#and I need to add thoughts n reflections

[retrosabers]

𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐝.

FICMAS DAY 5 - UNWRAPPING

A RETROSABERS X PANDAPETALS DOUBLE FEATURE

old man logan x fem!reader

summary: logan didn’t believe in exchanging christmas presents. so, you offer him something you know he can’t refuse. a night where’s he’s free to have you all to himself.

contains: 18+ content below the cut. MINORS DNI. making out, some dry humping if you squint, oral (fem receiving), implied age gap, a dash of angst, swearing

word count: 2.6k

a/n: you thought i’d let a whole season pass without a little taste of some festive smut? absolutely hilarious. this is my first time writing for old man logan, and i think i did pretty alright considering i have yet to watch the movie (i’m terrified of the pain it will bring)

any feedback is always greatly appreciated!

also, don’t be confused by the fact that this says day 5 when i still haven’t posted day 4, i’m writing these bad boys out of order

and finally, a huge shoutout & thanks to the wildly talented @pandapetals for agreeing to do a little collaboration! please go check out her blog and all of her amazing work! <3

FIND HER PART HERE

!! divider by @estrelinha-s !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

“are you sure your eyes are closed?”

logan grunts. “they’re closed, darlin’. promise.”

he’s been sitting here for almost fifteen minutes now, waiting for you to bring out this so-called “surprise.” from the ambient lighting and freshly washed bed sheets, the man thinks he’s got a general idea of what it is, but you’ve been fiddling in the bathroom too long for him to be certain.

still, he appeases you, and waits patiently at the foot of your bed. even if it’s a little bit uncomfortable on his knees.

meanwhile you’re fussing over every little detail of your appearance in the groggy bathroom mirror.

this was your solution to getting around logan’s “i don’t need anything for christmas” rule. you always begrudgingly abided by it, save for the box of cigars that always mysteriously turnt up in his nightstand on christmas eve. you knew he could never turn it down, no matter how much he tried.

logan could never say no to a smoke break with a nice pack of cubans. and he most certainly couldn’t say no to you.

that's how you decided upon this whole scheme. dolling yourself up and donning a new set of lingerie themed to the occasion, knowing logan had no leg to stand on. because technically, you didn’t buy anything for him. you bought this for you. he just so happened to be the person who was going to help take it off.

or rip it off, knowing your man’s track record of impatience and eagerness.

you share the exact same sentiment, though your tendency to be anile overpowers all else. you know it doesn’t matter if you have a hair or two out of place, or if your lips are slightly over lined. perfection never mattered to logan, but it still didn’t stop you from doing everything in your power to be pretty damn close to it tonight.

even if it meant making him wait a few extra minutes.

you pay your reflection one final glance before sauntering out into the bedroom.

he smells you before he hears you.

your scent wafting into the room captures his attention more than anything else. logan’s senses may not be as keen as they once were, but the fragrance of you was something utterly unmistakable. a sweet yet sultry aroma that he ached to have on his skin, his clothes, anywhere, to keep him grounded. to remind himself that you were real and you were his. it only adds to the anticipation building inside, the mere seconds he has to wait dragging on like hours in his mind.

a wave of lust overtakes you as logan comes into view. somehow just the sight of him is enough to send a bout of arousal down to your core.

that crisp white dress shirt he always wears is unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up to reveal those chiseled forearms you love to have wrapped around you. the soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table illuminates the weathered curves of his face so beautifully. a contrast to the ruggedness of his position; legs lazily spread wide and long, thick fingers tapping mindlessly against his thigh.

the picture of a real man. and he’s all yours for the taking.

the sound of your footsteps padding against the floor grows louder. obediently, logan’s eyes stay shut, despite the fact that the other aroma you carry is hot and heavy in his nostrils. his upper lip twitches with a knowing smirk.

so this is exactly what he had in mind.

on instinct, his thighs spread even further when he senses your approach, hands itching to find their place on you somehow. when your own stay glued to your sides, he takes that as his cue to do the same.

logan really hates to admit it, but there’s something about this little bit of mystery that’s got him going before you’ve even begun.

“you ready?” your voice comes out breathy, and if logan didn’t know any better he’d think you’re nervous. and truth be told, you were. not that logan wouldn’t get his kicks, you were certain of that. more so that you’d be unable to walk come tomorrow morning.

though neither of you would consider it a bad thing

“yes ma’am,” he grumbles in response, knowing exactly the effect it has on you. the cockiness on his face is inevitable when he hears your breath hitch.

tease. if that’s how he wants to play, you’re in for a long night.

with a quiet sigh, you splay your fingers over the expanse of his broad shoulders. the man takes it as permission, calloused palms wrapping around your calves and not daring to travel any further. he knows he’ll lose any remaining self control if he gets so much as an inch closer to the apex of your thighs.

“okay.” you murmur. “you can open your eyes.”

slowly, those dark irises begin to drink you in. his grip on you tightens as soon as he gets the whole picture, a visible tent forming in his dress slacks almost immediately.

logan thought you were the most beautiful women he’s ever seen under any conditions. didn’t matter if you were sick, if you were bare faced, none of that changed how otherworldly you looked in his eyes. but nothing, and i mean nothing, compared to the sight of you before him right now.

you look like something out of a dream. hair styled in a way that drives him particularly crazy, makeup done to highlight your features so elegantly in the dim light. the best, and quite possibly logan’s favorite part, however, is that your lips are painted a shade of red to perfectly match the ensemble adorning your body. it sparks a slideshow of rather lewd images in his brain, wanting the color scattered across his cheek, his chest, his cock. anywhere you’re willing to brand him.

he’s committed every inch of you to memory by now. countless nights of exploring, mapping out your curves with hand and tongue. and still, everytime he sees you like this, practically offering yourself on a silver platter, he can’t help but stare back as though this is the very first time.

especially when that crimson silk is accentuating your figure so nicely.

“do you like it?” you ask coyly, bottom lip tucked between your teeth like you’re not fully aware of the power you have over him.

logan scoffs out a laugh, dragging his hands higher and higher until they tug at your hips, pulling you to straddle his lap in one swift motion. you squeak at the sudden display of strength, forgetting that despite his age, he was still infinitely stronger than any man you’ve ever met.

even beneath the layers of fabric between you, the sheer size of him was impossible to ignore. fuck, and he wasn’t even fully hard. you bite back a moan at the outline of his length pressed between your legs.

“that answer your question?” he quips back lowly, smirking smugly.

you hum in content, pressing your hands further into his shoulders as you experimentally grind your hips. the pair of you preen at the contact, desperate for any form of relief after being pent up and waiting.

“careful,” logan grits out in warning. “gonna cum in my pants like a fuckin’ teenager if you keep that up.”

you tsk in response, cocking your head with faux concern. “can’t have that, now can we?”

logan shakes his head at your antics, eyes wandering back over your body once more. before tonight, his favorite set of lingerie you owned was a black lacy number. simple and classic. but the more time he spends inspecting what’s currently adorning your frame, the more he thinks that red might be his new favorite color.

something warm spills over him when he glances at your chest again. something different than what he normally experiences every time he catches a glimpse of your cleavage, anyways.

“is that a bow?” he questions, a little bit amused.

you let out a soft giggle, nodding in reply.

“wanted you to be able to unwrap your present.”

you can count the amount of times logan has laughed, really truly laughed, on one hand. and as much as it sounds like music to your ears, you’re rather confused as to why he’s laughing right now.

“what’s so funny?” you huff, brows knit together and bottom lip jutted in a near pout.

logan averts your inquiry, burying his face in your neck so you can’t see him grinning like an idiot. instead, he busies himself with dragging his lips up and down the column of your throat, reveling in the breathy moans spilling from your lips with each and every press against your skin.

from the moment you met logan howlett, you fantasized about that salt and pepper beard. longed to feel the delicious sting of scruff against every part of you. as addicting as it is, the sensation isn’t enough to keep you completely distracted.

“logan,” you whine, titling your head back to grant him more access. “m’serious.”

he doesn’t halt his ministrations, too consumed with making sure your neck is painted every shade of lavender under the sun. he only stops when you rake your fingers in his hair and physically pull him off, much to both your dismays.

you give him a look. that pursed lips, narrow eyed “what aren’t you saying to me” look that signals he’s going to have to fess up to whatever’s on his mind, or else the evening would be coming to an end right here and now. from the way he’s about to burst through the zipper on his dress slacks, you know he’s not considering weighing options.

logan sighs heavily. if you didn’t know all the variations of the sound, you’d think he was upset with you. but that was far from how the older man felt. he begins to examine your face, observing everything from the slopes of your bone structure, to the color of your irises. he studies your features like an artisan in a gallery, content on not missing a single detail.

after a moment, the corners of his mouth turn up a hair. eyes almost dopey; filled with a lovesickness he never thought could be possible.

“you’re somethin’ else, y’know that?” he murmurs into the air, rough fingertips tracing back and forth across your spine.

you speak the language of logan fluently, knowing exactly what the underlying message of his words were. in reality, he was saying, “what did i do in this life to deserve you? will you ever know how much i love you? i hope you’ll be mine for as long as you’ll have me.”

suddenly his round of laughter from before rings brighter in your ears.

instead of saying another word, you guide his face to yours, connecting your lips in a silent understanding.

logan always kisses you like a man starved, devouring you whole as though every kiss may be the last. there was nothing tame, or tender about the man they once called the wolverine, but you managed to slip between the cracks of his stony disposition, and bring forth all the parts of himself he swore he lost decades ago.

your hands encircle around the back of his neck, logan’s squeezing at the flesh of your hips. he pulls you impossibly closer, pressing the swell of your chest against his own. the feeling of your nipples pebbling through velvet fabric reminds him of the true nature of your current situation.

tonight was for him. his pleasure, his enjoyment. he knew you’d be heavily dissatisfied if he didn’t indulge in what you were offering.

and what kind of man would logan be, if he disappointed his sweet girl?

you’re not expecting him to be so gentle when he turns and flips you over, mouth never once leaving yours. a large hand spread across your back as he lowers you down onto the mattress with a care reserved for you and only you. a fact that adds to your current state of arousal. your legs open like second nature, and logan slots himself between them as though that’s where he was always meant to be.

the whine that leaves you when he pulls away would be embarrassing if it weren’t for the hunger in his stare. those normally hazel pupils now a brownish black that overshadowed bright white. he sits back on his haunches, glazing over your pretty little lingerie with a newfound appreciation.

he reaches to toy with the end of the bow tied snugly between your breasts, a teasing invitation that he graciously accepts.

at a tantalizing pace, he begins to unwrap his present, watching with lustful eyes as more and more skin becomes exposed. you arch your back the slightest bit to get the job done faster, the shoe of impatience now snug on your foot instead of his.

normally, logan would scold, spit something about “being a good girl and waiting.” but he’s just as riled up and eager as you are, and he gives the velvet one final tug that has your breasts springing free.

god you were absolute perfection.

he can’t resist running a thumb over your erect nipples, reveling in the way you squirm over such a small touch. your color coated lips swollen and shiny from his kisses. body already relaxed and pliant, willing to do whatever he so pleases.

a few minutes ago, he would’ve torn your outfit off without second thought and shown no mercy. let the shitty week he was having take control, guide him through the motions of achieving pleasure. but something inside logan urges him to be a little sentimental; take his sweet time on the off chance that he wakes up and discovers this was all a dream.

so he decides that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

the path down to your core was a familiar one, a route he knew like the back of his hand. sloppy, wet kisses trail down your stomach, a small crack in logan’s otherwise composed exterior. by the time he reaches the hem of your panties, tongue teasing beneath the waistband, you’re bursting at the seams with desire, unable to stop yourself from whimpering and bucking your hips upward.

“i gotcha honey,” he whispers against the inside of your thigh, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. “m’gonna take real good care of ya.”

logan knew you were soaked the second you walked into the room. didn’t need to see or feel it to know. still, he indulges his ego and stares proudly at the dark patch in the center of your underwear. knowing it was all his doing, that he was the only one who could get you like this.

when he pulls the fabric to the side and is met with your glistening folds, he can’t help the groan that rumbles in his chest.

“merry fuckin’ christmas to me,” he all but growls before diving right in.

it’s in moments like these where he wishes that photographic memory was his mutation, though he doubts he’ll ever forget this. his perfect girl, laid out so delicately beneath him, basking in the pale moonlight that seeped in between the curtains. his own personal utopia, paradise within the four walls of this rickety building you called home.

logan wonders if maybe he’s finally succumbed to the poison in his bones. because this sure does feel like heaven.

at the very least, it most definitely feels like christmas.

because having the privilege of watching you come undone was the gift that kept on giving all year round.

thanks for reading! <3

taglist: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals @hextech-bros

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

[kxsagi]

may I ask for blue lock characters headcanons on how they would propose to the reader if they have been together for more than 5 years? you can add anyone you like but this is for my one and only glorious supreme king isagi yoichi.

THANK YOU

“𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧”

a/n: i might like writing proposals more than fluff (i also have an isagi proposal fic i wrote here and i still love it sm)

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, bachira meguru, kaiser michael, mikage reo, nagi seishiro

isagi yoichi

he’s been thinking about it for months. writing drafts in his notes app. texting rin for help and getting roasted. pacing the training room during breaks muttering, “what if she says no?” even though you’ve been his person for five whole years. 

when he finally does it, it’s quiet. domestic. intimate. just you and him on a sunday morning. he makes you breakfast with heart-shaped pancakes (they’re wonky, but endearing), and insists you stay in bed. when he brings the tray over, there’s a little folded napkin next to your juice. you open it and it reads: “marry me?” in his handwriting, complete with a nervous smiley face. 

you look up and he’s on one knee holding a ring with trembling hands, eyes glassy, voice cracking when he says, “i want to be with you forever. through every win, every loss. just… us.” 

he fumbles the ring, panics, catches it mid-air. cries when you say yes. you end up lying on the floor laughing with him, tangled in blankets and feelings. 

won’t shut up about how he bagged the love of his life. reposts his own engagement post three times. 

itoshi rin

takes 7 business days to say “i love you,” so proposing is the olympics of stress for him. 

he keeps the ring in his pocket for weeks. but every time he tries to do it, something throws him off. you burp mid-dinner. you wear his hoodie. you beat him at mario kart. it’s too much. he short circuits. 

finally proposes when you’re brushing your teeth together at night, and he’s looking at your face in the mirror like, this is it. this is what peace feels like. 

mutters, “marry me,” like he’s asking if you want takeout. then freezes. stares at your reflection. 

when you ask, “wait, for real?” he just nods and pulls out the ring from his hoodie pocket. he’s literally shaking. 

later pretends he had a whole speech of “i know i’m not good with words. but being with you makes life feel… less heavy. you make things better. you make me better. so please stay with me. forever,” but forgot it. he did not say that. he ended up saying: “u cool. marry me.” 

itoshi sae

it takes him years to admit he wants to marry you. not because he doubts it (he's known since day two), but because he's scared. terrified, even. of needing someone that deeply. of showing that part of himself. 

he doesn’t want something loud or flashy. instead, he books a quiet trip to a secluded coastal town in spain. it’s the off-season, the weather's breezy, and you spend the whole day exploring sleepy streets, eating gelato, watching the boats drift lazily in the harbor. 

at the end of the day, he takes you to a rocky overlook at sunset. the water’s glowing. the sky is all peach and gold. 

and then he hands you a little notebook. every page is dated. he’s been writing you letters for five years. 

entries from after matches, on planes, in hotel rooms. thoughts he never said out loud. memories. fears. the way his chest tightens every time he looks at you. how your laugh sounds when you’re brushing your teeth. how the world softens when you're near. 

the final page just says: “i don’t want to be brilliant without you. will you marry me?” 

you look up and he’s already kneeling, lips pressed into a line like he’s holding back a million emotions. 

“i know i’m difficult. i know i get quiet. but you’re the one thing i’m sure of. please say yes.” 

and when you do, his hands shake. his breath catches. he presses his forehead to yours, and for the first time in a long time, sae itoshi lets himself cry. 

you whisper something like “i love you, dummy,” and he laughs softly, the kind of laugh he saves just for you. 

he doesn’t post it. doesn’t tell the world. 

but at the next press conference, a reporter asks about the ring “so pretty it makes influencers cry” spotted on your finger by fans inspecting recent paparazzi pics of you. 

he just smirks and says, “guess i won something better than a trophy.” 

bachira meguru

his proposal is a chaotic masterpiece. it starts with you waking up to a crayon-drawn treasure map taped to your forehead. yes. your forehead. 

he’s turned your entire city into a love quest, each stop filled with inside jokes, goofy gifts, and memories from your relationship: your favorite boba place (the cashier gives you a note), the alley you once slow-danced in (there’s a heart chalk drawing), the bench where you first kissed (a polaroid taped under it). 

the final clue brings you to the soccer field where he first told you he loved you. it’s covered in fairy lights and handmade decorations (and probably a few fire hazards). he’s waiting at the center in a suit covered in paint splatters because “i wanted to look fancy and like me.” 

he runs up to you with a goofy grin, gets down on one knee, and says: “you’ve always been my favorite teammate. wanna play life together?” 

you say yes and he tackles you into the grass. you're both crying and laughing and covered in glitter somehow. he puts the ring on your toe as a joke first. classic bachira. 

kaiser michael

obnoxiously extravagant. skywriting? rented out a soccer stadium? flash mob in berlin? absolutely. 

but here's the twist: he plays it down. tells you you’re going to a “boring sponsor event.” 

when you get there, it’s pitch black… then boom. lights, camera, roses in the shape of your name, string quartet playing a romantic song, and kaiser walking toward you in a tux. 

"everyone knows i’m great. but being with you? that’s the only thing that ever made me better." 

drops to one knee like he’s on the cover of GQ proposals edition. the ring is a custom design with your birthstone and an engraving that says “you win. i surrender.” 

when you say yes, he kisses you so obnoxiously dramatically that the quartet messes up their notes. 

later posts a selfie of you two mid-kiss with the caption “#ringed 💍 #shewonfr.” comments on his own post: “undefeated.” 

mikage reo

reo has had the ring for eight months. he’s shown it to nagi. to his driver. to the chef. to his tailor. hell, he’s almost asked you during brunch three different times but chickened out because “no, it has to be perfect. 

so, he builds perfect. 

he rents out an entire rooftop in tokyo, overlooking the skyline where you both made so many memories together. he has a custom-built garden placed on the deck with flowers flown in from your childhood town. your favorite piano music plays softly in the background, courtesy of a live quartet. the air smells like your favorite scent. 

there’s no crowd, no press, no flashy headlines, just you and him, dressed in your finest, alone at a candlelit table under the stars. 

after dinner, he leads you through a string-lit walkway where framed photos from your relationship hang like a timeline: your first trip. your first christmas. your matching sweaters disaster. the moment he realized you were it. 

at the end, he stops, takes both your hands, and says with a nervous, reverent breath: “i’ve had access to everything: money, power, comfort. but nothing ever came close to what it felt like holding your hand for the first time.” 

he kneels. his voice wavers, but his heart doesn’t. “i don’t want a future if you’re not in it. will you marry me?” 

your “yes” comes with tears, kisses, and a full dip spin because reo is dramatic and romantic and very in love. 

later, when he twirls you around to slow music, he whispers: “you made me believe in forever.” 

(he doesn't even post it on social media. the moment is too sacred. but nagi leaks it by accident with a story captioned “finally. he shut up about it.”) 

nagi seishiro

nagi never liked effort. until you. and for the first time in his life, he wants to try. for you. 

he doesn’t propose with a big event or a plan that reo drafted. instead, it happens on a normal day, a slow, rainy morning where you're both wrapped in blankets, watching old anime on the couch. 

you’re sitting on his lap. he's playing with your fingers, tracing your knuckles with soft, sleepy circles. 

out of nowhere, he mumbles, “you ever think about marriage?” 

you blink. “uh… yeah?” 

he nods like it’s no big deal. “cool. wanna marry me then?” 

you pause. “wait… what?” 

he stretches, yawns, then digs into the hoodie he’s been wearing for three days and pulls out a velvet ring box like it’s nothing. like he didn’t practice this moment in front of the mirror at 3 AM while trying not to wake you. 

“got a ring and everything. it’s comfy. like you.” 

you’re crying and laughing and he just stares at you with those tired eyes that hide galaxies of devotion. “been with you so long it’s hard to imagine not being yours. don’t wanna try, honestly.” 

when you whisper yes, he finally smiles. a sleepy, bashful smile as he slips the ring on your finger. 

he kisses your cheek and hums, “cool… now i don’t have to stress about it anymore. let’s nap.” 

(he later uses the story to brag to reo: “took me five minutes. still beat you.”) 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[bvidzsoo]

A world in your colours

𐀔 Cherry Blossom, March Event 𐀔

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Daycare teacher!Kang Yeosang x Florist!reader

𐀔 Warning: none 𐀔 Word count: 6.2k 𐀔 Rating: sfw 𐀔 Genre: fluff, soulmates: you see all the colours for the first time when you meet your soulmate, strangers to lovers, fated together 𐀔 Summary: A world through the faint hues of your soulmate's eye colour isn't the most colourful life to live. Approaching twenty-five and still being unable to see all the colours the world has to offer has you worried that you'll never meet your soulmate. Doubts and questions riddle your mind day and night, but at least you have the one thing that makes you happy no matter what, your little flowers. You can't actually see their colours, but you can imagine their vibrancy. And then, one day when you're making a bouquet for a lovely man, your whole world gets covered in an overwhelming amount of colour, rendering you stunned.

