#So long as they are in someone's mind their existence will linger on and continue on so long as they are kept in someone's unconciouss mind

[b1eedthefreak]

hi!!! idk if you'd be interested in this idea, but i think it'd be funny daryl dating the reader but that doesn't stop other ladies from shooting their shot. i was thinking prison era, but whatever floats your boat, but like daryl genuinely doesn't understand how people don't get that he's in a relationship with literally the most amazing woman in existence?? but it gets funnier because these women actually don't know because publicly his declarations of affection just aren't that obvious but to daryl and reader his actions may as well be him screaming how in love he is. idk where i'm going with this but i hope you see the vision. 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Taken Man

⌇daryl dixon x reader

⌇summary: the women at the prison can’t seem to get the hint daryl is already a taken man and keep flirting with him, he’s sick and tired

⌇warnings: none

⌇word count: ~4.3k

a/n this request was so fun to write! i hope this was what you were expecting!

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The sun had set at the prison. The sounds of footsteps echoed off the concrete walls as Daryl made his way through the yard, balancing a stack of boxes filled with fruit. He’d volunteered to help out with the food distribution again, knowing it would give him something to do that didn’t involve constant nagging from people.

But, of course, peace was fleeting when you had a guy like Daryl Dixon, charming in his own gruff way, walking around.

As he moved, he felt something, someone, approach from behind. The first touch was unmistakable, a hand on his bicep. Daryl froze, a look of confusion passing over his face.

“Wow, Daryl,” the voice came from behind him. “You’re so big and strong. We’re so lucky to have you around.”

Daryl didn’t even look back, his face scrunching as if he didn’t know whether to be flattered or uncomfortable. “Uh… yeah. Thanks.”

He could practically hear the woman grin behind him, but he wasn’t in the mood for small talk. Still, he didn’t move, just kept carrying the boxes toward the makeshift food line. The woman’s touch lingered for a moment, squeezing his arm in a way that made him want to shrug her off, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to do that without coming off rude.

Daryl was trying to move along with his load, but the woman let go. The awkwardness was thick in the air, but Daryl continued forward, shaking his head and wondering why he couldn’t just be left alone. You already have the most amazing woman in existence, he reminded himself. Why can’t they get the hint?

Later that day, as Daryl sat down at the metal table, sharpening his knife, he thought he was in the clear. He was focused on the blade in front of him, the rhythmic scraping of the sharpening stone a moment of rare peace. But that peace didn’t last very long.

He heard footsteps approach, followed by the unmistakable voice of another woman. “Oh, Daryl,” she cooed, leaning on the table beside him. “Mind if I keep you company while you work?”

Daryl looked up briefly, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m good here,” he grumbled, his tone flat. He had no desire for company. Especially not from someone who couldn’t seem to see the obvious.

“Oh, come on,” she persisted. “Just a little chat won’t hurt.”

He wasn’t really paying attention anymore, just focused on sharpening his blade. His patience was wearing thin, and it was starting to show in his silence. But this lady was persistent.

Finally, she leaned over, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Daryl,” she said softly, “I just wanted to tell you how much we all appreciate you. You’re really something special.”

He let out a low sigh, gripping the handle of his knife a little too tightly. “‘Preciate it,” he muttered, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from something that didn’t involve her sitting next to him.

Just as she started to say something else, he cut her off, his voice a little firmer. “Listen, I got work to do.”

With that, she finally took the hint, stepping back. Daryl didn’t even watch her walk away. He just let out a frustrated breath, muttering to himselfz

Then, later that evening, when dinner was being served, he found himself walking into the mess hall, trying to find a quiet corner. But of course, someone else had other plans.

He was just about to sit down when another woman came up to him. “Hey, Daryl,” she said, her voice sweet. “You look like you could use some company.”

Daryl turned slowly, his face scrunching up in disgust. Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Nah, I’m good,” he grumbled.

But she wasn’t taking no for an answer. “C’mon, you’re always so quiet during dinner. You should let me keep you company!”

Daryl’s face twisted further into a frown. He couldn’t believe this was happening again. He grabbed his plate, shoved his food onto it with more force than necessary, and turned to leave.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna go eat by myself,” he muttered under his breath, clearly annoyed. “I gotta keep watch anyway.”

The woman was left standing there, flabbergasted, but Daryl didn’t care. He made his way toward Cell Block A, where he found a quiet spot, a corner where no one would bother him, and set his food down to eat in peace.

He grumbled to himself as he dug into his meal, shoveling food into his mouth like he was starving. Why can’t they just leave me alone? He didn’t understand it. He was already taken. So why were these women still coming at him like he was some sort of prize?

As he chewed his food, Carol entered, her brow furrowing slightly when she spotted him sitting alone, looking like he was about to burst from frustration.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, sitting down next to him.

Daryl glanced at her, his face scrunched up in a way that screamed pure exasperation. ��These damn people won’t leave me alone.”

Carol raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her seat. “What do you mean?”

Daryl put down his fork for a moment, mimicking a high pitched voice, hands on his head as if he was imitating the women who’d been bothering him. “Oh, Daryl, let me stay with you… Ooooh, Daryl, Daryl, Daryl!” He exaggerated his words and shook his hair. “I don’t get it, Carol! I have a beautiful girlfriend! We’re obviously together!”

Carol snorted, holding back a laugh. “I wouldn’t say it’s all that obvious, Daryl.”

He blinked, completely thrown. “How the hell not? I gave her a sharpened knife! A sharpened freakin’ knife! And I brought her a rabbit to eat!” He was so frustrated, his hands throwing gestures into the air like he was giving some sort of declaration of war speech. “What the hell else do they need to see?”

Carol couldn’t hold it in anymore. She started laughing so hard she had to clutch her stomach. Daryl watched her, his frown deepening, and he shook his head. “What’s so funny? I’m serious!”

“Okay, okay,” Carol gasped, wiping away a tear. “It’s not exactly obvious to everyone. You’re not walking around with a neon sign that says ‘I’m taken.’”

Daryl looked horrified by the suggestion. “What the hell do you mean? I even—“

“You gave her a rabbit, Daryl,” Carol interrupted before he could continue, holding up her hands to stop him. “That’s not exactly common behavior for a guy who’s not into her. You don’t just bring women rabbits.”

At that moment, you walked into the cell block, out of breath and clearly on the search for him.

“Hey, where’s Daryl?” you called out, looking around for him. You finally spotted him sitting next to Carol, and a smile tugged at your lips as you approached them.

Daryl didn’t see you yet, too caught up in his frustration. “These damn women keep gettin’ in my face! I don’t know how much clearer I can make it!” He slammed his fist down onto the table. “What the hell do I need to do?! Start wearin’ a damn shirt that says ‘I’m a taken man’?”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing as you approached them. Carol was cackling beside him, holding her stomach. The two of them looked at you in surprise, but Carol was clearly enjoying the show.

“I take it things are going well?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Daryl groaned, looking like he was about to lose it. “They won’t leave me alone, and it’s makin’ me lose my mind!”

You sat down next to him, placing a hand on his arm, trying to stifle your laughter. “Daryl, baby… it’s not that obvious to people.”

His face was so deadpan as he groaned, “What the hell do you mean? I gave you a damn rabbit!”

“Yeah,” you said, holding in a grin, “but some people don’t know our signs.”

Carol just about lost it again at Daryl’s expense, her laughter echoing through the room.

Daryl slouched, finally realizing the hilarious truth. “I’m gonna need a damn neon sign next time.”

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[lost-in-thoughts03]

Falling for you // Hwang brothers

Previous part || Next part

Summary: Reality constantly confuses you. Who will you choose?

" And maybe you, change your mind."

Warning: Thick tension, heated kiss, confession, beating, arguing, more teasing, In-ho is being In-ho, Jun-ho realized something, broken hearted, pain, rejection, realization, grammatical errors

Love moves in ways we can’t always understand. Sometimes, it sneaks up on you, soft and quiet, like the warmth of the sun on a cold morning. Other times, it crashes into your life like a storm, wrecking everything you thought you knew about yourself.

It doesn’t care about timing. It doesn’t wait for you to be ready. It finds you in the most unexpected places—maybe in the eyes of someone you never thought you'd love or in the touch of a hand you can’t seem to forget.

It can make you feel invincible, like you’ve finally found the missing piece of your soul. But it can also break you, leave you aching for something—or someone—you can’t have.

Love lingers in the spaces between words, in the glances that last too long, in the silences filled with everything left unsaid. It stays even when you try to walk away. It makes a home in your heart, even when it has no right to be there.

And sometimes, love is cruel. It asks you to wait, to sacrifice, to fight battles you never wanted. It can betray you, leave scars so deep you wonder if you'll ever heal. But even then, love never really disappears. It changes, reshapes itself, finds new ways to exist in you.

Maybe that’s the mystery of love—it never truly leaves. No matter how much time passes, no matter how much it hurts, it stays. And sometimes, if you're lucky, it finds its way back to you.

Those three words. Three unexpected words that slipped out of his mouth.

It is what you have been waiting for. You continue to wait for someone to declare their love for you, but it doesn't bring you joy.

“ I love you.”

Instead…

Your body goes stiff. The air is sucked from your lungs.

“ I’ve loved you for a long time.” He continues, his voice steady, controlled—but underneath, you can hear the cracks forming. “ Long before you ever looked at my brother the way you did. Long before you ever ran after him like he was the only one who mattered.”

Your knees go weak.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. You’re too stunned, too blindsided by the weight of his words.

“ I was always there.” He presses on, stepping closer, his gaze burning into you. “ I watched you fall for him. I watched you break for him. And I—” His voice falters just slightly, but he keeps going. “ And I hated him for not seeing what he had.”

A shiver runs through you. This is too much. Too intense.

“ This…” Your voice was shaky as you pushed against his chest, creating some distance. “ This is all wrong.”

In-ho frowned, his grip on you loosening slightly. “ Wrong?”

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing. “ I—I don’t see you that way.” You blurted out, your thoughts still scrambled from the kiss. “ I only see you as an older brother.”

Silence.

For a second, he just stared at you. And then—he laughed.

A low, sarcastic chuckle escaped him as he ran a hand through his hair. “ Older brother?” He repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. “ You’re really going with that?”

You frowned. “ What’s so funny?”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “ Oh, nothing. It’s just… that’s exactly what you said to Jun-ho, isn’t it?” He met your eyes, his gaze sharp, unreadable. “ And look how that turned out.”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of Jun-ho, but you refused to let it show. “ That’s different.”

“ Is it?” His voice was calm, but there was something bitter underneath. “ Tell me, Y/n, did you kiss him like that too?”

Your face burned. “ That’s not the point!”

“ Then what is the point?” He stepped forward, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “ Because from where I’m standing, it sure as hell doesn’t feel like I’m your brother.”

You clenched your jaw, hating how he was turning this on you. “ You’re just being stubborn.”

“ Oh, I’m the stubborn one?” He let out a short, humorless laugh. “ You’re the one running from this. From us.”

“ There is no us, In-ho!” You snapped, frustration boiling over. “ I can’t—we can’t—”

But before you could finish, he grabbed your wrist again, pulling you toward him.

And then he kissed you.

Your lips still burned from the kiss you had just shared, a kiss that had shattered every line you swore you wouldn’t cross. Your breath came in short, uneven gasps, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. But instead of pulling away, In-ho stayed close, his forehead nearly touching yours, his dark eyes searching yours with an intensity that made it impossible to look away.

" Is it still wrong?" His voice was low, hoarse, barely above a whisper.

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The words tangled in your throat, trapped between the battle in your heart and the fire in your veins.

" Tell me." His voice was more urgent this time, his fingers tightening around your wrist.

Still, silence.

Frustration flickered across his face, but then, something else—something deeper. Without warning, he pulled you to him, crushing you against his chest as if afraid you’d slip away. And then his lips were on yours again, desperate, raw, consuming. This wasn’t just a kiss; it was a storm—raging, relentless, and devastating.

His hands found your waist, fingers tracing your curves before gripping you with a possessiveness that made your breath hitch. He held you like he was afraid to lose you, like you belonged to him, like he had every right to claim you. And maybe, in this moment, he did.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, then to his hair, pulling him even closer, deepening the kiss until there was no space left between you. Every touch, every movement, was a plea—one neither of you dared to speak aloud.

You knew this was dangerous. You knew the world outside this moment was still waiting, still ready to tear you apart. But right now, wrapped in his arms, tasting the urgency on his lips, feeling the way he held you like you were the only thing keeping him breathing—you didn’t care.

Maybe it was wrong.

Maybe it always would be.

But right now, in this stolen moment, nothing else mattered.

Your breath hitched, your entire body frozen as his words sank in.

" I don’t care what they say, I’m in love with you."

His voice was barely above a whisper, but it crashed into you like a tidal wave, drowning out every rational thought. His fingertips brushed through your hair, slow and deliberate, like he was memorizing the feeling of you—like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

Your heart pounded so violently that it hurt. Your mind screamed at you to run, to push him away before this became something neither of you could undo. But your body—your traitorous, aching body—leaned into him instead, craving the warmth of his touch, the quiet promise in his gaze.

His eyes burned into yours, filled with something so intense, so raw, it shattered every wall you had left. It wasn’t just passion. It was devotion, desperation, a plea without words.

He had already made his choice. And deep down, you knew you had made yours too.

Slowly, cautiously, his hands traced down to cup your face, his thumb grazing your cheek as if he were touching something fragile, something precious.

" Say something." He pleaded, his voice thick with emotion.

But you couldn’t. Because if you spoke, if you admitted to yourself that you felt it too—that you had always felt it—you would never be able to walk away.

And maybe…maybe you didn’t want to.

“ And I don’t care if you think it’s wrong. I don’t care if I’m older. I don’t care if you only saw me as someone who protected you.” His forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “ Because the truth is, I wanted to protect you. I wanted to be the one you came to. And I still do.”

Your chest tightens. “ In-ho…”

“ Just give me a chance.” He pleads, his voice raw with emotion. “ Give me a chance to prove to you that I’m serious. That this isn’t some mistake. That I’ve always loved you—long before you ever saw me this way.”

Your heart is aching.

You’ve never seen In-ho like this—vulnerable. He’s always been strong, always the one who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders without breaking.

But right now?

Right now, he’s breaking for you.

And you don’t know if you can handle it.

…

Jun-ho stood at the entrance, frozen, his breath caught somewhere between his chest and his throat.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He hadn’t meant to see this. But now, the sight was burned into his mind—the way In-ho held you so possessively, the way your body molded into his, the way your lips clung to each other like you were both starving. And then, In-ho’s whispered confession—words so raw, so painfully sincere, that Jun-ho felt them like a knife to the gut.

“ I love you.”

" I don’t care what they say, I’m in love with you."

Jun-ho’s hands clenched at his sides, his jaw locking so tightly it ached. He should be happy for you, for both of you. That’s what he told himself. That’s what should make sense.

But then why did it feel like something inside him was cracking apart?

Why was there a burning in his chest, a bitterness on his tongue, a rage curling in his fists?

Why did it feel like he was the one losing something—no, someone—he never even had?

His heart pounded as he forced himself to take a step back, then another, as if putting distance between himself and the scene would somehow lessen the weight pressing down on him. But it didn’t. It only made the emptiness inside him more apparent.

He had always known there was something between you and In-ho, something neither of you spoke about but was always there, simmering beneath the surface. He had ignored it, pushed it aside, convinced himself it wasn’t what it seemed.

But now, there was no more pretending. No more denying.

You and In-ho weren’t just a fleeting moment, a reckless mistake.

You wanted each other.

And Jun-ho… Jun-ho was just standing there, watching it happen, realizing too late that he had lost something he never even got the chance to claim.

Until the sound of the punch landing was deafening.

One second, you were locked in that heated, breathless moment with In-ho—the next, he was stumbling backward, blood trickling from his nose.

You barely had time to react before Jun-ho was on him, fists clenched, voice shaking with fury. “ What the fuck do you think you’re doing to her?!”

Your eyes widened. “ Jun-ho—”

“ Get your damn hands off of her!” He shouted, grabbing In-ho by the neck, ready to swing again.

In-ho, to your horror, only smirked, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. “ Took you long enough.” He muttered before swinging his fist in return, landing a solid punch on Jun-ho’s jaw.

Jun-ho stumbled but recovered quickly, shoving his brother back with even more force. “ You bastard—”

Before you knew it, they were on each other, fists flying, bodies colliding as they fought like they’d been waiting years for an excuse to do this.

“ Stop it!” You rushed between them, grabbing onto Jun-ho’s arm just as he was about to land another hit, but he barely budged. “ Jun-ho, stop! It’s not what you think!”

“ He was forcing himself on you, wasn’t he?!” He snapped, eyes wild with rage.

“ No! It wasn’t like that!” You insisted, pulling at his sleeve. “ Just listen—”

But before you could say another word, In-ho—still smirking despite the cut on his lip—let out a low chuckle. “ What’s wrong, little brother? Are you jealous?”

Jun-ho lunged at him again, and you barely had time to react before they were crashing into the table, sending plates and cups shattering onto the floor.

You grabbed In-ho’s arm next, trying to shove yourself between them, but he barely glanced at you, too focused on his brother. “ You always act like you’re better than me.” He growled, wiping more blood from his nose.

“ Like you have any right to tell me what to do.”

“ And you always act like you don’t give a damn about anything!” Jun-ho spat, chest heaving. “ But when it comes to her—suddenly, you do?”

You froze.

For a split second, In-ho didn’t respond.

And that silence? It spoke louder than anything.

Jun-ho let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “ You’re unbelievable.”

In-ho’s jaw clenched, his smirk faltering just slightly. “ You’re a pain in my ass.”

Jun-ho scoffed, wiping at his bleeding lip. “ Right back at you.”

The tension in the room was suffocating. The anger, the resentment, the years of unspoken things between them—it all boiled over in that moment.

And you?

You were stuck between them, trying—and failing—to stop a war that had already started.

The tension was unbearable. You stood between them, your heart pounding as they glared at each other, both still seething, both still ready to lunge again.

“ In-ho, Jun-ho—enough!” You shouted, your voice cutting through the thick silence.

Neither of them moved. Their breathing was ragged, their fists still clenched. The only sound in the room was the dripping of water from the sink and the faint ringing in your ears from the chaos that had just unfolded.

Jun-ho turned to you first, his expression still stormy. “ Y/n, why the hell are you defending him?” His voice was sharp, filled with disbelief.

You exhaled, frustration boiling inside you. “ Because you’re not listening to me!” You gestured between the two of them. “ You just assumed things and started throwing punches before even asking what was happening!”

Jun-ho’s brows furrowed, but before he could argue, In-ho let out a scoff. “ She’s right, you know.” He muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “ Typical of you to act first, think later.”

Jun-ho tensed, his jaw clenching. “ Shut up."

You shot In-ho a glare. “ You aren’t helping either!”

He held up his hands in mock surrender, but that damn smirk was still on his face, despite the blood trickling from his lip. “ Hey, he started it.”

“ Oh my god.” You groaned, rubbing your temples. “ You two are impossible.”

Jun-ho was still glaring at his brother, his breathing unsteady, his hands shaking slightly. But then he turned back to you, his expression shifting to something more vulnerable—something almost hurt.

“ Why, then?” He asked quietly, his voice lacking the previous anger. “ Why were you letting him kiss you?”

Your stomach twisted.

In-ho’s smirk faded slightly at the question, but he stayed quiet, watching you carefully.

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling exposed under both their gazes. “ I—I don’t know.” You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

It wasn’t a lie.

Because even you weren’t sure what had led to that kiss. Maybe it was the frustration, maybe it was the heat of the moment, maybe it was something buried deeper inside you that you had been refusing to acknowledge.

But Jun-ho didn’t seem satisfied with that answer. He scoffed, shaking his head. “ Unbelievable.” He muttered, stepping back. “ I thought you were smarter than this.”

His words stung.

Before you could say anything, he turned toward the door. “ I need to clear my head.” He muttered, storming out without another word.

The door slammed behind him, leaving an aching silence in his wake.

You stood there, frozen, the weight of everything crashing down on you.

Then, after a long pause, In-ho exhaled and ran a hand down his face. “ Well.” He said, voice light despite the tension still lingering. “ That went great.”

You turned to him with a glare, shoving him in the chest. “ You’re such an ass.”

He barely moved, only raising an eyebrow at you. “ Me? What did I do?”

“ You taunted him!” You snapped. “ You know how he is! You knew that would make it worse!”

He tilted his head slightly, studying you. “ And what about you?” He asked, voice lower now.

“ Are you mad because of the fight? Or because you’re starting to realize that you liked kissing me?”

Your breath hitched.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

Because you didn’t have an answer to that.

And from the knowing look on In-ho’s face, he already knew that.

The room was suffocatingly quiet, the weight of In-ho’s words pressing down on you like a boulder.

Your heart was still racing, your skin still tingling from the kiss—the fight—everything. And now, with Jun-ho gone and only In-ho standing in front of you, watching you with that unreadable expression, you felt more exposed than ever.

You swallowed hard. “ You’re full of yourself.”

He huffed a small, amused breath, his lip still slightly swollen from the punch. “ Am I?”

You crossed your arms, trying to regain some control over this situation. “ That was a mistake.”

In-ho took a step closer. Not enough to touch you, but enough that you could feel his presence. His warmth. His intensity.

“ Funny,” He murmured, his gaze locked onto yours. “ Didn’t feel like a mistake to me.”

Your stomach twisted. “ That’s because you don’t take anything seriously.”

His smirk faded slightly. “ And you take everything too seriously.”

You turned away, frustration bubbling in your chest. “ This isn’t about me, In-ho.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “ It never is, is it?”

You froze.

His voice wasn’t teasing anymore. It wasn’t smug or taunting—it was tired.

When you looked back at him, there was something in his eyes that sent a strange pang through your chest. Something vulnerable.

Something real.

For the first time since this whole mess started, he looked…wounded.

“ You always run.” He muttered, more to himself than to you. “ Always pretending like none of this means anything.” He let out a short, humorless laugh. “ But when it’s Jun-ho, you don’t hesitate, do you?”

You flinched, his words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit.

“ In-ho, it’s not—”

He shook his head, stepping back before you could even try to explain. “ Forget it.” His voice was quiet now. Resigned.

You hated the way that made your chest ache.

He licked his split lip, his usual smirk forced and empty. “ You should go after him.” He muttered. “ That’s what you always do, right?”

Your throat tightened. “ In-ho—”

But he didn’t wait for you to finish.

He just turned and walked away, leaving you standing there in the wreckage of what just happened, your heart pounding with an answer you still weren’t ready to face.

You found Jun-ho outside In-ho’s house, his back turned to you as he kicked at the gravel on the pavement. His posture was tense, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths.

You hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. “ Jun-ho.”

He didn’t turn around right away. Instead, he let out a frustrated sigh, kicking another rock before finally glancing at you. His jaw was clenched, his expression unreadable.

“ What are you doing here?” You asked cautiously.

Jun-ho scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “ I came to say sorry to my asshole brother.” He muttered, voice laced with irritation.

“ But then I walked in on that and—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “ Guess I changed my mind.”

You bit your lip, shifting uncomfortably. “ Jun-ho, it wasn’t—”

“ You kissed him.” He cut in, his voice quieter now, but still firm.

Your stomach twisted. “ I—”

He turned fully toward you now, searching your face for something—anything—that would make this make sense. “ Tell me, Y/n.” He said, voice low, almost pleading.

“ Was it just him? Or did you kiss him back?”

You swallowed, the memory of In-ho’s lips on yours flashing through your mind—the way you had melted into him, the way you hadn’t pulled away.

You looked down. “ I…didn’t mean to.”

Jun-ho let out a bitter laugh. “ Didn’t mean to?”

