#but i did my best making this like dark for you

[d0rianw1lde]

Pre-S4 Eddie who’s completely unaware of the true events of the Starcourt mall.

Pre-S4 Eddie who has to make sure that his eyes aren’t deceiving him- that Steve Harrington is actually in the back of his shitty van, cash in hand, waiting for Eddie to pick his jaw up off of the floor and give him the damn weed he’s trying to pay for.

“Sorry- not every day you uh..” Eddie starts.

“..See your high school bully ask you for weed?”

“What? No. No, those are my biggest buyers.” Eddie snorts, and hands over the baggy. Steve goes to hand him the money, and Eddie counts it, giving back half. Steve stares at him quizzically. “Consider it a first-buy deal.” Eddie explains, and Steve shrugs, unamused.

“You mind if I..” Steve grumbles, and Eddie puts his hands up.

“Be my guest. That’s a best-seller. Purple Palm Tree Delight. It’ll have you in another dimension.” Eddie grins, but Steve cringes slightly. He looks to Eddie, who, with slender, ringed fingers, beckons for the baggy back. “C’mon, let me roll it for ya. You look..beat, man. Heard scoops went up in flames.” Eddie lets out a low whistle- if only he knew.

Steve doesn’t answer. He just waits patiently for Eddie to hand him the little joint, offering him a light. Steve places the joint between his lips, and leans forward, allowing the flame to light the tip of the joint. He anticipates the feeling he knows all too well- the calming feeling. The beautiful, floating feeling that had allowed him to drift away from his parents fighting, from his tanking grades, from his girlfriend declaring their love bullshit. And that first drag in feels like bliss…it feels like drifting..It feels like..

Falling. Like spiraling.

Had Eddie’s van always been so small? So suffocating? Steve allows the smoke to leave his lungs, and Eddie leans back. Grinning and reaching out for the joint.

“So..What do you do now?”

“What?” Steve’s mind is racing- this isn’t bliss. This isn’t mellowness. God, why is Eddie’s van so goddamn small? Have the sleeves of his jacket always been so

So tight? Around his wrists?

The tacky lights in Eddie’s van shine brighter- they feel blinding.

“Just asking you where you work now.”

Where he works.

Who he works for.

“Scoops..” Steve mutters, but his voice is far away. Eddie plucks the joint from Steve’s fingers.

“What?” Eddie asks, taking a drag from the joint.

Steve’s mouth is dry.

He reaches out, places a hand on Steve’s shoulder, but the angle is awkward, and his fingers brush-

His fingers brush his neck.

The spot.

It burns. Steve swears it burns the same it did.

God, Eddie’s music is so obnoxious-

Or was it Robin’s screams?

Where even was he? He stares at the door at the back of Eddie’s truck. He crawls toward it, and fumbles helplessly with the handle.

“Hey- Steve? It’s uh- It’s just Indica, man-“

“Gotta- Get out. let me-“ Steve’s hands are trembling- his vision is blurring- is it the drugs? His tears? Was this dying? Had he ever left that dark room? That sterile metal box?

Eddie tries to lean over to open the door, but Steve’s frantic movements leave him blocked off completely. He crawls into the front quickly, and hops out of the van, running to the back to open the door up.

And Steve nearly falls out of the back- if it hadn’t been for Eddie scrambling to break Steve’s fall, he would’ve ended up with a mouth full of dirt. And judging by the ragged breaths leaving Steve’s lips, and the unintelligible ramblings tumbling from his lips, that was the last thing he needed.

Eddie was no stranger to a bad high. No stranger to coaxing his customers out of a panic when they first tried a bit of weed- but this?

If only he knew.

Pre S4 Eddie who’s completely unaware of the true events of Starcourt.

Pre S4 Eddie clutching Steve Harrington’s face, telling him he’s safe. That he’s at Lover’s Lake. That he’s just having a bad high.

Pre S4 Eddie holding the King of Hawkins High in his arms as he shrivels into a broken mess of sobs, and apologies that echo against the silent trees of Lover’s Lake.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Captain's Orders 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, controlling behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The Captain takes it upon himself to change your life.

Characters: Steve Rogers

Note: I am still dizzy her and there but feeling a bit better.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You wouldn’t call it doom scrolling. That’s not what this is. You try not to search out the depressing headlines or the studies of the human character assuring you of your race’s inherent flaws. Yet, all those boastful posts about engagements, weddings, and promotions still make you feel crummy. 

Jealous? Sure. You don’t have any of those things and it isn’t as if you can hope for as much, either. You’re in a dead-end job, living in cramped apartment with your sister and her irresponsible friend, and your romantic life is next to non-existent; not that you’ve been looking. None of that is meant for you, otherwise, you’d have had some glimmer of interest by now. 

It’s like quicksand. Not very quick but it pulls you down lower and lower. Sinking and sinking until all you can see is the muck. There’s no way out now, you’re waist deep in it. 

You click under your favourite communities and start a new post. You don’t make many. Mostly you read and judge silently. You’re a lurker. Like in many facets of your life. You watch, you don’t do. But you’ve had a shitty day and you need to just let it out. 

Your fingers move as your thoughts boil in your head; your nagging manager, your lazy landlord, and your immature roommates. Nothing ever goes your way. Everyone else has it figured out and you’re just left to rot. You try! You do. Resumes, profiles on friendship apps, online courses; free, of course, it’s all you can afford, but you do try to improve yourself. It just doesn’t work. 

You hit ‘post’ and close the lid of your ancient laptop. It’s as thick as a book. The battery doesn’t hold a charge and the fan is as loud as a jet. You fall back onto your bed and look around your tiny room. That’s all you have. This space is as much as you can call your own and not really. You rent it, it can be taken away with one of those red stamped notices. 

You yawn and drag yourself up. A whole shift and you didn’t bother to have more than the bland break room coffee spewed from the off-brand pod machine and a couple sticks of gum. Tia got herself sushi before her shift but she can just ask her parents to send her money to cover her Door Dash addiction. 

You plod out to the kitchen. Your sister closes the fridge and cracks the tab of a beer can. You’re sure it isn’t her first.  

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Shea bobbles her head. 

Funny since Donna pretty much hollered at you for interrupting her TV show. You all pitched in on the flat screen yet it’s never your turn with it. You shrug and go to the cupboard. It’s not sushi but the spicy shrimp ramen isn’t too bad... 

“You work?” You ask. 

“Pfft, no. Didn’t I say I was going to lunch with Mason?” 

“Did you?” You take down at bowl. She probably did. You never remember. She’s always got a date or a party or a fall back. If she can’t make rent, she’ll smile a cute guy and get some money. 

“He bought me some shoes! You’ll never believe.” 

“Right,” you try not to seethe. 

You’re scraping the bottom of the barrel. You’re eating sodium-laced noodles and holding back tears against old people wanting to print out their life story from a corrupt PDF. She’s pretty. She doesn’t have to try. Shea is all the proof you need that some people are just lucky. 

You put the electric kettle onto boil and the smell of burnt—something makes your lip curl. You pop the lid and look inside. It’s brown. What the hell? 

“What’s wrong with this?” You ask as you flip off the switch. 

“Donna!” Shea yells, “what did you do to the kettle?” No answer. Your sister hollers again. 

A door swings open and Donna stomps out with a huff. Her face is green as she has a mask spread over it and eye masks pasted beneath her lashes. 

“I’m getting ready--” 

“The kettle stinks,” you reach for a pot and find none. They’re all stacked and waiting to be washed. You snatch one off the top and flip on the faucet. 

“Oh, I heated up some bone broth in it. I’m doing a cleanse,” she smirks. “Tasted kinda weird.” 

“Bone broth?” You scoff. See. You try, they can’t even clean dishes. “Great.” 

“I’m sure it’s fine, just rinse it out,” Shea says. 

You scrub the pan and ignore her. You glance up as she slurps noisily from the can. Pre-drinks. Her and Donna are going out. Again. They can afford to because they don’t buy their own drinks. They don’t need to. You went out with them once and paid for all of your own, even though you’d have been happy enough with a single round. 

“Have fun,” you dry out the pan and slam it on the burner. 

“Jeez, maybe you should loosen up?” Donna chides. 

“Yeah, come with us. Dance it out,” Shea drawls. 

“No thanks,” you twist the knob and light the burner. “I have work tomorrow.” 

“Call innnnn,” Shea insists. 

“I can’t,” you sniff and step back to wait for the water to boil. 

“Boring,” she chirps. 

“Yep, I am,” you cross your arms. Your annoyed. When the go out, you’ll have to clean up this mess. You can’t handle another bout of fruit flies. 

You put the noodles in and let them soften. You stir in the oil and powder then retreat to your room with the bowl of boiling cholesterol. You let it cool and put a video on your phone. You don’t want to think. 

You eat deliberately. You savour the processed flavouring. You can’t go out sneak a midnight snack; Donna ate all your cookies. You label all your stuff in thick marker and she apparently can’t read. 

You hear them leave. They’re loud. They leave the television on. At high volume. 

You go out and shut it off. You need to sleep soon. Opening always comes after a late shift. Otherwise, how else would the corporation keep you disempowered. 

You open your laptop. You’ll but on some lo-fi while you charge your phone. Heck, the fan is like white noise on its own. 

The little red number at the bottom of the page stops you. You left the browser open. Someone actually responded to your post. You click and your stomach drops as you read the first sentence. 

‘Sounds like you cause a lot of your own problems. Maybe try some mindful exercises and get out more. You should also consider making some friends.’ 

You read it over and over. You’re angry. Hurt, too. But most that first thing. You can’t stop from replying. 

‘You got all that from me venting? I wasn’t asking for advice. I walk to and from work and I have friends.’ 

It’s mostly true. You do walk. Most days. And your sister is a friend, isn’t she? By association, so is Donna. 

Before you can look up your favourite twelve-hour lo-fi, another notification pops up. 

‘Looking at your post history, your diet could use some improvements. More veggies. And walking is a good starting point but you need to increase your endorphins. I’d be happy to send you some helpful guides. They’re easily searchable on the internet. We live in the age of information, you should consider taking advantage of that.’ 

Wow, what an asshole. He’s smug and obviously better than you. You click on his username and scroll through. Just as you expect. He posts in fitness communities. Not any videos of him but sharing tutorials and recipes for high-protein smoothies and fibre-laced juices. He wouldn’t know flavour if it puked in his mouth. 

You his ‘esc’ and go back to your own post; ‘thanks for the advice. Have a good one.; 

That’s it. You’re not arguing with some faceless douche on the internet. His response is as quick as the first. 

‘A helpful link.’ He hyperlinks the words. ‘You should at least stretch in the morning and go outside on your breaks at work. You might work long shifts but it’s no excuse to be lazy. If you’ve been in that role for so long, you should have more than enough references to move on to something that doesn’t make you miserable.’ 

You don’t answer. You know if you do, you’ll just embarrass yourself. Judging by the few pics of his real life and his cadence, he’s got everything. He just thinks it’s a matter of mindset. There can’t possibly be anything else which could make things more difficult for people. You just don’t work hard enough. Duh, everyone always says so. 

You close out of the page. If he replies again, you’ll block him. Simple as. You put on a lo-fi track and dim the screen. You roll over and tuck into bed. You fall asleep in a ball of stress; you have to wake up, shower, do all that human stuff, then make yourself face another eight hours of hell. 

⭐

“I hate working at the fucking copy desk,” you hiss as you take your bag from the cubby in the break room. “Good luck.” 

Darcy gives you a look as she sits at one of the tables, waiting for her shift to start. You grit your teeth as you should your purse and grip your jacket tight. You punch your employee number into the clock then head out. 

As you march down the aisle of toner, a customer tries to stop you. “I’m off duty.” 

“But I need a keyboard.” 

You ignore them and keep going. 

“I’m going to tell a manager, young lady!” 

You don’t care. Besides, why are they looking for a keyboard in the toner aisle. The signs above with the giant letters clearly show that the computer accessories are in the opposite corner. 

People are stupid. They might be able to read, technically, but they definitely lack comprehension. Just like Donna who can’t keep her hands off your snacks. 

You walk home in a simmer. If you let your temper get away from you, you won’t be able to hold back when you walk into the inevitable shit show waiting for you at home. Shea and Donna hungover, probably having got into more of your sparse groceries, and amidst a brand new mess for you to tidy. You won’t not this time. 

You have a mission. Go to your room and don’t come out. 

As you enter your building, you find the elevator non-responsive. A tiny post-it is stuck to the doors. ‘Out of Order’. Couldn’t have made something a bit more legible? 

You take the stairs. The hallway smells like onion and dirty clothes. You take out your keys as you get to your door, ignoring the rabble coming from the apartment next to yours. Before you can get your key in the slot, the door opens. 

“Heyyyy, she’s back,” Shea greets. You blink at her in confusion. Is she already drunk again? 

“Starting already?” You ask as you try to get past her. 

“Hm, no,” she says tritely, “you have a guest.” 

You roll your eyes, “don’t be a bitch, alright?” 

“No, really,” she grins. You stop and look her up and down. She isn’t falling apart like usual after a Friday night. Her hair is done, her makeup too, and she’s not in her sweats.  

“Is it mom?” You whisper. 

She snorts, “you’re stupid. No, it’s your friend. Steve.” She backs up with a shimmy, “I think some people call him Captain.” 

You make a face. What? 

“Who...” 

“Ahem,” a figure appears by the corner of the kitchen counter, “I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

You crane to see over Shea’s shoulder. The man behind her is tall. And familiar. Steve Rogers. Your expression contorts as your lashes flutter in confusion. 

“Not at all, Stevie,” Shea spins, “I’ll give you two the room. So nice to meet you.” 

She squeezes by him and touches his forearm as she does. He doesn’t react. She giggles and flits off. Her door shuts but you can tell that the latch didn’t catch. She’s listening. 

“Should we go outside? Get some sun?” He asks. 

You glance at him again. You’re lost. 

“Do I know you?” You grimace. 

“After all day under fluorescent, you should really get out--” 

“I-- I’m sorry, can you slow down and explain--” 

“Outside. Privately,” he says. 

You peek past him then look into the hallway behind you. You search your mind for an explanation. The only place you know him from is the internet or a history book. 

“Like I said before, going outside can really help with mood issues.” 

You hesitate and your mouth falls open. It can’t be... 

“Was that you? Last night?” You shake your head. 

“How about I buy you a smoothie?” He offers. 

You snap your mouth shut. He can’t be serious. This can’t be real. 

[guksfairy]

YOUNG NIGHTS AND OLD HABITS | JJK

wc: 1.9k

Happy Valentine’s Day my loves !! I wasn’t going to post today but my faves had a comeback and I got some inspiration. Enjoy !

Though the skies were dark and the only things illuminating were city buildings, the night was still somewhat young.

You and your husband had just gotten home from your annual Valentine’s day dinner. Jungkook always does his best to take you to a new restaurant every year so as to enjoy the night like it’s your first date.

Truly, it was always a magical night. You remember your very first one back when you were still only dating in college.

Jungkook was nervous to ask you to spend the day with him given that you two had only been dating for about two weeks. But Valentine’s Day was for couples and you were dating, right?

Given that you two, at the time, were broke college students who spent most of their money on essentials and food, there was little money to splurge on the day.

Jungkook did his best though. He got some of his friends to set up a table and fairy lights on a private area on campus. Even got your cousin to help out and pretend to be the waitress at a fancy restaurant.

He spent most of his money on the decorations and the food and only failed to realize he had little to no money for your gift just 2 hours before the date.

He scrambled around his dorm trying to find any change, literally anything. Namjoon walked in on Jungkook flipping his mattress over and getting excited to see a coin.

“…you okay?” Namjoon slowly closed the door and startled Jungkook for a moment before he replied.

“Hyung I’m screwed. I spent almost all my money on the lights, flowers, and food that I completely forgot to buy Y/N a gift,” Jungkook placed his mattress gently back onto the bed frame and threw himself on it.

“Woah. How’d you forget something that important,” the older chuckled and threw his backpack on the floor without a care in the world.

“Screwing up our first Valentine’s Day together isn’t what I was going for,” Jungkook huffs and Namjoon feels for him.

If he had a girlfriend and didn’t get her anything he’d probably stress too.

“What if you make her something?”

“Joon I’m shit at crafts. Remember when I had to make that 3D exoplanet system for Dr.Yoon’s class. It was basically falling apart as I walked to class with it,” Jungkook recalls placing his model next to your perfectly built one and you telling him it looked great.

He knew you were trying to make him feel better. It only made him like you more.

“So go for something simple,”

“Like?” Jungkook asks for suggestions and an idea immediately pops into Namjoon’s head.

“Do you recall back in high school when Mr.Jung would make us start our mornings writing letters to our past and future selves?” Jungkook wasn’t sure where Namjoon was going with this but he still nodded.

“Write her a love letter,”

That’s…not a terrible idea. It’s better than nothing.

Jungkook quickly scrambles from his bed, grabbing his school backpack and taking out a piece of paper and pens.

After about an entire hour of just writing and rewriting his feelings for you, he was done. He felt accomplished and a little shy. What if he was too vulnerable and you thought it was weird? What if you thought a letter was a cheap gift? What if you thought he got lazy??

The time was 7:45 and Jungkook didn’t have much time to overthink it. He folded the letter before putting it in an envelope and sealing it with clear tape.

He got dressed and received a text from his friends telling him that everything was set up and ready to go. All Jungkook had to do was pick you up from your dorm and walk to the designated spot.

With one last look in the mirror and a thumbs up from Namjoon, Jungkook grabs the letter on the desk and places it in his pocket for safe keeping.

He walked across campus to your dorm and felt like he fell in love with you all over again. You were wearing light makeup and something simple but to Jungkook, you looked so gorgeous. Jungkook was sure no other human being in the world held a candle to your beauty.

You exchanged a hug and a kiss on the cheek before walking with Jungkook as he lead you both to your little date.

You remembered how you felt seeing the scene for the first time. It was, again, simple but it was so sweet. You almost felt like tearing up.

The night was filled with tons of laughter and hand holding across the table as your cousin served entrees and main courses from the Italian restaurant off campus that you mentioned to Jungkook you loved.

