I’m going to be straight with y’all before I get into the analysis: I have had serious issues with June going back to the start of the third season. I have serious issues with her still, as you can see from my posts from episode nine of this season. But with that said, there is something striking about her grief in this final episode and I'm going to be somewhat generous with her here as grief is a difficult, complicated, painful thing to live through and is something that happens for years and years. (Bruce Miller himself said June would be grieving this loss for 25 years and frankly I see that as a low estimate.)

Having currently been going through the grieving process myself, there are a lot of recognizable things going on here with June. She is numb, she is angry, she is detached, she thinks of good times warmly but can't linger on them because the pain is too fresh, and she has so many emotions that she can't work through them all.

The most prominent emotions we see with her are shock and anger.

Let's get the anger out of the way first because it's this part of the story that I see people upset with. And I get it! June's words are awful. They're cruel and heartless and they're lies. And she knows it. She's saying those terrible things for a couple reasons. The most obvious one is that June is projecting the feelings she has at herself towards Nick. She is angry with herself for not helping him and for not being there when he needed her like he always was for her. She is trying to justify the terrible choice she made, because she knows deep down when she accepts what she did, the devastation of it is going to destroy her because she made the wrong choice and it cost her the love of her life and her daughter her father and Nick's unborn baby their father. June knows that in the future she is going to have to explain to those two why their father is gone and that they may well reject her completely because of it. So by projecting her anger, she is protecting herself for the time being. But it will come to get her eventually.

June is also trying to ignore the fact that she is violent and dishonest. June is the one who is reaping what she sowed and she is suffering for it. By dumping those words on a dead man who can't fight back and force her to look at herself, she can push past a part of herself that she doesn't like and doesn't want to see. But she can't run from that forever.

On top of being angry at herself, June is genuinely angry with Nick. In a tight spot, he messed up and shattered every perfect illusion she had of him, turning him from a perfect dream to a complex imperfect human. A terrible, devastating thing happened as a result and in his panic, Nick did not tell her himself (not that I'm sure it would have made a difference) and that fear-based deception also hurt her. Things then fell to pieces because June in turn made a terrible choice. Without her Nick spiralled completely, lost without any love. It is not lack of sex we die from, it is lack of love, and this is starkly visible with Nick as the lack of love in his life drove him deep into Gilead survival mode and he died in the end.

I truly don't think June meant the things she said. She doesn't think he's violent or dishonest or bad or that he reaped what he sowed. In the episode she looks up at the sky and is clearly thinking of him in the moment. It's a subtle acknowledgement from her that he was truly good and he's in heaven, not hell, as she directed her gaze heavenwards and her eyes lingered. She knows in her heart who he was and where he's waiting for her, because now Nick can wait for her and he will be there for her when she gets there.

As for shock, June spends much of the episode in a daze, wandering around and just completely incapable of truly hearing kind words about Nick. Early grief is full of shock as our worlds are destroyed and our brains are trying to keep us alive and we are narrow in our focus. June struggles to even acknowledge those kind words to the degree that she needs to in order to even begin properly grieving this loss, but in the moment she knows Serena was right: Nick never had a real choice in life and if he did, that choice would have been her. (And these words again go back to her guilt- she killed a man who had no real choice and that's a terrible thing. Nick was possibly the most trapped person she knew as unlike others, he had no freedom anywhere that didn’t come compromised, and she made no effort to help him find his way out when he couldn't see a way.) She has an easier time accepting that Nick loves her, because it is impossible to deny such a thing, even after everything that happened- his love for her became his entire existence and she knew it (and frankly she liked it until it became imperfect). It is also impossible to deny he kept her alive and without him she is vulnerable. June is not someone that likes feeling vulnerable and so pushing Nick away in her mind is her trying and failing to not feel vulnerable without him there.

June looks at his apartment, at their little sanctuary, and smiles a broken, faltering smile. She wants to go there and to live in their love, but she is not ready and so she walks away. To go in she first needs to accept she killed him when she could have helped and that she rejected him in his darkest hour when she should have embraced him. In order to accept her role in his death, she needs to accept she is not a perfect person; she is not above others or more moral than them or more righteous. Without Nick there loving her, it'll take a lot longer for her to accept that as he loved all of her, good, bad, and ugly, and in a way no one else has. (And I think his love overwhelmed her and scared her in a way, as he loved her more than she'd ever been loved before.) But when she does, the real work in grieving will begin and that will take many, many, many years. It'll probably take years just for her to accept herself as flawed and that she killed Nick.

When she does accept her flawed self and then her role in Nick's death, I think she'll be grieving him more fully and will be able to open up that apartment door once more and then she'll embrace that he was a flawed man who she did love very much and that she betrayed him and not the other way around. She'll fully live in the love they shared and in the dreams they had that never came to be, and especially in what she has deprived their daughter and his child of. (At the very least, she needs to be looking for Blaine family members to help fill that gap, and this will come once she gets into this grieving space.) She'll def be experiencing complicated grief and will spend decades in the throes of it. But she'll get to experience the good side of things too, once she gets there, as the happy moments will be lived in more and will feel more happy and not bogged down by everything else.

I picked up on a bit of tension in the music in this ep and I think that combined with June's wife coloured teal coat is a sort of nod to her being like the wives of Gilead- standing by and causing so much pain in their goals of achieving their own ends, everyone else be damned. And June is having to face that she is like Serena in ways she hates and that Nick's death is the result of that.