“ It was just—it was just the moment, okay?” You said quickly, feeling your own frustration rising. “ I got carried away. It didn’t mean anything.”

“ Didn’t mean anything.” He repeated, his tone unreadable.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “ Jun-ho, it was a mistake.”

He was quiet for a long time before he finally spoke again. “ You don’t know him like I do.”

You looked up, confused. “ What?”

“ My brother.” Jun-ho muttered, crossing his arms.

“ He’s not some good guy, Y/n. He’s reckless. He doesn’t care who gets hurt in the process of getting what he wants.” His voice hardened. “ And he will hurt you.”

Your brows furrowed. “ Jun-ho, that’s not fair.”

He scoffed. “ Not fair? You think I don’t see what’s happening? I don’t know what his deal is with you, but I do know one thing—he’s dangerous.”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “ You’re acting like he’s some kind of criminal.”

He shook his head. “ Maybe not. But trust me, Y/n, you don’t want to get involved with him.”

A strange unease settled in your chest.

Jun-ho’s anger wasn’t just about the kiss.

It was something more.

And you weren’t sure you wanted to know what.

You stared at Jun-ho, frustration bubbling up inside you as his words sank in. “ Why are you being like this?” you demanded, crossing your arms tightly over your chest.

“ You keep acting like you’re trying to protect me, but it's just—” Your voice wavered, and you hated it. “ It just makes everything worse.”

Jun-ho���s expression shifted, softening for a split second before he forced it back into that same hardened mask. “ I’m trying to look out for you.” He said evenly. “ That’s all.”

“ Why?” You shot back, feeling your throat tighten. “ Why do you even care so much? It’s not like I—I mean, you don’t even��”

You trailed off, the words sticking in your throat.

You don’t even like me.

Jun-ho looked away, kicking at the ground again, and for a moment you swore you saw a flicker of something—regret, sadness, guilt—but he buried it just as quickly. “ You’re important to me.” He muttered. “ But not like that.”

Your heart twisted painfully. “ Then why do you keep acting like—like you—”

“ Because you’re family.” He cut in, his voice firm. “ You were always part of my life, Y/n. You’re the closest thing I have to—” He swallowed, frustration and something else bleeding into his voice.

“ I don’t want to see you get hurt. Not by him.”

Your lips parted, a bitter laugh slipping out. “ You think you haven’t already hurt me?”

He stiffened.

“ All those times.” You went on, bitterness rising with every word, “ That you pushed me away, that you treated me like I was just some responsibility—you think that didn’t mess me up? That I didn’t—”

“ Y/n.” He warned, his tone flat, but you weren’t done.

“ You don’t get to act like this.” You snapped, your voice trembling as you fought back the sting of tears. “ Like you’re just some protective older brother who doesn’t know what’s going on—who doesn’t see what this is doing to me!”

Jun-ho’s fists clenched at his sides. “ You’re twisting this.”

“ No.” You said, stepping closer, refusing to back down. “ You are. You keep treating me like some little sister, and it’s bullshit.”

“ It’s not—” He broke off, looking away, and you saw the muscles in his jaw tighten. “ You’re making this more complicated than it has to be.”

“ Am I?” You shot back, your heart pounding. “ Or are you just too much of a coward to admit that you feel something too?”

The silence was deafening.

Jun-ho stared at you, his expression blank, but you could see the storm raging behind his eyes—the way he flinched, like you’d just hit him where it hurt most.

“ I don’t.” He said finally, and the emptiness in his voice cut deeper than anything else. “ Not the way you want me to.”

Your chest heaved, but you refused to let yourself fall apart in front of him. “ Fine.” You said, barely recognizing your own voice.

“ If that’s how you feel, then stop trying to control my life. I don’t need you to protect me. I don’t need you to save me from In-ho or anyone else.”

“Y/n—”

“ No.” You snapped, backing away. “ I’m done. If I get hurt, that’s on me. Not you.”

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but the words never came.

And you didn’t wait.

You turned on your heel, walking back toward the house, your chest aching, but you refused to stop, refused to give Jun-ho the satisfaction of seeing just how deeply he’d broken you.

You’d given him enough of yourself.

It was time to stop letting him rip you apart.

You barely made it a few steps before Jun-ho’s voice rang out behind you, sharp and filled with something raw.

“ I like someone else, Y/n!”

Your entire body froze.

His words echoed in your head, repeating over and over again, until they didn’t even sound real anymore.

Slowly, you turned around, your heart hammering in your chest. “ What?”

Jun-ho ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident on his face. “ I’m courting someone. I love her.”

The world tilted under your feet.

He didn’t stop there.

“ She’s kind, she’s patient—she actually listens instead of picking fights with me all the damn time,” he went on, his voice laced with irritation, like he had been holding this in for far too long.

“ She doesn’t make things complicated. She just understands me.”

Every single word was a dagger to your heart.

You felt your breath hitch, your hands curling into fists at your sides. “ Why—why are you telling me this?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jun-ho scoffed. “ Because you keep acting like there’s something here when there isn’t.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat, trying to keep yourself together, trying not to show just how much his words were destroying you.

“ You didn’t have to say it like that.” You mumbled, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

Jun-ho sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ I don’t want to keep hurting you, Y/n. But you’re not her. And you never will be.”

Your entire world shattered.

It was one thing to suspect it. One thing to wonder if Jun-ho had ever seen you as more than just a sister figure.

But to hear it out loud?

To hear him describe someone else—someone he loved—so effortlessly, so casually, as if it didn’t crush every last bit of hope you had clung to?

It was unbearable.

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head as you blinked rapidly, forcing back the sting in your eyes. “ Wow.” You muttered, wrapping your arms around yourself. “ Okay.”

Jun-ho’s expression faltered slightly, like he realized just how deeply he had cut you. “ Y/n—”

“ No.” You said quickly, holding up a hand. “ I get it. I really do.”

You turned away before he could see the tears forming. “ Good luck with her.” You said, your voice barely steady.

And then you walked back inside, slamming the door behind you before your walls could crumble completely.

The moment you stepped inside, you pressed your back against the door, shutting your eyes tightly as you let out a shaky breath.

Your chest felt hollow. Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs.

You’re not her. And you never will be.

Jun-ho’s words kept replaying in your head, over and over again, like a cruel mantra you couldn’t escape.

You wanted to scream. To cry. To erase whatever part of you still cared about him after everything.

But before you could completely break down, a voice pulled you from your spiral.

“ Tough conversation?”

Your eyes snapped open to see In-ho standing a few feet away, leaning casually against the counter with his arms crossed. His lip was still swollen from the punch, but there was no anger in his expression—just something unreadable, something almost knowing.

You swallowed hard, straightening. “ I don’t want to talk about it.”

In-ho hummed, tilting his head as he studied you. “ You sure? You look like you’re about to cry.”

“ I said I don’t want to talk about it.” You snapped, harsher than you intended.

Instead of looking offended, In-ho just let out a quiet chuckle. “ So that's bad, huh?”

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him. “ Why are you even still here?”

He raised a brow. “ My house.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. “ Right. Of course.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of the conversation with Jun-ho still hung heavy in the air, suffocating.

Then, In-ho took a step closer, his voice softer than before. “ So…what did my dear little brother say to break your heart this time?”

Your breath hitched, your eyes flickering up to meet him.

You wanted to lie. To pretend that Jun-ho’s words hadn’t just shattered you into a thousand pieces.

But something in In-ho’s gaze made it impossible.

So instead, you whispered, “ He loves someone else.”

In-ho’s smirk faded. His eyes darkened slightly, his jaw tightening just the smallest bit.

“ Of course he does.” He muttered under his breath.

You frowned. “ What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took another step closer, so close that you could feel his warmth.

Then, with a slow exhale, he said, “ It means Jun-ho is an idiot.”

You blinked. “ Excuse me?”

In-ho’s gaze locked onto yours, and for the first time, there was no teasing, no smugness—just quiet certainty.

“ He doesn’t see what’s right in front of him.” He said simply. “ He never has.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

You didn’t know what to say to that. Didn’t know if you wanted to say anything at all.

Because for the first time since you walked through that door, your mind wasn’t stuck on Jun-ho.

It was stuck on In-ho.

You stared at In-ho, his words settling deep into your chest, stirring something you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

He doesn’t see what’s right in front of him.

There was something about the way In-ho said it—so certain, so matter-of-fact—that made your breath hitch.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “ It doesn’t matter.”

In-ho raised a brow. “ Doesn’t it?”

You let out a bitter laugh, crossing your arms. “ I don’t know what you’re trying to get at, but I’m done talking about Jun-ho.”

“ Good.” In-ho said smoothly. “ I’m sick of talking about him too.”

You glanced at him warily. “ Then why do I feel like you’re about to say something annoying?”

He smirked. “ Because I usually do.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could shoot back a response, he took another step closer.

Your breath caught.

There was something different about the way he was looking at you now. No teasing glint in his eye. No smug amusement.

Just…intent.

“ You deserve better.” He said suddenly.

Your heart skipped a beat. “ What?”

“ You heard me.” He tilted his head slightly, studying your face like he was trying to memorize it.

“ You deserve someone who actually sees you, Y/n.”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

Because the way he said it—so effortlessly, like it was just an undeniable truth—made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You swallowed. “ And what, you think that’s you?”

A slow smirk tugged at his lips, but his eyes remained serious. “ Maybe.”

You scoffed, trying to ignore the way your pulse was racing. “ I just had my heart broken minutes ago, In-ho.”

“ I know.” He murmured. “ That’s why I’m not doing anything about it.”

You frowned. “ Then what are you doing?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to something almost too soft.

“ Waiting.”

Your stomach flipped.

He didn’t move closer. Didn’t push any further. He just held your gaze, waiting for you to process his words, letting them sink in.

And for the first time, you weren’t sure if it was Jun-ho or In-ho who was making your head spin.

Gosh...that was intense.

If you are in the situation of Y/n, who will you going to choose?

Team In-ho or Team Jun-ho?

N/A: Y/n and Jun-ho met when they were 16. In-ho, on the other hand, began to like her when she reached her legal age—around the time Y/n was in her twenties. (I need to clarify this to avoid misunderstandings between the characters)

Y/n and Jun-ho's age right now: 23 (College students)

In-ho's age right now: 30 (I need to lower down his age to make it more accurate)

Tags: @maah-sama @storytellers-randomshortstorys @colorwastaken @frontwomann @roach457855688568876 @coruja12345

See u in part 8. 😝

[celestiliall]

ᡣ In Another Life, May We Meet Again, But Under Better Circumstances 𐭩

Summary: The first time Phainon spotted you in Okhema, he had thought that you were an interesting person. He didn't approach you or anything, just watching you from afar everytime he went on a stroll around the market. As time passed, these simple moments became something more, when the white-haired man realized that he had fallen in love with you, a ghost wandering in this world. So in an effort to get to know you better, he decided to talk with you for the first time– that would one day be the moment where fate brought the two of you together, but would also separate you both in the end. (wc: 3.4k)

cw: touch-starved f.reader, lovesick phainon, love confession, reader falling for him but not realizing it, angst, romance, gentle love, bittersweet ending, "dangerously yours" quote mentioned at the end.

Note: requested by @fianur I know it's supposed to be fluff, but I can't help but also want to insert some angst cause of the potential for this trope.. sorry! (Hope u don't mind tho) Enjoy:3

Ever since Phainon met you, a ghost wandering in the midst of the bustling streets of Okhema, seeming to be lost in your own thoughts, he knew that his fate would already be sealed; the moment it brought the two of you together.

Despite already experiencing the taste of the afterlife, your soul remained fixed on the outside world, walking amongst the living people; albeit, secretly. He would see how you would observe bystanders when they walked around the streets, having been finished with their own activities in order to spend the whole day.

He would notice how your gaze would stay glued onto these people, a hint of longing etched into your eyes, despite them looking empty most of the times. It was as if you had the hidden desire to join them, to actually walk among them... Instead of hiding yourself from them behind layers of wall, not wanting to be seen by anyone.

But, he noticed you. He had always been.

From the moment the white-haired man came to Okhema to fill in his role as a Crysos Heir, he had always been keeping an eye on you. Not to be wary of you—but to understand you. To notice that, despite already been embraced by Thanatos' touch, your lingering presence was proof enough that someone like you still continued to exist in this world; not just as a spirit, but as a person—who longed for the presence of others, who longed for the touches of others, despite knowing that they wouldn't be able to afford to give you one, given that you no longer had a physical form for them to touch anymore.

But even so, your soul continued to cling onto the sheerest of hope that someone, anyone, would be able to give you what you desired most. Even if you had to wait for an eternity for it to happen.

Knowing that, he couldn't help but want to fill in that role. Not to indulge in himself, but to make those empty but longing eyes that he had long since been keeping a watchful eye on from a distance—to share and give bits of light in them too, in order to make the woman he noticed be happy.

In order to make the woman he fell in love with; be happy.

Walking passed by the people in the market, his steps were overshadowed by their owns. Their voices ringing throughout all of Okhema, relishing in the bustling streets as per usual.

Nonetheless, Phainon continued to take small steps, taking his time in order to reach his destination. His face remained calm, before turning into a corner—where most citizens would hardly passed by.

A perfect spot to hide oneself, as his aquamarine eyes spotted a familiar figure being alone, as always. Her body crouched down, attention glued onto the ground, using a wooden stick to draw whatever images passed by her mind in order to distract herself from the pain of being left all alone—in a world where everyone else were still able to live in. But not for her anymore.

Not for you anymore.

Due to being used of not being seen by anyone, you didn't even hear the sound of footsteps coming from an unfamiliar figure standing from a distance, watching you from behind as you continued to distract yourself. Even if you did, you would assumed that the person wouldn't be able to see you, and walked passed by you without a care in the world to what they just walked in on.

Seeing you like this, Phainon couldn't help but feel even more pitiful for your situation—but also determination, on being able to change your fate to something better. So, with a composed manner, his feet started to move, approaching you slowly, not wanting for you to be frightened by his presence.

Stopping just a few feet away from you, his head turned to look down, his attention being drawn toward the drawings you made on the ground. Admiring them for a moment, his mouth then opened, bending down slightly with his palms pressed on his ankles.

"I see that you have quite the skill in performing arts. Were you, perhaps, an artist in your previous life?" He inquired, keeping his tone light and casual, making sure that his presence wouldn't be seen as a threat to the distracted woman, doing anything he could in order for your reaction to be less undesirable for the both of them.

But no matter how the man attempted to make light of the situation, he didn't fail to notice the sudden pause in your action upon hearing his question, freezing for a good moment—as if trying to figure out whether or not the person you heard that question from was talking to someone else, or you.

A few seconds passed by as silence stretched between them, giving the air of the surrounding a rather chilling atmosphere—in your eyes, atleast. Slowly, you turned your head to look behind, still clinging onto the faintest of hope that the person you heard was actually talking to someone else, and you were just being panicked for nothing.

But, looking up from the ground due to your crouching position, your eyes caught the glimpse of two pair of aquamarine eyes from a white-haired man, his gaze strangely warm—if it wasn't for the fact that he was looking at you, when nobody should've been able to. And even if somebody could, you wouldn't allow for them to actually be able to spot you that easily.

In the midst of the continued stretching silence, Phainon continued to focus on nothing else but you. Not toward the ground, not toward the other corner where the other exit was supposed to be—but you.

He was looking at you, specifically.

At that moment, your mind finally reached an understanding of what was going on, despite the situation being so sudden. Your gaze remained wide open, not being able to hide your surprise from slipping through your face, couldn't believe that any of this was actually happening. Out of instinct, your fists gripped nervously onto the fabric of your clothes, a rush of adrenaline creeping inside of you.

Despite how surprised you looked, taking note of your gripping hands, Phainon didn't take your reaction into heart, already expecting that you would react to something like this. Instead, a stark contrast to your own, his eyes softened when he was finally met with the pair of eyes that he deemed empty when noticing them from a distance in the past at first—but ended up noticing the hint of yearning from them the more he looked into them, as you remained isolated from everybody else, due to your state.

The only difference was—those pair of orbs were now looking at him for the first time. After every mild observations he did in order to study you a bit better, even by only doing it from a far distance, they were now finally looking into his own set of ones. He would no longer have to imagine how it would feel if those pair of eyes would look at him anymore–

For he had already achieved his wish, right at this moment. And he would be able to experience it over and over again in the near future. If you would let him, that is.

Beautiful, he thought to himself. His smile widening a bit upon admiring your physical features more. Even though your skin looked paler than the others, and most likely cold if he could touch your hands, given that you had already died—he still looked at you as if these features were a normal thing, and not the other way around.

And through the rush of adrenaline clinging onto your form, you couldn't help but to also feel the slightest hint of warmth, upon noticing how this man's gaze looked uncharacteristically gentle, along with his charming smile; despite only encountering him now. You failed to notice whether or not his gentle expression hid a hint of malice behind it, only being able to see the pureness plastered on his face.

Weird.

Who was this person?

A few months had gone by from your first encounter with him, like a lullaby gently lulling an infant to sleep. Now, Phainon had become someone who was a main importance in your daily life. When you found out that he could actually see you, you made sure to distanced yourself from him at first, not wanting to get involved with anything. Not to mention, how he was actually a member of the renowned Crysos Heir.

Perhaps, that was one of the reasons on why he was able to see you, without you needing to show yourself willingly.

Even when Phainon made sure to hold a casual conversation with you everytime he's got the chance, wanting to get closer to you, you remained firm in your judgement. Despite having the hidden desire to be able to get in touch with someone who was still in the realm of the living for awhile, but with the way this white-haired man kept approaching you whenever he spotted you in a corner, sometimes acting more like someone who's head over heels for you, rather than a simple friend—

You knew that you would have to do something in order to stay away from him, and to also make him lose interest in you.

Because, if your deduction turned out to be correct, then one day, he would most likely confessed his feelings to you, hoping that you would accept. As if forgetting that the whole reason on why you were still able to wander in this world—was because you were a wandering spirit. Nothing more, nothing less.

A fleeting shadow of what you were once was, soon to fade away when your time in this world finally reached its climax. When that time comes, you knew that you would have to say goodbye to this world once again, albeit forever. So, with a man who wanted nothing more than to express his innocent love for you, in the hopes of being reciprocated by the end—you knew that you would have to make a move, in order to not end up upsetting the poor man in the end.

Because, you couldn't bear to hurt the man in front of you. Instead of letting him be closer toward you, increasing his level of affection in the process, that would one day be pointless on the day when your footsteps would take one final step away from the world, ceasing to exist anymore in this realm of the living you had grown attached to—you would rather choose to prevent that from happening, by never letting him do them in the first place.

So, with your biggest efforts, the first thing you did when he started to approach you more was to disappear from his sight. He spotted you in the corner? You'd disappear. He approached you in order to strike up a conversation? You'd disappear. He searched for you in hopes of making you to go easy on him? You'd disappear. Even when he only just took one step toward you, your form would instantly vanished, as if you had never been there in the first place.

Due to how constant these moments were, you were more than confident that your plan to make him lose interest on chasing you would work. Just needing to wait for the perfect moment where this plan would reach a fascinating result, and by that moment, you would be able to rid yourself off of the unshakeable feeling that had been gnawing inside your heart, from the moment his aquamarine eyes set on you for the first time in that fated encounter.

That was how you were supposed to be until the end, but...

Your heart couldn't help but fluttered everytime his attention would be focused on you, even though you had attempted to avoid him at any cost. Even through your mask of indifference, Phainon had never let your actions to persuade him into stopping, for he had already been so in love with you—to the point of no returning back.

So, when he noticed you becoming more and more opened up toward him, albeit even just a little—he knew that he had won in this little game of cat and mouse. Seeing you starting to give him short answers upon his questions, his heart would also leaped at the sight of your bashful expression that you so hardly attempted to conceal by avoiding his gaze with a small frown, attempting so hard to remain indifferent, but failing miserably.

He had known of your unfamiliarity toward being vulnerable, even without you telling him that. So, seeing you acting like this made his hands to clench at his sides—resisting the urge to just grab ahold of your face, so that he would be able to admire your radiant face up close. If only he could do that, his mind continued to tell him so.

But, he knew he couldn't. Not because of waiting for your permission, but knowing that you no longer had a physical form that he could touch anymore. And that was the worst thing to ever come in-between you two, because both of you yearned to feel the innocent touches of eachother, albeit secretly. He had to accept this, whether he wanted to or not.

But, of course, there was one more thing that was even worse than this. That would leave one of them, if not, the both of them to feel that they had been separated from eachother already, even though it hasn't happened yet.

But he knew that he would still have to try, regardless, in order to get his feelings out one way or another. In order for the both of you to finally let yourselves out of your cages after so long.

And that, was what he intended to do next.

"...I love you, (Name)." His voice was warm upon saying these simple but life-changing words, with a hint of hopefulness that the person who received this would be able to reciprocate back. His smile never wavering even after expressing his pent-up feelings that he had been harboring for you, wanting to be especially composed for this important occasion.

Despite knowing that this would happen someday, your eyes still widened upon hearing his confession, full of conviction and devotion for you. No hint of hesitation was found, not with the way he said these words with a tender smile he would use everytime his eyes would set on you, but more loving, and... Genuine.

A moment of silence lingered after that, one where the both of them couldn't help but feel nervous. One being nervous of the other's response, while the other...

Lips pressed into a thin line, your hands clenched by your sides, before looking down with a hint of vulnerability plastered on your face, one that made the man in front of you couldn't help but to widen his eyes upon noticing it, his smile finally wavering.

He was used to seeing you being indifferent all the time. So, seeing you like this without attempting to mask your genuine feeling for the first time was...

"...You do realize that I'm still a ghost, regardless... Right?" Your murmured words finally broke the silence that had been stretching in the air for awhile, making Phainon's breath to hitch. "Just a wandering spirit walking in this realm of the living." You continued, before looking up, albeit hesitant. "...One where I would fade away when the time comes, eventually."

"I..." Taking in your words, Phainon felt his mind going blank for a good moment. His lips parted, struggling on what to say to that. He knew of your situation. He knew of your eventual departure from this world in the near future. He knew... And yet—

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took a step closer toward you, his expression replaced with a hint of a fiery determination in his eyes. "...Even so, that doesn't mean that I will let you, nor myself, to walk away from this path. Not like this." He murmured, his tone taking a serious turn, continuing to look at you with longing in his eyes.

"I love you, (Name)." He repeated it again for you, head lowering down. "...I have always been." He whispered, fists clenched weakly by his sides, making you to can't help but widened your eyes again, looking up from the ground to meet his eyes that you had grown accustomed to. Noticing your attention back on him, his head turned up to meet yours. "I know that you are just a wandering spirit now– but to me?" He approached again, continuing. "To me, you are more than that. To me, you are still a person. The person who I've grown a liking toward– No, the woman who I've grown attached to be by her side with."

His eyes twitched, desperation evident behind his attempted confidence, his lips almost wavering. "The woman who I want to spend the rest of my life with." He added once again, before ending his sentence with a final confession.

"...The (Name) that I love—to the point of no returning back." He murmured, reaching out to take ahold of your face, but stopped when he remembered that you no longer have a physical form for him to touch. Even so, his hand stayed close to your cheek, trembling slightly, wanting so desperately to just cradle your face for the first time. Even for a moment.

You couldn't bear to see his expression upon this moment, knowing that he was fighting the urge to just touch you.

After a few seconds, his hand finally moved to rest by his side again, his attention focused on the ground. "I'm aware of your situation, I do..." He murmured, eyebrows furrowing. "But that doesn't mean I will just walk away– not being able to tell you of my harboring feelings for you. Not like this." He stated, feeling like he was convincing himself, rather than you. Regardless, his eyes widened, before looking up at you with full conviction. The gaze in his eyes telling you that he wasn't about to hold back.