A/N: Here it is, our lovely Yeosang's drabble. I love this guy and I love this little fluffy story, man, I was smiling so widely while writing these two, they are so endearing. Despite writing a florist!au...I cannot take care of my plants for the life of me, even though I really love them...especially pretty little flowers, but oh, well, I'll have to get better at taking care of them once I move out...I hope you enjoy this drabble and let me know what you thought of it, your feedback is much appreciated! Enjoy! ^^ divider @cromernet

𐀔 Join the taglist here! 𐀔

Taglist: @thecarnivaloflies @faeriehwa @mingiatz @kang-ulzzang @xylatox

@mintchocolatto @mintsugarr93 @solaris-amethyst @foxinnie8 @marvolos

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@my-atiny-kookie-rkive @wooyouz @cosmicrecs

            Colour, as defined by everyone’s best friend, Wikipedia, is the visual perception based on the electromagnetic spectrum. Although colour is not a fundamental attribute of matter itself, the way we perceive it is intricately tied to how an object absorbs, reflects, and emits light, as well as the subtle play of interference within those light waves. That was another sentence you had long ago read on the internet, and it stuck with you. Your peers have always considered you a bit strange for your obsession with colours, but then again, in a world that was painted mostly grey with hues of brown, amber, and copper, you couldn’t help but obsess over it. It wasn’t by choice that you couldn’t see all colours…if it were up to you, you’d coat your whole life in nothing but a mess of bright and light pastels. You sighed at the reoccurring thought as you walked over to another plastic vase to grab a purple Lily to add to the bouquet. You double-checked the label before grabbing it, though; you didn’t need another embarrassing incident today.

The sole reason as to why you couldn’t see colours yet was because you hadn’t met your soulmate yet. In a way, it was something you were glad for because you’d know for sure who your soulmate was. You’ve read stories written by famous novelists who fantasized about a world where your soulmate's first words directed at you would be inked into your skin, and you wondered whether that felt as magical as the author made it seem. What if five different people said the same exact words to you that were on your wrist? What then? How would you decide which was your soulmate? You didn’t like thinking about that, though, content with the reality of your world. Sure, it was a bit depressing and quite literally grey, but it also brought a sense of excitement and anticipation with it. Whenever you allowed yourself to fantasize about the moment when you’d meet your soulmate, your cheeks would burn hot, and your heart would race. You’d close your eyes and try to imagine all the vibrant colours that suddenly coloured your surroundings.

You figured it would feel overwhelming at first, making you sentimental or sending you into a panicked sobbing. You thought it would blind you and make you feel nauseous as all the colours would be suddenly as vivid as an explosion in the distance that was now right under your nose. You thought you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself anymore, that you’d need a second to piece your thoughts back together, to make sense of the situation, to tell yourself that everything was okay. That’s how you imagined you’d react, but you were always a person full of surprises, even to yourself. Besides, diving too deep into this topic always leaves you with a sour aftertaste. You were twenty-five, and your world was still gloomy, devoid of the warmth and brightness everyone around you gushed about. It wasn’t unusual to be still single by twenty-five, but most people have found their soulmates back in high school. Your parents, for example, were even luckier than that and met in middle school; their worlds suddenly filled with all colours. You were jealous of them, but you also admired them profoundly.

Their love was deep and unlike anything you’d seen before. Their respect for each other went even deeper than their love, kindness and devotion, just a few sentiments that could be added to their plate when cherishing one another. You wished for a gentle love like theirs, for quiet moments where no words had to be uttered to be understood, for genuine kindness and laughter that filled the longing in your chest. You smiled at your customer as you tied her bouquet together, getting an excited grin back in return.

“Oh, this is gorgeous!” She exclaimed as you grabbed a little butterfly sticker, searching for the perfect leaf to press onto, “My little one will love this!”

You were happy that the mother was excited; seeing your clients excited and happy over the flowers you loved so much always filled your chest with warmth. You imagined being with your soulmate felt like that, too. You handed the bouquet over to the woman once you were done with it, accepting her card when she said she had no cash.

“I’ve never seen anyone combine these colours so beautifully before,” The woman mused to herself as her eyes took in the plethora of flowers, a mixture of white, yellow, pink and even a little bit of purple in there, “You’ve got an artistic eye for it.”

You felt proud at the praise as you handed the card back, grinning at the lady as you bowed your head in gratitude, “That’s a lovely compliment, thank you so much!”

You didn’t have the heart to tell the lady that you had no idea what the flowers looked like in colour, whether the pink bow you’d tied to keep the bouquet together matched with the flowers you had chosen. The lady left soon after as she was in a rush, and you sighed, looking around the flower shop. You could tell the walls were a lighter orange, the shades a dark brown and probably your soulmate’s exact eye colour since the colour was so rich in hue. You’ve always wondered if the other colours were just as beautiful as the ones you could lightly see from time to time—or more pronounced if they were the same colour as your soulmate’s eyes—and your conclusion had always been that, yes, no matter what nuance or hue, all of it was just as gorgeous.

You thought of colours as you thought of flowers, special and unique in their ways, distinguishable and rather easy to remember once you learned their properties. Flowers have been your escape since a young age when your preschool teacher tasked you with growing little beans, encouraging you to name them and speak to them daily. After that, you had asked your parents whether you could try and cultivate your little garden in your room, and once they’ve given you the go, you had never turned back. The flower shop that you were working at wasn’t yours just yet, but its owner—a lovely middle-aged woman—was considering passing it on to you once she had grown old and tired of her business. You’d gladly take over it as you had no big plans for your future. You were content living in the place you had been born, surrounded by friends and family. You realised you were luckier than most that you could live a comfortable and fulfilled life, and that’s why you always made sure to give back to your community, even if it was something little.

You were just about to walk over to the vase with sunflowers when the doorbell chimed, signalling a new customer. You plastered a small smile to your lips and straightened your back, welcoming the man who had decided to walk inside your store, “Hello, how may I help you?”

“Hi, uhm, it’s my mother’s birthday today.” The man spoke, surprising you with his deep voice. His features were soft and relaxed; it was an unexpected juxtaposition, “Her favourite flowers are Magnolias; do you have any of that?”

You nodded your head, walking over to the vase placed right by the entrance. They were fresh as they had come in just today, so they were gorgeous as they were in bloom, “Silk Magnolias are mostly used for bridal bouquets, but I can make you a simpler one if you want me to.”

“I’d love that, please.” The man said as you two looked at each other, and for some unexplainable reason, your heart skipped a beat. You averted your eyes shily and crouched down to grab three Magnolias, your long skirt brushing past your ankles.

“They go well with Gardenias; would you like me to add some of those too?” You stood back up, realising that since the bouquet would be all white, you could add a deep red coloured ribbon to it, or perhaps even a soft pink one. The challenge, however, would be to find the right nuances since your coworker messed up some of the colours after her shift. You’d be embarrassed to ask the man for a little guidance, and that would be also you assuming that he had found his soulmate already, which would be a bit rude as you didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. Due to you being unable to see all colours, everything inside the store was labelled with little post-it notes, bold letters stating the colour of the flowers. With that also came the shelf behind the front counter always being organised after a system that you had already memorised, no need to read the labels anymore. All ribbons and coloured foils were placed in their designated spot so that you’d know which one was which colour, but your coworker had mixed up the black and blue ones, resulting in you embarrassing yourself not even half an hour ago when a customer asked for blue ribbons and you had given them black ones. You quickly fixed your mistake, and the man wasn’t even upset, but your cheeks still burned with shame as now the man knew you still hadn’t met your destined partner.

“Uh, if you think it’ll be pretty, sure.” The man said, walking to the counter as you went behind it to organise the bouquet for him, “May I ask…what colour it’ll be?”

You froze for a second before you hummed, going over to the Gardenias to grab two of them, “White, if that’s alright.”

The man nodded eagerly, letting his green briefcase rest on the counter where it didn’t invade your space, “That’ll be perfect, my mother loves the colour white.”

You smiled as you glanced up at the man, and somehow it seemed as if the sunrays shining through the window were brighter, creating a white haze around him. He looked really pretty with his curly hair falling over his forehead, curling around his cheekbones, and you noted its copper hue with slight admiration. Afraid you were starting to stare, you lowered your eyes and started working on the man’s bouquet. You first made sure all the flowers were fresh and in perfect shape, undamaged by transport, and then cut into the ends a bit. Then you held the Magnolias together, arranging the Gardenias in between and adding a few dark green weeds for a better aesthetic. The handle of the tape was almost black, and you found yourself humming a melody as you taped the flowers together just until you’d tied the ribbon around it. You pulled the bouquet away from your face and felt the customer’s eyes on your face, almost insistent, but you kept working with a small smile on your face, catching a glance at your bright orange nails. You remembered your mother saying that colour might be a bit too bright, but since you couldn’t see it well as it was dulled to your eyes, you decided to still go for it. It was fun, after all.

You turned then and looked at the shelf behind you, tilting your head in wonder. There was the blue ribbon that had embarrassed you earlier, small white dots decorating the fabric, and you found it cute how the pastel colours blended nicely together. You glossed over the black and blue ribbons, they wouldn’t make the white pop right now. You needed something intense and eye-catching—like the burgundy fabric that would look gorgeous in contrast with the white flowers! You grinned triumphantly and grabbed it off the shelf, turning around to tie it tightly around the bouquet, making sure the flowers didn’t move while you worked on making the perfect bow, not too small nor too big. Your chest felt warm, and you were aware of your cheeks burning, but you couldn’t decide whether it had gotten warmer inside the shop or if it was the man’s eyes following your every move that made you feel shy. Nonetheless, you smiled brightly as you raised the bouquet and extended it towards the man. His eyes were slightly wide as they frantically searched your face, and you felt a little disheartened as you couldn’t decipher what his reaction meant. Was your bouquet really that gorgeous, or did he perhaps not like it and wasn’t sure how to voice his thoughts?

“Oh,” You muttered, eyebrows slightly raised as you glanced at the man’s burgundy red hair and then at the ribbon, “The ribbon matches your hair! What a coincidence…”

Your smile froze on your face, your heart stilling in your chest. The ribbon matches your hair, kept repeating in your head like a distant echo as your fingers slightly trembled, your eyes running all over the man in a panic. He was taller than you, a bit buff underneath his dark green suit, tailored to fit his body prettily. His necktie was a light orange, a lighter shade that still matched his beautifully dyed hair, his lips a cherry red much like the small heart-shaped discolouration on his left temple. Your breath stuttered in your chest as your hands fell to the counter, mindful of the bouquet in your hands still.

“You’re…”

“I am.” The man sounded just as winded as you did, a huff of disbelief leaving his mouth, “Your socks are so bright, they match your nail colour.”

Your bottom lip trembled as you laughed, looking down at your socks that peeked out from underneath your skirt. They were bright, really bright actually, a neon colour worse than your nails. You had no idea you even owned them, and you wondered why your mother had never said anything about them.

“The bouquet will be 15€.” You said as you typed the amount into the cash register, and the man nodded, opening his dark green briefcase.

“Right, thank you so much.” The man said, fumbling with his wallet as he opened it, pressing the crumpled-up money on the counter. He reached out for the bouquet but hesitated slightly, and you averted your eyes as your fingers brushed together. You had a feeling it wasn’t by accident, given that the man’s cheeks also flushed pink, eyes abashed, “My mother will love it.”

“Happy birthday to your mother.” You found yourself saying as the man pressed his wallet into the small pocket of his suit jacket, briefcase in his firm grip. You didn’t want him to leave, not yet, but you couldn’t keep him here all day…it was his mother’s birthday, after all.

“I’ll come by tomorrow, same time as today. When does your shift end?” Your heart skipped a beat as the man stumbled into the open front door as he was walking backwards, his eyes not leaving you for one second. You chuckled and bit your bottom lip, playing with the money in your hands.

“I have the morning shift; I’ll be ready to go by the time you make it here.” The man’s lips pulled into a wide smile, lighting his whole face up. He looked gorgeous, and you felt breathless as you watched him wave at you and almost get stuck on the door handle, his cheeks flushing pink again as he finally left the store with haste. He glanced back inside through the huge window, and you told yourself to hold it together until you couldn’t see him anymore, and then came the squeals you could barely contain in front of him, your heart racing a mile. You had to take a seat and press your forehead against the cool counter, and even that didn’t help the warmth from spreading throughout your body as if winter was finally over and the first spring sun was here to warm you up from the inside out. That man was your soulmate. Your fingers trembled as you raised your head, blinking hard.

The world was so…different. Everything had colour, absolutely everything, and you didn’t know how to react to it all. The counter, which you thought was a light green or blue, was actually a cute beige colour, the stickers stuck to it a whirlwind of bright colours. You traced them before looking back up, eyes taking in all the beautiful flowers. You couldn’t believe that you could see the yellowness of the Sunflowers, a little taken back that they looked mustard coloured…or was that right? You hadn’t seen mustard yet, so you couldn’t tell; you’d have to test your theory out once you got home. The Lilies, the purple ones, left you in awe of their beauty, and you couldn’t help but walk over to the blue Orchids and trace their petals with a fond smile. You wondered who the man was as you looked out the window dreamily, your heart racing in your chest uncontrollably. He was a gorgeous person, and he also seemed kind; you couldn’t wish for tomorrow to come faster. You giggled to yourself and hurried back behind the counter, hands shaking as you dialled your boss in your excitement, too eager to tell her that you could see all the colour around you now.

            Your hands trembled as you clocked out, locking eyes with your grinning co-worker. She was a bouncing ball of nerves, even more excited than you over the fact that your soulmate was supposed to show up any time now. You chewed on your bottom lip and smoothed down your kaki long skirt, your black blouse thin so you had to cover up due to the morning chill. Your warm and long coat was a bright orange, and on your way home yesterday, you had realised that orange was slowly becoming your favourite colour. Judging based on your wardrobe, littered in colours you had no idea even existed, you had concluded that even unknowingly, your world had always been infused with colours. Your mother cried, and your father jumped around in happiness when you told them about this new development, right while having dinner, accidentally slipping up by saying sunflowers were definitely not mustard coloured. You had wanted to tell them in a cosier setting, perhaps in a cuter way too, but what was done was done. Your mother then made you call your grandmother, who was groggy since she was getting ready for bed, but the soft smile on her lips told you that she was just as happy for you as your parents, co-worker, and boss.

“What was your first impression of him?” Your co-worker smiled brightly at you, fiddling with a ribbon she had difficulty tying around the thick bouquet.

“He’s just…he seems very sweet and caring.” You heard yourself saying, chewing on your bottom lip as your eyes were glued to the huge window. He was supposed to be here a few minutes ago, but then again, he hadn’t specified an exact time when he’d stop by, “His features are really delicate, but he looks manly still. I love his hair, though; it’s so rich in colour.”

“What colour is it?” Your co-worker followed up with her question quickly, too invested to pay any attention to the bouquet she was supposed to finish in five minutes.

“Burgundy, and he has a matching—” You gasped, eyes widening as the man was here. He wore a tailored suit again, a beaver brown—you’d stayed up until a very late hour last night, researching colours and hues, shades and tones, trying to memorise them all in your rush of excitement—and his tie was a darker orange. Your heart was racing furiously as it felt impossible to look away; your eyes met when the man arrived by the door. His eyes were wide, and his cheeks slightly flushed a light pink colour, and you took a deep breath before you turned to wave at your co-worker. She looked stunned, eyes frozen on the man before her grin spread wider, ushering you out the shop with a squeal. It was embarrassing, but you were more preoccupied with walking straight without having your knees give out as you watched the man open the door for you.

“Thank you.” You lowered your eyes as he hummed, stepping aside to make space for you, “Hi…uhm, it’s lovely seeing you again?”

You wanted to facepalm yourself for making it sound like a question, but the man didn’t seem bothered as he chuckled, ducking his head. His suit jacket was nicely folded over his arm, his white shirt clinging to his body. It had gotten significantly warmer by noon, but you were someone who easily got cold, so you didn’t take your coat off.

“Hi, it’s really nice seeing you, yeah.” Then, the man cleared his throat and looked up with more confidence on his face, “I didn’t introduce myself yesterday. I was honestly too stunned to function properly. My name is Kang Yeosang.”

You extended your hand to shake Yeosang’s hand, your soulmate, and blushed when your skin made contact with his. His palm was bigger than yours, and his skin was really soft, but his grip was confident and strong without hurting you. You told him your name, and his eyes sparkled under the bright sunlight, and you felt yourself unable to look away. Yeosang was gorgeous; seldom did you see a man like him. It felt slightly surreal that he was your soulmate, and you felt extremely lucky all of a sudden. You didn’t know him yet, but something told you he was an amazing person.

“Where would you like us to go?” Yeosang’s question reminded you of the fact that you were still standing outside the flower shop, quite blocking the entrance actually, and you flushed darker when you realised your co-worker was most likely watching the two of you.

“Maybe for a stroll in the park just there?” You pointed across the street, the gates of the lovely park in the heart of the city visible. Yeosang nodded enthusiastically and motioned in front of himself as a way to tell you to lead the way. As you took off, you found yourself walking as close by Yeosang’s side as you could without making it weird, and your heart hadn’t stopped racing ever since you saw him. There was something magnetic about the man, about your soulmate, and you felt like you couldn’t last another day without being in his presence. Matter of fact, you didn’t want to be since you’ve waited twenty-five years for this moment.

“Would you like some coffee? Or tea?” Yeosang asked as you two noticed the small coffee stand at the same time and you hummed, looking at Yeosang a little sheepishly.

“I don’t like coffee, but I really like tea.” Yeosang chuckled, something like endearment appearing on his face as he grabbed your elbow gently and veered you away from the oncoming crowd of teenagers.

“That’s funny. I don’t like tea but basically live off of coffee.” You chuckled too, your eyes meeting as Yeosang walked you two over to the coffee stand. There weren’t a lot of tea options, so you settled for wild berries, glad that the vendor had some homemade honey for you to mix with your tea instead of sugar. Yeosang asked for a simple black coffee with ice, a bit of milk and one spoonful of sugar, and you found yourself reciting his order in your mind until you could recall it easily.

With your drinks in your hands, you headed for the crosswalk, having to wait since it was red for the pedestrians. The street was bustling with many people at this hour, and not everyone was as self-aware as you—and it seemed like Yeosang, too—so they either didn’t look where they walked or purposefully pushed people around to get further to the front. You had to make space for a guy on his phone, not paying even a little bit of attention to those around himself as you, too, could hear the music coming from his headphones. You tried to make space for everyone, but before you could step behind Yeosang, you felt fingers sneaking between yours, a warm palm pressed against yours as you were gently guided into Yeosang’s side. His eyes were still sparkling, his cheeks were red—not as red as the discolouration on his temple—and you thought for a second you could hear his rapidly beating heart.

“Is this okay?” He asked almost too quietly for you to hear with the honking cars and loudly conversing people, but you did catch it, and you nodded eagerly, making sure to squeeze Yeosang’s hand for extra confirmation.

“Yes! More than okay, actually.” You sounded more confident than you felt, and Yeosang was suddenly smiling widely, his cheeks pulled up and making him look the softest. Before you could do something as crazy as lean up and nuzzle your nose against his, the light turned green, and you followed the crowd, crossing the street. The walk to the park’s entrance was quiet, your hands fitting perfectly into each other’s, and you revelled in the comfort of it all as Yeosang occasionally glanced at you. The park wasn’t as packed as the sidewalks, and you could freely roam around without bumping into anyone, and yet, your hands stayed intertwined.

“So,” You spoke up, taking a sip of your tea before you faced Yeosang while walking, “What do you do for work? I’m a florist, but you know that much about me already.”

Yeosang hummed, facing you with that adorable small smile on his lips, “I’m a daycare teacher. The school isn’t far from here. You actually saved me yesterday. I was running late for my mother’s birthday dinner, and I thought there weren’t any flower shops close by.”

You chuckled, veering Yeosang away from the flock of birds that didn’t look too friendly, “Did your mother like the bouquet?”

“Yes, she loved it, thank you.” Yeosang then stopped, tilting his head with furrowed eyebrows, “I told them…my parents…that I found my soulmate, and they, well, uhm, they want to meet you. I know it’s too soon, and I asked them to wait a little bit until we’ve gotten to know each other, but they are just too impatient and excited to finally meet you.”

You felt your heart swell and almost burst out of your chest as your smile grew into a wide grin. You didn’t even realise it, but you had taken a step closer to Yeosang, smiling up at him so widely that your cheeks ached. Yeosang looked stunned for a second before he returned your smile, biting his lower lip as he averted his gaze down to the ground, “I’d love that, but I want to do what makes you feel comfortable. If you think we should wait, then we will; if not…just let me know when it’s good for you and your parents.”

Yeosang nodded, his eyes finding yours, “You are so kind.”

“You are too, Yeosang.” You chuckled, and it was your time to look down. Yeosang seemed to feel proud over that compliment before he took off, guiding the two of you through the park.

“I don’t feel like we are rushing, but I think it’s more responsible if we go on a few dates first.” You felt like a high school girl, wanting to squeal over the fact that you’d be going on dates with Yeosang, “My parents are nice people, but they are…well, they had gotten a bit desperate about me finding my soulmate. Honestly, they thought you were dead.”

Well, that thought had never crossed your mind before, but it definitely didn’t sit well with you as you looked at Yeosang with a frown. His expression looked neutral, but he squeezed your hand, “I’m twenty-seven, so they think I’m too old to be single. My parents’ families were close friends, so they’ve always known they are soulmates. They had it easy, so it was weird seeing their son struggle to find his soulmate.”

“Did it hurt you? That you sought me out without success for so long?” You found yourself asking, curious to know how Yeosang felt. He seemed to think for a second, humming as he looked down at his cup of coffee.

“It was frustrating at first, mostly because my parents were also pressuring me.” He looked at you from the corner of his eyes, then shrugged, “Then I realised I wouldn’t find you faster if I made myself mull over it, so I just let it go. Since we are fated to be together, I realised I couldn’t trick fate and quicken the process.”