With all that said, I just wish this show didn't rely on subtext so much. Bruce Miller had always relied too much on subtle glances and facial expressions, and doesn’t use dialogue and props enough. They needed a line of June telling Nichole that her Daddy loved her, perhaps another of her really feeling that guilt (Moira would have been perfect here, especially given she lost her fiancee and so she understands this specific type of grief well). A moment of creating a little memorial for Nick or pulling out a secret photo of him and smiling also would have been helpful in adding depth to her grief and emotions. All that would have tied June’s regret and pain together so much better. They lacked a balance with her cruel words and showing what she was actually feeling deep down. Yes, it’s not in her nature to be open or rational, especially when it comes to Nick. But having her do so, even if only with Nichole would have portrayed badly needed character growth.

All in all, after a lot of reflection, I think they got it decently right. Grief can be deeply ugly and we see that here. I just wish we’d seen the beautiful side of grief too, which is love. Grief and love go hand in hand and cannot be divorced.

[seestorimperator]

green apples, flowers, and ash

I daresay I don't post enough about Obedience here. So here, have a pivotal moment between her and Swiss 🖤

Obedience is nearing the end of playing In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida on the chapel organ when she hears voices. There are two of them, one high and bright, the other lower and velvety soft. She isn't about to stop, though, not when she's this close to finishing a song that's so obscenely long. Whoever they are, they can listen to her for a moment before she listens to them. It's common courtesy.

They must realize it, too, because they wait until the last note rings out before they speak to her.

"Very pretty!" That ghoulette is Cumulus, isn't it? With her fluffy cloud of white hair, it's her to imagine she could be anyone else. She's clapping and smiling a smile that outshines the sun, and beside her stands another ghoulette, this one wearing a more stoic expression. Cirrus, most likely. They're mates, if Obedience remembers right.

"Thanks," she says, pushing the bench she's seated on away from the organ. They both play keyboard, don't they? That's probably what they're doing here. "I saw Bart get it played in a church on an episode of The Simpsons, so…" Obedience trails off with a cheeky smile, but neither of them seem to catch the reference, so she stands, brushing dust off her habit.

"It really was pretty, though," Cumulus chirps, taking Obedience's hands in hers.

Just that brief touch is enough to get her scent transferred, and later, it's enough to get Swiss grabbing Cumulus's hands and sniffing hard.

Though Cumulus giggles at the touch of his scruff to her soft palms, Cirrus looks more annoyed, asking, "What's with you?"

Swiss pays her no mind, wide-eyed when he asks Cumulus, "Who did you touch?"

Though she's clearly incredibly amused, she tells him, and he's immediately on his way out of the den and stalking towards the newer area of the building, where the Sisters of Sin have their dormitory rooms.

He's been to Obedience's room before, and he's even spent a few nights of his rut with her over the years, but the smell can't possibly be hers, can it? She's always smelled nice, but not like this.

He knocks on the door, bouncing on his heels while he waits for someone to let him in.

Instead, Obedience's voice calls, "C'mon in."

He finds her stretched out on her stomach on her bed, setting the book she'd been reading aside when she catches sight of the wild look in his eyes.

He pulls the door shut behind himself, making sure to lock it as Obedience stands to meet him, asking, "What's going on?"

Swiss grabs for her hips, pinning her back against the door, his chest pressed to hers, his face buried against her neck. She's small and soft against him, and she smells like fucking paradise. His voice half a growl, he asks, "When did you start smelling this good?"

It takes a moment for her to even consider it, lifting her hands to his chest, finding his heart beating so frantically that she can feel it through the fabric of his shirt. "I don't smell any different," she replies, heat rising in her cheeks.

"You definitely do," he disagrees. "You aren't around Sister Imperator all the time anymore, so her perfume's not covering it up like it used to." He's mouthing at her neck now, the tips of his fangs brushing her skin when he speaks. "This is just the first time I'm smelling you and not you and her."

It's been months since Sister Imperator's passing, and the wound still hurts, but it makes sense. There'd been a few bottles of her perfume left behind, and Copia had gifted one of them to Obedience. It's running out now, though, and so she's finally, finally brought herself to stop wearing it. Of course she smells different without it.

Obedience asks, "How do I smell now?"

"Fucking amazing." His voice is muffled against her skin, his grip on her hips tight enough to bruise.

Doing her best to ignore the warmth building low in her core, she asks again, "Swiss, what do I smell like to you?"

"Like--" He pulls back just enough to meet her eyes with his. They're a strangely metallic shade of gold, blown darker than usual by want. "Like green apples and flowers and ash."

Obedience asks, "Ash?"

"You burned down a church, didn't you?" When she doesn't answer, Swiss leans close again, grinding his hips against her, and she shivers hard.

To cover it, she asks, "You're hard as a rock right now, aren't you?"

As if in agreement, his hips twitch. "Mm-hmm." It's more a purr than a word. "Look, little Sister," he pants, "you can send me away if you need to, but--" He doesn't even want to think about that.

"Tell you what," she says, doing her best not to just melt into him, "I could stand to get fucked out of this weird headspace I'm in, and you…" She glances down, running one teasing fingertip along the outline of his cock. It gives a needy twitch against her. "Clearly you just need to get fucked in general."