"Not when the woman I love is standing right in front of me." He announced, his words carrying no hint of reluctance, nor any false truth. He had never been. Your heart sank at his words, but there was also a hint of bliss creeping in your chest, from the moment he uttered these words.

As if you were glad that he was willing to tell you all of this. To be able to tell you this, with no intentions of backing down.

After another moment of silence, the tension was broken with the sound of a breathed chuckle. Not coming from the white-haired man who had let out all of his pent-up feelings for you. No. It came from you.

"...You're a fool, Phainon." You remarked, closing your eyes to turn your head down, shaking your head with a strained smile. Despite telling such harsh words, your tone didn't hold any irritation, just amusement. Admittedly, you couldn't help but revelled at this side of him.

At first, Phainon froze upon hearing your sudden remark, feeling like he had just done something wrong by upsetting you. But when he spotted the strained smile your face held, with the sound of a hidden amusement coming from your words, he knew that it wasn't the case. So, with a followed-up chuckle, he tilted his head, looking at you with both adoration and fondness, before closing his eyes with another smile.

"Haha.. But isn't any man who falls in love are?" He replied, taking this chance to joke around for a bit.

Your breathed chuckle came to a halt, your eyes widening upon hearing his words. Not long after, your smile widened too. This time, more genuine. More loving. Adoration evident in your eyes, couldn't help but to look at the man in front of you again, but with a difference than your previous judgement. No, there weren't any differences in both of your judgements from the start.

You were just unwilling to disclose them, in the hopes of not hurting the poor man in the end. In the hopes of not hurting the both of you in the end.

He was right. Everything he said was right.

And you were no exception.

masterlist (feel free to request)

[httpvomitello]

fred weasley x y/n

Enemies to lovers trope but she uses George to get Fred jealous and it worked but make it seem that George doesn't like y/n too but agrees to do it thanks !!

Oooh, that's evil... And i loved 😈. Hope you like it ~ ♡

Red-Handed *⁠.⁠✧

Summary: You and Fred Weasley have never gotten along. Ever. You’re convinced he exists solely to annoy you, and he’s convinced you’re the most frustrating person alive. But when you start spending more time with George, something shifts. Fred is acting differently—more irritable, more possessive, more… jealous. And that’s exactly what you wanted. The only problem? You might have underestimated how far you’d go to get his attention.

fred weasley x f!reader

Fred Weasley had a way of getting under your skin.

Maybe it was his constant teasing. Maybe it was the way he always had a smirk on his face when you were annoyed. Or maybe—just maybe—it was because he knew exactly how to push your buttons.

Whatever the reason, your rivalry with Fred was legendary at Hogwarts.

“You do know there’s an easier way to mix that, right?” His voice came from behind you as you stirred your potion in class, his tone dripping with amusement.

You gritted your teeth but didn’t look at him. “And you do know there’s an easier way to shut up, right?”

George, sitting beside him, stifled a laugh. Fred, however, only grinned wider. “Feisty today, aren’t we?”

You ignored him. You always ignored him. But that didn’t stop him from continuing his endless torment.

Until one day—you got an idea.

A stupid idea.

An idea that was destined to go horribly wrong.

You were going to make Fred Weasley jealous.

And George? He was going to help.

"Are you mental?" George asked, arms crossed as he stared at you.

"A little," you admitted. "But mostly determined."

He sighed, rubbing his face. "You do realize that messing with Fred’s head is like poking a sleeping dragon, right?"

You smirked. "Good. I hope he burns."

George gave you a long, calculating look before shaking his head. "Alright, fine. But I’m not actually interested in you. You get that, right?"

"Crystal clear."

"And when this backfires spectacularly?"

You shrugged. "We’ll deal with that later."

He sighed. "Merlin help us."

It started small.

A lingering touch on George’s arm. Sitting closer to him during meals. Laughing at his jokes just a little too hard.

Fred noticed almost immediately.

His usual teasing became more aggressive. His jokes at your expense were sharper. His glances toward you and George lingered longer.

One afternoon, as you and George sat in the common room, Fred plopped down beside you, eyes narrowed.

"What’s this, then?" he asked, gesturing between you two.

George leaned back lazily, playing along perfectly. "What’s it look like, dear brother?"

Fred’s jaw twitched. "Looks like someone’s lost their bloody mind."

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "Why do you care, Weasley?"

His mouth opened, then shut. For the first time ever, he seemed… lost for words.

Oh, this was too fun.

The next few days were even better.

Fred was spiraling.

He was glaring at George constantly. He was snappier than usual, even with his own twin. And—most interesting of all—he had stopped teasing you entirely.

But the real victory came one evening at the Gryffindor common room.

You and George were sitting close—too close. Fred, across from you, was gripping his quill so hard it looked like it might snap.

"So, Y/N," George said loudly, nudging you. "Tell me again how brilliant I am at Quidditch?"

You smiled. "Oh, you mean how you’re the best Chaser on the team?"

Fred’s quill did snap.

That was when you knew you had won.

The next day, Fred cornered you outside the library.

"What the hell are you doing?"

You blinked up at him innocently. "What am I doing?"

"With George," he snapped, stepping closer. "Since when are you two so—" He gestured vaguely, as if the idea physically pained him.

You smirked. "Does it bother you, Freddie?"

His jaw clenched.

"You know what?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. If you want to waste your time with him—"

"George is a great guy," you interrupted, tilting your head. "Better company than you, at least."

His eyes darkened. "Bullshit."

You raised a brow. "Oh? Care to elaborate?"

His chest rose and fell, hands clenched into fists. Then, before you could process it, his hands were in your hair, and his lips crashed against yours.

Hard.

Possessive.

Like he had been waiting for this moment forever.

You barely had time to react before he pulled away, breathing heavily.

"Happy now?" he muttered.

You stared at him, heart pounding. "Not even close."

His lips curled into a smirk. "Good."

And then he kissed you again.

Fred Weasley was an idiot.

A complete, bloody idiot.

Not only had he kissed you, but he had kissed you in a jealous rage, right after you had spent days parading around with George. He had played right into your hands, and now he was completely at your mercy.

And you knew it.

Which was why, the next morning at breakfast, you sat across from him with the smuggest look on your face, twirling a piece of toast between your fingers like you owned the world.

"Good morning, Freddie," you said sweetly.

Fred gritted his teeth, stabbing at his eggs with unnecessary force. "Don’t call me that."

"Why not?" you mused, resting your chin on your hand. "You seemed to like it last night."

George snorted into his pumpkin juice.

Fred shot him a glare.

"You know," George said, wiping his mouth, "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up over a girl before, Fred."

"I’m not worked up," Fred said immediately, shoving a forkful of food into his mouth.

You leaned forward, lowering your voice just enough for only him to hear. "Then why do you look like you’re about to explode?"

Fred choked.

George howled with laughter, clapping him on the back while you simply sat back, smug as ever.

Fred avoided you for two whole days.

Which, honestly? Was hilarious.

The same Fred Weasley who lived to irritate you, who thrived off your annoyance, was now too much of a coward to even look at you.

So, naturally, you decided to make things worse.

"George," you sighed dramatically in the common room that evening, stretching your legs across his lap. "Do you think I could ever find a decent man at Hogwarts?"

George, playing along perfectly, hummed in thought. "Hmm. Tough question."

Fred, who was sitting nearby but definitely pretending not to listen, stiffened.

"You know," you continued, tapping a finger to your chin, "I did hear that Cormac McLaggen is interested—"

Fred’s head snapped up so fast you thought he might get whiplash.

"Absolutely not," he said immediately.

You blinked innocently. "Excuse me?"

Fred scowled. "McLaggen? That arrogant twat? You could do better."

You smirked. "Oh? And who exactly do you think is better?"

Fred’s mouth opened. Then shut. His ears turned red.

George bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"That’s what I thought," you said, standing up and dusting off your robes. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date to arrange."

Fred stood up so fast his chair nearly toppled over. "Y/N—"

But you were already gone.

Fred found you before you could even think about talking to McLaggen.

It was late, the castle dimly lit as you walked back. And then, suddenly—

A hand grabbed your wrist, yanking you into a hidden alcove.

You gasped, heart racing. "What the—"

"Enough," Fred growled, pressing you against the wall.

You blinked up at him, a little breathless. "Enough what?"

His jaw was clenched, eyes burning with something fierce. "This. The games. The flirting. The McLaggen nonsense. You’ve made your point, alright?"

You stared at him, expression unreadable. "And what point is that, Fred?"

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "That I—I can’t stand seeing you with someone else."

Your stomach flipped.

Finally.

You tilted your head. "And why is that?"

He let out a bitter laugh. "You know why, Y/N."

You did. You just wanted to hear him say it.

You reached up, brushing your fingers against his cheek. He leaned into the touch—barely, but enough to make your chest tighten.

"Say it, Freddie."

His breathing was uneven. His hands tightened at his sides.

"I like you, alright?" he muttered. "You drive me absolutely mad, but I—I can’t stop thinking about you. And it’s infuriating."

You smiled. "I knew it."

Fred groaned. "Merlin, I hate you—"

And then you pulled him down into a kiss.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, kissing you like he had been holding back for years. It was hot, desperate, needy—and, bloody hell, if you had known it would feel this good, you would’ve done it ages ago.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dazed, Fred rested his forehead against yours, hands still tight around you.

"No more games," he murmured.

You smirked. "No promises."

He groaned. "Merlin help me."

You laughed, pulling him back in.

"Game over, Freddie," you whispered against his lips.

"And guess what?"

Fred smirked. "I think I won."

[honeyryewhiskey]

mirrored souls

or, dean dreams of what he believes he can never have. warnings ! angst, hurt/some comfort, dean's feelings are hurt, unexpected pregnancy, tough conversations, two ppl with the same fears j's note ! hey so let's not even talk about the fact that this is neither of the two fics i posted snippets of lol idk what possessed me to write 5k fucking words for this i'm sorry i just want to baby trap dean winchester erm idk enjoy? it's sad but maybe pls dont take my word for it i'll continue this and let them be happy also i stopped proof reading half way through bc it is my bed time <3 5k words

He’s had this dream every night for weeks. 

The sun is golden, thick with warmth, stretching over endless fields of green. It settles on his skin like an old friend, seeps into his bones, loosening the ever-present tension in his shoulders. The air is clean, carrying the scent of wildflowers and summer, and for the first time in his life, he feels safe. Like he could lie back in the grass, close his eyes, and let the world move on without him.

Then, he hears her.

A laugh—small and weightless, like wind chimes in a summer breeze—rings through the stillness. It stops him cold, strikes something deep in his chest that he doesn’t know how to name.

He turns, and she’s there.

She can’t be older than four, standing barefoot in the grass, staring up at him with wide, curious eyes—green as polished emeralds, too big for her little face. His eyes.

But everything else—her delicate nose, the slope of her cheekbones, the way her wild hair frames her face—that’s you.

She tilts her head, smiling in a way that makes something inside him shatter. Then she reaches for him, small fingers wrapping around his calloused hand like she’s always belonged there.

And just like that—like the break of a wave, like the snap of a thread—she’s gone.

Dean wakes with a sharp inhale, the remnants of warmth already fading, replaced by the cold press of reality. His chest aches, heavy with something deeper than longing. A quiet, creeping fear slithers in, curling around his ribs.

Because she has his eyes and your face—a combination that will never exist.

You left. And you haven’t come back in months.

It was always cat and mouse with you—years of fleeting moments, an unspoken desire for more that neither of you had the courage to face. You’d cross paths, use each other's bodies to release some tension, but never linger long enough to ignite anything real. 

Until about eight months ago, when everything changed. You stayed longer than just a weekend. Dean had you in his arms for four months—four months that felt like a lifetime of stolen moments, of finally letting down walls you both had built so high. But when it all started to feel too real, when the weight of it all settled between you like an unspoken truth, you pulled away. You told him it was too much, that you needed space, that you couldn’t do it anymore. You needed to breathe, to step back before it swallowed you whole. And with that, you walked away, leaving him to sift through the pieces of something that was never meant to last.

His heavy hand slams down on the bleating alarm clock beside his bed. The sharp noise cuts off, leaving only the ragged sound of his breathing in the dark. He drags a hand down his face, fingers pressing into his tired eyes, but it doesn’t do anything to clear the remnants of the dream—the sunlight, the laughter, the way she looked at him like he was her whole damn world.

Dean exhales sharply and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Another short night, another dream of something that doesn’t exist, of someone who will never be real. He tells himself it’s just a trick of the mind, a byproduct of too many years spent running on empty. But the truth—the one he won’t say out loud—is that the dreams never started until you left.

And maybe that’s what makes them feel more like a haunting than a fantasy.

He’s spent each day the past four months trying to shove it down, burying it under booze and hunts and half-hearted distractions. But it doesn’t matter how many times he tells himself he’s over it, that he saw it coming. Because he did. He knew you would run the second things got too real, the second you got too close, too comfortable, like maybe you wanted this life with him.

And then, just like his dream, you were gone.

You never said it outright, but he knew—deep down, you were always more like him than you wanted to admit. Built for the road, for the chase. Love wasn’t something you stayed for.

Except you never really left, not completely.

Every now and then, his phone would ring, and it’d be your voice on the other end—casual, distant, asking about a hunt, about a lead on something nasty you were tracking. Always avoiding the bigger conversation, never asking how he’s been, never giving him the chance to ask where you are.

And Dean let it happen. Let you keep him at arm’s length. Because at least this way, you were still something in his life.

But now, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, the dream still fresh in his mind, it pisses him off.

He stands, yanking on a t-shirt and running a hand through his hair before heading for the door. He just needs coffee—something to shake off the lingering ache sitting heavy in his chest.

But the second he steps into the hall, Sam is there, hovering with that anxious look that never means anything good.

“Hey,” Sam starts, lifting a hand like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. “Before you go in there, just—don’t freak out, okay?”

Dean’s stomach tightens, his muscles tensing. The look he cuts Sam with makes the younger brother’s eyes widen, searching for words to mediate and settle the storm brewing at either side of him. “Sam, what the hell are you—”

Before Sam can answer, Dean hears it.

The sound of pacing. Quick, uneven steps against the kitchen floor. His body goes still, his breath catching in his throat. He doesn’t need to see you to know.

You’re here.

Dean’s pulse pounds in his ears. His stubborn rage choking out the glimmer of childish hope that sets his nerves on fire. He stares at Sam, waiting for some kind of explanation, but Sam just shifts on his feet, uneasy.

That’s when another sound cuts through the silence—your voice.

Muffled, pacing, like you’re muttering to yourself between shallow breaths.

Dean swallows hard, his jaw clenching as he pushes past Sam. His mind is already racing, his thoughts a tangled mess of you, his dreams, his heartache and the damn voice in his head telling him to grip you tight enough so that you can’t leave him again. Whatever this is, whatever brought you back, he’s not in the mood for it. Not today. Not after all this time.

But when he steps into the kitchen, the world tilts on its axis.

You freeze mid-step, eyes wide, hands curled tightly around the edge of the counter as if you’re holding yourself together, bracing for something. For him, maybe. Your posture is rigid, your whole body taut with tension. You look… different. There’s an unreadable heaviness in the way you stand, the nervous bite of your lip as you chew it—like you’re preparing for a blow, for him to lash out, to reject you. 

A heavy silence falls over the room, thick and suffocating. His heart hammers in his chest, but there’s no anger now, no easy target to aim it at. Just this painful, aching pull between what he wants and what he’s afraid to hope for.

“You…” He’s barely able to get the word out. His throat feels tight, words caught somewhere between anger and something much softer, something more dangerous. He’s not sure which one is scarier.

You glance at him, then quickly look away, the uncertainty in your eyes like a crack in a mirror he never thought he’d see. Dean feels something in his chest twist—familiar, painful, like it’s been waiting for you to come back and break him open all over again.

His mind is a whirlwind. He wants to be angry—hell, he’s had four months of anger built up over your disappearing act. But standing here, with you so close, he realizes just how torn he is inside.

He wants to scream at you, demand to know why you didn’t come back sooner, why you couldn’t have just stayed. But that’s not the real question, is it? Because deep down, a part of him knows it wasn’t just you who ran. It was him, too. He shut off long ago, convincing himself it was easier that way. He was easier that way.

But you? You always seemed to slip through his defenses.

Dean stares at you, struggling to find his voice, his hands suddenly feeling useless at his sides. The walls he’s built up for his entire life—years of anger, bitterness, and pain—are cracking, piece by piece, and he has no idea how to stop it.

Dean crosses his arms, trying to shove down the storm already brewing inside him. “Well,” his voice is rough with sleep and something dangerously close to hurt. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Your spine straightens, and just like that, the tension shifts. Whatever nerves had you pacing seconds ago are buried under the sharp edge of your own attitude. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly plan on it either.”

Dean scoffs, a bitter chuckle, the undertone to the eye roll he throws you. “Oh, great. That makes me feel real special.”

“I…” You hesitate, fingers digging into the edge of the counter before you let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, Dean. I don’t know if this is the right thing, or if I’m just—” you stop yourself, biting your lip again. You were never as good as he was at hiding your pain. It’s evident now, in the vulnerability in your eyes that cuts through him, raw and unguarded, and it makes everything inside him spin faster.

Sam clears his throat. “Why don’t I give you guys some space?” He glances between the two of you, clearly ready to escape the tension.

Dean doesn’t look at him, just stares at you as you stand firm, the scowl on your face trying desperately to cover the sadness in your eyes. The fact that you’re asking for anything at all should piss him off. After months of the half-hearted check-ins that only ever came when you needed something, after the way you left—why should he give you the time of day?

But he can’t say no.

And that scares him more than anything.

Sam nods to himself when neither of you protest and slips out of the kitchen, leaving you and Dean in thick, suffocating silence.

“Why are you here?” His voice comes out quieter than he intended, but the question hangs in the air, laced with something deeper, something that sounds too much like hope. A falsehood he’s terrified to acknowledge.

You take a shaky breath, your shoulders slumping just slightly, as if the weight of being in the same room as him is too much to carry alone.

Dean takes a step toward you, his feet heavy on the floor, his chest aching. His instincts shout at him to pull away, to protect himself from the inevitable hurt, but something else—something buried deep inside him—begs him to go closer.

The words come out before he can stop them, quieter now, barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I can do this again, are we gonna keep pretending we have nothing to talk about?”

You wince, a flicker of pain crossing your face, and it rips through him. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, but he can’t stop the words. He can’t stop the fear, the resentment, that’s built up over all this time.

"I don't know if I can just act like nothing ever happened between us. Like you didn't leave me. Like..." His voice breaks off, his throat thick with emotion he’s been swallowing for far too long. He’s not even sure who he’s trying to convince anymore, you or himself.

His hands are trembling now, and he clenches them into fists, fighting to keep the storm inside him contained. But every time he looks at you, sees the way you’re standing before him, so tired and lacking the fire that he always adored. That you’re here now when he never thought he’d see you again, it pulls him under a wave of emotion he can’t quite place.

“I don’t know how to do this, not after everything,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “You can’t just waltz back in here and expect me to be okay with it.”

Your eyes fill with regret, but there's something else too—a quiet understanding. You know what you’ve done. You know what this looks like, but still, you're standing here. And that small, painful spark of hope flickers in the pit of his stomach.

“Can we just sit and talk, please?” Your voice is soft, pleading. And this time, you don’t look away.

Dean stands there, his whole body tense, his mind screaming conflicting words in the crosshairs—walk away, stay. But something in your gaze, in your quiet desperation, tugs at him. For a moment, he’s paralyzed—conflicted in the most unfamiliar way.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he nods. “Fine. But we talk,” he jabs a finger at you, his brows set with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat, “really talk. No more running.”

You nod, your shoulders relaxing, just slightly, and Dean wonders, not for the first time, if maybe—just maybe—he’s still capable of believing in the possibility of this. Of you.

His eyes narrow, the weight of years of unresolved anger and hurt pressing down on him. But despite it all, despite everything you put him through, he can’t seem to dig his heels into this anger. Not when you’re standing here, so close, with those big, pleading eyes that always seemed to strip him bare.

The years of touch and go, the broken promises, the words left unsaid—they all float between you, a suffocating fog that neither of you knows how to break. But Dean’s tired. Tired of fighting this pull, this pull toward you he can’t seem to ignore, no matter how many times you leave.

With a frustrated sigh, he crosses the kitchen, the hard floor beneath his boots clacking louder than it should. He grabs two chairs from the worn wooden table, scraping them across the linoleum as he sets them down. Wordlessly, he nods toward the seat beside him.

“Sit,” he mutters, his voice rougher than he meant it to be.

You stand there for a moment, the air between you thick with things left unsaid. And then, quietly, you take the seat next to him.

Dean can feel the weight of the moment in every fiber of his being. He doesn’t want to look at you. Not yet. Not until he’s ready to hear whatever it is you came to say.

The silence stretches on, thick and uncomfortable, as you sit side by side, neither of you knowing how to begin.

Finally, you clear your throat, a small sound, but it’s enough to break through the tension. “Look, I know I don’t have the right to ask you for anything. But… can we just talk, like we used to? No games. No running away this time, okay?”

Dean stares at the table in front of him, his fingers tapping restlessly against the edge. Your words hit harder than he expected, and for a second, his chest tightens with something raw and unfamiliar.

“I don’t know how to do this anymore, you know?” he says quietly, almost to himself. “Every time you leave… it’s like you take a piece of me with you. And I’m just left here picking up the pieces, wondering if you’ll ever come back.”

You wince at the admission, and it hits him harder than he wants to admit. He doesn’t know why he said it—maybe because this is the first time in years that you’re actually sitting here, facing him. Maybe because it’s the first time in years that he feels like you might actually be willing to stay.

You reach out, placing a tentative hand on his, stilling the tapping. And for a brief moment, his breath catches.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Dean,” you say softly. “I never wanted to be another person who hurts you.”

to forget the months of silence, the aching space you left behind. He wants to pull you close, bury his face in your neck, and pretend none of it ever happened—that you never walked away, that he never let you.

But reality crashes down just as fast.

He can’t let himself go there, can’t let himself believe this is something he can have without it slipping through his fingers. So instead, he exhales sharply, shoving that fragile part of himself deep down where it belongs. His jaw tightens, and when he finally speaks, his voice is rough, edged with his angry armor.

“Then why did you leave?” he grits out, his voice quiet but commanding. He needs to know. Needs to understand why the person he thought he might finally let himself love disappeared without a trace.

You pull your hand back, lips pressed tight. “I—”

The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy, like the weight of months spent apart. Dean’s still trying to wrap his head around what’s happening, why you’re here, why you’re sitting beside him, but something shifts in your expression.

You take a deep breath, eyes falling to your lap before lifting to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you say, the words soft but full of weight. “I’m sorry for always running off. For disappearing when things got too real. I know it’s not fair.”

Dean’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t know what to say, what to feel.

“I was scared,” you continue, voice breaking just a little. “I still am. I…” Your words falter, but then you press on, searching his eyes for understanding. “I was consumed with this fear of losing it all. That I’d attach myself to you and this life would rip you away.”

The quiet admission sits heavy in the air. Dean feels his heart thudding faster beneath his rib cage. A pang of regret washes over him, for never admitting he shared that fear. That he thought he would be the thing that rips you apart. And maybe if he had, you wouldn’t have felt alone in those thoughts. 

You run a hand through your hair, a nervous gesture, and he watches the movement, the tension in your body. “I didn’t think I could do this. I didn’t think we could do this. I don’t see a world where something like that survives,” you shake your head, lost in the thoughts that shuffle through as you try to find your words, “Where… where we get a happy ending.”