You hummed in agreement, realising you’ve had a similar mindset to Yeosang’s for the past one or two years, “I’m twenty-five and had lost hope at some point. My parents, similar to yours, met very early on, in middle school. I thought I’d also find my soulmate around that time, and when it didn’t happen, I thought it would come in high school…but then that didn’t happen either, and I felt disheartened, like something was wrong with me. And then I realised I can’t push something that isn’t meant to happen just yet.”

“I’m sorry I made you wait.” Yeosang’s answer was quick, his hand squeezing yours as your eyebrows furrowed.

“Don’t apologise, the wait was worth it in the end.” You giggled, averting your eyes shily.

“Yeah?” Yeosang sounded surprised, perhaps even a bit cocky, “You think so?”

“I think that you’re very handsome, Yeosang, and soft.” There was no reason to be embarrassed in front of your soulmate, certainly not when it came to complimenting him, “You have an aura of kindness and brightness around you; I think it’s everything I wanted in a partner.”

Yeosang was smiling widely again, nodding his head as he became shy once again, “You’re cute and vibrant; your smile makes my heart race. I’m thankful that you are my soulmate.”

You stopped walking, the sudden urge to hug Yeosang wasn’t something you could control, so you threw your arms around his torso and leaned into him, smiling to yourself as your head landed on his shoulder. Yeosang’s arms were quick to go around you, squeezing you into himself, and you realised he smelled like oranges and fresh grass, refreshing and calming. You loved the fresh smell of nature, and you loved Yeosang’s natural fragrance. You heard a chuckle, and suddenly something was plucked out of your hair, making your eyebrows furrow as you slightly pulled back, looking at Yeosang’s hand. A dry leaf was between his fingers, his expression amused.

“You’re like a garden fairy, do bees gravitate towards you during summer?” You laughed and shook your head, feeling a bit embarrassed as Yeosang pocketed the leaf instead of letting it fall to the ground. Your cheeks burned as you two let go of each other, fingers naturally intertwining as you headed for a bench, “Why did you choose to become a florist?”

You sat down on the bench, facing each other, and Yeosang’s knee brushed lightly against your thigh. You held your cup of tea in both hands, playing with it as you looked down in your lap, “Well, I just really love nature. I’ve always felt at ease around my little plants in my room, and then I realised I just really love flowers. They are so beautiful and tender, you have to nurture them and take care of them as if they were human. I feel like I have a connection to nature; it’s like I can be completely myself around all that beauty—and the colours! Oh, I love their colours, they are so gorgeous! I’m so glad you walked into the shop yesterday. I had no idea I was missing out on—so much!”

Yeosang watched with fascination on his face as you spoke, a little overexcited that he wanted to hear your hobbies and likes. It was only normal; you’d have to gradually get to know each other, yet it still felt surreal that the sky was an almost transparent blue, the clouds completely white, the barks of the trees various shades of brown, the grass so green, all the leaves, and all the colourful flowers. You loved seeing all the colour on people, too, how they expressed themselves by their outfits, all the colours inside buildings and outside. You’d have to buy some more colourful furniture for your room since it’s mostly beige and yellow. You wanted to cover your world in the colours of the rainbow, in every possible hue and shade.

“Yes, the world is so…intense now, vibrant. It’s impressive how I could live without it all.” Yeosang’s deep voice was soft and quiet as if he was speaking to himself, “I like being in nature, surrounded by wildlife, away from the noisy city. We could go on hikes and maybe even camping.”

You nodded eagerly, having fond memories of the hikes you had gone on with your friends and family, “I’d really love that, Yeosang. I’ve always wanted to go camping, but my parents don’t like bugs, so we never stayed out after nightfall.”

Both you and Yeosang laughed at that, and then you were eager to learn too about Yeosang, “I imagine you love children since you are a daycare teacher; how did you realise that?”

“It’s nothing too revolutionary,” Yeosang chuckled, finishing his cup of coffee, “I would babysit for our neighbours when I was a teenager, and then my cousin had a baby brother, and I’d spend a lot of time with them. As I was growing up, I realised I was fond of those little ones, so…it just happened, I guess.”

You nodded, understanding him, “Would you want children?”

The answer was obvious to that, but you still wanted to ask, “Definitely, if you’d also like to have children, of course.”

Your whole face flushed, and you coughed, a little taken off-guard by Yeosang’s direct answer. His eyebrows raised and his ears flushed, and suddenly he was stumbling over his words, “I mean—like, whoever is my partner, I care about that! You know, like, whatever my partner wants—whether it’s you or someone else, not that I’m thinking of anyone else—but I’m just…yeah, I think that was too soon, wasn’t it?”

He was adorable, you had to shield your mouth with your hand as you laughed quietly, shaking your head at Yeosang, “I mean, since we are soulmates, I don’t think any topic is too soon, Yeosang.”

“Yeah?” Yeosang asked, not quite looking at you yet, “Right, I mean, sure, that makes sense.”

Comfortable silence settled over the two of you, and you picked a stray string off Yeosang’s knee. He watched you quietly, taking in your serene expression, and your eyes met as you raised your head. You smiled at Yeosang without saying anything for a second, then chuckled, this whole situation feeling unreal. Just yesterday, your whole world was covered in grey and hues of brown, amber and copper—and now, your soulmate sat next to you on a bench, the world infused with so much colour you still weren’t used to it, and to top it off, your soulmate was kind and loving, good with children and soft-spoken despite his uncharacteristically deep voice. His face was gentle, his features almost as if they were sculpted by Greek Gods, his burgundy hair even curlier than yesterday as it was pinned back by a little pink bow, and it made you wonder if it was a child from the daycare that had placed it there. Yeosang’s expression looked a bit baffled as you continued to stare at him without saying a word, and not wanting to look weird, you spoke up, “I’m just admiring you because I cannot believe you are real.”

A surprised gasp left Yeosang’s lips at your words, and he didn’t shy away this time, leaning forward to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You grinned as he caressed your cheek, his palm warm and his skin soft, and for a second, you forgot there was anyone else in the world beside the two of you, “I’m as real as it can be, and I’m here to stay, by your side, for an eternity, Y/N.”

And your heart skipped another beat hearing his words, your body freezing when Yeosang suddenly started leaning towards you. You were ready, if he wanted to kiss you, then you wanted to feel his plush lips against yours. Your eyes fluttered closed as it felt like your heart was in your throat, but instead of kissing your lips, you felt something warm press against your cheek, underneath your left eye, then your right eye, and it felt more intimate than any other kiss. You bit your bottom lip and opened your eyes, staring deeply into Yeosang’s rich brown ones, an almost red-like hue licking around his irises.

“Would you like to spend the rest of your day with me, Yeosang?”

“I don’t think I want to spend any time away from you from now on, Y/N.”

And you knew in your heart, in your whole being, that the future ahead of you two was bright, vibrant, gentle, and so, so colourful.

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY & BVIDZSOO 2025 - All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating our work is not allowed.

[juno-verse]

Hold Me

Summary: Wanda tries to make you forget about your difficult day at work. She succeeds.

Men and minors, please stay away.

Praise, Dom!Wanda, Bondage, Using her magic FOR GOOD, her hands that's it, brief mention of more sex after, ONE Mistress

Random A/N: If you're wondering what happened to the succubus!reader fic, well, I've been overthinking the plot for the last two years. It's why I've been stuck with the second chapter and never getting satisfied with it. Turns out, I'm horrible with plots and I overthink story continuity and possible plot holes. I'm open to ideas tho!

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

You texted Wanda that you were on the way home, a short and quick, ‘otw home’ which had the redhead worried. Usually, you were all exclamation points and emojis, eager to come home to her. In an instant, she knew that you had a difficult day at work. And being the loving partner that she is, Wanda hoped that she could help you take your mind off things. 

With a tired sigh, you unlocked the front door and stepped into the warmth of your shared home with Wanda. You could hear her shuffling around the bedroom as you sluggishly dropped your things by the entrance, shut the door, and slumped down on your couch with a groan.

Things have been so stressful the last few months, the last quarter of the year has always been the busiest season of all time. Add to that an occasional useless workmate and you get yourself a frustrating few months. You just wanted to whisk yourself away into a far-off island and forget about work.

“Is that you, baby?” Wanda shouted as she walked down the stairs, you groaned, “Yeah.” 

“And is my baby tired?” The redhead bent down to kiss your forehead softly as she stood behind the couch. You mustered what little energy you had to nod and grumble apologetically at her. Wanda sighed softly before walking around to lay down on the couch with you and pulled you against her chest. 

Wanda loved holding you close to her and how she could feel the warmth emanating from your soft body. Your weight was a constant pressure that brought her comfort, a constant reminder that you were here with her and that you were hers. 

“You want to talk about it?” Wanda whispered gently as she played with your hair and trailed her lips on your shoulder. 

As soon as the words left Wanda’s mouth, she regretted it. Because boy, did you want to talk about it. 

Wanda listened to you ramble on and on about an incompetent co-worker of yours. Catching a few mentions of a guy named ‘Mark from IT’ and his ‘lazy ass.’ And while she just watched and listened to your rant, all Wanda wanted to do was to make you forget about the stupid guy and let her hold you down. 

She hummed when needed, laughed when you did, and voiced out her thoughts about the godforsaken guy, truly pissed off for you as well. But Wanda was also getting impatient by the minute, what she had planned was all for you after all. So she started to run her fingers through your hair, unknowingly coaxing you into submission and relaxation.

You were mindlessly playing with her fingers while you kept up your slowing tirade against the man. You traced the bony digits and the veins visible on her arm. And Wanda just knows that, subconsciously, you need her to make you forget.

Wanda watched your fascination with her hands and playfully let her power pulse on her palm, a burst of glowing red light reflecting on your faces. You smiled tiredly at her little display and kissed the palm of her hand, “Ugh, if only you could just magic my stress away. Can you actually magic him away?” The little energy you had in your body started to dissipate at just the mere thought of the guy. Wanda could feel you slowly running out of horrible words to say about your coworker and just melting in her arms. 

The redheaded witch chuckled, her chest rumbling against your back. “I could, actually. But do you honestly want me to? You’re too nice.” Wanda peppered tiny kisses on your cheek, tickling your skin. You groaned, knowing that she was right, and you actually didn’t mean it, but you also knew that Wanda would, if you just asked. Even without probing your mind, she could notice how loud your thoughts were getting and she could sense the tiredness spilling out of your body.

“No, you’re right. But,” you sighed, “Dunno… Don’t have the energy to talk about him anymore.” Mumbling your words, you just buried yourself deeper into her arms instead. Your fingers continued to play around with her digits, your mind flashing images of the different ways she’s used them on you.

“And what do you have energy for, hm?” Wanda tantalizingly traced your back with her free hand, ticklish warmth running down your back as a soft hum emitted from your lips. 

“Dunno… Don't wanna think about anything. Just need you to hold me.” You were slipping more and more into a very tranquil and compliant state of mind, all from Wanda’s presence and her coaxing words.

“Okay, sweetie. Let me take care of you.” Wanda shifted the both of you so that you were straddling her lap and she had a tight grip on your thigh and back, a gentle hand resting on the back of your neck. “You did such a good job today, didn't you?” She asked softly as she kissed you tenderly. You hummed in approval and let out a satisfied sigh against her lips. 

The way she held you felt safe and gentle – so ready to whisk you away from the harsh, grim world, or in this case an annoying coworker. In Wanda’s arms, you always found home and solace. She was always willing to shoulder whatever ache you brought home. And tonight, she wanted to make you forget it all. 

“Just let me do all the thinking tonight, baby. Okay?” Wanda looked into your eyes and you gulped, “Yes.” You trusted this woman with your life, but at nights when you let her do anything she wanted to you, you were bound to be at her mercy.

Wanda stood up with you wrapped around her and carried you up to your shared bedroom. Upon entering the room, your favorite scent hits your nose in soft waves. Wanda had prepared all of this for you, and you swooned in her arms. You took her face into your hands and thanked her with a kiss, “Thank you, Wanda.”

Wanda reciprocated your kiss with a tongue against yours as she dropped you gently on the bed and placed herself in between your legs. Her tongue felt soft and eager at the same time. She took off your clothes, all the while kissing you so deeply, that you struggled to keep up with her pace. She pulled away with a smirk, all traces of her gentleness back in the living room falling away and replaced with a domineering gaze.

“Hands.” She demanded, and you placed them in front of her. You watched her closely, entranced by the way her fingers started to move with magic. Her delicate fingers flexed as red tendrils started to wrap themselves around your wrists.

They felt warm and gentle against your skin—like how Wanda’s touches always felt to you—as if they were mimicking the sensation of her hand. It was as if she was the one pinning you down rather than her magic. 

“How… how are you doing that?” You sighed as the redhead coaxed you to lie down on your back with your hands bound to the bed and your legs spread open for her. Wanda shushed you instead, insisting on allowing her to do all the work, “Shhh, my love. I said let me do all the thinking.”

Wanda sat up on her knees, trailing her hands up and down your nude form while admiring her handiwork. She smiled at the goosebumps that trickled all over your body, her magic shining a little bit brighter in response. Red always did look good on your skin, her magic looked good on you.

Positioning herself on top of you, you took notice of the glowing red in her eyes, and to you, she has never been more beautiful. You tried to reach out to Wanda, to touch her face and bring her closer to you – but to no avail. A dangerous laugh escaped from her lips and along with her laugh, the red bonds on your wrists grew tighter. 

“Please…” You begged, and for what? You were unsure, but you just needed Wanda to do something. Anything.

“Begging, already? I haven’t even started.” Wanda smirked as she left kisses on your sensitive neck. One hand wrapped around your throat while the other explored the expanse of your upper body. Her nails traced down your stomach, leaving light red lines in their wake. 

You jolted upwards as you felt red tendrils reaching for your breasts, playing with them, similar to the way Wanda does. Tweaking and pulling on your nipples, no part of your body was left untouched by Wanda and her magic. 

Her long digits traced your wet slit, teasing the entrance and gathering your wetness on her fingers. Wanda’s careful red eyes watched every arch that your body made and listened for every gasp that left your mouth.

“Tell me where you want me,” Wanda instructed, her mouth inches away from yours, so close that every breath she exhaled penetrated your lungs. Her fingers were so close where you needed them, but Wanda needed to hear it from you. She was dying to hear you beg for her.

Your entire body heated up in embarrassment, and you felt the heat spread all the way to your shoulders, too shy to tell her. The words seemed too vulgar to form in your mouth. Wanda’s brow arched inquisitively, waiting for you to make your move. “Come on now, sweetheart. You were just fine talking about someone else a while ago.” The redhead pouted mockingly, her voice a little bit too sweet.  

“I need you inside me, Wands. Please…” You begged softly, whines readily pouring out of your mouth. “Yeah, you need me?” She cooed, “How much, sweetheart?” The tip of her fingers toying with your wet entrance, enticingly and frustratingly, her fingers grazing over your folds.

You struggled uselessly against her magic, against the calming weight of her hold on you, desperation spilling out of you in waves. “S-so bad! I need you so badly, please!” You stuttered and Wanda took pity on you – two fingers slipping inside you with little resistance that it would have made you embarrassed if you weren’t in this desperate state. 

Her fingers rammed into you at a speed that had you gripping tightly onto her conjured bonds, fighting against an invisible force whenever you tried to arch your hips higher. “Stay down and take me,” Wanda angled her thrusts towards that spongey little spot inside you, a delicious warmth settling in your stomach.

“Do you like this, huh? Do you like it when I hold you down and give you what you need? Make you forget all your problems?” Wanda groaned in your ear, her hot breath tickling your skin. All you could do was answer with pleased grunts and eager nods as your mouth kept on producing sounds you were sure to be shy about in the morning after. 

Her other hand snaked up your throat, two fingers asking for permission inside your mouth, “Suck on them, baby. You’re getting too loud.” You instantly latched onto them, moaning around them and Wanda relishing in the vibrations produced by your throat. 

She was everywhere—or rather, her magic was. Nonetheless, it was all her. You could feel Wanda everywhere and you could feel her magic spanning the lengths of your body. Her magic was pinching your nipples, gripping your wrists, and holding your legs open. But her fingers, on the other hand, were working their miracles in your mouth and inside you. 

It was too much yet not enough, your clit throbbing in attention. Wanda cooed mockingly, “Such a spoiled girl, still not yet satisfied?”

Her fingers that were wet from your mouth then trailed downwards to press down on your lower stomach. Your insides pushed down on her fingers and you could feel every crevice of her fingers hitting the right spots. You could feel her inside you more.

The redhead’s mouth soon joined her fingers, her warm tongue drawing circles on your clit and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Bringing you closer and closer to the edge, all your body feels is her and you willingly give it. 

It’s not like you could fight against the restraints Wanda put on you, all you could do was grind against her tongue. Now that she had her fingers out of your mouth, obscene noises spilled out of you, “Wanda, I’m gonna cum! Please, can I cum?” Wanda hummed against your clit, pleased with the sounds you were making. 

“Such a good girl, asking for permission.” Wanda praised you and tightened her magic hold on you so possessively. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Cum for me.” She whispered against your clit, her warm breath and her fingers pushing you to the edge. That delightful warmth in your stomach turned into a raging heat then simmered into a throbbing fire as you came on her tongue and her fingers, so hard that you could hear your heart in your ears.

“Fuck, thank you! Thank you!” You screamed and thrashed against Wanda as she guided you through your orgasm with coaxing fingers and gentle caresses. When the pleasure dulled, you felt Wanda press a soft kiss to your inner thigh.

But as you calmed down, you noticed that the bonds had yet to loosen and gave the witch a curious look. 

She let out a wicked laugh before straddling your stomach, “Oh, you’re so very welcome, sweetie. Care to let your Mistress ride your face?”

[luffysprincess]

LIE DETECTOR TEST : RENSUKE KUNIGAMI 

⊹ summary : the blue lock boys are invited to take a lie detector test, but they’ve got to answer twitter’s unfiltered questions

⊹ pairing : rensuke kunigami x reader (established relationship)

⊹ wc : 740

⊹ warnings : fem!reader with she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as a “girlfriend”, unedited, suggestive/nsfw. MINORS DNI

⊹ a/n : kunigami was highly requested and I’m sorry for such a long wait but I finally got the motivation to write his part!! lmk who should be interviewed next <33 ALSO if anyone has a reblog of bachira’s version pls send me the link. I never saved it before I deactivated my previous acc TT

⊹ isagi’s version | bachira’s version

Kunigami’s never been hooked up to a polygraph before. He’s never been in an interview like this before either. When the team’s PR manager introduced the idea to the team, Kunigami was rather excited for something so fun and unique. It’d definitely get them more attention and hopefully expand their fan base. Not to mention, he used to love watching those ‘answering your tweets’ interviews so he was looking forward to being on the other end of the screen this time. 

He, however, did not expect the fans to be so dirty minded. 

“Twitter user @/rensuckmyclit asks ‘How do you feel about breeding and how do I get myself a rensuke creampie??’”

He shouldn’t be so surprised, not after hearing what Isagi and Bachira had to answer but he was hoping he’d get some tame questions. How in the hell was he supposed to answer this?

It didn’t help that he could hear the two men beside him laughing at his expression, one of shock, confusion and embarrassment. But he’s made his bed and now he’s gotta lie in it or however the saying goes. 

“Yeah breeding is…nice, and uh you can’t?” his statement coming out as more of a question. 

All heads in the room turn to Milo, the polygraph examiner, curious to hear his verdict but are met with an old man frowning at his machine. “Inconclusive.”

“Maybe try saying more than just two words, idiot,” Isagi sarcastically adds as he punches his arm. 

“Don’t bother lying, Milo’ill catch ya,” Bachira adds, grinning mischievously at the ginger. 

“I’ll repeat the question for you: ‘How do you feel about breeding and how do I get myself a rensuke creampie??’”

“How are you even saying that with a straight face?!” Kunigami questions. “Ugh nevermind.…Breeding is uh…a yes for me.”

“So you’re into it?”

“Yes I’m into it,” he sighs.

“Milo?”

“Truth”

“And as for the second part of the question—god I can’t believe I’m about to say this on camera—,” Kunigami drags his hand down his face and mutters out the rest of the answer, “only Y/N gets a ‘rensuke creampie’.” He uses his free hand to form air quotes for the embarrassing term. 

“Y/N?” the interviewer questions.

“My girlfriend. Now can I get the next question before these two pass out? Megs looks like he forgot how to breathe– dammit its not that funny!” Hearing their usually collected teammate lose his temper over this only released another wave of cackles from the boys, contagious enough that even the polygraph examiner and the interviewer couldn’t hold back their chuckles. Kunigami can only huff in embarrassment as he waits for what’s next.

“Okay, okay… our next question is from twitter user @/kunigamisrightasscheekhairs.”

“What the fuck are these handles?”

“I think they’re creative,” Bachira snickers.

“They ask ‘What’s the weirdest thing you’ve been asked to sign?’”

Kunigami takes a second to reflect on all his fan interactions. Frowning, he hums in thought and just when he thinks he’s got answer he remembers an even odder instance. On the outside he looks like a fish opening and closing its mouth with nothing ever coming out until finally he sits up straighter to respond, “Someone once asked me to sign her tits.” 

“What’s the verdict Milo? Is he telling the truth?”

“Yup.”

“Well did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Sign the girl’s tits.”

“I don’t need to answer that so I won’t” Kunigami smirks at Isagi feeling smart but the blue eyed man just smirks back, “Well that just makes it seem like you definitely did. I wonder if Y/N knows about this. Should I tell her?”

Isagi is met with Kunigami’s playful glare and a series of curses thrown at him, all of which will be censored out when this episode is posted on BlueTube. 

However, the room is silenced when Kunigami goes serious. He turns to the camera with a straight face, “I’m only admitting this because I don’t want any false accusations of me cheating or anything going around. Yes I signed her tits. And yes Y/N knows about it. They were her tits. And because I know one of these two idiots will ask, yes we were dating at the time.”

