#and before I know it it’s back to me comforting them

[niwaart]

FAMILY WITHOUT LIGHT

[#part1 #part2 #part3]

Dick panicked, he gripped his phone tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip.

《This number is unreachable, please try again later.》

Dick let out a scream of anger and impatience, he had been trying to call Y/N for over 5 hours, just to get an answer. Why did she leave the house?… All this happened when he was in his Nightwing costume doing a normal nighttime mission after tying up criminals, a newspaper with Bruce’s picture caught his attention, Dick wondered what new drama the journalists were talking about this time, as soon as he grabbed the newspaper he felt like the air was being sucked out of him. It took him over a minute to process what was being said…

##Bruce Wayne and Y/N Wayne divorced after more than 15 years.##

No... that's a lie, just another rumor, it can't be true, maybe Bruce doesn't care about Y/N but Y/N wouldn't leave the house... after all he saw her love for Damian and Tim, and how she cared for them... so this is just a rumor... right?....

Dick took the newspaper with him and quickly ran to his apartment... He needed to make sure.. He had to get to his apartment to call Y/N.. She would tell him the truth, reassure him, tell him that everything was okay.... As soon as he got to his apartment window, he opened it and entered after entering the access code. His dog Haley approached him, he gave her a few pats before he reached his phone and called Y/N... But she didn't answer his calls.... He tried and tried and tried... But no answer... Could it be true?... Did Y/N leave the house?... Why?....

He was going to call Bruce but he was mad at him for not stopping Y/N from leaving and that he might be the reason Y/N left. So he decided to call Alfred who immediately answered, "Mr. Dick, how may I help you?" "Hello Alfred... Sorry to bother you now... The thing is... I..." Dick hesitated... He was afraid to hear the answer...

“I just called Y/N and she didn’t answer… so I was wondering if everything was okay…” Dick answered, praying with all his might that there was an excuse other than the divorce… “Oh… Mr. Dick… I don’t know how to tell you this… but… Y/N and Bruce have been divorced for three months now…” Alfred’s answer was like a knife slicing into his chest… well maybe deep down he knew the divorce was real… but… three months ago?… and no one told him?… “How… why?… why the divorce, and why didn’t anyone tell me?” Dick’s voice was muffled, he tried not to cry, he tried to control himself a little… “I’m sorry Mr. Dick… it was such a shock to everyone that I forgot to tell you… as for the divorce, Y/N chose that herself… unfortunately…” Alfred’s voice was filled with pain, making it even harder for Dick to hold back his tears… Y/N had left them… she had left them…

Dick hung up the phone after thanking Alfred and collapsed on the floor crying… His dog Haley was beside him trying to comfort him… But it didn’t work… It took Dick maybe half an hour to calm himself down… He tried to take deep breaths in and out… Then he hugged his dog Haley who had already settled happily in his lap. Dick was sitting on the floor leaning his head on the bed behind him while looking at the ceiling of his apartment. He couldn’t help but remember all the memories with Y/N. Dick may not have said it out loud before, but he considered Y/N as his mother… She always took care of him, he still remembers the first time he came to Wayne Manor after his parents died, he was full of anger and wanted revenge, Bruce was trying to channel his anger in a good way to fight the bad guys, but Y/N allowed him to vent his anger, by crying and getting all his feelings out and not holding them in, he remembers that he was mean to her at first, thinking that she was trying to be his mother, but after a while, it turned out that she was just trying to help him, she helped him decorate his parents' grave, buy new things, and when he fought with Bruce she took his side… and even now she still against Bruce and side with Damian, he loved the stories she told, she helped him and encouraged him to speak his mind and thoughts and not hold them in… even when he had a big fight with Bruce and decided to leave the house to be independent… She called him every night, asking him how he was, and if he tried to lie she would know and ask him to tell the truth, which he actually couldn't resistance, so he was always honest with her, Dick was used to being a leader and a good big brother, everyone depended on him… and Y/N was the one he could count on, she was the light of his life, she was family, until recently she used to call him and check on him, now he knew why she hadn't called in three months… He sighed and looked down to see that Haley was asleep, he picked her up and put her in her bed. Even if Y/N had left the house, she still loved them, he was sure, maybe if he went back to Gotham and talked to her he would understand, yeah, maybe she had left the house, but she wouldn't leave them, she still loved them. He was sure

In Gotham... specifically at Wayne Manor, Tim was suffering from a headache and back pain, he was lying in his bed... well maybe not his bed, but in Y/N's bed and room. His work and the pile of papers were almost competing with the towering mountains... when did paperwork become so stressful and tiring? He didn't remember this ever being a problem for him, he wouldn't lie to himself, he knew that Y/N's departure was the reason for the work to be doubled, the sleep to be less, and the pain to be more, Y/N used to do almost all the work for him, so he could rest, but now he couldn't balance his sleeping time, eating, doing all the work, solving cases, and becoming Red Robin, it was too much, Y/N was managing it so well, she did his work, made sure he ate and drank enough before she literally dragged him from the Batcave to the palace to sleep against his will, she always carried him like a baby, he always wondered how she could carry him so easily, okay he'd admit that when he first came to the palace he was a very skinny baby, but he grew up and became muscular, maybe not like Duck or Jason but he sure wasn't light, anyway that didn't concern him now... The problem here is that he hasn't slept in... two days? He doesn't know, maybe it's been three days... He hates that Y/N used to carry him to his room and stay by his side until he fell asleep, and he hated that she knew that sometimes he pretended to sleep, so she wouldn't leave until Tim was completely asleep... Sometimes Tim couldn't sleep easily, like when there was a mission or a case on his mind but Y/N carried him to his room before he could finish it, so he would complain and sometimes beg Y/N to finish the case, that it wouldn't take long, but Y/N always refused... And he couldn't sleep because of the case that consumed his mind, so Y/N would sometimes tell him stories... And it worked to make him sleep... He wondered if Y/N's stories were real, because they didn't seem imaginary at all, her stories were strangely realistic, to the point that all Tim's attention was only on the story until he fell asleep. And so Tim became forced to sleep because of Y/N, food and water, when he should take a break and when he should finish the case, Y/N was organizing his life, he didn't remember getting tired or exhausted from this organization, on the contrary, he was getting enough sleep and food to renew his energy, and even after he came back from his break he would come back with more energy and his solving of cases was at an amazingly higher rate than before, it was very useful, Y/N was the only one who knew how to organize him amazingly with all the work he had. But Y/N wasn't just organizing his life, she even hid his mistakes. Sometimes he would come back from missions with some wounds. Tim didn't like to say that he was injured, it made him weak, and he didn't want to be weak, but Y/N would discover every wound he had, even if it was hidden. The good thing was that she never told Bruce about the injuries, and if the injuries were serious, she would make an excuse for Tim not to go on the next mission. She would cover up all his failures and mistakes in silence... and he was grateful to her. He still remembered when Damian first came and took the Robin costume from him, she would comfort him and stay by his side and tell him that Robin wasn't the one wearing the costume, Robin was the one who protected the children of this city.

It really helped him… he remembered when he asked her advice about his new costume and name, and she encouraged him… she was proud of him, he saw it in her eyes, and when Batman disappeared and everyone thought he was dead and Dick was about to put him in Arkham, Y/N was the first to protest and the first to hit Dick… well that problem was solved a while ago and Y/N was so mad at Dick, it took Dick over three weeks to try to get her to forgive him… it was funny to Tim. She got mad for him. For him… he missed her… she was his whole life, now he couldn’t sleep or work, even his appetite was gone… he could barely survive on coffee now. That’s why he moved into her room a few weeks after she left, he wouldn’t say he slept well, but at least he did, now her scent, her warmth, even her voice and her look at him were gone. When he moved into her room he had a fight with Damian about it, that was the first and last fight they had since Y/N left. Damian wouldn't like it if Tim was the one taking over Y/N's room, and it was a long, tiring fight, in which Damian gave in for the first time ever, letting Tim sleep in Y/N's room. Tim knew very well why Damian was angry, that he missed Y/N too, Damian had changed dramatically after her departure, he barely spoke inside the house, and even on missions he didn't have the same enthusiasm as usual, and he didn't blame Damian for that, he missed her himself... but he had to thank his position as CEO of WE for that which helped him see Y/N a lot, he had multiple meetings with Y/N's family company under the pretext of resuming relations again, just to see Y/N, and one of the meetings was always cancelled due to circumstances, whether from his side or Y/N's, and the first meeting that finally happened was last night, and after more than three months he saw Y/N again, when she entered the meeting room she automatically patted him on the head and asked him how he was and that his appearance looked bad and he should eat and sleep well... Tim was silent, he felt a lump in his throat, if there weren't other people in the room he would have collapsed and hugged her and asked her to come back, but he remained silent looking down Trying to breathe slowly, after the meeting ended he wanted to catch up with her, and talk to her alone and tell her that he needed her back, he hadn't slept in a long time, but because of some old businessmen that Tim was planning to throw out who blocked his way with some questions, invitations and failed offers that caused Tim to be late to catch up with Y/N, but it's okay, he will have another meeting with her, and he will ask her to go home.

Tim sighed as he tried to sleep for the sixth time and was about to fall asleep this time but the knocking on the door woke him up. He grumbled and cursed under his breath at the person at the door unless that person was Alfred, Tim got up lazily and opened the door to be surprised by Damian standing at the door... "Oh? Damian? What's wrong?" Tim noticed Damian's eyes were puffy from crying, he wasn't surprised, ever since Y/N left Damian had been crying a lot, not that anyone would tell him that was obvious. "I want you to find me two people, they're from my school, and they call Y/N my aunt." Damian said calmly without any arrogance. Tim looked at him in confusion for a while, could it be that Damian was after Y/N now? "And before you say anything I know that you're trying to get Y/N back through the meetings you request from her family's company." Damian continued crossing his arms. Tim tensed for a moment, he didn't know that it was obvious, then sighed in surrender. "Okay, come in."

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[r1kixss]

cold touch

warnings: p in v, eating coochie, cursing, riki is a vampire and reader is a human, twilight inspired smut, virginity loss, slight angst

recommended song: Rosyln by Bon Iver, St. Vincent

The air was crispy cold, fog thickly covered the entire village. The moon was peeking over the huge trees of the forest, it looked so beautiful.

Like him.

Your boyfriend was dragging you through the forest, holding your hand gently as he took you somewhere.

You didn't protest, just breathing in the fresh air and looking around. Finally, you saw a pretty cottage house that he was taking you to.

"Whose house is that?" You broke the comfortable silence finally. "Mine." He said softly, taking out a key and opening the front door. He let you in first and you looked around with a smile. It was so homey.

"Why did you bring me here though?" You looked up at him, his golden eyes gazing into yours.

"I thought you'll like it. You always said you want to live in a house like that." A smile formed on your lips.

He showed you around, then he took you to the bedroom. A big, wooden-four poster bed was in the middle of the room, right in front of a big window.

The thick, dark green forest bathing in fog, droplets of rain falling on the window. You stared in awe, admiring the absolutely gorgeous view.

"Is it pretty?" He asked softly and you nodded.

"Really pretty." You murmured, turning to him and wrapping your arms around his waist for a hug.

You looked at the bed again. "What do you need a bed for? Vampires don't sleep..." You murmured, looking up at him.

He smiled a little and looked away. "It's not for sleeping, Y/N." You processed it for a second before your cheeks flushed pink and you looked down in embarrassment. He chuckled, patting your head affectionately.

You partly knew why he brought you here, you just weren't fully sure.

His family house was filled with people and there was absolutely zero privacy there, given that his vampire family members have absolutely insane hearing.

He heard your heart pounding a bit faster and smirked. His strong arms picked you up slowly, gently as if you were made of porcelain.

Your back hit the plush sheets slowly and he got on top of you. He was shaking.

Even though he wanted it so bad, the fear still lingered in the back of his head and never wanted to go. His own strength scared him. Really scared him.

He wanted to touch you without worrying, without being absolutely terrified of giving you bruises or breaking something in you.

You knew he was hesitating. You could feel it, see it. He was hesitating for 8 months already.

"I'll be okay, i promise." you whispered softly, looking into his pretty golden eyes. He looked away, licking his lips nervously.

"It's still... scary, you know?" he murmured, looking down at your lips then back up in your eyes.

"I know but i trust you. I know you won't hurt me."

He sighed, swallowing thickly as if he had something stuck in his throat. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your neck, then another and another.

His hands rested on your waist, lingering for a moment before trailing under your shirt to your breasts and squeezing them. You shivered as his cold fingers brushed against your skin, and a quiet gasp escaped you. He flinched, pulling back slightly as though he had forgotten how cold he was. His eyes searched yours, filled with a mixture of guilt and yearning.

"I'm sorry for how cold I am," he whispered, his voice unsteady. "But you still hold me... as if your warmth could chase it all away." his words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable, as tears welled in his eyes.

"Because i love you. No matter how cold you are I'll always be close to you." you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his big, rosy lips. He smiled, looking away as a tear rolled down his cheek. His cold touch never pushed you away.

He buried his face in your neck to kiss you there before you could catch him being emotional and vulnerable. It was so embarrassing to him.

Clothes started falling one by one somewhere on the bed, gasps and soft moans filling the room. He kissed down your torso until he reached your panties and he stopped, looking up at you.

"Can i?" he whispered and you immediately nodded.

His shaky fingers hooked over your panties and he pulled them down swiftly. He spread your legs, leaning down to kiss your inner thighs, then finally after teasing you and getting you soaking wet, he went for your clit.

You moan quietly, back arching as your hands held his hair firmly in a fist. "Oh my god..." You whispered, your thighs slightly closing over his head. It felt so good, his tongue absolutely abusing the small bundle of nerves.

He pulled away before you could cum and a disapproving whimper left your lips.

"Be patient." he said softly as he took off his shirt slowly, letting you admire his body.

God he was so beautiful. His pale skin, his muscular arms, his pretty sharp eyes... and he was all yours.

He took a condom out of his pocket and put it on the bed next to you, then took off his pants.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his fingers hooked on the elastic of his boxers "Yes..." you swallowed nervously. "please..."

He took off his boxers, his hard dick smacking softly against his abdomen. You looked down and gulped in surprise at how big it was.

You were nervous, but he was so gentle with you that it was hard to overthink it. He slipped the condom on and got between your legs, his hands were shaking so bad.

"Are you sure?" He asked once again, his eyes looked into yours, searching for the slightest bit of change in your demeanor.

"Yes, i promise." You said softly, cupping his face and kissing him.

He kissed you back and pulled away, slowly, so slowly sliding inside you. He sighed against your lips as his dick entered you, it was so warm and wet.

He wished he could be warm again.

A soft whimper left your mouth, brows scrunching up in a furrow at the slight sting you felt as he stretched you "Hurts?" he whispered.

"A little..." You whispered back, noticing how huge his pupils were, blown wide like he was on drugs. You were his drug.

He was taking his time, trying to be as gentle as possible, to not hurt you and paint your body with bruises on accident.

When he finally bottomed out, you nodded and he started thrusting. A moan left your lips and he moaned back, his abs clenching at the pleasure.

"You feel so good..." He whispered into your ear, his hands digging into the pillows as he held himself up on top of you. Butterflies pooled in your tummy at his words.

When he knew you weren't hurting anymore, he started to speed up the pace. Gradually going faster, until you were a moaning mess. He tried so hard to not lose control and hurt you.

He grabbed the bed frame hard, so hard the wood crumbled in his palm and the beams of the canopy bed broke, falling.

He froze, looking at you with widened eyes as if he expected you to realize the monster he was. "It's okay." you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug.

His jaw clenched hard and he continued, but more timidly now. He felt hot tears in his eyes.

He wished he could be normal again.

"I love you..." You said softly into his eyes and a tear rolled down his cheek, landing on your neck.

He sighed shakily "I love you too" he murmured, squeezing a pillow so hard it ripped, but he didn't pay attention to it.

You moaned when he hit that spot inside you, your nails dragging down his back as pleasure consumed you.

It didn't take long for you to cum, whimpering and clinging to him desperately as he fucked you through your orgasm, and he was cumming right after you.

He ripped another pillow he was aggressively crumbling in his fist, feathers dancing around you both.

Both of you stayed like this for a while, him still inside you. He didn't want to leave your warmth. It felt like home; you were his only comfort, only warmth he had left.

After a few minutes of just calming down, trying to breathe normally again, he pulled out. He threw the condom away and pulled you under the covers, cuddling to you. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep.

He wished he could sleep. To wake up next to you, to feel tired after a long night with you.

They didn't kill for having dreams fortunately.

He looked around the room. Broken headboard, ripped pillows, feathers everywhere, the beams of the canopy barely hanging on the last pieces of wood.

God, he was breaking everything. He didn't break you though, and now you were his mate. The thought pushed a small smile on his lips.

You accepted him as he is, no matter how much of a monster he thought he was.

[hoshifighting]

Hii so like could you either each member reaction or a drabble with woozi (whatever you're more comfortable writing) being sub and you riding them/him and making them cum over and over until they are milked up dry and cannot physically cum anymore

riding seventeen until they cant physically cum anymore (getting milked dry)

WARNINGS: smut, strong overstimulation, cock riding, sensitive content, may not be comfortable to some audiences, you're warned.

seungcheol: starts giggling. not in a “haha that tickles” way but in an “i am so fucked out of my mind i don’t even know what’s happening anymore” way. GETS IN DENIAL TOO!!. like, he’s still gripping your hips, trying to thrust up into you even though his dick is not responding. “no, i can—i can go again, baby, just—just gimme a sec—” except it’s been five minutes, and all he’s done is twitch pathetically underneath you. when you tell him he’s done, he gets all pouty, brows furrowed, whispering, “fuck… you really drained me dry?” like he just realized he isn’t the tank he thought he was.

jeonghan: not even moving anymore. fully limp, sprawled out, arms above his head, legs twitching, eyes hazy as he blinks at the ceiling. broken. defeated. ruined. you squeeze him and there’s nothing—just a weak, pitiful little tremor. “honey, i think you killed me,” he mutters, voice raspy as hell, before exhaling real deep, like he just finished a marathon. gives up completely, just lays there, blinking at you like you just rewired his entire system.

joshua: on the verge of tears. whimpering. shaking. clinging. you try to grind down on him again, but his hips jolt so hard, you swear he’s about to short-circuit. “baby—oh my god—i cant—icanticanticanticanicant” and it’s the most broken, high-pitched plea you’ve ever heard. his hands weakly push at your thighs, but they have no strength.

junhui: prob laughing in disbelief. giggling, eyes red and watery, his head lolled to the side, looking at you with this dazed-ass grin. “oh my god, i’m so done,” he breathes, chest heaving, abs clenching, still twitching with aftershocks. you grind down just a little, just to test, and his whole body spasms, a wrecked whimper escaping him before he laughs even harder, shaking his head like, “nah, babe, you actually ended me. oh? i cant feel my legs? ”

hoshi: BRO IS CLINGING FOR LIFE. good luck with the bruises, because he is full-on latching onto you, fingers digging into your skin, forehead pressed to your shoulder, legs raising in desperate spasms all the time, entire body trembling. “baby, baby, i—i can’t—oh my god—i swear~~~” his voice sooooo broken, and every time his dick twitches uselessly, he lets out the softest little sob, hiding his face in your neck like he’s so embarrassed that you just milked him out of existence.

wonwoo: completely unresponsive. eyes glazed over. mouth open. chest barely rising. looks like he just got hit by a bus. his arms are flopped uselessly at his sides, and when you move, his thighs twitch involuntarily. you squeeze around him and nothing happens—no pulse, no twitch, just nothing. “holy fuck,” he mutters like he just got his soul snatched straight out of his body.

woozi: shaking like a fucking leaf. wrists trembling, legs trembling, hands trembling, chin trembling, abs trembling, breath completely uneven, looking up at you like you just broke him beyond repair. “b-baby, i—i don’t have anything left—” and his voice cracks so hard, you actually feel a little bad. he tries to lift his hips, tries to respond to you, but his body refuses, and when you tell him it’s over, he just collapses back against the sheets. he's not a biiiig fan of aftercare, but that night, he will accept everything you can to repair his pieces together.

minghao: fully dissociating. bro is just staring at the ceiling, chest heaving, hands twitching, looking like he just had an out-of-body experience. you say his name and it takes him five full seconds to even register it. you squeeze around him, testing, and his head instantly tilts back, a wrecked groan falling from his lips, but there’s nothing left. “nah, that’s it, babe,” he breathes, completely spent, just laying there in absolute surrender.

mingyu: whimpering so much, you actually think he might start crying. clinging onto you, lips trembling, eyes wet, entire body twitching. “i—i can’t cum anymore—...?” and his voice breaks mid-sentence, you don't even know if its an affirmation or a quesiton bc he literally can’t. when you try to grind down one more time, his hips buck so hard, he yells, then collapses back, panting, eyes rolling back into his head.

seokmin: fully overstimulated beyond belief. whimpering, shaking, eyes glassy, hands weakly grabbing at your hips like he’s trying to slow you down but has no strength left. “b-baby, please—!!!” when you finally stop, he physically melts into the bed, body slack, chest heaving, just laying there shaking and completely ruined.

seungkwan: full-body twitching. thighs shaking, abs twitching, arms weakly draped over his face, hiding his wrecked expression. “fuck, baby, i’m—i’m done—” he gasps, his voice hoarse as hell, sounding like he just ran up a mountain. when you finally let him go, he just lets out the deepest, shakiest sigh, body going completely slack.

vernon: completely unresponsive part 2. bro is just laying there, eyes blank, mouth slightly open, looking like he just got his entire EXISTENCE reset. you say his name, and nothing. you touch his thigh, and nothing. when he finally blinks, he just tilts his head towards you, chest still rising and falling rapidly “you actually fucked me dry.”

chan: thought he could handle it but by the fourth orgasm, he was whimpering, “no more, no more—”, so now, he is completely silent. doesn’t even try to talk, just stares at you, mouth slightly open, eyes red form crying. he just lays there, staring at you like you just fried his last brain cell.

[rainb0ws-h4t]

Heartslabyul

continuation of my other post cuz I have motivation now. Kinda changed ur personality a bit, URE a boss now

Continuation of this

Tw: stalking, yandere themes , mentions of blood, hate comments online, slight manipulation(?),

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Before you properly formed a friendship with Yuu, you never interacted with him. Not that you wanted to anyway, he was too strict for you and it was clear you two wouldn't get along with each other.

Of course, you two sometimes caught glimpses of each other in the hallways and library, but neither you or Riddle were interested to chat.

You heard stories of him and his overblot, and you did feel slight sympathy for the man. After all, it wouldn't easy overblotting and dealing with the aftermath. You just hoped he'd recover and everything would go back to the normal and mundane school days like before. This was the farthest your nonexistent relationship with Riddle went.

As you and Yuu became closer though, you heard a few passing whispers on how Riddle became prone to lashing out at others more often. Something about Yuu not attending his tea parties again? Although he did make up for it by properly apologizing, it did cause the students of the Heartslabyul dorm to be cautious of him again.

It was a small break in between classes, and you just kinda wanted a few minutes of being by yourself. Absolutely nothing can compare to the comfort of solitude. You were holding a few books from the library, wanting to catch up more on Trein's history lesson.

You were enjoying the peace and quiet until—

"Don't you ever attempt to act this foolishly in my presence again! Off with your head!" The familiar redhead raised his magic pen and summoned a collar that chained itself around the necks of two students. He crossed his arms, "Maybe this will teach you how to behave as a proper human being, rather than some uncivilized bufoon-" He interrupted himself as he caught sight of your figure down the hall.

Noticing his distracted state, the two students scurried off. Riddle's gaze darkened immensely as he marched towards you. You were not sure if his anger was directed to you or someone else. Your head quickly whipped around if anyone else was the cause for his darkened stare. By the time you looked back at him, he was already right in front of you.

"Do you really assume that the Prefect actually holds the slightest bit of interest towards someone like you?" He spoke, tone dripping with malice.

"Excuse me..?"

"You don't even hold a candle to the Prefect, so don't even bother attempting to do any more damage than you already have done." As expected of the housewarden of Heartslabyul, always so stern and strict...

"Why are you speaking for them? It's clear that if the Prefect didn't want to form a friendship with me then they wouldn't have. You're acting as if I'm forcing them to be friends with me."

"Don't speak back to me." His anger flaring up once again. "I am in a much higher position than you are, and I command you to never speak or even be near to the Prefect ever again!"

Your gaze hardens the more he speaks, "Using your position to force someone to never speak to their friend again because someone can't contain their sensitive feelings? And I thought a Housewarden should know better than to abuse their power."

Riddle's face turned to shock as his voice was hitched in his throat, not finding the ability to speak. You took this as a sign to walk away, the power Riddle held was more than anything you could ever achieve. You were lucky he didn't immediately blow up on you.

~~

Riddle was stunned.

He wasn't used to anyone holding their ground against him. Of course, there were times that it did happen (ace—ahem) but this was different. The fact they didn't seem the slightest bit scared of him intrigued him. Their hardened gaze never faltered, and their words remained sharp and steady.

Huh.

Maybe the Prefect was on to something. He was starting to see the appeal. After his anger had cooled and he started going about his regular schedule , the image of you standing your ground against him just never left his mind.

He stalked observed you from afar and was able to see different parts of you that he wanted to explore. That day when you argued with him was only one side of you that you showed to him. Your playful side, serious side, quiet side, and so many more.

His preferences never left the Prefect, but somehow, your enigmatic personality draws him in.

Riddle describes you as a rose. The deep red petals mesmerizing his mind, reminding him of every single part of you that he has yet to explore. His hand would grip the stem tighter, the thorns prickling at his fair skin. The blood would stain his pristine white clothing, but he wouldn't care. If it meant that he gained more time to take in your hypnotizing beauty, then what was there to lose?

CATER DIAMOND

Cater always rubbed you the wrong way.

His smiles never reached his eyes, the boisterous personality he expresses definitely felt off. Everything he did just seemed like an attempt to cover up something.

You never approached him before you and Yuu became close, you doubt you would be able to keep up with his upbeat energy without exhausting yourself. You did, however, stalk his account sometimes when you just felt like it.

There was this one time that Yuu mentioned Cater asking for your Magicam username. You didn't think into it too much because it could've just been him being curious or just for the randomness.

That was until your Magicam account started getting bashed on for absolutely no reason did you start connecting the dots. You had only a few posts that were all from last year and the comments and replies were just hating on you intensely

You couldn't think of anyone else responsible other than Cater. The intervals between his posts were usually 1-2 days long but there was these two posts that had a week long interval. It could've just been a coincidence, but that week was the same week you've been getting all these hate comments.

To confirm your suspicions, you created a burn account and checked Cater's profile again. Safe to say, there were multiple posts containing fake information and unreal images of texts between your account and his. He must've just blocked you from seeing those posts, that must've been the reason why you weren't able to view those on your main account.

The notifications from the haters (as much as you hate to admit) got to you, even if you didnt do anything. The comments stung. You hadn't done any wrong so why did it hurt? This caused you to be more detached from social media, your view of it dimming by each hate comment.

You ultimately made the decision to delete your account, afraid that if you waited any longer and your personal information would get leaked. That and you planned to confront Cater. You normally wouldn't resort to confrontation, but you refused to take the disrespect. Plus, you'd doubt he'd stop without someone stepping up to him.

It was around lunch when you, grim and the prefect sat together. They had to leave for a few minutes for the bathroom. You silently scanned the cafeteria, checking for a familiar ginger male. You noticed him walking right past where you were sitting. Funny how he thought he had the audacity to ignore you when he started an online bash against you for existing.

"Do you think I wouldn't be able to find out?" You asked, back facing Cater as he froze in his steps.

He immediately turned around, that same fake grin plastered on his face like tape. "Oh, heya!" He waved his hand. "Uh.. Were you talking to me?" He questioned, a slight quiver in his eyebrow.

"You're the one who started that online hate train for me, right?" You turned your head to face him.

"W-what are you talking about?"

"Don't act stupid with me. You're much more conniving than you present yourself to be." You stood up, facing him fully.

Cater hesitated to speak, "Sorries! But I'm not sure what you're talking about! But hey, send me a dm if you wanna talk more. Gotta go, peace!" He made a peace sign with his hands, before making an attempt to flee the scene.

Although before he could exit, a loud slap ran loud through the cafeteria. Everyone's eyes immediately locked on the source of the sound.

Cater's eyes widened as his cheek suddenly stung with burning pain. He brought a hand to slowly cup his reddened cheek as his eyes locked on to your serious ones.

"Didn't you hear me? I said don't play stupid with me." He continued to stare. "I wasn't planning to make this dispute a big deal if you had just admitted to me you did it." You took a step closer to him.

"W-wha.."

You raised your hand, readying to slap him again harder.

"(Name)? Hey, what happened?" The prefect spoke, sensing the tense atmosphere. Your raised arm slowly lowered.

"Myah, why's everyone staring at us?" Grim asked as he casted a curious glance at everyone in the room.

With one last look you shot him, you exited the cafeteria immediately with Yuu running after you. Cater still stood there, quiet. His hand still cupping his stinging cheek. His ears ringing as it blocked out the whispers that spread through the space.

___

Cater sat on his bed, phone in hand as he tried to figure out what to post. A few students had already posted about what happened earlier during lunch. Sevens, this was bad... Each letter he type was deleted a few seconds later, and each idea he had was scrapped.

His focus wasn't completely on his screen though. It kept flickering towards... you. You humiliated him in front of many, and almost outed him for what he did online and yet...

He wasn't mad.. no, he was intrigued. At first, he was mad that the prefect slowly gained the confidence to refute his dates and selfie ideas when they started hanging out with you. He thought your influence was the reason his relationship with Yuu slowly fell apart, his insecurities flaring up and blaming you.

One of the main reasons he sent a hate train to bash account.

But ever since he saw you up close, how he wished Yuu could embody every single trait of yours that you held. So maybe then could they be more like you— identical even. But even then that wouldn't be enough. He always thought you were this reserved and quiet kid who would never stand up to anyone unless the situation really called for it.

That entire dispute at the cafeteria changed his whole perspective on you entirely.

Cater started taking selfies with you in the background, some people even thought you and Cater made up. The hate towards you slowly dissapeared, thanks to Cater.

It wasn't long before Cater eventually swayed the internet into thinking that you and him were dating off screen. The rumors started coming in rapidly, after all, Internet celeb Cater Diamond had a partner!

Though, everything was denied by you personally. With you posting a statement that what the internet made you two to be was just a giant misunderstanding, and that you and him were nothing more than just acquaintences. Unfortunately, Cater's voice in the social platform held more power than yours ever will.

As you turned off your phone to focus on walking back to your dorm, a camera shutter suddenly sounds.

TREY CLOVER

Trey was... ordinary you guess. Sure, he was a great vice-housewarden and an amazing baker but nothing about him struck you. Unlike the others, Trey was laid-back and relaxed and never involved himself unless the situation called for it.

So you were confused when Yuu confessed that Trey intimidated them the most in Heartslabyul. You didn't understand though, he seemed nice and you never sensed any strange or even creepy behaviour from him to Yuu.

Yuu was invited to another Unbirthday party by those two freshmen who hung around them constantly. Unfortunately, the prefect wasn't able to refute their persistance.

