#and wondering if anyone will do the same for you

[navybrat817]

Cooking Together

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky asks you to cook a meal with him.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Fluff, longing, pining, canon divergent neighbor AU, flirting of sorts, mention of HYDRA, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Short and sweet for @stellar-solar-flare’s Starry Winter Sky Event! I went with cooking together and Neighbor AU as a small expansion of this nonsense. February has had some lingering January energy, and I hope you enjoy what I was able to write! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

If you asked Bucky if he thought he was a good cook, he’d say he was decent. He retained some of what his mom taught him many years ago and he carefully followed recipes once he was completely free of HYDRA. It was admittedly a bit of a rough go at first. Being able to choose what he could eat was a foreign concept after he didn't have the choice for so long. It got better each day. Every single meal he got to reclaim a piece of himself by making the choice of what he did and didn’t want.

Until today, he always cooked alone.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” you smiled, graciously accepting the apron he handed you.

Bucky had moved into the building a few months ago and you lived across the hall. As far as neighbors went, you were the best. Since day one, you always greeted him with a smile and a kind word. You never played your music too loud or disturbed anyone. Alpine adored you, which told him everything he needed to know since she was the best judge of character. And you never once objected to looking out for her when he had to leave for a mission.

Out of paranoia, he left harmless little “traps” to see if you'd snoop through anything the very first time you went over. Nothing that would hurt you or draw your attention, of course, but something that would let him know if anyone tampered with anything. You didn't. You were a genuinely good and respectful person, and that made him trust you more.

“Thanks for accepting the invitation. And allow me,” he offered, stepping behind you to help you tie it. His fingers lingered on the fabric and he took the moment to inhale your sweet scent before he stepped away. He didn't want to be a creep. “And it’s the least I could do since you offered to watch Alpine. Again.”

“I love watching her. She’s wonderful.”

The photos you sent were something he always looked forward to when he was away. Some of the captions you added made him laugh and smile. His favorite was a selfie you took with Alpine’s cheek against yours. He saved it as “my girls”, which you weren’t aware of.

Because you technically weren’t his girl.

“Well, she adores you,” Bucky smiled. He adored you, too. It stunned him when he found out you were single, and he was selfishly thankful for that. 

“I’ll have to get her another toy,” you said, your lips curling in a small smile. “If that’s okay with you.”

He laughed, a warm and easy sound. “Between the two of us, she’s spoiled rotten and she wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He never expected to be a cat dad, but life surprised him. In fact, it also surprised him that Alpine wasn’t camping out nearby or brushing against one of your legs. She was a smart cat and likely somehow sensed that he wanted alone time with you.

“Well, she deserves it,” you winked before things went quiet.

One of the nice things about hanging out with you was that he didn't mind any bouts of silence. They didn’t feel awkward or tense. In those quiet moments and stolen glances he felt like he had the best conversations with you. He was happy and felt safe being in the same space as you.

“You know,” Bucky began as he set the ingredients on the counter. He lucked out by having a decent sized kitchen since he took up a lot of space. “If I was a better neighbor, I would've just cooked a meal for you while you relaxed.”

It felt romantic for the two of you to cook together, but you weren't together and now he felt like an idiot. A gentleman would've made you a meal and pampered you. Or take you out for a nice meal. He hadn’t dressed up, opting for his jeans and a trademark Henley while you wore a sundress that had his mind racing with both sweet and filthy images. He didn't have flowers for you either.

His “game”, as Sam would say, was rusty.

“You're a great neighbor, Bucky. The best neighbor I’ve had,” you defended. He tried to be a good neighbor and person. A minor way to make up for some of his forced wrongdoings. “And cooking something together is fun! We could even try something at my place next week if you'd like.”

Bucky almost knocked the salt over, his eyes wide. “Really?” You were inviting him over to do this again?

“Yeah, really,” you replied, taking a moment to scan the simple recipe in the cookbook. You always had the cutest expression when you concentrated on something, and he didn’t want to choose something too difficult for the first meal. “We can take turns picking things out to try and trade off cooking at your place and mine. You can even bring Alpine over if you want.”

He suddenly had the image of you in his arms, dancing around the kitchen as you both waited for a meal in the oven to cook. Soft music, low lighting, his hands on your hips, and a tender smile on your face. Stealing a gentle kiss and keeping his eyes open only for a moment so he could see for himself that it wasn't a dream.

“Yeah,” he breathed, pulling his hair back in a ponytail and washing his hands to distract himself from his thoughts. “I’d really like that.”

“Great,” you exhaled. His heart beat faster when he caught you staring. He liked to pretend the look in your eyes was longing. “Sorry. You just…” you cleared your throat and gestured to his head. “You have really nice hair.”

The compliment had his heart racing even faster. “I have nice hair?” he asked. Your fingers would feel amazing in his hair.

You ducked your head for a moment before you met his gaze with a soft smile. “Yeah, you do.”

“Thanks,” he smiled back, his shoulder brushing yours when he stood beside you. Electricity lightly cracked between you. Did you feel it, too? “Um, I peeled the carrots before you got here. Would you like to cut them?”

“Oh, I think you’re better with a knife than I am,” you giggled.

He puffed his chest out and twirled the knife he selected in his hand without thinking about it. Part of him was showing off because, well, he wanted you to stare again. “How about I help you?”

“Help me? How?” you asked.

“Here.” He placed the knife in your hand and stood behind you once he had the carrots on the cutting board. “I’m going to preface this by saying I’m far from an expert, but I usually cut them into decent sized pieces before I dice them.”

“I trust your judgement,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. Your faces were close enough that he could kiss you if he leaned in a fraction. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t take what you didn’t offer.

Carefully placing his hands over yours once you faced forward, he felt that electricity crackle again as he helped guide you. He angled his hips so he didn’t press against you, but still stayed close. “See? You’re a natural,” he whispered against your ear when you made the first cut through the vegetable.

He heard the hitch in your breath and how your blood rushed faster in your veins. He felt your skin warm under his touch as you cut the next piece. He also caught the slight tremble that went through your frame when his grip tightened, but he didn’t sense any fear. He hadn't detected any sort of fear or disgust since he came into your life.

But what he sensed in this very moment was excitement.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you whispered back. The way you spoke his name was breathy, beautiful, and he longed to hear that again. “You’re a great teacher.”

“I’m not,” he said, thankful your back was to him so you wouldn’t see the pink that tinted his cheeks. “But I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, you are,” you stated, tempting him to turn your head toward him to kiss you. If he did that and you stabbed him, he wouldn’t blame you or hold it against you. “And Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“I really am glad you invited me over,” you said.

He stopped himself from putting his face in the crook of your neck. “I am, too,” he said, smiling to himself as he helped you finish up. “And now that you’ve mastered the carrots, we can chop the onions.”

“Onions? Oh, no,” you groaned playfully.

As the sound of both of you laughing a second later filled the room, Bucky was glad he went with his gut and asked for you two to cook together.

And maybe before the night was over, he’d ask you out on a date and prove to himself that his game wasn't completely hopeless.

I wonder just how he'll ask you out! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[syluss-littlecrow]

release

<Caleb x fem!reader>

where both you and Caleb end up doing more than butt heads about his given curfew for you.

genre/warnings: smut, pwp, mutual pinning, mutual obsession & possession, jealous!Caleb breeding kink, multiple orgasms, a lot of cum..., perverted!MC, friends to lovers?, squirting, unprotected sex, morning sex, pure Caleb brain rot, it gets pretty nasty

a/n: Caleb, Caleb, CALEB XIA YIZHOU 😭😭 the way I've been giggling over Caleb while watching his story and going back to my home screen with Sylus looking at me with his arms crossed.... Anyway, enjoy this Caleb brain rot 🥹🩷 I'll do one with Caleb's military air force uniform when I can 😔🫡

I JUST SAW THE NEW BANNER DROP IM NOT OK IF ANYONES WONDERING.

w/c: 3.5K

Effortless. That is what Caleb feels like when his affections come to you. It bubbles and boils over when he thinks he's able to put a lid over it, and it overflows instead. It leaves him so defenseless. Yet, he can't seem to stop. It's the only thing that keeps him going in this hell. 

The only thing he feels is the metallic necklace barely weighing on his chest. It almost feels like you're here with him. 

And if you are, he wants to keep you here with him. Forever.

His eyes slowly open. His eyes focus on the hologram clock hovering at the side. 

You're supposed to be back already. 

Caleb contemplated on driving out to find you since he has your location pinging on his phone.

Since when did you have that many friends in Skyhaven? Why doesn't he know about them?

He checks the messages he's sent you, all unread. 

Caleb has to remind himself to stop clenching his jaw and biting his tongue. 

His stare towards the door grows anxious by the minute. Then he strengthens his resolve and marches towards the door, ready to leave and look for you. 

The second he pulls down the door handle, the jingle of the door unlocking from the outside sounds and the door swings open, making you and Caleb jump when he catches you in his arms from bumping into each other.

“Caleb!” You squeal, flustered at the way you completely ran into him. His warmth is radiating over to your skin. “Are you okay? Where were you gonna go?”

You watch a small pout form on his lips. He truly looks like a puppy when he does that, you can't help but think. 

“Look for you”, he curtly replies, making sure you've regained your balance before he releases your arms.

You straighten your posture, and sheepishly touch the nape of your neck, immediately avoiding his gaze. 

“Ah, right. Well, I got carried away with chatting with my friends and all…” 

Caleb crosses his arms. His pout turns into a frown, and his eyebrows are scrunched. 

Shit. He looks mad.

You inch closer to him, your fingers grazing over his knuckles. 

“I'm sorry, Caleb. Don't be mad okay? I'm home now, safe and sound, in the flesh, aren't I?”

Caleb breathes steadily, keeping his expression the same, but when you take his palm and nuzzle your cheek against it, Caleb feels the anxiety and frustration dissolve. He wants to reprimand you about the curfew, and why he implemented it in the first place. If you’ve stayed missing for a second longer, he would have completely lost it. But the moment his palm nearly touches your lips, it all dissipates, as if it never existed. 

Caleb exhales a sigh of defeat, letting it go just this time, alongside the countless times he did. 

“Go shower. I left the heater on for you.” 

You respond with a cheeky smile that makes something in Caleb’s chest bloom, and he lets you go, watching you disappear into your room. 

Caleb hears a knock on his door. He walks over and opens it, watching you coming into view. 

“Is there something you need, pipsqueak?”

You squeeze through the crack of the partially opened door and occupy his bed. 

“I'm just bored.”

Even though Caleb cocks his eyebrow, he still sprouts his smile, walking over to join you on his bed.

“Not because you're trying to make it up to me for coming back past curfew?”

Shit. 

Your smile playfully drops to a pout. “I got carried away yapping with my friends. You know I didn't mean to…” 

Caleb crosses his arms again.

“I could tell. My messages were all left unread.”

You curl your fingers to your lips when you realise you've been caught.

Caleb seems upset but you still see the softness beneath. 

He sighs. 

“I'm doing this for your own good, pipsqueak. I don't like you getting caught up in this.”

Caleb likes to think that it is that way, but he knows that it's more than just that. 

“As you can tell–” you’re showing off your body–your arms first then your legs, then your abdomen. But what Caleb didn't expect you to do was lift up your shirt slightly, your skin exposed, and have your shorts hike up your thighs, just to prove your point. “Nothing! You can check me for tracking devices too if you want to.” 

Something snaps in him.

“So do you let your friends inspect your body like that?” 

He crawls onto the bed, watching the smile slowly drop from your face. 

Caleb’s fingers trace your bare skin, drawing goosebumps from how ghostly the touches feel. His fingers slide from the top of your knees, and towards your thighs.

“Do you know how worried I was when you didn't answer my messages?”

You’re about to part your lips to respond, but he cuts you off. 

“I was wondering what conversations you were having that you ignored me.” 

“Caleb–”

He’s completely trapped you against the headboard of his bed. He's trapped you with his stare. 

Caleb inches closer, until he's close enough. His eyes glance down to your lips for a split second before his gaze meets yours again. 

Your breath is shaky when he leans in closer. 

Then he turns away. 

What the fuck? 

You watch in disbelief as he pulls away, your breath still caught in your throat from the tension.

Caleb’s signature smile returns and you feel his palm stroke the back of your head. 

“You should go back to bed. It's late.” 

He turns to open his door for you to leave. 

“Maybe I should start coming home later too.” 

He pauses in his steps. 

“I don't think that's a bright idea, pipsqueak.”

You slide off his bed and walk towards his door. 

“Maybe not. But I have brighter ones that consist of escaping your curfew.” 

You’re ready to leave the room with your victory, that is, until the door before you completely shuts. You see his shadow tower over you from behind. 

You turn to face Caleb, your arms are crossed. 

“Didn’t you ask me to go to bed?” 

“Changed my mind. I wanna make sure you're thoroughly inspected.”

You’re facing Caleb, back on his bed again. He starts with your face, but he lets his fingers linger around your lips, brushing across your bottom lip. You turn away, and his fingers catch your chin, forcing you to face Caleb.

“No looking away.”

His eyes are devouring every patch of skin that exists on your body. Even though you're clothed, you feel naked when he has his eyes on you this intensely. His fingertips trace back to your lips and he slides it down painfully slowly–past your chin, down your neck, through your sternum, past your stomach, and stops right above the elastic of your shorts. 

You want to shift, but you realise you can't–your body suddenly feels weighed down to the bed, and that's when you realise Caleb has you held down with his Evol.

The softness in Caleb’s eyes disappears, and something else replaces it. You watch him tug your shorts off you, and all you can do is watch helplessly. 

His kisses tickle from your ankle, and he builds them upwards at an agonising pace, each kiss feeling warmer as he travels up your thigh. 

Your heartbeat only accelerates from there, watching Caleb inch closer and closer to your cunt. Your thighs tense up from the sensitivity, the warmth of his lips spreading over your skin when you feel his tongue come in contact with your skin. 

“That tickles”, your voice is soft, as if the defiance in your tone before never existed.

Caleb’s lips press against your clothed pussy. Despite the fact that you’re trembling slightly, you've completely soaked your panties, and Caleb is more than happy to soak them even more. 

He buries his tongue, wetting the fabric even further. The pleasure draws soft moans, but evidently, it's not enough. 

“Caleb… Could you lighten your Evol?” You plead. You want to feel him so bad. 

Your body instantly lightens, and you almost think you're gonna fall off the bed. 

Something else holds you down this time, and it's Caleb. 

He tilts your chin up to have your lips meet his, now his kisses melting off the thoughts in your brain. Warmth burns through your skin. It takes you seconds to realise Caleb is lifting your shirt off you.

The clothing article is the next victim tossed somewhere else on the bed. 

You take his cheeks to your palms.

“I really need you now, Caleb.”

The softness returns to his eyes momentarily. 

“Are you sure you're okay with this?”

“I'll hop off right now and head straight to bed if you don't”, you huff. Fuck, the anticipation is just clawing through your insides, begging for Caleb to do something.

He playfully scoffs. 

“We both know you wouldn't.” 

Caleb tugs your panties to the side, and lines himself to your hole.

He thrusts into you in one swift motion, and you feel it all the way in. It knocks your breath out of you. Caleb watches you helplessly gasp for air and adjust to his size. He’s just filled you so full. 

He’s still supporting you so you don't fucking pass out. He feels you scratch all over his back from the pressure but he stays still, at least, until you've adjusted. 

“Shit. You're so fuckin’ warm for me”, he hisses into your neck, trying his best not to thrust into you. You feel so tight for him, he feels so good just staying there.

He stretches you open for him–your pussy fluttering at the feeling of him filling you up. The pressure slowly fades and you quickly adjust to his size.

Your vision blurs when he thrusts into you from below–the sensation so overwhelming that it's making you tear up. 

“So good”, you sigh, struggling to keep your eyes open–almost impossible when his cock is hitting your g-spot over and over again. Sparks burst into your eyelids whenever he hits the spot and it's evident that he knows he’s able to unravel you just like that, so easily. 

“Caleb…”, you moan. Caleb’s still fucking you, feeling the way you're just squeezing him, watching the way your fingers have gone clawing his back to his bedsheets, the way your tits are bouncing from fucking you, the way your eyes practically form hearts when he knows he's hit your sensitive spots.

“Faster, please. You feel so fucking good.”

He knows you shouldn't have said that. You're the only person who can rile him up like this. How the hell are you making him break his resolve when he's supposed to be upset with you?

He leans in, practically hovering over you. His fingers cup your cheek and he forces you to meet his violet eyes. 

In your fucked out haze, you blink, confused when he slows down. He pulls out completely, and you're about to complain until he rolls your soiled panties off your legs, tossing it to somewhere on the bed. 

You gasp when you feel his thumb graze over your wet and throbbing clit. 

“I'm gonna make you wonder what the fuck wrong with your body”, Caleb’s voice reaches your ears. His words sends a shiver down your spine.

“Your little pussy is gonna throb every time you think of me.”

That's all the warning he gives before his arms tower over you, holding your wrists down above your head. 

He fucks you into an orbit and you're practically helpless–forced to take his thrusts over and over. But fuck, it feels so good. It feels like fucking heaven. 

You like how dizzy it makes you feel. You like how he's not stopping, no matter how much tears stream down your face, and how pathetic you sound crying and moaning his name. 

“Fuck! Caleb, it's too much–” you whimper, the strange feeling building up in your stomach. It feels like it's about to snap any second. 

He acknowledges your words, but he doesn't bother slowing down. 

“Didn’t you promise me to be a good girl and take all of it?” 

“Caleb–!”

Your voice sounds so heavenly when you call his name.

The fluids fountains out of you, soaking everything near it's vincity–including the both of you. Your orgasm continues to wash over you and more fluids spray out.

Caleb watches you squirm and jolt while you make a mess all over him. 

He lets go of your wrists, the slight redness forming onto your skin, and his thumb caresses your bottom lip. 

Despite your arms feeling sore from resisting against his hold, you wrap them around his neck, pulling him close to catch his lips. He's taken back for a split second, but he returns the kiss, letting his soft moans drown into your lips while you clench around him.

When you both pull back, it's Caleb’s turn to have his eyes glazed and his cheeks dusted a soft shade of pink. 

“y/n, if you keep doin’ that–fuck”, Caleb groans, his fingers closing into a fist against the sheets. His breath is shaky. The euphoria is threatening to spill over–the fact that you're trapping him in like this with you, just the two of you solely existing together right now–he could get high off this feeling. He doesn't need anything else. 

“I'm so close. Shit.” You watch the bead of sweat trickle down his temple, down to his cheek, to his chin, and then it disappears into the mess the both of you made below. 

Caleb’s voice makes you refocus on him. 

His palm presses against your cheek again, his thumb brushing lightly on the corner of your lips. 

“You're gonna take all of it like a good girl, yeah?” 

You nod, almost too eagerly. Caleb can't help but think that your face after being fucked looks breathtakingly beautiful. It makes him want to hide you further. The world doesn't deserve someone like you. 

He crashes his lips with yours, melting into the kiss while he pumps you full with his thick cum–making sure he has himself seated deep inside so nothing spills out. At least, not until he pulls out.

The high slowly descends, and the both of you are left panting, getting lost in each other’s eyes just for that moment before Caleb slowly pulls out. 

Caleb then reaches for the glass of water perched on his nightstand to offer you. You take a good few sips of water, and hand it back to Caleb, who takes a couple of sips as well. He notices the way your cheeks are still flushed and that you're blinking more. He plants the empty glass onto the nightstand, ready to carry you to wash up and probably change the sheets after.

In a daze, you notice Caleb’s cum seeping out of your hole in small loads. You wet two fingers and slide them to your pussy–and you push the thick fluids back in, your body jolting in pleasure while you're pretty much fingering your pussy with Caleb’s cum.

Caleb swallows hard while he watches you pleasure yourself. He’s about to say something but you cut him off.

“Your cum keeps leaking out”, you point out, giving him the full view of your cum-soaked pussy. You look up at him with an innocent, poison-soaked gaze–your lashes wet and your thighs trembling from each time you feel his cum leak out of you.

“It’d be such a waste–”, you mutter, shivering one more time when your fingers fuck you again, the room only filled with your voice and the wet squelching sounds from your pussy.

“–if it doesn't stay inside.” 

You barely have time to process what happens next. The next thing you knew, Caleb has your hands pinned above your head with one hand, and the other on your cheeks. His legs stop you from closing yours, and you feel his wet thickness hard once more, resting on your pubic bone.

“You know, pipsqueak”, his voice drops an octave lower. His voice is clear, and he makes sure you hear him. “It's okay to just ask for more.” His eyes reflect such a gorgeous shade of wild you've never seen before, and it looks fucking good on him.

No warnings–your cunt is just wet and sopping that Caleb stuffs you to fullness once more–you give up trying to keep your eyelids open, your mind only processing the way he’s fucking so deep into you again and again.

“You know I'll always give it to you.” 

The way his fingers are cupping your cheeks stops you from answering. Well, he doesn't need a verbal response, especially not when you’re clenching him so fucking tight when your orgasm hits you for the…how many times was it now?

You feel stings that slowly dull around your shoulders and chest. The bites Caleb’s given you are as red as the ruby on his apple necklace. 

The night is drowned with sounds and sensations of both you competing to send each other to the heavens. 

What day is it now? 

Caleb blinks his heavy eyelids open. He soaks in the atmosphere around him, and it doesn't take him long to realise that you're lying on his arm.

Thankfully, it's not numb. Your hair tickles his cheeks. 

He notices the light peeking through his curtains. It's probably daytime. 

Caleb presses his lips against the back of your head, while he pulls you closer. He almost jolts when he hears a soft moan coming from you.

For some reason, something feels funny. 

He attempts to shift slightly, and realises the predicament–his dick is still hard as fuck, and he’s still nestled so fucking deep in you. Fuck. Did the both of you fall asleep mid-sex? The feeling bleeds into him again. 

Are you even awake to realise this? 

Caleb bites his inner cheek, the hardness only builds. Shit. Even after all of that, you're still this warm and tight? 

He watches your breathing steadily. 

He hooks your leg over his arm almost too easily, giving himself easier access to fuck you deeper. Your sleepiness is slowly dissipating, overtaken so fucking quick by the burning desire once more.

His thrusts bear slight friction at first, but somehow that only adds to the pleasure–the rawness, the fact that he's left a mess in you and kept that way, and that he gets to do it all over again in the morning. 

“Ca…Caleb..!” You squeal, uselessly fisting the pillows while Caleb rails you from below. 

“So perfectly warm for me, y/n”, his morning voice dousing you. He takes advantage to litter more bites to the back of your neck and shoulders, and spoils you with his strained moans when he reflects the way you whimper whenever he hits your sensitive spots. 

You sheepishly bury your teary face into the pillows, and Caleb pushes himself impossibly deeper, forcing you to face him when you jolt in surprise. His violet eyes are eating you up. You hear his voice ring in your ears.

“Wanna make you cry more like this. You're so pretty when you cry when I'm splittin’ you open like this.” 

More tears stream down your cheeks whenever your g-spot gets abused over and over. Caleb forces you to meet his gaze. His thrusts are slower, but harder. 

“Shit, you're really gonna milk me dry, yeah?” Caleb hisses when he feels you flutter around him. Your cum is mixed with his, and drips down his cock, to his balls. 

Caleb pulls you tighter, deepening the kiss one last time while he breeds you full over and over for nth time since the last night, devouring your whimpers when the words you muttered to him last night comes into memory. You're so dizzy with pleasure, and Caleb has stolen all of your breaths. 

He finally pulls out, his cum endlessly drizzling out of your abused hole, and it almost sets him off again. 

Nonetheless, he forces himself to get out of bed so he can get a towel and clean you up.

Another loving kiss he presses onto your temple.

“I'm gonna get a towel, pipsqueak.” His husky whispers send shivers down your body, and the warmth of his touch lingers on your thighs for a lot longer than you realise.

He leaves the bed for the bathroom. 

You nuzzle into the pillows Caleb was just lying on, drowning yourself with his scent. The wetness that sticks between your legs–you can't tell if it's your fresh arousal or if it's his cum anymore.  

Not that it mattered since steadying your breath when you realised he was still in you when you stirred before him to see what he'd do next, gave you such a big reward. 

And you'd do it all over again. You would say things to get under his skin, just to get a rise out of him, just to keep his attention on you, always. 

