#but i had to express this overwhelming feeling

[burningembers91]

The Beauty of Vulnerability - Choi Su Bong (Thanos) x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up Piece to: Not Who I Want to Be

Synopsis: Thanos is ready to show who he really is

Warnings: Alcohol and drug misuse/addiction, p in v, oral, 18+ only!

Your phone buzzed once, twice, three times before you finally picked it up. Thanos had sent you a selfie of him posing on his balcony, the Seoul skyline in the background. He had his usual goofy expression on his face, his tattoos visible on his shirtless body. He’d followed the selfie up with several emojis and a plea to join him on his balcony. You couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t help but zoom in on his abs visible in the lower lefthand corner of the screen. It had been six weeks since your meeting in the nightclub, and as much as you’d tried to resist, he’d charmed his way into your life.

Thanos was unlike anyone you’d ever met. He was so vibrant, so full of life and yet so broken. His eyes were filled with such sadness, a sadness that never quite went away no matter how hard he laughed, or how many jokes he told. He was the classic class clown, always striving to make you laugh. You hadn’t believed him when he told you he was a famous rapper, not until you’d Googled him the next day. Your friends didn’t believe you’d met him either, not until you showed them the message you’d sent him. you’d listened to his music, and although it wasn’t entirely to your taste, there was no denying the man had talent.

You’d met a few times since then, mostly at Thanos’ apartment. You’d once made the mistake of heading to a restaurant for dinner and spent the entire time fighting off screaming girls armed with iPhones and killer glares in your direction. You hadn’t quite got a feel of who this man was, didn’t quite understand what made him tick. He was a wildcard, but there was an underlying sweetness about him.

While you were reserved with your feelings, Thanos was head over heels for you. You gave him a reason to wake up in the morning, gave him purpose on days that without you would have been filled with drugs and booze. He hadn’t quite managed to quit the narcotics, but a lifetime habit was hard to break. But you’d inspired him to write music again, had given him an entirely new lease on life. The day after he’d met you, he spent all day messaging you on Instagram. The next day, he removed the parasites from his apartment, the ones who only came round when they wanted to party, take drugs or cling to his coattails. He deep cleaned his apartment, tipping bottles of booze and pills down the toilet. He sat at his piano for the first time in years, penning a song that was so different to anything he’d written before. The music seemed to flow through him, the words coming so naturally. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d written something sober, the melody overwhelming him until he was reduced to tears. He’d spent so long pretending to be someone else, it was nice to have a piece of the real him shine through.

He understood you wanted to take things slow, and he’d be a fool to rush into this headfirst. That had always been his mistake. Thanos usually acted first and thought later, but he didn’t want to fuck up whatever this was that he had with you. There were a few times when he slipped back into his old habits, taking a pill when the world got a little too much, drinking himself to sleep when his racing thoughts wouldn’t let him rest. He hadn’t told you about his addictions, but you knew.

You saw it in his eyes, saw the ways his hands shook when he was starting to withdraw. You’d seen friends addicted in the past, and it hadn’t ended well. That’s why you were taking things slow; you were waiting for the moment Thanos would inevitably break your heart. Your head screamed at you to leave, but your heart told you this man was worth fighting for.

You joined him later that evening on his balcony, just as the sky turned candy floss pink as the sun began to set. He handed you a glass of champagne worth more than your monthly salary, kissing you softly on your cheek. His days were long and lonely without you, counting down the hours until he saw you again. You were the anchor that kept him grounded to the world, the woman who stopped him from floating away into the clouds. His fingernails were painted black today, the colour matching the thickly tattooed line that snaked from his middle finger to his neck. you liked to trace that line, smiling as he shivered against you. you hadn’t slept together yet, but every day you found it harder to find a reason not to. His lips skimmed your cheek again, making their way down to your lips. Thanos loved kissing you, loved the way your lips felt against his. You were impossibly soft, your tongue meeting his as you wrapped your arms around his neck, the glass of expensive champagne long forgotten.

“I wrote a song for you,” he whispered, playing with them hem of your skirt. “Can I play it for you?” You nodded, tilting your head back as his lips continued to kiss you, trailing across your jawline and down your neck. He was so crazy about you, so head over heels he felt like he might go insane. You made his entire body tingle, from his scalp to his toes, and he found himself constantly getting lost in your eyes.

Pulling you from the comfort of his outdoor sofa, he led you to his music room, offering you a seat on his plush leather stool. He sat at his piano, nerves wracking his body as he took a deep breath. Usually, he’d pop a pill to calm his nerves, or down a few shots of tequila. But not tonight. Tonight, he wanted to sit with those nerves, to show his vulnerability to you in a way he’d never shown anyone. As he began to play, his voice singing in perfect harmony with the notes, you watched in silence. Every inch of you was covered in goosebumps, the tune on the piano so beautifully encompassing his feelings towards you. Never had a man treated you the way Thanos had; he made you feel like a Goddess.

When the song was over, Thanos stayed at the piano, his bottom lip trembling. You watched him for a few moments, your heart aching as a lifetime of emotions bubbled to the surface. He was so tired of being someone he wasn’t, of surrounding himself with people who didn’t give a shit about him. Until 6 weeks ago, he had no one to call when he was lonely, no one to hug him when he was feeling sad. He’d had no one to turn to when the world got dark, but you were here now. Sitting across from him, your eyes brimming with tears, he didn’t know how to convey his feelings towards you other than through song.

Nothing about him was real; nothing was authentically him. His name wasn’t even real; he’d modelled it on a fucking purple CGI villain. A single tear fell from his eye, landing on the ivory keys with a splatter. A deep, wracking sob escaped him and his closed his eyes as he felt the darkness closing in. He longed for a release, longed to feel the numbness that came with the pills he popped like candy.

Your arms encircled him, pulling his shaking body into yours. You stood there for a while, stroking his shock of purple hair while he sobbed into your chest. He’d never cried in front of a woman before, had never shown any emotion other than unabashed confidence. “My name isn’t even Thanos,” he choked after a while. “I know,” you smiled, “I doubted your parents named you after a Marvel villain.” You wiped his tears away with the pad of your thumb, placing a soft kiss on each of his eyelids. He looked so fragile, so broken as his head slumped against your breasts, his body still shaking with the occasional sob. “What is your name?” He looked up at you. He hadn’t said he real name for years; Thanos had become his brand, the crutch he used almost as much as the drugs and alcohol. “Choi Su-Bong,” he whispered. “My name is Choi Su-Bong.”

You kissed him, pulling him down onto the soft carpet of his music room floor. “Choi Su-Bong,” you smiled, “My Choi Su-Bong.” He made love to you right there on the floor, the sounds of your moans melting into the sound-proof walls. Su-Bong had never felt like this with anyone before. He was usually completely numb when he fucked someone, if he remembered fucking them at all. But with you, he was sober, perhaps for the first time in his life. He felt every touch, every thrust so deeply. He let you take charge, straddling him as you lowered yourself onto him. Your fingers traced his abs, the sensation overwhelming him as your nails dragged gently across his skin, tracing the tattoos that littered his torso and chest. He’d never known something could feel this good, had never realised that your entire body could feel like it was on fire in the best way possible. He was desperate to touch every inch of you, to feel every part of your exposed skin. He guided your chest towards his mouth, his lips locking around your sensitive nipple as he took it gently between his teeth. Your moans were heavenly, more beautiful than any song he’d ever heard. He came with an earth-shattering groan, his fingers gripping the skin on your thighs as he finished inside of you. He carried you to his room after, laying you down on his silk sheets before drawing out your pleasure again and again. Your body shook for him, your breathy moans spurring him on. You tasted like heaven, your slickness coating his mouth and tongue as he devoured you again and again.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, waking up as the sun broke over the horizon. Thanos was gone, but Choi Su-Bong had replaced him. His arms cradled you as you watched the sun rise, his lips peppering kisses along your shoulder and neck. Finally rousing from bed, he padded through to the kitchen. He was no chef, but last night had worked up quite the appetite. He ordered breakfast from a local café, spreading out the food across his expansive kitchen. He wasn’t sure what your favourite was, so he ordered one of everything. You sat and ate together, smiling at each other over your coffee mugs.

There would be hard days ahead, but Choi Su-Bong was determined to start fresh. New music, new friends, a new perspective. He’d never had anything in life that made him want to be a better person. But now he had you, and you were worth fighting for.

[rose24207]

Just a Salesman

Summary: Your perfect world shatters when a furious stranger bursts into your home, accusing your loving, devoted husband of being a monster responsible for countless deaths.