"Clearly," he agrees, with a grin.

"We can fuck," Obedience says, "but that's all it is."

Swiss's grin falls. "You expect me to just back off with you smelling like this?"

He really wants her, doesn't he? It's got her weak in the knees and trembling all over. "And if I don't expect that," she replies, "what happens then?"

Swiss thinks for a moment before he answers, "We fuck more, I guess."

Swallowing down a needy whine, Obedience manages to say, "Could be worse."

"Maybe I knot you," Swiss is saying, pinning her to the door again, a smirk tugging up one corner of his lips when she moans against the thigh he's slotted between her legs. "Maybe I make you my mate."

Breathless, she asks, "You'd do that?"

"You think I got a choice?" His smirk softens a bit, and he leans in to brush his lower lip against hers. "Probably why I always came to you in rut."

Even like this, pinned to the door and grinding against his thigh, Obedience manages to tease. "And here I thought you just liked me."

"I do." His fingers splay out across her back, his claws just barely touching her skin as he pulls her body right up against his. "I really fucking do."

Divider by @/strangergraphics

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

I saw this post right now and it just felt weird to me. It was about some person counting exactly how many episodes Zuko was actually "terrorizing" the gaang and their conclusion was "only 9 episodes" and I guess they did that because we say "if you think that katara shouldn't forgive aang for a single mistake then why should she be with the guy who terrorized her and her friends for 2/3rds of the show".

I couldn't read all the points because my tumblr refreshed midway but I was counting along op and it became till 10 when weren't even halfway through the list for me?

Anyways all that is besides the point since the whole "number of episodes" thing is stupid the characters aren't counting their life in the show by the number of episodes it's their continuous life for them.

I don't really know how to articulate it properly. But just counting "the number of episodes" and saying "cmon he only was an asshole for 9 episodes that's not bad" is.. kind of a weird way to read the story.

And they concluded it with "that's why he's not comparable to zhao, ozai, azula or even minor douchebags like jet". And I ask... why not? Using op's on logic, if we count the exact number of episodes where these people were explicitly terrorizing the gaang it would be on par with him (maybe even less). Like, Jet wasn't even present for nine episodes!

My fucking God, the cope. Zuko was chasing the heroes around through the entire world for months, including when it put his own life in danger. And even when he wasn't, he sent an assassin after them. The ONE time he actually chilled, it was so out of character it literally made him sick to the point of spending a whole episode hallucinating because NOT being an asshole for five minutes completely broke his perception of himself.

Zuko has got to be one of the most relentless antagonist ever because he's stubborn as fuck. You know what? Fuck it, I'm checking the episode list and doing the math.

Jet terrorized the Gaang for 1 episode out of 61 (and not only did he regret it, he was forgiven by them).

Zhao's evil bastard count is 6 out of 61 (Winter Solstice Part 2, The Blue Spirit, The Deserter, The Northern Air Temple, and Siege Of The North parts 1 & 2). If we REALLY want to push it and include The Library and The Day Of Black Sun Parts 1&2 since his past actions affected caused trouble for the heroes, it brings him to an 9 episode count.

Azula, if we're counting only direct confrontations with the good guys, has her evil bastard count at 10 out of 61 (Return To Omashu, The Chase, The Drill, Appa's Lost Days, Crossroads Of Destiny, The Day Of Black Sun Part 2, Boiling Rock Part 2, Souther Raiders, and 2/4 of the finale). If we include her evil scheming against them/their side, which is fair, it'd add the episodes The Guru, Nightmares and Daydreams and the first part of the series finale to the list, bringing it to 14 out 61. If we want to push it and add the cliffhangers of the episodes Cave of Two Lovers, The Serpent's Pass and The Earth King to the list, she'd be at 17 out of 61.

Even if we take this bullshit "Zuko only terrorized the Gaang for nine episodes" nonsense seriously, that'd still put him in the top 2 of foes that put them through hell, losing to Azula only by four points. Not exactly a saint, to put it mildly.

Now let's look at the ACTUAL number of episodes in which Zuko got in a direct conflict with the Gaang.

The Boy In The Iceberg, The Avatar Returns, Warriors Of Kyoshi, Winter Solstice Part 2, The Waterbending Scroll, The Blue Spirit, Bato Of The Water Tribe, and Siege Of The North Parts 1&2. We're up to the supposed 9 episodes already and it's only season one. Not looking good considering Zuko won't be redeemed for another season and half (and I'm not couting Imprisoned as I'm going with the same no cliffhanger rule for Azula, and I'm also not including part 1 of Winter Solstice or The Storm, as Zuko only considered going after the Gaang, but didn't actually do it).

Once we get to season 2, we have The Chase and Crossroads of Destiny, bringing his evil bastard count to 11, and I'm once again ignoring an episode, this time a much more relvant one as Zuko might have freed Appa in Lake Laogai, but his original intention was to capture him and thus bait Aang. Only 3 more points and he'll have caught up with Azula.

In season 3 we don't see him getting in a direct fight with the Gaang, but he sent combustion man after them, and since we're counting Azula's evil schemes, we gotta do the same here, adding The Beach and The Runaway to the list, bringing him to 13 points (again, no cliffhanger, so no The Headband). I'm not counting Nightmares & Daydreams or The Western Air Temple, even though I easily could, as Zuko took direct action to address the war meeting and tried to stop combustion man.