You wanted to keep his strained voice when he called your name, the way he looks at you with so much desperation when he breeds you full, in a bottle and store it for your perverted indulgence. 

No one else needs to know that this part of Caleb exists, because he belongs to you. 

The dim light catches your attention underneath the thick sheets. You take the device, unlocking the phone with your fingerprint. 

6 missed calls. 

You swipe them away. You shut off his phone.

He doesn't need to know.

He doesn't need to remember.

At least, not when he's with you. 

[promptedwordsmith]

I love your headcannons so I gotta put an ask in here. As we all know, MC can act a bit childish and is quick to push touch/affection away.

It makes me think of the quote, "If you touch me without violence, you'll be the first". Would love a writing about it.

Aw thank you! I hope this is what you meant <3

Caleb

The first time Caleb touched you, you flinched.

It was barely anything—a fleeting brush of his fingers against yours as he handed you something, an innocent, meaningless gesture—but your entire body stiffened, your breath hitched, and before you even realized it, you had yanked your hand back.

The warmth of his skin lingered, and you hated it.

Caleb noticed. Of course, he did. His sharp violet eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he didn’t say anything. Not then.

But he never stopped touching you.

Not in a way that was forceful or overwhelming. Never in a way that felt like he was trying to push you past your boundaries. But it was there—the careful way his shoulder would bump into yours when you walked side by side, the way he’d place his hand on your lower back as he guided you through a crowd, the way his fingers would brush against your wrist when he passed you something.

Each time, your reaction was the same. A flinch. A step back. A refusal.

At first, he gave you space. He didn’t push, didn’t question. Caleb wasn’t the type to force someone into anything they weren’t ready for. But he wasn’t blind either. He saw the way your guard never dropped, the way your muscles tensed at even the gentlest touch.

And then, one night, he finally asked.

You were both standing outside, the city lights stretching far into the distance, stars barely visible beyond the haze. It was quiet between you, peaceful, until he broke it with a simple question.

“Why do you hate being touched?”

You froze.

Your fingers curled into fists, your heart hammering against your ribs. You wanted to ignore him, wanted to pretend you hadn’t heard, but Caleb wasn’t the kind of person who let things slide.

When you didn’t answer, he turned to face you fully, his voice steady but softer than usual. “It’s not just me, is it?” His eyes searched yours. “You don’t let anyone touch you.”

You swallowed hard.

And then you said it. The words that had been sitting on your tongue for years, unspoken, buried beneath layers of defense and survival.

“If you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first.”

The weight of those words crushed the space between you.

Caleb didn’t react right away. He didn’t wince, didn’t gasp, didn’t give you that pitying look you dreaded seeing. Instead, he just stood there, his violet gaze locked onto yours, taking in everything you weren’t saying.

You braced yourself for rejection, for discomfort, for him to leave—but he didn’t.

Instead, after a long pause, he let out a slow breath and said, “…Then I guess I’ll have to be first.”

Your stomach twisted. “Caleb—”

“I won’t push you.” His voice was firm but patient. “I won’t touch you until you let me.”

That should’ve been the end of it. It should’ve been the part where you turned away and let him go, where he accepted your boundaries and never tried again.

But the problem was Caleb never stopped caring about you.

And worse? You had let yourself care about him too.

Caleb never tried to force his way into your space, never laid a hand on you without permission. But he stayed.

He stayed through the silence, through the bad days, through the moments when you wanted to push everyone away but couldn’t bring yourself to do it with him.

He made himself a constant.

And that was dangerous.

Because the longer he stayed, the more you caught yourself wanting to reach for him.

The more you caught yourself watching his hands—the same hands that had held weapons, that had taken lives, that had commanded entire fleets—and wondering how they would feel if they touched you gently.

The more you caught yourself leaning in just a little when he stood beside you, like some part of you was trying to unlearn a lifetime of flinching.

You weren’t used to it.

You weren’t used to someone treating you like you were something precious instead of something hardened. You weren’t used to someone looking at you like you were worth waiting for.

And it scared you.

Because if you let yourself have this, if you let him in—what then?

It happened one night when you weren’t thinking.

You had both been caught in a battle, pushed to your limits, and despite everything—despite all the odds—you had both made it out alive.

Caleb was covered in cuts and bruises, exhaustion heavy in his limbs, but the moment he saw you stumble, he reached for you instinctively—just like he always did.

And this time, for the first time, you didn’t pull away.

His hands found your arms, steadying you, grounding you. You felt his warmth, his strength—and you let him hold you.

It was so small. So insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Just his hands on your arms, steady and reassuring. But to you, it felt like something shattered.

Caleb stilled, his grip light, as if he half-expected you to come to your senses and shove him away. His eyes searched yours, cautious, waiting.

But you didn’t move.

For the first time, you let yourself be touched without bracing for pain.

Without expecting violence.

Without fear.

And the look Caleb gave you in that moment—soft, careful, like he knew exactly how much this meant even if you hadn’t said a word—was enough to make something inside you break.

You swallowed hard, pulse racing.

“You’re the first.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, barely a whisper, but Caleb heard them.

He exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing the edge of your sleeve in the gentlest motion imaginable.

“Then I’ll make sure I’m never the last.”

And you believed him.

For the first time in your life, you actually believed someone.

Because Caleb had never broken a promise to you before.

And deep down, you knew he never would.

Rafayel

Rafayel had always been affectionate—too affectionate, if you were being honest. It wasn’t just the teasing smirks or the casual way he draped himself over you like a cat seeking warmth. It was the way his hands would linger, the way his gaze softened when he looked at you, the way he spoke your name like it was something precious.

But you weren’t used to it.

So, when he leaned in too close, when his fingers brushed against yours absentmindedly, when his warmth wrapped around you in unspoken promises of safety, you pushed him away. Not roughly, not cruelly, but firm enough to make the message clear.

He didn’t take offense, at least not outwardly. Rafayel always bounced back with a lopsided grin, a lazy roll of his shoulders, as if to say, Fine, I’ll wait. But there was something in his eyes—something quieter, something more knowing.

And you hated that.

Because deep down, you knew what he saw.

He saw the way you flinched, even when his touch was gentle. He saw the way your shoulders tensed whenever he got too close, the way you shrank away from affection like it was a foreign language you never learned to speak.

Most people didn’t notice. Most people assumed you were just distant, that maybe you simply weren’t the affectionate type.

Rafayel knew better.

And that made him dangerous.

It started one evening, after one of his exhibitions. The gallery had emptied out, the patrons long gone, and yet he lingered, still basking in the afterglow of another successful night. You had stayed behind too, for reasons you weren’t entirely sure of. Maybe because he had asked. Maybe because it was easier than saying no to him.

He had pulled you into the back room where his latest painting was covered with a cloth. With a dramatic flourish, he yanked it away, revealing the canvas beneath.

It was you.

Not a perfect replica, not a stiff, lifeless portrait. It was you in motion, caught mid-laugh, the golden glow of light flickering behind you as if you were something divine.

It took your breath away.

You swallowed hard, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “You painted this?”

“No, it painted itself.” Rafayel smirked, stepping closer. “Of course I painted it.”

You didn’t have words. You didn’t know how to process something so raw, so intimate. It was one thing for someone to look at you, but it was another thing entirely for someone to see you. And Rafayel had always seen you.

That was the problem.

“I—” The words stuck to your throat. You weren’t good at this. At accepting things. At being loved without conditions, without expectations.

And then, just like always, Rafayel reached for you.

His fingers, long and paint-stained, brushed against your wrist—light, hesitant, careful. No force, no demand, just warmth.

And just like always, you flinched.

You stepped back so fast you almost knocked over the easel. “Don’t.” The word escaped before you could stop it, sharp and unsteady.

Rafayel’s hand froze midair before he slowly pulled it back. His expression didn’t falter, but there was something—something—in his eyes. He tilted his head, studying you with that same knowing look that had always unsettled you.

“Why?” His voice was soft. Not teasing. Not mocking. Just curious.

Your throat tightened. You wanted to tell him to drop it. You wanted him to go back to making jokes, to fill the silence with something light, something meaningless.

But he didn’t.

Because Rafayel never let things go.

You swallowed. “Because… if you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first.”

The words hung between you, heavy and raw.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Rafayel exhaled, slow and careful, as if he were afraid of shattering you. “Oh.”

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t apologize, didn’t pity you. He just stood there, watching you with those piercing blue-pink eyes of his, like he was unraveling all the pieces of you you’d kept hidden for so long.

It made you want to run.

And maybe he saw that too, because he took a step back. Gave you space.

“Okay,” he said simply.

You blinked. “Okay?”

He nodded. “I won’t touch you. Not unless you want me to.”

The simplicity of it made something inside you ache.

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

For the first time in your life, someone didn’t demand. Someone didn’t take.

Someone just waited.

Days passed, and true to his word, Rafayel never touched you. He still leaned into your space, still gave you that infuriatingly charming grin, but his hands never reached for you again. Not once.

And you hated that you noticed.

You noticed the absence of his touch. You noticed the way his fingers twitched when he was excited, the way his hands curled into fists like he had to remind himself not to reach for you. You noticed how much you wanted him to.

It was terrifying.

It was exhilarating.

And one night, when he was sitting beside you, lazily sketching something while you both watched the waves crash against the shore, you made the first move.

It was small. Barely anything.

Just your pinky brushing against his.

But Rafayel noticed.

His breath hitched, and his gaze flickered to you, cautious, questioning.

You didn’t pull away.

Neither did he.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The air between you felt electric, buzzing with something unspoken, something fragile.

Then Rafayel, ever patient, ever waiting, turned his hand palm-up beneath yours.

An invitation.

Not a demand.

You hesitated, your heart pounding, before slowly—so slowly—you let your fingers slip into his.

Warmth. Solid, steady warmth.

No violence.

No pain.

Just him.

Rafayel said nothing, didn’t make a big deal of it. He just held your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like he had been waiting lifetimes for it.

And maybe, just maybe, you had been waiting too.

Sylus

The first time Sylus touched you, you flinched.

It was subtle—just a stiffening of your shoulders, a flicker of tension in your stance. But for someone as dangerously observant as Sylus, it was enough. His fingers had barely brushed your wrist—light, almost teasing—as he leaned in to whisper something low in your ear.

And yet, you recoiled.

He didn’t comment on it then, only let a smirk curl at the corner of his lips as if he hadn’t noticed.

But he had.

Of course, he had.

Sylus never missed anything.

Sylus was nothing if not patient.

He had seen resistance before. He had encountered people who feared him, people who worshipped him, people who wanted something from him. But you?

You were different.

You didn’t fear him—you feared being touched.

And that… was fascinating.

So, he tested it.

Little things, at first. A hand at the small of your back as he guided you through a door. A knuckle brushing over your cheek under the excuse of tucking away a stray strand of hair. A moment where he let his fingers graze yours when he passed you something.

Every time, your body tensed—just slightly—but you didn’t pull away.

Not right away.

You always let it happen for a heartbeat longer than necessary, as if waiting for something.

And that was when he knew.

You weren’t just unused to affection.

You were waiting for it to turn into something else.

Something harsher. Something cruel.

Something violent.

And that realization—that truth about you—made his blood burn with something he couldn’t quite name.

The night it finally broke, Sylus hadn’t meant to push too far.

It had been a long evening, tension thrumming beneath the surface between you both like an electric current. You had been irritatingly stubborn during negotiations, as always, challenging him, testing him, making him bite back a smirk as you stood your ground.

But the moment that lingered with him was after, when the night had settled and you had found yourself alone in his office.

He approached you like he always did—without hesitation.

This time, he touched your face, his thumb grazing over your cheek in a slow, deliberate motion. It wasn’t just teasing.

It wasn’t just a test.

It was real.

And you panicked.

You slapped his hand away, hard. The sound cracked through the air, sharp and startling, but Sylus didn’t react. He barely blinked, only watching as you took a step back, breath uneven, eyes wild.

His fingers flexed once before he let them drop to his side.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, quietly—

"If you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first."

It wasn’t said with anger. It wasn’t a warning or a threat.

It was just… the truth.

And Sylus, for once in his life, didn’t have a response.

Something Unspoken

After that, he changed tactics.

He didn’t stop touching you entirely—no, never that. But he let you decide.

He let you approach him.

He gave you space but stayed close enough that you could always reach him if you wanted to.

And, for a while, you didn’t.

But then—

One night, after an exhausting mission, you sat beside him, close enough that your shoulder brushed against his. You didn’t move away.

Another time, when exhaustion weighed on you, you let him take your wrist to check your pulse, your fingers trembling slightly—but not from fear.

And then, the night that changed everything—

You let him touch your face again.

This time, when his hand cradled your cheek, you leaned into it.

Not much. Just a fraction. Just enough that he could feel the shift.

Just enough for him to know.

And that was all the permission he needed.

Slowly, deliberately, his thumb traced the curve of your jaw, his voice low when he finally spoke:

"I would never hurt you."

Your breath hitched.

He felt it.

He didn’t ask why it was so hard for you to believe him. He didn’t ask who had left you expecting pain from every touch, from every lingering moment.

He only let his hand remain where it was, grounding, steady—yours, if you wanted it.

And finally, you did.

You didn’t say anything that night. You didn’t have to.

But after that, something changed.

Sylus, perceptive as always, noticed immediately.

The way your body no longer tensed at his presence. The way you lingered just a little closer when you stood beside him. The way your fingers, hesitant at first, brushed against the sleeve of his coat as if testing a boundary you weren’t sure you were allowed to cross.

And the way, eventually, you did.

It happened late one evening, when the city outside was silent, the only sounds in the room the distant hum of a record player spinning on low and the soft shuffle of papers on his desk.

You had been sitting across from him, absentmindedly twirling a pen between your fingers when, out of nowhere—you reached for him.

Your hand, small but steady, settled against his.

No hesitation. No flinching. No fear.

Sylus, always composed, almost stopped breathing.

You didn’t say anything, and neither did he.

But his fingers curled over yours, slow, deliberate—a silent promise.

A promise that, for the first time in your life, someone’s touch wouldn’t bring pain.

And that was enough.

For now.

Xavier

The first time Xavier reached for you, you flinched.

It was instinct, sharp and immediate. His fingers had barely brushed your sleeve before you jerked away, stepping out of reach so fast you nearly tripped over your own feet. His hand hung in the air for a moment before he slowly lowered it, tilting his head as if trying to decipher something unsaid.

You weren’t looking at him, though. You were staring at your own hands, fingers curled into fists at your sides, knuckles tight. Get it together.

"You okay?" His voice was light, easy, like he hadn’t just watched you recoil from his touch as if it burned.

You forced yourself to nod. "Yeah. Just—" You hesitated, then exhaled sharply. "You shouldn’t do that."

Xavier raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze with something colder than you really felt. "Touch me."

His eyes flickered with something unreadable before his expression shifted back to something more familiar—a smirk, teasing but careful. "Alright," he said, as if it didn’t matter. "No touching."

Except it did matter. Because Xavier wasn’t someone who kept his hands to himself—not in an intrusive way, but in a way that made him feel real. He was the kind of person who nudged you with his elbow when he made a joke, who ruffled your hair just to annoy you, who tugged at your sleeve when he wanted your attention.

But he listened.

For the next few weeks, he was careful. He kept his distance, kept his hands in his pockets, kept a respectable space between the two of you even when it was just the two of you on a mission, walking side by side.

And for some reason, it made your chest ache.

You wanted him close.

You just didn’t know how to let him be.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him. If anything, that was the problem.

Xavier had wormed his way into your life in a way no one else had before. He was constant—too constant, maybe. There was no hesitation in the way he cared, no moment of doubt in his affection. He liked you, so he showed it. He wanted to be around you, so he was. There was no second-guessing, no caution.

You didn’t know what to do with that.

Because affection had always come with conditions. Because touches had always been accompanied by something sharp—by expectation, by control, by violence.

So the idea of Xavier touching you with nothing but warmth?

It scared you more than any fight ever had.

"You ever gonna tell me why?"

You blinked up from where you sat at the edge of a rooftop, staring out at the cityscape below. Xavier was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, gaze unreadable.

"Why what?"

"Why you don’t like me touching you." His voice wasn’t accusing, wasn’t pushing—it was just curious.

You swallowed. "I just don’t."

Xavier hummed, as if considering that. "You sure about that?"

You tensed. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged, stepping forward—not close, but closer. "I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes."

Your heart skipped. "I don’t—"

"You do," he interrupted, voice softer now. "Like you want me to reach for you, but you don’t know if you should let me."

You exhaled sharply. "It’s not that simple."

"Then explain it to me."

Your fingers curled against the fabric of your sleeves, gripping tightly. You should have expected this—Xavier wasn’t the type to let things go so easily. He was patient, sure, but he wasn’t blind. He noticed things, noticed you.

And now, he was waiting.

You stared at your hands. "If you touch me without violence," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, "you’ll be the first."

Silence.

For a moment, you thought he might not have heard you. But then, after a long pause, Xavier let out a quiet breath.

"That’s a damn shame," he said. His voice was soft, but not pitying. "Because you deserve better than that."

You didn’t look at him. "Maybe."

"You do," he said, firmer this time. "And I want to prove it to you."

Your breath hitched. "Xavier—"

"I won’t touch you until you want me to," he promised. "But when you do?" His gaze was steady, unwavering. "I’ll make sure you never have to doubt it."

It took time.

Xavier kept his promise. He didn’t touch you—not even accidentally. He was careful, patient in a way that made your chest ache. But he never pulled away emotionally. He was still there, still unwavering, still him.

And slowly, slowly, you started to realize something.

You wanted to close that distance.

You wanted him.

It started small—lingering closer when you walked together, sitting next to him instead of across the room, letting your shoulders brush just slightly before pulling away. And Xavier noticed. He always did.

But he didn’t push.

He let you take your time, let you move at your own pace.

Until one night, after a mission, when you were exhausted and sore and tired of your own fear, you turned to him and—hesitantly, carefully—reached for his hand.

His fingers twitched in surprise, but he didn’t hesitate. He let you take his hand in yours, let you squeeze it lightly before letting go just as quickly.

You expected him to say something—maybe tease you, maybe push for more. But he didn’t. He just smiled, warm and real.

"Was that so bad?" he asked, amusement lacing his tone.

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "Shut up."

Xavier chuckled, but there was something softer in his gaze. "Alright. No teasing. Not today, anyway."

You nudged him lightly with your elbow. "I hate you."

He grinned. "You love me."

You paused.

Then, quietly, you admitted, "Yeah."

Xavier stilled. His smile faltered—just for a second—before it softened into something genuine. Something real.

"Good," he murmured.

And for the first time, when he reached for you, you didn’t pull away.

Zayne

Zayne had always been patient. It was in his nature, woven into the fabric of his being just as much as his steady hands and level-headed presence. As a surgeon, patience was a necessity—an unwavering calm in the face of pressure, a stillness when chaos reigned.

But this was different.

This was you.

You, with your guarded eyes and the walls you built around yourself so high that even he, with all his skill, couldn’t navigate them easily. He had known from the start that you were different—not because you were difficult, not because you weren’t capable of love, but because the world had been cruel to you in ways it hadn’t been to him.

And still, he wanted you.

It started slow. The quiet companionship, the moments where neither of you needed to speak but simply existed together. A shared cup of tea in the morning. The warmth of his coat draped over your shoulders on a cold night. He never pushed, never asked for more than you could give, and yet…

Even he had limits to his patience.

Zayne had always been affectionate. Not in a way that was overwhelming, nor in grand declarations. No, his love was in the small things—in the way his fingers would brush against yours when passing you something, in the way his voice would soften when speaking your name, in the way he would lean in, close enough that you could feel his warmth but never quite touching.

And so, when he reached for you one evening—just a simple touch, the lightest brush of his fingertips against your wrist—he hadn’t expected you to recoil the way you did.

You flinched, your entire body going rigid, as if his touch had burned you.

Zayne froze. His hazel-green eyes flickered with something unreadable before he slowly withdrew his hand, watching you carefully. He wasn’t offended, nor was he hurt, but there was something in his expression that made your stomach twist.

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice quieter than you intended.

His brows furrowed slightly. “I—”

“If you touch me without violence, you’ll be the first.”

The words tumbled out before you could stop them, raw and sharp. The room felt heavier in their wake, like the air had been sucked from it.

Zayne didn’t speak for a moment. He simply looked at you, studying you in that careful way he always did—like he was dissecting a puzzle, trying to understand without breaking it further.

You hated the silence. Hated the way it stretched between you like an open wound.

Then, finally, he exhaled softly.

“I see.”

And just like that, he shifted back, putting a comfortable distance between you. Not out of rejection, not out of frustration, but because he understood. He always understood.

You expected him to ask. To pry. To demand to know what had led you to this—why you had flinched, why you had spoken those words with such bitterness. But he didn’t.

He simply nodded, accepting it as fact, and changed the subject.

It should have been a relief.

It wasn’t.

Because Zayne, for all his patience and for all his understanding, was not one to simply forget.

Days passed. Then weeks.

Zayne hadn’t touched you since.

Not in the way he used to. No fleeting brushes of his fingertips, no teasing nudges, no quiet, lingering moments where his warmth bled into yours. It was as if he had drawn a line in the sand and refused to cross it.

You told yourself it was for the best.

So why did it feel so much worse?

You had never needed touch. Never craved it, never longed for it. But now, in the absence of it, you felt its loss like a phantom pain. You missed it.

You missed him.

And so, when you found yourself standing outside his apartment one evening, your fingers curled into fists at your sides, you knew you had to do something.

The door opened before you could even knock.

Zayne blinked at you, surprised but not displeased. He stepped aside, wordlessly inviting you in.

You hesitated.

And then, taking a deep breath, you walked past him, into the familiar warmth of his home.

He didn’t ask why you were there.

He simply poured you tea, as he always did, and waited.

You stared at the cup in your hands, fingers tightening around the ceramic.

“I don’t…” You hesitated. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Zayne tilted his head slightly, watching you with quiet patience. “Stop what?”

You swallowed. “Touching me.”

For the first time in a long while, he seemed genuinely surprised. Not in a dramatic way—Zayne was never dramatic—but in the way his fingers stilled against his cup, in the way his gaze softened ever so slightly.

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” he said, his voice as steady as ever.

“I did.” Your throat felt tight. “I do. But I also… I don’t know.” You exhaled sharply. “I just… don’t want you to stop trying.”

Something in his expression shifted.

He set his cup down carefully before looking at you with an intensity that made your stomach twist. Not with judgment, not with pity—just understanding.

“I never stopped,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched.

“I just adjusted,” he continued. “To what you needed.”

And you realized, with startling clarity, that he had been touching you. Just not in the way you had expected.

It was in the way he always made you tea, the way he listened so intently, the way he never pushed, never pried, but always made sure you knew he was there.

He had been touching you in the only way you would allow.

And now? Now, you wanted more.

Tentatively, hesitantly, you reached out.

Your fingers brushed against the back of his hand, and you felt him still beneath your touch.

It was light. Barely there. But it was enough.

Zayne didn’t move. Didn’t push for more.

He simply let you choose.

And, for the first time in your life, you did.

You let yourself be touched—gently, without violence, without fear.

Zayne, patient as ever, simply held still and let you set the pace.

And maybe, just maybe, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t afraid.

[steddieasitgoes]

Eddie helps Jeff and Grant move into their freshman college dorms. Eddie's not going to college; it took him six years to graduate high school. He's not about to put more time and now money into a dead-end education, but he respects the guys' decision.

They're upset the university's stupid roommate questionare didn't pair them together. They answered everything exactly the same, and yet they still got split up. It's bullshit. Eddie knows it, they know it, everyone knows it. But it is what it is. Jeff doesn't want to make waves with the school, and Grant's just happy they accepted his sorry ass, so they'll have to live with it.

Jeff, Gareth, and Grant are currently figuring out how they're going to smuggle a microwave into Grant's room. Eddie leaves them to it, already holding a box marked for Jeff in his hands. He saunters out of the elevator and down the hall toward Jeff's room, nodding his head at anyone who does the same to him.

College is weird, he thinks. No one has sneered at him -- not even the frat dude bro type who checked Jeff and Grant in earlier. Maybe it's true what they say, college is full of open-minded people. He'll let the boys be the guinea pig on that one.