"I'll go with you." You offered.

"Huh..?" Yuu looked up at you.

"I said I'll go with you. You're uncomfortable going by yourself, right?"

They stared into your eyes for a few seconds, "You'd do that for me?" They muttered.

"Sure, we're friends after all."

With that, you forced (even if you offered) yourself to go to the party with Yuu. You couldn't just leave them by themselves especially when you know how they felt around those boys.

As you walked, you immediately avoided making your appearance known. You'd rather drip dead right there than maintain a civil conversation with Riddle and Cater. Yuu stuck beside you though, seemingly more attached to you than ever. Of course, it was inevitable that Riddle and Cater noticed you two.

You excused yourself for the bathroom after asking Yuu if they'd be fine. You wandered around Heartslabyul, you probably should've asked for directions.... But oh well. As you continued walking around the dorm, you stumbled on a cute kitchen. No one was inside it currently.

Interested, you explored the space. It seemed recently used; with bowls in the sink, the mixers still plugged in, and the oven warm. It was clearly for the party outside and the one who inhabited the kitchen was probably still outside. That means you were alone...

A creek from the door you entered alerted you,

"(Name)?" A familiar dark green haired male entered the kitchen.

"Trey? How'd you know my name?" You asked, not remembering talking to Trey or even telling him your name.

"And how'd you know mine?" A small smile formed in his face.

"Well, Yuu told me about you." You responded.

"Riddle and Cater told me about you too." You observed a slight wariness in him as he spoke. You wondered what Riddle and Cater made you out to be..

Not knowing how to continue the conversation, "So... you bake?" You asked.

"Yeah, I do. My family ran a bakery where I'm from so it's only natural I'd also learn to bake." He replied.

"Do you... do you want help in cleaning the place? It'd probably go faster if you have someone helping ya." You offered, feeling slightly bad that you were leaving Yuu by themselves even longer.

"Huh? You don't have to trouble yourself really. I made the mess and I should clean it up." Trey started moving towards the dirty dishes in the sink.

You moved in front of him to prevent him from getting any closer to the sink. "And I desperately need an excuse to not go back outside at the moment."

Trey appeared surprised for a moment, "You don't plan on moving anytime soon, are you?"

"Yeah." You responded blankly.

Trey smiled, "I guess it would be better with company."

You and Trey spent the next 20 minutes together cleaning the kitchen. It was peaceful, barely any chatter was involved between you two.

As you headed back to the party, you couldn't help but wonder why Trey intimidated Yuu the most. He was nice and a hard worker. Immediately after noticing your presence, Yuu jumped in your arms and kept blabbering about how they were glad you were safe and unharmed.

You're not sure if that's what started it, but Trey has lately been inviting you over to Heartslabyul for baking sessions. You've started enjoying his company even more, his sweet tarts are just a plus.

___

Trey didn't understand Cater and Riddle.

Riddle made you out to be this insolent and misbehaving buffoon that had no place in a prestigous college like NRC. He also did mutter how you should spend more time at Heartslabyul so that you'd be influenced by their traditions.

Cater complained about you. How you almost outed him and humiliated him in the cafeteria. But then he also whined complained about how you kept ignoring him in hallways and his dms!

So it was no surprise that he developed a slightly dimmed view of you as the two continued talking. But he always avoided making assumptions, so he didn't just regard you as a douche right off the bat.

Color him surprised when you turned out to be so nice. You offered to help him clean and initiated a conversation with ease.

Trey felt a sense of pride that the nice side you showed him wasn't being presented to Riddle or Cater. Feeling slightly special that he was able to be friendly with you unlike the aforementioned two. You were so friendly, how could you ever be the same insolent brat Riddle mentioned?

He started inviting you more often than normal, even expecting you to show up without telling you. He wanted— needed to see that soft side of yours. That addicting smile you sent him every time made all the gears in his head stop working.

C'mon, don't you like baking with him?

___

Yuu has been discouraging you to go though, but you've always brushed their warnings off. You convinced yourself that you could always see through someone's facade, no matter how well they conceal their true intentions. It worked on Cater, right?

But.. you find it harder and harder to refuse his invitations. His saddened expression, his disappointed "oh..", and his guilt tripping remarks.

You really should've listened to Yuu.

ACE & DEUCE (it's easier for me to write them tgt)

Ace and Deuce were annoyed how the prefect suddenly distanced themselves from them. They were even more irked when they realized it was because of another person. How can the prefect just abandon them like that? The two were practically the first friends they made here!

In response, the two ambushed the unwilling prefect at random times and dragged them away to hang out together. That was when they first met you.

You and Yuu we're sharing a small conversation between each other, just the two of you under the comforting shade of a tree. The serene atmosphere disturbed by the two goofs who approached you two unwanted and unannounced.

"Prefect, we've been looking for you!" Deuce exclaimed as he stopped right in front of you.

Ace came running behind him, panting. "You couldn't have waited a few seconds for me you jerk?" He remarked as he caught his breath.

Yuu looked at the two boys Infront of them, nervous and fidgety. "Oh.. Ace and Deuce, what are you guys doing here..?"

"Wellll..... Professor Crewel gave me a really complicated project to make up for that test I missed last week.." Ace explained while scratching his head, ultimately leaving out an important detail where he intentionally missed that test cause he knew Professor Crewel would give him an extra hard project to make up for it.

"He's basically asking you to help him! And plus, you haven't hung out with us all day, so maybe this can make up for it!" Deuce eagerly spoke.

Sevens, these two boys are so hopeless... You remember seeing Ace wandering the courtyard the day of Crewel's test, and only conveniently making an appearance after the test ended. They'd go that far just to have an excuse with the prefect. Have they even courted an actual person before?

"You've spent too much time with your friend already, don't ya think?" Ace stated, not asking, stating.

"You guys can always hang out another time, right?" The two were persistent, you'd give them that.

Yuu fiddle with the ends of their blazer, not sure if what they really wanted to say would appease them. "Well.. I'm not sure if-"

"I know you're free today~" Ace tried to play it off as a joke with a laugh, which in return, came out more menacing.

"Stop it." You intervened.

"Huh?"

"Eh?"

The two said in sync.

"The prefect has been feeling sick. I'd rather they avoid coming into contact with chemicals." You lied, hoping they'd buy it. Yuu turned to you in surprise.

"What? But Yuu has been fine the entire day?" Deuce confusedly said.

"You're lying." Ace furrowed his brows.

"I'm not." You replied.

"Okay, prove it." Ace's irritation becoming more palpable by the second.

"Just ask Yuu."

Then all the eyes turned to the prefect, two sides awaiting and wanting completely different answers. They hesitated, but spoke with sureness in their voice. "Yeah.. I've been feeling a bit down casted today. I just didn't want to make it obvious.."

You turned to face Ace again, "See?" The seemed to have hit Ace he wrong way when his fists visibly clenched.

"Then you have to go back to ramshackle and rest immediately! We'll escort you.." Deuce offered, a slight red tinting his cheeks at the last part of his offer.

Ace placed his facade on again, "Yeah! We'll even cook soup for you!"

Yuu's conflict to choose between either you or the two boys was growing by the second. Normally, they'd just go along with what everyone said. That's how they have always been. But that was also before you came into the picture. "I.."

"They're fine with me." You said.

"You can stop speaking for them, y'know." Ace crossed his arms.

"What do you think Yuu?" Deuce asked, still eagerly waiting for Yuu's answer.

But Yuu knew who they'd feel more safe with, "I'm fine with them. You really don't have to trouble yourself with-"

"It's really no problem! I can take care of you the entire time while youre sick!" Deuce invaded their personal space and held their hands in his.

Just as Ace was about to but in, you spoke.

"The two of you either must be blind or just ignorant." You slowly pushed Deuce off of Yuu. "Can't you see that they DON'T wanna go with you two? Seriously, is it really that hard to read the room?"

The two were quiet for a moment.

"Oh yeah? And who are you to be talking for them like you're doin' them a favor?" Ace's expression darkened visibly.

Deuce cracked his knuckles, "For all we know, you're probably the one who's forcing Yuu to stay with them!"

"Right! That must be the reason why they even started hanging out with you!" Ace accused.

"Or have you ever considered the idea that they actually like me?" You asked.

"Oh please, the prefect could never like someone like you!" Ace yelled.

"You're not showing us anything to like about you right now, so I doubt the prefect could hold a positive opinion for you!" Deuce continued.

"Why should I present someone any likeable qualities when I want them to hate me?" You said.

Just as Ace and Deuce were about to retort, another voice barged in.

"Bad and tardy pups. I expect the two of you in my classroom this instant." Professor Crewel stood behind the boys, who instantly turned from mad to shivering.

You sighed in relief as the two boys finally left, glad their suffocating and persisting presence finally exited. You turned to Yuu who seemed to be staring at you with... Admiration?

They quickly shook their head, snapping them out of their trance. "Thanks a lot.. Im not sure what I would've done without you."

"Don't mention it." You smiled at them.

___

Ace dreaded seeing you whenever you were with Yuu. You always gathered all their attention effortlessly, he used to be able to do that... That's why he hated you. Some part of his mind told him that the prefect got bored of him, so that's why he'll try to get them back!

He'd purposely catch you at times whenever you were with Yuu, so that he'd attempt to impress them by humiliating you. Except... He'd always leave as the defeated. He even tried punching you, but he missed when you dodged instantly.

This one-sided rivalry started an addiction.

He had this rush of adrenaline whenever he argued with you, and he chased after that sensation by the second. Ace wasn't even sure if this was even for Yuu anymore. He was lost in whatever spell you casted onto him that fateful day under the tree.

You made him taste something that ignited a spark within his soul, and he'll forever chase after it.

Deuce wasn't the same case... Well, kind've bit not exactly. He wanted the prefect's attention, how did he achieve that however? He stalked observed you. You were the sole reason the prefect started this sudden change of theirs. How you captivated the prefect in such a short amount of time confused him...

In other words, he was jealous. Jealous of how easily you handled him that day. Jealous of how you could fight back without losing your temper. Jealous of how easily you enamoured Yuu. That's why he'll simply observe you from afar and copy your techniques!

But then.. he started wondering how he could impress you as well... He invited the prefect over to his club to originally impress them with how fast he could run. But when he saw you sitting together with the prefect, he started running and running— Heck, the winds were probably struggling to catch up with him— until he reached the end. He beat his old record, but he didn't focus on that.

When he saw that bewildered look in your face, something in him obsessively started planning even more crazier stunts to have you captivated and jaw-hanging as you stared at him.

That's right... keep your attention on him and him only.

___

Finally done <333

Can't say I'm proud I'm just glad I'm finished with this tbh

It might be ooc sorry yalllzzzz 💔

i might write some alternatives to this cuz I some good ideas!!!

People who wanted to be tagged: @fancyhawk45 @brights-place @avalordream @kthehoeforfictionalmen

[downbad4sylus]

“Come to drug my girlfriend again?”

synopsis: Sylus hates Caleb, Caleb hates Sylus. That’s it, that’s the fic.

content: sylus x afab!reader; use of Y/N; established relationship; caleb cameo; caleb acts like caleb; mentions of being drugged; general angst; mostly proofread

word count: ~3.4k

a/n: i’m a sylus girlie through and through but caleb intrigues the absolute shit out of me. including his perspective in this was very interesting and i hope i did his character justice. also, i feel that based on what sylus said in his main story, he knows that caleb is/has been alive and what he’s been up to, and caleb being involved with ever and knowing MC’s whereabouts in the N109 zone, know who sylus is. this fic operates under that assumption

The only person you’d told about your mission to Skyhaven was Sylus. And now, having returned from the harrowing journey—after being reunited with your childhood best friend Caleb, who you thought was dead—Sylus was the only person you wanted to see.

Your boyfriend had been keeping tabs on you the best he could while you were gone, using his contacts in Skyhaven to relay information. But he had to be careful not to tip off anyone from the Farspace Fleet lest it ruin your cover, or worse, get you hurt. The second you texted him you were coming home, however, he stopped everything he was doing, hopped on his bike, and sped straight for your apartment.

Sylus was there when you walked through the door, hauling you into his arms and hugging you so tightly you could hardly breathe. It didn’t phase you anymore to find him in your apartment, knowing he had no problem coming and going as he pleased.

“Miss me?” you teased, whispering in his ear.

He huffed. “Not in the least,” he said, hugging you tighter.

“Sy, I love you, but I can’t breathe.”

Finally his gripped loosened enough that you could breathe normally again. You pushed back, hands on his shoulders, and just admired his face after not having seen it for quite some time.

“Enjoying the view?” Sylus asked.

You smiled. “I always do.” You placed a chaste kiss on his lips. “I did miss you though.”

He smiled that soft smile reserved only for you, and you melted at the sight. “I missed you too.”

“I have a lot to tell you, but I’d like to change first if you don’t mind,” you said. “Wait for me on the couch?”

“Of course, take your time, I’m not going anywhere.”

Reluctantly, Sylus lowered you to the ground.

You quickly changed into more comfortable clothes and joined Sylus on the couch, where he pulled you into his lap, the need to hold you far too strong for him to ignore.

“So,” he began, fingers brushing along your back, “where do you want to start?”

You sucked in a deep breath, the words weighing heavily on your tongue, as if saying them aloud will finally make the truth sink in. “Um, I don’t know how else to say this so, it turns out Caleb is alive. Has been this whole time.”

Sylus’s expression remained neutral. “You saw him while you were up there?”

You nodded. “He’s the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel, and he’s…not the same as I remember him.”

Sylus brushed a strand of hair out of your face, his fingers grazing your cheek. “Tell me.”

You launched into your story, detailing everything that happened, from investigating the bombing site undercover to the first interview with Caleb, the switch in personality from Colonel to best friend, to staying with him in his home, visiting Mia in the hospital and running into Zayne, finding Kevi and the Aether Core in his possession.

Talking about the night you were supposed to retrieve Kevi and bring him to Zayne, you got a bit choked up. Having to voice what happened, what you had been in denial about but knew you needed to admit, was perhaps the most difficult of all.

“I wasn’t feeling well that day,” you said, “and before I ‘went to bed,’ Caleb gave me some medicine to help.” You averted your gaze. “All of a sudden, I was so exhausted I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and I ended up falling asleep before I even realized it.”

Sylus tensed beneath you, the unspoken pieces slowly clicking into place.

“Sy…I think Caleb… I think he may have drugged me.”

The betrayal was still raw, maybe more painful now that you’d said it aloud for the first time since it happened.

Abruptly, Sylus removed you from his lap, placing you gently onto the couch before rising and heading straight for the door.

Confused, and perhaps a little desperate, you grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Sylus, where are you going?”

Without turning to you he said with such lethal calm a shiver went down your spine, “I’m going to visit Skyhaven and have a chat with the Colonel.”

You snapped to your feet, wrapping both your arms around Sylus’s. “Sy, please, you can’t.”

He looked at you, fury blazing like an inferno in his red eyes. “He drugged you, Y/N,” he snarled. “That cannot go unpunished.”

While you greatly appreciated Sylus’s well-placed protectiveness, your feelings were still a jumbled mess when it came to Caleb. But you knew one thing, you didn’t want him to get hurt, and you certainly didn’t want Sylus to be the one hurting him.

You shook your head, voicing your thoughts aloud. “I don’t want you to hurt him. I know what he did was wrong, and please believe when I say I’m furious about it too, but he’s important to me, Sy. I thought he was dead and I just got him back, we both need to be a little more forgiving than usual, for my sake.”

Sylus was conflicted. The instinct to protect was near overwhelming, but truly the last thing he ever wanted to do was upset you. And killing hurting your beloved childhood best friend would do far more than just upset you.

So he tamped down his instincts and relaxed in your grip. “Fine.”

You breathed a sigh of a relief. “Thank you.”

“But if I have the displeasure of meeting him, I will be saying something,” Sylus said, leaving no room for negotiation.

“Okay, I can live with that,” you agreed. You pulled him back down onto the couch. “I have more to tell you, will you sit and listen this time?”

He shot you a withering look. “Yes, sweetie.”

So you finished your story, telling him about the strange man named Viper, how you found Caleb with the oddly-behaving Kevi and “the Professor,” and your departure that felt like you’d left with more unfinished business than when you’d first arrived.

Sylus kept his word and sat, giving you his full attention despite the fact that his anger still simmered in his veins. He certainly shared your sentiment regarding unfinished business, this was not the first or last time he was going to hear about Caleb. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to kill the Colonel should he cross that line with you, something he was wisely keeping to himself.

—

It’d be two weeks since you’d returned from Skyhaven. You’d spent a fair amount of it with Sylus, trying to make up for the time spent apart.

Caleb was always in the back of your mind, though, and the two of you had shared brief conversations over text during that time. You were still wrapping your head around the fact that Caleb was back in your life, albeit in a much different role than he’d once had.

You were eternally grateful to have Sylus by your side, he was the solid ground you so desperately needed to stand on right now, and he was more than happy to be that for you.

He was with you currently, the two of you settling in for a night-in at your apartment. You’d ordered take-out and were patiently waiting for the food to be delivered so you could start the movie you’d carefully chosen.

Lounging on the couch with your head in Sylus’s lap, you scrolled mindlessly through your phone, flipping it to show him silly posts every now and then. The sense of comfort that overwhelmed you, having such an innocuous night with your boyfriend, was a welcome reprieve to the constant anxiety plaguing you these past two weeks.

The sound of your doorbell cut through the tranquil atmosphere.

You and Sylus locked eyes, the same look of confusion on both of your faces. It wasn’t like the delivery person hadn’t shown up at your door before, but it was certainly unusual considering your instructions said to leave the food in the lobby.

Sylus lightly patted the top of your head. “I’ll get it.”

You lifted your upper body enough for Sylus to slide out from under you and promptly lay back down to resume your scrolling.

You listened as Sylus walked to, and opened your door, then felt rather than heard the pregnant pause before your boyfriend spoke.

“Well, if it isn’t the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet. Come to drug my girlfriend again?”

A myriad of emotions flickered in Caleb’s eyes. Surprise. Recognition. Fury. Regret. Guilt. But Caleb was well versed in handling difficult situations, and had no problem slipping on a mask of charisma, while inside he was positively seething.

You bolted for the door.

“Y/N didn’t mention having a boyfriend when she was in Skyhaven,” Caleb said cheerfully.

You skidded to a halt behind Sylus, panic icing your veins seeing your childhood best friend unexpectedly at your door, holding your bag of take-out in one hand, having a death-glare competition with your boyfriend.

“I didn’t exactly have the time to mention it, Caleb,” you said, trying to cut through the thick tension in the air. “You didn’t tell me you were stopping by, or that you stole our dinner.”

Caleb shrugged. “I was in the area, figured I’d drop in and see what you were up to.” His gaze flicked to Sylus before returning to you. “If you wanted pork ribs you know you could’ve just asked me, right pip-squeak?”

Sylus went rigid at the pet name.

You held back a groan, instead politely asking, “Why don’t you come in so I can properly introduce you?”

Sylus hated that you said that.

Caleb loved that you did.

“Sure, wouldn’t want your dinner to get cold standin’ out in the hall all night,” Caleb said.

You pulled Sylus away from the door to allow Caleb entry. Having the two men, both broad and tall, taking up the entryway made this situation all the more suffocating.

You swiped the take-out from Caleb’s hand, grabbed Sylus’s, and dragged him with you to the kitchen with Caleb following close behind.

Placing the bag on the counter, you whirled to face your childhood best friend, far more nervous than you should’ve been to introduce your boyfriend for the first time. Neither of you had had significant others to introduce before, in fact you pretended to be Caleb’s girlfriend in college so the girls would leave him alone. But since Caleb was gone, you could no longer interfere with each other’s love lives…

You cleared your throat. “Caleb, this is Skye, my boyfriend. Skye, this is Caleb, my best friend from childhood.”

Caleb’s eyes darkened in a way that was still unfamiliar to you but not foreign, and a wolfish grin spread over his lips. “Y/N,” he drawled, his voice dropping, “you know you can’t lie to me.”

You froze, Sylus’s fingers tightening around yours. “What are you talking about?”

Caleb looked languidly at Sylus. “You know as well as I do his name isn’t Skye.” The dark look vanished from his eyes as they settled on you, instead reflecting a deep concern. “Can we go talk, pip?”

“Absolutely not,” Sylus snarled. “She isn’t going anywhere with you.”

You gave Caleb your back to face Sylus who was glaring menacingly at the Colonel. You reached up and cupped his cheek. “Sy.” His gaze snapped to yours, softening slightly. “I’m going to go talk to him.”

He would never deny you anything, nor tell you what you could or couldn’t do. You were your own person, who could make your own choices, even if he emphatically disagreed. He knew you could handle yourself, but this supposed childhood best friend had already drugged you once, and Sylus did not want to find out what else he was willing to do.

Sylus’s brow buckled. “Sweetie, please. I don’t trust him.”

Caleb scoffed.

You shot him a glare over your shoulder.

“I know you don’t,” you said to Sylus, stroking his cheek, “but I need you to trust me.”

He did, wholeheartedly.

With a resigned sigh, Sylus dipped his head, brushing his lips along your temple before whispering in your ear, “I’ll be watching, just call for me if you need help.”

You turned your head and kissed his cheek. “I will, I promise.”

Squeezing his hand and flashing him your most reassuring smile, your attention shifted to Caleb, who stood there looking as murderous as Sylus had when he’d opened your apartment door.

“Caleb,” you snapped, breaking him out of his trance. “Let’s go.”

—

You and Caleb didn’t go far, opting to sit off to the side on the steps leading into your apartment complex. Perched on the branch of a nearby tree was Mephisto, his ruby red eyes trained intently on you as Sylus watched from inside.

“Okay,” you said, “what did you want to talk about?”

Caleb angled his body toward you, grabbing your hands as if they were the most delicate things in the world. “Y/N, what are you thinking?” he asked, that same concern from earlier bleeding into his voice. “You know who he is, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” you said.

His gaze hardened slightly. “You know and yet you’re still with him? The leader of Onychinus? Do you have any idea the things he’s done, the things he’s capable of?”

You snatched your hands away from him, your temper flaring. What right did he have to question you like this? He didn’t get to come back into your life after almost a year of thinking he was gone forever and just tell you what to do.

“I am well aware of what Sylus has done and what he is capable of,” you nearly growled. “But I know who he is at his core and in his heart. That is what’s important to me, that is the man I fell in love with.”

Love. You were in love with this guy?

Caleb’s face fell and a wave of guilt crashed over you.

You took his right hand in yours, saying much softer, “Just because someone does bad things doesn’t mean they’re a bad person. You of all people should understand that.”

“I was just trying to protect you,” Caleb whispered, the pain in his voice clear as he stared at your hands. “All I want is to make sure you’re safe.”

“I know Caleb,” you murmured, trying to catch his gaze. “I’m safe with Sylus.”

Caleb shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, because he couldn’t believe it. He was the only one who could protect you and keep you safe. He was the only one you were supposed to love. How could he let another man—the leader of Onychinus, no less—come into your life and take you from him? He knew he was gone for a year but he was back now, who else did you need but him?

But Caleb also knew that eliminating this new threat in the form of your current boyfriend wouldn’t be as easy as he wanted it to. You clearly cared for this guy—loved him even—so he’d have to continue playing the long game lest he ruin any chance he had left to be with you.

You sucked in a deep breath, then blew it out slowly. “Look Caleb, I want you in my life, you’re my best friend, but we need to have some boundaries, okay?”

“Boundaries?” Caleb echoed, his brows pinching. “Since when have we ever had boundaries?”

“Since now,” you responded firmly. “You can’t just show up at my door without saying anything. I’m happy to have you over, but we have to plan it first.”

He nodded, a spark igniting in his eyes. He could do that. If it made you happy, then he would do it for you. “Okay, easy, done. Anythin’ else you got for me?”

You couldn’t help the small smile lifting the corners of your lips. It was so much easier with him when he acted like his old self. You missed this Caleb.

“I need you to get along with Sylus, for my sake,” you said, squeezing his hand. “Put aside whatever pissing contest I know you two already have because I don’t want my best friend and my boyfriend hating each other’s guts.”

Caleb’s expression didn’t falter despite the rage he felt boiling in his blood. “That goes both ways ya know,” he said with a rather disarming grin. “You’ll have to talk to your boyfriend about that too.”

It physically hurt Caleb to call Sylus that cursed word, but he had an award-worthy performance to put on if he ever hoped to replace the Onychinus leader as the only thing he’d ever wanted to be to you.

You rolled your eyes. “Please don’t start.”

He laughed, and though it sounded genuine, it was far more forced than he led on. “Okay, okay,” he conceded. “That it?”

“You sound like you want me to give you more boundaries.”

“You can give me whatever you want, pip-squeak.” Preferably your undying devotion, but he’d work on that.

“Caleb,” you admonished but he merely grinned wider in response. With a sigh, you let go of his hand and pushed yourself to your feet. “I’m glad we had this talk.”

He rose as well, towering over you. “Me too,” he murmured. “I’m happy you want me to be in your life again.”

“I never wanted you to leave it,” you told him earnestly. “And as much as I hate to say this, you better go. My dinner is probably cold by now and I need to go talk to Sylus, alone.”

“Didn’t mean to interrupt dinner,” Caleb quipped. “Seriously though, next time you want pork ribs, just call me, okay?”

You laughed. “All right, all right.” You started pushing him down the steps. “Now go, go. Text me when you’re home so I know you’re safe.”

Caleb’s chest tightened. Despite everything, you still wanted him safe, you still cared about him. He would cling to this like a lifeline.

“Text me when you get upstairs so I know you’re safe,” he shot back, meaning to be playful but coming across more hostile than anything.

You frowned. “I told you already, I’m safe with Sylus.”

He smiled to ease the tension and was relieved when it worked. “Just humor me, ‘kay?”

“Whatever.” You gave him one last shove. “Don’t be a stranger, Caleb.”

“I won’t, pip-squeak, I promise.”

And he had every intention of keeping that promise and then some.

—

Sylus flung open the door before you could even reach for the handle, checking you over with a careful precision, making sure not a hair was out of place.

You patted his shoulders. “I’m okay, Sy, we just talked.”

“I don’t like the way he speaks to you,” Sylus grumbled, not stopping his thorough inspection. “It’s like he thinks you’re his possession or something.”

“You say all the time that I belong to you,” you teased.

He cut you a fierce glare. “That’s different, I don’t treat you as though you’re an object for me to claim. You’re a person, Y/N.”

Maybe you were naive, but you didn’t think Caleb thought of you in such a way. You weren’t going to argue about it though. Your date night had been ruined enough, adding a fight into the mix would only further sour your mood and his.

“No, you don’t treat me like that,” you said, knowing he was looking for your reassurance, and you were more than happy to give it because it was the truth.

Sylus visibly relaxed. “You look exhausted.”

“I am exhausted.” You pouted. “I just wanted to spend a quiet night in with you.”

He smoothed your hair as he tucked you close to his chest. “The night’s still young, we have plenty of time to do just that.”

“Our dinner is cold.”

“We can heat it up.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist and peered up at him. “Nothing’s going to change between us just because Caleb’s back. We can talk more about it tomorrow, but I need you to know that.”

He nodded. “I know, sweetie, I wasn’t worried.”

No, Sylus was not worried about you, he was however, incredibly suspicious of what Caleb had in store.

But that was a tomorrow problem, tonight he would give you the date you wanted with no more mention of your childhood best friend.

You nuzzled your face into his chest. “I love you, Sy.”

Sylus kissed the top of your head. “I love you, Y/N.” He drew back, bracing his hands on your hips. “Shall we go warm our dinner?”

You smiled. “Yes please.”

As you trailed behind your boyfriend to the kitchen, you quickly pulled out your phone, firing off a text to Caleb letting him know you were safe.

Still outside your apartment complex, Caleb stared at the notification on his own phone. He kissed the necklace clutched tightly in his hand as a sense of victory washed over him.

[solxamber]

For the event, could I request Leona, romantic, with "Waiting on the Sun" by Citizen Soldier? First time listening to this after discovering Twisted had me wailing in the car haha

i was crying at the club when i heard it... it suits leona so well oh my god

Waiting on the Sun || Leona Kingscholar

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Waiting on the Sun by Citizen Soldier

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1010

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Realization of feelings

Leona has never been one for dreams.

Dreams are a fool’s game, a glimmer of hope strung out in front of desperate people, forcing them to chase something they’ll never catch. He learned early on that hope was nothing but a pretty lie wrapped in a silver ribbon, and in the end, the ribbon always frayed.

The world never made space for second sons, and the sun never rose for men like him.

He should have stopped waiting for it years ago.

But somehow, you're still here—sitting beside him in the shade of a tree, legs stretched out, your presence quiet yet steady. You don’t say anything, and he doesn’t need you to. That’s what he likes about you. You don’t fill the silence with empty words or meaningless comfort. You don’t try to fix him, like so many others before you.

You just exist beside him and that’s enough.

Leona doesn’t remember when you became his safe place.

At some point, your presence became a constant, as natural as the way he stretches out on the grass for an afternoon nap or the way the sun burns through the endless sky. You were just there—like an inevitable force of nature.

And damn if he doesn’t resent how much he needs it.

Because he does need it. He needs you in ways he’ll never admit aloud, in ways that make his stomach twist and his throat tighten. You make it so easy to believe, even when he’s spent a lifetime telling himself not to.

Somewhere along the way, you learned him too well. You can tell when his bitterness sharpens, when his patience wears thin, when he’s barely holding onto the threads of his temper. You don’t try to drag him into the light, but you don’t let him drown in the dark, either.

Instead, you just sit with him.

Like now.

Leona exhales, tipping his head back against the rough bark of the tree. The weight of the past few days lingers in his bones, making him feel heavier than usual. The exhaustion never fully leaves—it clings to him like a second skin.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Your voice is soft, cutting through the stillness.

Leona cracks an eye open. “Doubt it.”

You huff, barely phased by his dry remark. “You think nothing’s ever going to change. That you’re stuck in a cycle you can’t break. That waiting for things to get better is pointless.”

He stiffens, the words settling deep in his chest like stones. “You got all that just from lookin’ at me?”

“I got all that from knowing you.”

That shouldn’t make his heart stutter the way it does.

He doesn’t say anything, just turns his gaze back to the horizon. It stretches on endlessly, a vast expanse of golden plains and open sky. The view should be freeing. Instead, it feels like a cage with invisible walls.

A future that will never belong to him.

A throne that will never be his.

A world that will never see him as anything more than the spare.

The sun has never risen for men like him.

“I know what you’re going to say next,” he mutters. “That I should ‘keep trying.’ That things’ll ‘work out’ eventually. That if I just—”

“I’m not going to say that.”

He stops.

You tilt your head, a gentle smile pulling at your lips. “I’m not here to tell you to change. I’m not here to tell you things will magically get better. I just…” Your fingers brush over the back of his hand, tentative and warm. “I just want you to know that you don’t have to shoulder it alone.”

His breath catches.

No one has ever said that to him before.

No one has ever meant it before.

Leona has spent his whole life carrying the weight of his own bitterness, his own resentment, his own failures. No one ever told him he could set it down. No one ever offered to help him hold it.

No one but you.

His fingers twitch under yours.

Leona has never been one for dreams.