(If I were to count these, he'd be at 15 out of 61. If we add Lake Laogai it'd be 16, and if we add in the "considered, but didn't do it" it'd be 18. Finally, adding the cliffhangers we reach 20 out 61)

So either Azula just BARELY gets first place against her brother for most insufferable foe the Gaang ever faced, with 14 points while Zuko has 13, or Zuko can beat her by anywhere from 1 to 4 points depending on what rule we're using. Considering Azula wasn't in season one at all and Zuko had very limited resources in book 2 and was redeemed in the second half of book 3, it makes sense, as they both had far more screentime than any other villain.

This, of course, is me deliberately ignoring the Ozai-shaped elephant in the room, as despite only directly confronting one of the heroes in the finale, he's the only villain to get the full 61 evil bastard points, as he's responsible for nearly every bad thing we see happening in the show due to being Fire Lord (well, only living villain, otherwise Azulon and Sozin also get the same numbers).

And acknowledging said bastard shapped elephant in the room leads to yet another thing that proves this "Zuko only terrorized the Gaang for nine episodes" thing is bullshit. One thing that you have pointed out in your ask and that Zuko stans, particularly if they ship Zutara, tend to ignore: Imperialism does harm NON-STOP, and all the Fire Nation villains are guilty of not only supporting it, but of going out of their way to keep it thriving.

Meaning that actually Zhao has 20 points, Azula has 61 (or 41 if we decide to give her a pass for season 1 since she wasn't an active player yet), and Zuko has 49 points, as they're doing harm through their entire time as villains in the show. Again, Zuko is one of the most relentless antagonists ever due to sheer fucking persistance, meaning the Gaang, and Katara, had A LOT to forgive him for.

And the thing is, they did. She did. But she also forgave Aang for his much smaller, much more forgivable mistakes. Can't have that, therefore Zuko's actions CAN'T be that bad, otherwise it makes it harder to demonize Aang. Because if the Ember Island kiss is unforgivable, what word do you use for SUPPORTING AND PARTICIPATING IN IMPERIALISM AND GENOCIDE?

And I gotta wonder: do these Zuko/Zutara stans see characters like Azula, or even Zhao or Jet who had much smaller roles (and again in Jet's case, were also redeemed), as being OH so much more evil than their precious boy ever was just because they ignore Zuko's own vilany or because, on top of doing that, they also see these character's antagonism towards Zuko as antagonism towards the heroes, even though 90% of it happened when he was a villain too? In fact, do they think that being a dick to Zuko, no matter the reason or to what extent, is somehow WORSE than genocide?

I think I know the answer.

[thatonethimbo]

Prelude to a Requiem

[Originally posted on Ao3 under WriterAgreste]

It'd been planned weeks in advance, a nice break from everything that had been keeping all of you busy, it's just unfortunate that when they invited themselves inside after silence as their only answer did they understand why.

Or, you're stuck at home not feeling well and the pair stumble upon your current condition, postponing the party plans for a later time. Comfort ensues.

---- Flicking a stray strand of hair out of their face, Noob stared down the long, winding driveway shadowed by the cluster of trees, spots of moss showing within the cracks. Beside them, Guest 666 stood, his hat casting a shadow over her own face, a thoughtful expression present. Noob smiled in his direction and began the walk down the concrete path, Sixer in tow.

They could barely contain their excitement, almost slipping on a loose pebble and falling over but thankfully their friend caught them in time and set them upright, grabbing onto their arm to slow their pace in case it happened again.

''Everyone's gonna be there, Sixer! It'll be sooo much better when they're there too, don'tcha think?" Noob glanced at Guest, who smiled slightly.

Finally, they reached the door. Noob stepped back, chuckling a little to themselves self-consciously as their friend went to knock instead. Their fingers itched to do it but Guest had some level of restraint, it'd hardly seem appropriate for their close friend to get bombarded with the sound of fervent knocking.

Yet even after Guest's knocking, nothing came. Not even a footstep, only the distant rustle of the leaves around them and the sing-song of birds higher up.

''You… don't think they're asleep, don't you?" Noob reached inside their pockets, checking their phone. ''They said they'd come…''

After a moment passed, Guest heaved a sigh, reaching for the door knob. But his friend didn't stop her, turning it as the door creaked open…

… into darkness.

Noob gulped. ''You sure we can't ring them?'' Guest shook his head, stepping inside. Their cheery demeanour wavered somewhat, a small bead of sweat dripping down their face. Okay. So this wasn't going as planned. Their friend stopped, looking back at them questioningly. ''Okay! I'm coming!'' They hurried in after her, sticking to their friend’s side as they navigated through the dimness.

They called your name. No answer.

Treading further had the same results. Noob was beginning to worry, did something happen to you while they were on their way here? Their worries swirled in their mind, intensifying with each passing second, but a hand on their shoulder made it quieten. Guest's hand rested there, meeting their gaze. Noob nodded and continued on with their friend at their side, a little more reassured now.

They stopped upon coming to a familiar door. Despite the urge to look at their friend, Noob mustered up their own courage and turned the handle, quietly stepping inside. Immediately, they wrinkled their nose at the foul stench that practically launched itself at their face, the assaulting odour not being the greeting they had been expecting. Guest pushed past them, walking further in, before pausing.