Jeff's door is half shut when he gets there, which is weird because he knows they left it wide open. They still have to bring in his record collection, and even though he ditched hundreds at home, the box is still way heavier than it should be. Having to put it down to open the door is a no go.

Thankfully, the box Eddie is carrying now is rather light so he turns and uses what little ass he has to bump the door open before sliding inside.

He stops dead in his tracks as Jeff's roommate turns to meet his gaze.

Eddie doesn't believe in God, doesn't believe in angels -- he likes to think Demons exist, but that's more of an aesthetic thing than anything else -- but he's pretty sure he's in the presence of an angel.

No, he's certain he is.

The large window between the beds shoots rays of sunshine through the horizontal blinds, painting the guy in beautiful shades of yellow and orange. And jesus h. christ the shadow gives off the illusion of a halo around his gorgeous, lush, perfectly styled hair.

He's wearing a sweater -- how he's wearing a sweater in the sweltering heat, Eddie doesn't know, but he is -- with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Eddie can't help but let his eyes take in the miles and miles of sun-kissed skin, unmarked with ink like his own but decorated with freckles and moles that Eddie wants to trace, connecting them like constellations he spent decades staring at on the roof of the trailer back at home. And, okay, maybe a few other unholy thoughts also pop into his head -- sue him.

He has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at that. Of course Eddie's first thought upon stumbling on an angel is to wreck them.

"Hey, I'm Steve," the man says, extending a hand out to Eddie.

Jesus H. Christ, it's bigger than any hand has any right to be. Eddie's mind immediately wonders what else might be bigger than most. He can't help it.

"You must be Jeff," he smiles. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Yep, that's me!" Eddie says without thinking it through. He scrambles to put the box down and reaches out to shake Steve's hand.

It's a firm handshake, what Wayne would call "business-like," but it sends a burst of electricity coursing through Eddie's body. It's silly, really silly, but Eddie doesn't think his hand has ever fit so perfectly in someone else's before.

Maybe they're soulmates. He doesn't believe in those either, but he could if this Steve guys is his.

Steve smiles and drops his hand a second later and Eddie tries his best not to buckle under the loss of touch.

"What do you think of the place?" Steve says. His hands shoot to his waist, settling there as he gives the room a bitchy glance over. "It's a lot smaller than I was expecting."

"At least it's only a double," Eddie says. "My friend's stuck in a triple."

Poor Grant. As if losing out on rooming with Jeff isn't enough, he really got fucked.

Steve whistles lowly. "Damn, man, that sucks."

He squats then, digging through an already unopened box, and Eddie feels faint. His jeans were already tight, but with his new angle, they're stretched to the max, leaving very, very, very little to be imagined. And Eddie has no problem imagining anything, much less what the skin under those pale blue jeans looks like.

Steve's shirt rides up a bit as he leans over more, really sifting through the box now, and the tiny sliver of skin above the waistband of his boxers is enough to send Eddie into full-blown gremlin mode.

Maybe he should have applied to college.

"So, Jeff," Steve says, standing again and glancing between the two beds.

Neither has seemed to claim them yet. Jeff -- the real Jeff -- didn't want to be rude, and judging by the single box Steve's been looking through, he's only just started the move-in process.

"Got any bed preferences?"

Sharing it with you.

No, no! he scolds himself.

"Nope, have at it," Eddie says, casting his arms out wide and bending at the waist. He's not sure why he's done it, but by the time he registers how weird it might be, it's too late. So he commits to the bit, and it's worth it when Steve chuckles.

"Cool, cool," he nods. "I'll take this one, then." Steve shuffles over to the bed farthest from the door and tests the firmness with his hand. It gives just enough to make Steve smile. "I can work with this, if you know what I mean."

Eddie thinks he's really gone and died then because Steve honest to god winks at him.

Winks!

At. Him.

Eddie!

What the fuck.

"Yeah," he croaks, a little awkward and a whole lot aroused. He needs to get out of here before he jumps Jeff's roommate and accidentally gets him kicked out. Better yet, he needs to figure out how to get enrolled and kick Jeff out of his room himself. "Alright, well, I've got more shit to bring up, so I'll be back."

"I'll be here."

Eddie nods then bolts, ditching the elevator altogether and taking the three flights of stairs two at a time. Jeff's still arguing with boys when he gets down there, sweaty and out-of-breath.

"Jesus, what happened to you?" Gareth snaps.

"Oh no," Jeff winces. "Is my roommate a dick? Did he chase you out?"

"No," Eddie pants, shaking his head widly. He reaches out with both hands and slams them down on Jeff's shoulders way harder than he needs to. "Your roommate, Steve-- he's-- I think I'm in love."

The guys burst into laughter.

"Here we go again," Gareth says, rolling his eyes.

"You just met the guy," Grant adds. "How could you possibly be in love?"

"You can't be in love with my roommate," Jeff scolds, shaking Eddie's hand off of him.

"Jeff, Jefferson, Jeffery," Eddie rambles. "I am in love. He is the man I am going to marry. The one who will father my children. The one to tame this wild horse--"

"You've slept with two dudes, Eddie. I don't think that makes you a wild horse," Gareth scoffs.

Eddie ignores him. He doesn't have time to deal with Gareth. Not when Steve is upstairs waiting for him.

"I need to go back to him."

Eddie moves to step around the three, eager to grab another box with Jeff's name on it and get back to Steve. Back to the love of his life. But Jeff blocks him.

"No. No. Absolutely not," Jeff says, reeling Eddie back in. "I have to live with this guy for a year. You are not going back up there and making it weird."

"Well then I have good news for you," Eddie says, wicked grin already breaking out onto his face.

"This can't be good," Grant mumbles.

"You don't even have to go up there. He thinks I'm Jeff."

"Okay, but you're not Jeff," the real Jeff says, crossing his arms. "I'm Jeff and I'm going to go to my room and introduce myself to my roommate and you're going to stay far, far, far away from him."

Eddie shakes his head. "You can't do that! He'll think I'm a liar."

"You are a liar," Gareth butts in.

"Eddie," Jeff groans. "I have to go up there! I live here. I'm Jeff. He needs to know the truth."

"Or, or!" Eddie shouts, full of frantic energy now. He's bouncing on the balls of his feet, mind reeling a million miles an hour as the plan starts to form in his head. This could work. It could totally work. "How about I pretend to be you for the next year and you can be me."

"Dude, no!" Jeff scoffs. "I worked my ass of to get here. I'm not trading lives with you so you can try to fuck my roommate."

"Oh, I won't have to try," Eddie says. "He might have already offered."

"Oh my god. My roommate thinks I want to fuck him."

"Your roommate doesn't even know you exist," Grant corrects.

"What were you thinking?" Jeff shouts.

"He clearly wasn't thinking with his head," Gareth says.

"This is a disaster."

"No," Eddie says, shaking his head. He doesn't know why they're being so catastrophic about this. It's fine. It's all going to be fine. "Okay, new plan, I'll pretend to be you but only in your dorm. You can still go to class and do all the college shit. I'll only be Jeff to Steve."

"And where am I supposed to live?"

"With Grant."

"Asshole! I'm already in a triple! We can't house another person."

"And you're not even enrolled!" Jeff adds. "What happens when the RA finds out? I'll get kicked out and you'll--"

"Go to jail."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "I don't think people go to jail for impersonating college students, Gare."

"They might!" Gareth says, throwing his hands up. "Are you really going to risk going to jail just for a chance at fucking Jeff's roommate?"

"Well, I hope it would be more than fucking. I did say I was in love."

Gareth doesn't get it. The only thing he's ever loved is his drum set -- and he can't marry that. Not even in bumfuck Indiana.

He goes back to ignoring Gareth and focuses on Jeff. He braces his hand on his shoulders again and slinks down to his knees. He's not above begging. Not for this. Not for the angel that is Steve who is probably wondering where he is right now.

"Jeff," Eddie says, hitting the pavement. He retracts his hands from Jeff's shoulders and clasps them together in prayer. He's making a scene.

"Get up, you're making a scene," Jeff hisses, yanking him back to his feet. Eddie goes willingly and Jeff huffs. "Alright, alright. Let me think."

"You can't seriously be considering this," Grant chimes in. "Eddie's plan is shit. It'll never work."

"I know that!"

Eddie watches as Jeff paces in a circle with his eyes closed. If he wanted to, he could bolt right now. Grab a box and make a run for it. Lock himself and Steve in the room and not come out until he's sure Jeff won't rat him out. Holding Steve hostage might not be the best impression to give Steve though, so he stays put.

"Okay, how about this," Jeff says and Eddie gives him his undivided attention. "The two of us are going to go back to my dorm and we're going to set the record straight--"

"No! That's--"

"Eddie," Jeff says, firmly. "If you really do love my roommate or well, you want to eventually love him. You have to tell him the truth."

Jeff's right. He's always right that's why he's going to college on a scholarship and Eddie's not. But he doesn't like it. Steve's going to think he's a total weirdo and he'll never get a chance to see what's actually under those tight ass pants.

Still, Jeff's right.

"Fine."

Steve really is an angel because he doesn't even bat an eye at the truth. He does laugh, but Eddie doesn't mind that. He wishes he had his cassette recorder and a mic so he could record it. It's music to his damn ears, and he knows a thing or two about music.

Jeff and Steve hit it off and Eddie tries not to pout about it as he continues lugging in box after box. When Eddie's van is finally empty, Grant and Gareth meet up with them in Jeff's room. Steve introduces himself and Eddie can tell they're both silently judging him.

Yes, this is the dude he would risk going to jail for, Gareth. Eddie thinks, he hopes Gareth gets the message in the glare he shoots his way. He thinks he does.

It turns out Steve also has a best friend who just moved in, too. She's in a different building than them, but he's meeting up with her for pizza at the parlor down the street. He invites them all to go and Eddie says yes on behalf of all of them a little to quickly.

When they get there, Steve introduces them all -- Jeff, Gareth, Grant. He gets all their names right, even Gareth, but when he gets to Eddie, he smirks. "And this," he says, smiling as he slings an arm around Eddie's shoulder. "This is not-Jeff my not-roommate."

"Hi, Not Jeff," Robin says.

Eddie laughs and introduces himself to her with his real name and Robin nods before her eyes lock on with Steve. He can tell they're non-verbally communicating with each other. It's not unlike the way he is with the boys. One look is all it takes sometimes for them to know what he's thinking.

It's weird watching it happen from the outside and especially difficult when he's still stuck under Steve's arm. Not that he minds that part not at all.

Finally, her lips quirk up into a smile and she pulls her gaze from Steve, letting it land on Eddie. At the exact same time, Steve's name gets called and he excuses himself to get pizza, leaving the two of them alone.

Robin's smile falters just a bit as she takes a step closer to him, replacing the spot where Steve just was. "Just so you know, I'm obsessed with Murder, She Wrote. If you hurt him, I know where to hide your body."

Eddie doesn't have time to even think of a retort before she's scampering off to help Steve with the pizzas.

He might not be enrolled in college, but he has a strange feeling he's going to spend a lot of time up here from now on.

[arilevenatz]

Heart At Sea

Pairing: Pirate!Wooyoung x reader

Genre/trope: Fluff, pirate au

Word count: 14.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The crew of the Halazia, however, carried themselves with practiced nonchalance. They strode through the cobblestone streets as though they owned them, their weapons gleaming in the sunlight and their gazes sharp.

“Do you think they’re just here to restock?” a shopkeeper murmured.

“They always are,” another replied. “But you never know with pirates. Best to stay out of their way.”

Even as the Halazia crew wandered the town, visiting taverns or inspecting the market stalls, the people of Seagrove remained wary. Neutral land or not, the presence of the crew was enough to keep everyone on edge.

The Halazia crew spread across Seagrove, blending into the island’s usual bustle, though their presence kept the townsfolk on alert. Conversations among the crew were as varied as their personalities, with each man displaying his unique quirks.

In the marketplace, Wooyoung strolled between the stalls, his sharp eyes scanning the goods. He held up a peculiar-looking fruit, turning it in his hands.

“Think this is edible?” he asked, tossing it to Mingi, who had wandered over.

Mingi caught it effortlessly, giving the fruit a skeptical glance. “Edible, sure. But are you willing to test it first?”

Wooyoung grinned. “I’ll pass. Maybe I’ll give it to Yunho—he’s got the stomach for weird stuff.”

Nearby, Yunho overheard and called out, “Don’t think I didn’t hear that, Wooyoung! You’re not slipping anything strange into my food again!”

Wooyoung shrugged innocently. “Last time it was harmless! How was I supposed to know it’d turn your tongue blue?”

Down at the docks, Jongho was inspecting a stack of cannonballs that had just been unloaded from the ship. San leaned against a post nearby, watching him with a smirk.

“You check those like they’re treasure,” San teased.

“They might as well be,” Jongho replied, not looking up. “A bad cannonball could cost us a fight. I’m not taking chances.”

San crossed his arms. “You’re too serious. Maybe you should come spar with me later. Get rid of some of that tension.”

Jongho raised an eyebrow, finally meeting San’s gaze. “Spar? With you? You just want an excuse to show off.”

San grinned wider. “Maybe. But if you’re scared, just say so.”

“Sure.” Jongho rolled his eyes but didn’t rise to the bait.

In a quiet corner of the town square, Seonghwa and Hongjoong stood under the shade of an awning, observing the crew as they mingled with the townsfolk.

“They’re behaving themselves,” Seonghwa said, his tone neutral.

Hongjoong smirked. “As they should. We don’t need unnecessary trouble here.”

Seonghwa glanced sideways at his captain. “You say that now, but when have we ever left Seagrove without some kind of incident?”

Hongjoong chuckled. “Fair point. Let’s hope this time is different.”

In the shaded alleyway near the market, Yeosang stood at a herbalist’s stall, quietly inspecting bundles of dried plants. His sharp eye quickly sorted the useful from the unnecessary.

“These are poorly dried,” he remarked, holding up a brittle bundle of valerian root.

The herbalist, a wiry older man, looked startled. “I—I’m sorry, sir, but that’s all I’ve got right now.”

Yeosang sighed softly, placing the bundle back. “I need quality. If it crumbles before it’s used, it’s worthless.”

From behind him, Yunho approached with an easy grin. “Always so picky, Yeosang. It’s like you expect perfect conditions out here in the middle of nowhere.”

Yeosang didn’t glance back, his hands moving to inspect another jar. “A surgeon doesn’t get second chances, Yunho. The better my supplies, the better I can keep the rest of you alive.”

Yunho leaned against the stall, arms crossed. “Fair point. Still, you could try to lighten up a bit. It’s not all life and death.”

Yeosang turned to him, an unreadable expression on his face. “For you, maybe.”

Meanwhile, Wooyoung spotted Yeosang as he walked away from the stall. “Hey, doc!” he called out, jogging to catch up.

“What is it, Wooyoung?” Yeosang asked, his tone even.

Wooyoung waved a bright yellow fruit in front of him. “You think this could kill someone if I cook it wrong? Or should I give it to the captain and find out?”

Yeosang raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “It’s a mango, Wooyoung. Unless you’re planning to drop it on his head, I doubt it’ll harm anyone.”

Wooyoung grinned. “Good to know! Maybe I’ll add it to dinner tonight. Think the captain likes tropical flavors?”

“I think the captain has more pressing concerns than your culinary experiments,” Yeosang replied, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he walked away.

In the distance, Hongjoong watched the exchanges with quiet amusement. Seonghwa, standing beside him, noticed his expression.

“Just as I thought they were behaving. They’re restless,” Seonghwa remarked.

Hongjoong nodded. “Let them stretch their legs. We’ll need them sharp soon enough.”

Seonghwa tilted his head. “And where does that leave us?”

Hongjoong’s gaze drifted toward the apothecary shop again. “For now? Let them play. But keep an eye on Yeosang. He always finds trouble where no one else is looking.”

Seonghwa chuckled. “That’s because he’s too clever for his own good.”

Hongjoong stood at the edge of the marketplace, his sharp gaze fixed on a small shop nestled between two larger buildings. The apothecary. It wasn’t his first visit, though his trips there were rare and purposeful. The shopkeeper had proven useful in the past, supplying him with everything he needed, no questions asked.

He turned to Wooyoung, who was busy juggling a few apples he’d “borrowed” from a stall.

“Wooyoung,” Hongjoong called, his voice firm.

Wooyoung caught the apples mid-air and grinned. “Yes, Captain? Need me to charm someone, or are we raiding the tavern early?”

Hongjoong smirked. “Neither. You’re coming with me to the apothecary. I need someone to carry what I buy.”

Wooyoung pouted dramatically, tossing one of the apples back into a basket. “What, I’m just your pack mule now?”

“Call it an extension of your scavenger duties,” Hongjoong replied, already heading toward the shop.

Wooyoung sighed, but his grin quickly returned as he jogged to catch up. “Fine, fine. But if they’ve got anything interesting, I’m keeping it.”

The bell above the door jingled as they stepped into the apothecary. The air inside was heavy with the earthy scent of dried herbs and freshly ground powders. Shelves lined every wall, filled with jars, bottles, and bundles of various remedies and ingredients.

YN stood behind the counter, her hands busy organizing a set of vials. She looked up at the sound of the bell and froze for a moment. It wasn’t every day the captain of the Halazia walked into her shop.

Hongjoong’s sharp eyes scanned the room before landing on her. He stepped forward, his coat swaying slightly. “You’re the pharmacist’s daughter,” he said, more a statement than a question.

YN straightened, her sunshine-like demeanor returning despite the intimidating presence before her. “That’s right. My father’s away, but I can help you. What do you need?”

Wooyoung leaned against the counter with a grin, glancing around the shop. “This place smells great. Got anything fun for a bored pirate like me?”

YN raised an eyebrow, but before she could reply, Hongjoong spoke. “Focus, Wooyoung.” He turned back to YN. “I need these.” He handed over a neatly folded piece of parchment with a list of items.

YN took it, her eyes scanning the list. Some of the ingredients were rare, but she recognized most of them. “I should have everything you need. Give me a moment.”

As YN moved around the shop, gathering items, Wooyoung leaned closer to Hongjoong and whispered, “She’s surprisingly cheerful for someone dealing with us.”

Hongjoong smirked but said nothing, his eyes following YN as she worked efficiently, placing jars and packets on the counter.

When she returned, she began explaining each item. “This powder needs to stay dry, and the tincture should be kept cool. And this—” she paused, holding up a small vial, “—is very potent. Use it sparingly.”

Hongjoong nodded, impressed by her knowledge. “You know your trade well.”

YN smiled warmly. “It’s my job.”

Once everything was packed, Wooyoung grabbed the bundle, pretending to stagger under its weight. “Oh no, Captain, it’s so heavy! What if I collapse under the strain?”

YN stifled a laugh, while Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “Stop complaining, or I’ll make you carry more.”

Just as Hongjoong and Wooyoung stepped toward the door, YN's curiosity got the better of her. She cleared her throat and asked, “What deal?”

As they turned to leave, Hongjoong paused at the door, glancing back at YN. “Tell your father our deal still stands. I’ll be back when I need more.”

Hongjoong stopped mid-step but didn’t turn around immediately. Wooyoung, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow and shot YN an amused look. “Curious, aren’t we?” he teased, leaning against the counter again.

Hongjoong slowly turned to face her, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp. “Your father and I have... an understanding. He provides certain items I need, no questions asked. In return, I ensure that no harm ever comes to this shop or your family. A fair trade, wouldn’t you say?”

YN blinked, trying to process his words. “So, you’re protecting us? That’s what this is about?”

Hongjoong’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “You could say that. But don’t mistake it for charity. It’s business.”

Wooyoung chimed in, his tone light but with an edge of truth. “Think of it as an investment. The captain doesn’t waste time on things—or people—that aren’t worth it.”

YN frowned slightly, crossing her arms. “We don’t need protection. Seagrove is neutral ground.”

Hongjoong stepped closer, his voice dropping just enough to be serious but not threatening. “Neutrality doesn’t stop trouble from finding its way here. Pirates, mercenaries, kingdoms—they don’t care about rules when desperation strikes. Your father knows this. That’s why he agreed to our deal.”

YN held his gaze, feeling a mix of defiance and unease. She wanted to argue but couldn’t deny the truth in his words. “Fine,” she said, her voice steady. “But if this is about protection, it works both ways. You might find yourselves needing supplies when no one else will sell to you.”

Hongjoong’s smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with approval. “Smart girl. Your father taught you well.”

With that, he turned and pushed the door open. Wooyoung gave YN one last playful wink as he followed the captain. “See you around, sunshine,” he said before the door closed behind them, leaving YN standing there with a mixture of curiosity and newfound wariness.

She looked down at the counter where the parchment list lay. Her fingers brushed against it as her mind raced with questions. Whatever deal her father had struck with the Halazia crew, it was clear this wasn’t just a simple exchange of goods.

After the encounter at the apothecary, Wooyoung couldn’t help but find his thoughts drifting back to YN. There was something about her—a bright, carefree energy that contrasted so sharply with the rough, unpredictable life aboard the Halazia. Her genuine warmth had lingered in his mind longer than he expected, and before he realized it, he found himself making excuses to return to the shop.

A few days later, the bell above the apothecary’s door jingled again. YN looked up from where she was sorting herbs, her face lighting up when she saw Wooyoung standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe with his usual mischievous grin.

“You again,” she said, her tone teasing but friendly. “Didn’t you stock up enough last time?”

Wooyoung shrugged, stepping further inside. “Captain wanted to make sure we didn’t miss anything important. And, well...” He paused, picking up a small jar of dried lavender from a shelf and inspecting it idly. “I thought I’d keep you company. Can’t have you getting bored all alone in here.”

YN laughed, a bright, cheerful sound that filled the small shop. “Bored? Hardly. This place is always busy. Besides, I’m pretty sure pirates don’t come back just to check on someone.”

Wooyoung placed the jar back and leaned on the counter, his grin never fading. “Maybe not, but I’m not like most pirates.”

YN raised an eyebrow, her hands moving automatically as she arranged some vials. “Oh? So what makes you different, Mister Pirate?”

He smirked, resting his chin on his hand. “Well, for one, I appreciate good company. And two...” He trailed off, letting her fill in the rest.

Despite her initial resolve not to get too involved with the Halazia crew, YN found herself smiling. His playful energy was contagious, and she couldn’t help but be drawn into the banter. “You’re smooth, I’ll give you that,” she said, shaking her head.

Wooyoung chuckled. “Smooth enough to get a discount?”

She laughed again. “Not a chance.”

Over the next few weeks, Wooyoung started appearing more frequently. Sometimes he claimed he was running errands for the crew; other times, he didn’t even bother with an excuse. Each visit felt a little more natural, as though he was slipping into the rhythm of her world.

At first, YN kept her guard up. She reminded herself that he was a pirate, part of a crew that carried a reputation for chaos. But Wooyoung’s charm was disarming, and her naturally talkative, sunshine-like personality quickly overshadowed any hesitation.

He’d sit on a stool by the counter, chatting with her about everything and nothing. She’d tell him about the townsfolk, the busy days at the apothecary, and the little joys of living on Seagrove. In return, he’d share stories from the sea—some clearly exaggerated, others tinged with surprising honesty.

One day, as YN handed him a small satchel of herbs, she said with a grin, “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re just here for the company.”

Wooyoung took the satchel, his smile softening. “Maybe I am. Got a problem with that?”

She shook her head, laughing. “Not really. Just don’t scare off my other customers, okay?”

Despite herself, YN found that Wooyoung’s presence didn’t feel like an intrusion. In fact, it felt oddly... comforting. And though Wooyoung never said it outright, he started looking forward to the quiet moments in the apothecary, away from the noise and chaos of life aboard the Halazia.

For now, neither of them thought too hard about what this strange, unexpected connection might mean. They simply enjoyed the moments they had, both of them quietly grateful for the fleeting peace they found in each other’s company.

Over time, Wooyoung became a regular sight in the apothecary. He would stroll in with his usual grin, plop himself onto the old wooden stool by the counter, and watch YN work.

At first, he was content just to chat, but as the days passed, he started offering to help.

“Here, let me do that,” he said one afternoon, stepping behind the counter and shooing YN away as she struggled with a particularly heavy crate of supplies.

She raised an eyebrow at him but stepped aside. “Are you sure you’re not just looking for an excuse to stick around?”