Genre: angst

TW: swearing, mention of death

A/N: Posting sm today wow. English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Pt.2

Masterlist

You always believed in the goodness of people. Growing up in a small, close-knit town had shaped you that way.

You’d been the type to bake cookies for the elderly neighbor down the street, rescue stray animals, and donate whatever you could to people in need. When you met your husband, it felt like a gift from the universe.

He was everything you thought you’d never deserve: charismatic, attentive, and so gentle with you it made your heart ache. He would listen intently to your rambles about work, surprise you with your favorite pastries from the café downtown, and hold you close on cold nights when the world seemed too overwhelming.

You hadn’t known much about his work—“sales” was all he ever said—but it didn’t matter. He always came home to you, and that was enough. You admired how he seemed to understand people so easily, reading emotions and desires with an almost uncanny precision. He was your safe harbor, and you were his soft place to land.

But what made your marriage unique wasn’t just the way he made you feel; it was the way you balanced him. Where he was logical and composed, you were emotional and empathetic. If he brushed off a stranger’s plight with practicality, you’d step in with a warm smile and offer help. He often teased you about your boundless kindness, calling you “his little bleeding heart,” but his tone was always fond.

“You’re too good for this world,” he’d whisper sometimes, brushing your hair behind your ear. You’d laugh, kissing his cheek.

“And you’re my world,” you’d reply, never missing the way his gaze softened.

You were blissfully unaware that the man you loved and trusted so completely was hiding a shadowy part of himself, one that was entirely at odds with the person you knew.

It was a chilly winter evening when your life began to unravel. You’d just finished preparing dinner, humming to yourself as you set the table for two, the flicker of candlelight adding warmth to the cozy living room.

Your husband had called earlier, saying he’d be late, but you didn’t mind waiting.

The knock at the door came suddenly, jolting you out of your thoughts. Expecting it to be a neighbor or a delivery, you opened it with your usual bright smile, only to find a man standing there, his face lined with rage and exhaustion.

“Can I help you?” you asked kindly, though his expression unnerved you.

“You already have,” he muttered darkly, stepping inside uninvited. “Where is he?”

“I’m sorry—who are you talking about?” you stammered, retreating a step.

“Your husband,” he spat, his voice trembling with barely contained fury. “Where is that bastard hiding?”

“I think you’ve made a mistake,” you said gently, though your hands were shaking. “My husband hasn’t hurt anyone. He’s just a salesman.”

“A salesman,” the man repeated with a bitter laugh. He fished a small card from his pocket and slammed it onto the table. You glanced at it, confused by the cryptic design.

“He gave me this,” the man continued. “And because of him, I had to watch people die. Because of him, my friends are dead! You’re married to a killer!”

The words pierced through you like shards of ice. “That’s impossible,” you whispered. “My husband would never—”

“Open your eyes, lady!” he shouted, making you flinch. “Do you even know who you’re married to?”

Before you could respond, the door creaked open again. Your husband stepped inside, his eyes immediately locking onto the stranger.

“Gi-hun,” he said calmly, closing the door behind him. “It’s been a while.”

Your heart sank as you turned to your husband, his usual warmth replaced with a cold, calculating smile you’d never seen before.

“What’s going on?” you asked, your voice trembling.

“Go to the bedroom,” he said softly, but there was an edge to his tone that made your blood run cold.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “Not until you tell me what this is about. Why is he saying these things?”

The room was tense, the air thick with unspoken truths. Gi-hun’s fury burned hotter as he stepped closer.

“She doesn’t even know, does she?” he sneered. “You’ve been lying to her this whole time.”

Your husband’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t her concern.”

“She’s your wife! She deserves to know the kind of monster she’s married to!”

“Enough,” your husband snapped, his voice firm but not raised. He turned to you, his expression softening just slightly. “Go upstairs, sweetheart. Please.”

You stood frozen, torn between obeying the man you loved and demanding answers. The tears in your eyes blurred your vision as the image of your perfect life began to crumble around you.

Thank you for reading!

[inotakumagf]

find me in the future

✶ sylus qin x gn!reader

word count ✺ 2.1K

summary ✺ you wake up next to sylus. the only problem is that you don’t know how you ended up in his arms.

warning ✺ teeny tiny bit of angst, but it all works out in the end. description of injuries & fighting. i was very inspired by would you fall in love with me again? from epic the musical and s2e7 of arcane iykyk.....sylus is so soulmate-coded. reblogs & comments are very appreciated! :)

You wake to a warm body pressed against your back. You nuzzle further into your plush pillow at the feeling, resting your hand over the strong arm across your waist. It's almost enough to lull you back to sleep. But your eyes snap open, and you jerk away. Now that your brain is not muddled with sleep, you remember that you went to bed alone. Because you have no one to share it with. 

“Sweetheart? Is everything alright?” The voice is rough with sleep, but very familiar. 

You sit up, turning to stare at the figure that was spooning you from behind. You fumble for your nightstand to flick on the switch of your lamp. It takes you a moment to find the switch and when you do, you squint at the brightness.

You blink at the man staring up at you. It’s Sylus. You know Sylus. But why is he in your bed? Why is his arm reaching out to rub against your skin? And why is he staring at you like you hung up the stars?

“I…” You don’t know what to say. He’s not the type of person to just show up in your bed uninvited. Did you go out drinking, without remembering? Did you…? 

“Did you have a nightmare, sweetheart?” He sits up and pulls you into his arms, running his large hand over your skin in comfort.

You watch as he does so, staring at the way his hands knead over you with so much familiarity. That’s when you notice the band on his ring finger. 

Your eyes widen in surprise. He’s married? You’ve never noticed him wearing a ring before, and you feel discomfort settling in your stomach at the sight of it now. He has a spouse, and yet he’s here with you.

Sylus presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Darling, I can practically hear you thinking hard. What’s wrong?”

“I can’t…” Your heart is hammering at a fast past as you try to remember how you got here. Why can’t you remember, and why is Sylus still touching on you so sweetly? The last time you had seen him, you were visiting the N109 Zone before your mission. There had been no kisses or sweet talk then. 

You rub your hands over your face roughly, and the pressure is enough to confirm that this is not a dream. Cool metal contrasts over your warm skin, and when you stare down at your hands, it starts to click together in your head.

There is a ring and wedding band on your ring finger to match Sylus’s. He runs his hands over yours soothingly, and you can see just how well his hands mold into yours. Your breath hitches with emotion.

Your confusion overwhelms you. You’ve barely been able to hold a conversation with Sylus and suddenly you’re married to him? 

The man drops his head to your shoulder and presses kisses along the skin until he reaches your jaw. “Sweetheart, you’re worrying me. Are you falling ill?”

He leans closer before pausing. His crimson eyes find yours. You can feel the warmth of his breaths. Just an inch more, and you’d be kissing him. You feel heat rush over you at the thought. You can’t lie and say you’ve never thought about what kissing Sylus would feel like. But even after becoming friendlier with the Onychinus head, he’s never indicated any affection towards you in that way.

“Is this alright?” He whispered against your skin.

You hesitate. This Sylus wants to kiss you, but only because he thinks you’re his spouse. You are an entirely different person than who he believes, and the thought of kissing him under questionable circumstances feels wrong.

You pull back slightly. “Sorry, I just…I don’t think I feel well.”

He smiles softly at you, an expression you’ve never seen on him before. “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. Shall I fetch a cool towel for you? Or some tea? What can I do to make you feel better?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the sound of a radio crackles to life. You can hear a baby screaming. Your body is on high alert at the sound, but Sylus just chuckles and throws the duvet off of his side of the bed.

He leans over to press a kiss to the top of your head and says, “Rest. I’ll check on Josephine.”

When he leaves, it takes you a full moment to recover. Josephine? Not only are you married, but you have a baby girl too? How could you forget something like that? Once your mind clears, you follow Sylus out of the room. It’s hard to navigate the unfamiliar home, especially in the dark. But you follow the wailing of the baby to a nearby room. The door is slightly ajar, and you can hear Sylus’s deep voice.

“I’m right here, peanut. Nothing will ever harm you, not with me to protect you. I don’t suppose you’ll finally let me sing you to sleep? I swear I’ve been practicing.”

Even though she can’t understand him, baby Josephine gurgles a response.

You push the door open the rest of the way. Sylus is standing over a crib with a one year old in his arms. He turns at the creak of the door. The little girl has your hair texture in a silver shade that matches her father. You step closer slowly. You lift your hand to run the knuckle of your index finger over her smooth cheek. She turns her head so that she can gnaw on your finger. You smile softly at her.