Finally the night was coming to an end and now it was just the two of you. You watched Jungkook squirm around his seat for a moment before placing your hand on top of his to watch him visibly relax.

“Everything okay?”

“Uh…I have to confess something,” you hear Jungkook’s voice lower in volume but allow him to continue, “I didn’t get you a present-I know! I’m sorry it’s just that I spent so much time thinking about this date that it slipped my mind. But I made you something,” Jungkook grabbed the envelope from his pocket and placed it directly in the middle of the table.

He watched you stare at the paper for a moment and thought he fucked up. You didn’t move to grab it.

You hated it. You probably think he doesn’t even like y-

“Jungkook,” your voice just above a whisper takes him out of his insecure trance.

“You’re not going to believe this,” you reach inside your shirt and visibly into your bra before slipping out a paper of your own. Jungkook tries to ignore his flushed state as he watches you place yours on top of his.

“I wrote you a love letter,”

Soulmates. Jungkook was going to marry you. This was no coincidence. This was fate.

That night, you and Jungkook quietly read your letters in front of each other and shared your first kiss as a couple. You still remember how hard you two were smiling and simply couldn’t stop. The night was finished with love affirmations and lots of physical touches.

Similar to tonight.

You closed the curtains to you and Jungkook’s shared penthouse and watched the view of the city slowly disappear behind the cloth.

“What time is it?” You hear Jungkook walk behind you and wrap his arms around your waist.

“11:40?” You assume. It was rather late when you left the restaurant so you wouldn’t be too far off. Jungkook hums in acknowledgment and rests his chin on your shoulder, slowly closing his eyes.

He was a bit tired from tonight and you rocked him and yourself in a gentle rhythm.

“That waiter definitely had a crush on you,” Jungkook mumbled and you laughed.

“Jungkook I thought we said we’d stop talking about that kid,” you giggle as you reply thinking back to the young waiter that wouldn’t stop prioritizing you over your husband’s requests. At one point he served you wine and completely forgot about Jungkook’s glass.

“I don’t blame him though. You looked beautiful tonight,” Jungkook kissed your exposed shoulder and lets go before walking away.

“I have one more present for you honey,” Jungkook says picking through his blazer that he took off earlier.

“Jungkook. The necklace was enough,” you say touching the expensive piece of jewelry hanging around your neck.

“This might be worth more,” Jungkook finally finds it and slips it out.

It’s an envelope decorated with hand drawn hearts around and you know what it is. A tradition you’ve carried for the last 7 years. Love letters every Valentine’s Day.

He holds out the item for you to take and a smile and blush reach your face. Like second nature you reach into your bra and grab the neatly folded paper.

And like clockwork, your husband flushes up like he does every year. How cute.

You exchange letters and he holds your waist to lead you both to the living room. The environment was quiet in a peaceful and comforting manner.

You take a seat and Jungkook dims the lights a little before turning on the fire place. Finally taking the seat next to you.

You smile at each other one more time before opening your individual letters and you begin to read.

To my loving Wife and Soulmate,

Do you understand, that every single time that I see you, it feels like gravity shifts. You, my love, are the center of my universe. You’ve turned such ordinary and dull moments into supernovas of pure bliss and joy. I’m endlessly grateful for every orbit we’ve shared and will continue to share.

You’re the song that’s stuck in my head, the breath of air I didn’t know I was holding, the warmth in my favorite cup of coffee, and the reason for my happiness. You are my everything.

You are the last person that I think of before falling into sweet sleep where I dream of our life and how much better it gets by the day. Every time I hold your hand, it’s my unspoken promise to never let go. To always stay by your side.

I don’t just love you, I’m rooted in you. And I swear to choose you across every lifetime, every star, and every moment.

My sweet Y/N, I love you.

Yours, forever and always, Jeon Jungkook.

By the time you finish reading the letter you’ve already let a tear drop on the paper. Jungkook shares the same expression as he turns to face you with glossy eyes and nothing but love for you.

He grabs a hold of you and places you directly on his lap.

“Are you aware of how in love with you I am?” his question is rhetorical but you still answer it.

“I have a good idea,” you smile at your husband and lean in for a gentle and innocent kiss. Your hand placed on his shoulder. It’s adorned with your wedding ring. A memory of the happiest day of your life.

The day you became Jeon Y/N.

You recall how much your friends, who had already been married for a while, had told you that the love would fade and eventually it’s like living with a roommate.

You like to think they just didn’t marry their soulmate. Because every moment you spent with Jungkook, you spent it feeling alive and happy to be in the moment.

And you couldn’t wait to tell him the last good news of the night.

There will be a third addition to the Jeon family in nine months. Something you and Jungkook had been talking about for so long. Something you knew he was hoping for.

So when the clock hits 11:58, Jungkook is in tears, holding you with so much security.

He truly knows he won the lottery with you.

[hwallazia]

hi idk if you taking requests but if you are, heres my idea.

nerdy hongjoong chosen to do 7 minutes in heaven with you. imagine making out with him and you get whiny and moaning BUT he’s just the same as you! he’s whining and hands all over you. with his lil glasses and his hair gets messy from you tugging on his hair 😩

i love your writing and i think you’ll do great with this! looking forward to it if you decide to write this byeeeeeeee

7 MINUTES IN HELL HEAVEN – 김홍중

⋆ synopsis. being dared to do 7 minutes in heaven with the nerd wasn’t as bad as you thought.

pairing. nerdy! hongjoong & fem! reader.

wc. 1,8k

warnings. veeeery suggestive (mdni!), dry humping, making out, desperation at its peak, so much whining, implied virgin! hongjoong, reader calls joong “nerdy”, teasing, reader’s on top of hongjoong but they don’t fuck, getting caught (not fucking but in a compromising position hehe), possessive reader tehee, mention of other ateez’s members, 

nic’s notes ⋆ writing this was a ride 😮‍💨 happy belated vday, lovelies <3 also, hope u like it, dear anonnie !!

how the fuck did you end up here?

a nerd whose name was irrelevant to you, sitting next to you in a king-sized bed, chosen to do 7 minutes in heaven with you. 

you could feel the way his eyes peered holes into the back of your head as you covered your face with your palms, still unable to face reality. he fidgeted his fingers against the fabric of his fancy pants, adjusting his black glasses every now and then; heart almost beating out of his poor chest. 

you sighed, fingers holding the bridge of your nose, before turning abruptly to stare at him. his body jolted slightly in reaction. “do you even know how to kiss?”

his eyes opened wide in shock, taken aback by your sudden question. “huh?” was all he could mutter.

you groaned as you rolled your eyes, a mix of boredom and annoyance bubbling deep inside your guts. “oh my god,” you whispered under your breath, closing your eyes in denial. “you know how this game works, right?”

a soft flush of red brightened his cheeks. “i do,” he breathed, “it just seems quite inappropriate to me.”

amusement laced your tone. “inappropriate? ha! you’re a virgin, aren’t ya?” your words sounded more like a sentence than a question. 

the blush on his face grew stronger, heating his face. nervously, he blabbered. “hah?! w—why would i share that kind of information with you?!”

you chuckled at him. “yeah, you are.”

he looked at you as if you had hurt his pride as a man. so, he talked back in a poor attempt to defend himself. “no, i’m not!”

you quickly dismissed his whines, waving your hand at him uninterestedly. “yeah yeah, whatever you say, nerdy.” 

the nickname caught him off guard, confusion written all over his face; head tilted to the side. “nerdy?” 

you ignored him and got up, clapping your hands together. you stood up in front of his figure, who seemed to refuse to move from his place. you could see how his fingers had stopped grasping the fabric of his pants, shifting instead to the softness of the bed’s blankets. “okay! listen, i don’t know about you, but i’m not planning on staying here doing nothing.” you continued. “so, i’ll be your teacher today.”

you leaned forward, closer to him. “teacher?” he muttered, unsure if he could still breathe if he kept holding eye contact with you. 

“that’s right.” you rested your hands on his thighs, using them as support. “so, what’s your name, nerdy?”

“hongjoong.” he stuttered, fluttered by your closeness. he did his best to avoid looking down at your chest, fighting the urge to glance at the curve of your breasts, his focus straining to stay on your face. 

“hongjoong…” you hummed softly, slightly tilting your head. his name rolled off your tongue dangerously, almost as if you were savoring it. “pretty.”

when he said his name, you couldn’t help but analyze his face, dark irises scanning his flustered self with a huge focus. you frowned your brows softly when you realized: “he’s actually not so ugly you know…”

you nodded approvingly as you leaned even closer, your breasts now touching his own chest; lips only a few inches apart. a rush of excitement and nervousness flowed through his limbs, reddening his ears. “i’m yn.”

hongjoong whispered right on your lips. “i know.”

you chuckled, velvety tone laced with tease. “you’ve kept an eye on me for a while, hm?”

he realized he had given himself away too late. he was about to start rambling again. “i—“

his mind was desperately trying to look for an excuse, a way out of the moment of embarrassment he had put himself in; anxiety rushing through his blood. but before he could even utter a word, you smashed your lips against his, a mix of roughness and desperation coursing through you both. you didn’t waste any time before pushing your tongue into his mouth, and he hummed softly, happily accepting it. 

you leaned forward, pushing hongjoong over his back until his back was laid flat against the mattress. you didn’t break in any moment the kiss as you straddled his lap, pressing your clothed sex against his crotch. 

your hair covered his reddened face and his scrunched eyes, he was immersed in that kiss, deeply intoxicated by your aura, scent and taste. your tongue laced with his just felt right, and it awakened something deep within him. something he never experienced before. something he couldn’t quite define. 

you both were caught up in the heat of the moment, in your own world, until a voice was heard from the other side of the door, making you pull away, a string of saliva hanging from your lips and keeping you connected.

“mingi, the timer, man!” you could recognize wooyoung’s voice.

a faint “oh fuck i forgot” barely reached your eardrum. the loud boo of the whole group almost made you laugh. mingi started whining about being human and how humans make mistakes.“poor mingi” you whispered to yourself.

“y’all, mingi forgot to start the timer!” yunho started talking loud enough for the both of you to hear. “so time’s starts running from…” he paused briefly. “now!”

you turned to face hongjoong, locking gazes with him. he looked so helplessly cute under you, such a blushing mess. “lucky us, then. we got plenty of time.”

you leaned closer, grabbing his face and pulling him to you, forcing him to sit up straight whilst joining your lips together again. your fingers stroked his cheeks affectionately, slightly tilting his glasses to the side. you dominated the kiss since he wasn’t quite sure what to do, what to touch, what to feel. his hands stayed by the sides of his body, holding the sheets beneath him in a white-knuckled grip. 

your eyes remained closed as you tried to fully immerse yourself in the kiss. but with no touch from him, the lack of contact was beginning to feel both dull and unbearable. taking matters into your own hands, you broke the kiss for a brief moment just to whisper. “touch me.” you grabbed his wrists and guided them to the sides of your body, slowly trailing them to your lower back, brushing your ass. “wherever and however you want.”

with that, you dived in for another kiss, now feeling hongjoong’s hands caressing the places that your guidance allowed him to go, still a bit shy to go further. you started to get impatient, desperate. you sunk your hips down him and started swaying back and forth, trying to create some friction. the slow, rhythmic roll of your hips effortlessly coaxed moans and whines from hongjoong’s swollen lips. 

your tongues met in a heated clash, pressing, twisting, and tangling in a slow, intoxicating dance. you tried to match hongjoong’s sloppy pace, but it left you breathless, panting for air. “haa.. hongjoong— wait.”

“can’t,” was all he said before pressing his hands against your back and neck and pulling you to him, locking lips again.

but this time was different. this time hongjoong had gained enough confidence and built enough courage to start roaming his hands all over your covered back and trailing them down to your ass, playing and groping your buttocks. this time hongjoong was the one to insert his tongue into your oral cavity first. his kissing was still sloppy and unrefined, but it somehow stirred something deep in you, deep down. 

a familiar fluid started to pool down your panties, euphoric arousal coursing through your limbs, prickling your skin. your hands instinctively glided to his hair and started tugging it, your fingers laced with some locks of his fluffy hair. your panting and desperate state made hongjoong feel things he just wasn’t okay with, things that drove him up a wall. his clothed sex started to wake up, poking his pants and rising its fabric, creating a tent. his now hardened bulge tapped against your wet entrance insistently. you moaned at the feeling whilst hongjoong was doing his best to keep his whines at a low volume. spoiler: he couldn’t.

he’s a panting mess beneath you, eyes almost rolling back to his skull at the sensation, the satisfaction. the lenses of his glasses are now fogged up, the mist clouding his vision as his breath hitched in the heated air.

he exhaled. “fuck you’re too much.”

“am i?” you smirked teasingly, drowned in his expression, his state. his face was flushed from all the situation, his lips were swollen from all the kissing, his hair was messy from your fingers tugging it. and a sudden sensation of possessiveness washed over you.

your mind just couldn’t help but repeat like a mantra the word “mine”.

you were about to dive into a heated kiss again, start the kiss that’d be marked by that thought, the kiss that’d make hongjoong yours.

but just when you were about to do so, to claim the guy, the door bursted open.

wooyoung and jongho chimed in. “time’s uppp!” wooyoung blubbered, completely wasted and drunk. he stared at you and analyzed everything: the position, the ambience, the smell that lingered in the air. “oh my god, you were about to fuck.” he stated the obvious.

jongho sighed, grabbing his friend by his shoulders. “he’s drunk if y’all can’t tell.” he cleared up. “but yeah, time’s up. so get out of here and join us.” he announced before disappearing through the door. 

when the door clicked shut, you and hongjoong sighed loudly in unison and proceeded to laugh at the unintentional match, genuine smiles drawn on your faces. 

“i guess this is it then?” hongjoong spoke.

“what do you mean this is it, idiot.” you deadpanned, pulling yourself off his lap. as you brushed your hair with your fingers, trying to better it up, you continued. “you and i got unfinished business, sir.”

you winked at him before leaning in and pecking his lips. “you ain’t getting rid of me that easily.” you shared one final, brief kiss and pulled away. 

you chuckled softly before making your way towards the door, naturally bringing out your usual self when you met everyone again. “ayooo!” you hollered, being greeted by your euphoric and drunk friends as you closed the door behind you, leaving a poor flustered hongjoong sitting on the edge of the bed with an unbearable hard-on and his smart brain turned into mush.

days later, hongjoong was in the middle of a study session in the university’s library, head almost inside the philosophy book he was reading. 

suddenly, his phone vibrated against the desk, the dull brrr catching him off guard. he picked it and lit up its screen. a message from an unknown number popped up as the latest notification. his fingers swiped the screen and unlocked it, now able to read the text.

come over to my place tonight. there’s still some unfinished business we need to handle, nerdy.

a lustful glint sparkled in his eyes, and a devilish smirk curved up his lips.

everything about tonight promised to be dangerous, and neither of you was going to back down.

| masterlist

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 7!

in which i handed in a thesis proposal, caught a cold, and read some lovely fics... it's been a wild week lol

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some might also contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

baby that's why i fell into you | playinginthunderstorms/@playinginthunderstorms | 1.7k | GA

Eddie has amnesia, Buck struggles. genuinely one of the best love confessions i've read in ages <3 this had me smiling so much!!

call me what you will | ameliahart | 5.9k | E

A  continuation of 8x06 where Buck pouts, Eddie feels joy, and they fuck about it. genuinely i will eat up any and all post-8x06 fics and this is no exception... love the eddie characterisation here!!

faded from the winter | Daisies_and_Briars/@cal-daisies-and-briars | 9.9k | T

Eddie struggles to bounce back after the shooting. Buck starts leaving him with his service dog, Cranberry. cranberry fic!! i love this series so so much <3 especially love the eddiemaddie friendship in this one!

golden morning sunbeams | Buddiesmutslut/@buddiesmutslut | 10.3k | GA

As Eddie is debating his move to Texas, a few texts from his son in the middle of the day set him on a course to getting everything he's been wanting. such a fascinating look at the whole chris in texas/helena and ramon doing whatever the fuck it is that they're doing plot! so good!! and buck here is just <3

hopeless, breathless, burning slow | mostardent/@laracrofted | 14.9k | M

After the coma, Buck struggles to feel real and unofficially moves in with Eddie. there's some gorgeous gorgeous imagery in this one <3 one of the best post-coma fics ever!!

let me give you my life | paleredheadinascifi | 6.4k | T

another take on what happened after the couch scene. Eddie *wants*. They're both brave about it. they're so brave about it <3 wonderful fic!!

slaughterhouse | kithmet/@kithmet | 21.3k | E

Eddie announces he’s leaving. Buck, naturally, begins a slow descent to madness. such a stunning fic it genuinely left me speechless... the most beautiful codependent freak4freak buddie <3 an immediate bookmark for sure!!

take two falls out of three | doitgently/@doitbuckley | 16.3k | M

Eddie tries to go to Texas. What do you get when you cross a man and an eighteen-wheeler truck? such a fantastic look at chris and eddie's relationship <3 beautiful writing!!

the moon like a spotlight | dykeries/@buddiesbian | 4.7k | E

Three months after Eddie moves to El Paso, Buck comes to visit. this is sappy and soft and also funny (the starnaming!!) and just so very perfect <3

the rainbows we chase | timeshareindestin/@timeshareindestin | 5.8k | M

buck accidentally makes an appointment for their first kiss. the proposals!! i love the proposals!! love is stored in the calendar indeed <3 so so good!

too far from the sun | idiotsinkdaisies/@idiotsinkdaisies | 9k | M

Where Eddie Diaz spends time in El Paso, and handles it fine. Buck is back in Los Angeles, and Eddie does not feel the hundreds of miles between them like a physical ache. (He might be lying to himself.) blanket rec for an author whose work i've been LOVING this week!! this one has the most stunning writting and eddie characterisation and i love it so much <3

u/fuckley's reddit post history. | dylaesthetics | 7.9k | M

the emotional rollercoaster of Buck’s Reddit posts throughout the history of knowing Eddie. this is such a brilliantly formatted fic!! i read this on a cold dark bus back home and it was exactly what i needed <3

what if all i need is you | serenelystrange/@serenelystrange | 3k | GA

“Eddie doesn’t even like men,” Buck says with a frown. “I asked.” “Of course you did,” Chim says, dropping his head into his hand with a murmured whisper of *Jesus Christ*. another blanket rec for an author who's been posting some truly brilliant works <3 this one is soft and fun and has such lovely firefam interactions!!

with a little water and a little bit of sunlight | teaspoonmoon/@young-waverer | 4.7k | T

The one where it's not Homes.com but it's also not porn on the iPad. such a lovely alternate ipad-scene <3 so sweet!! i love the dialogue here especially!