Wooyoung shot her a wink as he effortlessly lifted the crate onto a shelf. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

Soon enough, he became more than just a fixture in the shop. He started assisting her with customers, surprising her with how quickly he learned.

An older woman entered one day, asking for a salve for joint pain. Wooyoung, leaning casually on the counter, chimed in before YN could answet.

“Second shelf on the left,” he said, pointing. “Green jar with the brown lid. That’s the one you want.”

The woman looked at him, then at YN, who nodded in confirmation. “He’s right.”

The woman smiled and handed over her coins, muttering something about how “helpful young men” were hard to find.

After she left, YN crossed her arms and gave Wooyoung an appraising look. “You’re actually pretty good at this.”

He smirked. “Told you. Many talents.”

Not all of his interactions in the shop were so lighthearted, though. Occasionally, a customer would walk in with an attitude—someone trying to haggle too aggressively or speaking to YN with unnecessary harshness.

One such day, a burly man stormed in, slamming a few coins on the counter. “This isn’t enough,” he growled, pointing at a small pouch of medicine YN had just handed him. “You’re overcharging.”

YN opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Wooyoung stood up from his stool and stepped forward, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something far more dangerous.

“She gave you the price,” Wooyoung said, his voice low and sharp. “Take it, or leave.”

The man turned to Wooyoung, clearly unimpressed. “And who do you think you are?”

Wooyoung’s grin returned, but this time it was anything but friendly. He leaned forward, his voice dropping even lower. “I’m someone you don’t want to mess with. Now, are you going to take the medicine and go, or should we make this... interesting?”

The man hesitated, clearly weighing his options. After a tense moment, he snatched the pouch from the counter and stormed out, muttering under his breath.

YN let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said softly.

Wooyoung shrugged, sitting back on the stool and spinning it lazily. “Nobody talks to you like that while I’m here. That’s a rule.”

YN smiled despite herself. “I don’t know whether to thank you or scold you for almost starting a fight in my shop.”

Wooyoung grinned. “Thank me, obviously.”

And she did, though she didn’t say it out loud.

With each passing day, Wooyoung’s presence in the shop felt more natural, like he belonged there. The townsfolk began to notice, too, casting curious glances when they saw the pirate helping YN arrange shelves or handing a bag of herbs to a customer. Some whispered about it, others just smiled knowingly.

And though YN had told herself not to get too involved with the crew of Halazia, she couldn’t deny that having Wooyoung around made her days a little brighter—and a lot more entertaining.

It was an ordinary evening aboard the Halazia when Seonghwa walked into the captain’s quarters, a folded letter in his hand. His expression was calm, but there was an edge of seriousness that made Hongjoong look up from the maps spread across his desk.

“What is it?” Hongjoong asked, leaning back in his chair.

Seonghwa handed him the letter without a word. As Hongjoong unfolded it, his sharp eyes scanned the neatly written words. It was from the pharmacist on Seagrove, a message laced with urgency.

“They’re coming back,” Hongjoong muttered, reading aloud. “The same goons who wanted his land before. He says they’re planning to create trouble, maybe worse. He’s asking us to protect his daughter while he’s away.”

Seonghwa crossed his arms, nodding. “It seems they’re waiting for the perfect moment, knowing the island has no real enforcement.”

Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the table. His mind worked quickly, weighing the situation. The pharmacist had been a valuable ally, and they owed him for the resources he’d provided in the past. Letting this go unanswered would be a stain on their reputation—and, truthfully, Hongjoong didn’t enjoy leaving favors unpaid.

He looked up at Seonghwa. “We can’t ignore this. We’ll need to send someone to keep an eye on her.”

Before Seonghwa could respond, the door swung open, and Wooyoung strolled in, as casual as ever. “Someone say watch over her?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe with a knowing grin.

Hongjoong arched an eyebrow at him. “Eavesdropping now, are we?”

“Not eavesdropping. Just walking by,” Wooyoung said innocently, though his smirk betrayed him. “So, what’s the plan? I’m assuming it involves our little sunshine at the apothecary.”

Seonghwa sighed. “It’s serious, Wooyoung. The pharmacist says trouble’s coming her way, and she’ll need protection while he’s gone. This isn’t just a casual errand.”

Wooyoung’s grin faltered slightly, his playful demeanor softening. “I know that. And that’s why I’m volunteering.”

Hongjoong studied him for a moment, noticing the uncharacteristic determination in his eyes. “You’re volunteering? That’s a first.”

Wooyoung shrugged, though there was no hiding the slight tension in his posture. “She’s a good person, Captain. She doesn’t deserve to deal with scum like that. Besides, I’ve been spending the most time with her. Makes sense for me to step in.”

Hongjoong exchanged a glance with Seonghwa, who gave a small nod. Finally, the captain leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Fine. You’ll handle it. But keep a low profile—no unnecessary fights unless it’s unavoidable. And if you need backup, you call for us immediately.”

Wooyoung grinned, his confidence returning in full force. “You got it, Captain. Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

Later that evening, Wooyoung gathered a few essentials before heading toward the apothecary. As he walked through the dimly lit streets of Seagrove, his mind raced with thoughts of YN.

He didn’t know why, but the idea of something happening to her lit a fire in him that he couldn’t ignore. Maybe it was her kindness, her unshakable warmth, or the way she always smiled, even when dealing with stubborn customers. Whatever it was, he wasn’t about to let anyone take that away from her.

When he reached the shop, the bell jingled softly as he stepped inside. YN looked up from the counter, surprised to see him.

“Wooyoung? You’re back already?” she asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

He nodded, his usual playful grin softening into something more genuine. “Yeah. Looks like I’ll be sticking around for a while.”

Her brows furrowed slightly. “Why? What’s going on?”

Wooyoung hesitated for a moment before leaning against the counter, his voice gentle. “Your dad sent us a letter. Said some people might cause trouble while he’s gone. So... I’m here to make sure they don’t.”

The morning sun bathed Seagrove in a warm glow as YN stepped out of the apothecary with a basket in hand, ready to run her errands. She hummed softly to herself as she walked down the cobblestone streets, her mind focused on the list of things she needed.

But she wasn’t alone.

Though his footsteps were silent and his movements careful, YN could feel the weight of a gaze following her. She smirked to herself, pretending not to notice as she turned a corner, heading toward a quieter part of town.

When the street became deserted, she abruptly stopped and turned around, catching Wooyoung mid-step. He froze like a child caught sneaking sweets, his wide eyes meeting hers.

“So,” YN began, tilting her head and walking backward to keep her eyes on him. “You’re basically a bodyguard now?”

Wooyoung let out a small sigh, shaking his head as he caught up to her. “Careful, you’ll trip if you keep walking like that,” he said, his tone light but protective.

“I’m serious,” she pressed, ignoring his warning. “Isn’t this what bodyguards do? Follow people around, stay hidden, and swoop in dramatically when there’s trouble?”

Wooyoung chuckled, crossing his arms as he walked beside her. “Something like that. But I wouldn’t call myself a bodyguard. More like a... pirate with a purpose.”

YN laughed at that, the sound echoing through the quiet street. “A pirate with a purpose? That sounds so noble for someone like you.”

“Hey,” he said, feigning offense. “I’m plenty noble when I need to be. Like right now. I’m literally protecting you.”

“From what?” she asked, her voice full of innocent curiosity. “There’s no one around.”

Wooyoung glanced around, his eyes scanning the surroundings instinctively. “You’d be surprised. Trouble doesn’t announce itself, you know. One second everything’s fine, and the next... well, it’s not.”

YN stopped walking backward and faced him fully, her brow furrowed. “You really think something’s going to happen?”

Wooyoung’s expression softened, and he shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. But your dad was worried enough to ask for help, and I’m not taking any chances.”

She blinked, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. For all his jokes and playful attitude, there was something reassuring about knowing he took her safety seriously.

“So... what do I call you now? Protector Wooyoung? Sir Wooyoung?” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

He rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. “Just Wooyoung is fine, sunshine. Now, can we please focus on where you’re walking? If you trip, I’m not carrying you back.”

YN laughed again and turned to continue her errands, her steps lighter than before. Despite the strangeness of being followed, she couldn’t help but feel a small sense of comfort knowing that, no matter what, Wooyoung was there.

A few days passed without incident, though the air felt charged, as if something unseen was brewing. YN went about her routine with Wooyoung never far behind, always lurking in the background or perched casually on her shop’s stool, keeping watch.

But then, late one night aboard the Halazia, a lowly pirate messenger arrived with urgent news.

Hongjoong sat in his quarters with Seonghwa when the messenger was brought in. The scruffy man, clearly uneasy in the presence of the infamous captain, fumbled with his words but got the message across clearly:

“The goons you’ve been watchin’ out for... they’re plannin’ to hit the apothecary. Heard it straight from one of their lot.”

Hongjoong’s face darkened as he leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “When?”

“Soon,” the messenger replied. “Could be tonight, could be tomorrow. They’re waitin’ for the right moment.”

Hongjoong dismissed the man and turned to Seonghwa, who stood silently by his side. “We can’t risk it,” the captain said. “The girl’s too vulnerable in the shop. Wooyoung needs to bring her here—now.”

Seonghwa nodded. “I’ll send the word.”

At the apothecary, YN was cleaning up for the night when Wooyoung walked in, his expression unusually serious.

She glanced up at him and immediately noticed the shift in his demeanor. “What’s wrong?” she asked, setting down the jar she was holding.

“We need to leave,” Wooyoung said, his voice firm but calm.

Her brow furrowed. “Leave? Why? What’s going on?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “The goons your dad was worried about... they’re planning to attack the shop. Captain’s orders are to get you to the ship where you’ll be safe.”

YN’s eyes widened. “The ship? Halazia? You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious,” Wooyoung said, stepping closer. “It’s not safe here, YN. I can protect you better if you’re with us.”

She hesitated, looking around the shop she’d grown up in. “But... what about the store? What about my father’s work?”

Wooyoung softened, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll make sure nothing happens to it. But right now, you’re what matters. We can’t replace you, sunshine.”

Her heart skipped at the unexpected tenderness in his words, but the gravity of the situation quickly pulled her back. She nodded, her resolve hardening.

“Alright,” she said, her voice steady despite the fear creeping in. “Let me grab a few things.”

Wooyoung watched as YN quickly packed a small bag with essentials—some clothes, a few jars of medicine, and a small book she seemed hesitant to leave behind.

As they stepped out into the cool night, Wooyoung’s eyes scanned their surroundings, his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger. The streets were quiet, but he knew better than to trust the stillness.

“Stay close,” he whispered, his voice low but firm.

YN nodded, clutching her bag tightly as they made their way through the town toward the docks.

The journey felt longer than it should have, every shadow and faint sound putting them both on edge. But eventually, the silhouette of the Halazia came into view, its sails swaying gently in the night breeze.

As they approached the gangplank, Wooyoung turned to YN, his usual grin making a rare appearance despite the tension. “Welcome to the Halazia, sunshine. You’re about to meet the best—and most chaotic—crew in the seven seas.”

As soon as YN stepped onto the deck of the Halazia, she froze, her wide eyes taking in the sheer majesty of the pirate ship. The towering masts, the intricate ropes, and the faint smell of saltwater mixed with wood—it all felt surreal, like she’d stumbled into one of her dreams.

Her fear of ships and the open sea had always held her back from venturing onto one, but now, standing here, it felt like that fear had melted away, replaced by pure wonder.

“This is... amazing,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the gentle creaking of the ship.

Wooyoung, who had been following her with her bag slung over his shoulder, smirked as he watched her light up like a child discovering a new world. “You act like you’ve never seen a ship before,” he teased, though his tone was soft.

“I haven’t,” YN admitted, turning to him with an excited grin. “Not like this! I mean, I’ve seen them from the shore, but actually being on one? It’s completely different!”

She wandered across the deck, her fingers brushing against the railings and ropes, her eyes darting to every detail—the cannons lined up neatly, the sturdy wheel, and the faint reflection of the moonlight on the water below.

“This is incredible,” she said again, more to herself than to Wooyoung. “I never thought I’d actually step foot on a ship.”

Wooyoung chuckled as he trailed behind her, carrying her things without complaint. “Well, you’re lucky this isn’t just any ship. You’re standing on the Halazia, the finest vessel on the seas.”

YN turned to him, her eyes sparkling. “The finest, huh? You don’t seem very humble about it.”

“Why should I be?” he said with a grin, leaning casually against a mast. “The Halazia deserves to be shown off. Just like me.”

YN rolled her eyes but couldn’t help laughing. She turned her attention back to the ship, climbing a few steps to the raised quarterdeck and looking out over the bow. The gentle rocking of the ship made her heart race, but it wasn’t fear—it was exhilaration.

“You look like a kid in a candy shop,” Wooyoung said, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and fondness as he watched her.

She spun around, leaning against the railing with a bright smile. “I feel like one. This is so much better than I imagined.”

Wooyoung’s smirk softened into something more genuine as he watched her. He wasn’t sure what it was about her—maybe the way her excitement was so contagious, or the way her wide eyes seemed to find magic in everything—but seeing her like this made him forget, even for a moment, the dangers that had brought her here.

“Alright, sunshine,” he said, breaking the moment. “As much as I’d love to let you explore all night, you’ll need some rest. The captain will want to speak with you in the morning.”

YN nodded, reluctantly tearing herself away from the view. “Okay, fine. But I’m not done exploring. You’ll have to show me everything tomorrow.”

Wooyoung laughed. “Deal. But for now, let me show you where you’ll be sleeping. Come on.”

He led her below deck, still carrying her things as she followed him with the same wide-eyed wonder. And though the weight of what lay ahead lingered in the back of his mind, Wooyoung found himself smiling, content in the moment.

When Wooyoung led YN to a small cabin below deck, she stepped inside and immediately felt the silence pressing in around her. The cozy space was nothing like her home, with its small wooden bed, a lantern casting soft light, and the faint creaking of the ship filling the air.

“Here you go,” Wooyoung said, setting her bag down by the bed. “It’s not much, but it’s cozy enough. You’ll be safe here.”

YN nodded, clutching her arms tightly. “Yeah… it’s nice.” But her voice wavered slightly, betraying her unease.

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, noticing the way her eyes darted around the room and how she hesitated to step further in. “Something wrong?” he asked, leaning casually against the doorframe.

She shook her head quickly, forcing a smile. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m just… not used to being alone, that’s all.”

His smirk faded as he studied her. “You’re scared, aren’t you?”

Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a small sigh. “A little. Back home, I always stayed with my aunt when my dad wasn’t around. I’ve never really been by myself at night. It’s… it’s just something I’m not used to.”

Wooyoung frowned, leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed. He could see the fear in her eyes, the way she fidgeted nervously. It wasn’t something he was used to—seeing someone so openly vulnerable. Most people tried to hide their fears around pirates, but YN was an open book.

“You know,” he started, his voice softening, “I could always stick around for a bit. Keep you company until you fall asleep. That way, you’re not completely alone.”

YN’s eyes widened. “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he said with a shrug, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m your bodyguard, remember? Can’t let anything happen to you, even if it’s just a bad dream.”

A small smile tugged at her lips, and she nodded. “Okay. Just until I fall asleep.”

Wooyoung pulled a chair over and sat down near the bed, leaning back comfortably as YN hesitantly climbed under the blankets.

For a while, the only sound was the gentle creak of the ship and the distant crash of waves. YN lay on her side, her gaze fixed on Wooyoung, who seemed completely at ease, his legs stretched out and arms crossed behind his head.

“You’re really not going to leave, are you?” she asked quietly.

“Not until you’re out like a light,” he replied with a grin.

She chuckled softly, the sound easing some of the tension in the room. “Thank you, Wooyoung.”

“Anytime, sunshine,” he said, his voice dropping to a soothing tone.

Slowly, her eyes began to droop, the sound of the ship and the comforting presence of Wooyoung lulling her into a sense of safety she hadn’t expected to feel. And true to his word, he stayed right there, watching over her until her breathing evened out and she drifted into sleep.

The next morning, Wooyoung leaned against the doorframe of YN’s cabin, watching her stretch and yawn as she woke up. Her face was lit with the same cheerful glow he’d come to recognize, her fear from the night before seemingly forgotten.

“Morning, sunshine,” he greeted with a teasing grin. “Sleep well?”

YN sat up, her hair slightly messy, and nodded enthusiastically. “Like a baby. I guess ships aren’t so scary after all!”

He smirked, stepping aside to let her step out. “Told you you’d be fine. Now come on, let’s get some food. The others are already up.”

As they walked toward the breakfast hall, YN’s natural curiosity bubbled over. “So… aren’t you ever scared the ship’s going to sink?” she asked, tilting her head.

Wooyoung snorted, looking at her like she’d just said the most ridiculous thing. “Scared? Me? Sunshine, this ship is sturdier than a fortress. She’s not going anywhere.”

“But what if a giant wave crashes over it?” she asked, her eyes wide with imagined catastrophe.

“Then we ride the wave,” he answered smugly.

She hummed thoughtfully before hitting him with another question. “What if a whale bumps into it? Wouldn’t that cause trouble?”

He gave her an incredulous look. “A whale? Do you think whales just swim around bumping into ships for fun?”

She giggled, shrugging. “I don’t know! Maybe they’re curious.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes, but the fond smile tugging at his lips gave him away. “Alright, sunshine, what’s next? Got any more doomsday scenarios for me?”

“Many. What about sharks? Aren’t you worried they’ll try to bite through the hull?”

Wooyoung stopped walking, staring at her for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Sharks, YN? Biting through the hull? What kind of stories has your dad been telling you?”

She shrugged with a playful pout. “I don’t know! I just thought… maybe it could happen!”

He shook his head, still grinning as they resumed walking. “I promise you, sharks don’t want to eat wood. You’re safe.”

“What about storms?” she asked next, her voice full of innocent curiosity. “Have you ever been caught in one? Like, a huge one that flips the ship upside down?”

Wooyoung gave her an exaggeratedly serious look. “Oh, sure, all the time. And we just flip her back over and keep sailing.”

YN gasped. “Really?!”

He laughed, ruffling her hair as they walked. “No, sunshine, not really. But we’ve weathered storms before. This ship’s been through it all.”

As they reached the breakfast hall, YN slowed down, looking up at him. “One more question,” she said, her tone quieter but still curious.

“Shoot,” he replied.

“Have you ever been scared on this ship?”

For a moment, Wooyoung paused, his grin fading into something softer. “Maybe once or twice,” he admitted. “But not because of the ship. Because of what might happen to the people on it.”

YN blinked, surprised by his honest answer, but before she could ask more, Wooyoung opened the door to the hall with a dramatic flourish.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced loudly, “the sunshine of the seas has arrived!”

As YN stepped into the breakfast hall, the chatter of the crew quieted, and all eyes turned toward her. Though most of their expressions were neutral or curious, the sheer presence of eight men in one room felt overwhelming. She froze for a moment, clutching Wooyoung’s shirt from behind like a lifeline.

Wooyoung glanced over his shoulder, noticing how she shrank behind him. He let out a soft laugh but didn’t comment, allowing her to use him as a shield.

“Don’t be shy,” he teased lightly, his tone warm. “They don’t bite. Well… maybe San does, but only if you get on his bad side.”

“Hey!” San called from across the room, earning a chuckle from the others.

Hongjoong, seated at the head of the table, gave her a reassuring smile. “Good morning, YN. Don’t let them intimidate you. They’re loud, but they’re harmless.”

She nodded shyly but didn’t let go of Wooyoung’s shirt. The rest of the crew exchanged glances, some amused, some curious.

“Alright, alright,” Wooyoung said, clapping his hands to break the awkward silence. “Let’s get the introductions out of the way so sunshine here can relax.”

He stepped aside, gently nudging YN forward, though she still kept close to him.

Hongjoong stood first, his presence commanding yet calm. “I’m Hongjoong, the captain of this ship. You’ll be safe here, YN. If there’s anything you need, let me know.”

Next was Seonghwa, who gave her a polite nod. “Seonghwa, the quartermaster and first mate. Welcome aboard.”

Yunho, the navigator, grinned warmly. “I’m Yunho. I make sure we don’t get lost. Nice to meet you, YN!”

Yeosang, the quiet surgeon, gave her a small smile. “Yeosang. If you ever get hurt, come to me.”

San leaned back in his chair, flashing a mischievous grin. “San, the battle master. Don’t worry, I only bite if provoked.”

Mingi, the boatswain, waved enthusiastically. “Mingi! I keep the ship in shape. You’re gonna love it here!”

Wooyoung gave her a playful nudge. “And you already know me, your personal bodyguard and scavenger extraordinaire.”

Finally, Jongho, the master gunner, nodded firmly. “Jongho. I handle the cannons. Welcome to the Halazia.”

The introductions helped ease her nerves, and soon enough, the crew’s warm smiles and lighthearted jokes began to make her feel more comfortable.

“Thank you,” she said softly, glancing around at the group. “It’s nice to meet all of you.”

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way,” Wooyoung said, guiding her to a seat at the table, “let’s eat. Sunshine needs to keep her energy up, after all.”

As the crew returned to their meals, YN slowly started to join the conversation, her natural warmth and curiosity shining through. By the end of breakfast, she wasn’t hiding behind Wooyoung anymore—instead, she was laughing along with the rest of the crew, feeling like she might actually belong.

After breakfast, Wooyoung led YN back out onto the deck. The crew had dispersed to their duties, leaving the ship relatively quiet. He decided it was the perfect time to give her a small tour—not of the whole ship, but just the places he knew she’d actually need.

“Alright, sunshine,” Wooyoung said, walking ahead of her with a slight bounce in his step. “Since you’ll be with us for a while, you should know your way around—at least enough so you don’t get lost.”

YN’s eyes sparkled with excitement, her earlier shyness completely replaced by her usual sunshine-like demeanor. “Okay! Show me everything!”

“Not everything,” he corrected with a chuckle. “Just the essentials. Come on.”

He started with the main deck, pointing out where the crew stored extra supplies and how to tell which ropes were safe to touch—“Don’t go pulling random ones unless you want to drop a sail on your head,” he teased.

YN followed closely, hanging on to every word he said, her excitement growing with every little thing he explained. She’d occasionally gasp or ask a question, her enthusiasm contagious.

“This is where the weapons are stored,” Wooyoung said, gesturing to a small hatch near the mast. “But you probably don’t need to mess with that. Leave the fighting to us.”

“Noted,” YN said with a grin. “No weapons for me. I’ll stick to not breaking anything.”

They moved below deck next, where Wooyoung showed her the mess hall, the kitchen (“Wooyoung’s kingdom,” as he called it), and a few storage rooms.

When they reached the small infirmary, YN gasped. “Oh, it’s so organized!”

“Yeosang keeps it that way,” Wooyoung said with a shrug. “Don’t mess with his stuff, though. He’ll know.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, her eyes wide as she peeked inside.

Finally, Wooyoung led her back up to the quarterdeck, where the ship’s wheel stood. YN looked out over the vast ocean, the sun sparkling on the water like diamonds. Her grin grew even wider, and she spun around to face him, her hands outstretched.

“This is amazing, Wooyoung! I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like a whole new world!”

Wooyoung leaned against the railing, watching her with a soft smile. Her joy was so genuine, so unfiltered, that it tugged at something deep in his chest. He’d spent years on this ship, but he’d never seen it through someone else’s eyes like this.

“Glad you like it,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

YN turned back to the ocean, leaning against the railing as the wind played with her hair. “I can’t believe I was scared of this. It’s beautiful.”

Wooyoung found himself staring, his heart doing something strange—something he didn’t quite understand. He’d been around plenty of people, but there was something about YN’s presence that felt… different.

Shaking off the thought, he smirked and nudged her lightly. “Well, sunshine, you’re part of it now. Welcome to the Halazia.”

She looked up at him with a radiant smile. “Thanks, Wooyoung. I think I’m going to like it here.”

He didn’t say anything, but as they stood there, watching the endless expanse of ocean together, he couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he was starting to like it even more now too.

As they leaned against the railing, watching the endless stretch of blue, YN broke the comfortable silence with a quiet question.

“Are you scared of the ocean?”

Wooyoung glanced at her, slightly taken aback. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugged, her fingers lightly tracing the wood of the railing. “It’s just… it’s so big. And unknown. You don’t really know what’s down there. I’m scared of it. Always have been.”

Wooyoung’s gaze softened as he watched her. For all her bright and cheerful energy, there was a vulnerability in her words that struck him.