“You should have stayed in bed, I can lull her back to sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

You stare down at the baby and then up at Sylus. You can feel tears accumulating, so you look back down to hide them. “I just wanted to see her.”

Sylus shifts Josephine so that she’s cradled securely in his left arm, and he uses the other arm to bring you close to his side. He kisses your forehead and keeps his lips there, causing your eyes to flutter shut. You could get used to this very easily. 

You would have never thought that the stoic and grumpy man would ever behave like this. You wish you could remember how you got to this moment, if only to understand how Sylus’s attitude towards you could change so drastically.

It's not that he is hateful or rude, he’s just very closed off, and all your attempts at getting to know him better are always shot down. 

Sylus sighs and mumbles into your skin, “You don’t have to tell me what’s bothering you now, but promise you’ll come to me if you need to let it out. I hate seeing you so upset.”

You nod as much as you can in his hold. Josephine has fallen back asleep with the gentle rocking that Sylus has been doing, so he lowers her back into her crib.

Once she’s down, he turns to you and sweeps you off your feet. You gasp and wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself. You shoot him a glare, but he just chuckles and nuzzles his nose into your skin. 

“‘M sorry, darling. Come on, let’s go to bed.”

You rest your head against his chest, drifting off to the sound of his beating heart.

It feels like only a moment has passed when you wake, flinching at the pain that overwhelms your body. Strong arms cradle you against a solid chest. It takes a second for the ringing in your ears to clear, and you can hear someone talking.

��Mx. Hunter, can you hear me? You need to stay awake.”

Sylus is looking down at you, brows furrowed in concern. You’re in the same position as you were moments ago, except you’re outside and in so, so much pain. You must have been hit in the chest, because each breath you take is a short gasp.

“What…happened?” you wheeze out. 

“Mephisto was flying above when he saw your fight with the Wanderer. He told me that after it hit you, you disappeared for sometime.”

Your mouth goes dry. “Disappeared?”

“The Wanderer was an Elite Herte Knave. Worrisome creatures, because of how they alter time and space with their attacks. It must have displaced you somewhere nearby, because you returned as soon as I defeated it.” Sylus’s tone of voice is back to the stiff way of speaking that you’ve been used to. He won’t even look you in the eye anymore. 

“You can put me down,” you mumble. “I can walk just fine.”

He glares at you. “Oh, you’re fine, are you? When I found you, I thought you were dead because of how still you were. You can’t rush into a fight like this with little regard for your safety. It’s irresponsible, and I’d expect more from a Hunter of your caliber.”

The stark contrast between how Sylus spoke to you before versus now makes your heart sink. Even now as you’re injured, he finds time to scold you. Had the Herte Knave manipulated your mind and made you see a future you could never have? Is it that cruel?

“I’m sorry,” you apologize quietly. You’re angry at yourself for thinking that what you saw could be anything more than an illusion. 

His eyes lock on you instantly. Sylus takes in your subdued demeanor, and he sighs. “I apologize for my tone. I was…worried about you. I don’t want to lose you.”

You stare at him, and it’s his turn to look away. “I mean, we can’t have Linkon City’s finest Hunter dying, can we?”

“Can you put me down now? I need to get back to headquarters to give Captain Jenna my report.” You want to get away as fast as possible, if only to defuse your embarrassment.

Sylus’s hands tighten around you. “You’re in no shape to go anywhere, especially not back to work. Let me take care of you.”

“You don’t need to do that,” you argue. “I can go to the hospital.”

Sylus stares at you with a look you can’t decipher. “If…that’s what you want. I apologize. I considered calling the Association to tip them about your state, but I worried you might be too wounded by the time backup arrived. I can bring you to Akso Hospital and…I won’t bother you again.”

Your brows furrow. “What? You’re not–I don’t want that.”

“Then what can I do? Ask, and it’s yours.”

“Why are you acting so weird?” Your frustration has only gotten stronger with each vague response from Sylus.

“I understand that you’re uncomfortable around me, so I’ll leave you alone,” he says, looking anywhere but at you.

You grab his lower jaw and tilt his stubborn face towards you. “I don’t want you to leave. Why would you think that, after everything?”

He lets you squeeze his cheeks, staring at you with a strange look in his eyes. It’s almost…vulnerable.

“You don’t want me to carry you, or treat your wounds,” he practically whispers. “And you’re always angry at me. I’ve clearly overextended my welcome in your life.”

You stare at him, mouth agape. “You’re…you can’t be serious. I thought you hated me. I thought you were tired of my behavior. I’m always provoking you.”

Sylus shakes his head, “I’m…sorry. I don’t intend to be so gruff all the time. I enjoy your company, and your antics.”

Your treacherous heart is beating a million miles a minute. “Then…”

He smiles, and you're relieved to see him nearly back to normal. “Then I’ll patch you up at my home. And,” he hesitates for a moment, “perhaps you can stay. Until you’re healed, of course.”

He waits for your answer, large hands tightening their grip at your thighs and over your side. You want to sink into the touch, and intertwine your soul with his if it were possible.

“Yes,” you say breathlessly. “I think I should.”

Sylus smiles, and you almost feel his relief. “Good,” he murmurs.

His eye catches something, and his lips pout in thought. You look down to see what has caught his attention. He’s staring at your hand, where there are cuts and bruises left as evidence of the Wanderer attack. But what stands out against all of those wounds is the band of indentation on your ring finger. Your breath catches as you stare at the mark, running your thumb over it gently. You smile, leaning your head against Sylus’s chest.

You don’t know what your future holds, but you know for certain that you want—need—Sylus in it.

[hanasnx]

am I allowed to request another? if so, hear me out- wally west using his speed to vibrate his fingers/tongue to pleasure you in the heat of the moment, too preoccupied with trying to please you to realize that you’re freaking out bc he never told you he was the flash and you don’t understand how he’s moving his fingers like that, sending vibrations pulsing through your whole body for the most mind blowing orgasm you’ve ever experienced.

MINORS DNI 18+

NOTES: DC is for December Event!

“What are you doing? What are you doing—? How are you doing that?” you gasp, speaking over your own squeals while your body squirms against your will. Head jerking side-to-side, arching your back off the bed like you’re possessed. Your spine aches while it bears the snap of your twisting, but WALLY WEST is steadfast—for the first time in his life. One hand is clamped securely on the inside of your thigh, reminding your hips to stay still when need be, pinning you with his strength while his right hand consumes you.

If you were able to curl your neck and focus on what’s between your legs, you wouldn’t be able to see his fingers. It’s not because they’ve disappeared into you, it’s because they’re moving faster than the naked eye can comprehend. It’s a vibration. It’s a precise and highly skilled kind of vibration, better than any sex toy you’ve subjected yourself to. Your entire body breaks out in a sweat, dampening the hair at your scalp while you howl from the overwhelming stimulation. Once again, he’s gotta catch your naughty hips and keep them where he wants them, “Now, now, baby, don’t be like that.” he croons through his pant, glancing up at your pretty face scrunched up in an expression akin to anguish. “

Your poor clit is battered and abused and puffy—just taking what he’s feeding it as you near the edge because of it. “Wally—“ you heave, your entire chest rising and falling with your deep breaths. “Wally—!” He eggs you on, taunting you with exclaims as you say his name like you want his attention. “Wally, I’m gonna—!” you cut yourself off with your own shrill shriek, dissolving the end of your sentence as you burst. A white hot explosion erupts within you, and you had no idea such a feeling could arise from simple but dedicated clit play. He slows his fingers as he helps you ride it out, watching the signs of your body, and when you fall completely limp, he gives you a little love tap with the flat of his fingers. The subtle strike against your bud makes you jump, and you grin, swallowing thickly while you hold his gaze.

[elryuse]

Hierarchy

Pt 5 : Complicated

For My Other Hierarchy Story, Please Kindly Check Over Here. Hope You Liked It.

"You kissed him?!" Ryujin’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and accusing. Her eyes were wide, her lips trembling as she stared at So-hyun, who stood with an unreadable smirk plastered across her face. The room was silent now, save for the faint hum of music in the background. Everyone was frozen, their phones still raised, capturing every second of this chaotic moment.

I couldn’t move. My chest tightened as I looked from Ryujin to Wonyoung, who stood a few feet away, her arms crossed, her expression a mix of shock and something darker—something like hurt. My head spun, my thoughts a jumbled mess. What just happened? I glanced at So-hyun, who met my gaze with a glint in her eyes that sent chills down my spine.

