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[loveanddeepyearning]

The Lads Boys' Favorite Positions

A look into my thoughts on how each LI likes to get freaky with you 😝 3.4k words. ~ 600 words per LI (got a little carried away on some). Afab reader, 18+ MDNI, Sexually mature content under the cut. Filthy, but loving <3

Xavier: 

Doggy, Face Sitting 

Man loves backshots, we know. This way he can stare at your gorgeous back while he holds you down and absolutely rails you. He's very dominant and needs you beneath him, this position satisfies that urge to pin you down and claim you in the primal way he desires. Oh and not just in the bed, he's shoving you against windows, on the couch, pretty much anywhere he can take you. Xavier is possessive and if there is a miniscule chance someone might see, he's taking it (and you) with the curtains open.

I will add, the guy is a munch heh. He's dropping down like a man possessed, with your ass still in the air and your legs shaking, just for a taste. Then laying down so he can pull you onto his face and devour you. Once he starts he won't leave you alone until you're begging him to stop.

Wet sounds of his cock driving deep into your folds echo throughout the entire apartment, your desperate moans muffled by the throw pillows on the sofa. Xavier’s large, calloused hands hold your hips in a deep and punishing arch, yanking you back to meet each harsh thrust. The way he so easily cages your smaller form beneath him rips a groan from low in his throat, your complete submission spurring him to practically pound you into the cushions. In this position he drinks in the sight of your bare form, gorgeous back on full display and pretty pussy taking his cock so well, he loses himself in how wet you are, how perfect it feels to show you who owns that cunt of yours. “You like that, baby?” Wanton moans of his name and the addictive way your pussy clenches around his swollen and sensitive cock has him angling your pelvis to take him deeper. Walls fluttering and squeezing so perfectly, you fall apart with a cry, milking his dick as he finally cums deep inside your folds.

With a whine you attempt to squeeze your thighs shut, it’s all too much as overstimulation washes over your center in waves and you squirm against Xavier’s bruising grip on your hips. “No, no, no. Don’t run away, angel.” Growling, he practically chases you, holding you steady as he repeatedly stuffs you full of his sensitive length. Finally satiated after fucking his release further into your pulsing entrance, he slowly pulls back, eyes fixated on the way his pearly white essence drips from your gaping cunt. Your soft cries and whimpers of his name fade away as he gawks at the mixture of fluids pooling by your pretty little clit, the urge to taste cutting through every logical thought. Hands flying to the pillows, you hold on for dear life as slender fingers spread through your swollen and abused folds, aiding the cum dripping down your thighs. Crying out, you can’t help but rock your hips back when you feel his tongue circle your tender clit, heady moans of your name vibrating against your swollen pussy. 

“Xavi, I can’t take any more.” Tears pool in your eyes, pleasure slowly overtaking the sensitivity as he lays beneath your grinding hips. Pressing your center to his lips, he groans at the taste, lapping at your dripping entrance like a starved man. 

Sucking and nipping at your clit, he uses his tongue to claim the last of the cum he stuffed inside your intoxicating walls, moaning at the sweetness of your combined releases. “One more, angel. Right now I need you to cum on my tongue.”      

Zayne: 

Spooning, Missionary 

He likes the classics. Missionary is simple and intimate but provides great eye contact. In this position he has a wonderful view of you beneath him, and he will worship you like the goddess you are. Plus I will die on the hill that he is the best with his fingers (surgeon) and this allows him access to between your thighs. The man loves to kiss, and this way he can lay on (in) you with his fingers in your hair and kiss you until you're both gasping for breath.

Spooning also allows for him to pull on your hair to guide your lips to his, (and easy access for fingers lolol). Plus he's a shy boy and sometimes he can't do eye contact. With your back to his chest, he would whisper soft praises in his raspy morning voice, all but whimpering in your ear. And he's so strong, you don't have to worry about a thing, he's positioning you with ease, his muscles aren't just for show.

Warm, steady fingers hook in the hem of your panties, large palms slowly running down the length of your thighs as he frees your aching cunt. Grasping a leg in his strong hold, he gently spreads you, hooking your calf over his hip to keep you exposed to his ministrations. You can’t help the way your back arches into his chest, soft moans escaping your lips as you squirm on your side, his fingertips ghosting over your entrance to assess the wetness of your needy center. Middle finger sliding up the length of your slit, he rubs at your inner walls as you whimper and whine beautifully for him, hips grinding back into his erect morning wood. 

“Zayne, please.” 

A raspy chuckle tickles your ear and soft lips pepper kisses to your exposed neck, fingers gathering your slick to rub circles on your swollen clit. “Patience, My Love. Let me take care of you.” You love the lewd praises and promises he whispers in your ear, a striking contrast to his usually cold and aloof demeanor. Sliding that middle finger into your tight cunt, he groans at the way you practically milk his digit, almost unwilling to let him go once he presses past your heavenly entrance. “So fucking tight. I don’t want to hurt you, so let me stretch this pretty pussy open for you.” 

Grinding your hips into his palm, you lose yourself in his touch, years of schooling and occupational training have honed his skills with those fingers, and you melt into his steady hands as he works you open with care. “Brilliant. Gorgeous. Powerful.” Gentle praises hum against the shell of your ear, whispered against the quiet morning air as if he was afraid to shatter the intimate atmosphere. With a gasp, you squirm and his index finger easily joins his middle, your cunt practically dripping as you greedily suck him in. “Just a little more, baby. You can take another, right?”

God, you are so needy, your clit practically throbbing with the rapid pound of your heart, and you squirm in his hold, needing him to give in and finally fuck you. “Yes, yes. Please Zayne, I need you so bad.” Practically sobbing at this point, you cry out as his ring finger joins the others, your pussy clenching tightly at the intrusion. Chuckling quietly, he nips at your ear, his ego swelling with each needy whine and beg for him to put it in, his cock pulsing against the soft fabric of his boxers.

He knew you were close from the way you squeezed him, hips practically riding his fingers as you chased that high, so drunk on the pleasure your eyelids flutter shut. Tangling the fingers of his other hand in your hair, he turns your head to connect your lips in a passionate, claiming kiss. “Mmmh Zayne, I’m gonna-” 

Approaching the high you so desperately crave, his soaked fingers slip from your cunt, soothing your momentary whines while freeing his swollen cock to sheathe himself in your sensitive walls. The sudden intrusion has you gripping the sheets and writhing, a dizzying orgasm erupting as his thick girth rubs you so right, it has you seeing stars. Whining, you grind back against him, so lost in the feel of him filling you so perfectly, you almost miss the hitch in his breath, the needy whimpers as his hips set a desperate pace. Overstimulation quickly takes over, your spent body writhing in his hold as he continues to pound your abused pussy, praises falling from his lips as he begs you to let him fuck you a little longer. As the sensitivity gives way to pleasure, you lose yourself in his cries of your name and the way he pumps you full of his hot cum, praising his “good girl” for just how well you take him every single time.    

Rafayel:

Reverse cowgirl, In front of a mirror 

Listen: he likes to watch and make you watch when you get freaky. He is an artist, and watching the way your bodies connect and the lewd way they move together really drives him crazy. Sitting on the floor with your back against his chest, he would bounce you on his lap while forcing you to look, his fingers holding your chin, whispering absolutely filthy praises in your ear.

You're his one and only muse, and the only one he'd whimper and moan so shamelessly for, his composure slipping after watching you for so long. His ears are bright red and his cheeks are such a pretty pink, Raf always flushes so beautifully for you. (Also, fingering you in front of a mirror AHHHHH). I also will say that he is a mermaid and his stroke game must be god tier (hehe).  

Vulgar squelches echo in the bedroom, your thighs struggling to keep a steady pace after what feels like hours of desperate grinding. “Eyes forward, baby girl.” A gentle, yet firm pressure on your jaw brings your eyes back to the obscene reflection of your swollen and sensitive cunt squeezing his cock so deliciously. Wetness slips from your poor hole, a mixture of your arousal, and who knew how many rounds of cum he had so generously filled you with. Greedy digits slide through the slick, his fingers brushing through your folds to thoroughly lubricate your thrumming clit. 

“See how deep I am?” As if transfixed, you watch his cock slide deeper, your pussy stretching to accommodate the length. Oh. You watch the way he fills your pulsing walls, splitting you open with the meeting of your hips before slowly sliding out and thrusting until he fills you once more. 

With your back to his chest, his free hand pinches your nipple to coax out those pretty whimpers he desperately craves, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the sensitive nub in soothing circles. Eyes flickering up, your body runs hot, flushing under the heat of his gaze as he watches the way you clench around him, walls squeezing him so tight with oversensitivity. 

“Feels so good, Raf.” Moaning, you bounce down on his cock, noting the deep flush dusting his cheeks and ears that appeared when he lost himself in the pleasure like this. 

“Hng, you take my cock so well, cutie. Keep bouncing on it, just like that.” Guiding your hips, his lips ghost over your neck, nose teasing the hammering pulse point before his teeth nip at your jaw. Digging your knees into the pillows he provided for comfort, you mustered the last of your strength to take him deeper, grinding his cock against your walls in all the right spots. “O-Oh, please don’t stop.” 

Riding him faster, he twitches inside of you, his moans growing breathy and higher in pitch as he nips at your earlobe. “Please let me cum inside. Fuck, cutie, I need to cum in your pretty pussy again. Please, hnng.” 

Reaching behind your head, you tug on his violet locks, bringing his pussy drunk gaze to meet your own in the full-length mirror. Irises dark, he devours you with a predatory hunger, his pupils blown wide with lust. He’s gorgeous, all fucked out and desperate like this, and he’s all yours. “Need you to cum in me Raf, please baby.” 

With a whiny moan, his large palms grasp your hips, slamming into you until he chants your name like a prayer, holding you tight as he cums so hard he’s shaking against your back. Rubbing your clit just right, he works you through the throes of pleasure, ensuring you watch as he licks up your release from his dripping fingers. 

Sylus: 

Cowgirl, Mating Press 

He craves eye contact and the intimacy that comes with it, so his favorite positions are ones where he can stare into your eyes. Sylus is nothing, if not a lover boy, and he needs to watch every flicker of emotion in your eyes as he takes you to cloud nine. Cowgirl lets you control your own pleasure, which he loves, there's just something about watching you use him and take care of him that gets him off.

Ofc mating press is just intimate and deep. Plus he loves that he is so biG and can easily manhandle you into the position. Sylus is also a biter and this way he has easy access to your neck, chest, anywhere really. He's holding your legs over his shoulders with one hand, whimpering praises of how good you feel and how perfect you are as he stares deep into your eyes. He's so pathetically in love. 

Throwing your head back, your eyes slip closed from the sheer pleasure, his cock repeatedly bullying that spot that has you seeing stars. Moaning out his name, you arch your back and he slides deeper, the head of his cock poking at your cervix with each thrust and your nails dig into his shoulders for purchase. Gentle fingers cradle your face before slipping to the back of your head to direct your gaze to his own. “Look at me, Sweetie. I need to see your eyes.” 

Something warm and longing pools in his red stare, raking over your quivering form to capture your gaze. Gripping your thighs, he slowly, yet purposefully folds your much smaller form, resting your legs over his shoulder to somehow slide even deeper into your welcoming cunt. Capturing your lips in a searing kiss, he pulls back to brush the messy strands of hair from your eyes, his forehead pressing to your temple to watch the flecks of color swirl in your eyes as he slowly thrusts deep inside your fluttering walls. “S-Sylus.” You try to throw your head back again and close your eyes, but he holds firm, caging you under his rippling muscles to keep your cockdrunk gaze on his own. 

“Fuck, baby. You're taking me so well. So perfect.” Looking down briefly, his breath catches as he watches how easily he slides into your dripping folds, his length glistening with your juices each time he pulls back to prepare for the next thrust. Fingers meeting your throbbing clit, he rubs in tight, firm circles and you cry out in utter ecstasy, eyes clouding with overwhelming love and desire. Losing himself in the rush of passion, he quickly dips his head to your neck, teeth sinking into the dampened skin at the curve of your shoulder, the soft flesh beneath your ear, anywhere his greedy canines find purchase.

With each heave of your chest and flicker of emotion in your gaze, he holds your legs firm over his shoulder and drives further into your soaked cunt, his release approaching faster than anticipated. No matter how hard he tries to hold himself back, to worship your perfect body and give you the pleasure you deserve, your pretty pussy clenches just right and he finds himself nearing a mind- numbing release. A low groan falls from his lips, pressing closer to push himself deeper, his eyes so full of love that you can’t help but blush. “Just like that, kitten. Cum for me, pretty girl.” With a final circle of his fingers, you fall apart on his cock, squeezing him so right, he follows suit. Thrusting each spurt of his warm and claiming cum into your perfect center, he lustfully watches the way your eyes darken with release, eyelashes fluttering in a struggle to keep your eyes open, to keep them trained on him just the way he likes it. Endless praises fall from his honeyed tongue, after all, how could they not when you’re always so perfect for him?

Caleb: 

Full Nelson, Against the wall or counter, Headlock

Essentially he loves any position that allows him to utilize his strength on you. That way he can pin you down (maybe in a headlock...heh) and ravage you while moaning nasty little things into your ear. Those gorgeous biceps are so pretty and solid when they flex, picking you up to support you against the counter or wall. And even if they weren't capable of pinning you against every surface in the house, his evol has you covered. 

Anywhere he takes you, he's almost forcing you to make eye contact, whimpering and groaning kinda pathetically. If you were to tease him and withhold your touch, he might even cry, whining and begging for you like he's desperate (he is). He can't help it, he's fantasized about your touch for over a decade, and the real thing is better than anything he's ever dreamed of (king of yearning). 

Fingers digging into his shoulders, your breasts press against his solid chest, back arching further with each plap of his hips against your own. A warm palm cradles the back of your neck, protecting your head from each harsh thrust against the living room wall. Digging your back into the cool sheetrock, you rut against his solid cock, imitating the motion of his hips to draw him even deeper inside you. Brow furrowing with a needy whine, he watches the way you swallow his entire length each time, sucking him so far into the intimate massage of your dripping walls, he isn’t sure he can last much longer. 

Caleb is a vision like this, his honeyed skin so smooth to the touch, every muscle defined and rippling in the soft light that kissed his beautiful features. What you love the most, however, are the gorgeous biceps caging you between the solid lines of his body and the harsh wall of his apartment in Skyhaven, so thick and firm, and wrapped completely around your burning form. Fuck, you needed this. 

“Tell me you love it when I fuck you like this.” Violet irises capture your own, pupils wide with love and lust, his grip on the back of your head tightening to prevent your gaze from wandering. 

Tugging on the dark brown locks at the nape of his neck, you moan loudly at a particularly deep thrust. Having known him so long, you deduct the hidden meaning from his lustful words, his desperation for reassurance that you need him just as badly as he needs you. “Caleb,” Whimpering his name, you grip at his arms and unconsciously dig your nails into the muscular flesh, “love this, love you. Your cock feels so good, mmph.” 

Squealing, your hands wind around his neck as he carries you to the couch, continuing to bounce you on his dick with each step. Supporting you with his arms alone, he drives deep into your pussy, a large hand holding your ass while the other wraps around your waist to hold you secure. Greedily nipping at your lips, he seats himself on the cushions, effortlessly manhandling you into a position that promises to further stretch your pretty pussy on his large cock. With your back against his front, he forces your knees to your chest, holding your thighs to your breasts with a large hand as he sheathes himself once again in your abused and swollen walls. Setting a bruising pace against your poor cervix, his fingers wind up your body, a pretty bicep caging you against his heaving chest in a headlock. The way he bounces you on his lap, so pliant against his large form makes you clench uncontrollably, the forearm against your throat forcing your gaze to his own. Desperate whimpers and whines fill your ears, his thrusts growing harsher and more erratic as he nears his release, those eyes watching every single reaction, praising you lewdly as he feels you near your own end. “Cum with me, pip-squeak. Need you to cum on my cock.” 

With a shuddering gasp, you fall apart, hard, milking his cock while he bites his lip against a pathetic moan and cums inside you. Throwing your head back, you can’t stop your eyelids from slipping closed, too blissed out for the intimate eye contact he often begged you for. A harsh slap to your clit makes you yelp his name, eyes shooting open to catch his darkening gaze, eyebrow twitching with annoyance that you withheld your gorgeous gaze as you came. “That’s better. I’ll just have to make you cum again.”       

thanks for reading! likes and reblogs are very appreciated!!

[itendtothinkalot]

how to not fall in love

summary: you’ve been in love with heeseung for as long as you can remember, but to him, you’ve always just been the best friend—reliable, familiar, safe. so when you hear him say he doesn’t see you that way, you decide it’s time to stop. stop caring, stop hoping. but ignoring someone you’ve loved for years is harder than it sounds… especially when he starts acting like he doesn’t want you to stop.

genre: fluff | best friends to lovers

characters: best friend!heeseungx f!reader

words: 7.6k

warnings: none i think!

a/n: and here is my first enha fic!!!! <3<3 and yes heeseung is my bias

You don’t even remember when it started.

Maybe it was the first time Heeseung flashed you that ridiculously charming smile on your very first day of kindergarten—doe eyes, dimpled cheeks, and a shy little wave like he was offering you his entire heart with just a look.

Or maybe it was that time in middle school when he forgot there was a major history exam and you stayed up until 2 a.m. making color-coded flashcards for him, highlighters smudged on your fingers and worry tugging at your chest. He showed up the next morning at your door, hair a mess, holding a bag of greasy Chinese takeout and two cans of your favorite peach soda.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" he said, in that effortless, playful way of his, ruffling your hair like you were some helpful little puppy.

You laughed, but your heart did a triple somersault.

Love. He said it like it was casual.

Not knowing it felt like a confession to you.

Truth is, it only got worse from there.

Your unrequited love? It grew legs and started running wild.

You became that friend. The one in the front row of every basketball game, waving a glittery sign that said "LEE HEESEUNG" like your life depended on it. The one who always brought him coffee after his late-night study sessions, who memorized the snacks he liked at the convenience store, who texted him good luck before every presentation even though he always forgot yours.

And Heeseung would flash that same boyish grin—the one that made your knees a little weak—and casually sling an arm around your shoulders.

“Man, I don’t know who I am without you,” he’d say, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And you? You’d fall just a little harder.

Just a little. But it added up.

You didn’t mean for it to. You tried to keep your heart in check. But all those little things—the inside jokes, the shoulder bumps in the hallway, the way he said your name—slowly stitched themselves into something deeper. Something messier. Something real.

Heeseung never treated you like you were just anyone. That was the cruel part.

Like that time you got lost at one of his away games. You’d shown up early, too excited, only to realize you had no idea where to go. The school was huge, the gym impossible to find, and every hallway looked the same.

And then—there he was.

Heeseung, panting, scanning the sea of people until his eyes landed on you.

“There you are,” he breathed out, like he hadn’t just run halfway across campus. His brows furrowed like he was worried, and before you could say anything, he grabbed your wrist.

“C’mon,” he murmured, pulling you through the crowd like you were something precious he needed to protect. He didn’t let go—not even when the noise got louder or people jostled you. Somewhere along the way, he slid your bag off your shoulder and carried it himself.

He only let go once you were seated, right in the front row.

“There,” he said, still a little breathless. “Gotcha here safe and sound.”

Then he jogged off, leaving your heart pounding, your bag heavy in your lap, and a quiet kind of warmth blooming in your chest.

You found out later that he’d skipped the team’s pre-game drills just to look for you. As team captain, he was supposed to be rallying the others—but instead, he was making sure you weren’t lost.

Coach made him run three extra laps.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, guilt curling in your stomach.

Heeseung just laughed, brushing his damp hair back and flashing you that familiar grin. “It’s okay. I kinda liked looking for you.”

Moments like that—where he made you feel like the center of the universe—those were the hardest.

Because deep down, you always knew he didn’t see you the way you saw him.

The final straw came a few weeks later.

You’d been waiting by the bleachers again, holding his jacket like you always did, when you overheard Jake teasing him.

“She’s here again. You two are practically glued together. You sure you’re not… boinking?”

Heeseung laughed. “Boinking?”

Your heart fluttered. Just a little.

Then he said it. With zero hesitation.

“She’s cute. A great friend. But I don’t see her that way.”

Friend.

The word echoed in your head like a slap.

And just like that, something inside you snapped.

The next morning, you opened your journal, flipped to a blank page, and wrote in bold, all-caps letters:

HOW TO NOT FALL IN LOVE (feat. Lee Heeseung)

Goal: Stop giving a damn about Lee Heeseung. Duration: One month.

And for the first time in forever, you meant it.

Really, really meant it.

—

The next day at school, you walked through the gates with an air of fake confidence and a heart wrapped in duct tape. This was it. Day one. 

No more overshooting your texts to Heeseung. No more waiting by the court with his water bottle. No more volunteering to help him with homework he didn’t even remember to start. He was perfectly capable of surviving without you.

Probably.

But the moment you saw him in the courtyard, laughing at something Jake said, your heart betrayed you.

Your hand lifted in an automatic wave before you even realized what you were doing. And—ugh—was that a smile forming?

You gasped like you'd caught yourself mid-crime and yanked your hand back down with enough force to nearly dislocate your shoulder. You spun around so fast your bag almost knocked over a freshman. You tried to act cool, casually pretending the ground was the most fascinating thing you'd ever seen.

Behind you, Heeseung paused, confused. He blinked. Tilted his head. Squinted at your retreating back like he was trying to solve a very strange math equation.

But then he shrugged it off. Probably nothing.

Probably.

Too bad he didn’t know this was just the beginning of the end.

—-

“This little tough girl act,” Sunghoon said with a smirk, reaching into your popcorn bucket like he had every right. “How long do you think it’s going to last?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, pulling the bucket closer. “Keep your hands out of my popcorn, you menace.”

Out on the court, Heeseung was practicing, all focused determination and smooth movements. You were trying—not entirely successfully—not to watch him. You’d even worn sunglasses. Indoors. As if they could protect your heart.

“Come on,” Sunghoon drawled. “Don’t pretend I didn’t see you freeze up this morning when he smiled at you like a puppy with a college degree.”

You exhaled sharply. “It was a momentary lapse in judgment.”

“Right. And I’m the Prime Minister of Canada.”

With a dramatic sigh, you leaned back against the bleachers. “I’m serious this time. One month. No more hopeless pining. No more letting him carry my bag like we’re a couple. No more doodling ‘Mr. and Mrs. Heeseung’ in the margins of my notebooks.”

“You still do that?”

“I–No.”

Sunghoon laughed under his breath.

You risked a glance at the court.

Mistake.

Heeseung dribbled the ball between his legs and sank a perfect shot, his lips tugging into that maddeningly confident smile, turning to you..

And, shamefully, you made a noise. A small, undignified sound that gave you away entirely.

Sunghoon gave you a long, knowing look. “You’re doomed.”

“I am not doomed,” you said, clutching your popcorn like a shield. “I’m just... recalibrating. This is emotional detox.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re detoxing the way someone digs a chocolate wrapper out of the trash.”

You groaned. “Why are you even here?”

“Free snacks. And the immense satisfaction of watching you pretend you’ve moved on.”

You stuffed a handful of popcorn in your mouth, avoiding his gaze. Because, regrettably, he wasn’t wrong.

And worse? You missed Heeseung. More than you cared to admit. Everything reminded you of him. A bouncing basketball. A laugh down the hallway. A lamppost that was, in your defense, approximately his height and general vibe.

This was going to be the longest month of your life.

—

Heeseung was starting to notice.

At first, it was little things. You stopped walking with him after class. You sat further away during lunch. You didn’t show up at practice with your usual energy, pretending to be absorbed in something else when he looked your way. It was subtle but to him, it felt like someone had lowered the volume on his favorite song.

He found himself scanning the bleachers more than usual, eyes flicking toward the spots where you usually sat, only to find them empty or occupied by someone else. You were still around, just... not with him.

Jake noticed first.

“You good?” he asked during water break, glancing at Heeseung who was frowning at his phone.

“Yeah,” Heeseung replied, not looking up. “I just... I don’t know. Have you talked to her lately?”

Jake raised a brow. “She was literally just at lunch.”

“She barely said a word to me.”

Jake took a long sip from his bottle. “Maybe she’s busy.”

Heeseung nodded, but it didn’t feel like busy. It felt like... distant. Like you were pulling away, and he didn’t know why.