“I’m not scared of it,” he said after a moment. “But I get why someone might be.”

YN turned to look at him, her eyes searching his face. “You don’t think about it? How deep it goes? How it could just… swallow you up?”

Wooyoung chuckled softly, leaning his elbows on the railing. “I guess I’ve been around it so long, I don’t think about it that way anymore. The ocean’s unpredictable, sure, but it’s also… home. It’s dangerous, yeah, but it’s beautiful too.”

“Beautiful and dangerous,” she echoed, looking back at the waves. “I guess that makes sense.”

He glanced at her, his tone softening. “But it’s okay to be scared of it, you know. Everyone’s scared of something. The important thing is not letting it stop you from living.”

YN nodded slowly, his words sinking in. “I guess that’s why you’re here, huh? To make sure I don’t let my fear stop me?”

Wooyoung smirked, his usual teasing tone returning. “Exactly. Think of me as your very own fearless tour guide of the seas.”

She laughed, the sound light and free, and for a moment, her fear seemed to fade. “Thanks, Wooyoung. You’re not as scary as you pretend to be.”

“Don’t let the others hear you say that,” he said with a wink. “I have a reputation to maintain.”

YN smiled, her earlier worry replaced by warmth. Maybe the ocean was still scary, but with someone like Wooyoung by her side, it didn’t feel quite so overwhelming.

As the day passed, Wooyoung found himself growing increasingly aware of YN’s presence. Whether it was her soft laughter when she found something amusing, the way she tilted her head with curiosity at every little thing he showed her, or even the quiet moments when she was simply taking in the ship’s vastness—he couldn’t help but feel something stirring within him.

It wasn’t just her cheerfulness that got to him. It was the way she spoke with an honesty that seemed so rare, the way she made everything feel a little brighter, even in the vastness of the open sea.

At one point, YN was sitting on a crate near the mast, her feet swinging lightly as she hummed to herself. Wooyoung had been organizing some ropes nearby, but his hands slowed as he glanced over at her. She was just sitting there, doing nothing in particular, and yet he found himself staring.

What is wrong with me? he thought, shaking his head.

“Wooyoung?” her voice cut through his thoughts, and he turned to see her looking at him with her usual wide-eyed curiosity.

“Yeah?” he asked, quickly snapping out of his daze.

“Why are you staring at me?” she asked bluntly, tilting her head.

He blinked, caught off guard. “I wasn’t staring.”

She gave him a look that clearly said she didn’t believe him. “You totally were. Do I have something on my face?”

“No!” he said quickly, waving his hands. “I was just… lost in thought.”

“About what?”

“Stuff,” he replied vaguely, avoiding her gaze as he returned to the ropes.

She frowned a little but didn’t press him further. Instead, she hopped off the crate and walked over to him, standing by his side. “You’re weird,” she said with a laugh, nudging him lightly.

“Thanks, sunshine,” he muttered, though there was no bite in his tone.

As the day wore on, Wooyoung couldn’t shake the strange feeling. It wasn’t a bad feeling—just… unfamiliar. He found himself smiling more than usual, his mind wandering whenever she was near.

By the time the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Wooyoung was leaning against the railing, watching YN as she marveled at the view.

She turned to him, her face lit up with excitement. “Is it always this beautiful?”

He nodded slowly, though his eyes weren’t on the horizon—they were on her. “Yeah,” he said softly, his voice barely audible. “It is.”

And for the first time in a long while, Wooyoung found himself wondering if the ocean was truly the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

A few weeks had passed since YN stepped onto the Halazia, and in that time, the ship had somehow begun to feel like home to her. She leapt around the deck with her usual cheerful energy, helping wherever she could, whether it was Wooyoung in the kitchen, Yeosang in the infirmary, or even Seonghwa and Hongjoong with their work.

“Hold this for me, YN,” Seonghwa said one afternoon as he handed her a map while he adjusted the compass in his hand.

“Like this?” she asked, holding it up as if she were presenting a prized treasure.

Seonghwa chuckled. “Perfect.”

When she wasn’t assisting Seonghwa, she was often seen pestering Yeosang in the infirmary, her endless questions making him both amused and slightly exasperated.

“What does this do?” YN asked, pointing to a jar of some strange salve.

“It’s for burns,” Yeosang replied patiently, though he didn’t miss the way she scrunched her nose at the smell.

“That smells awful!” she exclaimed.

“It’s medicine,” Yeosang said with a small smile. “Not everything can smell like roses.”

She laughed and quickly moved on to the next question, her curiosity never-ending.

And then, of course, there was Wooyoung.

She spent the most time with him, naturally. Whether it was helping him in the kitchen or following him around during his scavenger tasks, she was always by his side, her bright personality lighting up even the dullest moments.

But for Wooyoung, those weeks had been… confusing.

The strange feeling he had whenever he looked at her had only grown stronger. It was there in the way his heart would skip when she laughed, or the way he’d find himself looking for her whenever she wasn’t around.

“Wooyoung!” YN called out one morning, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah?” he asked, turning to see her balancing on the railing, arms stretched out for balance.

“Look! I’m not scared anymore!” she said, beaming.

“Get down before you fall!” he scolded, rushing over to steady her.

She laughed, hopping down with ease. But not without Wooyoung holding onto her. “I wouldn’t have fallen. You’d catch me anyway, right?”

Wooyoung sighed, shaking his head, though there was a small smile on his lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re grumpy,” she shot back with a grin, poking his arm.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the warmth that spread through him. She had that effect on everyone, he realized—not just him. She had somehow charmed the entire crew, even the usually reserved Yeosang and the ever-serious Seonghwa.

But for Wooyoung, it was different. The way he felt when she was near wasn’t just fondness or friendship. It was something more, something that made his chest tighten and his heart race.

And as he watched her skip off to bother Hongjoong about something, laughing and smiling as if the world was nothing but sunshine, Wooyoung realized he was in trouble.

Big trouble.

That night, like every other, YN was tucked into the small bed they’d arranged for her in one of the crew’s spare quarters. Wooyoung sat on the floor near the door, leaning back against the wooden wall, his legs stretched out comfortably. It had become their nightly routine—talking about anything and everything before she drifted off to sleep.

“Wooyoung,” she started, her voice soft and a little drowsy already, “why do you like being a pirate? Isn’t it scary, always running into danger?”

He chuckled, resting his head against the wall. “Nah. It’s what I’m good at. And besides, it’s exciting. Who doesn’t like a bit of adventure?”

She smiled faintly, her eyelids heavy but still determined to stay in the conversation. “I think it’s cool… but I’d be too scared to fight. I’d probably just hide behind you.”

“You already do that,” he teased with a grin.

“True,” she murmured with a sleepy laugh. “You’re good at making me feel safe, though.”

His heart clenched a little at her words, but he kept his tone light. “Of course I do. That’s my job, sunshine.”

For a while, they continued their usual back-and-forth, her words growing slower and quieter with each passing minute. Wooyoung found himself doing most of the talking, filling the silence as she nodded off.

Then, mid-sentence, he heard her breathing even out. He paused, looking over at her. She had fallen asleep while he was talking, her head resting on the pillow, her face peaceful and relaxed.

A soft smile spread across his lips as he watched her, the moonlight filtering through the small window casting a gentle glow on her features.

“She’s cute,” he muttered to himself before he could stop the thought.

It hit him then, like it had been building up for weeks and finally clicked into place—he was falling for her. Hard.

But Wooyoung knew one thing for sure: even if it was love, he wasn’t going to say anything. She was his friend, his sunshine in an otherwise stormy world, and the last thing he wanted was to burden her with his feelings. She had enough to worry about, and he wasn’t about to make things harder for her.

Instead, he sighed quietly, leaning his head back against the wall as he closed his eyes. If staying silent meant she could keep smiling and talking his ear off every night, then he’d take that. For now, just being close to her was enough.

Wooyoung stood up quietly, ready to leave her room and let her sleep peacefully like every other night. But as he turned to glance back at her one last time, something caught his eye.

Her blanket had slipped down, revealing her arms—usually hidden under long sleeves. He moved closer, intending to fix the blanket like he always did, making sure she was comfortable.

But then he saw it.

His breath hitched as his eyes fell on her wrists, faintly illuminated by the pale moonlight. There were marks and scars, some faint and others deeper, etched into her skin like silent memories of pain.

Wooyoung froze, his heart tightening painfully in his chest.

No… he thought, his mind racing. She’s always smiling. Always happy.

He couldn’t reconcile the sunshine YN he knew—the one who laughed at his jokes, who skipped around the ship with boundless energy, who asked him silly questions every day—with the person who bore these scars.

For a long moment, he just stood there, staring at her sleeping form. She looked so peaceful, so innocent, and yet those scars told a story he didn’t know—a story she had never shared with him.

He clenched his fists, a wave of emotions crashing over him. Anger, sadness, confusion. How could someone as bright as her carry so much pain? And why hadn’t she told anyone?

Wooyoung gently pulled the blanket back up, covering her arms again. His hand hovered for a moment before he stepped back, his movements slow and deliberate as if he might wake her.

He sat back down on the floor, his back against the wall, his thoughts a chaotic mess. He replayed every interaction they’d had, every laugh, every smile. Had he missed the signs? Had she been hiding this from everyone the whole time?

And yet, despite the questions and the pain in his chest, one thought rang louder than the rest.

I’ll protect her.

Whatever she had been through, whatever had caused those scars, Wooyoung silently vowed that she would never have to feel that kind of pain again. Not as long as he was around.

The morning came with the usual rhythm of life on the Halazia. The crew went about their tasks, the sounds of footsteps and distant laughter filling the ship. YN, as always, was a ball of energy. She skipped onto the deck, her bright smile lighting up the day as she greeted everyone she saw.

“Good morning, Wooyoung!” she called, waving cheerfully as she spotted him leaning against the railing.

He smiled back, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Something had shifted within him since last night, and even though YN seemed like her usual, bubbly self, he couldn’t stop the protectiveness that now gnawed at his chest.

As she wandered off to help Yeosang in the infirmary, Wooyoung found himself watching her closely, more vigilant than ever. His heart felt heavier, knowing the scars she carried beneath her sunshine exterior. He couldn’t let this eat him up inside—it was too much.

Without thinking too much about it, he made his way to the captain’s quarters.

Hongjoong was seated at his desk, a map spread out before him as he carefully marked their next route. He glanced up when Wooyoung knocked and motioned for him to enter.

“What is it?” Hongjoong asked, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms.

Wooyoung hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to put his swirling thoughts into words. But this was Hongjoong—his captain, his guide, his second guardian. If there was anyone he could trust, it was him.

“It’s about YN,” Wooyoung began, closing the door behind him.

Hongjoong’s brow furrowed slightly. “What about her? Is she alright?”

“She is,” Wooyoung said quickly. “At least… I think she is. But…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair.

“But what?” Hongjoong pressed, his tone serious now.

Wooyoung took a deep breath and looked down at the floor. “Last night, I… I saw something. She always wears long sleeves, and I never thought much of it, but her blanket slipped, and I saw her wrists.”

Hongjoong didn’t say anything, but the sharpness in his eyes told Wooyoung to continue.

“They’re scared,” Wooyoung said quietly. “Like… she’s been through something. Something bad. And she’s always smiling, always acting like she’s fine, but I don’t think she is, Captain. I don’t think she ever was.”

Hongjoong leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk as he processed Wooyoung’s words. “And you’re telling me this because…?”

“Because I don’t know what to do,” Wooyoung admitted, his voice almost breaking. “I want to protect her, but I don’t know if I’m doing enough. I don’t want her to feel like she’s alone. And—” He hesitated, swallowing hard before continuing. “I care about her, Captain. More than I probably should.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of Wooyoung’s words hanging in the air.

Hongjoong studied him carefully, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Wooyoung, you’ve always been someone who cares deeply about the people around you. That’s one of your strengths. But you need to tread carefully here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Hongjoong said slowly, “that YN isn’t just anyone. She’s someone who’s clearly been hurt before, and if you push too hard or too fast, you might end up hurting her even more.”

Wooyoung nodded, his fists clenching at his sides. “I’d never hurt her.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Hongjoong said, his tone softening. “But she might not be ready to talk about whatever’s happened to her. You have to be patient. Be there for her, but let her come to you when she’s ready.”

Wooyoung exhaled shakily, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “I just… I hate the thought of her suffering alone.”

Hongjoong gave him a small, understanding smile. “You’re doing more for her than you realize, Wooyoung. Just keep being her friend, her safe place. That’s what she needs most right now.”

Wooyoung nodded again, his resolve strengthening. “Thank you, Captain.”

As he left the room, Wooyoung felt a little lighter, though his heart still ached for YN. He would take Hongjoong’s advice to heart. He would wait, be patient, and let her set the pace. But in the meantime, he’d keep being the one thing she could always count on: her protector, her friend, and her silent guardian.

Wooyoung stepped out onto the deck, the salty breeze ruffling his hair as his eyes scanned for YN. He spotted her near the railing with San and Jongho, her arms waving animatedly as she spoke. The two men stood there, half-amused, half-bewildered, listening to whatever silly tangent she was on this time.

“Wait, wait, let me get this straight,” San said, holding up a hand to stop her. “You’re asking me if a sword can cut through a cannonball?”

“Yeah!” YN exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “I mean, they’re both metal, right? So if you hit it hard enough…”

San burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. “You’ve been reading too many stories, kid.”

Jongho, who had been leaning against the railing, shook his head but couldn’t hide the faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Even the sharpest blade would shatter before it cut through solid iron.”

“Aw,” YN pouted, crossing her arms. “I thought pirates could do anything!”

San laughed harder, wiping a tear from his eye. “We’re not magicians, sunshine.”

Wooyoung stood off to the side, watching the scene unfold. A warm smile crept onto his face as he saw how easily YN interacted with them now. When she’d first come aboard, she’d been hesitant, hiding behind him whenever the others were around. But now, here she was, chatting away with San and Jongho like they’d known each other forever.

It felt good to see her like this—happy, carefree, and finally warming up to the crew.

“You’re really curious about everything, aren’t you?” Jongho said, his deep voice carrying a hint of amusement.

“Of course!” YN said brightly. “I’ve never been on a ship before, so I want to learn as much as I can. Like… do you guys ever get scared of storms? Or, oh! What happens if someone falls overboard? Do you just throw them a rope, or—”

“Whoa, slow down,” San said, holding up his hands. “One question at a time, sunshine!”

Wooyoung chuckled softly as he approached them, leaning casually against the mast. “Looks like you’ve been keeping my brothers busy.”

YN turned to him with a beaming smile. “Wooyoung! Did you know San once fought off five guys by himself?”

San puffed out his chest, clearly enjoying the attention. “It was six, actually.”

“Here we go,” Jongho muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Wooyoung laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t let him fool you, YN. He probably tripped over a barrel and took them all down by accident.”

“Hey!” San protested, but YN was already giggling, her laughter light and infectious.

As they continued talking, Wooyoung couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. She wasn’t just his sunshine anymore—she was becoming theirs, too. And that made him happier than he could put into words.

The gentle sound of the waves lapping against the ship provided a soothing background as Wooyoung and YN sat on the deck. The sun was beginning to set, casting the sky in shades of orange and pink. YN was carefully folding a piece of parchment, her tongue poking out slightly in concentration as she tried to perfect the origami bird Mingi had taught her.

Wooyoung watched her with a soft smile, his elbow resting on his knee as he sat cross-legged beside her. He loved seeing her like this—calm, happy, and free to express herself.

“Wooyoung,” she suddenly said, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Let’s play a game.”

“A game?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes! It’s simple. One person asks a question, and the other has to answer truthfully. No skipping. Deal?” She held out her pinky finger, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Wooyoung chuckled and linked his pinky with hers. “Deal.”

The game started innocently enough, with lighthearted questions that made them both laugh.

“What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?” she asked.

“Once, I fell off the ship during training and blamed it on a loose rope,” Wooyoung admitted, grinning sheepishly.

She burst into laughter, nearly dropping her origami. “You didn’t!”

“I did. Yunho still hasn’t let me live it down,” he said, shaking his head.

When it was Wooyoung’s turn, he asked, “What’s your favorite food?”

“Anything sweet,” she answered easily. “The sweeter, the better!”

The game continued, each question becoming a little more personal, a little more revealing. Wooyoung learned that YN’s favorite color was blue because it reminded her of the ocean and that she used to dream of being an adventurer before life tied her to the store.

Then, as the playful banter lulled, Wooyoung asked the question that had been weighing on his heart.

“Where are the scars from?”

As soon as the question left Wooyoung’s mouth, YN froze, her body stiffening as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.

“W-what?” she stammered, her voice shaky, eyes darting to her hands in panic.

“Your wrist,” Wooyoung said, his voice softer this time but unwavering. “I saw the scars. Tell me what happened.”

Her heart raced, her palms growing clammy as she clutched the half-folded paper bird. She couldn’t face him, couldn’t answer the question. Without another word, YN shot up from her spot and darted away, her footsteps echoing across the deck.

“YN!” Wooyoung called after her, but she didn’t stop.

She didn’t know where she was going, her mind clouded with panic, but her feet carried her to Seonghwa’s quarters. She knocked quickly before opening the door, her chest heaving as she stepped inside.

Seonghwa was seated at his desk, a book in his hands, but he looked up at her abrupt entrance. He immediately noticed her pacing back and forth, her hands trembling as she fidgeted with the sleeves of her shirt.

“YN,” Seonghwa called gently, setting the book down and standing up. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” she started, but the words caught in her throat. She stopped pacing and turned to him, her eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears.

“YN,” he said again, walking over to her slowly, his voice calm and reassuring. “Breathe. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I…” She hesitated, her mind racing. She couldn’t tell him about her wrists, couldn’t tell him about the scars, but she didn’t know how to explain the storm of emotions swirling inside her.

Seonghwa waited patiently, his arms crossed but his gaze kind. When her bottom lip quivered and her eyes spilled over with tears, he stepped closer and placed a steady hand on her shoulder.

“Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone,” he said softly. “You can tell me, YN.”

Her shoulders shook as she wiped at her eyes with the back of her sleeve, trying to compose herself. “It’s just… it’s too much,” she finally whispered.

“Too much?” he prompted, his voice careful, coaxing.

She nodded, her voice trembling. “I—I don’t know how to explain it. Everything’s just… overwhelming.”

Seonghwa nodded in understanding, guiding her to sit on the edge of his bed. “Take your time,” he said, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to her.

She clutched the fabric tightly, sniffling as she stared at her lap. “I just… sometimes I feel like I can’t keep up. Like I’m trying so hard to be happy, to be… me, but it’s exhausting.”

Seonghwa crouched down in front of her, resting a hand on her knee. “You don’t always have to be the sunshine, YN. It’s okay to feel tired. It’s okay to need help.”

YN's chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the weight of her emotions overwhelmed her. Her hands trembled as they clung to Seonghwa’s forearm, her grip so tight it felt as though she was holding onto him for dear life.

Seonghwa didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, he stayed perfectly still, a steady anchor in the storm of her panic. He knelt in front of her, his calm presence a stark contrast to her spiraling emotions.

“YN,” he said softly, his voice like a gentle tide. “Breathe with me. In through your nose, slowly… and out through your mouth.”

She shook her head, her tears streaming freely. “I—I can’t,” she choked out, her voice cracking.

“You can,” Seonghwa reassured her, his tone unwavering. “I’m right here. Just focus on me. Look at me, YN.”

She hesitated but finally met his gaze, her teary eyes locking onto his calm, reassuring ones.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Now, follow my breath. In… and out.”

She tried, mimicking his slow breathing, though her breaths still hitched with sobs. Her fingers dug into his arm, and he didn’t so much as wince. Instead, he reached up with his free hand and gently dabbed at her tears with the handkerchief, his movements deliberate and careful.

“It’s okay to cry,” he said softly, his voice unwavering. “It’s okay to feel scared. You don’t have to apologize for how you feel.”

Her sobs quieted slightly, though her grip on his arm remained as strong as ever. She clung to him as though letting go would cause her to crumble entirely.

Seonghwa stayed patient, his calmness never faltering. He wiped her tears every so often, his hand moving with the same care as someone handling something fragile. “You’re safe here,” he reminded her. “Nothing’s going to hurt you. Not while I’m here.”

His words were like a lifeline, grounding her enough to slow her racing heart. After a few moments, her breathing began to even out, the tightness in her chest loosening bit by bit. She loosened her grip on his arm but didn’t let go entirely, her fingers still clutching him lightly as she hiccupped through her tears.

“Better?” he asked softly, his eyes searching hers.

She nodded weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied gently. “You’re not alone, YN. You never will be.”

Though her tears hadn’t fully stopped, a flicker of warmth spread through her chest at his words. Seonghwa’s presence was steady and unwavering, and in that moment, she felt just a little bit lighter.

After leaving Seonghwa’s room, YN made her way to her quarters. Her steps were slow, her mind a swirl of emotions she couldn’t quite pin down. She opened the door quietly, her gaze immediately landing on Wooyoung sitting cross-legged on the floor near the door, as he always did at night. His head lifted when he saw her enter, concern evident in his eyes.

“YN, I—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted firmly, her voice steady despite the whirlwind inside her. She stood before him, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for the hem of her sleeves.

Wooyoung’s eyes widened slightly, and he opened his mouth to say something, but she silenced him with a look. Slowly, she rolled up her sleeves, the fabric slipping upward to reveal the scars etched into her wrists.

Wooyoung’s breath hitched as he saw them up close for the first time, the pale lines stark against her skin. His heart ached, a heavy weight settling in his chest as he looked at her, at the vulnerability she was showing him.

“This is what you wanted to know, right?” YN said, her voice soft but laced with a mix of courage and apprehension. “You wanted to know where the scars came from. Well… here they are.”

Wooyoung stood slowly, his movements careful as if afraid any sudden action might scare her away. He didn’t say anything at first, his gaze flicking from her wrists to her face.

The silence lingered for a while before YN took a shaky breath, her fingers twisting together in her lap. She stared at the floor, her voice barely above a whisper as she finally began to speak.

“My mother…” she started, pausing to collect her thoughts. “She wasn’t… normal. She was cruel. A maniac, really. She’d punish me for anything and everything—spilling a drink, speaking too loudly, even just… existing.”

Wooyoung sat perfectly still, his gaze fixed on her, his heart breaking with every word.

“And her punishments,” YN continued, her voice trembling, “they weren’t like what most kids go through. She didn’t yell or ground me. She… she used a whip. Always on my wrists. Always in the same place. I can still feel it sometimes, even now.”

Wooyoung’s fists clenched at his sides, but he didn’t interrupt, letting her speak at her own pace.

“My father tried to stop her,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “He did everything he could, but she didn’t care. She was… relentless. And then, one day, she just… overdosed. Died right there in the house.”

She swallowed hard, her hands shaking as she rubbed at her sleeves. “You’d think I’d feel relief, right? That the nightmare was over. But I didn’t. I fell into this… dark hole. A part of me hated her, but another part of me missed her. I was so confused, so… lost. And that’s when it started.”

Wooyoung’s breath caught in his throat as she glanced at her wrists, her voice quieter now, as if she were confessing a sin.

“I started hurting myself,” she admitted, tears welling up in her eyes. “At first, it was just to feel something—anything other than the emptiness. But then it became… addictive. Like I couldn’t stop. Every time I felt overwhelmed or scared, it was my way of coping. It felt like the only thing I could control.”

Her voice broke, and she wiped at her cheeks, the tears now falling freely. “I hate it. I hate what I’ve done to myself. But it’s so hard to stop. Even now, there are days when the urge comes back, and I have to fight it with everything I have.”

Wooyoung moved closer, his heart heavy as he watched her crumble in front of him. “YN…” he said softly, his voice laced with pain and understanding.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and shame. “I didn’t want you to know,” she whispered. “I didn’t want anyone to know. I thought I’d be fine keeping it to myself, but now… now I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to do this alone anymore,” Wooyoung said firmly, his voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside him. “You have me. You have Seonghwa, the captain… all of us. You’re not alone, YN. Not ever again.”