Down at his feet lay piles of rubbish amid scattered clothes strewn across the floor, obstructing most of their path if they did not watch their step. Carefully, both of them stepped over the abandoned chip packets, dirty band shirts and something they did not want to know what it was, finally reaching the bed.

Under the thick covers, Noob could see a faint shape, but it did not move. Before they could even act, Guest moved forward, pulling it away. There you lay, still. She looked over at Noob, worry showing yet a soft inhale made her refocus.

‘’Hey… you alright?” Noob gently spoke, rousing you from your sleep. Turning over, your half-lidded gaze barely met theirs. That’s when they noticed the shadows under your bloodshot eyes. They winced, reconsidering their own question.

’’I’m sorry…’’ You mumbled, curling in yourself upon seeing both of your close friends. ‘’I couldn’t come. I thought I’d be able to… I didn’t mean for you to-…’’ You trailed off.

’’That’s okay.’’ Noob patted the bed, hesitating for a moment before opening their mouth. ‘’Can I sit here?” You nodded in response, as they slid onto the bed beside you. ‘’We don’t have to go out.’’

’’…really?” You uttered out. ‘’We planned this in advance, you don’t need to ruin this for yourselves…’’

Noob shook their head. ‘’We’re your friends. You’re part of our world, you know?” Guest nodded in agreement, finding a spot on the bed to sit, initially taking a moment to check that you weren’t uncomfortable.

You looked away at that, staring at the other side of the dimmed room, unsure of how to respond. ‘’You have your own lives, why bother?” Noob frowned slightly at your tone, yet Sixer shuffled a bit closer to your side.

He helped you sit up, which was harder than it looked considering you didn’t have much energy. A small smile came onto her face whilst looking at you and you managed a tiny one yet it didn’t last too long.

‘’Tell you what. If you want us to stay, it won’t be much of a problem. We’re happy being here as is, we don’t need a party to enjoy what we have.’’ Noob offered, falling silent to give you a moment to think.

''Give me 10 minutes, I might be able to get out of bed then.'' You told them with as much strength you could muster at the moment. Noob took that as their cue to slide off the bed, with Sixer doing the same as well.

''Okay, but please don't push yourself.'' Noob reminded you before stepping out with their friend in tow. But your decision changed halfway through it, reaching out for both of them. Guest noticed from the corner of her eye, stopping and coming back over. It was a little too late for Noob to notice, but it didn't worry you too much, Sixer's company was enough. He resumed his position from before, giving you some space. Yet you grabbed her hand and so she moved a bit closer.

Silence was all that followed. There was no need for words, simply a moment in eternity to be treasured regardless. Guest stayed close, breathing in and out with such calmness your own breaths soon followed suit. Your heartrate slowed to a nice pace as you drank it in, knowing there was a limit as to how long it’d last anyway.

Yet 10 minutes passed, and Noob poked their head back into the room, pausing when they saw both of you there. They turned and walked back out, waiting for when you'd come out on your own terms. A few of the lights had been turned on in your home, a soft glow encasing the room, yet some flickered so Noob had to turn them off (they were also pretty sure they spotted a spider somewhere, eek!).

Eventually, you stepped out, rubbing your eyes, and looking around at your kitchen, then at Noob who was currently raiding your pantry. ''Hey…!'' You chided your friend who looked at you as if you had eaten a whole turkey in one go. ''Wasn't able to go out and get food…'' Back then, it would’ve been a wise decision, lately you hadn’t been getting enough energy despite how much you slept.

Guest brushed past you and Noob, laser-focused on her own task as she navigated through the kitchen with what looked to be a cookbook tucked under his arm, placing it down on a nearby counter top and rummaging through whatever he could get his hands on. Noob guided you away from the unfolding scene, instead directing you to the couch where a half-empty pizza box lay, one half of it squashed and what remained of the pizza that was probably now stale showing through the gap in the lid and the bottom.

They grabbed it and put it elsewhere, letting you sit down. ‘’Stay put. I got an idea.’’ Noob winked at you before walking off somewhere else. Whilst Sixer worked on something in the kitchen, you simply sat there on the couch. An unseen weight pressed on you, yet it was felt all the same as you could only wait for whatever it was that Noob had planned. When they returned, you perked up seeing a weighted blanket in their grasp, having to hold it with both hands tightly due to how heavy it was.

‘’Yayy…!’’ You grinned as wide as you could, Noob setting it down on you as the comforting blanket covered your lower half. Pulling it up over yourself more you relished in the familiar feeling. ‘’How’d you find it?”

‘’Well, last time I was here, you told me about all the stuff you put in the attic. It was fun going up there and seeing what you had.’’ They explained, sitting down next to you. ‘’Uh, did you hear anything while I was gone?” Noob looked at you questioningly before you shook your head. What looked like relief washed over their face. ‘’Well, phew.’’

Nearby, Sixer smirked to himself. He’d heard the distant screaming of their friend as they searched through the attic, and then a yelp or two, maybe stumbling on something they hadn’t seen in their way. Probably a story for another time if she felt like sharing it. Oh, what she would pay to see what happened in person, it was probably a spider that they were screaming about- speak of the devil… Guest’s eyes narrowed in on a small insect creeping up Noob’s back, unseen to both who were both relaxing beside each other to notice. She wiped the knife in her hands clean and put it down, walking over.

