#And I know. It all looks a little crooked

[insidekatmind]

Mission- Bucky Barnes

Wearning: +18,smut

Request: yes!

The jet lands with a jolt on the deserted runway of a private island. Outside the window, palm trees sway in the breeze, and a pink sunset paints the horizon. There’s no time to appreciate it, though. You’re here for a mission, and it’s already off to a bad start.

“I can’t believe I have to do this with you,” scoffs Bucky Barnes, throwing you a look of pure disgust.

“The feeling is mutual,old man,” you reply through gritted teeth. Your name, Y/N, is printed on the fake passport you’re holding, but your real task is far more complicated than maintaining a false identity. The mission requires you and Bucky to pose as a happily married couple to infiltrate an exclusive gala hosted by an international arms dealer.

“Wasn’t there literally anyone else available?” he asks, shaking his head.

“We’re not here for sympathy, Barnes. You’re the only one with a shady enough past to avoid suspicion.”

He laughs, but without a shred of humor. “And you’re the only one who speaks enough languages to keep up with a crooked diplomat. Just don’t expect me to pretend I enjoy being here.”

“And don’t expect a hug from me,” you reply with an icy smile.

---

The villa assigned to the two of you is luxurious: white marble, designer furniture, and an ocean view that takes your breath away. Too bad the tension in the room is heavy enough to crush any promise of relaxation.

“There’s only one bed,” you say, pointing to the massive king-sized bed in the middle of the room.

“Perfect,” Bucky replies, dropping his bag on the armchair nearby. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Not a chance. I need proper sleep for tomorrow night’s gala.”

“Don’t worry, princess,” he says with a smirk. “I wouldn’t come near you even by accident.”

You finally decided to share a bed. You were wearing shorts and a tank top as you stared at the ceiling.

Bucky lies next to you, tense and unmoving. Even without looking at him, you can feel the distance between you both, like a chasm that can’t be crossed. Your eyes wander to the ceiling, tracing the pattern of shadows in the dim light. Finally, he breaks the silence.“Do you expect me to believe that you actually need sleep?” he mutters under his breath.

"What?" You ask, turning to him.Bucky doesn't turn to you, but his voice is still laced with sarcasm. "You heard me. I know you're used to pulling all-nighters for missions. You don't exactly act like the type to need a full eight hours to feel refreshed."

You look at him with a twinkle of sarcasm. "Well this time it's different, I'm on a mission with you and I have to put up with you, so I need sleep".

Bucky rolls over onto his side, finally facing you. “Oh, so I’m such a pain that I keep you awake now?” he says with a smirk. “Is this how you treat all the people you’ve ever worked with?”

"not just old men who think they are better than others" you reply looking at him.“Old man?” He repeats, sitting up on the bed. “You’re really calling me an old man? Aren’t you supposed to flatter your partner on these missions? Or is that just reserved for the men you actually like?” he jokes.

You roll your eyes ignoring him.Bucky doesn’t get ignored easily, though. He scoots his way towards you in the bed, his prosthetic arm brushing against your arm. “What, no smartass reply? I can’t believe I’ve finally managed to shut you up,” he teases, his voice low and quiet.

“Keep your hands or I'll turn your other arm into vibranium too,” you threaten.

Bucky holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Easy, sweetheart. I’m just trying to get a reaction out of you.” He scoots even closer, so that you can feel the heat of his body next to you. “And I think I’ve succeeded.”

“Very funny arm wrestling,” you say sarcastically.“You got plenty of jokes, huh?” Bucky replies, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He leans in a little closer, the distance between you almost vanishing. “You know, I can think of a better way to occupy that smart mouth of yours, princess.”

You turn and find yourself a little too close to him. "Oh really?" you say sarcastically.Bucky takes advantage of your proximity, invading your personal space even further. His face is inches from yours now, his breath dancing across your skin. “You’d be surprised,” he murmurs, a hint of danger in his voice. “I’ve got some ideas….”

Bucky’s fingertips graze your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. “I wonder if you’d be this sarcastic if I took away that smart mouth of yours.”He shifts his weight on the bed, pinning you against the sheets as he leans over you. He’s so close now that you can feel the heat of his breath on your face.

"What the hell are you doing?" You murmur, looking at him above you.Bucky smirks, relishing your surprise. “What does it look like I’m doing?” he asks, his voice a low growl. His head dips down, his lips brushing against your neck. “I’m testing a theory….”

Bucky's hands roam over your body, the metal one surprisingly gentle. “Tell me your theory,” you manage to gasp as his fingers tease the edge of your tank top.Bucky's lips find your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “My theory is that your smart-ass mouth isn’t as tough as you think it is,” he whispers, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “And I bet I could find a more entertaining use for it.”

“Your theory is wrong old men” you say.Bucky laughs at that, his chest rumbling against yours. “Oh, we’ll see about that,” he says, his hand sneaking under the hem of your shirt. “I’ve yet to see you speechless. I bet I could make you speechless. I bet I could make you forget every smartass comment you’ve ever thought and make you begging for more.”

“get your hands off me” you say looking at him.Bucky's hand stills, pressed flat against your stomach. “Is that what you really want?” he asks, his voice a low murmur. “Or are you just saying that because you’re too stubborn to admit you like my hands on you?”

"Why would I like it, hm?" You murmur, looking at him.Bucky grins above you, his eyes flicking down to your lips. “Oh, I think you do. I think you like me this close to you. I think you like the way my hand feels on your skin….”

His prosthetic hand travels up, pushing under your top until you can feel the cool metal against the skin of your stomach. “I think you’re just too stubborn to admit it,” he says, his voice a sultry whisper.

His fingers trace the edge of your bra through your shirt, a light touch that sends a shiver down your spine. “I think you’re struggling to keep hold of all those smartass comments, aren’t you?” he murmurs. “I think you’re about to lose your words completely.”

“fuck you” you blurt out looking at him.Bucky laughs, his voice a deep rumble. “Now that’s exactly the kind of dirty talk I like to hear,” he replies, enjoying your reaction. His hand slips down, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts. “You know, you really should watch that mouth of yours, princess.”

You could feel his hardness touching you and you looked up at him. "You like this kinky game, yes?" you murmur.

Bucky’s smirk turns into a grin, his eyes darkening with want. “I like anything that gets a reaction out of you,” he replies, his hand roaming across your hip and up your thigh. “And you’ve been giving me quite the reaction.”

His hand slips under your top, his fingers splaying across your back. He pulls you closer to him, his hips grinding against yours. “But I have a feeling we could both have some more fun…”

You hold back a moan feeling his hardness more towards you.Bucky’s smirk only widens as he hears your stifled moan. “That’s more like it,” he says, his hand moving to the back of your neck. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to make a noise for me.”

"you won't get anything from me" he murmured not with the same certainty that characterizes you.Bucky laughs, his breath hot against your skin. “Oh, princess, I think you underestimate me,” he replies. “I’ll get you to make all sorts of pretty noises for me before the night is over.”

His lips find your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. “And you can’t fool me,” he murmurs. “I can feel you shivering, I can hear your breathing getting rougher. You like this, don’t you? You like the way I’m touching you….”

His hand is roaming over your body, pushing your shirt higher over your stomach and your chest. “Go on,” he urges, his voice husky. “Say it. Tell me you like it when I touch you like this….”

“No, I don’t,” you say even as your sighs grow heavy.

Bucky laughs at your stubbornness, but there’s an edge to it. “Oh, princess, you’re a terrible liar,” he says, his hand moving to your waist. “I know you want this. I can feel it in the way you arch your back when I touch you. And I’m not going to stop until you stop pretending.”

His mouth is on your neck now, his teeth scraping against your skin. “Stop playing games, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “Tell me you want me. Tell me you need me.”

You moan at the contact. “no, I don’t” you say in a tense voice.

Bucky’s smirk widens, his hand sliding up your leg. “Your moans don’t seem to agree with your words,” he murmurs. “I know you can’t resist me. I know you’re just as much of a mess under my touch as I am under yours….”

His hand moves farther north, slipping under the hem of your shorts. “Give in, princess,” he whispers, his voice a low growl. “Just say the words and I’m all yours….”

You closed your eyes trying not to give in but you could feel Bucky's hand playing with your thong.Bucky lets out a low chuckle as he feels you react to his touch. “There you go,” he murmurs, his fingers playing with the lace of your lingerie. “I know you’re close to breaking, isn’t that right? I know you’re just moments away from giving in…”

His thumb brushes against your most sensitive spot through the thin fabric, drawing a gasp from your lips. “Come on, princess, I want to hear you say it,” he says, his voice dripping with want. “I want to hear you admit that you want this as badly as I do…”

You moan at the touch and arch. “I hate you so much” you murmur.Bucky laughs huskily, feeling your body respond to his touch. “No, you don’t,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. “You don’t hate me at all. You hate how much you want me…. How much you need me….”

His fingers toy with the waistband of your shorts, his hand edging them down your hips. “Admit it, princess,” he whispers, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. “Admit that you want me as badly as I want you….” His hand moves to your inner thigh, his touch light and teasing. “Say the words,” he urges, his voice low and rough. “Say you want me, princess. Say you need me just as badly as I need you….”

You bit your lip to keep from giving in but it was very difficult, you were wavering and you just wanted him to give you pleasure.Bucky lets out a low curse as he feels you resist him. “You’re such a stubborn little thing,” he grumbles, his hand tightening on your thigh. “But I won’t let you keep up this act, princess. I’ll break you, it’s only a matter of time…. Just say the words, sweetheart….”

His fingers slide further up your thigh, edging up under your shorts. “Just a few words, princess,” he urges, his voice rough with want. “Just tell me you want me, and then I’ll give you what you need…”

You moan again but you don't want to give in. "No".Bucky curses again, his fingers tightening on your thigh. “You’re so damn stubborn, princess,” he mutters, his voice tight with want. “But you’re also lying to yourself….”

Bucky finally leans down and kisses you passionately and hungrily.The kiss is almost violent, a clash of need and desperation. Bucky’s lips are hot against yours, his tongue seeking yours as he presses you into the sheets. He bites at your bottom lip, then leans back, his eyes dark with desire. “Say it, princess,” he growls, his hand still on your thigh. “Just say you want me….”

You moan and kiss him. Bucky laughs huskily, his hand moving up your body. “There we go, princess,” he murmurs against your lips. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for…”His lips move down to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there and causing you to gasp again. “Say it, princess,” he repeats, his hand finally moving up to cup your core. “Just tell me you want me….”

You moan at his words and surrender to him. "I want you".Bucky lets out a low growl of satisfaction as he hears your words. “That’s what I thought,” he mutters, his fingers trailing against your skin. “I knew you couldn’t resist me for long.”

He takes your wrists in his hand, pinning them above your head. His body presses against yours, his weight holding you in place. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it, princess?” he whispers in your ear, his breath hot and heavy.His hand slides down your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “But now that you’ve given in, I’m going to have some fun with you…” he murmurs, his voice dark with promise. “I’m going to make you scream for me…”

He kissed you again and put two fingers inside your panties and into your core making you moan into the kiss.Bucky lets out a low chuckle as he feels you arch against him. “That’s it, princess,” he murmurs against your lips. “Let it out. Let me hear how good I make you feel…”He moves his fingers slowly, finding a rhythm that makes you moan again. “I knew you’d feel good,” he whispers, his eyes dark with want. “

His fingers move a little faster, the pressure inside of you increasing. “But I bet I could make you feel even better…” he murmurs, his mouth moving down to your neck. “I bet I could make you scream for me".

“Bucky” you moan and arch once more.Bucky’s smirk is almost feral as he hears you moan his name. “There it is,” he mutters, his fingers working faster as they press deeper into you. “I knew you’d sound like that when you finally let yourself go…”

He bites at your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin. “And I know I can make you moan louder, sweetheart… if you beg me right…”

His fingers move again, finding a place inside you that makes you gasp. “Beg me, princess,” he murmurs, his voice rough with lust. “Beg me to make you feel good. Beg me to give you what you need…”

You felt his fingers go faster and faster inside you and you could feel yourself getting close. “Please Bucky,” you murmur.Bucky grins at your words, his fingers moving even faster. “Please, what, princess?” he murmurs, his mouth moving to your ear. “Say it. Tell me what you want me to do…”

“let me come please” You murmur moving your hips on his fingers.

Bucky grins at your pleading tone, his fingers finally getting the reaction he wanted. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. “You sound so pretty when you beg for me like that… so pretty when you ask for what you want…”

His fingers move a little faster, going deeper. “You’re so close, princess,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “I can feel it. I can feel your body tensing up… begging for release…"

He moves his mouth back to your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin as he presses his forehead against yours. “But you have to ask me nicely if you want it…” he mutters, his voice raw with need. “You have to beg me for what you need, princess…”

You whimper at his words. “please Bucky, I’m so close” you murmur.Bucky’s grin widens at your words, his fingers finally giving you what you’ve been craving. “Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he mutters, his touch rough yet still gentle with you. “You like it when I make you beg for it…”

“please” you murmur moaning feeling yourself getting closer and closer.Bucky’s fingers move a little faster at your words, his touch more insistent as he moves against you. “Almost there, princess, you’re so close,” he murmurs, his voice a low growl. “But I need you to say those magic words. I need you to beg me one more time…”

"Bucky please" you scream.Bucky grins at your scream, his fingers moving faster than ever inside you. “There it is, princess,” he mutters, breathing hard. “You sound so pretty when you scream my name… now let go for me, sweetheart."

You moan at his words and come on his fingers. “fuck” you murmur, closing your eyes in pleasure.Bucky let out a low growl as he feels you come on his fingers. “That’s it,” he mutters, his voice rough with satisfaction. “That’s my good girl…”

He withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean. “You taste so sweet,” he murmurs, his eyes dark with lust. “I knew you’d be sweet"

Bucky leans down, his body pressing against yours. “But I’m not done with you yet, princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. “Not even close…”

You look at him knowing you were in for a long night.

[joemama-2]

it’s late at night. he’s already situated on the bed, seeing you come into the room with unkempt hair, you shirt has splotches of dried milk and your movements are slow. tired.

why wouldn’t you be?

an energetic three year old who’s just like his father is hard to maintain. though you wouldn’t trade it for the world. “come here, baby.” he pats his lap, grinning softly.

you look over from where you’re taking off your jewelry for the day, in attempt to get ready for your nightly shower. “hm? for what?”

his eyes follow your every movement, patting his lap once more. “you know exactly why. cmon, daddy needs some stress relief.”

the laugh you let out causes his face to soften, admiring you in a way that’s reserved solely for his wife, for the mother of his son. “i thought we agreed you couldn’t call yourself that anymore.”

he adjusts himself when he sees you come over, crawling on the bed to situate yourself in a straddling position over his hips. his hands fall into place on the curve of your waist, thumbs rubbing small circles on the small patch of skin that shows when your shirt lifts up. “you did. i didn’t.”

“it’s cringey.”

“so?”

you huff, eyes rolling. he dips his head forward into the crook of your neck, planting a trail of warm kisses. “satoru, are you sure?”

“are you sure?” he asks, voice muffled by your skin. “i just want to pamper my wife after a long day, can’t i do that?”

“i feel hideous right now.”

he tips his head back, bright eyes staring back at you with an intensity you’ve come to associate with. the kind of intensity that lets you know whatever he says—he means it. “hideous? what did i say before, huh? i said don’t even think about saying stupid stuff like that again. and look at you now.”

your lips downturn. “don’t say that just to make me feel better.”

“i’m not,” he places a firm kiss to your lips. “you look beautiful every day, every second of the day. but you look especially gorgeous right now.”

you narrow your eyes at him, skeptical. “why right now?”

satoru’s lips quirk into a sly grin, his thumbs still tracing those comforting circles on your waist. "because right now, I see my whole world in front of me. the woman who gave me everything I could ever want—a family, a home, a reason to come back every single day.”

the weight of his words presses against the exhaustion hanging over you. it’s not just flattery. it’s raw and genuine, just like him, and it makes your chest ache in the best way. “you’re so cheesy, you know that?”

“and you’re so heavenly,” his grin widens, leaning in closer until your noses almost touch. “but you love my cheesiness, don’t you? admit it.”

your lips twitch, a small smile breaking through despite your best efforts to keep a straight face. “maybe I do.”

“there it is,” he murmurs, pressing another kiss to your lips, softer this time, as if he’s handling something fragile. “that smile’s all I need to get through anything.”

the words wrap around your tired soul like a warm blanket. and for a moment, the weight of the day fades, replaced by the solid, steady presence of him—your husband, your partner, the man who never fails to make you feel like the most important person in the world.

you sigh, resting your forehead against his. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Wrong.” his voice is firm, his hands steady as they pull you just a little closer, subtly rubbing you against his clothed cock. “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.”

and in that quiet, intimate moment, with the world outside fading into irrelevance, you believe him.

"now let me pamper you like I promised." he switches positions, hovering above you as you lay on your back. leaning down to raise the hem of your shirt, trailing sweet kisses and licks against your stomach—heading further south. your hips raise slightly as he discards your lounge pants, breath hitching in anticipation. hand running down through the streaks of his white hair, he smiles at the sight of your pussy hidden behind the grandma underwear you adorn.

hot breath tickling your core that leaves you almost jerking upwards for more. he kisses your clit through the loose fabric. “besides, mommy needs her fix too, doesn’t she?”

[submattenthusiast]

listen loser!virgin!matt

the sexually submissive sounds that originated from matt were so satisfying to hear especially knowing that you were the cause of them. though it was his hand stroking his cock in the audio you received, you were the reason he was whimpering so pathetically. you loved every single thing about it, and you wanted to make sure he enjoyed it just as much as you did. a sinister idea came to mind when you were mindlessly scrolling through your messages, replying to the unanswered texts from earlier in the day to literal weeks ago. knowing he would do just about anything when he wanted to cum, you knew it would work out with little to no trouble. now you just needed to get him there.

matt nearly knocked down the door with how he rushed in, the wood door swinging open and quick footsteps tapping against the floor. as he walked in he threw his jacket, backpack ,and keys all on the desk in the corner. the loud noises were a clear attention grabber, and you fell right into the trap. "what's your deal?" you speak, interrupting whatever he had going on. your words didn't seem to register in his mind as he continued to undress and get more comfortable now that he was home. not even turning his head to where your voice echoed from.

his mini tantrum was seemingly over with, seeing as he stopped fidgeting and throwing things around. he calmly walked over to your side of the bed. standing silently and broodingly over you he sighed, the air he blew out tickling you slightly. his eyes burned holes into the side of your face until you looked at him. with the new contact he reached out for your free hand to place it on his crotch. a airy sigh left his lips as he whimpered out a please.

the material of his jeans felt quite uncomfortable under your hands as you felt him up, feeling said boner he was begging for help about. his mouth dropped open at the touch, feeling relief that he couldn't provide for himself. you fondled with him until he started to enjoy it a little too much, stopping to start excuting your plan. "take your pants and boxers off and sit down" you instruct.

with quickness matt was only left in the grey t-shirt, pants and boxers pooling at his ankles. the cold air began hit him as he fidgeted uncomfortably in his place on the bed. your arm wrapped around his shoulder to pull him into your side, using that same hand you held it out in front of his mouth so he could spit. silently he gave you enough to coat his cock. "good boy" you praise, wrapping your fingers around him. a soft moan blessed your ears in return. before he became foggy brain he muttered out a thank you and tucked his head into the crook of your neck.

strategically you built up a pace, hands moving at an angle that would get him to cum quickly. the makeshift lube of spit helped your fist move faster and to add onto the rushed movements you whispered endless amounts of praise to him. telling him how much of a good boy he was and how good he was being, and how you were glad he came to you for help. his pretty sounds filled your ears once again, the whimpers that came from his mouth when you rubbed over his tip and the moans when you stroked his cock faster. drips of drool began to pile up at the corner of his lips from his mouth being constantly ajar. "i'm close mommy i'm sorry" he half warns half apologizes. you smirk at this, knowing he must've really been worked up to be this close already, and knowing that you helped him get there.