But when he looks at you, he wonders if maybe, he’s been waiting on the wrong thing all this time.

He doesn’t realize he’s in love with you until much later.

Maybe it’s the way you laugh, soft and easy, like the world has never once hurt you. Maybe it’s the way you look at him—like he’s not a disappointment, not a failure, not a second son who never mattered. Maybe it’s the way you never push him to be anything other than who he is.

Maybe it’s everything.

But when he finally does realize, it hits him like a landslide.

And suddenly, he’s terrified.

Because what if he loses this?

What if he loses you?

Leona doesn’t pray, but he does now.

He prays that you never leave. That you never wake up one day and decide that he’s too much trouble, that he’s too broken, that he’ll never be what you deserve.

He prays that this feeling—the quiet warmth that seeps into his bones whenever you’re around—never fades.

And yet, he still can’t bring himself to say it.

Not yet.

The words finally escape him on a night like this—under a sky filled with stars, your hand resting lightly in his, your head against his shoulder.

“Stay.” His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.

You shift slightly, peering up at him with wide eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhales sharply, his grip tightening around yours. “No, I mean—” His throat works, the words catching like sandpaper. “Stay with me.”

Understanding dawns in your eyes, and for a moment, he thinks you might say no. That you might turn away.

But then you smile—soft, warm, home.

“Okay.”

Leona doesn’t believe in miracles.

But when you press your lips to his, slow and tender and real, he thinks that maybe the sun has been shining on him all along.

He just hadn’t noticed.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[leyavo]

| On my way |

Summary: Simon needs you after a particular rough mission and you help him come back to himself.

Hurt/comfort. TW: death** I apologise in advance for this one. [masterlist]

[Wife/gf masterlist]

It’s not often that John Price’s name lit up your phone. You rubbed your eyes, kicking the thin sheets off your legs as you sat up. A sheen of sweat coats the back of your neck, vest top sticking to you like a second skin in the summer heat. You glanced over your shoulder to the vacant space, palm smoothing over the mattress as you answer on the third ring.

“Sorry gal, Si’s not himself. Gonna need you to work your magic again, just like last time.” John’s grating voice nothing more than a scratch, as if he’s been shouting more than talking. The other end of the line silent, no banter in the background as the team make their usual jokes.

“I’m on my way.”

Simon made you a plan for quick exits, made you practice how to react without a second thought. You’re dressed and out the door in a matter of minutes, the T-shirt Simon gave you inside out but you’re too worried to care. Resetting the house alarm is muscle memory, the small bag on the crook of your elbow carrying only the necessities. Phone, charger, purse and a warm bottle water.

The drive feels painstakingly slow, the absence of cars on the road making it seem like you’re not getting anywhere. Three straight lanes of the motorway merging. The rising sun blinding you as the car crawls to a stop outside the residential house of the army base.

John’s halfway out of the door before you’re even walking down the pathway. He’s still wearing his tactical gear, bucket hat askew as he meets you in the middle.

“He’s inside, I’ve got, gotta…” he stuttered, the captain crumbling in front of you.

You nod your head, patting his arm and walking through the front door. The house gloomy, musty stench hanging in the air where the place had been left unused. You know that whatever’s lead up to this moment, no amount of words would console them. There’s no way for you to understand, because you’ve never done the things they’ve had to.

There’s always a distant part of Simon you’ll never relate to. A part he’ll suppress in order to protect you.

And that’s all to do with the mask. The one he’s never worn when he’s with you. The last time you came here, he’d already removed it thanks to the gash on his jawline needing stitches.

The dark and narrow hallway sends a shiver down your spine, the tracks of mud staining the carpet leading the way. You paused at the door ajar, a sliver of light peeking through. Slipping through the gap and into the room, you bit back your gasp.

Simon’s perched on the edge of the bed, head hung low and shoulders hunched as he picked at the skin around his fingernails. The dim lamp casting shadows on the skull mask covering his face, but you can see those downcast eyes. A glimpse of the man behind it.

His gear dumped by his mud coated boots, vest and hoody strewn across the creased bedding. Red coats his bare arms and hands, you can’t even tell if it’s his or someone else’s.

“Simon.” You say his name more like asking a question, wondering if he’s your husband or Ghost still on a mission. Someone you don’t know.

You stood at least a foot away from him, learning the hard way last time when you’d moved too fast and ended up pressed against the wall. No, you’d let him come to you even it if took all day.

“John called me.”

His body curled in more and his broad shoulders trembled. You took a step forward and he stilled, head lifting a fraction to your discoloured trainers. He nodded ever so slightly, acknowledging your presence.

“I’m just going to stay here with you,” you said, closing the gap between you and him, toe to toe. The open window behind you sent a warm breeze through the room, the baggy T-shirt that swamped you billowing towards his clasped hands.

You sunk to your knees, your hands taking his before he resumed the picking. It took everything in you not to move as his head snapped up and you finally got to see the mask. Even the stitching on the centre running down the crown of his head put you off. The cracked ivory skull staring back at you. It’s hard to recognise a semblance of your husband eyes, there’s a shadow of darkness looming over them as his features remain unmoving. Waiting for you to move too fast or say the wrong thing.

Simon’s forehead pushed against yours, the rough skull of his mask digging into your skin. His hand grabbed yours and he lifted it to rest it on the nape of neck. A silent plea for you to help him remove it. It’s gritty and rough under your touch, as if it’s been dragged through a burning building. The Smokey stench stinging your nostrils.

“It’s okay,” your whispered voice trembled as his hand dropped to the bed like a dead weight. The thump drawing you to stand back up as you pulled the mask over his head. The black material tracing his forehead and crooked nose as you gently tugged it off. A mess of blonde hair skimming his thick brows.

“I couldn’t…” his words stopping short as his fists clenched on top of his knees. The scabs on his knuckles tearing open and weeping blood.

“You don’t have to do anything, it’s over.”

You hooked your finger under his chin and lifted his face. His lashes clumped, tears leaving track marks down the grime dusting his skin. The hem of your T-shirt twisted in his grasp as he tugged you closer to stand between his legs.

The top of his head leant against your stomach, the curve of his shoulder blades shifting underneath his dirty shirt. You combed your fingers through his blonde hair, his palms cupping the back of your thighs as if you’d fall back a step and he’d lose you. You’d never seen him so small. The way he hunched over and shrunk away from your gaze each time he tried to speak.

“I’m right here Simon.”

You can’t bring yourself to think of the horrors he’s witnessed, can’t begin to think how it’s only the second time he’s been like this. Breaks your heart to think he probably did it alone before you.

“I couldn’t get to him…” he sniffed glancing up at you, arms wrapping around your waist and head burying into the crook of your neck. “Johnny he just went down.” A sob tore from his throat and his whole body shuddered against yours.

And that’s when you realised why John hadn’t stayed. Why Simon had reacted at the sound of his name, as if he expected you to say Johnny and not John. Why the rest of the task force wasn’t hanging around the house.

It wasn’t Simon’s vest on the bed, it was Johnny’s. His blood staining your husband’s arms, as if he held his friend till his last breaths.

The last time Simon had struggled to come back to himself, he’d seen someone hit by a bomb. Now it was the death of his friend.

You’re not sure if he’ll ever come back from this loss.

“He was just lying there…”

❤️‍🩹 I apologise for whatever I’ve just wrote - Leya

[yaniluvs]

“nerds don't date , right?” ⎯ how to lose a bet and your heart in seven days.

[ 정인 ] ✷ ‎. . things just get more interesting when you're fake-dating the hot nerd and are involved in a bet with him.

۫ 𖨂 𓈒 𝑛erdy!jeongin ₊ ‎ ‎ 𝑓em!reader ˙ . ꒷ g. fluff , humour , crack , forced proximity , classmates to lovers , uni au , fake dating , skz ensemble . 64OOw. ⎯⎯⎯ LiBRARY ⟢ cw. suggestive , as of now . ┆ 📹 ⋮ a y.jg mini series .ᐟ ֹ ₊

yani's note 𑁍ࠬܓ hihi >< so like, part two hehehehhehehe. this turned out to be literally double the wc from the previous one..... oh and i just crossed 8OO followers???? what???? like two posts ago i crossed 7OO, oh good lord, thank you so much!! comments, likes, req./asks and reblogs are always appreciated !! send in a reply or an ask if you want to be in my mastertag, or my individual series' taglists. happy reading, love <3

you had never seen jeongin this stressed in your uni year.

it had been barely a day since the dinner, and he was already acting like his life was spiraling out of control. not that you blamed him—you were a handful, after all. but still, the man looked like he was fighting for survival, while you?

you were thriving.

not only were you fake-dating him in front of his family, but thanks to him, you also had the perfect bet to keep things interesting.

and now? now, you were at the usual café on campus, sitting comfortably with your group—felix, ryujin, yeji, and minho—while absolutely basking in the aftermath of your deal with jeongin.

the blonde leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. "so let me get this straight," he began, voice amused.

"you made a bet with the yang jeongin—topper, nerd, absolute try-hard—where you get to flirt with him for three whole months, and if he falls for you, you win?"

you grinned, stirring your latte lazily. "mhm."

ryujin raised a brow. "and if you lose?"

you waved a dismissive hand. "then he gets to ignore me forever, i guess."

yeji snorted. "as if he'd actually do that. boy’s definitely gonna lose."

minho, who had been silently observing all this time, sipped his americano before finally speaking. "you're really confident, huh?"

you flashed him a smirk. "min, have you met me? of course, i'm confident. i know he’s gonna fall for me. i learn from the best, you know."

felix grinned. "well, duh. everyone loves you."

yeji smirked. "hyunjin and jisung sure do."

ryujin laughed. "oh yeah, didn’t hyunjin say you were literally his type?"

you shrugged, fighting back a smirk. "maybe."

felix gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. "oh my god. is this why jeongin is acting so feral? is he jealous?"

"no, he’s probably just pissed that i exist."

minho scoffed. "that’ll change soon enough."

"exactly," you said smugly. "so, obviously, i’m winning this bet. there’s no way i’m falling first."

your friends exchanged looks, all of them barely holding back their very obvious amusement.

"sure," yeji said, lips twitching.

"of course," ryujin agreed.

minho sipped his drink again. "i totally believe you."

felix just grinned. "this is gonna be fun."

meanwhile.

jeongin had never been this mentally exhausted in his life.

one dinner. one stupid dinner. that was all it was supposed to be.

now? now he was fake-dating y/n in front of his entire family and locked in a three-month bet that would undoubtedly ruin him.

and to make things worse? jisung, seungmin, hyunjin, aeri, and yunah were not helping.

"bro," hyunjin was saying, leaning against the café booth with a stupid grin, "you’re done for."

"over. finished." jisung added, looking way too entertained.

jeongin shot them both a glare. "i am not going to fall for her."

hyunjin raised an eyebrow. "really?"

seungmin, ever the realist, merely sighed. "jeongin, have you met y/n?"

"yes, seungmin," jeongin deadpanned. "i have. unfortunately.*"

yunah giggled, twirling her straw. "she’s really pretty, though."

aeri smirked. "and hot. and cute. and bold."

hyunjin nudged jeongin. "she literally calls you 'hot nerd.' i would’ve folded instantly." he said, dramatically putting a hand on his heart while pretending to faint.

jeongin shot him a disgusted look. "you have no standards."

jisung snorted. "and you have no chance."

"i hate all of you." (and we're back !!)

"no, you don’t," jisung said, grinning. "you hate that you know we’re right."

seungmin nodded. "statistically speaking, you're screwed."

"oh my god," jeongin muttered.

jisung clapped his hands together. "alright! place your bets! how long do we think it’ll take for jeongin to fall first?"

"two weeks," hyunjin said immediately.

"a month," aeri guessed.

yunah smirked. "three weeks, max."

"one week," jisung announced proudly.

jeongin slammed his drink down. "i hate every single one of you."

almost a week later.

you found jeongin in the library, because of course you did.

dressed in an oversized cream sweater, silver-rimmed glasses perched perfectly on his nose, black slacks, and expensive-looking loafers, he looked annoyingly good for someone who spent all his time studying.

unfortunately for him, you were here to ruin his peace.

sliding into the seat across from him, you grinned. "morning, iyennie."

jeongin didn’t even look up. "no."

you gasped dramatically. "no? that’s all i get? where’s my 'good morning, beautiful?' my 'you look stunning today, y/n'?"

jeongin exhaled sharply. "why are you here?"

you leaned forward on your elbows, smirking. "to see my lovely boyfriend, obviously."

jeongin twitched. "we are not fake-dating at uni."

you shrugged. "doesn’t mean i can’t flirt with you."

jeongin dragged a hand down his face. "i hate this bet."

"you literally proposed it, genius."

his jaw clenched. "i hate you."

you batted your lashes. "no, you don’t."

jeongin physically recoiled. "oh my god."

across the library, hyunjin and jisung sat at another table, watching the interaction with matching grins.

hyunjin nudged jisung. "one week?"

jisung smirked. "one week."

. . .

“i’ve decided that i’m going to end you.”

jeongin barely looked up from his notes. “cool. try not to be too obvious about it.”

“no, really,” you said, leaning forward across the library table, resting your chin on your hands as you stared at him. “i’m going to make your life miserable.”

jeongin finally glanced up, adjusting his silver-rimmed glasses with the most unimpressed expression you’d ever seen. “isn’t that what you’ve already been doing?”

you gasped, placing a dramatic hand over your chest. “wow. that was hurtful, iyen.”

jeongin twitched. “stop calling me that.”

you grinned. “make me.”

his fingers curled around his pen, and for a second, you wondered if he was genuinely considering launching it at your forehead.

the library was quiet, aside from the occasional whispers of students flipping through books, the dull hum of the air conditioning, and the muffled sounds of footsteps against the carpeted floor. your table was nestled in the back corner, surrounded by towering bookshelves and dim lighting that gave the whole setting a very academic romance kind of vibe—not that jeongin would ever admit that.

and, of course, the two of you weren’t alone.

like said earlier, across from you, at another table, were felix, ryujin, yeji, and minho, watching with way too much amusement.

they can't miss good entertainment, right?

and a few tables away, jisung, hyunjin, seungmin, aeri, and yunah, were also watching with expressions that ranged from entertained to downright smug.

because, honestly? no one believed jeongin was going to win this bet.

not even jeongin himself.

"are you done?" he asked, voice clipped, flipping a page in his notes.

you smirked. "not even close."

leaning back in your chair, you crossed one leg over the other, watching him with open interest. he was dressed as he always was—annoyingly fashionable for someone who didn’t seem to care about fashion. a fitted black turtleneck, an oversized houndstooth blazer, tailored slacks, and his signature silver-rimmed glasses that rested so perfectly on the bridge of his nose.

his black hair was slightly tousled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it in frustration all morning (which, knowing you, he probably had).

"you know," you mused, tilting your head, "if you weren’t so insufferable, i’d probably have a crush on you."

his pen hovered mid-air, his lips parting slightly before he turned to glare at you. "what?"

you shrugged. "what? i’m just saying. you’re kind of my type. hot. smart. dresses well. severely grumpy. i like a challenge."

jeongin’s eye twitched. "w—"

"oh my god," hyunjin suddenly groaned from across the room, throwing his head back. "can you two just kiss already?"

jeongin immediately choked on air.

your lips twitched as you turned to hyunjin. "not yet, jinnie. i have a bet to win, remember?"

hyunjin smirked. "oh, you will win. no doubt about it."

jisung laughed. "he’s already halfway there."

"this is a library, hello?" the librarian hissed.

"but we're the only ones here, miss y-"

jeongin slammed his book shut, stood up, and turned to you with murder in his eyes. "we’re leaving."

you blinked innocently. "we are?"

"yes." he grabbed your wrist and tugged you up from your seat, ignoring the very loud, very obnoxious oooohhhhhs coming from both friend groups.

felix gasped. "look at him. so dominant."

"i didn’t know he had it in him."

"they grow up so fast."

seungmin merely shook his head, unimpressed. "he’s just running away."

jeongin glared at all of them before practically dragging you out of the library.

now playing, if you love me by colde

the late afternoon sun draped the campus in warm, honey-colored light, stretching long shadows across the pavement. the air was crisp but comfortable, carrying the faint scent of freshly brewed coffee from the campus café nearby. a few students walked past, caught up in their own conversations, but none of them paid much attention to the very mismatched pair walking down the sidepath.

jeongin was suffering.

because you were practically dragging him.

"y/n," he grumbled, his arm stiff as you held onto his wrist. "why are you like this?"

you hummed, pretending to think. "born this way, i guess?"

jeongin sighed, shaking his head. "no remorse. none at all."

"absolutely none," you confirmed cheerfully, still leading him forward.

he didn’t know where you were taking him. you probably didn’t either. but that didn’t seem to matter to you. it was just one of those things—where you decided something, and everyone else just had to go along with it.

he really should have thought this through before making that bet.

the sky was beginning to shift into soft hues of orange and almost blue when jeongin’s phone buzzed in his pocket. he pulled it out, glancing at the screen, and immediately stiffened.

his mom.

he stopped walking so abruptly that you almost crashed into him.

"whoa—" you blinked at him. "what’s wrong?"

he held up a finger. "be quiet."

you snorted. "like hell."

"y/n."

you grinned, unbothered, as he answered the call.

"hello?" jeongin said, his voice immediately shifting into something softer, more polite.

"oh, jeongin! how are you, sweetheart?"

you gasped dramatically beside him. sweetheart?

jeongin shot you a look. a warning. a plea.

you ignored it completely.

"hello, ms. yang!" you chirped before he could stop you, leaning in way too close to the phone. "how are you?"

there was a pause on the other end.

and then—

"oh, y/n, dear! how lovely to hear your voice!"

jeongin closed his eyes. no, no, no—

you beamed. "aw, you're so sweet. it's lovely to hear yours too!"

jeongin wanted to die.

his mother laughed. "such a charming girl! i hope my son is treating you well?"

you turned to him with the smuggest smile, tilting your head. "oh, he’s wonderful, ms. yang. so sweet. so attentive."

jeongin gave you a blank stare, deadpan. you? a menace.

his mother sighed happily. "ah, that's good to hear. oh! that reminds me—jeongin, darling, you haven’t forgotten about next weekend, have you?"

jeongin blinked. "uh… next weekend?"

you raised an eyebrow, watching him.

"the family gathering, jeongin!" his mom continued. "your uncle’s wedding anniversary celebration. you have to come. and of course, you must bring y/n!"

jeongin froze.

you?

you? (i'd be offended)

he turned to you so fast you almost thought his neck might snap.

you, on the other hand, were staring at him with way too much excitement in your eyes.

he cleared his throat, forcing his voice to stay neutral. "oh… right. that."

you leaned in, lips parted in interest.

ms. yang laughed. "don't tell me you forgot?"

jeongin exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to his temple. "i… might have."

you gasped. "baby!"

he glared.

"oh, don’t worry, dear," his mom said, brushing past his frustration entirely. "it’s going to be a lovely event! you must come with him, y/n! i won’t take no for an answer."

your grin widened.

jeongin knew that look.

it was the look of pure evil. the look of someone who had just won. (no he just read too many comics)

you placed a hand over your heart, feigning surprise. "oh my gosh, ms. yang, really? you’d want me there?"

"of course!" his mother said immediately. "you’re practically family now!"

jeongin almost choked for the umpteenth time that day.

you looked so pleased.

"well, in that case," you said sweetly, "i’d love to come. wouldn't want to disappoint a lovely lady like you, ms. yang."

ms. yang sighed, completely oblivious to his suffering. "wonderful! oh, i knew i liked this girl!"

jeongin shut his eyes, inhaling deeply. why him?

"alright, sweetheart, i won’t keep you two," his mom said. "make sure to text me later, okay?"

"yeah, yeah," he muttered, still trying to process what had just happened. "bye, mom."

"have a good evening, ms. yang!" you called cheerfully.

the call ended.

silence. and then—

"you evil, evil woman," jeongin muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

you grinned. "aw, is my baby upset?"

"don’t call me that."

"oh, but i must," you teased, tapping his arm. "we are dating, after all."

jeongin groaned.

you rocked back on your heels. "sooo. a family event, huh?"

"shut up."

"your entire family is gonna be there?"

"y/n—"

"and your relatives?"

jeongin exhaled slowly, praying for patience. "yes."

you beamed. "god, i love this bet."

jeongin stared at you. "why are you enjoying this?"

you shrugged. "because you're not."

his eye twitched. "i hate you." (.........yeah, yk the drill)

"you love me."

"shut up."

you giggled, nudging his arm as you started walking again. "come on, hot nerd. we have so much planning to do."

jeongin sighed, dragging a hand down his face as he followed after you.

he wasn't going to lose this bet.

he wasn't.

but, why did it feel like you had already won?

—

the city was beginning to glow.

golden streetlights flickered on, one by one, casting soft halos onto the pavement. neon signs buzzed to life in the distance, painting the skyline in hues of red, blue, and green. the cool evening air carried a mix of scents—freshly brewed coffee from a nearby café, the faint spice of street food stalls setting up for the night, and something softer, like rain on warm pavement.

and in the middle of it all—you and jeongin.

he was still following you, albeit begrudgingly, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.

"are you actually planning on telling me where we're going?" jeongin asked, his voice laced with skepticism.

you only grinned, walking a little ahead of him, as you turned around, still walking backwards, facing him. "nope."

he sighed. "of course not."

as the two of you had left the campus a while ago, jeongin had expected you to stop at the nearest café, maybe a convenience store. but instead, you kept walking. past the busy streets, past the familiar landmarks, past the places where most students usually hung out.

and now?

now, you were leading him through quieter roads, where the buildings weren't as tall, where the sky was starting to open up above you, where the city lights didn’t drown out the stars entirely.

it was weirdly peaceful.

not that he'd admit it.

"you're too trusting," jeongin muttered, watching as you walked ahead of him without a care in the world.

you glanced over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "oh? and why's that?"

"you’re just… walking around at night, alone, dragging me—your supposed fake boyfriend—to some unknown location." he narrowed his eyes. "for all you know, i could be leading you into danger."

you let out a soft laugh. "oh, please. if anyone’s the danger here, it’s me."

jeongin rolled his eyes. "right."

"you think i'm scared of you, topper?" you smirked, nudging his shoulder. "you’re, like, the least threatening person i’ve ever met."

"good," he said flatly. "that means i can stop pretending to tolerate you."

you gasped dramatically. "so rude! and here i was, thinking we were bonding!"

"bonding?" jeongin scoffed. "you kidnapped me."

you hummed, tilting your head. "wouldn’t call it kidnapping. more like… involuntary adventuring."

"that’s literally just a fancier way of saying kidnapping."

"details, details." you waved a hand dismissively, your bracelets jingling softly.

jeongin shook his head, but there was a small—very small—curve to his lips.

for a while, the conversation drifted into comfortable silence. the only sounds were the rhythmic tapping of your footsteps against the pavement, the occasional passing car, and the distant chatter of city life.

"you come here often?" jeongin asked suddenly, his voice softer now.

you glanced at him, slightly surprised by the question. "hmm?"

"wherever it is we're going," he clarified, watching your expression closely. "you seem… familiar with the way."

you hesitated for a second, but then you smiled. "yeah. i do."

he studied you, noticing how your fingers fiddled with the strap of your bag—a small, almost absentminded gesture. "alone?"

"sometimes." you exhaled lightly, looking up at the sky. "other times, with my friends."

jeongin didn’t miss the slight shift in your tone. it was subtle, but it was there.

"and tonight?" he asked, glancing at you. "why me?"

you turned your head toward him, meeting his gaze.

and for a moment—just a moment—you didn’t say anything.

the city lights reflected in your eyes, turning them into something almost ethereal. the night breeze played with the loose strands of your hair, making them dance against your cheekbones. there was something unreadable in your expression, something jeongin couldn’t quite place.

but then— you grinned.

"because i felt like annoying you," you said simply.

jeongin blinked. and then scoffed. "wow. and here i thought i was special."

"oh, you are," you teased, looping your arm through his before he could react. "you're my favorite victim, actually."

he stiffened. "y/n—"

"you’re warm," you interrupted, pressing closer. "a human heater. i should keep you around more often."

jeongin let out a very long sigh, tilting his head toward the sky like he was asking some higher power for patience.

"you're insufferable," he muttered.

"and you are cute."

"shut up."

you giggled. "ooooh, that blush is telling me a different story."

jeongin groaned, refusing to meet your gaze. "i hate this bet."

"you love this bet."

he side-eyed you. "you know, i think you might be evil."

you only winked. "oh, honey. i'm very aware."

and the walk continued like that—small banter, stolen glances, the occasional brush of hands when neither of you were paying attention.

jeongin hated how natural it felt.

hated how easy it was to talk to you.

hated how, despite himself, he was actually curious about where you were taking him.

he didn’t get attached.

he didn’t, right?.

but with every teasing smile you threw his way, with every time your fingers lingered against his, with every moment you laughed at something he said—

he started to wonder.

maybe jisung had been right.

maybe this bet was a really, really bad idea.

the view you chose for me

the path sloped upward, curving gently along the hillside. the city behind you had slowly started to fade, the buzzing neon signs replaced by the soft hum of cicadas, the distant rustling of leaves, and the whisper of the evening breeze. the sky above stretched out like a painting, shifting from the last golden hues of sunset into the deepening blues of twilight.

jeongin slowed his steps, glancing at you. "are we almost there?"

"patience, iyennie," you hummed, walking ahead with a skip in your step. "good things take time."

he rolled his eyes, but a small, amused exhale escaped his lips.

then, finally, the world opened up.

the trees thinned, revealing an expansive hilltop that overlooked the city. a vast, open field of wild grass spread around you, swaying lightly in the wind. the horizon stretched endlessly, where the last golden threads of daylight kissed the deepening night. below, the city twinkled like scattered stars, a soft, pulsing glow of blues, oranges, and whites.

and above, the first stars had begun to appear.

tiny, glimmering specks against a sky that seemed endless. wisps of deep indigo melted into shades of violet, streaked with soft pinks from the remnants of the sun. there was something ethereal about it—something quiet, untouched, almost unreal.

jeongin exhaled, barely noticing how his breath caught for a second.

you, on the other hand, stretched your arms out with a dramatic sigh. "isn't it beautiful?"

he glanced at you.

the wind had tousled your hair, strands of it floating like silk against the dim light. your face, turned toward the sky, was bathed in soft twilight, the shadows curving gently along your cheekbones. your eyes reflected the distant stars, and when you smiled—

your lips curled into a slow, satisfied grin, and your eyes crinkled into tiny crescents.

something in jeongin’s chest lurched.

"yeah," he murmured before he could stop himself. "it is."

you turned to him, blinking. "see? told you it was worth it."

jeongin tore his gaze away, clearing his throat. "it’s… alright."

you laughed, nudging him with your shoulder. "wow. that almost sounded like a compliment, yang."

"don’t push your luck," he muttered, walking past you.

you grinned, plopping down on the grass before patting the space next to you. "sit. enjoy the view."

he hesitated.

then, with a small sigh, he sat down beside you, the grass cool beneath his palms. the air smelled faintly of earth and rain, the breeze gentle as it curled around both of you.

a moment passed in silence, the two of you simply staring at the sky.

you reached into your bag, pulling out a small snack box.

jeongin glanced over. "what’s that?"

"food, obviously," you teased, opening the lid. inside, neatly packed, were a few triangular onigiris wrapped in seaweed. "can't survive without snacking every moment,"

you picked one up and held it out to him. "here. i made these this morning."

jeongin blinked. "you cooked?"

"is it so surprising? i'm a good chef, i'll have you know." you frown, and wiggled the rice ball in front of him. "c’mon. try it. first time making them, so i need honest feedback, topper."

he hesitated, eyeing you for a second before reaching out to take it.

and that’s when it happened.

you looked at him—waiting, expectant, your expression filled with the kind of excitement that was so genuine it almost startled him. the soft glow of the evening light traced the edges of your face, highlighting the curve of your cheek, the arch of your brow, the slight parting of your lips. your lashes cast tiny shadows against your skin, and when you smiled, your dimples deepened, your eyes turning into crescents once again.

jeongin—

forgot to breathe.

for a fraction of a second, he didn’t care about the stupid bet. didn’t care about the fake dating, or the fact that he was supposed to be annoyed by all of this.

all he could think about—

was how pretty you looked.

and then—

you turned your gaze back to the sky.

the moment broke, like ripples in a pond.

jeongin blinked rapidly, forcing himself to look anywhere else. he bit into the onigiri, trying to act normal.

it was good.

really good.

but he wasn’t about to inflate your ego, obviously.

"it’s… okay," he mumbled.

you frowned, clutching your chest. "just okay?"

he smirked, raising an eyebrow. "i’m just being honest, like you asked."

you narrowed your eyes, then suddenly leaned in closer, way too close. "are you lying?"

jeongin stiffened.

you were right there, inches from his face, eyes locked onto his like you were searching for the truth. the scent of vanilla and something faintly floral drifted from you, and jeongin—

had to grip his knee to keep himself from leaning back.

"i—" he swallowed. "no."

you hummed, tilting your head. "hmm. suspicious."

then, before he could react, you grinned.

"well, i think i did an amazing job." you leaned back, stretching your arms behind you. "maybe i should become a chef. quit university. open a cute little café. i’d call it ‘y/n’s love bites.’"

"love bites?" jeongin actually choked on air this time.

"hey, careful!" your eyes widened, your hands immediately burying into your bag, pulling a bottle out. you hand it to him, after opening it.

"what? is it not a nice name?" you pout at the look he gave you after gulping down the entire bottle, still coughing.

"really though? love bites?"

"mhm." you laughed. "because.. love bites. and because i’m good at biting. and love. and actually, love b-"

"god forbid a man wants to have a snack in peace."

you burst out laughing. "jeez, relax, iyennie. i’m kidding."

"you’re really insufferable."

"and you are fun to tease." you winked.

jeongin groaned, looking away.

but his ears—

were very, very red.

—

the stars were out in full now, scattered across the endless stretch of the night sky. the city below twinkled in response, as if the lights of the world and the heavens were competing for brilliance. the grass beneath you both was soft, slightly damp from the evening air, but comforting in a way that made neither of you want to move.

the silence between you had settled into something familiar—not awkward, not tense. just there. a moment where neither of you had to fill the space with meaningless words.

but then again, you’d never been one for silence.

"so," you started, shifting slightly so you faced him, "i realized something."

jeongin barely glanced at you, still watching the stars. "what?"

"i don’t know anything about you."

he raised an eyebrow. "you know plenty."

"mm, do i?" you leaned back on your palms. "i know you're stinky smart. i know you have the ability to make even professors shut up with a single argument. i know you have the fashion sense of a pinterest model and the patience of a grandma stuck in traffic."

jeongin let out a dry chuckle. "that’s oddly specific."

"am i wrong?"

"…no."

"exactly." you grinned before tilting your head. "but i mean, i don’t know you. like, i don’t know what makes you tick. what makes you.. you. i don’t know what you wanted to be when you were a kid, what your childhood was like, what your favorite memory is."

jeongin stayed quiet, eyes flickering toward you briefly.

you rested your chin on your knees, watching him. "i wanna know."

"you’re way too curious."