‘’Is there like any movies you wanna watch? Like… uhhh…’’ They furrowed their eyebrows, thinking of a movie they could all watch, oblivious as Guest moved closer. ‘’Walking with Drakobloxxers? Maybe Legally Blonde?’’ Noob listed off a few more titles, as their friend loomed just above their shoulder, thankfully not casting a shadow over them. Your eyes widened slightly, before Sixer’s hand shot forward, nimbly plucking the spider off Noob’s back. ‘’Wha- EH?” Noob’s head whipped around to see what was going on, only to spot what was in his grasp. ‘’AAAAAAAAAAA-‘’

You cringed at their scream, though you knew it’d be much, much louder if you heard it at the volume that Sixer and Noob themselves usually did, as Guest could only walk away to relocate the spider. ‘’You done?” You met their gaze once they had stopped. Wiping some sweat off their face, they nodded, chuckling nervously. Once Guest came back, you put on a movie for all of you to watch, whilst Guest continued making something in the kitchen.

About half an hour into the first movie, you felt the couch cushion beside you dip under a sudden weight, feeling something press against your side. You didn’t even need to turn your head to know who it was as she wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer to him. Noob huffed, meeting Guest’s gaze yet the latter smirked. They put an arm around you too, having accepted their friend’s challenge which now had you feeling like you were the goal in a tug of war.

‘’Okay, you two, I love you both.’’ You wish you were able to laugh at their faces, both reddened at the confession. It was Noob who acted first, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your cheek as your skin flared up with uncomfortable heat, now reduced to a stuttering mess. Guest rolled his eyes and looked at you for a moment as if asking permission. Once you nodded, she tilted your face towards him a bit more and pecked your lips with surprising sweetness.

‘’Oh my god, you killed them, Sixer!’’ Noob gasped as you sank into the comfy couch cushions. You could die happy now, a smile adorning your features, as giggles bubbled up from within your throat, spilling into the open air. The unseen weight remained present, yet there was something else now, a blissful lightness that made everything else a little brighter and maybe easier to bear. Though now you had to question the fact they were still in their party clothes. It wouldn’t be nice to sleep in them.

‘’Uh,’’ You spoke up, straightening out to look at them again. ‘’You staying the night? I might have some spare pajamas you could wear, if you are, no pressure.’’ You added on hastily.

“A sleepover? Yeah, sure!’’ Noob replied, getting up from the couch as Guest did the same. ‘’Where are they?”

‘’In the attic, go knock yourselves out.’’ You answered, noticing them stiffen. ‘’What’s wrong?”

‘’Nothing. Uh, come on, Sixer.’’ Both left the room, leaving you with some questions that you bet wouldn’t ever be answered (unless a certain person let you know what exactly it was). The moment they came back, Guest resumed his post in the kitchen, now wearing blue pajamas with monkeys all over them. Noob had purple and black striped ones, which was fitting considering their party outfit. They’d taken their hair out of the ponytail, keeping the extensions in.

Soon enough, a delicious aroma wafted from the kitchen, causing your stomach to rumble on cue. Guest grinned over at you once you made brief eye contact, putting down a damp cloth and then the warm tray of dinosaur nuggets on top of it. You pulled off the weighted blanket, getting to your feet and walking over to have a closer look.

Sure, there were a few of those store bought meals on the countertop, but somehow Guest had managed to make them look more delicious than they had initially. You thought you’d have to throw them out with how much your energy had dropped recently, albeit your mouth began to water as Noob came up beside you, licking their lips.

‘’Spring rolls! Thank you!’’ Noob went to snatch them but Guest whacked their hand away before they could touch the food. ‘’Hey!’’

‘’They’re probably still hot, you goose.’’ You teased them as you went to grab plates, and some tongs to pick out what you wanted. The other two followed suit, someone going through the cupboard behind you, probably for some sauce. Sitting down at the table, you wiped away the dust that had collected, as they sat down too. Noob reached for the sauce bottle in front of you, and you held back a snicker once you noticed what it was, watching as they put some on their plate. Eagerly, they grabbed a chicken nugget and dipped it, shoving it into their mouth.

At first, it was gradual. A slow, realisation that dawned on their face, stopping their chewing before tears shone in their eyes, going still as they stared blankly ahead, seemingly unable to process what was happening as it unfolded. Then, a redness began to spread across their face as smoke drifted upward from their head, before turning to fire that engulfed their hair. Quickly, with Guest’s help, you slid over a cup of milk which they grabbed and gulped down.

‘’EPICSAUCE?” Noob yelled out, still recovering from the shock as they turned the bottle around. It wasn’t tomato sauce as they expected, rather the spicy stuff with a good kick to it that those with barely any tolerance could stomach. Groaning, they pouted. What was also good about Epicsauce was that the fire doesn’t really burn whatever it touched. And well, it could’ve been prevented if you had enough time to warn them, a little too caught up in the moment which you did regret to some degree.

‘’Sorry about that.’’ You grabbed the Epicsauce for yourself as Sixer slid over the tomato sauce, seemingly holding back laughter as the corners of their lips curled. Noob grumbled to themselves as they watched you leisurely taste it without much issue, grinning as the flames lit up. ‘’It’s got a nice kick to it.’’