[littleindulgences]

If he were in the business of being honest with himself, Simon would admit that he was actually kind of nervous. He turns the blank white envelope over and over in his hands, watching you from across the mess hall. You’re sitting with a squad of recruits today, getting to know them for reasons he can’t fathom. Your smile warms him all the way from here.

“Ye just got to do it, LT,” Soap remarks with his mouth full. “‘S the only way to put it to rest.” Simon just grunts. He’s still a little loath to admit that he has a crush on you—it’s childish, and embarrassing, and compromising…

But he can’t help it.

He watches you exit the mess, the recruits trailing after you like ducklings. The envelope twists in his hands.

“She’s got range duty for the next two hours,” John says with raised eyebrows as he takes a sip of his drink. Simon purses his lips under the mask. His team stares at him pointedly.

“Ah, fuck off,” he grumbles, rising from the bench and walking off. “Arseholes.”

“Good luck, LT!” Soap calls after him. Simon flips him the bird. The Scot’s cackle follows him out.

Ghost wanders into the barracks, taking a winding, looping route that doesn’t do anything but make his apprehension worse. He finally forces himself to take Johnny’s advice and just fucking do it, and he marches right up to your locked door and slips the envelope underneath.

There. Nothing more to do but wait.

What the fuck. What the fuck. The note lays flat on your cot, rather unassuming, except for the newspaper-cutout letters and the thick black marker scrawling out a time, a place, and “You’ll Be Mine” with a little heart underneath.

“Well that’s…terrifying,” says Alicia, your bunkmate.

“Mhm,” you say. You’ve been staring at it for five minutes.

You found the envelope on the floor when you came back from training. It was blank except for the puppy dog sticker on the back, clearly intended to mimic your callsign: Watchdog. You’d opened it without a thought and found this, a threat/ransom note of what you think was meant to be a valentine.

“You’re not gonna go, are you?” Alicia asks.

You suck in a breath through your teeth and make a noncommittal noise. Alicia throws her hands up.

“Babe. You will get snatched if you go.”

“Not necessarily! Besides, if I go, then I know who sent this to me and can like…confront them or something,” you defend.

“Or you could take this to Price and report it,” Alicia deadpans, ever the voice of reason. You wave her off. She rolls her eyes and stands, bumping your shoulder. “Whatever. I’m heading out, my girlfriend’s waiting for me. Please try not to get kidnapped?”

“I’ll do my best,” you reply and give her a peck on the cheek.

But there are no guarantees in your line of work, and this is no exception. You narrow your eyes at the note. Bring it on.

You came. Holy shit this is farther than Simon thought he’d get. His palms feel sweaty. Did it get hot out all of a sudden?

“Ghost, you gotta calm down, mate,” Gaz whispers, motioning at him to breathe.

“I’m fine,” Simon snaps. You’re right there, turning every so often, peering into the dark with that look of concentration he loves on you. He can imagine the way your nose wrinkles and the way your tongue pokes between your teeth.

Simon shakes himself. Get it together, soldier.

“Alright, it’s go time!” Johnny whispers, and nudges Simon out of the shadows. “Go get ‘er LT!”

Simon takes one last deep breath and starts across the field to you.

Whoever invited you here is fuckin�� late. You’ve always been of the mind that early is on time and on time is late, which is most people’s opinion here anyway. And the note said 2100 hours! It’s coming up on 2105 now.

The note didn’t even name a meeting place, either, just coordinates that led to the massive oak tree behind the shooting range. Which isn’t suspicious at all. You turn in a slow circle every so often—head on a swivel and all that. While you were all bravado with Alicia earlier, you were a little tiny bit worried that maybe something would happen. You made sure to bring your bear mace with you, in the end. Just in case.

You’re about to call it quits and head back when a huge meaty hand falls on your shoulder.

Before you can blink you’ve whipped around, depressing what has to be half the canister on your attacker. They crumple, and you take the chance to plant your hands on their shoulders and your knee in their balls, sending them into the dirt. You take off running. Your heart climbs into your throat. Holy shit, Alicia was right!

You’re so caught up in your escape that you don’t notice where you’re going until you run smack into a barrel chest. Strong hands catch your arms and hold you upright.

“Woah, woah, lass! What was that?” It’s Soap, and he’s staring at you with a mix of horror and confusion. You see Gaz sprint off in the corner of your eye.

You’re out of breath. “I-I got this weird-ass note earlier,” you try to explain, “and it said to come out here? But it didn’t say who it was from and ‘Licia was worried I’d get kidnapped, and then that creep showed up—”

“That’s not a creep, that’s fuckin’ Ghost!”

“Huh?” You twist, and sure enough, Gaz is helping Ghost’s hulking form off the ground, supporting him as he struggles against the effects of the mace. Fuck.

Gaz and Simon stagger over. “We need to get him to medical,” Gaz says. You bury your face in your hands.

You sit awkwardly on a stool next to Ghost’s cot as the nurses irrigate his face. Price, Gaz, and Soap hover in the corner, talking quietly amongst themselves and occasionally looking over at you. You’d shown them the note Ghost had apparently given you.

Eventually the nurses leave Ghost be for a minute, and that’s when Price jumps in.

“Okay,” he starts, then turns to you. “Watch, you aren’t being stalked. Ghost wanted to give you a valentine rather than actually talk to you, against our advice.” Then he turns to Ghost. “Simon. Why.”

Ghost shrugs and frowns down at his lap. “You all said that valentines are ‘sposed to be secret. I knew she’d recognize my handwriting, so I improvised.”

“And you didn’t think that maybe you could just type something up?” Gaz asks. Simon shrugs again, but you can tell he’s blushing under the mask.

“Soap said handmade ones are better,” he admits quietly. The group turns to Soap. He gapes.

“Oh, like this is my fault,” he grumbles.

“I’m sorry for startling you,” Simon says, addressing you directly for the first time. “I just wanted…” He trails off, glares down at his lap.

“I’m sorry for macing you,” you tell him. “And for kneeing you in the balls.” Price facepalms beside you and you scramble to think of something else. “I—I liked the dog sticker, though!”

“Yeah?” Simon glances up at you. You can tell he’s grinning, and you smile back.

“Yeah,” you say. “Put him in my notebook.” The both of you sit there, smiling at each other like idiots.

“All right, ye two, tone it down,” Johnny chimes in, and Gaz elbows him. Price rolls his eyes and herds them out. You watch them leave, then turn back to Ghost. He’s picking at his cuticles, a rare show of vulnerability.

“Simon?” you say before you can overthink it.

“Mm?” He looks up at you. A stray sunbeam touches his face, turning his puffy, red-rimmed eyes into melted chocolate. You feel yourself flush.

“Would you…maybe want to go to dinner sometime?” you ask. Simon straightens on the tiny cot, and yeah, he’s really smiling now. Your heart kicks up a few notches.

“I’d love to,” he says. “Please don’t bring the mace.”

[meadowfics]

suddenly, you're my valentine

se-mi x f!reader

your bestfriend turned lover gives you a good valentine's day

warnings: friends to lovers. reader has issues with love.

valentine’s day has always been bittersweet for you.

no matter how much you try to ignore it, the ache of loneliness never fails to creep in. everywhere you turn, there are couples holding hands, exchanging gifts, sharing soft kisses.

reminders of the love you’ve always wanted but never truly had.

you’ve never had good luck in love.

every time you let someone in, they leave.

maybe it’s you. maybe you’re just not meant to be loved the way you hope for.

so, when you wake up to a bouquet of deep red roses sitting on your nightstand, your heart stutters. confusion swirls in your chest because no one has ever done something like this for you.

did someone get into your house? there is only one person who has a key to your apartment besides you.

attached to the bouquet is a small envelope, your name written neatly in handwriting you recognize instantly..

semi’s.

your best friend,

the other person who has a key to your apartment.

your lips twitch into a small smile as you open the card.

nside, there’s a note written in semi’s familiar, neat script:

happy valentine’s day, y/n. get ready, i’m picking you up at 7. wear something nice.

your heart races.

semi’s always been sweet to you, but this feels… different. still, you push down the lingering hope that bubbles in your chest, telling yourself that she’s just being the best friend she’s always been.

at exactly seven, semi arrives, a small grin on her lips as she stands at your door with a single red rose in hand.

she looks stunning, dressed in a dark red blouse that complements her effortlessly, her dark hair styled just right.

your breath catches for a second.

“wow,” you murmur, before you can stop yourself.

“you clean up nice.”

semi chuckles, handing you the rose.

“you look beautiful, y/n.”

your face heats up at the compliment, but you shake it off. this is just semi being semi.

nothing more.

she takes you to one of the nicest restaurants in the city, one you’ve always wanted to go to but never had the chance. the candlelit ambiance, the soft music, the way semi’s eyes never leave you.

it all feels so intimate, so much like a date, and yet you don’t let yourself believe it.

“so,” you say, swirling your drink, trying to ignore the way your heart is betraying you.

“what’s all this for? i mean, i know it’s valentine’s day, but this seems like… a lot.”

semi leans forward slightly, her fingers playing with the stem of her wine glass.

“you deserve it.”

you scoff, shaking your head.

“i don’t know about that.”

se-mi's brows furrow, lips pressing into a thin line.

“why do you do that?”

“do what?”

“act like you’re not worthy of good things. of love.”

your stomach twists.

“because I do not feel like I am worthy, semi.”

semi's expression softens, but there’s a certain intensity in her gaze that makes it hard to hold.

“that’s not true.”

you don’t know what to say to that, so you focus on your food, pretending like your heart isn’t hammering in your chest.

the night continues with semi making sure you feel special, treating you with so much tenderness it nearly makes you want to cry.

she pays the bill before you can argue, and when you step outside, the cool night air kissing your skin, she turns to you with a small smile.

“one more surprise,” she says, taking your hand in hers.

you don’t question it.

you never do when it comes to semi.

she drives you to a secluded hilltop, where a blanket is already set up with fairy lights twinkling softly around it. there’s a small box sitting at the center of the blanket.

“semi…” your voice is barely above a whisper, overwhelmed by everything she’s done for you tonight.

she gestures for you to sit, and when you do, she hands you the box. with hesitant hands, you open it, only to find a delicate silver bracelet inside, a small charm hanging from it..

your initial intertwined with hers.

your breath hitches.

“semi… this is… this is beautiful.”

you smile up at her.

"you're such a good best friend, semi."

she watches you carefully, lips parting slightly like she’s holding something back. then, she finally speaks.

“i didn’t do this as your best friend, y/n.”

your fingers tighten around the bracelet. your heartbeat thunders in your ears.

“what… what do you mean?”

semi exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair.

“i did this because i’m in love with you.”

everything stills.

your eyes snap to hers, searching, needing to know if she’s serious.

there’s no hesitation, no doubt in her gaze.

“you’re lying.” the words leave your lips before you can stop them.

“you… you don’t love me like that. i’m not even your type, semi.”

she shakes her head, frustration flickering across her face.

“what does that even mean, y/n? you’ve always been my type. I just...i didn’t know how to tell you without scaring you away.”

your breath shudders as you take in her words, your emotions a tangled mess inside of you.

all this time, you’ve convinced yourself that you weren’t enough. that love wasn’t meant for you.

however, here she is. semi, your best friend, the only person who has ever truly seen you...telling you that she loves you.

before you can think, before doubt can creep in, you surge forward, crashing your lips against hers.

semi freezes for a split second before responding with just as much urgency, her hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer.

the kiss is desperate, filled with all the emotions you’ve buried for so long.

your hands tangle in her hair, and she groans softly into your mouth, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. your plump lips attaching to hers..

it’s intoxicating, the way she tastes, the way she feels against you.

when you finally pull away, breathless, foreheads pressed together, you whisper,

“i love you too, semi. happy valentine’s day.”

she lets out a shaky laugh, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

“best valentine’s day ever.”

masterlist

[reveriebae]

You Wrote That For Me, Didn't You?

pairing(s) : Idol!Yunho x Atiny!reader

word count : 1931

summary : After casually revealing your face on Tumblr, a well-known smut writer attend an ATEEZ fan meet, unaware of the consequences. When you sit in front of Yunho, something feels off—the way he looks at you, the way he lingers. Then, just before her time is up, he drops a bombshell. He follows your account. He’s read everything. And he’s not letting you go that easily.

genre : suggestive

warning(s) : Slight dub-con vibes (power imbalance), heavy tension, teasing, suggestive language, explicit themes, idol-reader dynamics, Yunho being way too confident and knowing, mild obsession undertones, reader’s worst (or best?) nightmare coming true. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N : this one got my toes curling SKSKKSKSKSK. Should I make part two?🤔

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐fic under the cut🪐

You never thought twice before posting your fics. Why would you? It was just writing—just words strung together for thirsty Atinys who craved something a little more. Some of your works had gone viral, and you had a loyal following of readers who loved every filthy thing you put out.

So when you finally did a face reveal on your Tumblr, you didn’t think much of it. A casual selfie, captioned with something dumb like “Since y’all keep asking… here, take it”. A few hundred likes, some teasing comments, and that was that.

No big deal.

At least, that’s what you thought.

The excitement of the fan meet buzzed in your veins as you finally sat down in front of Yunho. Seeing him this close was unreal—the warmth of his presence, the way his smile reached his eyes, the deep, smooth hum of his voice as he greeted you.

But something felt off.

You couldn’t quite place it at first. It was subtle—just the way his gaze lingered, a little longer than it should. The way he studied your face like he was placing you, as if you weren’t just another fan in his long line of meet-and-greet interactions.

Then came the compliment.

“You’re really pretty in person,” he murmured, and his voice had a weight to it, like there was something more behind the words.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Ah—thank you!”

The response felt automatic, but your brain was still trying to process the way he was looking at you. Not just with the usual idol-to-fan warmth, but with something… different. Like he knew you.

His fingers tapped lightly against the table, rhythmic and patient, as if he was waiting for something. Then, just as the staff was about to signal your turn was up, Yunho leaned in ever so slightly.

And then he said it.

“You should be more careful about what you post, Jagiya.”

Your body stiffened.

Your mind blanked.

Did he just—

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at him, eyes widening in pure, unfiltered panic. But Yunho? Yunho just smiled. A slow, knowing curve of his lips, dark amusement flickering in his gaze.

“I follow you on Tumblr,” he continued, voice dropping just enough that only you could hear. His tone was smooth, casual, like he was discussing the weather. Like he wasn’t completely wrecking your reality in real time.

Your stomach twisted. No, this had to be a joke. A coincidence. There was no way—

“Mm.” His fingers brushed against the table, casual and lazy. “I recognized you the moment I saw your selfie.”

Oh, God.

Oh, God.

You had so much smut on that account. And not just any smut—detailed, filthy scenarios that had Yunho doing things that could get you banned just for thinking about them too hard.

“I—” Your voice came out weak, shaky, and you were suddenly painfully aware of how warm your face was.

Yunho chuckled, the sound low and pleased. “You look flustered,” he mused. “Why? You weren’t shy when you wrote all those things about me.”

He was teasing you.

No—he was toying with you.

Your fingers clenched around the edge of the table as you swallowed hard, trying to force your brain to work. But you could barely breathe under his gaze, let alone form a response.

He leaned in just a little more, close enough that you could catch the faintest hint of his cologne. His voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the edge behind it when he said—

“You wrote that for me, didn’t you?”

Your time was up.

The staff was gently urging you to move along, but you couldn’t move—wouldn’t—until Yunho tilted his head, gaze flickering to the line behind you.

Then, just before you stood up, he murmured one last thing—low, quiet, for your ears only.

“See you later, baby.”

You walked away from the table in a daze.

The voices of other fans, the bright lights, the excited chatter—everything blurred into a distant hum, like white noise. Your body moved on instinct, following the line toward the exit, but your mind was stuck. Frozen.

Yunho knew.

Yunho read your fics.

Yunho—Jeong Yunho—had been watching your blog, scrolling through your late-night thirst posts, reading every filthy thought you had ever put into words.

Your breath shuddered as you stepped outside the venue, the cool night air doing little to calm the heat burning under your skin. Your heart was pounding—too fast, too hard—like you had just run miles instead of sitting for a harmless fan meet.

Except it wasn’t harmless.

Because Yunho’s voice was still ringing in your ears.

"You wrote that for me, didn't you?"

A shiver ran down your spine, and you had to physically shake your head, trying to snap yourself out of it. No. No, there was no way this was real. Maybe you had misheard him. Maybe he was just teasing.

Maybe—

Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

You nearly dropped it when you pulled it out, fingers trembling as you glanced at the screen. A notification from Tumblr. Someone had just liked one of your posts.

A post from two years ago.

Your stomach dropped.

Slowly, hesitantly, you opened the app. The notification led you straight to the post—a particularly filthy piece about Yunho, one that had gone semi-viral when you first wrote it. And sitting right there, at the top of the notes—

A new like.

From a user you didn’t recognize.

Your pulse hammered as you clicked on the profile. It was nearly empty—just a default avatar, no posts, no bio. But there was one thing.

The blog name.

"ateezyunho1999."

Your mouth went dry.

No. No, no, no, this had to be a joke.

Then another notification popped up.

A message.

Your vision blurred for a second as you forced yourself to tap on it, breath shallow as you read the words.

"Come outside."

A pause.

Then—

"I'll be waiting."

Your hands shook as you stared at the message.

You could feel your own pulse in your throat, hammering like a warning. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. Yunho was an idol. A celebrity. There was no way he would actually—

Your phone buzzed again.

The third message.

"Don't make me wait, baby."