Dean feels his chest tighten, his pulse speeding up as he takes in what you’re saying. The words hang between you, both of you holding your breath. And for a long, painful moment, the only sound in the room is the distant hum of the refrigerator, a constant reminder that time is still moving, even when it feels like everything’s frozen in place.

“I’m not saying that I don’t want it, Dean,” you add quickly, your voice cracking. “I just—I don’t know how to believe it’s possible. But I didn’t come here to ask for you to take me back.”

Dean stares at you, his pulse hammering against his ribs. There it is—that damn crack in your voice, the one that always cuts through him like a blade. He wants to be angry, to hold onto the bitterness that’s been festering since you left, but it slips through his fingers the second he sees the way you’re looking at him. Like you’re scared. Like you don’t expect him to want this.

Like you don’t expect him to want you.

His throat tightens, his fists clenching at his sides as he fights the urge to reach for you. “Then what do you want?” His voice is quieter now, rougher. “If you’re not here to ask me for anything, then why come back?”

You open your mouth, then close it, searching for words. Your fingers twist in the hem of your jacket, your shoulders curling inward, like you’re bracing for him to tear you apart. And damn it, that does something to him, because he’s never wanted to be the reason you look like that.

Dean drags a hand down his face, trying to ground himself. His mind is a battlefield, waging war between the fear clawing at his insides and the need to fix this—fix you. But how the hell is he supposed to do that when he’s still not sure how to fix himself?

“You don’t know how to believe it’s possible?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, join the damn club.” His chest feels too tight, his voice breaking under the weight of it. “You think I had some fairytale idea of us, sweetheart? That I thought this would be easy?” He lets out a breath that’s more of a laugh, humorless and hollow. “Hell, I don’t even know if I’d be any good at this. But you didn’t give me the chance to figure it out, did you?”

Your eyes squeeze shut, a tear slipping down your cheek before you can stop it. And God, he hates that. He hates seeing you cry. Hates even more that he’s the reason for it.

“I was scared,” you whisper, your voice breaking apart like shattered glass. “I am scared.”

Dean swallows hard, his anger flickering, giving way to something deeper, something more painful. He’s scared too. He’s scared as hell. Of not being enough. Of screwing this up. Of losing you all over again.

But when he looks at you—when he sees the way you’re trembling, barely holding yourself together—it hits him. He’s not the only one drowning in this.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair before finally, finally stepping forward. His hands hover for a second before settling on your arms, grounding you. Grounding himself.

“Yeah, well,” he mutters, softer now, “I guess we can be scared together.”

You drag the backs of your hands across your cheeks, trying to contain the tears that just won’t stop flowing. “No, Dean, you don’t get it—” you cut yourself off with a groan. Your breathing is coming out uneven as anxiety pulls at your every nerve, and suddenly you can’t sit still. You can’t do this. 

You’re up on your feet again, pacing slightly as you try to steady your breathing. 

Dean watches you, his stomach twisting as you distance yourself. There’s a wild, frantic energy in the way you move, your arms wrapping around yourself like you’re trying to hold yourself together. Your breath is uneven, shaky, and those damn tears keep slipping past your lashes no matter how hard you try to blink them away.

His fingers twitch at his sides, itching to reach for you again, to do something—anything—to stop that panicked look from overtaking your face. It melts his resolve, steadies his rising temper.

His voice comes quieter this time, hesitant. “Hey—what’s going on?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you press the heels of your hands into your eyes, shaking your head as if you can will away whatever storm is raging inside you.

Dean’s chest tightens. His mind is running through every possibility, each one worse than the last. “Sweetheart,” he tries again, the pet name easing off his tongue as if no time had passed since he last called you that, “talk to me.”

"I... I didn't catch it in time, I'm sorry." You start, your voice barely more than a whisper, the words thick with something he can't quite name. Your eyes squeeze shut as if the simple act of speaking is too much.

Dean’s chest tightens, a knot of confusion twisting in his stomach. “What the hell are you talking about?” His tone is gentle now, trying to coax it out of you, but the moment you raise your eyes, he sees it—the fear, raw and trembling beneath the surface.

He’s on his feet again, closing in on you like you’re a scared animal that’ll take flight from any sudden movement. 

“I just thought it was stress making me miss my period again, but…” You choke, your voice cracking as if admitting it out loud is tearing something inside you apart.

Dean’s breath hitches, and his heart races, but he doesn’t dare interrupt you, his own confusion giving way to a growing sense of dread. He takes another step toward you, but you flinch, eyes shimmering with tears that slip through your heavy breathing.

You finally break, the tears turning into sobs that shake your shoulders. You shake your head, wiping at your face again, as if trying to push it all away. But it’s too late now.

“I’m scared, D.” You gasp the words out, the weight of them crushing you. “I’m so scared.”

Dean’s chest tightens, a cold sensation creeping down his spine, even as his heart lurches in his chest. He can feel the tremor in your voice, the rawness in every syllable, but he can’t make sense of it. The world seems to slow, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place—but not quickly enough for his mind to catch up.

“What… What are you saying?” He asks, his voice quiet, strained with confusion and something that feels dangerously close to panic.

You glance up at him, eyes wide and glassy with tears. You open your mouth, but the words seem stuck, lodged in your throat. The silence between you is deafening.

Finally, you take a deep breath, almost like you’re gathering the strength to face something unbearable. “I’m pregnant, Dean.” The words fall from your lips in a broken whisper. “I’m pregnant.”

Dean freezes. His entire body goes still, as though he’s forgotten how to breathe. The weight of your words hits him like a freight train, and for a moment, everything goes silent except for the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

Pregnant.

His mouth goes dry, his thoughts scrambling, trying to make sense of it all. The pieces click into place—the missed periods, the way you looked at him when you walked in, the way you wouldn’t meet his eyes.

His dreams.

 He takes a half-step back, his mind too far behind, too rattled by the weight of what you just said.

And then, slowly, it hits him—this isn’t just a shock; it’s a bombshell. One that could tear everything apart, and yet, at the same time, it pulls something from him that he hasn’t felt in a long time. The edges of his world begin to blur. He’s scared. He’s terrified.

“Are you… are you sure?” His voice comes out rough, almost panicked, like he’s waiting for you to tell him this is some sick joke, but he knows it’s not.

You nod, sniffling. "I took a test, I went to the doctor and they told me I was already four months along." you whisper, choking back a sob. "I didn’t know what to do."

Dean steps closer, his hand instinctively reaching out to steady you. But you flinch again, the space between you thick with everything you’ve never said to him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to tell you. I could have just called, I should have—” Your voice cracks, and you finally meet his gaze, eyes full of everything—regret, fear, and a raw, aching vulnerability that threatens to break him.

Dean's heart races, the panic starting to crawl up his throat. He wants to scream, to tell you that he’s terrified—that he doesn’t know how to be a father, that he’s too broken, too fucked up to raise a kid. The thought of something happening to you, to your child, terrifies him in ways he can’t even put into words. But you’re standing there, so small, so vulnerable, looking at him like he’s the only one who can fix this. And damn it, he has to be strong.

He closes the distance between and pulls you into his arms before either of you can second guess it. His hands are warm and steady on your back, but inside, his mind is a storm. His pulse is erratic, his breath shallow, but he holds you close, trying to give you the comfort he doesn’t know how to find for himself.

���Hey,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice like a lighthouse to steer your sinking ship. “Everything’s gonna be okay. You’re not alone in this.”

You shake your head against his chest, a shaky breath escaping. “I’m so scared, Dean. I don’t know what to do.”

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression soft but full of intensity. His thumbs pushes away your tears, warm and rough against your skin. “You don’t have to know right now,” he assures you, trying to convince himself as much as you. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time. I’m here, okay? We’ll get through this.”

Inside, though, his mind is spinning out of control. He doesn’t know how to be the man you need. He doesn’t know if he can even be the father this child deserves. But in this moment, he’s all you have. And somehow, he knows that no matter how badly he’s freaking out, no matter how scared he is, he’ll find a way to make this work—for you, for the little life growing inside of you.

He gently strokes your hair, pressing his cheek to the top of your head, grounding himself in the act. “We’ll figure it out,” he whispers again, his voice thick with the promise of something more than just words.

But inside, the panic churns, a rising tide he can’t escape. He holds you tighter, pretending for your sake that everything will be fine, even as the weight of the world presses down on him.

edit to add tags why do i always forget tags @titsout4jackles @floralscented @deansbeer @snowluvvie @ultravi0lence14

[swytdoll]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆Based off the song ‘do i wanna know’ by hozier.

Grieving someone who is still alive is an excruciating form of heartbreak. It's the torment of knowing that the person you once cherished so deeply continues to exist, yet they are no longer a tangible part of your life. Each day, you bear the immense burden of their absence, even though they persist in the world.

You find yourself yearning for the sound of their voice, the melody of their laughter, and the solace of their presence. Memories of shared moments inundate your mind, and you are overwhelmed by a profound sense of loss. It's like an open wound that never fully heals, perpetually reopening with every reminder of what once was.

The most agonizing part is the awareness that they are living their life, perhaps moving forward, while you remain ensnared in a state of mourning. There is no closure, no definitive farewell. Instead, you are left with an enduring ache, a constant reminder of what might have been. Grieving someone who is still alive means learning to coexist with a ghost, a specter of the person you once loved, and finding a way to navigate life despite the relentless pain.

The room was dimly lit, with only the soft glow of a single lamp casting shadows on the walls. The man sat slumped on the worn-out sofa, the silence of his home almost deafening. In his right hand, he gripped a half-empty bottle of whiskey, the amber liquid swishing gently as he raised it to his lips. His other hand clutched his phone, the screen dark and lifeless.

His mind wandered back to better days, days when laughter filled the house and the scent of your sweet perfume lingered in the air. He could almost see you, with that radiant smile and sparkling eyes. You used to sit beside him on this very sofa, head resting on his shoulder, hand intertwined with his. The memories were vivid, each one a sharp pang of longing and regret.

He remembered your first date, the nervous excitement, and the way you looked in that red dress. He could still hear your laughter, a sound that once brought him so much joy. But now, it was just a haunting echo in his mind. The fights, the misunderstandings, the slow drift apart – it all played out like a tragic movie he couldn't turn off.

He took another swig of whiskey, hoping to drown the sorrow that clung to him like a second skin. The phone in his hand buzzed, a message from his friend Gojo asking how he was doing. He stared at it for a moment, then put it down. How could he explain the emptiness, the aching void left behind? All he had now were memories and the bitter taste of whiskey.

With a deep breath, he scrolled through his contacts until he found your name. His thumb hovered over the call button, his heart pounding in his chest. He was scared you wouldn’t pick up, scared of the silence that might follow. But he needed to hear your voice, even if it was just for a moment.

He pressed the button, bringing the phone to his ear. Each ring felt like an eternity, and he could feel his anxiety rising with each passing second. Just as he was about to hang up, he heard a groggy voice on the other end.

"Nanami?" your voice was soft, laced with sleep and confusion.

His heart sank at the familiar sound, a wave of emotions crashing over him. "It's me," he said, his voice trembling. "I... I didn't mean to wake you."

There was a pause, and he could almost see you rubbing your eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of slumber. "Is everything okay?" you asked, concern evident in your tone.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I just... I needed to hear your voice," he admitted, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "I miss you. I miss us."

The silence on the other end was deafening, and he feared he had said too much. But then, you sighed softly, a sound that was both comforting and heartbreaking. “Don’t you miss me anymore?” he adds, his words are desperate, hand gripping the bottle so tightly he thinks it might splinter under the pressure. “Nanami. . . it’s late and—“

“I can’t let you go. Please don’t do this. . .please don’t do this to me.” the burn in his throat is undeniable now, amber eyes glossing over, lips trembling.

“It’s over Nanami—“ then he hears it. A male voice in the background, “come back to bed love.”

He whimpers.

“I have to go. . . take care of yourself, okay?"

"Yeah," he said, his voice barely audible. "You too."

As the call ended, he couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They streamed down his face, each one a testament to the love he felt but could never fully express. The room felt emptier, colder, as he cried, feeling the weight of your impossible love pressing down on him.

[unlimitedlust]

Bite Me - Eric Draven (AU) x Reader | Part. 3

(The gif above does not belong to me, all credits belong to its owner)

Summary:

They were childhood rivals who hadn’t spoken in years, until a wedding reunion throws them back into each other’s orbit. With tension simmering beneath every glance, one weekend turns into a series of unexpected moments, sharp words, and almosts that linger long after the party ends. But when fate keeps bringing them back together, the line between hate and something far more irresistible begins to blur.

Author’s note:

I’m grateful to everyone of you who have been supporting me along this story, I hope you like this next chapter 💖

Tags: @malenoradgn @muchwita @a-differentbrandof-beans

Masterlist

Disclaimers:

As the story progresses I’ll let you know if the chapters have any sensitive topics beforehand.

This story will have smut scenes in the future, but you’ll be warned!

English is not my first language, so forgive me for any mistakes I eventually skipped while proof-reading it.

This is AU Eric Draven!!!

If you enjoy this, please let me know if I should continue this, your feedback is precious for me 🫶🏻

End of Author’s note.

The shower was still running when Y/N entered the bedroom, the faint hiss of water against tile trailing through a thin trail of steam curled its way into the cooler air of the room from under the door.

She dropped her towel on the chair by her side of the bed and dug into her bag, pulling out clean clothes. Her skin was sticky with lake water and dried sunscreen, and all she wanted was to rinse the day off and get ready for their wine night.

The water finally stopped and seconds later he stepped out of the bathroom.

Eric stood there, half a foot into the room, dripping wet and shirtless, towel slung low around his hips. Drops of water clung to his skin, racing down the sharp lines of his chest and the tattoos decorating his skin, and lower, too low for her eyes to linger without consequence.

Which, unfortunately, they did, staying two seconds too long on the happy trail traveling low. And of course he caught her looking.

He didn’t look at her right away. Instead, he ran a hand through his wet hair, the muscles in his arms flexing just slightly as he reached for his cologne on the dresser.

“Like what you see?” he asked, voice infuriatingly casual, as if she was just another fan in his personal audience.

She blinked, unimpressed. “This isn’t a whorehouse, you know. Put some clothes on before someone calls pest control.”

“Relax. If I knew you were this easy to scandalize, I’d have walked out dripping wet every day back in high school.”

She scoffed and turned her back, pretending to rummage through her bag. “I wouldn’t have noticed. I had better things to look at.”

“I doubt that.”

He left the room whistling, smug and shirtless, like a walking middle finger to her peace of mind.

She waited a beat or two to be sure until the hallway was quiet, then grabbed her towel and stepped into the bathroom.

Steam still clung to the mirror and the smell of his aftershave lingered in the air. She let the water run hotter than usual, hoping its hotness would soften the tension on her muscles. She hated that she could still feel - and smell - him everywhere, like he’d left fingerprints on her nerves just by existing.

When she finally finished her shower and stepped out into the bedroom, hair dripping and towel wrapped snug around her chest, she didn’t expect him to be lounging on the bed, black shirt on and gray sweats, flipping through his phone without a care in the world.

He looked up. His gaze didn’t drop, at least not obviously, but there was the flicker, the twitch of interest, that shift in posture that betrayed the second glance.

“Bitch stole my look”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She rolled her eyes and held the towel tighter around herself, fearing it would suddenly betray her and fall down to make things even worse.

“No, you have got to be kidding, this isn’t a whorehouse, remember?” Eric had a winning grin on his face as he let his phone down and folded both arms behind his head, amused by how red her cheeks got in her own embarrassment.

She didn’t say another word and just decided to avoid his eyes as she quickly dug through her clothes before she locked herself in the bathroom again to change.

She threw on a blue sundress and panties she managed to fish from her bag and quickly left the bedroom, not standing to be in his presence any longer.

“Took you long enough!” Alex exclaimed as she poured them some wine. “Thought I’d have to start without you.”

“I needed to rinse off the lake,” Alex handed her a glass half-full. “And of course my dear roommate.” Y/N only realized the double meaning behind those words when they were already out of her lips.

“Ah, so we’re talking about that kind of shower.” Alex had pure mischief in her eyes but Y/N corrected immediately.

“Oh my God, no. And don’t start.” She rolled her eyes as she leaned her back on the counter behind her.

“So how is it going? I’m impressed, somehow you haven’t killed each other yet. That’s some progress.”

Y/N shook her head, staring into the window on her right. “You knew what you were doing when you stuck us in the same room.”

Alex grinned. “Of course I did. Someone’s gotta entertain me this weekend.”

“Oh, I’m thrilled to be your circus act.”

There was a beat of silence, just the hum of the fridge and muffled music from outside. Then Alex tilted her head.

“So?” she said, nudging her. “What’s really going on there?”

“Nothing.”

“I’ll be here when you decide to open about it,” Alex started, “but just know that kind of ‘nothing’ gets people pregnant.”

Y/N choked on her sip. “Jesus, Alex.”

“What? I’ve seen the way you look at him. And the way he looks at you? I wish you too got over this stupid feud and just fucked it off…”

She scoffed, but her throat was suddenly dry at her friend’s brutal honesty.

“I’m sorry to ruin your fun but just a couple of hours ago he made sure to let me know I’m not his type, so…”

Alex had a “I’ll pretend I’ll believe you” expression on her face.

Y/N turned to her and deadpanned. “If you’re about to say something poetic, I will throw this wine at your face.”

Alex giggle. “Fine. No poetry. Just facts. You two have history. And tension. And apparently no common sense.”

“I’m not doing this with you.”

“Too late, you’re already doing it.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Remind me again why I’m friends with you?”

“Because I always bring the drinks, the gossip, and the painfully accurate observations.”

Y/N sighed. Alex looped her arm through hers.

“Come on. Bonfire’s starting. I want front-row seats when someone says something scandalous.”

“Great,” Y/N muttered. “Because that’s exactly what I need right now.”

“Sweetheart,” Alex said, pulling her toward the door, “what you need is to get laid or get over it. I’m rooting for the more entertaining one.”

Outside, the soft crackle of fire drifted in through the open back door, along with bursts of laughter and the low hum of conversation. The night was falling fast, the once violet sky turning to navy, with stars just starting to shine through the dark.

Her friend nudged her gently with her elbow.

“They’re starting the fire pit. Caroline brought marshmallows, and Matt mentioned truth or dare, so… prepare yourself.”

Y/N groaned softly into her wine glass.

“Come on. It’s tradition. Wine, fire, bad decisions.”

“You forgot ‘mild emotional trauma.’” Y/N snatched the bottle of wine as they made their way outside.

“That too.”

The fire cast long shadows across the lawn, flickering gold against faces flushed from wine and sun. Someone had dragged out a speaker, low music curling beneath the sound of crackling wood and clinking glasses. The scent of smoke mixed with toasted sugar as Caroline passed around sticks threaded with marshmallows.

Y/N settled onto one of the outdoor cushions beside Alex, tucking her knees in and wrapping her hands around her wine glass. Eric sat across the fire, bottle in hand, his legs stretched out like he owned the whole damn backyard. He hadn’t looked at her once, not since she stepped outside, but she felt him there all the same, lounging in her peripheral like a bruise she hadn’t meant to touch.

Matt raised his glass.

“Alright. Let’s do this. Truth or dare, house rules: No skipping your turn, no boring answers, if you lie, we get to roast you with facts. Fair?”

There was a scattered chorus of half-drunken agreements.

“I vote Matt goes first. He always starts chaos then pretends to be innocent.” Angelica, Matt’s girlfriend, threw him to the lions.

“Fine. Hit me.”

The game started and what seemed like tame questions at first, started to get wilder quickly. More bottles opened. Marshmallows burned. Someone added rum to the hot chocolate. The edges of conversation blurred.

The circle wasn’t safe anymore. Secrets hung in the smoke. People leaned in a little closer, grins turning sly, as the questions dug deeper.

The fire cracked, sending a spray of sparks into the dark as the bottle spun lazily between them. It pointed toward Eric.

“Alright, truth or dare, buddy? ” Matt said, grinning like he already had the perfect question.

“Truth”

“Who here seems the most boring in bed?”

A few people groaned at the cliché, but Eric didn’t hesitate. His gaze slid across the circle, not even pretending to think, before landing squarely on her.

“Y/N,” he said, too easily.

A chorus of playful gasps erupted. She blinked, wine glass halfway to her lips. “Excuse me?”

He smirked. “What? Let the record show she called me a walking pest just because I’d just got out of the shower and had a towel on.”

He turned to the group like he was presenting evidence. “That’s some Victorian-level prude behavior.”

She scoffed, but there was no mistaking the heat that flared in her cheeks.

“Maybe I just have standards,” she fired back. “Not everyone gets a front-row seat.”

He smiled, slow and knowing before taking a sip of his own wine. “Didn’t say everyone.”

The group groaned again, half-laughing, half-sensing the current passing between them. But it settled quickly, the next person spinning the bottle, the game rolling on, until a couple of rounds later it came back to her.

“Y/N” Caroline chimed sweetly, and by the look in her eyes Y/N knew she was up to no good. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“Give something you’re wearing to the person here you think would know the least what to do with you”

The group leaned in, all eyes on her, and for a moment she thanked God for the liquid courage doing wonders.

She stood up slowly, no blush, no hesitation. She took a long sip of her wine, then making straight eye contact with Eric, she reached under the hem of her dress.

Eric’s posture got immediately stiff and his tongue briefly swiped the inside of his cheek as he watched her slide her panties down her legs slowly. Not playfully, not shy, but confident as hell.

She heard a few gasps and someone’s laugh in disbelief.

She stepped out of her lacy panties and bunched the fabric in her hand, before walking across the circle with that same confident expression.

Y/N threw them in Eric’s lap like a dare wrapped in silk and spoke:

“Try not to lose those. You strike me as the type who wouldn’t know what to do with them anyway.”

Then she turned and walked back to her seat, settling down like nothing just happened.

Someone choked on their drink. Caroline’s jaw dropped and collective “whoa” rippled around the fire like a shockwave and Sasha, her friend sitting on her left side tilted her own glass towards Y/N for a toast, silently congratulating her.

Y/N shrugged, deceptively calm, even as her cheeks flushed a little deeper under the glow of the firelight. Her wine glass hovered near her lips, the corner of her mouth twitching with amusement.

But Eric… He didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. His jaw flexed once, and his eyes, those usually unreadable green eyes, were darker now. His fingers curled around the lace before he shoved them deep into his pocket, like that’d stop the storm brewing under his skin.

The game went on. The bottle spun, more truths and dares were thrown around, someone ran laps around the fire pit in their underwear, and someone gave a lap dance, none of it touched Y/N. Not really. Her mind was still stuck on him.

Eric hadn’t said a word since her dare. But every time she glanced his way, he was still watching her. Still quiet. Still dark-eyed.

By the time the fire was low and the wine was gone, the group started scattering. Some went to bed. A few lingered, cleaning up marshmallow sticks and tossing blankets over their shoulders.

Y/N stood up, brushing off her shorts. She didn’t expect him to follow. But he did.

She didn’t look at him as she stacked the last few wine glasses in the dishwasher, but she could feel him behind her, silent.

“What do you want?” She finally turned around to look at him.

“You surprise me,” he said finally.

Her shoulders tensed. “That a bad thing?”

“I just didn’t expect that move from a prude.”

And there it was.

Her eyes narrowed. “Prude?”

Eric shrugged, leaning against the counter. “You’ve got that whole ‘too good for the rest of us’ thing going on.”

She laughed, short and sharp. “So what, I’m supposed to be ashamed?”

He didn’t flinch. “Not at all. Just… didn’t think you had it in you.”

Y/N blinked, her smile flat. “You know what your problem is? You act like you’ve got me all figured out. Like you’re some expert on who I am just because I didn’t trip over myself to flirt with you in high school.”

He pushed off the counter. “I never needed you to flirt with me.”