"that's okay baby i got you' you coo, slowing your hand down but not completely removing it. sensing the change in pace, matt untucked his head and looked to you for an answer. "why'd you slow down?? please please just let me cum i can do it again, but i just need it now" he rambled, hand covering yours to speed you up. chuckling at his eagerness you purr, "you're still gonna cum alright, mommy just wants to try something". hesitantly he nodded and moved to release you from his grip. you stop him immediately, moving his veiny hand back on his needy cock.

his eyes followed yours as you reached for your phone, silently wondering what you were doing. after finding the audio and pressing play you rested the device on your thigh. a pink blush rose on his cheeks as he realized what he was listening to. his hand froze and his head found it's way to your neck again, embarassment flooding his body. a pained whine left his lips as he tried to block out the sounds. "you sound so pretty sweetheart" you tease. shaking his head he whines more "nooo m embarrassed now".

"oh you are?, so you don't want to cum anymore?" you ask, going to pause the audio. his nose brushed against your neck as he shook his head. getting desperate now, he started to jerk himself off. you smile down at him as he touches himself pathetically to his own whimpering audio. "please let me cum i'm sorry" he pauses, keeping eye contact with you. "that's a good boy, keep going hm" you speak, caressing him softly.

as the audio went on it ironically matched up with his state now, precum was oozing from his tip and soft whimpers of mama escaped his lips as he touched. the squelches from the clear substance and the spit added onto the multiple sounds in the room as his hand moved faster. sweat began to drip onto his shirt and his body twitched as he neared his orgasm. his blue eyes disappeared from your vision quickly, his eyes squeezing shut, allowing him to focus on his pleasure. "really close a-ah please mommy" he begged.

identical moans left your phone and his mouth as he gave a strong last few strokes, begging for your hand and to cum at the same time. "can't hold it please" he whined, gripping his cock to hold as best as he could. "look at me" you command. you wanted to see him fall apart, see the way his eyes rolled to the back of his head when he reached his peak. with no hesitation he opened them and held the best eye contact he could. "there he is, such a pretty boy".

the blush on his cheeks increased at the compliment, making his cheeks and cock the same colour. "i am for you i am" he adds on. "then cum for me pretty, make a big mess like you did before". the praise and the sultriness of your words sent him tumbling over the edge. one big stroke had him spurting out white. higher pitched moans came deep from inside him as the liquid coated his hands, thighs and part of his shirt. it was a big one, so big that a drop was on your phone, pausing the audio.

coming down from his high, he heaves out a heavy breath. you comfort him as he curls into you. the room was oddly silent, looking at your leg you realize what sound was missing. jokingly you show matt, "the audio didn't finish baby, i guess we gotta do it again"

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reacting to their s/o who loves smiles but feels insecure about showing their teeth

Request: Halooo I am the same anon that req wisdom tooth drabble!!! So can I req for svt ot13 s/o that love smile but never showed their teeth cause they're insecure with it?? I do have an open bite and I do be jealous w ppl that can smile with their normal teeth 🥲🥲 Also can I be ur ⭐️ anon??

A/N: This is dedicated to all kinds of smiles—big, small, toothy, closed, crooked, or perfectly aligned. It’s easy to compare ourselves to others, especially when society has such rigid standards for something as personal as a smile. But the truth is, the world isn’t looking for perfect smiles; it’s looking for your smile—the one that lights up the people around you, the one that reflects your joy, and the one that makes you you. Whether you’re someone who shows off their teeth confidently or someone who keeps their smiles shy, you are absolutely radiant just the way you are. I hope this reaction brings you warmth, and maybe even a little courage to embrace your smile, because SEVENTEEN and I think it’s the best one there is. Thank you for reading, and remember: your smile is a gift, not just to you but to everyone lucky enough to see it! 💛

I definitely encourage you to read everyone's part, especially Minghao's.

Seungcheol: Cheol would notice right away how you always smile with your lips closed. He’d encourage you without pushing too hard, so you’d catch him saying things like, “I love it when you smile—it’s my favorite thing about you.” And when you explain why you’re self-conscious, his protective mode kicks in. In his mind, you’re perfect exactly as you are. He’d make a habit of kissing your forehead after every smile, as if to say, Thank you for sharing this with me. Warm, comforting, and always your biggest cheerleader.

Jeonghan: Jeonghan is a tease—but in the sweetest way possible. He’d catch you hiding your teeth and tease you playfully about how even your shy smile could start a fan club. But deep down, he’d be the FIRST to remind you that nobody’s smile is ‘wrong’. He’d even come up with ridiculous scenarios like, “If anyone says anything about your teeth, I’ll report them to Smile Security.” Sure, it’s dramatic, but somehow it’s comforting. With him, you’d slowly start to see your smile through his eyes: bright, genuine, and absolutely worth showing off.

Joshua: Shua’s the ‘patient and reassuring’ type. He’d never rush you into anything but would always make it known how much he loves your smile—whether or not it shows your teeth. He’d probably sit with you one evening and casually mention how he used to be insecure about something too, just to remind you that everyone has their struggles. The way he’d look at you every time you smiled? Pure love and admiration. Slowly but surely, you’d start feeling like, Maybe my smile isn’t so bad after all.

Jun: Junhui wouldn’t even let you finish explaining your insecurity before he’d start showering you with compliments. He’d be so sweet and genuine about it too, like, “What? But your smile is so pretty! Have you seen yourself?” He’d probably find little ways to make you smile more, through goofy antics or heartfelt gestures. The best part? He’d never let you feel like you had to change—he loves your smile, whether it’s teeth-showing or not. And his genuine enthusiasm? It’s impossible not to feel a little brighter around him.

Hoshi: Hoshi would make it his personal mission to see your biggest, toothiest smile. He’s dramatic like that. He'd do the silliest things to make you laugh, like impersonating the other members or dancing in the weirdest ways (mind you he's performance team leader TT). When you finally let out a full smile, he’d stop mid-act and just stare. “Wow. That’s the one. That’s the smile that could light up a stadium.” And you’d know he’s not exaggerating (even though he’s Hoshi and exaggerates everything). It’s just how he loves—with his whole heart. I'm feeling soft :(

Wonwoo: He’d notice your insecurities but wouldn’t bring them up directly. Instead, would focus on making you comfortable and appreciated. He’d probably start complimenting you in subtle ways, like, “Your smile is really nice,” or “You look happiest when you smile.” Over time, his steady reassurance would make you feel less self-conscious. And when you finally smile without holding back, he’d just give you that soft, proud look, as if to say, See? I knew it was beautiful.

Woozi: Woozi would be a mix of logical and sweet about it. He’d listen to your reasons and then quietly debunk every single one of them, like, “Who said teeth have to be perfect to make a smile beautiful? That’s nonsense.” He’d focus more on how your smile makes him feel—happy, loved, and lucky to know you. And if you ever caught him sneaking a photo of you smiling? Just know it’s because he wants to remember how happy you looked in that moment.

Dokyeom: Oh boy, Seokmin would be all over this. He lives for smiles, especially yours. He’d probably start a whole campaign to make you feel better about it, complete with compliments, funny jokes, and random bursts of Look at that gorgeous smile! energy. You’d have no choice but to smile around him because he’s just that infectious. And when you finally let out a toothy grin, he’d gasp like, “I KNEW IT! YOU HAVE THE BEST SMILE IN THE WORLD!” Dramatic? Yes. Effective? Absolutely.

Mingyu: Kim Mingyu, the man he is, would be the type to go above and beyond to make you feel good about your smile. He’d start by complimenting you constantly and taking candid photos where you look natural and happy. Then, he’d show them to you like, “Look at this—your smile could cure my bad days.” He’d probably even bring it up to the members like, “Isn’t her smile the best thing ever?” And when you roll your eyes at him, he’d just grin and say, “See? Even your eyeroll smile is perfect.” AHHGHTCGTCGCFFCCT

Minghao: Hao would be supportive and no-nonsense. He’d listen to your insecurities, acknowledge your feelings, and then remind you that nobody’s perfect. “Imperfections make us human,” he’d say, and it would somehow hit deeper than you expected. He’d probably encourage you to focus on how your smile feels rather than how it looks, and over time, his grounded perspective would help you see your smile in a whole new light. With him (with others too), you’d start to appreciate the beauty in being uniquely you.

Seungkwan: Seungkwan would be the loudest advocate for your smile. “Are you kidding me!” He’d probably start hyping you up every time you smiled, to the point where it becomes impossible not to feel confident about it. And if anyone dared to say something negative about your teeth? Oh, he’d drag them to filth, no hesitation I'm telling you. With Seungkwan in your corner, you’d never have to doubt your smile again.

Vernon: He would be ridiculously sweet. He’d casually drop comments like, “Your smile’s cool,” and then act like it’s no big deal—when really, he’s melting inside every time he sees it. He’d never pressure you to show your teeth but would secretly be over the moon whenever you did. And the way he’d look at you in those moments? Pure adoration. Honestly, he’d make you feel like the coolest person in the world, open bite or not.

Dino: Chan would be all about boosting your confidence. He’d give you a pep talk about how unique smiles are the best smiles and how yours is his favorite thing about you. He’d hype you up so much that you’d almost feel like a celebrity. And when you finally smiled without holding back, he’d act like it’s the greatest thing he’s ever seen. “That’s it! That’s the smile that could rules my heart!” That’s just how much he cares.

[cherrixpie]

NEMESIS

part four of five

↬ you were supposed to steer clear of mattheo riddle. Shame that he was just so irrestible.

↬ sfw; wc: 9.1k (good lord these keep getting longer); cw: violence, blood, broken bones, suggestiveness, swear words; tags: gryffindor!reader, muggleborn!reader, enemies to lovers

( masterlist )

The wind howled through the stands, tearing at banners of both red and green, as sheets of icy rain slashed down in relentless torrents. Over night, the weather had taken a dramatic shift, to the disfortune of any poor bloke who was on the pitch today. The pitch had turned into a mire of mud and puddles and looked more like a battlefield than the site of one of the most anticipated Quidditch matches of the season: Gryffindor vs Slytherin. Above, the players on their broomsticks were little more than blurred streaks of color, their shouts swallowed by the roaring of the storm. The sharp crack of a Bludger smashing into a broomstick echoed through the chaos, drawing gasps and cries from the diehard fans who clung stubbornly to the stands despite the weather.

Near the base of the stands, Madam Pomphrey hovered over you like an agitated owl as you sorted through the bandages and potions at hand. Ever since you'd started practical training in the Hospital wing to improve your chances to become a healer at the prestigious St. Mungos Hospital, you'd been assailing her at quidditch games. But you'd only ever had Gryffindors to look out for before.

“Playing in this weather is nothing short of lunacy,” Madam Pomphrey muttered, her words only heard over the howling wind because she stood so close to you. “The last thing I need is another student catching their death out here- or worse, ending up on one of my stretchers.”

Though you didn't say it out loud, you estimated the chances of that being close to zero. Not only the weather made this an exceptionally brutal game. It seemed as if the players translated the stress of playing in such conditions into pure violence, and the thick mist of rain only made the many fouls harder to detect. The game was turning more brutal by the minute. You did your very best to identify your friends, but only caught a glance of Harry hovering over the game, looking for the faint glint of the snitch through the fog and dodging the occasional bludger. And, of course, Ron, guarding the rings.

But your restless eyes didn't only scan the skies in search of your friends. Any time a Slytherin player passed the stands, you'd anxiously try to make out whether they were a beater, whether they were Mattheo. But he seemed to be amidst the center of the game. Sometimes you thought you spotted him when you recognized a figure with club that vaguely resembled him. Sometimes, you thought the figure looked back at you, but you couldn't be sure of anything when rain and fog clouded your vision and made it impossible to pin point anything.

Suddenly, another violent crack echoed through the stadium and the fans let out a collective gasp when the small, blurred figure of Gryffindor’s seeker slipped from his broom, having been violently hit with a bludger. Before even Madam Pomphrey could react, you, who'd been on your toes all game, cast a spell to slow his fall and took off over the field to meet him when he met the ground in a rather soft thud thanks to your spell. The nurse followed hot on your heels and together, you hoisted Harry up on your shoulders and helped him towards the sidelines as Madame Hooch signaled time-out.

The bludger must've hit Harry in the face at short distance, because it only took one look at his blood-smeared face and crooked nose to know the latter was broken. You had the vague idea it wouldn't be the last one toady. As Madam Pomphrey healed it with a flick of her wand, eliciting a crack from the nose as it sprung back in place and a pained groan from Harry, you recovered a diptam from your belt and leaned down in front of him to apply it to his face.

“That was Riddle,” said Harry bitterly as you healed the cuts and bruises to the best of your abilities. The murtlap essence did wonders on his injuries, but still, your worried eyes scanned his face restlessly as Harry kept raging. “He's had his sights on me ever since we lifted off the damn ground! Dunno what's up with him, it's like he doesn't even care about the game anymore. He's a damn psychopath, he is.”

Before you had the chance to respond, three thuds announced the arrival of three other players and you turned to them as they approached. Madam Hooch lead them, she walked on large strides over to Harry to inspect the graveness of his injury. Behind her followed a highly enraged looking Malfoy, platinum hair clinging to his forehead, and Mattheo, seemingly relaxed though there was a storm brewing in his eyes that rivaled the one he and the others were facing above ground. Your eyes met and you froze mid movement when he, despite the situation, gave you a quick grin. Just like Harry and Malfoy, he was covered head to toe in mud and his hair was even more of a mess than usual, but you had to admit it suited him better than the other two.

“From such a short distance, my my,” raged Madam Hooch who was quite red in the face. As most teachers did, she directed her anger at some point over Mattheo's shoulder instead of looking him into the face. “That's a foul if I ever saw one. Gryffindor gets a penalty.”

“But Madam Hooch!” called Malfoy indignantly. “He only did his job, isn't it allowed for the beaters to use their clubs anymore?”

“On the bludgers, not on fellow players!” hissed Madam Hooch angrily. Malfoy stroke up another argument, beginning with the words "my father...", but Mattheo couldn't have cared less. So what if Gryffindor got a damn penalty, there was much more important things to be enraged about. Like the way you fussed over Potter, how worried you looked, how pretty you looked in your nurse uniform, a white dress that fell down to your knees paired with the most adorable nurse cap. Mattheo realized he liked white on you. In his world that was drowned in such darkness, you stood out amongst crowds like a glowing ember. As much as he hesitated to admit it, he felt lighter anytime he laid eyes on you.

“Mate, help me out here!” Malfoy pushed him, but he fell on deaf ears, because you had just glanced back at him. Your reproachful look almost made him smile. A few loose strands of hair fell from your nurse cap into your face and clung to your skin. Even if you were to glare at him, he'd much rather have you do that than go back to giving your attention to Potter, of all people. But alas, you turned back to him and wiped the paste off of his face, giving him a light slap on the back to get back on his broom.

If possible, the wind cut even sharper as the game went on. Even under the cover of the stands, theoretically providing protection from the rain, you were soon drenched to the bone. You'd even had to borrow a Gryffindor sweater from Dean because your uniform had started to become see-through, and the material wasn't thin. By now, everyone was just praying for one of the seekers to catch the snitch and win the game. Though Slytherin was in the lead, partially due to a newfound brutality from their beaters, if Harry caught the snitch soon, Gryffindor would still win.

Just when you dragged the box with the medical supplies further under the cover of the stands to prevent the bandages from soaking up- by the looks of the game you would need them plenty- it happened. You hadn't looked, preoccupied with your task, so the only indication that something was wrong was the shocked screams of the crowd. As you looked up to see what was going on, for the smallest split of a second, you could make out a seemingly rogue bludger rushing towards the stands, specifically, towards you. You didn't even have time to close your eyes or shield yourself from the impact when a flash of green shot through your field of vision and the crowd breathed a sigh of belief.

Rushing forwards, you gripped onto the barrier and looked up at the sky only to catch a glimpse of Mattheo's jersey until he disappeared into the mist once more. Gryffindor scored. As the red and golden covered stands to your left erupted in hollers and cheers, you were hit with the sudden realization that Mattheo had not only saved you from being hit by a bludger, but had also diverted from the Gryffindor chasers, allowing them to score. It didn't fit. He'd been playing with undeveloped ferocity the whole match and now passed up the chance to intercept Gryffindor scoring? But, you thought to yourself, heart still hammering in your chest from the shock, maybe you should just give up trying to make sense of Mattheo Riddle, when he'd so far proved to be everything you thought he wasn't.

Due to the doubled efforts of Nott’s solo runs and Mattheo's bludgers being a major hindrance to the Gryffindor chasers and messing up their formations, forcing them to scatter, Slytherin took the lead by a long shot. But still, if Harry caught the snitch now, they could still win.

You were focused on him that you didn't even catch the maneuver of the Gryffindor beaters. There was a resounding crack heard throughout the stadium, even through the splatter of rain, and one of the Slytherin beaters was slammed into one of the stand walls with such force he bounced off of it before hurling towards the ground. Seconds before the player could hit the ground, they managed to pull their broom up and towards the sky, but their face was full of blood.

Your brain needed a moment to comprehend the situation, but then you read the name on the back of the player’s jersey and the blood seemed to freeze in your veins. Oh God. It was Mattheo. Panic-stricken, you turned to Madam Hooch. Not only had this clearly been a foul, but Mattheo needed time out to get patched up. But Madam Hooch was preoccupied with overlooking the Slytherin chasers ramming through a Gryffindor formation and the endless sheets of rain seemed to obstruct her vision. The Slytherin stands roared in indignation, but Mattheo steadied his broom mid-air, wiped his sleeve over his face, which only seemed to make it worse, and got back into formation.

Even Madam Pomphrey, who had expressed her dislike of Mattheo several times, gasped worriedly. “The game needs time out! He can't play in this condition!”