The air in your lungs turned heavy. Your brain screamed at you to walk away, to ignore it, to go home and pretend none of this ever happened.

But your body?

Your body was already moving.

Like you had no control over yourself, your feet carried you toward the back of the venue, slipping past groups of lingering fans, past the staff still bustling around. You shouldn’t be doing this. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this.

And yet—

As soon as you turned the corner, stepping into the dimly lit alley behind the building, you felt him before you even saw him.

Yunho.

He was leaning against the side of a sleek black car, one hand tucked into the pocket of his coat, the other holding his phone. The glow of the screen lit up his face, casting soft shadows along the sharp angles of his jawline. But it wasn’t the way he looked that sent a shiver down your spine.

It was the way he smirked when he saw you.

Slowly, he slipped his phone into his pocket, pushing off the car as he took a step toward you.

“You listen well,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk. “That’s good.”

You should have said something. Anything. But your tongue felt heavy, thoughts tangled into knots as you stood frozen in place.

Yunho tilted his head, eyes flickering over you in a slow, deliberate sweep. His gaze was too knowing, too intimate—like he had already stripped you down in his mind.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d actually come,” he continued, his tone almost teasing. “But then again…”

A pause.

Then—

“I know what you want.”

Your breath caught.

Yunho chuckled, the sound deep and satisfied. He took another step forward, closing the distance between you inch by inch. He was so tall, so effortlessly imposing, and when he finally stopped in front of you, the heat of his body was enough to make your skin prickle.

“You didn’t think I’d notice you, did you?” His voice dipped lower, smooth like honey but edged with something darker. “You wrote all those filthy little things about me, and yet, when I look at you now…”

He reached out, fingers brushing along the side of your jaw, so lightly it almost wasn’t a touch at all.

“You look so shy.”

A slow smirk curled at his lips as he leaned in, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

“Tell me, baby.” His voice was a whisper now, barely audible, but it wrapped around you like a vice.

“Do I match your imagination?”

Your breath came shallow, uneven.

The question sent a violent shiver through you.

You wanted to deny it. To shake your head, pretend you weren’t completely unraveling under his gaze. But the moment you tried to step back, his hand moved.

A firm grip on your chin.

Not rough, not forceful—just enough to keep you still. Enough to make your knees weaken.

He hummed, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. His thumb brushed along your lower lip, and his gaze darkened.

“You’re not answering,” he murmured. “That’s cute.”

Your heart pounded so hard it hurt.

This was dangerous. This was a situation you had only ever fantasized about—except now, reality was so much worse. Because in your fics, Yunho was just a character, a version of him built from your own desires.

But this Yunho?

This Yunho was real. And he had read everything.

His thumb pressed against your lip, just enough to make you part them. The smirk that followed was pure sin.

“Mm,” he mused, tilting his head slightly. “I wonder…”

He let the word hang in the air as his fingers trailed down, a featherlight touch along the column of your throat. A tease. A warning.

“Does the way I touch you match your imagination, too?”

Heat pooled deep in your stomach, a slow, unbearable ache curling at your core. Your body betrayed you before you could even think—back arching just slightly, like you were reaching for more.

Yunho saw it.

And he liked it.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest, deep and pleased. “Ah,” he sighed, thumb tapping against your chin. “So responsive.”

Then, just when you thought he might close the distance completely, he pulled back just enough. Enough to leave you breathless, desperate.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch was deceptively gentle, like he wasn’t the same man who had just whispered filth into your ear moments ago.

Then, his lips curled again. That smirk.

“I should get going,” he said casually, like he hadn’t just ruined you with a few words and touches.

Your body screamed in protest, but before you could even think of stopping him, he was already turning toward the sleek black car parked nearby.

The door opened. He paused. Then—

He glanced back over his shoulder, eyes locking onto yours one last time.

“Don’t stop writing,” he murmured. “I like seeing what you come up with.”

A slow, teasing wink.

And then—

He was gone.

[makeyoumine69]

valentines with patrick pls but it ends with patrick being miserable 🙏

Perfect

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Can love truly conquer inner demons, or does walking away become the bravest Valentine’s gift of all?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Implied smut and a lot of angst.

𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: [MASTERLIST]; [MY IMAGINES AND SHORT REQUESTS].

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐂: My Darkest Days—Perfect💌

𝐀/𝐍: I want to wish everyone a happy Valentine's Day! Never stop believing in love! And thank you so much for this request because it fits my current mood a lot!💔

The more Patrick got to know you, the more he realized how pure-hearted and kind you were, literally perfect. And at some point he couldn't stand it anymore, because how could you be so perfect? Even the way you laughed was perfect and your smile was as bright as a summer day in New York. The very day the two of you met. And somehow, Bateman knew from the beginning that your presence in his life would change everything, including himself, and he was not ready or happy for that.

But the moment you opened the window in the dark room, you couldn't blame the light coming in and eliminating everything around you, because that's how things work in our world. Simple physical laws against which we are all helpless. And every single second that Patrick was thinking about why he couldn't hurt you physically or mentally, he was suffering from the stabbing pain in his chest, as if his heart was locked in the chains of molten iron.

The man was trying to find an answer that simply didn't exist.

Finally, in desperation, Bateman even considered asking you this question—what was so special about you? Besides the fact that you were just perfect for him? And maybe for the world? But every time he tried to question you, the two of you ended up lost in the fire of passion that you couldn't control, not that you really wanted to control it. Those raw, vivid emotions soon became his most addictive drug because he could finally feel himself alive. The intimacy he despised became a need he couldn't live without, and he was so damn grateful to you that you didn't see it as his weakness. You were just being yourself, accepting him as he was.

But when the woman loved a man and the man loved a woman, but in his twisted way, it couldn't be easy, even though Patrick really tried to make it work. He just knew that one day his own rage would take over and he'd kill you—never in his life did he feel so disgusted than when he imagined your blood on his hands. And it was weird as hell.

"...and we are going to have a little kitten," you murmured, sitting next to Patrick on the warm carpet by the fireplace. "Oh God, I never asked if you even like cats..."

Trapped in his thoughts, Patrick didn't seem to notice your small talk, but when you put your head on his shoulder, he flinched a little, but didn't push you away. "I, uh, never really thought about it," he replied, looking at you. "Tell me something, darling. Are you happy here?"

With a broad smile, you giggled and hugged his arm. "Of course I am happy! Spending Valentine's Day not anywhere but in Aspen seems like a dream!"

"Dream?"

"Yes, very much like a dream," you added, glancing back at him with your doe eyes, where the fire sparks were glimmering. "I know it doesn't seem like much to you. But to me it's like a winter fairytale come true."

Bateman hummed and instinctively pecked your forehead, then your temple, until his warm lips found yours; you didn't hesitate and kissed him back, hugging his strong neck and brushing his slicked-back hair a little. There was something desperate about the way the man held you in his embrace, but you overlooked it, unable to think of anything but the heat radiating from his sturdy body.

"I must say, you always have the best way with words," he whispered into your neck before nipping at your sensitive skin, sending little shivers through your slightly trembling form. "And I like it."

You couldn't stop yourself from laughing when Patrick rubbed his nose against your neck and unintentionally tickled you. "Uh, Patrick!" You snickered and turned away from him. "Too many compliments from you today. Did something happen?"

Silence fell over the spacious room, only the faint ticking of the fireplace could be heard for a while before Bateman pulled you onto his lap and pressed you against his chest so you could hear his steady heartbeat—the soft material of his sweater felt so comforting you thought you were going to burst into tears from how much you loved this man. 

"No, nothing happened," he finally replied, stroking the top of your head. "Just a little nervous about the main surprise I prepared for you."

"Huh?"

"After we're done with our planned events, I'd like to present it to you," Bateman cupped your face, his lips curled into that classic boy-next-door smile that always had the most charming effect on you. "So, have you ever been to the hot springs?"

Before heading out to the best springs in Colorado, not far from Aspen, the two of you made snowmen and played snowball before you decided to compete with Patrick in strength, trying to knock him down only to end up being pushed into the big pile of snow. After laughing for a while, Bateman noticed your slightly offended look, and the next thing you knew, the man turned around and fell on his back next to you, leaving you both giggling at how silly you both looked. But you didn't care because you were lying together in the snow, holding hands and looking up at the sky, which was so clean and white, as if it was covered with snow as well. 

Was this even real?

Later, in Glenwood Springs, you found out that there were almost only two of you, and that privacy helped a lot when you were swimming naked in the hot springs, exhaling the white steam because the temperature around you was quite low. 

Skin against skin, his eager lips on yours, drowning out all the little moans that tried to escape your trembling throat as he rubbed your swollen folds while you were both still submerged in the water. You wanted to claw at his skin, leaning on his shoulders and throwing your head back to give him more space as he kissed you here and there. 

Patrick, mmhm, please, don’t stop.

The man longed to etch those words into his mind, along with the intoxicating sensation of owning you in every possible way. And if your soul could be touched, he could swear he would touch it with a tenderness he had never known before. Because finding someone with a pure soul was something so rare these days. Something almost surreal. Something Bateman secretly thirsted for, but realized too late.

When you came back to Aspen to the luxurious winter house he rented, you spent a dear hour reading The Great Gatsby and even though Patrick kept commenting on how stupid and pathetic it was of Gatsby to try to impress an arrogant bitch like Daisy, you both enjoyed the evening anyway because you could listen to him read the passages forever—his voice was the most beautiful sound you had ever heard. Still, you never really confessed it to him, thinking he would call you silly and... too romantic? Too emotional?

Emotions, emotions, emotions.

Having sex with someone doesn't mean you have feelings for them. Loving someone doesn't always mean it will last forever. Only losing someone feels like something permanent. And Patrick couldn't let that happen.

When you were busy cooking something for dinner, Bateman literally came out of nowhere, hugged you from behind, and inhaled your scent with his eyes closed. Every little detail of you mattered, every little thing—the way you exhaled in surprise, almost jumping up, and the way you were embarrassed when he slipped his hands under your top to tease your nipples, making them hard and sensitive. And as the pot slowly simmered on the small fire, you both worshipped each other, giving everything you had, until Patrick reached his limit and lifted you up only to place you on the kitchen counter, wiping everything from its surface. Almost immediately, without wasting a second, the man began to undo your pants, kneading your breasts and leaving wet trails of kisses along your belly, and when he reached your mound, he nuzzled against it and you could swear you saw his eyes shimmer, but not from fire or anything. 

Were those tears?

…

You kept asking yourself the same question a month later. 

How many times did you read the notebook he gave you as his "main suprise" for Valentine's Day? The gift that unintentionally broke your heart and made you doubt if you could ever fall in love again. Holding a small notebook in your hands, you opened it and traced a finger along his somewhat chaotic handwriting, then the little doodles he made, until you turned several pages and stopped on the last one, where a beautiful doodle of your little figure was drawn. And that short phrase written in the top right corner that said 'I love you', that always made you cry, but after reading it so many times now, all you felt was a void. As if everything that made you feel alive had been erased from you in the most brutal way.

Why did he leave you like this? Why couldn't he just tell you that he had met someone else? Probably someone more beautiful by today's standards. Someone he would be proud to show off in public. Why did he choose to use the fear of hurting you as an excuse? Why?

You would never believe it. It was just impossible to believe that the man who treated you like his treasure could leave you because he was afraid of hurting you, because he thought you would find someone "better", because he thought he didn't deserve you at all. Covering your face in your hands, you closed your eyes and cried, the notebook falling to your feet. But the words written inside had already left deep scars on your mind.

"...all those days when I thought about losing you, I realized that I was so selfish, thinking only of myself and never of you. So now I'm finally thinking about you, my love. Please don't cry, I hate to see you cry. And please forgive me for everything I've done. There won't be a single day that I don't think about the time we spent together. I just want you to be happy and ALIVE. With me...that wouldn't be possible. I love you...I'm sorry. I really am."

The rain fell in a steady rhythm, tapping against the windowpane like a melancholy melody. Patrick stood in the shadows, just beyond the glow of the streetlamp, his coat damp and clinging to his shoulders. From here he could see you through the frosted glass of the café, sitting alone at a corner table, a book in your hands. You looked the same, but different. 

Concentrating on reading, you laughed at something in the book, and the sound carried through the glass, piercing his chest like a blade. Bateman wanted to go inside, to sit across from you and tell you everything—how he had never stopped loving you, how he had watched you from afar, how he had spent every day since he left you trying to become someone worthy of you. But he didn't move. He couldn't.

Because he knew that even now, after all this time, he still wasn't enough.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

[nightscythe]

light sides of the primarchs' relationships

happy valentine’s day!! this one is a bit happier than the 'dark sides' one for obvious reasons. as always just my opinion. if there is anything else you would like to see, let me know! enjoy!!

18+, it's not necessarily nsfw but suggestive themes. based on pre-heresy interpretations.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

the lion: the ultimate protector. you'd never feel unsafe in his presence. not just from legitimate threats, but.. waking up in the morning to find his arms around you, eyes watching you, lips ghosting your hair as though he would never be able to let you go. you're minding your own business reading a book or listening to others talk, and even though he's on the other side of the room he's still watching, calculating, making sure every single person near you is treating you well. if anyone did try anything? nice knowing them. you become his priority. his endless war. nothing will ever harm you again, except maybe him, on his endless war with making you feel every ounce of pleasure the universe can offer. ;)

fulgrim: is also your best friend, but not in the typical guy way. he's literally invested in every single one of your stories, he knows everyone's little secret, he comes back to you with tales he's learnt and weekly scandalous gossip. he knows everything about you. it's not even deliberate either, he's just so in sync with you that he could take a wild guess and still get it right. nights together can feature many things, all of which are thoroughly enjoyed due to his ability to perfect every single thing he does, but knowing there will never be a time you cannot talk to him about something? knowing he'd give you the best advice, more accurate responses, it's very comforting.

perty: you know everything with him is genuine. he would never lie to you, and that may be hard to swallow at first, but really? its a godsend. he'd not try to make you feel better by telling you a slight truth, he'd rather help you to move past it, work on the issue, etc. and that's why, a long way down the line when he does give you infrequent but honest words about his love for you, it means more than anything. there is not someone in the galaxy that you could trust more than this man, not with your life, your secrets, or your heart. and really, it would only ever get stronger over time.

the khan: enjoyably unpredictable. a man who values freedom always would be. he uses his instincts in everything and therefore it may not always be easy to know what he's going to do next. would encourage you to do things you may never have thought about, shows you new parts of the galaxy and introduces you to topics and concepts you knew nothing about before him. for that reason, he's an absolute storm when you are alone. completely unpredictable and completely dedicated to pleasing you. he's also just enjoyable to be around. he may be a touch arrogant and quick tempered, but he's witty, sarcastic, and excellent with his successful attempts to rile you up with teases.

leman: his love is very pure and built on a huge amount of respect. small gifts, tokens of appreciation, oh its all coming out with him. 'made me think of you' type thing and it's the most beautifully designed canvas that you know he wouldn't have just stumbled across. of course this is very different to how everyone else sees him, and no one would believe you. uses that to his advantage. loses all sense of practicality though when it comes to you and would probably show you 110% of his emotions even when he didn't intend to. his heart is in it, no half measures, you're his entire world now and as long as you will let him, he will love you for the rest of his life.

dorn: he is cold, but there is that burning fire that rages beneath. and when the cracks are fully formed? its impossible to ignore. he will not say I love you, but show you he loves you. there are never ups and downs, no maybes - its always a definite. if you need something? he gets it. you are worried about something? there is no need to worry for it any longer. he plans, he knows what to do to help you, he would never give reason to doubt that 1. he could protect you, and 2. his unwavering loyalty to you. does everything in his power to please you, particularly in the physical manner. when he's around, everything feels intense, and its oh so hard to ignore.

curze: he's trying. he is. you can see it each day. sometimes its not obvious, but he really does watch other people and try to imitate what they do to show you the love you deserve. because in his mind? you deserve it all. would he ever tell you that. no. he'd find it stupid. he'd rather keep it all to himself. but sometimes he bottles too much inside and it all comes out, all at once, every feeling he has. in that moment he just needs someone to hold him, reassure him, and be there to feel the love that follows. of course it isn't conventional, but even if he just taught you tarot, explained his twisted thoughts, tried to show you your fate - he's sharing a part of him that he'd not let another see.

sanguinius: effortlessly devoted, but not in the obsessive, overbearing way. you can see it in his eyes. he doesn't need to worship the ground you walk on or call in a choir to sing about you, you can just feel it. the small gestures. something so meaningful but so tiny that it almost snaps reality. helping you to braid your hair. trying his best to help you with something that he could have just ignored. listening to you with intent - not because he loves you so much he doesn't want to look away, but because he wants to hear you. listen to you. understand everything he can about you. it's so natural to him and warms you every time. something something doesn't care what time of the month it is either.

ferrus: always pushes you to be the best version of yourself. of course I have covered the bad side of this, but provided it's tamed, he understands there are limits, it can be rewarding. he will always reassure you that he doesn't need you to be perfect to love you, and would always encourage you to make decisions which benefited you - not anyone else. you'd also get to see his emotions, a rarity, knowing he only trusts so many to see him like that. a national accompaniment to this is that he pays a lot of attention to you. knows you extremely well. so if you ever argue, or don't talk for whatever reason.. be sure to engage the full ferrus apology - bedroom and all. crafts you really nice things too (of course)

angron: love is the only quiet he gets from pain. when you see him at ease, even for only a few moments, you can rest assured knowing that you were helping him. when he holds your hand, when he stands before you and defends you with his whole being, when he lets you fall into his arms and hesitantly wraps them around you. you know then that it's true. because he wouldn't do that for anyone else, and he couldn't physically do that if he did not have a moment of reprieve. and he knew as well that you gave him a chance, saw him for more than what everyone else did. that means more to him that anything.

rob: truly appreciates you. like, will show you, will make sure you know, will do anything in his power to make sure you're aware that the only reason he has an ounce of sanity left is because of you. you're the only person he will pause everything for, he will turn everything off to listen to you and your thoughts, he will actively seek your opinion on things he knows you would be happy to give it on, etctec. he just treats you like an equal. and considering who he is, that may be hard. but he does value you. yes he is pulled in every direction by all his duties but he knows where the limit is, and if either of you are reaching it, he will do what he can to make sure you feel happy and secure.