"and you’re way too closed off."

he sighed, shaking his head. "you don’t need to know all that. we’re only dating in front of my parents. not here."

"yeah, well, i want to get to know you," you said simply. "and this is completely unrelated to the whole fake dating thing. it can be platonic, you know? i just think it’s unfair that you probably know way more about me than i do about you."

jeongin looked at you, thoughtful. "do i?"

"you tell me, topper."

his lips twitched slightly, and for a moment, he looked like he was considering something. then, with a small sigh, he leaned back on his elbows.

"alright. what do you want to know?"

your eyes lit up. "anything?"

"within reason."

you hummed, thinking. "okay. what did you want to be when you were a kid?"

jeongin let out a short laugh. "you’re gonna make fun of me."

"oh, now i really have to know."

he rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth quirked up slightly. "i wanted to be a detective."

your eyebrows shot up. "no way. detective yang jeongin?"

"yeah, yeah," he muttered. "i used to love mystery novels as a kid. thought i’d grow up solving impossible cases, catching criminals, the whole thing."

you grinned. "that’s actually kind of cute."

he scoffed. "yeah, well, then i realized i’d have to deal with actual crime, and i was like, ‘yeah, no thanks.’"

you burst out laughing. "you wanted to be sherlock holmes but without the danger?"

"pretty much." he shrugged. "so i settled for something else."

"which is?"

"business and english."

you made a face. "oh so we're almost twinning?"

"i thought you knew?"

"um no? we barely share any other sessions, only sometimes, business."

"well that's because we have different batches, genius."

"huh. when's yours?"

"at nine."

you clicked your tongue. "good lord, typical topper behavior."

he shook his head, a small chuckle escaping him. "alright, your turn. what did you want to be as a kid?"

you hummed. "i went through so many phases. i wanted to be a singer, a poet, an author, a fashion designer, a painter… i was all over the place."

jeongin’s eyes softened slightly. "you’re still kind of all those things."

you blinked, caught off guard, ready to fight. "excuse me?"

"no, i mean, you write. you sing. you compose. you’re always dressed like you just walked out of a magazine." his voice was casual, as if he wasn’t just casually complimenting you without thinking.

and for some reason—

your heart stumbled a little.

you quickly recovered, clearing your throat. "well. somebody is paying attention."

he smirked. "unfortunately."

you gasped, nudging his shoulder. "and here i thought we were having a moment."

"you should know better by now," he teased, but there was something gentle in the way he said it.

you huffed dramatically. "fine, whatever. but i thought walking out of a magazine was your thing?"

"i wouldn't mind someone appreciating fashion, darling."

"...moving on. next question. what’s your favorite memory?"

jeongin hesitated for a second. then, with a small exhale, he said, "when i was ten, my family took a trip to japan. we went during the cherry blossom season, and i remember standing under this huge tree, just watching the petals fall. it felt like…" he paused, searching for the word. "magic."

your lips parted slightly.

for a moment, you could see it—ten-year-old jeongin standing under a sea of pink, eyes wide with wonder, cherry blossoms falling around him like soft whispers of a dream.

"you still remember it that vividly?" you asked softly.

"yeah." he looked up at the sky. "some moments just… stick with you."

your chest ached a little at that.

you didn’t know why.

you shook off the feeling. "well. that’s a very wholesome memory."

he smirked. "what were you expecting? something embarrassing?"

"maybe," you admitted, grinning. "but i like this one, too."

a comfortable silence settled between you again.

"what about you?" he asked.

you blinked. "huh?"

"your favorite memory."

you smiled slightly, hugging your knees. "i have a lot of good ones. but, if i had to pick, maybe…" you trailed off, thinking.

jeongin waited patiently.

you finally spoke. "back home, we used to have power outages a lot. and whenever that happened, my mom and i would sit outside with candles, just talking. we’d make shadow animals on the wall, tell stories, and drink warm milk while waiting for the lights to come back."

jeongin listened intently, his expression unreadable.

"it was such a simple thing," you murmured, "but it always made me feel.. safe."

for a long moment, he didn’t say anything.

then, finally, he said, "that sounds.. comforting."

you glanced at him.

there was something warm in his eyes, something quiet and understanding.

and for the first time that night—

you weren’t thinking about the bet.

you weren’t thinking about how you were supposed to be fake dating in front of his parents.

it was just the two of you.

sitting under the stars.

sharing pieces of yourselves you never expected to.

and somehow— it didn’t feel fake at all.

it was peaceful.

you were still determined to learn everything about him.

not just for the bet.

not just for fun.

but because, if you were honest, he intrigued you.

and you always liked figuring people out.

so, after a few minutes of silence, you spoke again.

"so," you started, shifting slightly to face him, "we were talking about memories."

jeongin glanced at you. "we were."

"you know what we weren't talking about?" you raised an eyebrow. "your love life."

he scoffed. "love life? who said i have one?"

you gasped, pressing a dramatic hand to your chest. "wait, no way. don’t tell me you’ve never had a girlfriend before, iyennie."

"i literally told you i've never been on a date.. like on day one." he shot you a look. "also, don't call me that."

"i think you know that i don't believe that," you grinned. "also, i will always call you that."

he exhaled through his nose, clearly regretting ever agreeing to this conversation. "i’ve had one."

you perked up. "so you did!" your eyes lit up with curiousity. "so, one? as in, just one?"

"yeah."

"how long ago?"

he hesitated for a second. "three years."

your mouth dropped open. "damn, that’s—wait. that means you’ve been single since you were—"

"yeah, yeah," he cut you off, rubbing the back of his neck. "i just… haven’t really been interested in dating since."

"interesting," you mused. "so what happened?"

jeongin sighed, clearly debating whether to answer.

then, after a moment, he said, "she was.. nice. we just weren’t meant to be, i guess."

you narrowed your eyes. "that’s such a boring answer, yang. give me details."

he smirked slightly, shaking his head. "you’re really nosy, you know that?"

"and you're really secretive." you tilted your head, watching him. "it’s okay if it.. ended badly. you can tell me."

he was quiet for a beat, then finally spoke.

"it wasn’t bad, exactly. we just had different priorities," he admitted. "she wanted a lot more attention, a lot more time together. and i was…" he paused, exhaling. "i was too focused on school, my goals. she got frustrated. said i didn’t care about her enough."

you hummed. "did you?"

he frowned slightly. "i did care about her."

"but maybe not in the way she wanted," you guessed.

jeongin gave you a look, as if surprised at how quickly you caught on. "yeah."

you nodded, thoughtful. "so, you’re the kind of guy who expresses love in actions, not words, huh?"

he blinked. "i guess you could say that."

"noted." you grinned. "i’ll expect a bunch of favors and free tutoring sessions as proof of love."

he rolled his eyes. "we’re not in love."

"not yet," you teased.

jeongin let out a dry chuckle. "you really think you’re gonna win this bet, huh?"

"oh, i know i will," you said smugly. "face it, topper, you like me."

"i tolerate you," he corrected.

"that's what they all say," you laughed. "give it time."

for a moment, he just watched you, his gaze unreadable. then, shaking his head, he muttered, "unbelievable."

you turned your attention back to the sky. "alright, next question."

"you’re not done interrogating me yet?"

"of course not. i’m just getting started." you shot him a smirk. "so, mr. future ceo, what’s something you’re actually passionate about? like, not just academically."

he hesitated.

you raised an eyebrow. "you do have hobbies, right? you don’t just study for fun?"

"of course i have hobbies," he muttered.

"well?"

"…i like music."

you blinked. "wait, really?"

he nodded. "yeah. i don’t do it as much now, but i used to sing trot with my grandparents all the time when i was younger."

you stared at him, genuinely surprised. "you? music?"

"what’s so shocking about that?"

"i don’t know! you just seem like ‘i only study and occasionally judge people’."

"well, i do judge people." he smirked. "i also kinda life photography, for some reason."

"really? so he likes singing and photography? what kinds?"

"mostly landscapes. architecture. things that don’t move too much."

you hummed. "so, no people?"

"not really." he glanced at you. "though… i think i’d like taking pictures of someone if they were interesting enough."

you tilted your head. "like who?"

for a second, jeongin didn’t answer. his eyes flickered over your face, something unreadable in his expression.

then, with a small smirk, he simply said, "dunno. haven’t found them yet."

your stomach did a weird little flip.

you cleared your throat. "huh. well. you should show me your pictures sometime."

he shrugged. "maybe."

you nudged his shoulder. "that means yes."

"that means maybe."

"sure, sure." you grinned before shifting topics. "alright, what’s your biggest ick in a person?"

he smirked slightly. "besides you?"

"rude," you huffed.

he pretended to think. "probably… people who pretend to be someone they’re not."

you nodded. "yeah, i get that. fake personalities are exhausting."

"what about you?"

you didn’t hesitate. "people who can’t communicate."

jeongin raised an eyebrow. "that’s… a very mature answer."

"right?" you sighed dramatically. "like, if you have a problem, just say it. why do people make everything so complicated?"

jeongin chuckled. "agreed."

there was a pause before you added, "also, people who wear socks to bed. they scare me."

he burst out laughing. "what? why?"

"i don't know, it just feels wrong!"

"you’re insane," he said, shaking his head.

"maybe. but at least i’m not a sock-sleeper."

jeongin laughed again, and for some reason, the sound made your chest feel warm.

the conversation continued, shifting from childhood stories to embarrassing moments, from random questions to deep musings.

at one point, you found yourself just… watching him.

the way his dimples appeared when he smiled.

the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

the way his gaze softened ever so slightly when he looked at you.

and maybe, just maybe—

you were in trouble.

but you weren’t going to admit that.

not yet.

for now, you were just a girl sitting under the stars with a boy who was supposed to be your fake boyfriend.

and yet, somehow—

it didn’t feel fake at all.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger @woozarts @katsukis1wife @bddaramjis @reignessance @peskybirdysya @honeyybbuubblleess @ellemir2404 @4ng3l-ch1ld @urlocalmultigroupfan

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Run Your Fingers Through My Hair

Little Sylus drabble cause I like Sylus's hair in the new trailer

content warning: tiniest bit of spice, implied oral sex

"Huh. Sylus, your hair's been getting pretty long. You going to schedule a hairdresser's appointment soon?"

Sylus shakes his head in response, looking somewhat amused by your concern.

"Let me cook, sweetie."

You make a face at him. He laughs when he notices your expression. You don't like it when he uses internet slang, it sounds bizarre coming from him. Just like the "skill issue" thing he says when you play Kitty Cards.

You grab Smiley Dino off the shelf and fling it at him with all your strength. He makes no effort to dodge and the plushie hits his face with a little squeak. He groans, pressing the back of his palm against his forehead. He slumps on the couch, clutching Smiley Dino to his chest.

"Oh no. You have slain me." He cries, barely containing his giggles.

You huff at him.

"Now you must ressurect me so you can apologise." He continues.

You raise your eyebrow at him.

"Oh? And how do I do that?"

"Just a true love's kiss, a classic." He pretends to inspect dirt under his nails.

You sigh and sit next to him on the couch. You grab the front of his shirt and pull him up, kissing him. Smiley Dino gets sat on the armrest. Sylus hums contentedly as soon your lips touch his, lightly swiping his tongue over your mouth. You respond by grabbing his long hair and tugging him away.

He gasps in genuine surprise, ears turning red.

"You said true love's kiss, not true love's makeout session." You tease him.

He remains quiet, seemingly contemplating something.

"Sylus?" You call out to him to snap him out of his trance.

His eyes refocus and he looks at you, face still flushed a pretty pink.

"Sweetie, I think I'm onto something with this new hairstyle." He breathes out.

Without wasting time, you tug on his hair again. He moans openly this time.

"Interesting." You muse, using the angle of Sylus' head to plant open-mouthed kisses on his Adam's apple.

Sylus grabs the edge of the couch, carefully sliding on his knees onto the floor. You keep a light grip on his hair as he does so, watching him expectantly. He shuffles over, parting your legs and slotting himself between them. He gazes up at you lovingly, and you use your free hand to stroke his cheek. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes in content. You run your thumb across his lips as you pull your hand away.

"You do look very handsome like this." You coil a strand of his hair around your finger, "Wolfcuts are all the rage right now, you know."

He grunts lightly in response, not really interested in trends like that. He rests his head on your thigh, stroking his hand over the knee of your other leg.

"I'm hungry." He says in a playfully whiny voice, gaze flicking between your legs.

"Sylus!" You scold him, grabbing his face to squish his cheeks.

"First you attack me so viciously and now you're going to let me starve? You're so cruel, kitten." He grins mischievously, or as much as he can with his face squeezed between your hands.

You roll your eyes and let go of him. You lean back into the couch, making yourself comfortable. Sylus immediately perks up at the change in your posture. You relax, spreading your legs.You lift your right leg, positioning it over Sylus's shoulder, before hooking it behind his head to nudge him closer to you. He chuckles lowly, practically purring.

You feign exasperation, "Alright, I'll be merciful. Do as you please."

[arilevenatz]

Heart At Sea

Pairing: Pirate!Wooyoung x reader

Genre/trope: Fluff, pirate au

Word count: 14.4k

Warnings: Self-harm, scars, whipping, Imk if I missed any!

AN: Finally woo gets his fic! I'm so excited to finish all 8 fanfictions of the members! I've had so much fun writing this. Also yes I did cry while writing this thank u very much. I just love wooyoung being so sweet and he's extra sweet to mc. I think everybody deserves a wooyoung in their life

On the island of Seagrove, YN was known as the pharmacist's daughter. Her days were spent behind the counter of her father’s small shop, nestled near the docks. With her sleeves rolled up and her hair tied back, she sorted herbs, prepared remedies, and greeted customers with a quiet confidence.

Her father often ventured into the wild parts of the island, gathering rare plants and ingredients, leaving YN to tend the store. Though young, she had learned much from him—how to grind herbs into powders, mix tinctures, and recognize the faintest symptoms of illness. To the townsfolk, she wasn’t just a girl helping her father; she was a steady hand they could rely on.

The shop itself was simple but full of life. Shelves lined with glass jars and wooden boxes gave the space a calming scent of lavender and eucalyptus. The faint hum of the bustling harbor outside mixed with the occasional jingle of the shop’s bell, marking each new customer’s arrival.

A few townsfolk trickled into the small shop as the morning sun cast golden light through the windows. YN greeted each one with a warm smile that seemed to brighten the entire room.

“Good morning, Mr. Harris!” she chimed as an elderly fisherman stepped inside, clutching his back. “Here for the ointment again?”

“Aye, lass. This old spine of mine doesn’t let me forget it,” he grumbled, though his face softened at her cheerful demeanor.

YN bustled behind the counter, quickly grabbing a small jar of salve. “This should help, just like before! And don’t forget to warm it a little before applying—it works better that way,” she reminded him with a wink.

As he handed over a few coins, another customer entered—a young mother with a baby on her hip. “YN, do you have more of that chamomile tea? It’s the only thing helping my little one sleep these days.”

“Of course, I do!” YN said, her voice filled with enthusiasm. She fetched the tea leaves from a neatly labeled jar and handed them over. “Make sure to steep it for just a few minutes—too strong, and it might be a bit bitter.”

The mother smiled gratefully, the weight of her exhaustion easing just a bit under YN’s sunshine-like warmth.

One by one, people came and went, leaving the shop not just with their medicines but with lighter hearts. YN’s genuine kindness and optimism were infectious, and her presence made the small shop a place of comfort for everyone who stepped through its doors.

Every day, YN spent her hours in the shop, tending to customers with her signature warmth and energy. From sunrise until late afternoon, she ground herbs, mixed tinctures, and offered advice to anyone who came through the door. Her genuine care for others made her beloved in the town of Seagrove.

The shop’s bell jingled throughout the day, announcing each visitor. Sometimes it was a sailor seeking relief for a sore shoulder, or a mother in need of remedies for her child’s fever. YN treated them all with the same unwavering kindness, her cheerful voice and bright smile a constant in their lives.

When the day quieted, YN carefully closed the shop, counting the coins she had earned and tucking them into a small leather pouch. Slinging her basket over her arm, she walked the familiar cobblestone streets back to her home, greeting everyone along the way.

“YN! Thank you for the tea yesterday—it worked wonders!” called a baker as she passed by.

“Anytime! Let me know if you need more,” YN replied, waving with a grin.

The townsfolk adored her. To them, YN wasn’t just the pharmacist’s daughter—she was the heart of their little island, always ready to brighten someone’s day. As she reached her modest home, the warm glow of lantern light spilling from the windows, YN felt content. She had done her part for her community, as she did every day.

Aboard the Halazia, the sea stretched endlessly around the sleek black ship as it cut through the waves like a predator on the hunt. The crew was busy at work, each man fulfilling his role with precision honed through years of sailing under Captain Hongjoong’s command.

On the quarterdeck, Hongjoong stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his sharp eyes fixed on the horizon. His captain's coat billowed in the salty breeze, and a faint smirk played on his lips. “How much longer, Navigator?” he called without turning his head.

“Two hours at most, Captain,” Yunho replied from the helm, his hands steady on the wheel. His calm demeanor matched his confidence in guiding the Halazia through the labyrinth of islands and open waters.

Below deck, Yeosang organized his medical supplies in the dimly lit infirmary. The ship’s rocking didn’t bother him as he meticulously sharpened his tools and checked the cleanliness of bandages. He always prepared for the worst—life aboard a pirate ship demanded it.

Meanwhile, San was in the armory, inspecting the blades and sharpening the cutlasses. His focus was intense, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous energy. As the battle master, he made sure that every weapon on board was in top condition.

On the main deck, Mingi oversaw the crew, his booming voice carrying over the sound of the waves. “Secure those ropes properly! I don’t want to see slack before the next storm!” His role as boatswain made him responsible for the ship’s upkeep, and he took it seriously.

Wooyoung emerged from the galley with a knife in one hand and a basket of freshly cut fruit in the other. “Anyone hungry? I’m not making this twice!” he called out, his mischievous grin suggesting he’d already eaten more than his share.

Down by the cannons, Jongho stood inspecting the weapons that were his pride and responsibility. He ran his hands over the barrels, checking for cracks or defects, and tested the ammunition. Each cannon was polished and ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

Above them all, Seonghwa moved seamlessly between tasks, keeping the crew in line and ensuring the captain’s orders were carried out. As quartermaster and first mate, he was Hongjoong’s right hand and the ship’s enforcer. His sharp gaze missed nothing.

The Halazia wasn’t just a ship; it was a well-oiled machine, and its crew was a family forged by countless battles and storms. Today, however, their mission had a specific target—the peaceful island of Seagrove.

The island of Seagrove had always been a neutral land, a safe harbor for travelers, traders, and even the occasional pirate crew. Its position in the Azure Archipelago made it an essential stop for ships to restock supplies and repair damages, but the island’s policy of neutrality demanded careful diplomacy.

When the Halazia docked at Seagrove, the townsfolk took notice immediately. The sight of its dark sails and ominous figurehead was enough to send a ripple of unease through the streets. While it wasn’t unusual for the infamous crew to stop by, the knowledge of their ruthless reputation made the air feel heavy.

“Looks like the Halazia is back,” muttered an old fisherman, his eyes narrowing as he watched the crew disembark.

“Better keep your heads down,” his companion whispered. “They may not cause trouble, but it doesn’t mean they won’t if given a reason.”

The townspeople moved cautiously, their smiles forced and voices hushed. They weren’t hostile, but they walked on eggshells around the crew, offering a nervous politeness that thinly veiled their fear.

The crew of the Halazia, however, carried themselves with practiced nonchalance. They strode through the cobblestone streets as though they owned them, their weapons gleaming in the sunlight and their gazes sharp.

“Do you think they’re just here to restock?” a shopkeeper murmured.

“They always are,” another replied. “But you never know with pirates. Best to stay out of their way.”

Even as the Halazia crew wandered the town, visiting taverns or inspecting the market stalls, the people of Seagrove remained wary. Neutral land or not, the presence of the crew was enough to keep everyone on edge.

The Halazia crew spread across Seagrove, blending into the island’s usual bustle, though their presence kept the townsfolk on alert. Conversations among the crew were as varied as their personalities, with each man displaying his unique quirks.

In the marketplace, Wooyoung strolled between the stalls, his sharp eyes scanning the goods. He held up a peculiar-looking fruit, turning it in his hands.

“Think this is edible?” he asked, tossing it to Mingi, who had wandered over.

Mingi caught it effortlessly, giving the fruit a skeptical glance. “Edible, sure. But are you willing to test it first?”

Wooyoung grinned. “I’ll pass. Maybe I’ll give it to Yunho—he’s got the stomach for weird stuff.”

Nearby, Yunho overheard and called out, “Don’t think I didn’t hear that, Wooyoung! You’re not slipping anything strange into my food again!”

Wooyoung shrugged innocently. “Last time it was harmless! How was I supposed to know it’d turn your tongue blue?”

Down at the docks, Jongho was inspecting a stack of cannonballs that had just been unloaded from the ship. San leaned against a post nearby, watching him with a smirk.

“You check those like they’re treasure,” San teased.

“They might as well be,” Jongho replied, not looking up. “A bad cannonball could cost us a fight. I’m not taking chances.”

San crossed his arms. “You’re too serious. Maybe you should come spar with me later. Get rid of some of that tension.”

Jongho raised an eyebrow, finally meeting San’s gaze. “Spar? With you? You just want an excuse to show off.”

San grinned wider. “Maybe. But if you’re scared, just say so.”

“Sure.” Jongho rolled his eyes but didn’t rise to the bait.

In a quiet corner of the town square, Seonghwa and Hongjoong stood under the shade of an awning, observing the crew as they mingled with the townsfolk.

“They’re behaving themselves,” Seonghwa said, his tone neutral.

Hongjoong smirked. “As they should. We don’t need unnecessary trouble here.”

Seonghwa glanced sideways at his captain. “You say that now, but when have we ever left Seagrove without some kind of incident?”

Hongjoong chuckled. “Fair point. Let’s hope this time is different.”

In the shaded alleyway near the market, Yeosang stood at a herbalist’s stall, quietly inspecting bundles of dried plants. His sharp eye quickly sorted the useful from the unnecessary.

“These are poorly dried,” he remarked, holding up a brittle bundle of valerian root.

The herbalist, a wiry older man, looked startled. “I—I’m sorry, sir, but that’s all I’ve got right now.”

Yeosang sighed softly, placing the bundle back. “I need quality. If it crumbles before it’s used, it’s worthless.”

From behind him, Yunho approached with an easy grin. “Always so picky, Yeosang. It’s like you expect perfect conditions out here in the middle of nowhere.”

Yeosang didn’t glance back, his hands moving to inspect another jar. “A surgeon doesn’t get second chances, Yunho. The better my supplies, the better I can keep the rest of you alive.”

Yunho leaned against the stall, arms crossed. “Fair point. Still, you could try to lighten up a bit. It’s not all life and death.”

Yeosang turned to him, an unreadable expression on his face. “For you, maybe.”

Meanwhile, Wooyoung spotted Yeosang as he walked away from the stall. “Hey, doc!” he called out, jogging to catch up.

“What is it, Wooyoung?” Yeosang asked, his tone even.

Wooyoung waved a bright yellow fruit in front of him. “You think this could kill someone if I cook it wrong? Or should I give it to the captain and find out?”

Yeosang raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “It’s a mango, Wooyoung. Unless you’re planning to drop it on his head, I doubt it’ll harm anyone.”

Wooyoung grinned. “Good to know! Maybe I’ll add it to dinner tonight. Think the captain likes tropical flavors?”

“I think the captain has more pressing concerns than your culinary experiments,” Yeosang replied, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he walked away.

In the distance, Hongjoong watched the exchanges with quiet amusement. Seonghwa, standing beside him, noticed his expression.

“Just as I thought they were behaving. They’re restless,” Seonghwa remarked.

Hongjoong nodded. “Let them stretch their legs. We’ll need them sharp soon enough.”

Seonghwa tilted his head. “And where does that leave us?”

Hongjoong’s gaze drifted toward the apothecary shop again. “For now? Let them play. But keep an eye on Yeosang. He always finds trouble where no one else is looking.”

Seonghwa chuckled. “That’s because he’s too clever for his own good.”

Hongjoong stood at the edge of the marketplace, his sharp gaze fixed on a small shop nestled between two larger buildings. The apothecary. It wasn’t his first visit, though his trips there were rare and purposeful. The shopkeeper had proven useful in the past, supplying him with everything he needed, no questions asked.

He turned to Wooyoung, who was busy juggling a few apples he’d “borrowed” from a stall.

“Wooyoung,” Hongjoong called, his voice firm.

Wooyoung caught the apples mid-air and grinned. “Yes, Captain? Need me to charm someone, or are we raiding the tavern early?”

Hongjoong smirked. “Neither. You’re coming with me to the apothecary. I need someone to carry what I buy.”

Wooyoung pouted dramatically, tossing one of the apples back into a basket. “What, I’m just your pack mule now?”

“Call it an extension of your scavenger duties,” Hongjoong replied, already heading toward the shop.

Wooyoung sighed, but his grin quickly returned as he jogged to catch up. “Fine, fine. But if they’ve got anything interesting, I’m keeping it.”

The bell above the door jingled as they stepped into the apothecary. The air inside was heavy with the earthy scent of dried herbs and freshly ground powders. Shelves lined every wall, filled with jars, bottles, and bundles of various remedies and ingredients.

YN stood behind the counter, her hands busy organizing a set of vials. She looked up at the sound of the bell and froze for a moment. It wasn’t every day the captain of the Halazia walked into her shop.

Hongjoong’s sharp eyes scanned the room before landing on her. He stepped forward, his coat swaying slightly. “You’re the pharmacist’s daughter,” he said, more a statement than a question.

YN straightened, her sunshine-like demeanor returning despite the intimidating presence before her. “That’s right. My father’s away, but I can help you. What do you need?”

Wooyoung leaned against the counter with a grin, glancing around the shop. “This place smells great. Got anything fun for a bored pirate like me?”

YN raised an eyebrow, but before she could reply, Hongjoong spoke. “Focus, Wooyoung.” He turned back to YN. “I need these.” He handed over a neatly folded piece of parchment with a list of items.

YN took it, her eyes scanning the list. Some of the ingredients were rare, but she recognized most of them. “I should have everything you need. Give me a moment.”

As YN moved around the shop, gathering items, Wooyoung leaned closer to Hongjoong and whispered, “She’s surprisingly cheerful for someone dealing with us.”

Hongjoong smirked but said nothing, his eyes following YN as she worked efficiently, placing jars and packets on the counter.

When she returned, she began explaining each item. “This powder needs to stay dry, and the tincture should be kept cool. And this—” she paused, holding up a small vial, “—is very potent. Use it sparingly.”

Hongjoong nodded, impressed by her knowledge. “You know your trade well.”

YN smiled warmly. “It’s my job.”

Once everything was packed, Wooyoung grabbed the bundle, pretending to stagger under its weight. “Oh no, Captain, it’s so heavy! What if I collapse under the strain?”

YN stifled a laugh, while Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “Stop complaining, or I’ll make you carry more.”

Just as Hongjoong and Wooyoung stepped toward the door, YN's curiosity got the better of her. She cleared her throat and asked, “What deal?”

As they turned to leave, Hongjoong paused at the door, glancing back at YN. “Tell your father our deal still stands. I’ll be back when I need more.”

Hongjoong stopped mid-step but didn’t turn around immediately. Wooyoung, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow and shot YN an amused look. “Curious, aren’t we?” he teased, leaning against the counter again.

Hongjoong slowly turned to face her, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp. “Your father and I have... an understanding. He provides certain items I need, no questions asked. In return, I ensure that no harm ever comes to this shop or your family. A fair trade, wouldn’t you say?”

YN blinked, trying to process his words. “So, you’re protecting us? That’s what this is about?”

Hongjoong’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “You could say that. But don’t mistake it for charity. It’s business.”

Wooyoung chimed in, his tone light but with an edge of truth. “Think of it as an investment. The captain doesn’t waste time on things—or people—that aren’t worth it.”

YN frowned slightly, crossing her arms. “We don’t need protection. Seagrove is neutral ground.”

Hongjoong stepped closer, his voice dropping just enough to be serious but not threatening. “Neutrality doesn’t stop trouble from finding its way here. Pirates, mercenaries, kingdoms—they don’t care about rules when desperation strikes. Your father knows this. That’s why he agreed to our deal.”

YN held his gaze, feeling a mix of defiance and unease. She wanted to argue but couldn’t deny the truth in his words. “Fine,” she said, her voice steady. “But if this is about protection, it works both ways. You might find yourselves needing supplies when no one else will sell to you.”

Hongjoong’s smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with approval. “Smart girl. Your father taught you well.”

With that, he turned and pushed the door open. Wooyoung gave YN one last playful wink as he followed the captain. “See you around, sunshine,” he said before the door closed behind them, leaving YN standing there with a mixture of curiosity and newfound wariness.

She looked down at the counter where the parchment list lay. Her fingers brushed against it as her mind raced with questions. Whatever deal her father had struck with the Halazia crew, it was clear this wasn’t just a simple exchange of goods.

After the encounter at the apothecary, Wooyoung couldn’t help but find his thoughts drifting back to YN. There was something about her—a bright, carefree energy that contrasted so sharply with the rough, unpredictable life aboard the Halazia. Her genuine warmth had lingered in his mind longer than he expected, and before he realized it, he found himself making excuses to return to the shop.

A few days later, the bell above the apothecary’s door jingled again. YN looked up from where she was sorting herbs, her face lighting up when she saw Wooyoung standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe with his usual mischievous grin.

“You again,” she said, her tone teasing but friendly. “Didn’t you stock up enough last time?”

Wooyoung shrugged, stepping further inside. “Captain wanted to make sure we didn’t miss anything important. And, well...” He paused, picking up a small jar of dried lavender from a shelf and inspecting it idly. “I thought I’d keep you company. Can’t have you getting bored all alone in here.”

YN laughed, a bright, cheerful sound that filled the small shop. “Bored? Hardly. This place is always busy. Besides, I’m pretty sure pirates don’t come back just to check on someone.”

Wooyoung placed the jar back and leaned on the counter, his grin never fading. “Maybe not, but I’m not like most pirates.”

YN raised an eyebrow, her hands moving automatically as she arranged some vials. “Oh? So what makes you different, Mister Pirate?”

He smirked, resting his chin on his hand. “Well, for one, I appreciate good company. And two...” He trailed off, letting her fill in the rest.

Despite her initial resolve not to get too involved with the Halazia crew, YN found herself smiling. His playful energy was contagious, and she couldn’t help but be drawn into the banter. “You’re smooth, I’ll give you that,” she said, shaking her head.

Wooyoung chuckled. “Smooth enough to get a discount?”

She laughed again. “Not a chance.”

Over the next few weeks, Wooyoung started appearing more frequently. Sometimes he claimed he was running errands for the crew; other times, he didn’t even bother with an excuse. Each visit felt a little more natural, as though he was slipping into the rhythm of her world.

At first, YN kept her guard up. She reminded herself that he was a pirate, part of a crew that carried a reputation for chaos. But Wooyoung’s charm was disarming, and her naturally talkative, sunshine-like personality quickly overshadowed any hesitation.