He scrolled back through your messages. There weren’t any unread ones. Just a few recent texts from him that you’d responded to with short answers. No smiley faces. No exclamation marks. Just plain, flat replies.

And it bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

He was used to your messages being filled with too many emojis, random inside jokes, and links to memes you knew he’d find stupid but would laugh at anyway. You hadn’t even sent him your usual “good luck” before the last game.

Heeseung didn’t say anything out loud, but he could feel it—a little ache forming. Like something was shifting. Like something he’d taken for granted was slipping away.

And he didn’t know how to ask you why.

—

You were power-walking down the hallway like a woman on a mission—head high, steps brisk, thoughts screaming something along the lines of Do not look back. Do not turn around. You are ice. You are steel. You are—

“Hey!”

You nearly tripped over your own feet.

Heeseung.

You turned around slowly—casually, you hoped—and gave him what you prayed was a totally normal smile. Not awkward. Not panicked. Not like your internal monologue was screaming.

“Oh! Hi,” you said, like your voice hadn’t just jumped an octave.

He jogged the last few steps to reach you, a little out of breath, but still managing that soft, easy smile of his. “Didn’t see you after practice this week.”

“Oh,” you said quickly. “Yeah, I’ve just been… around. Super busy.”

“Busy?” he echoed, tilting his head slightly. “With?”

You blinked. “Uh, Yearbook Committee.”

His brows knit together. “I didn’t know you were in the Yearbook Committee.”

“I’m… new,” you added, voice trailing off as your brain gave up on its own excuse.

There was a beat of silence, but he didn’t push. Just nodded slowly, like he was trying to make sense of it all.

Then he smiled again—gentle, like always. “Well, I was just wondering if you were free to—”

“Oh no, sorry!” you cut in, way too fast. “I have to go walk Sunghoon.”

He blinked. “Walk... Sunghoon? The third year student from Algebra?”

“Yes,” you said, forcing a bright smile. “He’s full of energy. If I don’t walk him, he gets cranky. Like a puppy.”

He stared at you, clearly confused. His lips parted like he wanted to ask another question, but instead, he just... laughed. Not a mocking laugh—more like he didn’t quite know what else to do with this absurd turn of conversation.

“Okay. Well… I guess I’ll see you later then?”

“Yup! Later!” you squeaked, turning around so fast you nearly dropped your bag.

You could feel his gaze on you as you walked away—light, warm, lingering. Like he was trying to figure you out.

And you? You were trying not to look back. Trying not to feel how much you missed being around him. How much you wanted to stay.

Because the truth was: you missed him. You missed you with him.

But you’d started something. And for now, you had to stick to it.

Even if it sucked.

—

Heeseung swore something was off.

You weren’t gone, exactly. You still passed him in the hallways. Still laughed a little too loudly with Sunghoon and Jay at lunch. Still wore that bright-colored scarf he once said made you look like a strawberry popsicle.

But you weren’t with him.

Not the way you used to be.

He sat on the edge of the court after practice, towel around his neck, eyes scanning the bleachers again. He hated how natural the motion had become. How instinctive it was to search for you—even when he knew you wouldn’t be there.

Jake flopped down beside him, cracking open a sports drink. “You good?”

��Yeah,” Heeseung muttered.

“You don’t sound like it.”

Heeseung shrugged, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “Have you noticed... she’s been different?”

Jake raised a brow. “You mean how she’s not orbiting you like a lovesick planet anymore?”

Heeseung shot him a glare. “That’s not what I meant.”

Jake took a slow sip of his drink. “Isn’t it?”

Heeseung didn’t answer.

Because maybe it was what he meant.

Maybe he had gotten used to you being everywhere. At his games. At his side. Texting him about nothing and everything. Laughing at his dumb jokes. Holding out his bag like it belonged more to you than to him.

And now? Now the silence felt sharp. Uncomfortable.

He scrolled through his messages again. No new ones from you. The last conversation ended with your half-hearted “haha yeah” two days ago.

You didn’t even send him a good luck text before his test today. You always sent him one. Usually something stupid like “Don’t choke! But if you do, make it dramatic so you can retake it with pity points.” It used to make him laugh. It used to calm him down.

Today, he hadn’t laughed before the test.

And he hadn’t done all that well, either.

He sighed, tipping his head back against the wall of the gym.

He didn’t know what had changed. But something had.

And he was starting to think he really didn’t like it.

—

Heeseung wasn’t looking for you.

He absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent was not looking for you.

He just happened to glance over at the courtyard. That’s all.

And okay, maybe his eyes landed on you instantly—like a magnet snapping into place. You were standing with Sunghoon and Jay, your laugh bright and easy, head tipped back like you didn’t have a single worry in the world.

And then Sunghoon did it.

He leaned in and ruffled your hair.

Casual. Familiar.

Too familiar.

Heeseung’s stomach twisted.

He didn’t understand it at first. Not really. He just kept staring, a weird sort of tightness building in his chest, like something was pressing down on him. And then—just to make it worse—Sunghoon said something that made you laugh again. You reached out and lightly shoved his shoulder, still smiling, completely unaware of the storm brewing across the courtyard.

Jake noticed immediately.

“You’re staring again,” he said, biting into an apple with all the serenity of someone enjoying the drama but pretending not to.

“I’m not,” Heeseung muttered.

“Your eyes haven’t left her for five minutes.”

“I’m just… wondering what they’re talking about.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “You mean, what she and Sunghoon are talking about?”

Heeseung said nothing.

Jake smirked. “Don’t worry. I’m sure they’re just planning their wedding. Probably picking out the cake flavor right now.”

“Shut up.”

Jake laughed. “So this is jealousy, huh?”

“It’s not jealousy.”

“Oh yeah, no, of course not. You're just glaring at Sunghoon like you’re mentally photoshopping him out of existence for completely unrelated reasons.”

Heeseung turned away, rubbing a hand over his face.

It wasn’t like he had a claim on you. You could hang out with whoever you wanted. Laugh at anyone’s jokes. Let anyone ruffle your hair.

So why did it feel like something in him was unraveling?

—

Heeseung wasn’t sure what was bothering him, but he knew something felt... off.

You were still around—at lunch, in the halls, in some of your shared classes—but somehow, you were always just out of reach. If he turned one way, you turned the other. If he called your name, someone else answered for you. It was subtle. Strategic.

And frustrating.

Now, walking alone down the hallway, books tucked under one arm, the other gripping his backpack strap, he found his thoughts drifting back to you. Again.

Jake wasn’t there to tease him for it today, off doing who-knows-what, so for once it was just Heeseung and the quiet, creeping ache of your absence.

And then he saw you.

You were halfway down the corridor, walking like you had somewhere to be, light on your feet as always. Maybe it was the way you moved like you had a secret no one else knew or maybe it was just that he hadn’t really seen you in days. Not properly. Not up close.

Before he could stop himself, his hand reached out, catching you gently by the wrist.

“Hey,” he said, smiling before he realized it.

You blinked up at him, startled. “Huh?”

“It’s been a while since I walked you home,” Heeseung said, tilting his head slightly, trying to sound casual. “Want to go together?”

You froze. Your mind scrambled for an excuse—any excuse.

But he was already one step ahead of you.

“You don’t have Debate. Or Yearbook Committee,” he added knowingly. “And I don’t have practice today.”

You exhaled sharply. Damn him for remembering your fake clubs.

“…Sure,” you murmured, defeated.

He smiled again and reached for your backpack, tugging the straps gently off your shoulders so he could carry it for you—like he always did. Like nothing had changed.

The two of you fell into step, walking side by side. Your arms brushed once. Then again. Each time, a jolt of electricity shot up your spine.

“So,” he said after a pause, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, “did you get an A?”

You blinked. “What?”

“The math test,” he clarified. “You were stressing about it for, like, a week. Mr. Kim probably handed it back by now. I’m assuming my smart girl did well?”

Your lips parted slightly.

He remembered?

A slow smile tugged at your lips. “First in class,” you announced proudly. “Take that, Jake Sim.”

Heeseung laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Good. Someone’s got to put him in his place.”

Then, without warning, he reached over and ruffled your hair. “Proud of you.”

Your heart launched itself into your throat.

His fingers lingered a moment too long, just enough to make you dizzy before pulling away like nothing had happened. Like your world hadn’t just turned upside down.

Typical Heeseung.

You were just trying not to propose.

At the crosswalk, as the light turned red, he reached out again—this time gently guiding you by the elbow, pulling you closer to him.

“There was a bike coming,” he said, eyes on the road ahead.

You squinted. The bike was a speck in the distance. Miles away.

But his hand stayed there.

Just resting.

Light. Thoughtless. Careful.

You swallowed hard.

If he was going to keep doing things like this, you needed revenge. You needed balance. You needed him to second-guess everything the way you did.

So you stopped walking and tugged his arm slightly.

Heeseung turned, confused. “What’s wr—”

And then you stepped in.

Too close.

Your fingers reached up, brushing against the base of his neck as you adjusted the collar of his uniform. It was crooked—only slightly—but you took your time, smoothing the fabric with slow, deliberate movements.

Your knuckles grazed his skin.

He inhaled sharply.

His shoulders stiffened.

And suddenly, the effortlessly charming Lee Heeseung looked completely out of his depth. Like you were the one throwing him off balance now.

His gaze dropped—eyes flicking from your face, to your lips, then quickly back up again.

Heeseung swore he could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

You finished adjusting his collar and smiled up at him—soft, proud, just a little smug.

“There,” you murmured, patting it into place. “All fixed.”

He blinked.

Swallowed.

“…Thanks,” he managed, voice lower than usual, a little hoarse.

And then because apparently his brain had melted, he turned on his heel and walked ahead a little too quickly.

“Slow down!” you called after him with a grin. “Not all of us have basketball player legs, you know.”

He didn’t answer, but you could see the tips of his ears turning red.

—

The walk home with Heeseung did something to you.

Something bad.

You missed him more than you thought you would. Not in a soft, quiet way—but in a way that gnawed at your chest like a small, aggressive squirrel.

Everything reminded you of him. A fork. A book you’d never read. Even Jay’s left toe (don’t ask, you didn’t know why either). You couldn’t stop thinking about him—his laugh, the way his eyes sparkled when he was excited, the little way he tilted his head when he was listening.

You were, quite frankly, losing it.

Your Lee Heeseung withdrawals were at an all-time high.

Every time you saw him across the room or heard someone say his name, your heart did a thing and your brain spiraled like a bad romcom montage. You were whiny. Pathetically so.

Jay, ever the long-suffering saint, was reaching his limit.

You clung to his jacket sleeve dramatically, voice pitched high with despair. “I can’t do this, Jay. I miss him so much. Why is this so hard?”

Jay gave you a deadpan look that could only be described as emotionally done. With a sigh that came from the depths of his soul, he turned and made a beeline toward the shop’s earplug section.

“If you don’t just tell him how you feel,” he muttered, “I’m going to lose my entire mind.”

You chased after him, still attached to his sleeve like a ghost with commitment issues. “But I can’t! He doesn’t even like me like that!”

Jay stopped in front of the shelf, scanning the rows of earplugs like he was shopping for peace. “What if he does, huh?” he shot back, a little too fast. “This whole walk home story you just told me—it doesn’t sound like nothing.”

You froze. The words you’d overheard days ago came rushing back: She’s cute. A great friend. But I don’t see her that way.

The echo of it still stung.

You let go of Jay’s sleeve and crossed your arms, suddenly quiet. “I heard him, Jay,” you said softly. “He told Jake I was just a friend.”

Jay looked at you. Really looked at you.

And then he grinned.

“Are you laughing at me right now?” You smacked his arm, thoroughly offended.

“It’s just—” he choked back a laugh. “I could’ve sworn that guy was practically drooling over you.”

You scowled. “Well, clearly you’re wrong.”

Jay shook his head, dramatically dropping a pair of foam earplugs into the basket. “Okay, look. So what if he said that? Guys say dumb things all the time. Heeseung’s probably still catching up to his own feelings.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out.

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Come on. You’re not the type to wait around forever. If you like him, say something. Stop pretending you don’t care.”

You groaned. “Fine, fine! I’ll think about it.”

“You’ve been thinking about it for three years,” Jay replied, clearly unimpressed.

You crossed your arms and pouted. “You don’t get a say.”

“Oh, but I do.” He popped the earplugs into his ears with a triumphant smirk.

“You’re the worst,” you muttered.

Jay tilted his head dramatically. “Sorry, what was that? Can’t hear you over the peace I bought for $2.99.”

—

That night, Heeseung lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to all of life’s biggest questions.

Unfortunately, it did not.

He shifted. Then again. Then once more for dramatic effect. The blanket felt too warm. The pillow was suddenly too flat. Everything was wrong.

But mostly? It was the thoughts. You.

The walk home played on a loop in his mind, like a scene from a movie he couldn’t turn off. He could still feel how close you’d stood to him, the way your arm brushed his, how your fingers had grazed his neck when you fixed his collar. The soft sound of your laughter still echoed in his ears. It was... cute.

Too cute.

Heeseung sighed and rolled onto his side, shoving his face into the pillow.

You had always been his best friend. His safe person. You were fun and loud and comfortably chaotic. You made everything feel easy. But lately, being around you hadn’t felt easy—it felt... intense. 

And ever since Jake had made that dumb “are you dating” comment, the idea had rooted itself in his brain like a stubborn weed. He tried to shake it, but it kept growing. Fast.

He used to think about you in a simple way—someone he could count on. Someone who’d be there with snacks and jokes and glittery signs with his name. But now?

Now he couldn’t stop thinking about the tiny flecks of color in your eyes. Or how your laugh made his chest feel tight. Or how you’d smiled up at him after fixing his collar like you had no idea he was short-circuiting.

He groaned again and rolled onto his stomach.

This was bad. He was in trouble.

—-

Across town, in a room filled with fluffy pillows and heartbreak, you were also wide awake.

Staring at the ceiling. Then the wall. Then your blanket. Then the ceiling again.

You sighed and ran your fingers over the threads of your comforter like they held answers the universe refused to give.

Everything reminded you of Heeseung. Your school notes. Your chipped nail polish. The way your lamp was slightly tilted—he was the one who’d knocked it over during your last movie night.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Was this what pining felt like? Not just the longing or the ache—but the sheer, annoying presence of him in everything? Your brain had become a highlight reel of his smiles, his voice, his laugh. It was embarrassing.

Still… there was a part of you that wondered.

Maybe he felt it too.

You weren’t imagining it, right? The way he looked at you lately—like he was really seeing you. The way his fingers had lingered on your arm a little longer than necessary. The way he had remembered your test, remembered your nerves, and had been genuinely proud of you.

Your heart did a stupid, hopeful little flutter.

But the thought of confessing? Saying it out loud?

You rolled onto your side and buried your face in a pillow.

What if it changed everything? What if he didn’t feel the same? What if he looked at you like you were ridiculous—or worse, like you were just some girl with a dumb, one-sided crush?

Still.

What if he did feel something?

You both lay in your beds that night, across the city, wrapped in your own blankets and your own thoughts—completely unaware that the other was doing the exact same thing.

Thinking about you.

Thinking about him.

—

“Hey, look who it is!” Jake nudged Heeseung with his elbow, already grinning like a devil who’d spotted drama on the horizon.

You looked up, eyes widening as you spotted the two of them heading toward you. There was no time to escape. No possible exits. Just Heeseung, Jake, and a hallway suddenly way too small.

You and Heeseung locked eyes.

And just like that, the walk home replayed itself in your head. The brush of his hand against yours. The weight of your bag over his shoulder. The way he’d looked at you when you smiled at him. You swallowed.

“Uh… hey,” you said, lifting a small, awkward wave. Your voice came out two pitches too high, like someone had sat on the remote.

“Hey,” Heeseung replied, mirroring your stiffness with a half-hearted wave of his own. He was smiling, kind of, but it was tight—uncertain. His heart was pounding. His brain? Completely blank.

Jake, of course, was having the time of his life. “Wow,” he said cheerfully. “This is fun.”

“I—I have to go to the restroom!” you blurted, pointing wildly in the wrong direction before fleeing like a sitcom character mid-episode.

Heeseung stood there, watching you disappear around the corner, every nerve in his body buzzing. His legs felt like jelly. His chest? Tense. His thoughts? Loud.

By the time he stumbled into the locker room, he collapsed dramatically onto the floor like a man defeated.

“I think…” he muttered into the floor, “I might have feelings for her.”

Jake, already sprawled on the coach’s beanbag, didn’t even flinch. He was too busy chewing on a piece of licorice to care.

“Oh, welcome to the club,” he said, voice muffled. “I’ve been a member since the year you told her she looked pretty in green face paint during our third-grade Wicked play.”

Heeseung didn’t react. He just stood up and started pacing—back and forth, back and forth—like his thoughts might rearrange themselves if he walked hard enough.

“I—no, I really like her, Jake.”

Jake raised a hand lazily, like a talk show host mid-monologue. “Please. Continue. This is riveting.”

“I just... I don’t get it. I didn’t realize it before, but now? Now I can’t stop thinking about her. Everything reminds me of her. Like, she fixed my collar yesterday and I think I blacked out for a second.”

Jake popped another licorice into his mouth. “Gross. Cute. But gross.”

“I feel like,” Heeseung continued, running a hand through his hair, “when she’s around, everything just makes sense. And when she’s not? It’s like something’s missing. It’s stupid.”

“Cringe,” Jake said dramatically, slumping deeper into the beanbag. “Do all crushes feel this emotionally inconvenient? If so, I want out.”

Heeseung shot him a glare. “Are you ever helpful?”

“Emotionally? No,” Jake said with a straight face. “But I do hand out brutal honesty like candy.”

Heeseung groaned, flopping onto the bench next to him. “What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I tell her and she— I don’t know—ghosts me?”

Jake rolled his eyes. “You’re being ridiculous. You’ve been losing your mind for days because she didn’t bring you water after practice. You have hands. Hydrate yourself.”

Heeseung let out a pained noise and buried his face in his hands.

“Just tell her,” Jake said with a shrug. “Worst case, she doesn’t feel the same. But I’m 99.7% sure she does.”

“Oh yeah?” Heeseung muttered into his palms. “And what if I look like an idiot?”

Jake leaned back, tossed a licorice stick in the air, and caught it with practiced ease. “Buddy, you already look like an idiot. Might as well make it romantic.”

Heeseung lifted his head just enough to glare at him.

Jake grinned. “Start simple. Tell her she’s cute. That’s it. It works. Trust me.”

Heeseung blinked. “That’s it? Just ‘you’re cute’?”

Jake nodded. “You’d be shocked how well that lands when you mean it.”

Heeseung stared at him, unconvinced. “You’ve said that to how many people?”

Jake smirked. “Doesn’t matter. It’s worked every time. I am very charming.”

Heeseung groaned again. “I’m not you, Jake.”

Jake sighed dramatically. “Yeah, I know. Which is why this is a 50-50 shot for you. But hey—if you don’t end up with her, can I ask her out?”

Heeseung shot him a death glare.

“Just kidding,” Jake said quickly. Then he paused. “Mostly.”

—-

It all started during lunch.

Jake leaned across the table, eyes gleaming with evil genius energy. “Operation ‘Make Them Walk Home Together So They Finally Kiss or at Least Make Prolonged Eye Contact Without Panic’ is officially in motion.”

Jay blinked. “That's… a terrible name.”

Sunghoon took a bite of his sandwich. “I kinda love it.”

Jake waved a hand. “Name pending. Point is—we trap them. She thinks she’s walking with you two. He thinks he’s walking with me. And then? We disappear. Vanish. Leave them alone. Together. With no backup.”

Jay tilted his head. “And what? Hope the romantic tension forces a confession?”

Jake smirked. “Exactly.”

Sunghoon raised a brow. “This feels like emotional entrapment.”

“It is. And it’s working,” Jake said proudly. “Heeseung’s got it so bad he thought she had a thing for you.”

Sunghoon choked. “Me?”

Jay snorted into his drink. “You do ruffle her hair a lot.”

“Because she’s cute! Like a little puppy!” Sunghoon exclaimed, scandalized.

Jake shrugged. “Well, he’s spiraling. Yesterday he saw you hand her a pen and he went silent for ten whole seconds.”

Sunghoon blinked. “That’s... tragic.”

Jay leaned back in his chair, visibly entertained. “I’m in. For the record, not because I care, but her whining is starting to affect my appetite.”

“Same,” said Sunghoon. “We were on FaceTime for 2 hours and most of it was about Heeseung. I fell asleep after 10 minutes.”

Jake clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Gentlemen, you know your roles. Subtle distraction, coordinated exit, zero guilt.”

Jay raised a brow. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“I’ve earned it,” Jake said, already standing. “He stole my last banana milk. This is revenge and service to the nation.”

—-

“Crap,” he muttered. “I forgot my earbuds in the music room.”

Jay snapped his fingers. “Oh shoot. Me too. I left my jacket in the library.”

You raised a brow. “You two always forget things at the same time.”

They both grinned. Suspiciously.

“It’s twin telepathy,” Jay said, winking.

“You’re not twins,” you deadpanned.

“We are in spirit,” Sunghoon added, already stepping backward toward the school building.

Before you could protest, they were both jogging away, waving casually.

“We’ll catch up!” Jay called over his shoulder.

“We swear!” Sunghoon added.

You stood there for a moment, blinking in confusion. “...Okay?”

Then you turned around.

And there he was.

Heeseung.

Standing a few feet away, also holding his bag, looking around like he had just been ditched by someone.

Your eyes met.

Both of you froze.

Heeseung blinked. “Wait… where’s Jake?”

“I... thought he was with you?”

He furrowed his brows. “He texted me like five minutes ago saying we’d walk home together.”

You glanced down at your phone, where a suspiciously vague message from Sunghoon read: “Don’t wait for us. You got this.”

Your stomach dropped.

You looked back up at Heeseung. His phone buzzed. He checked it, then looked at you with slowly widening eyes.

Jake’s message: “Have fun ;)”

There was a beat of silence.

You both stood there.

Just you.

And Heeseung.

And an entire empty sidewalk.

“Oh,” you said softly.

Heeseung scratched the back of his neck. “So... I guess we’re walking together.”

You gave a weak laugh. “Guess we are.”

Silence.

Then, at the exact same time:

“You don’t have to if—” “We can walk separately if—”

You both stopped.

Then laughed.

And for a moment, just a moment, the awkwardness melted. Heeseung smiled—not his usual big grin, but something softer. Warmer. Like he wasn’t so mad about being ditched.

“Let’s just walk,” he said. “Might as well.”

And even though your heart was pounding and you were still very much aware that your so-called friends had just shoved you into a live wire of unresolved tension...

You nodded.

“Yeah. Okay.”

So you walked.

Side by side.

You weren’t sure how Jay and Sunghoon managed to get you walking next to Heeseung but you were sure it had something to do with Heeseung’s ratty friend Jake.

Heeseung shuffled beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets, trying to ignore the weird tension in the air. You, on the other hand, kept your eyes fixed on the road ahead, trying to think of something to say, but nothing came out. It was funny how just a few days ago, this silence would’ve been comfortable—soft, even. But now it felt a little too loud. A little too full.

Suddenly, Heeseung’s foot caught on a small rock, and before he could stop it, he stumbled forward, arms flailing like one of those inflatable tube men outside a car dealership.

“Hee!” you yelped, half-laughing, half-panicked.

Heeseung straightened up, cheeks flushed, but laughing anyway. “Oh, so now you’re laughing at my near-death experience?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—are you okay?” you teased, though you made no effort to hide your giggles.

“Yeah,” he nodded, brushing imaginary dust off his knees. “Just bruised my pride, that’s all. I think the rock has a vendetta.”

The laughter between you settled, but the tension lingered like steam on a bathroom mirror. You shifted on your feet, exhaling softly. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been acting weird. I’ve just been… going through some stuff.”

Heeseung tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What kind of stuff?”

You shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” he nudged your shoulder gently. “You used to tell me everything. Even the time you cried because your goldfish ignored you for two days.”

“Nugget was emotionally manipulative,” you mumbled.

Heeseung grinned. “Still, I miss that. Not Nugget—just... when you talked to me.”

Your cheeks burned. You ducked your head. “It’s just... a little personal.”