morty: it's those quiet moments that really stand out. when he lets his guard down for just a second, when he finally trusts you and knows that he would give his life for you until the very end. it wouldn't be easy for him to admit, and he probably never would admit it, but that one moment where he finally relaxes his shoulders and just lets you carry his burdens with him? it really does show a lot. and he would give everything for you. not even an ounce would be spared. it's easy to see it when he says it, that he loves you, even if he doesn't know the true meaning of the word. may not be conventional love, but to him, its everything.

magnus: there is not another who could love as much as he could. it's that simple. he's so utterly in love with you that he'd move heaven and earth just to see you smile. for a man with so many things going on, so many things to remember and do, he still keeps you at the very top of everything. finds little things for you that he'd think you like. recounts stories to see your smile. lays beside you and holds your hand whilst you tell him what's on your mind. it's routine for him, he does it without even thinking. nothing, and that is a hard nothing, will ever make him as happy as you do, and even when you're not around everyone hears your name, little snippets of his love for you, how much you mean to him, etc. he's so enamoured, so trusting, so in awe, that everything you do means something to him.

horus: incredibly intuitive and knows what you need before you do. has the tea and some fruit in his hands before you'd even mentioned you were thinking of having some. had someone prepare you a bath before you even said you were stressed. brought you some flowers when you were feeling down. cancels all his plans because you need someone with you. he does it to show he cares, knowing that sometimes he can be distant or busy, and it can be incredibly effective. also holds you incredibly tight. like your hand, when he embraces you, etcetc, it's like you're his security blanket in a way, which seems stupid because why does he need one, but actually he finds a lot of comfort in your presence.

lorgar: perfect if you want to be worshipped. that's how he'd treat you. and yes this has a dark side. but limited, not indulged or used for bad purposes, a good balance can be met. he's soft. his world would crumble without you. his exterior and how others view him is so different to what he's like with you that it seems wrong. but you are his everything. he would tell you it every day. he'd make sure you never forgot it. it may not be evidential to everyone, he's not proclaiming his love and devotion to anyone he sees, but to you its obvious. a silent prayer for your protection each day. for your good health. for anything he can do for you. and you'd know he'd burn worlds for you - just use that for the right purposes.

vulkan: a kind soul meant for love. he's not obsessed and devoted. he's not silent and brooding. he's what you think of when you have soulmate in mind. it seems to just come natural to him. he's your best friend, your lover, your everything - and he takes pride in that. he'd not need to burn worlds for you, he'd not watch you from the other side of the room without a world, he'd be beside you with his hand gently rested on you. it's just... normal? is that bad to say? but like the version of normal you always wanted, the normal in romance novels which warped our perceptions of relationships. you know. cute.

corax: incredibly loyal. quietly loving you from a distance until he's with you, then he's far more passionate and open. he's not one to have elaborate gestures done in your name, he probably wouldn't even do more than speak in a normal tone whenever others are around. but you know he's there. a brush of your hand with his when you look uncomfortable or worried. a glance in your direction every so often if you are separated. he'd always find his way back to you though, and you always know he's there at your side. and yes, very passionate when it's just you two, so much so you'd have first doubted it was the same person. he just saves it all for you. especially few things he's picked up along the way he thinks you may enjoy.

alpharius: you could never doubt his love. he'd never let you. it's so obvious that it's what makes telling him apart so simple. he just can't deny it when he's around you, he can't resist it at all. love is in everything he does. his touches as he walks past. his names for you. his insistence on always having you in his arms. it can be endearing. it is nice knowing that you are so loved, never a doubt in your mind that he does care. and if you do doubt him? he will change that. you won't ever doubt him again. you don't ever need to worry about his love for you, it won't change. he'll never stop loving you.

˗ˏˋ 𓅰 ˎˊ˗

[fayelero]

ⓘ 01. VALENTINE’S DAY !

⤷ FLUFF ﹫ valentine’s special ﹫ multiple

⌗ katsuki, kirishima, denki, shoto, keigo

⚠︎ fluff, jealousy (katsuki) .ᐟ.ᐟ

The halls of U.A. were buzzing with excitement as students exchanged chocolates, gifts, and heartfelt confessions. You weren’t the biggest fan of overly public displays of affection, but today was different—it was Valentine’s Day, and you had a certain explosive blonde boyfriend who, despite his brash nature, had a softer side reserved just for you.

You had been dating Katsuki Bakugo for a while now, and though he wasn’t the type to be openly affectionate, you knew he cared. He showed it in his own way—walking you home, making sure you ate enough, and protecting you in battle without hesitation. But today, he had gone out of his way to surprise you.

You were heading to your locker when suddenly, a firm yet familiar hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you into an empty classroom. You barely had time to react before the door clicked shut behind you.

“Katsu—?”

“Shut up for a sec,” he muttered, cheeks tinged with a faint blush as he dug into his pocket.

Your heart pounded in anticipation. Bakugo wasn’t one for grand gestures, and he especially hated anything that would make him the subject of teasing from his friends. But when he pulled out a small velvet box and a bouquet of deep red roses, your breath hitched.

“You better not laugh,” he grumbled, shoving the roses into your hands. “Here. I know you like this kinda shit.”

Your eyes widened as you took the flowers, the sweet scent filling your senses. “Katsuki… these are beautiful!”

He clicked his tongue, looking away as he popped open the small box to reveal a delicate silver necklace with a small charm—your initial intertwined with his.

“Got this, too,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Figured you’d like it, so… whatever.”

Your heart melted at his flustered demeanor. “Oh my god, I love it!” Without hesitation, you threw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

He stiffened for a moment before relaxing into your embrace, resting his chin on top of your head. “Tch, don’t get all sappy on me now,” he grumbled, though the warmth in his voice betrayed him.

You pulled back slightly and cupped his face, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He kissed back, albeit roughly, his hand gripping your waist possessively before he pulled away with a scoff.

“Turn around, dumbass. Lemme put it on you.”

You obediently turned, lifting your hair as he fastened the necklace around your neck. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Once he was done, you turned back around, your hand touching the charm.

“It’s perfect,” you said softly.

A smug smirk played on his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s go before those idiots come lookin’ for us.”

With your hand in his, you walked back out into the hallway, making your way to your locker. Students were still milling about, exchanging gifts and talking about their Valentine’s plans.

When you reached your locker, you carefully placed the roses inside, but as you did, your eyes caught something unexpected—a folded piece of paper resting on the shelf.

Your brows furrowed as you picked it up. “What’s this?”

Bakugo, standing beside you, peered over your shoulder. “Dunno. Open it.”

You unfolded the note, and your heart skipped a beat as your eyes scanned the words written in elegant handwriting.

Dear Y/N,

I’ve admired you for so long, and I couldn’t let Valentine’s Day pass without telling you how amazing you are. You’re kind, strong, and beautiful, and I wish I had the courage to tell you this in person. No matter what, I just want you to know that you deserve the best. Happy Valentine’s Day.

Your stomach twisted, and you could practically feel the air crackling with tension beside you.

“The hell is this?” Bakugo’s voice was low and dangerous.

You turned to look at him, and if looks could kill, the entire hallway would’ve exploded. His ruby-red eyes were dark with fury as he snatched the letter from your hands, scanning it again, his grip tightening with each passing second.

“Who the fuck wrote this?” he growled.

You swallowed nervously and tried not to laugh. “I… I don’t know.”

Bakugo crumpled the letter in his fist, his jaw clenched so tightly you thought his teeth might crack. “Some extra thinks they can confess to my girl? They’ve got some fuckin’ nerve.”

You placed a hand on his chest while holding your laugh, trying to calm him. “Katsuki, I—”

“No. This isn’t fuckin’ happening.” His arm wrapped around your waist possessively, pulling you close. “You’re my girl. Don’t need some shitty love letter from some coward who can’t even say it to your face.”

You sighed but chuckled, cupping his cheek. “Of course, I’m your girlfriend.”

He huffed but visibly relaxed under your touch. “Damn right.”

Before you could say anything else, a familiar voice called out from behind you.

“Yo, what’s with the angry look, Bakugo? Someone steal your girl?”

You turned to see Denki and Kirishima approaching, Denki grinning like he was about to tease the hell out of Bakugo.

Bakugo shot them a deadly glare, stuffing the crumpled letter into his pocket. “Shut the hell up before I blast your dumb face off.”

Denki raised his hands in surrender, but Kirishima looked between the two of you, noticing your new necklace. “Whoa, did Bakugo get that for you?”

Your face warmed, and Bakugo scoffed. “Yeah, so what?”

Denki smirked. “Aw, look at you being all romantic. Didn’t know you had it in you, man.”

Bakugo growled, sparks popping from his palm. “Say another word and I’ll end you.”

You giggled, squeezing Bakugo’s hand. “Come on, Katsu. Let’s go.”

With one last glare at Denki, Bakugo led you down the hall, his grip on your hand tight, his possessiveness evident.

The soft hum of students chatting filled the classroom as the lesson dragged on. You were tapping your pen against your notebook absentmindedly, stealing occasional glances at the clock. Just a few more minutes until class ended, and you could finally enjoy the rest of Valentine’s Day.

As you turned your attention back to your notes, something small and folded landed on your desk. Your eyebrows lifted in curiosity, and you glanced around to see if the teacher had noticed. When you looked to your side, Kirishima Eijiro was avoiding eye contact, his face dusted with a light pink blush as he scratched the back of his head.

Smiling to yourself, you unfolded the note under your desk.

Hey, Y/N!

Wanna go out with me after class? I, uh, have something planned, and I really hope you’ll like it. Just nod if you’re in!

You bit your lip to suppress a grin before looking at him. His crimson eyes darted to yours nervously, as if bracing himself for rejection. Trying not to giggle at how adorable he was, you nodded enthusiastically.

His reaction was priceless—his face brightened instantly, his sharp teeth peeking through as he beamed at you, barely holding back a celebratory fist pump.

The rest of class felt like forever, both of you sneaking excited glances at each other. When the bell finally rang, you gathered your things quickly and practically bounced over to Kirishima’s desk.

“You ready?” you asked, your voice light with excitement.

He laughed nervously, rubbing his hands on his pants as he stood up. “Y-Yeah! Let’s go!”

Despite his usual confidence, you could tell he was on edge. You knew how much this day meant to him—your first Valentine’s Day together. Kirishima wasn’t the type to half-ass anything, so he’d no doubt spent a lot of time planning something special.

He led you outside, his warm hand wrapping around yours as he guided you through the streets of Musutafu. The February air was crisp, but the excitement in your heart made it easy to ignore the cold.

After a few minutes, you arrived in front of a small, cozy café you had mentioned wanting to try weeks ago. Your eyes widened in surprise.

“You remembered?” you asked, turning to him with a touched expression.

Kirishima rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Of course I did! I know you were excited about it, so I thought… well, it’d be the perfect place for today.”

Your heart melted. “You’re the best, Eiji.”

His blush deepened, and he grinned, quickly opening the door for you. “Ladies first!”

The café was warm and inviting, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sweet pastries filling the air. The two of you found a quiet table by the window, and you couldn’t help but admire how much effort he had put into this.

As you both browsed the menu, Kirishima fidgeted, tapping his fingers against the table. When the waiter came over, he got so flustered trying to order that he accidentally knocked over the sugar jar.

Your eyes widened, but instead of being embarrassed, you let out a soft chuckle, covering your mouth. “Relax, Eiji. It’s just sugar.”

He groaned, running a hand through his spiky hair. “Ugh, I just don’t wanna mess this up. It’s our first Valentine’s together, and I want it to be perfect.”

You reached across the table, gently taking his hand. “It is perfect, because it’s you. Clumsy or not, I love spending time with you.”

His eyes softened as he squeezed your hand, a lopsided smile forming. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

After placing your orders, the two of you talked and laughed, time slipping by effortlessly. Kirishima relaxed more with every passing moment, his nervous energy replaced by his usual enthusiasm.

When the food arrived, he practically inhaled his dessert, getting a bit of whipped cream on his nose in the process.

You giggled. “Eiji, you’ve got—”

“Huh?” He blinked at you, confused.

Shaking your head fondly, you leaned forward and wiped the cream off with your thumb before licking it off. “Got it.”

His face turned a deep shade of red, and he choked on his drink. “Y-Y/N! You can’t just—!”

You laughed at his reaction. “You’re too tense, relax!”

“Not so manly from me,” he mumbled, pouting slightly as he recovered.

After finishing your drinks, Kirishima’s demeanor shifted again—nervous, but determined. He reached into his pocket, his fingers wrapping around something.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at you, his usual fiery confidence battling with his nerves. “Okay, so… I, uh, got you something.”

You tilted your head. “You did? Eiji, you didn’t have to—”

“No, I wanted to,” he said firmly, before pulling out a small black box and placing it on the table between you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at it. “Eijiro…”

“Open it,” he urged, shifting in his seat.

With slightly trembling fingers, you lifted the lid to reveal a gorgeous silver ring with a small gemstone embedded in it—the same color as his eyes.

Your breath hitched. “It’s beautiful…”

Kirishima exhaled, rubbing his neck. “I saw it and thought of you. I know it’s not, like, an engagement ring or anything—but it’s a promise, y’know? That I’ll always be here for you. That no matter what, I’ll have your back.”

Your vision blurred slightly as your heart swelled with affection. “Eiji…”

Before he could get any more nervous, you reached across the table, grabbing his face and pulling him into a deep kiss. He let out a surprised noise but quickly melted into it, his large hands cupping yours.

When you pulled away, your eyes shimmered. “I love it. And I love you.”

His face lit up with pure joy, his sharp teeth showing in the biggest grin you’d ever seen. “I love you too, Y/N!”

Slipping the ring onto your finger, you admired how perfectly it fit. You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers, your heart brimming with happiness.

This was, without a doubt, the best Valentine’s Day ever.

The morning of Valentine’s Day started with a text—no, scratch that, a flood of texts.

Denki [6:45 AM]: BABE WAKE UP

Denki [6:46 AM]: IT’S VALENTINE’S DAYYYYYY

Denki [6:46 AM]: Get ready, because I’m about to make you feel like the luckiest girl alive!

Denki [6:47 AM]: And also I may or may not need help carrying something

You blinked at your phone, groaning as you rolled over. You weren’t even out of bed yet, and Denki was already in full hyper mode.

You [6:49 AM]: What did you do?

A minute later, another text came through.

Denki [6:50 AM]: Nothing bad! Just something AWESOME. Be outside in ten ;)

You sighed but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Denki always had this chaotic yet endearing energy, and you had a feeling whatever he had planned was going to be a lot. You quickly got dressed in your U.A. uniform, brushed your hair, and hurried outside.

What you saw made your jaw drop.

Standing at your doorstep, grinning like a fool, was Denki Kaminari, holding—no, STRUGGLING to hold—a massive teddy bear, a gorgeous bouquet of flowers, a small, elegant box, and an entire bag of fancy chocolates.

“TA-DAAAAA!” he announced, nearly toppling over as the bear wobbled in his grip. He quickly steadied himself, flashing you his usual electric grin. “Happy Valentine’s Day, babe!”

You gawked at him, your eyes darting between the absurdly large stuffed bear, the flowers, the chocolates, and the tiny velvet box in his hand.

“Baby…” you started, eyes wide, “This is—this is so much!”

“I know, right?” He beamed proudly. “I may have gone a little overboard, but like, it’s our first real Valentine’s Day together, so I had to go big! You deserve it!”

You ran a hand through your hair, still staring at the pile of gifts. The teddy bear was practically half your size. The bouquet was so full of roses, it looked like something from a movie. And then there was the tiny box in his hands—which could only mean jewelry.

Your heart squeezed. You wanted to tell him he really didn’t have to do all this, but the way his golden eyes shone with excitement made it impossible to say anything but:

“…This is too much,” you said, laughing softly, “but also, thank you, babe. Seriously.”

Denki’s grin softened as he set the bear down with a dramatic oof before stepping closer. He lifted the small box, opening it to reveal a delicate silver bracelet, lined with tiny lightning bolt charms.

“Here, this one’s my favorite part,” he murmured. “I saw it and thought, ‘this is literally so us’—you know, ‘cause I’m all zap zap and you’re all gorgeous and amazing—so I had to get it.”

Your cheeks heated as he gently took your wrist, fastening the bracelet around it. It fit perfectly, the tiny charms glinting in the morning light.

“…Okay, this part is actually perfect,” you admitted, smiling as you turned your wrist to admire it. “I love it.”

Denki practically vibrated with joy. “YES! I KNEW IT!”

Then reality hit. You had to go to school. With all of this.

You glanced at the enormous teddy bear, the bouquet, the box of chocolates—how were you even supposed to carry all this around U.A. all day?!

Denki, oblivious, picked up the teddy bear and proudly placed it in your arms. “Okay, now let’s get to school!”

“…babe, I can’t—how am I supposed to carry this around all day?” you asked, voice somewhere between amused and exasperated.

He blinked. “Oh.” Then he rubbed the back of his neck, laughing. “Uh… I didn’t think that far ahead.”

You deadpanned. “Clearly.”

“Okay, okay, new plan!” he said quickly. “We drop the bear and chocolates off in the dorms, and you just take the flowers and bracelet with you. Boom! Genius, right?”

“Actually, yeah, that is a good plan,” you admitted.

Denki gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “Babe. Are you saying I just had a smart moment?”

You smirked, poking his chest. “Don’t let it get to your head, Sparky.”

He threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you both started walking toward the U.A. dorms. “Oh, it’s absolutely getting to my head. But also, I’m just really happy you like everything.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “I do. And I like you even more, you dork.”

Denki made an exaggerated swooning noise. “Oh my GAWD, my girlfriend just made my whole year.”

You laughed, shaking your head. Maybe it was way too much, but honestly? That was just so Denki. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The streets of Musutafu were dusted with a thin layer of snow, the chill of February still clinging to the air despite the early evening hour. Streetlights cast a soft golden glow on the sidewalks, and the occasional burst of laughter from passing couples and friends filled the atmosphere with warmth. It was Valentine’s Day, and for once, you weren’t spending it alone or just watching others celebrate—you were spending it with Shoto Todoroki.