Your insides felt like claws, reeling against your ribcage as a sudden assault of worry hit you. The impossible frustration of not being able to help, to have to watch Mattheo get back into the game with gritted teeth was suffocating. Past you would have been indifferent, maybe. Past you was an idiot. Your hands gripped the barrier so tightly your knuckles turned white, and you couldn't take your eyes off of Mattheo’s figure. The blood seemed to be obstructing his vision even more than the walk of downpour already did,

Why did you care so much? Why did worry over a boy like Mattheo Riddle eat you up from the inside? Though it was quite untrue, you doubted there was anyone like Mattheo Riddle. Maybe it was just easier to pretend that your concern, the fact that you cared so much, was illogical, than to admit to yourself that he wasn't just you-know-who’s son anymore. That your fear of him had subsided and given way to not only interest, but affection.

The thought scared you. You knew exactly what your friends would say if they knew that you cared for their mortal enemy. Hermoine would look at you with a mixture of disgust and worry, maybe she'd even feel betrayed. And Ron? He'd feel like you'd fratanized with the enemy, you knew he would be angry. What about Harry? He'd been so understanding yesterday, but only after you reassured him that you detested Mattheo. A lie. Mattheo was supposed to be your nemesis, too. But he wasn't anymore.

What was he to you? The question rummaged in your brain as you watched his figure anxiously, wincing any time he got too close to a bludger. In the forest, he'd been intriguing. In the kitchens, exciting. Then, in the library, and you felt almost ashamed to admit it, attractive. But that wasn't all. What you felt for Mattheo couldn't be summed up in mere interest or attraction. It was a coiled up snake in the deepest pits of your self that had raised his head slowly, before you'd even realized it. You couldn't pin-point it, you just knew you wanted to know everything about Mattheo there was to know, and, that you hated to see him hurt.

The Slytherins were now in the lead by one-hundred-and-sixty points, but you couldn't have cared less about the score. More than ever now, you hoped for the game to end so you could have a look at Mattheo. But when the whistle sounded shrilly through the stadium, it was only to announce another two penalties for Gryffindor after Malfoy had fouled Harry mid-dive, both of whom Ginny dunked.

And then, finally, Harry and Malfoy went into a dive and, under the victorious roars of the Gryffindors, Harry emerged holding the snitch over his head. The score board showed Gryffindor: 260 points - Slytherin: 250 points.

Mustering up little more than a sigh of relief, you hurried over to the cart with the bandages and healing potions, arming yourself with supplies as the players landed one after the other. More than half of them immediately made a beeline for the medical tent, to you and a very ill-tempered Madam Pomphrey who muttered something about high risk sports and student safety. It had been an exceptionally rough game, and most players were at least bruised up, at worst limping heavily and clutching their ribs. As they trailed in, your eyes frantically darted around in search of Mattheo, but you couldn't find him.

Soon, you were preoccupied with fixing up the Gryffindor chasers, but your quick, distracted glances around the tent told you that he wasn't here. But where could he be? Dread pooled in your stomach as you bandaged up Ginny’s left hand and applied murtlap essence to her fellow chaser’s cuts and bruises. Only more people seemed to trail in, but, bit by bit, you managed to send them all off again. Still, Mattheo hadn't showed. As you were just contemplating whether you could just walk into the snake’s den, aka the Slytherin changing rooms, and offer treatment, you felt someone’s hand on your shoulder.

You spun around and were faced with Theodore Nott, looking very wet and very moody. The sight of him calmed you somewhat, you knew he and Mattheo were close. Nott looked as grumpy and sinister as ever, but he didn't sound aggressive. “Are you free here?” he asked in his Italian accent and you nodded silently. His frown subsided somewhat. “Can you come with me? Mattheo’s refusing treatment.”

For a split second, you wondered whether Nott knew about Mattheo and you. Then, you mentally slapped yourself back into reality. There was nothing between Mattheo and you, other than a few late night encounters. He'd only asked for you because he didn't want to ask Madam Pomphrey, you supposed.

“Of course,” you said, a little more enthusiastically than would have been necessary, and quickly rounded up some medical supplies to stuff them into your bag. Then, you followed Nott out of the tent, through the downpour of rain and down the steps that led into the Slytherin’s changing rooms.

As you walked down the stairs, you passed a group of Slytherin players who shot you nasty, albeit unsurprised looks. Struggling to keep up with Nott’s long strides, you hurried after him and averted your eyes from the passing Slytherin's. In front of a door with the engraved words ‘changing rooms’, Nott halted his step and nodded towards it. “He's in there, make it quick.”

Nott took off after his friends and you were left standing before the door. For a few hesitant seconds, your fist hovered in the air in front of the wood, and for some silly reason, your heart was thumping like mad. Finally, you knocked. Due to your sudden surge of timidity, it was a soft, quiet sound, barely heard over the splatter on the roof. Still, a voice you recognized as Mattheo's called from inside, clearly audible. “Come in, princess.” As if it had been a command, your hand fell down to the handle, you pressed it down and the door swung open.

The first thing you noticed about the Slytherin changing rooms was that they were way tidier than the Gryffindor ones that you'd often visited after a game to fetch Harry and Ron. No empty bottles, no forgotten jerseys on the ground and it smelled surprisingly good for a sports changing room, though the distinct smell of smoke clung to the air. All seemed perfect in place- except for the a smashed-in locker on the left side and the boy that sat, smoking, on one of the benches.

Mattheo hadn't even made an effort to change yet, both his jersey and his face were seeping with blood. His nose looked broken and his lip was busted up, which didn't stop him from taking continuous drags out of his cigarette, the ember glowing faintly in the dim light. Wisps of smoke curled around him like ghostly shroud. His dark curls hung heavy and damp over his sharp features, framing the defiant smirk that tugged at his lips despite the pain evident in his furrowed brow and clenched jaw. His eyes, dark and unfazed, met yours with a flicker of something unreadable- half daring, half relief- as if, even now, bloodied and battered, he was too proud to let the hurt take hold. Or too used to it.

His heavy gaze felt disarming as you stood aimlessly in the doorway, faintly dripping with water falling from loose strands of your hair. Mustering up a small smile, you closed the door behind you and attempted to ignore the way his gaze burned into your back as you turned to the door. “What if I hadn't been me?” you asked in an effort to diffuse the situation of the weird tension in the air. “What if I'd been one of your friends? That would've been awkward.”

When you turned back to him, his gaze had softened almost indiscernibly. His cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, his eyes raked over your drenched and drippy figure before snapping back to your eyes with the self-assurance of a skilled predator cornering its prey. You met his eyes without blinking and the corner of his lips twitched slightly. “None of my friends knock as if they're scared somebody will hear it.”

Your lips curled. “Touché.” With slow, deliberate steps, you walked over to him and came to a halt before him, fingers closing tensely around the handle of your medical bag. Even just the parts of him you could see looked badly hurt, though he didn't show any signs of pain. Maybe he had CIPA syndrome. Or maybe he was just a masochist.

Mattheo caught your wandering gaze, blew a cloud of smoke your way and leaned back against the back of the bench expectantly, cigarette between his bloody fingers. “Well, then, I'm all yours.” A lazy grin played around his lips, in spite of the situation, and it was as attractive as it was infuriating.

Before he could react, you snatched the cigarette out of his fingers and discarded it into an ashtray near you before turning back to him. “It smells disgusting,” you let him know and he chuckled, raising his hands in faux surrender.

You felt hesitant to approach him, touch him, even though you had his consent. His dark eyes rooted you to your spot, made you unable to move. You wondered whether it was some sort of spell until he raised his brows. “Any day now, princess.”

“Don't rush me,” you whispered, averting your eyes and scrambling around in your medical kit for the right supplies. You layed out bandages and healing potions out on the bench opposite him and turned to him once more to tap your wand against his nose, murmuring “episkey” under your breath. With a disgusting cracking sound, it snapped back in place, but Mattheo didn't flinch, only continuing to stare up at you. With the same feeling of sticking your head into a snake den, you leaned down nervously to examine the wounds on his face, whether they needed stitching. The deep cut near his jaw did.

“Careful there, princess,” Mattheo murmured and your eyes snapped from the wound to his eyes, only inches away. “Someone might think you have un-pure intentions.”

You couldn't help the blush that painted your cheeks pink, more so due to his proximity than his words. Still, you brought some distance between you and searched in your bag for needle and thread. “My intentions couldn't be more pure,” you huffed and he laughed lightly from behind your back about a joke you couldn't understand. Or maybe, you did.

“That is true,” he lamented and you heard ruffling. You turned around quickly and snatched the pack of cigarettes out of his hands. He looked mildly surprised at the frown on your face.

“Come on,” you said, voice somewhere between annoyance and pleading. “are you really going to poison yourself while I try to patch you up?” Fitting the threat through the needle, you ignored his raised brows and concentrated your attention on the deep cut in his cheek. A damp towel in the other hand, you ran it over the wound to clean it and then leaned in closer. “This might hurt.”

He completely ignored the last part, but you could feel his eyes on you. Damn him, he was just so distracting. “Hm,” he hummed, as if in thought, and ignored your hiss to keep still. “One might almost think you care about me.”

“I do.”

Both you and him looked up in surprise, and you quickly looked away as his eyes stayed on you, almost hungrily. “Hold still,” you murmured, and finally, he complied, allowing you to insert the needle as gently as possible and start to surture the wound. It was almost scary how still he kept now. You desperately wished to break the silence that spread, that followed your words like a blanket of led pressing down upon the both of you. It was only the truth, you cared about him. You cared for him. You cared for Mattheo Riddle. In order to concentrate, you attempted to shut all that out, but the confession hung in the air between you, as impossible to ignore as he himself was.

Finally, you finished the last stitch and tied the suture with a surgeon’s knot off the side so it didn't touch the wound. A small part of you hoped desperately that Mattheo would overlook your slip up, maybe even forget it, but that, of course, was naive. When you put away thread and needle, grabbed the murtlap essence and walked back over to him, he looked up at you without the trace of a smile on his lips. “You care about me,” he repeated, not a question but a statement. His eyes fixed yours as he got a hold of your wrists. “More than you care about him?”

“Who?” you asked, perplexed by the severity in his tone. A hint of displeasure washed over his face, but it gave way to indifference after just a second. “Potter.”

“W- what?” you spluttered out, laughing nervously. How on earth were you supposed to answer that question? “He's my friend,” you said hesitantly and freed your wrists to dab some of the potion onto the tips of your fingers. As you leaned down, you froze mid motion when you felt hands on your waist. His hands on your waist. Large and warm and rough even through the fabric of your nurse uniform. His touch seemed to send sparks of electricity through your body that balled in your stomach and made your breath hitch.

“Go on,” he commanded quietly, and though they were trembling, you brushed your cream-smeared fingers over one of the bruises on his jaw. They travelled up over his cheek, tending to the scratches there, but you could hardly keep your attention on them when his eyes seemed to bore through your skull.

With a low voice, he muttered your name, your first name, and you were so shocked to hear him call you anything but ‘princess’ you did the smallest of double takes. “Is there anything more than that?” he asked, and he seemed more tense than before as his fingers curled into the flesh of your belly lightly. “Between you and him?”

Both the idea and the fact that you'd just been asked it by Mattheo Riddle of all people elicited a shocked little laugh from you. But he didn't laugh, only watched you with an expression that you might have mistaken for indifference if it hadn't been for the clenching of his jaw. “He's just a friend,” you clarified, your cheeks growing warm. “We're not- we've never- It's not like that,” you closed abashedly and put a bit of distance between you under the excuse of getting more murtlap. His hands fell from your waist as you walked over to the opposite bench, heat boiling in your face.

You tried to keep your expression composed as you got back to him to tend to the other side of his face, putting some murtlap over the stitches as well for good measure. This time, he didn't hold your waist, but when you were finished and brushed off the remaining essence on your skirt, he caught the hem between his fingers and his light tug caused you to stumble forwards in between his parted legs. His hand travelled upwards, tracing the curve of your hip without ever touching them and locked around the hem of your Gryffindor hoodie. There was a magnetic sort of darkness in his eyes when he looked up at you, two black holes that threatened to swallow you whole. “Take that off.”

In hindsight, you probably shouldn't ever have complied with his request. But his voice was so soft, his eyes so alluring, his whole being like a siren’s call. So you curled your fingers under your hoodie and, heart beating hard against your ribs, pulled it slowly over your head.

Mattheo's breath hitched as his gaze locked on you. The dim light of the changing room caught the soft outline of your figure beneath the thin, damp fabric, your nurse’s uniform clinging to you like a second skin, innocent in intention, but anything but now. The delicate outline of your bra was visible through the slightly see-through fabric. His throat tightened, a mix of a pang of guilt and a despicable surge of fire curling in his chest like smoke.

You looked so pure, so untouched by the edges of the world that had long since roughened him up. The contrast hit him like a bludger- your soft, careful hands that had just cleaned his wounds now pulling your hoodie over your head, oblivious to the firestorm you'd lit inside him. The urge to discard that Gryffindor hoodie and dress you in one of his jerseys, hiding the sacred sight beneath with a claim of his possession, was so overwhelming he clenched his fists, desperately trying to remind himself that you were not his, you were too good, too-

His train of thought was interrupted when you shifted slightly and folded your arms over your chest, only pressing your boobs together. He dragged his gaze away, but the weight of your unreachable warmth, your white-clad purity, lingered, carving through his battered core and leaving him feeling utterly undeserving.

When he looked away, you recoiled slightly and scolded yourself for thinking, hoping, he might react. But before you could put some distance between you, he looked up at you and his gaze locked you in place, making you freeze just as effectively as a pointed wand might have. Mattheo leaned forward and for a confused moment, you almost thought he was going to kiss you, but he only rose from his seat and walked past you.

Only when you heard shuffling behind you, you realized he was rummaging around your medical supplies. No, not rummaging, you realized when you looked over in alarm. He was cleaning up, packing all bandages and potions back into your bag.

“You don't have to do that!” you called and hastily approached to take the murtlap essence out of his hands. But he kept a firm grip on it and raised his brows at you with a mocking little smile. It seemed so out of place after the heavy tension between you in the room. “Hey, ‘m trying to do something nice here, princess!” With one glance, you assessed that Mattheo wasn't one for neatness, as he didn't assort the items in any order or symmetry whatsoever but merely threw them all into a heap and closed the lid. But still, the gesture was weirdly considerate and you couldn't help the little smile that crept onto your face.

“Thank you,” you smiled and he only nodded, averting his eyes. Right now, with your moist strands of hair sticking out of your nurse cap, your pretty little smile, the way the nurse uniform clung to your body, it was hard to withstand the urge to kiss you. Then again, what if he did? It'd all be over. It was etched into Mattheo by habit that if he got close enough to a girl to get intimate on any physical level, it was time for any strings to be cut loose as to not endanger the fragile balance that was what was left of his heart.

But it had never mattered to him, he'd kissed and fucked them anyway because he could, and it felt good, and then he was relieved when it was over. He’d never before held back. And in favor of what? Spending time in your presence? Pathetic, was what his father would call it. Mattheo couldn't explain it either, he just knew that, in this moment, his desire to be near you, to keep you, was stronger than the desire to rip your damn uniform off of you, explore the soft flesh beneath and give you the time of your fucking life right here on this bench.

You seemed hesitant as you grabbed the handle of your bag, your eyes raking over his torso. Of course, you were too good of a nurse and too smart of a woman to not guess what wounds he had to hide beneath. But for now, you couldn't see them.

“Thank you,” he said honestly, and the unfamiliar sound felt so natural when he said it to you. “For patching me up. Fine nurse you are.” He made no attempts to hide the flirty undertone and the lightest of blushes spread across your cheeks. He breathed it in like a drowning man.

With a barely concealed smirk and a “you're welcome,” you approached the door of the changing rooms.

Something like an iron fist closed around his insides as you opened the door and he couldn't hold back the words that stumbled from his lips. “Wait!” You froze and turned to him once more with an expectant look, and, as if he'd always known it, a stroke of genius found his way out of his mouth. “You know shit about muggles, right?”

A genuine grin formed on your lips. “I should hope so.”

“How ‘bout you tutor me in muggle studies then?” he asked, trying to sound as casual as possible. With a light frown, you crossed your arms over your chest and he gave you a pleading look. “I'm gonna fail the class if I don't get my grades up asap.” Satisfied by the way he could practically see your resolve melt at the look he was giving you, his lips almost twitched but he bit down on it to hide any trace of his true intentions. In truth, he couldn't have cared less about muggle studies, but it was the perfect excuse.

“Fine,” you said, albeit begrudgingly, but you also gave him a little smile as you slipped out of the door, leaving only the vague smell of your perfume and a shaken up Mattheo behind.

Even though you had been apprehensive to the idea at first, tutoring Mattheo turned out to be something you started to look forward to every week. With every tutoring lesson, he seemed to be warming up to you more and more- and you did, too.

A few weeks into december, you found yourself laughing at his jokes and getting caught up in his brown eyes, that seemed softer than you'd ever perceived them. And you discovered that Mattheo was funny. He had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor that never failed to make you chuckle, even when you probably shouldn't have. Not only that, but he was also smarter than you'd ever given him credit for.

Previously, you'd thought of him as a mix of brute force and cunning, not unintelligent but thinking more so with his fists. But he was incredibly smart, and you felt not only a growing bond but also fondness in a not-so-platonic way. It also helped that confusion looked simply adorable on him, which was not a word you thought you'd ever apply to Mattheo Riddle.

“So,” he asked in one breath as he plopped down on the seat opposite you in your secluded corner in the library one snowy tuesday evening, “what the fuck is a movie?” Taken aback by his sudden arrival, you did a double take and quickly cleared the desk of your schoolwork to make space for his books and parchment as well. As he spread them out, your eyes got stuck on a few splatters of blood on his white shirt and you frowned. He, of course, didn't miss it, you saw it in the way he shifted his jacket to cover the stains, but didn't mention it further.

“Harry or Ron?” you asked, as you knew him well enough by now to know that the only instance in which he wouldn't brag about his brawls to you was when your friends were involved. He looked almost guilty when he glanced up at you. Almost.

“Both”

Rolling your eyes, you put your books aside and crossed your arms over the table. “So, movies, huh? Where might that word come from, ‘movies’?”

“Come on, princess, you know I hate word definitions,” he whined, resting his head on the propped up palm of his hand and making his best puppy eyes at you.

You chuckled about his behavior and gave a light slap to his forehead that made the curls fall into his eyes in the most irresistible fashion. “It's supposed to come from 'moving pictures’”

“But muggle pictures don't move,” Mattheo frowned, seemingly recalling what you'd taught him just last week.