“All true,” the examiner confirms but one look at Kunigami’s face would be more than enough to know if he was really telling the truth. Afterall, his face was turning redder than his hair. 

taglist:  @kazuubaby @satanblessing @saiki-enthusiast @nnasv @nymphsdomain @mitzukichan18 @celestair @ilovechuuyaa @mortallytenaciouskoala @tsumu-senpai @hweartiish

[f1cflcfic]

Won't Say I'm In Love (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) - part xvi

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader; past carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

summary: As a general rule, y/n does not date athletes. You've been there, done that - would not recommend. Besides, you definitely don't do love. There's no time in the world for complicated feelings when there's a career Grand Slam to be won. But what if your heart just refuses to listen?

genre: social meda/mixed au, friends to lovers, tbd

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

series: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v, part vi, part vii. part viii, part ix, part x, part xi, part xii, part xiii, part xiv, part xv, tbd.

bonus: one, two, three, four, five

a/n: sorry everyone, i got sick again!

July 11-12, 2025

[Excerpt: BBC Sport Commentary]

“And now, it’s Y/N L/N serving for the championship. Only three women have ever managed to win a Season Slam, and Y/N is well on her way to do so if she can hang on to her serve here. It's - oh, in the net. Her second serve hasn't been great on grass, but it's gotten her this far [...]

Oh and there it is! What a historic moment! Her first ever Wimbledon title, and what a beautiful way to win it. A great passing forehand that Sabalenka could've never reached in time. And what a terrible end for the Belarusian who's been so strong all year, who had an opportunity to win this match at the start. But it's L/N who fought her way back, and turned the momentum around.

Just look at the disbelief and joy on L/N's face, as she makes her way to her coaching team and family. Her parents, who are always incredibly nice, by the way. Who sometimes don't come because the nerves get too much, but who find the prospect of no family support 'way worse'. Her coach Kim Clijsters, whose best result here was a semi-final. Oh, and there's a long hug for her friends, including Lando Norris, Formula One Driver and currently leader of the World Championship as well himself. Now, she makes her way back down to the court -- oh and there's a cheeky wave at none other than Sebastian Stan -- where she will receive her trophy momentarily."

July 13 - 15, 2025

[Excerpt: Post-Win Interview with Y/N L/N]

"What an amazing turn-around! How did you manage to stay so focused?"

I didn't, ha! I think it's very clear that I lost my cool for a little at the start. But it was also a way for me to get those frustrations out and clear my head. You know, Roger Federer said that you are lucky to win 54% of the points you play. So I tried to tell myself - okay, it's just a point. It's just one point. That's always been my philosophy, but it's hard sometimes to stick to it. I'm lucky I found a way to do so when it mattered most.

"Grass has been historically a difficult surface for you, but this time you challenged yourself to also play doubles. How will you make sure that you're well rested to go for the hard-court season?"

Grass is definitely more challenging for me. It's more physical, more demanding. But I also kind of love that about it? It's why this was extra meaningful. And add to that the home crowd, it's magical. I gave it my all, but that also means I'm going to need to take some time to relax and switch off for a bit. Not super long, I'll be playing Cincinnati and I'm excited for that! But definitely will book a holiday before then.

"You haven't booked anything yet?"

Well, my sister's getting married first, and that's a location wedding already. But then I wasn't sure of course how I'd do at Wimbledon either - so I wanted to wait and see. It's going to be a last-minute decision, I fear."

"Maybe Romania? It'd be a great excuse to ask Sebastian Stan for some tips."

I think I'm happy to keep my celebrity crush just that - a celebrity crush.

[Excerpt: Transcription of YouTube Video "Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri Create a Summer Playlist"]

"Okay, so we're just about to head into our summer break, and we thought it'd be nice to leave you with some of our favourite tunes."

"Well, mostly mine, since Oscar has questionable taste."

"Just - it's niche," Oscar argues. Lando rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

"Sure. Start us off then, why don't you?"

"How about Life is a Highway by the Rascal Flatts? A little bit of country. A little bit of Cars, perfect for a summer roadtrip."

"Solid choice, let's add Running Around by Ely Oaks."

Oscar nods, then frowns as he tries to think of what should come next. "Alright, maybe - you like Lizzy McAlpine right? Do we need some slow songs?"

"I do like it, but maybe it's not very summery? Let me have a look at my own Spotify," Lando says as he whips out his phone, frowning in concentration.

"See, I might have niche tastes, but he's the real snob here," Oscar mutters. "He makes these elaborate playlists for his friends, then refuses to take their input."

"Oi, I heard that. See if I gift you another carefuly curated selection of hits," Lando chides, before turning back to the camera. "Okay, I recently listened to Talk by benny blanco and Selena Gomez."

"Never heard it, but I trust you. Maybe some Bad Bunny? That's good for summer right," Oscar asks with a shrug. Lando nods, smiling.

"Yeah, Osc. Straight from my playlist to yours. I'll also say All I Know by Rudimental and Khalid."

"Let's finish it off with Tate McRae's Just Keep Watching, a little Formula One film special," Oscar closes with a cheeky wink.

A/N: Roland Garros was a fucking fever dream this weekend. What a match between Coco and Aryna, and then again on Sunday between Jannik and Carlos!! Chef's kiss tennis. I know Carlos Alcaraz is a questionable character in this fic but please know that I actually adore him.

next chapter available here

♥ likes, comments, reblogs and asks are always very much appreciated - i love chatting and hearing your thoughts! ♥

taglist (open): @linnygirl09 @julesbog @midnight-and-books @sarx164 @obxstiles @freyathehuntress @vhkdncu2ei8997 @berrnuu @lightdragonrayne @glow-ish @batsratswrites @blushmimi @colmathgames2 @esw1012 @sadiemack9 @tremendousstarlighttragedy @awritingtree @its-elias-world @sarah-thatstings-ann @jessicanotta @fairyjinn @destinyg237 @verogonewild @annimausi @taetae-armyyyyy @jkoooooooookie @coral7161

[buttercandy16]

Sugar, Spice, and Everything Extra

PAIRING(s): SugarMommy!Agatha, Rio, Lilia, Jennifer, and Alice x SugarBaby!Reader

SUMMARY: Str*pper Reader meets 5 interesting older women who wants to own her.

WARNING(s): I'm not sure, lol.

A/N: I saw some beautiful soul who requested for someone to write this fic idea. I thought to give it a try even though I suck at writing, lol.

@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress 💜

You adjust the strap of your heels, the mirror reflecting the dim glow of neon lights in the dressing room. Another night at The Velvet Petal, another round of dollar bills and fleeting gazes. Stripping isn’t glamorous, but it pays the bills and keeps you in school. Plus, your roommate Wanda, the epitome of balance and chaos, has your back when things get rough.

The music thunders outside as your turn approaches. You don your stage persona: confidence wrapped in sequins and heels. But tonight feels different, charged. As you step out onto the stage, the crowd cheers, but it’s not the usual drunken revelry that catches your eye.

It’s them.

Five women, all seated in the corner booth like a scene out of a magazine spread, radiating power and wealth. Agatha, with her streak of silver hair and piercing eyes, exudes control, her tailored suit sharp enough to cut. Rio, effortlessly chic in a leather jacket, lounges like the queen of the world. Alice, the soft-spoken tech mogul, hides behind her glasses, but her smirk says she’s just as confident as the others. Jennifer, a successful actress, looks stunning and polished, her laughter like music itself. And then there’s Lilia, elegant and warm, her gaze lingering on you with unspoken approval.

As you move through your routine, their eyes never leave you. It’s unnerving at first, but then... intoxicating. They’re not here for the cheap thrills—they’re here for you.

After your set, you retreat backstage, heart pounding. Moments later, one of the staff calls you over. “The ladies in the corner booth asked to see you.”

Curiosity gets the better of you, and soon you’re standing in front of them, feeling like a deer in headlights.

“Sit,” Agatha says smoothly, gesturing to the empty seat in their midst. Her voice is commanding, yet inviting, like she’s used to getting exactly what she wants.

You sit, your hands clasped in your lap as their gazes sweep over you. It’s not uncomfortable—not entirely. There’s something magnetic about them, the way they move and speak as though they already own the room.

“You’re quite the performer,” Jennifer says, her red lips curling into a smile. “What’s your name?”

You hesitate, giving them your stage name. They exchange amused glances, clearly unconvinced.

“Your real name,” Rio insists, leaning closer.

You tell them, your voice barely above a whisper, and Lilia beams. “Beautiful. Just like you.”

“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” Alice asks, her tone gentle but probing.

“Paying for school,” you admit. “It’s... complicated.”

Agatha smirks. “Not for us. What if we made it simple?”

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“We mean,” Rio says, sliding a black card across the table, “that we want to take care of you.”

Jennifer’s hand brushes yours as she speaks. “No strings, unless you want them.” Her words carry a playful edge.

“You’ll have everything you need,” Lilia adds, her tone warm. “Money, support, and... companionship.”

Alice adjusts her glasses, her voice soft but confident. “We’re already close. This would just make you... part of the family.”

You blink, trying to process their words. They’re not joking—this is real. Five successful, gorgeous women offering to be your sugar mommas? It’s too good to be true.

“Why me?” you ask, voice trembling.

“Because you’re special,” Agatha says firmly. “And we know how to recognize something—or someone—worth investing in.”

You feel your face heat as they all watch you, their expressions a mix of affection, desire, and genuine interest. For the first time, you’re not sure if you’re the one holding the power—or if they’ve already stolen it from you.

“Think about it,” Rio says, her hand brushing your thigh as she leans back with a smirk.

“Oh, and here,” Lilia adds, slipping a velvet pouch into your hand. “A little something to help you decide.”

When you open it later, back at home, you find a diamond necklace and a check with a number that makes your head spin.

Wanda raises an eyebrow when you tell her. “Five sugar mommas? Girl, you’re either the luckiest person alive or the plot of a Lifetime movie waiting to happen.”

You laugh, but your mind is already racing. What would it mean to let them in? To be theirs?

The thought thrills you—and terrifies you in equal measure.

You barely sleep that night, the velvet pouch and its contents sitting on your bedside table, shimmering under the faint glow of your desk lamp. Wanda’s light snoring from the other side of the apartment is a strange comfort as your mind swirls with questions.

The next evening, as you walk into The Velvet Petal, you’re surprised to find the same booth occupied. The five women are waiting for you, their presence commanding the room just as much as the night before. Agatha’s sharp gaze meets yours immediately, and a subtle smirk tugs at the corner of her lips.

You’re halfway through your set when you notice it—their eyes are on you, but tonight there’s something heavier in their stares. Possessive. Hungry. The way Agatha’s fingers drum on the table, the way Jennifer bites her lower lip as you lean into your routine, sends shivers down your spine.

You finish your set, and as you step offstage, you know you can’t avoid them. A staff member hands you a note:

VIP Room 3. Don’t keep us waiting.

Your breath hitches, but curiosity wins out over caution. You make your way to the back, heart pounding with each step.

When you enter the room, they’re already seated, their positions casual but exuding authority. The space feels smaller with them in it, the air thick with their energy.

“You came,” Rio says, lounging against the sofa like she owns it. “Good girl.”

The words ignite something in you, a mix of defiance and intrigue. “What do you want from me?” you ask, keeping your voice steady, though your pulse betrays you.

Agatha leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “We already told you. We want you.”

“And we don’t like waiting,” Jennifer adds, her tone playful yet edged with warning.

Lilia pats the seat next to her. “Come, sit. Let’s talk.”

You hesitate, but her warm smile and soft-spoken nature make it harder to resist. You take the seat, the proximity making you hyperaware of her perfume—floral, expensive, intoxicating.

“You deserve to be spoiled,” Alice says, her voice calm and steady. “You’ve worked hard enough. Let us take care of the rest.”

“We’re not asking you to give up your independence,” Rio says, though her eyes glint with something darker. “But you’ll find life’s a lot easier when you have five women devoted to your happiness.”

Jennifer leans in, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “And we are devoted, sweetheart.”

You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure. “I don’t even know you.”

Agatha chuckles, the sound low and dangerous. “You’ll get to know us. Intimately.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy with implication. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck as Lilia’s hand gently rests on your knee. Her touch is light, almost comforting, but it sends a spark through you.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Lilia murmurs, her thumb brushing slow circles against your leg. “But we want you to feel... wanted.”

Rio smirks, her gaze dropping to your lips. “And we’re very good at making people feel wanted.”

Before you can respond, Jennifer stands, stepping behind you. Her hands rest lightly on your shoulders, her fingers tracing slow patterns against your skin. The intimacy of the gesture makes your breath hitch.

“You’re tense,” she whispers, her lips close to your ear. “You work so hard, don’t you? Let us take some of that weight off.”

Agatha’s eyes darken as she watches the scene unfold, a predator assessing its prey. “You deserve to be treated like the treasure you are.”

Lilia’s hand slides a little higher on your thigh, her movements gentle but deliberate. “Let us take care of you, darling.”

Your heart races as you look around the room, their eyes on you, their intentions crystal clear. It’s overwhelming, intoxicating, and more than a little dangerous.

“I... I need time to think,” you manage, your voice shaky but firm.

Agatha stands, her imposing presence filling the room as she moves closer. She reaches down, tilting your chin up to meet her gaze. “Of course, take your time,” she says, her voice low and commanding. “But don’t take too long. We’re not the patient type.”

With that, she steps back, and the five of them exchange knowing looks, as if they’ve already decided you’re theirs.

As you leave the room, your legs feel unsteady, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. You can still feel the ghost of their touches, the weight of their gazes.

Back in the dressing room, you glance at your reflection, your flushed cheeks and wide eyes betraying the storm inside you. You don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into—but part of you doesn’t want to escape.

Back in your apartment, Wanda is sprawled on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She barely glances up as you close the door, your heels clicking against the floor.

“Rough night?” she asks, her voice casual, though she finally looks at you, frowning slightly. “You look... flustered.”

You don’t answer right away, instead shrugging off your coat and tossing your bag onto the counter. Flustered doesn’t even begin to cover it. Your mind replays the evening on an endless loop: Agatha’s commanding tone, Lilia’s warm touch, Jennifer’s whispered promises, the way they all seemed to orbit you like you were the center of their universe.

“Not rough,” you say finally, though your voice betrays you. “Just... weird.”

Wanda narrows her eyes. “Weird how? Did someone cross a line? Do I need to come down there and handle something?”

You shake your head, though the thought of her trying to “handle” Agatha makes you snort despite yourself. “No, nothing like that. It’s just... this group of women. They were... different.”

“Different how?” Wanda asks, now sitting up, her curiosity piqued.

You hesitate, unsure how to explain. “They’re... rich. Like, stupid rich. And they... I don’t know. They want to... help me?”

Wanda’s eyebrows shoot up. “Help you how? Like charity? Or...” Her expression shifts to one of amusement. “...like sugar momma help?”

You stay silent, and that’s all the confirmation she needs. Wanda bursts out laughing, clutching a pillow as she leans back.

“Oh my God,” she says between giggles. “You’ve got five sugar mommas fighting over you? That’s the plot of a rom-com, babe. Or, like, a very specific fanfiction.”

“It’s not funny,” you mumble, though your cheeks burn. “They’re serious, Wanda. They said they want to take care of me.”

Wanda calms down, though her grin remains. “And what did you say?”

“I said I needed time to think.”

She tilts her head, studying you. “And what do you want?”

You sigh, collapsing onto the chair. “I don’t know. It’s... overwhelming. They’re all so... intense.”

“Intense hot?” Wanda asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t deny it. They are hot, each in their own way. Agatha’s commanding presence, Rio’s rebellious charm, Alice’s quiet intellect, Jennifer’s movie-star allure, and Lilia’s nurturing warmth—they’re all dangerously appealing.

“They’re hot, okay? But that’s not the point,” you admit, rubbing your temples.

“The point,” Wanda says, leaning forward, “is that they’re rich, gorgeous, and want to spoil you. What’s the downside here?”

You don’t answer, because you’re not sure there is one—at least, not yet. But something about the way they looked at you tonight, like they were already claiming you as their own, makes your stomach twist in a mix of anticipation and unease.

The next morning, you find a package waiting outside your door. It’s wrapped in elegant black paper, tied with a silk ribbon. Wanda, curious as ever, peeks over your shoulder as you open it.

Inside, you find a designer handbag that probably costs more than your rent, a card tucked neatly inside. The handwriting is elegant and precise.

“You deserve the best. Let us show you. - A, R, Al, J, L”

Wanda whistles low. “Girl, they’re not playing.”

You run your fingers over the smooth leather, your heart pounding. The gift is beautiful, thoughtful even—but it’s also a reminder of the power they hold. They could change your life, make everything easier. But at what cost?

That evening, you find yourself back at The Velvet Petal, though you’re distracted the entire night. When your shift ends, one of the staff hands you a note.

“Meet us upstairs. Same room. We won’t ask again.”

You hesitate, the weight of their words heavy in your hands. You don’t know why you go, why you climb the stairs and open the door to find them all waiting, just as they were before.

This time, they don’t give you a chance to second-guess.

“We’re done waiting,” Agatha says, standing as you enter. Her presence fills the room, her sharp suit impeccable as ever.

“We know you’re hesitant,” Lilia adds gently, rising to meet you. She takes your hands in hers, her touch warm and reassuring. “But we also know what you need, even if you don’t yet.”

Jennifer steps behind you, her hands settling on your shoulders again. “You’re too special to let go, sweetheart.”

Rio smirks, lounging on the sofa. “And let’s be honest—you want this as much as we do.”

Alice steps forward, her eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. “Say yes, and we’ll give you the world.”

The air is thick, their words wrapping around you like a velvet cage. Your heart races as their gazes lock onto yours, each one waiting for your answer.

You take a shaky breath, your voice barely above a whisper. “What happens if I say yes?”

Agatha’s smile is slow, deliberate. “Then you’re ours.”

Agatha’s words linger in the air, heavy and inescapable. The way she looks at you feels like she’s already decided your answer. The others exchange glances, their expressions a mix of hunger and satisfaction, as though your hesitation has only added fuel to their fire.

“I...” you start, but the words catch in your throat.

Jennifer’s hands slide down your arms, her touch gentle but firm. “Shh, don’t overthink it,” she murmurs. Her lips are close to your ear, her breath warm against your skin. “Just let us take care of you.”

Your heart races as Lilia steps closer, her fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’ve worked so hard, darling,” she says, her voice low and soothing. “You deserve to rest. To feel wanted.”

The way she says it sends a shiver down your spine. Her hand moves to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that leaves you breathless.

Before you can respond, Rio rises from the sofa, her movements slow and deliberate. “You’re overthinking,” she says, her smirk sharp as she closes the distance between you. “You want this. I can see it.”

Her fingers trail down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Let yourself enjoy it for once.”

Alice is the last to move, her presence quieter but no less intense. She steps closer, her eyes locked on yours as she speaks. “We’re not asking for anything you don’t want to give,” she says softly, her tone disarming. “But if you say yes, we’ll make sure you never have to worry again.”

Agatha’s voice cuts through the haze, commanding and steady. “Say it,” she urges. Her hand reaches out, tilting your chin up so you’re forced to meet her gaze. Her touch is firm but not harsh, her thumb brushing over your jaw. “Say yes.”

The weight of their attention is almost too much to bear, your body reacting in ways you can’t control. Your mind is screaming at you to think, to process, but your heart is louder, pounding in your chest as their words sink in.

“I...” you begin, your voice trembling.

Jennifer’s lips brush your ear, her voice a sultry whisper. “Yes, baby. That’s all you have to say.”

And before you know it, the word falls from your lips. “Yes.”

The shift in the room is immediate. Agatha’s smile is predatory, Rio’s grin smug. Lilia’s eyes light up with warmth, and Jennifer presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, her touch lingering. Alice nods, her lips curving into a small, satisfied smile.

“Good girl,” Agatha murmurs, her hand still cradling your face. “You’ve made the right choice.”

Rio steps behind you, her hands brushing your waist as she leans in close. “Now, let us show you how much we appreciate you.”

Jennifer’s fingers trace slow patterns against your arms as Lilia pulls you into a gentle embrace. Her perfume surrounds you, a soft, floral scent that makes your head spin.

“You’re ours now,” Lilia whispers, her voice dripping with affection. “And we take care of what’s ours.”

The way she says it sends heat rushing through you, their touches and words weaving a web around you that you can’t escape—and, deep down, you realize you don’t want to.

The air in the room feels heavy, thick with anticipation. You’re caught in the pull of their presence—five women who’ve effortlessly taken control of the space and, now, you. Each of them steps closer, their combined energy overwhelming, intoxicating.

Agatha’s hand lingers at your chin, her sharp nails lightly grazing your skin as she tilts your face toward her. Her piercing eyes search yours, and a faint, satisfied smirk spreads across her lips. “You’re trembling,” she murmurs, her voice low and smooth. “Are you nervous? Or just excited?”

Before you can respond, Lilia presses against your side, her arm wrapping around your waist. The warmth of her body seeps into yours, and her fingers begin to trace soft circles along your hip. Her touch is gentle but firm, grounding yet possessive.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Lilia whispers, her lips close to your ear. “We’ll take care of you. Let us show you just how much you mean to us.”

Jennifer’s laugh is soft and teasing as she moves to your other side. Her hands slide over your shoulders, her touch featherlight but deliberate. “You’re ours now, sweetheart. There’s no need to hold back.”

Rio leans against the wall, her dark eyes fixed on you with a smoldering intensity. She doesn’t move, but the heat of her gaze is enough to make your knees weak. “We’ve been waiting for this,” she says, her tone dripping with satisfaction. “And now that we have you, we’re not letting you go.”