You glanced at the boy walking beside you, his dual-colored hair standing out even in the dim light. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his coat, and though his expression was calm as always, the slight pink dusting his ears made you smile.

“You didn’t have to buy me all that, you know,” you said, shifting the small bag in your hand—a small, elegant gift bag from a local store, courtesy of Shoto.

“I wanted to,” he replied simply. “Besides, it’s Valentine’s Day. I should get you something nice.”

You huffed playfully. “You already gave me a gift this morning.”

Shoto tilted his head slightly, thinking. “That was different.”

You laughed. “How?”

He blinked, as if the answer was obvious. “That was for the morning. This is for now.”

Your heart warmed at the sincerity in his voice. He wasn’t the type to shower people with words, but the way he always thought of you—always made sure you felt special—meant more than anything.

The two of you continued walking in comfortable silence, your steps in sync as the city buzzed around you. Small shops had their windows decorated with hearts, and couples strolled by, hands intertwined. You felt Shoto’s gaze flicker to your hand briefly, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he nodded toward a cozy-looking café on the corner.

“Do you want to go in?” he asked.

You smiled. “That sounds perfect.”

The café was warm, filled with the scent of coffee, chocolate, and fresh pastries. A few couples were seated near the windows, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the hanging lights. The atmosphere was peaceful, perfect for the kind of quiet, intimate moment you knew Shoto preferred.

He led you to a small table near the corner, where the view of the street was still visible but slightly secluded from the rest of the café. The two of you sat down, and you sighed contentedly as warmth seeped into your fingers.

Shoto studied the menu for a moment before glancing at you. “What do you want? My treat.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you already treat me?”

He gave you a look—one of those subtle yet affectionate ones that always made your heart stutter. “That was different,” he repeated.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, alright. I’ll get a hot chocolate, then.”

He nodded, then walked up to the counter to order. You watched as he stood there, his tall frame relaxed, one hand in his pocket while the other gestured slightly as he spoke to the barista. Even with his usual stoic demeanor, there was something so effortlessly charming about him.

When he returned with two drinks—your hot chocolate and what you assumed was his usual black coffee—you smiled up at him. “Thank you, Sho.”

He set your drink in front of you, then slid into his seat. “You don’t have to thank me every time.”

“I do when it’s sweet,” you teased, taking a sip. The rich chocolate warmed you instantly.

Shoto took a careful sip of his coffee before setting it down. His eyes lingered on you for a moment, and you could tell he was thinking about something.

“What is it?” you asked gently.

He exhaled softly, glancing out the window before looking back at you. “I was just thinking… this is the first time I’ve really celebrated Valentine’s Day like this.”

You blinked, setting your cup down. “Really?”

He nodded. “My family never did much for it. And in the past, I never really… thought about it. It just felt like another day.”

Your chest tightened at the quiet honesty in his voice. You reached across the table, placing your hand over his. He looked down at your joined hands before curling his fingers slightly around yours.

“Well, I’m glad you’re celebrating it now,” you said softly. “And I’m really glad I get to be the one spending it with you.”

A small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of Shoto’s lips. He squeezed your hand lightly. “Me too.”

By the time you left the café, the night air was crisp but not unpleasant. Shoto walked a little closer to you this time, his hand occasionally brushing against yours. The streets had quieted, the earlier crowds thinning out.

As you passed by a small shop, Shoto suddenly stopped. “Wait here.”

You blinked. “Huh?” But before you could ask anything else, he had already stepped inside.

You watched curiously as he spoke briefly with the shopkeeper before emerging a minute later, holding something behind his back.

“What did you just—”

Shoto stepped closer, then gently held out a single red rose. His eyes softened as he looked at you. “For you.”

Your breath hitched. A single rose. It wasn’t extravagant or flashy, but it was perfect—because it was from him.

Smiling, you carefully took it from his hand. “Sho…”

He looked slightly unsure. “Do you like it?”

You held the rose close to your chest, nodding. “I love it.”

Something in his shoulders relaxed, and his lips quirked up ever so slightly. Without thinking, you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Shoto froze for a second, his eyes widening slightly. Then, slowly, his cheeks turned a faint shade of pink—not from the cold this time.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Sho,” you murmured.

His gaze softened as he reached for your hand, holding it properly this time. His fingers were warm against yours, a steady presence in the cold night air.

“…Happy Valentine’s Day.”

The penthouse was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city below and the occasional flicker of the television that had been playing some random show in the background. You were curled up under a blanket, barely awake, scrolling through your phone when it vibrated with a new message.

Keigo [9:42 PM]: Get ready, I’ll pick you up in 20 minutes.

You sat up so fast the blanket fell off your shoulders. “Are you kidding me?” you muttered, scrambling out of bed.

Your damn bird of a boyfriend could have at least given you some kind of warning! You were still in your pajamas, for crying out loud.

Muttering curses under your breath, you bolted toward your closet, flinging it open as you desperately searched for something appropriate. Your eyes landed on a long, elegant black dress—sleek, centered at the waist, and perfect for a last-minute dinner you weren’t warned about.

“Damn featherbrain,” you grumbled, tugging the dress on.

You barely had time for makeup, so you went for something simple—a bit of mascara, lip gloss, and a touch of jewelry before throwing your hair into a slightly messy but passable style. You grabbed your purse, slipping into your heels just as the familiar sound of wings beating against the air reached your ears.

A gust of wind blew in from the balcony. You turned just in time to see Keigo Takami—Pro Hero Hawks—landing smoothly, golden eyes gleaming with amusement as he took in your rushed state.

“Ready?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

You glared. “No, I am not ready! You could have told me sooner!”

He chuckled, running a hand through his messy blond hair. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You huffed, grabbing your purse and storming toward the front door. “Let’s just go.”

Before you could reach for the handle, you felt a pair of strong arms loop around your waist. You barely had a second to react before Keigo hoisted you up effortlessly, wings spreading wide.

You froze. “Keigo—NO.”

“Keigo—YES.” He grinned.

Your heart plummeted as he kicked off the ground, lifting both of you into the night sky.

The cold wind rushed past you, and you instinctively buried your face into his shoulder, clutching onto him like your life depended on it.

Which—it kind of did.

Keigo laughed, the deep, rich sound vibrating through his chest. “You’re so dramatic, babe.”

“I hate flying,” you mumbled against his shoulder.

“You hate flying alone. You love flying with me.”

“That is an outright lie, I can’t even fly alone.”

Keigo hummed, amused, as he adjusted his grip on you, his strong arms holding you securely. “You’ll survive.”

You peeked out from his shoulder, the city lights stretching beneath you in a breathtaking display. It was beautiful… but also terrifying.

“I swear, if I die—”

“You won’t,” he said smoothly, his lips brushing against the top of your head.

Despite yourself, you sighed, melting slightly into his embrace.

When Keigo finally landed outside the fancy restaurant, you nearly collapsed onto the ground in relief.

“I am never doing that again,” you declared dramatically, smoothing down your dress.

Keigo snickered, leading you inside with a hand on the small of your back. “You say that every time.”

The restaurant was luxurious, filled with soft golden lighting, elegant décor, and the quiet hum of music playing in the background. A few people turned their heads as they recognized Hawks, but Keigo paid them no mind, his focus entirely on you.

Once you were seated at a private table, the tension from earlier faded, replaced by the warm, intimate atmosphere between you.

Keigo leaned back in his chair, golden eyes studying you with that familiar lazy, yet utterly enamored gaze. “So, how was your day, babe?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Oh, you know. Peaceful—until a certain someone decided to ambush me with last-minute plans.”

He chuckled, sipping his drink. “Hey, I like keeping you on your toes.”

You shook your head fondly. “How was patrol?”

“Boring. Missed you,” he said smoothly, sending a slow wink your way.

You flushed, laughing. “You’re so corny.”

“And you love it.”

The conversation flowed easily, the two of you exchanging stories, laughter, and playful banter between bites of food. It felt perfect—peaceful, comfortable, and so wonderfully natural.

Then, just as dessert was about to arrive, Keigo suddenly reached into his jacket pocket.

Your brows furrowed. “What are you—”

He pulled out a small, velvet box.

Your heart stopped.

The entire restaurant seemed to fade away as Keigo set the box on the table, his usual cocky smirk replaced with something softer, more serious.

He opened it—revealing a beautiful engagement ring.

Your breath hitched. “Keigo…”

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, his expression open, vulnerable in a way you rarely saw.

“I was gonna wait ‘til later,” he admitted, voice softer than usual. “But I figured—why wait?”

You stared at him, completely caught off guard. “Are you—are you serious?”

He laughed, but there was nervousness in it this time. “What, you think I’d joke about this?”

You blinked, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Keigo Takami—the most reckless, unpredictable, flirtatious man you’d ever met—was looking at you with the most sincere expression you’d ever seen.

“I know I’m not always the easiest guy to be with,” he continued, his thumb rubbing the edge of the velvet box. “I know I stress you out, and I know I drive you crazy—”

“You do.”

He grinned. “But… you’re it for me. You always have been.” His golden eyes softened. “So, what do you say, angel? Wanna keep dealing with me for the rest of your life?”

Your chest tightened with overwhelming warmth, your entire body buzzing with emotions.

You exhaled shakily, a slow smile spreading across your lips.

“You’re an absolute menace of a boyfriend,” you murmured.

Keigo chuckled. “I know.”

“But…” You felt tears prick your eyes as you reached forward, covering his hand with yours.

“Yes.”

His breath hitched slightly. “Yeah?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah.”

For the first time, you saw actual relief wash over him—before it was replaced with a cocky, dazzling grin.

“Hell yeah,” he murmured, sliding the ring onto your finger before tugging you forward into a kiss.

The restaurant erupted into applause, but you barely noticed—because at that moment, all you could feel was him.

Keigo pulled back, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, fiancée.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“And you love it.”

Yeah. You really, really did.

[seokminfilm]

bed chem 🛌 lee seokmin

♫ pairing, lee seokmin x reader ♫ warnings, non-idol au, established relationship, reader is mentioned to be naked (non-nsfw), kissing, cuddling, seokmin calls reader princess but gender isn't stated ♫ synopsis, your boyfriend knew how to make you feel special.

♫ author's note, saw seokmin's weverse update while scrolling tumblr's 'for you' tab and felt like i HAD to do this 😭 GODD him and his messy fluffy hair and his dark blue pajama set.....i'm gonna literally combust he's so dreamy 💔 anyways enjoy lyrnation! sorry i haven't been updating btw ☹ started a job and school's been really stressful lately so I've been busy!! bear w me please i'm doing my best 🙏

♫ now playing, bed chem (sabrina carpenter)

♫ word count, 476 | for @kstrucknet

the feeling of a muscled arm slithering around your bare waist finally brought you to consciousness, and you yawned, savoring the sensation of the warmth on your stomach. you're pressed against a firm chest, snug in the grip of your boyfriend as you finally come to.

"good morning, seokminnie," your voice is only a whisper, waking up moments ago as a soft pair of lips presses against your neck. seokmin's already awake, smiling at you as he pulls you tighter to his body.

"good morning, princess. did you sleep okay?" seokmin's lips are flush against your neck, and you smile, giggling at the feather feeling of his smile against your warm skin as you press into him even more. seokmin's spooning you, hand stroking your slightly tangled hair as he kisses the top of your scalp.

"yeah, i did," you answer, letting out a light sigh as you feel seokmin's hand trail down your bare stomach, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

"where'd your clothes go, princess?" seokmin asks, hand ghosting over your chest and stomach. you giggle, body warming up even more at his touch as you stifle a yawn.

"i took them off, seokkie. it got too hot last night," you explain, and seokmin chuckles, nodding as he yawns. "sorry. i didn't mean to scare you."

seokmin chuckles, shaking his head as he lets his hand rest on your stomach. he shakes his head, burying his face in your scalp as he sighs against you.

"don't say sorry, princess; you didn't scare me. i love you with or without anything on." seokmin chuckles, and your face flushes, smiling nevertheless as seokmin continues to kiss you all over. seokmin's kisses are sweet against your skin, making the morning feel even sweeter to you.

"can you help me find my clothes? i threw them somewhere in here," you whisper, and seokmin nods, kissing your bare shoulder. "of course, princess. whenever you want to get up and start our day, that'll be the first thing i do, okay?."

you nod, too engulfed in the feeling of seokmin's massive hands ghosting around your hips as his lips touch the curves of your shoulders. with the sun streaming through the windows, and the lavender scent of the sheets wrapping your bare body in the sweet scent, you think you could stay here forever.

"can i just stay in bed with you forever? it's so nice." you muse dreamily, and seokmin chuckles, voice like a song as he nods. "whatever you want to do, princess. it's all up to you."

with seokmin doing nothing to talk sense into you and looking at you with those big, brown eyes you can never resist, the two of you end up lounging around in bed and kissing each other stupid for another three hours, not wanting to change a thing in your sweet, little world.

[navybrat817]

Happy valentines day in advance my dear Navy😘

I saw these dark prompts you shared

“It makes my blood boil every time I see you talking to him/her/them.”

“Go ahead, lock your doors, change your phone number. I’ll still find you.”

“I would never ever hurt you.”

And I thought they would go amazingly with our favorite sheriff Lee Bodecker OR with Boxer!Curtis Everett👀 I hope this inspires something ✨❤️

My beautiful Carrot! Someone else asked for Lee and “Go ahead, lock your doors, change your phone number. I’ll still find you.”, so I went with Curtis. Hope you like it!

Cold as Ice

Pairing: Soft!Dark!Boxer!Curtis Everett x Female Reader

Summary: The newest boxer at the gym sets his sights on you.

Word Count: Over 900

Warnings: Possessive and overbearing behavior, dark vibes, talk of violence (not against reader), Curtis Everett (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You tapped your finger against the keyboard as you looked over the schedule. You needed a vacation, and you luckily had some time, and a bit of money saved up. It was just a matter of how soon you could take it because you needed the break. Somewhere warm, and far away.

It wasn't that you didn't want to be at the gym. You really loved working there. It had its perks like free workouts and being close to some of your favorite spots. But it was getting to be more and more stressful going into work each day. All thanks to Curtis Everett.

The boxer with a mean right hook, buzzed hair and a beard as dark as coal, and eyes as cold as ice. For whatever reason set his sights on you the second he joined the gym. Maybe because you smiled at him. You really didn’t know. But it didn't take long for his workout schedule to conveniently match the days you were working. If he had a question or issue, you were the only one who could help him. Even if you were busy helping someone else, he’d wait. Your boss didn’t seem to care when you made a comment in passing one day since he was a “customer” and it was expected of you to provide the best service.

Curtis seemed to always be where you were, too, which wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't so imposing. If you were in a certain area, cleaning machines or setting anything up, he was suddenly there like a shadow casting darkness over you. You felt like you couldn’t breathe with him so close. He even left when you did some nights, keeping only a small distance while you went to your car and not walking on until you got in safely. You always locked the door quickly just to be on the safe side.

Some days he didn't say much to you. Just grunted or stared, or glared at anyone who spoke to you. The last guy who tried to flirt with you ended up with a broken jaw when Curtis offered to do a practice round with him. And while the guy was on the ground in pain, Curtis looked over at you. The expression “blood ran cold” was a real thing because you immediately trembled under his gaze.

It was just getting to be too much.

“Have a good night,” Steve said when he walked by.

You looked away from the computer and nodded. Steve Rogers was one of the best boxers around, and one of the kindest. He was also good looking. The entire package. “You, too, Steve.”

He stopped, his brows pinching when he took in your expression. “Are you okay?”

“I will be. “Steve was a good guy. If you said someone was bothering you, he would've stepped in and helped. You couldn't ask that of him. This was your problem to deal with. “Thanks.”

“Well, let me know if you need anything,” he said, flashing that kind smile of his.

“I appreciate it,” you smiled back. Your shoulders slumped when he walked out. He was one of the last guys to leave. Oh, god. That meant the only person left was-

“It makes my blood boil every time I see you talking to him.”

The bass of Curtis’s voice made you jump. You hated how easily he scared you. “Curtis, you shouldn’t be behind the counter,” you chastised, closing out the schedule.

“And you shouldn’t be flirting with Rogers, but here we are,” he said, gripping your shoulder and spinning you around to face him. His nostrils flared as he towered over you, and you feared he might strike you. Your eyes rounded at the thought, your back hitting the counter when you backed up. “Were you smiling that sweet smile that should only be for me?”

“I-I wasn’t,” you promised, shaking when he brought a calloused hand to your cheek. He wouldn’t try anything, right? Not out there in the open. And it wasn’t like the security cameras would catch anything. Your boss said they went out recently and he had to get them fixed. “Curtis, please.”

“You think I’m going to hurt you?” The ice in his eyes melted only a little as he closed the distance, his lips ghosting yours. “I would never, ever hurt you.”

You trembled, wanting so badly to believe him. “What do you want from me?” you asked, hating how small your voice sounded.

“I want you to finish up work and tell me where you’re planning to go on your trip,” he answered, chuckling at your expression. “You think I didn’t know? Of course I knew. And I’m going with you.”

He might as well have punched you with how winded you suddenly felt. “Go with me? But-”

“And Rogers might not go down as easily as that other prick, but I’ll wreck him if I catch you flirting with him again and I’ll give him a lot worse than a broken jaw. That’s a promise,” he said, brushing his nose against yours before he pulled away. You had to reach behind you and grab the counter to keep from falling. “Let’s go. We need to figure out the details for our trip.”

Tears blurred your vision. “Curtis-”

“Just nowhere cold,” he interrupted, his icy blue eyes on you like always. “I hate the cold.”

Love and thanks for participating! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[cueloki]

Valentine

Loki comes back from his mission early and surprises you with a Valentine's day date.

Wordcount: 1172

Pairing: avenger!Loki x f!reader

Warnings: tiny bit of angst at the start, fluff, first time love confessions, Loki being a sweetheart

A/N: Happy Valentine's day <3

Dividers by the talented firefly-graphics.