You nodded. “No, they don't. You see, when muggle pictures move, they don't call them pictures, they call them videos. And they don't move in their own, but because muggles line up an unbelievably high number of pictures and then play them in order, so they look like they're moving. Of course, today, the technology is a little more advanced. But movies often span one if not several hours and they tell stories, like books. It's kind of… as if books came to life. They have a whole range of other means to archived their ends though, like camera perspective, many also have music that can emphasize moments and influence how you see them, actor's performances, lighting-”

You fell silent suddenly and cleared your throat. As so often when you explained muggle concepts to him, you had started to ramble on with increasing passion. Now, you looked back at Mattheo to apologize, but his gaze was locked on you and a light smile graced his lips. Your heart seemed to skip a beat and you quickly averted your eyes down to your book. “Sorry, that was- I'm rambling again.”

“Do you see me complaining?” Mattheo asked with raised brows and kicked your shin lightly under the table to make you look up at him. “So, what's your favorite of these things? These movies?”

“Impossible to answer,” you laughed outright and ran a hand through your hair. “There's so many that are just so good, I could never pick one.” The smile remained in your lips as you contemplated the movies you'd maybe have chosen, but none of them were better or worse than the next.

“So, you like them? Movies?” he asked, watching your features closely. These last weeks, you'd started exposing more of your emotions to him through free expression more than words, had taken down some of the walls you still had left around him. Though he didn't say it out loud, you could tell he appreciated it, because his eyes studied every change of expression rigorously, as though he'd receive everything you gave to him of yourself with insatiable hunger, though he didn't reciprocate them in the same way.

“Yes,” you replied, fiddling with your quill.

There was a slight furrow of his brows when he locked eyes with you. “But they don't exist in our world. So, you'd give them up?”

“Why would I have to give them up?” you countered and leaned back in your seat. “I think the way we talk about the muggle world and the wizarding world is completely wrong. We talk about them as if they are different universes entirely and not part of the same word, the same country. Look at me!” You performed an awkward motion indicating yourself. “I'm part of both, and I don't feel torn, I feel more complete.”

His eyes flickered between yours as he contemplated your words. In the short silence that followed, you glanced around to make sure no one had taken notice of your little outburst. You hadn't told anyone you were tutoring Mattheo, that you were meeting you-know-who’s son two times a week in one of the more secluded corners of the library. Your friends would freak out if they knew, you could picture their aghast expressions, they wouldn't understand that an irresistible force pulled you towards the boy sitting in front of you. How the tutoring lessons had turned into a game of pretend for you, as you tried to hide your growing fondness for him while opening up parts of yourself for him to see. A fragile balance. And whether intentional or not, you'd seen parts of him you'd never known, or maybe you'd heard them through the tone of his voice or the tapping of his hands.

“There are worlds within worlds,” Mattheo broke the silence, and you frowned. His serious look indicated that he wasn't merely talking about the muggle and the wizarding world. You caught his hands tightening ever so slightly around his book and bit down on your lower lip.

“I’d have to disagree. There are just collectives within collectives. If the limits of different worlds are separating us, we can just make it simple and give each other up.”

You'd made it personal, and you scolded yourself silently, glancing up at the clock despite not really seeing the time. Both you and him knew you had slipped up. When talking about issues slightly more serious than movies or superhero comics, which had amused Mattheo greatly, it was a fine line drawn in the sand neither of you could cross, a silent agreement.

The air felt weirdly tense whenever one of you- more often you than him- threatened to bring up the fact that the unmistakable divide between the two of you went far beyond little house quarrels and teasing. That there was a world behind those protective castle walls both of you drowned out whenever you were in each others presence. The clock showed ten past nine.

“Worried that you're going to break curfew again, princess?” God, how you hated yourself for loving the way he said it, that little nickname that you used to despise, and now it was all his.

“No,” you said, tearing your eyes away from the clock and back to him. Nothing in his sharp features indicated that he recognized the tension that had lingered in the air just moments before, but he was too perceptive of a person to have been unaware. It dawned on you that he was probably trying to make you less uncomfortable and nervously tapped your quill against your lips. Mattheo Riddle being considerate was dangerous, because every time he showed his gentle side, it evoked a hunger in you to see more of it.

“You sure?” he asked, a sly, teasing smile resting comfortably on his soft lips. Only now that you found yourself looking at them closer, you realized there was a cut on them, continuously seeping small drops of blood into the corner of his mouth. You suppressed the sudden and utterly mental urge to lean over and wipe it off with your sleeve. It was not the blood that you minded, though. Maybe his craziness was rubbing off on you, because you abruptly thought that you wouldn't mind having his blood on you. Yep, he was definitely rubbing off.

Then, you realized what you were doing, staring at his lips, and fumbled to answer his question. “We still have enough time until curfew, if we leave in half an hour, we'll still have more than enough time to get back to our dorms.” You realized you were babbling on to avoid his heated stare and looked back at him almost defiantly, daring him to tease you for it.

Mattheo didn't take his eyes off you as the corner of his lips quirked upwards lightly. “Look at you, little miss perfect. I'll bet you’ve never broken a single rule in your life before I came along.”

You shrugged, feigning indifference. “Maybe I don't feel the need to.” The ‘unlike you’ lay on the tip of your tongue, but you didn't need to say it out loud.

Mattheo grinned and shifted in his seat, his knee brushing yours under the table. “You're missing out. Breaking the rules is half the fun. The other half is not getting caught.” He watched you bite your lip, trying to conceal a little smile that threatened to creep onto your face. So, he'd been right, you had enjoyed your more risky encounters. Thinking back to the night in the library when you'd fled from madame pince, he remembered the way your breath had hitched when his hand had touched your neck. The way your soft skin had felt against his rough palms, your doe eyes glittering in the dim light.

Suddenly, there was shuffling in the shelf behind you and you shot around, holding your breath. The place you'd chosen for you tutoring lessons was hidden behind the shelf with the twelfth century economical wizarding records and every single tome in it was layered with a centimeter-thick layer of dust that had allocated there over centuries of disinterest. You'd thought it the perfect hiding spot. But after a few seconds of nervous glancing around and your heart racing as you listened into the silence, one of the school’s cats rounded the shelf and passed by you and Mattheo without a glance.

You breathed a sigh of relief who looked back at Mattheo who was watching you closely. “Dangerous, isn't it? Sitting here with me like this.” He twirled his wand around his fingers and leaned forward subtly, the motion alone making you feel as if he was cornering you against the shelf behind your back. “People would start talking.”

“About what?” you said dismissively and rummaged through your notes, just to have something to do with your hands. This tended to happen once you'd strayed from the topic at hand even slightly. Mattheo starting to tease you out of nowhere, and you struggling to keep up with his quickly changing moods that sometimes threatened to give you whiplash.

Mattheo leaned closer still and propped up his chin on his elbow, still wearing a casual grin. “Oh, I don't know. Maybe about how l've completely corrupted you with my evil charms.”

Your sighed with a mix of exasperation and amusement. Tapping your finger against your chin, you rolled around the words in your head before speaking. “You know I'm not treating this as, I don't know, something forbidden. I'm not scared of, how did you put it last week? Ah, yes, tarnishing my reputation. You're-” you hesitated, but then, your words reached out to him like a welcoming hand through cold and unfeeling fog. “You're not as bad as people think, by a far.”

A dry, almost bitter chuckle fell from his lips as he absentmindedly fiddled with the collar of his blood-stained shirt and bit down on the cut of his lip, drawing drops of red from it that trailed down to his chin without hinderance. This time, you couldn't resist the urge and leaned over the desk, extending a hesitant hand. Mattheo froze, not watching your approaching hand but you, but he didn't recoil either, so you wiped the blood from his chin with the hem of your shirt sleeve. The blood stood out prominently against the white of your shirt.

When you drew back your hand, his shot up like an attacking snake and closed around your wrist. With some sort of morbid fascination, it seemed, he stared at the tiny spot of scarlet, before his eyes snapped back up at you. His tone surprised you, you couldn't really place it, it was a mix of softness and chilling intensity. “You really think there's good in everyone, don't you?” he asked, piercing you with his brown eyes that were so unlike those of his father.

“I try to,” you said, attempting to sound humorous, but the chuckle dried on your lips and your voice swayed to softness as you held his gaze. He didn't have to ask, you could see the question burning in his eyes, so loud as if he'd screamed it. And you didn't even need to nod your head to make him understand that the answer was yes.

The winter holidays came and went. The lesson before departure day, he'd told you he'd stay in Hogwarts over Christmas, and you felt tempted to invite him over to yours for a split second before the cruel claws of reality dug into you and you merely wished him happy holidays.

There was a slight unease in you when you boarded the train, as if something was about to go horribly wrong. But when you arrived after the holidays and left the train alongside Harry, Ron and Hermoine, you spotted his shrouded figure in one corner of Hogsmeade train station, a soft curl of smoke rising from his dark profile. For a split second, you'd locked eyes with him and you couldn't help a smile of relief to see him again.

Because both of your friends started asking questions eventually, you often met up after curfew, though you still hushed around the halls nervously any time you did and earned a great deal of teasing from him for your timidity. From time to time, you managed to break into (you preferred the term sneak into) classrooms at night.

These weeks of sneaking around made you masters of discovering hidden chambers in every corner of the castles, and you were particularly careful and made sure Harry ‘forgot’ the marauders map somewhere in the common room or ‘lost’ it and found it again next morning under his bed. Frequently, you met up in the kitchens and you baked while telling Mattheo all about muggle cellphones, that he understood the concept of surprisingly quickly.

On one occasion, you even demonstrated them to him as you pretended to get lost in the sheer blizzard howling around the houses in Hogsmeade to meet him behind Madam Puddifoots and called your parents, fascinating Mattheo. This night, however, Mattheo had discovered a new room behind the entrance hall. The two of you had cozied up with blankets and candles on the couch, keeping a few inches distance at minimum. The dim candlelight was way too ripe for disaster.

“So, let me get this straight,” Mattheo said an hour and a half into your study session. “Muggles have metal, bird-shaped containers with which they can not only fly, but they actually do it.” You laughed at the incredulity in his voice, though a tad bit distracted by the shape of the record sleeve digging into your back. Because Hogwarts castle only had enchanted record players available, you'd asked your parents to send you one of your vintage vinyls you thought he might like, but you were hesitant, had told yourself that you'd just take it in case there was a record player in the chamber Mattheo had discovered. Well, there was.

“I don't really like planes either,” you said, smiling understandingly, “I even prefer brooms over them and you know how I feel about those.”

He hummed vaguely and glanced over at you. “What's got you so shifty, princess?” A sly grin spread over his features. “You got something hidden behind your back, don't you?” Infuriatingly good at reading you, he was, as ever. With a small sigh, you decided that he'd learned enough about muggle transportation for tonight and pulled the record sleeve out from out of your bag.

“Listen up,” you said, excitement and nervousness coiling in your stomach. “Do you remember when I told you about muggle music?” Though Mattheo had undoubtedly been preoccupied with watching your expression shift with passion and your hands gesticulate, drawing patterns into the air, he nodded. “Okay,” you said, nibbling on your lower lip, and held up the vinyl awkwardly. “I thought I might give you a taste of muggle music, only if you want, of course.”

He could tell you were anxious about playing him the track and raised his brows at your humming and hawing and nervously twitching fingers. “What are you waiting for, princess?” The abashed smile you gave him melted him in ways he'd never be caught admitting out loud.

Sometimes it was quite frightening how you made him feel, and more than once, he'd found himself laying awake at night, not only because of his chronic insomnia and returning nightmares but also torn between the reflexive urge to push away you and how you made him feel so utterly disarmed and vulnerable, and the irresistible desire to see you smile again and let your unconditional kindness wash over him, soothing the dark voices in his head.

By now, you'd walked over to the record player and inserted the vinyl. With a tap of your wand, it started spinning and the sounds of a guitar filled the room. The muggle guitarist played a few chords before starting to sing. When you lowered yourself down on the couch, you didn't bother with putting the usual space between the two of you. No, you seated yourself right beside him, so that he could feel the warmth of your body radiating against his like a hug. As the refrain set in, you put your head on his shoulder.

“And if a double-decker bus

Crashes into us

To die by your side

Is such a heavenly way to die”

Mattheo froze for a moment, his breath caught in his throat as your head gently shifted against his shoulder. The simple, unspoken gesture of affection sent a rush of warmth through him that was both startling and utterly intoxicating. He glanced down at you, his a dark eyes softening as they traced over the curve of your cheek, accentuated by the flickering candlelight, and your lashes resting light as feathers against your skin. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, hesitant at first, afraid to disturb the fragile moment. Slowly, very slowly, his hand shifted, fingers brushing against the fabric of the couch before finding their place beside your arm, just close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of you.

“Take me out tonight

Take me anywhere, I don't care,

I don't care, I don't care”

He felt like one of the mythological figures you'd told him about. Mattheo had scoffed at Icarus' idiocy, but now, he felt like he could understand where he was coming from. His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and teasing, betraying none of the blazing storm raging inside him. But even still, it was edged with a sincerity he couldn't quite hide. “Getting comfortable, are we?”

You only shuffled closer in response, but Mattheo had to suppress the urge to pull you in, wrap his arms around you, drag you into his lap for all the pleasure and calm it would give him. He was a selfish creature, but at this moment, he managed to stay perfectly still, safe for his fingers barely brushing over the fabric of your sleeve. Your breathing, having come in small, hasty little puffs before, slowed as you sat in silence, leaning on each other and listening to the lyrics filling up the space in your room you didn't fill with your words, because they would never be sufficient.

“There is a light that never goes out

There is a light that never goes out

There is a light that never goes out”

The song faded into silence and you started to move again. Mattheo hid his disappointment when you stood up from the couch to walk over to the record player. As you put the vinyl back into its sleeve, you turned back to him and for a few seconds, you merely watched each other in silence. Then, Mattheo rose as well and handed you your bag, that you took without looking at it.

Could it be that you felt the same reluctance to leave this room as he did? But you had to, his gaze flickered to the clock. Other than him, you had the chance to get some sleep tonight. So he threw one quick glance around the room, the floating candles, the sleeping portraits, the empty couch, leaned down to your level and pressed the lightest of kisses to your cheek. It was warm and soft under his lips, and he could hear your breath hitch in your throat. Damn little minx you were.

“Good night,” you said, quietly, and he returned your smile before opening the door for you, the feeling of your skin against his still lingering on his lips.

Maybe you both should have known it was going a bit too well. Maybe you'd become too self-assured in your nightly adventures. In any case, neither of you had caught the portrayed woman in the frame above the couch watching you through half-closed eyes, feigning sleep. As you closed the door behind you, she rose from her false slumber with a dirty secret in her hands- and a burning desire to spread it around the castle.

taglist: @aespaslut @kricketwritesstories @catching-fire-in-the-wind @a-little-funny @thejediprincess56 @polireader @voidangxls @artsyle @nkvgt @ashrocker123 @chimchoom @onlytenkos @yvonne-dump @alwayslatetothefandoms @ravisinghs-wife @eneywey @viylikecats @darksss5516 @cocosparkel @stereading @helendeath

[scented-morker]

Skz when their overworked idol!gf faints

thank you to the anon that requested this!! it is LONG and idk why I gave so much backstory for all of them, but yolo! 2.3k words, fainting and overworking, a couple mentions of weight loss, worried and stressed skz. I fear this qualifies as angst

Chan

He's plenty familiar with the signs of being overworked

He's been trying to support you in any way possible, sending you meals to the company building and convincing you to get rest

You feel bad about giving the food away to your members and texting him goodnight while still working, but you're just too much of a perfectionist

He's excited to be on music bank at the same time as you because he's been having girlfriend withdrawals bc of how busy you were

So so happy watching you and your group rehearse, fawning over your oversized hoodie and little dance moves

But right as the dance break ends he sees you go down

Is nervous that you tripped, but he's sure you'll get back up fine and he'll just kiss your boo boos later

But then you don't get up, and he sees your members start yelling for help

When he realizes you passed out 🙃

Screw being secretive, he's jumping up onto the stage, taking his hoodie off and using it to prop your head up, interrogating all of your members about the last time you ate and your sleep schedule

He tells your manager that under no circumstances are you performing anytime soon

You're stuck laying in the green room with doctors surrounding you until the show is over and then instead of being sent home, Chan is taking you himself

You WILL BE TAKEN CARE OF, and that is a threat

Spends the next week fawning over you, cooking you meals and cuddling you half to death

"You scared me, angel. Let me take care of you now."

Minho

When I tell you he's pissed

He was so excited when you told him about your multiple stages for the golden disk awards

Until you're at three rehearsals a day along with fittings, photo shoots, and appearances

He loves that you're booked and busy, but not THAT BOOKED

He wakes up to your goodnight and good morning texts only hours apart and he cant think of the last time you were home for dinner

He's sent multiple paragraphs to your manager and emailed your company, to no response

He keeps telling himself he just has to make it through the award show and then everything will calm down

However, the lights going down at the end of your stage aren't dark enough to hide you fainting half way off the stage, and he doesn't even notice when he jumps to his feet

He gets yelled at to sit back down, and he only does so in order to grab his phone and call your manager ten times until they pick up

"Oh my gosh she's fine, stop calling."

"She just fainted on stage. She's not fine. Where are you?"

They don't want to tell him, but he pries the information out of them and soon he's tearing off backstage to find you

He kicks everyone out, and he looks so scary that they actually listen

"I'm sorry," your voice sounds so small, still weak from fainting and worried that he's mad at you

But he just shushes you, sitting down on the couch you're stretched out on and pulling you into him

"It's ok baby. You did so good. My strong girl. Just rest."

You sigh into the crook of his neck and he holds you backstage for the rest of the show, idol image be damned

Changbin

HIS BABY IS MAKING HER SOLO DEBUT

He could not be happier or prouder if he tried

He knows it's a lot of work, especially since you're producing and writing all of the songs yourself

He tells himself that he's overreacting, it's normal to see less of you when you're working on such a big project

But you always feed him with updates and stories about your day

So when he hasn't heard from you in three whole days, he's showing up at your stage rehearsal

He doesn't care what anyone says, he needs to physically see you or he's going to have a heart attack

He's relieved when you walk on stage, because at least you're alive

But it doesn't take very long for him to notice the dark bags under your eyes or the way your hand is shaking around your microphone

The second you hit the ground he's running

A background dancer carries you off stage, and they barely hit the curtain before he's snatching you out of their grasp

He walks with you so gently, sitting down on a couch and cradling you while the nurse takes your vitals

He's the first thing you see when you open your eyes and it squashes all of the fear that had filled your gut about what just happened

"Hi doll." He coos, and you give him a tiny smile

"I missed you"

Once you're cleared he's ordering takeout to his dorm and taking you home

Your performance is postponed because Changbin still hasn't put you down a week later

Hyunjin

He knows how excited you were to be going on tour for the first time, and that reminder has been the only thing getting him through

Every time you're meant to come home your company adds another night or a new leg, and Hyunjin is SICK OF IT

Poor guy has not seen his girlfriend in OVER A MONTH

He loves you so much that he watches clips of every show and performance

And he knows you so well that he notices the hollowness of your cheeks and the way you've started to struggle to keep up your energy on stage

Buys a ticket right then and there to your next show, not trusting anyone else to take care of you

He's standing in the wings as you and your group finish your first set of songs, rushing off stage to change outfits

He legit screams when you go down, and if the fans didn't notice before they definitely did after that

One of your members picks you up and soon there's a flurry of people running around trying to make sure you're ok

The other girls are shooed away to go change, with a manager insisting "the show must go on"

Hyunjin sends the man what is quite possibly the dirtiest look to ever exist

When you come to, your boyfriend is holding onto you for dear life, fighting away any staff member that tries to talk to you or coax you back onto the stage

He takes you back to your changing room and locks the door, feeding you small bites like a child and stroking a hand through your hair

"Don't worry about them, be here now. I got you."