Heeseung narrowed his eyes playfully. “Like, family personal? Friends personal? Or…” He leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was about to drop a bombshell. “Boy problems?”

You cleared your throat, refusing to meet his eyes. “I guess… the last one?”

He went still beside you.

“Oh…” he said, and his voice had that very specific tone guys get when they’re trying to sound neutral but are actually spiraling.

“So you’re going out with someone?”

“What?! No!” You waved your hands frantically. “I just… I don’t know. It’s stupid. I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

“Oh, come on. Please?” he stopped in his tracks, grabbing both your hands in his and squeezing them dramatically. “I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t know. Think of my well-being.”

You sighed, glancing away. “Fine. It’s just… I think I like someone, and I’m not sure how to tell him.”

Heeseung swore he felt his soul leave his body. You liked someone? Was it… Was it that no-good, pretty-boy Park Sunghoon? Heeseung should’ve stuck with ballet when he was five. Or maybe joined drama. Something, anything, to compete.

“Is it Sunghoon?” he asked before he could stop himself.

You blinked at him, then let out a laugh that was way too loud for the empty sidewalk. “Ew?! No!”

He looked utterly baffled. “What? You’ve been hanging out with him a lot lately, and he’s always ruffling your hair and whatever.”

“He’s just a friend, Hee,” you said gently. But when your eyes dropped to the pavement, something about it made his stomach twist.

A silence settled between you before Heeseung cleared his throat, voice a little hoarse. “Well… you should just tell him.”

You raised a brow. “Oh, should I?”

He nodded, trying to keep his tone even. “Yeah. You’re... pretty. Funny. Smart. If he doesn’t like you back, then he’s probably an idiot. Or stupid. Or a fool.” He paused. “Or all three. Simultaneously.”

You snorted. “Funny you’d say that.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing!” You waved it off. “What about you? What would you do if you liked someone?”

Heeseung hummed, pretending to think. “I’d probably always wanna hang out with them. Walk them home.”

You nodded. “Mhm.”

“Have them at all my basketball games. Cheering me on.”

“Right, you wouldn’t want your girlfriend missing those,” you mused.

He nodded solemnly. “Yeah. And it’d totally suck if she stopped showing up to practice too. Especially when the whole team’s used to seeing her in the bleachers... eating snacks loudly.”

“I see how that would suck,” you said, biting your lip to hide a grin.

“I’d also wanna protect her. From oncoming bikes. Sudden rainstorms. Teachers who give pop quizzes.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Protect her from quizzes? What is this, magical girlfriend armor?”

Heeseung smirked. “Exactly. I’d be her human shield.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was thudding in your chest.

“And in case she’s, I don’t know... absolute trash at directions?” he continued. “I’d wait for her. Walk her home. Walk her wherever she wanted to go. Be her personal GPS. And not even charge her.”

You muttered, “Wow. What a bargain.”

“I’d also probably carry her bag,” he added, like it was a casual afterthought—as if he wasn’t literally carrying yours right now.

You puffed your cheeks, trying to play it cool. “Okay, let’s move on to the next topic.”

“I kinda like this topic, though.”

“We get it. You’ll treat her like a princess,” you mumbled.

Heeseung laughed. “How are you not getting it?”

“Getting what?”

“Alright, fine. Let’s make it easier.” He took a deep breath and started counting on his fingers. “Who has never missed a single one of my basketball games?”

You squinted. “Uh... Jake?”

He facepalmed. “Someone not on the team.”

“Me?” you blinked. “I don’t under—”

“Who has no sense of direction?”

“Me?”

“And who always helps that person find their way?”

“You?”

He gave you a flat look. “So... do you catch my drift?”

You stared at him blankly. “No?”

He groaned. “Okay. Last question. Whose bag am I carrying right now?”

“…Mine?”

He smiled at you, exasperated and fond. “Exactly.”

Your heart pounded in your chest like it was trying to make a dramatic exit.

So, hesitantly, you whispered, “What are you saying?”

Heeseung let out a breath, dragging a hand through his hair. Then, like it physically hurt him to keep it in a second longer, he blurted, “For god’s sake, I’m telling you I’m in love with you.”

Your breath caught.

“I. Love. You,” he repeated, staring at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh.”

Heeseung groaned loudly, dragging his hands down his face. “Oh? That’s it? After all that?!”

“I—I mean—” You sputtered, brain rebooting. “I didn’t think—”

“God, you’re so dense,” he muttered, but the way he said it was so soft it made your knees weak.

You swallowed. “Say it again.”

He paused, then leaned in slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. “I love you.”

You grinned, cheeks on fire. “Good. Because the guy I like is you.”

Heeseung blinked. “Yeah. I know.”

Your jaw dropped. “Am I that obvious?”

“No, but I kinda figured when you started scowling after the third time I described how I’d treat my ‘potential girlfriend.’”

You let out a groan, covering your face. “Ugh.”

He laughed, slinging an arm over your shoulders like he’d been waiting years to do that. “It was cute. You’re cute.”

“You can’t blame me for overthinking when you—YOU!” You jabbed a finger at him. “You told Jake I was just a friend!”

Heeseung froze, eyes wide. “You heard that?!”

You nodded—hard. “Word for word. ‘She’s cute, a great friend, but I don’t see her that way.’ Ring any bells?”

He winced like he’d just been personally attacked by a ghost of his own idiocy. “Okay, wow. That sounded so much worse than I meant—”

“You think?” you snapped, crossing your arms tightly. “Do you know what it’s like to hear the person you’ve liked for years say something like that? To be standing there, holding your dumb varsity jacket like some lovesick intern, while you laugh at the idea of liking me?”

Heeseung opened his mouth, but you weren’t done.

“You don’t get to say you love me now and expect it to just erase that.”

His face dropped. For a moment, he looked completely lost for words—completely unlike the smug, charming boy who used to ruffle your hair and make your heart do gymnastics.

“I know,” he said finally, voice soft. “I know I messed that up. I thought... if I said it out loud, it’d make it less real. That if I kept calling you my best friend, I wouldn’t have to deal with how badly I wanted more.”

You blinked, arms slowly falling to your sides.

“I didn’t get it until you weren’t there,” he continued, gaze fixed on yours. “Until I looked for you everywhere and hated that you weren’t looking for me back. That you weren’t smiling at me like you used to. That you started smiling at Sunghoon instead—who, by the way, I totally thought you had a crush on, which sent me into a minor emotional spiral.”

You snorted before you could stop yourself. “You spiral?”

“I laid on the locker room floor for twenty-five minutes while Jake threw licorice at my face.”

That image alone almost broke your resolve.

Almost.

“I need you to know,” Heeseung said, his voice gentler now, “I was scared. But that doesn’t make it fair to you. And I don’t expect you to forget it overnight. But I meant what I said. I love you. Stupidly. Probably too much. And I’ll wait for you to believe that.”

You stared at him. And he stared back—like he didn’t mind if you took a second or an hour or a whole year to respond. As long as you were looking at him again.

Your heart beat so loud, you were almost sure he could hear it.

You swallowed. “Dropping the L-word before our first date is kinda crazy.”

Heeseung gave a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his neck. “Right. Sorry. I should’ve started with ‘like.’”

You looked down at the ground, then back up at him.

And smiled—softly, finally. “No. I like crazy.”

[godricgryffinsnore]

I HAVE ANOTHER REQUEST FOR YOUUUU IF YOU FEEL SO INCLINED 🥰

i’m imagining bestfriend!remus x reader paired together in potions brewing amortentia. and reader is internally like, oh that’s funny it kinda smells like him. omg wait no it REALLY smells like him. and she has this whole silent epiphany that it’s always been remus

and remus is standing right there, maybe having the same realization in his own mind

up to you if you wanna write a confession scene too!! i’ll devour anything you post 🩷🩷

It's Always Been You ♡ : A Remus Lupin Fan Fiction.

pairing : Remus Lupin x bestfriend!reader

summary : A slow-burn, best-friends-to-lovers tale where a simple potions class reveals long-buried feelings, leaving two hearts fumbling through confusion, warmth, and the undeniable pull of something that’s always been there.

warnings : Extreme fluff, Best friends-to-lovers tension, soft, tender confession, shy, vulnerable Remus. Please let me know if I missed any.

author's note : English is not my first language, so please forgive me for any grammatical errors or spelling errors. Re-blogging is completely fine with me, but please don't copy my work. I love you all. Enjoy <3.

Word Count : 2k

main master list <3

della's note : I think I got a little carried away while writing, cause this request really made me imagine the soft banter and shy Remus things. I loved writing for this, you know? Again, I really hope this reaches your expectations, Sunny. You are an angel. Thank you for sending me this request, beautiful. @sunflowersonatas

banner : @anitalenia and @roseschoices

The dungeon is heavy with steam and candlelight, the golden glow smearing over the stone walls in syrupy ribbons. The cauldrons bubble lazily, swirling with pale lilac and silver, exhaling slow plumes of fragrant steam. The faint clatter of glass and mortar hums in the background, but you barely hear it over the dull roar in your ears.

Because your potion smells like Remus. And it’s really starting to freak you out.

At first, it’s nothing more than a brush of familiarity—a vague scent clinging faintly to the rising mist. Something warm and faintly sweet. Familiar, but not immediately recognizable.

You lean over the cauldron slightly, inhaling again.

And this time, it hits you square in the chest.

Wool scarves and firewood. The faint trace of chocolate he always carries in his pocket. The sharp, smoky sweetness of clove lingering on his cardigan. The paper-and-ink scent of the library corner he always claims.

Oh. Oh, Merlin. You stir the cauldron again, blinking rapidly.

Your fingers tighten around the wooden spoon. No. No, no, no.

Because surely this is a coincidence. A fluke. Surely amortentia isn’t sitting here, mocking you with the exact scent of your best friend. The boy you’ve known since you were practically children. The one whose worn-out jumpers you’ve stolen without thinking twice. The one whose voice is stitched into the fabric of your every memory.

You glance at him, pulse stuttering violently. And then you see it.

The faint crease between his brows. The subtle parting of his lips. The way his hands have completely stilled around the mortar. His knuckles flex once, then twice, gripping the stone edge a little too tightly.

Oh, Merlin. He smells you too.

His eyes are wide, a little frantic, his jaw slackened with dawning realization. His breath leaves him in a faint, uneven exhale, eyes flickering uncertainly between you and the cauldron.

Neither of you move.

You are absolutely going to throw up.

Your heart slams so violently against your ribs you’re almost certain the entire classroom can hear it. You stare at him, mortified, blinking like you might somehow wake yourself from this slow-motion nightmare.

Remus stares back.

And then— Because the universe is cruel and spiteful— Your professor’s voice cuts through the haze.

“Lovely work, you two,” Slughorn beams fondly, leaning over your cauldron. “Such a perfect shade of pearl—textbook, really. Five points to Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Keep it up.”

He wanders off without another word, and you and Remus remain exactly as you are: paralyzed, stiff as corpses, faces slightly flushed, and looking very much like you’ve both been slapped with a Beater’s bat.

You exhale sharply, finally breaking the stare, trying to focus on your hands.

Which is, apparently, the exact moment Sirius Black and James Potter decide to materialize at your table.

Sirius appears first, leaning his entire weight over Remus’s shoulder, nearly sending him face-first into the cauldron. “Fancy that,” he drawls, dramatically squinting into the shimmering steam. “If my nose isn’t mistaken—which, let’s be honest, it never is—this rather smells like the entire essence of Lupin himself.”

Remus shoots him a look of absolute, bone-deep betrayal.

James, not to be outdone, slides in beside you, draping an arm over your shoulder like he’s known you for a decade longer than he actually has. “Fascinating,” he muses, inhaling deeply with exaggerated theatrics. “I dunno, Pads, but I’m getting a whiff of something quite reminiscent of our Moony. Could be my imagination. But—” he inhales again, obnoxiously loud, “—nope. Definitely smells like our dear Remus. Weird.”

You gape at him, scandalized. “Potter.”

“Moony,” Sirius grins, leaning heavily into Remus, who is now pale and glaring daggers into the middle distance, clearly rethinking every life choice that led him to this moment. “You wouldn’t happen to have been brewing a love potion with your favorite person in the entire world, would you? Surely not.”

James makes a mock gasp, gripping your shoulder with faux devastation. “Merlin’s beard. Do you think—? No. No, they wouldn’t. They couldn’t.” He shakes his head, eyes wide. “There’s simply no way that the two of you have been pining like lovesick, moronic sheep for years, only to have this very public, very embarrassing epiphany during a school-sanctioned activity. Right?”

You want the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

You shove James off your shoulder, your face practically molten. “Get out.”

“Now, now.” Sirius raises both hands, grinning wolfishly. “I’m just saying—this is awfully convenient. Almost like it’s been... planned.” His grin widens, sharp and dangerous, eyes glinting. “Planned, James.”

You blink. Remus blinks.

And then it hits you.

“Oh, you didn’t,” Remus says flatly, voice low with warning.

James and Sirius exchange a slow, self-satisfied look. “Oh, we did,” James confirms.

You stare at them, blinking dumbly. “You—you had a bet?”

Sirius clutches his chest dramatically, grinning like a madman. “Oh, darling, not just a bet. The bet.” He levels you both with a self-satisfied smirk. “Fifty galleons. That’s how long we’ve been watching you two idiots make heart-eyes at each other from across the common room.”

Remus lets out a soft, strangled noise of betrayal. “Fifty?”

James shrugs, far too smug. “To be fair, Peter thought it would happen last Christmas, so he’s out.”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, burying your face in your hands.

Sirius claps Remus on the back with far too much force, nearly sending him into you. “Cheer up, Moony. You finally got the girl. And you won us fifty galleons.”

“Fifty galleons I fully intend to spend on chocolate,” James adds, glancing at Remus with mock pity. “Sorry, mate. You were the last to know.”

Remus mutters something incoherent beneath his breath and promptly drops his forehead onto your shoulder, grumbling softly into the fabric of your robe.

And you—because you love him, because you always have—simply grin into his hair, fingers softly threading through it, quietly grateful that, for once, they were right.

── .✦

The dungeon is still thick with steam and the faint, honeyed glow of candlelight when Sirius and James finally make their grand exit, cackling like lunatics and loudly debating which Honeydukes chocolate is worthy of their newly won fifty galleons.

They leave the two of you behind—flushed, mortified, and still reeling.

For a long moment, neither of you speak. The dungeon hums faintly around you—the bubbling of forgotten cauldrons, the distant scrape of chairs, the murmur of students packing up their things. It all feels muffled somehow—far away and unimportant.

Because he’s still holding your hand. And you’re still holding his.

His fingers are warm and slightly calloused, trembling faintly where they’re laced between yours. You feel his thumb—slow, barely perceptible—brush ever so lightly along the inside of your wrist.

And you know he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

You glance at him cautiously. His eyes are fixed somewhere on the table, pointedly not looking at you. His face is flushed, faint pink crawling steadily over his cheekbones, dusting the tips of his ears. His throat works around a faint swallow.

You exhale softly, your voice barely above a murmur. “Remus.”

His eyes snap up at the sound of his name. And oh.

The moment your gaze meets his, something in your chest caves violently.

Because his eyes—those soft, golden eyes—are wide and unguarded, darkened slightly with something tender and unfamiliar, something almost fragile. His lashes flutter slightly, gaze flickering between your lips and your eyes like he’s already memorizing the distance.

He looks at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky.

And suddenly, you don’t think you can breathe properly.

His lips part slightly, but he says nothing at first—his throat bobbing with an uneven swallow. When he speaks, his voice is low and unsteady, a little breathless, as though he’s only just found it.

“I, um…” He clears his throat softly, but it doesn’t help. His voice is still rough, still trembling faintly. His eyes flicker to where your hands are still laced, then back to your face, and he lets out a weak, breathless laugh. “I—I’m, um. Not very good at this, you know.”

You watch him—his eyes so unsure, so vulnerable—as though he’s bracing for you to step back. As though he’s already preparing himself for the possibility that you might let go.

You tighten your grip instead.

His lips part slightly at the gesture, eyes flashing briefly with something startled—something helpless and adoring. His breath catches.

And then, in a voice so soft and hesitant you almost miss it, he murmurs, “But it’s always been you.”

Your breath hitches.

His eyes flicker downward, his hand tightening faintly around yours like he’s afraid you might slip through his fingers. His voice is barely a breath.

“I—I didn’t even know when it started.” He lets out a faint, shaky laugh—wet and self-conscious. “Maybe it was the first time you fell asleep on my shoulder in the library. Or—or when you hexed that Slytherin who called me a monster in third year.” His lips twitch faintly, voice softening. “Or maybe it was the time you made me that ridiculous scarf for Christmas—the one with the crooked stitches that you insisted was ‘fashionably uneven.’”

You let out a breathless laugh, your eyes burning with warmth.

His fingers tighten faintly around yours, trembling slightly. His eyes—soft and uncertain and so very full—lift slowly to yours, his voice dropping to nothing more than a whisper.

“But I know now.” His throat works faintly, voice hoarse. “I know because—because it hurts to look at you sometimes. Like—like it’s too much. Like you’re sunlight and I can’t stop staring, even when it burns.”

Your chest constricts violently.

His voice shakes slightly when he exhales. “And I—I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to lose you. You’re my best friend.” His lips twitch faintly, but the smile is weak—sad around the edges. “And I was terrified. Terrified that if you knew—if you ever knew—it would ruin everything.”

He exhales shakily, voice so soft it’s almost pleading. “But I can’t—” His breath catches. “I can’t not say it anymore.”

Your lips part slightly, your breath stalling, but he keeps going—because he has to—because if he doesn’t get it out now, he’s afraid he never will.

“I love you,” he whispers, voice breaking slightly on the words, raw and breathless. His eyes squeeze shut for half a second before fluttering open again—vulnerable and wide, searching yours. “I love you. I—I think I’ve loved you forever.”

You stare at him—his wide, trembling eyes, the faint flush blooming high on his cheekbones, the subtle, terrified way his fingers tighten around yours—and you wonder how you ever thought he was anything less than devastating.

Your breath catches violently in your throat. And then, you kiss him.

You lean forward suddenly—without thinking, without breathing—and press your lips to his, desperate and unsteady and so terribly sure.

He makes a faint, startled sound against your mouth—a sharp inhale, almost a gasp—but then he’s kissing you back with everything he has, hands coming up to cradle your face, trembling and reverent.

His lips are warm and gentle, tasting faintly of chocolate, moving against yours like he’s afraid to break you. You feel his hand trembling faintly against your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with unbearable gentleness.

And when you finally break apart, you’re both breathless—foreheads pressed together, chests heaving faintly.

You blink at him, eyes glassy with warmth. “You’re such an idiot,” you whisper softly, breathless and laughing.

His lips twitch faintly, breath escaping in a trembling laugh. “I know.”

You let out a soft, disbelieving laugh, brushing your nose against his, your eyes still half-lidded and glowing with warmth. “I love you too, you absolute idiot.”

And oh— The way he breaks at your words.

His eyes flutter shut, breath hitching audibly, and he exhales faintly against your mouth, voice cracking softly when he whispers, “You do?”

You nod, laughing faintly, your fingers threading softly through his hair. “Always,” you murmur. “Always.”

And this time, when he kisses you, it’s slow and lingering, sweeter than anything you’ve ever known. His hands cradle your face like you’re something fragile and holy—something he intends to hold forever.

And in that moment, you know— You always have.

[kittykittyneowmeow69]

Keep me, please (I I)

MDNI

John Price x reader with a cheating husband

PART 2 >> PART 1

Price finds a pretty little thing, only to learn that she is married, the caveat being her husband is cheating on her.

Cw: cheating (not between mc’s) , sleepy sex, unprotected PIV, oral (!f) , daddy kink (😝), aftercare

Notes: I got a bit carried away, so there will be a part 3 , where he fucks her in her marital bed lol.

He pieces you together afterwards—putting a glass of water to your lips as you drink it with big thirsty gulps, wiping away your tears with a warm washcloth, between your legs—considers getting an ice pack for your sore pussy but decides against it when you cling to him, limp arms reaching, pulling him closer.

“ baby , I’m not going anywhere”— he rumbles , with you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, fingers knotting into the dark curls on his chest, half of your body onto his, inhaling his heady,loamy scent, as a rough hand caresses your back. Sleep slowly overtakes you —soft warm cheek rested on his cushiony pec, fucked out and in bliss.

The weight of your limp, boneless body on top of him—the cute little pucker of your lips, soft even breaths as your chest rises and falls—fully sated—his cum still leaking out of your hole, fires the want in him to own,to possess beyond the confines of his self control.

So, the reality of you still being married, still cohabitating, having his —your husband’s— last name, makes his palms itch, makes the thorn buried deep inside his brain sting and throb, makes him want to sort it out the only way he knows how.

Then , there is the image of your woeful misty eyes, lash line barely containing the storm inside of your little heart, the furrow of your eyebrows as you tried your hardest to keep all the tiny broken pieces together on your lunches(courtship) with him. He barely contained the urge to scruff you by the nape of your neck, drag you home, to his bed, where you belong, have always belonged.

But— you choosing this, choosing him, chanting “keep me please”, little cunt clenching, moulding to his thick cock, milking him, filled with his spend , is cathartic , eases at least some of his homicidal tendencies.

Besides, the idea of you being tainted, directly or indirectly with even a lick of violence, of blood on your manicured paws is enough to stop John from killing him, he will take care of him, oh he will, just in other ways.

—————————

It’s still dark outside.

You wake up slick with sweat , blistering hot— a heavy arm wrapped around you ,weighing you down, furry thick chest plastered to your back, half hard prick nudging your lower back and him —snoring like a big hibernation bear against the crown of your head.

Your heart is rabbit quick, as sleep slides off you and the realisation sinks in—you are not in your bed, that you are naked and in John’s arms, the only other man you have slept with beside you soon to be ex-husband.

Guilt , something you know you should feel is absent, it’s been a long time since you have felt desired, felt intimacy, felt need this thick. The degradation of your relationship began long ago, the touches, the love, the want slowly dissipating as teenage lovers evolved into full fledged adults. You are still young, some would say too young to have been married and the idea of spending your entire life in a distant, fractured relationship had been eating at you for quite a while now. Then he cheated, the hurt, the gut wrenching , heart-ache was all consuming but somehow, also tinged in relief, that you finally had a reason to get out, and as the stars so aligned, that reason manifested itself into, John.

“ mm it’s early, baby” — he rumbles into your nape, voice thick with sleep, placing a hot wet kiss on it. You stir against him, rump brushing his cock, which causes him to pull you further into him, heavy arm wrapped around you trapping you under his bulk.

“Uhmm John ” you whisper as his big paw fondles your breast, worrying your nipple between his knuckles, pinching it ,extracting sleepy little ‘ah’s from you. Slowly, his hand slides down, dragging across your belly until he cups your mound.

He Stays like that for a while, kissing, licking the sweat off your nape, the curve of your neck. One thick finger slides in-between your lips as he rubs the tiniest half circles around your clit.

The light hum of pleasure lulls you into a daze, eyelids slowly getting heavier, as you breathe evenly, letting him touch you, play with you as he pleases. He jiggles your clit faster, syrupy pleasure engulfing you until your breath hitches, body tensing as you come, jolting you at first then lulling you back into a deeper cottony haze.

“m’ sore Daddy”— you whimper when he slides one thick finger inside your hole. He shifts you more onto your belly—his bulk pressing you into the mattress, with his finger massaging the little spongy spot inside you, getting you worked up so you are slick for him.

“Mmm baby, will be nice and gentle, ok?” He rumbles, notching his head against your hole.

The initial stretch, burns,makes your toes curl, as you whimper into the pillow. “Shh baby, let Daddy take care of you hmmm”— he drawls into your cheek as he slowly feeds his cock into your cunt, letting you squirm and tremble under him, get acclimated to the stretch.

He goes slow, so slow, taking you through it— “doing so well for Daddy baby”—as he ruts into you almost leisurely, letting you clench around him, pull him in deeper, feel the warm wet squeeze of your cunt against every vein , every ridge of his thick cock.

The angle knocks the wind out of you, as every thrust rubs against the spongy spot inside of you making you see stars. One deep thrust makes you clench around him hard, as you come, creaming his cock, shaking under him, in your delirium, you bite the pillow—

Which gets you a hard, stern smack on your asscheek, “ None of that love , let me hear you”.