The dreaded Valentine's day had finally arrived. Over the years you never really paid much attention to it. Your previous boyfriends weren’t of the romantic sort and while you could be described as a hopeless romantic you simply had to settle for reality. And reality often tore your little heart to pieces, shattered it, stomped on it and the likes. 

Silently you were hoping this year would be different. You and Loki had been dating for a few months now and he wasn’t anything like your exes. He was sweet, attentive and had made plenty of romantic gestures. And yet, reality, the fucking bitch, had other plans. Just the week before Valentine’s he was sent off to some mission in a different country. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t shed a few tears over it. However you didn’t mention it to Loki. The last thing you wanted was to make him feel guilty. It was his job after all. He had no choice.

You made it home after a whole day of hearing your coworkers’ Valentine’s day plans and just wanted to curl up in bed and cry your heart out. It wasn’t fair. You missed Loki and this would’ve been your first Valentine’s day together. 

As you opened the door to your apartment and stepped in, your foot kicked something across the floor. 

“What the…” 

You flicked on the light in the hallway and your eyes fell on a dark green envelope with a golden seal lying on the floor. Dropping your bag to the floor, you bent down to pick it up and opened it. Eyes trailing over the words on the card, you immediately recognized the handwriting as Loki’s.

My darling <3  Will you be my Valentine? ☐ Yes ☐ No (It’s very important you cross your answer with a pen.) Loki

Your heart fluttered as you read his words. Right away you headed to your kitchen and grabbed a pen, checking no as a joke. The writing on the card morphed into something else before your eyes in a soft green glow.

Very amusing, darling. Will you be my Valentine? ☐ Yes ☐ Yes Go on, make your choice.

You chuckled as you read the new message. Were you that predictable or did he just know you all too well? Perhaps a bit of both. You checked one of the yes boxes and the envelope and card both disappeared in a blink of an eye, leaving in their place a bouquet of red roses with a new green envelope tucked between the flowers and under that a big black box. 

That sly God. He put more than just a simple text changing enchantment on the first card. Your eyes skimmed over the words of the new card.

I will pick you up at six, my love. I hope the dress is to your liking.

Your eyes widened as you put the bouquet aside and quickly opened the box, revealing a gorgeous emerald green dress. Wait? Pick you up? That meant he was home! You turned to the clock on the wall. There wasn't much time to get ready, just under an hour. Before you headed to the bathroom, you plopped the roses into a vase with some water.

You managed to take your shower and do your hair, curling it to perfection despite the time crunch. Just as you were putting the finishing touches on your make up the doorbell rang. A little squeal escaped you. You couldn’t help it. This would be the first proper Valentine’s day date you’d go on and best of all it was with Loki, who you were absolutely smitten with. Never before did you feel such love for anyone else. You were head over heels for him. 

Speaking of heels. You ran to your bedroom and pulled on your heels before you answered the door, your leg peeking out of the dress slit tantalizingly. Loki’s eyes trailed over your form hungrily as you in turn took in just how immaculate he looked in his suit. His wavy hair flowed in the cool wind. He tilted his head slightly, giving you a smile. “And you dared to cross the no. You look absolutely stunning, my darling,” He said, his eyes shining with tenderness.

“Trickster, yes or yes is hardly a choice,” You scolded him teasingly.

“Please, if I left no as an option you’d keep crossing it forever to amuse yourself,” He countered with a mirthful smile.

You stepped closer to him. “I thought you’d be away,” You said softly.

“Lets just say I made a few arrangements,” He smirked, causing you to quirk your eyebrows in curiosity. “That dull creature owed me one for the smash fest he inflicted on my body,”

“Loki… That sounds so wrong,” You laughed.

“What? Smash fest? What else should I call it?” His eyebrows pulled together.

“Anything but that, unless if you and Hulk have a thing going… In that case I’ll gladly back off,” 

“Oh, I see, you would let me go just like that, hm?”

“No,” You replied, your lips curling in a smile.

“Good. Because there’s not a thing in this world I wouldn’t do for you, darling,” He said lowly, his voice tinged with seriousness.

“Loki…” You said his name in a mere whisper. Nobody had said anything remotely close to that to you, ever.

“No, I am aware it’s… it’s soon to be saying these things but I fear I might burst if I don’t express it… You took my heart and you made a home in it when I hadn’t let myself hope to ever have that, such love, such tenderness… You’ve given me your grace and your patience… You’ve softened me and at the same time made me realize it’s not a weakness as I thought it to be… and I… I love you, my darling, every star shining in the night sky combined doesn’t burn as bright as my love for you,”

You gaped at him stunned as you tried to process his words. The two of you hadn’t said those three words to each other yet. You felt the weight of his love though. In how he treated you, in his actions… How he held you tightly, how he read to you before sleep, how he always made sure to tend to your needs, how he listened to all your ramblings and never made you feel stupid or insignificant.

He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to say anything if you-”

“No! I love you!” You exclaimed quickly, realizing how your silence must have looked to him. “Sorry,” You said, lowering your volume. “I mean of course I do, of course I love you too, Loki,”

He let out a deep sigh of relief. “You certainly don’t make things easy on my heart, my love,” He said as he cupped your cheeks with his hands and kissed you tenderly. “Ready to go?” He whispered against your lips. 

“Let me just grab my coat, it's cold,”

[yourtypicalhuman09]

Beyond The Bat

(Neglected Reader x Yandere batfam)

Chapter 2: Hidden Truths

TW!!! Cursing !!Dark AU!!Mentions of Rape and Violence(not towards reader)!!

(N/N)- your nickname

3rd POV

The long twisting halls of the manor glowed radiantly with a childlike joy. Colorful drawings were plastered on walls and little trinkets and toys were scattered along rooms and hallways causing the young boy walking down the hall to chuckle and smile amusedly. 'What am I going to do with you' he thought to himself, smirking as he heard the small giggles of his sweet little sibling coming from his room. The boy walking into his room smiling at the sight of the young child laying on his bed kicking their feet as they drew.

"(N/N) you know you have to pick up after yourself after playing"

The little child immediately jumped up with excitement and ran towards the boy who opened his arms for a hug.

"Jay!"

(Y/N) squealed with joy as they jumped up into Jason's arms giving him their best attempt of a bear hug. Jason ran his fingers through their soft locks as he sat on the bed peering at their drawing.

"So what did you draw (N/N)?"

(Y/N)'s eyes lit up with excitement as they scrambled off Jason's lap to grab their drawing.

"Look Jay it's you, me, Dickie, and daddy! We're on one of those night adventures you guys promised me I could go to when I'm older!"

Jason looked at his little sibling, who held up their drawing proudly, with an affectionate smile. The drawing was as colorful as the others scattered in the manor, it depicted four figures on top of a tall building looking at the city hand in hand. Jason loved that his little sibling wanted to be with them, when they get older he hopes that they'll still want to go with them even after knowing the truth that these midnight adventures are more dangerous than their innocent mind may think. The image of him helping his beloved younger sibling train and fight by his side makes his heart swell with joy.

"It's beautiful (N/N), just a few more years and it'll be real"

"Really?! Pinkie promise?!"

Jason smiled fondly at little (Y/N) and wrapped his pinkie finger around theirs

"Yeah, pinkie promise..."

(Y/N) POV

I woke up huffing and sweating, looks like I fell asleep working on my project. After school I had met up with Cyrus and he dropped off the supplies I asked him to get. I was currently working on the biggest project of my entire life I need to get serious, no more sleeping or slacking off. Gotham was easily one of the most dangerous places in the US, even with all the heroes patrolling the area crime rates are through the roof. Despite what most think Gotham Prep isn't filled with only rich kids, there's also kids coming from middle or low class families who work their asses off to make sure their children have good lives. Unfortunately most who work here are bastards who submit to bribery or are just simply biased towards the rich, I however have no such bias. Casualty rates are extremely high for children, buses and schools are constantly in the crossfire of massive fights and unfortunately due to bad city planning there's pubs, clubs, and bars dangerously close to many schools. Rape and death are nothing new to even young children, it's sick and horrible but it's true. The police and heroes are preoccupied with keeping people safe from villains and bigger threats, so I've put it on myself to make something to at least help all the children, poor or rich, because at least most have themselves and loving friends and families to live for. I want to make some sort of public child safety technology and years of seeing Tim work and learning about technology has given me some sort of advantage to figuring this out. I have only the resources to make one for the school but hopefully it's successful and spreads to other schools and homes.

"Oh you're awake.! Mornin sleepin beauty."

I looked up to see Cyrus walk in chuckling and holding a plate of food.

"why are you here... you didn't have to wait here at the school with me."

"Oh no it's no problem at all! Plus I was worried about you, you've been workin yourself to the bone as of late."

I froze and looked at him but he just stood there with the same grin he always wears as if it was truly nothing. Why the hell would he be worried about me? No one ever worries about me so why does he? Why why why why why why why why why why why why why wh-

"Hey it's ok (Y/N), breathe in and out... breathe with me..."

I could barely hear anything he was saying but when he put a hand on my shoulder and guided me to breathe slower I could feel myself calming down.

"(Y/N)... I know your situation at home isn't the greatest but trust me you're safe with me... I care about you (Y/N)..."

I looked up at Cyrus, he was almost unrecognizable, I've never seen him this serious and worried before. Usually he's the stupid silly one and I'm the collected one-. Red hot embarrassment shot straight though me as I scrambled away from him and straightened myself out.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that Cyrus, I would appreciate it if we never talk of this shameful event."

I turned and walked away, missing the way Cyrus' face crumpled further with worry, despair, and longing. Missing the words of reasoning he tried to make me listen to, 'No (Y/N)... it's ok... nothing shameful...come back'.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for being gone for so long😭🙏 School has been killing me plus practice ugh shoot me now🥲🔫 Anyways I hope y'all like this chapter and like always thank you for reading and I hope y'all have a good day/night!

Credits to khaer for the dividers

@simpingpandas @rosalietodd013 @sirenetheblogger @cim0nnin @00hellohello00 @crazycaoticsimp @lovebug-apple @youdontknowshtaboutfk @kittzu @h-ib @classicsimpforaaronwarner

[honeysorwell]

all of it (all of you) 

Pairing: Melissa Schemmenti x hairdresser!fem Reader

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

Link on AO3

Chapter 2

Tag list: @janeyseymour @italianaidiota @chloeelou02x (and if you want to be tagged too just let me know.)

Warning: there is a line for people who want to kiss Mel's burn hand, and I'm the first in it.

Words: 5,7k

The comments and compliments I received for this work caught me completely unprepared. Guys, thank you all very much for embracing my work with such affection.

Enjoy!

Fifteen people in the last twenty days.

Fifteen people have complimented Melissa's hair in the last twenty days.

In theory, everything was done the same as usual, but by someone else's hands. However, the universe decided to make the redhead feel even more guilty about everything that happened on her last visit to the salon.

First, it was Barb. The older woman touched Melissa's red hair tenderly in the teacher's breakroom, without any apprehension or concern about the second-grade teacher's reaction, and complimented the way it was colored, saying it looked brighter than before.

But it quickly escalated into something more significant.

Ava asked if she did anything differently, and the principal did so while telling a flattering joke asking where her Roger Rabbit was, which even made Barbara laugh softly. Next, it was Janine and Jacob who also complimented her hair, with a shy Gregory by their side who just nodded.

Then more and more parents of students joined the complementary wave of affection towards her. And then Melissa was hearing compliments from Abbott’s new stocker and vending machine operator, a handsome man with hair that was too long for her taste named Julian who now shares the heavy workload of the truck with Gary (causing the bald man with the mustache to blush before he softly agrees with his new co-worker).

Then there are a few random teenagers, grocery store clerks, who stop her to tell her she looks hot, quickly finishing the sentence with a “respectfully” before Melissa even has time to respond to them.

Normally Melissa would love all of this attention, and in another scenario, the compliments would have encouraged her to go out after work on some random Friday night looking for someone brave enough to try something more than a compliment. But this time the Italian woman felt her heart clench and her mind race a thousand miles an hour as she thought about the hairdresser who did that job every time someone complimented her.

So she actively swallows her pride and visits the Riverfront Roots Salon once again. Melissa would truly rather die than apologize or admit she was wrong. She memorized this from her family and she carries this learning throughout her life, but even someone like the redhead needs to admit that nothing can be applied in life without at least one exception.

That's why Melissa makes this visit to the salon on a Tuesday, after the school day is over since the darkness of the night could allow a little more privacy between her and Y/N.

As she parks her car in front of Riverfront Roots, the redhead convinces herself that it doesn't hurt to make sure that only the minimum number of people witness this display of vulnerability coming from a Schimmenti as she watches what seems to be the last customers of the night saying goodbye to the receptionist before leaving.

What will she say?

She has no idea.

But everything goes down the drain when the redhead's idea goes wrong. So when she returns home at night, unable to even talk to the hairdresser to replace the image of discomfort written on Y/N's face from her memory with an apology, Melissa decides to call her confidant and arrange to meet her the following weekend, using the next few days to gather courage and ask for advice from the one who never failed to give her the best of them whenever the teacher needed it.

“Oh, Melissa. How are you, dear? Don't get me wrong, cuz I figured I'd get your call, just not exactly as an invitation for coffee...”, Andrea's voice rings out as Melissa enters her favorite coffee shop, sounding happier than the last time the teacher saw her, and the redhead imagines that this is the result of the free time resting that the Italian woman must now have in abundance thanks to her retirement.

“What? Can't I invite my friend for coffee and ask her how her days are going without the sound of the hairdryer making her deaf?”, her voice sounds playful above all, which makes the answer she receives from Andrea come along with a laugh.

“Of course you can, silly girl!”

And so they talk for several hours, drinking coffee after coffee and hardly caring about how electric their bodies will be after ingesting so much caffeine while sharing pieces of their current lives. At first, it is strange to look at the woman in front of them and not see their own face next to that one, sharing a reflection in the mirror, but it is fine and the two women quickly get used to the new arrangement.

“Of course, you knew I would miss you,” Melissa says with a laugh, chewing gently on one of the best butter cookies she has ever eaten after taking another sip of her particularly hot coffee.

“Oh, I knew that. But, that’s not exactly what turned on the light bulb in my head,” the older woman says with an air of wisdom that only someone who has ever lived in the world enough to know too much can have, and after taking another sip of her coffee, she continued, “You see... Y/N called me a few weeks ago asking for permission to pass on the mix recipe I developed for you to another hairdresser... So, even though she didn't give me any details, I figured something had... happened.”

Melissa felt that the blood under the skin of her face was truly burning with shame.

The redhead thought about swallowing the coffee in her cup in one go, hoping it would burn her tongue with how hot the liquid was, and thus be able to escape from answering what Andrea clearly wanted to know.

She knew she was cornered and had been caught, with no intelligent way to escape. Shame and guilt mixed together, creating a bitter taste in the teacher's mouth even with the memory of the cookie so fresh on her tongue.

But, Melissa's usual response to these situations, loud and ready for a fight, doesn't happen here. Not with Andrea. Never with Andrea.

“What a big mouth... Jezz...”, is how the teacher responds, mumbling as she looks away from her friend in front of her.

“Something tells me yours is too.”

“I just... I was angry, okay?”, for the first time the redhead is honest even in the midst of murmurs, “And she’s different, and she kept talking so I... I freaked out and said what I shouldn’t have.”

Andrea remains silent, just observing the discomfort of the one in front of her with affection and understanding, and it’s this look that makes Melissa continue to speak.

“I know I crossed the line... But she did too!”, the words come out of the teacher’s mouth accusingly before she shares the whole story with Andrea, who smiles and shows surprise at every bit of her student’s encounter with Melissa shared with her, especially with the scissors.

“And what do you want to do now? I even know other hairdressers, but–”

“No! I just... I don't know exactly how I should apologize... Don't get me wrong, I don't want to apologize, but I really know I need to.”, honesty and vulnerability continue their journey between Melissa's mind and tongue as she speaks, “I stopped by her salon but they didn't even let me see her, they just gave me a paper with how many grams of each dye I need for my whole head and sent me away. But since you told me she was your pupil... Well...I thought that maybe...”

“Oh... I see.”, Andrea's voice has the most suggestive tone Melissa has heard in years, and thanks to the look the older woman gives her, full of knowledge, the redhead's cheeks blush.

“Please Andrea, it's not like that.”, the sentence escapes her lips just as her neck also begins to blush, with a speed that would be justified if Melissa were being tortured, trying to prove her innocence of a crime that the teacher definitely did not commit. But maybe she thought about it.

Or if she had enjoyed many generous sips of her coffee, even though she knew how hot it was.

“I didn’t say anything, dear. I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Andrea can sense Melissa’s embarrassment, so she diverts her attention to the bigger picture, even though her knowing smile never leaves her lips, “Look… You know you’re a good cook, and you’ve gotten your fair share of favors that way. Maybe it’s worth trying your luck.”

After that, the subject goes back to where it was before, and the teacher actually tries to focus on Andrea saying that she’ll be spending next summer in Europe, but Melissa’s mind starts working in a completely different way. She silently goes over (in her memory) the most beloved dishes from the cookbook she inherited from her grandmother while listening to Andrea talk about how it would be a pleasure to have Melissa over if she decides to run away from her family for the upcoming holidays. And when they pay the bill for the coffee, Melissa knows what to do.

“And Melissa… Cut off an inch when you get the chance, my dear. It's getting a little.. uneven.”, this is the end of Andrea's farewell to the redhead after a tight hug and a sweet kiss on the forehead, but the words are said in a maternal tone, of genuine care for the teacher that makes Melissa, even without thinking, respond to the older woman with just an affirmative nod and a loving smile.

And, as she doesn't want to think about what happened when someone else suggested the same thing, at least not now, Melissa goes home with only that feeling in her chest.

When the moon took over the sky that night, Melissa was lying under the covers of her bed, staring at the ceiling of her room and completely giving up on falling asleep, while her mind went over and over her conversation with Andrea. The older woman was right, as always.

She could cook something for Y/N.