Jisung

He's shocked when you casually mention news of your comeback at lunch together one day

"Aren't you not even done with this promotion yet? How are you already having another comeback?"

You shrug, saying something about your brother group not doing very well revenue wise and your boss wanting to take advantage of your groups current success

Jisung frowns at that, but decides to keep it to himself, surely as your companies main money maker you'll be well taken care of

But then you don't come home after your music bank performance because you have to run to a dance rehearsal

And then you have to cancel date night to re-record an entire song

Jisung shows up at the first sound check for your new comeback, and you happily give him a kiss before heading onto stage with your group

He frowns, worried about how small you felt in his arms and how weak your hold on his hand was

He sees you teeter once, accidentally bumping into another member before fully crashing onto the stage

He feels like he can't breathe watching the girls try to get you up and responsive

Your fans are screaming and there's a paramedic running over

He's holding onto your hand the entire time your vitals are being taken, tears streaming down his face

Once you're cleared he's wrapping you in a blanket and holding onto you like you're made of glass

When you wake up he's promising to never ever let you out of his sight again

"We're becoming a duo. You're never allowed to scare me like that again."

Felix

He is worlds proudest boyfriend

He gets to watch HIS GIRL perform onstage AT COACHELLA

He'd spent the day with you, taking pictures of your festival outfit and reapplying your sunscreen to try and keep you safe while in the middle of the literal desert

You'd kissed him goodbye three hours before your stage was scheduled for, needing time to get ready and have some extra rehearsal time

He isn't sure why considering you'd had rehearsal every day this week while also making interview appearances and flying to different locations in between instead of sleeping

He's trying his best not to worry, but your eyes are looking hollowed and he isn't sure the last time you slept in an actual bed instead of a plan seat

It makes him sad to see you unable to give your best energy during the performance, though you even at 50% was still the most exciting performance of the day

He plans on being backstage when you exit after at least two more encores, but you apologize for no encore tonight and are only halfway off the stage when you go down

Let's out the worlds biggest gasp

He follows right behind the paramedic that carries you off the stage and into the back, refusing to be more than a foot away from you at all times

He calls and cancels the rest of your appearances himself, insisting that you need to be resting

You do not escape his hold or your bed for the next two days

"Just let me take care of you! You deserve some princess treatment right now."

Seungmin

He's so so excited that you're also at lalapalooza bc that means you guys can spend time together even tho you're working!!

You're even an mc, so he gets to stare at you on the screen backstage, which just so happens to be his favorite hobby

He wasn't expecting your group to actually perform considering you'd just finished the Japanese leg of your tour and had been performing every night for the last few weeks

But he sees your stage listed on that days performance list, and he frowns thinking about it

He'd made you tea last night after you'd showed up to his hotel room on the verge of losing your voice, and you were so tense when you laid down that he'd rubbed your back for almost an hour with no difference

"Are you sure you should be performing?" He asks as soon as he enters your changing room

"No, but it's just one more stage and then I get to rot in bed for a while. So I'll be okay."

He still doesn't like it, and he shakes his head but gives you a hug anyways, rubbing a soothing hand down your arm

"You better."

He's so stressed he can't stay in the boys waiting room and he stands under the stage as he watches the lift take you and your group up

He catches a glimpse of your performance from the monitor to his left, and he barely breathes until you're taking your last bows

It isn't until the stage starts moving to bring you back down that he sees you wobble uncertainly before falling onto the ground

All of your members jump in surprise, but they don't even have time to react before he's jumping up with them, the lift not even fully on the ground yet

He picks you up and lays you down on one of the spare blankets backstage, propping your head up against his torso while the rest of your body lays between his legs

His thumb rubs your cheek while the medical team checks you out, clearing you when you become responsive

You blink up at him slowly, eyes shiny from unshed tears

"I guess I was wrong."

He sighs, letting you bury yourself into his chest

"That's okay, I've got you now."

Jeongin

End of the year award shows were no joke, and Jeongin knew you were working hard for your performances

Your group had just finished promoting your last album when the never ending flood of award shows started, and he'd found you knocked out asleep in the most random places the past couple weeks

He hated that your group had such loud antis, because he knew how much pressure you were under to prove yourself

You'd told him about the strenuous dancing you were doing, learning borderline acrobatic tricks while conditioning like you were trainees all over again

He'd done his best to remind you to rest and slip protein bars into every bag you owned, but he knew you were past exhausted

He momentarily forgot his worrying when you were performing, and he let out cheers and danced with the rest of his group while you and your members put on an incredibly challenging performance

But all of the fun was drained out of the air when he saw you go down on stage as soon as the camera zoomed in on your maknae's ending fairy

The lights drop, and Jeongin whips his head around in every direction, trying to think of anything he can do to help

Hyunjin asks him to “go to the bathroom” with him as soon as you’re offstage, and that’s all the clearance Jeongin needs to go running backstage

You’re already awake when he finds you, small tears slipping down your face while you nurse on a water bottle

You can’t even say hi before he’s practically tackling you, pulling you so close that you can feel his own heartbeat in your chest

“Are you okay? Oh my gosh you scared me. Don’t ever do that again.”

Your members leave the two of you be while Jeongin clings to you, refusing to let you go for hours, constantly brushing his hands against your heartbeat

[sinstear]

it’s just soft fluffy, angsty just a little riding with vi <33

“fuck,” vi moans as your fingers tugged on her hair, pull her head back and kisses up and down her throat. “just like that,” she nods, biting down on her lip. “just like that, baby.”

“you’re so pretty,” you murmured into her skin, slowly grinding your hips up, sinking your cock deeper into her pussy. your blunt nails dig into the skin on her back and she hummed at her whimper. “so fucking pretty, baby.”

“you feel so good,” vi shakily gasps, holds you closer to her and bounces on your cock faster, her hips moving rhythmically with your thrusts.

vi cries out, holds you tighter when you’re pressing your hand against her stomach, and you grinned. “you feel it, baby? feel how deep i am?” you asked, nipping and biting at her jaw.

“yes, yes, feels so good.” she moans and cups the back of your head. the damp skin of your neck melts against her skin like melted ice cream and her blunt nails sink in; crescent moons littering.

your hands run up and down her back slowly, your teeth nipped harder at the skin of her jaw and vi’s head falls back with another string of moans, “you don’t understand how perfect you are,” you murmured again, tugging at her hair. “you’ve been through so much, and you’re still here, and i’m glad you are because i wouldn’t know what i would do without you, pretty girl.”

burying her face in the crook of your neck, violet sighs softly into your skin, shyly smiles and let's you guide the movements of her hips. “you’re the only good thing i have, the one person i haven’t broke.”

shaking your head, you stroked her cheek slowly and wrapped your arms around her waist as you leaned back against the pillows, stilling her hips completely. “that’s a lie, you haven’t broke anything, with anyone, and no matter how hard things might be or feel, m’always here to guide you and keep you safe, you don’t have to be strong all the time, i can be strong enough for the both of us.” you whispered into her hairline.

“can’t ask you to do that—” a moan rips through her throat, nails scraping up and down your shoulders when you’re thrusting your hips up, sliding the cock deeper and deeper into her cunt with each movement. “oh fuck,” she whimpered, the droplets of tears running down her cheek.

“you crying, baby?” you asked, fucking up into her slowly, and holding her tighter against you.

“i just love you,” vi laughed and kissed your collarbone lightly. “and you feel so good right now, please don’t stop.”

“you deserve this, you deserve everything.”

“i have you, and that’s enough for me.”

for a while, vi just looks down at you, watches you closely, watches the way your eyebrows pinch forward into a frown as you focus on your current task and the way your lips form into an involuntary pout has her smiling. her mind is hazy, your fingers rub slow circles on her clit, slowly dragging her back and forth with your free hand on your cock, practically doing everything for her. “m’gonna cum,” she mumbled against your forehead breathlessly; your skin is layered with a thin sheet of sweat and it melts against her lips. “you’re gonna make me cum.” she laughed again.

“yeah?” you peered up at her, eyelashes fluttering against your skin when she cups your face, ghosts her lips over yours and nods slowly. your skin tingles at the feeling of her fingers dancing against your jaw, and you smile when her breathing gets heavier, hips moving frantically, fucking herself down on your cock. “want you to cum,” you kissed her chin and held onto her tighter once more.

vi’s hand quickly reaches down and grabs your wrist in her hold, trembling and gasping above you, but you don’t stop your ministrations on her clit, or the way you slowly move your hips and fuck up into her. the thick veins of the cock rubbing deliciously against her walls. “baby,” she choked out, subconsciously trying to grind against your fingers.

“i know, it’s okay,” you reassured and removed your hand from her hip to cup the back of her head; where her lips parted against yours and she whimpered. “m’right here.”

“i need to cum.”

“whenever you want.”

when you went to rest your hand on her leg, vi was quick to grab it and shyly place it on her throat. “baby—”

“please?”

her lips parted with a gasp when your hand wrapped around her throat fully and squeezed lightly. her eyes, ones that were glossy, fluttered closed and she whined pathetically. “there you go,” you smiled.

vi’s body tenses suddenly seconds later and croaks out a whimper when you pull her closer by her neck, lips parting against yours with a loud moan as her walls flutter, eyes roll back and she cums on your cock.

holding onto your shoulders tightly, her body slumps into you when you gently remove your hand from her throat and re-wrap your arms around her body, holding her protectively. “i got you,” you mumbled into her damp hair. “you did so good, my beautiful girl.”

“i love you.” her voice barely a whisper as her eyes flutter closed.

“i love you more, but you can’t fall asleep yet, ill run you a bath, okay?”

“five minutes.”

“fine, five minutes and then i’m carrying you to the bathroom.”

[razorblade180]

A look

Ruby:*playing games*

Jaune:*looking at her*…

Ruby:….I can feel your eyeballs on me.

Jaune:Sorry.

Ruby:It’s fine. What’s on your mind?

Jaune:It’s pretty ridiculous. It’s cuteness aggression more or less.

Ruby:*red* Hehe, oh yeah? I’m not stopping ya.

Jaune:Huh?

Ruby:Jaune, we’re dating. You don’t have to hold back. I don’t. You handle all my love. I can do the same.

Jaune:….

She hears him get up to move behind her. Ruby suddenly feels his arms wrap around her waist and torso as Jaune pulls her into his embrace. His breath grazes the skin on her neck before his teeth sink into the flesh, causing the girl to blush violently. The kisses were slow and sent a buzz up her spine and made her heart flutter. Ruby felt like she had no choice but to pause her game. Slowly, her head tilted to the side to expose more of her flesh to Jaune’s advances. His composure returned enough for him to settle with resting his head into the crook of the neck her thoroughly hickied.

Ruby:I-I think that was beyond cuteness aggression, hehehe…

Jaune:Sorry. *holds her close*

Ruby:I didn’t say it was bad. My heart just wasn’t prepared…

Jaune:Is it now?

Ruby:Maybe a little~

Jaune:May I?

Ruby:Go for it.

A quick kiss on the ear made her jolt. Again, she gave Jaune all the room to work with while his hands turned her into puddy the moment he ran them up her figure. Just as she was about to close her eyes and let Jaune indulge himself, the sound of the room door made Ruby look right at the doorway while the boy hid his face in embarrassment.

Yang only took half a step in before freezing in her tracks. Ruby stared at her with a gentle smile on her lips, and yet…that smile didn’t show in her eyes.

Ruby:Sup. Need something?

Yang:*red* U..Ummm Weiss wants us in the training hall in an hour. Said she had to push it back cause of an assignment.

Ruby:Okay. I’ll be.

Yang:C-Cool. Sooo yeah. I’ll see you there.

Ruby:Yang? Sock. Door.

Yang:Yep! *closes door immediately*

Jaune:That’s gonna be in my nightmares…

Ruby:Never mind her. Just focus on me. Let’s daydream for an hour~

xxxxxx

Yang:*sitting*….

Blake:Hey Yang, thanks for lending me your- are you okay?

Yang:I doubt she meant to do it, but Ruby just gave me a look our mom used to make when she wanted me to sit in one place for awhile.

Blake:Is that bad?

Yang:No, it’s weirdly nostalgic. However, I think I now know why our mom gave me that look to begin with and that’s doing numbers on me right now.

Blake:Where is Ruby?

Yang:In the room with Jaune.

Blake:Oh. Oh…. You just left in peace?

Yang:That look called me by my full name. Yes I left in peace.

[ikkyfics]

Wasn't it obvious?

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: For a moment, Dave stayed quiet, his gaze fixed on you. The expression on his face wasn’t judgmental or angry but simply confused. “Wait...” he began, hesitantly. “You’re telling me you thought we weren’t dating?” You stayed silent, the weight in your chest tightening at his question. “I... I didn’t know.” “But...” He ran a hand through his messy curls, looking lost. “I thought it was kind of obvious."

Warnings: mention of sex (not explicit), insecurity, est. relationship, hurt comfort, a little angst

A/N: anon, I hope you can like it <333!!

Masterlist

The room was still bathed in the dim light of morning, with the curtains barely drawn, letting streaks of sunlight spill across the space. You woke up slowly, feeling the warmth of his body still so close. Dave’s breathing was soft and steady, the rhythm of someone deeply asleep. A heavy arm lay draped over your waist, a silent reminder that he had no intention of letting you slip away anytime soon.

Your eyes wandered around the messy room, clothes scattered on the floor—your shirt precariously hanging off the edge of a chair, his pants on the rug, half-hidden under the bed. You knew you needed to leave. There were commitments, schedules, things waiting for you out there. But the weight of that moment, of his warmth, seemed to beg you to stay.

“You awake?” Dave’s husky voice broke through your thoughts. He didn’t open his eyes right away, but the grip around your waist tightened slightly. When he finally looked at you, his blue eyes were clouded with sleep, dark curls falling a little over his forehead. “Stay a little longer. It’s still early…”

“I have to go,” you murmured, even as his fingers lazily traced the curve of your arm. His touch was so light, as if he wanted to draw out every second.

“No, you don’t.” He smiled in that way that always made your resolve waver—that small, crooked smile, almost boyish, but filled with something he probably didn’t even realize he carried. Propping himself up on his elbow, he looked straight at you, his eyes shining even in the faint light. “Who’s gonna care if you skip, huh?”

You laughed softly, knowing he was teasing, though there was a hint of truth in his words. Dave had this way of making you feel like the rest of the world didn’t matter, like that moment—just the two of you, tangled in messy sheets—was the only thing that did.

“You’re not going to make me stay,” you warned, but your voice didn’t sound as convincing as you’d intended. He seemed to catch on, because his smile grew wider.

“What if I hold you down right here?” He stretched his arms dramatically, trying to pull you closer, but you slipped out, laughing again.

“Stop it, Dave,” you said, trying to get up, though you could feel the weight of his gaze following you. You grabbed your shirt first, pulling it off the chair, and started putting it on with your back to him, all too aware of his eyes on you. When you turned around, he was still there, propped up on his hand, his hair messy, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made warmth creep up your face.

“You’re really gonna leave me here all alone?” His tone was playful, almost pouty, but there was something else beneath it—something that was always there in the spaces between words, something you never quite dared to name.

“I am,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light, though something inside you tightened. You knew he wasn’t holding you there, that you were free to leave. But you also knew there were unspoken things between you, things that made moments like this harder than they should be.

He let out an exaggerated sigh, flopping back onto the pillow, though his eyes never left you. “Fine. But only because I know you’ll come back.”

You paused for a second, still holding onto the waistband of the pants you’d just pulled on. His gaze seemed to carry more weight than his words. But, as always, you let it pass.

“Maybe,” you said, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. And before he could respond, you grabbed your things and started moving toward the door, feeling his eyes on you until the very last second.

“Hey,” he called out, just as your hand touched the doorknob. You turned to look at him one last time. He looked so at ease there, so comfortable, with his messy curls and that smile that always made your heart race. “You look amazing in the morning, you know that?”

“See you later, Dave,” you said, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat, and left before he could trap you with another comment.

The café was just busy enough that the hum of conversations and the clinking of cups against saucers created a constant noise, but not so much that it stopped you from relaxing for a few minutes. You sat near the window, the warm coffee cup in your hands, trying to organize your thoughts. There was so much to do, so many things you were trying to ignore—and one of them seemed to have a face framed by dark curls and blue eyes that took up far more space in your mind than you cared to admit.

"Hey, is that really you?"

The familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts, and when you looked up, it took a second to recognize the person standing in front of you.

"Katie?" The surprise was clear in your voice, but a smile quickly appeared on your lips. It was her, without a doubt—the same Katie Deauxma from high school, though now her features seemed more mature. Her hair was a bit shorter, but the easy smile she always had was exactly the same.

"Yeah!" Katie laughed, looking just as surprised to see you there. "Wow, it's been ages! How are you?"

"I'm good. Wow, it really has been a long time," you said, standing for a quick, slightly awkward hug. She seemed as comfortable as ever, and the conversation flowed naturally as the two of you sat down together.

Katie asked about college, what you were studying, and shared a bit about her own courses and what she'd been up to since high school. It was pleasant, even nostalgic, talking to someone who knew you from before.

Until she asked, casually, "So, are you dating anyone? Or just enjoying the single life?"

You hesitated for a second that felt like an eternity. The words formed in your mind before you could fully think through their weight, slipping out before you could stop them.

"Actually… I am dating someone."

It was a lie. Or wasn't it? You didn’t know anymore. But the sound of the word in your mouth brought an instant pang of guilt, something that tightened in your chest as Katie’s smile widened.

“Oh, really? That’s great! Who’s the lucky one?”

“Dave Lizewski,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual. Katie blinked, surprised, before letting out a short laugh.

“Dave? Wow! I haven’t talked to him in ages. We dated, remember? Back in high school.”

You nodded, feeling your stomach sink. Of course you remembered. Everyone remembered. Dave and Katie had been the cute couple in school, the kind everyone thought was improbable, even cliché—the nerd with the popular girl.

“He was so sweet. A little awkward, but always so thoughtful,” Katie continued, oblivious to the storm of emotions building inside you. “You two must make a great couple, I’m sure.”

You smiled, or tried to, and murmured something vague in response. But all you could think was that she was right. Dave was sweet. He was thoughtful, even with his goofy comments and the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. He held your hand in public. He made a point to walk you home when he could.