Her lips quivered, and for a moment, she looked like she wanted to argue, but then she nodded, the smallest bit of relief shining through her tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Wooyoung reached out, hesitated for a moment, and then gently placed his hand over hers. “You’re stronger than you think,” he said softly. “And I’ll remind you of that every day if I had to”

For a moment, she saw nothing but sincerity and warmth in his eyes. “I’ve already burdened Seonghwa enough tonight,” she said with a small, forced laugh, trying to lighten the mood.

“You’re not a burden,” Wooyoung said immediately, his voice firm. “Don’t ever think that. Not to him, not to me, not to anyone.”

The corner of her lip twitched upward, a small, grateful smile breaking through. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Wooyoung nodded, his expression softening. “Always.”

Without another word, she sat down on the edge of her bed, and Wooyoung returned to his spot on the floor near the door. The air between them was quieter now, but it wasn’t heavy. It felt lighter, like a silent understanding had settled between them.

And for the first time in a long while, YN felt a small sliver of peace.

The following days on the ship were like a fresh breeze in YN’s life. The weight she had carried for so long didn’t feel as heavy anymore. She laughed more, her usual sunshine-like personality shining even brighter now that the storm inside her had started to clear. She could feel it—she wasn’t alone anymore.

Wooyoung noticed the change in her, and it made his heart swell with pride and affection. She still leaped around the ship like a child, asking silly questions and sometimes pestering the others for answers. But now, there was something different about her—the way her laughter came from a place of genuine joy, the way her smiles reached her eyes.

And Wooyoung… he couldn’t stop looking at her. Every time she smiled, every time she glanced his way, his heart raced. He knew what it was now, that feeling that had been growing inside him from the moment he met her. He loved her.

She had become his light, his reason to be better, his reason to fight. And though he wasn’t brave enough to say it aloud, he showed it in every little thing he did. Whether it was sitting outside her door at night to keep her company or silently slipping her favorite snacks into her bag, his love for her shone through his actions.

For YN, Wooyoung had become her pillar, her safe place. She loved the feeling of knowing someone had her back, someone who cared for her as deeply as he did. It was something she’d never had before, and she treasured it more than anything.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in hues of gold and crimson, YN sat on the deck, her feet dangling over the edge. Wooyoung sat beside her, his usual playful demeanor softened by the quiet moment.

“Thank you,” she said suddenly, her voice carrying a softness that made Wooyoung turn to look at her.

“For what?” he asked, tilting his head.

“For being here,” she replied, her eyes fixed on the endless ocean before them. “For being my friend, for being my… everything.”

His heart skipped a beat, and he smiled softly. “You don’t have to thank me for that, YN. I’ll always be here for you. Always.”

She turned to him then, her eyes shining with gratitude and something deeper. “You’ve made me feel… safe. Happy. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before.”

Wooyoung’s breath caught in his throat, but he didn’t say anything, afraid he might ruin the moment. Instead, he reached out and gently took her hand in his, giving it a light squeeze.

And in that quiet moment, with the ocean stretching endlessly before them and the stars beginning to appear in the sky, they sat together, content in the knowledge that they had each other.

For YN, it was the start of a new chapter, one where she wasn’t defined by her scars but by the happiness she was finally allowing herself to feel.

And for Wooyoung, it was enough to simply be by her side, loving her quietly but completely, knowing that she was his light just as much as he was hers.

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Dick:….

Jason:….

Tim:….

Dick: okay so was anyone gonna tell me Bruce is dating Joe Chills daughter or was I supposed to figure that out by myself.

Jason: HES WHAT

Tim:???????

Damian: I think I just threw up in my mouth

Cass: …is this that Freud guy you were telling me about?

Steph: somehow worse? I think?

Jason: Idk where does dating the daughter of your parents murderer fall on the Oedipus scale of morality?

Tim: more importantly where did you find out this information?

Damian: please tell me it’s a tabloid so I can bleach my brain of this conversation.

Dick: Babs tipped me off that something was up and I stalked em for a week

Tim: Ah classic

Jason: you really have one trick Grayson

Dick: Hey! No I do infiltrations, Tim and Cass are the stalker duo

Cass: *nods*

Jason: so… Bruce is actually dating the kid of the guy who offed mama and papa Wayne. That’s cold. I’m a little impressed actually.

Tim: Clark was RIGHT THERE

Dick: so was Selina

Steph: we could’ve had a Step wonder mom

Cass: you’re not adopted

Steph: is Wonder Woman was in this family I’d marry into it

Tim: *nods solemnly* Bernard would understand

Jason: Talia was there

Damian: that might be worse actually

Tim: nothing is worse than this

Dick: actually I might agree with Damian

Dick: anyway zatanna

Jason: didn’t you date her

Dick: that’s another timeline ignore it

Tim: Constantine

Damian: Dent

Dick: I’d take viki vale over this

Jason: same

Dick:…hey Duke can see into other realities right

Jason: depends on the writer..

Dick: when does he get back from his families

Tim: he stops by for 45 mins to steal some pastries and check his gear before patrol

Dick: … wanna see if we can get him to look into other realities and see the worst person Bruce has dated

Jason: yes

Tim: yes

Damian: no

Cass: yes

Steph: yes

Dick: you’re outvoted Damian I’ll see all of you tomorrow at the cave bright eyed and bushy tailed!

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug Like Angel

See you soon

hey guys warning this chapter literally has none of the batfam here its highlighting reader being insterted into itsv-atsv

It has been a year since you had gotten bitten.

You were now 14

Since then you've lost a couple of people.

Your Gwen Stacy, who was instead named [REDACTED], was killed while you were trying to stop the green goblin.

You lost an officer you were close to. He died while protecting a kid.

You lost someone you considered an uncle.

You were tired.

Since then you've been training yourself, secretly fighting crime to not be seen by your family, and getting stronger in general.

Every day was sortve the same. Wake up, get ready, go to school, come home, eat, fight crime, sleep, repeat.

It all changed one day.

You had just gotten back from patrol.

You stopped 3 muggings and saved a cat from a tree.It was a slow day, thankfully.

You were doing your homework peacefully.

You were almost done with your algebra homework when suddenly a portal popped up right next to you.

You couldn't process anything as the portal sucked you up and took you in.

The next thing you knew, you were stuck in an alternate universe with other versions of you.

And you had to get home soon ASAP no rocky if you didn't wanna die.

And that be all fine and dandy.

Except you didn't wanna get attached to anyone.

You didn't want them to exclude you and you to follow them around like a lost puppy like you did with your family.

And guess what?

You did get attached.

Peni, a small kid who was in a tiny robot fighting, was like a little sister to you.

Peter B. Parker, ham, and Noir were all like uncles to you.

gwen and Miles were your cool older siblings.

You loved them.

And you hated that.

Because you knew deep down, you wouldn't get to see each other again.

You all were destined to be apart, due to your separate universes.

You got attached.

You were attached to noir and how his coat smelled like cigarettes and milkshakes.

You were attached to Ham and how he always cracked jokes when things got tense and awkward.

You were attached to peter b and how he talked about his past experiences.

You got attached to Peni and how she would use stickers everywhere.

You got attached to Miles and how stupidly awkward he was with Gwen.

You got attached to Gwen and how she gave you the advice you always needed.

Fuck.

You didn't wanna go back to the manor.

This is the happiest you've been in a while.

This is home.

You can go on patrol here without worrying that your family might see you.

You are constantly smiling and laughing with the people here.

You're constantly wishing you could stay here forever.

Other than the constantly painful glitching, you're so happy and excited.

You never wanna leave.

You were so proud of Miles and how he got everyone home.

You cried as soon as you landed back in your room.

You sobbed into your pillow. You're gonna miss them.

No one even noticed you were gone for a week.

No one noticed how bruised up you were.

No one noticed how sad you looked.

It's been 5 months since then.

You got invited to join the Spider Society.

Miguel saw you on patrol trying to fight an anomaly and failing miserably due to you never fully getting actual training.

You were trying! It's just that you didn't want your family to see you so its sort of hard to control a whole glitching green goblin...

Miguel took you into the spider society.

You saw peter b in Miguel's office and immediately tackled him into a hug and cried a little.

You learned that due to being a mix of two multiverses (Marvel and DC) your canon events were a tiny bit messed up.

Miguel explained everything, but everything was going through one ear and out the other.

You wondered if the others were here too.

You wondered if they missed you like you missed them.

Miguel could see how spaced out you were.

"What's wrong, Mija?"

"Are the others here? Like Gwen, Miles, ham, noir, and Peni? I know Peter's here, I saw him just now, but what about the others?"

He went on to explain how they hadn't been invited yet.

Later on, you begged him to at least invite Peni.

He couldn't resist your puppy dog eyes, so he said yes.

Since being introduced into society, you've slowly started getting used to just doing everything here.

You would go into Miguel's office for hours and hours just to be around him.

He was like the father you always wanted!

He would listen to you complain about your family, and he would always lend a shoulder to cry on.

On multiple occasions, he had to carry you back to your bed in your universe because you'd fall asleep in his office on the floor.

You both have gotten close.

Miguel was your emergency contact, always there when you needed him. Despite his intimidating appearance to others, he was never scary to you.

At one point you saw Gwen again, finally!

You were so happy! one step closer to getting everyone together again!

Slowly, you saw everyone again.

..Everyone except Miles.

You didn't understand, why not Miles?

You asked Miguel and he went on a tangent that did not make sense and went through one ear and out the other.

You did get to meet Pavitr and Hobie.

Pavitr was your twin! You guys had similar personalities and had twin telepathy.

You both were around the same age and everything!

Hobie is SO COOL!

He taught you how to play your guitar! You were finally getting a hang of it!

He was like the older brother you never had!

You wanted to be like him so bad!

When he and Gwen jokingly said they wanted to start a band, you wanted to!

A couple of months later, you saw miles again!

It wasn't in the best circumstances.

You had just gotten back from school. You were in your room scrolling on your phone, when suddenly your spidey senses tingled.

You saw Gwen hop out of a portal in the middle of your room.

"Hey! I kinda sort of need your help."

"what's going on?" you asked, tilting your head in curiosity.

Gwen went on to explain everything you missed.

From Gwen seeing miles to Miles tagging along onto Mamhatten in pavers universe, and then to Miguel's body slamming him into a train and calling everyone to chase him.

Jeez, you don't go to the society for one day and everything goes to shit.

You thought about it for a second, no one would notice you not being here for a couple of days, right?

"..alright, I've saved the multiverse once, I can do it again."

You sat up on your bed and grabbed your suit.

You grabbed Gwen's arm as she took you to a whole other universe.

After a lot of fighting, you all managed to save Miles's dad.

Seeing their family be happy together made you tear up in happiness.

They deserved to be happy.

After a lot of apologies from all parties, everything was still pretty awkward.

You've probably apologized to Miles over a million times despite him insisting it wasn't your fault.

Sure, you didn't help the others chase him, but you still didn't tell him about society.

Hell, you should've been there to defend him.

You should yelled at Miguel from the beginning over him not letting Miles in his exclusive clubhouse.

Instead, you were scared Miguel was gonna bring you back to the manor and disown you, even if you knew he would never do that to you.

You should've stood by miles from the start.

It's never too late to make up for everything.

oml this was kinda boring but i needed filler lol

honestly i might write a oneshot of all the spiderkids together

taglist (please tell me if i forgot to tag you!):

@bath1lda @mariadvorak @coralaura @tsxukikami @hjgdhghoe @coffeeaddictxd @cxcilla

[heliosunny]

you’re so productive like omg too many food in just a few days??!!?! ilysm u literally help soothing my downbad for phainon and mydei pls write more abt them especially mydei ToT looking forward for more wonderful works<33

anw an arranged marriage between mydei and reader who secretly loves him pls like they’re both sassy but obedient at the same time :3

Yandere!Mydei x Reader

You weren’t sure what surprised you more—the fact that your parents arranged a marriage for you without so much as a warning or the fact that it was with Mydei of all people.

Mydei, the warrior. The man of few words, sharp actions, and unreadable gazes. He was not unkind, but he was intense. And while he had always been close to Phainon, your best friend, you had never considered the possibility of marriage to him.

Yet here you were, seated in your family’s courtyard, watching the very man you were to marry approach you with the same unwavering steps he took into battle.

He stopped in front of you, arms crossed, golden eyes locked onto yours. You didn’t miss how his gaze flickered, assessing you the way he would an opponent before a duel.

“You’re not protesting.” he said at last.

“Should I be?” you replied, tilting your head.

His brow furrowed slightly. “You wanted Phainon.”

You blinked, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“You look at him.” His tone was factual, not accusatory, as if he were merely stating the obvious. “You favor him. Now they’re forcing you into this marriage instead.”

A beat of silence. Then, unable to help yourself, you let out a short laugh.

“That’s what you think?” You crossed your arms, mirroring his stance. “That I wanted Phainon?”

“You never denied it.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I never confirmed it either.”

For a moment, he didn’t speak, only watching you with the same intensity he carried into war. Then, as if deciding the conversation wasn’t worth dragging out, he exhaled through his nose and turned slightly.

“Come.”

“Where?”

“We’re going out.”

Your lips quirked. “How romantic. Sweeping me away already?”

He ignored your sarcasm. “We’ll disguise ourselves.”

That piqued your interest. Disguises weren’t uncommon for royals, it was one of the only ways to walk among the people without constant scrutiny. But the fact that Mydei was the one suggesting it? That was unexpected.

Still, you followed.

The market was alive with the hum of voices, the scent of fresh bread and spices thick in the air. Vendors called out their wares, children ran past with laughter, and craftsmen displayed their finest work.

Dressed in simple garb, you and Mydei moved through the crowd with ease. If anyone recognized you, they were wise enough not to say anything.

Despite his usual stoic nature, Mydei’s presence was different outside the palace. He didn’t speak much, but he was aware of everything. His eyes flickered to every small movement, every shift in the crowd, every possible threat. It wasn’t just habit, it was instinct.

You, on the other hand, took everything in stride. While Mydei remained on guard, you blended in effortlessly, casually glancing at stalls, taking in the sights.

“You seem unbothered” Mydei commented after a while.

“Should I be?”

“You’re marrying someone you don’t love.”

“You assume too much” you replied, pausing at a stand selling trinkets. “Tell me, do you think I should be weeping and cursing fate right now?”

He didn’t answer immediately, but his gaze darkened slightly. “I expected some resistance.”

You let out a short breath, shaking your head. “You’re mistaken about a lot of things, Mydei.”

He frowned, but before he could press further, a vendor called out.

“Ah, you two! A fine couple, yes?” The elderly woman at the stall smiled knowingly. “A gift for your beloved, young man?”

Mydei didn’t react at first, his expression unreadable. Then, to your mild surprise, he stepped forward and picked up a delicate silver hairpin, a faint red gemstone at its center.

Without hesitation, he handed over a few coins and turned to you.

“For you.”

You raised a brow. “A bribe?”

“A reminder,” he corrected, stepping closer. He reached out, and before you could protest, he tucked the pin into your hair with precise movements, his touch lingering against your temple. “That you belong to me now.”

There was no arrogance in his words, no playful smirk—just cold, firm certainty.

Your heart skipped a beat.

Oh, Mydei.

If only he knew.

The wedding was grand, of course, it was. Two powerful families uniting was no small affair, and every noble, warrior, and dignitary who mattered was in attendance.

You stood at the ceremonial altar, adorned in regal attire, jewels glinting under the sunlight, your hair styled meticulously with the very hairpin Mydei had bought you days prior. Across from you, Mydei was a vision of strength, dressed in traditional wedding garb.

Phainon and the rest of your mutual friends were in the front rows, watching with barely restrained grins.

“My, my, what a sight.” Phainon drawled, his hair glinting under the light as he leaned toward one of your friends. “Who would’ve thought Mydei would actually settle down?”

“More like, who would’ve thought they’d agree to marry him” another friend teased.

The jesting continued, and you smirked at their playful antics. It wasn’t that you didn’t take this wedding seriously, you did. But the lightheartedness of your friends eased the tension of an otherwise overwhelming day.

Unfortunately, Mydei didn’t share the same amusement.

While you exchanged vows, sealing your union before the gods, you caught glimpses of him stiffening every time Phainon or another friend laughed, every time they whispered something that made you smile. His grip on your hand tightened ever so slightly, his golden gaze darkening.

It was subtle, but you knew Mydei well enough by now to recognize what this was.

Misunderstanding.

The wedding feast was lively, filled with music, laughter, and endless toasts. You mingled as required, exchanging pleasantries with nobles and warriors alike. Phainon, ever the social butterfly, stole much of the spotlight, grinning as he recounted tales of past battles.

“So” he drawled, sidling up to you with a knowing smirk, “how does it feel? Becoming Mydei’s spouse, I mean.”

You rolled your eyes. “Why do people ask that as if I were shackled and dragged to the altar?”

“Because our dear Mydei isn’t exactly the romantic type” Phainon teased. “Tell me, did he at least try to woo you? Or did he just stare at you intensely until you agreed?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “He’s been… himself.”

Before Phainon could respond, a shadow loomed over you both.

Mydei's expression was unreadable, but the way he stood—close, imposing, was anything but casual.

“Phainon.” His voice was sharp, curt.

Phainon raised a brow, clearly amused. “Ah, husband duties already? Should I be worried?”

“Leave” Mydei said simply.

Phainon smirked but raised his hands in surrender, stepping back. “Alright, alright. No need to get all territorial.”

As he walked away, Mydei’s gaze snapped to you. You only sighed.

“Really?” You crossed your arms. “You’re going to be like this today?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he took your wrist firmly and led you away from the feast.

----

The journey to your honeymoon destination was swift. As per tradition, a private retreat was arranged—a secluded manor surrounded by sprawling fields and quiet lakes, far from the eyes of the kingdom.

You barely had time to take in the beauty of it before Mydei finally spoke.

“You enjoy his company too much.”

You turned to face him, unimpressed. “Whose?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Phainon.”

A laugh escaped you. “Are we seriously still on this?”

“You smiled at him more than you smiled at me today.”

You sighed, rubbing your temple. “Mydei, I smiled at everyone today. It was my wedding.”

“You laughed more with him.”

“Because he was making jokes,” you deadpanned. “Do you want me to be miserable?”

He stepped closer, golden eyes burning into yours. “I want you to want this marriage.”

You exhaled slowly. “And what if I do?”

He stilled. “Then prove it.”

Silence stretched between you. Mydei was strong, a warrior of action, not words. He wouldn’t believe reassurances alone—he needed something tangible.

So, without another word, you reached up, fingers curling into the collar of his wedding robes, and pulled him down.

The kiss was unexpected—he stiffened at first, caught off guard. But when he realized what you were doing, what you meant, he responded with a fervor that sent heat curling through your spine.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, you smirked.

“Was that proof enough?”

Mydei stared at you, stunned, then exhaled sharply, his lips curling ever so slightly.

“You’ll have to prove it again.”

And this time, you didn’t mind.

[pinkyqily]

IT OKAY,WE'RE OKAY, WE ARE DEFINITELY OKAY

Summary: juju apologize and makes it up to you like the good girlfriend and teammate she is.

Part one

Contains: fluff, snappy lovers, cursing, groveling, not proofread throughly yet

A/n: here is part two as promised with a happy ending, would love to get reactions or feedbacks of what you guys think, if you have any juju requests feel free to send them in anyway happy reading readers 🩷

Next few days between you and JuJu pass by a blur. Having your coaches telling you guys to solve out your shit was definitely a wake-up call for you, you're mind just keeps on replaying those awful words from juju.

Was that how she really saw you as a player? was all your mind could wonder.

But at the same time, you couldn't stop thinking about how she felt even though you were the one that got hurt the most.

Ken, who was your roomie and heard about what happened between you and juju,tried getting you out of your hotel room. But you declined again. the only time you went down was when there was barely anyone down at the lobby side.

You couldn't face your teammates after that embarrassing showdown. It made you feel like a failure.

"Come, you'll still have to face everyone when we leave for the arcade, why do you have to be the one embarrassed juju was basically at fault too". She said trying to shake you up.

"She's literally one of the best players of course, what she said is going to get to me, if it was said in private, okay, but she did that in front of everyone". You told her, feeling a cold wind reach your spine.

"For somebody who always steps up for us you sure love discrediting yourself like you also aren't the best out there, juju saying that was nasty and loud for no reason so please get your ass up". Was all Ken said.

This time you did, because fuck juju who clearly had her head far in her ass to see how great of a player you are. and what you bring to the team all those 3s she be pulling must have blinded her vision or what.

"You know what you're right fuck her from now I'll be standing on business, she can go find another bitch to be pissy on cause I'm not the one".

"That's my girl now let's head down, and when you see her, you keep your head high." She told you, pulling you into a tight hug.

But the universe had other plans by slapping you in the face, because as you opened your room door, there was a juju watkins pacing back and forth in front of your door with a messy looking bun that definitely not her brand.

With only one look, you could tell she wasn't the only one who had a bad night.

Normally, you two would fall asleep on call listening to each other's voices as it helps the other person calm down.

It didn't matter if you were states away one block away down the street or rooms separating you guys would still call.

but after what happened last night, you both couldn't bring yourself to pick up that telephone.

And here you both are staring into each other's eyes unable to speak up until a familiar voice does it for you.

"JuJu, what are you doing here?". Ken asked her, crossing her arms over, letting her disapproval be known.

"I know you guys are mad at me rightfully so, but please give me 5 minutes that all I ask for." She said, fidgeting with her hands.

"Five minutes is all you're getting don't think I'm not timing it." She said as she left you both heading downstairs herself.

You and juju stood in that silence for a good two minutes, avoiding eye contact most ju.

"You have three minutes left, so whatever you want to say now,speak up." You said with a mean tone, not glazing any bullshit.

"I know, I messed up really bad and shouldn't have said what I did, you're an amazing player to our team you pick up the pieces whenever everyone seems lost." She started by saying her voice breaking as she fought back tears so she could speak.

"you put the teams needs before your own, your flow on the ball is way different than anyone else and you're a very unique player who contributes so much to the team"

"You're so important to me way beyond being teammates but girlfriends at the same time not only was I a bad teammate but also a bad girlfriend for saying and treating you like that." She told you this time around, able to meet your eyes after avoiding them.

"I just want to apologize because I know that I'm better than that, you deserve better and I want to be the better person you deserve so would you forgive me you don't have to rush it". She finished of by saying.

You we're definitely shocked to see her being so vulnerable and raw to you.

"You really hurt me by saying all those things in front of everyone I felt so embarrassed standing there looking like a fool ju, but that doesn't mean I hate you I'm just really hurt you had me overthinking like I did something wrong when I wanted was to help you". You told her, feeling a little hesitant as you moved your hands to grab hers.

"But that doesn't mean I'm not willing to forgive you". You told.

"I know, baby, take your time can i hug you, though?" She asked you before doing anything. You pulled her into a hug, forgetting about your whole standings on business cause you missed having your 6'2 social awkward girlfriend in your arms.

And that is how you found yourself standing next to her at one of the arcade games because she said she was going to start by winning you a prize. She didn't lie about that one and won the biggest bear in there for you.

Ken was already looking disappointed but was happy that you guys fixed things.

"Couldn't even stand on business for 24h". You heard a voice say.

"Bruh, she's still not fully forgiven how do you expect me to stay that mad at her?". You told her

"Whatever you guys are ruining my mood with your sappyness."

"You're just mad and single Ken it okay you'll find the one". You told her.

On the way back, you both sat down together in the bus, falling asleep on each other. Everything ended up being okay. ju stil has hella groveling to do, but you guys are okay, and that's all that matters.

[mellowyellow236]

How would the TWST boys act when they’re jealous? 

This is Scarabia, Pomefiore, and Ignihyde's section- Link to Heartslabyul, which has the rest of the fics linked. The reader is gender-neutral. There may be mild spoilers as to who overblots and other facts. Some of them might have Yandere tendencies, though nothing graphic or descriptive and always very mild, they’ll be marked with a ‘Y’ if they do. Mainly because sometimes the boys are calm and talk through their feelings… And sometimes they go down possessive insecurity-included spirals. If anyone has anything to add or any questions, please leave a reblog or comment! Requests are open if anyone wants. 

Scarabia: 

Kalim Al-Asim - Y

Kalim doesn’t get jealous easily. Well, he likes to think that he doesn’t. To be completely honest, he doesn’t even know what that horrible feeling crawling into his chest is when he sees you laughing with someone else. 