Alice is quieter, but her presence is no less commanding. She steps forward, her hands sliding into her pockets as she watches the others with a small, knowing smile. “Don’t let them overwhelm you too much,” she says softly, though the glint in her eyes betrays her own intent.

You feel surrounded, enveloped by their presence and their touch. The intensity of it all sends your pulse racing, your breaths coming shallow and uneven.

“You’re so beautiful,” Lilia murmurs, her fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. Her gaze is warm and affectionate, but there’s a glimmer of something deeper—something darker—just beneath the surface.

Agatha’s thumb grazes over your lower lip, her smirk widening at the way your breath hitches. “We’ll make sure you never feel neglected again,” she says, her tone promising and possessive.

Jennifer leans in closer, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. “All you have to do is let us take the lead, baby. We’ll handle the rest.”

You’re caught in their web, their touches and words binding you tighter with every passing second. You don’t know where this will lead, but you’re certain of one thing: they won’t stop until you’re completely theirs.

_-_-_

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[earlgreydream]

𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞. || 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫!𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

@earlgreydream x @little-diable

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟒𝐭𝐡! 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐡𝐢 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧. 𝐖𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮!

She tried to pay attention to Professor Kylo Ren, though her efforts weren’t doing much good. The seminar was coming up on three hours, the classroom air was stuffy, and a fluorescent lightbulb flickered overhead. It was already dark outside, the blackness in the windows reflecting back the image of an irritable professor and disinterested grad students. 

The lecture that droned on bored Y/N, the professor’s gorgeous appearance far more captivating than any medieval history lesson he insisted on dragging out. It wasn’t that he was a bad professor, it was that he seemed to hate her, and she seemed to hate him all the same. The handsome man was stern, demanding perfection in a way that nobody could ever live up to. His punishing scowl was even more famous in the university than he himself, one she was all too familiar with. 

“Do you have anything to add, Miss Y/N?” The sound of your name on Kylo’s lips snapped her back into reality, her lips parting in a frustrated huff. 

“Only that I think this lecture is worse than the black death,” you snarked, earning a few shocked giggles from her peers that would never dare disrespect Professor Ren. 

Kylo crossed his arms over his broad chest, leaning back against the edge of his desk, a dark glare locked on the student that he loathed. A sharp bolt of electricity shot through his nerves at the sight of Y/N’s smirk, making him even angrier. He forced himself not to think about how he truly desired to correct your disrespect, to force you into submission. 

“Quite pleased with yourself, are you? Everyone is dismissed except Y/N,” he barked, students immediately rushing out of the suffocating classroom. 

“I have places to be, professor,” Y/N stood, slipping her laptop into her bag, ignoring his order to stay behind. 

“Why do you have to have such a fucking attitude with me?” Kylo snapped, fed up with being dismissed. 

“Why do you have to be such a —” 

“Kylo, are you able to discuss the findings for our upcoming conference?” Professor Djarin called from the doorway, interrupting the two’s brewing argument. 

Kylo cleared his throat, standing up straight off of the desk and giving Y/N one last scathing glare. 

“Of course, let’s head to my office.”

“Goodnight, Professor Ren,” Y/N spoke, her sweet voice dripping with poison as she swept past him.

. 

Ever since she had left the classroom behind, Y/N hadn’t been able to stop thinking of her professor. Stars, she hated him, he was undoubtedly the worst of them all, and yet something about him pulled her in. Something she cursed whenever she noticed her wandering thoughts. 

With a groan, she plopped down on her bed, eyes closed to try and work through her thoughts. She detested him, hated him more than words could ever express, but maker, he was handsome. Even Y/N could admit that much.

Perhaps she had even touched herself to the thought of him once or twice before - okay, a lot more than that. But a few wandering thoughts didn’t seem to hurt, and most importantly they didn’t stop her hatred from spiralling. And hatred is what she needed to survive his boring course and the homework he didn’t even seem to correct.

She reached for her phone, staring at the screen while hitting up one of her friends, desperate for some kind of distraction. Perhaps some clubbing could force her thoughts to let go of the annoying professor, or even a house party where she could link up with those she hadn’t seen in a few weeks.

It only took her friend a few minutes to reply and to send her the details of their meeting spot. Y/N couldn’t stop her grin from widening as she rose to her feet once again, leaving the comfort of her bed to find something good to wear. Her fingertips stroked along a few dresses and skirts until she settled on an outfit she had worn in class a few weeks ago.

Back then Professor Ren had murmured something about the inappropriateness of her clothes, which seemed to be exactly what she needed. Her eyes studied her reflection in the mirror as Y/N dressed herself and retouched her makeup, filled by an all too familiar giddiness she didn’t want to shake until enough alcohol could loosen up her system.

The chilly air wrapped itself around her as she left her home and made her way towards the home where she’d meet her friend. 

.

Y/N was barely ten steps in the house before her best friend was putting a shot in her hand. The pink whitney burned going down, but at this point she’d drink almost anything to shake the frustration of her graduate class. 

“Another?” A shooter was held out, dangling from a girl’s hand, calling to her like siren. 

“Fuck it,” Y/N cheered before swallowing. 

Bad pop music from the 2010’s was blaring from someone’s speaker as five already tipsy girls all tried to fix their hair in the bathroom mirror. Someone had shouted that the uber would arrive in three minutes to escort the group downtown, where they’d crawl from club to bar until nobody could stand. 

Y/N didn’t have anything to lose — Professor Ren’s class had already been cancelled in the morning, likely him throwing a tantrum at her attitude. That left a night of debauchery on the table with nowhere to drag a hungover body to in the a.m.

She hardly remembered getting downstairs, registering that she was squeezed into the back of an uber with her friends, taking a short hit off of someone’s vape being passed around the party. 

“That was bad ass of you in class today, Y/N!” One of Professor Ren’s haters called over the music. 

“Yeah! He looked like he wanted to choke you!” Another chimed in innocently. 

Though the words were just an expression, it twisted Y/N’s stomach into a knot. The image of Kylo’s hand around her throat left her shifting in her seat, suddenly far too warm in the skimpy dress that squeezed her figure. 

A couple sips from a flask in the club’s queue, and Y/N was all too emboldened by the alcohol to think straight. She awkwardly made her way down a flight of stairs in an alley, into the club that was pulsing with blue and purple lights. The bass throbbed in her body, jarring her skeleton with every unsteady step. 

As much as she had hoped that her drunk mind could distract her from Kylo and her wandering thoughts, they only seemed to grow more intense with every passing minute. She needed a breather, desperate for some cold air to be sucked into her aching lungs. Y/N pushed through the body of dancing people, barely able to see where her feet were taking her until she finally managed to step out into the cold. 

Her body took her a few more steps away from the loud music before she sat down on the sidewalk, knees pressed to her chest. Deep breaths were inhaled into her shaking body, hands pressed to her warm cheeks to try and ground herself. 

Perhaps she needed to get home, set on sleeping the day away until her hangover would be awful enough to curse herself out. Perhaps she needed a few calmer moments to shake all the confusing thoughts and the hatred that seemed to wander up her throat like bile rising. 

“Miss Y/N?” She froze, eyes squeezed shut for a second. And then all too slowly she managed to look up at him. Kylo was towering over her, hands pushed into the pockets of his jacket, height all too towering. 

“Fuck me.” 

Kylo scoffed at the profane greeting, no more happy to see her than she was to see him. Y/N put her hand out, trying to balance to pull herself to her feet, only making it halfway up before falling back down on the hard concrete sidewalk.

“Jesus Christ, you’re messy,” Kylo sighed, reaching down and gripping her forearms, pulling her to her feet. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Y/N sneered, putting her hands on his chest — intending to shove him off, though the second her palms were pressed to the strong muscles, her body forgot that this was the man she hated.

“Getting a drink after how much shit you put me through,” he shot back, going to let go until she started to wobble in her heels. 

“You… you can’t get away from me. You’re here because you want to fuck me, you creep.”

Kylo knew it was the drunk ramblings of an angry student, but the words were vicious, creeping their way down his spine. He hated the satisfied smirk on her face, knowing that the stupid words had gotten under his skin. 

“You’re the one who hasn’t taken your hands off of my chest,” Kylo’s voice was low, his dark eyes boring into her as if he could read every filthy thought, see every memory of her touching herself to the thought of him. 

She was too far gone to react to his bickering, eyes getting lost in his darkening ones. Y/N hated the power he held over her, how he managed to draw her in with one simple glance that only fuelled the hatred she felt. 

“Fuck, look at you, you can barely stand straight. How are you getting home?” It seemed to do the trick, successfully pulling her out of her trance and away from him. She stumbled a step back, struggling to hold her balance as his hands shot forward to stabilise her.

“That’s none of your concern, Professor.” He rolled his eyes at the tremble of her voice, staring down at her for a few more seconds before letting go of a sigh. Without speaking a warning, he picked her up to throw her over his shoulder.

Y/N screeched but he didn’t seem to care about her protest as he kept walking. He didn’t even reply to the question of where he was taking her, all he did was walk until he came to a halt in front of a black SUV, open the door and gently though urgently placing her down on the seat.  

“Where the fuck are you taking me?” He started the car seconds later, letting the child safety locks snap in place before she could even think of ripping the door open again. Kylo kept quiet for a moment, he pulled out of his parking space and began driving down the dark road, letting darkness swallow them both wholly. 

“I’m taking you back to mine, I mean, look at you, such an embarrassment.” Heat flushed through her body at his biting tone, making her tremble in anger. But she kept quiet, having to sort through her thoughts as he kept driving. What was she even doing? The man she had tried to escape from was the knight in shining armour now. What a fuck up. 

Only as Kylo parked the car in front of a modern house did she snap out of her trance. Wordlessly she undid her seatbelt and watched him round the car to help her step out into the cold night. 

Kylo opened the door, waiting for Y/N to step out of the SUV of her own volition. 

“Come on, it’s fucking cold out here!” He snapped impatiently, hauling her out himself, tired of her defiant stare. 

She stopped screeching for a moment to take in the massive modern castle — double height ceilings making way for elaborate pieces of artwork and sculpture, just as dark and mysterious as him. Y/N was set down so he could lock the door behind him, taking the opportunity to rip the heels off of her feet. She tossed them drunkenly beside the door, not caring where they ended up, earning yet another curse from her knight. 

“This is your house?” She questioned, stumbling forward, inviting herself to explore. 

“Obviously.”

Kylo watched her, hair falling out of the ties to frame her face, normally fiery eyes slightly glazed over from the alcohol. She was such a force in the classroom, a viper daring him to come closer, waiting for the opportunity to strike and poison. But here, in his home in the middle of the night, she was harmless, pathetic, even as she swayed as if the earth meant to swallow her up. 

He’d followed her into the kitchen, something straight out of a Food Network set. She leaned against the marble island, dropping her phone onto the surface. Kylo was on her in an instant, his body towering over hers, hands on both sides, trapping his prey. 

She looked up, staring at him for a terribly long moment before her hand threaded into his black hair, dragging him down into a messy, angry, desperate kiss. Every nerve in Kylo’s body woke, reacting to her touch, the feel of her lips against his, and the taste of whiskey on her tongue. 

“Fuck,” Y/N gasped softly, breaking away as he grabbed her waist to lift her onto the countertop. 

Her dress rode up around her hips, knees parting to make room for Kylo as he dragged her back to him, gripping her throat with his large hand. 

“You need to learn your place and stop fucking embarrassing yourself,” he hissed, his teeth sharp against the crest of her ear. 

She grabbed his free hand, bringing it to the flimsy panties she wore, letting him feel what the brief encounter had already done to her. 

“I think you like seeing me like that, professor.” Her teasing words made him groan against her lips, only deepening the kiss. For a moment, nothing but his wander touch mattered, fuelled by their tension and need for one another. Big, cold fingers pushed her panties aside to brush them through her slit, covering her pulsing bundle of nerves with her arousal. 

“You’re a fucking slut, you know that? Whoring yourself out to a professor whose life you keep making miserable.” A cry tore through Y/N as he pushed a finger into her, letting her walls spread around him. She trembled, she cried, she was ready to let go even as he kept mumbling degrading words. 

It was pathetic almost with how close she was to letting go already, but his touch gave her something she had been aching for ever since meeting him. She didn’t even care if he could tell what he was doing to her, all she wanted to focus on was the orgasm clashing through her without another warning.

Y/N choked on her cry, head rolling forward to rest against his broad chest. Kylo kept moving his fingers, prolonging the sensation for a few more seconds before finally pulling away from her, “So, what will it be? If you want me to fuck you, you’ll need to beg for it.”  

Something between a scream and a groan escaped Y/Ns lips. Kylo wasn’t about to give her anything without humiliating her first, to make this as painful as possible. Under normal circumstances, she’d leave, but now, her cunt aching and desperate, she would do anything for relief. 

“Please fuck me, I need you,” Y/N whined, looking up at Kylo with wide eyes.

“What are you?” His lips almost pulled into a smile, pleased with himself as he studied the dark patch that was only growing on her panties. 

“I’m a fucking slut, and I want you to fuck me,” she forced out the words, tears threatening to spill from her lashes. 

“That’s right. This is for my pleasure, not yours!”

In an instant, Kylo dragged her off the countertop before flipping her around to face away. He bent Y/N over the cold marble, pushing her head down and the fabric out of the way. 

“Jesus, you’re fucking soaked. You have no shame, do you?” 

When she tried to speak, he shoved two of his fingers in her mouth, silencing any protest. Hatred burned almost as bright as the lust she’d become enslaved to. It took everything — her dignity, her sense of self — until she was being railed over the counter in her enemy’s kitchen. 

Kylo’s hand muffled her scream as he fucked into her sopping entrance, her walls stretching to accommodate his size, dragging along every vein. Y/N’s eyes rolled back into her head, fingers clawing helplessly at the marble as he hit the spot inside that left her seeing stars. Every thought fractured into pieces, leaving nothing but the overwhelming sensation of pleasure as Kylo bruises her hips against the stone. 

“Kylo, fuck!” Y/N yelled as he brought his hands down to her waist, gripping the soft flesh in his fingers, pulling her body back to meet his, forcing himself impossibly deeper. 

“Such a slut for me. I like you much better like this than running your mouth and being a brat.” He emphasized the last word by slapping her ass, leaving a handprint that would remind her of her shame for days.  

She wanted to speak up, wanted to throw the mean words right back at him, but she couldn’t. No longer did she remember the simplest words, mind only focused on the feeling of taking his cock. He kept impaling her on him, ripping her apart with every thrust that only grew rougher and faster. 

“Please,” it was the only thing she could whimper, hating that her body was giving into his every command. He had won the upper hand, had forced her to kneel for him as he took what he was aching for - again and again. 

“Please what? What is it that you want, huh?” Darkness wrapped itself around her as Y/N pressed her eyes shut. Perhaps she’d finally find the strength to say something, to push back with the same spite he seemed to master. But she couldn’t, fuelled by shame, defeat, and a burning hot lust. 

“Let me cum, fuck, please.” Her orgasm was about to rip through her, making tears well up in her eyes. Kylo kept quiet, he only let go of an excited hum the second his big hand found her throat, cutting off most of her airstream. Y/N’s eyes snapped open, focusing on the big window that offered a reflection of their linked up bodies.

It was a sight so sinful, she couldn’t help but let go. Kylo kept fucking into her from behind, pushing her through her intense orgasm to get his own fill. 

Tears were streaked down her face, her body shuddering with shocks of overstimulation. The reflection in the glass was pathetic, fingers weakly clawing at the counter, trying to escape the man who was pumping her full of his seed until it was leaking down her thighs. Kylo’s hand was still heavy on her throat, even as he finally pulled out of her, watching his mess drip from her.

“Kylo,” she finally gasped out when his hand was off her neck, struggling to push herself up on her elbows.

He ignored the way she whimpered his name, pulling his black boxers up and lighting a cigarette. He leaned back against the opposite counter, watching as she tried to collect herself, forced to soak in the filth of her lust. To Kylo, she’d never looked better — eyes red and wet, legs trembling, and her smart mouth finally shut.

“Look at yourself,” he shook his head slowly before taking a long drag. 

Y/N pulled her dress down and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, trying to save the last glimpse of her dignity. It was exposing, being under the hard stare of his brown eyes, his cock still half hard and feeling his cum smearing between her legs. 

“Not running your mouth for once,” he mocked when she didn’t answer, wordlessly turning to the dark window. “The bathroom is down the hallway, clean yourself up before you leave, will you?”

Her breath hitched in her chest, wide eyes snapping back to his as if she didn’t believe the words he’d just spoken. But Kylo didn’t say another word, didn’t even offer her another glance as he poured himself a glass of water and then disappeared from her sight. 

Trembling legs forced her to move, to find the dark bathroom. Y/N couldn’t look at her reflection as tears blurred her vision once again, feeling even more humiliated and angry than before. Of course he wouldn’t ask her to stay. Of course he wouldn’t drop their fight just once to make her feel somewhat comfortable after offering herself to him. Of course he was still the asshole she’d once sworn to hate.

Slowly, she stepped back into the quiet hallway. Her eyes moved along the walls for a second, giving him another second to reappear and to pull her back towards him. But he didn’t, he left her alone and confused as her aching body finally carried her out into the night. 

[fujoshirat]

When the Shouto Todoroki saves you and your kindergarten students at the aquarium during a villain attack, you can't seem to get him out of your head. Bonus: you're quirkless and he's a pro hero, so you live in two different worlds. The glue? His cute nephew that's obsessed with rocks and that just so happens to be in your kindergarten class.

In short: You've become obsessed, you suppose. But that's all right, you're not the only one that's obsessed.

WARNING: infatuated Shouto = a ditz who embarrasses himself in front of his crush <3; female reader (srry I forgot to add this to the first part but you can choose the gender^^); Shouto and Kaoru bonding!!

Part 1 here!

2 - You're Obsessed With Me

Shouto has never seen a woman so perfect.

He had heard of you before. Every so often, when Shouto would take Kaoru out on a playdate or visit Natsuo, his nephew would casually bring you up.

"Y/N-sensei let me bring my rock collection for show n' tell."

"Oji-san, Y/N-sensei cuts her apple slices like rabbits. I wan' rabbits too."

"Today was Y/N-sensei's birthday, so I gave her a rock."

In a way, Shouto knew you. He knew about how you loved to take your students on field trips and that you want to travel to Venice someday and that you cry at every little milestone. He knew all of this from the lovely little stories that his lovely little nephew would tell him.

What he did not know was how obsessed he'd be with you once he'd finally met you. That afternoon, about an hour after eating his lunch and about 30 minutes into his patrol, he had received a call from his secretary and the authorities that there was a villain wreaking havoc at the Hosu City Aquarium. That afternoon, when he rushed to the scene with his five-year-old nephew's safety and the safety of others occupying his mind.

That afternoon, you laid there on the tile floor, wrists bound together and arms cut up, with the most beautiful face ever- 'Eugh! Weirdo!' Shouto mentally gives himself a slap to the face while shaking his head, prompting him out of his daydream. He looks down at Kaoru, the little boy holding his uncle's hand and observing the passing cars. Reaching the agency, Shouto types in his password and enters, bringing Kaoru along with him.

"Kaoru-kun, I just need to finish up a report before we can go back to your house, okay?"

"Okay, oji-san." As they approach the elevator, Kaoru looks up at Shouto with puppy eyes, making Shouto chuckle. "Go ahead." The five-year-old cheers and makes a beeline for the elevator, reaching up to press the up button. The elevator arrives, and the white-haired boy leads his uncle inside, also reaching up to press the 4th floor button.

Once they reach Shouto's office floor, Kaoru sits on the couch and looks at Shouto patiently, though his face reflecting expectancy. Shouto quirks a brow and kneels down at his nephew. "Yes, Kaoru-kun?"

"Do you have games on your phone?"

"..."

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

"Kaoru-kun, do you have your subway card?" Turning off the lights, Shouto leads his nephew into the elevator. He observes the little boy nod in response, a pleasant hum escaping him.

"That's good. We'll take the subway back to your house, okay?"

"Okay, oji-san."

Opening the main door for Kaoru, the two exit the agency and head to the nearby subway station. Almost 6:40pm, they board the train and Shouto makes sure that his nephew has a seat. As the subway starts moving, Shouto's thoughts once again wander. 'Does she take the subway home too? How long has she been a teacher for? And she's quirkless too? She's so brave.' Amidst the sound of chattering tracks and pleasant thoughts, the pro hero hears a little rumbling sound and smiles softly.

"Kaoru-kun, are you hungry? I can buy you dinner before we get you home." Kaoru nods shyly. Shouto nods in acknowledgement and helps the little boy find his way to the subway doors before they open. Once the subway stops, they exit it and push past the large herd of people. "Kaoru," Shouto squeezes his nephew's hand comfortingly. "What do you want to eat?" His gaze meets round, doe eyes.

"Salmon onigiri!" Hearing that, the heterochromatic man takes Kaoru to the convenience store and buys him his dinner.

---

"Kaoru! You're safe!" Natsuo envelops his son in a hug, receiving a whine of protest. Shouto laughs at the sight. "I already fed him, Natsu-ani. No injuries and no problems." His elder brother lets out a sigh of relief and looks face-to-face at his son. "Thank goodness... thank you so much, Shouto. I was so worried." The man in question shakes his head. "I'm glad I was there on time, and Kaoru behaved." "Really? That's good." He ruffles Kaoru's hair. "Thank you, kiddo." Looking up at Shouto again, he stands up and offers a smile.