But he had never called you his girlfriend.

And now you were sitting here, listening to Katie talk about what he was like when they dated, and something inside you was breaking into pieces you didn’t even know existed. You remembered them together—how she’d hold onto his arm in the school hallways, how happy he looked next to her. And suddenly, you couldn’t help but wonder if he looked at you the same way he looked at her.

You finished your coffee as quickly as you could, saying goodbye to Katie with a smile that felt increasingly forced. She hugged you again before leaving, promising that you should meet up again sometime.

When you were alone again, the noise of the café felt louder, like it was echoing inside you. The empty cup in front of you felt like a weight holding you there, while your thoughts spiraled endlessly.

Girlfriend.

You’d said it. And now the word felt like it was haunting you, something far too big to carry. You never wanted to be this person, the one who lied or twisted things to fit into something that might not even be real.

But you couldn’t help it.

Because deep down, you wanted it to be true.

Thursday nights always held a special weight. It was an unspoken tradition between the two of you. No matter what happened during the week—piles of work, tough exams, or tight deadlines—Thursdays were reserved for you two. And no matter how hard you tried to focus on something else, the memory of your encounter with Katie had been pounding in your head ever since you left the café.

You had tried to shake it off with a stack of required reading, loud music through your headphones, and even a spontaneous apartment cleaning spree, but nothing worked. Katie's voice kept echoing, her smile, the way she talked about Dave. The way she referred to him as someone who used to be hers, as if there was still a part of him trapped in the past that might never belong to you.

And then there was you. And the lie. Or was it the truth? You didn’t even know anymore. The weight of the words that had slipped out before you could stop them—they felt heavier now, like stones sinking in your stomach. You said it because you wanted to believe it was real. But what about him? What would he think if he knew?

The sound of the doorbell yanked you from your thoughts. It was him.

You took a deep breath, trying to quiet the chaos inside, and opened the door. Dave stood there, as he always did, with his messy curls and a small smile that grew wider just for you. He held a plastic bag with a pack of fries and two sodas—the kind of thing he always brought because he knew you loved it.

“Hey,” he said, leaning in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek before stepping inside. His touch was warm, familiar. But tonight, it felt harder to relax around him, like the storm in your head was keeping you from grounding yourself in the moment.

“Hey,” you replied, closing the door as he made his way to the kitchen, putting the sodas in the fridge without even asking. He’d been doing this for so long that it was second nature.

“You okay?” Dave asked, opening the bag of fries and tossing one into his mouth. He looked at you with those blue eyes, his forehead creasing slightly with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answered quickly—maybe too quickly. He noticed. Of course, he did. Dave had always had this uncanny ability to sense when something was off, even when you tried to hide it.

“Are you sure? You seem kind of...” He gestured vaguely with his hand.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, a bit more firmly. “Just tired, that’s all.”

“Okay.” He shrugged, but the way he kept watching you while munching on a fry made it clear he wasn’t entirely convinced. “Wanna watch a movie or something? I brought that one you said you wanted to see...”

“I’m not sure I feel like watching a movie tonight,” you replied, trying to keep your voice neutral as you grabbed a glass of water for yourself. It was a small response, almost insignificant, but the tension was already starting to build.

“Alright, so what do you want to do?” He leaned against the kitchen counter, his gaze calm and his relaxed posture a stark contrast to the knot tightening inside you.

“I don’t know, Dave!” The words came out sharper than you intended, and the tone in your voice made his eyebrows lift.

“Okay, easy,” he said slowly, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I was just asking. No need to bite my head off.”

You sighed, guilt starting to creep in. But instead of stopping, the words began spilling out before you could catch them. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s just... I don’t know. I’m tired. I had a rough day, and then you show up with your fries like everything is so simple, like... like I just need a movie, and everything will be fine.”

He blinked, visibly confused, but his tone remained calm. “I was just trying to help. I didn’t know you were feeling so... like this.”

“Like this?” You crossed your arms, the tension in your stance growing. “What’s that supposed to mean, Dave?”

“You know what I mean,” he said, but now there was something in his tone that suggested he was trying to keep his patience in check.

“Actually, I don’t,” you shot back, your voice rising. But as soon as the words left your mouth, you felt the sting of tears welling in your eyes, and the lump in your throat that had been forming all day was now nearly unbearable.

Dave noticed immediately. Of course, he did. He might not have been great with words, but he never failed to pick up on when something was wrong with you. His expression shifted in an instant, confusion giving way to a concern so genuine it made you feel even more vulnerable.

“Hey, hey,” he said, stepping closer, his voice softer now. “What’s going on? Are you crying?”

“I’m not,” you lied, turning your face away, but he didn’t buy it.

“Yes, you are,” he insisted, and before you could step back, Dave was already close enough to gently take your hands in his. “Look at me.”

You hesitated but finally lifted your gaze. His blue eyes met yours, filled with so much concern it was almost impossible to hold the contact.

“Talk to me,” he said. It wasn’t a command; it was an invitation. “Please.”

The weight in your chest felt like it was about to explode, and the words came out before you could stop them.

“I ran into Katie.”

Dave blinked, visibly surprised. “Katie?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, trying to look away, but he stayed close, holding your hands with almost unbearable tenderness. “We bumped into each other by chance. Talked for a few minutes.”

He tilted his head, his blue eyes narrowing slightly, now a mix of curiosity and concern. “And?”

“She asked about you,” you said, your voice almost a whisper. “And I... I told her I was your girlfriend.”

Dave went quiet for a moment. Not the heavy silence of judgment, but the kind of pause he always took when he was trying to fully understand something.

“Okay,” he began cautiously. “And... why does that seem to be hurting you?”

“Because I don’t know if it’s true!” you burst out, the confession hitting with a force that made you flinch. “I said I was your girlfriend, but I didn’t know if I was lying. We’ve never talked about this, never put a name on what we have. And now all I can think about is whether I said something that wasn’t real.”

For a moment, he stayed quiet, his gaze fixed on you. The expression on his face wasn’t judgmental or angry but simply confused.

“Wait...” he began, hesitantly. “You’re telling me you thought we weren’t dating?”

You stayed silent, the weight in your chest tightening at his question.

“I... I didn’t know,” you admitted, your voice weak, barely a whisper.

“But...” He ran a hand through his messy curls, looking lost. “I thought it was kind of obvious. I mean, we see each other all the time, spend nights together, you steal my shirts...”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you cut him off, frustration mixed with nervousness. “People do that all the time without dating, Dave.”

“But I don’t do that with just anyone,” he countered, his blue eyes locking onto yours, as if he wanted to make this point crystal clear. “I do that with you because I want to be with you. Because I thought... well, I thought it was obvious.”

“But you never said it,” you argued, feeling the tears starting to return. “And I never said it either. And that’s what’s been driving me crazy. I didn’t know what we were.”

Dave sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. He looked like he was processing everything all at once, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But instead, he stepped closer until he was near enough to hold your hands again.

“Okay,” he said softly. “Then let’s make it clear now.”

His tone was calm but firm, and when he spoke again, it felt like every word had been carefully chosen.

“I’m with you,” he said. “And I thought that was obvious, but if it wasn’t, I’m saying it now: I want to be with you. Just you. And if that means we’re dating, then yeah, I guess we’re dating.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it.

“But...” you began, the word almost lost in the lump in your throat. “What about Katie?”

He frowned, clearly caught off guard by the change in topic.

“What about Katie?”

“She was your first girlfriend,” you continued, your voice cracking slightly. “And I remember how you two were. Everyone thought you were perfect together. And now, seeing her again, I can’t stop thinking that...”

“That what?” He tilted his head, his blue eyes filled with concern.

“That I’ll never be good enough,” you confessed, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

Dave was silent for a moment, but before you could say more, he shook his head with a soft, incredulous laugh.

“Are you serious?” he asked, his voice full of almost overwhelming tenderness.

You looked at him, confused.

“I broke up with Katie years ago,” he said, as though reminding you of something obvious. “And yeah, it was important to me. She was my first girlfriend. But that doesn’t mean anything now. She’s part of my past, that’s all. You’re my present. And my future, if I’m lucky.”

You tried to process his words, but the lump in your throat only seemed to grow.

“But what if I’m not enough?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“You already are enough,” he answered immediately, without hesitation. He stepped closer, so close that you were almost nose to nose. “More than enough. And you don’t need to compare yourself to Katie or anyone else. Because no one comes close to you, got it? No one.”

His eyes were so intense, so full of emotion, that you felt tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’m here because I want to be here,” he continued, his voice now softer. “Because you’re who I want. And nothing—absolutely nothing—is going to change that.”

You closed your eyes, trying to hold back the tears, but it was impossible. When you opened them again, Dave was already pulling you into a tight embrace, wrapping you in a tenderness that felt both overwhelming and comforting all at once.

Dave’s arms tightened around you as if he were trying to shield you from the outside world—or maybe from yourself. The warmth of his body surrounded you, and for a moment, the only sound you could hear was the steady beat of his heart, like a reassuring rhythm that seemed to absorb all the anxiety that had consumed you until then.

“You’re more than enough,” he repeated, his voice low and steady, as if it were something he needed you to believe more than anything else. And you wanted to believe it.

Minutes passed like that, in a cocoon of quiet comfort, with him holding you as if the whole world had disappeared. And you stayed there, letting yourself surrender to that sense of relief, of not needing to worry about anything else. Just the present. Just him.

Finally, you lifted your head, your face warm and your eyes still a little teary but calmer. You looked at him, and he looked back at you with an intensity that made you feel as if you were being seen in a way no one else ever could.

“Do you really think I’m enough for you?” you asked, your voice softer now but still tinged with uncertainty. You knew he’d answered, but you needed to hear it again, to be sure.

Dave smiled, a smile that made his eyes shine with a mix of affection and certainty. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lightly grazing your skin, and answered with a tenderness that warmed your chest.

“I don’t just think,” he said, his voice warm and sincere. “I know. And if you let me, I’ll show you that every single day. Because to me, you’re everything. And nothing, no one, can change that.”

His words echoed softly but with a force that was impossible to ignore. And in that moment, with your heart racing and your breath unsteady, you finally understood what he was trying to tell you. It didn’t matter what had happened in the past or the insecurities you carried. What mattered was what he was offering you now. It was real. And you wanted to believe it. Wanted to allow yourself.

You gave a small smile, the tears still falling but now accompanied by a growing sense of peace that began to fill the spaces left by doubt. “I don’t want to compare myself to anyone,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “But sometimes it’s hard.”

Dave gave a small laugh, gently cupping your cheeks. “I get it,” he said. “But never forget: you’re who I chose. And you don’t need to be like anyone else. You’re unique to me, and that’s all I need.”

He pulled you closer again, and this time, instead of insecurity, the embrace was filled with something softer yet stronger—a sense that you’d found your place, a safe place full of care.

Time passed slowly, and you felt calmer, as if his words had cleared the chaos in your mind. When you looked into his eyes, you no longer saw doubt or fear—just certainty. And you felt it too. The certainty that, with him by your side, everything would be okay.

“I love you,” you whispered, not thinking too much, but with a truth that burned through your skin and filled your chest with something so profound that words couldn’t fully translate it.

Dave smiled, that genuine, happy smile of his. “I love you too,” he replied, before leaning in for a gentle kiss that made the world seem to pause for a moment. A kiss that needed no explanations. A kiss that said everything about who you were—and everything you were still about to become.

[cosmicalily]

"love (and caffeine) on the brain" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist and outline here

month 42: but two though? | fiance!kim seungmin x fem!reader

author's note: as you can tell by the title, this entry is inspired by 'juno' by sabrina carpenter (minus the freakiness). i hope you love this final chapter, and of course there will always be more seungmin content in my oneshots and timestamps!

warnings: pregnancy (giggles mischeviously)

“Hey pretty girl,” Seungmin mumbled into your shoulder, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your jawline, “I’m gonna go to the store; wanna come?”

You rubbed your forehead, downing the glass of water he’d given you mere minutes ago. “Yeah, okay. Maybe some fresh air will help clear my head.”

Seungmin looked at you with his head tilted to the side, an action that your beloved dog, Mini, frequently imitated. “I was just thinking . . . like obviously, you know your body best so I don’t want to assume but . . . are you sure it’s PMS?”

“I mean, it’s the longest fucking PMS I’ve had in a while,” you groaned, rubbing your lower back as you stood up, giving him a crooked smile and pulling on one of his hoodies.

Mini whimpered a little as the two of you closed the door behind you, despite the endless amount of attention he’d received all day.  Once you were settled in the car,  Seungmin rested his hand on your thigh as you hummed to the music, wincing as the pain in your lower back moved in waves of tension.

“You haven’t gotten your period in a while,” Seungmin persisted, giving you a quick glance as he drove, rubbing circles on your knee.

“What a good boyfriend, being so concerned about my hormonal cycle,” you giggled.

“I’m being serious, baby,” Seungmin replied, face concerned.

You turned to face him, eyebrows furrowed. “I mean, you’re not wrong. With all these ongoing symptoms, I’ve been expecting it for a while now. I just assumed that it would show up eventually.”

“Two months,” Seungmin replied, pulling into the parking lot of the grocery store and hopping out of the car, opening the door for you like he usually did and helping you out.

“Seung, you’ve been counting?”

He shrugged, grabbing a trolley and holding the list in between his teeth. “I’m your boyfriend, I notice when something’s off.”

“You’re not my boyfriend, stupid, didn’t you propose to me?” you lightly slapped him on the arm, and his expression of concern faltered for a little, his mouth moving into an automatic smile at the memory.

“Fiance, whatever,” he replied, gently elbowing you back, then slipping his hand into the back pocket of your jeans.

Your eyes widened. “Wait, two whole months?” 

“Yeah . . . do you think . . .” Seungmin shoved the list into his pocket, looking at you. “Like . . .”

You paused in the aisle, mentally calculating everything that you’d experienced throughout the past few months. “Oh my God, I think you might be right.”

Seungmin didn’t say anything, just grabbed your hand and abandoned the empty trolley, leading you towards the medication aisle. You looked through shelves until you reached the end. Next to the pads and tampons Seungmin hadn’t bought you in so long was a selection of pregnancy tests.

“Do you care which one we get? I don’t really know if there’s a difference,” Seungmin asked, looking through the boxes. 

“Just get whichever one’s quickest. I don’t mind,” you replied, heart thumping hard in your chest.

Weekly groceries forgotten, the two of you headed to the cashier with two boxes and his hand in yours.

That was when you realised that even if you weren’t pregnant now, you most definitely wanted to be.

Because Seungmin would be the best dad you could ever imagine.

“C’mere, sweet girl, just leave it for a little while, then we can check,” Seungmin pulled you gently by your waist, briefly removing your focus from the white test sitting on the bathroom countertop. He’d set a timer on his phone, and knew that the seconds would take much longer if you both simply watched the piece of plastic’s little screen, yet neither of you could really draw your attention away.

“Are you . . . Seung, if . . . if it is . . . what do you want to do?” you sobbed into his shoulder, suddenly overcome with emotion.

“I’ll do whatever you want to do. It’s your body, baby,” Seungmin replied, rubbing soothing circles into the small of your back. “If you don’t think we’re ready, that’s fine. If you wanna keep the baby, that’s fine too. If you change your mind in a year and  suddenly decide you don’t ever want kids at all, I’ll be a little bummed, but I don’t care, as long as I have you, and as long as you’re happy.  It’s your decision, and I support it.”

You stared up at him, eyes like pools of wet ink. “I think . . . I wanna keep it.”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Seungmin’s eyes shifted into crescents, pressing kisses onto your forehead. “But if you really don’t, I-”

“No, Min, I do, I know I do.”

“Okay,” Seungmin mumbled into your neck.

He felt a buzz in his left pocket. The timer. You didn’t want to pull yourself away from his arms, feeling so comforted by him that you didn’t really care about the answer on the test anymore. Whatever the case was, he was your safe space, and you knew, just by the way he reacted and cared for you throughout all those years you’d been together, that he was the best partner you could ask for.

“Baby . . . you might want to look.”

You reluctantly removed your face from the crook of his shoulder and stared at the two lines that were set across the screen of the test.

“Oh my god . . . oh my GOD!” You gasped, grabbing the test out of his hands and holding it to your eye, before tossing it back onto the counter and shoving yourself back into Seungmin’s embrace. Tears of joy prickled at your eyes, and you felt his own start to dampen the top of your hair.

“You’re perfect,” Seungmin murmured. “You’re so strong. I’m so in awe of you and what your body is doing, I hope you know that.”

“It was you who seemed to know my body better than I do,” you chuckled softly, leaning in to press a long, sweet kiss to his lips.

“You’d be surprised by how much I’ve actually adored your hormonal clinginess, you big baby.”

“Shut up. I love you.”

“I love you too. Both of you,” Seungmin beamed, pressing a quick kiss to your stomach, before taking your hand in his and gently pulling you on top of him onto the soft bathmat.

taglist: @hyunjiiza @zelinkcrossing @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @nappynapnaps @yaniluvs @bellarellasstuff @btch8008s @pigeonseatmayo @modesttiger @woozarts - send an ask, comment or dm to be added!

[leftneb]

for the wip ask game! 🌩

🌩 Share something funny/cracky from your WIP. from this ask game

from The Hands Fic WIP! heads up there is one (1) brief mention of explicit content in here!

“D’you remember the lie detector? Thought that thing was gonna cut my fingers off.” Lando rambles on, not realising how much closer he just put Oscar to tripping over his own feet in front of what might as well be their entire team.

In lieu of an appropriate reaction Oscar lets his face just do what it wants. He feels, helpless, as his eyebrows raise and his eyes widen, staring staunchly at the floor because as long as he doesn’t look Lando in the eye he can still plausibly deny having had any sort of reaction to d’you remember the lie detector of all fucking things. 

Oh, does he remember the lie detector? Fucking hell. Of course he remembers the fucking lie detector. Could he ever not.

“Hmm,” he says, trying to school his voice into something that doesn’t sound suspiciously like yeah I remember how you giggled and blushed and hid your face into the crook of your elbow, I watched every single moment of it or the somehow catastrophically worse yes I’ve been jacking off to the knowledge of you having to re-buckle the straps because your monster-sized fingers wouldn’t fit into the space mine were perfectly fucking snug in, so thanks yeah I reckon I remember the lie detector.

Instead, he says, in an unfortunately conspiratorial tone, “I don’t recall it was that tight for me.” Which is somehow worse, and more revealing, than just the truth. If he’s lucky Lando won’t make the connection between Oscar remembering the lie detector and being able to fucking, compare their hand girth like an actual stalker.

“Heh, right,” Lando huffs. “You and your dainty princess hands. I’m jealous, Osc, mine are like, fucking monstrous,” he teases, mischief in his voice like he’s not just flipped Oscar’s world upside down. 