You come for him again soon enough, this time though, you let him hear your little whimpers, “Daddy” rolling of your tongue, like it belongs. You assume he likes it, because his rhythm gets more frantic, as he cums with one last deep thrust, cock head notched against your cervix as big spurts of cum fill you up yet again.

You wince as he pulls out, come flooding out onto the sheets, your pussy all tender. He kisses your cheek, rasping into your skin.

“Going’ to kiss her better in the morning baby, eat your little cunt out, go to sleep now sweetheart”

And you do, nuzzling back into him, letting him wrap you up in his arms again. As you slowly slip back to sleep.

——————————

The bed is empty, you realise—his weight, furnace like heat is missing as you shed the last of sleep. You feel a slight jab, right in the middle of your middle of your chest, a prickle of doubt which holds the possibility of potentially sending you into a spiral that maybe just maybe—now that he has fucked you, he is done with you, that this was all just a hookup.

Every muscle in your body is hurts—almost like the achy feeling after a new workout class.you climb out of the too tall, too big bed, and limp to the en-suit bathroom.

In the bathroom mirror, you look at all the marks on your throat ,the curve of your neck, the slope of your shoulder, the swell of your breast, your lips still swollen and bitten, you turn just a little bit and see little circular bruises on you hips , upper arms.

You thumb a little bruise on your hip, tender warm pain flooding you with a bittersweet longing, a weird reminder of him on you, all the time you have spent with together — the lunches which if you were a little less in denial you would have know were dates all along—after all he paid for them no matter how much you insisted “come on John, just let me pay for once”.

The shower is huge, glass-enclosed, with many little knobs each of which control the fixtures. You fiddle with a few them until you finally are cascaded in warm water, soothing your sore tendons, all the little aches in your body.

There are just two bottles—a body wash, and a shampoo— on the built-in niche. You lather the eucalyptus scented shower gel in between your palms and start rubbing it on, slowly cleaning all the dried cum clinging onto your inner thighs. You are still leaking his cum— after all he came so much and lodged it so deep inside you— wincing as you try your best to get it out of your sore little hole.

( God, you hope your IUD keeps working)

Freshly showered, damp skinned, wrapped in his towel —you find him waiting for you, sitting on the edge of the bed. He is dressed already, in a tight fitted navy shirt and denim jeans.

“ mornin’” you squeak , standing in front of him, all self conscious and unsure.

Relief washes over you as he stands up towering over you, cupping your face and tilting it up so he can place little kisses on your forehead, cheeks , the tip of your nose. He wraps his arms around you, lifting you up, till you are at his eye level—“ mornin’ sweetheart “

Before you know it, the the world spins— with you laying on the bed with John unwrapping the towel, he dips down, lips brushing yours and mumbles—

“Let Daddy kiss you better sweetheart, eat your sore little cunt hmm”

He sits up on his haunches, between your legs, with you laying before him. Big rough hands caress your tender skin, as he slowly traces every curve every dip of your flesh almost as if he is committing you to memory.

He is soft—kissing your seam, beard pricking your sore cunt, letting you grind into his face, with tired little hip rolls, as his nose nudges your clit, he slides his tongue inside of your hole, as you thread your fingers into his hair and come.

—————————-

“Where were you?” —You ask,taking a sip of coffee, sitting across from him on the dining table.

“Getting some of your stuff back home baby”

You look around , tilting your head slightly, and see bags and bags filled with your clothes, from your wardrobe, placed neatly on the couch.

[dearstvckyx]

If you wouldn't take the help? - Quinn Hughes

After a crushing 7-0 loss to the Golden Knights, Quinn Hughes spirals, putting immense pressure on himself and shutting everyone out. When his teammates and coaches fail to get through to him, they call his childhood best friend (the reader) and fly her out from Michigan. She confronts Quinn, reminding him that he can’t become a better player or person if he won’t take the help being offered. He finally lets his guard down, breaking down in her arms. - The Neighbourhood , How

Quinn Hughes x Reader , ft. Canucks players

Warnings: Angst, emotional hurt/comfort, mentions of anxiety, self-imposed pressure.

Note// I got carried away….

The Neighbourhood Lyrics Masterlist - ⌂

The locker room was suffocating.

The air was thick with the stench of sweat and defeat—the kind of defeat that clung to the walls and weighed heavily on everyone’s shoulders.

7-0.

Seven. Nothing.

To Vegas.

It was humiliating.

The Canucks had been completely outplayed. Every shift felt like an uphill battle. The mistakes piled up, one after the other. Turnovers. Bad reads. Missed coverage.

And Quinn Hughes felt every single one of them like a weight on his chest.

He sat on the bench long after the game ended, his skates still on, staring blankly at the floor. The rest of the team had already begun to file out—some hitting the showers, others slumping into their stalls in bitter silence.

But Quinn didn’t move.

He just sat there, his elbows on his knees, his head bowed, fingers tangled in his damp hair.

His chest felt tight. His throat burned. His vision blurred slightly from how hard he was blinking.

His hands curled into fists.

It was my fault.

He knew it wasn’t entirely true. He knew they lost as a team. But in his head, the errors—the ones that led to the goals—were his. The misstep on the blue line. The puck he should have cleared. The coverage he lost track of.

If I had just played better…

The self-loathing festered.

And it didn’t stop.

⸻

The next few days were rough.

Quinn was quieter than usual at practice. More withdrawn. More irritable.

The boys noticed immediately.

Tyler Myers gaze lingered on Quinn when he didn’t so much as crack a smile during a chirp-filled drill. Petey gave him wary glances when he noticed Quinn staying late on the ice by himself. Brock tried to get him to go out for dinner after practice, but Quinn just shook his head.

The boys didn’t miss the way he was pulling away.

By the time the next game came around, Quinn was gripping his stick so tightly his knuckles were white. He was trying to play perfectly—too perfectly. Overthinking every pass. Second-guessing every zone entry.

And it made everything worse.

When he sat back down on the bench, after missing 3 passes, he slammed his stick hard against the boards, cursing under his breath.

None of them had ever seen him this rattled.

When the game ended, Quinn left without saying a word.

And that’s when the guys decided enough was enough.

They tried to talk to him—first as teammates, then as friends. Tyler sat with him after practice, offering words of advice that Quinn barely acknowledged. Petey tried to lighten the mood in the locker room, hoping to at least get him to crack a smile. Brock gave him space but kept a watchful eye.

Even Tocchet tried pulling him aside in his office.

But nothing worked.

No matter what anyone said, no matter how much they tried to be there for him, Quinn kept waving them off.

Kept brushing them aside.

Kept saying he was fine.

But he wasn’t.

And when it became clear that Quinn wouldn’t take the help they were offering, the boys made one final call.

To you.

⸻

You barely had time to process it.

You were sitting on your couch in Michigan when your phone rang. The moment you saw Brock’s name flash on the screen, you knew something was wrong.

And before you could even ask, he was already explaining everything—the game, the weight Quinn was carrying, the way he was shutting everyone out.

You didn’t even hesitate.

The next morning, you were on a plane to Vancouver.

⸻

Quinn had no idea you were coming.

He didn’t expect the knock at his apartment door late that night. He figured it was one of the guys. Maybe Brock, checking in again.

So when he swung the door open and saw you standing there, he blinked, stunned.

For the first time in days, he truly didn’t have the words.

“Hey, Q,” you said softly, offering a small smile.

He stared at you for a beat too long.

And then, before you could even say another word, he reached for you.

Without thinking. Without hesitation.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you against him.

And you let out a soft breath against his chest as he clung to you tighter than he probably meant to.

You felt his heart pounding faintly against your cheek, too fast, too unsteady.

For half a second, he didn’t move.

But then you felt it—the slight tremble in his arms.

And you realized he was barely holding it together.

Your arms tightened around him.

“Let me in?” you whispered softly against his collarbone.

Without a word, he stepped back and let you inside.

⸻

You sat cross-legged on the couch while he sat stiffly on the opposite end, his hands running restlessly over his knees.

He was still wearing his hoodie from practice, but his hair was still slightly damp from a recent shower. You could see the faint redness around his eyes—the barely-there evidence of the frustration and exhaustion clinging to him.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

You just watched him.

Watched the way his fingers curled and uncurled. The slight bounce of his knee. The tension in his shoulders.

And finally, softly, you broke the silence.

“You’re shutting them out.”

Quinn’s hands stilled.

“You’re shutting everyone out.”

His eyes flicked to yours for half a second before he shook his head slightly.

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

You stared at him.

“No, you’re not,” you said softly.

He inhaled sharply through his nose, the muscle in his jaw clenching slightly.

You slowly uncrossed your legs, shifting closer, resting a gentle hand over his.

“Quinn,” you whispered. “How do you expect to be a better player… a better person… if you wouldn’t take the help?”

His fingers twitched slightly beneath yours.

And for a second, you thought he was going to brush you off again.

But instead—his face just crumpled.

The tension in his jaw loosened. His shoulders dropped slightly.

And then, without a word, he exhaled shakily, slumping forward.

Your breath caught softly when he leaned into you. His forehead dropped against your shoulder, and you felt his breath hitch unevenly against your collarbone.

Your arms slipped around him immediately, holding him tightly against you.

And for the first time in weeks—he let himself break.

You felt his grip tighten around your waist, his fingers curling into the fabric of your hoodie. His breaths were uneven, shaky, shallow against your neck.

You didn’t say anything.

You just held him.

Your fingers slowly ran through his hair, the way you had when you were kids—the familiar motion easing the tension from his shoulders, loosening the knot in his chest.

After a long moment, you felt him exhale softly, his breath warm against your skin.

You shifted slightly, gently nudging him back just enough to meet his eyes.

And the moment you saw them—red-rimmed, glassy, and vulnerable—you felt your chest tighten.

Your hand slowly slid up to his face, your thumb brushing softly along his cheekbone.

And you saw it—the way his breath caught slightly at your touch.

The way his eyes lingered on your lips for half a second too long.

But neither of you said anything.

You just sat there—his forehead resting against yours, your breaths softly intermingling, hearts barely steadying.

For a fleeting moment, you thought he might kiss you.

You thought about closing the small space between you.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you slowly brushed his hair back from his eyes, your fingers lingering slightly longer than necessary.

And softly, barely above a whisper, you murmured,

“I’ve got you.”

And he believed you.

[yallbaby]

Flicker of attention

Synopsis 𐙚 Lee Heeseung was untouchable—admired by all, close to none. But you weren’t just another admirer. Slowly, your quiet persistence chipped away at his indifference. And when he finally noticed you, everything changed.

Genre /// Fluff, slow burn, fem!reader, pining!reader x popular!heeseung, academic love, library Au ⋆୨ৎ

Author's note : English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes that could've been made. not proofread, feedbacks mean a lot <3

Wc 2.8k ⋆˚.

Lee Heeseung was perfect.

He was the kind of guy who didn’t need to try. The kind who moved through life with an effortless grace, never stumbling. He was tall, with a figure that made him look like he belonged on the cover of a magazine rather than in a cramped high school classroom. His face, sharp and symmetrical, was the type that made people stop and stare. But what made him truly captivating wasn’t just his looks—it was the way he carried himself.

He was intelligent but never boasted about it. Teachers praised him, yet he never sought their approval. He aced tests without studying, as if knowledge simply flowed into his mind. He was athletic but never bragged about his skills. He had a natural talent for everything he touched, from basketball to music, but he never showed off. He was quiet, reserved, and utterly untouchable.

That was what made him so desirable.

Girls admired him from a distance, stealing glances when they thought he wasn’t looking. They whispered about him in hushed voices, fantasizing about what it would be like to be the one to break through his icy exterior. He was the school’s unreachable star—the kind of person who could shatter hearts without even trying.

You were no exception.

You liked him. More than you wanted to admit. But unlike the others who simply admired him from afar, you refused to be just another nameless admirer. You told yourself you were different. That if he just got to know you, if he saw the real you, he’d realize you weren’t like the rest. That you weren’t just another girl in a sea of admirers hoping for a glance, a smile, a sliver of attention.

But Heeseung?

He didn’t even look at you.

The first time you tried to talk to him, he walked past you like you weren’t even there. As if the words you had worked up the courage to say had evaporated into thin air before they could reach his ears. The second time, he didn’t even bother responding. He didn’t nod, didn’t acknowledge you—nothing. Just silence. As if you were air.

The third time, you were almost sure you heard him sigh before ignoring you altogether. A quiet, nearly imperceptible exhale, like you were nothing more than an inconvenience. Like the very act of acknowledging you would be a waste of his time.

But none of that discouraged you.

If anything, it only made you more determined.

You didn’t throw yourself at him.

You didn’t giggle excessively when he walked by, didn’t fawn over his every move like he was some untouchable deity. You didn’t bat your eyelashes or find excuses to brush your hand against his in the hallways. That wasn’t your style. Instead, you treated him like he was just another classmate—normal, approachable, no different from anyone else.

Casual greetings in the hallway. A quiet “Hey” as you passed him by. Occasional comments during class when you were assigned to the same group, nothing forced, well nothing desperate. You never lingered, never tried too hard. And though Heeseung never acknowledged you at first, never gave you the satisfaction of even a glance, you started to notice.

He didn’t push you away.

If you sat next to him in the library, he didn’t move to another table. If you found yourself walking beside him after school, he didn’t tell you to leave. He never spoke first, never initiated a single interaction, but he never actively avoided you either. It wasn’t much—just tolerance, indifference at best—but in a world where most people didn’t even get that from him, it was something.

That was a start.

One afternoon, you spotted him in the library, his usual spot near the window bathed in golden light. A thick book rested in his hands, his long fingers curled around the edges of the pages. He was always like this—quiet, absorbed, lost in a world far removed from the noise of the school. It made approaching him feel like stepping into sacred territory, but you did it anyway.

"You’re always in the library," you remarked as you slid into the chair across from him, setting your own book down. "You like quiet places?"

For a moment, there was nothing. Just the steady tick of the clock on the wall, the muffled rustling of pages being turned somewhere in the distance. You half-expected him to ignore you like he always did, to pretend you hadn’t spoken at all.

Then—

"Mhm."

It was a single sound. Not really a response, barely even an acknowledgment. But it was the first time he had ever directly communicated to you, and for a fleeting second, you felt like you had won something.

You forced yourself to stay composed, biting back the urge to grin. "I think I do, too," you mused, flipping through the pages of your own book even though you weren’t reading a single word.

Heeseung didn’t reply. He didn’t look at you, didn’t give any indication that he cared whether you stayed or left.

And he didn’t tell you to go.

That itself, felt like a victory.

From that point, your interactions with Heeseung had shifted. While he still didn’t seek out conversations with you, he no longer pretended you weren’t there. Whenever you spoke, he’d offer short, clipped responses, but at least they were responses. There was no longer the stony silence that had greeted you before. In some strange way, it felt like progress.

It was on a quiet afternoon that you found him again in his usual spot by the windows in the library. You had grown accustomed to seeing him there, always surrounded by books, his head down, fingers flipping through pages with a steady precision that seemed almost otherworldly. You wondered how someone could immerse themselves so completely in something, but then again, you didn’t have the luxury of such focus.

Without overthinking it, you walked right up to his table and took a seat across from him. You didn’t even hesitate. If he noticed the way you slid into the chair, he gave no indication, his eyes still glued to his textbook.

"Hey," you said, leaning back in your chair casually. "If I sit here long enough next to you, do you think I’ll absorb some of your genius?"

Heeseung exhaled sharply, a breath that almost sounded like the beginning of a quiet chuckle.

You were encouraged by the sound—anything that wasn’t complete indifference was progress in your book. You took a chance, pushing the conversation further.

"Or maybe... I’m just searching for ways to stay with you," you added, your tone light but with a hint of something deeper. You didn’t know why you said it exactly, but the words left your mouth before you could stop them.

This time, Heeseung’s eyes flickered up from the book. The moment he met your gaze, the air between you seemed to shift. His eyes were no longer distant, but focused, a flicker of something unreadable in them. You could feel the tension growing, the brief silence stretching uncomfortably between you. For a second, you thought he might just go back to ignoring you, but he didn’t.

Instead, he leaned back slightly in his chair, just enough to study you more intently. There was no hint of warmth in his gaze, no invitation to continue. He simply observed you, his face still mostly neutral, but his expression somehow more thoughtful than before. It was as if he was weighing something, trying to figure you out, trying to decide what to make of this little exchange.

You could feel your pulse picking up. Why did it suddenly feel like he was looking through you, as if seeing something you didn’t know you were showing?

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of silence, he spoke, his voice low but clear. "...You’re persistent."

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the sharpness in his tone. For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. His words hung in the air, neither an insult nor an approval, but something in between—an acknowledgment. His eyes still held you captive, a quiet intensity in them that made your stomach do strange things. The weight of his gaze felt different now, like he was seeing more than just your surface.

You tilted your head slightly, trying to keep the lightness in your tone despite the tension building between you. "You say that like it’s a bad thing."

He didn’t immediately respond. He just studied you, his gaze never wavering. It was almost like he was measuring you, piecing something together in his head. His lips parted for a brief second, as if to say something more, but then he paused. His eyes softened just slightly—so subtly that you almost missed it—and with a barely perceptible shake of his head, he spoke again.

"It’s not."

The words were quiet, almost reluctant, but the faint smile that tugged at the corners of his lips was unmistakable. It was small, almost imperceptible, but it was there. The weight in your chest seemed to lift, replaced by something lighter, something that made your heart skip a beat. Was this real? Had Heeseung, the quiet, distant genius, just—smiled at you?

You sat there for a moment, stunned. His gaze was still on you, as if waiting for your reaction. Your mind raced, trying to make sense of it, but all you could focus on was that small, rare smile. It was the first time he’d given you anything like it, and it was more than you had ever expected.

For the first time, you realized you might just be getting somewhere.

From that point on, something shifted between you and Heeseung. It wasn’t drastic, nothing that would make people think you were suddenly best friends, but there were subtle changes. Small shifts that hinted at something more. He still wasn’t particularly warm, not the kind of person who’d start a conversation for no reason, but you noticed. When you spoke, he listened, his eyes moving toward you just a bit faster, his focus a little more evident. When you joked, sometimes—just sometimes—he would smirk, a fleeting curve of his lips that made you wonder if he actually found it amusing. You’d even caught him glancing your way during class, his expression unreadable, but the fact that he was looking was something.

But it was on one particular afternoon when things felt... different.

You had been sitting in your usual spot in the library for weeks now, a quiet observer of the space around you. The routine was comfortable, but today, you didn’t show up. You had something to do, something that took priority, and as you were heading home later that day, you didn’t think much of it. You certainly didn’t expect Heeseung to notice.

But the next day, as you slid into your usual chair across from him, you were met with an unexpected comment.

"You weren’t here yesterday."

It was said so casually, almost offhand, as though he hadn’t been paying attention to you at all, but the words still caught you off guard.

You blinked, looking at him in surprise. "You noticed?"

Heeseung didn’t answer immediately, his gaze lingering on the book in front of him. His fingers fidgeted with the pages, flipping them aimlessly, but there was a slight tension in the way he moved, a hint that maybe he hadn’t been as nonchalant as he appeared. After a brief pause, he finally muttered, "It was quieter than usual."

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. "Oh come on, am I really that annoying to you?"

Heeseung didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the pages in front of him, his expression unchanged. But you could sense a slight shift in the air, a change in the quiet that surrounded you. You waited a beat before deciding to push a little further, just to see what would happen.

With a teasing grin, you leaned forward slightly. "Did you miss me, Heeseung?"

The words hung in the air for a moment, and you almost thought he wouldn’t respond at all. Then, finally, he scoffed, a sound that should’ve been dismissive, but there was no real bite to it. He looked up at you, eyes still distant but... softer than before.

"Don’t push your luck," he said, but the words were half-hearted, and there was something in the way he said it that made you feel like he didn’t mean it at all. It was more of a defense, a small, safe distance he kept between you, just enough to keep the conversation from getting too close.

But you could tell.

He had missed you.

The way his gaze lingered on you, the slight hesitation in his voice, it was all there, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Heeseung might not have said the words outright, but you knew. And that small shift, that barely perceptible change, felt like another step forward.

Maybe you had become a part of his routine after all.

After that, the dynamic between you and Heeseung shifted even more. He didn’t just tolerate your presence anymore—he seemed to expect it. It wasn’t like he went out of his way to ask for your company, but there was something in the air now, a silent understanding. He no longer acted indifferent when you were around, and the subtle tension between you both seemed to have settled into something more familiar, almost comfortable. You’d find yourself slipping into the seat across from him in the library with ease, and he’d never bat an eye. You were part of his routine now, and somehow, that felt like progress.

Then, one afternoon, something happened that you definitely didn’t expect. You were both lost in your books, the quiet hum of the library filling the space between you. The usual silence stretched on until Heeseung’s voice broke it, low and unexpected.

"You’re not like the others."

Your heart skipped a beat. You glanced up at him, blinking in surprise. The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, but Heeseung didn’t look up from his book. You were still caught off guard, unsure of how to respond to such an abrupt observation.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your voice a little softer than usual, as though his words had caught you off guard more than you were willing to admit.

Heeseung didn’t answer immediately, his jaw tensing just slightly, like he was debating whether or not to continue. His fingers absently turned a page in his textbook, but the tension in his posture told you he wasn’t as absorbed in his studies as he appeared to be.

"You don’t try too hard," he finally said, his voice quiet but steady. "You don’t pretend to be something you’re not."

The words hit you harder than you expected. It was a compliment, but it wasn’t said like one. It wasn’t the kind of praise people give when they’re trying to win someone over. No, it felt... genuine. As if Heeseung was acknowledging something about you that he found rare or different.

Warmth spread through your chest, the simple recognition of who you were coming from him settling in a way that made you feel seen. You smiled a little, trying to keep the moment light.

"And?" you teased, leaning in just slightly, your voice playful. "Do you like that about me?"

For a moment, you thought he’d brush it off, like he usually did. Maybe give you a sarcastic remark or a quiet scoff and go back to his book. But Heeseung didn’t do that this time. He paused, his eyes flicking up to meet yours, and the moment his gaze locked with yours, everything seemed to freeze. His eyes were steady, intense, a look you’d never quite seen before. There was something raw in it, something real, that made your breath catch in your throat.

"Maybe," he said, the word so soft, so quiet, you almost wondered if you’d imagined it. His voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of it hung in the air, heavy with something unspoken.

Your heart stopped.

Maybe.

It wasn’t a confession. It wasn’t a promise. It wasn’t a "yes" or a "no." It was just that one word, hanging between you like a delicate thread.

But coming from Heeseung? It was everything.

The way he had looked at you, the way he had said it—like there was something there, something he wasn’t willing to put into words, something more than just indifference or simple acknowledgment.

In that moment, the air between you felt charged, thick with the possibility of more, and you could feel it. Maybe it wasn’t a confession of any kind, but it was a small, fragile step closer to something you hadn’t quite figured out yet.

And for now, it was enough.

[cuddlyeren]

Sketching us back together

After an argument before a friend’s birthday party, Hamzah and Y/N spend the night being petty toward each other. Hamzah, still annoyed, decides to get a caricature drawing with Chase instead of Y/N, knowing she had been looking forward to it. As Hamzah gets his drawing done, guilt starts to eat at him.

(Long fic 3: )

—

The party was already in full swing by the time Y/N and Hamzah arrived, but the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife. They had argued earlier over something small—something that, in hindsight, probably wasn’t worth the cold silence now settling between them. Y/N didn’t want to fight anymore, but Hamzah was still annoyed, his jaw clenched as he walked a step ahead of her into the party.

“Hamzah!” Chase called from across the room, waving him over. Hamzah didn’t hesitate, choosing to head straight toward him instead of lingering near Y/N. She sighed, crossing her arms as she glanced around for Mandy and Martin.

“You two still mad at each other?” Mandy asked as she and Martin approached.

Y/N shrugged. “I don’t even know anymore. He’s just being petty now.”

“Yeah, he is,” Martin agreed, watching as Hamzah and Chase laughed at something across the room.

As the party carried on, Y/N tried to enjoy herself, chatting with a few people and sipping on her drink, but she couldn’t ignore the way Hamzah barely acknowledged her. She could feel his eyes on her sometimes, but every time she looked his way, he was quick to turn back to Chase or someone else.