“No? Then why are you always acting like some walking provocation?” She snapped.

“Because that’s the only way you ever fucking see me,” he said, quiet but in a serious tone. “Back then, now, you look right through me unless I’m giving you something to push against.”

She stared at him, lips parted.

“And you think that gets my attention?” she said. “By turning everything into a game? Making me feel like a joke in front of everyone?”

Eric’s jaw clenched. “Better to be a joke than invisible.”

“Why do you even care if I see you or don’t?”

They stood in silence, the air thick between them as they stared at each other. How could she not understand what he was implying?

Y/N’s stare was cold now, her arms folding across her chest like armor. “You know what? I think you like being the joke. It’s easier for you to play the part than risk being real for once.”

He didn’t bother replying to her, he’d already said too much and still she stomped on him once more. So he just turned and muttered, “I’ll find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”

A couple of hours later, the bedroom was too quiet.

Y/N had flipped her pillow over three times. Stared at the ceiling. Kicked off the blanket, pulled it back up. The fight kept looping in her head, his voice, the things he and she said, the way he walked off.

She thought she finally had what she wanted - Eric to stay away from her - until the sheets felt way too cold without him.

Finally, she got up, tugging on a hoodie and walking barefoot down the hallway, the floorboards creaking under her weight. She told herself she just wanted water. Or maybe to turn off the porch light. But she didn’t head to the kitchen.

She stopped by the living room and there he was, slumped on the too-small couch, one arm crooked under his head, the other half-draped over his chest. His long legs dangled off the edge, one foot flat on the floor, the other twitching slightly as if his body was still restless, even in sleep.

He didn’t look peaceful. His jaw was tight even in sleep, one brow furrowed like whatever dream he was having wasn’t kind. The hoodie he’d pulled on earlier had slipped off one shoulder. His hand clenched around the fabric like he’d anchored himself to it.

She stepped forward slowly.

“Eric,” she whispered, but he didn’t wake up at first. “Eric.” She tried again, this time a little louder.

His eyes opened slowly, dizzy with sleep as he took in his surroundings and then her, crouched down beside him.

He didn’t say anything. Neither did she.

“You look ridiculous on this tiny couch.”

He blinked up at her, unimpressed, voice deep with sleep. “Thanks.”

“You’re gonna have a crick in your neck by morning.”

“Better than dealing with you kicking me in your sleep.”

She rolled her eyes, but her voice softened just enough to slide beneath his defenses. “You’re too tall for that couch, Eric.”

“And you’re too stubborn to say sorry.” She bit her bottom lip as his cutting words.

“I didn’t come to apologize.”

“Didn’t think you did.”

She got up and shifted on her feet, exhaling hard as she nudged his foot with hers. “Come back.”

He didn’t move.

“Seriously, come back.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked anywhere else that wasn’t him, her pride being thoroughly hurt by her current proposal.

“That’s your version of an apology?”

“Don’t push it, Draven.”

A long beat passed. His eyes traced over her face, like he was still deciding. Still not sure if she meant it or if this was just damage control.

But then he sighed and sat up slowly, his fingers rolling circles on his temples as he seemed to consider what he should do.

“Please.” She stretched her hand out to him and he immediately grabbed it, his body faster than his own train of thought.

When she held out her hand, it caught him off guard. Not because of the gesture itself, but because of what it meant coming from her. She never offered softness easily. Never reached for him unless she absolutely had to. And now she was standing there, in the quiet half-dark of a lake house, asking him to come back. No apology. No promises. Just her hand.

“You kick me once, and I’m going back to the couch.”

“No promises,” she said, already turning back toward the bedroom.

He followed her upstairs and down the hallway, their hands still joined, neither of them speaking. The silence wasn’t awkward, but it was charged, brimming with everything they didn’t know how to say.

Back in the bedroom, she slid under the covers without looking at him. He hesitated for a moment, then laid down beside her, close but not touching.

The lights were off. The room was still. And just when she thought he’d fallen asleep, his voice cut through the dark.

“You keep surprising me.”

She smiled into her pillow, quiet and unbothered.

“Good.”

What felt like a few minutes had passed when she shifted, just slightly, and her thigh brushed his. But neither of them moved away.

And in the dark, with only the sound of their breathing between them, his hand found her waist, his touch soft as if testing the waters between them.

She turned to face him and he pressed on her lower back, pulling her closer as his eyes kept coming back to her beautiful lips.

She could feel his breath now, warm against her skin, the tension between them coiled tight. Maybe it was the quiet, or the darkness, or the way his fingers curled slightly at her spine like he needed more of her, but at that very moment she didn’t care anymore, all she could think about was how soft his lips must feel, so just this once she kissed him.

[stayteezdreams]

More Or Less Than Friends

Plot: You and Seungmin aren't quite friends, but you're not not friends. Feelings neither of you are sure about linger under the surface. Everything changes one night when you fall asleep at his apartment.

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x Gn!Reader

A/n: Prologue and Continuation of this scenario post. Section involving reader falling asleep in dorm is a slightly edited/extended version of the Scenario post drabble. A/n #2: I haaate how this ended but my brain decided to give up on me when I was almost done lol. I hope you like it anyways!

Requested By: Anon; I also just wanted to write it as well.

Warnings: Nothing I can think of :)

Words: 4,382

You had been Felix's friend for a few years before you met the others. It didn't take long before you became great friends with all of them, often spending time with them.

Well, most of them.

For some reason, unbeknownst to you, you and Seungmin never grew very close.

You could have conversations, and hang out, but never alone. It wasn't on purpose, there was just always someone else there. And it's not like he made you uncomfortable, it was the opposite actually.

You felt comfortable around him, you thought he was funny, cute and kind. He even made jokes with or about you sometimes, and it never felt rude. As if it was a gently way of getting closer to you. Though the distance never seemed to lessen between you.

After some deep thought, you were fairly sure you had a crush on him, or at least you would if you knew more about him. You wanted to be closer to him, but could never find the right moments. The two of you were never alone together, and even if you ended up beside each other, you never gave the other all of your attention. Through nerves or awkwardness you weren't really sure.

You didn't feel as though you had the right to call him a friend, and calling him and acquaintance seemed too cold. So, he was just Seungmin, the guy who had a place in your heart you couldn't quite understand.

Seungmin, though never showing it, felt exactly the same about you.

Ever since you became friends with everyone, he felt drawn to you, but always remained distant. Your presence almost comforted him, and he enjoyed seeing you. But he never showed it, barely even ever acknowledging you other than brief conversation or jokes, and he wasn't sure why.

Was he shy around you? Maybe. Did something about you make him uncomfortable? No, that's not it. He was comfortable around you, more so than he showed. He liked you. But he wasn't sure in what way.

There were times he would purposefully sit beside you, or walk near you, hoping maybe something would naturally bring you together after that. But any time the two of you almost started talking, or getting to know one another, something got in the middle. As if it wasn't meant to be.

Seungmin didn't understand what you were to him, but he wanted to figure it out.

So, he started to pay a bit more attention to you, focusing on the things you mentioned you liked and disliked. The more he did, the more he realized you two had in common. How had he not known you had the same favorite music, and shows, and books? Similar hobbies, or thoughts on the world. With every new fact he learned, the more he realized you were practically the different side of the same coin.

Was this why you never got close, yet were always comfortable around each other? You were akin to one another in more ways than he expected, was this why everyone said opposites attract? The more similar you are the more distance existed between you?

No matter how much Seungmin thought about it, the less it made sense. In his mind, he felt the two of you should be friends, maybe even best-friends, or more, yet you were....nothing? Not friends, not strangers, not even acquaintances really. You were an enigma in his life, that he truly wanted to figure out.

On days like this, what you wanted was to smile and laugh. So, you often made use of your friends for a distraction.

Your legs were heavy with the exhaustion of the day as you walked down the hall towards the boys apartments.

Knocking on Felix's apartment, you waited, but heard no answer. Pouting you pulled out your phone and texted Felix asking if he was home. Leaning against the wall, you let out a soft sigh after a few minutes. Trying the other apartment next door, and also receiving no reply you stood in the hall for a minute wondering what to do. The last thing you wanted was to head back to your own apartment. Your roommate was the last person you wanted to see.

You had no issues with each other, but she was overwhelming, especially on days like today. When nothing seemed to work out or make sense and all you wanted was to relax.

Rummaging through your bag you pulled out the spare key Felix had given you. You hesitated to go in, wondering if it might annoy them. I mean, they all said you could have it, even Seungmin gave a nod of agreement when Felix offered the key. You were at their apartments more often than not anymore anyways.

Sending the group chat a message warning them you were there, you made your way inside. You called out to see if there was indeed no one home. The apartment was silent and you made your way to the couch.

Flipping on the television you laid your head back and stared up at the ceiling. The day running through your mind again, only causing your heart to race with annoyance and stress all over again.

Groaning you looked around the apartment. Why did they all have to be gone today of all days?

Your eyes caught on a blanket on the edge of the couch. You recognized it as Seungmin's. Gently grabbing it and pulling it to you, you found yourself bringing it to your face. It smelled like Seungmin, a scent you had picked up on whenever he walked past, or sat beside you. As your heart fluttered you came back to your senses, looking around the apartment as if you might get caught. Your face was hot as you gently ran your hands over the soft fabric.

Lying down on the couch, and pulling the blanket over you. you stared at the television, not really watching, just zoning out. Having to wake up a few hours early to go to work today, your exhaustion was palpable. Slowly, you began drifting to sleep, forgetting you were trying to wait up for the boys.

When Seungmin came back from practice, the last thing he was expecting when he walked into the apartment was a guest.

His eyes landed on your familiar pair of shoes and he rose his brow in surprise, his heart palpitating. He knew he was the first one home as the others had more things to do at the studio before heading home as well.

You came and went as you please, and though Seungmin sometimes made comments as if it annoyed him, or making fun of the fact you basically live here to the others. He always liked when you were around, especially more so recently as his fondness and desire to know you grew.

Walking into the apartment, his eyes found you immediately. Seungmin seemed to forget how to breath as he saw your slumbering figure on the couch. As he watched you in silence, he was unaware of the fond smile that stretched across his face.

Softly and quietly, Seungmin set his stuff down before walking over to you. Kneeling down in front of the couch he noticed his blanket draped over your legs and his heart skipped a beat. Grabbing it, he gently adjusted the blanket so it covered more of you.

As he stared at you, he wondered why you came to the apartment when it was empty, and he couldn't help but worry something bad had happened. Wondering if the others knew you were here, he pulled out his phone, noticing a few texts to the group chat. Opening it, he saw your messages from almost an hour ago.

He felt guilty that you went unnoticed and received no replies. The way you spoke in the group chat was slightly off, making him assume he was correct. Something did happen.

Looking back at your slumbering face he let out a soft sigh. In moments like this, where Seungmin was looking at you, often when you didn't realize it, he always felt that same sense of regret. He regretted never getting closer to you.

He couldn't even call himself your friend without doubting it. But he desperately wanted to be more than whatever he was to you.

He really did admire you, he liked your presence, and your company. But he didn't acknowledge it enough. And he often wondered now, what things would be like between you if he did.

Would there be a chance to be more?

Seungmin sat on the floor by the couch for a while, keeping you company even if you weren't aware of his presence.

Suddenly hearing the sound of the others at the end of the building hall, Seungmin felt a sense of panic. He didn't want their loud voices and to wake you.

Without really thinking, he found himself scooping you gently into his arms and carrying you to his room.

Setting you down on his bed, you mumbled a bit as you readjusted. He stared at you with wide eyes for a moment before he let out a soft sigh, glad you had not fully woken.

Quickly going back out and grabbing your things from the living room as the others were unlocking the door, he escaped to his room before they entered.

Why was he being so secretive about your presence? They would eventually see your texts and wonder where you were, right? All he had to say is you were sleeping and tell them to be quiet.

Looking at you once more, now cuddling up to one of his pillows, he admitted to himself it was selfish. A selfish need to be the only one to see you like this.

As the apartment quieted down, the others escaping to their rooms, Seungmin gently settled on the bed beside you, sitting up against the headboard as he scrolled on his phone. Every once and a while he would steal a glance at you, checking to see if you were still asleep.

Eventually some of the others replied to your messages, asking when you went home. Seungmin wasn't sure if he should tell them you were asleep in his room or not. Should he just wait? Leaning his head back against the headboard as he thought about it, he fell victim to sleep before he knew it.

When you finally found yourself waking, you were confused to find yourself in a bed. Looking around in confusion, your heart jolted as you saw Seungmin beside you. His head leaned to the side as he slept.

Looking around again, you realized you were in Seungmin's room. You had never been in here before, but it was easy to see it was his, even if he wasn't beside you.

Why would he bring you in here? Had the others come back, was that why? So you didn't get woken up?

Your heart raced at the thoughts passing through your mind. Looking back over at him, you admired his sleeping face as butterflies swirled through your stomach.

Deciding he must be uncomfortable, you gently shook his shoulder, causing him to wake up. As his eyes met yours he sat upright, suddenly nervous. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, nor had he thought far enough ahead to know what to say when you woke up.

"Ah, you're awake."

You nodded as you sat up, "Did you bring me in here?"

Seungmin swallowed nervously as he nodded. "You seemed to be pretty tired and when the others came back I didn't want them to wake you."

You smiled at him and his heart flipped.

"Thank you."

"Did something happen today?"

Your heart skipped at the question. Was it obvious? You bit your lips lightly and nodded as you picked at the blanket still draped over you, "Long day."

He nodded softly, watching you. As you noticed how dark it appeared outside you sat up. "Oh... I should probably go, it looks like its pretty late."

Seungmin realized you were right, you had both slept until after sunset. He shook his head softly, speaking before really thinking.

"Its too late, you should just stay the night."

You stared at him for a second as your heart raced. "Stay...here?" He nodded silently. You added on shyly, "Would that....be okay?"

He nodded again before clearing his throat softly. "I wouldn't feel right letting you go home this late by yourself."

After a moments contemplation, you nodded. "If you're okay with it, I am."

He replied quickly, almost too quickly. "I am."

"Do you want me to sleep on the floor?"

He let out a soft laugh, "No, just stay there. The bed's big enough."

The air was a little tense as the two of you settled back into the bed. You were hyper-aware of how close Seungmin was now, you were back to back, but still close. And as nervous as this made you, you still felt yourself giving into sleep again.

Seungmin's heart was beating unevenly as he lied still beside you. He was filled with a mixture of giddiness, anxiety and disbelief. How had you gone to distant friends of sorts, to sleeping in the same bed?

The silence hung in the air until you both drifted to sleep. Both of you feeling that something had changed between you suddenly. You weren't sure what yet, but you were excited to find out.

As the soft morning light peaked through the windows, you kept your eyes closed as you embraced the comfort around you. Recalling where you were, your heart raced a little as you slowly opened your eyes.

Your heart jolted as you realized you and Seungmin were now facing each other, faces only a few inches apart. His hand was gently gripped your sleeve, as if he wanted to keep you close.

You swallowed nervously as you stared at him. You had the overwhelming desire to trace your fingers along his face as he slumbered peacefully. You took a few minutes to admire him, noticing every mark and spot on his features you hadn't before.

After some time, you realized how it might seem if the others woke up and you were here. That might not be a conversation Seungmin would want to have to deal with. Plus, would things be awkward between you if he woke up and found himself latching onto you?

Slowly, and gently, you pried your sleeve from his grip and climbed out of his bed. As he moved and mumbled a few times you froze, fearing he would wake up and find you practically straddling him as you tried to get out of the bed.

Finally managing to get out of the bed without waking him, you grabbed a sticky note and pen off of is desk and wrote on it, before sticking it to the pillow beside Seungmin.

You didn't want to linger in case things got awkward, but you did want him to know how grateful you were of his kindness. Sparing one more glance at him, your heart fluttered as you grabbed your things and silently left the apartment. As you left, you knew Seungmin was going to occupy your thoughts a lot more now.

Seungmin stretched as he woke up, before he suddenly remembered your presence. His eyes shot open as he looked beside him, seeing just an empty bed. Sitting up, he felt a sense of disappointment at your absence, before his eyes spotted the sticky note.

Picking it up, he read it over a few times, a small smile growing on his face.

'I wasn't sure if I should stay or not, but I didn't want things to be awkward with the others if they saw me here still. Thank you for letting me stay and being so nice to me, after the day I had I appreciated it more than you know. I'll see you later Seungmin. - Y/n'

Looking back to wear you had been laying, he recalled waking in the middle of the night to find you facing him, the moonlight from outside illuminating you in an almost ethereal light. He couldn't stop himself from gently tracing your features with his fingers, barely brushing your skin as not to wake you. He watched you for some time, before eventually falling asleep again.

Lying back down with a sigh, he pulled the blanket you had been using over him, your scent filling his nose as he did. Pulling it closer, he inhaled the scent and felt butterflies in his stomach.

He understood now, he did have feelings for you. You weren't friends, perhaps because the feeling that had gone unnoticed stopped him. But he wanted to be closer to you now, to explore the possiblities of what you could be.

Reading over your note again he decided he would do better, do more to get closer to you.

Before you knew what to say to the others, Felix had texted you asking if you were doing alright. Seungmin had told them that you had fallen asleep at their apartment, and that he let you sleep in his room so you were disturbed by the others.

You could tell he had not told them you stayed the night, or that he had carried you to his room himself. Things you wondered if he kept a secret to spare you from possible teasing, or if he wanted it just between the two of you.

The next time you saw Seungmin was when you were invited over to their place for game-night a few days later. When you arrived, Seungmin answered the door. And instead of his usual soft smile in greeting, he grinned at you, taking your bag from you as you slipped off your shoes.

His behavior towards you was more open and bright, and obvious to not just you, but the others. He asked you if you wanted a drink, before leaving to get you one before you could even answer. You looked over and saw the guys watching in amusement as they looked at you with a questioning gaze.

You shrugged your shoulders, as your heart fluttered, wondering if he really did feel the change between you that night like you had. Maybe you hadn't imagined it at all.

Throughout the night, you and the others were confused, yet intrigued by Seungmin's behavior towards you. He sat beside you, talking to you more often and open than he ever had. He brought you food and offered you a blanket, his blanket, when he thought you might get cold.

When he went to the bathroom Han turned towards you and began interrogating you. "Are you guys dating?"

"What?" You asked startled, "No!"

"I think he wants to though." Hyunjin added with a smirk making you throw a piece of popcorn at him.

Your eyes met Felix's and he smiled brightly before he leaned closer and spoke to you, "I always thought he had a crush on you and now I know he does."

You shush them before you sat back on the couch, ignoring their teasing gazes as Seungmin came back into the room. As he sat beside you, he grabbed the blanket on you and moved to cover himself as well, covered the two of you at the same time, side by side. Your heart jolted as butterflies filled your stomach.

When it came time for you to go home, you felt nervous as Seungmin lingered by the door as you slid on your shoes. You had said goodbye to the others and grabbed your bag. Seeing Seungmin slip on his jacket you rose your brow in question. Was he going out?

He met your eyes. "I'm gonna walk you home." His tone came out as though it was obvious what he was going to do.

"O-oh, okay." You smiled, your chest fluttering anxiously.

The two of you were silent until you walked out of the apartment and made your way down the familiar street you walked dozens of times.

Seungmin inhaled the cool breeze as he walked beside you, his arm almost brushing yours as he kept very little distance between the two of you.

"Thank you for walking me home. You didn't have too, but I appreciate it." You said softly and Seungmin nodded with a smile.

"I don't have too, but I want too." He said softly, his tone almost shy.

Your eyes met for a moment before you both quickly looked away. Silence lingered between you for a few moments as you saw Seungmin steal a few quick glances at you.

Slowly, you started talking, awkward small talk turning into casual comfortable conversation. Your steps slowed as you got closer, absent-mindedly wanting your walk to last as long as you could make it.

When you finally reached your apartment, you turned to Seungmin with a kind smile. "Thanks again for walking me home. Be careful on your way back."

He nodded with a smile, "I will."

As you started to turn and walk away Seungmin quickly spoke up. "Wait!"

Turning back to him he swallowed nervously as he fidgeted. "I was wondering if you were free tomorrow."

Your heart jolted as you bit the inside of your lip and nodded. "I am."

"Its smoothie day." He noted on and you realized what he meant.

Once every other week you and a few of the others would go get smoothies at a shop you all fell in love with a couple years ago.

Seungmin rarely went, so it was a pleasant surprise he was going this time. But underneath that, there was a mild disappointment. For a moment, you thought he may be asking you on a date.

You felt a soft disappointment in your chest as you nodded, "Right! I almost forgot" You chuckled softly. "I'll be there."

He nodded "Good." As he took a a few steps back, he motioned for you to head inside as he smiled, "Goodnight."

You smiled and waved softly in return, "Goodnight Seungmin."

As you headed inside, you felt an odd mixture of emotion. Excitement, bewilderment, bashfulness, all of it making you finally truly acknowledge something you had only allowed yourself momentary thoughts of. You definitely, had feelings for Seungmin.

You hoped the others wouldn't notice or point out how you seemed to dress up a little bit more today. You accepted your feelings for Seungmin had grown, though you weren't sure what to do about it.

Though his changed behavior towards you made you think he felt the same, you still feared maybe he had just finally accepted you as a friend. So you didn't want to get your hopes up too much.

As you approached the familiar smoothie spot, your phone buzzed. Reading the message from Felix you furrowed your brow in confusion.

'Enjoy your smoothies ;)'

'Okay, so Felix isn't coming, but what's with the winky face?' You wondered as you headed inside.

Looking around, your heart fluttered as you spotted Seungmin waiting nearby at a table. Looking around more, you saw none of the others, and suddenly realized what Felix's text meant. Did they all stand you up so you'd be alone together?

Swallowing nervously you walked over to him, your stomach filling with butterflies.

Looking up, Seungmin smiled before standing up quickly and pulling a chair out for you.

You smiled in thanks as you sat down. "No one else is coming?" You asked casually, trying not to show your nervousness.

Seungmin sat down and shook his head, appearing a bit nervous as well. "I actually asked them not to come."

"Oh?" Your heart jolted as your eyes widened a bit.

He met your eyes and smiled softly, obviously nervous now. "I kind of hoped we could make this a date...if you're okay with that."

You were silent for a brief moment as you processed what he said. unable to resist smiling you nodded, "I'm okay with it."

Seungmin studied you for a second before he grinned, relief washing over him. "Good. I- I really wanted to get closer to you, I mean I have for a while, but since...since that night you fell asleep at the apartment, I uh- I feel like..." He struggled to get out what he wanted to say as he let out a soft breath.

"Something changed?"

He met your eyes, a bit startled that you understood what he was trying to say. He nodded mutely and you smiled, "I felt it too."

You smiled softly at each other for a moment before you let out a soft chuckle. "It's kind of weird right?"

He chucked as he ran his hands nervously over his legs and nodded. "Yeah. I've never really knew where we stood."

You nodded, "Right? I wasn't sure if we were friends or what, but..."

"But?"

You tried to search for the right words, "But, I always felt comfortable around you, and wanted to be friends we just never seemed to get there."

He nodded in agreement. "That's how I felt too."

You both chuckled as you both understood you had more in common than you thought.

Seungmin started, slowly. "I think... I've been attracted to you since we met. I just didn't recognize it completely. And that stopped me from really getting closer to you even though I wanted too. But that night, I finally realized just how much I want to be around you."

Your heart was pounding as he spoke, your neck and face warm. "So now, we're...what?"

He thought for a second before chuckled, "I don't really know how to label it."

You resisted giggling as you hummed, "We don't have to label anything yet, but I do like where we are headed."

He nodded slowly, "Me too."

Slowly moving his chair closer to you, he cautiously moved his hands to intertwine with yours.