"Relax, Ryujin," So-hyun drawled, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "It was just a kiss. A little… experiment." She shrugged, as if it were nothing, but the way her eyes lingered on me told a different story. It was as if she was assessing me, trying to figure out how I fit into whatever game she was playing.

Ryujin stepped forward, her fists clenched. "You don’t just kiss someone like that! Especially not him! What are you even—"

"Oh, please," So-hyun interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Don’t act like you own him, Ryujin. He’s not your property." She turned to me, her smirk widening. "Isn’t that right, Y/n?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. My throat felt dry, my mind racing. This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen. I had come here thinking it would be just another night, another chance to blend into the background. But now, I was the center of attention, caught in a web I didn’t understand.

And then there was Wonyoung. Her gaze burned into me, filled with questions I couldn’t answer. Why did I kiss her? Why did I let myself get swept up in the moment? I wanted to explain, to tell her it was a mistake, but the weight of everyone’s stares held me back.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until So-hyun broke it with a laugh—soft, almost musical, but laced with something sinister. "Well, this has been fun," she said, clapping her hands together. "But I think it’s time we moved on. Come on, everyone, let’s dance!"

She grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong, and pulled me toward the center of the room. The crowd parted around us, whispering behind their hands, their eyes following our every move. So-hyun leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear. "You’re mine now," she whispered, her voice low and commanding. "Whether you like it or not."

Earlier that evening, everything had seemed so simple. I had arrived at So-hyun’s mansion feeling out of place, my suit wrinkled, my nerves on edge. The limousine Ryujin had arranged for me felt like overkill, and the grandeur of So-hyun’s home only made me feel more out of my depth. But I had promised Ryujin I would come, and I didn’t want to let her down.

Ryujin greeted me at the door, her smile bright and infectious. "You made it!" she exclaimed, pulling me into a quick hug. "Come on, let’s get you a drink. You look like you need one."

I laughed nervously, allowing her to lead me through the crowded mansion. The party was already in full swing, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and champagne. Everywhere I looked, people were laughing, dancing, and flirting. It was overwhelming, but also exhilarating.

As Ryujin handed me a glass of something bubbly, I noticed Wonyoung standing by the piano. She looked stunning, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her dress shimmering under the soft light. I hadn’t seen her since the day I played the piano at her family’s home, and the memory brought a strange flutter to my chest.

Wonyoung caught my eye and smiled faintly before turning away. I wondered what she was thinking, whether she remembered that day as vividly as I did. But before I could approach her, Ryujin looped her arm through mine and dragged me toward the dance floor.

The night blurred after that. Shots of liquor, laughter, and the dizzying rush of being surrounded by people who seemed to actually want me around. For the first time since starting at Jooshin High, I felt like I belonged. But that feeling shattered the moment I kissed Wonyoung.

Now, as So-hyun led me deeper into the crowd, I felt like a puppet on strings, helpless to resist. She stopped suddenly, turning to face me. Her eyes were intense, searching, as if she was trying to see straight through me.

"Do you know why I kissed you?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the music.

I shook my head, too stunned to speak.

"Because you’re interesting," she said, her lips curling into a sly smile. "You’re not like the others. You’re not afraid to take risks. And that makes you dangerous."

"Dangerous?" I repeated, my voice hoarse.

So-hyun nodded, her smile fading. "People like you disrupt the balance. And at Jooshin High, balance is everything."

Before I could respond, she kissed me again—harder this time, more possessive. The room erupted into cheers and whistles, but all I could focus on was the cold steeliness in So-hyun’s eyes. This wasn’t about attraction or affection. This was about control.

When she finally pulled away, I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. So-hyun leaned in close, her lips brushing against my ear. "Welcome to the game, Y/n," she whispered. "Let’s see how long you can survive."

She walked away, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the crowd. My heart pounded in my chest, my mind racing. What have I gotten myself into?

"Y/n," a voice called from behind me. I turned to see Wonyoung standing there, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. "We need to talk. Now."

Wonyoung’s grip on my wrist was like a vice as she dragged me through the labyrinth of So-hyun’s mansion. The air grew colder the further we went, the noise of the party fading into an eerie silence. My head was still spinning from the alcohol, but the sharpness in her voice cut through the haze.

“What the fuck are you planning here?” she hissed, slamming the door shut behind us. The room was dimly lit, its walls lined with shelves full of books and trinkets that looked like they belonged in a museum rather than a teenager’s home. Wonyoung leaned against the door, her arms crossed, her glare piercing through me like daggers.

I stumbled backward, holding up my hands defensively. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m drunk, Wonyoung. I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—”

“Cut the crap,” she snapped, stepping closer. Her voice was low, dangerous. “You kissed me. In front of everyone. And then So-hyun pulls this stunt? Do you have any idea what kind of mess you’ve just thrown yourself into?”

My throat tightened. She wasn’t wrong. I had no clue what was happening. One moment, I was trying to survive the chaos of the party, and the next, I was caught in some twisted power play between two of the most influential girls at Jooshin High.

“I swear, I didn’t plan any of this,” I stammered, my voice cracking under the weight of her stare. “So-hyun… she just… kissed me out of nowhere. I didn’t even—”

“And you think that makes it better?” Wonyoung interrupted, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She closed the distance between us, her face mere inches from mine. Her breath smelled faintly of mint and something sharper, almost metallic. “Do you have any idea what So-hyun is capable of? What I’m capable of?”

I flinched. Her words carried a threat I couldn’t fully comprehend, but it sent a chill down my spine nonetheless. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Before I could finish, the door burst open, and So-hyun strode in like a storm. Her presence was commanding, her every movement calculated. She didn’t even glance at Wonyoung; her focus was entirely on me.

“Enough of this,” So-hyun said coolly, her voice slicing through the tension like a knife. She grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin just enough to make me wince. “Y/n, come with me.”

Wonyoung stepped forward, blocking our path. “Where do you think you’re taking him?”

So-hyun smirked, a flicker of amusement dancing in her eyes. “That’s none of your concern, darling. He’s mine now.”

The way she said it—so casually, so possessively—made my stomach twist. But before I could protest, So-hyun was already pulling me out of the room, leaving Wonyoung standing there, her fists clenched, her expression a mix of fury and something else I couldn’t quite place.

The hallway felt endless as So-hyun dragged me toward the garage. My mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening, but every thought felt sluggish, drowned out by the alcohol and the adrenaline coursing through my veins. When we reached the garage, she shoved me toward one of her supercars—a sleek, black monstrosity that screamed wealth and power.

“Get in,” she ordered, sliding into the driver’s seat. Her tone left no room for argument.

I hesitated, glancing back toward the mansion. Ryujin stood at the entrance, her eyes wide with confusion. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. When our eyes met, I saw a flicker of hurt, maybe even betrayal, before she quickly turned away.

“I said get in,” So-hyun repeated, her voice sharper this time. She rolled down the window, her icy gaze daring me to defy her.

Swallowing hard, I opened the car door and slid into the passenger seat. The leather was cold against my skin, the scent of luxury and something vaguely chemical filling my nostrils. So-hyun started the engine, the roar of it drowning out any chance of escape.

As we sped away from the mansion, the streetlights blurred into streaks of gold. My heart pounded in my chest, my thoughts a jumbled mess. I wanted to ask where we were going, what she wanted from me, but the words wouldn’t come. So-hyun drove with a quiet intensity, her hands gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

After what felt like an eternity, she spoke again, her voice soft but laced with venom. “Do you know why I brought you here tonight, Y/n?”

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak.

“Because you’re different,” she said, her lips curling into a sly smile. “You’re not like them. You don’t play their games. You don’t follow their rules. And that… that makes you dangerous.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. I didn’t feel dangerous. I felt lost, out of my depth, like a pawn being moved across a chessboard by players far more skilled than I could ever hope to be.

“But here’s the thing,” she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. “In this world, danger is power. And power… well, that’s all anyone really cares about, isn’t it?”

She pulled over in front of an empty park, the trees casting long shadows in the moonlight. Turning to face me, she placed a hand on my cheek, her touch surprisingly gentle. “You have potential, Y/n. Don’t waste it.”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “What do you want from me?”

Her smile widened, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Everything.”

The drive to the penthouse was silent, save for the low hum of So-hyun’s luxury car. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows, casting fleeting shadows across her sharp features. She sat perfectly poised, hands resting lightly on the steering wheel, her expression unreadable. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being pulled into something far beyond my control. Every time I tried to speak, the words caught in my throat. What could I even say? Her presence alone was enough to render me speechless.