It’s not a subtle thing when he does. He doesn’t pull you away from them, but he certainly shows you love. Here’s an elephant! And a tiger! And a magic carpet, ten tons of gold, and lots and lots of gems! Aren’t they beautiful? It’s not as much as you! You’re lovelier than everything in his treasury, please accept all of his love and gems and never leave him! 

Please, don’t leave him. He’s so used to people only using him, but if it was you… He could take it. He’ll buy you anything you look at, he’ll pamper you every day and night, you’ll never have to lift a finger if only you accept him… Please. Please, please. 

When Kalim suddenly thinks about poisoning his rival in love… It’s horrible. He thinks about the times he, or really Jamil, nearly died, and he wonders how long it could have knocked out the other man. He wonders if you’d come to him to draw your tears, and he wonders what shades of black would look best on you, what would go with every piece of silk he owns. And he hates it. He wakes up after a few minutes, and he cries. He feels so bad that he won’t even keep it a secret. He’ll walk right up to you and confess his sins. Please, forgive him, he’ll be better. He’s sorry. He wanted to cause you pain for a moment. He’s sorry. 

Hold him close to you and tell him it’s alright. Tell him that he’s not a monster, or that you accept him with every horrible, spoiled quality. Tell him that you love him and that as long as he never acts on those horrible thoughts, he’ll never leave his place in your heart. Speak to him and he’ll cherish you more closely than he would ever cherish a jewel. 

Jamil Viper - Y 

Jamil is used to being pushed aside. He’s used to being unappreciated, unloved, and undeserving. He’s used to being second place. So why is it that right after you give him everything he’s ever craved… So why did you choose to leave him? 

That man was flirting with you. Jamil knows he was. He’s sure of it. So why didn’t you push him away? You should have. You. Should. Have. If you really loved him, you would have. Do you really not love him? He loves you. So why don’t you feel the same? 

Is he not good enough? Is he not enough for you? Is he still a place behind that man and Kalim and everyone else in the world? Do you think he’s less because he overblotted? Or is it because he’s a servant? Is it because he’s only vice-housewarden? Is he less than your other friends? Is he not good enough for you? 

How dare you leave him. How dare you. For that he should crush you, he should attack you, he should ruin every single thing around you. You should pay for making him get his hopes up! You should pay for making him believe he’s wanted! You should pay, you have to pay! 

But when you’re back in your arms he doesn’t know what to do. His plans fly away as his blot diminishes. He’s calm for only a second more, though the slitherings of a snake aren’t ever gone for long. He might as well be a servant to his own passion as well. 

Pomefiore: 

Vil Schoenheit - 

Vil is secure in your relationship. He’s sure you care for him; If not, he sees no point in continuing your relationship. He requires you to be trustworthy enough to know that you won’t leak anything to the press to even think of dating you. 

And if not, he’s sure a little push in the right direction, whether that’s asking you for help choosing a lipstick or poses for the cameras will be enough to distract you from whatever potato you’re with. You want to help out the world-famous superstar, don’t you? Come on, he wanted to be the fairest of them all, so why don’t you help? 

Vil knows how to strut. He knows what you like and he knows what you’re like. He knows what you want. So why does he always see you with other people, even when he’s vying for your attention? You have to understand, don’t you? Don’t tell him you’re so oblivious that you don’t know how much he cares for you… 

The worst case will always be with Neige. When that adorable boy comes up to you and talks, all Vil can see is the fluttering of her eyelashes and the pout on his lips and how you seem to fold as easily as the rest of the masses to every little movement. Vil can be just as cute as him, you know? No. Vil can be gorgeous, brilliant, and stunning. Far more beautiful than that boy could ever be. And he’s all yours for the taking if you would just turn your head to look for a fraction of a second of the perfect mess you make of him. 

He almost spits out the words as he asks what you two were just talking about. It’s venom on his tongue, pouring out of his mouth until you push yourself into his arms, and he sees it. Your eyes soften, and he understands, for a moment, how pretty lashes asking for an opinion can make a grown man kneel. And even more than that- He understands that he’s the only one who gets your mercy and your blessings as he prays, no matter how many others might beg for the same. 

Rook Hunt - 

Rook doesn’t get jealous. What is love if not to be shared, after all? Of course, he’s always there to protect you, to keep you safe and sheltered and happy, but why shouldn’t he share your beauty with the world? The more the merrier, especially when it comes to finding others to talk about you with. 

Of course, he won’t stand for someone outright hitting on you. To not do so is silly, and he is always one to make sure that you are comfortable. He’d gladly whisk you off your feet and take you into the trees with him if someone is getting too handsy. A nice broom ride through the forest, or perhaps simply dancing across dewy grass or sturdy branches, would be quite the romantic method of doing it, don’t you think? 

Epel Felmeir - 

Epel’s very easily jealous, but even more easily, he believes he’s losing. What do ya mean, he’s not the perfect company? Ain’t he worth it? Ain’t he manly enough to protect you and keep ya to himself? 

Vil ain’t gonna like it when he acts out, and he’ll call ya to calm him down. But oh, Epel acts out even worse when you are. When you’ve got your hands on Vil’s shoulder, your voice in his ears, your chest against his back whispering whatever silly phrases he needs to get off Epel’s back. You’re only here because Epel asked for a favor. So how come he now wants to slam that darn makeup tray on the floor even harder? 

Oi, Prefect, don’t ya know that you’re his? Ya gotta know that you’re the only thing keeping him sane. You can’t just go and run to someone else, m’kay? So forget about Vil and kiss up to him instead! 

Ignihyde: 

Idia Shroud - Y 

Idia gets jealous easily. He doesn’t always tell you, but oh boy, does watching any of those normies get close to you make him feel horrible things welling up in his head. 

He knows that you like him back- He can see it from the security cameras all over the school, he needs to know your likes and dislikes to max out the affection meter. How else will he unlock your best ending? He’s just too awkward of a guy to actually do anything about it! 

So he can’t help but look like a wet cat when you come into his room to see him. You just got 100 points added to his rival’s score, aren’t you supposed to be his player 2? He knew your route was popular, but he’s got competition that far outranks him! 

Oh, but then you kissed his cheek… And you hugged him… And looked into his eyes and told him he was the only one you loved… Idia doesn’t know how he unlocked this special cutscene with his favorite UR+ character card, but oh, his hair sure does turn a bright shade of pink when you comfort him. 

[wlwsoccerfics]

Trouble (FC Barcelona Femení X Putellas/Barca Reader)

Warnings: b*llying, injuries, Foster Care mentioned

Summary: your Mom gets a call from school Case they Wonder where you are or If your Mom Just forgot to call in sick for you.

It was just a normal day. Which for you didn't mean it was a good one. You were supposed to be at school. Cause that's actually where your Mama Alexia had dropped you off.

But as soon as her car was out of sight some of your bullies walked over. They hated you for no reason. Always calling you stuff that could be translated to 'orphan annie' or something close to that. Alexia had adopted you three years ago. You were 12 years old back then. So you had Family now but they didn't seem to care about that. Your bullies didn't hesitate to get physical either. Usually it's just you being pushed. Which was already bad enough but today it was even worse. They basically dragged you into a corner of the bathrooms inside and no one seemed to care.

They threw some punches and kicks and took your Phone away. Throwing it on the floor. Stomping on it so it broke. They left you with what was gonna be a black eye , bruises on your face and your ribs & a bloody nose. You were an athlete but you knew you couldn't have taken on all 6 of them. That was just not realistic . Your bullies also said they would do worse things if you tell on them.

You stayed in the bathroom until classes started before you managed to leave without anyone seeing you. Hiding away by the beach. There was a place that was always quiet. Cause it was hidden away. You sometimes used to sleep there when you were still in the Foster system. You were hugging yourself. Knees pressed against your chest, tears streaming down your face. Your breathing became uneven and you were having a full on Panic Attack around a Minute later. All you wanted was your Mami or one of your aunts to tell you that things would be okay. But you were all alone. Scared and in pain.

At the same time at school everyone claimed they didn't see you. Including your bullies. Bad for them cause the teacher found it weird that your Mami didn't call to sign you out for the day. Because the rare Times you missed school were always excused by Alexia. So what the teacher did was call your Mami, who was concerned and surprised Hearing this.

"Sí, estoy segura de que estaba en la escuela. ¡La dejé allí!(yes I am sure she was at school. I dropped her off!)" Your Mami replied, she was pretty sure you wouldn't skip school. But she could be wrong. Which was why she said she would make her way over to school to see what they can do to find you. Cause the last time your phone was on was on school grounds. twenty minutes after your Mama had dropped you off. Alexia was out with Mapi, Ingrid, Ona & Aitana. So they all joined her. At school they found her smashed Phone on the restroom floor.

"¡Eso es malo!(that's bad!)! Mapi said once they told them about the Phone.

"Lo es. Tenemos que encontrarla.(it is. we have to find her.)" Aitana answered.

"Algo debe estar muy mal. ¡Estoy preocupada por mi pequeña niña!(something must be very wrong. i am worried about my little girl!)" Your Mami always called you her little Girl. Didn't matter that you were in your teenage years.

"¡Encontraremos a nuestra sobrina!" Ona stated. Ingrid nodded her head in agreement.

"yes we will!" She said.

While they stood there a girl walked over to them. She was also a target of the Girls who bullied you.

"Hola, eres la mamá de y/n, ¿verdad?(hello, you are y/n's mom, right?)" She asked Alexia. The other Girls looking at her.

"Sí, lo soy. ¿Por qué?(yes I am. why?)"your Mami answered.

"Hay algunas chicas que la intimidan.(there are some girls that bully her.)" She explained.

"¡¿disculpe?!(excuse me?!)" Ona replied. Everyone looked at the girl. They were shocked, sad and angry.

"A mí también me intimidan, entre algunos otros.(they bully me as well. among a few others.)" The Girl explained the situation to them and she told them their names, saying that she saw that they also cornered you this morning and dragged you to the bathroom. It's what they do alot.

"¿cuales son sus nombres?(what are their names?)" Ingrid asked. Your mami and aunts didn't know whether to cry or go and give the bullies a piece of their minds.

The girl gave them the names of the bullies and also her own so they could use her Name talking to the principal about this. She revealed that her name was Marisa. They thanked her. Ona & Aitana went to talk to the principal while Mapi, Ingrid and your Mami went to look for you.

Your Mami thankfully had the right idea and knew about the hiding place you used to sleep at before she took you in and adopted you.

She saw you sitting there, leaned against the rocks. You eyes were closed now & and you tried fighting sleep, the pain, crying and panic attack made you feel exhausted.

"y/n!" Your Mami yelled and ran over to you. Followed by Ingrid & Mapi. You managed to look at them and you could tell how shocked they were. All three of them close to tears.

"Mami, tías, me duele.(Mami, aunties, It hurts.)" You told them. Sniffling softly.

"Estas segura ahora(you are safe now.)" Mapi replied to you texted Ona & Aitana to let them know that they found you. Your Mami picked you up and you winced. She kissed you forehead.

"Nosotras vamos al hospital!(we are going to the hospital.)"

"it all will be okay!" Ingrid told you.

"Gracias por ayudarme.(thank you for helping me.)" You whispered out.

"Mi pequeño amor, no tienes que agradecernos, somos tu familia.(my little love, you don't have to thank us! we are your family.)" Alexia told you. You could tell your Mami was blaming herself for this. Even though this wasn't her fault.

At school the principal suspended the girls and Ona had informed them that they would hear from the Police for what had happened. Mapi had told them in the text, that you looked all banged up. You were on your way to the Hospital now, Mapi driving. Ingrid in the Passanger seat while your Mami sat in the Back with you. Holding you close without hurting you more then you already were.

The doctor at the hospital checked you over and got some X-rays on your ribs done. Turned out that you had two broken ribs from them kicking you. Your nose thankfully wasn't broken though.

You were sent home with the order to rest up, ice your ribs and nose. Also pain meds were given to you.

Ona and Aitana met you there. A Police officer was also there and you told them what had happened. They also went to Marisa.

Your Mami helped you to take a shower before you got to rest in bed. Having a right grip on Alexia so she couldn't get out of bed.

"Mami, por favor quédate.(Mami, please stay.)" You told her, sniffling softly. She kissed your forehead.

"Está bien, cariño.(okay, sweetheart)" She whispered out and held you close.

A few days later you felt a bit better but still had to rest and you weren't allowed to do anything physical. So no Football for you. Which sucked cause you just made your debut with the Senior Team, playing with your mami and aunties.

There also would be legal consequences for your bullies but you had No Idea what they would be.

But one thing you knew for sure. You could always count on your Family.

[merakiui]

Babe hear me out, HEAR ME OUT! MERA! Purge AU with the twisted wonderland boys! Like in this au when purge happens the yandere is legally allowed to kidnapped their darling, by all means necessary(no killing darlings however) and the government notifies the darling a week before the purge happens and darling is allowed to fight back or do whatever hebksvsjsbiasnuekw HEAR ME OUT🥺 Mera!

🐼

:O omg that’s so yummy,,, poor darling. >_< you’re probably so stressed out planning your moves way before the event even happens. There are so many unspoken rules that crop up during that 24-hour period. You can’t trust anyone. You’re on your own. It’s every person for themself. Even your kind neighbor could be colluding with the person who means to kidnap you. You’ve always thought yourself safe from the eyes of any secret admirers, but that hope dwindled away the moment you received the government-approved notice in the mail. :(

By any means necessary. Maybe your yandere wants to personally pay you a visit and take you themselves. Someone like Floyd or Rook who loves the thrill of the chase and will stop at nothing to have you in his arms. Or Jade who adores the way you look over your shoulder, not suspecting a thing while he lurks just close enough to make out the panicked rise and fall of your chest. Or Idia who keeps to the shadows (the comfort of his room), but has hacked security cameras and is texting your phone as an unknown number, telling you just how bad you are at this. It’s almost like a survival game and he’s watching you make all the wrong choices. Cater’s much the same. Stalking you through your phone, sending you little messages and pictures of you taken at all angles that you have to wonder where he really is.

Or a clever yandere like Azul or Jamil or maybe even Kalim who happens to run into you and seems so trustworthy. He’s running from his potential kidnapper, too. What say the two of you team up? There’s strength in numbers, after all! :) but something’s not right… you can feel it in your marrow. This man is not to be trusted, and you’re right to think so when it becomes clear he’s less and less of a victim.

Or a yandere who employs other means to have you to himself. Malleus who sics Sebek and Silver on you, his two most loyal guards. Oh, it must be so terrifying for a magicless, mostly defenseless person to come face to face with two very strong bodyguards, trained in both magic and physical combat. >_< and if you manage to escape them there’s still Lilia, who’s always waiting to pop in and startle you.

Or a yandere who takes a softer approach. Maybe you hurt yourself and here comes kind stranger Riddle, offering you medical help from the very organized first aid kit in his bag. Or Ruggie who offers you a snack because you clearly need it. He gets it; this situation sucks. He’ll sympathize as if he isn’t five seconds away from dragging you off into captivity.

Skully who can finally make good on all of the promises he’s left in his love letters to you, each one that’s gone unanswered. But he knows you’ve read them. You’re just shy and that’s okay. When he comes to whisk you away like a true prince, you’ll understand there’s no need to be nervous. He shall love you forever. <3

[luvfae]

CLEAN, PT 2

summary: after rehab, you reunite with thanos, sharing love, passion, and a fresh start together.

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: mention of addiction, swearing, smut, oral (both receiving), fingering, handjob, unprotected sex (don’t be an idiot), p in v.

part 1

Three months ago, Thanos had dragged you—kicking, screaming, and cursing his name—into the same rehab facility where he had gotten clean.

Today, you were walking out.

With no family to pick you up (Thanos didn’t even know if you had any who cared), he was the one waiting.

Three excruciating months apart. He spent every day wondering if you hated him, if you were okay. But no calls from the facility meant you weren’t doing too bad. Meanwhile, you had spent those months drowning in withdrawal, fighting everyone who tried to help, refusing therapy—until eventually, you gave in. And for the first time in years, you felt normal. You started to remember the girl you used to be before the drugs took her away.

Then came the shame. The time lost. You should’ve graduated from art school by now, but instead, addiction had dictated your life. You regretted cutting off your family, pushing away friends until you had none left. You regretted how you had treated Thanos when all he ever did was try to save you.

And now, standing at the door, your hands trembled. Would anyone even be waiting for you?

Then—

“Y/N.”

You blinked.

Thanos.

You didn’t think. You just ran.

Throwing yourself at him, you hugged him so tightly it knocked the wind out of him. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice shaking. You pulled back slightly to look at him. “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me,” he murmured, brushing away your tears.

“I didn’t deserve your help,” you admitted, pulling away completely. He caught your hands, grounding you. “I was so awful to you. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I know what it’s like to be an addict,” he replied. “Everyone deserves help.”

Sniffing, you wiped your eyes as he led you to his car.

It was strange. You had known Thanos for nine months, lived with him, had sex with him, and yet… you didn’t really know him. Your brain had been so fried on drugs you barely retained any information.

And Thanos was the same. He had taken care of you, paid for your rehab, seen you at your lowest, and yet he didn’t know who you were.

Maybe it was time to change that.

The car ride was quiet at first. You were still getting used to the feeling of sobriety, of being aware. But as the city passed by through the windows, you glanced at Thanos.

“I used to paint,” you blurted out.

He looked at you. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Before everything… I loved painting. I was good at it, too. I was supposed to graduate art school a few years ago. Art was my dream.”

Silence settled for a moment before you continued. “I had a good life. A good family. My parents weren’t perfect, but they cared. I had a future. And then I got caught up with the wrong people.” You swallowed. “I let it ruin me.”

Thanos tightened his grip on the wheel. “It’s not too late.”

You let out a small, breathy laugh. “You sound like my therapist.”

“Well, your therapist is right,” he said, glancing at you. “You’re clean now. You can start again.”

You didn’t reply, just watched the city blur past.

“What about you?” you asked. “How did you get into rapping?”

Thanos smirked slightly. “It was either rap or go to jail.”

Your brows furrowed, but you stayed quiet, waiting for him to explain.

“I was a street kid,” he said. “Grew up bouncing between different family members. No real home. I got into some bad shit—gangs, drugs, fights. Ended up locked up a few times as a teenager. But music…” He sighed, tapping his fingers against the wheel. “Music was my way out. I started writing lyrics in juvie. Got out, kept at it, got lucky. Somehow, I made it big.”

You stared at him, realizing this was the first real conversation you’d ever had. “Do you love it?”

Thanos was quiet for a beat. “Yeah. I do.”

You smiled softly. “I’d like to hear your songs sometime. Really hear them. Not just in the background while I’m high out of my mind.”

His lips quirked up. “I’d like that too.”

And for the first time in a long time, you both felt like you were finally getting to know each other.

Thanos had loved you before—loved you in your worst moments, through the chaos, the anger, the addiction. But this version of you? The version that was bright-eyed, passionate, full of life again? He loved this version even more.

As he stole glances at you in the passenger seat, he really saw you for the first time. Your cheeks had filled out, your skin looked healthier, your eyes were wide and alert instead of hazy and half-lidded. And that smile—soft, genuine, real.

You were beautiful.

He pulled into the driveway, and you blinked, tilting your head.

“This isn’t the place I remember,” you said, glancing up at the massive mansion in front of you.

Thanos shrugged. “Bought a new house while you were gone.” He put the car in park and looked over at you. “Wanted to leave the bad memories behind and make good ones here instead.”

You let out a small laugh. “House? More like a mansion.”

Thanos smirked, pushing open his door. “Being rich and famous has its perks.”

You stepped out after him, following him inside. The space was opulent—high ceilings, sleek furniture, stunning artwork lining the walls. You turned in slow circles, taking it all in.

“I’ll donate them to charity,” Thanos said.

You glanced at him, confused. “What?”

“The paintings,” he clarified. “I’d rather have your art on my walls.”

Your cheeks burned, and you ducked your head, kicking at the floor. “I haven’t picked up a paintbrush in years,” you admitted. “Not sure I even can anymore.”

Thanos smiled. “I bet you can.”

Before you could argue, he took your hand and led you up the grand staircase, past a few closed doors, before stopping in front of one. He pushed it open, revealing a bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire city.

“This is your room,” he said simply.

You stepped inside, breath catching. It was beautiful. Warm-toned, cozy, welcoming. He walked over to the closet and pulled open the doors, revealing racks of neatly hung designer clothes, tags still on them.

“I even got you a new wardrobe,” he added.

You stared at the clothes, shaking your head. “Thanos, this is too much,” you whispered. “After everything I put you through… You shouldn’t have to take care of me anymore.”

He turned to you, gaze steady. “I want to.”

His words sat heavy between you. No hesitation, no doubt.

For the first time in a long time, you felt happy.

Real, genuine happiness. The kind that made your stomach flip and your heart race.

Or maybe it wasn’t just happiness. Maybe it was something deeper, something terrifying in its intensity.

You stared at him, eyes brimming with tears. “Thank you.” Your voice was barely a whisper, afraid that if you spoke any louder, the moment would shatter.

Thanos met your gaze, unwavering. “You’re welcome.”

You stepped forward hesitantly. “I don’t remember a lot from when I was using,” you admitted. “But I remember you.”

His brows lifted slightly. “What do you remember?”

You swallowed hard. “I remember you force-feeding me when I refused to eat. Flushing my stash down the toilet. I remember screaming in your face, kicking holes in your walls.” A tear slipped down your cheek, but you kept going. “I remember sleeping with strangers, with your friends—right after you told me you loved me.” Your voice cracked. “I was horrible to you. But that wasn’t the real me. I swear.”

Thanos nodded, watching you carefully. “I know,” he said simply. “But there were good times too, right? You remember those?”

You did.

You remembered the way he’d tuck you in at night, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. The way he’d run a bath for you after you got sick all over yourself, holding you steady as he cleaned you up. The way he kissed you like he was willing to set the world on fire for you. The way he touched you, loved you, even when you were too far gone to truly feel it.

“I remember how you made me feel,” you whispered, stepping closer.

His lips parted, his breath hitching as your fingers traced up his chest.

“I remember your hands,” you murmured, voice turning sultry. “Your mouth. Your tongue. Your fingers.” Your hand slid lower, brushing over the hardening bulge in his jeans. “Your cock inside me.”

Thanos inhaled sharply as you pushed your palms against his chest.

You had spent weeks thinking about this—about fucking him sober. About feeling everything for the first time.

“You made me feel so good,” you purred. “So fucking good, Thanos.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “My real name is Su-bong,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.

You smirked. “Well—Su-bong…” Your eyes darkened with intent. “Let me make it up to you. Let me show you how good I can be.”

That was all it took.

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and demanding, his hands gripping your waist as he backed you toward the bed. You gasped as the backs of your knees hit the mattress, and he wasted no time pushing you onto your back, peeling his shirt off in one swift motion and tossing it to the floor.

You sat up slightly, dragging your fingertips down his toned abdomen, your mouth practically watering at the sight of him.

He was already hard for you.

And this time, you were completely, devastatingly sober.

You dragged your nails down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. His skin was warm, firm—real. For the first time, you were feeling him, not just through a hazy drug-fueled blur, but with a clarity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Thanos—Su-bong—looked down at you with dark, hooded eyes, his lips parted slightly as he took you in. “You’re teasing me,” he murmured, voice thick with desire.

You smirked, trailing your fingers lower, letting them ghost over the waistband of his jeans. “Maybe,” you mused. “I owe you, don’t I?”

His hands slid up your sides, rough palms skimming the soft fabric of the shirt he had given you months ago—the same one you had walked out of rehab in. Slowly, he peeled it up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor.

His gaze roamed over you, drinking in every inch of exposed skin, every little mark and scar. You weren’t the frail, hollow version of yourself anymore. You were whole.

“You’re beautiful,” he muttered, his fingers trailing over your ribs, then up to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. You let out a soft gasp, arching into his touch.

His mouth found your throat, lips pressing firm, open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck. He sucked lightly at your pulse, dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin, making you shudder.

“Su-bong,” you breathed, threading your fingers through his hair.

He groaned at the way you said his name, his hands sliding down your body, squeezing at your waist, your hips, like he was memorizing the shape of you.

You tugged at the waistband of his jeans, undoing the button and pulling the zipper down, your fingers slipping inside to brush against the hard length beneath his boxers. He let out a sharp exhale, hips jerking forward slightly at your touch.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his forehead dropping against yours. “You really want this?”