Then, she noticed the caricature artist set up in one corner, already sketching people. Excitement bubbled in her chest—she had always wanted to get one done with Hamzah. Maybe this could be their way of making up.

She turned to find Mandy and Martin, who had already clocked Hamzah’s behavior.

“Go tell him to come do it with you,” Martin suggested.

“Yeah, it’d be cute,” Mandy added.

Y/N hesitated, glancing at Hamzah, who still looked irritated despite laughing with Chase moments ago. She exhaled and made her way toward him.

“Hey,” she said, standing beside him. “Want to get a caricature together?”

Hamzah barely spared her a glance. “Nah, I’m good.”

Her stomach sank. “Really?”

Chase raised a brow but didn’t say anything.

Martin and Mandy, who had followed behind Y/N, stepped in. “Come on, dude, don’t be lame,” Martin said. “Go with her.”

Hamzah let out a small scoff, then turned to Chase. “Nah, I’ll do it with Chase instead.”

Y/N blinked, the words hitting her harder than she expected. Chase, caught in the middle, looked between them awkwardly. “Uh…, are you sure?”

Hamzah nodded, standing up. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Y/N forced herself to nod, swallowing the lump in her throat as she took a step back. “Got it,” she mumbled, turning away before anyone could see the disappointment on her face.

Mandy nudged Hamzah’s arm, giving him a really? look, but he just shrugged it off, still too caught up in his pettiness to realize what he had just done.

As Y/N walked away, Martin sighed, shaking his head. “Dude, you’re being an idiot.”

Hamzah rolled his eyes, but when he finally looked toward where Y/N had gone, a pang of guilt settled in his chest. Maybe he was being an idiot.

————

Y/N sat on the couch, her arms crossed as she fumed. At first, she had been sad—disappointed that Hamzah was still holding onto their dumb argument—but now? Now, she was pissed. If he wanted to be petty, then fine. Two could play that game.

Mandy sat beside her, sighing. “You good?”

Y/N exhaled sharply. “No, but whatever. If he wants to act like that, I’m not gonna sit around waiting for him to get over it.”

Mandy smirked. “That’s what I like to hear. Come on, let’s go hang with some of the other girls.”

Y/N didn’t hesitate. Together, they made their way to a group of girls who were chatting near the drinks. It didn’t take long before they were all laughing, sipping on their drinks, and enjoying the party. Y/N made sure to be extra engaged, laughing a little louder, smiling a little brighter—just enough so that if Hamzah was watching, he’d know she wasn’t sitting around sulking over him.

Meanwhile, across the room, Hamzah sat beside Chase as the artist worked on their caricature. At first, he had been smug about it, thinking he had won whatever silent battle he was having with Y/N. But as the minutes passed, that feeling faded.

He knew how much Y/N had wanted them to get their caricature done together. She had mentioned it more than once, even getting excited about it before they arrived at the party. And what had he done? Chosen to be petty instead of just letting it go.

Chase, who had been quiet for a bit, finally spoke up. “Hamzah… I feel like you should’ve done this with Y/N.”

Hamzah let out a deep sigh, rubbing his face. “Yeah,” he admitted, glancing toward where she stood with Mandy and the other girls.

He messed up. And now, he had to figure out how to fix it.

——

As soon as the artist handed Hamzah the finished caricature, he barely glanced at it before standing up. The guilt was eating at him, and he knew he had to fix this. He didn’t care how annoyed Y/N was—he wasn’t about to let this drag on any longer.

He scanned the party until his eyes landed on her. She was still with Mandy and the other girls, laughing and looking like she didn’t have a care in the world. But Hamzah knew better. He knew her.

Taking a deep breath, he made his way over, his heart thudding in his chest. As he got closer, Mandy spotted him first. She raised an eyebrow, then subtly shook her head, giving him a clear don’t do it look.

Hamzah hesitated for a second, but he wasn’t about to back down. Ignoring Mandy’s silent warning, he walked right up to Y/N.

“Hey,” he said, standing beside her.

Y/N didn’t even acknowledge him. She kept talking to the girl in front of her as if he weren’t there.

Hamzah clenched his jaw. “Y/N,” he tried again, his voice softer.

Still nothing. She didn’t glance his way, didn’t pause in her conversation—nothing.

Mandy smirked, sipping her drink. “Told you not to come over here.”

Hamzah shot her a glare before turning his attention back to Y/N. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Alright, I get it. You’re mad. But can you at least talk to me?”

Y/N finally turned slightly, just enough to meet his gaze for a second before looking away again. “Didn’t seem like you wanted to talk earlier,” she said coolly.

Hamzah exhaled. Yeah, he deserved that.

Mandy leaned over to Y/N, fake whispering, “He had so much fun getting his drawing with Chase, though.”

Hamzah groaned. He knew Mandy was milking this just to mess with him.

Y/N crossed her arms. “You should go back to him. Maybe you guys can frame it and put it up in your apartment.”

Hamzah sighed, stepping closer. “Come on, don’t be like that—”

Y/N turned away from him again, fully ignoring him now.

Hamzah was getting desperate. He knew if he let this go on, it would only get worse. And he hated it—hated when she was upset with him, hated when she pulled away.

Hamzah wasn’t going to let Y/N keep ignoring him. So, before she could turn away again, he grabbed her wrist—gently but firmly—and pulled her toward a quieter corner of the party.

“Hamzah—what the hell?” Y/N hissed, yanking her arm away as soon as they were out of sight from the group. She crossed her arms, glaring at him.

From across the room, Mandy spotted them and shot Hamzah a you just made it worse look before turning back to the girls, smirking.

Hamzah sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know I messed up. I was being an ass, and I shouldn’t have done the caricature with Chase.”

Y/N didn’t say a word. She simply stared at him, unimpressed, before shifting her gaze to the party like she had somewhere better to be.

Hamzah clenched his jaw. “Y/N, I’m serious. I know you wanted to do it together, and I was being petty. I’m sorry.”

Silence.

Hamzah groaned, rubbing his face. “Damn, you’re really mad at me, huh?”

Still nothing.

He stared at her, frustration bubbling inside him. But beneath it, there was something else—something like panic. He hated this. Hated being on bad terms with her, hated the way she was shutting him out.

He exhaled, his voice softer now. “Y/N… please.”

She finally looked at him, her expression unreadable. Then, she shrugged. “I don’t know, Hamzah. Maybe you should go back to Chase.”

Hamzah shut his eyes for a second, knowing he deserved that. But he wasn’t giving up. Not yet.

Hamzah sighed, stepping closer. “Okay, I get it. But listen, we can still get our drawing done together.”

Y/N gave him a blank stare. “The line is longer now, Hamzah.”

“So? We can wait,” he said quickly. “Come on, you wanted this, right?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, shifting on her feet. “I wanted to do it earlier, with you. But you already got yours with Chase, remember?”

Hamzah groaned. “I know, I know, but let’s just do it, okay? Please?”

Y/N pursed her lips, looking at him for a long moment. Hamzah could tell she was still pissed, but after a sigh, she finally muttered, “Fine.”

He let out a relieved breath and gently grabbed her hand, leading her toward the line. She followed, but her annoyance was clear in the way she barely spoke or reacted to anything he said.

They stood in line, and at first, Hamzah tried to make conversation, cracking jokes or nudging her playfully, but Y/N wasn’t having it. She gave short answers, if she answered at all.

Five minutes passed.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen.

Y/N tapped her foot impatiently, crossing her arms. “This is taking too long.”

Hamzah sighed, glancing ahead. There were still a few people before them, but they were getting closer. “Just a little longer, alright?”

Y/N let out a sharp exhale but didn’t move.

Twenty minutes.

Twenty-five.

Hamzah could feel her patience running thin, and he was getting nervous again. He had just convinced her to do this with him, and if she left now, he’d be screwed.

Thirty minutes.

That was it. Y/N let out an annoyed huff and turned to leave.

“Y/N—wait—” Hamzah reached for her hand, but she pulled away.

“No, Hamzah, I’m done.” Her voice was firm, and for the first time that night, he saw real frustration in her eyes. “I already wasted enough time waiting for you earlier. I’m not waiting anymore.”

And with that, she walked away.

Hamzah stood there, watching her disappear into the crowd, realizing that somehow, he had made everything even worse.

——-

Y/N stood off to the side, away from the party, staring into the distance. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her mind replaying the night over and over again. She wasn’t just annoyed—she was disappointed.

She had wanted this to be something special, something fun. But instead, it turned into another reminder that Hamzah could be so stubborn and frustrating.

She didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not Mandy, not Martin, and especially not him.

But, of course, he was the one who came looking for her.

Hamzah approached cautiously, his heart sinking at how closed off she looked. He didn’t say anything at first—he just stepped closer and, without warning, wrapped his arms around her.

Y/N tensed immediately. “Hamzah, no—” She tried to push him away, placing her hands against his chest, but he only hugged her tighter.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the side of her head. “I’m really, really sorry.”

Y/N let out a frustrated sigh, still trying to push him away, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he buried his face in her neck, pressing gentle kisses along her skin. “I was being stupid. I shouldn’t have been petty, and I shouldn’t have ignored you. You deserved better.”

Y/N exhaled sharply, her resolve starting to crack. She was still annoyed, still frustrated—but she was also tired. Tired of being upset, tired of fighting.

Her arms, which had been pushing against him, slowly relaxed.

Hamzah felt it—the way she wasn’t resisting anymore. He took it as a sign and hugged her even tighter, pressing one last lingering kiss to her cheek. “Please don’t be mad anymore,” he whispered.

Y/N sighed, finally giving in. She rested her head against his chest, letting his warmth calm her. “I should still be mad at you.”

Hamzah smiled slightly, running his hand over her back. “I know.”

She stayed quiet for a moment before mumbling, “I really wanted that drawing.”

Hamzah squeezed her gently. “I know. We’ll still get one. I don’t care if I have to hunt down another artist tomorrow—I’ll make it up to you.”

Y/N let out a tired breath, finally wrapping her arms around him. “You better.”

Hamzah grinned, knowing he was finally out of the danger zone. “I will. Anything for you.”

And this time, he meant it.

-

Hamzah kept Y/N in his arms, rubbing slow circles on her back as she finally leaned into him. He felt relieved, but the guilt still lingered. He had ruined her night, and he needed to make it up to her.

Before he could say anything else, Mandy and Martin appeared, smirking as they spotted them in their embrace.

“Aww, look at him, all soft now,” Mandy teased, nudging Martin. “Wasn’t this the same guy who was too busy with Chase an hour ago?”

Hamzah groaned, rolling his eyes but keeping his arms wrapped around Y/N. “Not now, Mandy.”

Martin chuckled. “Nah, man, we gotta talk about this. You had her out here mad as hell, and now you’re acting like a lovesick puppy.”

Y/N smirked slightly but didn’t say anything, just letting Hamzah suffer through the teasing.

Hamzah sighed, finally pulling away just enough to look at Y/N. “Okay, I need to fix this.”

Before she could ask what he meant, he was already moving, scanning the party for the artist. He spotted the caricature station and saw that the line was still long. Damn.

But Hamzah was determined. Without hesitation, he walked up to the group in line.

“Yo, I need to go next,” he said, already pulling out his wallet.

A few people raised their eyebrows. “Uh, bro, we’ve been waiting—”

“I’ll pay for all your drawings.”

That got their attention. The group exchanged glances before someone shrugged. “Bet.”

Hamzah smirked. One by one, they all agreed, and soon enough, he was at the front.

Wasting no time, he turned on his heel and rushed back to find Y/N.

Y/N raised an eyebrow as he grabbed her hand, dragging her through the party. “Hamzah—what are you—”

“No time, let’s go,” he said, weaving through the crowd.

She barely had time to process before they were back at the caricature station. Hamzah sat down first and, without hesitation, pulled Y/N onto his lap.

Y/N gasped slightly, her hands instinctively gripping his shoulders. “Hamzah—”

“We’re getting our drawing,” he said firmly, wrapping his arms around her waist so she couldn’t escape.

The artist raised an eyebrow but smiled. “Alright, now this is a pose.”

Mandy and Martin had followed them, and Mandy laughed. “This man just paid off an entire line to make this happen.”

Y/N blinked, looking at Hamzah. “Wait—you paid everyone?”

Hamzah smirked, holding her tighter. “You wanted this, right?”

Y/N stared at him for a moment before shaking her head with a small smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

Hamzah grinned. “Yeah, but you love me.”

She rolled her eyes, but when the artist started sketching, she relaxed in his arms, leaning into him. And just like that, the night finally felt right.

—————————

This fic has been done for like 2 months already but I’m so lazy to post lol. Anyways I’m for sure being active now

I need ideas for stories tho):

[savouringmidnights]

“Three hours past midnight”

(A Xavier x Non!Mc Reader fic)

🌟 Disclaimer: If the following trigger warnings or the general genre of the fic make you uncomfortable, then please do not proceed ahead, thank you! 🌟

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

TW: Angst,

Slight implications of Lemon

Heavily written from the Reader’s perspective

🌟 Disclaimer: If the following trigger warnings or the general genre of the fic make you uncomfortable, then please do not proceed ahead, thank you! 🌟

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⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

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⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Three hours past midnight…

It is often termed by many as the witches’ hour,

Although that wasn’t the only expression you’ve come across throughout the days of your existence.

‘Devil’s hour’, ‘time of pure evil’, ‘juncture in time bridging the world of the spirits with the world of the mortals’, yada yada; were among the many.

Initially when you were little, you too would be scared of the monster underneath your bed, or the hand that would come to reach out from behind the mirror….but

Being blessed with Insomnia, you slowly learnt to co-exist among the forces.

Maybe your amity with these forces proved to be stronger than those of the universe,

Resulting in your encounter with a certain Deepspace Hunter, sleeping amongst the bushes, the earth providing him with a humble sack…

“Umm…”, your nightly stroll was successfully done for…

But being a honest samaritan, you couldn’t leave him be there…so you got down to your knees and gently shook his arm…

No response.

“Umm excuse me, mister”,

No response.

You continued your motions for several minutes, when finally tickling a leaf against his nose did the job.

“Huh…?”, his voice seemed as soft as the fluffy clouds above…

“Hello hi sorry for waking you up but…you’re literally sleeping on the grass?”

He groaned, rubbing his eyes, as he slowly stretched and sat up…

“Sorry…I got drowsy…”

You nodded sympathetically, you couldn’t relate…

“Where do you live? I can help you get there or if it’s far away you can stay the night at mine…it is 3 in the morning after all…”

“Hmm?”

“I said—”

“No I heard you…well I live few blocks away…”

“Well then…you’re welcomed to rest the night at mine…”

“…”

“…”

“As long as you’re not a criminal or robber or—”

“Xavier. Deepspace Hunter working under the Hunters’ Association.”, he cut you off speaking up.

You nod, “(Name). I work as a—”, you stop as you catch him dozing off while standing…huh…

“Wait wait wait! Don’t doze off here again!”

….

Three hours past midnight…

Your lips always curl up at the reminiscence of that night when you’d first met your now boyfriend…who would whether or whether not given the chance could fall asleep anywhere and everywhere, regardless of the consequences…

You let out a silent giggle remembering the midnight you’d confessed to him your feelings, right after several months of hangouts and meet-ups…

Upon returning back home, you’d call him like usual interrogating about his day and work…your conversation would only carry on further if he’d give you the green signal that the Wanderers weren’t annoying stressful that day…let’s say every night you got that green signal…

What would you do? You would yap on about your day, while he would listen listen listen…

“Xavi…did you fall asleep?”

“Perfectly awake my star…”

Oh did you forget to mention about the nickname he’d given you….the one that made you believe you were celestial…

you would internally squeal each time he would call you so…

Anyways…so after you were done going on about his and yours day…you let out the buildup inside your heart…

“Xavi…I need to tell you something…”

“Anything my star…I’m all ears…”

“I think…”

“I think I’ve fallen for you…fallen in too deep…”

And it was true…you were far gone…

Silence coursed through the call…you tensed…did you mess up?

“X-Xavier…?”

*tring*

The call died…

So did a big part inside of you…

Had you messed up that bad…you just wanted to confess to him…just—

*Knock. Knock. Knock.*

You looked through the peephole, before opening

“Xavier—mmf…”

He kissed you…the kiss that made you feel the energy of a million stars…

….

Three hours past midnight…

He was so silly

He was so soft

He was so sweet

He was so yours…

Looking up at the ceiling, as your eyes trail back to his sleeping form on the right side of your bed…the one which had become his second favorite spot for slumber.

Who would be able to tell apart such a peaceful and innocent face that he was one of the most skilled Deepspace Hunters of the Association…

Yet he possessed his weaknesses, he couldn’t get a single plushie from the Arcade and which would always leave him frustrated every time you had Arcade dates…his insistence surpassed your advices everytime, deeming the same result each time…

To calm him down? All it took was a soft kiss on the cheek, and a few words of affirmation.

Of course he knew you were an insomniac and he’d worry his pretty head about you each night, so he thought he should make you some hot milk, maybe it would help you…

He was super insistent…and all you could do was pray…pray that your kitchen lives to see the light of the upcoming day…

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“The milk wasn’t supposed to spill all over, now was it Xavi?”

“…”

“…No…”

You sigh as the both of you clean up the disaster that was now your kitchen…

“This is the reason why I tell you to not touch anything in a kitchen…but who listens to me…you even burned yourself Xavier! What am I to do to you—”

Your words died out, as you felt warmth settle around your waist, holding you securely in place…

“You have no right to scold me my star…I was only looking out for you…”

Kisses glide down your neck traversing towards your shoulders, as if dew drops trickling down a leaf stalk…

….

Three hours past midnight…

Strong arms lift you up in bridal style carrying you to the haven you two had built within those four walls of your bedroom…

“Mm… *kiss* Xavi… *kiss* the kitch- *kiss*”

“It will survive…now I want your entire attention on me…”, that was your man…always jealous of the little things in your life, whenever you’d value them more than him…how dare you…

He was so gentle, so soft so fluffy looking…he played the innocence card very strategically using his face…who could tell otherwise right? But you knew…you knew he was anything but pure…

Flopping you down onto your bed, his mouth crashed against yours once more, his tongue soon finding homage inside of the warm cavern of the inside of your mouth while his hands carry out their own artistic endeavour down all over your body…finally reaching their destination once he pulls down the straps of your night-dress ever so delicately, the cold breeze of the outside creeping through your skin from outside you closed off windows…His other hand continue it’s exploration down to your thighs, spreading then apart, as he massages them…

Soft sinful moans of pleasure spill out of your lips as your hands secure around his neck…but your lips never leave his, as if caught up in a deadlock…You palms slowly descend down to his shirt, unbuttoning each hastily and carelessly…you needed him…his own hands soon join helping you discard the fabrics which constrained both your bodies…

He broke the kiss to breathe, breathe for the both of you for you had forgotten what perception was, being so lost within each new sensation provided to you by him…the ecstasy that made you feel one with the Earth…

Had you confided within yourself, how much illumination your Light Evolver brought into the dark nights of your soul? You two were the pinnacle of the famous saying ‘opposites attract’. Your beliefs of the Earthly forces being ever so stronger than those of the Universe proved to grow stronger…you didn’t want anything that transcended you to the beyonds…all you wanted was to become one with the Earth, the absolute holism he brought upon your life…Opposites yet so alike…. ‘He was Sunshine while you were Midnight Rain…’

a melody as grounded and pure as Nature herself…

….

Three hours past midnight…

Who would have known Fate, Herself would descend down upon the Earth, directly into the new beginning of your chapter, pulling her strings to work…

You met her today…she was a relatively new Hunter who had joined only a month ago…yet her skills knew no bounds…

She was honeyed like the warm breeze during the Spring,

She was as fresh as a newly bloomed delicate flower—as charismatic as the Golden Hour of the Evening…

She had made you drawn to her with just one conversation…

How did you meet? Well you used good friends with Tara from before she joined at the Association she wouldn’t stop gushing about her partner and her talent…that’s how sweet she was…

But one thought which kept gnawing it’s way through your heart and mind was…

‘How come Xavier never told me about her…he does tell me of everything about his day and work…’

Not like he was bound to or anything to you…no…

Maybe they aren’t close enough, yet.

but…you couldn’t figure out the unsettling feeling that started blooming inside of your heart…

Where did you meet? A few evenings back, at Destiny Cafe.

….

Three hours past midnight…

They get paired up for almost every mission, or he would suggest he should accompany her. Their bond seemed to be strengthening, it was a good thing…you always wanted your boyfriend to get along with his colleagues as well as possible…

He has become busier than ever…

Weeks pass, so does a month…everything begins so gradually. The calls start to become less, so do the texts…Dates cease to exist, he doesn’t come over anymore…

There was always one reason…

“I’m sorry my star I’m too tired after today’s mission, cannot keep my eyes open for too long…”

“Miss U.”

“Promise U will meet up soon later…”

Promises, promises so many promises, piled up, stack after stack, all of them failed to get executed…

Still you hold onto them…

hold onto something hollow…

….

Three hours past midnight…

You lay up alone in your bed, basking in the coldness of your epiphany…

What epiphany you ask? It was the sudden illumination, forcefully introduced by the universe into the warm darkness of your nights…

You were at Destiny Cafe this evening, for a cup of coffee, where you saw the two of them together. Maybe they were discussing about a mission? Maybe status reports of the previous day? How come he didn’t tell you he’d be out…you’d texted him earlier…

He said he was busy. Busy for you, but not for her…when will he come to visit next? All sorts of thoughts seemed to clutter up together inside of your mind…

…They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul…is that why when you saw his, your whole world suddenly seemed to come to stop? You cannot explain the warmth and color that emerged from the depths, of his being.

The empty galaxy within his eyes get slowly suffused with constellations of stars.

Each one holding a significant message.

Every time she would talk or chat or speak…

It was nothing like you’d ever witnessed or experienced first hand.

Were you overthinking? Or were you just devoid of thoughts?

….

Three hours past midnight…

Time was eternal yet relative, is that why it seemed to loop along the curvature of the broken record player that you’d been reduced to, ever so slowly? Each day had become a realisation factor of the equation the two of them seemed to hold out to you, for you to solve…Alas you were only a writer, so you phrased them using your thread of words, sewing pages upon pages, until the fabric of reality was ready to be worn by you…

You witnessed the way she’d transformed the barren planet of his heart (which you never knew existed) with the beautiful blossoms of life, colour and seasons. The love he held behind his eyes for her was cosmic…as if it has been deep-rooted throughout centuries waiting for the perfect moment to be poured out and the moment was now. You saw how perfectly the colors of his soul blended with hers, every hue and gloss intermingling with one another ever so perfectly, as if it was meant to be…

You’d lost track of the time since he stopped calling you ‘his star’, you weren’t that, never, it was all a hoax…you were a ‘failed star’. You never knew much about how the forces of the universe functioned, forever afraid of the flight that may crash you down upon the rough hard ground of reality, hence you’ve always been too grounded to Earth, in that way gravity could never hurt you anymore right?

But now that you saw them, it was as if seeing the cosmos was celebrating the union of the souls, without whom She had been so long shrouded within the darkness of the nights…

The darkness which you’d (once) embraced and loved.

….

Three hours past midnight…

You’d drank a lot tonight.

You hated her.

Hated her guts, for stealing the light of your life.

You hated the fact that you could simply and truly never loathe her and her friendship…and how significant they had shaped to be in your life…

You hated the fact that you were one with the dark nights.

You hated the audacity of Fate to mingle with the strings of your life as if it were Her story.

You hated that you had to be forced in the concept of ‘Soulmates’.

You hated how the two of them were the epitome of that meaning.

You hated how their existence even surpassed the Metaphysical realm of beliefs.

“You hated how you longed for your forgotten trysts.”

“You hated every fatal fantasy that creeped through your mind.”

“You hated how you’ve done each of them with him all in your head.”

“You hated how it paved the way to your laboured breaths, every night.”

You hated how he would not even remember you anymore or have the minute decency to even call you up or text you.

You hated because you knew it wasn’t true, and the amount of times he’d tried to reach out before it all faded to the point of exhaustion.

You hated how you dissociated yourself from their lives, letting them live as the Universe had wished for.

You hated how his voice would ring in your ears every morning, day, evening and night and all you could do was weep…weep and weep…

You hated how you often you weeped in the coldness of your bed, alone with no one to hold onto.