"I made hambugu (hamburg-steak) for dinner, do you wanna stay and eat?" "Thanks for the offer, but I ate already with Kaoru. I'll just head home now." Natsuo nods. "If you're sure, thanks again, Shou." The brothers both bow in respect to each other, Kaoru copying his father. Shouto smiles and gently pats his nephew's head. "Goodnight, Kaoru-kun. Have a good weekend." "You too, oji-san." The pro hero heads back out and walks to the station to return to his own home.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

Shouto thinks that the American idea of Manifest Destiny must be true, because here you are, blessing him with your magnificent presence at his local grocery store (SPOILER! Shouto Todoroki is a Japanese citizen for a reason. That is NOT what Manifest Destiny is). You miraculously don't seem to notice his jaw-dropped expression, too busy reaching up to grab the specific brand of honey shampoo that you always buy. You're not wearing anything fancy: comfy sweats and a turtleneck for the slightly chilly weather.

But god, Shouto thinks that you're fine.

And did someone turn up the thermostat? Because suddenly, when you finally notice him and smile, the left side of his face flairs up. Thankfully it's not much, just a few flames that lick his face. Both yours and his eyes widen as Shouto quickly gets rid of the flames, leaving his cheeks dusted pink. "S-sir! Are you alright?" Oh goodness, you're coming closer! The air gets knocked out of Shouto's lungs when you look up at him with those doe eyes and worried expression. Clearing his throat, the pro hero attempts to save his ass.

"Ah, L/N-sensei, I apologize. I'm alright."

"No need to apologize! And no need to call me sensei." Your voice sounds like an angelic choir to Shouto, tone so sweet like candy. The tall man can only hope not to embarrass himself even further.

"Do you live in this area? I've never seen you here before." You nod cheerfully. "Mhm! I actually just moved here a few weeks ago because I got a pay raise. It's a beautiful area, and all the residents that I've met so far are lovely." Shouto likes how you're so cheerful and positive. Your face is welcoming and so far, you always seem to have a smile on your face. His eyes observe your left wrist, recalling the events of the day before. "Is your wrist okay?"

"Yes! I put some ice and it really helped with the swelling. I still try not to use it, but it doesn't hurt as much. Hopefully it will be back to normal soon!" Shouto's gaze softens, a soft smile appearing on his face as he adjusts his shopping bag hanging from his arm.

"That's good." He suddenly remembers something. "If I may ask, how long have you been teaching for?" "Hm..." Shouto can feel his heart do somersaults as he watches her slightly furrow her brows while thinking. 'Cute.' "This is my fourth year teaching. Ever since I started my career, I've been the kindergarten teacher for the school!" You giggle when Shouto's eyes widen. "Teaching young children is my passion. I love my students and want them to succeed. Sometimes it's a little hard when graduation rolls around the corner." He watches you dismiss yourself with a sheepish laugh, impressed at your dedication to teaching. The red- and white-haired man thinks it's absolutely adorable when you gush about teaching and your students. Every word that came out of your mouth, tumbling out of your kissable lips this loser really really really wants to kiss you :(, he becomes even more hooked.

And then, you take his breath away once more when you twirl a strand of your glossy hair and smile.

"You know, it's really nice interacting with a pro hero outside of their 'hero mode.' I've never done this before, and you're really kind, Todoroki-san!" Shouto's cheeks flush even more red at your sentiment. You enjoy talking to him??? Inside, he's mentally cheering screaming, on the outside, he's just looking at you with a shocked expression.

Yeah, you broke him. Yet, you don't seem to notice because instead of teasing him (like what his friends would have probably done), instead your cheeks turn a slight shade of pink like peaches and begin to speak again.

"If you're willing, I'd love to grab coffee with you sometime!" Shouto was definitely broken now, because his left side flares up with small flames again and you panic over him.

"Todoroki-san!?!"

In simple terms, Japan's Hottest Hero, Shouto Himura Todoroki, was definitely a loser boy man in love.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

A/N: Yayayayay! Part 2 is finally done (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) Thank you all so much for reading and (hopefully) enjoying this part as much as Part 1! I kind of suck at writing POVs for other characters, so I hope that this was still an enjoyable fic >< I love a strong independent hottie but I also love it when that hottie is a loser when in love <33333

On a similar note: THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for all of your amazing, sweet support for Part 1!! I did not expect it to blow up 🥺🥺🥺 and cause my other (old) fics to also receive support! I was very surprised and elated to see my inbox flooded with notifications, so thank you for making my days ♡♡♡ I will take a short break from writing, maybe a week or two depending on how I feel, so I apologize if Part 3 comes out a little late!

Also!! I'm starting a tag list so if u wanna be tagged for the next part, just lmk!!

TAGLIST: ♡ @roseapov

[s1rawb3rry]

Riding Circles Around You

synopsis: Y/N spirals after seeing her ex... completely unaware to the fact that her closest friend, Heeseung, has been quietly falling for her all along.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: fluff fluff fluff, no smut, some touching, cussing, some angst tbh, low self-esteem, established friendship, heeseung is completely whipped for y/n while shes oblivious to it, hee is kinda a loser in love (i need him so bad...), so really its loser in love x loser also in love but doesnt know it yet

genres: uni AU, slice of life, student!heeseung x student!reader

pairing: enhypen Heeseung x reader

a/n: some tooth rotting hee fluff to satisfy my sweet tooth hehe, enjoyyyy

Taglist: @heestoleurgirl @stariekis @jaehoodies @morganaawriterr @luvashli @kireistrawberryjayla (comment if you want me to add / remove you from the list <3)

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I have been in the same position for the last 2 hours. Sat on the floor, my laptop opened but the screen turned off a long time ago. My eyes lazily, and without purpose, move from my reflection on my laptop screen, to my socks, to the posters hung on my dorm’s walls. My wall clock reads 11:30ish am, I exhaled. I have already wasted so much time... but my frame feels too heavy to move. I have so much work to get to, but this empty– yet heavy– feeling overpowered my actions and thoughts. All I could feel is the crisp, late night air coming from my window into my suffocatingly small room, my messy hair softly moved with the breeze. 

I never knew seeing my ex, let alone with his new girlfriend, would paralyse me this much. We broke up a year ago and even left on good terms. I am genuinely over him, so my perplexity grew when I noticed how small I suddenly felt. I have no reason to feel any of this.  But for some reason, I do. And I hate that I do.

When the image of them together appeared again in the back of my eyes, I winced. It's exactly how I saw them a couple hours ago, my mind refusing to forget the image of the perfect couple: her arms wrapped around his, both of them laughing with that stupidly-in-love smile. His laughter died down before hers did, he looked at her as if she's the one who hung the stars in the sky. They looked at each other as if they were the only two people on earth, which worked in my favor because they didn't notice me. 

My clothes suddenly feel suffocatingly warm on my skin the more details I recall. My laptop was pushed to the side by my feet as I laid on the cool floor, trying to soothe down my burning body. Guilt started to eat at my bones when I noticed that I foolishly hated seeing him happier with her. I wished him and still wish well, but seeing that in front of me is different. It feels like I failed at something that I didn't even want to be anymore. Failed at being a girlfriend. That familiar feeling sank in my chest, the feeling of worthlessness and incompetence in every domain in my life. 

Before I could continue my warfare in my mind and list down my failures as a friend and a daughter, I heard a vibrating sound next to me, followed by my phone screen turning on, illuminating my dim dorm room. My heavy hand reached out for it while I stayed immobile. After blinking a few times to adjust to the brighter light, the text message became clearer.

“Hey, I will be at my dorm soon. We can facetime in 10”  - "Dumbass", Delivered 1 min ago

“Oh fuck me…” i mumbled under my breath, i completely forgot. Heeseung asked me to help him with this project a week ago. My heavy hands struggled to keep my phone up, feeling even more suffocated. Figures, keep proving what a great friend you are…

“hi, I'm sorry. I really don’t feel well… Can we reschedule?”  - "Me", delivered 3 sec ago

I froze in front of my phone, waiting for a response. My heart pounded in my chest, my palms sweaty. A second later my message was read. Another second later… nothing. I stayed in this position for 3 whole minutes, my eyes pacing between the time and the 'me, read 4 mins ago'. 

I turned off my phone, placed it on my chest and succumbed to my new reality: I’m a shitty friend, a shitty girlfriend and a shitty human. I lay there in silence, staring at the ceiling as if it could offer some sympathy or even relief from the sinking feeling in my chest. I closed my eyes to fight the tears that were threatening to come out. 

My phone buzzed again. My eyes flew open, How long have I been sleeping? I didn't want to check my phone, but my hand moved on its own.

“Look out your window. I might be outside with snacks.“ - "Dumbass", Delivered 30 sec ago

I frowned back at my screen, what is he talking about? Before I could figure out what to reply or do, faint jingles of a bell rang from outside my window. I rose to my feet in an instant and walked to my window. As my eyes scanned the quiet street, the faint jingles rang again. “I’m down here,” a voice whispered before chuckling. 

My eyes shifted to the source. There he was, Hee leaning against his bike, looking up at me like this was the most normal thing in the world. He wore his washout blue jeans and his worn out sneakers. His black hood covering his messy, slightly grown out hair. A small white plastic bag could be seen in his bike basket. When our eyes met, his smile grew and I contagiously smiled back. “Hee, what the hell?” I whispered back to him, amusement and confusion laced my voice. 

“Stop treating me like a food delivery service and come down.”  he whispered, adjusting his grip on his bike.  I hesitated for a second, still processing the absurdity of this situation. For just a second, he did look like a food delivery guy, I couldn’t help it but laugh. “You’re insane,” I muttered, shaking my head. A strange pull made me want to go see him,  “I will grab my phone. Give me a minute.” I said before disappearing back to my dorm.

As soon as I opened my door and headed toward the stairs, I could hear his bike bell ring again, faint and playful, like it was telling me to hurry. I rolled my eyes, a small smile tugged at my lips as I sped down the stairs. 

“Are you trying to wake up the whole building?” I asked once I reached the bottom. As I was walking towards him, he smiled at me, “just making sure you don't bail on me again.” he said, a teasing tone in his voice. I grimaced, remembering everything that just happened these past hours. I closed my eyes in embarrassment, not daring to look into his, “Hee, I'm so sorry. That was-" I started apologising but was cut off when I felt something tough and cold wrap my head. I opened my eyes once again to find his gaze softened, making that sinking feeling in my chest less heavy. 

“Hey, you’re fine,“ he said, his voice lower, adjusting the helmet on my head. “I’m not mad.” he continued, his eyes reassuring. I stayed quiet, words slipped away from me as I looked back into his big eyes. His big grin came back before he turned his back to me, “But I will only get you off the hook if you get on.”

I stared at him, puzzled, as he climbed on his bike. “Where are we going?” I asked, my body naturally finding its seat behind him, my arms instinctively wrapped around him. “Guess you’ll have to trust me.” he said, shrugging his shoulders. 

As I opened my mouth to argue, he jerked the handlebars quickly, making the whole bike shake. I yelped and, out of reflex, tightened my grip around him. His laugh echoed as I tried to catch my heart from the sudden movement. 

Before I could say anything, he pushed his leg and had the wheels rolling in a swift motion. The cool night air hit me immediately as we rode through the quiet campus, the breeze felt more refreshing than in my room.  The steady rhythm of the bike’s movement is oddly soothing, making my rest my cheek against his back. The warmth from him was a quiet contrast to the slight chill of the night. For the first time today, my thoughts weren’t so loud.

The campus lights blurred as we passed, we flickering through the trees, until finally, the buildings thinned and I spotted the dim glow of streetlights ahead. He slowed the bike to a stop and kicked the stand into place. He placed a gentle hand on my thigh, grounding me back to reality, “we’re here...” he said, his voice low.

I blinked, pulling my head away from his back. My eyes adjusted to the dim surroundings, taking in the empty space ahead. A playground. I unwrapped my arms from him and planted my feet on the ground. He nodded towards the swings, “c’mon, sit.” he said before he started to fish something out of his basket.

I started dragging my legs towards the swing as they found that heavy feeling again. I flopped on the swing’s seat, slowly swaying my feet as I lean my head on the swing’s cold metal chains. That feeling still clung to me—the weight in my chest, the unease I couldn’t quite shake. 

Hee pulled something out of the basket and started walking over. He held a small crinkly bag in front of me, it took me a moment to adjust to the lack of light to see what it was. My eyes widened once I realized, “Oh, you're kidding…”

He smiled at my reaction and tossed the bag of Hershey’s chocolate dipped pretzels into my lap. “I still judge you for loving those…” he said, watching me rip open the bag and pop one in my mouth, completely ignoring his comment. “Thank you,” I said, my words muffled by the heavenly pretzel in my mouth. 

As I chewed, I felt the swing creak beneath me. Hee’s presence lingered behind me, his hands brushing against my back. With a gentle push, I began to sway slowly, back and forth. “Alright,” he said, disturbing the quiet, “what’s going on?” 

For a moment, I let the swaying movement calm me, ignoring his question and the tight feeling it created in my chest. “I’m fine,” I said finally, keeping my eyes glued to my lap and the ground. I couldn’t see his face, but I’m sure he had that expression— the one that said he could tell I was lying. His voice was quieter now, “You don’t look fine.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, “I just saw my ex today…” I started, unsure how to start telling him everything. “Hated that guy,” he said abruptly, his voice laced with disgust. I snorted a laugh, “you hate all my exes.” I said, looking up at him while still swaying in the swing. 

“Yeah, can you blame me? He looks like a spoon.” he remarked. I bursted out laughing, making my swing halt its movement.

When my laughter died down, I found Hee unmoved behind me, looking at me with those bambi eyes. He brushed my hair out of my face, gently collecting it to the back, “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

The softness in his tone made my heart beat a little stronger. His warm hands lingered around my face and neck, leaving a buzzing feeling on my skin. “I don’t know…” I drifted off, trying to figure out what to say without sounding pathetic, “I think seeing him again, and seeing him happy, made me realise how I wasn’t enough for him. That made me think I wasn't enough for anyone or anything.” 

Heeseung didn’t say anything right away, he just kept brushing my hand with his hands. “Y/N,” he said quietly, “you were enough for him. If he didn’t see that, that’s on him, not you.” he continued, “And the idea that you’re not enough for anyone or anything? We both know that's bullshit.”

I exhale, nodding in agreement, “I know, my thoughts escalated faster than I could ration, I believe.” I said, looking in front of me, focusing on the dimly lit playground. 

No more words were exchanged, the silence between us stretched for a moment. You could only hear the sound of my swing swaying. I could feel the breeze against my face, the sound of the night, and his presence behind me, steady and comforting. As I was lost in my – much calmer– thoughts, my eyes landed on his parked bike. 

“Hee?” I called out.

“Yes, pretty girl?” 

“I have a confession to make.” I announced. I could feel his touch on my back lose its rhythm for a moment, “you’ve got my full attention.” 

“I don’t know how to ride a bike.” I said calmly as a matter of fact, keeping my gaze in front of me. I furrowed my brows when I felt him completely pause his movement, making me turn around. When he saw my face, it dawned on him, “oh, you’re not joking." he said, almost to himself. “Why would I be joking?” I shot back, popping another pretzel in my mouth. 

“How have you managed this long without knowing?” He asked, sounding surprised. I shrugged, “been a passenger princess since birth,” I winked, looking up at him. He laughed, slowly moving from behind me, his hands leaving my shoulders. I watched his figure grab the bike and walk it right in front of me with a small grin, “Well, guess it’s time to change that.”

I raised an eyebrow at him, “I'm not so sure about that.” I said, shaking my head. “Come on, see it as an apology for canceling our plans,” he insisted, tilting his head to the side. I looked at the bike and then at him, those big bambi eyes looking back at me again.

I sighed in defeat and got up from the swing. He held the bike in balance while I held the handlebars and perched myself on the seat. I could feel the weight of the bike under me, “You want to kill me,” I whispered in disbelief. 

He laughed, “you got this, doll. Just go in a straight line. I will stay right next to you.” 

I took a deep breath and pushed my leg off the ground, making the bike move forward. The motion was jerky, “Oh my god,” I muttered to myself, trying to focus on keeping the bike steady. Hee was right behind me, “that's it…” he encouraged. I tried to focus, but the bike wobbled wildly beneath me, the wheels turning too fast, and my legs couldn’t keep up with the movement. I tried to straighten myself, instead I overcorrected, veering to the left, no longer having control over the bike. 

I shrieked as I crashed straight into him, sending both of us tumbling onto the grass. The bike clattered beside us, as we tried to catch our breaths from the adrenaline and the laughter. “I think you need more than just a straight line,” he said between laughs, his face so close I could feel the warmth of his breath against my cheek.

As the laughter faded, we stayed lounged on the grass, facing each other. His eyes were closed, but a clear smile on his face. My own eyes studied and traced the outlines of his features while I could, quietly soaking in the moment. "You really didn’t have to do any of this,"

He opened his eyes, catching my gaze. He shrugged. "Yeah, well... it’s for you."

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reactions to your "let's break up" text prank

Request: Hello! I've been reading your stuff, and it's so good. I was wondering if I could request something? A while back, there was a prank on TikTok with girlfriends texting their boyfriends asking/telling them they wanted to break up. I was wondering if you could do Seventeen OT13 reactions to the same scenario? Let me know if this is okay! Thank you! :)

A/N: Ah, this took me longer to complete than I expected. Anyway, this is their reaction to the general, "Let's break up," text tiktok trend. I know it's a really common prompt, but I still wanted to try it out. The videos the anon later sent me of the trend for the request (because I hadn’t seen before) actually had a twist, like, "What do we do when we break up," or, "When we break up, ___." These felt a bit different from the straightforward, "Let's break up," so I’ll be writing that version as well. I really want these to meet your expectations, anon, as well as for everyone else reading. So, if this isn’t quite what you were hoping for, please stay tuned for my next reaction post—it’ll be up soon. Until then, I hope you enjoy this one!

For the sake of the reaction, OT13 are not physically with their s/o at the moment.

Content: Suggestive in some members (Joshua, Mingyu, Minghao and Dino) MDNI!, angst if you squint, other than these I think it's cute heheh

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Seungcheol: At first, he thinks you're joking, but the tone of your message makes him pause. He’s a natural leader who reads between the lines, so your message would raise a red flag. He’d immediately call you instead of texting back.

"What’s going on? Is this a joke, or are you serious?", "If something’s wrong, we need to talk about it, not text about it." If you stay silent to keep the prank going, he’d start to worry. “Listen, if you’re upset or unsure about us, we should talk in person. Breaking up over text isn’t like you.”

When you finally admit it’s a prank, you’d hear a heavy sigh of relief on the other end of the line. “You had me thinking about where I went wrong. Don’t mess with me like that, okay?” He’d pout and demand extra cuddles, peppered with kisses as apology payments, but it’s not long before he uses this prank against you, teasing about how you can’t live without him.

Jeonghan: He sees right through it. Jeonghan is the master of mind games, he knows exactly how to flip the script. When he reads your breakup text, he’d smirk to himself and reply with something like,

"Oh no, how will I ever survive without you? 🙄"

Or,

“Shit, what did I do? Let me grab my tissues and cry in public.”

If you double down, insisting it's serious, he might add a touch of fake sincerity just to keep you on edge,

“Alright, if this is real, I need to hear it from you in person. But if you’re joking, just admit it already so that you don't have to embarrass yourself before I start planning my heartbreak playlist.”

When you finally confess, he’d grin slyly and shake his head.

“You thought you could out-prank me? Cute. Now you owe me a nice date to make up for trying to stress me out.” (but was he even stressed in the first place?)

He wouldn’t even pretend to be mad, but his devilish smirk would remind you just how much you underestimated him. It was a nice try but you need to work harder to fool him.

Joshua: Joshua’s initial response is shock. He would be one of the most heartbroken, mainly because he wouldn’t immediately assume it’s a prank. His first response would be thoughtful and kind, showing how much he values your relationship He types and deletes messages a few times before sending:

“Is this really how you feel? Did I do something to make you feel this way? I’d really like to talk about it instead of texting.”

If you don’t reply quickly, he’d follow up with another message,

“Please don’t make a decision like this without us talking. I want to fix whatever’s wrong.”

When you finally admit it’s a joke, his relief would be palpable, and he’d laugh nervously. “I can’t believe you’d scare me like that!” He really thought he lost you for a second. You’re lucky he can’t stay mad at you. But just like Seungcheol he'll pout and will have to make up with him for some more~ (“You better make this up to me. Tonight.”) I'll keep it open to interpretation.

Jun: Jun would be confused and a bit hurt but wouldn’t jump to conclusions. He’d reread the text multiple times, trying to understand where it was coming from.

"I don't understand...."

"Did I do something wrong? I thought we were happy."

"Can we talk about this in person?"

If you keep the prank going, he’d start to blame himself so,

“I didn’t realize I was making you feel this way. I’m sorry.”

“Can we meet and talk about this?”

He was about to bring over your favorite snacks and talk it out and fix things!Then when you admit it’s a prank, he’d groan and playfully pout. His pout would be so adorable that you’d smother him with kisses in apology, and he’d happily take them all.

Hoshi: Hoshi's immediate reaction would be pure panic. He’d spam you with messages, each one more frantic than the last:

"WHAT?!"

"What do you mean break up?"

"Why??"

"Did I do something wrong?"

"I’ll fix it, I promise!"

"Don’t leave me!!!"

When you don’t reply fast enough, he’d call you, his voice would be shaky, “Please, let’s talk it out! I can’t lose you!” so when you finally tell him it’s a prank, he’d let out the most dramatic sigh of relief and switch to playful scolding in an instant saying things like, “You almost gave me a heart attack!” His whole world actually flashed before his eyes. But he wouldn’t let it slide easily, so you better give him cuddles for a week to make up for this!

Wonwoo: Wonwoo would approach it maturely but with a heavy heart.

"Is this really what you want?"

“If this is what you really want, I won’t stand in your way. But I’d like to know why, so I can understand.”

"I just want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me."

If you push the prank further, he’d try to give you space while quietly reflecting on what he might have done wrong.

“I hope you’re okay. Just let me know when you’re ready to talk.”