Cooking has always been her passion since she was little, and that was one of the things that made the redhead and her grandmother even closer. The fact that Melissa was very good at it only helped her cause of being her grandmother's favorite.

Most of the time the redhead cooks as a thank you, rather than an apology, but the change is small. And so, the fact that the idea of ​​cooking to apologize has not left Melissa's mind honestly shocked her.

Most of her guys are just people from all over Philadelphia who work in different places and when they hear about how good her food is, they actively choose to seek her out, willingly offering services (sometimes illicit) that the redhead might be interested in in the long run in order to have the opportunity to taste her seasoning, thus forming an alliance.

It's impossible not to take advantage of this after a few years.

Finding out and memorizing what her most skillful guys' favorite dishes are. Doubling or even tripling the size of recipes that were previously made for only ten people, making her thanks become something shared with more and more potential “guys” (thus increasing the number of guys offering their services to her) so often that the redhead has forgotten how to cook for just two people in the last twenty years.

Cooking is a gift that, unlike her job as a teacher, the redhead didn't have to choose. It was flowing through her veins.

Melissa knows that this is one of the simplest ways to get what she wants. And maybe that's what made her block this possibility until now.

There was a voice inside her head, not the part inflated by her ego for always getting what she wants thanks to how good her food is and how everyone who knows about her talent wants to appreciate it, but the insecure and confused one that whispers in a soft voice that Melissa wants to manipulate Y/N.

And for the first time in a while, she’s not bragging about doing it. In fact, she doesn’t want to do it.

For some reason that Melissa still doesn’t know but keeps scratching her insides, she wants to earn Y/N’s apology, not demand it with her food.

And it doesn’t help that it’s been a long time since Melissa apologized to anyone.

Knowing that she won’t be able to sleep anytime soon and taking advantage of the fact that tomorrow will be Sunday, the second and third-grade teacher gets out of bed and goes to the kitchen, wondering what she should cook.

It’s already the middle of the night, and she has a lot of grading to do for her students’ tests tomorrow, but Melissa knows she won’t be able to concentrate if she doesn’t do that first.

Wrapped in a dark blue robe and hoping that Jacob won’t come to check why she is up so late at night, the teacher carefully opens the refrigerator and checks the ingredients she has and the ones she bought the last time she went to the farmer’s market.

Orange juice... Half a bottle of wine... Milk... Eggs... Fresh mascarpone?

When her eyes focus on the sweet cream-colored cheese, a train of thoughts runs through her head. Melissa knows less than little about her new hairdresser – which is her fault, really – but who doesn't like a sweet treat after a long day of work?

The redhead has dark chocolate in the pantry. Coffee is always a must in a teacher's house. And her cousin gave her a cocoa powder so rich and velvety last Christmas that it could melt in her fingers.

So tiramisu it is.

It was a simple yet sophisticated dessert, full of layers of flavors and textures that the redhead hoped would be enough to convey the care and effort she had put into the dessert. And that would certainly be worth more than a few words, right?

When Melissa goes back to bed, she knows that this is a good idea, and, bathed in this certainty, the redhead can finally see herself falling asleep as she climbs back to bed.

"Perfect," is the word Melissa whispers softly to herself, as she finally gets the thing that was preventing her from sleeping off her chest.

The next morning, the redhead took a quick shower and went downstairs, deciding to organize everything she would need to grade her little eagles' work on the dining room table before taking a deep breath and heading to the kitchen.

She hadn't made homemade Savoiardi in years, always using the ones from the Italian bakery that sold her favorite cannolis. But today was different. Today, cooking would make her put her feelings in order, perhaps even directing her mind to a light that would clear her ideas for what the teacher should say when giving the dessert to Y/N the next morning.

The redhead begins to separate the ingredients she will need to bake the cookies quickly, already deciding that it would be smart to have the necessary ingredients on the kitchen counter even before she finishes making her coffee. Anticipating the company she will have when she hears the sound of lazy footsteps coming from the stairs, Melissa fills one more cup than she would if she were alone with the dark liquid and begins to grab her frying pan to put it in the stove and prepare what she's going to eat.

"Good morning Mel-Mel!", Jacob sounds as he enters the kitchen, hoarse and sleepy, leaning softly against the kitchen counter and observing the ingredients that are displayed there.

"Morning Jacob. There's coffee ready.", Melissa answers softly, pointing to the coffee cup next to hers, still full and steaming, waiting for the younger teacher.

"Thank you.", the smile Jacob gives her is initially full of gratitude, but quickly turns to curiosity when he continues, "Oh... what are you cooking?"

The teacher isn't sure what exactly this question refers to, but considering how curiously he was looking at her ingredients just a minute ago, Melissa gives Jacob two simple answers.

"Eggs, and then baking."

"That's cool. Let me finish this, you already made me coffee.", Jacob says as he gently takes the spoon from the redhead's hand, then grabs four eggs from the fridge and takes her place in front of the stove.

After he moved in with Melissa and this new and sweet idea of ​​friendship was born between the two teachers, what had previously been just a few cooking lessons here and there turned into an intensive course. But the younger teacher loved every second of it. Jacob learned so much about everyday food living with the redhead and even managed to succeed at it, making moments like that more and more natural in the Italian woman's kitchen.

Taking advantage of the softness of her replacement in front of the stove, the redhead begins to gently check if everything she needs to bake is there until Jacob's voice sounds again.

"Did you know that astronauts can bake bread in some space stations?", the man says the words with childish excitement, but still with his eyes attentive to the eggs he is stirring gently on the stove, exactly as the redhead instructed him weeks ago, "Wouldn't it be nice to eat warm bread while you watch the earth from afar?"

"First, I'm not baking bread. But yes, it does sound good to them, kid.” Melissa’s response is simple and sweet, not irritated like she usually would be when she hears silly things like that at work.

They ate breakfast in comfortable silence. Melissa knew Jacob was going on a date that Sunday, so from the moment she woke up to the moment she heard Jacob singing in the upstairs shower before he began to get properly dressed for the lunch he would share with Avi, the paramedic at the local Philadelphia fire station, everything was going according to the plan the teacher had until she started baking.

Melissa tried to focus on the methodical rhythm of her task. Crack the egg, pour the white into a jar, pour the yolks into the mixer bowl, and repeat. But her mind insisted on going back to what she had done a few weeks ago. The words she had said to Y/N were sharp and thoughtless, but what weighed on her like a stone in her stomach was the change in the hairdresser’s expression. "She may have already forgotten...", Melissa muttered to herself, trying to calm her mind. But she knew it wasn't true.

She knew Janine didn't mean to say that she was a bad teacher when Courtney was transferred to her class, not really. It was just the younger teacher's ego and naivety, both screaming and destroying Janine's judgment for having been actively chosen.

But Melissa also couldn't deny that her mouth turned bitter the moment she heard her colleague's words, even if they were whispered.

She would never say it out loud, not even to Barb, but that first night, after hearing that unexpected insult, the younger teacher's words remained too vivid in the redhead's mind when the lights in her room went out and she had to go to sleep.

Maybe I'm not a bad teacher. Maybe you are.

She really didn't deserve that.

The memory flashed through Melissa's brain so quickly that the teacher even lost her rhythm as she added more ingredients to her mixture, but she recovered enough to start beating the egg whites. However, the continuous noise of the mixer only made her remember how much she had thought about it, lying in her bed watching the sun rise through her window when she woke up before her alarm clock.

A bad teacher.

Sighing, Melissa thinks about how much it took for her to understand what was going on in the mind of the younger teacher back then, and then turns off the mixer and begins to mix its contents with the few that were missing.

As she spread the molds she would need on top of her table and, with the experience and speed of a chef, the redhead put the freshly mixed dough she had in her hands in a pastry bag and continued without even blinking as she remembered that little clash in Abbott.

When Janine got upset about being described as an inexperienced teacher in the teachers break room, the redhead hadn't even blink, and that was why she started teasing the younger woman.

Because, to the redhead, it was obvious that she was a more experienced teacher.

If Melissa, a teacher with over twenty years of experience, wasn't more experienced than a teacher with only three, then Melissa was doing something very wrong not only with her life but also with the lives of the children she taught. The fact that the two woman had different times to prepare and perfect themselves to where they were now, both in the same place (teaching Abbott Elementary as second-grade teachers at the same time), had nothing to do with Janine's qualities as a teacher.

Eventually, she managed to explain this to the younger teacher.

"Thank God.", was the muttered thought that Melissa let slip between her lips as she put her Savoiardi in the oven after sprinkling them with her mixture of sugar and cornstarch, automatically starting the timer.

Melissa forgave Janine because she knew she didn't mean it with all her heart. The younger teacher was foolish but not cruel. She couldn't be cruel even if she tried.

Melissa knew. But Melissa knew this because she knew Janine.

The problem was that... Y/N didn't know Melissa.

So what the hell was she going to do if the hairdresser didn't accept her apology?

And so it was over. Her mind was just taking away the possibility of a peaceful morning for Melissa. Because not even her grandmother's collection of favorite Italian songs would be fair competition for what was starting to form in the redhead's mind.

The redhead isn't someone who has a problem with someone she barely knows not liking her. Melissa sometimes even triumphs over this idea of ​​being disliked by people close to her, so someone she doesn't know should simply mean nothing.

When Uncle Archie says she's his least favorite in the family, it doesn't mean anything. It's an honor, really, and the words of her mother's brother would never keep her awake at night. And he is family.

Now among people she knows, Schimmenti loves the idea of ​​being seen as unreachable, distant and unsociable. But there is something about that hairdresser...

With a huff, Melissa simply grabbed a cloth within her reach and began to clean the counter of her sink, ignoring the insistent sound of the timer that finally went off, still lost in all these thoughts.

Maybe it's because the hairdresser really didn't deserve those words... Maybe it's because the poor woman was just doing her job... Maybe it's because the hairdresser is connected to Andrea... Or maybe...

When the smell of sugar began to intensify, Melissa finally realized that the time had passed. With a start, the redhead opened the oven, letting out a wave of heat so intense that it made her eyes water. The teacher hurriedly pulled one of the baking sheets out of the oven, her bare fingers touching the hot metal before she realized her mistake.

"FUCK!" she groaned loudly, backing away quickly, knocking the tray onto the counter. One of the cookies fell to the floor with a dry, crunchy sound, while her instinct forced her to hold her hand against her chest, her eyes watering.

The burning heat pinked up her palm like an immediate punishment, and defeated Melissa finally turned on the kitchen faucet, placing her red hand there.

"MELISSA??" Jacob's shrill voice sounded faster than she imagined. And more desperate too.

For a moment, the older teacher stood there, staring at the cookie on the floor and feeling the buzzing in her throbbing skin as she felt the flow of water. The pain was real, but it served only as a reflection of something greater: guilt.

“I’M FINE, JACOB!” the redhead yells back at her roommate, even though she knows that from the sounds she hears upstairs, he must be desperately putting on the first piece of clothing he can find and then coming to check on her.

By the time he appears in the kitchen, as out of breath as Janine had been running around in her early years as a teacher, the pain has already subsided. But the younger teacher doesn’t care about that, or the fact that Melissa honestly tells him that she used to get burned all the time when she was younger and that heat tolerance is in every Italian woman’s blood, as he gently rubs some burn ointment from his personal first aid kit onto her burned fingertips.

After repeating what she imagines to be a thousand times that she is fine and perfectly capable of being alone, Jacob finally leaves her alone and goes on his date, giving Melissa the space she needs to sit at the kitchen table. She doesn't want to sound insane, but the savoiardi, perfectly shaped but with some slightly over-brown, seemed to judge her silently.

With a fork and using her non-dominant hand, Melissa tried to transfer all the cookies she baked to a covered container as soon as they cooled and went to her living room.

Finishing the corrections of her students' tests with her non-dominant hand takes longer than she imagines, taking up most of her morning and afternoon. But at least she is back in the kitchen when Jacob returns from his meeting, with flushed cheeks, swollen lips, a sweet smile and lost eyes as he asks her if her fingers still hurt.

She softly denies it, with a smile on her face and thankful for Jacob's concern written in his eyes. He understands even the words she doesn't say, and she is also thankful for that as she grates some of the dark chocolate she will need to finish her recipe the next day and puts it in a covered container.

On Monday morning, Melissa gets up ready early.

If asked, she would say that she set her alarm to wake her an hour and a half earlier, but the reality is that her nerves did the job without the help of technology.

Calmly, Melissa took the mascarpone from her refrigerator and began to make the cream that would bring the entire recipe to life. She beats the egg whites with the egg yolk, and uses the mixer to first mix the sugar, then the mascarpone and finally the carefully beaten egg whites.

When everything was ready, the redhead took a deep breath and, next to the precious dish she had chosen, arranged on her counter the Savoiardi cookies made the day before, the grated chocolate, the mascarpone cream and began to assemble the dessert. She dipped the cookies in a little room temperature coffee, one by one, taking care to make sure they were just the right amount of wet so that she could arrange them on the bottom of that precious glass dish, creating an even base and trying to ignore how much she wished the hairdresser could see the care she put into it.

When Jacob finally came downstairs, she was already spreading the fourth layer of the mascarpone cream, smoothing it with a spatula to ensure that each part of the dessert was perfect. When she finished, the redhead noticed that it was exactly ten minutes before the time she and the younger teacher left the house every day, so the redhead took her time sprinkling cocoa powder on top delicately, as if she were drawing an invisible message to Y/N.

Forgive me. I'm sorry.

Melissa wasn't sure.

But what she knows for sure is that Jacob is practically melting with curiosity in his passenger seat as he holds the dessert in his lap.

The Italian woman wanted to rest the tray on her back seat, as she always does when she needs to take something important to school. But he asks so genuinely to carry it that Melissa doesn't have the heart to tell him to take the bus that day. Especially after his ointment worked wonders by almost completely healing the burn on her hand.

At least not inside the car, since she takes the tray from the younger teacher's hand and is the one responsible for putting it in the refrigerator in the teacher's break room.

"Oh. This is a...”, Janine's voice is uncertain as she inspects the tray that prevents her from storing her sandwich on the common refrigerator shelf, already stretching her fingers to get a better look at what it was.

“It's mine. Do you have a problem with it?”, Melissa says rudely just so that there are no additional questions, but, as usual, Janine doesn't get the hint.

“That's beautiful. But can I—”, Janine starts again only to be interrupted.

“It's not yours. So don't touch it.”

After that, a heavy silence takes over the break room for a few moments.

“She spent the whole day yesterday making it... and she even got burned and then she was putting it together this morning.”, the youngest man in the room mumbles to his friend, not as quietly as he imagines he did since everyone in the room hears Jacob's words even with the news on the television.

“Did she give you a piece?” Janine mumbles back to Jacob, now curious. He shakes his head at the younger woman, purposely leaving out the fact that Melissa left a fair amount of the cream she used for that tiramisu in a small bowl, next to some of the homemade cookies just for him this morning. And that’s why Jacob gets a slap on the arm from the redhead along with an irritated look as he passes her on his way to the coffee maker to refill the dark liquid in his cup. Finally, intrigued by the younger man’s groan of pain, Barbara looks at the refrigerator that Janine still has open, trying unsuccessfully to put her lunch inside, and sees the reason for everyone’s commotion. A big tiramisu. But she also sees something that no one else does.

Something that cannot be questioned is that, out of everyone there, Barbara knows Melissa like no one else and is able to figure her out without even trying. And, with a small look at the glass dish in question, she had already figured her friend out.

That was one of a set of five glass dishes that Barbara Howard had heard about and only seen from a distance. Before her third year of marriage, the redhead's ex-mother-in-law, who was battling lung cancer although she still refused to give up smoking, distributed her most precious possessions to her family. And among them was that set that had been desired by all the women in Joe's family for many years.

As expected, four of the dishes were divided among Mary Alice's four daughters, but, surprising the redhead in a way she never imagined possible, Melissa was given the last one of the set, much to the despair of Joe's older brother's wife. Melissa's ex-husband's mother told the teacher that her talent for cooking would give a better destination for the last piece, unlike the idiotic fight that the sisters would probably start over the unequal number of the set.

Even after the divorce, the heartwarming gift was never claimed by Joe.

So Barbara knew that the tiramisu in question, taking up a huge space in the refrigerator of the teachers' break room on the first floor of Abbott Elementary, was not like any other.

"Girlfriend?" Barbara says softly to get the redhead's attention, speaking again only when Melissa's green eyes are looking directly into her dark ones, "Don't get involved in anything dangerous, please."

"I won't..." Melissa's voice no longer has the bite it had when she spoke to the other teachers, "I swear! It's just... an apology."

"For Joe?", the first-grade teacher knows she might be pushing, but she can't help but ask.

"No!", it's almost a scream, the redhead's tone of voice sounds scared and indignant, but it calms the teacher next to her.

And that, for now, is enough.

At the end of the day, with the tiramisu neatly packed and in her passenger seat, Melissa got into her car and drove to the salon where Y/N worked. The teacher's heart was beating fast as she parked and walked to the entrance, holding the dessert tightly even though her hands were sweaty. As she entered, the sound of scissors and the buzz of conversation seemed to fade in her mind. Her eyes searched for Y/N, who was distracted by a client and she didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

The last time she tried to talk to the hairdresser, Melissa gave her name right at the entrance and the receptionist automatically started searching through her notes for the note addressed to her, but now the redhead knew better.

"My name is not important. Just say that someone really wants to talk to her."

"Y/N!" the receptionist shouts the hairdresser's name loudly, using her vocal cords without any remorse, "There's a redhead who wants to talk to you."

“Is she hot?”, the sound of Y/N’s voice rings out from a distance to Melissa amidst a laugh, at the same time that her rhythmic footsteps echo on the floor of the salon, as if the hairdresser wasn’t exactly running, but in a kind of hurry and curiosity to know what was waiting for her at the reception.

When the Brazilian woman turns the glass corridor and finally appears in front of the redhead, with a soft smile on her face, Melissa can’t help but think that Y/N is even more beautiful than the first time she saw her.

But that smile doesn’t last long because, the moment the hairdresser’s eyes meet Melissa’s green ones, Y/N’s soft face turns into a frown as she asks harshly:

“Oh. You. What do you want?”