You hated that your bed wasn’t his second favorite place of slumber any longer, but it was her apartment.

You hated how you’ve lost track of time.

You hated how you longed to understand the ways of the cosmos.

You hated how you wanted to run to him and cry to his chest.

You hated how you wanted yourself to be selfish.

You hated how you wanted him to be happy.

You hated how you wanted to pour yourself out to him, how you wanted to hear along the lines that you were mistaken, utterly mistaken…that he was still yours…that he loved you…

You hate how half of you was still living with a fool’s paradise, embracing every wishful thinking clutching them close to the chambers of your heart so they couldn’t escape…

You hated how the other half was ever so rational, and had achieved it’s closure.

You hated how you’d made him your North Star…but the poles of your World were never a reality.

You loathed how perfectly they fit against each other as if two puzzle pieces, that gave Love and the Deepspace it’s fundamental significance.

….

Three hours past midnight…

You had officially lost the ability of a writer of the story of your life…being reduced to merely a narrator of your own chapters, forced to narrate yourself and only yourself while Fate played with the Story of your Life…

Once again it has been proved that the auspicious forces always stood victorious over the malevolent ones…you remembered the famous saying,

‘History repeats itself, First as a Tragedy, Second as a Farce…’

How foolish of you to believe that the forces of the Universe emerged victorious for they were superior and coerced the other inferior…

How foolish of you to believe in the false amity of these forces you’d been long acquainted with…

The monster underneath your bed re-emerged, so did the hand reaching out to you from behind the mirror…

but they weren’t there to hurt you, they were there to comfort you while you pathetically weeped over the love which you never had.

They felt pity, watching you clutch onto your pillow every night and ‘the planet shaped purple promise rings that you never had the chance to gift to him’…, head buried on his side of the bed, drenching your bed-sheets which used to be once ablaze in his presence…

But you pushed them away…far far away…

It was three hours past midnight…

And you were finally feeling drowsy…

Sleepy…

You wanted to sleep, and sleep and sleep…

It was three hours past midnight…

When you had finally succumbed to the slumber that drowned you into the land of illusions…

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(Credits: ALL GIFs AND IMAGES ARE FROM EITHER PINTEREST OR TUMBLR, NONE OF THEM ARE MINE.)

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(Inspirations from the songs: Midnight Rain and Guilty as Sin by Taylor Swift.)

[quickestgold]

Goodbye, My Lover | Part 3 | The Pitt

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Dr. (Ex-Mil)!Reader x Dr. Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch

Chapter 3: I Forgive You

Synopsis: When you're rushed into the ER with critical injuries, Robby and Jack find themselves in a desperate battle to save the woman they still love. Amidst the chaos, the line between professional duty and personal history blurs.

Warnings: Age gap is around 18 years. This series deals with some heavy themes around a physical attack, death, grief, ptsd, panic attacks, s*icidal tendencies, heartbreak >>> comfort at the end, I promise

Word count: 1222

A/n: Here it is,,, the chapter where what happened is finally revealed. Fyi, the physical attack isn't detailed, but the treatment of the injuries is pretty graphic, so take care if that isn't your kind of thing besties

Previous Chapter (2): Please Forgive Me | Next Chapter (4): Thank You

“Please forgive me”, Jack’s words echo in your ears. You’re still on the pavement, the three of you in an intimate, fragile circle.

You didn’t realize how much guilt Jack still carried with him.

It wasn’t his fault.

“What do you mean, Jack?” Your voice soothing.

He doesn't react.

“For not being there", Robby speaks, for both of them.

Your eyes flicker to Robby’s and it hits you. The day he snapped at you in the ER.

“No”, you cut him off. “This is not your fault,” your tone direct.

“And not mine.” You surprise yourself. Too long you’ve blamed yourself for what that angry patient did, but hearing Jack and Robby take on this burden, feels like a punch to your gut.

Robby takes Dana to the side: “Where’s Y/N?” Worry evident on his face.

“She went to get some air”, Dana answers reluctantly, having overheard the incident earlier.

Robby lets out a guilty groan, eyes shut, twisting his mouth. He scratches the back of his neck, shaking his head ever so slightly, like he usually does when he’s stressed.

“Okay", exhaling softly. "Come find me when she’s back please? I need to apologize.”

“No shit”, Dana huffs.

“Dr. Robby!” Perlah calls from Trauma One, urgency in her voice. And with that he’s off.

Jack watches from a distance, worry growing within him as well. He heads straight for the stairwell. He should have said something.

But when he reaches your spot, all he finds is Dr. Garcia having a smoke with one of her colleagues. It seems like he's interrupted something, awkward tension hangs heavy in the air.

“Has Y/N been up here?” Jack shouts.

“Check the attending’s lounge, that’s her thing isn’t it?” Yolanda provokes.

Jack groans, rushing back down to find Robby. But his search is cut short when EMTs rush in a patient in bad shape. “What have we got?”

“Unconscious, but breathing. Blunt force trauma to the head, suspected rib fractures, possible pneumothorax and significant blood loss”, the EMT reports quickly.

“Trauma Two” Jack commands, his voice sharp and professional, already assessing the damage.

As he works, something catches his eye, the patient’s wrist. A small tattoo is partially visible, just beneath the bloodied sleeve. He pulls it back slightly, to make sure. Praying, begging, that he's wrong.

He isn’t. It’s the same tattoo that decorates his own arm.

Jack freezes. Unable to move a muscle, paralyzed.

His heart races and for a moment, the sterile walls seem to close in on him. It can’t be, but there’s no mistaking the face beneath all the blood.

“Get Robby. Now!” Jack orders, his voice low but urgent. He knows he can’t do this alone. Not when it's you.

Robby enters the room in a rush, ready for another emergency. “Need a hand?” He teases. But the moment his eyes land on you, his entire world stops.

Jack doesn’t say anything, doesn’t dare take his eyes off of you, fearing you might slip away if he does.

“What the fuck happened?” Robby demands, his voice thick with disbelief, as he moves quickly to the side of the gurney.

“We found her in the alley by the back entrance”, the EMT states.

Robby’s mind races, but his training kicks in.

Robby and Jack work in tandem, their movements seamless as they prepare to save you. Jack checks your airway, while Robby begins assessing your chest injuries. Every second is critical, both men struggling to maintain their professionalism.

Their hands move over your exposed form, painfully mirroring the way their fingers used to trail your body when you were together. Every inch of you mapped out and forever burnt into their minds.

Focus. Focus!

“Ribs are displaced”, Robby mutters, his voice tight. “Probable flail chest. We need to drain the pleural cavity.”

Jack nods grimly, his mind running through the necessary procedures. “Collapsed lung, tension pneumothorax most likely." He takes a deep breath, his eyes scanning the monitors. Your heart rate is erratic and your oxygen levels are dangerously low. "Needle decompression first."

Jack presses his fingers along your ribs to locate the entry point. His hands are precise as he performs the procedure, inserting the needle just above your rib. The trapped air escapes immediately.

"Got it", Jack says, a moment of relief, as he watches your chest begin to expand more naturally.

Robby steps back, barking orders, his usual calm demeanor starting to crack. "Prep for intubation. We need to secure the airway."

Jack nods, already setting up the equipment.

Robby checks your pupils, his fingers pressing gently against your neck. "Pulse is weak.”

Jack places the endotracheal tube in, ensuring it’s secured, giving you a few breaths.

Robby moves in with the chest tube, prepared to drain the fluid building up. The tube is inserted and the air begins to flow freely, your breathing starting to stabilize.

"We’ve got a pathway", Robby says, but his voice breaks. He looks at Jack, like a little boy who’s lost their parent in a busy crowd. Willing him to fix this. To fix you.

Without warning, the heart monitor flatlines with a piercing, urgent tone. Jack’s eyes snap to the monitor, heart sinking. "No… No." He moves quickly to your side, checking your pulse. He doesn’t hesitate, positioning himself at your chest.

With practiced urgency, Jack stacks his hands over your sternum. He feels sick, knowing what he’s about to do. He quickly swallows the lump in his throat, using his body weight to compress down, forceful and steady.

The team rushes to prepare the defibrillator.

After a while Robby instructs, “Hold compressions." But the flatline continues.

“Still in asystole”, Donnie states, voice trembling.

Jack resumes compressions seemlessly. Each deep push into your chest feels like a silent plea for you to come back to them.

Sweat begins to pool on Jack’s forehead. Robby motions for him to switch out. Jack complies, as Robby takes over effortlessly. The risk of breaking your ribs sends an icy shiver down his spine, it's brutal and suffocating.

“V-fib. We’ve got a shockable rhythm”, Jack’s firm tone snaps Robby back, all eyes fixed on the monitor. “Charge to 200”, Robby orders.

The machine charges with a loud beeping. “Clear!” Donnie shouts.

Everyone pulls their hands away, as the shock is delivered.

The silence is deafening, everyone collectively holding their breath with you.

The monitor flickers.

Then, a pulse.

Weak, but it’s there. The sound of your heart returning to sinus rhythm.

Finally, Jack allows himself to see you as more than a patient on the table. He studies your face, lightly touching your cheek, cautious not to hurt you any further.

“Stay with us, Y/N", Jack says softly, not daring to look away from your battered body.

“Okay. Let’s take a deep breath. All of us”, Robby speaks calmly, looking directly at Jack.

Everyone takes a slow, necessary breath.

Robby finally dares to look down at you too, his face softening. He leans in, "We’ve got you". Though he knows the fight isn’t over.

Back on the pavement. It feels like you've been out here for a while.

It's not your fault.

Robby takes in your words.

He leans in, placing a gentle hand on Jack’s shoulder. They share a look and you realize that’s how they made it through almost losing you.

Together.

Thanks for reading part 3!! If you’re a healthcare professional, please look awayyy, this is probably full of medical inaccuracies, I'm sorry! The next chapter will focus more on their collective healing… As always, pls share your thoughts below!!

PS: Lmk if you want to be added to the taglist: ♡

@queenslandlover-93 @sp00kylesley @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sqrlgrl22 @imonmykneessir @gabsgabsvaz @nowandajenn @cannonindeez @sydney-m @persistent-mango

[i-get-obsessed-fast]

So may or may not be self indulgent, but i just got done with a fantasy map for a progect im working on and i picture early seasons reid reading in the living room as i do it and after he finishes the series (bro reads 8 books in a sitting) he comes into the kitchen for a snack and seeing my very elaborate map making, complete with a coffee paper dye system and hes like ".....so THIS is what authors do when they get writers block" and the moment we call it stupid and childish he gets very personally involved in world building with us because creativity is nice

Omg this request is so interesting! I want to apologize firstly because I don’t know anything about fantasy maps so I kept it short & simple, I really do hope you enjoy it though! <3

Fantasy | Spencer Reid

The sound of a book snapping shut echos from the living room, followed by a satisfied sigh. Spencer must have finished reading the last book in his series - that he had started today.

Meanwhile, the kitchen table is a complete mess, sheets of paper, stained with coffee dye for an “authentic” aged effect, are spread out in front of you. Smudges of ink cover your fingers.

It started as a small distraction, something to break through your stubborn writer's block, or maybe it was procrastination, but either way, now it’s grown into a full-blown map-making operation.

You’re adding tiny rivers when Spencer finally wanders in, probably in search for a snack. He pauses, his eyes narrowing at the scene.

“Huh, so this is what authors do when they get writers block.”

You glance up at him, already grinning. “Caught me.” He steps closer, tilting his head as he examined the coffee stained papers. “You dyed these yourself?”

“Yup, authentic.”

“And the mountain ranges? The contour lines?” He study’s the paper, his fingers tracing over your work. “I got a little carried away.” You nervously laugh.

“So, you’re building an entire world instead of writing about it?” He looked at you, teasingly.

“Pretty much.” You tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear leaving a small mark on your cheek. “It’s stupid.” You add quickly. “And childish.”

“What, Childish?” He frowns. “A lot of creative authors do this. You’re constructing a geographical foundation, which is essential for world-building.” He leans over, his eyes scanning along a winding river.

“This isn’t procrastination, this is immersive, it’s…impressive.”

The warmth of his words catches you off-guard, but before you can respond, he pulls out a chair and settles in, resting his elbows on the table. “Alright.” He says completely serious.

“You’re missing a key. And borders. And I assume there are neighboring kingdoms? Trade routes? You’ll need those.”

You laugh, warmth filling your chest. “Alright captain Reid, any more ideas?” You giggle as you take a seat right next to him, the both of you getting lost in the world of fantasy map making. . .

Thank you for requesting!

I am going to get to the other req’s soon, thank you to all who read, like, and reblog. It means a lot!!

[on-a-lucky-tide]

I hope you know that your Omega Price and Alpha Nik are actually sending me insane.

Like this dynamic... oh my GOSH please I'm biting at the bars of my cage HELLO

I can imagine Price being so reluctant to do anything, but like when his heat comes he's both desperate and not wanting too. Idk smt about that UGH.

Don't mind me teehee have an amazing day/night Jack! You're awesome :3

Cheers, bud! I really enjoy omegaverse. But the omega needs to be capable of tearing out throats for it to really pull me in.

I've got a half written thing I've had for ages about Nik and Price getting shot down in a fixed wing aircraft. Nik and Price have to bail and Nik ends up getting quite badly hurt. Price has to carry him to safety under heavy fire. He goes into a protective heat, because that's when omega are at their strongest. (Bit of a spin on it.) And he ends up mating with Nik (Nik's into it). Then, when the rest of the 141 come and find them, Price is so deep in the fervour of heat that he fights them with his bare fuckin' hands. Soap has to clock him in the back of the head while he's hammering away on Ghost's face, because he doesn't see his taskforce, only three threats to his wounded alpha; the father of his pups.

Imagine that feral bastard melting from the shadows of a cave and descending like some fury from hell. Blood in his teeth still from where he claimed Nik.

[kathryn-maraudersversion]

Serpents & Stars Part 3

Summary: You refuse to admit your feelings for the Marauders. They refuse to let you push them away. It’s a battle of wills, and you are absolutely determined to win.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders (James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin) x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3

After that night on the Astronomy Tower, you decided you were going to ignore it. All of it.

The way James looked at you like you were his favourite challenge.

The way Sirius got too close just to make you squirm.

The way Remus saw right through you every damn time.

It didn’t matter. 

You didn’t like them. You couldn’t like them. Right? 

Ignoring them was easier said than done because they weren’t making it easy.

“Morning, sweetheart,” James greeted you in the Great Hall, sliding into the seat beside you even though this was the Slytherin table, and he had no business being here.

You shoved his arm off the table. “Go away, Potter.” 

James beamed. “You’re so cute when you pretend you don’t like me.” 

You resisted the urge to throw your goblet at his face. 

You were reading by the Black Lake when Sirius flopped onto the grass beside you, head resting in your lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You froze. “What the hell are you doing?” 

He grinned up at you, completely unbothered. “Getting comfortable.” 

Your hands clenched into fists. “Move.” 

He stretched out more. “Make me, princess.” 

You shoved him off. He laughed the whole way down. 

Remus, of course, was the most dangerous.

Because Remus didn’t flirt obnoxiously like James, and he didn’t invade your space just to watch you react like Sirius. 

No. Remus was subtle. Remus was kind.

Which meant that when he brushed a stray piece of hair from your face during study sessions, you couldn’t even pretend he was being annoying. 

When he carried your books after class, you couldn’t even call him a show-off. 

When he gave you the last chocolate in the pack without saying a word, you couldn’t even insult him for it. 

Remus wasn’t fighting you. Remus was just there, waiting, knowing and that was the worst part. 

They knew you were cracking.

It happened on a particularly bad day. 

Professor Slughorn had paired you with an absolute idiot in Potions, and after an hour of them nearly setting the classroom on fire, you had a splitting headache. 

You stormed into the library, slamming your books onto the table. 

The second you sat down, a fresh cup of coffee slid across the table to you. 

You blinked at it. Then at the hand that had placed it there. 

James, Sirius, and Remus sat across from you, watching you expectantly. 

Sirius smirked. “You looked like you needed it, love.” 

You stared at the coffee. It was exactly how you liked it. 

“…This means nothing,” you muttered, grabbing the cup. 

James grinned like he had won something. “Of course not, sweetheart.” 

Remus just sipped his tea, amused.

You hated them. You hated them so much.

It was late.

You were sitting in the Gryffindor common room (Dorcas has dragged you along to say hi to Marlene), the fire flickering, when it happened.

A group of Gryffindor girls walked past, giggling and whispering about James and Sirius. About how handsome they were. About how Remus was the sweetest and something in your chest tightened.

You scowled, shaking the thought away. 

It didn’t matter. They were annoying. You didn’t care if other people liked them. 

You didn’t care. 

And then you saw them.

James, Sirius, and Remus, sitting across the room, laughing together, smiling, looking like the sun itself lived in their bones.

And you felt it.

That undeniable, horrible, traitorous ache.

You wanted to be near them. 

You wanted to be in that light. 

You cursed under your breath, standing up so fast your chair scraped the floor. 

No. No.

You wouldn’t do this. You wouldn’t-

“Going somewhere, love?”

Sirius was watching you, his grey eyes too knowing.

James and Remus turned too, curiosity flickering in their faces. 

You clenched your jaw. “Bed.” 

James smirked. “Need company?” 

You scowled. “Die, Potter.”

Sirius laughed. “She’s flustered. It’s adorable.” 

Remus just tilted his head, studying you. 

And you? You ran.

Taglist: @amatoanima @flaviaandbooks @nymanas

[thewriterg]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬’ chp. 6

pairing(s); simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x fem!reader, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick x fem!reader, john ‘bravo six’ price x fem!reader, werewolf!soap, harp crow hybrid!gaz, dragon hybrid!price, wraith!hybrid (?) ghost, phoenix!hybrid (?) reader

summary; new moon, before, and diplomacy

word count; 5.4k+ | chasin’ chaos masterlist

warning(s); monster au, dark twisted themes, normal cod violence, firearms, knives, combat, pinning (?), poly themes, death, r call sign is flatline, blood consumption, eventual smut, kissin, and language

A/n: trying to post every 3-5 days… don’t quote me

You all watch as Soap sits on hind legs, attention directed towards the moon. He pants softly with his tongue slightly darted out, his thick auburn fur keeping him protected from the occasional winds of the night. When the moon reaches its peak the Scott howls with a carrying pitch loud enough to hear for miles pass base.

“Calling for his pack.” Price clarifies eyes pointed at You and Ghost with a smirk that was all too knowing. Gaz clumsily howls back at the call; the wolf's head swivels, his eyes shifted from their domestic green to a glowing teal, the whites of his eyes now pitch black. You don't quite zone in on the conversation the dragon and harpy have –something about sitting out due to his wing you were sure– instead you tilt your head at the shifted sergeant and he mirrors you. The interaction makes you hum before you see the captain making his way to the field; he stands with his knees slightly buckled and his arms spaced away from his sides. The wolf playfully growls and the dragon's tail sways gently behind him.

“Alright lad, be gentle.” The four legged hybrid doesn’t waste another second, sprinting towards his locked target with precision head first into his chest. Johns sturdy though, and doesn't budge hopping on the back of his neck.

“Not bowling me over this time, son.” Johnny is quick to nudge him off his being and the man lands on his back, quickly moving out the way as the wolf went to pounce on him. You and Gaz watch as Ghost jumps over the wall landing on his knees with a thump immediately catching his attention.

“Alright, Johnny. Show me what you've got.” The skull masked wearing lieutenant quips. The sergeant immediately takes interest moving in a position to pounce, not taking note of Ghost's palms planted in the cut grass. When he goes to jump onto the masked lieutenant he misses; the wraith uses his shadows to push him up in the air using the upper ground to stare down at the wolf. Simon doesn't expect him to jump as high as he does, neither does he expect your familiar sparks of energy to nudge the wolf away. The sergeant lands on his paws force making his limbs slide through the dirt before coming to a stop.

“Hope you don't mind, pretty boy. They'll pull something if you're too rough.” You tease and you're sure you hear both men scoff while the shifted hybrid playfully growls at you before dashing off of his back legs. You're quick to move out the way as he topples over Simon in result of your place. Not who he was focused on but he plays all the same; he licks the lieutenant's stomach pushing up the black jacket to get to his skin. Price jumps on the wolf's neck loosely wrapping his arms around the base.

“You two enjoying yourself?” He calls out

“You could say that.”

“In a rough patch.”

“Need a nightcap, sir?” Kyle questions while Price cracks his neck rolling his shoulders; he eventually strayed away from the field.

“Probably stronger than that, Gaz. Later starts tomorrow, Simon, Y/n, take the the morning off. I’m guessing you’ll need it.” He hums at the sight of both his lieutenants while the Harpy snickers. You’re rubbing your palm on the underside of the wolf’s snout and Ghost takes place at the side of his neck. The Scott licks at your shoulder; vibrating with hums underneath the skull masked lieutenants person, tail swishing up and down.

Eventually the captain and sergeant call it a night leaving the three of you alone. You make way to more scheduled area, finding stray piles of tarps and bug out bags to lie on. Your eyes avert at the night sky, connecting random stars to make odd shapes in the scheduled sanctuary of your mind; something you hadn’t done since before… You’re quick to shift your eyes to meet the gaze that burns at your temples before continuing your bidding at the sky.

“Spit it out” You tempt plainly, you have your phoenix mask swept over your face, its orange and red tones contrasting against the night. Others have trouble reading you but never Simon.

“The anniversary’s next week.” He prompts back, it’s more of a statement than a question; the wraith knows damn well it is, practically branded in his memory with a hot rod. You snort at the choice of words he uses, shaking your head in response.

“Just another day.” You shrug seemingly unbothered but he knew better. The way– your shoulders got a tad stiff before resetting to their lax position, the slight pause in your subconscious movement, the way your lips slightly part before closing. The tell tale signs he stubbornly refused to ignore.

“Think I haven’ been around you long enough to know when you're arsein’ me?” The skull masked lieutenant glares at the side of your face and you huff beginning to get irritable at his proding.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” You hiss out returning the hostile look with just as much intensity.

“Tell me when's a good time for you then, love? Humor me.”

“Don't sta-”

You both suddenly break away at the sound of whimpering beneath you. Soap whines, lying on his stomach paws situated underneath his snout; he rubs his fur coated body against the both of you nudging your shoulders with the tip of his nose. Simon scratches behind his ears and you pat the side of his jaw. After a moment you part your lips to speak.

“Ghost-”

“Simon” He corrects you and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“It was a long time ago, Si. I've come to terms with it.” You lower your body to the ground using your shoulder to prop up your head. Simon has a distant, hesitant look in his eyes and when he averts his gaze you place a hand on his jaw redirecting his attention to your person. He huffs against your hand, a bit stiff before he settles into the warmth of your palm. You lean down to press your lips against the corner of his masked mouth; When you go to pull away he wraps a hand around your back pulling you closer to the warmth of his body. He lift a hand to his face moving his balaclava to sit atop of the bridge of his slightly crooked nose –result of years of it being broken and reset– his scared face is no stranger to you and even as you only see a quarter of its surface you could recall every scar that littered his pale skin. His lips meet yours and even though you can’t see it you picture the scar dragging from the bottom of his cheek to end at the the middle of his cheek.

You're both interrupted again and it humorous of how annoyed the wolfs growl sounds. He tugs the sleeve of Ghost’s jacket pulling the blonde back a few inches –not– enough room to squeeze himself between the two of you opting to roll on his broad back. You can't help but let out a chuckle at Simon's face while Johnny whines for your attention giving the best puppy dog eyes he can muster. The skull wearing lieutenant rolled his eyes as you silently cave rubbing your fingers up and down the four legged mutts stomach.

“Don't pout.” You tease a smirk on your face at the lieutenant whose frown seems to deepen as you called him out.

“‘M not.” He sighs for the umpteenth time as you all begin to settle, getting as comfortable as you could; trying to accommodate each other's bodies. Simon watches as your blinks delay and the rises in your chest become further apart in time. Johnnys already out, having settled on his stomach paws set underneath his chin. The wraiths not too far behind, –while no stranger to the absence of sleep– he’s not sure how he feels about the sudden exhaustion that overcomes him.