After this text from him, you'll have to immediately stop the prank because he's actually taking this into consideration for your sake. When you confess that it was all a prank, he’d take a moment before chuckling softly and saying, “You really scared me there. I was already preparing to give you the space you needed. Don’t joke about something like this, okay?” You really scared this man.

Woozi: He would be stunned and would stare at the message for a long time, unsure how to react. He finally texts back:

“Is this real? Did something happen?”

If you keep insisting it’s serious, he’d start overthinking.

“I didn’t realize I was making you feel this way. I’m sorry. Let’s meet and talk, please.”

When you reveal it’s a prank, he’d let out a heavy sigh and come all the way home to roll his eyes at you lmao. He can’t believe you just did that. Do you think he's laughing? No, he's not. But he'll forgive you this time. He’d try to act annoyed, but the small smile on his face would give him away.

Dokyeom: This poor man's heart would break immediately, and he’d call you with his voice trembling, his speech coming in quick succession, "What happened? Why do you want to break up? I don’t understand. Whatever it is, I’m sorry! Please!"

When you finally admit it’s a prank, he’d laugh out of sheer relief, but you’d sense his lingering panic. "You’re so mean! My heart is still racing!" (It is). So please do us a favour, don't do this type of prank with our cutie patootie and save him from a potential heartbreak.

Mingyu: Mingyu would be devastated but would try to keep it together.

"What? Why?"

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Can we talk about this face-to-face?."

When you finally tell him it’s a prank, he’d groan and collapse onto the couch, his hands covering his face. “You scared me so much! I was about to drop everything and come see you. You’re going to pay for this with a date night—and maybe a private encore performance after.” Again I'll leave this up to your interpretation of what happens after he comes back home.

Minghao: Minghao would handle it coolly but with a hint of worry.

"If that’s what you really want, I won’t stop you."

"But I’d like to know why."

When you admit it’s a prank, he’d shake his head and smirk. "Don’t test me like that again." Again, I'm leaving this up to your interpretation of what happens next when he's back home. (He’d pull you close, his lips ghosting over yours as he adds, "Next time you want my attention, just say so. No need for dramatics." — snippet)

Seungkwan: Seungkwan would immediately start spiraling the moment he reads your text. His fingers would move at lightning speed, sending a flurry of messages that progressively show his panic:

"Why??"

"????"

"What happened?"

"Is it something I did?"

"Please tell me we can fix this."

When you tell him it’s a prank, he’d yell. "YOU DID NOT JUST DO THAT TO ME!" He’d immediately start pacing in circles, waving his hands around like he’s rehearsing for a drama, "I was about to cry! How could you do this to me?" while being in call with you. But then he’d laugh, give you a side eye and forgive you.

Vernon: Vernon would be too stunned to react at first. After what feels like an eternity (but is really just two minutes), he’d reply:

"Uh... what? Can we talk about this?"

He's genuinely surprised so when you tell him it’s a joke, he’d sigh and laugh awkwardly cause then it makes sense for you to do a tiktok prank on him. "You’re wild for that. My brain didn’t know how to process it." I mean who can break up with a breathtakingly gorgeous man like him?. Also, you might catch him giving you side glances for the rest of the day, as if he’s still recovering from the fake heartbreak.

Dino: Dino would be heartbroken and immediately reply.

"What? Why?"

"I thought we were happy together."

When you reveal it’s a prank, his gasp would be loud enough to echo. "No way you just did that to me! I was about to cry!" He’d pout and demand endless apologies. His grin would leave no doubt about his plans to make you make up for it. He might be the youngest but again...I'm leaving this up to your interpretation.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Gun Park x Reader: Pre-Date Jitters

G/N. Who would have thought Gun could get nervous. Follow up to Awkward Flirtations. Masterlists

All of Goo's insults, that Gun thought he had perfected the art of tuning out over the years, are finally coming home to roost.

That fucking moron. I'm going to kill him, he thinks.

Gun had never particularly concerned himself with what Goo thought. After all, why would he, why should he. Does a human care about what a mosquito thinks?

Yet Gun looks at his reflection for a beat longer than usual, eyes drawn to his hair as uninspiring taunts 'did you dunk your head in grease', 'shave it off and start again' in Goo's whiny, irritating timbre echo in his mind.

I will kill him, Gun decides.

This morning is not starting off well.

It gets worse when Gun observes his wardrobe.

To his disdain, there are overlaps in brands and fashion houses between his and Goo's clothing despite Gun opting for a more muted, understated palette and Goo going for as obnoxious as physically possible.

Nevertheless, that never stopped Goo from running his mouth.

'You should burn that shirt.'

'Did you find that in a dumpster?'

But, and Gun's already sour mood turns even more sour at the realisation, Goo may have a point.

Well, actually no he fucking doesn't.

But what if your taste is more aligned to the blonde's that Gun Park's own. That you agree and find his hair overdone and his clothes tasteless.

Is he also going to need to don his glasses again to hide the unmissable scar between his eyes?

What the fuck, Gun thinks, eyebrows knitting together as he tries to dismiss all this uncharacteristic doubt.

"What the fuck," he murmurs, nostrils flaring as he slams his eyes shut and counts to ten.

On ten, he exhales. The thoughts disappear. All, except one:

I'm going to strangle Goo Kim.

.

.

At 1:50pm, standing outside the coffee shop, Gun burns through two cigarettes before the agreed meeting time of 2pm.

Then at 2:04pm, he lights up another, takes a short, solitary drag before stubbing it out.

At 2:07pm, he smokes one more to the filter in a single, long, inhale.

The annoyance, and nicotine, fully hits 30 seconds later as your absence becomes unbearably loud.

Less than ten minutes have passed, though with the anticipation coursing through Gun's veins, it feels like a lifetime and pride halts him from texting you.

Perhaps you got into an accident. Maybe you died on the way here. Or more realistically-

Did you waste his time? Have you stood him up?

That would certainly be a first.

Is this what being stood up feels like? A steady force of disappointment grows heavier with each passing second, eventually sure to crush him under its own weight.

Manifesting, twisting into anger and vexation in a split second.

What is he even doing with this moronic romanticism? Why would Gun Park be on a date?  He does not form attachments, romantic or otherwise. Neither does he spend his time hanging outside coffee shops waiting for someone who he can't mould into his masterpiece. He shouldn't have, doesn't have interest in anything besides getting stronger or richer-

"Sorry!"

Your voice bursts through the spiralling thoughts as you grab his attention by squeezing his arm.

You ramble. Something about the traffic and getting lost but it doesn't matter. None of it matters.

The sun, resting high and pretty in the sky, illuminates you, casting a golden aura and your halo of light envelopes Gun.

All previous anger, gone. All uncertainty from this morning, vanished.

He inhales, like the first breath of air after drowning, and with his exhale, can't help the smallest smile that rests on his face.

"You look nice," you add sincerely after your apology, eyes roving approvingly over his form.

Gun finding his mouth suddenly dry, clears his throat and acknowledges your compliment with a nod. He looks at you, gaze softer than he ever thought capable, and with a hand resting on the small of your back, leads you into the cafe.

[orellazalonia]

The Silence Between Us

Summary: When a mission goes wrong and you resort to bad habits, one of the last teammates you expected finds you. (Bucky Barnes x Avenger!reader)

Trigger Warnings: Descriptions and acts of SELF-HARM. Failed mission. Mentions of civilians death. Minors DNI. Angst. Sort of comfort at the end.

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: I wanted angst and have had this idea for a bit. Reader & Bucky are not in a relationship in this. As always, please read the warnings. You are responsible for the media you consume. Let me know if I should add something else to the warnings, tags, or anything else.

Main Masterlist

You hadn’t meant for anyone to get hurt. It was supposed to be a routine mission: intel, extract, and get out. But something went wrong. Of course it did. The detonation happened too early and the blast wave swallowed a civilian transport before you could shield it. You watched the fire bloom, bright and furious, as the screams rung loud. Then the silence that followed.

You stood numbly while the team regrouped. They didn’t say anything, not really. Steve gave you a tight nod. Clint didn’t meet your eyes. Natasha’s mouth pressed into a thin line, the kind that said everything and nothing all at once. You could still feel the warmth of the explosion near your face, even hours later. You couldn’t stop seeing their faces.

So you slipped away.

The Tower was quiet, save for the hum of the lights and the occasional sound of Friday responding to someone else. You knew no one would come looking, not tonight. Not after what you did and what you failed to do. You made it to your room, but didn’t stay there. Instead, you found yourself in the bathroom with trembling hands and blurry vision. The guilt was like tar in your lungs, thick and suffocating. You tried breathing through it, tried telling yourself you didn’t mean to, but your voice cracked before you got past the first word.

And then you saw the blade.

It was instinct, not thought. You weren’t even sure why your fingers wrapped around it, why you sat down on the cold tile floor and rolled up your sleeve like it was some rehearsed choreography. You just needed something. Something sharp, something real, something that hurt more than your head and your heart. The sting was almost welcome. It focused the pain. Made it tangible and controlled.

You didn’t notice the blood until it had already patterned the grout like inkblots.

You didn’t move from the floor as the blade slipped from your fingers. It clattered against the tile, but the sound was too soft, too far away. You were somewhere else now, drifting in that space where everything is slowed down and sound becomes distant, muffled, like your ears were underwater. Your breath hitched and your chest tightened, but the tears still refused to fall. Part of you had already shut down.

You stared at your arm. At the red lines, thin but vivid, like cracks in porcelain. They weren’t deep enough, not fatal. You hadn’t meant to go that far. Or maybe you had, you didn’t know. You couldn’t tell what was intentional anymore. Everything felt heavy and hollow at the same time, resembling the feeling of a black hole that had opened inside you, pulling everything inward. Every ounce of guilt, every mistake, every scream you couldn’t stop echoing in your mind.

You didn’t want to think how you looked like.

You had caught your reflection earlier by accident. Your face was pale, jaw tight, eyes…empty. You certainly didn’t look like yourself. You wanted to punch the glass, to shatter it, to make the outside match the inside. But your body had been too tired. Too numb. The only thing you could feel now was the warm, sticky drag of blood as it crept down your skin.

You curled in on yourself, knees pulled tight to your chest, one arm wrapped around your ribs, the other held away like something foreign, something broken. You wished the floor would crack open and swallow you whole. You wished you could disappear.

The thoughts came in waves. You should have died instead of them. They didn’t sign up for this. You did. You promised to protect people. The words felt like knives. And you took them all, again and again, let them bury themselves in your spine until there was nothing left to do but breathe shallowly and wait. Wait for the blood to dry, for the guilt to rot you from the inside out.

Not caring how long you sat there with your head down, eyes closed. You didn’t even hear the door open.

Maybe it was unlocked. Maybe you’d forgotten to lock it in your haze. Or maybe he just picked it, quiet as death, like he’d been trained to be. You barely flinched when the soft creak of the hinges gave him away. But your eyes didn’t lift. You stayed there, folded up like paper, still bleeding, still silent. You didn’t have the energy to care or do anything else.

There was a pause. A breath.

“…Shit.”

His voice wasn’t loud. It was low, rough, somewhere between a curse and a sigh. You knew that voice though. It was the one that rarely spoke to you. Not out of cruelty. Just…distance. He was always at the edge of the group, a little like you. Watching more than participating. Following orders, fighting hard, and saying little. You never expected him to be the one standing in your bathroom doorway, taking in the sight of you broken on the floor.

But there he was.

Bucky didn’t rush. He didn’t bark your name or kneel with some dramatic flare. Instead, he stepped in slowly, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The kind of silence that settles before a storm. You heard the faint clink of metal fingers curling into a fist, then loosening.

“You’re bleeding,” He said.

You let out a weak, joyless sound. It might’ve been a laugh. Might’ve been a sob. “Yeah. Noticed.”

You didn’t look up, knowing his eyes flickered to the bloody blade beside your broken form.

There was more silence. But it wasn’t empty this time, it was tense. A wire pulled too tight. Then the sound of fabric shifting. Movement. You felt the air change as he knelt beside you, just barely close enough to be felt but not touched.

“I saw what happened today,” Bucky murmured. “You think I don’t know what that does to someone?”

You turned your face away, more toward the tile. “I killed them.”

“No,” He said. “You didn’t.”

Your laugh came again, sharper this time. Bitter. “That’s not how it looked.”

Bucky didn’t argue. He didn’t feed you platitudes or repeat what Steve might’ve said. Instead, he shifted again, setting something down beside him. A towel? Maybe his jacket? You didn’t look. You couldn’t. But his voice stayed low, grounded.

“You freeze up when it happens,” He said, like he was talking to himself more than you. “The explosion. The screaming. It’s like your body remembers too much. You forget how to move. How to breathe.”

You said nothing.

“I’ve had days like that,” Bucky continued. “Too many. Days where I couldn’t even look at my hands without seeing the blood that wasn’t mine. That’s not something you can just… walk off.”

You blinked hard. Your vision blurred with tears that finally, finally started to fall. “I just wanted to save them.”

“I know,” He said, almost a whisper.

There was a long pause before you felt the faintest touch, metal fingers brushing yours. Not grabbing. Not pulling. Just… being there. Present. Steady. You didn’t pull away. Not this time.

You still hadn’t looked at him, but it didn’t matter.

“I’m not good at this,” He exhaled. “But I know what it’s like to be drowning in your own head. So don’t sit in it alone.”

Your voice cracked when you asked, “Why are you here?”

Bucky was quiet for a moment. Then he said something so quiet it nearly disappeared:

“Because I saw myself in you.”

He didn’t wait for your answer. Instead, he stood, the scrape of his boots on the tile echoing softly, and walked toward the small cabinet in the corner. You could hear the rustling of supplies: bandages, antiseptic, gauze, who knows what else. The faint sound of a drawer sliding open. He moved like someone who had done this before, not hurried, not hesitant, just deliberate.

You stayed still, frozen against the cold bathroom floor, not knowing what to do with the sudden tenderness in his actions. There was something surreal about it. The way he was treating you with a care that no one had given you for so long, maybe ever. The coldness of the tiles beneath your legs was starting to seep into your bones, but you didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

When he returned, it was with the first aid kit in his hands, but his expression was a bit softer, unguarded. He didn’t try to force you to look at him. Didn’t demand anything of you. He simply sat beside you again, pulling a disinfectant wipe from the kit and placing it in his lap.

He didn’t rush, didn’t say a word, as he took your arm gently, the metal of his prosthetic cool against your skin. His touch was careful, as if you were fragile in a way that didn’t show, like something beneath the surface was breaking, even though you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel it yet. His thumb brushed lightly over the cuts: too small, too shallow, but enough to leave marks.

"Let me clean them," He looked at you, his voice calm but firm.

You didn’t pull away. Not because you trusted him completely, but because you felt like you were too far gone to care about anything else.

He started with the first cut, swabbing at the wound with the antiseptic wipe, the sting of it sharp and biting. You flinched, but he was there, steady. His eyes were fixed on your arm, on the task at hand. You could feel his focus: no judgment, just intent to heal, to make the pain go away, if only for a moment.

You know you should have fought harder. Made sure to lock the door. Pushed him away. The man who had been through hell and back didn’t need to deal with this. But for some reason, he was. You didn’t know what it meant either and that scares you. Your thoughts were interrupted once more.

"You don’t have to talk," Bucky murmured after a beat, his voice low, just for you. "I know you’re not ready for that. But, know you don’t have to carry this alone. We all carry our own ghosts.”

You didn't say anything. His fingers worked efficiently, bandaging your wounds with gentle precision. The silence stretched on, but it wasn’t tense or suffocating this time. It was comforting in its quietness, like two people who didn’t need words to understand the weight of everything that had happened today. The first aid kit was closed, the sound of it calming, rhythmic.

When he finished, he looked at you, his metal hand hovering near your shoulder, as though waiting for permission. You didn’t pull away. You didn’t ask him to leave. You were still, lost in the feeling of someone caring for you in a way you hadn’t expected. Bucky didn’t press for anything. He simply let his hand rest on your shoulder.

“You’re not what happened today,” He stated quietly, his thumb brushing across the fabric of your sleeve, the touch almost tender. “You’re not what you think you are. You don’t need to punish yourself for the things out of your control.”

You didn’t know how to answer him, so you didn’t. The quietness in the room felt like a balm, the silence enveloping you like a weighted blanket. His presence was like the steady rhythm of a heartbeat, strong and unwavering. You didn’t feel the need to hide, not with him sitting beside you, patient and understanding.

Finally, he spoke again. “You need rest.” His voice was softer, quieter now, as though he knew it wasn’t just physical healing you needed. “Let me help you to your bed. Rest a little. I’ll stay if you want me to.”

You still didn’t respond or move. But this time, when his hand gently urged you to your feet, you let yourself follow his lead. You took another breath, closing your eyes just for a moment. For in that quiet space, you weren’t alone.

[aventurineswife]

Dear amazing author (you really are! I and my friend have always feast 💜)

If I may request something - may I please request the hugs and assurance, that everything would be alright? For Aventurine, Argenti, general Jing Yuan, Boothill, DHIL / Dan Heng (you may add more, if you want, I'd gladly read it all!)

Not only I, but also my friend has bad period of time... These last two months mainly... :') college in the last year is not funny, ngl...

Thank you sincerely 💜

(also Toki, surprise ;D no matter what would happen, we are strong introverts forever 💜🤭)

We Mend as We Go

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Argenti x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Dan Heng IL x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Vulnerability, Reassurance, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Introspection, Found Family, Slow Burn (implied), Mutual Support.

Warnings: Mentions of Trauma, Burdens of Leadership, Existential Doubt, References to Vengeance and Loss, Themes of Loneliness and Emotional Isolation, Mentions of Past Violence (in Boothill and Dan Heng's parts).

A/N: 😭😭STAWWPPP!! Y'ALL ARE TOO NICE 🧍‍♀️😔, ALSO I can relate with college... It's never fun but neither was school (for me at least) :') enjoy this! ;)

The moon hung high over the city, casting a soft, silvery glow across the balcony where Aventurine stood, his sharp eyes fixed on the distant horizon. Despite his outwardly confident demeanor, there was a deep unease within him tonight, a rare crack in his carefully crafted facade.

You approached him quietly, your footsteps soft on the stone. He didn't turn to look at you, but the subtle shift in his posture told you that he knew you were there. You stopped beside him, taking in the view, before gently reaching out and placing your hand on his shoulder.

Aventurine’s smile was as enigmatic as always, but his eyes—held a flicker of something else: vulnerability. It was fleeting, hidden just beneath the surface, but you had learned to read him, to see past the games and the charming mask.

"Everything’s a gamble, isn't it?" he mused, his voice light, but with an underlying tension. "No matter how many victories I've had, there's always that nagging feeling... What if it all crumbles?"

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him in a tender embrace. He froze at first, caught off guard by the warmth of your presence, before he slowly relaxed, a soft breath escaping his lips.

"Then we'll rebuild it together," you whispered, your voice calm, filled with assurance. "You’re not alone in this. Whatever happens, we’ll face it."

Aventurine stood still for a moment, his heart pounding with an unfamiliar comfort, before he allowed himself to lean into the hug. His arms hesitantly wrapped around you, the gesture more vulnerable than anything he had ever shown.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice softer than usual. "You make the gamble seem worth it."

The night was quiet, the stars shining brightly above the peaceful valley where Argenti had paused in his travels. The weight of his armor felt heavier than usual tonight, as if the burden of his sacred duty pressed down upon him more than ever. He had been wandering for so long, always alone, always with the call of duty at his side. Yet, tonight, there was a crack in the armor of his conviction—a moment of doubt.

You found him sitting on a rock, staring at the night sky with a distant expression, as though lost in thought. Without a word, you sat beside him, the silence between you both comfortable in its familiarity. You didn’t need to ask what was troubling him; you could feel it emanating from him like an unseen weight.

After a few moments, Argenti spoke, his voice quieter than usual, filled with the kind of uncertainty he rarely allowed himself.

"Do you ever wonder if I’m doing the right thing?" he asked, his eyes reflecting the stars above. "I’ve faced so much... I’ve fought countless battles, restored cities, but... is it enough? Am I truly bringing beauty to the world?"

You reached out, gently resting your hand on his, offering him the comfort he often denied himself. Argenti looked at you, his sharp gaze softening as he met your eyes.

"You’re bringing beauty with every step you take," you replied, your voice unwavering. "It’s not about the battles or the victories. It’s about the light you share, the way you inspire others. You don’t have to carry the world alone."

Argenti’s shoulders relaxed, the tension that had built up slowly dissipating as he leaned into your embrace. His armor was cold against your skin, but the warmth between you was enough to melt the doubt away, if only for a moment.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick with gratitude. "It’s a lonely path, but with you, it feels less so."

The evening was calm on the Xianzhou Luofu, a rare stillness settling over the grand halls and corridors. Jing Yuan had long since finished his duties for the day, but the weight of centuries seemed to linger in the quiet moments, especially as he found himself gazing at the stars from his study. His eyes, sharp and calculating, softened as he thought about the future, the past, and the delicate balance he maintained as the General.

You entered the room quietly, approaching him from behind. Jing Yuan didn’t turn, but the slight shift of his posture told you he was aware of your presence. You stepped closer, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder, the touch grounding him in the present.

"Jing Yuan," you said softly, "everything will be alright."

He chuckled, a deep, warm sound that seemed to carry the weight of both amusement and something more. "You say that, but you know how fragile peace can be," he remarked, his voice soft with the wisdom of ages. "How long can it last?"

You knelt beside him, your presence a reminder that he was not alone in his struggles. You placed a hand over his, your fingers intertwined with his, and offered him a comforting smile.

"You’ve kept the peace for so long," you said. "You’ve already proven that you can handle whatever comes. But it’s alright to lean on others too. You don’t have to carry everything by yourself."