He’d sit on a stool by the counter, chatting with her about everything and nothing. She’d tell him about the townsfolk, the busy days at the apothecary, and the little joys of living on Seagrove. In return, he’d share stories from the sea—some clearly exaggerated, others tinged with surprising honesty.

One day, as YN handed him a small satchel of herbs, she said with a grin, “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re just here for the company.”

Wooyoung took the satchel, his smile softening. “Maybe I am. Got a problem with that?”

She shook her head, laughing. “Not really. Just don’t scare off my other customers, okay?”

Despite herself, YN found that Wooyoung’s presence didn’t feel like an intrusion. In fact, it felt oddly... comforting. And though Wooyoung never said it outright, he started looking forward to the quiet moments in the apothecary, away from the noise and chaos of life aboard the Halazia.

For now, neither of them thought too hard about what this strange, unexpected connection might mean. They simply enjoyed the moments they had, both of them quietly grateful for the fleeting peace they found in each other’s company.

Over time, Wooyoung became a regular sight in the apothecary. He would stroll in with his usual grin, plop himself onto the old wooden stool by the counter, and watch YN work.

At first, he was content just to chat, but as the days passed, he started offering to help.

“Here, let me do that,” he said one afternoon, stepping behind the counter and shooing YN away as she struggled with a particularly heavy crate of supplies.

She raised an eyebrow at him but stepped aside. “Are you sure you’re not just looking for an excuse to stick around?”

Wooyoung shot her a wink as he effortlessly lifted the crate onto a shelf. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

Soon enough, he became more than just a fixture in the shop. He started assisting her with customers, surprising her with how quickly he learned.

An older woman entered one day, asking for a salve for joint pain. Wooyoung, leaning casually on the counter, chimed in before YN could answet.

“Second shelf on the left,” he said, pointing. “Green jar with the brown lid. That’s the one you want.”

The woman looked at him, then at YN, who nodded in confirmation. “He’s right.”

The woman smiled and handed over her coins, muttering something about how “helpful young men” were hard to find.

After she left, YN crossed her arms and gave Wooyoung an appraising look. “You’re actually pretty good at this.”

He smirked. “Told you. Many talents.”

Not all of his interactions in the shop were so lighthearted, though. Occasionally, a customer would walk in with an attitude—someone trying to haggle too aggressively or speaking to YN with unnecessary harshness.

One such day, a burly man stormed in, slamming a few coins on the counter. “This isn’t enough,” he growled, pointing at a small pouch of medicine YN had just handed him. “You’re overcharging.”

YN opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Wooyoung stood up from his stool and stepped forward, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something far more dangerous.

“She gave you the price,” Wooyoung said, his voice low and sharp. “Take it, or leave.”

The man turned to Wooyoung, clearly unimpressed. “And who do you think you are?”

Wooyoung’s grin returned, but this time it was anything but friendly. He leaned forward, his voice dropping even lower. “I’m someone you don’t want to mess with. Now, are you going to take the medicine and go, or should we make this... interesting?”

The man hesitated, clearly weighing his options. After a tense moment, he snatched the pouch from the counter and stormed out, muttering under his breath.

YN let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said softly.

Wooyoung shrugged, sitting back on the stool and spinning it lazily. “Nobody talks to you like that while I’m here. That’s a rule.”

YN smiled despite herself. “I don’t know whether to thank you or scold you for almost starting a fight in my shop.”

Wooyoung grinned. “Thank me, obviously.”

And she did, though she didn’t say it out loud.

With each passing day, Wooyoung’s presence in the shop felt more natural, like he belonged there. The townsfolk began to notice, too, casting curious glances when they saw the pirate helping YN arrange shelves or handing a bag of herbs to a customer. Some whispered about it, others just smiled knowingly.

And though YN had told herself not to get too involved with the crew of Halazia, she couldn’t deny that having Wooyoung around made her days a little brighter—and a lot more entertaining.

It was an ordinary evening aboard the Halazia when Seonghwa walked into the captain’s quarters, a folded letter in his hand. His expression was calm, but there was an edge of seriousness that made Hongjoong look up from the maps spread across his desk.

“What is it?” Hongjoong asked, leaning back in his chair.

Seonghwa handed him the letter without a word. As Hongjoong unfolded it, his sharp eyes scanned the neatly written words. It was from the pharmacist on Seagrove, a message laced with urgency.

“They’re coming back,” Hongjoong muttered, reading aloud. “The same goons who wanted his land before. He says they’re planning to create trouble, maybe worse. He’s asking us to protect his daughter while he’s away.”

Seonghwa crossed his arms, nodding. “It seems they’re waiting for the perfect moment, knowing the island has no real enforcement.”

Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the table. His mind worked quickly, weighing the situation. The pharmacist had been a valuable ally, and they owed him for the resources he’d provided in the past. Letting this go unanswered would be a stain on their reputation—and, truthfully, Hongjoong didn’t enjoy leaving favors unpaid.

He looked up at Seonghwa. “We can’t ignore this. We’ll need to send someone to keep an eye on her.”

Before Seonghwa could respond, the door swung open, and Wooyoung strolled in, as casual as ever. “Someone say watch over her?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe with a knowing grin.

Hongjoong arched an eyebrow at him. “Eavesdropping now, are we?”

“Not eavesdropping. Just walking by,” Wooyoung said innocently, though his smirk betrayed him. “So, what’s the plan? I’m assuming it involves our little sunshine at the apothecary.”

Seonghwa sighed. “It’s serious, Wooyoung. The pharmacist says trouble’s coming her way, and she’ll need protection while he’s gone. This isn’t just a casual errand.”

Wooyoung’s grin faltered slightly, his playful demeanor softening. “I know that. And that’s why I’m volunteering.”

Hongjoong studied him for a moment, noticing the uncharacteristic determination in his eyes. “You’re volunteering? That’s a first.”

Wooyoung shrugged, though there was no hiding the slight tension in his posture. “She’s a good person, Captain. She doesn’t deserve to deal with scum like that. Besides, I’ve been spending the most time with her. Makes sense for me to step in.”

Hongjoong exchanged a glance with Seonghwa, who gave a small nod. Finally, the captain leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Fine. You’ll handle it. But keep a low profile—no unnecessary fights unless it’s unavoidable. And if you need backup, you call for us immediately.”

Wooyoung grinned, his confidence returning in full force. “You got it, Captain. Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

Later that evening, Wooyoung gathered a few essentials before heading toward the apothecary. As he walked through the dimly lit streets of Seagrove, his mind raced with thoughts of YN.

He didn’t know why, but the idea of something happening to her lit a fire in him that he couldn’t ignore. Maybe it was her kindness, her unshakable warmth, or the way she always smiled, even when dealing with stubborn customers. Whatever it was, he wasn’t about to let anyone take that away from her.

When he reached the shop, the bell jingled softly as he stepped inside. YN looked up from the counter, surprised to see him.

“Wooyoung? You’re back already?” she asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

He nodded, his usual playful grin softening into something more genuine. “Yeah. Looks like I’ll be sticking around for a while.”

Her brows furrowed slightly. “Why? What’s going on?”

Wooyoung hesitated for a moment before leaning against the counter, his voice gentle. “Your dad sent us a letter. Said some people might cause trouble while he’s gone. So... I’m here to make sure they don’t.”

The morning sun bathed Seagrove in a warm glow as YN stepped out of the apothecary with a basket in hand, ready to run her errands. She hummed softly to herself as she walked down the cobblestone streets, her mind focused on the list of things she needed.

But she wasn’t alone.

Though his footsteps were silent and his movements careful, YN could feel the weight of a gaze following her. She smirked to herself, pretending not to notice as she turned a corner, heading toward a quieter part of town.

When the street became deserted, she abruptly stopped and turned around, catching Wooyoung mid-step. He froze like a child caught sneaking sweets, his wide eyes meeting hers.

“So,” YN began, tilting her head and walking backward to keep her eyes on him. “You’re basically a bodyguard now?”

Wooyoung let out a small sigh, shaking his head as he caught up to her. “Careful, you’ll trip if you keep walking like that,” he said, his tone light but protective.

“I’m serious,” she pressed, ignoring his warning. “Isn’t this what bodyguards do? Follow people around, stay hidden, and swoop in dramatically when there’s trouble?”

Wooyoung chuckled, crossing his arms as he walked beside her. “Something like that. But I wouldn’t call myself a bodyguard. More like a... pirate with a purpose.”

YN laughed at that, the sound echoing through the quiet street. “A pirate with a purpose? That sounds so noble for someone like you.”

“Hey,” he said, feigning offense. “I’m plenty noble when I need to be. Like right now. I’m literally protecting you.”

“From what?” she asked, her voice full of innocent curiosity. “There’s no one around.”

Wooyoung glanced around, his eyes scanning the surroundings instinctively. “You’d be surprised. Trouble doesn’t announce itself, you know. One second everything’s fine, and the next... well, it’s not.”

YN stopped walking backward and faced him fully, her brow furrowed. “You really think something’s going to happen?”

Wooyoung’s expression softened, and he shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But your dad was worried enough to ask for help, and I’m not taking any chances.”

She blinked, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. For all his jokes and playful attitude, there was something reassuring about knowing he took her safety seriously.

“So... what do I call you now? Protector Wooyoung? Sir Wooyoung?” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

He rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. “Just Wooyoung is fine, sunshine. Now, can we please focus on where you’re walking? If you trip, I’m not carrying you back.”

YN laughed again and turned to continue her errands, her steps lighter than before. Despite the strangeness of being followed, she couldn’t help but feel a small sense of comfort knowing that, no matter what, Wooyoung was there.

A few days passed without incident, though the air felt charged, as if something unseen was brewing. YN went about her routine with Wooyoung never far behind, always lurking in the background or perched casually on her shop’s stool, keeping watch.

But then, late one night aboard the Halazia, a lowly pirate messenger arrived with urgent news.

Hongjoong sat in his quarters with Seonghwa when the messenger was brought in. The scruffy man, clearly uneasy in the presence of the infamous captain, fumbled with his words but got the message across clearly:

“The goons you’ve been watchin’ out for... they’re plannin’ to hit the apothecary. Heard it straight from one of their lot.”

Hongjoong’s face darkened as he leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “When?”

“Soon,” the messenger replied. “Could be tonight, could be tomorrow. They’re waitin’ for the right moment.”

Hongjoong dismissed the man and turned to Seonghwa, who stood silently by his side. “We can’t risk it,” the captain said. “The girl’s too vulnerable in the shop. Wooyoung needs to bring her here—now.”

Seonghwa nodded. “I’ll send the word.”

At the apothecary, YN was cleaning up for the night when Wooyoung walked in, his expression unusually serious.

She glanced up at him and immediately noticed the shift in his demeanor. “What’s wrong?” she asked, setting down the jar she was holding.

“We need to leave,” Wooyoung said, his voice firm but calm.

Her brow furrowed. “Leave? Why? What’s going on?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The goons your dad was worried about... they’re planning to attack the shop. Captain’s orders are to get you to the ship where you’ll be safe.”

YN’s eyes widened. “The ship? Halazia? You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious,” Wooyoung said, stepping closer. “It’s not safe here, YN. I can protect you better if you’re with us.”

She hesitated, looking around the shop she’d grown up in. “But... what about the store? What about my father’s work?”

Wooyoung softened, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll make sure nothing happens to it. But right now, you’re what matters. We can’t replace you, sunshine.”

Her heart skipped at the unexpected tenderness in his words, but the gravity of the situation quickly pulled her back. She nodded, her resolve hardening.

“Alright,” she said, her voice steady despite the fear creeping in. “Let me grab a few things.”

Wooyoung watched as YN quickly packed a small bag with essentials—some clothes, a few jars of medicine, and a small book she seemed hesitant to leave behind.

As they stepped out into the cool night, Wooyoung’s eyes scanned their surroundings, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. The streets were quiet, but he knew better than to trust the stillness.

“Stay close,” he whispered, his voice low but firm.

YN nodded, clutching her bag tightly as they made their way through the town toward the docks.

The journey felt longer than it should have, every shadow and faint sound putting them both on edge. But eventually, the silhouette of the Halazia came into view, its sails swaying gently in the night breeze.

As they approached the gangplank, Wooyoung turned to YN, his usual grin making a rare appearance despite the tension. “Welcome to the Halazia, sunshine. You’re about to meet the best—and most chaotic—crew in the seven seas.”

As soon as YN stepped onto the deck of the Halazia, she froze, her wide eyes taking in the sheer majesty of the pirate ship. The towering masts, the intricate ropes, and the faint smell of saltwater mixed with wood—it all felt surreal, like she’d stumbled into one of her dreams.

Her fear of ships and the open sea had always held her back from venturing onto one, but now, standing here, it felt like that fear had melted away, replaced by pure wonder.

“This is... amazing,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the gentle creaking of the ship.

Wooyoung, who had been following her with her bag slung over his shoulder, smirked as he watched her light up like a child discovering a new world. “You act like you’ve never seen a ship before,” he teased, though his tone was soft.

“I haven’t,” YN admitted, turning to him with an excited grin. “Not like this! I mean, I’ve seen them from the shore, but actually being on one? It’s completely different!”

She wandered across the deck, her fingers brushing against the railings and ropes, her eyes darting to every detail—the cannons lined up neatly, the sturdy wheel, and the faint reflection of the moonlight on the water below.

“This is incredible,” she said again, more to herself than to Wooyoung. “I never thought I’d actually step foot on a ship.”

Wooyoung chuckled as he trailed behind her, carrying her things without complaint. “Well, you’re lucky this isn’t just any ship. You’re standing on the Halazia, the finest vessel on the seas.”

YN turned to him, her eyes sparkling. “The finest, huh? You don’t seem very humble about it.”

“Why should I be?” he said with a grin, leaning casually against a mast. “The Halazia deserves to be shown off. Just like me.”

YN rolled her eyes but couldn’t help laughing. She turned her attention back to the ship, climbing a few steps to the raised quarterdeck and looking out over the bow. The gentle rocking of the ship made her heart race, but it wasn’t fear—it was exhilaration.

“You look like a kid in a candy shop,” Wooyoung said, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and fondness as he watched her.

She spun around, leaning against the railing with a bright smile. “I feel like one. This is so much better than I imagined.”

Wooyoung’s smirk softened into something more genuine as he watched her. He wasn’t sure what it was about her—maybe the way her excitement was so contagious, or the way her wide eyes seemed to find magic in everything—but seeing her like this made him forget, even for a moment, the dangers that had brought her here.

“Alright, sunshine,” he said, breaking the moment. “As much as I’d love to let you explore all night, you’ll need some rest. The captain will want to speak with you in the morning.”

YN nodded, reluctantly tearing herself away from the view. “Okay, fine. But I’m not done exploring. You’ll have to show me everything tomorrow.”

Wooyoung laughed. “Deal. But for now, let me show you where you’ll be sleeping. Come on.”

He led her below deck, still carrying her things as she followed him with the same wide-eyed wonder. And though the weight of what lay ahead lingered in the back of his mind, Wooyoung found himself smiling, content in the moment.

When Wooyoung led YN to a small cabin below deck, she stepped inside and immediately felt the silence pressing in around her. The cozy space was nothing like her home, with its small wooden bed, a lantern casting soft light, and the faint creaking of the ship filling the air.

“Here you go,” Wooyoung said, setting her bag down by the bed. “It’s not much, but it’s cozy enough. You’ll be safe here.”

YN nodded, clutching her arms tightly. “Yeah… it’s nice.” But her voice wavered slightly, betraying her unease.

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, noticing the way her eyes darted around the room and how she hesitated to step further in. “Something wrong?” he asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.

She shook her head quickly, forcing a smile. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m just… not used to being alone, that’s all.”

His smirk faded as he studied her. “You’re scared, aren’t you?”

Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a small sigh. “A little. Back home, I always stayed with my aunt when my dad wasn’t around. I’ve never really been by myself at night. It’s… it’s just something I’m not used to.”

Wooyoung frowned, leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed. He could see the fear in her eyes, the way she fidgeted nervously. It wasn’t something he was used to—seeing someone so openly vulnerable. Most people tried to hide their fears around pirates, but YN was an open book.

“You know,” he started, his voice softening, “I could always stick around for a bit. Keep you company until you fall asleep. That way, you’re not completely alone.”

YN’s eyes widened. “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he said with a shrug, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m your bodyguard, remember? Can’t let anything happen to you, even if it’s just a bad dream.”

A small smile tugged at her lips, and she nodded. “Okay. Just until I fall asleep.”

Wooyoung pulled a chair over and sat down near the bed, leaning back comfortably as YN hesitantly climbed under the blankets.

For a while, the only sound was the gentle creak of the ship and the distant crash of waves. YN lay on her side, her gaze fixed on Wooyoung, who seemed completely at ease, his legs stretched out and arms crossed behind his head.

“You’re really not going to leave, are you?” she asked quietly.

“Not until you’re out like a light,” he replied with a grin.

She chuckled softly, the sound easing some of the tension in the room. “Thank you, Wooyoung.”

“Anytime, sunshine,” he said, his voice dropping to a soothing tone.

Slowly, her eyes began to droop, the sound of the ship and the comforting presence of Wooyoung lulling her into a sense of safety she hadn’t expected to feel. And true to his word, he stayed right there, watching over her until her breathing evened out and she drifted into sleep.

The next morning, Wooyoung leaned against the doorframe of YN’s cabin, watching her stretch and yawn as she woke up. Her face was lit with the same cheerful glow he’d come to recognize, her fear from the night before seemingly forgotten.

“Morning, sunshine,” he greeted with a teasing grin. “Sleep well?”

YN sat up, her hair slightly messy, and nodded enthusiastically. “Like a baby. I guess ships aren’t so scary after all!”

He smirked, stepping aside to let her step out. “Told you you’d be fine. Now come on, let’s get some food. The others are already up.”

As they walked toward the breakfast hall, YN’s natural curiosity bubbled over. “So… aren’t you ever scared the ship’s going to sink?” she asked, tilting her head.

Wooyoung snorted, looking at her like she’d just said the most ridiculous thing. “Scared? Me? Sunshine, this ship is sturdier than a fortress. She’s not going anywhere.”

“But what if a giant wave crashes over it?” she asked, her eyes wide with imagined catastrophe.

“Then we ride the wave,” he answered smugly.

She hummed thoughtfully before hitting him with another question. “What if a whale bumps into it? Wouldn’t that cause trouble?”

He gave her an incredulous look. “A whale? Do you think whales just swim around bumping into ships for fun?”

She giggled, shrugging. “I don’t know! Maybe they’re curious.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, but the fond smile tugging at his lips gave him away. “Alright, sunshine, what’s next? Got any more doomsday scenarios for me?”

“Many. What about sharks? Aren’t you worried they’ll try to bite through the hull?”

Wooyoung stopped walking, staring at her for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Sharks, YN? Biting through the hull? What kind of stories has your dad been telling you?”

She shrugged with a playful pout. “I don’t know! I just thought… maybe it could happen!”

He shook his head, still grinning as they resumed walking. “I promise you, sharks don’t want to eat wood. You’re safe.”

“What about storms?” she asked next, her voice full of innocent curiosity. “Have you ever been caught in one? Like, a huge one that flips the ship upside down?”

Wooyoung gave her an exaggeratedly serious look. “Oh, sure, all the time. And we just flip her back over and keep sailing.”

YN gasped. “Really?!”

He laughed, ruffling her hair as they walked. “No, sunshine, not really. But we’ve weathered storms before. This ship’s been through it all.”

As they reached the breakfast hall, YN slowed down, looking up at him. “One more question,” she said, her tone quieter but still curious.

“Shoot,” he replied.

“Have you ever been scared on this ship?”

For a moment, Wooyoung paused, his grin fading into something softer. “Maybe once or twice,” he admitted. “But not because of the ship. Because of what might happen to the people on it.”

YN blinked, surprised by his honest answer, but before she could ask more, Wooyoung opened the door to the hall with a dramatic flourish.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced loudly, “the sunshine of the seas has arrived!”

As YN stepped into the breakfast hall, the chatter of the crew quieted, and all eyes turned toward her. Though most of their expressions were neutral or curious, the sheer presence of eight men in one room felt overwhelming. She froze for a moment, clutching Wooyoung’s shirt from behind like a lifeline.

Wooyoung glanced over his shoulder, noticing how she shrank behind him. He let out a soft laugh but didn’t comment, allowing her to use him as a shield.

“Don’t be shy,” he teased lightly, his tone warm. “They don’t bite. Well… maybe San does, but only if you get on his bad side.”

“Hey!” San called from across the room, earning a chuckle from the others.

Hongjoong, seated at the head of the table, gave her a reassuring smile. “Good morning, YN. Don’t let them intimidate you. They’re loud, but they’re harmless.”

She nodded shyly but didn’t let go of Wooyoung’s shirt. The rest of the crew exchanged glances, some amused, some curious.

“Alright, alright,” Wooyoung said, clapping his hands to break the awkward silence. “Let’s get the introductions out of the way so sunshine here can relax.”

He stepped aside, gently nudging YN forward, though she still kept close to him.

Hongjoong stood first, his presence commanding yet calm. “I’m Hongjoong, the captain of this ship. You’ll be safe here, YN. If there’s anything you need, let me know.”

Next was Seonghwa, who gave her a polite nod. “Seonghwa, the quartermaster and first mate. Welcome aboard.”

Yunho, the navigator, grinned warmly. “I’m Yunho. I make sure we don’t get lost. Nice to meet you, YN!”

Yeosang, the quiet surgeon, gave her a small smile. “Yeosang. If you ever get hurt, come to me.”

San leaned back in his chair, flashing a mischievous grin. “San, the battle master. Don’t worry, I only bite if provoked.”

Mingi, the boatswain, waved enthusiastically. “Mingi! I keep the ship in shape. You’re gonna love it here!”

Wooyoung gave her a playful nudge. “And you already know me, your personal bodyguard and scavenger extraordinaire.”

Finally, Jongho, the master gunner, nodded firmly. “Jongho. I handle the cannons. Welcome to the Halazia.”

The introductions helped ease her nerves, and soon enough, the crew’s warm smiles and lighthearted jokes began to make her feel more comfortable.

“Thank you,” she said softly, glancing around at the group. “It’s nice to meet all of you.”

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way,” Wooyoung said, guiding her to a seat at the table, “let’s eat. Sunshine needs to keep her energy up, after all.”

As the crew returned to their meals, YN slowly started to join the conversation, her natural warmth and curiosity shining through. By the end of breakfast, she wasn’t hiding behind Wooyoung anymore—instead, she was laughing along with the rest of the crew, feeling like she might actually belong.

After breakfast, Wooyoung led YN back out onto the deck. The crew had dispersed to their duties, leaving the ship relatively quiet. He decided it was the perfect time to give her a small tour—not of the whole ship, but just the places he knew she’d actually need.

“Alright, sunshine,” Wooyoung said, walking ahead of her with a slight bounce in his step. “Since you’ll be with us for a while, you should know your way around—at least enough so you don’t get lost.”

YN’s eyes sparkled with excitement, her earlier shyness completely replaced by her usual sunshine-like demeanor. “Okay! Show me everything!”

“Not everything,” he corrected with a chuckle. “Just the essentials. Come on.”

He started with the main deck, pointing out where the crew stored extra supplies and how to tell which ropes were safe to touch—“Don’t go pulling random ones unless you want to drop a sail on your head,” he teased.

YN followed closely, hanging on to every word he said, her excitement growing with every little thing he explained. She’d occasionally gasp or ask a question, her enthusiasm contagious.

“This is where the weapons are stored,” Wooyoung said, gesturing to a small hatch near the mast. “But you probably don’t need to mess with that. Leave the fighting to us.”

“Noted,” YN said with a grin. “No weapons for me. I’ll stick to not breaking anything.”

They moved below deck next, where Wooyoung showed her the mess hall, the kitchen (“Wooyoung’s kingdom,” as he called it), and a few storage rooms.

When they reached the small infirmary, YN gasped. “Oh, it’s so organized!”

“Yeosang keeps it that way,” Wooyoung said with a shrug. “Don’t mess with his stuff, though. He’ll know.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, her eyes wide as she peeked inside.

Finally, Wooyoung led her back up to the quarterdeck, where the ship’s wheel stood. YN looked out over the vast ocean, the sun sparkling on the water like diamonds. Her grin grew even wider, and she spun around to face him, her hands outstretched.

“This is amazing, Wooyoung! I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like a whole new world!”

Wooyoung leaned against the railing, watching her with a soft smile. Her joy was so genuine, so unfiltered, that it tugged at something deep in his chest. He’d spent years on this ship, but he’d never seen it through someone else’s eyes like this.

“Glad you like it,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

YN turned back to the ocean, leaning against the railing as the wind played with her hair. “I can’t believe I was scared of this. It’s beautiful.”

Wooyoung found himself staring, his heart doing something strange—something he didn’t quite understand. He’d been around plenty of people, but there was something about YN’s presence that felt… different.

Shaking off the thought, he smirked and nudged her lightly. “Well, sunshine, you’re part of it now. Welcome to the Halazia.”

She looked up at him with a radiant smile. “Thanks, Wooyoung. I think I’m going to like it here.”

He didn’t say anything, but as they stood there, watching the endless expanse of ocean together, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he was starting to like it even more now too.

As they leaned against the railing, watching the endless stretch of blue, YN broke the comfortable silence with a quiet question.

“Are you scared of the ocean?”

Wooyoung glanced at her, slightly taken aback. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged, her fingers lightly tracing the wood of the railing. “It’s just… it’s so big. And unknown. You don’t really know what’s down there. I’m scared of it. Always have been.”

Wooyoung’s gaze softened as he watched her. For all her bright and cheerful energy, there was a vulnerability in her words that struck him.

“I’m not scared of it,” he said after a moment. “But I get why someone might be.”

YN turned to look at him, her eyes searching his face. “You don’t think about it? How deep it goes? How it could just… swallow you up?”

Wooyoung chuckled softly, leaning his elbows on the railing. “I guess I’ve been around it so long, I don’t think about it that way anymore. The ocean’s unpredictable, sure, but it’s also… home. It’s dangerous, yeah, but it’s beautiful too.”

“Beautiful and dangerous,” she echoed, looking back at the waves. “I guess that makes sense.”

He glanced at her, his tone softening. “But it’s okay to be scared of it, you know. Everyone’s scared of something. The important thing is not letting it stop you from living.”

YN nodded slowly, his words sinking in. “I guess that’s why you’re here, huh? To make sure I don’t let my fear stop me?”

Wooyoung smirked, his usual teasing tone returning. “Exactly. Think of me as your very own fearless tour guide of the seas.”

She laughed, the sound light and free, and for a moment, her fear seemed to fade. “Thanks, Wooyoung. You’re not as scary as you pretend to be.”

“Don’t let the others hear you say that,” he said with a wink. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

YN smiled, her earlier worry replaced by warmth. Maybe the ocean was still scary, but with someone like Wooyoung by her side, it didn’t feel quite so overwhelming.

As the day passed, Wooyoung found himself growing increasingly aware of YN’s presence. Whether it was her soft laughter when she found something amusing, the way she tilted her head with curiosity at every little thing he showed her, or even the quiet moments when she was simply taking in the ship’s vastness—he couldn’t help but feel something stirring within him.

It wasn’t just her cheerfulness that got to him. It was the way she spoke with an honesty that seemed so rare, the way she made everything feel a little brighter, even in the vastness of the open sea.

At one point, YN was sitting on a crate near the mast, her feet swinging lightly as she hummed to herself. Wooyoung had been organizing some ropes nearby, but his hands slowed as he glanced over at her. She was just sitting there, doing nothing in particular, and yet he found himself staring.

What is wrong with me? he thought, shaking his head.

“Wooyoung?” her voice cut through his thoughts, and he turned to see her looking at him with her usual wide-eyed curiosity.

“Yeah?” he asked, quickly snapping out of his daze.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asked bluntly, tilting her head.

He blinked, caught off guard. “I wasn’t staring.”

She gave him a look that clearly said she didn’t believe him. “You totally were. Do I have something on my face?”

“No!” he said quickly, waving his hands. “I was just… lost in thought.”

“About what?”

“Stuff,” he replied vaguely, avoiding her gaze as he returned to the ropes.

She frowned a little but didn’t press him further. Instead, she hopped off the crate and walked over to him, standing by his side. “You’re weird,” she said with a laugh, nudging him lightly.

“Thanks, sunshine,” he muttered, though there was no bite in his tone.

As the day wore on, Wooyoung couldn’t shake the strange feeling. It wasn’t a bad feeling—just… unfamiliar. He found himself smiling more than usual, his mind wandering whenever she was near.

By the time the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Wooyoung was leaning against the railing, watching YN as she marveled at the view.

She turned to him, her face lit up with excitement. “Is it always this beautiful?”

He nodded slowly, though his eyes weren’t on the horizon—they were on her. “Yeah,” he said softly, his voice barely audible. “It is.”

And for the first time in a long while, Wooyoung found himself wondering if the ocean was truly the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

A few weeks had passed since YN stepped onto the Halazia, and in that time, the ship had somehow begun to feel like home to her. She leapt around the deck with her usual cheerful energy, helping wherever she could, whether it was Wooyoung in the kitchen, Yeosang in the infirmary, or even Seonghwa and Hongjoong with their work.

“Hold this for me, YN,” Seonghwa said one afternoon as he handed her a map while he adjusted the compass in his hand.

“Like this?” she asked, holding it up as if she were presenting a prized treasure.

Seonghwa chuckled. “Perfect.”

When she wasn’t assisting Seonghwa, she was often seen pestering Yeosang in the infirmary, her endless questions making him both amused and slightly exasperated.

“What does this do?” YN asked, pointing to a jar of some strange salve.

“It’s for burns,” Yeosang replied patiently, though he didn’t miss the way she scrunched her nose at the smell.

“That smells awful!” she exclaimed.

“It’s medicine,” Yeosang said with a small smile. “Not everything can smell like roses.”

She laughed and quickly moved on to the next question, her curiosity never-ending.

And then, of course, there was Wooyoung.

She spent the most time with him, naturally. Whether it was helping him in the kitchen or following him around during his scavenger tasks, she was always by his side, her bright personality lighting up even the dullest moments.

But for Wooyoung, those weeks had been… confusing.

The strange feeling he had whenever he looked at her had only grown stronger. It was there in the way his heart would skip when she laughed, or the way he’d find himself looking for her whenever she wasn’t around.

“Wooyoung!” YN called out one morning, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah?” he asked, turning to see her balancing on the railing, arms stretched out for balance.

“Look! I’m not scared anymore!” she said, beaming.

“Get down before you fall!” he scolded, rushing over to steady her.

She laughed, hopping down with ease. But not without Wooyoung holding onto her. “I wouldn’t have fallen. You’d catch me anyway, right?”

Wooyoung sighed, shaking his head, though there was a small smile on his lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re grumpy,” she shot back with a grin, poking his arm.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the warmth that spread through him. She had that effect on everyone, he realized—not just him. She had somehow charmed the entire crew, even the usually reserved Yeosang and the ever-serious Seonghwa.

But for Wooyoung, it was different. The way he felt when she was near wasn’t just fondness or friendship. It was something more, something that made his chest tighten and his heart race.

And as he watched her skip off to bother Hongjoong about something, laughing and smiling as if the world was nothing but sunshine, Wooyoung realized he was in trouble.