"So how about we start here? We are more or less than friends, with intentions to be more."

Your eyes moved from your intertwined hands to his eyes as you smiled brightly. "How poetic." You giggled, "I like it."

He squeezed your hand softly as he grinned at you, finally relieved knowing where he wanted to go with you, and how to start.

xx End xx

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[spidey-webz]

505 | Logan Howlett

Summary: You're long gone and Logan only has the memories of you left. One evening, he decides to relive them again and almost feel you around him once more... (loosely inspired by "505" by Arctic Monkeys)

Pairing: Worst!Logan Howlett x f!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, lots of angst, reader has died in Logan's universe, hints at masturbation, p in v sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, light choking, breast play (a little), oral (f receiving), alcohol, use of petnames (bub, baby...), it's a little sad, happy end ig? , MOST OF THIS IS A FLASHBACK/LOGANS MEMORIES

Word count: 4.3k

Masterlist

Wade was on a date tonight. 

The apartment was strangely quiet without his roommate’s annoying voice. Blind Al was meeting up with friends too, so it was just Logan in the quiet space. 

A few weeks ago, he might have sought out the first bar he could find on an evening like this. But not today. Today, he just wanted to take time for himself. Watch some trashy sitcom on TV and order himself two pizzas just for himself. When would he ever get to experience an evening this quiet again? Wade’s chatter was continuously making his head hurt and he sincerely hoped that he would grow partial to it with time. Or else he might actually cut off his own ears in an attempt to stop this man’s mindless talk. 

Was killing someone because they talked too much a valid reason? 

The microwave in the kitchen let out a few “beep” noises. There were still some leftovers from yesterday. Greasy pasta seemed to be his main source of “nutrition” these days. If you could even call it that. 

Even though Wade was graciously offering him a place to stay, Logan didn’t want to overstay his welcome. He’d have to find his own apartment in due time. But he was still adapting to this world. 

Wade had tried multiple times to make him go to a bar with the intention of actually talking to someone. Find a friend or find a woman. 

But why would he do that? He had lost everything already. Helping Wade out with jobs for the TVA was one thing, but he didn’t want to socialise and meet other people. Back in his universe, it had brought him nothing but pain. He wasn’t going to risk someone else’s life again. Wade couldn’t die and Logan kept a friendly distance to all his friends even though they had been nothing but welcoming to him. 

The only person he would have cared about was you. Logan didn’t know if you even existed in this timeline, in this universe. But he knew the end of it all, so he would not come looking for you. Maybe if you had never met him, a few horrible things could have been prevented. 

Once he had sat down on the couch, plate in hand and putting on a TV show that he wasn’t going to pay any attention to, he tried to relax. Booze was the only option for him to feel calm. When all his senses were drowned out by the alcohol, he could allow himself not to think about you and the mistakes he has made. 

Wade insisted that he was a hero – a good man. He had saved people, he had saved this timeline, but the weight of his mistakes was only decreased and never really gone. 

Logan was a broken man. Nothing could fix him. 

His memories were weighing him down. Even now, in the quiet of his apartment, he felt like they were torturing him. 

There was one memory in particular that wouldn’t leave his mind. Losing his friends and his family had been one thing, but losing you had felt like the final blow. A death blow. 

Game over. 

His desperation always brought him here eventually. The sound of the TV being drowned out by his thoughts as he forced himself to focus on the good things. The happy memories with you, before all of it had been taken from him. 

He placed his plate down, rubbing over his temples. The thoughts of you wouldn’t leave his mind. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling. It was rushing through his entire body, encircling him and pulling at his nerves. 

Your smell would always linger in his memories. Your voice would always sound through his head in his dreams and even now, he could remember it as clear as day. Logan was getting older, his memory got worse, but you would always linger in his mind. Sometimes, he managed to push the memories away, but you’d always find a way back. He didn’t want to forget you. He just wanted the pain to stop. 

Logan missed your late-night conversations together. He missed spotting the crinkles around your eyes whenever you laughed, holding your stomach and making him feel like the funniest person on earth. 

But now? The Wolverine wasn’t fun. He wasn’t a “fun” guy. He had been drained of it when you left him. 

He had buried his happiness with you.

Yet you wouldn’t leave his mind. Sometimes, on days like today, he allowed himself to think about you. Let the good memories flood his mind. Hold onto the relief they brought him, before it would turn into pain again. 

Logan closed his eyes as he laid back on the couch. His breathing calmed down when he tried to hold onto the glimmer of hope as he dove back into the memories of you. It was addictive and soon, he found himself engulfed in the feeling of you. 

The hint of a smile appeared on his lips as he pictured your face in the sun. Your pretty lipstick almost begging for him to ruin it. 

He remembered running his thumb over your lips, smearing its colour a little, before he leaned in for a kiss. You always tasted so sweet on his tongue, the taste often lingering even after you left. Logan was a tough man, not easily shaken, appearing strong on the outside, but whenever your hands found their way into his hair, his heart started skipping beats. Low groans drowned in your mouth and he revelled in the feeling of your body pressing against his. 

Even now, when all he had were the memories of you, it was all he needed to feel intimacy.

Logan laid down on the couch, allowing his thoughts to drift away. 

For a moment, it felt like he was back in that hotel room. 

The numbers 505 written on the door. Moonlight shining in through the windows as he spotted you spread out on the bed. Hands settled between your thighs and that teasing smirk of yours. It would always drive him crazy.

And it still did now, as his hands undid his belt buckle, his mind ready to let go of reality for a moment. He was ready to let the good memories of you in, reminisce about the highs you’ve shared with each other.

Logan still remembered the feeling of your body against his own. Breasts pressed against his chest, hot skin against hot skin, your pants getting faster as he brought you both closer to your release. So many nights spent in pleasure with each other’s bodies, but the night in that hotel room stood out to him. 

His body was exhausted from his last mission. But Logan would never be too exhausted to return to you. As soon as Scott gave him the all-clear, he was quick to step onto the first plane he could get. Go back to New York, back to that hotel you had agreed to meet in. 

It was always a back and forth with you two. Never putting a label on things, but being drawn to each other all the time. Logan had tried to resist you in the beginning, but it had been to no avail. Your smile, your lips… it was all so very tempting and now he had lost himself in you. 

The walls of the hotel were dark, only a few dim lights illuminating the space above his head. Logan could feel his heart beating faster. You always brought him to his knees, but he would never admit it. 

Not to anyone, not to you. 

The numbers 505 were written on the door in big, golden letters. His hands instinctively smoothed down his lumberjack shirt, taking a deep breath. It felt like his body was craving yours, in more ways than one. 

Logan knocked on the door, waiting for you to allow him inside. 

“It’s open.”

Your voice sent a shiver down his spine. 

When he entered the room, his eyes immediately searched for you. And there you were. Spread out on the bed, wearing nothing but a shirt that looked way too big on you. Your hands laid between your thighs, your skin illuminated by the moonlight shining through the large windows. 

“I’ve missed you.”

Logan closed the door behind himself, smiling at your words. He had missed you too. 

“I know,” he answered, turning the lock before he stepped further into the room. 

His senses soon became filled with you. He drowned out the rest of the room, the rest of the lights outside. All the business of his life and the world around him seemed to vanish when you were close. Close enough to touch, close enough so he could drown himself in you. 

The smell of your perfume. The faint smile on your lips. His eagerness to touch you. 

Logan had spent so many nights between your thighs already. He loved to watch you squirm as he held you down with his arms hooked underneath your knees, lips attached to your sensitive bud. He would never get enough of your taste. He would never get enough of your moans filling the room. Soon, he would be able to feel your soft skin underneath his fingertips again.

But he wasn’t going to rush it. Not today. Even though his body wanted to feel yours intertwined with himself. 

You sat up on the bed, leaning against the headboard and stretching out your legs. Your shirt moved up, revealing the lace panties underneath. Logan’s gaze caught them almost instantly, eyes roaming your body as if he was already planning where to touch you first. 

“I ordered something to drink for us.” You pointed over to the small table by the window. Logan loved whiskey, so you made sure to order some. For yourself, you had chosen a simple cocktail. 

“Very considerate,” he grinned. Logan filled his glass with a few ice cubes and whiskey, taking a strong sip before he placed the glass back down. The liquid burned in his throat, but he would always enjoy the thrill it gave him. Drinking was just the easy way to try and avoid dealing with what was going on in his head. 

“How was the mission?” You asked him. You were no stranger to the feeling of staying up all night, worried that something might happen to Logan. His regenerative abilities lifted your worries a little, but there were still so many bad things that could happen if he wasn’t being careful enough. It was still fascinating to see wounds close up so quickly on the man’s skin. Also, hickeys never lasted. They healed up within seconds, vanishing into nothingness. 

But it wouldn’t stop Logan from leaving them on your soft skin. 

His shoulders slumped for a moment, before he let himself drop into the soft armchair. Your question seemed to have motivated him to drink just a little more, so he reached for his glass again, downing the remaining liquid in one go. “It went well. No major fuck-ups. I’m just glad to be back.”

“Back with you” he wanted to add, but those words never left his thoughts. 

“I’m glad you made it back. Without any major injuries.” Even though that wasn’t really possible…

Logan laughed softly, nodding a little. “Of course. I always try to come back in one piece. Wouldn’t want to miss out on that sight.” He tipped the glass in your direction, before placing it back down on the small table. His eyes raked over your body once more, his cock getting hard in his jeans. 

He needed you. There was no denying that anymore. 

Logan pushed himself out of his seat, slowly walking over to the bed. Your excitement grew by the second and you couldn’t hide the smile forming on your lips. Your dreams had been filled with the man ever since he had left. His touch would always linger on your skin and the memories of him, pressed up against you, whispering lewd words into your ear… 

He sat down at the end of the kingsized bed, beckoning you closer with a small movement of his hands. You followed suit, sitting down next to him and before you could open your mouth again, his lips were on yours. 

Hungry. Passionate. 

Maybe even desperate. 

His beard scraped against your cheeks, his arm sneaking around your back and pulling you straight into his lap. You could feel his arousal in his pants and you didn’t hesitate to roll your hips against his own. 

A low groan got lost between your kisses and Logan’s hold around you tightened. Your hands explored his hard chest, all toned muscle, wandering further down until you reached his belt. It wasn’t hard to open it while you were still kissing him, the gesture so familiar by now. 

You had waited far too long to chase your pleasure again with Logan. And you wanted him to know how much you had missed him. How he had been the only one on your mind. 

“We need to get you out of that nightgown,” Logan mumbled. His voice had grown rougher – deeper. 

His calloused fingers slipped under your silk clothing, brushing over your soft thighs before he lifted the nightgown over your head. His eyes lingered on your breasts, his erection twitching underneath you. Another buck of your hips and you had Logan groaning once more. 

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you while you were gone,” you mumbled into his ear as Logan started to kiss your neck. His beard scratched against your skin, sending shivers down your spine, while he took his sweet time littering your neck and then your jaw with sloppy kisses. His lips felt good on you. Wherever they might be. 

Your hands curled into his shirt, pressing your naked chest against his clothed one. 

“Is that so?” He asked in return and while you couldn’t see his smirk, you could clearly hear it in his voice. 

Your teeth caught onto his earlobe and a hiss slipped through Logan’s teeth. His right hand got a hold of your hair, pulling you back, so you’d look into his eyes again. 

“Touched myself when I was thinking ‘bout you,” you smiled. 

The thought alone seemed to spur Logan on even more. A soft groan, followed by a smirk as he pulled your head back by your hair. He was gentle with it, but still determined. His eyes searched for yours, mischief sparkling inside them. 

His beard brushed over your exposed breasts, leaving a shiver in its wake. Goosebumps spread over your skin as Logan wrapped his lips around your delicate nipple. His tongue swirled around it, still holding you by your hair, neck tilted back, so he could just admire the view in front of him. 

“Got the sweetest body I’ve ever fucking seen,” he grumbled, giving your right nipple a little pinch. He could spend an entire evening just taking in every inch of you. He needed to memorise every part of your body. 

Tension started to build in your abdomen and you wanted to clench your thighs together, desperate to get some kind of relief as Logan played with your body – determined to make you sing in his arms. 

In one swift motion, he had you on the bed again, head in the thick pillows as he slid between your legs. His calloused fingertips brushed over your thighs, before he slipped them underneath the sides of your panties, pulling them down your legs and exposing your core to him. 

The sight in front of you was sinful. Logan had opened a few buttons of his shirt, hairy chest peeking out. You couldn’t wait to brush your hands over his chest again and feel his hard muscles under your palms. His hair was tousled from your kissing, his cheeks and lips a slight pink colour and the mischievous smirk on his face seemed to complete the picture. Your hands fisted the sheets when his tongue brushed over your sensitive nub. 

Logan was skilled with his tongue and he loved to show it to you. His arms hooked under your knees, holding tightly onto your thighs as he kept you spread out for him. Your hips bucked up against his mouth, so he pressed your hips back down again with one hand. “Stop squirming, bub. I will give you what you want.”

You could trust him with that. He licked through your folds again, savouring the taste before he continued flicking his tongue against your clit. Your back arched, hips trying to squirm, but he kept you firmly in place. Logan was eating you out like a man starved, relentless and desperate. His hips sometimes bucked forward, pressing his cock against the mattress for some sort of temporary relief.

He wanted to be inside you. But not without making you shiver for him first. His fingers dug into the plum flesh of your thigh, probably leaving a bruise or two. Your moans echoed through the room, hands clawing at the sheets as you felt your orgasm approaching. 

“M’close,” you announced, voice audibly trembling. 

“Let go, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” His deep voice seemed to rumble through your middle, your hips bucking up further when Logan loosened his hold on you. His tongue continued to flick against your clit relentlessly, his middle finger slipping between your folds and curling just right. 

Your high came over you in waves, followed by whines and moans and chants of Logan’s name. It sounded like music in his ears. He wanted to hear more of this as the night would go on. 

And he would. 

His fingers continued to press against the spongy spot inside you for a few more seconds, letting you ride out your high. When your breathing calmed and your head dropped back into the pillows, Logan pulled out his fingers from between your folds. 

“Look at me.” His voice was demanding and you didn’t hesitate to direct your gaze back at the man between your legs. His eyes stared into yours as he ran his tongue along his finger, cleaning your wetness off them. A low groan escaped Logan’s lips at the same time, his eyes filling with desire. 

He had waited long enough to feel you around him again. He’d enjoy every second of what was about to come. 

Logan did quick work of his clothes. Shrugging off his shirt, the rest of his clothes soon joined the pile on the floor. For you, it was a delight to just watch. The muscles in his arms flexed with every one of his movements. The scratches from the last time you had slept together were nowhere to be seen. What you could see however, was the fine line of hair travelling down from his belly button and ending in his underwear. 

Your legs still felt shaky from your previous orgasm, but you felt the need to press them together in anticipation. Having Logan’s tongue between your folds was just one part of the pleasure he could give you. 

Being apart from him always made you crave him even more. His touch, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his body weight on top of you… 

Logan moved to hover over you, hands firmly planted on either side of your head as he looked down at you. His hair was a dishevelled mess, but it made you all the more desperate to run your fingers through it. And you did, even if it was just to pull him down further, lips meeting his in a passionate kiss. 

You could feel his left hand moving up your thigh, gently urging you to spread your thighs further, so he could settle between them. His naked body was always warmer than yours and you felt enveloped in his scent. You could feel his cock resting heavy between your thighs, his hips moving ever so slightly to create a little friction. 

“Lo, please…” you whimpered against his lips. Of course, he could only smile at your words. He was always a tease, but he couldn’t ignore his own desires. His body had been burning with longing and now you were right where he wanted you. 

“Don’t have to ask twice, sweetheart,” he mumbled against your neck, placing a few soft kisses there before he sat up on his knees and pulled you closer to his middle. His hands gently travelled up from your ankles to your thighs, before he took a short moment to admire your glistening folds. “So desperate just for me,” he groaned, before he aligned his cock with your middle. 

Logan wanted to feel your walls clench around him again. The sweetest feeling in the world for him. 

His cock slowly parted your folds, filling you up inch by inch. A low groan escaped his throat and you held tightly onto his strong arms. 

You loved to have Logan fill you – the satisfying sensation of having your body adjust to him and then feel so full. 

His hands moved to your thighs, putting your legs over his shoulders as he started to thrust slowly into you. 

“I’ve missed your pussy so much,” he groaned, looking down at the sight in front of him. 

Your eyes were wide, arousal clearly written onto your face and your tits were right there for him to see. With every shallow thrust, they moved just a little, nipples perking up and tempting Logan to lean down and capture them with his lips again. 

“More,” you urged him on, hands starting to claw at the sheets beneath you. Logan was more than happy to comply, so his pace picked up. His cock hit your sensitive spot in just the right way, sending shivers through your body with each thrust. You could feel him deep inside you, just right against your cervix. 

Each movement of his hips brought you closer to release and Logan’s thrusts grew harder and more impatient. He lifted you off the mattress ever so slightly to reach deeper, making your legs squirm on his shoulders. 

“Feelin’ so good, baby.” His eyes darkened with lust and he moved one hand away from your hips to palm your left breast instead. Logan’s thumb expertly brushed over your nipple as well, causing your pussy to spasm around him. 

Your walls tightened around his cock, eliciting a groan from him once more as he felt you squeeze him so perfectly. Logan could usually do this for hours, but he hadn’t seen you in so long and your body knew exactly how to work him up just right. 

“I'm so close, Lo,” you warned him, nails scratching along his arms as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten. Your legs were shaking on his shoulders, announcing your incoming orgasm to him. 

His thrusts grew a little faster and he angled your legs closer to your body, hitting your sensitive spot over and over again in that position. Beads of sweat started to build on his forehead as he grew closer to his climax. Logan’s hand moved from your breast to your throat, lightly pressing down on it and sending another wave of pleasure through your entire body. 

With a corse voice, he leaned down to you, never stopping the movements of his hips. “I want you to come around me. I wanna feel your pussy milking me,” he groaned. 

His words finally sent you over the edge. Your orgasm came over you in waves and had you shaking underneath Logan. The spasms of your walls around him sent him over the edge too and you felt his warm cum filling you up bit by bit. His hands clawed at your hips, not enough to bruise you, but holding on quite strongly. 

“Shit,” he groaned, moving your legs to rest on his sides before he leaned down to capture your lips in a soft, but short kiss. His hand moved up to brush some hair out of your face, gaze searching for yours as he relished in the feeling of having you still wrapped around him like this. 

“Don’t stay away for this long again, Logan.” 

Your words sounded like a plea and he was happy to oblige. 

He would not leave you out of his sight for long again. 

Logan put an arm over his forehead as the memories washed away again. His skin was covered in sweat and he felt the tears well up in his eyes. All of this always made him emotional again. 

He couldn’t bring you back anymore, but he could keep your memories safe with him. Sometimes, it felt good to indulge them, other times it just hurt. This time, it had felt like a relief, but the pain was already waiting to wash over him again. 

Cleaning himself up, he eventually got up from the couch and went for a shower. He needed to feel the hot water on his skin, a small distraction from his thoughts. As always, he turned it up high enough to almost burn him. But it rinsed him clean of his worries for a moment. 

Of his longing for you. 

He should have told you how he actually felt about you. That it was more than just sex, more than a physical attraction… 

After his shower, Logan just wanted to curl up on the couch again and fall asleep there. Let the next day come and live it as good as he could, because what other choice did he have? 

The doorbell prevented him from heading to the couch immediately. Instead, he quickly put on some short pants and a shirt, before he headed to the apartment door to find out who would bother him at this time. 

His heart stopped for a second when he swung the door open and the person on the other side came into view. 

It was you. 

taglist: @nonamevenus

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Dragon Blood

Chapter 2: Against his best wishes, Jace learns more about you. When the dragonseeds arrive at Dragonstone and you follow them to Vermithor, he has two choices, intervene and save you from inevitable death, or let fate play out.

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Dragonseed (f) reader

Jacaerys Velaryon stood alone in the study, the flickering candle casting shadows on the maps and documents spread on the table. Even though he had dismissed you, your presence lingered in his mind.

He knew he had been harsh, more so than necessary. That was not how he was raised to treat the staff. Rhaenyra had always emphasised the importance of respect and kindness towards those who served them. Yet, your having Targaryen blood had triggered something within him, a defensive reaction he couldn't quite understand. Those purple eyes of yours kept flashing in his mind.

You were beneath him, a mere servant. But you were also a potential threat to his legitimacy. If his mother's intentions to raise a bastard army were true, your very existence could undermine his claim to the throne.

Jace paced the room, his mind racing. In this cutthroat world of politics and power, he could trust no one but himself. Only he had his best interests at heart.

He clenched his fists. He would secure his place as heir, no matter the cost. He would show the dragon seeds that he was to be their king, the one true successor of the Targaryen dynasty.

Jace returned to his maps, his resolve unyielding. He knew he had to play carefully, balancing his duty to his family and his ambitions. The dragon seeds would see him as their rightful leader, along with the rest of Westeros, and he would ensure that any threats to his rule were swiftly dealt with.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

As he passed through the corridors, Jace caught sight of you scrubbing the floors of the great hall, a knocked over goblet next to you, spilling wine across the stone floor.

"You clumsy fool!" A steward barked, grabbing you by the arm and yanking you to your feet. "Do you know how long it took to clean this? You’ll redo the entire hall or go without supper for a week!"

Jacaerys’ eyes narrowed as he watched you flinch, the tears welling up in your eyes, the stammering apology—all of it struck something within him. A pang of sympathy. But another emotion surged within—anger.

How dare someone treat a Targaryen, even a bastard, with such disdain?

He gripped the hilt of his sword. The urge to intervene was strong. But he remained in the shadows.

Only Targaryens should have the power to be cruel to their own blood. No lowborn piece-of-shit steward had the right to mistreat you.

As the man finally released you, leaving you trembling, Jacaerys’ gaze lingered on him. His expression remained unreadable as he turned away, continuing down the corridor with a twisted resolve forming within him.

You were a Targaryen, however distant, and deserved better than this. Yet, you were also a possible threat to his claim.

The image of you, frightened and mistreated, stayed with him. He knew one thing for certain: if anyone dared to harm you again, they would pay a steep price. Only he had the right to decide your fate.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Jace soared through the sky on Vermax as he made his way back from the riverlands after securing an alliance with the Tullys.

As he flew over the market square, his keen eyes caught sight of a familiar figure.

You were making your way towards the castle, a basket of fruits in hand. Your pace was slow and thoughtful as you walked past a group of commonfolk, most of them blonde surrounded by guards. Jace watched as you curiously eyed them before approaching and speaking to one of them. Whatever they said to you seemed to spark something in you, and after a brief moment of contemplation, you continued into the castle, following them.

Jacaerys landed near the dragon pit, slipping off Vermax and making his way stealthily towards the castle. He moved discreetly through the corridors, eventually making his way to the throne room. Hiding behind an entrance, he observed as Rhaenyra Targaryen addressed the gathered common folk, her tone authoritative and promising.

His mother’s intentions became clear as she prepared to lead the dragonseeds to the dragon pit. Jacaerys' heart sank as he realised her plan was to introduce them to Vermithor. It was a dangerous idea and could turn deadly.

Quietly trailing behind them down to the dragon pit, he finally spotted you among them, your eyes wide with awe as you stared at the horrifying creature. Your naive fascination bothered him. How could you and the others be so ignorant of the obvious danger in front of you? The sheer recklessness of it all made him roll his eyes.

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer. He remembered seeing you being berated by one of the castle stewards just a few days ago. He could see now why you might be desperate to claim a dragon; to rise above the life of a servant.

Rhaenyra walked past the group, and out of the dragon pit, Jace hid behind one of the doors, out of her sight. Then he seized the moment. He slipped past the crowd, moving swiftly so as not to get noticed.