Jing Yuan’s gaze softened as he looked at you, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. "And will you be here... when the burden feels too much?"

Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, offering the kind of reassurance only love and time could bring. Jing Yuan, for all his wisdom and strength, leaned into your embrace, a sigh escaping his lips. He had known countless battles and victories, but in this moment, it was the peace of your presence that soothed him.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice quiet but filled with warmth. "With you, I know everything will be alright."

The cold winds of the galaxy howled through the dim-lit room, the hum of the ship's engine the only sound breaking the silence. Boothill sat by the window, his mechanical hand tracing the outlines of the distant stars. His white hair framed his face, the black streaks almost seeming to shimmer in the faint light. His sharp teeth were barely visible, lips tight, eyes focused on something far beyond the stars—something far beyond the pain he’d been through.

You entered the room quietly, your footsteps soft against the metal floor. You had always known when Boothill needed space, but tonight, something about him seemed different—more distant, like the weight of his past was pulling him under. The bounty on his head grew heavier by the day, and Oswaldo Schneider was still a shadow, always out of reach. His quest for vengeance was endless, and it was slowly consuming him.

Sitting beside him, you placed a gentle hand on his. His cold, metallic fingers trembled slightly under your touch, a sign of just how much his humanity was still alive beneath the hard surface.

"Boothill," you whispered, your voice steady but full of warmth, "it's okay. You’ve fought so long, but you don’t have to fight alone anymore. Whatever happens, we’ll get through it together. You’re not alone. Everything... everything will be alright."

He didn’t respond immediately, but you saw the slight shift in his posture—the way he leaned just a little closer, his hair brushing against your arm. His eyes, those sharp, calculating eyes, softened, just for a moment. The aim symbols within them flickered slightly, as though they, too, were taking a break from their endless mission.

His voice was low, rough, as though it had been unused for far too long. "I... I don’t know how much longer I can keep fighting like this." The words came out almost as a confession, a crack in his usually impenetrable armor. "Everywhere I go, it feels like I’m chasing ghosts. My family... my home... it all just keeps slipping away, no matter how hard I try."

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. He stiffened at first, his mechanical body too rigid, but then, slowly, he let go of the tension, allowing himself to be enveloped by your warmth. His chin rested on your shoulder, the weight of his past pressing against you, but you held him tighter.

"It’s okay, Boothill," you murmured, your voice a gentle whisper. "You don’t have to carry everything alone. I’m right here, always. And I’ll help you find your peace, even if we have to fight for it together. We’re a team, and I’ll never leave your side."

For the first time in a long while, Boothill let himself relax, his grip on you steady but soft. The storm inside him had not yet passed, but in this moment, there was comfort—a fleeting sense of safety.

"You’re right," he whispered, his voice low, almost hesitant. "I’ve been carrying too much... Maybe it’s time to let someone else carry a little of the weight."

And for a moment, the stars outside seemed to shine a little brighter. As if even the universe itself was reminding him that he was not alone.

The stars stretched infinitely before you, the ship gliding smoothly through the cosmos. Dan Heng stood near the observation window, his eyes distant, gazing into the void. His posture was tense, as it often was, his sharp features betraying none of the turmoil within. The weight of his past, the memories of his previous incarnation, lingered like a storm cloud hanging over him.

You had known him long enough to recognize the signs—the way his shoulders would stiffen, how he would withdraw into himself when the shadows of the past grew too overwhelming. He had always been like this: detached, burdened by things he could not control, unable to fully reconcile with the legacy of his past life as the Imbibitor Lunae.

Without saying a word, you approached him. He didn’t turn to face you, but you didn’t need him to. You knew what he needed, even when he didn’t.

You reached out, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. His skin was warm beneath your fingers, but the tension in his body was like a barrier—one that you knew he had built over countless years. Still, you could feel the way his body subtly relaxed at your touch, just a fraction, but it was enough.

"Dan Heng," you said softly, your voice the only thing breaking the silence. "I know you carry a heavy burden, and I know it’s not easy to shake the past. But you don’t have to do it alone. Whatever comes, I’ll be here. You don’t have to keep everything locked inside. Everything will be alright, I promise."

For a long moment, he didn’t speak. He simply stood there, his gaze fixed on the stars, his expression unreadable. But you didn’t pull away. You stayed close, your presence offering the quiet reassurance he needed.

Finally, his voice came, almost like a whisper. "It’s hard," he admitted, his tone low, vulnerable in a way you rarely heard. "To live with all these memories. To know what I’ve done... what I was capable of... and still wonder if I can ever make up for it."

You stepped closer, placing your other hand on his back, your warmth reaching through the cold walls he had built around himself. "You’ve already done so much, Dan Heng. You’ve made a choice. And that choice is yours, not anyone else's. The past doesn’t define who you are now. You are not your past life. You’re you—and you are enough."

He exhaled slowly, as if your words had finally reached him, breaking through the fog of his thoughts. His hand, which had been resting at his side, slowly reached up, fingers brushing against yours. The touch was small, fleeting, but it was enough—a silent acknowledgment of your words.

For the first time in a long while, Dan Heng allowed himself to believe that maybe—just maybe—everything would be alright. And as he turned his head slightly to meet your gaze, the faintest of smiles tugged at the corner of his lips. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice soft. "I... I needed to hear that."

And in that quiet moment, amidst the vast expanse of the stars, you both knew that, no matter how far you had to go or how many trials awaited, you would face them together.

[ickbite]

JUST SAY GOODNIGHT N GO

PAIRING: implied fwb!sunghoon x reader

AUTHORS NOTE: around 700 words yikess small dabble no smut just small little fluff thang for my babe — enha masterlist

You never really expected him to come over tonight. At least, not this late. Especially not after the way your phone conversation ended, with a quick “goodnight” that felt like anything but final.

But here he is. Standing quietly in the dim hallway outside your door, eyes reflecting the soft yellow glow of the streetlamp outside the window.

You watch him, the familiar pull in your chest tightening. Sunghoon’s tall frame leans casually against the wall, like he belongs there as much as you do and at this point, you wouldn’t doubt it. “Hey,” he whispers softly, like he’s afraid to break the peace.

“Hey.” Your voice sounds smaller than you want it to. You mentally scold yourself for not asserting your power and showing the quiet.

He holds out a hoodie, one that’s far too big and smells like him, “you left this in my car.”

You take it, the fabric slipping through your fingers. It’s warm and comforting, like a silent apology or a secret promise. And when you realize it’s his, your face contorts into confusion. “No, I didn’t,” you say, voice low.

He shrugs with a grin, that cheeky sparkle in his eyes. “I know, but it looks better on you than it does me.

You roll your eyes, but you don’t pull away. You want to pull him closer, to ask him why he’s here. But you’re afraid, afraid of what’ll happen if you do. Will he leave if you show how much you care?

“So… are you gonna stay?” you ask, heart beating faster than usual.

Sunghoon hesitates, “I probably shouldn’t. You know I have practice early tomorrow and if I miss another one Jungwon will rip me a new one.”

You nod, pretending it’s not a stab to your chest. “I see,” was all you could mumble out.

“Still,” he adds, “I wanted to see you, I needed it.”

The honesty in his words catches you off guard. You want to say something clever, something that doesn’t sound like a desperate plea for him to stay with you for all of eternity.

Instead, you just whisper, “Why now?”

He shrugs, “I guess… I couldn’t sleep.”

You understand that feeling all too well. The nights when your thoughts spiral, the quiet loneliness that no one else sees.

“Me neither.”

Sunghoon steps a little closer, the warmth of his body seeping through the thin fabric of the hoodie.

“You look tired,” he says, moving his hand to push a strand of hair behind your ear.

You reach up to rub your eyes, the exhaustion pressing on your limbs.“Yeah, well, life’s complicated.”

He chuckles softly, then looks down at you with something tender, “you know, I think about you more than I should.”

You swallow the lump forming in your throat. “Yeah whatever,” you brush it off, eyes slightly rolling at his confidence.

A silence stretches between you, but it’s not awkward, instead, it’s full. Full of all the words you’ve been too scared to say.

“Do you ever wish I’d just stay?” Sunghoon asks, voice barely above a whisper.

You look at him, really look. At the soft curve of his lips, the way his eyes search yours, the way he’s waiting for your answer. “I do.”

He reaches out, fingers trembling slightly, and leaves his hand resting on the side of your face, his thumb rubbing it every once in a while.

“I want to stay,” he confesses. “But I don’t want to mess things up.”

You laugh softly, the sound breaking the tension. “You don’t mess things up, Hoon. You just make them better, I don’t see what’s wrong with that.”

He smiles shyly, then leans in slowly.

His lips brush your forehead first, gentle, like a secret. Then, barely touching, his lips find the corner of your mouth.

It’s a kiss without words. A question and an answer all at once. You close your eyes, letting the moment stretch out between you. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.

“So what now?” he murmurs.

You smile, heart full. “Now… you stay.”

He laughs quietly, the sound full of relief. “Good.”

The door clicks shut behind you both, but the night is just beginning.

[wildemaven]

chasing stillness | jack abbot

pairing - jack abbot x ofc!alix miller, rn word count - 2587 content warning - 18+ blog; lots of self reflection, use of ‘you’, Alix :39, lighter skin tone, has an a good amount of tattoos covering her body, has short hair that’s long enough to be pulled back, an avid runner:, established friendship, lots of feelings— but neither of them seem to be brave enough to share with the classroom, sarcasm and friendly banter, mention of divorce, mention of blood but nothing too serious, no y/n, please let me know if I failed to list something. a/n - I originally had something completely different I was going to post for these two first and then I started writing this and things went in a different direction. So you’re getting this first and then other thing will come later. I feel rusty with my writing but it was fun to dive back into it. Anyways, gonna go hide now! Next | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The notebook sat open on the kitchen counter—the one filled with countless grocery lists, to-do tasks and other personal details worth noting—next to your keys, ball-point pen and the bland energy bar you still needed to scarf down. 

Outside the sky was beginning its transition from late afternoon to early evening— clouds backlit in a soft gold as the sun slowly inched toward the city’s skyline. 

You stood in a pocket of fading light that filtered through the kitchen window, one foot on the bottom rung of a stool as you finished lacing up your well-worn running shoes. With both feet now firmly planted on the hardwood floor, your eyes drift to the blank page. You grab the pen, clicking once, twice writing a single line: 

Goals, Guts & Zero Guilt— Just Fucking Do It

You stared at the words for a while. The way they loop, cross and connect with purpose. 

It’s not the first time you’ve attempted this list. You start it every week, chickening out and turning the page allowing other lists to become your priority in the following days— you were a pro at hindering your own growth. There were times you’d flip back to the page, reading the words over before leaving on your run to work then flipping to the first blank page pushing it off for another day. 

But today felt different. And so you add:

run because it feels good, not because I’m outrunning anything

I’m not a failure because my marriage failed 

Starting over is a new beginning, not a punishment 

Stop hiding from the idea that someone might care

You pause. Pen hovering as you internally debate the last point, then adding: 

“Because You Matter” - Ask Jack, someday. Maybe

Because you matter. Those three words had been tormenting you since he’d said them to you the night of PittFest. There was a softness in the way he had spoken to you in that moment, dialing back his grit and satirical tone. This wasn’t an Attending giving his post-mass-casualty speech. It felt vulnerable and raw— like there was more he wanted to say than he allowed himself to. 

Because you matter to the hospital? Because you matter to us? Because you matter to him? 

Your fingers trace over the edge of that last line. Not crossing it out or underlining it or avoiding like you had been for the last year. Just acknowledging it— a possibility, at some point. 

The vibration from your watch pulls you from your thoughts. It’s an hour before your shift starts. You grab your keys, bag—tossing in the forgotten energy bar you’ll now contemplate eating mid-shift—and zip your hoodie halfway. 

Running to work wasn’t efficient. It didn’t make sense, especially before a 12 hour shift in the emergency room where you were on your feet for hours on end. But it made you feel something. The closest to being in control you’d felt in a long time. 

It gives you time to carve out space in your head— clear the static. Respite from your psyche and the stress of work you sometimes carry longer than you should. The hum of the city and the rhythm of your feet pounding against the pavement always made the perfect soundtrack as you descended the steps of your apartment building and head toward Pittsburgh Medical Trauma Center. 

*

The sky had deepened to a darker shade, streaked with ash-blue clouds. The first stars were just beginning to emerge—faint little beacons welcoming you to the night shift. 

As the hospital comes into view, you slowed to a jog. Breathing steady. Legs warm and heavy with a pleasant fatigue. You wipe the sweat from your forehead with the sleeve of your hoodie. 

A single bus sits in the ambulance bay— vacant and waiting for the next urgent departure. 

You're five minutes past your normal arrival time, but take a moment to fully collect yourself. Eyes closed, you draw in a long breath, then exhale deeply. And again. 

The whirring of the mechanical door sliding open cuts through the air, the bustle of ED spilling out and echoing across the concrete that surrounds you. Your pulse is a deafening thud in your ears— not from exertion, but the flicker of movement in front of you. 

Jack. 

He stands just beyond the entrance doors. A cup of coffee in one hand, badge clipped to its usual spot on his pants pocket and his gaze fixed on the watch strapped to his left wrist—an old relic from his service days, still faithfully ticking. 

“Five minutes slower than the other day.” Jack says, finally looking up at you. Surprise flickers in his eyes, quickly replaced by a smirk. “Should I be worried you’re losing stamina… or just trying to give me a head start?”

“Is this where I start regretting sharing my location with you?” You ask, entirely teasing. Cold air nips at your bare skin as you peel off your damp hoodie. The ink on your arms rises beneath a trail of goosebumps as a breeze sweeps through the emergency bay. 

You’d been working together for the better part of five years, riding the unpredictable waves of ED nights that swung between full-blown chaos and ghostly quiet. Him, Jack Abbot— the cool-headed Senior Emergency Medicine Physician that everyone turned to when things fell apart. You, Alix Miller—  the well respected R.N. and anchor who always knew where everything was, anticipated what needed doing and had the kind of deadpan wit that made Jack look forward to shift change.

Somewhere along the way, between split-second triage calls and vending machine raids at 1 a.m., you’d carved out a rhythm— easy, constant. The kind of friendship built on trust, sharp banter and just enough stolen glances and lingering silences to keep you both pretending it was still just that.

Jack chuckles, shaking his head, slipping his free hand into his pocket. “If you didn’t want me keeping tabs, you shouldn’t have accepted the request.” His eyes skim your ink, but he keeps his tone light. “Didn’t want to crush your spirit two runs in a row.”

He pauses, his smirk softening just a touch. “Miller— you good, though? You look like you ran more than just miles today.”

Because you matter. 

“Yeah— yeah I’m fine. Got a late start. Slept like shit and probably should have stretched out more. Nothing I can’t handle.” You say with your best convincing tone, hoping it’s enough that he buys into it.  

“You sure?” Jack’s head tilts slightly, offering you an opening— a quiet invitation to lay it all out. You’re not surprised he doesn’t buy it. He knows you too well. All you can offer is a reassuring smile and a nod.

“I need you in there.”

“You’ve got me, Abbot.” You say, giving his shoulder a brief squeeze as you pass him and step through the doorway.

*

It was 3:45 am when you found a moment to sit, most patients waiting on lab results or family to be released to. You sank into the chair, muscles heavy, mind foggy with the weight of too many hours and not enough rest. At least it was Friday— the end of a long, punishing week finally within reach. You held onto that thought like a lifeline.

Jack was taking advantage of the brief lulled atmosphere leaning against the counter of the nurses station with a half-drained cup of sludge, watching as you scribbled down notes onto your beloved fluorescent pink square sticky notepad with the same energy as a dying flashlight— your use of them was prevalent, adorning all surfaces around the hub of the Emergency Department. 

“Is it your pen giving out or is that your soul?” Jack asked dryly before gulping down the last bit of his black coffee and tossing the paper cup into the overflowing trash can. 

You didn’t look up as you peeled another square from the pad, crumpling it in your hand and tossing in the same direction. “Both, unfortunately.”

“You’re ridiculous.” He shook his head and grinned at your quick response, huffing out a snort just barely audible over the patient monitors and hushed murmuring among the other nurses and residents. 

“Go home, Miller. That’s the third time you’ve written ‘Abbot’ with two T’s.” He says, eyeing you with mock seriousness. “Pretty sure there’s a 23-gauge needle around here somewhere. I could drain whatever ink is left in that pen, take you behind Curtain 4, and make it permanent.” He unfolds his left arm, pointing to a spot on yours. “Right there, just above that little leaf thing on your forearm. You’ll never forget it.”

“That would be a bird wing, and I’m just seeing if you’re awake enough to catch it. As thrilling as that infection sounds— I’ll pass. Besides, it’s Friday—  I leave when you do.”

Jack’s house was a charming Craftsman bungalow located exactly two miles from the hospital. With two bedrooms and a small tiled bathroom, it was furnished in a way that perfectly reflected his laid-back personality, subtly underscored by the crisp precision of his military background. Every detail, every piece of his life arranged throughout the space, felt intentional—quietly ordered, effortlessly him.

Your house was on the opposite side of town— ten miles from Jack's and twelve from the hospital. 

It had become a normal occurrence since PittFest. 

Just crash at my place, Miller. It’s closer. You shouldn’t be running home like this.

You hadn’t argued. Too tired. Too wrung out. And maybe—though you hadn’t let yourself think it at the time—too grateful for the way he’d said it like it wasn’t a question.

He’d drive. You’d ride in silence. The blackout curtains made it easier to fall asleep fast and hard the second you laid on the couch. You’d sleep a few hours, pull together some sort of meal for the two of you from whatever he had in his fridge, then call a rideshare, or sometimes—on the rare days he wasn’t back on shift—he’d take you home himself.

He told you it was for convenience. That it wasn’t safe to run home after a twelve-hour shift, not with the streets as empty and strange as they were before dawn.

But the truth was quieter, heavier.

He just wanted to make sure you were safe.

Little did you know it eased something inside him— like he’d tucked you into a space where the world couldn’t get to you, at least not for a few hours.

Now, over a year later, it was just a normal routine between you two. 

“Fair. But I’ll have you know, it wouldn’t be my first.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I was pretty popular in the barracks for my stick-and-pokes. Practically a professional.” he murmured, eyes drifting back to the monitor above the nurses’ station, reading and rereading the stats, analyzing each one to see where his presence was needed most, mapping out his next move. 

“Oh, I’m sure you were,” you said with a teasing smile, eyes lingering on him as you rolled them just enough to let him know you weren’t entirely unimpressed. “Alright. Go do your thing and work your doctor magic, Abbot.” Peeling another square, wadding it into a ball before tossing it to where Jack was still leaning with his arms crossed over his chest, hitting his bicep and falling to the floor. 

“That’s what I do best. And I look damn good doing it.” Propelling himself forward and smacking the top of the desk with a grin before heading around the counter toward the patient in room twelve.

*

Some people dreaded night shifts, but you had grown accustomed to them—thrived on them. The darkness brought fewer questions, fewer forced smiles. While the world slept, you became an expert at stitching things back together— arteries, skin, and the real-life stories unraveling at 2 a.m. in multiple trauma bays. A nightly rhythm of chaos that gives you purpose.

When morning arrives, as it always does, you trade the steady hum of machines, overhead pages, the metallic tang of blood, and the sharp sting of antiseptic mingled with burnt coffee for the quiet calm of the city as you step outside.

Jack walks ahead, as he always does, his canvas bag slung high over his shoulder. The morning light casting long shadows across the walkway leading to the hospital’s parking garage. He scans the path without thinking, eyes sweeping over every corner, every parked car— familiar or not. It’s the soldier in him. Those instincts etched deep in his bones, even in peacetime. There’s no threat here, not really, but he still walks like there might be. One step ahead. Always ready to shield, to take the hit before it ever reaches you.

Because you matter.

The flick of Jack’s unlock button sets off a rapid series of beeps as you near the black truck. He’s already at the passenger door holding it open, leaning casually against the frame. He doesn’t say anything as you approach— just observes you quietly. Your dark grey scrub top is rumpled and half-tucked and the loose waves of your hair are barely contained in your favorite clip— clear signs of a long shift.

Somehow, he always looks like he’s stepped out of a GQ centerfold— every curl perfectly in place. The greying five o’clock shadow doesn’t take away from his looks— if anything, it makes them worse in the best way. Like he needs the added charm on top of everything else he’s already got going for him.

There’s a flicker of nervousness in him that catches your eye just before you climb into the truck. His head is angled down toward his boots, his weight shifting from one foot to the other, only lifting his gaze once you’re standing right in front of him. And when he looks at you—really looks—it’s as if time stalls just for a moment. His head tilts in that signature way of his and he gives you a little nod that seems to say, I’ve got you now.

You toss your bag on the floor and slide into the seat. Your legs feel unsteady, almost jelly-like..

The sun glares harshly through the windshield as Jack pulls out of the garage and merges onto the busy street, making you wince. You groaned, quickly flipping the visor down, trying to block what you could. Jack chuckled quietly to himself, turning the dial on the radio up just enough for a country ballad to fill the truck cab— something about a neon moon. 

You slump back in the seat with a quiet sigh, searching for some semblance of comfort to get through the last stretch of the short drive. Your thoughts start to dissolve into that familiar haze that always follows the slow burn-off of post-shift adrenaline. And like clockwork, your eyes are already drifting shut by the time he turns onto his street.

Jack glances over once, careful not to wake you, then pulls into his driveway. He let the engine idle for a second longer than necessary, just watching you breathe— steadily now, not like earlier when you were leaning over a coding patient with shaking hands and blood coating your gloves.

He didn’t wake you until he absolutely had to.

You stirred with a soft sound, slightly dazed as if you’d just woken from a year long slumber, blinking slowly at the front door.

“You’re home,” he said.

You smile sleepily at the the sentiment, but don’t bother to correct him.