Big trouble.

That night, like every other, YN was tucked into the small bed they’d arranged for her in one of the crew’s spare quarters. Wooyoung sat on the floor near the door, leaning back against the wooden wall, his legs stretched out comfortably. It had become their nightly routine—talking about anything and everything before she drifted off to sleep.

“Wooyoung,” she started, her voice soft and a little drowsy already, “why do you like being a pirate? Isn’t it scary, always running into danger?”

He chuckled, resting his head against the wall. “Nah. It’s what I’m good at. And besides, it’s exciting. Who doesn’t like a bit of adventure?”

She smiled faintly, her eyelids heavy but still determined to stay in the conversation. “I think it’s cool… but I’d be too scared to fight. I’d probably just hide behind you.”

“You already do that,” he teased with a grin.

“True,” she murmured with a sleepy laugh. “You’re good at making me feel safe, though.”

His heart clenched a little at her words, but he kept his tone light. “Of course I do. That’s my job, sunshine.”

For a while, they continued their usual back-and-forth, her words growing slower and quieter with each passing minute. Wooyoung found himself doing most of the talking, filling the silence as she nodded off.

Then, mid-sentence, he heard her breathing even out. He paused, looking over at her. She had fallen asleep while he was talking, her head resting on the pillow, her face peaceful and relaxed.

A soft smile spread across his lips as he watched her, the moonlight filtering through the small window casting a gentle glow on her features.

“She’s cute,” he muttered to himself before he could stop the thought.

It hit him then, like it had been building up for weeks and finally clicked into place—he was falling for her. Hard.

But Wooyoung knew one thing for sure: even if it was love, he wasn’t going to say anything. She was his friend, his sunshine in an otherwise stormy world, and the last thing he wanted was to burden her with his feelings. She had enough to worry about, and he wasn’t about to make things harder for her.

Instead, he sighed quietly, leaning his head back against the wall as he closed his eyes. If staying silent meant she could keep smiling and talking his ear off every night, then he’d take that. For now, just being close to her was enough.

Wooyoung stood up quietly, ready to leave her room and let her sleep peacefully like every other night. But as he turned to glance back at her one last time, something caught his eye.

Her blanket had slipped down, revealing her arms—usually hidden under long sleeves. He moved closer, intending to fix the blanket like he always did, making sure she was comfortable.

But then he saw it.

His breath hitched as his eyes fell on her wrists, faintly illuminated by the pale moonlight. There were marks and scars, some faint and others deeper, etched into her skin like silent memories of pain.

Wooyoung froze, his heart tightening painfully in his chest.

No… he thought, his mind racing. She’s always smiling. Always happy.

He couldn’t reconcile the sunshine YN he knew—the one who laughed at his jokes, who skipped around the ship with boundless energy, who asked him silly questions every day—with the person who bore these scars.

For a long moment, he just stood there, staring at her sleeping form. She looked so peaceful, so innocent, and yet those scars told a story he didn’t know—a story she had never shared with him.

He clenched his fists, a wave of emotions crashing over him. Anger, sadness, confusion. How could someone as bright as her carry so much pain? And why hadn’t she told anyone?

Wooyoung gently pulled the blanket back up, covering her arms again. His hand hovered for a moment before he stepped back, his movements slow and deliberate as if he might wake her.

He sat back down on the floor, his back against the wall, his thoughts a chaotic mess. He replayed every interaction they’d had, every laugh, every smile. Had he missed the signs? Had she been hiding this from everyone the whole time?

And yet, despite the questions and the pain in his chest, one thought rang louder than the rest.

I’ll protect her.

Whatever she had been through, whatever had caused those scars, Wooyoung silently vowed that she would never have to feel that kind of pain again. Not as long as he was around.

The morning came with the usual rhythm of life on the Halazia. The crew went about their tasks, the sounds of footsteps and distant laughter filling the ship. YN, as always, was a ball of energy. She skipped onto the deck, her bright smile lighting up the day as she greeted everyone she saw.

“Good morning, Wooyoung!” she called, waving cheerfully as she spotted him leaning against the railing.

He smiled back, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Something had shifted within him since last night, and even though YN seemed like her usual, bubbly self, he couldn’t stop the protectiveness that now gnawed at his chest.

As she wandered off to help Yeosang in the infirmary, Wooyoung found himself watching her closely, more vigilant than ever. His heart felt heavier, knowing the scars she carried beneath her sunshine exterior. He couldn’t let this eat him up inside—it was too much.

Without thinking too much about it, he made his way to the captain’s quarters.

Hongjoong was seated at his desk, a map spread out before him as he carefully marked their next route. He glanced up when Wooyoung knocked and motioned for him to enter.

“What is it?” Hongjoong asked, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms.

Wooyoung hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to put his swirling thoughts into words. But this was Hongjoong—his captain, his guide, his second guardian. If there was anyone he could trust, it was him.

“It’s about YN,” Wooyoung began, closing the door behind him.

Hongjoong’s brow furrowed slightly. “What about her? Is she alright?”

“She is,” Wooyoung said quickly. “At least… I think she is. But…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair.

“But what?” Hongjoong pressed, his tone serious now.

Wooyoung took a deep breath and looked down at the floor. “Last night, I… I saw something. She always wears long sleeves, and I never thought much of it, but her blanket slipped, and I saw her wrists.”

Hongjoong didn’t say anything, but the sharpness in his eyes told Wooyoung to continue.

“They’re scared,” Wooyoung said quietly. “Like… she’s been through something. Something bad. And she’s always smiling, always acting like she’s fine, but I don’t think she is, Captain. I don’t think she ever was.”

Hongjoong leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he processed Wooyoung’s words. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

“Because I don’t know what to do,” Wooyoung admitted, his voice almost breaking. “I want to protect her, but I don’t know if I’m doing enough. I don’t want her to feel like she’s alone. And—” He hesitated, swallowing hard before continuing. “I care about her, Captain. More than I probably should.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of Wooyoung’s words hanging in the air.

Hongjoong studied him carefully, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Wooyoung, you’ve always been someone who cares deeply about the people around you. That’s one of your strengths. But you need to tread carefully here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Hongjoong said slowly, “that YN isn’t just anyone. She’s someone who’s clearly been hurt before, and if you push too hard or too fast, you might end up hurting her even more.”

Wooyoung nodded, his fists clenching at his sides. “I’d never hurt her.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Hongjoong said, his tone softening. “But she might not be ready to talk about whatever’s happened to her. You have to be patient. Be there for her, but let her come to you when she’s ready.”

Wooyoung exhaled shakily, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “I just… I hate the thought of her suffering alone.”

Hongjoong gave him a small, understanding smile. “You’re doing more for her than you realize, Wooyoung. Just keep being her friend, her safe place. That’s what she needs most right now.”

Wooyoung nodded again, his resolve strengthening. “Thank you, Captain.”

As he left the room, Wooyoung felt a little lighter, though his heart still ached for YN. He would take Hongjoong’s advice to heart. He would wait, be patient, and let her set the pace. But in the meantime, he’d keep being the one thing she could always count on: her protector, her friend, and her silent guardian.

Wooyoung stepped out onto the deck, the salty breeze ruffling his hair as his eyes scanned for YN. He spotted her near the railing with San and Jongho, her arms waving animatedly as she spoke. The two men stood there, half-amused, half-bewildered, listening to whatever silly tangent she was on this time.

“Wait, wait, let me get this straight,” San said, holding up a hand to stop her. “You’re asking me if a sword can cut through a cannonball?”

“Yeah!” YN exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “I mean, they’re both metal, right? So if you hit it hard enough…”

San burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. “You’ve been reading too many stories, kid.”

Jongho, who had been leaning against the railing, shook his head but couldn’t hide the faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Even the sharpest blade would shatter before it cut through solid iron.”

“Aw,” YN pouted, crossing her arms. “I thought pirates could do anything!”

San laughed harder, wiping a tear from his eye. “We’re not magicians, sunshine.”

Wooyoung stood off to the side, watching the scene unfold. A warm smile crept onto his face as he saw how easily YN interacted with them now. When she’d first come aboard, she’d been hesitant, hiding behind him whenever the others were around. But now, here she was, chatting away with San and Jongho like they’d known each other forever.

It felt good to see her like this—happy, carefree, and finally warming up to the crew.

“You’re really curious about everything, aren’t you?” Jongho said, his deep voice carrying a hint of amusement.

“Of course!” YN said brightly. “I’ve never been on a ship before, so I want to learn as much as I can. Like… do you guys ever get scared of storms? Or, oh! What happens if someone falls overboard? Do you just throw them a rope, or—”

“Whoa, slow down,” San said, holding up his hands. “One question at a time, sunshine!”

Wooyoung chuckled softly as he approached them, leaning casually against the mast. “Looks like you’ve been keeping my brothers busy.”

YN turned to him with a beaming smile. “Wooyoung! Did you know San once fought off five guys by himself?”

San puffed out his chest, clearly enjoying the attention. “It was six, actually.”

“Here we go,” Jongho muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Wooyoung laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t let him fool you, YN. He probably tripped over a barrel and took them all down by accident.”

“Hey!” San protested, but YN was already giggling, her laughter light and infectious.

As they continued talking, Wooyoung couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. She wasn’t just his sunshine anymore—she was becoming theirs, too. And that made him happier than he could put into words.

The gentle sound of the waves lapping against the ship provided a soothing background as Wooyoung and YN sat on the deck. The sun was beginning to set, casting the sky in shades of orange and pink. YN was carefully folding a piece of parchment, her tongue poking out slightly in concentration as she tried to perfect the origami bird Mingi had taught her.

Wooyoung watched her with a soft smile, his elbow resting on his knee as he sat cross-legged beside her. He loved seeing her like this—calm, happy, and free to express herself.

“Wooyoung,” she suddenly said, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Let’s play a game.”

“A game?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes! It’s simple. One person asks a question, and the other has to answer truthfully. No skipping. Deal?” She held out her pinky finger, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Wooyoung chuckled and linked his pinky with hers. “Deal.”

The game started innocently enough, with lighthearted questions that made them both laugh.

“What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?” she asked.

“Once, I fell off the ship during training and blamed it on a loose rope,” Wooyoung admitted, grinning sheepishly.

She burst into laughter, nearly dropping her origami. “You didn’t!”

“I did. Yunho still hasn’t let me live it down,” he said, shaking his head.

When it was Wooyoung’s turn, he asked, “What’s your favorite food?”

“Anything sweet,” she answered easily. “The sweeter, the better!”

The game continued, each question becoming a little more personal, a little more revealing. Wooyoung learned that YN’s favorite color was blue because it reminded her of the ocean and that she used to dream of being an adventurer before life tied her to the store.

Then, as the playful banter lulled, Wooyoung asked the question that had been weighing on his heart.

“Where are the scars from?”

As soon as the question left Wooyoung’s mouth, YN froze, her body stiffening as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.

“W-what?” she stammered, her voice shaky, eyes darting to her hands in panic.

“Your wrist,” Wooyoung said, his voice softer this time but unwavering. “I saw the scars. Tell me what happened.”

Her heart raced, her palms growing clammy as she clutched the half-folded paper bird. She couldn’t face him, couldn’t answer the question. Without another word, YN shot up from her spot and darted away, her footsteps echoing across the deck.

“YN!” Wooyoung called after her, but she didn’t stop.

She didn’t know where she was going, her mind clouded with panic, but her feet carried her to Seonghwa’s quarters. She knocked quickly before opening the door, her chest heaving as she stepped inside.

Seonghwa was seated at his desk, a book in his hands, but he looked up at her abrupt entrance. He immediately noticed her pacing back and forth, her hands trembling as she fidgeted with the sleeves of her shirt.

“YN,” Seonghwa called gently, setting the book down and standing up. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” she started, but the words caught in her throat. She stopped pacing and turned to him, her eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears.

“YN,” he said again, walking over to her slowly, his voice calm and reassuring. “Breathe. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I…” She hesitated, her mind racing. She couldn’t tell him about her wrists, couldn’t tell him about the scars, but she didn’t know how to explain the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

Seonghwa waited patiently, his arms crossed but his gaze kind. When her bottom lip quivered and her eyes spilled over with tears, he stepped closer and placed a steady hand on her shoulder.

“Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone,” he said softly. “You can tell me, YN.”

Her shoulders shook as she wiped at her eyes with the back of her sleeve, trying to compose herself. “It’s just… it’s too much,” she finally whispered.

“Too much?” he prompted, his voice careful, coaxing.

She nodded, her voice trembling. “I—I don’t know how to explain it. Everything’s just… overwhelming.”

Seonghwa nodded in understanding, guiding her to sit on the edge of his bed. “Take your time,” he said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to her.

She clutched the fabric tightly, sniffling as she stared at her lap. “I just… sometimes I feel like I can’t keep up. Like I’m trying so hard to be happy, to be… me, but it’s exhausting.”

Seonghwa crouched down in front of her, resting a hand on her knee. “You don’t always have to be the sunshine, YN. It’s okay to feel tired. It’s okay to need help.”

YN's chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the weight of her emotions overwhelmed her. Her hands trembled as they clung to Seonghwa’s forearm, her grip so tight it felt as though she was holding onto him for dear life.

Seonghwa didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, he stayed perfectly still, a steady anchor in the storm of her panic. He knelt in front of her, his calm presence a stark contrast to her spiraling emotions.

“YN,” he said softly, his voice like a gentle tide. “Breathe with me. In through your nose, slowly… and out through your mouth.”

She shook her head, her tears streaming freely. “I—I can’t,” she choked out, her voice cracking.

“You can,” Seonghwa reassured her, his tone unwavering. “I’m right here. Just focus on me. Look at me, YN.”

She hesitated but finally met his gaze, her teary eyes locking onto his calm, reassuring ones.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Now, follow my breath. In… and out.”

She tried, mimicking his slow breathing, though her breaths still hitched with sobs. Her fingers dug into his arm, and he didn’t so much as wince. Instead, he reached up with his free hand and gently dabbed at her tears with the handkerchief, his movements deliberate and careful.

“It’s okay to cry,” he said softly, his voice unwavering. “It’s okay to feel scared. You don’t have to apologize for how you feel.”

Her sobs quieted slightly, though her grip on his arm remained as strong as ever. She clung to him as though letting go would cause her to crumble entirely.

Seonghwa stayed patient, his calmness never faltering. He wiped her tears every so often, his hand moving with the same care as someone handling something fragile. “You’re safe here,” he reminded her. “Nothing’s going to hurt you. Not while I’m here.”

His words were like a lifeline, grounding her enough to slow her racing heart. After a few moments, her breathing began to even out, the tightness in her chest loosening bit by bit. She loosened her grip on his arm but didn’t let go entirely, her fingers still clutching him lightly as she hiccupped through her tears.

“Better?” he asked softly, his eyes searching hers.

She nodded weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied gently. “You’re not alone, YN. You never will be.”

Though her tears hadn’t fully stopped, a flicker of warmth spread through her chest at his words. Seonghwa’s presence was steady and unwavering, and in that moment, she felt just a little bit lighter.

After leaving Seonghwa’s room, YN made her way to her quarters. Her steps were slow, her mind a swirl of emotions she couldn’t quite pin down. She opened the door quietly, her gaze immediately landing on Wooyoung sitting cross-legged on the floor near the door, as he always did at night. His head lifted when he saw her enter, concern evident in his eyes.

“YN, I—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted firmly, her voice steady despite the whirlwind inside her. She stood before him, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for the hem of her sleeves.

Wooyoung’s eyes widened slightly, and he opened his mouth to say something, but she silenced him with a look. Slowly, she rolled up her sleeves, the fabric slipping upward to reveal the scars etched into her wrists.

Wooyoung’s breath hitched as he saw them up close for the first time, the pale lines stark against her skin. His heart ached, a heavy weight settling in his chest as he looked at her, at the vulnerability she was showing him.

“This is what you wanted to know, right?” YN said, her voice soft but laced with a mix of courage and apprehension. “You wanted to know where the scars came from. Well… here they are.”

Wooyoung stood slowly, his movements careful as if afraid any sudden action might scare her away. He didn’t say anything at first, his gaze flicking from her wrists to her face.

The silence lingered for a while before YN took a shaky breath, her fingers twisting together in her lap. She stared at the floor, her voice barely above a whisper as she finally began to speak.

“My mother…” she started, pausing to collect her thoughts. “She wasn’t… normal. She was cruel. A maniac, really. She’d punish me for anything and everything—spilling a drink, speaking too loudly, even just… existing.”

Wooyoung sat perfectly still, his gaze fixed on her, his heart breaking with every word.

“And her punishments,” YN continued, her voice trembling, “they weren’t like what most kids go through. She didn’t yell or ground me. She… she used a whip. Always on my wrists. Always in the same place. I can still feel it sometimes, even now.”

Wooyoung’s fists clenched at his sides, but he didn’t interrupt, letting her speak at her own pace.

“My father tried to stop her,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “He did everything he could, but she didn’t care. She was… relentless. And then, one day, she just… overdosed. Died right there in the house.”

She swallowed hard, her hands shaking as she rubbed at her sleeves. “You’d think I’d feel relief, right? That the nightmare was over. But I didn’t. I fell into this… dark hole. A part of me hated her, but another part of me missed her. I was so confused, so… lost. And that’s when it started.”

Wooyoung’s breath caught in his throat as she glanced at her wrists, her voice quieter now, as if she were confessing a sin.

“I started hurting myself,” she admitted, tears welling up in her eyes. “At first, it was just to feel something—anything other than the emptiness. But then it became… addictive. Like I couldn’t stop. Every time I felt overwhelmed or scared, it was my way of coping. It felt like the only thing I could control.”

Her voice broke, and she wiped at her cheeks, the tears now falling freely. “I hate it. I hate what I’ve done to myself. But it’s so hard to stop. Even now, there are days when the urge comes back, and I have to fight it with everything I have.”

Wooyoung moved closer, his heart heavy as he watched her crumble in front of him. “YN…” he said softly, his voice laced with pain and understanding.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and shame. “I didn’t want you to know,” she whispered. “I didn’t want anyone to know. I thought I’d be fine keeping it to myself, but now… now I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to do this alone anymore,” Wooyoung said firmly, his voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside him. “You have me. You have Seonghwa, the captain… all of us. You’re not alone, YN. Not ever again.”

Her lips quivered, and for a moment, she looked like she wanted to argue, but then she nodded, the smallest bit of relief shining through her tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Wooyoung reached out, hesitated for a moment, and then gently placed his hand over hers. “You’re stronger than you think,” he said softly. “And I’ll remind you of that every day if I had to”

For a moment, she saw nothing but sincerity and warmth in his eyes. “I’ve already burdened Seonghwa enough tonight,” she said with a small, forced laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

“You’re not a burden,” Wooyoung said immediately, his voice firm. “Don’t ever think that. Not to him, not to me, not to anyone.”

The corner of her lip twitched upward, a small, grateful smile breaking through. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Wooyoung nodded, his expression softening. “Always.”

Without another word, she sat down on the edge of her bed, and Wooyoung returned to his spot on the floor near the door. The air between them was quieter now, but it wasn’t heavy. It felt lighter, like a silent understanding had settled between them.

And for the first time in a long while, YN felt a small sliver of peace.

The following days on the ship were like a fresh breeze in YN’s life. The weight she had carried for so long didn’t feel as heavy anymore. She laughed more, her usual sunshine-like personality shining even brighter now that the storm inside her had started to clear. She could feel it—she wasn’t alone anymore.

Wooyoung noticed the change in her, and it made his heart swell with pride and affection. She still leaped around the ship like a child, asking silly questions and sometimes pestering the others for answers. But now, there was something different about her—the way her laughter came from a place of genuine joy, the way her smiles reached her eyes.

And Wooyoung… he couldn’t stop looking at her. Every time she smiled, every time she glanced his way, his heart raced. He knew what it was now, that feeling that had been growing inside him from the moment he met her. He loved her.

She had become his light, his reason to be better, his reason to fight. And though he wasn’t brave enough to say it aloud, he showed it in every little thing he did. Whether it was sitting outside her door at night to keep her company or silently slipping her favorite snacks into her bag, his love for her shone through his actions.

For YN, Wooyoung had become her pillar, her safe place. She loved the feeling of knowing someone had her back, someone who cared for her as deeply as he did. It was something she’d never had before, and she treasured it more than anything.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in hues of gold and crimson, YN sat on the deck, her feet dangling over the edge. Wooyoung sat beside her, his usual playful demeanor softened by the quiet moment.

“Thank you,” she said suddenly, her voice carrying a softness that made Wooyoung turn to look at her.

“For what?” he asked, tilting his head.

“For being here,” she replied, her eyes fixed on the endless ocean before them. “For being my friend, for being my… everything.”

His heart skipped a beat, and he smiled softly. “You don’t have to thank me for that, YN. I’ll always be here for you. Always.”

She turned to him then, her eyes shining with gratitude and something deeper. “You’ve made me feel… safe. Happy. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before.”

Wooyoung’s breath caught in his throat, but he didn’t say anything, afraid he might ruin the moment. Instead, he reached out and gently took her hand in his, giving it a light squeeze.

And in that quiet moment, with the ocean stretching endlessly before them and the stars beginning to appear in the sky, they sat together, content in the knowledge that they had each other.

For YN, it was the start of a new chapter, one where she wasn’t defined by her scars but by the happiness she was finally allowing herself to feel.

And for Wooyoung, it was enough to simply be by her side, loving her quietly but completely, knowing that she was his light just as much as he was hers.

[kisses4themissus]

Mr, Mrs & Labour? | Hwang In-ho x Reader

wc: 2.3k

a/n: I locked in and finished writing this!!

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Classic music filled your ears as you laid by in-ho who was wide awake as the lights began to turn on. You both looked at each other, knowing the next game; Mingle.

The others got up, groaning at the bright lights. In-ho leaned over to you and ran a hand over your bump before helping you up. 

“Don’t wake them up, all night long was filled with back pain and endless kicking!” You complained to your husband who chuckled and rubbed the lower portion of your back while you all waited to be led up the stairs.

- - - - - - - -

You stared at the soldiers as you entered the carousel themed room. You were too tired to really act scared, your back felt as if someone had taken a hammer and tried to break your spine, your unborn child was restless the night before and your braxton hicks seemed too real for comfort. 

Gi-hun noticed your pain and walked to a solider. “Does she need to participate? Look at her, she’s in pain.” He motioned towards you and in-ho who rubbed your back, trying to comfort you. 

“The appeal of the game is that everyone is treated equally, even if they have different needs.” The soldier said sternly, making gi-hun sigh before walking back to you all on the platform. 

“I’m alright gi-hun, I should be able to make it through the rest of the game…I hope at least.” You tried to joked earning stern looks from everyone.

You quickly apologized and waited for other players to step on the platform. Tuning out as the instructions were played out. You had left the third game up to in-ho after you had grown frustrated from in-ho’s comments about your ideas. In-ho held you close as him and the others went over a plan. 

“If it’s lower then five, we group apart and adapt.” Gi-hun informed you all. You smiled as the others began to place their hands in the middle, you joined in and smiled at in-ho. “One, two, three, victory!” You all quietly cheered before turning back to face the colorful doors.

As the players were all on, the lights dimmed and the platform jerked everyone, in-ho holding you and jun-hee up right. You sighed as children’s music played, before you could think the platform stopped. 

“Ten!” 

You all looked at each other. Gi-hun turned to the people next to you all. “How many of you?!” He asked, looking around panicked as players yelled over each other. “Four,” Hyun-ju looked around for one more player. “That’s makes nine, we need one more!” Jung-bae noted, as you all discussed a plan, another group of players walked over and held dae-ho by his shoulder.

“Your a group of five? So are we, come with us!” They yelled out. Before you all could step forward a different group rushed over and grabbed the other group of five. Hyun-ju looked around and sighed in relief and grabbed the shaman lady.

You quickly moved from in-ho grasp and waddled the fastest you could to the nearest room and held the door open as the others followed you, shutting the door in time. You winced as gunshots rang out outside the door.

“You’re all alive thanks to me, I saved you all!” The crazy lady announced rasing her finger as she looked at each of you. You scoffed at her.

She quickly whipped around and tilted her head at you. 

“We’re the reason you’re not out there being shot.” You sneered at the religious woman, she scoffed at you and stepped closer, everyone’s eyes bouncing between you both. “Just like a snake in the heavenly garden.” She spat down on your shoes, geum-ja and the others gasped at the lady’s actions.

Your eyes widen, stepping in her way you glared at the woman. “Talk about me again.” You challenged, straightening out, your hands curling up in anger. 

“Let’s not fight right now,” Geum-ja tried to defuse the situation, everyone joining in, trying to calm you down from harming the shaman. You sighed and turned to face the door, trying to calm down, feeling your baby kick around.

“Your child will be stuck in your cursed hands.” She muttered, there was a beat of silence before it had dawned on the others what was happening.

You had stood with your back to her, the next you were slamming a fist into her nose, your other hand holding tightly on her ponytail. In-ho quickly moved and held you on one side while the other blocked you away from her. “You bitch! I’ll snap your neck!” You yelled, trying to claw your way away from your husband and dae-ho’s grasps.

- - - - - - - -

Thankfully the doors unlocked, letting you all out. You glared as dae-ho softly pulled you away from the room. Once out, everyone looked around to notice the drop on the counter of players.

You sighed, shaking your shoe clean of spit. 

“Brush off that woman’s evil words!” Geum-ja told you and she ran he hands over your jacket as if she was clearing off dust.  “Your baby will be born in the hands of a wonderful mother.” She continued as she fixed your jacket.

You nodded at her words. “I would’ve killed her, bringing up my baby like that.” You muttered, in-ho cleared his throat and lead you back. “You can’t be doing that, not when your in a vulnerable state.” In-ho scolded as you both stepped back onto the platform. “Are you saying i should’ve let her run her mouth about our child?” You scoffed, crossing your arms at your husband. 

“I wasn’t saying that..” In-ho sighed and gave up as the platform spun around. You held hands with jun-hee, you both squeezing each others palms for comfort. “Four!” 

Gi-hun looked at you all and sighed, “You four go, me and jung-bae will find someone.” Gi-hun tried to separate you all but you quickly shook your head and held onto in-ho’s arm, “You four go, me and in-ho will go!” You quickly walked away with your husband as the others fled into an empty room. 

“We need two players!” In-ho yelled as you noticed the panic on players faces, people getting betrayed by their teams left and right.

A younger man scrambled on the floor by your shoes and held your ankle. “Please miss, don’t let me die here.” He begged, in-ho quickly helped him up as you found another solo player, you all ran into a room in time, the door close and clicked shut.

You caught your breath as you waited for the soldiers and workers to be done. The other two players caught their breaths, player 256 sighed and bowed to both you and in-ho. 

“Thank you for saving me.” He thanked, the other player quickly joining in. You and in-ho chuckled and shook your heads at them. “It’s alright, thank you for coming with.” You smiled at the pair.

- - - - - - - -

Once it was clear you walked out and looked around for the others.

“MRS OH!” Jung-bae yelled out.

“BROTHER YOUNG-IL?!” Dae-ho called out, him and the others frantically looking for you both. 

“Mr and mrs Oh!” Jun-hee smiled as you both joined the group, you holding your back with a smile as you waddled to the others who embraced you in a hug.

“Oh, i’m glad you and the baby are safe!” Jung-bae sighed in relief and hugged you the best he could. 

“Me or the baby aren’t going anywhere so easily.” You chuckled, quietly smirking at gi-hun and in-ho’s sweet reunion. “I’m glad you both made it, i was worried.” Gi-hun expressed, placing a hand on in-ho’s shoulder.

“Well, me and my wife are very charismatic, so it was easy to get players!” In-ho smiled charmingly at gi-hun. 

In-ho glanced over to jun-hee and checked on her. “You feeling alright?” He questioned, the younger girl nodded a smile on her face. “I’m alright, im glad you both are safe.” She grinned.

Nodding in-ho turned to gi-hun and placed his hands in his pockets. “Wait so if the number is eight, we won’t need other, correct?” He asked, making the other look at him confused, you groaned and cover your face.

“Why’s that?” Jung-bae asked confused, “And the dad jokes have begun..” You chuckled a bit, trying not to. 

“Oh, cause the ladies have babies in them!” Dae-ho realized, making everyone chuckle at the joke.

“If they both had twins we would’ve been good by ourselves for 10.” Jung-bae added, making you all laugh as you got onto the platform.

You held onto jun-hee who tried to brace herself for the stop. “Three!” You all stopped, looking around you all figured out a plan.

“You three go, we’ll go to a different room!” Gi-hun yelled out, both in-ho and him holding onto your arms as you all went to the nearest room.

As you approached the blue door the two let go of you to let you walk on your own but stopped as other players rushed past you, distancing you from in-ho and gi-hun who realized what had happened.

Beside you the older woman, geum-ja was left alone. You looked at in-ho and motioned for her. Without warning in-ho grabbed geum-ja and gi-hun and made it to a room. 

You sighed and looked around, it was too late for players to help you, quickly you snuck away and hid where the solider’s stood hidden for the duration of the game. You noticed the number on the guards back and tapped them. “011, cover me, i couldn’t find a room in time to hide.” You explained as the solider stood up and blocked anyone from seeing you.

You groaned as a cramp ran down your spine. You let out deep breaths, making the guard tense up, not turning around they spoke up. “I believe you’re in labour, gameplanner.” They informed you making you chuckle. “I don't think so, i have a few days before my due date-!” You rushed out the words and tightly held on the soldiers shoulders as a cramp tensed up once more.

“My daughter came a week before her due date.” They informed making you glance up at the triangle, you sighed as the pain calmed down for the moment. “If they get worse, have them call my number, but don't let anything slip to my husband!” You lectured, earning a nod from the solider before they stepped away, letting you slip into a group of players exiting the rooms.

“Mrs oh!” Gi-hun gasped out as you waddled over to the two men, the other also approaching. “I’m glad you’re safe.” In-ho embraced you, leaning into him.

You turned to see geum-ja comforting her son who began to cry as she held him close. “It’s alright, i’m here alive!” She muttered, running a hand over his head. “What happened?” You questioned, in-ho sighed and fixed your jacket.

“Her and her son meant to stick together but got separated when others took him.” In-ho explained, watching as you began to tear up at the bond. Hyun-ju turned to in-ho and gi-hun and thanked the men for keeping geum-ja alive and safe.

Wiping away tears, you all stepped on the platform and waited for the number. “Are you feeling alright, miss?” Player 246, gyung-seok asked as you held your bump. “I’m ok, thank you though.” You reassured before turning to see a worried look on in-ho’s face.

- - - - - - - -

The round had gone by smoothly, you had split apart and joined in-ho and the other men, stepping out and all gathering on the platform you all noticed hyun-ja’s depressive state and the lack of player 095. The platform spun as the song played out, the lights doing the usual pattern. You all waited for the platform to stop.

“How many do you think it’s gonna be?” Jung-bae asked. Leaning towards in-ho and gi-hun who stood in front of you all. 

Gi-hun hesitated, the game didn’t have a pattern to the numbers. “Hard to say-!” Gi-hun was cut off by in-ho’s stoic voice.

“Two.” 