When we arrived, the penthouse loomed above us like a monument to her family’s wealth and influence. A private elevator whisked us up to the top floor, and the doors slid open to reveal a space that felt more like a throne room than a home. The walls were lined with abstract art—dark, twisted pieces that seemed to pulse with an unsettling energy. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city, but the beauty of it was overshadowed by the heavy tension hanging in the air.

So-hyun strode ahead of me, her heels clicking against the polished marble floors. She didn’t look back, but her voice carried through the vast space. “Make yourself comfortable, Y/n. We have a lot to discuss.”

I hesitated, unsure where to sit or even if I should. The enormity of the room made me feel small, insignificant. Finally, I perched on the edge of a sleek leather couch, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. So-hyun disappeared into another room, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.

She returned moments later, holding two glasses of deep red wine. She handed one to me, her fingers brushing mine deliberately as she did. I took the glass, though my hand trembled slightly. She sat down beside me, closer than necessary, her thigh pressing against mine. The warmth of her body was disorienting, and I fought the urge to move away.

“You’re full of surprises, Y/n,” she said, taking a slow sip of her wine. Her lips glistened faintly when she pulled the glass away. “First Wonyoung, then Ryujin, and now… me. Tell me, do you always find yourself at the center of such chaos?”

I shook my head, unsure how to respond. “I-I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. It just… did.”

Her laughter was soft, almost musical, but there was an edge to it that sent a shiver down my spine. “Sometimes, darling, life has a way of pushing us into places we never expected. But what matters is how we handle it. And you… you interest me.”

I looked at her, my confusion evident. “Why? I’m just a scholarship student. I don’t belong here.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she leaned in closer, her breath warm against my ear. “That’s exactly why you’re interesting. You’re different. Unpolished. Raw. And in a world filled with people who think they know everything, that makes you dangerous.”

My heart pounded in my chest as her words sunk in. Dangerous? Me? The idea was laughable, but the intensity in her gaze told me she wasn’t joking. She set her glass down on the table, then reached out to trace a finger along the side of my face. Her touch was feather-light, but it sent jolts of electricity through me.

“Tell me, Y/n,” she murmured, her voice dripping with a quiet authority. “Do you enjoy games?”

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “It depends on the game.”

A slow, predatory smile spread across her lips. “Good answer. Let’s see how well you play.”

Before I could react, she stood and walked over to a sleek black piano positioned near the window. She ran her fingers lightly over the keys, the notes soft and haunting. “Come here,” she commanded, not bothering to turn around.

I obeyed without thinking, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. When I reached her side, she gestured for me to sit on the bench beside her. Her proximity was overwhelming, her scent—something floral and intoxicating—filling my senses.

“Play something for me,” she said, her tone daring me to refuse.

“I-I’m not very good,” I stammered, my nerves betraying me.

“Don’t lie to me,” she said sharply, her eyes locking onto mine. “I saw you play at Wonyoung’s house. You’re better than you let on. Now… play.”

My hands hovered over the keys, trembling slightly. I finally settled on a piece I knew by heart, letting the music flow through me. As I played, So-hyun watched me intently, her gaze never wavering. When I finished, she didn’t clap or praise me. Instead, she placed her hand over mine, stopping the final note from ringing out.

“Beautiful,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “But beauty isn’t enough. You need to learn how to use it.”

I frowned, unsure what she meant. “Use it?”

She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against my ear as she spoke. “Power isn’t about what you have, Y/n. It’s about how you wield it. And I think it’s time you learned how.”

Her hand slid up my arm, sending a shiver through me. My mind screamed at me to pull away, to run, but my body refused to obey. There was something magnetic about her, something that kept me rooted in place.

“W-what are you saying?” I managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

She smiled, her lips curling into a smirk. “I’m saying that I can teach you things no one else can. But first… you have to prove you’re willing to play the game.”

Before I could respond, she gripped my chin firmly, forcing me to look into her eyes. They burned with an intensity that was both terrifying and thrilling. “Kiss me,” she ordered.

My breath hitched. “What?”

“Kiss me,” she repeated, her voice low and commanding. “Unless you’re too scared.”

The challenge in her tone ignited something inside me—a mix of defiance and desire. Without thinking, I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips to hers. The kiss was electric, fueled by a raw, untamed energy. Her hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

When we finally broke apart, both of us were breathing heavily. So-hyun’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction, as though she had just won a small victory. “Good,” she purred. “But don’t think for a second that this means you’ve earned my trust. This is just the beginning, Y/n. And if you want to survive in my world, you’ll need to learn how to play by my rules.”

[ur-local-wizard]

Eye of the Storm (Part 3)

Your desk partner leaves his notebook after class, and you’re struck by the beauty of its contents.

Eeek the last part of this story! Had a blast writing it, and I hope everyone enjoyed reading it!

characters are college age, mattheo riddle x fem!reader, whipped!mattheo, use of y/n, FLUFFFFFFFFF, kissing, pretty sure that's it

w/c: 1.2k

masterlist part 1 part 2

a/n: ty to my lovely editor, @pikaglow

As you passed him, the sketchbook gripped tightly in your hands, you noticed something foreign on his face. His expression was stripped of his usual confidence and sarcasm. He looked almost panicked as he closed the door behind you.

The room was in utter disarray. Drawers were thrown open, clothes and papers were scattered across the floor. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he’d been searching for something.

So, avoiding his gaze, you thrusted the book in front of you, practically ripping your hands away when he took it. “You left it in Divination,” was your only explanation. His eyes darted between your face and the object in his hands, surprise clear in his eyes. The tension in his room was so palpable, you felt you could hardly breathe. He seemed to flounder around for a second, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly. 

“Did you look at it?” His voice was eerily calm, but the discomfort his body carried was clear as day. He set the book down on his desk, falling back into the chair beside it, and his eyes failed to meet your gaze. 

“I didn’t mean to,” you say awkwardly, standing in front of him. You felt guilty when his face fell, but there was no point in lying. “It fell out of my hands,” the words were tumbling from your mouth quickly as you tried to explain yourself. “When it landed on the ground, it was open. And I just got curious. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck.” He carded a hand through his already messy hair, and finally he looked up at you. 

You sighed, sitting down on the edge of his bed. “You’re so talented, Mattheo. But I don’t understand. Why me? And how the hell do you know all that about me-” The words slipped out before you could stop them, disjointed and fast. But they conveyed the confusion and fear warring inside you; something that you couldn’t have said out loud.

He cut you off, his gaze softening. “I can’t help it. You confuse me. And God, you’re everywhere, in every fucking corner of my brain. The way you smile, your laugh. I’m reminded of you by almost everything I see.” His voice trailed off, and you stayed silent. You didn’t know what to say to that. “I tried ignoring it, I really did. But eventually, I just couldn’t. So I drew; it was the only way I knew how to deal with all these emotions.” His voice broke, and it was like a tangible thing – the rare moment of vulnerability he allowed you to see. You wanted to scoop it up and put it in your pocket. You wanted to be able to save it for later, to be able to pull it out and see it whenever you wanted.

“You know I’m not good with emotions. I’ve never felt these types of things before. But now that I do with you, I don’t understand it,” he whispered, head falling down to look at his lap. “It’s terrifying.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared at him wide-eyed and flushed as his words settled over you like a heavy blanket. Perhaps the blanket was made of fire, you didn’t quite know yet. Nor did you know what to say, or how to respond to something that raw and unexpected. All you could do was sit there, trying to connect the personified chaos known as Mattheo Riddle with the boy sitting before you now, one who was vulnerable, honest, and so very human. 

“I don’t know what to say. I mean, I’m flattered, Mattheo. But it’s all just so overwhelming,” you confessed, voice hushed. His head snapped up, his dark eyes searching yours, disbelief swimming in them. “It’s just—you're so unpredictable. There’s such a disconnect from what you say you feel and what you do. You act like you don’t care about anything, but then you do something like this,” you nodded to the sketchbook. “You notice things that I didn’t think anyone could. I don’t know how to handle that.” 

His lips parted slightly, as if about to say something, but ultimately he decided against it. He stood up and made his way to you, sitting down beside you on the bed. His movements were cautious and measured, as if he was worried he would scare you off. 

“I know I’m not good at this kind of stuff,” he started, his voice low and gentle. “At feelings. At being vulnerable with people who actually matter to me.” He stopped, taking a deep breath. He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. “But you matter to me, Y/n. More than you’ll ever know.”

His words made your breath catch in your throat, the sincerity in his voice making you feel things it would be impossible to name. You liked this side of him, you wanted to know this side of him more ,and you  just wished it weren’t so confusing. 