You felt a hand grip your arm, pulling you back from the crowd and out of the room, before your back hit the rough surface of a stone wall in the corridor.

You blinked, shocked to see the Targaryen prince's stern face staring down at you. "My prince!" you exclaimed, struggling to pull free. "I know I told you I wouldn't. But the queen—"

Jacaerys cut you off, his voice low and urgent. "You need to leave. Rhaenyra has led these people to certain death."

Your eyes widened. That didn't sound right. Rhaenyra was always merciful, at least as far as you knew. Always considerate of the small folk. Surely, she wouldn't lead them to a trap.

Before you could protest, the roar of Vermithor filled the chamber. A blaze of fire erupted from the dragon’s jaws, catching the first volunteer. The sight was horrifying as the dragon began devouring the rest of the screaming volunteers.

Panic surged through you as the full scale of the danger became apparent. Jace held you firmly, guiding you away from the chaos. His grip was unyielding, but it was a lifeline in the midst of the nightmare unfolding before you.

As the smoke and fire filled the dragon pit, Jace pulled you to safety, his face set in grim determination. In that moment, you understood the gravity of the situation. The danger was undeniable, and as you fled with him, a new awareness dawned on you. You weren't safe here.

Tag list:

@alwaysdaydreamingoffiction

@rav9n-16

@dracaryxzs

@jacaeryvardaddy

@ericasabe

[icallhimjoey]

Prompt idea either for your current fic or a random one shot! Soft!Joey was VERY much not so soft Joey in your dream and you wake up in a STATE about it. Now real Joey needs to rectify his dream world bad behaviour. Angsty Smutty fluffy whatever you think is best.

Love your work!

me: save this for something longer also me: no the girlies need it right now Wordcount: 1.5K

---

Boy Of My Dreams

“Come here, baby.” 

Joe was there.

Right there where you'd left him, holding the covers open for you when he heard you turn off the lights in the bathroom. 

“I’m fine. Was just a dream.” you immediately said, curling back onto your spot, close to him, but your back turned.   

Joe’s eyes were still closed as his hands roamed until fingers trailed up your back to hold onto your neck. To feel some kind of closeness, the laziest way of comforting his girl after a nightmare.  

“Talk later?” 

But his question went unanswered. No confirmation, no dismissal, because either one didn’t feel right. You let the words float and hoped they would float away, real far, hoped they’d make real distance as you both fell back asleep.

Occasionally, you’d have a nightmare that would continue the story of a nightmare you’d had years earlier. A dream you couldn’t even remember, hadn’t consciously thought of since that one morning after you’d woken up from it, but somehow it still managed to store itself away inside your brain. Somewhere deep down, a place you couldn’t reach by yourself, just... lingering there for you to revisit in your sleep eventually.

It happened very rarely, but the second you’d wake up, you’d realise, fuck, this was that same fucking nightmare you had had ages ago.

When you hadn’t even known Joe yet.

Hadn’t even known of his existence, let alone would have known the lines of his face like the back of your hand.

The plush of his lips.

The scruff of his cheeks.

His chin.

The way your mind would hallucinate awful things in your sleep that would feel so vivid and so real was absolutely terrifying, but the addition of Joe’s face made everything so much worse.

Your unconscious mind could play tricks on you.

You knew this.

But in your sleepy haze, the feelings were real. The emotions right there.

And that man who’d scared you years ago in this same nightmare now wore a face that you recognised.

Logically you knew it was an addition.

Something new that hadn’t been there before.

There was no way you’d also dreamt about Joe all those other times - every person in a dream was someone you needed to have seen before, you knew.

But still.

The hand that held onto your neck was of little comfort, and you knew it was silly, but your body still flinched and moved away from the man in your bed because he didn’t feel safe right now.

You hoped Joe wouldn’t react to the quick pull away from him. To the little shimmy you did to duck into your pillow a bit more. But you felt how he raised his head off of his own, likely to see through a squinty eye if you were okay.

“I’ll have forgotten in the morning.” you quickly reassured with a whisper into the dark, and Joe decided he was too tired to get into anything right now anyway. He’d leave it to rest and hoped that you were right. That the next bit of sleep would make you forget about any horrors.

Except it didn’t.

It took you long to fall back asleep, and when you eventually did, you slipped right back into the same awful narrative.

It was why, not that long after you’d woken up that first time, you shook Joe awake. Leant over him, sort of sweaty, big wet eyes close to his face because, you just... you needed to check.

Had to see for yourself.

To see if his eyes were normal.

Joe roused awake, confused and definitely not as alert as you were.

“What?” Joe croaked, a little freaked out by the way you frowned in panic as you searched his eyes. He saw how yours flicked between his left and right.

Normal.

Joe’s eyes were their normal big brown beautiful kind soft ones. Bit tired. Definitely confused. But not the evil pitch black giant orbs you’d just dreamt of. You immediately relaxed and fell back onto your pillow, sighing with relief. This was definitely one of the weirdest most disturbing ways to be woken up before six o’clock.

“What’s wrong?” Joe asked, voice still just as hoarse, as he turned his head to look at you stare up at the ceiling.

Why were you panting?

“Nothing. I... don’t worry, your eyes are normal.”

Just a dream. It was just a dream. Your nervous system just had to catch up to it.

“My eyes?” Joe was so confused. What the fuck were you talking about?

“You were...” you started, but shook your head instead of finishing the sentence. It was of no use explaining. Just a silly dream. “Never mind. Just...” you looked at the ceiling and even though it was dark, the rubbing of your eyes made you see spots for a second.

Joe watched as you gathered your thoughts for a second, and worry etched deeper into his features.

“Hey,” he whispered, concern thick in his voice, a hand reaching over that placed itself on your forehead. “I was what? What did I do?”

You then turned your head to look at him, moving Joe’s hand into your hair, and you immediately felt guilty. Joe looked far too bothered for your liking.

“Scary.” you admitted, scooting over closer to him. “But you’re not scary now. Was just a dream.”

For a second, that made Joe relax a little. You weren’t talking about him him, you were talking about whatever weird version of him you’d just dreamt about. One without normal eyes, apparently.

Joe accepted you into his arms as you cuddled up to him, finding his sleep warm body to curl yourself around, seeking closeness this time around, because Joe’s eyes were normal and comforting.

He was glad it had just been a dream.

But then, Joe’s thoughts caught up, and actually, Joe didn’t like that.

Joe didn’t like that at all.

Didn’t like how you dismissed a nightmare like it hadn’t affected you when it so very clearly had.

Didn’t like how hugging you tight also meant that he could feel how fast your heart was beating.

Didn’t like how, real or not, you’d been scared of him. Had felt real fear because of him.

He’d been the boy of your nightmare, and that was not okay.

“You had a nightmare about me?” Joe almost sounded hurt, voice small and soft. Like it was his fault that you were breathing the way you were right now. Like he had personally done you a great disservice.

Which wasn’t true, obviously.

It hadn’t actually been him.

“It wasn’t you.” you comforted, pressing your face into Joe’s neck, reminding yourself just as much as you tried convincing him.

“Hm?”

“Just looked like you.”

But that didn’t make it better. Not to Joe, anyway.

The way that you went from trying for a little distance before, to suddenly hiding yourself away into his skin didn’t sit right with him either.

“You okay?” he whispered, a hand trailing up your back as he asked it, ending at your neck where he held onto it like he’d done before.

“Mhm,” you confirmed, and took a big deep breath to hopefully slow your heartbeat down a little. “Need to calm down.”

“Do you want to talk about it? What did I do to you?” Joe didn’t wait for an answer to the first question. Just wanted to know how severe his crimes had been. How big his apology needed to be. How much he needed to comfort you.

But like before, when he’d suggested to talk later, you let the questions sit where they sat, and didn’t provide them with an answer at all. Instead, you just burrowed deeper. Pressed your nose into his skin a little harder. Hitched your leg over his thighs a little higher. Squeezed yourself around his middle a bit more.

Joe decided his crimes had been very severe. Maybe even life sentence sort of stuff. He tightened his arms around your frame, the hand on your neck letting its fingers slide into your hair a little.

“I’m sorry.” Joe murmured against your forehead.

That made your eyes water.

You didn’t want to talk.

That was okay.

Just needed comforting.

“You’re okay,” Joe whispered into your hair, answering his own earlier question. He placed a little kiss there too, eyes closed, determined to make you drift off back to sleep, and it made you whine.

“You’re safe,”you deserved more sleep, but nightmareless this time. No scary eyes.

“I’m here.” Joe squeezed tigther as he felt you relax. From the way you started matching your breathing to his, he knew it was working.

You could have a nice dream about him.

He could be the boy of your dreams. Good, postive, sweet ones.

“No one’s gonna hurt you. Go back to sleep. You’re safe. I’m here.”

The hand that held onto your neck was actually very comforting now, and your body fully relaxed into the man in your bed because; he was right.

No one was going to hurt you.

You were safe.

Joe was there.

---

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[muniimyg]

one: fuck it if i can't have us

series m.list // next

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//

It began with a sundress.

Don't get it twisted just yet because the beginning of Yoongi's downbad era didn't begin with you wearing one... It began exactly 20 minutes after meeting you.

What a joke, right?

His friend, Seok Jin, had invited a group of people to his family's summer home. The summer home is near a lake and a small town. The shops often closed just before 7PM and that's when Yoongi saw you for the first time. As the group of girls ran to greet Seok Jin and them, you lingered a moment longer, staring at the sundress on display.

Your long hair blew in the wind like a movie. Your smile was gentle and the way it turned into a laugh took his breath away. As you take one more glance at the sundress, you make your way to join the group.

As everyone mingles and continues to roam around the town, you take your time introducing yourself to everyone.

That's the first thing Yoongi liked about you.

You took your time.

Your eyes looked into his a moment more than his heart was ready for. When your hands touched, he felt electricity. His eyes widened and if he wasn't so self-aware about his delusional mindset, he swears he heard bells.

The bells.

But then again, maybe that was just your voice saying his name. That's the second thing Yoongi liked about you. He likes the way you say his name. It made him feel something. It made him feel like someone.

Perhaps thats why Yoongi woke up at 7AM the next day and bought you the sundress. He knocked on your room door and left it in the bag. Half awake, you picked up the gift and laughed.

There was no note written or exchange of words during breakfast. Instead, there was you wearing the sundress and Yoongi's stolen glances.

Then again...

Maybe it was the summer air. Maybe it was the way the sun always set so perfectly behind you. Maybe... It's just summer.

Summer exists for the hopeless romantics. For the people that love with their entire hearts and feel the warmth of the sun beyond their skin. Perhaps it's the sunshine and all the couple-coded activities or the shared ice cream cones... Maybe it's the carnivals and outdoor movies... Who knows.

Whatever it is, summer's lovebug has bit and made Yoongi sick to his stomach.

It has to be today.

Your lips meet his before a simple “hello.” 

It irks him. 

His mind goes hazy, fighting to understand why he loves the way you kiss him so much but hates it at the same time. Was this it? Was this all he was to you? How could you kiss him like you missed him and not say anything? Did you not mean this? 

Did you not mean the way your lips crashed onto his with the kind of neediness he’s grown to crave? 

Did you not mean the way you slipped your tongue in, finding his, and somehow redefining kissing for him? It’s just so perfect with you. You kiss him so good. You kiss him just right. 

Worst of all…

Did you not mean it when you intertwined your fingers with his? How you hold his hand when you two kiss.. How you hold his hand when you ride his cock, grinding, moaning, and crying over how well he fits inside you? 

Oh. 

You must mean it.

Because if you don’t… He just might die.

Nothing devastates him more than the mere idea of you not wanting him back the same way he wants you. He craves for you in ways he can't even express with words.

You've bewitched him.

As you kiss him deeper, Yoongi breaks away from you like he's breaking away from a trance. He turns his head, backed up against the bathroom sink.

Real classy, by the way. Texting him to meet you in the bathroom while your friends are all wasted downstairs. But then again, why'd he even go upstairs and follow through? He was no better than you.

While you grow confused, an ache plunges into his heart. He hates doing this to you. He hates to be the reason why you could ever be confused with his actions because all he wants is clarity between you two. He wants it out in the open. He wants it to be crystal clear.

He wants you.

Yoongi catches the way your lips twitch. The way you gulp and inch away because you feel embarrassed. It hits you. The feeling of rejection... And he knows you well enough to notice how easily your feelings consume you. A part of him wonders if you know this about yourself... Do you know how much he wants to save you from yourself? How much he wants to give you constant reassurance and undying love? How much he wants to protect you and be your everything?

He wants it so bad it's beginning to ruin him.

To Yoongi, you're perfect. 

With that being said, he still acknowledges your flaws... Like the fact that you smell like a mix of sunscreen and vodka (which he hates) or that you are the most stubborn person he has ever met in his life. That's saying a lot considering his best friends are horny overgrown fuckboys in fiance. 

Yet, you take the crown. 

You win the title.

You are the only person in this world who can break his heart.

… And contrary to popular belief, Min Yoongi's heart breaks easily.

You must know it.

It's strange to Yoongi how quickly you switch up. How he knows any slight rejection from his end hurts your feelings instantly... But you react tough and cold to endure the agony that rots inside you.

So, he hates this. He fucking hates this.

God, do you even know what he would do to swallow his pride and just be what you need? What he would do to give up his self-respect and live to please you? What he would do to simply be yours?

It takes everything inside him to stand his ground.

Shyly, you place your hand on his chest. You feel his heart beating. It beats fast and loud like it's trying to tell you something. Feeling worried, you look up at Yoongi and ask, “Everything okay?” 

Yoongi places his hands on top of yours. Your eyebrows knit together from his touch. Like instinct, you try to pull away. Instead, Yoongi keeps your hand still. He holds them, rubbing his thumb back and forth against your soft skin. It’s comforting… But it scares you, to say the least. 

“___, I can’t…” 

That’s all he manages to say. Yoongi looks at you and it’s over. He’s lost in your eyes as if it’s the first time he has ever seen anything so fucking beautiful. 

You blink. 

“Can’t what?” you chuckle, looking down at his crotch. You tilt your head, wondering if he's just talking about his erection. “Are you not hard? It’s okay, bebe. I can help with that—”

“I know you can,” he huffs, “It’s j-just… It’s not that.”

Yoongi inhales sharply, eyes softening as he exhales. He looks at you... He really looks at you.

You gulp.

“What is it then?" you ask, trying your best to keep your tone consistent. "What? ... Are you ending this? I thought third times the charm? Hahahaa… I mean, i-it’s fine if you want out… I’m just confused why you want out. I don't want out—"

Feeling embarrassed, you pause. Your rambling won't change the way he is looking at you. He's looking at you so carefully. So lovingly.. It truly feels like an ending. Again, you attempt to drop your hands. Still, Yoongi holds them. 

“Yoongi—”

He holds your hands tighter. 

“D-don’t—”

He listens.

... And it’s odd. 

For some reason, you didn’t really want him to let go. 

“Is everything okay?” you attempt one last time. You ask this, completely unsure if knowing if for his sake or for yours. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Far from it, actually. Everything is everything but okay.”

Your eyes widen. “Are you hurt? Did I do something—”

“Everything,” Yoongi begins his confession. “It’s everything but you. It’s everything but us.”

Suddenly, you realize you’ve been holding your breath. That’s what this feels like… It’s this weird anticipation that you never saw coming. But it’s here and it’s quite literally taking your breath away. 

“I’m confused—”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Yoongi confesses. His voice is gentle but stern. You hear every word crystal clear, yet you stand in complete disbelief.

“Actually, no… I am in love with you. I’ve known it for two summers now. I know it for the remaining nine months you ignore me. And I… I, uh… I d-don’t know w-what to do anymore. I’ve tried just about everything and everything…” he takes a second to pause, breathe in, and muster the courage to give you the rest of his heart.

“I'm out of ways of avoiding it. I've been trying to ignore this, and I just... I'm so tired, ___. I don't know what to do… I want every season with you.”

Your throat is dry.

Your hands tingle like they could go numb any second now.

God, there's a pressing feeling in the pit of your stomach and you aren't sure if it's because you're so nervous right now or if you just really have to pee.

Either way, you feel stuck.

You can't find any words to say and your mind runs through a million and one thoughts. From the very beginning, you always thought moments like these only existed in stories.

This couldn't be true...

This was a sick joke.

It has to be.

"Are you going through a heat stroke or something?"

He blinks at you. Realizing he's not kidding around, you put your guard up.

"W-why are you saying this?" you ask, practically choking on your words. "We're fine, Yoongi. You don't have to care about this more than we agreed to. You don't have to lie to—it’s summer! Come on! We have fun and—"

"___, I have never been so honest in my life!" he snaps, awfully offended. "You're not allowed to tell me how I feel. I just spent the past fucking nine months trying to figure my shit out—y-you... You can't tell me I figured it out wrong."

Unconvinced, you poke at his truth again. "Yoongi, seriously, are you fucking with me? This isn’t cool. You’re not funny.”

"Your birthday is my passcode. Do you think that’s cool? Am I funny for doing that?”

You snicker, “a little. Didn’t I do that? Why haven’t you changed it—"

“Take a wild fucking guess,” he hisses.

You tighten your lips. “I… I don’t—”

"I tried, ___. I tried so fucking hard for you. I swallow my pride every time you call me up. I pretend like it doesn't matter when you ignore me come September. I have done everything I possibly can to shove, suppress, and forget about my feelings... But I can't do it anymore. I don't want this anymore..."

In disbelief, you take a step back. "So what? You're done with me because you love me or some shit?"

"N-no! I'm saying I want more for us!" Yoongi hurries to explain himself. "I want us. I want everything, though. I want the morning texts. I want the dates. I want the anniversaries. ___, I want you twelve months a year—"

"And the sex?" you interrupt him, "what does this mean... For us then? For this arrangement?”

"Is that all you care about?"

A beat.

"No."

Yoongi takes a step toward you. "I can do it," he promises you. "I can fuck you all you want. I can eat your pussy out to your heart's desire. I can do and be anything and everything you want, bebe…”

"... So? What's with the confession? If nothing was going to be different—I'm still confused. Are you ending this or not?"

He laughs.

"No," Yoongi tilts his head and gives you half a smile. Your stomach twists and turns when he does this... You feel winded.

Was he always this handsome?

"Fuck, I’m so nervous my words are everywhere… No, ___. I’m not ending us. I could never do that to you... Or to myself. God knows I'd do everything to be with you... So, I'm changing the narrative. Yeah... Let's say that."

"Say what?"

Yoongi reaches to you, pulling you in by your waist. Resting your chin on his chest, you look up at him and bat your eyes. He'll fold, right? He loves it when you do this. Instead, he smirks and leans in.

Against your lips, he murmurs softly and slowly; "___, I'd do anything for you."

"Good. Then let's do this—" You reach to kiss him. “Let’s fuck.”

He stops you. “Do you not get it yet?”

You shrug. “Get what?”

Yoongi feels his heart beat faster and faster. You look at him, desperate to make it out of this conversation. Desperate to make it work—but your uneasy heart finds it easier to resist than to give in. 

So, Yoongi does it for you.

Yoongi does it first.

Giving in, he tells you; "Okay… You want to fuck? Fine. We can fuck… Under the condition that you let me be your boyfriend, because fuck it if I can’t have us.”

[archivegyu]

masterlist

almost is never enough

part 1

Present

The night continues, an endless loop of laughter and music and fleeting conversations that she barely registers. She stands at the center of it all, surrounded by warmth, by joy, by everything that should make this night feel like the happiest of her life. And yet, beneath the layers of carefully curated perfection, she feels untethered, like she is drifting through the evening rather than existing within it.

Her smile is painted on, effortless in appearance but hollow beneath the surface. She plays the role expected of her; the glowing bride, the perfect half of a picture-perfect love story, but inside, something is unraveling. The feeling gnaws at her slowly, quietly, a whisper at the back of her mind that she keeps trying to silence.

She tells herself she is just overwhelmed, that the weight of the day has finally settled into her bones. That’s why she keeps looking around, scanning the crowd, her heart tightening with every passing moment.

But that isn’t the truth.

She is looking for someone.

The realization settles heavily in her chest, an unspoken ache lodged deep within her ribs. She shifts on her feet, pretending to listen to the conversation happening around her, but her attention is elsewhere, drifting past the familiar faces, past the golden glow of the reception hall, past the warmth of the celebration.

She is looking for him.

The thought stings, even as she tries to push it away. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.

And yet, she feels the disappointment coil in her stomach when she doesn’t find him.

Had he been here at all? Had he stayed long enough to watch her walk down the aisle? To sit through the toasts, the stories, the laughter? Had he watched her dance, had he heard her vows, had he—

Had he even let himself look at her?

The possibility that he hadn’t, that he had chosen to turn away before she could meet his gaze, makes something sharp twist inside her.

“Looking for someone?”

Mingyu’s voice is warm when he speaks, threaded with amusement as he leans in close. His presence is grounding, steady, the touch of his hand at the small of her back gentle and familiar. He has no reason to question her, no reason to doubt what he means to her.

Because to him, she is here. Fully. Wholly.

To him, she never hesitated.

To him, there is no one else.

And yet, as she stands here, surrounded by love, by certainty, she knows the truth in the hollow of her chest.

Because it isn’t Mingyu she has been searching for.

But she can’t say that. She won’t.

So instead, she forces a small smile, tilts her head just slightly, a practiced motion of feigned thoughtfulness. “No,” she lies, voice soft, carefully measured. “Just… taking it all in.”

Mingyu chuckles, the sound light, easy, untouched by the weight pressing against her chest. He presses a soft kiss to her temple, his fingers tightening ever so slightly on her waist, grounding her in the life she chose. “You’ve been spacing out a lot tonight,” he murmurs, his voice laced with quiet affection. “You sure everything’s okay?”

She knows the answer should be simple.

Yes.

That’s what she should say. That’s what she wants to say.

Because everything is okay. The wedding is beautiful, the night is perfect, she is standing next to a man who loves her unconditionally, who has never once made her question how much he wants to be by her side.

So why does it feel like something is missing?

Why does she still feel like she is waiting for something?

Or someone?

She exhales softly, schooling her expression into something more assured, something that won’t make him look at her like that, with quiet concern, with careful patience, as if he is waiting for her to let him in. She nods. “Yeah,” she says, offering a smile that she hopes is convincing.

Mingyu watches her for a second longer, his gaze searching, lingering just a little too long. And for a fleeting moment, she wonders if he knows.

If, somewhere deep down, he knows.

But then, just as quickly, the moment passes.

Satisfied, he squeezes her hand, the warmth of his touch pulling her back into the moment. “Well,” he murmurs, his voice gentle, so certain, “if you need anything… just look for me.”

His words are meant to be reassuring, a promise.

But she can’t help the way her chest tightens.

Because she had been looking for someone.

And she knows now—he isn’t here.

She doesn’t know when Wonwoo left. If he had stood at the back of the room, watching her from the shadows, a silent spectator to a life that would never belong to him. If he had lingered by the door, waiting for some kind of sign, some unspoken permission to stay just a little longer.

Or if he had never truly been here at all.

But she knows, without needing to ask, that she won’t find him now.

The weight of it settles over her, a quiet ache that she has no choice but to carry.

She smiles.

She nods.

And she pretends.

Because the one person she had been searching for is already gone.