Guest finally let out the laughter she’d been holding in, a sound so infectious it brought out laughter from yourself and Noob, despite the very recent mishap they had suffered through. When you were done, your chest hurt, before smiling to yourself and finishing what was on your plate. Noob took everyone’s dishes, taking them to the sink. It seemed pretty late now, and you were about ready to drop dead onto the floor. But your room still reeked, the bed untidy and uncomfortable, you wouldn’t be able to get enough sleep.

Yet automatically, or rather by some unseen force, your feet guided you to the couch, plopping down onto the plush cushions and pulling the weighted blanket over you. It’s much easier to fall asleep here as you get comfortable, drifting off almost instantly.

From the kitchen, Guest’s eyes widen a bit, putting a finger over his mouth to shush their friend as they went to talk, pointing over to your sleeping form. Noob’s eyes lit up, going ‘’awwh’’ and walking closer, taking a spot next to you as they leaned their head on your shoulder whilst Guest went to the other side, laying across your lap.

There, silence fell, the soft glow of the lights bathing them in their warmth.

Tonight, it’s finally quiet.

And rest embraced you with open arms.

[2.8k words]

[schemmentisimpasours]

Getting Control Back: Chapter 12 (The Final)

Summary: Melissa and Reader and back to school and ready to disclose their relationship to the world. Melissa is happy and knows that she can take on the world as long as Reader is there to support her. And as much as I hate to see them go it is time to let Reader and Melissa ride of into the sunset.

Warnings: None

Masterlist

Previous Chapter

2.1k

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Melissa appreciated the fact that you had scheduled time to be at home from your vacation before the back to school crazy started. It was only two days but it gave you both time to unpack boxes that your sister had brought over and be able to settle into a routine that now contained both of you instead of one. The older woman thought that she would have regretted another person encroaching on a space that she had made just for her. But with you it felt easy. Like a missing piece that slid exactly into place. 

Now as she was curled on the couch with you watching Great British Baking Show she felt at peace and was not filled with her usual anxiety from coming back from break. With you she felt like she could take on the world. So she leaned into the feeling letting her head rest in your lap as your played with her hair. 

It was awhile before you broke the silence,“On Monday I think we should get to school early…”

“I'm not going to be a secret,” Melissa blurted out jumping up from your lap and  immediately spiraling, “I'm not some dirty little secret. I'm your girlfriend and I don't care if anyone knows. I'm not going to be a secret again.”

“Angel. Babe. Baby. Melissa,” You called out as she continued her rampage, “SCHEMMENTI!”

This stopped her immediately as she whipped to glare at you. She couldn’t remember the lat time that you had called her anything besides Angel unless you were in a school setting. It did nothing to calm you down and only made her more upset  She crossed her arms a pout forming on her lips, “That isn’t my name.” 

“I know but you cut me off Angel. I tried to get your attention and you weren’t listening,” You said reaching for her hand and rubbed the back of it gently, “I was saying we should go into work early because the HR paperwork might take us awhile since Ava is going to ask us a billion questions. I know that she has an inkling of what is going on but I want to make us official. Do it the right way before she hounds us like she did Gregory and Janine. Plus everyone probably saw all your Instagram posts from spring break and not all of them were exactly PG rated. You know she is gonna eat up every moment of our interrogation.”

“Oh so you weren’t telling us we should go to work early so no one would notice us together,” Melissa replied shame creeping into her cheeks as she looked down at her lap, “I'm so sorry. I made a rash assumption before I let you finish.”

“No need to apologize. I get where you thought I was going to say those things but that is the furthest thing from my mind,” You replied raised her chin gently so she was staring at you, “Angel, I love you. You will never be a secret to me.”

She smiled but you could still hear the doubt in her voice, “You love me?”

“More than anything in this goddamn world. You are my light on the darkest of days,” you said, “And I will spend every single day proving it to you. I know you have been hurt before but Angel… you have to stop treating me like I'm Barbara.”

She nodded leaning in to hug you, “I'm sorry hun. You aren't like Barbara at all. And I need to stop thinking you will leave.”

“Never,” You promised.

She glanced around her home which now contained all of your knick knacks. Pictures of the two of you plastered on every wall. Most of them taken from your recent trip but others from the beginning of your relationship. Your blankets were drapped over her now plastic free couch. Melissa had found no point in keeping it when any mess just seemed like another way to remember that you were really there alongside her. Athena’s food bowl was nestled into a corner with an overlowing toy box next to it. The pitbull was curled up on her “throne” underneath a blanket with only her nose sticking out. She was snoring loudly a small piece of her tongue sticking out. Everything in her home screamed “Y/N and Melissa” now and it warmed her heart.

“I mean it would be a lot of stuff to gather to run away in the middle of the night,” She joked and you giggled with a roll of your eyes, “We did this all out of order.”

You quirked your eyebrow at her encouraging her to continue, “Pretty sure I was supposed to tell you I loved you before I made you move all your things to our house. Instead I just gave you keys and told you to move in.”

You laughed kissing her cheek, “Who cares that it was out of order. This is the way that we wanted to do it and that is what matters. You showed me in a million different ways that you loved me. There was never a doubt in my mind. I was giving you time for the rest.”

Melissa looked at you seriously, “I do love you Y/N. More than I have ever loved anyone. You helped me through some of my darkest times. You reminded me who I was and all of the things that I could be. You gave me control back in my life. Something that at one point I thought I lost. I wouldn't be here without you. I love you forever.”