So when you voiced that out loud, he nodded. “Of course. And I’m sorry. It was overwhelming for me, but I want you to know that side of me too. Here,” He said, grabbing the sketchbook from his desk and placing it in your hands. “You don’t have to give it back. If this is too much, you can keep it. Burn it if you want, even. I’ll understand.”

You closed your hands around the book, but blinked at him in confusion. “Why would I burn it?”

“You know… cause it’s weird,” he explained, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I mean, who spends hours drawing a girl he doesn’t have the guts to talk to properly?”

“Mattheo…” His name fell from your lips like a sweet prayer as you chuckled. His eyes snapped to yours, filled with a mix of hope and fear. “It’s okay. It’s overwhelming, sure, but not weird.” You paused and smiled at him. “And honestly? It’s kind of endearing.”

“Really?” He asked you, and you nodded in response. 

“You’re incredibly talented, Mattheo. The way you paint the world in this sketchbook of yours,” you placed it in his lap, “the way you paint me, is breathtaking.” With a flushed face, you offered him a smile. 

He didn’t say anything for a long while. But eventually, he cupped your face in his hands, and kissed you. It was gentle, reverent almost, but fleeting – gone before you could process what was happening. 

“Keep it,” he whispered, his breath brushing against your lips. “I want you to have it. You deserve to see yourself as beautiful as I see you .”

The tension in the air seemed to lift then, the weighted blanket from before dissipating. The air was now filled with something warmer, something quieter, more serene. You felt peaceful now, and the look in his eyes said he felt the same. 

You grabbed the notebook from his lap and flipped to a specific page, showing it to him. “This was my favorite of the ones I saw. You even put my favorite flowers in the vase,” you said. He nodded in response, a wide smile on his lips. “I know. That’s why I included them.”

Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is always appreciated, and thank you to everyone for all the wonderful support! It truly means the absolute world to me. And as always, let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

taglist: @ilovejamespottersomuch @mattyriddlesbitch @valenftcrush @sturniolover13 @paankhaleyaaar @thereeallink @voidangxls

©ur-local-wizard translating, republishing, copying, or claiming my work as yours is not permitted. all my work belongs to me and me only. thank you!

[bts-trans]

250105 Weverse Translation

J-Hope's Post ❇️

25년입니다. 여러분들의 24년은 어떠셨나요? 저에게 24년은 정말 여러가지로 만감이 교차하고 많은 감정들이 갈마드는 해 가 아니었나 싶습니다. 전역의 해가 밝아서 좋았다가, 어떻게 10월까지 또 견뎌야 할지 막막하다가, 막상 시기가 찾아오니 좋았다가, 전역 후의 계획들에 대한 걱정이 들며 불안 했다가, 또 막상 전역하니 주체가 안 될 정도의 기쁨이 오갔고, 여러 일들을 하며 25년에 대한 긴장과 설렘으로 고독하게 마무리를 했지 않았나 싶습니다. 각자마다 다른 '희로애락'이 있었겠지만 잠시나마의 따뜻한 마음을 가지며 24년을 위로해보고, 인사를 해봅니다 25년은 모두가 활짝 만개하여 아름다웠으면 좋겠구요! 저에게도 굉장히 중요한 해가 될 거라는 것이 25년이 주는 자연 속에서 고스란히 느껴집니다. 많은 것들을 보여드릴 거구요! 좀 더 성숙하고 저에게 어울리는, 모두의 만족을 위한 플랜으로 접근을 하려고 합니다. 저도 그렇지만, 많은 순간들을 함께하시려면 가장 먼저 건강이 우선이겠죠? 25년! 복 많이 받으시면서 건강 챙기시고, 누구보다 진심을 다해 여러분들의 새해 첫 발걸음을 응원해 봅니다. 힘내세요 아미💜🫶💜사랑해요 아미 (https://weverse.io/bts/artist/3-189122556)

It's 2025. How was 2024 for you all? For me, I think 2024 was, in a lot of different ways, a year filled with a million feelings and of going back and forth between so many different emotions.

I was glad that the year of my discharge from the military was here, and then felt lost and confused about how to keep going until October, but then when the time actually came, I was happy, only to then get anxious as I worried about my plans after being discharged,

but then when I was actually discharged, I was overwhelmed with joy, and then I did a lot of different things, and ended the year alone, both nervous and excited for 2025.

Everyone probably had their own ups and downs* this year, but I'd like to take a moment to warmly look back at 2024, sending it comfort, and wishing it farewell.

I hope that in 2025, everyone blooms fully and beautifully! It is going to be a really important year for me too- I feel it so clearly from the environment that 2025 brings.

I will be showing you lots of different things! I intend to come to you with plans that show more growth, are more suited to me, and that can make everyone happy.

This is true for me as well but, if you're going to be by my side in a lot of these moments, health must come first, right?

2025! I wish you a good year and good health. With the absolute most sincerity, I send you my support as you take your first steps into the new year.

Keep going ARMY💜🫶💜I love you ARMY

(T/N: *The phrase he used was '희로애락', an expression composed of four Chinese characters: joy, anger, sorrow, pleasure. It is used to symbolise the wide range of emotions and experiences, both positive and negative, that humans have. It is similar to English expressions like 'highs and lows' or 'ups and downs'.)

Trans cr; Aditi @ bts-trans © TAKE OUT WITH FULL CREDITS

[slytherin-princess-x]

Catch me if I fall

Theodore nott x clumsy!reader

It’s just fluffy and cute today guys

The library was always a sanctuary for me, a place where the musty scent of old parchment and the quiet rustling of pages provided comfort in a world that sometimes felt overwhelming. I had long given in to the idea that I was not meant for the subtle elegance that came so naturally to the Slytherins around me. While they moved with an air of confidence and grace, I had earned my reputation for being a little… clumsy.

Today was no exception. The tall shelves towered above me, laden with books that promised knowledge and escape. I had spotted a particularly intriguing volume on advanced potions that was tucked high up on the shelf. My heart raced at the thought of finally uncovering secrets that could enhance my skills. With determination fueling my every move, I approached the ladder with purpose, a feeling of excitement bubbling within me.

Climbing the ladder was a feat in itself. My fingers brushed against the cool wood as I ascended, and I could hear the soft chatter of my fellow students around me, but I focused solely on the prize above. The book, leather-bound and glimmering with the promise of arcane knowledge, seemed to beckon me closer. I reached out, stretching my arm as far as it would go, my fingertips grazing the spine.

“Almost there…” I murmured to myself, summoning all the focus I could muster.

As I leaned forward, the ladder wobbled beneath me. Panic surged through me as I felt it slip just a bit. I had been so wrapped up in my quest for the book that I hadn’t even noticed Theodore Nott watching from a distance. His dark eyes were keen, constantly monitoring my every move with an intensity that sent a warm flush through me.

“Tesoro!” he called out, his voice laced with concern. (Darling)

But it was too late. The ladder had decided that it was done supporting me, and before I could react, I lost my balance. My heart dropped as I felt the world tilt. Just as I was about to meet the hard ground, strong arms caught me.

I landed with a soft thud against Theodore’s chest, and for a moment, the world around us faded into a blur. The warmth of his body enveloped me, and I could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through his robes. My breath caught in my throat, and I looked up into his eyes, which were now a mix of amusement and genuine concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, just peachy,” I replied, trying to play it cool despite the flush creeping up my cheeks. “You know, just a typical day in the life of a Slytherin klutz falling from a bookshelf ladder.”

He chuckled, the sound rich and comforting. “You really need to be more careful. I can’t keep catching you like this.” His tone was teasing referring to catching me once earlier this week, but there was an underlying seriousness to it that made my heart flutter.

I pushed myself away from him, suddenly acutely aware of how close we had been. The library had fallen silent, and I could feel the eyes of our peers on us, a mix of curiosity and intrigue. My cheeks burned hotter than the flames in the common room fireplace.

“I was just trying to get that book,” I explained, nodding toward the shelf above, suddenly very aware of my embarrassment. “I wanted to learn more about advanced potions for the next class.”

Theodore’s expression softened, and he stepped aside, allowing me to regain my footing. “How about I help you next time? You know I wouldn’t let you fall again,” he said, his voice low and reassuring.

My heart skipped a beat. It was moments like these that made me realize just how much I cherished our friendship. Relationship? Situationship? Theodore had a way of looking out for me, of always being there when I stumbled—literally and metaphorically. We had grown close extremely over the years, and he often defended me from the judgmental stares of other Slytherins when my klutziness made me the target of ridicule.

“Thanks, Theo,” I said, offering him a shy smile. “I’d appreciate that.”

He nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. “Just promise me you won’t make a habit of this,” he teased lightly, but there was a serious undertone in his voice that made me feel protected, cherished.

“Promise,” I replied, trying to sound sincere while secretly plotting my next escapade with a little more caution.

With a newfound resolve, I looked back at the high shelf, and Theodore seemed to sense my determination. “Let me get it for you,” he offered, stepping forward and easily reaching for the book I had so desperately sought.

As he handed it to me, I felt a rush of gratitude mixed with a twinge of embarrassment at my earlier mishap. “Thanks, Theo. You really are my hero,” I said, unable to hide the warmth in my voice.

“Just looking out for my favorite Slytherin,” he replied, winking.

And as I opened the book, ready to delve into its mysteries, I couldn’t help but feel that maybe my clumsiness wasn’t such a curse after all—if it meant I had someone like Theodore watching over me.

Taglist: @yootvi @redeemingvillains @littlemadamred @smut-anarchy

[mmso-notlikethat]

What You Wanted, What I Needed

Bucktommy Ι WC 4.3k Ι M Ι Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fix-it (if you want it to be) Ι cw: Dubious Consent this is inspired from this post .. Ooh look another Drunk!Tommy fic 😶‍🌫️

[Below or on ao3]

The bar was loud and crowded, the kind of place where people disappeared into the noise and shadows. Tommy sat hunched over the counter, nursing what must have been his third—or maybe fourth—whiskey of the night, after a couple of beers. His face was flushed, his shirt slightly untucked, and his metallic eyes heavy-lidded from a haze of alcohol and exhaustion.

“Hey there, handsome,” a voice said, low and syrupy.

Tommy turned his head sluggishly to see a man sliding onto the stool next to him. The guy was tall, with dark hair slicked back, and he wore a cocky smirk that immediately set Tommy on edge.

He sighed, the sound almost defeated. “Not interested,” he mumbled, his words slurring slightly as he turned back to his drink.

The man chuckled, unfazed. “Aw, come on. You don’t even know what I’m offering yet.”

Tommy frowned, blinking blearily at the whiskey in his glass. “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “I’m not interested.”

The man leaned closer, resting his elbow on the counter and angling his body toward Tommy. “You look like you’ve had a rough night. Maybe I can help you forget about it.”

Tommy’s lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. “Yeah? You got a time machine in your pocket?”

The man laughed, though there was a sharpness to it. “No, but I’ve got other things that might help.” He leaned in further, his voice dropping to something more intimate. “What’s got you so down, huh? Work? Love life? You can talk to me.”

Tommy shook his head slowly, his movements uncoordinated. “I don’t wanna talk,” he said flatly.

“Then maybe we don’t have to talk,” the man replied, his tone suggestive.

Tommy finally looked at him, his expression half-annoyed, half-bemused. “You don’t take a hint, do you?”

The man smirked, undeterred. “Not when I see something I like.”

Tommy sighed again, rubbing a hand over his face. “I just want to drink, alright? Alone.”

“Drinking alone is no fun,” the man countered, his eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Besides, I can see it in your eyes. You don’t really want to be alone. Not tonight.”

Tommy frowned, something tightening in his chest at the words. He didn’t reply, his gaze dropping back to his drink.

The man took his silence as an invitation, shifting closer until their arms nearly brushed. “Come on, don’t play hard to get. I know what you want.”

Tommy stiffened, his discomfort growing. “I said no,” he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual strength.

The man’s eyes flicked down, and his smirk widened. “Yeah, sure. You’re saying no, but your body’s saying yes.” He nodded toward the faint outline of a bulge in Tommy’s pants.

Tommy flushed, embarrassment mingling with frustration. “That’s not—”

Before he could finish, the man’s hand was on his thigh, squeezing lightly as he leaned in.

“Relax,” the guy murmured, his lips brushing against Tommy’s ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Tommy froze, his body stiffening as the man pressed a hard, insistent kiss to his lips. His sluggish mind struggled to keep up, the alcohol dulling his instincts and making him feel disconnected from his own body.

The man tugged at his arm, pulling him off the stool with surprising force. “Come on,” he said, his voice low and coaxing. “Let’s find somewhere more private.”

“Wait—no, I—” Tommy stammered, his voice weak and unconvincing as the man began steering him toward the bathrooms.

“Shh,” the man murmured, a smug grin curling his lips as he pressed Tommy against the wall just outside the hallway leading to the bathrooms. “You’re overthinking it.”

Tommy’s hands came up, palms weakly pressing against the man’s chest. “I’m not—just stop, alright?”

But the man didn’t stop. Instead, he leaned in, capturing Tommy’s mouth in a hard, forceful kiss. The pressure of his lips was overwhelming, silencing Tommy’s protests as the man’s hand slid down to grip his ass firmly.

Tommy let out a muffled sound of protest, his hands pushing harder against the man’s chest, but his strength was fleeting. The alcohol coursing through his veins left his movements sluggish and uncoordinated, his mind hazy and slow to react.

“Relax,” the man said against his lips, his free hand sliding under the hem of Tommy’s untucked shirt to graze the bare skin of his lower back. “You’re just nervous. I’ll make it good for you.”

Tommy turned his head, breaking the kiss as he shook it weakly. “No… I don’t want—”

The man silenced him again, this time by nipping at the side of his jaw, his lips trailing down to the sensitive spot just below Tommy’s ear. His grip on Tommy’s ass tightened, pulling their bodies closer together.

Tommy’s breathing hitched sharply, a soft, involuntary moan escaping his lips as the man’s teeth grazed his skin. His head spinning not just from the alcohol but from the intensity of the moment. His body felt disconnected from his mind, and his protests faltered. For a fleeting moment, he stopped resisting, his hands dropping limply to his sides.

The sound seemed to spur the man on. He smirked against his neck, sensing the shift. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice smug and coaxing. “I knew you wanted this. Just like that. Let it happen.”

Tommy shivered, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol clouding his judgment or the overpowering weight of the man’s presence, but for a moment, he didn’t push back. His protests faltered as a wave of disoriented emotion surged through him. Desperate for something he couldn’t name. Maybe if he leaned into this—into him—it would quiet the ache. Tommy tilted his head back and leaned forward, pressing his lips to the man’s in a clumsy, uncoordinated kiss.

The man grinned against his lips, one hand sliding further down Tommy’s back while the other cupped his jaw to keep him close. “See?” he murmured, pulling back just enough to speak. “You’re into it. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

One hand slid lower, undoing the button of Tommy’s jeans with practiced ease.

Tommy flinched at the action, his hands coming up weakly to push at the man’s chest. “Wait, uh—” he started, his voice barely above a whisper.

The man grabbed Tommy’s wrists with his free hand, pinning them against the wall beside his head. “Stop pretending,” he murmured, his voice low and smug. “You don’t have to play hard to get anymore.”

Tommy’s head lolled slightly, his eyes fluttering shut as confusion and exhaustion clouded his thoughts.

“Hey!”

The voice was sharp, cutting through the haze like a knife. The man froze, his hand stalling mid-movement as both he and Tommy turned toward the interruption.

The man stopped, his scowl deepening as someone tried to step between him and Tommy.

“Let him go.”

“What’s your problem, man?” the guy shot back, his grip still tight on Tommy’s waist. “Mind your business.”

The person didn’t flinch, their stance firm and unwavering. “He’s my business. And he said no. So, let him go. Now.”

The man scoffed, his sneer widening. “He’s into it. We’re just having a good time. Right?” He looked at Tommy, whose head lolled slightly as he struggled to focus.

Tommy blinked sluggishly, his body swaying as he processed the question. “Uh… yeah,” he mumbled, the words barely coherent.

The man smirked triumphantly, tightening his grip on Tommy’s arm.

But then, Tommy’s lips parted again, a faint flicker of recognition cutting through the haze as he murmured, barely audible, “Evan…?”

The man frowned, glancing back at the newcomer—Buck. “Fuck off. This has nothing to do with you.” His hand tightened on Tommy’s arm, trying to pull him away.

Tommy winced, his body swaying.

The tension in the air snapped.

“I said, let him go.” Buck’s voice was low and dangerous now, and before the man could react, his fist connected with his jaw in a clean, decisive punch.

The man staggered back, his hand flying up to his face as he let out a curse. “You son of a—”

“You’re done,” Buck snapped, his voice a sharp edge.

The man hesitated, his eyes darting between them. He muttered another curse, but this time he took a step back, rubbing his jaw before storming off into the crowd.

Tommy stumbled as the grip on his arm disappeared, but strong hands caught him before he could fall.