💌💌💌💌

Simon groggily peels his eyes open; scratching the side of his bare head, the blonde shaved sides prickling the pads of his fingers. His eyes dart at the sound of movement at his side and the lieutenant is quickly gone rigid. The brunette scott –returned to his human skin– is pressed against his side, a leg thrown over his. However what makes the wraith's feathers ruffle is the wolf's attire, nothing.

💌💌💌💌

“Lt.” You can feel his presence before you see him, slowing the speed in your step until it comes to a full halt. Your head shifts over your shoulder, your eyes piercing as you reply back with his call sign falling from your masked lips. While the brunette adores it, he can't help but yearn for the softened exterior of your eyes he remembers. You note the sergeant is more decent than when you left him, having opted to part ways from the two men in the wee hours of dawn. He grins with a tilt of his head, dark mohawk complying with it.

“Not ‘Johnny’ anymore?”

“Getting your lieutenants mixed up, sergeant. You're slipping.” You muse sarcastically moving to turn on your heel.

“Pretty Boy then?” He stops you again.

“No need to read into it.” You surrender after a while and it's funny how quickly his face shifts to one of a drunk —peely, embarrassed, and comical beads of sweat.

“Just assessing the damage from last night. My wolf is- I know he can be a lot.” He views you from the peripheral of his vision, arms crossed over his chest, fiddling with the fabric of his tshirt.

“He’s you isn't he? Oh, I see. Embarrassed are you?” You finally direct your attention back to his being, eyes slightly squinted with a teasing undertone to your voice. The sergeant doesn't seem impressed at the humor you seem to find in the situation. You can see his poking canines as he parts his lips to rebuttal.

“I'm allowed to be.” He practically huffs.

“Don't be. He was a real good boy.” You hum patting his cheek with a gloved hand, it throws you a bit when he takes your wrist into his.

“Deity-” He starts

“Flatline.” You correct, trying your hardest not to hiss it out through your teeth. You mind breeches pestering Price for a golden star. Though, through it all the scott never dropped your hand.

“I woke up smelling like you two. Am I supposed to read into that?” You stare at him for a second and he notes how much easier he thinks it is to read Ghost over you; despite your same shared preference of a mask the scott couldn't understand how the other three did it.

“Up to you, Johnny.” You state plainly and he wants to scream at the mellowness of your tone; a frown adorning his lips while his eyebrows scrunch.

“...Wanna learn something new about werewolves, ma’am? Taking back control after going full wolf- it's like surfacing after a dive. Things are murky sometimes but what my wolf did, I remember it all.” The Scott’s clawed hand adorns yours, not waiting for you to give a proper response. As he goes on he slips off your glove, orange glowing cracks kiss the surface.

“What he smelled, what he saw, what he tasted.” Your fingers twitch against your will when the brunettes tongue darts, out swiping over the surface of your palm, never breaking the eye contact you shared. Your lips part and before you could speak the two of you are on guard as a voice booms down the hall.

“Aircraft in landing zone. Personnel respond.”

“...We're not done here.” You mutter in passing, shoving your glove back over your bare hand.

Soap was so damn close.

💌💌💌💌

Ghost could smirk at the scene of you making your way out to the landing; Soap following in suit. You move to stand next to the blonde fixing him with a pointed gaze that he raises his hands at in surrender. Boots clank against the metal ramp leading out to the open. Two men walk out one with patches of tan fur running up his arm with spots of a jaguar; he could shift between two of something –you couldn't quite recall– his cat-like tail mirroring the pattern of the fur above. The other you couldn't make much of due to his gear other than his tail; a little more fluffy then his partner but less fluffy then Soaps.

“The corps wasn't supposed to drop you off until tomorrow” Simon hits the head on the nail, never the one for small talk, beating around a bush.

“We know- but our window has shortened. That cockatrice was a bad omen. We sent word of the change of plans last night” Alejandro, –you recall now– stands with his arms crossed over his chest. Soap somewhat sheepishly grins taking fault.

“Uh… we were busy. Full moon.” Rudy –it had to be– nudges the back of his partner's neck and if the look on his face didn't tell him ‘I told you so’ the mutters from his lips did.

“Can't be helped. I'm Sergeant John ‘Soap’ Mactavish. That's Ghost and Flatline.” The Scott, quick to break formalities pointed at the two of you with his thumb before shaking the pair's hand.

“Lieutenant Simon Riley and Y/n Y/l/n! Good to put a face to a name, so to speak.” You hate how eager he is at the drop of your name, like he knows you. Your shoulders tense and the tips of your fingers tingle.

“Real reputation you two have. Real mean sons of bitches even before-”Another thing you couldn't stand were reptiles and here was a literal snake in front of you; talking about you in your own base. Valerias in front of you quicker than you'd like. The python haired woman squints her faint green eyes at your person, scales take place up her arms in patches. Simon's shadows project up his arms more opaquely and the Scott swore he could see your irises flicker that burning orange.

“C’mon this way. Captain Price’s got more experience being the welcome committee.” The wolf tries to make light of the situation with a stiff chuckle, sweeping the trio away from the two of you. When he averts his gaze over his shoulder he frowns at the sight of your tense selves and it deepens when he catches your form slipping through the doors of base in the opposite direction with some pep to your step. Simon opting to stay outside however, unknowingly turning his back to the brunette's gaze rubbing his palm down the back of his neck.

💌💌💌💌

“Heard from Soap our new arrivals made a bad first impression.” Price hums coming to stand next to the skull wearing lieutenant who didn’t move to stand from his seated position. The wraith unclenched his fist and clenched them again in a rhythm. His shadow sat more stubbornly, traveling up his arms making their presence known instead of being the usual fly on the wall they were.

“He tell you wha’ I had for breakfast as well?” John shrugs, raising a brow, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“Could ask. Would he know?” Simon looks at the captain through the peripheral of his eyes before directing his attention back in front of him. The dragon notes the slight dip in mask at his forehead signaling the scrunch of his eyebrows.

“…They knew who we were. Before.” The older hybrid moves to sit next to the wraith, one knee propped up. His wing twitches to expand around the back of the man next to him, his hoard. He silently gives into it.

“Contracts of silence only go so far. We knew people would talk. They’ve gone and made Johnny curious. He wouldn’t push either of you, you don’t have to tell him.” The brunette assures the blonde and he sighs.

“…No. I do. My part at least” It’s Prices turn to huff now a small smile on his lips.

“Deity’ll catch up. She’s already startin’ to poke and take interest.” Simon hums knowingly; John notes how the blondes shoulder just barely release pressure at the mere mention of his second lieutenant.

“Smoke with me, Riley.” It’s more of a statement than a question, as John holds out a cigar for the lieutenant to take.

“That an order, captain?” Simon take the brown lug in his hand

“I’m sure you’ll force me to make it one.”

💌💌💌💌

*about six years ago*

“Rare to see you hovering, captain.” The blonde hums —his sides are short and there’s only about an inch or two on the top— cigar pinched in between the skin of his index and ring finger. They both look down at the scene of you training your soldiers; –normals, that day– you were on track to be so fresh at the role but, they expected no less from you.

“Thought I’d come see your boys work through their drills.” The dragon drags the smoke, allowing it to settle in his lungs before letting it go. His wings sit strong on his back, the slight breeze he catches in them makes him think about taking a flight.

“You mean Vernon.” The lieutenant replied stiffly.

“He's lagging.” The captain confirms his observation aloud.

“I know. But he's the only one who came back from Roba alive. We’ll need him on strike” The blonde curates strategically as he watches you make the soldier run a lap.

“All logic with you.” Price grins around the tobacco, arms crossed against his chest.

“Well I’m not keeping him for sentimental reasons.” Ghost huffs; dog tag dangling from his neck while he leaned on the stone wall beneath him. He feels an itch in the small scar kissing his cheekbone, he doesn’t scratch.

“Try as you might, I know there’s a heart underneath that scowl, Riley.” The older dragon hums

“A sorry excuse for one.”

“Simon.” The lieutenant averts his gaze from the field to his captain.

“I’ll have to hang back on this one. Roba’s men had their gear fine tuned to ping my heat signature ever since our last run in.” The brunette hums averting his attention from the way your tank top begins to rise at the low of your back.

“And They ‘aven’t gotten hers?” The blonde questions tilting his head towards the field. John huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.

“There’s not much their tech could detect on a Phoenix. Her heat signature alone wouldn’t be able to be measured, make their system go to shit.” The lieutenant thinks it’s oddly fitting for you watching as you bark positions.

“Putting these boys in the hands of you two. So you’d better come back in one piece. That’s an order.” The clawed hand on his shoulder is warm and Simon doesn’t think twice before responding.

“…Copy that.”

💌💌💌💌

“Simon Riley. You’re a difficult man to crack. To think you’d break your own damn wrists to escape! I’d be pissed about the mess but hey- four less men I’ll need to pay, eh?” The light of the hallway is brighter than the fire of hell; it shines down on Simon’s body and he closes his eyes, head hanging low. The wooden chair he’s bound to is anything short of comfortable —his wrists are rubbed raw behind his back by the too tight ropes, his ankles are bound to the front post of the oak wood chair legs, and he feels the urge to throw up at the throbbing in his temple with the dried blood sticking to his forehead from an open wound.

“Ah well, you special forces guys are all nuts. But you know what they say about us chupacabras” Boots smack against the ground without much remorse, approaching him stealthily. Robs is truly a blob of flub, his stomach pokes over his pants sitting atop of his belt. Slim brown spikes —a shade lighter than his darker than his kept hair— placed in a line through the middle of his head, his ears are pointed at the tips, his thick bushy mustache starts at the top of his lips and wraps down to his thick chin.

“There's no hide we can't sink our teeth into.” The grin on his mouth is nothing but sinister, teeth sharp. Ghost can feel his breath on the crown of his head; can't find the urge to redirect his closed eyes, tilted towards the floor and before he knew it the presence right above his shoulder began to leave.

“Your man Vernon- he learned that the hard way. Was all too eager to squeal on you and your captain, once we really got started. But ah as far as rats go, not much of a prize.” The blonde lieutenant listened as the gruff man simply shrugged it off while nothing was simple about it.

“You though… Señor Riley… you're just a Human, mixed up in matters you’ll never understand.” Simon wants to throw up at the quick movement of his head; claws roughly slip into his scalp, the pulling of his hair making him grunt.

“What do you say huh? I'll cut you a deal, same as your girl. I let you go home and you squeal when I pull on your tail.” He tenses at the mention of you, he wonders if they've killed you since they split you up after trying to escape. They would all find a fate worse than death if –he could never see your eyes again, never could feel the warmth of the small smiles youd give specially to him and John, never hear how you defended their honor when they weren’t present to. He’d kill every last one of them.

“I'll even sweeten the deal- be good and you might even get a promotion, eh? Between the two of us, Captain Riley sounds much better than Price, no?” Simon is beyond trained for these situations, hell he's found himself in these situations it was a routine; Don't let them know they've broken you, don't panic –it makes it all the worse–, assume no one is coming for you, and keep your mouth shut. As the leader drops the hold on the lieutenant's hair he’s quick to grab his face squeezing with too much pressure.

“Well?”

“... I'd rather rip your tongue off and feed it to you” The tone of Ghost's voice could make the highest of killers shiver. It wasnt like he had an aspiration to do it, no. The honest, certainty could make the opposing man go rigid. Instead he huffs out a deep chuckle.

“That look in your eyes… I bet you really would. Crazy son of a bitch. Ah, well. That's what I get for trying diplomacy. Should've taken the deal pendejo. You're about to learn exactly why humans aren’t built for deputies between monsters.” Roba tosses his head, slashing his claws through the skin of his cheeks when he does so. The sting is nothing compared to the look in his eyes when he hears a voice all too familiar approaching the room.

“Get the fuck off me!” Simon struggles against his restraints as you’re dragged underneath your arms by two men who were all too rough; one being your own damn soldier. You look frail, your skin is covered in patches of dirt, they've stripped you to your bra –having the decency to let you keep your pants that are littered with splatters of blood–, and there's a cut reaching from the tip of your brow and down the skin of your lid ending at the beginning of your cheekbone. You're thrown to the cold stone floor given barely enough time to break your fall with your wrists. Your hair is wet, the curl toppling down your back at the weight of the water.

“Your girly… she's like you. I offer to make her a captain, just for a few tests on the wings. Let my boys do their research, didn't budge one bit.” The blonde curses something colorful at the chupacabra as his greasy palms slip to the back of your head, dragging you to be situated in front of the lieutenant. Roba nods at his men and Simon curses Vernon just as fluently as he pulls your arm to either side of you leaving your back open.

“You lay a finger on her and they won't be able to find all the pieces to you!” The leader laughs from behind him, walking like a lion stalking its prey before situating himself behind your struggling form.

“See what I don't think you understand is… If I can’t have what I want, no one else can have it either.” You feel the cold steel of the knife on your back and before you can register your bra is cut. The lieutenant roars as the undergarment falls to the floor. Adrenaline picks up as he tries to lift his body up and down to break the oak wood.

“How about your pretty bird… won’t sing no more eh?” Simon watches as your breaths begin to rise and fall too quickly; you were too young, too young to be a damn lieutenant, too young to be in special forces, too young to be here.

“Si.” His name falls from your lips with a gasp. Your eyes are cloudy and all of sudden there's a lump in his throat.

“You’re alright lovie. Look at me. Don’t take your eyes off me, alright?” He knows you can tell it’s an order by the firmness of his voice but, his tone is so soft with you. Always with you.

“Funny thing about the Phoenix, my friend. They have these freaky little… tendrils of nerves called queues. My men were trying to figure out where the hell they could be, your man here though… gave them an idea.” You don't know what you were expecting but it sure as hell wasn't a knife in your back. The scream is short of human; it wasn't a human noise, in fact. It served no purpose but to express its pain in all ways seeking out relief. You try to keep it together for Simon, you try not to scream –you fail. While the cold steel of the knife rips down the skin of your spine it's a contrast with the white blinding, burning, pain you feel. You can feel the connection from your wings fading, dying, and the panic in your body stills, they've broken you. You open your eyes and can see Simon struggling on his side against his restraints; the remains of the chair scattered not too far from him.

Tears flow down your face in a never ending stream and your hearing you didn't know you'd loss returns as Roba ends his assault at your tailbone. You don't feel anything; you don't feel how you’re lowered to the floor, the smacking of boots around you, or the slam of the cell door. Simon moves his ass, rocking himself until he was able to sit up and scoot to your fetal position. You shiver at the air on your back; the wound leaks crimson in a way that makes a mess of everything it touches, slowly mending itself together.

“You're alright, you're gonna be fine. They'll fix you up real good when we get home, yeah? ” You try to hold your anguish but the effort is fruitless. You shake your head, lips parting before they close again.

“I can't f-feel my wings, my w-wings.” His heart drops again at the pure pain in your voice that shakes your chest. You can't find it in yourself to stop crying and he doesn't tell you to. Something so sacred, the only thing left you had connected to your past life –ripped from right underneath you.

“I know lovie, I know. You're gonna be alright, we're gonna be alright.” The blonde doesnt know if he's reassuring you or himself; he doesn't care to find out.

It feels like ice poured down your back when the door is swung open and you’re ripped apart from each other again. This time just a few feet apart instead of rooms down. Your body feels like it knows what's going to happen before your mind does; you've seen this scene before. A new sense of adrenaline is found within you when you project the back of your head to smack into the soldier behind that wraps their hands around your wrist; you come to find that it's the brunette who betrayed your team and the crunch of his nose is all the more satisfying. You're not given much time to do anything before you're grabbed up again and you feel sick as the fanged leader's chuckle falls over the room. Roba reaches over to take a gun from another man behind you. He pulls the barrel back and it clicks as he walks in front of Simon –who's forced on his knees–, still giving you a clear view of the scene. His earthy brown eyes dart to you quickly as you shout then quickly switch to the being in front of him.

“Please! Roba!” You begged him. You begged to any God out there that could hear for help; Understanding that life was pain, another living being had learned. Your body aches as the men behind you tighten their grip as you thrash beneath their touch.

“Sweetheart.” The blonde calls out to you and your stomach drops at the pet name; he knows what's going to happen and a weight tugs at the organ in your chest. You're sobbing again –you can't remember if you ever stopped– while there's a hand that pulls at your hair keeping your gaze locked in front of you.

“Please. I'll tell you anything, please just let him go.” Begging must look short of pathetic on you while Simon sits there on his knees. You hate that look in his eyes, like he's signed his name on his contract of fate in black ink on a dotted line.

“It's too late.” It doesn't feel real when the gun goes off; your ears ring once more and you fight against the hold restraining you. You scream trying to get to Simon; they've actually done it, they killed him. The way his body falls to the floor so limply, so lifeless. The last time you try to dart out of your restraints the butt of a pistol meets your jaw, your vision is black.

*****

Wraiths are amorphous, semi-tangible beings born of strong desires for vengeance. Often mistaken for poltergeists or demons, wraiths are characterized by explosive bouts of anger and violence which manifest through black ‘smoke’ that cling and stains their skin.

Myths around the world depict wraiths as the great equalizer in a world where humans are comparably defenseless. Folklore depicts wraiths as humanity's last resort, a way to balance the scales against the might of monsters.

The risk of creating a hellbent killing machine would often deter mass pillaging and destruction and would send a message to those careless enough to leave a survivor.

In the birth of a wraith, myths highlight the necessity of being at a ‘graveyard’ when close to death, as the impending return to earth tricks The Reaper into complacency… only for the surely dead to go on living.

Simon Riley kicks at the roof of the box he's in, the wood eventually caves beneath the force of his feet. The thumps and slight moving of pebbles of dirt are unheard by no one near; he snarls around the white cloth wrapped around his head, situated in his mouth.

Wraiths are characterized by immense focus. Anger.

The lynchpin of their transformation is their stubbornness to die and their burning desire for retribution.

His short fingernails morph to claws ripping the ropes that bind his wrist; his teeth adapt fangs that snap the tension of the silencer in his mouth. Thick black streams of smoke crawl up his neck.

They are known as living spectres. Their bodies' death clings to with such passion, that even Mother Nature believes they are dead. More commonly, these beings are known by a simpler moniker.

He's a dead man crawling up from his grave, his eyes are unfound on his face clouded by the smoke that crowded them. His uncanny long tongue darts out his mouth as he huffs a puff of rage, fangs aching as he snarls.

“The one's death didn't want.”

💌💌💌💌

Locked in clocked in this whole chapter

Yay Ghost and Deity lore! (events that traumatically alter their brain chemistry)

does chat want a tag list?

[svt-kiki]

( 📺 )　𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐃　　⌅ .　

　𓈃　PREDEBUT ERA KIKI WAS SOMETHING ELSE　

────📄 ❛ kiki being saint pirate queen in predebut era aka sometimes the one who remain calm among the lunatic situation is the one who’s most dangerous

𝗔𝗣𝗧.　୵　𝗌𝗏𝗍 × 𝖿!𝗈𝖼𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋　ʬʬ　𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝗄𝗂𝗄𝗂 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗏𝗍

#1　📼　LIFE IN LOOKS BY VOGUE　◜　intro

they showed her first profile picture of her back in 2012. she gasped in an instance and said, “oh my god where did you found this??? look at this bangs that exactly on my eye.” kiki laughs, “i wonder whenever looked back those pictures before the debut, all girls had this type of bangs, long and always covering one of our eyes. it’s nostalgic.”

“it was tough time. i’d never lived abroad nor surrounded by so many boys like that, they always surprised me how they could be…” she hesitated a second but carried on anyway. “a bit… wild, you know.” she giggled.

#2　📼　PREDEBUT KIKI IN A NUTSHELL　

always in the background of most unhinged situation yet remain calm and peace

kiki, later in the magazine interview : that’s the special skill i gained by hard working haha

the footage of seventeen tv in 4x speed while all boys moving left and right and never stay still, while she sit on the table patiently writing something on the notebook entire time

it’s literally a superpower atp

kiki rising a voice from behind “don’t broke it they can’t afford a new one!” in woozi’s infamous guitar attack

not she correcting japanese teacher in tiny voices and make them regretting their life decisions

being whipped for samuel 24/7

“who’s trying to ness with my baby 😠”

she just keep practicing even every other people having fun around her because sometimes having no idea what else to do

judging others weird behavior in general

trying to hold seungcheol back from dragging seokmin trying to do something weird for 3624421 times on joshua’s first day ( bro came all way long from la and got traumatized )

by the time of seventeen tv broadcasting, they just got used to each other mostly and could care less about holding hands, hugging or pecking on the side of the head of cheek

seungcheol became wEAK in only front of her like wdym scariest dad being so blushy ?¿

jeonghan really relied on her back in the trainee days, she taught him dance, how to practice well and get over stressful monthly evaluation

jun and joshua being only normal friends of her

kisoon being dancing machine over big bang songs

kiki and woozi entered pledis almost at the same time they always had a special place in each other’s heart

mingyu seokmin wonwoo fighting over for kiki aka she set the war without intention

kisol is chaotic angels of melona prison

seungkwan is the most insightful for her condition changing in period, scold everyone be nosy and loud around her when poor japanese girl suffering over the pain in stomach area, telling them to buy pain killers and a pudding

dino is forever baby of kiki and jeonghan

#3　📼　GOOD MORNING 17　

she waking them up by banging ladle on the pan 😭✋🏻

kiki, with the most straight face ever : it’s the ghibli style, everyone

she constantly yelling ( not exactly more like the level of speaking loud but considering her usual speaking tone this is counted as YELLING ) “WAKE UPPP” to lazy sleepy heads

dino : noona i can’t find my socks :(

hoshi : noona have you see my tie?

samuel : kiki seokmin hyung bullying me :’( *lie*

kiki, packing vernon’s backpack : other pair of socks is in the drawer of room b, hoshi’s tie is on the chair in the living room since you didn’t put away two days ago, seokmin-na if you don’t let go of samuel i will end your life, now everyone MOVE OR YOU’LL BE LATE FOR SCHOOL AGAIN-

dk : noona i ain’t do nothing 😭

yep, she basically raised all these children

#4　📼　KIKI BEING HUMAN CINNAMON ROLL

taking care of dino and jeonghan when they weren’t the happiest

always soothes others when they got scolded, combing hairs and told “they said this to you because they care about you, we don’t want you get released by monthly evaluation and say goodbye to someone again, hm?”

kiki : can we have a little snack if we behaved good 🥺

staff : *couldn’t resist* ugh sure whatever you want 😩

but she really had the POWER because she’s the most hard-worker and well-behaved kid among all the chaotic trainees

kiki’s ADORED by senior trainees and other ( good ) pledis girls like whenever boys and girls are together in the melona room girls never leave her alone, holding hands and asking questions about everything

and svt boys slightly got jealously how physically close they were

woozi : noona how to say this in japanese

kiki : *answered*

woozi : okay how to write it

kiki : *wrote it down*

woozi : your handwritings are really pretty

kiki : omg thanks ☺️

boys tried to use her as non combat area when they were fighting

kiki : could you please stop arguing for a sec and sit down and eat popsicle with me *puppy eyes*

other boys : *suddenly deactivated fighter mode and obeyed to her*

she’s everyone’s crush ™️

they celebrated her 18th birthday and samuel gifted a kiss on her cheek… that’s when she melted, literally

even bought a small cake from everyone’s light purse ( boys were broke ) and kiki was so happy and touched, they all write letters to wish her happiness and thanked to her hardworking that she still kept to this day

from this moment the tradition to celebrate her birthday and buy a gift became group’s tradition—she’s under the second longest training period with woozi, got scouted from other famous companies time to time for her talent and great potential, but she stayed in broke ass company who barely can afford proper meals and training rooms just because couldn’t left this noisy precious boys behind

#5　📼　NO, MAYBE SHE WAS THE FINAL BOSS

if you think she being the softy kind person is enough to discipline these boys ass you’re very wrong

others : *playing around while they supposed to be practicing*

kiki : ………………and what? *took a glance*

others : *terrified because she hasn’t gotten mad YET*

actually she never really got angry or scold everyone but when they’d done something wrong, kiki just stared at them in very sad or disappointed eyes and shook the head before trying to leave, and sometimes it worked more because now they all scared what will happen if she actually got mad because no one knew what is be like

besides she making most of meals in the dorm so kiki could just let them skip the dinner as a punishment, again she held that much authority back then ( she never did nor implied to get done but that’s just how their everyday worked )

© SVT-KIKI　/　2025 .　