Gi-hun and jung-bae looked confused at his confident answer. “How are you sure?” Jung-bae questioned.

“There’s only 50 rooms and hundred and something players left!” You lied, knowing your husband had a slip up. In-ho nodded along as you pointed to the player counter. 

The platform halted, you all waited as the lights dimmed and began to strobe,

“Two!”

With quick glances everyone grabbed a partner and took off. You and in-ho held hands as you both ran to the nearest room. Opening the door you stopped as player 100 and another man yelled at you to shut the door.

“Green door!” In-ho yelled, tossing a guy to the ground before following behind you into the room. In-ho braced you as a man cowered into the corner of the room. “We-we were here first!” He tried to defend, making in-ho widen is eyes in anger and walked over to the man.

The man swiftly avoid in-ho and backed into you. 

As in-ho went in to rip the man away he watched as you wrapped your arms around the man's neck and slowly moved to the floor as the man tried to let you release him. “Where did you learn that?” in-ho questioned, holding the door shut with his weight.

“the recruiter taught me somethings!” You winked up at your husband who tilted his head, his eyes having a tint of jealousy after all those years.

As the man patted around the room you felt a wet sensation go down your leg, making your eyes widen.

“Asshole!” You cussed twisting the man’s neck, watching as the heavy body lay limp on your lap. In-ho quickly pulled the weight off you and stopped at the wet stain on your pants. “I’ll signal a guard to help clean you up.” He reassured but you shook your head at him. The room door locking and gunshots rang out. 

“My water broke..” You muttered.

hwang in-ho taglist: @snowtargaryen @menabuser16 @azusdump @jspidey5 @annasnape7 @macnbriee @ookybatt @sasha-swftie @moonxnite @ninglovr @frontwomann

Mr & Mrs taglist: @colorwastaken @aphoenixnamed-angel @sooyasya @fries11 @lover-girl009 @skywalker0809 @fallout-girl219 @scarlettlupinblack

[leighsartworks216]

Meeting the Parents

Sylus x gn!Reader

Inspired by this post by @yes-no-maybe-soo

Dialogue taken straight from his tete-a-tete introduction with some stuff removed for the story

Warnings: hurt/comfort, domestic fluff, established relationship, death, cemetery, anxiety, lies of omission, cuddling, kissing, crying

Word Count: 1,564

Main Masterlist

First - Second - Third LADS Masterlists

AO3

Tag List Form

“Sy?”

“Hm? What is it, sweetie?”

You play with his fingers where they lay over your stomach. His body is sculpted to fit perfectly along your back, strong arms holding you securely, protectively, as you’re just waking up and he’s supposed to be going to bed.

You bite your lip, grateful that he can’t see your face or the warring thoughts blatantly expressed on it. “Would you want to meet my parents?”

He presses closer - if such a thing is even possible - tucking his face into your shoulder where he plants lazy kisses. “Why are you asking me about this now?”

“Well, Tara got a new boyfriend and she was telling me about how important meeting the parents can be,” you admit slowly. She’d gushed about it for an entire lunch break, in fact. Rambling on and on about how meeting his parents went, and how her parents just love him, and how big of a step it is in a relationship. ‘The most important step!’ she’d emphasized. It weighed on your mind since. “And I just thought… maybe you’d want to meet mine?”

There’s no way he doesn’t hear your heart racing in your chest. It’s impossible for him to miss the nervousness in your fiddling with his fingers, or the subconscious way you stretch out your legs to tangle with his. But if he does notice any of it, he says nothing.

He kisses over your pulse, intertwines your fingers, and hooks his leg over your hip, as though this is nothing more than a lazy Sunday morning.

“I’d be honored to meet them,” he whispers, soft and tender in a voice reserved just for you.

“Today?”

He chuckles warmly. “If that’s what you want, sure.”

You squeeze his hand, then pull it tighter around you, holding it to your chest like a plushie you’ve decided to cuddle. “You should get some sleep, first. We can visit them for lunch.”

“Oh? Are they already expecting me?”

“No… but they never mind visitors.”

He hums, a low sound that rumbles in his chest, and buries his face into your warm skin. “Whatever you say, kitten…”

His snores fill the air a moment later.

-

Sylus takes meeting your parents more seriously than you thought he would. He took a shower before you, and when you came out, he was meticulously going through his wardrobe to find the perfect outfit. Nothing too flashy, but nothing too casual - something suited for setting up a good first impression. A towel is still around his shoulders, hair dripping onto it in his focus. It brings some much needed levity into your aching heart.

“Sit down,” you chide him. He does so with a knowing smirk, but it droops back into a frown as he thinks on his options.

“Which shirt do you think?” he asks. You fluff the towel over his hair, squeezing out the water soaked into the thicker sections of his locks. Once it’s dried enough, you comb your fingers through his hair to brush it out. He’ll style it himself, of course, but you love feeling it so wild and unrestrained like this.

You look up at the two shirts hanging up side by side in the closet. His collared-shirt red-sweater combo on one side, or his simple white shirt. Both are casual, put together. A softer appearance compared to his usual black attire. He could choose either - they’re perfect for coming off as disarming and charming without flaunting his wealth - but he’s asking you.

You hug him around his neck from behind. “What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

You shake your head. “Nothing.” Still, you linger a moment longer before you pull away with a kiss to his cheek. “The red one. It’s my favorite.”

“The red one it is.”

-

You offered to drive this time. Unusual, given his proclivity for driving you anywhere you could ever want to go, but you play it off as it being in Linkon, your territory. He teased you lightly, but passed over the keys without a fuss. If you wanted to be the one to drive him to meet your parents, that’s your right.

After having to majorly adjust the driver’s side seat to account for your height, the drive itself is simple. Familiar. You know the way like Sylus knows his armories. Though, you know you can’t play it off forever. In just a few short miles, the ruse will be up. You tap along the steering wheel. How much longer before he figures it out? Or, if he already knows, before he says something about it?

You pull the car into the gravel parking lot and cut the ignition. You shyly look to the passenger side. Sylus looks straight ahead through the windshield, brows pulled together in a frown.

“Sweetie…”

You get out of the car before he can say anything else. Before he can back out. Look at you like you’re crazy or like you’ve betrayed him for keeping this a secret for so long. His door shuts a moment after yours. The small rocks shift under his nice shoes as he rounds the car. You don’t look at his face as you take his hand in yours and lead him through the big wrought-iron gate.

Rows upon rows of headstones, statues, slabs cover the area. Carefully tended grass peeks up in the spaces between. A path is formed from foot-traffic alone, guiding you deeper into the cemetery like a gentle hand on your shoulder. You know the way by now.

The wind blows through, the birds chirp their songs, the noise of the cars is distant… It’s peaceful. Sylus says nothing. You pretend to focus on the stones by your side to avoid looking at him.

You curse Tara for planting this idea in your head in the first place.

Soon enough, you slow to a stop in front of a wide headstone. Two names are engraved on it. Four dates. And a message. You picked it out just for them.

The silence grows unbearable. Hot. You wish you could sink into the ground, where hundreds of hands could hold and assure you. Where Sylus can’t see the tension in your shoulders as you anticipate him leaving.

He squeezes your hand. For the first time since arriving, you look at him, watching as he kneels down in front of the granite stone. And… he’s smiling. The furrow in his brow is gone. He looks at ease.

“Are you their parents? I’m Sylus. I’m your child’s boyfriend,” he introduces himself. He says it all like he’s talking to them. Speaking directly to your parents just before an awkward family dinner. “I run a family-owned business that covers a range of services and offers various products. We deliver fruit and even sell state-of-the-art technology, for example. My business has been doing well, and I work with a lot of talented individuals. If you’re interested, I’d be happy to discuss it in more detail another time.”

You slowly sink down to your knees beside him. You can’t stop staring at his face.

“My hobbies are very simple. I collect vinyl records, play the organ, and occasionally sing. According to your child, my singing isn’t too bad.” He looks at you, shooting you a playful wink. Your vision starts to blur. He turns back to the stone.

“I live alone and I have a relatively flexible schedule. I stay at my base most of the time. Otherwise, I’m in a hotel for business meetings or go to my private ranch when I need to unwind. I own several beautiful horses, and one of them has grown particularly fond of them. The two of them often frolic together at the ranch.” In that same soft voice reserved just for you, he says, “I like seeing them be carefree and happy.”

The first tears break free with a choked sound. He lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his side. You hug his waist tightly.

“While it might not be obvious at first glance, I’m very good at taking care of people. Because of our time together, I developed new interests. I enjoy taking them to auctions and fashion shows.” He draws you in a little tighter, but his attention remains on the names before him. “I like seeing them shine. And their happiness is my happiness.

“As for the future…” He speaks with conviction, as though trying to fully prove to your parents his worth as your boyfriend. “I’ll always support them with whatever they want to do. I’ll also stand by their side without question.”

You press your face in his chest. He shifts on his knees to face you, wrapping his other arm around you in a full hug. He presses a gentle kiss to your head.

“How did I do?” he whispers.

You sob. It’s ugly and gross. Your chin wobbles and your face contorts as tears stream in an endless tirade, soaking into his sweater. His large hand rubs up and down your back patiently. Your voice cracks as you croak out, “They would’ve loved you…”

He ducks his head down, pressing his cheek to yours. Sweet kisses brush away your tears. “I’m sure I would have loved them, too,” he assures. And you know he isn’t lying. “Just breathe, sweetie. I’ve got you. I’ve got you…”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0

[euphoria-looney]

Idk if you’ve seen Nosferatu but I think a situation like that could totally apply to (Name).

Brief overview:

In Nosferatu, the main character Ellen grows up feeling lonely and isolated. She pleads for a supernatural being to arrive and comfort her and she wakes up ‘Nosferatu’ who makes her pledge herself to him fully. There’s loads of other stuff as well but I think this main idea would be interesting. Nosferatu in the movie is really, really old and ugly, but I think (Name) deserves a fit, hot vampire boyfriend/husband. But essentially he’s like a Vampire Count, aka Dracula.

How it’s play out:

(Name),as a young child, calls out for ‘Nosferatu’ (or whatever name the vampire will have) and he wakes up. He makes them pledge their complete loyalty to him for all eternally, essentially making them his ‘bride’. (Name) is comforted by him, but this connection fades as they grow older.

Then, when they turn 18, Nosferatu calls out for them in their dreams and travels to Gotham, keeping them in his manor. He’s basically a yandere in the movie anyway, so (Name) is kept quite weak and docile due to his mind control, spending most of their time doting on him or sleeping.

Now, I think it’d be interesting for the Batfam to react because the thing about Nosferatu is that the oath to him MUST be consensual, give or take MAJOR manipulation, but still, (Name) has to willingly go with him. So the Batfam have to come to terms with the fact that (Name) literally chose an obsessive, undead (but fit) vampire husband over them.

And ‘Nosferatu’ is NOT going to play fair if they try and take his bride. Literally no Dracula variant does.

I Asked For a Friend, But Got a Husband?

"I sense her in my mind, she's my collar" She's My Collar (feat. Kali Uchis)

So Much More. (Should I name this something new? Since it's a different AU?)

Special (?)

Divider Creds: @anitalenia and @qqmariztwsse

Being young, barely seen or heard, I could only busy myself with books. Even then how many books could I read before feeling that loneliness knaw on me?

Okay, dramatic I knew but who knew this one feeling would lead me to immediately get married by the age of eighteen?

I know how bad that sounds, trust me, I was the one who experienced it.

"What are you thinking about right now, honey?" I felt arms wrap around me.

Meet Elzire.

(Cred to this art and oc: @♱⋆༒︎Ren༒︎ ⋆♱/lcttuve)

"Nothing much," I replied looking through our mail.

How we met, well I believe it because of this, but don't take my word for it, I might just be delusional.

I had gone to the library and saw [D/D] she ecstatically waved to me before Damian pulled her away giving me a sneer. I waved that off and looked around before spotting a book that I’d never seen before. 

It had a blood red cover and the title ‘Forever’, curious, I opened it. It seemed like a child's story as they had short sentences and photos. It starts with a girl who, one day after being tired of being lonely prays to the gods of her world she doesn’t care who or what they sent no matter what they looked like or how they acted as long as they were her friends, and nice to her at least, she would be happy.

Then it happened, a boy her age descended to her and every day they would play before growing old together.

The end.

I put the book back before returning to what I was originally doing, studying for my next exam.

— 

It had been a good week since I read that fantasy child’s book, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I went to the library at night when everyone was either on a mission or asleep and to my surprise the book was gone.

Someone must’ve thrown it out, there’s no reason to keep it here anyone.

I let out a sigh before heading back to my room and though I accepted the book was gone I couldn’t help but wonder, could I do that?

No, that’d be silly.

But…

It never hurts anyone to try.

“Please, whoever is out there, please accompany me and become the pillar I can lean on.” 

.

..

…

Welp I tried, back to sleep I have a piano recital tomorrow no time for these goofy beliefs.

3RD POV

 A figure descended into [name]’s room their black hair fluttered from the wind and their red eyes and fangs glistened in the dark of night, their hands like claws before stepping into the light a little more revealing a tall yet built man he looked angelic despite being a vampire that was friends with a demon, specially Barbatos.

He creeps a little closer to [name]’s room crouching to caress their faces. Making them blink open their eyes.

“... Am I still dreaming?” They question themself. Making the vampire chuckle holding their hands in his and asking.

“Do you mind becoming mine forever?”

“Woah, my wish worked… sure, why not.” He smiled happily placing one of their hands on his cheeks and relished in the warmth that their hand brought to his freezing complexion.

Before they had passed out.

He caught them before they could slam back onto their bed and gently laid them down.

“Don’t miss me too much.”

—

Holy crap what was that dream? 

Maybe I shouldn’t mind it. 

For the next few years, nothing changed except my dreams. Then I turned eighteen and it was out of pure luck that I met him, his name was Elzire.

We got married that same year after a few months of dating which I was totally against but then he convinced me and it hasn’t been like our marriage has been going great. I don’t like that he wanted me to be a stay-at-home wife.

Don’t get me wrong I appreciate him wanting this for me because he doesn’t want any workload on me but I just feel that it’s unfair for him.

Too bad the only payment he wants from me is to do simple household things but even that he just hires some housecleaning or helpers instead of letting me do it and when he comes home to get his pillow, it’s nice to play with his hair, might be better than mine.

Today again though I’m stuck at home and there’s nothing to do as I finished everything, it’s not hard when only two people are living in this house.

I went to look through the mail before finding a letter addressed to me.

It’s from Alfred, but I had never told him where I moved… It’s fine, this is Alfred we’re talking about.

“Dear young master, [name], 

How have you been? It's been 7 years since we last saw you or contacted you, I managed to get a glimpse of you and was able to deliver this to you.

Your family has long awaited meeting you again, if you could give them the chance to see you that would be lovely.

Sincerely, 

Alfred Pennyworth.”

I looked over my shoulder to Elzire before responding.

“I got a letter from my old butler Alfred, saying that my family would like to meet with me again.”

“So suddenly, darling?” He raised his eyebrow at that. Seems he was as lost as I was. I told him everything like he was my therapist so he knew too well himself why this wouldn’t make sense.

-

Despite my hesitance, I decided to go.

"Really Sweetie, you don't have to this isn't something that I would waste my time on, so neither should you." One hand on the steering wheel and the other holding my hand.

"Come on, El, I'm curious, 23 years of my life and only now do they care to see me. Wouldn't you also wonder why?"

"Wonder, not meet. but because I love you and I care for you we'll still go." He squeezed my hand a bit before softening his grip again.

We pulled up on the driveway and saw Alfred come out of the manor.

Elzire got out of the car first before opening the door for me, helping me get out.

I approached Alfred before bringing him into an embrace.

"Alfie, it's been so long." I pulled away before directing his attention to Elzire.

"This is Elzire."

"Pleasure to meet you, young sir." Alfred did his bow before leading us to the living room where the whole family was.

"[name]" [M/D] whispered, tears welling up in her eye, standing up and starting to approach me.

I smiled but didn't reciprocate the hug she was trying to give me.

"[name], we realized our mistake. it's time to come home." Bruce told me.

"Well, as much as I'm... grateful for that offer, I've already moved on and had a life, where you guys no longer matter or are related to me anymore."

"What are you-"

"This is my husband, Elzire. And I don't plan to leave him, for this."

Guys I quit on this if you couldn't notice the ending was rushed so badly, I'm so sorry to the one who sent the request I know this isn't what you would like but I kind of had a mind exploration, and now I have no idea what or how to write this request.

Maybe I'll rewrite this in the future but for now, this is the main result. If you were looking for a confrontation. It's kind of the situation of this Special.

Genuinely y'all could make your own or imagine this scenario. I have no idea what I'm doing anyway, thank you so much for reading this I don't think I'm tagging anybody on this and supporting other batfam authors, especially with all the hate that I've been seeing Luckily I haven't received anything.

Bye-bye, if anything is too unclear and grammatically wrong inform me!

Elzire:

(Cred to this art and oc: @♱⋆༒︎Ren༒︎ ⋆♱/lcttuve)

-ILoveeeMoney

[reidsmanuscript]

Profiler, profiled.

Summary: When the past creeps up, more vivid and dangerous than ever, at the same time that the attraction becomes undeniable—and so do the mistakes. Pairing: Spencer Reid x lawyer!reader Genre: mutual pinning but painful, angst. wc: 7.3k! TW: Profiler, profiled canons! so Child abuse (implied and discussed), Sexual abuse, Framing/wrongful accusation, Police misconduct, Violence, mentions of traumatic readers' past!, female rage, violent thoughts. not proofread yet A/N: SO EXCITED FOR THIS ONE, this is my take on soulmates, thank u for all the feedback/support btw, really mindblowing <3 part I - part II - part III - part IV

　　　　 　　　    .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　　

Something as routine and comforting as traveling to your hometown for your mom’s birthday can go wrong in an instant—sometimes, all it takes is a single moment of doubt. Unfortunately for Derek Morgan, it was the absence of doubt that could become his sentence.

Hotch was notified, as per FBI protocol, that one of his agents had been arrested as a homicide suspect. Maybe it was the fact that he knew Morgan wasn’t capable of something like that—he had been a prosecutor before joining the Academy, after all. As his boss, he refused to believe it. But as his friend, he knew that the smartest move—the one most people failed to make—was calling a lawyer.

The problem? Morgan didn’t have one.

The Bureau’s legal counsel wouldn’t intervene in a case where one of their own was being charged. It had to be someone who knew him, someone who would believe in him.

There was only one person who fit that description.

A.D.A. Woodvale.

So, after issuing an emergency recall for Reid, Prentiss, Jareau, Garcia, and Rossi—Hotch called you.

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

One thing some victims, or their families, do after the person who ruined their lives is convicted is express gratitude. Sometimes immensely, sometimes barely—especially when the verdict isn’t what they had hoped for.

Still, they are grateful for your time and commitment to their pain. That’s why some send gifts like baskets filled with fruit, chocolates, candy, or all three combined. 

You were at your desk, late at night, again, reviewing case files and drafting a legal brief, absorbed in the task at hand. The basket with its chocolates, and cookies remained sitting on a chair near the window, quietly out of place among the legal paperwork without any card or name, maybe they forgot to put it or it fell on the way. 

The phone rings, and you answer immediately, announcing yourself. When the voice on the other end speaks your name, you recognize it instantly.

“I’m gonna need your help.” Agent Hotchner.

You straighten your back. “What is it? A warrant? It’s going to be hard at t—”

He cuts you off. “Morgan is in trouble.” That was enough to tell you this wasn’t just any ordinary favor.

You hesitate, cautious. “What happened?”

“He was arrested as a suspect in a homicide in Chicago.” Morgan? Homicide? For a moment, you’re ready to refuse—this isn’t your field. You put people in jail, not get them out. But then you remember—he saved your life over a year ago. And the weight of that debt settles heavily on your shoulders.

“Hotch, I... What do you want me to do? I don’t have connections there. Maybe I could talk to—”

He interrupts again. “He’s going to need a good lawyer. I know this isn’t what you do, but you know him. You know he’s not capable of something like that.” There’s a brief silence as you weigh your options, considering your next move.

"The jet takes off first thing tomorrow morning," he says, giving you an out—leaving the decision in your hands.

You exhale, and resolve settling in. "Send me the details. I’ll be there."

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

As you stepped onto the jet, you spotted Hotch already seated alone. Without hesitation, you slid into the seat across from him, greeting him with a quiet nod, your back turned toward the entrance.

One by one, the rest of the BAU arrived, offering you brief acknowledgments as they settled in. When Reid stepped onto the jet, he barely glanced up—until he caught sight of the back of your head. He hesitated for just a second before moving to a seat diagonal from yours.

Hotch quickly explained that you were joining them to assist Morgan as his defense counsel. The weight of the situation settled over the jet, unspoken but palpable. You noticed it in the way the air felt heavier, in the subtle shifts of the team’s expressions, like how Prentiss shifted in her seat or the way Reid’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Since the Katie Jacobs case, he wouldn’t call it an obsession—that would be an exaggeration, and his mind rejected the idea of something so unscientific, but a fixation? Perhaps. There was something about you that tugged at the edges of his thoughts more often than he liked to admit. His memories of your first meeting were frustratingly blurred, dulled by the lingering fog of withdrawal, but he remembered enough. The way you carried yourself—composed, sharp, unreadable. The precision of your movements, deliberate in a way that suggested control rather than ease. The way your voice stayed measured even when you were angry, like someone who had learned to sharpen their words into weapons rather than waste them on emotion. And your eyes—steady, assessing, like you were always five steps ahead in a game only you could see.

Did you ever place two magnets next to each other and test how close they could be without touching? If they would repel or attract?

Magnets could only get so close before they either locked together or violently repelled each other. If their north poles faced one another—mirrors of the same force—they would push apart, unable to exist in such perfect reflection. But if one turned, aligning its south to the other’s north, the pull would be instant, inevitable.

That was a physicist's way of explaining why, the moment you caught him in the corner of your vision, you noted how his hair was longer than before, tucked behind his ears; how his fingers brushed over the pages of a book, a well-worn paperback pulled from his bag. Crime and Punishment. The same one you had almost mistaken for yours once. North. North.

But now, seeing it again, you wondered—what did he think about Raskolnikov’s theory of extraordinary men? Did he believe true morality could be measured mathematically, the way Raskolnikov tried to justify his crime with cold logic? Or did he see through it, past the numbers, past the equations, past the desperate rationalizations of a man trying to convince himself he was above consequence?

And what would he think about your take on it? That a man was either a fool for failing to control himself or a coward for refusing to own what he had done? Either way you just wanted to know his opinion. North. South.

You were just about to ask him when JJ spoke up. “I don’t understand. Can you even represent Morgan if you’re an A.D.A.? Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest?”

It was a fair question, one you had asked yourself last night before finding a loophole.

You let out a slow breath, considering. "Technically, I’m not Morgan’s lawyer—he hasn’t called me personally to represent him. And I wouldn’t be joining you as his defense attorney… officially." You glanced at Hotch. "Prosecutors consult on defense cases all the time—off the record. I’m not filing any motions, I’m not putting my name on anything. I’m just… advising."

Prentiss raised an eyebrow. "Advising?"

You exhaled, running a hand through your hair. "I can’t officially defend him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help. And the police don't need to know every detail about that."

Hotch gave a small nod. "That keeps you in the clear. No official involvement, no risk to your career."

Reid, who had been silent, finally spoke. "But what happens if they’ve already decided Morgan is guilty?"

Your jaw tightened, but Rossi answers first "Then that’s where we come in. We find out who’s setting Morgan up—and we make sure they don’t get away with it."

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

As you arrived at the police station, you hung back from the group, not wanting to interfere with the BAU’s process. But when Detective Dennison refused to take Hotch to see Morgan, you decided you wouldn’t stand by quietly anymore.

You stepped forward, standing next to Hotch. “Are you going to take us to see Derek Morgan, or not, Detective?”

He glanced at you as though he didn’t understand the urgency. “Detective Gordinski's in with the suspect now”

“Now is when we need to see him.” you shot back.

“Excuse me?” he started to respond, but Hotch cut him off.

“I have your superintendent's personal cell number,” Hotch said calmly. “And, in the interest of not running roughshod over another police agency, I’ve resisted calling him so far. We need to see Agent Morgan now.”

You couldn’t help but think how Hotch was finally getting some work done.

The detective nodded and, after disappearing into a room, came back with another man. Detective Gordinski, you assumed. It was something you were used to, this unspoken assumption that you were a junior, a minor player in the room, because of your age. It happened often when older men met you—defense attorneys, paralegals, specialists, and even police officers. They assumed you were less than you were. Gordinski was no different. When he approached you, he only offered his hand to Hotch.

“Detective Gordinski, CPD,” he said, as if you weren’t standing right there.

Hotch didn’t seem to notice the slight. “You think an FBI agent, a BAU profiler, committed a homicide?”

Gordinski answered with a level of pride that made your stomach turn. “Actually, three homicides at least, over 15 years.”

You heard JJ and Reid protest, both equally shocked by his ridiculous statement. And the way Gordinski spoke, as though the case was already closed, irritated you. “Has he been charged with anything?”

“I’ve got 72 hours for that,” he replied, clearly still lacking sufficient evidence.

“We’d like to see him,” you said, your tone final. He hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly agreed as Denninson took you and Hotch to see Morgan.

As you entered the interrogation room, you found him in a sort of trance, staring at a photograph in his hands. When he finally looked up, there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

“You okay?” you asked, aware of the detective’s overbearing presence in the room.

Morgan exhaled sharply, turning the photo toward you. “This kid—I was with him yesterday.”

“So?” Hotch prompted.

Morgan shook his head, his voice tight. “So, he’s dead. I drove him home, Hotch, and Gordinski’s saying I was the last person seen with him.” His gaze flickered between the two of you, frustration and disbelief written all over his face.

You didn’t need to analyze the detective’s stance to know he had already made up his mind—his persistence was nothing more than a show, an act to reinforce a conclusion he had already reached. But the look in Morgan’s eyes told you everything you needed to know. He cared about that kid.

Turning to the detective, you asked smoothly, “Is there a more private place where I can speak with my client?”

The man hesitated, taken aback. Up until this moment, you hadn’t explicitly stated that you weren’t an agent. His expression tightened. “I’m afraid we don’t have another space for you and the suspect,” he replied with a forced smile.

You returned his look with a cool, unwavering stare. “You do know that any conversation between me and him falls under lawyer-client privilege, right?”

His mouth opened in protest, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“And denying us the proper privacy means that any so-called evidence you think you can get from this interrogation would be inadmissible in court. Not to mention, it’s a direct violation of SSA Morgan’s constitutional rights.” Your tone remained calm, professional—not threatening. Not yet.

The detective narrowed his eyes but gave a short, forced nod, his polite smile not reaching them. “I’ll see what we can do.”

That was code for We’re not doing a damn thing, but we’ll make this as difficult as possible.

Fine. You’d play their game. But first, you needed to find out exactly what they had on Morgan—and fast.

As you step outside, a harsh voice—too raspy and loud for your liking—carries through the room, discussing evidence. You stay quiet, listening. Being on the other side of the law feels strange, but it’s not difficult. If you know how to prosecute, you know the tricks and games cops play. And if you know your opponent's strategy, it’s easier to disarm them and lead them where you want.

The detective asks Rossi if he’s Agent Gideon, and when the detective explains he was the one who sent the profile that led them to Morgan, you curse Gideon internally. First Reid, now Morgan. 

"It also said the way the body was placed gently on a mattress, not just tossed on the ground, indicated someone who was probably consumed with guilt, especially for the first victim. The exact words are—'with a guilt-ridden offender,' the BAU postulates the first victim is the most important and the unsub may still visit the place of the crime or even the victim himself.'"

Gordinski’s voice drips with conviction. "Care to guess who visits my first victim every time he's in town?"

You notice Reid glance at you, but you keep your focus on the detective, listening carefully as he continues. 

"Then yesterday, another kid ends up dead, and the last person he was with was Derek Morgan. In the boy's pocket, we found one of his FBI business cards, his cell number written on the back. In fact, every time Morgan's in town, he hangs out with kids."

JJ calls it a coincidence.

"A hell of a lot of coincidences," Gordinski retorts.

“I prefer the term 'circumstantial'” you say from the back of the room.

Gordinski turns, sizing you up with an incredulous look—too young, maybe too idealistic. "And you are?"

"Derek Morgan’s attorney." There was no reason to hide anymore, you didn't bother offering your hand.

Gordinski barely reacts before flipping open a file. "Did I mention that your client found the body in 1991? Hidden way back in a vacant lot. Now, don’t they teach you that when a body is hard to find, the person who finds it is always a suspect?"

You do the math quickly, Morgan would have been too young.

And you feel like Reid reads your thoughts when he answers. "There are key pieces of the profile that don't fit, Detective. The age—25 to 35—Morgan was 15 at the time."

"Profile Also says that age is the hardest to predict, and I should never exclude someone simply because of a discrepancy with the age." Gordinski is grasping now, trying to force the facts to fit.

Prentiss speaks up. "What about the speculation that since he didn't leave any evidence at the crime scene, he's likely to have a criminal record or law enforcement knowledge?"

"He may not have had knowledge of law enforcement, but Derek Morgan definitely had a criminal record." He tosses a file onto the table. You open it, scanning the contents. Resisting arrest. Vandalism. Aggravated battery. You inhale deeply.

"So he was a troubled kid, not a murderer. What kind of 15-year-old kills another boy, then deliberately stages the body just to make sure he’s the one to 'find' it?" Your voice is sharp, challenging him to walk into your tramp.

Gordinski smirks. "I’m sure you know psychopaths are very smart people, Miss."

Bingo.

You tilt your head. "So, is Morgan a psychopath? A guilt-ridden killer? Or an FBI agent dumb enough to leave his own business card at the crime scene? Because he can’t be all three, and right now you're contradicting yourself, Detective."

The room is silent for a beat. Gordinski clenches his jaw, his grip tightening on the file in his hands. He glares at you like you are his personal enemy.

You don’t give him time to recover. "You're reaching. And I think you know it." you say as you leave the room to look for your client.

And if Reid hadn’t been so mesmerized with the way you had subtly guided Gordinski, he might have given in to the impulse he had to correct him when he addressed you as Miss and not Counselor. 

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　

Rossi had sent Prentiss and Reid to Morgan’s house to investigate, while you stayed to ensure none of the Detectives would do something sketchy with the proofs.　　

Maybe it was the PTSD Dr. Fitzgerald diagnosed you with when you were 11, but the moment Carl Buford entered the room, something felt off. It wasn’t obvious, more like a second nature—a survival instinct that had been honed over the years. You weren’t always right, of course. You’d had a few false alarms before, but this time, something in the air shifted. It wasn’t in his appearance or his words; it was in the way he presented himself—as someone kind, someone willing to help, harmless. But it triggered something in you. The sirens in your brain went on, even if they were faint, too faint to be taken seriously but still enough to be annoying.

Reid had just returned from Morgan’s house when he saw you standing by the board, JJ on the phone and Rossi talking to you. He noticed how you discreetly stifled a yawn, and it hit him—it was nearly evening. The Cheetos packet that probably belonged to JJ and the half-eaten cheese sandwich from Rossi were the only signs of food nearby. It dawned on him that you likely hadn’t eaten all day.