[jsbluu]

left on seen | chapter 20: plan a

➨ chapter 19: damage control | left on seen masterlist | next

➨ chapter 20 omg we’re reaching the 20’s i feel so emotional.. i can’t believe it oh my gosh i just want them to kiss already

TAGLIST: @yizhrt @bococostree @sunghoonsgfreal @dinonuguaegi @ddolbyong @4chensungs @vixensss @jirsungs @luffysprincess @nosungluv @akunoeyebrows @sinsgaybutthatsokay @joyzluvr @n0hyuck @mrsbyun-baek @queenrachelpink @botchedbrat @livingdoll-hara @minkyuncutie @gomdoleemyson @17ericas @cookydream

when you walk into the lecture hall, you almost immediately spot leehan. he’s sitting in your regular spot, scribbling something random in his notebook like how you usually find him. except this time, he doesn’t look up. no smile, no wave, nothing. it’s like you don’t even exist anymore.

your chest tightens as you hesitate by the door, the words he texted you the day before replaying in your mind, “i need some space for a while.” you had to keep repeating to yourself in your head - this is what he wants, he deserves that.

you shake your thoughts away and find a seat a few rows further down from where he is, it’s better this way and hopefully you won’t have to see him at all.

a few minutes later, jisung walks in. his eyes land on you almost instantly, and you couldn’t tell if he was purposely looking for your face or you just so happened to be the first thing he saw when he walked in. he weaves through the rows and stops when he reaches the seat next to you.

“hey” he says, tilting his head towards the empty seat next to you. “is it okay if i sit here?”

you almost freeze in your seat when he asks, and you bite back your tongue from saying yes. his presence would be comforting, but you know if leehan saw you two he would be so much more hurt than before, and you had to stop thinking about yourself for once.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea..” you mumble, looking away from him.

he blinks, his small smile faltering a bit. “oh, okay” he nods, understanding what you were silently trying to tell him. but that still didn’t stop his heart from beating a little faster.

he finds another empty seat in the row below you, about 2 seats across from you. you turn around to sneak a glance at leehan, but his face gives nothing away. he’s still focused on his notes, like he’s the only person in the room.

before you can emphasize on it, kazuha walks into the room, her presence immediately making you feel uneasy. she paused in the doorway, scanning around for somewhere to sit or somebody to sit with. it doesn’t take long for her to realize the awkward distance between you, jisung, and leehan, especially between you and jisung. her stare lingers for a bit before making a b-line towards him.

“hey” she says smiling, sliding into the seat next to him.

you force yourself to look away, gripping your pen tightly as you stare at your notes. kazuha isn’t doing anything wrong, she’s nice, warm, and easy to be around; everything you’re not right now.

as the lecture continues, you try your best to move your focus away from them, but you can’t help but stare at the two as she laughs and leans into him. he isn’t even that funny you thought. you tell yourself it’s fine, you have absolutely no reason to be upset. but the jealousy creeps in anyway, and for some reason you can’t seem to shake it.

the weight of everything feels unbearable against your chest, it feels like you could scream. the second your professor dismissed your class, you’re out of your seat, shoving your notebook and laptop into your bag and bolting out the door. someone calls your name, jisung maybe? or leehan? but that doesn’t stop you, nobody could.

back at your dorm, you drop everything on the floor, staring at the ceiling as everything crashes over you. you replay the entire morning in your head, the tension between you and leehan and the awkward, short lived conversation you had with jisung that ended with you basically shutting him down.

no matter how many things you tried to distract yourself with, you couldn’t stop thinking about how you were gonna apologize to leehan. he deserves something more than just a text or ignoring the situation in all until it was blown over.

you pulled out your notebook and tapped the pen on the page, trying to sort out your emotions. the words feel messy and inadequate, but it was a start. you think of all the ways leehan had been there for you, since the moment you met him that first day of class when he introduced himself. or when he had invited you to mark’s show and made sure you were happy and having fun, even if it was at the expense of his.

you had taken all that for granted, and now, sitting alone in your dorm, the weight of that realization presses down on you. you’ll have to figure this out. you have to. because you can’t let this silence stretch any longer, you can’t lose him.

© jsbluu | please do not copy, reupload, or translate my work.

[fool-tarnished]

"Remember me" - Chapter 4 - Kakashi Hatake x F!Reader

Pairing : Kakashi Hatake x Female!Reader

If you want to read Yamato's version, you can find it here.

Warnings : Memory loss, mind control (mk ultra inspired), fluff

Inspiration : Where did she go - Saleka

Words : ~ 2500

A/N : Hello there ! Yes I posted this one faster than the previous ones, uhu. I mean, I wrote it already so why not ? I hope you will enjoy it. And sorry for the mistakes, I'm not a native english speaker. Thank you again for the likes, reblogs and comments ♡

← Previous Chapter - Next chapter →

"Yo, [Y/N]."

Upon hearing that familiar voice, you turned around with a smile, placing your book on the bed where you were sitting.

"Kakashi? You always come in through the window, but you do know doors exist, right?"

He was crouched on the edge of the window frame in the room you were in. The words left your mouth without you feeling like you’d even spoken them, and it felt as though you were living this moment while also not living it at the same time. Something strange, yet not necessarily unpleasant.

"Hmm."

As you continued watching him, the ninja tilted his head slightly to one side.

"I heard you left the ANBU."

"Ah, that."

"Is it because of Naruto?"

A brief silence fell as your gaze landed on a photo sitting on the window ledge. It showed you, along with a blond boy who resembled the description Kakashi had given you during your conversations. Your eyes softened, tinged with a hint of sadness and worry.

"I want to try my best to look after him, you know. It’s... complicated." You sighed before continuing. "I’m not sure staying in the special forces is the right thing. He needs someone to be there for him, especially right now... You know, with the exam coming up."

The silver-haired ninja followed your gaze, letting his own linger on the photo of you and Naruto. Right next to it was another photo, this time of you standing beside Kakashi. His eyes hovered over the picture of the two of you for a few seconds before resting on you again.

"It wasn’t just Naruto who convinced me to make this decision."

Curious, he watched as you looked back at him. This time, the expression in your gaze was different.

"Hmm, who else?"

Smiling softly, you stood up and approached him.

"You can come inside if you want. That window doesn’t look very comfortable."

He smiled before stepping in and lowering himself slightly so that your faces were at the same level.

"Nice attempt to dodge, but I haven’t forgotten my question."

Sitting back down on your bed and patting the spot next to you for him to join, you crossed your legs and stared at him.

He closed the window and moved to sit at the edge of the bed.

"If you want your answer, Hatake, you’re going to have to come and get it."

His cheeks tinged with a light pink as he shuffled closer to you, sitting cross-legged as well. He cleared his throat, looking away toward other parts of the room.

"Hmm... So?"

"Don’t you know a certain grey-haired Sensei? I heard he’s pretty strict, too."

His cheeks turned from pink to a deeper red as he tilted his head to the side.

"What?"

The visible part of his face made it clear that he didn’t quite know what to say—that he was still processing what you’d just said, and it left him slightly flustered.

"You know, Naruto and you... You’re the people who mean the most to me. And what I’ve seen over the years in the special forces... I think it took me a long time to realize this, but if I’m going to risk my life, I’d rather do it closer to you two. With the ANBU, I was always so far away... And if something were to happen, I want to make the most of the time I have with you."

The Copy Ninja was left speechless, unable to say anything more. Laughing softly, you leaned toward him, gently pressing your finger to his cheek. He didn’t react, continuing to look at you.

"Oh, Kakashi?"

He finally moved after a few seconds, blinking once before catching the hand you’d poked him with, holding it gently in his own.

"I’d rather you not think about the worst, [Y/N]," he said more seriously, his cheeks fading from bright red to a soft pink.

"You’re too serious. Why can’t you just try to—"

"I don’t like it when you talk as if you’re not going to come back from a mission, you know that."

He turned his head to the side before reaching into one of his pockets with his other hand. Pulling out a closed fist, he gently opened your palm and placed something in it. Holding your hand between both of his, he locked eyes with you again.

"It’s for your kunai... It’s to protect you when you’re on missions. Promise me you’ll always come back safe and sound, okay?"

You remained silent, unable to find any words. Though you couldn’t see yourself, this time it was you who had turned as red as a tomato. Lowering your gaze slightly to your joined hands, you noticed a finely braided red cord with two small grey beads. His thumb softly traced circles on the back of your hand as he held it, and his other hand gently tilted your head back up.

"Always, hmm?"

Another voice broke the sweet dream you had been immersed in—a voice much more energetic and, above all, angry.

"When did she come back?! Why didn’t anyone tell me?!"

It seemed to grow clearer and closer.

"Kakashi-Sensei?!"

Finally opening your eyes, you found yourself face-to-face with Kakashi’s silver hair. You must have fallen asleep, and he had probably laid you down before dozing off himself. He was sitting on the chair right next to you, his head resting on one arm and his other hand still holding yours. You felt him start to stir as well when a blond-haired boy appeared at the foot of your bed.

The Copy Ninja sat up but didn’t seem to notice your hands, something Naruto did not miss.

"And what’s that?!" he questioned, pointing directly at your intertwined hands, eyes wide—a mixture of surprise and slight irritation.

"Naruto, that’s enough!" yelled a feminine voice before a sharp thud echoed, likely an attempt to calm him down.

"Sakura! What’s your problem?!" the boy grumbled, clutching the top of his head.

After exchanging a quick glance, you and Kakashi pulled your hands apart, and you sat up in bed. Kakashi, for his part, stood up and scratched the back of his head, his expression showing slight embarrassment.

"Hmm, Naruto, Sakura, what a surprise…"

"We’ve been waiting for over two hours, but it seems you’ve gotten ‘lost’ again," the pink-haired girl said with an expression difficult to decipher.

"When did you come back?!" Naruto shouted, this time pointing a finger directly at you, one hand still clutching his skull.

"Uh, I—"

"Naruto, can I speak to you for a moment?" the Copy Ninja interrupted, regaining his composure.

"[Y/N]? Why didn’t you come see me?!" Naruto growled again, but his Sensei grabbed his arm and tried to pull him out of the room.

"Sakura, come too. I need to talk to both of you."

Sakura gave you a questioning look before following her Sensei and her friend, leaving the room silent once the door closed.

Sighing, you dropped your head into your hands, rubbing your eyes. You couldn’t hear the conversation clearly from the hallway, but fragments of it reached your ears. Of course, you could only make out one voice.

"This is a joke, right?!" "You’ve been hiding it from me this whole time? Why do you get to see her and not me?!" "Why, Kakashi-Sensei?!"

The voices began to quiet down, and soon you couldn’t hear anything at all. Starting to get up to see what was happening, you were stopped when the door opened again. Sakura, who stood behind Naruto, looked a little sad as she gazed at the blond boy now standing before you. Staring at the floor, he looked desperate and said nothing.

Casting a quick glance at the silver-haired ninja, who gave you a subtle nod, you slowly approached Naruto. He didn’t move an inch, murmuring something you could only make out once you were closer.

"Why, huh? Did you forget everything, then?"

Choosing not to answer his question for the moment, you simply wrapped your arms around him and held him tightly, as if your life depended on it. You hadn’t even thought about it; it just felt perfectly natural. After everything Kakashi had told you about him and your connection, you hoped this action might comfort him, even just a little.

Naruto’s eyes widened when he felt you so close, and tears began streaming down his cheeks as he shakily brought his arms up to hold you in return. His head came to rest on one of your shoulders as he let himself cry for a while.

"I don’t remember everything, Naruto, only fragments. But I promise I’ll do everything I can to remember you… and I won’t leave again."

Still sobbing, his voice trembling, the blond boy raised his head slightly.

"Another promise, huh?"

You remained silent for a few seconds, thinking about how you could answer. Yes, another promise. But this time, you would do everything you could to keep it.

"I plan to remember this one."

He stayed quiet for a moment before pulling back slightly and wiping the tears from his cheeks.

"If Lady Tsunade agrees… I can already fulfill one of my promises."

He looked up, intrigued.

"Someone whispered to me that I should take you to a certain Ichiraku. Does that ring a bell?"

At those words, his eyes lit up, and you thought you saw a spark of hope within them. A smile spread across his face, followed by soft laughter.

________________________________________

Getting Tsunade’s approval for this outing hadn’t been an easy feat. In truth, she hadn’t expected things to move so quickly, and even though the Copy Ninja hadn’t gone into details about why he had stayed by your side that night, she figured that these surprise reunions were bound to happen. Her only concern was the idea of Naruto spending time alone with you after what she had witnessed, and the only condition that made her agree was that Kakashi would watch over you both from afar.

The day had passed rather quickly, and you could finally put faces and places to the elements the silver-haired ninja had described to you. Beyond that, you were starting to recognize certain locations from your dreams more clearly. The pieces were slowly beginning to come together, and while you didn’t have all the information you needed, you were now certain that your place was here.

Naruto had gradually relaxed throughout the day, his expression growing more cheerful as he relished the time spent with you. As for you, you savored every moment as though it were the first time. After enjoying a bowl of ramen with him, you both returned to the hospital. Following a few last exchanges, the young ninja went home. He had insisted on sleeping in the second bed in your room to stay near you, but the Hokage had firmly rejected this request.

After taking a well-deserved shower and settling onto your bed, you smiled as you thought back on everything you had learned, seen, and experienced since your return. Aside from the fight with Genma, you were still happy to discover that the dark void which had haunted you for so many months was merely a book whose pages you hadn’t yet turned—and that the story they contained was more beautiful than you had imagined. The only pages that seemed to stain the entire book were soaked with the voice, mask, and silhouette of the man who appeared in your nightmares.

Sighing, you pushed the thought aside and lay down, finally surrendering to the sleep that gently began to cradle you.

________________________________________

"So, Naruto knows about it?" The question finally came as Kakashi was savoring the sushi laid out on the table.

"Hmm, he barged in this morning. Naruto being Naruto…" Asuma let out a small laugh and smiled.

"I see." He grabbed the drink in front of him and took a sip. "And you? How are you handling all this?"

The silver-haired ninja suddenly stopped eating, setting his empty plate on the large pile that had accumulated to his right.

"I’m handling it," was all he replied, reaching for another plate.

"Kakashi." He paused briefly, noticing that the Copy Ninja was staring at the sushi instead of him. "No one’s fooled. You two were pretty close before—"

"Things have changed since then, Asuma. She doesn’t remember any of that."

"But you seem pretty determined to help her, am I wrong? After spending the night at her bedside."

Kakashi froze, now looking directly at Asuma without saying a word.

"I really hope you can manage. But after what happened during the test… Be careful."

He resumed eating his sushi, his gaze shifting again to the large pile of food in front of him. Asuma, on his end, took another sip of his drink.

"Anyway, since her return, you seem… different. In a good way, of course."

"Hmm."

Sighing, he set his drink back on the table.

"Deep down, she hasn’t changed. Even if it takes time, I want her to recover her memories. I don’t want to lose her again."

At these words, his friend remained silent, watching him eat as if he had just admitted something mundane.

"Even if she doesn’t see me the same way as before… I want to do everything I can to help her."

Asuma smirked.

"And what if she saw you the same way as before? Would you push her away this time?"

A faint pink flush crept onto the Copy Ninja’s cheeks, and he placed yet another empty plate on the pile.

"How’s Kurenai doing?" he asked, clearly looking for an escape route from the conversation.

Caught off guard, the dark-haired ninja turned red himself, stammering as he fumbled to answer his friend.

________________________________________

Lying still, you tried to look around and make out your surroundings as best you could. Everything was blurry, and once again, you noticed the silhouette of that masked man. He seemed to be sitting, holding a kunai in his hands, twirling it idly.

"Well, I think we’ve finished the bulk of the work. With the little gift I just gave you… we should be able to move on to the next part."

His voice was as dark as ever, though you were starting to grow accustomed to it, even if it still sent chills down your spine.

"Now… the signal."

Your body still refused to move, no words would come out of your mouth, and your eyes remained wide open, fixed on him.

"Everything we’ve prepared up until now will take effect starting from this exact moment."

He stopped playing with the weapon in his hand, stabbing it into the ground. Straightening up, the man leaned closer to bring his face— or rather, his mask— nearer to yours. All you could see was a massive spiral. It felt as though your head had begun to spin, and the black hole on the side of the mask was pulling you in.

"The last ………. where ……. abandon everything ……. "

Parts of the sentence seemed to disappear. Or had his voice simply turned into a whisper on certain words? He paused briefly, his laughter resurfacing, but this time, the sound reaching your ears seemed tortured, distorted.

"It is then …… left ..... "

The last words, too, failed to reach your ears. Or perhaps you just couldn’t make them out. The feeling of unease grew stronger as his mask seemed to shift, consuming your entire field of vision until everything went completely black.

♡ Tag List : @strflp @sayumiht

[songbirdseung]

puppy nanny / park sunghoon ☆

synopsis: with his busy life, he hired a dogsitter for his baby gaeul.

pairing: idol!sunghoon × dogsitter!yn

His days blur into a whirlwind of rehearsals, interviews, and performances, leaving little room for the simple joys of companionship. Yet, nestled within the chaos of his existence and career is a precious soul that demands his attention—a spul wrapped in white fur and filled with boundless love. Gaeul, his beloved pet.

Sunghoon knelt beside Gaeul, her soft fur warm against his fingertips as he gazed into her trusting eyes. The exhaustion of another long day lingered in the lines of his face. "I'm sorry," he murmured, " I know, I haven't been there for you as much as I should. It's just that things have been so hectic lately... and I've been pulled in so many directions."

My little baby titled her head as if understanding the weight of his words, her eyes filled with a silent understanding that tugged at his heart. "But I promise, things will be different from now on." Sunghoon continued, his voice tinged with determination. "You deserve to have someone here with you. Someone who can give you the attention and love you need. I'm going to find you a nanny. Someone who will care for you just like I do."

—

Sunghoon sat alone in the dimly lit studio, the hum of silence punctuated only by the soft click of his phone unlocking. With a heavy sigh, he opened his contacts list, fingers hovering over the screen as he contemplated his next move.

"Hey, Sunghoon," Jungwon's voice broke through the quiet, his presence a welcome interruption to the solitude that threatened to consume him. "What are you up to?"

Sunghoon glanced up, a weary smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he motioned for Jungwon to join him. "Just trying to find someone to take care of Gaeul while I'm away," he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation.

Jungwon nodded in understanding, settling into the seat beside him with an easy familiarity. "Actually, I might have someone in mind," he said, his tone casual yet tinged with excitement. "A friend of mine, Y/N. She's incredible with dogs—trust me, she has taken care of maeumi before."

Sunghoon's interest piqued at the mention of Y/N's name, his curiosity sparked by Jungwon's endorsement. "Really? Tell me more about her," he urged, his gaze fixed on his friend as he awaited further explanation.

Jungwon grinned, reaching for his own phone as he pulled up Y/N's profile with practiced ease. "Here, take a look," he said, passing the device to Sunghoon as he eagerly awaited his reaction.

Sunghoon's eyes scanned the screen, his interest piqued by the image of Y/N smiling brightly amidst a backdrop of lush greenery. As he read through her profile, a sense of warmth spread through his chest, a flicker of hope igniting within him at the prospect of finding the perfect caregiver for Gaeul.

—

Sunghoon stared at his phone, the soft glow of the screen casting shadows across his face as he hesitated, fingers hovering over the keys.

Sunghoon: Hi, this is Sunghoon. I got your contact from Jungwon. He mentioned that you might be able to help me with something important.

For what felt like an eternity, the silence of the room enveloped him, the seconds ticking by with agonizing slowness. And then, just as doubt began to creep in, his phone lit up with a new message, a beacon of hope amidst the darkness.

Y/N: Hi Sunghoon! Nice to meet you. Jungwon told me about Gaeul and how you're looking for someone to take care of her. I'd be happy to help!

Sunghoon's lips curved into a relieved smile at Y/N's response, a sense of gratitude flooding through him at her willingness to lend a hand. With renewed determination, he typed out his reply, his fingers dancing across the screen with newfound purpose.

Sunghoon: Thank you so much, Y/N. Would you be available to meet and discuss the details sometime soon?

As he hit send, Sunghoon felt a flutter of anticipation in his chest, his thoughts consumed by the possibility of finally finding the perfect caregiver for his beloved companion. And as he awaited Y/N's response, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty that had plagued him for so long.

Y/N: Absolutely! I'd love to meet Gaeul and discuss how I can help. When would be a good time for you?

—

The air hummed with anticipation as Sunghoon stood outside the quaint café, his pulse quickening with each passing moment. He glanced at his watch, the hands ticking closer to the appointed time, his heart racing with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

And then, as if on cue, he spotted her—a figure approaching from the bustling streets, her presence a beacon of warmth amidst the chaos of the city. Y/N's smile lit up her face as she caught sight of him, her steps quickening with each stride as she closed the distance between them.

"Sunghoon?" she called out, her voice a melodic cadence that sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine.

"Y/N," he breathed, his own smile widening as he stepped forward to greet her, the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders at the sight of her.

Their meeting was a blur of introductions and laughter, the hours slipping away in a haze of easy conversation and shared moments. And as they lingered outside the café, the promise of friendship hanging in the air, Sunghoon couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over him—a feeling that perhaps, amidst the chaos of his busy life, he had found a kindred spirit in Y/N.

But it was when they finally made their way back to Sunghoon's apartment that the true magic began to unfold. As they stepped through the door, Gaeul's excited barks filled the air, her tail wagging furiously as she bounded towards them with unbridled enthusiasm.

Sunghoon's heart swelled with pride as he watched Gaeul greet Y/N with a fervor he had never seen before, her eyes alight with joy as she nuzzled against Y/N's hand with unabashed affection. It was a sight that filled him with wonder—a testament to the special connection that had formed between them in such a short time.

"I can't believe it," Sunghoon murmured, his voice tinged with awe as he watched the scene unfold before him. "She's never warmed up to anyone this quickly before."

Y/N grinned, her eyes sparkling with delight as she reached out to stroke Gaeul's fur, her touch gentle yet filled with an undeniable sense of warmth. "She's a special one, that's for sure," she said, her voice soft with affection. "But I think she knows that she's found a friend in me."

— A month later —

As Sunghoon stepped through the door of his apartment, the familiar scent of home enveloped him in a warm embrace. It had been a long month filled with grueling schedules and endless performances, but as he crossed the threshold into the sanctuary of his own space, a sense of peace settled over him like a comforting blanket.

Yet, it was the sight that greeted him in the living room that truly took his breath away—a scene so tender and intimate that Sunghoon felt as if he were intruding upon something sacred.

There, bathed in the soft glow of the evening light, Y/N sat on the floor with Gaeul nestled in her lap, her fingers gently combing through the dog's fur as she whispered soothing words of comfort. Gaeul's eyes were closed in bliss, her tail wagging lazily against the carpet as she basked in the warmth of Y/N's affection.

Sunghoon's heart swelled with emotion as he watched the scene unfold before him, a rush of tenderness flooding through him at the sight of Y/N's gentle care for Gaeul. In that moment, something shifted within him—a realization so profound that it took his breath away.

For the first time, Sunghoon saw Y/N not just as Gaeul's nanny, but as a kindred spirit—a soul whose compassion and warmth resonated with his own. And as he stood there, silently observing the sweet moment between Y/N and Gaeul, he couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over him—a feeling that perhaps, amidst the chaos of his busy life, he had found something truly precious in the form of Y/N's presence.

"Sunghoon," Y/N's voice broke through the quiet of the room, her eyes meeting his with a warmth that mirrored his own. "I didn't hear you come in. How was your day?"

"It's just... sometimes it feels like I'm drowning," Sunghoon admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation. "Like no matter how hard I try, I can never seem to catch my breath. And I'm scared, Y/N. Scared that if I keep going like this, I'll lose myself completely."

Y/N listened intently, her heart aching for the pain she saw etched in Sunghoon's eyes. She reached out to gently cup his face in her hands, her touch a gesture of comfort and understanding that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

"You're not alone, Sunghoon," she whispered, her voice filled with an unwavering resolve. "I'm here for you, every step of the way."

—

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