( tag list )　@smh-anon @jennwonwoo @angie-x3 @scarlet789 @cheeksung

[janluxe]

GENUINE CARE – CALEB / XIA YIZHOU

–summary; just because we grow up, it doesn't mean we change for the worst, right? –contents; smut, fluff, and maybe a sprinkle of angst.

–word count; 3.1k –a/n; writing scenes like this is so interesting yet so awkward at the same time I can't,, have a nice day/night, and thank you for reading <3 (also Caleb's myth>>)

You held a special place in his heart ever since he had first seen you.

Caleb had always been so fond of you. It was sickening for everyone else who had to tolerate being around.

His mind is still haunted by your laughter and the joy that overfilled you back when you were carefree and small, still jumping in puddles of water made on the side of the road.

And much like a gardener who takes care of his precious flowers, Caleb was always on the look out when it came to you – from starting fights with your bullies to being there whenever you needed someone to listen to you talk about your issues.

He would wait a lifetime if it meant he got to spend it by your side, being the reason for that bright smile of yours. He would carry your burdens for you without a second thought if only you allowed him to.

His mind had always been a museum of you and the moments you had gifted him with.

Caleb, despite everything he has been put through, still holds onto the memories he has made with you as a kid, recalling every single detail related to you.

He remembers how your hands quivered before a play date you had arranged with a classmate of yours back in the old days. Of course, he hasn't changed all that much – even back then, he despised the idea of you spending time with someone who wasn't him, but the hint of excitement hiding amongst the cracks of your voice made him soften to the thought.

Caleb carefully fixed your hair, small and childish hands running through each strand and pulling your bangs out of your face with a red apple themed hairclip he had bought for you on his way home from school. He loved you too much to let you struggle on your own. Your gaze followed his slightly taller frame in the mirror as he swiftly moved behind you to zip up your dress and then proceeded to fix any imperfections of the fabric right after.

He took a small step away from you, staring at you with a proud smile on his boyish features. "You look... pretty." The compliment echoed in your mind as you stared at your reflection, completely taken aback by his work.

"You're beautiful." Caleb muttered against the bare skin of your shoulder. His teeth grazing against the soft flesh and his tongue running over to soothe the redness he had created. His hand rested on your waist, enjoying the closure for a minute more before he started to unzip your dress.

The badges on his chest weighed heavy, the cold metal coming in contrast with the warmth of your back. The Colonel's uniform on him was a strange sight as someone who had been with him through the good and the bad ever since he was a child. The softness of your dress' straps got replaced with the smooth feeling of his leather gloves, causing your shoulders to tense at the change of sensation on your skin.

"You seem a bit tense, pipsqueak." He stated, letting your dress fall and pool at your feet as he placed his arm behind your knees. His grip on you was firm, yet gentle when he lifted you up. The mattress dipped under your shared weight, while Caleb's eyes were stuck, admiring the golden hue on your features.

The sun had begun to set in Skyhaven, changing the colors of the sky into a fun mix. They were right. They were right about how pretty the sunset is in this city, yet Caleb wasn't interested in watching another nightfall, not when his whole world was in his arms.

"Easy now..." He mumbled, bringing your frame even closer to his own, fingers pressing into the taut muscles of your shoulders in an attempt to massage out the tension with precise movements. "Tell me what's bothering that little noggin of yours."

"You've changed." You hesitated but didn't fail to notice a small smirk forming on his face as his hands slid further down your back, following the outline of your spine.

A faint scoff escaped him as he leaned closer to you, wanting to close the space between you, but he held onto his sanity for now. "How come?" A quick and simple question that did an incredible job at throwing you off.

"Well... you're not the same boy that used to walk me to class, help me wash my hair..." Your voice was like a well-sung poem caressing his ears even while you kept listing off reasons he seemed different than he was before.

Caleb held eye contact with you. It didn't feel strange to either of you, not after so many challenges and games of 'whoever-looks-away-first-washes-the-dishes-for-a-week' during your time together.

"You're not exactly the same either, now, are you?" The steadiness in his voice always had a soothing effect on you, but his words didn't exactly calm you down completely. You were about to throw a protest at him before the feeling of his hat on your head messed up your thought process. "We're all grown up now, pipsqueak."

"That doesn't mean we've changed for the worst." He murmured against the shell of your ear, his voice lowered to nothing more than a whisper. Fine dark hair tickled your cheek as his lips traveled down to your jawline, leaving pecks on every part of skin they could reach. "Give me a chance to show you." The desperation dripping off his tone went straight to your core –large hands unclasping and sliding off your bra.

Your mind remained occupied with his tender touches along your back and his kisses on the column of your throat, creating a way to escape reality if you decided to just shut your eyes.

Caleb always had the tendency to put you before himself. Even while the other boys of your age grew selfish, he despised the idea of neglecting your needs for the sake of his own

His hand moving to rest on your waist brought you back into the present. The small, surpised noises that escaped your throat encouraged him to trail his lips further down, finding the nubs of your chest and circling one with his tongue and finally popping it into his mouth He tried his best to make it feel good for you – Caleb wasn't just willing to, no, he was determined to please you.

Part of you believed this was the wrong thing to do after being brought up in the same household and playing the roles of siblings. But the rules that society placed upon you didn't linger in your mind a moment longer when you noticed the look he was giving you, violet eyes full of stars stolen from the night sky and saved just for you.

"I'll make this work, pipsqueak." Caleb's words landed your skin, soothing the path of goosebumps he had left on it. "Be a good girl, and I promise I will." He had always been good at keeping his promises, no backing out – and, in fact, already sliding off the only remaining clothing on you.

Your shivers and the way your skin soaked in the golden light that sneaked through the blinders urged him to keep going, to leave patience and taking it slow for another day – his grip on the plush flesh of your thighs was the only thing keeping his emotions in check, reminding him that he should take things slow. After all, your satisfaction meant more to him than his own pleasure ever would.

If he could keep you right here just like this forever, he wouldn't hesitate.

The badges on his chest clinked under your hand the moment you decided to push him back into the mattress.

Beneath all those layers of responsibility lay a faint, but not unfamiliar, heartbeat, one that always grew louder and quicker with the right touch.

Whenever he refused to open up about his emotions because he believed he shouldn't burden you with his troubles, his body betrayed him despite his best efforts. You could tell how much he needed you. The way his slender fingers clenched onto the sheets like they were a lifeline, the soft pink hue creeping onto his face and the very obvious bobbing of the Adam's apple in his throat was telling you everything you wanted to know.

Despite the position he was in, the usual softness in his expression lingered and yet, it perfectly harmonized with the hint of a frown creasing his brow and the ever-so-slight quiver of his lip which gave away his underlying complaint.

Beneath all those layers was a boy who did everything in his power to keep you happy when no one else bothered. A boy who made sure to protect not only you but also your memories from anyone who dared disturb you.

Heat started pooling in your abdomen. You were no stranger to the feeling, especially when he was the cause. Thoughts of the first time you felt it rushed to you, it happened while playfighting with him and getting pinned down out of the blue; he allowed a small hint of frustration to seep through his usual facade before he played it off like he always used to do. Your eyes traced the outline of his muscles flexing against the thin fabric of the shirt he was wearing. His touch remained gentle but didn't falter even for a second.

You couldn't help but zone out, noticing how underneath all those layers, he was still the same man.

A small, choked noise escaped him the moment he felt your hand unintentionally trailed lower. "Fuck." Caleb slowly losing his cool over something so small was a sight you could get used to.

"You can't be serious." Your teasing comment and the cocky smirk you wore had him teetering right on the edge of falling apart before your very eyes.

The sight? Pathetically adorable and judging by how red he had gotten all over, it was bound to get much worse.

"Please." Caleb knew how embarrassing it was to be in a position like this, unable to touch you even after waiting for you all these years. But to put it quite frankly, he couldn't care less about his dignity at the moment. "Can I touch–" his words caught in his throat, or crashed into your thumb when you slipped it past his lips to shut him up.

You couldn't resist teasing him, running your hand all over his uniform, and feeling him twitch under your touch. There were small details on his attire that piqued your curiosity, playing around with them while he observed you. "You're still in uniform. That's not very fair, is it?" You cooed, grounding yourself against the rough fabric of his uniform. He was a sight for sore eyes; propped up on his elbows, trying to communicate with muffled sentences and loud whines.

Caleb's cries filled up the quiet room before you removed your finger from his mouth with a wet pop, and he was already struggling to catch his breath. "Good. It feels good..." his chest rose and fell rapidly under your hand, hips bucking involuntarily as he felt his mind slip. Sadly, this wasn't enough, and you were both aware of that fact.

He was in awe of the way you handled him effortlessly, already drowning in the sensations you were –oh so generously– offering him. His eyelashes met the freckled skin of his cheeks each time you toyed with his belt.

Caleb was never one for formal wear, so the first time you saw him in his academy outfit, some feelings stirred. And now his Colonel uniform had you going feral.

"My love, I can't–" The words rolled off his tongue easily, yet trailed off into a gasp the moment he felt his tip nudging the entrance of your glistening folds.

'My love'? Not 'pipsqueak'?

"I can stop." A mere comment had him biting down on his lip, hand reaching out to hold you in place before you even had the chance to move away and accidentally pulling you even closer which caused the both of you to groan.

"Do anything you want, just don't stop." Caleb managed to mutter, feeling too overwhelmed and underwhelmed by the feeling of you enveloping him – the scent of your body lotion overcoming his senses. "I'm begging you."

Violet, glassy eyes staring up at you through long eyelashes, hoping you'd give him at least something.

You could stay right where you were for the rest of eternity, leaving him exposed the same way he had done – the evidence of which was your clothing, still scattered in the bedroom. But, you knew you wouldn't do that.

The Farspace fleet Colonel deduced to the mess writhing underneath you while you took the opportunity to get used to the feeling of him pushing apart the velvet surface of your walls the more you sunk down on him.

You shut your eyes, trying your best to adjust to the sensation; sure, it was pleasurable to an extent, but it contained a painful undertone that couldn't be ignored.

Noticing how your nose scrunched up, a hint of discomfort coloring your features, Caleb immediately moved his hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered on the back of your neck as he reassured you, "It's okay." Voice soothing and sweet like honey on an open wound, "I've got you, pretty girl."

All of his attention was on you. It never left you, in fact. "You're doing an awesome job. Look at you." He cooed, allowing his eyes to flutter closed right after he pressed his forehead against yours. The rhythm he had set was slow and shallow, making sure your first time with him wouldn't leave a bitter aftertaste in the future.

"I'm fine." Your words seemed to calm him down. He couldn't help but feel a tinge of pride when you finally managed to gather up the strength to fully settle on him, and the awful smile he had on proved that even more.

"I know you are." Caleb coaxed, talking to you with the same amount of admiration in his voice even when he was just a young boy. "You're taking me so well." was a sentence you never expected to hear from his mouth.

You couldn't help but pause, a faint chuckle escaping you before a comment about his way of praise left your lips automatically, "Can't you express yourself better than that?"

One moment, you feel overwhelmed by the newly found sensation, and the next you feel homey enough to laugh with his maybe-not-so elegant remarks. "Noo, I can't." He protested playfully, thumb brushing and gently squishing the flesh of your inner thigh. "Not when you're this cruel."

"You're acting like you hate it." Your voice was filled with complaint, causing his features to soften up like they always used to do back then; when you explained to him how your day at school went like shit because of a bad grade, or how one of your friends was talking behind your back and especially when you couldn't spend time stuck to his side because he had to focus on his studies.

A hearty laugh eacaped his throat, acknowledging your effort to make him feel guilty, "No, I love it, honey." Caleb bounced back with no issue, having grown accustomed to your acts. And yet, a part of him struggled to remained composed while your small frame grinded down on his significantly bigger one, seeking out friction.

"You, on the other hand, are awfully impatient." Caleb's usual teasing attitude seeped through the muffled noises that escaped him each time you moved around. "Still the same, hm?" He hummed, trying to prove a point even while his voice was barely stable, and his mind was already traveling places. "Maybe I should bring your favorite treats next time. To make this more engaging cause you seem a bit lost." His thumb lightly pressed on your clit caught you off guard, and your reaction was written all over your face. It was clear how proud he was with his comment while you struggled to keep a straight face.

The pad of his finger gently traced the outline of your nub, testing the waters and coaxing it to harden under his touch before he applied more pressure. Your thought process melted as you slowed down your movements and eventually let them halt completely. "Oh no, don't stop now. You promised." The unnatural low pitch of his voice and his breath on your face snapped you back into reality, not allowing you to take without giving.

You could feel his hipbones grazing against the skin of your thighs while you squeezed him, in every sense of the word.

"Come on, we both know you can do better than that." Caleb encouraged you, placing a gentle kiss on the corner of your lips with the hope that his moans wouldn't sound as pathetic as they truly were. Maybe he had a chance to prove that he wasn't a total loser who wasn't already holding off his release.

His soft praises faded into a harmonic haze as he peppered your face in kisses while your hips met his in a rhythmic motion. Caleb admired every aspect of you more than anyone ever could, and he wanted you to know that. He was willing to give you everything you asked for and more. He wasn't afraid of pleasing you, and it had you arching your back in an attempt to find a different angle. One that made you see universes unfolding before you, universes in the same color as the irises that mesmerized you on a daily basis.

"When did it get dark?" You managed to mutter, still putting a lot of effort into forming a coherent sentence while your eyes studied the darkness of the room – your body still slumped against his.

The smell of his cologne enveloped your being, calming you down. Caleb was there with you, and he wasn't going anywhere without you.

His hand redirected your face to rest against his chest, feeling his heart race under your cheek and his laughter erupt from his throat. "You're totally out of it, huh pipsqueak?" Caleb teased, flicking his hat before he took it off of your head and set it aside so he could replace it with his face.

A position that reminded you so much of how he used to hold you when you were still the same height.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." He murmured, picking you up effortlessly right after he was done kissing the top of your head to carry you to the bathroom. "I've got you."

[geeeemmmmmmm]

"I have waited for this"

Summary:You and Bucky whom you dislike immensely are paired up on a mission and have to share a room with him. Who knows what could happen..

Warnings:Very bland enemies to lovers, banter, fluff, one bed trope(idk I think I wrote it following that trope loosely)

A/N:I know very cliche tropes but I haven't tried them and wanted to give it a shot so expect this to be quite bad aha! As always sorry for any mistakes and enjoy!

WC:2.3K(I got carried away)

Chatter filled the conference room at the tower; Tony was growing more agitated with being ignored by everyone "Hey, Let's focus here we actually have some important things to go over. Can you guys just hear me out for a minute?" he called out in the toughest voice he could muster up. The chatter came to a sudden halt as everyone looked at Tony finally ready to listen as if you all were in a primary school classroom. "Ahem, as we all know Thano's followers, the Black Order have scurried their way here. Bruce and I will be tracking them from here but we need some of you guys to try and keep an eye on them, we don't want to attack just yet." You nodded along processing what Tony had just told you guys before he began on again "We all need to be split up into groups to observe them all. Natasha and Steve, are you two willinging to be on watch duty for Cull Obsidian?". Steve and Natasha happily looked at each other then at Tony to confirm as he nodded back. 

"Y/N and Bucky, you two being the last ones left, can you please observe Proxima Midnight?" that statement from Tony jolted you awake like nothing before. You and Bucky were not friends, barely teammates in your mind. Something about him just rubbed you the wrong way since the day you met him and you kept strong on that feeling and he seemed to match that energy alongside you whether it be calling out snarky comments to each other during training sessions or just pushing past harshly as you walked past each other in the halls. The worst part of this situation is that you can't even ask anyone to switch partners with you because you fell asleep while the others' names were being called. It was a common occurrence for you to doze off and you had been repeatedly told by Steve that if you fall asleep again, there'd be consequences. You thought to yourself that this must be a punishment from last time as you remembered how you snored at the table, in front of everyone and you figured Steve must have got Tony to help him get his payback by pairing you with Bucky. This mission being a serious one you didn't want to be yelled at in-front of everyone, especially Bucky.

Everyone hurried off together chattering as they scurried off to wherever their member of the Black Order is currently, leaving you and Bucky sitting at opposite ends of the table glaring at each other before he snapped "Let's get going then the drive to New Jersey isn't that bad but I don't want traffic" you bit your tongue and just nodded not wanting to ruin this mission even more before it even starts. Quickly you ran to your room to pack your duffle bag, not even sure how much you needed because you fell asleep while that was being covered so you just guessed hoping 3 days worth of clothes and toiletries was enough. 

"Chop chop Barnes" you called out to him irritated that he rushed you while not even being ready himself while you pounded on his door tapping your foot impatiently. "What? I'm here aren't I?" you heard as his door opened swiftly making you take in the sight of Bucky smiling at you trying his best to taunt you just as he swung his bag over his metal arm - you hated how good he looked in that black shirt that somehow hugged everyone of his muscles and made his eyes shine like diamonds. After everyone else left to begin their mission properly, you and Bucky finally embarked on yours. The lift ride down was awkward as you two stood side by side trying to not look at each other "Whose car are we taking?" "Mine, I am the gentleman after all" he sneered back watching you roll your eyes and walk out of the lift the moment those doors opened.

The hour 40 minute drive was... something to say the least. The radio was the only thing in reach to try help the ride there but of course Bucky would make it his mission to make you annoyed, you tried multiple times to turn it on but he just swatted your hand away, not even looking at you while he kept his left arm on the wheel completely unphased. "I'll turn it on only if I pick the station!" he declared trying his hide his amusement at your bland reply of "Didn't know winter soldiers even listen to music" noticing how you shrugged and gazed out the window just happy to get a distraction to keep you from sneaking glances at Bucky's arms. Static suddenly blasted from the stereo "oops guess the station is down, might as well keep it on to see if it comes back" he said nonchalantly just waiting to see your reaction. You managed to stay silent just grimacing as the static pierced your ears. 5 minutes was all you could handle with that horrible noise filling the car "Seriously how can you listen to this noise I can't even handle it with normal hearing how can you do it with super soldier hearing?" you gave in and asked him. Truth be told Bucky hated the static in his ears too, it felt like it was gripping his brain but he just needed an excuse for you to somehow talk to him. "Really? I love this sound! But I suppose I can turn it off since I'm such a nice guy" he said with the cheekiest grin on his face as he looked over at you. You can’t help but laugh about how much charm he has, even to you.

The car doors slammed as you two climbed out almost in sync. Just thankful to be out of Bucky's car you stretched your arms and took in the fresh air. "Guess this is where we are staying" "Guess so." you replied to him carefully reaching for your bag in the trunk before Bucky got his. Since you guys had left later than everyone else and had a slightly longer drive it was about 6:45PM when you arrived to the hotel, you headed into the main office of the small 3 story hotel not expecting to be greeted by a very cheerful receptionist sitting at her desk "How can I be of service today" she said with a bright smile "Just one room with 2 beds for about 3 days please" you told her, still not sure exactly on how long this mission was meant to be. "Oh dear me! We only have one room left with one bed, will that be ok?" she asked, still in that bright tone she started with "Oh uhm yea that should be fine" you sheepishly replied to her not wanting to delay your mission any further for finding a new hotel. You paid and got your room key, you strolled over to Bucky who didn't look too happy as he held his bag in hand waiting outside. "You heard?" Bucky just nodded in reply. 

"I think we are on the second floor" you said while looking at the faded blue paint job that clung weakly to the bricks making up the hotel. "Let's go and get changed then" Bucky said, somehow not being able to come up with some comment to annoy you. The stairs creaked as you and Bucky trudged up even only going up 2 floors.The stairs did not feel the most secure but you just shrugged it off. The key you were given struggled to fit into the lock but it managed as you shoved the door open, taking in the sight of the double bed in the corner of the room with a very little couch in the other. "Hope you didn't have your hopes up for what this room would be" you tried to make light of how awkward the sleeping situation will be. The room was not the most inviting, yes but at least it had a bathroom, a very small one but hey least it had a shower, sink and toilet you thought to yourself as you tried to figure out what that musky smell was that lingered in the hall. 

You splashed some cold water on your face in the bathroom as you stopped and walked out into the room upon hearing Bucky talk on the phone "Yes I'll tell her" he replied then hung up. "Bruce said the tracking system they are using back at home has had an error so it's best we just sit tight tonight and prepare to start tomorrow morning." He told you in a calm tone "Oh ok then, I'll just get changed into my pyjamas then". Shit the only pajamas you brought were 2 pairs of very tiny shorts and a lace tank top, you cursed yourself for not doing your laundry and you vowed to always double check what you have packed from now on. You creeped the bathroom door open peeking out to see if Bucky had changed and he did just into some boxers clearly not caring what he was wearing, he noticed as you softly stepped out trying to stop himself from looking and thinking about how gorgeous you looked. He'd only really seen you in either training gear or just some casual clothes but to be fair he never went out with the other avengers so he hasn't seen you dolled up, not that it mattered he's always found you beautiful. 

"So uhm who's sleeping where?" you asked him looking at the options you had which were the double bed or the ground. "I'll just take the ground" Bucky replied 'Are you sure Buck? I can sleep there I don't mind" you tried to reason with him, you disliked him immensely sure but you weren't a horrible person so of course you volunteered for the worse option. "You have to get your beauty sleep so take the bed" you didn't feel like bickering so you just crawled into bed chucking him a pillow and the blanket which sat on the end of the bed. It was about 7:30PM and you were knackered so you pulled the thin duvet over you."Night" you whispered to Bucky who was trying to get comfy "Night, pretty" he whispered back "That's a new name for me now huh" you responded "What if I mean it?" he teased. A laugh escaped your lips at his reply and how bold it was, even for Bucky as you got comfortable and tried to sleep but if the universe hadn't cursed you enough today, you discovered there was no heater and it was incredibly cold and the duvet provided felt like tissue paper against the cold. After what felt like hours you heard a movement in the room but you just figured it was Bucky in his sleep  so you shut your eyes again and tried to think of anything to help you fall asleep. 

"What's got you tossing and turning? It's keeping me up." Bucky said as he broke the silence in the icy cold room "Just cold" you mumbled as you yet again turned yourself into a ball trying to generate some heat. "Will this help?" he said as you just tried to see what he was doing in the darkness before you felt weight on the bed as it embraced you before you could even react. Bucky had crawled into your bed and pulled you on his chest - no words could even come out of your mouth. 

He had fully stunned you, you managed to speak after what felt like forever "Why are you doing this, I thought you hated me" you questioned him not sure if you should sink into the embrace you'd never thought you'd like or squirm away and end up scaring him away. "One, your cold and you're tossing and turning kept me up, two I've never hated you, in fact I've always thought you hated me so I tried to match your energy but I tried to show that I’ve always liked you" he admitted. 

His arms around your waist loosened as you pulled back to look at him and mustered up the confidence to speak "Buck, I never hated you. I think we just got off on the wrong foot and I never tried to fix that and I’m sorry for being rude and hiding behind hostility but I do want to admit... I have always liked you even if I've hid it behind hostility" it felt so great to get this off your chest and you are pretty sure if you had a chance to admit your crush on Bucky being in his arms would be the best chance you've got.

"Well that's great because I do like you too" he gave you a big cheesy smile even though it was dark in the room you could see his smile shine through the darkness. You went for it, you don't know how you got the courage but you found his lips in the darkness and kissed him trying to capture your love for him in it as he kissed you back with passion as if he was craving this from you. He pulled back first to your surprise and rested his forehead against yours as you two caught your breath again "Do you know how long I've waited for this?" "Patience is a virtue" you giggled while you replied as you cuddled up on his chest again letting the biggest smile sit on your face. A couple minutes of comfortable silence passed "How are you so warm, I was freezing before you climbed in" you questioned. "Super soldier serum I guess" Bucky mumbled back sleepily before saying quickly "Go back to sleep I'm tired" as he nuzzled his face into your hair. "Only because I like you Barnes" you whispered back, hearing a slight chuckle come from him before sleep took him over as soft snores emitted from him.

You finally fell asleep happy in the one man's arms you never thought you'd end up in but this was the one of the best night's you'd had in a while.

A/N:Hope this wasn't too bad of a read, I am always open to feedback because I am still quite unfamiliar with this style of writing and I do want to improve:) FYI I did write this late last night so there's probs some mistakes I missed when rereading it but hope you all enjoyed and thank you for reading <333