Without saying a word you hauled the older woman onto your lap standing up quickly. She yelped as she curled her arms around you trying to gain purchase.

“Baby! What are you doing?” She yelped.

“Taking the love of my life up to our bedroom. In our house. To our bed. So I can really show her how much I love her,” You smiled as you clung to the redhead.

Melissa laughed pecking small kisses along your neck as you navigated the stairs with ease. Once in the bedroom the laughter didn't stop as you threw her on the bed and kissed every single piece of skin you could find on the redhead murmuring “I love you” after every one. 

~-~

The following day and the first day of school after break came quicker than Melissa would have liked. She hadn’t felt this nervous since her first year at Abbott but there were so many changes happening all at once she felt overwhelmed. She was finally back to her 2nd graders only but you would be moving to Gregory’s class and though the week of separation had made her used to you no longer in her class she was still nervous. How was she going to operate without you when working with you had become so seamless? Not to mention you were going into school not only as coworkers but in a relationship. She hadn't wanted to be a secret but being out to the ever curious Janine and Jacob felt like working two jobs at once. 

Then of course there was the issue of Barbara who had never explicitly apologized for what she said but had texted Melissa asking her to come over every couple of days since their blowout. It was as if she assumed that Melissa would come crawling back to her. Which in the past she always would have but now she had you. Who stood in the kitchen like you owned the place making coffee into Melissa’s favorite cup. Her heart warmed at the sight but still had hurt around the thought of Barbara that she didn’t know how to work through. Melissa didn't want her remaining hurt feelings to create a wedge between the relationship she had fostered with you.

“Baby…” you called out snapping your fingers gently in front of her face, “You are overthinking again.”

She pulled you to her curling her head into your chest, “What if I see Barbara and all of this hurt feelings come back? I am so happy now… but what if being in the room with her unravels me at the seams.”

“Then we will work through it together my love,” you promised, “your feelings are valid and important. However they present I will be with you every step of the way. You do not have to go through this alone anymore.”

Melissa kissed you long and hard, “How did I get so fucking lucky to be able to find a love like yours?”

“I believe we have Ava to thank. She did push us together and refuse to let you fire me. I think that is whatreally did it,” You joked giving her one last kiss, “Now let’s go to work. Our little eagles are waiting for us. ”

~-~

When Melissa stepped out the car at Abbott almost everyone’s cars were nestled into the parking lot. You reached for her and she took your hand with smile and walked in the doors a whole new woman. No longer a dirty secret that was kept hidden in motel rooms. Instead she was on the arm of the woman she loved. She seemed brighter, she walked lighter, smiled wider. Her whole world shifted into something that she had spent years chasing. 

The meeting with Ava was full of glitter pens and questions that had you both blushing. But mostly it was full of smiles and an approving nod from Ava. She was happy that her Red was finally back to herself and even more excited that it was you that had brought her out of her shell. Once the paperwork was filled out you didn't release your hand from hers even as you entered the break room where everyone turned to stare. Melissa wanted to turn and run but instead you dragged her to the table where Janine, Jacob, and Gregory sat wide eyed.

You plopped her down in a chat and leaned down to give her a small kiss before walking to the counter, “Your usual baby?”

“Of course, thank you love,” she said before pulling out her phone trying to find some semblance of her normal routine.

“Wait!” Janine yelled breaking the silence in the room, “You and Y/N are a thing…Ava did you know?”

Ava was looking extremely unimpressed while stirring her coffee, “They signed HR papers this morning but I have none for weeks. Now that Y/N is working for Gregory and not directly under Melissa I don’t care. But I did win a bet so where is Mr. Johnson he owes me $20.”

“Which reminds me,” Melissa said turning towards Gregory, “If you so much as insult, overwork, or hurt my girl in any way while she is in your class I'll break Edith out you schmutz.”

Gregory looked wide eyed and he nodded that he understood. Jacob clasped his hands together, “Now there is the Melissa we all know and love.”

Melissa growled until you placed a hand on her shoulder, “Babe, you don’t even have Edith and what else did I tell you?”

“Be nice to your friends or no sex for a week,” She huffed looking back down at her phone again, “Seems a little extreme to me.”

The whole table laughed as you placed her coffee in front of her. Her fingers wrapped around the coffee mug and she beamed up at you. You could see the glimmer in her eyes as the rest of the room seemed to melt away. Suddenly it was like you were back in that cabin hours away from prying eyes and Melissa remembered all of the reasons she fell in love with you. You finished your own cup of coffee and plopped down in the chair next to the red head. She wrapped her hand protectively over your thigh before leaning in to kiss you on the cheek.

It was in this moment that Barbara walked in two coffees in hand. One for her and one for Melissa. The whole world seemed to pause as she caught the sight of her red head with a twinkle in her eye that used to be reserved for only Barbara. Instead now it was amplified and Barbara realized she had lost her own personal bet. Melissa didn't crawl back to her. In fact she seemed further away than ever. She didn't even notice Barbara because she to busy pushing back a loose hair that had fallen in your face. Once the strand was secure behind your ear Melissa laid her head on your shoulder and began talking to Janine like it was something that she did every day. Barbara dropped the coffee in the trash realizing her dirty secret had slipped through her fingers. 

-

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