You wrapped your fingers around him, squeezing just enough to make him curse under his breath. “More than anything,” you whispered.

His lips crashed against yours again, hungrier this time, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushed you back onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. You gasped as he kissed his way down your body, his mouth hot and insistent against your skin.

When he reached the waistband of your jeans, he hooked his fingers into them, glancing up at you for permission.

You lifted your hips in response, breath hitching as he dragged them down, taking your panties with them, exposing you completely to him.

His eyes darkened, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “Fuck, baby,” he muttered, his voice thick with lust.

Then, without hesitation, he leaned down and devoured you.

His tongue flicked against your clit, slow and teasing, sending a jolt of pleasure through your core. Your fingers twisted into his hair, hips jerking instinctively, but he pinned you down with a firm grip on your thighs.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned against you, his breath hot, his voice thick with hunger. “Missed this pussy so much.”

A whimper slipped from your lips as he flattened his tongue and licked a long, slow stripe up your slit before sucking your clit into his mouth. Your back arched, thighs trembling, but just as the pleasure built, just as you felt yourself spiraling, you pushed at his shoulders.

Thanos pulled back, his mouth glistening, brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

You took a shaky breath, trying to clear the haze of pleasure from your mind. “This is about you, not me,” you murmured, pushing yourself up on your elbows. “I’m paying you back.”

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. “If it’s about me, then I should get to do what I want,” he countered, voice low, dangerous. “And what I want to do is fucking taste you.”

“Jesus Christ,” you breathed, heat surging through your body.

Before you could protest further, he dove back in, his tongue circling your clit while two fingers slid inside you, curling just right. A strangled moan tore from your throat, your hips bucking as he worked you open, relentless and precise.

It didn’t take long—he knew exactly how to unravel you, exactly how to have you gripping his hair and gasping his name. Your orgasm hit fast and hard, your body shaking as he held you down, licking you through every wave until you were panting, overstimulated.

Only then did he pull away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, looking so fucking smug.

“Fuck,” you muttered, still catching your breath. “I forgot how good you were at that. Feels even better sober.”

His smirk widened. “Unforgettable, baby.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. Pushing him onto his back, you straddled his hips, hands sliding up his chest, fingers teasing over his nipples before raking down his abs.

“My turn,” you whispered.

You kissed down his body, taking your time, nipping at his collarbones, sucking marks into his skin just to watch him tense beneath you. When you reached the waistband of his jeans, you tugged them down, freeing his cock, your mouth practically watering at the sight of him—thick, hard, already leaking.

You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking slow, teasing. His breath hitched, his head tipping back against the pillows.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his fingers curling into the sheets. “You gonna take care of me, baby?”

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his tip, then dragged your tongue along his length, watching the way his stomach tensed beneath you.

“Of course,” you murmured, voice dripping with promise.

And then you took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as he let out a deep, guttural moan, his hands flying to your hair.

Your tongue worked him slowly, dragging along every inch of his length, teasing just to hear him groan. You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, letting him hit the back of your throat, moaning around him just to feel the way he twitched in your mouth.

“Shit, baby,” Thanos growled, his fingers tightening in your hair. “Missed your mouth—so perfect, so fucking good for me.”

The praise only made you more eager. You bobbed your head, stroking the rest of him with your hand, slick and messy, making sure to keep your eyes on him. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his jaw clenched, his muscles tense as he fought to keep control.

But you didn’t want him to be in control.

You pulled off him with a lewd pop, kissing up his abs as you moved to straddle his waist. His cock was hard, flushed, throbbing against your soaked folds as you rubbed against him, teasing both of you.

“Hey,” he hissed, gripping your hips. “Quit teasing.”

You smirked, leaning down to kiss him, slow and deep, your fingers threading into his hair. “You always take care of me,” you whispered against his lips. “Let me take care of you now.”

Without breaking eye contact, you reached down, guiding him to your entrance before sinking down onto him in one slow, delicious slide. Both of you gasped at the sensation, your walls stretching around him, molding to him perfectly like you were made for this.

“Jesus,” Thanos groaned, his head tipping back, fingers digging into your hips as he tried not to lose himself completely.

“You feel so good,” you breathed, placing your hands on his chest, rolling your hips slowly, savoring the way he filled you so perfectly. “So fucking good, Su-bong.”

His eyes snapped open at the sound of his real name on your lips, dark and wild with lust. He sat up suddenly, wrapping an arm around your waist, his mouth latching onto your neck, sucking bruises into your skin as you continued moving, grinding against him, taking him deeper.

You moaned, clinging to his shoulders, kissing him desperately, your tongues tangling, the pleasure building between you like a fire. “Thank you,” you whispered against his lips, rocking faster, harder. “Thank you for saving me. For never giving up on me.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest as he flipped you onto your back, keeping you pinned beneath him, his hips snapping against yours, hitting deeper, harder.

“You’re mine,” he muttered between kisses, his voice rough, possessive. “Always fucking mine.”

“Yours,” you gasped, nails raking down his back, legs wrapping around him to pull him even closer. “Only yours.”

His pace turned desperate, his thrusts brutal yet somehow still so full of love, his forehead pressing against yours, his hand slipping between you to rub your clit, determined to drag you over the edge with him.

And when you came—hard, clenching around him, gasping his name like a prayer—he followed right after, burying himself deep, groaning into your mouth as he filled you, his entire body shuddering against yours.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, tangled together in the aftermath, your breathing heavy, your hearts racing in sync.

Then Thanos kissed you again, softer this time, lingering. “I still love you,” he murmured against your lips. “I always have.”

You smiled, brushing your fingers through his damp hair. “I think I love you too.”

And when he pulled you into his arms, holding you close like he never wanted to let go, you knew—you meant it.

You lay there for a while, tangled up in each other, your skin slick with sweat, his breath warm against your neck. The weight of him felt comforting, grounding, like you never wanted him to move.

But eventually, you stirred, pressing a soft kiss to his temple before slipping out of his arms.

“Where are you going?” Thanos mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion.

You giggled, running a hand through his messy hair. “Relax, I’m just grabbing a towel.”

You padded to the bathroom, your legs still wobbly, but you didn’t care. You cleaned yourself up before wetting a towel, you returned to the bed, settling beside him as you began to clean him up, running the cloth over his stomach, down between his legs, gentle and careful.

Thanos watched you, his expression soft, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your thigh. “You don’t have to do that,” he murmured.

“I want to,” you replied, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Let me take care of you for once.”

He huffed out a small laugh, letting you do as you pleased, though his hands never stopped touching you—gliding over your arm, your waist, like he needed the reassurance that you were still here.

When you were done, you tossed the towel aside, crawling back into his embrace, peppering kisses along his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth.

Thanos smirked. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I think you fucked the happiness into me,” you teased, making him chuckle before he suddenly rolled you onto your back, hovering over you, nuzzling into your neck.

You giggled, your hands slipping into his hair, tugging him up so you could kiss him properly. Slow, lazy, sweet.

After a while, you pulled back just enough to look at him, brushing his damp hair from his face. “Thank you for the room,” you said softly. “But… I think I’d rather share a bed with you, if that’s okay?”

He pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, his thumb stroking your cheek. “That’s more than okay,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You smiled, burying your face in his chest, and for the first time in years, you felt home.

You still had a long road ahead—staying clean, rebuilding bridges with your family, reenrolling in art school. But those were worries for another day.

For now, you stayed wrapped in Thanos’ arms, making up for lost time, showering him with the love you should have given him all along.

[marauder-misprint]

Hello!! I’m your new follower and honestly your fics are so good 🥺 I love the “these damn stairs” one and I wonder if u could write part 2 because shy reader and gentle super friendly Remus trope is the best heh.

Thank youuu for following ❤︎

Here is part 2 to 'These damn stairs' and there will be a part 3 because I can't just let it end here :) Might be a few days before I'm able to post part 3 because I got some really good requests in my inbox that I want to get to!

'It's a date'

Remus Lupin x reader

2.2k words

cw: fluff

Talking to Remus still felt like you had the eyes of the school on you. This meant that it was Remus who talked first. You would give him a small smile or a wave when you passed him on your way to a different class, but it was always him who came up to your desk before or after a class you had together. It was him who still came to sit with you at lunch; your friends warmed up to him quickly and proceeded to tease you about him when he was gone. 

You continued to study with him too. He’d wait for you outside the library before walking with you back to the small table from that first study session. With every passing day, you slowly began to be more comfortable in his presence. You were able to hold a conversation with him. It was a slow growing friendship, but it was growing. 

“You’re sure you don’t mind studying with just me?” you had asked once, worrying that he missed all of the attention that he used to get in the library because he was smart and nice. 

He just smiled at you, leaning toward you to say, “I really don’t mind. I’d rather work with you over anyone else.” 

That left you blushing for the rest of your time in the library that evening. Remus always knew what to say to get that blush to reappear. More often than not, you would leave your encounters with Remus with a pink face and racing heart. 

You were thrown off when you showed up to study with Remus on Saturday and he wasn’t waiting for you outside the library. You considered waiting for him to show up but decided to check inside just in case. You found him sitting at a larger table with his friends. There were open chairs on either side of him with the other three boys on the opposite side of the table. The sight sent your mind spinning as you tried to remember the conversation when you discussed studying today. You didn’t recall him mentioning the rest of the Marauders would be there. Plans must’ve changed. 

You headed toward a different table, your usual before you started sitting with Remus. You didn’t want to interrupt their “Marauders Study Session.” 

However, as soon as he saw you, Remus called you over.

“You know James, Peter, Sirius, yeah? Hope you don’t mind they came today. I’m afraid they need the extra push to get stuff done.”

You do mind but god forbid you say something and make a scene. So you nodded and sat down next to Remus. You attempted to keep your things more consolidated than you usually do. You didn’t want to encroach on Peter’s or Sirius’ space. It took you longer to fall into your studying groove with the entirety of the Marauders at the same table as you; you’re positive that anyone and everyone passing by is confused by it. You felt like an outsider intruding on something sacred. It didn’t help that every time you looked up, you swore at least one of them was looking at you or Remus. You’re a bit uncomfortable. It’s not like you’ve ever really talked to any of them. 

“So, erm, how long has this been a thing?” Peter asked after you caught your eye from across the table. 

A thing? What on earth did that boy mean?

“Excuse me?” 

“We’ve been studying together for a little over two weeks,” Remus said, shooting you a quick smile.

Oh That’s all.

Remus’ answer made the question make more sense. You supposed it was a thing that Remus was studying with one person rather than a herd of girls and essentially playing teacher. You berated yourself for thinking that Peter had meant something more. 

“Right, studying,” Sirius said with a smirk. 

Nope. What?

You pursed your lips together and train your eyes on your assignment. That is what you had been doing with Remus. That’s all you’ve been doing.

“Shut it, Padfoot,” Remus warned. 

He glared at his friends. He had warned them ahead of time to be nice to you, to try not to scare you off. He knows you are shy and more reserved. He didn’t want to cancel studying with you so that his nimrod friends didn’t fall behind on their own assignments. But now, he was beginning to regret inviting them. 

Remus reached for a small scrap of parchment and scribbled on it, “Don’t worry about them” before sliding it into your view. You took notice of it and nodded. He lowered his head to get into your view as well. He raised his eyebrows as if asking that you’re okay. You drew a simple smiley face on the parchment. He nodded and returned to his own assignment. With both of your heads bowed in focus, you missed the shared look between the other three boys. You were able to get some work done. The lingering feeling of eyes on you was impossible to shake. You tried to think of a reason why they would be so interested in you, but you kept coming up short. Well, not completely. You had ideas, but each seemed more ridiculous than the last and one was just downright hopeful. 

“Is it true you started talking because you got your foot stuck in that damn step?” James asked as he closed a book he was using for his Herbology assignment.

“Prongs!” Remus hissed as your face turned beet red. 

“Uh, I guess?” you said meekly. 

You tried not to think about that embarrassing day, even if it did lead to your first real interaction with Remus. It wasn’t a moment you wanted to relive. 

“Must’ve been some fall though,” James continued, despite the glared daggers from Remus. “Certainly got our boy’s attention.”

Remus’ face was beginning to turn red as well at this point. He really, really wanted James to stop talking; it was at the point where he was debating Silencio. 

“Oh? What… what do you mean?” you asked, biting the inside of your cheek. 

Sirius snorted a laugh. “Sweetheart, you should hear how much he talks about you.” 

Your eyes went wide. You weren’t sure what you had expected but it wasn’t that. It took a second for the words to fully sink in. Remus talked… about you? Often? With enough frequency that his friends made note of it? Is that why it felt like they kept staring at you? They were just trying to figure out what Remus found so intriguing about you? 

You turned to see Remus holding his head in his hands. You gently placed your hand on his shoulder.

“Remus?” 

A horrible thought crossed your mind: What if this was all just a prank on you and Remus was collateral? What if he didn’t actually talk about you and now he’d have to admit that? 

He ran his hands through his hair before looking at you. His face was bright red, highlighting each scar that ran across his nose and cheeks brilliantly. 

“Can we talk privately? Before I murder these gits?” he asked you in a low voice with pleading eyes. 

“Yeah. Yeah,” you breathed, standing up and waiting to follow Remus through the shelves.

He led you further than you would’ve expected from the table. You assumed that he really didn’t want the boys overhearing whatever you were going to talk about. With each step, you felt your heart rate increase. Maybe he thought you were going to cry at what he was going to say and didn’t want to do that near them. 

“I think we’re far enough. No hearing extension charm they’re capable of reaches this far,” he said, leaning back against the wall with some kind of effortless allure. 

“Are you okay?” you asked. 

You stood a few steps away from him. If something was going to go down, you wanted to have some space between you. 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course. I’m fine,” he said as he watched you with cautious eyes. “Usually their teasing doesn’t get to me this bad.” He let out an awkward chuckle. 

“Are they teasing you about being friends with me?” you asked, your chest filling with dread. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself to brace for the worst. Remus was popular. He was so well-liked. He was so good with people. And you liked to stay out of the spotlight. Some people thought you were a little standoffish, but so be it. You could see where his friends were coming from. 

Suddenly, you felt hands on your shoulders. And you looked up to see Remus’ warm eyes. 

“They are teasing me about being just friends with you,” he said softly. 

You rolled your lips against each other. What did he mean by that? Just friends? 

“Because I do talk about you a lot. I practically only study with you. I go out of my way to cross paths with you so I can see your smile. I hope this doesn’t sound creepy, but I stare at you from across the Great Hall when I don’t sit next to you.” He paused for a moment to see if you had any reaction yet. “And this is going to sound mean, but I’m so glad you fell on those stairs. It brought you into my life.” He waited again. “Please say something, love.” 

“Okay,” you said as your cheeks tinged pink. “So they aren’t making fun of me? This isn’t some kind of prank?” 

“No. It’s not a prank. The only one being made fun of is me because I wanted to wait longer.”

“Wait longer for what?” 

“Listen. I meant it when I said you are pretty. I meant it when I said I don’t want to study with anyone else. I mean it when I say I can’t get you out of my head. I just wanted to wait longer to be sure… sure that you’d say yes. Sure that you like me.” 

You tilted your head.

“Of course I like you, Remus.”

“But as more than friends? Would you be willing to go on a date with me?”

Your breath hitched. Had Remus just said a bunch of sweet things about you? Yes, and it made your face feel hot. But it was the question that really sealed the deal. He wanted to be sure that you’d say yes. 

“I’d really like that.” You broke into a wide smile. “You thought I wouldn’t say yes?” 

Remus let out the breath he was holding and mirrored your smile. He pulled you into a tight hug before answering. 

“I’ve wanted to ask you out since the first time we studied together. I didn’t want to move too fast. I didn’t want you to think I was trying to jump you or something.” 

You laughed into his chest and he slowly let you go. 

“So all of that back there, that was them being tired of listening to you pine?” you asked.

“Seems like it. I told them to be nice to you, but I guess I didn’t tell them to be nice to me.”

“I mean, I’d say it was pretty nice of them to get you a date,” you said teasingly.

“I’m still the one who asked!” he tried to defend himself.

You raised your eyebrows at him.

“Yeah, but would you have asked if they weren’t here?”

“Not today, no. Maybe in another week or so. I told you, I was waiting to be sure.”

“For a smart bloke, you really should’ve known that if you asked me out on the stairs, I would’ve said yes.”

“Wait, what?” He looked down at you in surprise. 

“Merlin, I’ve had a crush on you for a while. It’s part of what made falling into the stair so mortifying.”

“Those damn stairs, right?” he chuckled as you started walking back to the table. Then he cleared his throat. “So, Hogsmeade next weekend?”

“It’s a date.” 

The three boys were working when you returned. When they looked up, they had matching looks of anticipation on their faces. Neither of you said anything as you sat down and started to work. Without speaking, you seemed to agree that you weren’t going to say anything unless they asked. 

“So?” Peter asked. “Did Remus grow a pair?” 

“Always had a pair, Peter,” Remus said dryly. 

“Moony,” he whined before turning his attention to you. “Did he… you know?”

“Well, she might not know. Because if he didn’t, how would she know?” Sirius said. 

You rolled your eyes with a shake of your head. 

“What if he did and she said no? That’d be something,” James mused. “Although I don’t think they’d be so… content? Peaceful? Somber? Pleased-looking?”

“But wouldn’t they both look much happier if he asked and she said yes?” Peter asked.

“Oi! We are right here,” Remus interjected. “I asked. She said yes. You are to stay away from us in Hogsmeade. Now, work. I want to see finished essays.”

“Our boy became a man!” Sirius said, wiping an invisible tear from his eye. “We’re so proud of you.”

“Padfoot. Essay. Now,” Remus commanded before shooting you a wide grin. 

You could tell that he was pretty proud of himself too. 

tags: @allformoony, @oursweetmoony, @moonyswifee

[ask-crow-aus]

this is actually how I reply when people ask me why I’m so weird

I have witnesses

[toomanyfish2]

FAV BKDK FIC RECS

split into short, medium, and long fics. under the break.

short fics

You're Mine? - Chapter 1 - s_the_queen - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

'Katsuki Bakugou and Izuku Midoriya endured a long and troubled road to get to where they are now. Maybe that's why they haven't noticed that they're dating even though everyone else has!'

Chapters: 7/24 | Words: 8,560

So, They're Dating, Right? - igniteloveignite - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]

All the times everyone thought Katsuki and Izuku were dating, and the one time Katsuki realized he wished they were.

Chapters: 1/1 | Words: 5,022

Didn't I do it for you? - theburningbread - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Deku has never been close with members of the Bakusquad, despite the squad’s best efforts. They were getting there as Bakugou and Deku’s friendship grew… but that friendship has been over for years. Mina wants to understand why they never got to be as close as she knew they could have been, so she asks. But, since she wants her friends to know as well she secretly calls Bakugou so he can hear too.

Chapters: 1/1 | Words: 15,430 | Angst w/ happy ending

all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing - Chapter 1 - maxisnotokay - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Izuku has had this thing about him that Katsuki has never been able to name, but he's been chasing it since he learned how to run. It takes a catastrophic building collapse during their third year and a severe concussion for him to realize what it is. Aizawa loses ten years off his life. When does he not.

Chapters: 3/3 | Words: 11,549

warm hands - Chapter 1 - flowercafe - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

A 5+1 featuring copious amounts of massaging, a dollop of mutual pining, many ridiculous competitions, Izuku’s achy joints, and one very tactile Katsuki.

Chapters: 4/5 | Words: 20,005

glowing skins and pleading fingers - mimisyum - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]

In which Katsuki spent fourteen years resisting the urge to touch Izuku until it all becomes too much and he gives in. But maybe, just maybe, things don't go quite as badly as he expects.

Chapters: 1/1 | Words: 10,600

and the rest is rust and stardust - youreanovelidea - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Kirishima likes to think that he knows his classmates pretty well. But sometimes, he looks at Bakugou and Midoriya and wonders if he even knows them at all. He wonders if anyone does. (or, Kirishima notices the moments hidden between childhood friends, offers encouraging words, and maybe kisses Kaminari in the process)

Chapters: 1/1 | Words: 8,587 | Side Kaminari/Kirishima

medium fics

i accidentally texted king explosion murder - Chapter 1 - tsundokushi - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Izuku: Do you really think partnering with a copy of yourself will be good for the world? Vulgar Stranger: I. Don’t. Do. Partners. Izuku: Why thank you for sparing everyone the headache Vulgar Stranger: Since when are you fucking sassy Izuku: Wanna guess? Vulgar Stranger: Fuck u Izuku: :)

Chapters: 13/13 | Words: 64,439

An Extension Of Myself - Chapter 1 - igniteloveignite - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Izuku got One for All but went to Shiketsu instead and ends up working at the same hero agency as one very confused, very turned-on Bakugou Katsuki.

Chapters: 14/14 | Words: 81,028

Dark Side of the Sun - Chapter 1 - Synnie - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Staying up too late playing video games, Kirishima wasn't expecting to get an urgent call begging for help. Next thing he knew, he was letting his classmate Izuku Midoriya take refuge in his apartment - without consulting his always angry roommate.

Chapters: 20/20 | Words: 51,598 | AU - College/Uni

Immovable - Chapter 1 - asdfjkl129 - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Bakugou and Midoriya get trapped under a building together. As Midoriya struggles to keep them both alive, refusing to give even an inch, Bakugou realizes some crucial things and refuses to leave without Midoriya by his side.

Chapters: 3/3 | Words: 76,094

long fics

promises kept - gabstar - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]

'after barely surviving the war, katsuki swears to do right by izuku. no matter what it takes.'

Chapters: 10/10 | Words: 125,657

Kamikaze - Chapter 1 - Katsukimchi - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

'After being injured in a villain fight, Katsuki needs someone to take care of him. The only problem is - the Bakusquad is sick of his inability to accept help. So they send in the only person who's ever been able to tolerate Katsuki at his worst: Midoriya Izuku.'

Chapters: 37/37 | Words: 197,482

Before Midnight - Chapter 1 - DriftingGlass - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Izuku Midoriya takes the same train to and from school Monday through Friday, morning and night. His only company during these lonesome hours comes in the form of another boy his age—a teen with scarred hands and blood gem eyes, a stranger with ash-blond hair who walks in a shroud of danger and mystery. "Would you stop with that fucking muttering, idiot?"

Chapters: 28/28 | Words: 211,528 | AU - Organised Crime

Hummingbird Heartbeat - Chapter 1 - Tokiji - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

“The knife went through his fucking chest, Kirishima.” Katsuki spat his name into his face, mouth twisting into a vicious snarl, teeth and all. “You know that's where his heart is, right? And his fucking lungs? All the vital shit?” Kirishima blanched. “I-I know, I just meant—” “What, you mean to tell me that your stupid fuckin’ ass is so ignorant to forget that he lost a shit ton of blood, hah?! Yeah, it was a flippin’ knife wound, oh hoo-ray, but look at the nerd now! He’s fucking dying because of it!”

Chapters: 28/? | Words: 136,922 | Angst w/ happy ending

Disillusioned - Chapter 1 - Rain_Whistler - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

After learning how some people are treated in a quirk-based society and how little anyone is willing to help. Katsuki makes it his mission to save his first and only friend.

Chapters: 37/? | Words: 182,789 | Quirkless Midoriya Izuku

Tell Me When You're Drowning - Chapter 1 - ThyNameNotSpoken - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Izuku is in the Support Course, perfectly happy having given up his dream of being a Hero long ago. It’s just not possible for him with the nature of his quirk. As long as he continues to manage his quirk, life should be easy sailing. . . right? The teachers of UA think otherwise and become particularly concerned when he and Hatsume help in a training course. All his life, Izuku has kept moving foward. It's how he survived. But if he wants to keep moving forward, he will have to finally face his past

Chapters: 34/34 | Words: 226,705 | Support Course Deku

From The Sidelines - Chapter 1 - suffocatingspring - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

When long-time enemies, Bakugo Katsuki--the all-star athlete and rascal of Ise--and Izuku Midoriya, the town sweetheart, are paired together for a long-term project, the quiet beachside town of Ise suddenly gets a bit louder. In which, Katsuki is an asshole pole vaulter, Izuku is going to fail psychology, and both are about to have the most intense spring semester yet.

Chapters: 14/14 | Words: 404,533 | AU - Highschool