He didn’t want to be the kind of person who overcompensated in an obvious way, but seeing you like this stirred something in him. It reminded him of the last time he saw you at the mall, how you’d instinctively avoided him, as if you couldn’t stand being around him for more than a few seconds. The longest you’d managed to stay in the same spot was 8.12 seconds.

That had been the last time, though. Now, things felt different. You were talking to Rossi when Reid approached and offered coffee to everyone. You could tell he was overcompensating—or at least, that’s what you assumed.

Then again, maybe you were reading too much into the moment when he’d slightly quickened his pace as you all entered the police station, holding the door open for everyone. Or maybe he was just anxious about his friend and eager to get inside quickly.

Or when you were rummaging through your bag for a pen, and he handed you one without hesitation. It could have been just a simple gesture, a convenient moment. But you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to it—if he was trying to do something, anything, to bridge the gap between you.

You felt stupid for liking his gestures, for craving his attention. That’s why you said yes when he offered the coffee—because you couldn’t help it.

And he was happy to do it. He put special care into preparing your cup, even though he hadn’t asked how you took your coffee. Statistically speaking, most people put about two teaspoons of sugar in their coffee, but he didn’t know what you preferred. Maybe you liked it with even more sugar than that, just like he did. Maybe you didn’t use sugar at all, maybe you used honey.

He caught himself before he poured too much, measuring out what he assumed was the “average” amount, then handed it to you with a small, careful smile. There was a brief moment when your fingers brushed, and maybe his lingered for a second longer than necessary.

But when you took a sip, it hit you. The sweetness of the sugar was overwhelming, and the unexplainable presence of Carl Buford seemed to crawl into your mind, making it worse. It was your fault for not telling him no sugar. Your hand froze for a moment as you fought to swallow, your fingers tightening slightly around the cup.

Reid noticed. He saw how you stiffened, how your grip on the cup tightened, and he assumed he’d gotten it wrong. Maybe you didn’t like sugar in your coffee, or maybe you just didn’t like it at all. He felt a pang of regret, thinking he’d misread the situation. He wasn’t sure why, but for a moment, he wondered if he was always this wrong about you. North. North.

You didn’t want to overreact or be rude, so you quickly excused yourself to the bathroom, needing a moment to splash some water on your face and steady yourself. You stared at your reflection in the mirror, silently telling yourself to calm down.

Maybe you were overreacting to Buford. But that thought was short-lived. The moment Hotch and JJ entered the room and she began speaking, confirming what you had already sensed, everything inside you seemed to crack. Carl Buford—the man who was fervently helping the police catch Morgan, was the same one who had written a letter to clear his record. The contradiction hit you like a punch to the gut, and you couldn’t shake the sound of the sirens growing.

You followed Hotch as he approached the interrogation room, your mind racing with the unsettling sense you couldn’t shake. You didn’t even notice Reid following behind you, keeping a respectful distance. Hotch entered the room, and the questioning began.

"Carl Buford." Morgan’s voice was tight, his shoulders tensing at the name. He stood up from the table where his arms had been resting. "What?"

"Carl Buford. He runs the youth center." Hotch's voice was calm, measured, but you could feel the pressure building behind it. From the other side of the glass, you stood in front of the glass, only for a moment, before Reid joined you at a respectful distance.

"What's that got to do with anything?" Morgan's tone was dismissive, brushing off the mention of Buford like the idea of talking about him was unbearable.

"He's responsible for getting your records expunged." The words hung in the air, sharp and deliberate. Maybe it was the steady presence of Reid beside you that kept you grounded, or maybe it was that something about Buford just didn’t sit right with you. The sirens in your head grew louder.

"I told you to stay the hell out of my business." Morgan’s voice rose, defensive, but not with rage—more like a wounded animal cornered by a predator.

"You said you visit the youth center every time you come here," Hotch pressed, not backing down.

"So what?" Morgan spat out the words like they were poison.

"Buford says he hasn't spoken to you in years. Why don’t you visit the man who made your career possible?"

"Damn you, Hotch." Morgan’s fist slammed onto the table as he stood up, knocking the box over in frustration. That was when you knew. The sirens in your brain were deafening now—loud enough to drown everything else out, and you couldn’t ignore it.

The sickness in your stomach was undeniable. You swallowed it down, fighting the urge to leave, but your instincts were already pushing you forward. You grabbed the door handle, taking one last breath before entering.

"Agent Hotchner, I would like to speak to my client." When Hotch didn’t move, still focused on Morgan, you added, "Now."

With a quiet but firm nod, Hotch left the room, his stoic expression unchanged. You sat down in the chair, your mind racing even faster. If you wanted Morgan to trust you—if you wanted to get through to him—you had to give him something first.

“Aren’t you supposed to be defending me? Looking for a way to get me out of here?” he snapped.

“I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me, Derek.”

“I am being honest. I didn’t kill those kids! He has nothing to do with this!”

“Then why is he so eager to help the police?” you shot back.

For a moment, he didn’t say anything—just glared at you, jaw clenched, shoulders tense. You recognized that look. It was the look of someone who had learned, maybe too many times, that the world didn’t always care about the truth.

"Derek I can't do much if you don't trust me." You say as calmly as you can.

Morgan let out a humorless chuckle. “Trust you?” he said, shaking his head. “I barely know you.”

You leaned back slightly in your chair, eyes flickering over him. That’s fair. Trust wasn’t something that could be commanded, especially not in a place like this.

But you also knew what it was like to sit on the wrong side of an interrogation table. To have someone who was supposed to protect you look at you like you were already guilty. To feel like the walls were closing in, no matter how much truth you were screaming.

You swallowed, forcing the memories down before they could surface. If you wanted Morgan to trust you, you had to give him something first.

“Derek… I’m on your side, whether you believe it or not. Not because I owe you one, but because I can recognize someone whose trust was betrayed by the person who was supposed to protect them.” That made him look at you—really look at you. And you hated it. Hated the way he was seeing straight through you.

Being read, being seen—that wasn’t something you allowed often. But Morgan had spent his life reading people, understanding them, profiling them to find the truth. And you had spent your life sharpening your edges, and weaponizing strategically everything you didn’t like. But right now, you were offering him a piece of yours.

You took a slow, measured breath, and even though the room felt too warm, you forced yourself to keep going.

“My parents… my birth parents ran a meth lab in the kitchen,” you said, voice steady, though your hands curled into fists beneath the table. “When I was four, it exploded. I was sent to the hospital with burns, malnutrition, and withdrawal symptoms I didn’t understand. That was the first time CPS got involved. They put me in the system.”

Morgan’s expression didn’t shift, but you saw something flicker behind his eyes. Recognition.

“And if you know anything about the system, you know it’s broken. It fails. It doesn’t protect the people who need it the most,” you continued, your voice steady, but your chest felt tight. “There are cracks in it, and some people…take advantage of that. They play the part, they act like saviors, they pretend to care.” Your voice caught, just for a second. But you forced yourself to push through it. “I know men like Carl Buford. I grew up with one of them.”

Morgan’s jaw tightened. That name—Buford—hit the air like a hammer. You weren’t just asking for trust. You were offering something real. Something raw.

His fingers curled into fists on the table, and for a second, he looked away, shaking his head like he was trying to push a memory aside. But he didn’t deny it. Didn’t challenge you. Because he knew.

“And what happened?” he asked, voice lower now, controlled but heavy.

You exhaled sharply. “I clawed my way out, just like you did, got adopted when I was 8. And when I had the chance, I became the system—to change it the only way it’s possible, from the inside out.”

Morgan let the silence stretch, studying you, his fingers tapping once against the cold metal table. Finally, he let out a breath, something almost like defeat but not quite. “So what now?”

“Now,” you said, straightening, “We stop playing defense.”

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

You stepped out of the room, and though the tremor in your hands had subsided, the warmth lingering on your back remained. Scanning the precinct, your gaze locked onto the person you were looking for—Gordinski.

You strode toward him, your pace sharp, your voice sharper. “Are you going to charge my client with something, or are you just going to keep stalling?”

He smirked, relishing the frustration in your tone. “Miss Woodvale.” The mockery in his voice was deliberate, savoring the way your desperation bled through. “I still have over 40 hours to hold your client as a suspect.”

“Have you found any new evidence? Because all you have is a questionable profile and circumstantial evidence.” You leaned in slightly, wanting to get under his skin. 

“We have motive.” He said it like it was a trophy, something definitive, something final.

You let out a short, dry laugh. “No, you have a grudge. There’s a difference, and if you don’t know it, the jury won’t buy it.” You’d seen stronger cases collapse under weaker arguments.

His jaw tensed as he looked down at you, exhaling through his nose like you were an inconvenience. “Look, we have three dead kids and a family that wants closure. We’re just doing our job.”

You knew it was a low blow. You knew it was too much.

“Oh yeah? I wonder where I’ve heard that before?”

That was exactly why you said it.

Gordinski’s expression twisted as realization struck. One of the other detectives snapped at you, voices rising, the BAU stiffened, and you could already see Hotch preparing to apologize—everything was escalating.

Then— “Hey! What, did we turn him loose?”

The tension shifted. The detectives forgot your words in an instant, all eyes snapping to the officer outside the holding room—where Morgan had been.

Chaos erupted. Gordinski bolted toward the room, Dennison scrambled to dispatch patrols, Prentiss and JJ exchanged alarmed glances.

And that’s when you slipped away. Nobody noticed… Well nobody except Reid. He always had an eye on you, even from a distance.

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

The air was cold, and in the rush of the moment, you’d forgotten to grab your coat. But in some strange way, you were grateful for it—the chill seemed to cool the simmering anger that was creeping through your veins as you headed toward the community center.

Morgan walked beside you, leading the way. You kept your head low, ducking behind columns to avoid the patrols that were probably looking for you. The familiar sensation of hiding felt strangely nostalgic—if you closed your eyes, you could almost imagine the cup of coffee in your hand as you walked through the campus at Harvard.

After ten minutes, you spotted a small field with the lights still on. A kid was out there, playing football by himself. Morgan moved closer to him.

“Lookin' good there, kid.”

You stayed a few feet behind, not wanting to interfere.

“I was tryin' to call you.” The kid stopped running and looked at Morgan.

“I’m here now.” Morgan spread his arms, inviting and friendly.

“Who’s that?” The kid glanced at you quickly, signaling toward you with a tilt of his chin. Unable to stay hidden any longer, you stepped onto the field and leaned back against the fencing, crossing your arms.

“Someone I trust. One of mine.” Morgan’s bold words were enough to drop the kid’s defenses.

You stayed silent, as invisible as you could be, observing how the kid tensed and relaxed automatically when Morgan mentioned needing to talk about Buford. You never thought you were good with kids—didn’t know how to act around them without overthinking, constantly looking for signs and flaws.

The more they talked, the more Derek described Buford’s manipulative ways, using his influence to make kids trust him only to exploit that trust, the more the freezing air of Chicago couldn’t keep the heat from rising inside you. Your hands curled into fists, squeezing your sides, wrinkling your shirt.

There were so many sick ways people used to reward or control others. Buford used alcohol and false bonds to make kids feel like adults, while others used toys or candy.

“My oldest brother’s in jail. My sister was paralyzed in a drive-by... She’s eight years old, and I’m all my mom’s got left. I gotta get us outta here.”

No kid should ever carry that kind of weight. No child should feel like enduring abuse is the only way out.

“Carl’s gonna make sure I get into college. Then I can make something of myself.” The gratitude in his voice was painful—the twisted sense of owing someone everything for their attention, their gifts.

You closed your eyes and looked up at the sky, trying to keep yourself from walking into the building alone and finishing whatever it was you had come here to do.

“James, you are something, man. You’re something right here, right now, without Carl Buford.” Morgan’s words hit you hard. He was right. James was someone. He was someone. You were someone, too. Despite everything, you were still breathing, still standing.

A tiny part of yourself felt grateful when you heard James had told Damien about what he was going through, that he had been brave enough to speak up and look for someone who would believe him and would do something about it. Damien knew. Morgan connected the same dots and realized who was staging the whole thing up.

Carl. Motherfucker. Buford.

Derek eventually finished talking to the kid and motioned for you to follow him. You didn’t know what his next move was, but you were backing him up. “Derek?”

He turned to look at you. “Yeah?”

“Whatever you want to do, I have your back.” You knew he saw it in your eyes—an intense, boiling rage that had driven you to places both good and bad. He knew that whatever he was going to do next, you wouldn’t stop him or doubt him.

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

He gave you instructions on how to get through the back door of the office. But when you got there, Morgan was already calling him out.

“All these years, I kept my mouth shut. I let you go on being a hero. Carl Buford, my mentor.”

Buford’s back was toward you, and the more he talked, the more the air seemed to thicken with the heat of your rage. Your vision narrowed, blurred at the edges with red. A man. No—a monster. A predator who walked free for far too long, spinning his web of lies, manipulating, violating, ruining.

And he had the audacity to deny it. The smugness in his voice. The complete absence of remorse.

“Whatever lies James told you…” he said so easily, as if that erased the truth. As if that rewrote history.

Your hands clenched so hard they ached. How many lives had he destroyed? How many boys had suffered under his hands? You had seen men like him before—hell, you had been a child under the power of a man like him once. The weight of their hands. The control they wielded. The false kindness that masked something vile.

Your stomach twisted violently as you took in the sight of his office. The trophies. Row after row of gleaming gold, polished plaques. A shrine to his own ego. A testament to the world that this man was trusted, respected, celebrated.

And then you saw it. Dr. Or you think you did

The word burned itself into your mind like a scar. Dr. Calloway. It wasn’t his name, but your hands trembled anyway, your breath coming fast and ragged, and the sirens grew louder and louder. Was it the name? Was it the way the gold glinted under the dim light? Or was it just the overwhelming wrongness of all of this? 

Buford was still talking. Still spewing poison.

“How many lives have I provided? Look at you. You’d probably be dead by now.”

Lives.

Lives he had ruined.

Lives you could still save.

Your fingers curled around the base of a trophy—a heavy one, sharp at the edges. You barely registered the name engraved on it as your grip tightened, your knuckles going white.

For a split second, your mind whispered, Do it. The same one that had accompanied you in moments where you couldn’t move. Moments when your body wouldn’t answer to your orders. The voice of that version of yourself that would unleash violence. Do. It.

But then—Morgan. This wasn’t your moment. This wasn’t your fight.

But if he wanted to tear this office apart, you would hand him every single thing worth breaking. You would burn it to the ground and stand there, just to watch Buford scream as the flames took him.

Morgan’s voice cut through the storm inside your head.

“Actually, I’m saying you have everything to do with making me who I am.”

And so did you. Because this rage—this blistering, all-consuming, blood-boiling rage—was just another scar left by men like him. Men who stole, who twisted, who took and took and took until all that was left was ruin.

The sirens in your mind screamed. The voices clawed at your skull, howling for justice, for vengeance, for something more than just words, more than just silence.

Just like the ghosts of the past. Just like the hands of the past. Just like Calloway in the past. In the present.

Calloway. Buford.

"I never hurt you. You could have said no.”

Your grip on the trophy tightened, the sharp edges digging into your palm, but you barely felt the sting. All you saw was red. All you felt was fire.

"You're under arrest, Carl." The words cut through the haze, sharp and final.

Buford barely had time to react before the officers stepped in, twisting his arms behind his back, snapping cold metal around his wrists. He said something—denial, excuses, more of the same filth that men like him always spewed—but it didn’t matter.

It was over.

The red began to fade. The fire inside you simmered, but the embers still burned low, smoldering beneath your ribs. Your breath came in sharp, uneven pulls as you unclenched your fist. The trophy slipped from your fingers, clattering against the floor with a hollow, metallic thud.

Morgan was still staring at Buford, his jaw tight, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

For a moment, you wondered if he felt it too—that same bone-deep ache, the need to destroy, to make it right in ways the law never could. But then he inhaled, long and slow, and you forced yourself to do the same.

He saw the trophy in your hand, and you expected to find judgmental eyes—eyes that would look at you like you were dangerous, like you had lost control, like you were no better than the man they were dragging away in cuffs.

But there was no judgment in Morgan’s gaze. Just understanding. Maybe even something closer to recognition.

Your fingers trembled around the trophy, your pulse still hammering in your ears, but you couldn’t let go. Not yet. The weight of it felt good in your grip, solid and real. It would’ve been so easy—so easy—to swing, to carve your fury into something tangible.

He must’ve seen it in you. The way your shoulders still heaved, the way your jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

Morgan reached out, slow, steady. Not to stop you. Not to take it away. Just there.

A lifeline, if you wanted it.

You exhaled shakily, then forced your fingers to unclench. The trophy slipped from your grasp, landing with a dull thud against the floor.

Your hands were empty now. But the fire still burned.

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

Resting against the wall, breathing heavily, you watched as they took Buford away under your intense gaze. Gordinski approached you.

“Your actions could be taken as obstruction of justice, Counselor,” he said, the sarcasm in your title not going unnoticed.

An old man threatening you, just to scare you and gloat himself, a pathetic move, especially now when there were still remains of the fire, not ashes yet. You sighed, as if too tired to deal with him, not even bothering to look his way. “And what are you going to do? Arrest me?” You finally glanced at him. “I have the General Attorney one phone call away, and I could charge you with misconduct and Sixth Amendment violation, which could dismiss the case you have been working for so long.”

You let the words sink in for a second while he remained serious. “You got your guy Detective. Walk away while you can.” 

Like in chess, any smart player knows when to retreat. He glared at you but ultimately backed off.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Reid watching. For a moment, you couldn’t help but return his stare. But then, lifting your chin, you towards the SUV, ignoring the strange sting of shame, the kind of shame you feel when you want to show the best version of yourself to someone, only to show the worst. It wasn’t the first time you had talked your way out of a charge, but it was the first time you felt ashamed of doing it.

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

You and Morgan were the last to board the jet. After last night, you'd talked—just not about the… incident. He'd invited you to the grave of the unidentified child with him and his family, and, for some strange reason, it had brought you a sense of peace. Afterward, you joined the rest of the team on the way home.

You spotted Reid sitting by the window, absorbed in his book. North. South. You weren’t one to judge anyone’s demons, especially when you couldn’t even control your own. Maybe that’s why you sat in front of him. Maybe you were tired of pretending you didn’t want to know what was going on in his head.

When he noticed you, his eyes widened slightly, and his fingers nervously traced the edge of the page. Was this it? Would you confront him? Would he finally have the chance to explain himself?

"Do you think Raskolnikov ever believed he deserved the punishment?" you asked, your voice quiet but firm, meeting his gaze. "Or did he just convince himself he was too special to face it?"

Reid blinked, clearly caught off guard, but after a beat, he answered. "I think Raskolnikov believed he was above it all. That his intelligence and theories made him different. But that’s the tragedy—he never understood that punishment isn’t just about what you deserve. It’s about confronting what you’ve done. The guilt you carry. Sometimes, it’s about having someone who believes in you, even when you can’t believe in yourself." His voice softened with the words, as if careful not to scare you off.

You didn’t break eye contact, letting the weight of his words settle. After a pause, you glanced back down at the book. "Someone like Sonia?"

Reid’s gaze flickered, sensing the shift in the conversation. You weren’t just talking about Raskolnikov anymore. Maybe it was about him. Maybe about you. "Someone like Sonia," he said quietly. "She believed in him, not because he was special, but because she saw his humanity. Sometimes, it’s not about whether someone deserves forgiveness—it’s whether someone else is willing to help them find it."

A quiet tension lifted from your shoulders, and your expression softened, the unspoken understanding between you both almost palpable in the air. North. South.

　　 　　　       .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　

By lunchtime the next day, the events of the prior day still gnawed at you. The feeling only worsened when your eyes landed on the basket sitting in the corner of your office—filled with chocolates and candy.

Taking a deep breath, you picked it up and turned to your temporary assistant, a guy covering for Molly while she was on maternity leave. “I’m stepping out for twenty minutes,” you told him.

Basket in hand, your thoughts blurred together as you walked toward the park. It was a familiar refuge, a place where kids and elderly chess players gathered, lost in their games. A little distraction wouldn’t hurt. It would be good for you to clear your mind—and they always appreciated it when you brought baskets like these or treats from your mom’s bakery.

　　　　 　　　    .˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘⋅.˳˳.⋅∘ ˚ ˚∘.˳˳. 　　　　　　 　　 　　 　

So we finally see more of reader's past! been waiting for this since i started drafting the story in my mind. You'll know more the next chapter!　 　　　 Feedback feeds motivation! Likes, reblogs and comments are all appreciated <3 Tag list: @arialikestea @hellsingalucard18 @pleasantwitchgarden @torturedpoetspsychward @cultish-corner<3

[bunny-jpeg]

hi Idk if you’re still taking requests but if you are, could you write a Franco x pregnant reader smut? I know he doesn’t have kids and is still quite young but just him with a pregnant woman (early pregnancy), wanting to be careful with her but struggling to hold back… Anyway thanks in advance if you write it otherwise no worries!

home sweet home

tags: smut & fluff, gentle sex, pregnancy/pregnant!reader, cowgirl position, praise & sweet talk, established relationship

a/n: thank you for the lovely request anon! i hope you love it, and if you have anymore requests please send them to me! enjoy!!

miracles were possible, and surprises were at every corner. and franco colapinto was going to be a father by the middle of the year. reserve driver for 2025 with a hopeful future seat, and he was having a child with you. a lot of things were thrown at him before his season season even started.

but he was making due with the time he had. curled up in bed with you, the days were ticking by before the season started. he didn't want to leave with alpine, he wanted to stay at home with you. despite the immense support from your family and his, he was that child's father so he should be around more often.

but that was the price of formula one. fame and glory, a seat on the grid at the expense of missing crucial time with the people he loved. so every second with you, he wanted to stretch out into minutes.

you were only four months along, not even halfway. there was a slope to your middle and franco's hand was gravitated towards it like a magnet. even with you both in bed, a random marvel movie playing on the television, his hand was on your stomach.

"quiet today." he remarked, his voice close to your ear as you remained curled up into one another. his lips grazed the shell of your ear as you shifted a little closer to him.

"i think he's bored by the movie too." you remarked, your hand moved to cover his. the tenderness between you two, he rubbed in small circles and remained pressed up against you. your cheek rested on his shoulder while he held you.

"not one of the best ones." his hand reached to the underside of your pregnant belly and down into the waistband of your sleeping shorts. the soft fabric felt good against the back of his hand as he touched your pussy over your underwear.

you chuckled against his shoulder and splayed your hand out on his chest. you knew that franco had a small kink for your pregnant form. he worshiped you in every language he could speak, made comments about how beautiful you looked and when you were apart he asked for photos of you - clothed photos of you. he just wanted to see your pregnancy glow. he called you his little sun from how bright you looked while carrying his child.

he rubbed his fingers up against your slit and you felt a shudder of want through your core. you couldn't help but be attracted to him as well. how tender he was with you, how sweet he was. it made you almost tear up, but also spiked arousal in you.

"franco."

"tell me no."

"i'll do on better." you pressed up against him further. then pulled his hand out from your short then kissed his knuckles, "how about yes." then reached for his t-shirt and started to pull it off of him.

he chuckled and his hands went to your waistband once more. but instead to pull them off of you. he pressed his forehead against his, only moving away so you could get the shirt over his head. you slowly undressed one another, hands trailed across each other's bodies. it felt right, it felt warm as you were both comfortable in bed together.

kisses were shared along with sweet little moans. the two of you moved together like you had memorized each other's bodies. love flowed between you two. soft 'i love you's and 'you look amazing' as clothes were kicked off the bed. the covers pushed down so give you room to straddle his waist.

you were both a bit young, but the future seemed to bright. you, him and your child together. the little peanut in your belly, the product of the two of you. two pieces of a whole put together to make a child. it was honestly amazing, and while you weren't actively trying. it was a welcomed surprise.

franco helped you get seated on his cock. he placed his hands on your slight swell as you moved slowly. he laid there under you, letting you control the pace. he had to hold back, he could remember all the nights of wild (kinky) sex. but now, it was nothing but tenderness, he had to be. he couldn't risk hurting you.

it was his job to protect you. you were his heart and soul, his family. his hands roamed your belly as you leaned forward to anchor yourself with your hands in the covers. you moved your body slowly and franco was close enough to kiss.

he couldn't help himself, you looked beautiful. everything about you looked perfect, even on your worse days. when you felt sick or tired, when you were grumpy. it didn't matter because franco made a promise the night after your first date to never turn his back on you. when you succeeded, you both did. when he suffered a loss, you were still together. the highs and lows of life only brought you two closed together.

"my love. my sweet, sweet love. look at you, glowing." he chuckled lowly, "more beautiful than ever." his hands splayed across your middle as you slowly took him. the pace made his entire body tingle, "you complete me, you know that, right? my love for you runs deep. from the moment i met you."

you smiled a little it and pushed hair out of his face. he was due for a trim soon, "you're pretty amazing yourself. four months ago after your second chance on the track, bringing those points home. how you made me feel that night."

"barely able to walk out of the hotel room the next morning. and that mark you left on me, my love. caused quite the scandal back home."

you held onto the covers tightly and let out a small moan before you replied, "as if we are not next to married? as if you didn't promise my family that we'd get married after our baby is born. that you'd be a proper family man." your pace marginally increased and franco felt the fire in his core at the feeling of you.

the feeling of the heated intimacy between you two. it was like a tide of warmth though your bodies. almost pressed together, fitted together nicely.

"and i mean it." he replied softly, "mrs. colapinto." he broke into a smile. your traced fingers across the scars on his shoulder. he leaned into your touch. a soft moan left those soft lips as the pleasure coursed through him. eyes half-lidded as his hands roamed your body.

"you flatter me."

"only for you." he said as if he wasn't a total flirt to the press. but he laid it on extra thick around you. the gentle words and soft caresses. the feeling of love through him, it struck him like an arrow.

there was a racing in your heart as you continued to move against him. you moved and let yourself enjoy the feeling, the intimacy between you two. your eyes closed a little as you pressed further into him and let your movements speak for yourself.

"i love you."

"and i love you." you replied softly. the sounds of your love-making filled the bedroom. late afternoon light streamed through the windows, basking you in a glow that only made franco more aroused.

he got you pregnant, he marked you in a way that bound you two together for a long, long time. near forever. but he would never take advantage of that bond, that link between you two. you were his future wife, the love of his life. you were the streaming sunlight through grey clouds, the chirping of birds to signal the coming of spring. you were everything and he loved you.

the pleasure blossomed in your core as you continued your movements. you felt the sweat on your bare back, his large hands on your middle only added to close feeling between you two. you were so close, close in ways you could never be with another.

love, that was all it was. a yearning, deep love. so it wasn't hard that with the pace you moved with and the pleasure that raced through your blood, that you soon climaxed. your eyes squeezed shut as the feeling hit you deeply. your cunt clenched around his cock and franco deeply exhaled, a small moan left his lips.

you rode him through your orgasm and admired the look of him while his pleasure started to reach its peak as well. you felt his hands on your hips as you moved against him. your pace was still gentle, and every curve gave a big jump with your movements. it looked beautiful and aroused franco to the point that the pleasure clouded his mind.

a few more rocks of your hips and he was finishing inside of you. he held onto you closely. your belly pressed against his stomach. you felt so close together, slotted together perfectly. his words were ramblings as the pleasure coursed through him. orgasm burned his blood and it felt amazing. you leaned in once more to kiss him deeply as you slowed your pace to a stop. then you broke the kiss and cupped his face.

the third act of the bland movie paired with the sounds of action, but you were both wrapped up in one another. his arms were wrapped around your waist and he maneuvered you back onto the bed and his face against the top of your belly.

his cheek pressed up against the swell, he felt the dreaminess of post-orgasmic bliss as he relaxed against you. you reached to play with his hair. you both laid together as you caught your breath.

you remarked jokingly, "i'm picking the next movie." and franco chuckled lightly, "i mean it, colapinto! that movie was bad."

he laughed a little louder, joy in his voice as he said, "of course, of course. anything for you, mrs. colapinto. the love of my life." <3

[solxamber]

Leona romantic and here's the song!

https://youtu.be/nBteO-bU78Y?si=BNupz7ZfAHeIzMER

Dont forget to drink water and eat some food!

"Love me like I love you" || Leona Kingscholar

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: We're Still Underground by Eve

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 660

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship

Leona Kingscholar had never trusted happiness. It was a fleeting thing, a trick of the light, a cruel joke whispered on the wind before it was snatched away. He had learned long ago that hope was a losing game, that people only stuck around until they found something—or someone—better.

So when you came into his life, so bright and unwavering, so determined to love him without reservation, Leona didn’t know what to do with it.

You were everything he had convinced himself he wasn’t meant to have. Soft laughter in the morning, your fingers smoothing through his hair as he rested his head in your lap. Gentle kisses on the corner of his mouth, whispered words of affection given so freely it made his chest ache. You looked at him like he was worthy, like he was enough.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it?

Because one day, you would realize the truth.

One day, you would see what everyone else had always seen—that he wasn’t worth staying for.

Leona had been waiting for that day since the moment you first called him yours.

Waiting for you to wake up and understand that he could never be the person you deserved.

Waiting for the moment you left him behind.

It was late when it happened, when the words he had spent so long dreading finally left your lips. The two of you were tangled together on his bed, your body warm beside his, your hand resting against his chest in lazy contentment.

“I love you."

He froze.

For a moment, the words didn’t quite register, like a foreign language spoken too softly to understand.

Then, his body tensed, and something heavy lodged itself in his throat.

“Don’t joke about stuff like that,” he muttered, staring up at the ceiling. His voice was calm, but the grip of his fingers against the sheets betrayed him.

There was silence, thick and suffocating.

Then—

"Leona."

His name on your lips was firm, filled with something unshakable. Before he could move, you reached for his hand, gripping it tightly.

"Look at me."

He did.

And you were watching him with something so raw, so devastatingly real, that it made his heart stutter in his chest.

"I mean it," you said, voice steady, eyes burning into his. "I love you."

Something inside him cracked, something deep and buried, something he had spent years convincing himself didn’t exist.

His breath was uneven, his thoughts a mess of tangled emotions. "Why?" he asked hoarsely.

"Leona, you're it for me." Your fingers tightened around his hand, grounding him, keeping him from slipping back into the shadows of his own mind. "I love you. Not some idealized version of you, not some fantasy. You."

His throat felt tight.

You weren’t saying this because you wanted something from him, or because you were caught up in the moment.

"You think I want the sun?" you murmured, your forehead pressing against his, your warmth seeping into his skin. "I don’t care where we are, Leona. I don’t care if we never leave the underground. As long as I have you, that’s enough."

His fingers twitched, then curled around yours.

For so long, he had been waiting for the inevitable goodbye.

But you weren’t leaving.

You had never planned to.

Slowly, hesitantly, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. He could feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, could feel the quiet certainty of your presence beside him.

And maybe, he could believe in this.

Maybe love wasn’t about climbing toward something unreachable. Maybe it wasn’t about being enough for the rest of the world.

Maybe it was simply this—two people standing in the dark, hands clasped tight, knowing that neither of them would ever let go.

And for the first time in his life—

Leona didn't mind remaining underground

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event