Lando shimmies both his hands out of his pockets and lifts them chest-level, demonstrating his point to Oscar. 

Inexplicably, some primal part of his brain decides that he should be listening to his mirror neurons instead of basic etiquette. He lifts his hands to match. “Yeah,” he says. 

“See? Tiny.” Lando says for emphasis, taking his other hand and craning it all the way over just to poke Oscar’s frozen-still limb. If Oscar wasn’t already used to Lando’s complete disregard of personal space, he’d think it was weird. Well he’d probably think it was weird if he could think at all right now. 

“Yeah,” he says again, pleasantly surprised that his tone is still bored levels of flat. Fucking hell. 

“Well, you know what they say about a guy’s hands…” Lando jests. He turns – to Oscar’s utter horror – to look him dead in the eye, anticipating something; Oscar’s reaction, maybe even a response. 

Oscar opens his mouth, says, voice mortifyingly rough, “right,” realises that there’s no way that’ll be enough to save either of them from social oblivion, and continues. “Big hands, big-” he fails to think rationally, “ego?”

And Lando- Lando laughs. Not a big outburst, just a cackle, of sorts. It brings the crinkle back to the corner of his eyes and snaps the tension from his shoulders. 

“Big hands, big ego!” He says. Bright like the sun, a happy little tremor in his voice. Like he’s relieved Oscar’s joke was funny. 

[justanothermemestrider]

Nothing Ever Stays Dead - Part 2

Gadriel x Childhood Friend OC

Part two baby let's goooooooooo

Okay first up, I wanna thank every single person who has liked, reblogged, commented on and read part one (if you didn't catch it, you can read it here :)) . I love and appreciate every single one of you. Your support, comments and tags are literally food for my soul. So thank you ^^

Second, this fic makes reference to @beckyninja 's Titus x reader fic series. Specifically, it references Titus' relationship with the reader character "little healer." I really wanted to reference them bc they were such a big inspiration for me and @beckyninja is such an awesome writer and creator. If you wanna know more, go check out their fics. They're superbly written, and as mentioned above, they are among the inspo for this series. So go read them! :D

Third, standard warnings and notes: this part is sfw, but has violence, angst and general 40kness. Also unedited so apologies for any spelling and grammar errors (I'm sure there are some lol)

As always, thank you for reading and please enjoy :)

Between the towering grid of criss-crossing spires, the night sky twinkled at Ellicent. It was only a sliver- if she held out her hand, she could cover it entirely with her palm. But for a girl whose life until how had been spent at the very bottom of the Underhive's deepest fissures, it was like looking through a planetary telescope.

Stars of every colour shone against the deep blue back drop. It might just be her imagination, but Ellicent could've sworn it they were winking at her. Like they knew how pretty they were, and were only too happy to show off of her.

A smile touched Ellicent's lips. For the first time in a long time, she felt truly content.

"I thought I might find you up here."

She turned in her seat. On her left, not far from where the chimney sat, a warm, round face framed with silver hair appeared over the edge of the roof. Ellicent's smile broadened a little more. "You know me well," she said.

Climbing off the ladder and onto the roof, Gadriel carefully made his way over to her Although they were about the same age, were she was lithe like a cat, he built like an ox. Meant with every step he took, the iron sheet that made up the roof shook and rattled. He lowered himself down beside her, then followed her gaze upward.

"Pretty, right?" Ellicent said.

"Uh huh. If only there weren't so many hive spires in the way."

Smirking, Ellicent leaned into his shoulder. Gadriel lifted his arm to make room for her, then draped it around her. Ellicent had to resist the urge to sigh- after sitting outside in the cold for so long, the warmth of his body against hers was heavenly.

"If you join the Angels, you'll get to see all of it," she said.

"You mean when."

"Sorry. When."

Both of their tones are humourous, but underneath is an edge. An unspoken tension wedged between them, despite how close they are now.

"I thought you'd be too old now, anyway," Ellicent said. "Don't they only take young boys?"

"18 cycles is the official cut off," Gadriel said. "I've still got one more left to make it."

Eliicent nodded, but said nothing. Her silence, however, spoke for her.

Gadriel's arm around her tightened. Gently, he guided her head into the crook of his neck. "Ellie. I-"

"I know. It's the best way to get out of here. To get us out of here." She shook her head slightly. "But it's not the only way. And it's definitely the most dangerous."

"It's only dangerous for me," Gadriel said. "For you and Mum, it's the safest."

Ellicent swallowed the lump that was forming in the back of her throat. An old familiar grief rose up within her heart. With it, it brought pictures of her father.

"Ellie?" Gadriel asked. She felt the warm kiss of his forehead touching her crown. "Will you say something?"

Gazing up at him, Ellicent gave him a brief peck on the lips. "We've still got one cycle," she said. "We'll figure something else out by then."

"And if we don't?"

"We will," Ellicent said.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It wasn't him.

Over and over, her head tells her the same thing. With every turn of her screwdriver. With every jolt of pain that shoots through her shoulder from her damaged cybernetic arm.

It wasn't him.

It wasn't him.

It wasn't him.

"But it was," Ellicent says aloud. "It was. He said my name. I heard his voice. It was him."

Why did he never come back, then?

Why did he leave you?

The screwdriver slips from her hand and clatters to the floor. Cursing, she stoops down to pick it up. "I... I don't know," she hisses at herself. "Maybe he- maybe he was too busy. Or thought I was already dead."

Or maybe he forgot about you.

Tears sting Ellicent's eyes. It's all she can do to keep herself from crying out loud.

"It wasn't him," she mutters. "It can't have been."

The snap of an opening door makes her look up.

"Ellicent! What the hell was that?"

Ellicent winces away from the voice. It grates her like a razor across her ear, spawns a knot of anxiety deep within her gut. "I'm sorry, sir," she says. "I-"

He punches her in the face. Hard enough to break the skin of her brow. Ellicent tumbles out of her chair, breaking her fall with her still-damaged cybernetic. The arm's metal hisses like a snake who's been stood on.

"How many Space Marines have you killed for me already, huh?"

Ellicent touches her finger to her brow. She stifles another wince.

"How many?!" Severus bellows.

Ellicent swallows bile and blood. "Ten," she murmurs.

"That's right. Ten." Grasping her by the pony tail, Severus hails her to her feet. His own bionic arm whines with the effort. "So tell me, " he spits. "Why the fuck was some trio of damned blue boy-scouts able to best you?"

Ellicent avoids his eye. He hates it when she looks at him. Doing so now would only earn her another punch. "I'm sorry," she says again, even meeker than before.

She can feel Severus' glare boring through her skull. Her scalp is screaming, but she bites her lip against the pain. Show no resistance. Only subservience. Even if you hate it, it is the only way to survive.

With a wordless snarl, Severus throws her to the ground. "Worthless wretch. I invest everything in building you, and you give me nothing in return."

Ellicent sneaks a glance up at him. Running his hand through his long, greasy hair, he wears an exhausted, frustrated scowl. "The Drukhari won't forgive us for this," he says, more to himself than to her. "They'll want to cut ties. Won't wanna risk having the Sons of Guilliman looking their way."

He carries on like this for several minutes. Completely ignoring Ellicent, as if she'd never been in the room in the first place. Ellicent pushes herself up to her knees, but doesn't risk trying to rise. Even without the threat of Severus' wrath, however, she doubts she could stand anyway. Her face aches from the punch, and her head is spinning.

It wasn't him, her mind tells her. Over and over again.

Her heart, however, is not so easily silenced.

But what if it was?

* * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"A Valkyrie is on it's way for Chairon," Titus reports. "Despite appearances, the Apothecary believes he will likely survive."

Gadriel looks up from his hands. For the last hour, he's done nothing but stare at them in silence. He looks past Titus to where their brother lies prone. When the gas charge had detonated, Chairon had caught a piece of debris to the side of the head. It had struck with enough force to sever his helm, break his skin and crack his skull. A sickening mixture of emotions broil within Gadriel at the sight of his brother like this. At the knowledge of who had done it to him.

"Promise me you'll come back."

"I promise."

"Sergeant?"

Gadriel starts. "Forgive me," he says. "That is- that is a relief. Thank the Emperor, indeed."

Titus' expressionless helm stares at Gadriel for several long moments. Gadriel has to stifle the urge to squirm. The lieutenant briefly looks around; after the attack, the fireteam had retreated into a nearby complex, smashing down the windows and taking cover within its walls. Since then, the area has been silent. The only evidence of there ever being a fireifght are the odd tangle of black smoke still spiralling in the air. Satisfied that they are still secure, Titus looks back at Gadriel.

Then, he removes his helm.

The seals around his throat hiss as Titus breaks them, lifting off the helmet before tucking it under his arm. His face is squarer than Gadriel's, with a firmer jaw and a blunt nose. His hair is cropped close to his skull and the pair of silver studs above his right brow indicating his century-long career as an Ultramarine- gleam in the low, polluted light. His is a fierce visage to look upon, there's not doubt about that. But despite that, when he looks at Gadriel now, the only thing fierce about him is the intensity of his worry.

"Forgive me for saying this, brother. But you appear to be distracted. Unsettled, even."

Gadriel's instinct is to lower his gaze. To try and brush the lieutenant off with a snide remark or flat out refusal. Indeed, if they had been having this conversation back on Kadaku, that might have been exactly what he would have done. But much has happened since then. Many things, both good and bad, have passed between him and Titus. As such, the lieutenant has become one of his closest friends.

If anyone might understand, it will be him.

Taking a breath, Gadriel sighs it out through his nose. Removing his own helmet, he sits upon a nearby ledge and sets it on his lap. "That woman," he starts. "I... I know her."

"You've encountered her before?"

Gadriel covers his blush with one hand, feigning the need to rub his nose. "That's one way of putting it."

Titus eyes him carefully. Despite his best efforts, Gadriel can feel himself wilting under the scrutinisation. Titus clasps his helmet to his hip, then walks up to Gadriel to sit beside him. He's leaning forwards elbows braced on his knees. Something about the posture gives Gadriel a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Is she a former ally?" Titus asks quietly.

Gadriel chews his cheek. Shakes his head.

"An enemy, then?"

"No," Gadriel says sharply. "No, she- she was the first one."

"An ally?"

"How much more?"

The word makes him wince. "Yes. But she was..." Throne, how do I even describe it? "She was more than that. A lot of more."

Gadriel bites his cheek. His tongue feels like ash in his mouth. "We were... together. Before I joined the Ultramarines."

Titus nods thoughtfully. "I see."

A beat of silence passed between them. Titus is the one to break it. "Tell me, how long have you served for?"

"As of this cycle? Fifty three years."

Tirus nods again. "That's a long time. Particularly in the eyes of a baseline."

The comment is innocent enough, and in no way untrue. Even so, Gadriel feels his hackles rise. "What are you saying? "

"She tried to kill us, Gadriel. She raised a weapon against the Emperor's Angels. And even if she hadn't, I know you saw the same as I: the particle beams, the necronian cybernetics. That alone is-"

"It's not as simple as that," Gadriel says. He looks down at his hands. "It can't be."

His hands become fists. For the first time this entire interaction, Gadriel looks Titus right in the eye. "I need to talk to her."

"Sergeant-"

"No, listen to me. Ellie would never do this. Never. Severus must be coercing her or have her enslaved."

"Gadriel-"

"She could've killed me back there, at the warehouse. She had her blade at my throat. But she didn't. When she heard me speak, she stopped. She recognised me, Titus. She said my damn name!"

"Gadriel, enough!"

Titus' voice snaps like a whip, cutting Gadriel off mid-breath. The corners of his eyes have hardened slightly, and though he still appear sympathetic, Gadriel can feel exasperation bubbling beneath it. "I understand your frustration, brother. If she were truly falsely accused, you know I would take your side. But we both saw her wielding alien technology. We both saw her bomb wound Chairon and her blade almost kill you." His voice softens. "Whoever she was to you does not change that. It can't."

Gadriel bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to make it bleed. The taste of his own blood is sharp on his tongue. Sharper still is the invisible blade scything away at his heart.

But what if it's all my fault? He wants to say. What if I was reason for whatever terrible thing that brought her here, and if I didn't remedy it, I could not bear to live with myself.

Gadriel says no such thing, however. If he did, all he would get from Titus is more stern sympathy.

That isn't to say that Gadriel remains silent, however. In fact, he's already got his next argument prepared, has for a while. He doesn't know if it will work, and the only thing he does knkw is that, initially at least, it will do nothing but outrage Titus. But Gadriel has no other ideas. He's desperate. And he running out of the time.

"What if it had been your little healer?"

Titus' entire body goes rigid. "What?"

Gadriel clenches his jaw. Both of his hearts pound as if he'd just stepped into a firefight. But he keeps talking. "She was accused of heresy, wasn't she? Her own people tried to kill her. But you saved her."

Titus' nostrils flare as he exhales sharply through his nose. "What relevance does that have here?"

"What relevance?" Gadriel demands. "It is the same thing!"

"My healer was falsely accused."

"You didn't know that when you saved her, though, did you?"

With a crash of ceramite on concrete, Titus is on his feet. "Speak your mind, Sergeant," he growls. "But I warn you; you are on thin ice."

Gadriel steadies his pulses with a slow, deep breath. Then, joining Titus on his feet, he meets the lieutenant's gaze. "If this was your healer," he says. "You would not hesitate in seeking her out. Even if she had attacked us- even if she'd succeeded in killing Chairon and I- you would go to her. You'd want to help her. Or, at the very least, try and talk to her. I know you would, and I know that you know it too, even if you won't admit it. So why won't you allow me to do the same?"

Titus' jaw feathers with tension. Gadriel can practically hear the storm raging behind his eyes. He imagines Titus can see something similar happening behind his own eyes, too. "You know the Codex would absolutely abhor such an action," the lieutenant says quietly.

"I do," Gadriel says. "But the codex is not always right. You taught me that."

For a long time, Titus says nothing. He just stares at Gadriel. Either searching for something within the sergeant's expression or mulling over his own thoughts. Gadriel's hearts roar in his ears. The cut he'd chewed into the side of his cheek has now become an open wound. But he doesn't dare interrupt the Titus' thoughts. Right now, the lieutenant is Gadriel's only hope. By extension, that makes him Ellie's only hope.

Finally, after what feels like a century, Titus opens his mouth. "You're right," he says. "Absolutely, you are right. And as your friend, I wish I could stand by you. But I am not merely your friend, Gadriel. I am also a servant of the Emperor, and I am also your commanding officer." He trails off, but Gadriel can hear what goes unspoken. It makes his throat close over, fills his stomach with rocks. "Titus," he whispers. "Please-"

"I'm sorry, Sergeant. But there is nothing I can do."

Gadriel opens his mouth to argue, but as the first curse word leaves his mouth, the bang of a firearm makes both Astartes turn. Gadriel scoops up his helmet and makes his way over to the window. Above the city skyline, piercing the dying daylight like a sword through armoured plating, a single, scarlet light rises into the sky.

"Is that a flare?" Titus says from Gadriel's side.

Gadriel swallows thickly. There's no way... No way she still has it.

"Yes," he replies.

"But there are no other Imperial forces here."

"It's not Imperial," Gadriel mutters.

Titus looks at the sergeant, confused. It doesn't take long, though, for the pieces to fall into place. "Gadriel-"

But Gadriel is already gone. Slamming his helmet back over his head, locking its objective marker onto the location of the flare, no other thought, feeling or concern in his mind.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Feel like I'm finally cooking now XD part 3 is about to be the scene that I dreamed up that made me wanna write this story in the first place so I am SO HYPED to write it :D

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed <3

Taglist: @solspina @beckyninja @egrets-not-regrets @wolf-feathers12 @jaghatai-khock @lemon-russ @moodymisty @hatsubara-8chan @nereidof40k @yanagikou @fyxestroll @yurihasurunbara @lylakoi

[spacecowboyy0]

bucky barnes deserves baby reg reader!!!!

i completely agree!! i saw a tiktok of a mom who brought her kid to a martial arts gym so she could practice and her kid had a little set up in the corner and one comment said: “You watch Bluey while momma chokes the life outta someone, k pumpkin?” and i thought that was hilarious, so that's the inspo for this

notes: cg!bucky, cg!nat and reader live together but buck and nat are not in a relationship (i think they're both super gay)

~1k words

You enter the boxing gym on Bucky’s hip, head resting on his shoulder. A group of you planned to spar together in a gym that you have access to. Peter had saved the owner’s daughter from getting robbed one night and now he could use the gym whenever he wanted. At least once a month you, Peter, Natasha, Bucky, Matt, Frank and Wade (sometimes a few other vigilantes) sparred together. You had planned on sparring but when you woke up feeling smaller than usual, Bucky decided it would be best if you didn’t participate (you were a little disappointed but still happy to come). 

Matt, Frank and Peter are already there when the three of you arrive. Natasha trails behind Bucky, holding two gym bags and your backpack. You squeal when you see the others, slapping your hand against Bucky’s chest in excitement. He laughs and bounces you a bit before letting you down. You run to Peter and give him a big hug. 

“Hey Petey!”

“Hi bug! No sparring for you today?” 

“Nu uh, papa says ‘m too small.” You look beside him where Matt and Frank are watching the interaction. Matt greets you with a small wave and you give him a quick hug before turning your attention to Frank. You raise your arms, requesting to be picked up, and try to give him a convincing look. 

“Please Frankie?” He tries to keep his hard expression but everyone knows he has a soft spot for you anyway, so he lifts you into his arms. When you snuggle into him, he smiles a little bit, but enough for Peter, Matt, and Wade (who just came over) to notice. They give him teasing looks and Frank just rolls his eyes.

Natasha sets down your backpack, and pulls out a blanket to spread out beside it. Frank carries you over to your area, in a spot close to all the action. He places you down on the blanket and then hands you your sketchbook and markers from your bag. You smile up at him gratefully, and he gives you a pat on the head before heading towards the ring. Nat crouches down in front of you, a soft look on her face. 

“You sit here and watch mama kick these boy’s asses, alright pumpkin?”

“Yeah!”

They’re right over there, you can literally see all of them, and yet you feel left out and needy. Colouring inside the lines is too frustrating but you can’t let go enough to scribble like you want. You tear up, getting overwhelmed by your confusing emotions. As it happened, you are in the presence of people trained to be observant, so it doesn’t take long for someone to notice your tears. Nat is fighting Matt in the ring, so Wade nudges Bucky, who stands beside him as they watch the match.

“Buck, your kid’s crying.” Bucky looks over his shoulder to where you are on your blanket with wide, wet eyes, and your bottom lip wobbling. He jogs over to you, and carefully picks you up. 

“What’s up baby?” He looks concerned as he wipes your tears with his thumb and then softly brushes your hair out of your face. 

“I dunno, jus’ feel sad ‘n miss you.” 

“Aww kid, you can keep me company while I watch the others spar ok?” You nod, sniff, and rest your head on his shoulder. He makes sure you’re secure in the crook of his arm before rifling through your bag and grabs your pacifier. He taps it against your lips and you open your mouth slightly to accept it. He walks back over to the others who are watching by the sidelines, and you hear Peter coo when you get close. 

“We got a gym baby with us?”

Bucky bounces you a bit and then turns his body so you can see Peter. You look spaced out and cozy as you rest against Bucky. The group only stays about 10 minutes longer, and the whole time you’re attached to Bucky. 

When you get back to the apartment, you lie on the bed, waiting for Bucky to get out of the shower. You play with the ring on your pacifier and roll around on the duvet. You perk up when you hear the bathroom door open, and reach out for him as he comes out. 

“I’ll be right there cutie, let me get something quick.” You grumble and watch him as he walks over to the closet and pulls fabric out of a box. 

It was Bucky’s birthday recently and Peter gifted him a special fabric that he can use to carry you around the house. There hasn’t been an opportunity to try it yet, but you’re currently clingy and tiny, and dinner needs to be made, so it’s the perfect time. 

You watch with curiosity as Bucky wraps the fabric around his stomach and then pulls it over his shoulders. 

“Alright come here baby.” He reaches his hands out and you crawl over to him. He picks you up under your armpits and rests you against his chest. You’re squished against him so you can’t see what he’s doing but you feel the fabric wrap around you, making you nice and snug. You take a moment to shift around, getting used to the new position. 

Bucky watches as you wiggle a bit before closing your eyes and relaxing fully. When he walks into the kitchen, where Nat is chopping carrots, she coos when she sees you and pauses her cutting to brush her hand over your head lovingly. 

“We got a little snug bug hm?”

“I think we gotta get this soup started so this one can eat. That sound good baby?” With your eyes closed, you respond with a quiet “mhm” and Bucky kisses the top of your head. 

i've been meaning to write for bucky so thanks for the push anon!

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Imagine Yandere Sonic with a reader who’s very motherly towards Tails :3 because even though he’s a Yandere that’s still his little guy !! He raised him !! And now his love wants to help !!

A/n: this took a while

Yandere sonic x reader motherly towards tails

You didn’t expect to find yourself so attached to a little fox with two tails, but Miles (tails as Sonic and pretty much everyone else called him) had wormed his way into your heart.

From the moment you met him, you saw the brilliant kid who was so eager to impress his older brother. Sonic had told you plenty about Tails, practically beaming whenever he talked about the little fox’s inventions or plans that saved the whole team numerous times. Seeing Sonic so proud of someone was endearing, but meeting Tails for yourself had sealed the deal.

Tails was a sweetheart, and you adored him almost immediately.

The first time you saw him, he had been tinkering with one of his many gadgets in his workshop. His fur was messy, and he had goggles that sat crooked on his head.

"You're Tails, right?" you had asked, kneeling down to his height. "Sonic’s told me so much about you."

His ears perked up. "What'd he say?"

"He said you’re the smartest, most resourceful guy he knows. I mean, I’m looking at all this" you gestured to the various gadgets scattered around. "and I’m already impressed."

From that moment, you’d made it your mission to look out for him. Sure, Sonic was protective of Tails, but you couldn’t help wanting to mother the poor fox. He was still a kid, after all, and while he had Sonic to guide him, you felt that he needed someone to dote on him, to remind him to take breaks and eat properly when he got too caught up in his work.

Sonic noticed your attachment to Tails almost immediately, and it struck a chord deep within him.

You loved Tails.

His Tails.

Watching the two of you interact pulled on his heart strings.

In Sonic’s mind, this was perfect. You didn’t just care about him, you cared about the person he cared about most. It solidified the idea that you were meant to be part of his little "family." After all, you didn’t just love him, you loved both of them.

But that also came with complications.

While Sonic was thrilled that you cared for Tails, it also ignited a possessive streak in him that was hard to control. He had always been protective of Tails, almost to a fault, and seeing you step into that role stirred something in him.

On the surface, he was supportive, even encouraging you to spend time with Tails. But underneath, his obsession simmered.

What if Tails started to love you more than he loved Sonic? What if you started to love Tails more than you loved him?

The thought made him feel sick, and he hated himself for it. Tails was his little guy, he practically raised him, taught him everything he knew. But you were his, and sometimes, Sonic couldn’t shake the feeling that Tails was stealing bits and pieces of your attention that belonged to him.

Still, he kept those thoughts buried deep. For the most part, he let you mother Tails, but not without inserting himself at every opportunity.

One afternoon, you had brought Tails a basket of sandwiches and snacks, knowing he’d probably been up in his workshop for hours without eating. Sonic had tagged along, of course, watching from a distance as you fussed over the young fox.

"Tails, you’ve got to eat something," you said, placing the basket on the workbench. "You can’t run on fumes."

Tails looked up from his latest project, blinking in surprise. "Oh, I guess I forgot, my bad..."

You gave him a gentle smile and pushed the basket toward him. "That’s what I’m here for. Now, take a break, okay? Your inventions can wait a few minutes."

Sonic leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he watched the scene unfold. His heart swelled at how caring you were, but there was a fleeting flicker of jealousy he couldn’t ignore.

When Tails finally relented and started eating, you ruffled his fur affectionately. "Good. See? Doesn't that feel better?"

Sonic's chest tightened. That should be me, he thought. I should be the one getting all their attention.

But instead of saying anything, he strolled into the workshop, putting on his usual confident grin.

"Hey, little buddy! Whatcha working on?" he asked, his tone light but his gaze flickering to you briefly.

Tails perked up. "Oh, trying to find a more efficient wnergy source for one of my planes!"

"Sweet! You’re gonna be flying circles around everyone." Sonic gave Tails a thumbs up, ruffling his head.

As the weeks went by, your bond with Tails only grew stronger, and so did Sonic’s obsession. He started orchestrating ways to keep you closer, using Tails as an excuse whenever he could.

"Hey, Tails is working on something dangerous. You should come keep an eye on him," hed say, even if Tails was just fixing something harmless.

Or, "Tails could use some help organizing his workshop. You’re so good at that stuff."

It wasn’t always subtle, but you didn’t question it. You were happy to help, and Sonic was happy to have you around.

Still, his possessiveness began to show in little ways. He would hover whenever you were with Tails, always inserting himself into conversations or finding excuses to touch you, a hand on your shoulder, an arm slung around your waist. If Tails noticed, he didn’t say anything, but you couldn’t ignore the way Sonic’s grip tightened whenever you paid more attention to Tails than to him.

One evening, after you had spent the entire day helping Tails with a new project, Sonic finally snapped.

"Y'know" he said casually as the two of you walked home "you're pretty good with Tails. Almost too good."

You raised an eyebrow, sensing the edge in his voice. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Sonic stopped walking and turned to face you, his usual playful demeanor replaced entirely.

"I mean, you spend a lot of time with him," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Not that I’m complaining, but... don’t forget about me, okay?"

You blinked, taken aback. "Sonic, I could never forget about you. You know that."

He stepped closer. "Do I? Sometimes it feels like you’re more interested in Tails than in me."

"That's not true," you said firmly. "I care about both of you."

"But you care about me more, right?"

"Right..?"

[haechanhues]

chapter seventeen : first kiss

*written*

word count : 1.3k

warnings : not proofread. No means no kind of thing happening. Not much else - a few implications to sexual themes (again - part of the story as a whole).

You swallow, the strobe lights overwhelming as it chokes and fills you with the sort of anxiety you get purely from the lack of personal space. Your hand is in Yeri’s who is a lot more cheery than you, keen to pay for the colourful drinks she’s been yearning for all week. 

At the count of three and the encouraging smile of the cute bartender, the pair of you tip the shots back, blood and alcohol rushing towards your brain like a stampede. 

It’s when you’re downing a couple more glasses, a lot more flushed and uncaring of the once overwhelming atmosphere do you feel arms lock around your body and a chest pressed against your back. 

Awkwardly you turn towards the intruder, only to relax when you see that it’s only Mark, “Didn’t know you were coming out today.” 

“Neither, Joy and the girls made me come,” You mutter and Yeri smiles politely at Mark in turn. 

Mark’s smile is charming and although it doesn’t work at Yeri in the way it works on other women, it still softens her up just a smidge, “Hey, how are you?” 

“I’m all good,” Yeri smirks, making eyes at the cute bartender before returning her attention to the two of you, “Make sure you return her. The girls won’t like it when I get back to them without her.” 

Mark’s hold turns tighter as his face angles into the crook of her neck, his scent brushing against your body like an embrace. He smells so delicious, it leaves you a little hazy, “You look good.” 

“If you’re not careful,” You murmur, voice at a level that only Mark would be able to hear, “You’re going to find yourself very alone at the end of the night.” 

He hums noncommittally, “So be it.” 

“That includes me,” Unable to resist the dangerous territory you are stumbling on, your fingers reach to claw through his lion mane of hair, “Where’s the rest of the boys?” 

Mark removes himself from your back, hands clamping onto your shoulders in a way that makes you feel like you hallucinated the whole thing, eyes sifting through the crowd protectively, “Imma go look for them. You need anything you can find me, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

He gives a little chaste kiss on your forehead before he leaves into the throng of people attempting to locate his other friends, his only identifier being the blonde locks that almost had you crumbling your self made rules and throwing them into the fire. 

You trail back to the girls in the corner, Yeri missing from the group. Irene places a wine glass in front of you as soon as you seat yourself next to your sister and you can barely hear her over the thrumming of the music, “It’s a cocktail.” 

You smile back at her, sipping at the drink with a complimentary nod. 

Joy grasps at your wrist, her focus caught on something behind you, following her line of sight you find something that leaves you a little protective. 

He looks great, and this girl seems to know it. Froth over it, even. She’s as tall as him, hanging off his arm and he’s got a look you’re all but familiar with. But your familiarity with him and the lack thereof with this girl makes you see how cold and nasty the look he casts her with. 

He brushes his hair back and the girl all but falls into his personal space, undeterred by his assertive words and limbs riddled with discomfort. 

You see him roll his eyes, before he spots you all, his posture straightening whilst his whole face screams help. 

“I’ll be back,” You mutter to the group, striding towards the pretty boy in front of you. 

With one last yank from her iron grip, Haechan meets you halfway, breathing slightly heavy as reaches for your face to bring you into a searing kiss that you can’t help but melt into. 

You don’t care about the potential bystanders who may be watching. Don’t care that they could be your friends. Don’t care that your sister and her friends are watching nor do you care about the girl behind Haechan most definitely watching either. 

His kisses leave you in tingles, practically preening from his lips alone. They’re soft with a sharpened taste of alcohol he had been drinking before and a pinch of mint he had been chewing on beforehand. His mouth opens, allowing for his tongue to touch yours and you feel the tension in his whole entire body fade away with every second that passes. 

You moan, and he can’t help but press deeper into you, almost as if he can’t wait to see the way your lips swell and your tongue running over them to soothe them. Then before they lose their puffiness, he’ll kiss you and kiss you. 

You don’t hear the guttural cry of complaint from the girl behind you, only suspecting it due to the way Haechan smirks into your mouth, his hand climbing to the base of your throat with a light squeeze that leaves you dizzy. 

He pulls away from you, the sound of your lips separating with a smack and he smiles at the daze he puts firsthand in your eyes. 

Could fucking look at it all day if he could. 

“I need to get those drinks for the table otherwise Chenle would riot,” His tone is sultry and smokey, making arousal pool in your underwear at how sexy the picture in front of you is. How you hear it. How he looks. It’s all too much. 

“Do you need help?” 

The corner of his mouth lifts at your innocent question, “Nah I’ve got it. You hang out with your friends.” 

You nod obediently, twisting towards the table full of girls who all wear matching smirks on their faces. Yeri, who had previously been absent, now fully sat there with a look that promises her mouth is going to spew anything out. 

“Y’know, I thought you had something going on with Mark but-” Yeri shrugs, lips wrapping around her straw and from up close you can see the lipstick that marks her own face. 

“I see I’m not the only one that’s been kissed,” You tease back, pointing at her. 

“KISS?” Joy scoffs, “The fuck? He practically mauled you.” 

Your tongue runs over your sensitive lips, the look on your face a touch lovestruck, or horny, “I know.” 

Joy’s eyebrows raise, “I think something’s there and you don’t want to confront it, you know.” 

You scoff out a laugh, the daze fading away at the ridiculous notion, “There’s nothing like that.” 

“Honey, it’s everything like that. This guy is making you come and regularly. You’re on that dick more often than you’re not. You’re not even coming out with us nor having girl time.” 

“I actually hate clubbing.” 

“I know!” 

“And are you saying that I can’t fuck him without liking him?” 

“If I thought that I would’ve said that for all the other guys you were fucking before him, but I didn’t because I’m not dumb. I’m just saying….chemistry. You guys have it.”

You cast a look of potent disbelief and your older sister narrows her eyes at you in response, “I’m serious, you might not believe it, you might not want to believe it. But-” 

“But nothing,” You snort, the humour completely amiss from your tone, “It’s not like that at all. The only reason I’m a little off right now is because we agreed not to kiss. This was our first….it caught me off guard and he’s a good kisser. That’s all.” 

The two of you are silent, all but your racing heart that you fear will shake the whole ground. 

You sigh, “If we do girl time…can we do it somewhere that’s not a club.” 

She sighs back, except hers is full of exasperation, “Whatever you want.” 

AND NOW, US

your best friend's best friend offers his services as you keep complaining about your lack of… sexual gratification.

chapter seventeen : first kiss

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[wrathofrats]

Very late Christmas and birthday gift for the ever wonderful @mac-and-thefox (:

1.1k of Swiss cumulus fluff

Warnings and tags for: exhibitionism, hot tub sex, it’s a little gross but don’t think about it too hard, that’s it it’s just them flirting and Swiss fingering cumulus for 1k words. They’re gross and in love.

Cumulus sighed into the jets in the little hotel hot tub. Just big enough for a couple people with the smell of chlorine burning their eyes, but after being on the road for so long the stuffy room felt like heaven. Swiss followed soon behind her, throwing his shirt and towel onto some dingy chair that was probably once a pristine white, but had faded into an ugly beige yellow.

They couldn’t ask for anything more though. There was something charming about the buzzing fluorescent lights or the singular dead fly in the windowsill that had probably been there for over a decade. Anything nicer usually felt sterile to Swiss, like he wasn’t allowed to touch or do anything besides sit on his hands. Late night escapades that were only aided by the fact that the workers weren’t paid enough to care, especially not when the hour was closing in on midnight.

“Surprised dew didn’t want to join us, usually he’s all for a cheap hot tub” Swiss played with the dials on the side of the wall, trying to turn up the jets.

“Yeah but his princess isn’t, rain gets sick if he’s in chlorine for too long and dew feels bad about leaving him when they room together”

Swiss simply shrugged. More for them he guesses. Besides, cumulus looked beautiful like this and he didn’t know if he entirely wanted to share anyways. A simple baby blue string bikini and her hair messily thrown up into a curly heap on her head. She always got pissy when she had to wash the chlorine out of her hair, claims it tangles for days. Swiss wouldn’t complain, he loved when she put her hair up. He thought she looked brighter that way, eyes sparkled more without the shadow.

“How foggy do you think those windows get if we turn the temperature up” Swiss swirled the water with his index finger, eyebrows raising in implication. Cheesy, he could be a dork sometimes when given the opportunity. Womanizer persona bleeding into something from an 80s porno when left unaccounted for.

“I saw the receptionist put her head down a couple minutes ago. If you can be quiet stardust I don’t think it’ll matter”

Cumulus stepped over to straddle Swiss’ hips on the hard bench, a playful giggle on her lips as he immediately grabbed for her waist. The strings were tied tight against her skin, simple bows that were easy to pull at for even easier access.

“No double knots? Usually it puts up more of a fight, unless you were intending on it coming undone”

“Took you ages last time, thought I’d give you a fighting chance” cumulus’ fingers skated along Swiss’ chest, running up and down the skin above the water. Her lips followed suit, delicately pressing to the base of his neck and working their way to his jaw. She nipped at the sweet spot right below his jawbone, drinking in the low hum he let out.

Swiss pushed his hips into hers, pulling her down harder in an attempt to grind through their thin swimsuits. Cumulus looped her arms around his neck, pulling herself flush with him as he snaked a hand to cup her beneath the fabric. Even like this she felt hot, slick to the touch as if she was just waiting to get her hands on him.

Two fingers dipped into her, crooking up while cumulus rocked her hips instinctively. Her eyes fluttered shut, head tipping back while Swiss worked. His hands were thick, strong muscular fingers taking her apart with ease.

“Don’t think I can handle anymore or are you just having fun taking your sweet time” cumulus grinded down into his palm to try and get more stimulation. Her clit was swollen, aching to be touched as swiss seemed to almost ignore it on purpose.

“Don’t want you to get carried away lus, you can get greedy when I touch you, let your cunt make your decisions for you instead of your brain” Swiss used his other hand to pinch at her clit for emphasis, point proven when cumulus let out a high moan. “And I don’t think we have much time, wouldn’t want to get caught would you?”

The water sloshed around them, cumulus biting her lip and riding Swiss’ hand. It would be fine right? It was late enough, no one was going to come looking for them. The workers don’t get paid much and besides, through the glass they probably looked innocent enough.

“Come on Swiss don’t tease me, maybe if you’d go a bit faster we wouldn’t have to worry about getting caught”

“But I like it when you’re needy. Begging looks so pretty coming off of your lips”

Cumulus let out a frustrated noise. Swiss wasn’t moving with any urgency, a slow pace that would be heavenly if they were in a private room and weren’t on an unknown time crunch.

“Can feel how hard you are, don’t deny that you need something as well stardust”

“All I need right now is to see you writhe babydoll”

The dumb let name would usually have her flicking him upside the head but all she could do was clench down and groan. Something edged in her stomach, the very beginnings of her orgasm heating up slowly. It was just barely enough to bring her closer and closer, even if it felt like hours were passing as she tried to ride Swiss’ hand for all it was worth.

“Gonna cum just like this? Cum around my fingers even if someone could walk in at any second? Come on baby don’t be shy, show me how good I make you feel, want them to hear it in the lobby”

Cumulus bit down onto Swiss’ shoulder as she shook, waves of pleasure making her vision blurry and hips working on their own accord. Her cunt convulsed around Swiss’ fingers as he cooed sweet nothings into her ear.

“That’s it, did so well, wish everyone else out there could know how nice it is to have you like this” Swiss rubbed her back, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“Fuck you asshole you drug that out on purpose” cumulus swung her legs to stand up, shivering now that she wasn’t covered by the warm water, “if you’re going to act like you want to get caught you could at least fuck me while you do it”

“What? Didn’t enjoy it?”

“I’d enjoy it more if you tried to please me like a lady and not like some haphazard teenage hookup”

“I’d be more than happy to try again if you wanna go back to my room”

Cumulus threw her shirt over her suit, water dripping from the loose strands falling out of her bun.

“I’m holding you to that”