“Evan…?” Tommy slurred again, his voice barely above a whisper as he blinked up at the person now holding him steady.

Buck’s jaw tightened, his protective stance softening as he steadied Tommy with a firm grip. “Yeah, Tommy. It’s me.”

Buck’s eyes dropped briefly to Tommy’s disheveled appearance—his shirt untucked and his jeans still undone. Silently, Buck adjusted the hem of Tommy’s shirt, smoothing it back into place. Then, with careful, efficient movements, he fastened the button on Tommy’s jeans and pulled up the zipper. His touch was steady and unhurried. Tommy didn’t protest, his body leaning limply into Buck’s care.

“There,” Buck said softly, his hands brushing Tommy’s arms briefly. “Okay, Let’s get you out of here.”

*

The car ride was tense. Tommy leaned against the window, his face turned away from Buck.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Tommy muttered, his voice pouty and petulant.

Buck glanced at him briefly, frowning. “Do what?”

Tommy turned his head, his cheeks flushed. “Interfere. I had it under control.”

Buck let out a sharp breath, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “He was dragging you to the bathrooms, Tommy. That’s not under control.”

Tommy pouted, his voice stubborn. “I wanted it.”

“No, you didn’t,” Buck said, his frustration slipping through.

“I did!” Tommy snapped, his voice cracking. “I wanted to feel something. You didn’t have to take it away.”

Buck glanced at him again, his voice dropping. “Tommy, he was taking advantage of you. I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

Tommy scoffed, his voice sharp and cutting. “What, couldn’t stand seeing me with someone else?”

Buck blinked, momentarily stunned. “What!” he snapped, his voice louder than he intended, before catching himself. His grip on the wheel tightened as he exhaled sharply, his tone more controlled now. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Tommy turned back to the window, pressing his forehead against the glass mumbling, “Maybe I wanted to be taken advantage of,” he mumbled, his voice quiet and bitter. “That’s what I’m good for anyway.”

Buck’s jaw clenched, his grip almost breaking the wheel as a wave of frustration and hurt washed over him. He said nothing for the rest of the drive.

*

Once inside Tommy’s house, Buck guided him to the couch. Tommy flopped onto the cushions with a heavy sigh, letting his head fall back. He stared up at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling unevenly.

“You don’t have to stay,” Tommy muttered, his voice thick with exhaustion and alcohol.

“I’m not leaving you until you sober up a little,” Buck said, grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over Tommy, who barely acknowledged it.

Tommy sat up suddenly, his movements unsteady and jerky. His glassy eyes locked onto Buck’s, and for a moment, he just stared at him. Then, his lips twisted into a bitter smile.

“Why not?” Tommy asked, his voice trembling. “Because you feel sorry for me?”

Buck crouched in front of him, resting his hands on his knees. His expression soft as he said quietly, “No, Tommy. Because I care about you.”

Tommy let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and broken. “You care about me?” he echoed, his voice rising slightly. “Then why did you let me leave? Why’d you let me push you away?”

“Tommy,” Buck began, but Tommy cut him off.

“No!” Tommy snapped, his voice cracking. “Don’t give me that look again. I know, okay? I know I fucked it all up. I know I ruined everything!”

Buck’s heart ached at the raw pain in Tommy’s voice. He reached out, his hand hovering just inches away, but Tommy jerked back, clutching the edges of the blanket tightly. His hands shook, and his eyes darted away, unable to meet Buck’s gaze.

For a moment, Tommy sat in silence, his breaths uneven and shallow. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the blanket like a lifeline, his lips pressing into a thin line. Buck exhaled softly, standing up to give Tommy some space, his movements hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure what he should do.

Tommy’s gaze flickered toward him briefly, his expression unreadable before he looked away again. The quiet stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Then, Tommy’s voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper. “You took it from me,” he said, his tone fragile, as if the words themselves might shatter him.

Buck frowned, his brows knitting together. “What are you talking about?”

Tommy’s eyes filled with tears, and his voice cracked as he said, “That guy. You took him away, so—so give me this. Please.” His voice wavered, his tone desperate, as he reached out, his trembling hand brushing against the buckle of Buck’s belt.

Buck stared at him, stunned. “Tommy, no. That’s not—”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Tommy whispered, his voice breaking. His glassy eyes locked onto Buck’s, his desperation palpable. “No one has to know. Just… please.”

Buck froze, his breath catching as the weight of Tommy’s words crashed over him. His stomach churned, his heart breaking at the sheer hopelessness in Tommy’s voice.

“I’m sober now, I promise,” Tommy said suddenly, his voice shaking as he gripped Buck’s shirt with trembling hands. “I know what I’m saying. I do.”

Buck’s brow furrowed, his heart twisting at the clear lie. He gently caught Tommy’s wrist. “Tommy, stop. You’re not sober, and this isn’t about anyone else. It’s about you. You’re hurting, and—”

“Please, Evan,” Tommy interrupted, his voice cracking as his hands fisted in Buck’s shirt. His grip was tight, frantic, as though letting go would mean losing everything. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to take him away and leave me with nothing. Just—just give me this. Let me have this.”

Buck opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, Tommy surged forward, his hands gripping Buck’s shirt tightly. With surprising strength for someone so unsteady, Tommy tugged Buck downward, closing the distance between them and pressing their lips together in a desperate kiss.

For a moment, Buck froze. Then, against his better judgment, he leaned into the kiss, his hands landing lightly on Tommy’s hips. Tommy clung to him like he was drowning, his fingers twisting in Buck’s shirt as he deepened the kiss, pouring all his heartbreak and longing into it.

But then Buck’s mind caught up with his emotions. He felt the trembling in Tommy’s body, the dampness of the tears on his cheeks. This wasn’t right.

Buck pulled back slightly, his hands gently wrapping around Tommy’s wrists to lower them. “Tommy, stop, no,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion

Tommy shook his head, his tears falling freely now. “Why not?” he cried, his voice breaking. “Because I’m pathetic? Because I ruined everything?”

“No,” Buck said softly, cupping Tommy’s face. His thumbs brushed away the tears that streaked Tommy’s cheeks. “Because you deserve more than this. We both do.”

But Tommy wasn’t ready to give up. He clung to Buck’s shirt, his grip tight and frantic. “I need you,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Please, Evan. Just—just make me feel something. Anything.”

“Tommy…” Buck’s voice broke slightly, his own eyes starting to sting as he fought back the swell of emotion. “I can’t. Not like this.”

“Please,” Tommy whispered against his lips, his voice so weak it was almost inaudible. “I can’t—I can’t do this alone anymore.”

Buck’s breath hitched, his heart breaking at the desperation in Tommy’s voice. “You don’t have to,” he murmured. “I’m here Tommy.”

Tommy let out a choked sob, collapsing against Buck’s chest. “I don’t know how to fix it,” he whispered, his words muffled against Buck’s shirt. “I don’t know how to fix me.”

Buck’s arms instinctively wrapped around him, holding him close, but before he could respond, Tommy tilted his head up. His warm, uneven breath brushed against Buck’s neck.

“I just—I feel so broken,” Tommy murmured, his lips grazing Buck’s skin as he spoke. His hands slid up Buck’s chest. “You make it better, Evan. You always made it better. Just… let me have this.”

Buck froze as he felt Tommy press a soft, lingering kiss to the side of his neck.

“Please,” Tommy whispered, his voice trembling. His lips moved against Buck’s skin, trailing kisses up toward his jaw. “I need you. Just for tonight. Please…”

“Tommy,” Buck said, his voice breaking, a mixture of pain and restraint. “This isn’t the way. You know it’s not.”

Tommy ignored him, his tears still falling as he clung to Buck with desperate strength. “Why not?” he whispered, repeating the question again and again, his voice cracking. “Why not me? Why can’t I be enough for you?”

Buck pulled back slightly, cupping Tommy’s face in his hands to make him stop. “That’s not what this is about, Tommy. You are enough. You’ve always been enough.”

Tommy shook his head, his teary eyes locking onto Buck’s. “Then why did you leave? Why didn’t you fight for me? For us?”

Buck’s heart ached at the raw vulnerability in Tommy’s words, but a flicker of anger rose at the unfairness of his accusation, tightening his jaw. “I didn’t leave,” he said quietly. “You’re the one who left, Tommy. And it killed me, but I swallowed it—because I thought it’s what you wanted.”

Tommy’s lip trembled, and he tried to lean in again, his mouth brushing against Buck’s. “Then take me back,” he pleaded. “Take me back, Evan. I’ll do better. I’ll be better. Just—just don’t leave me alone.”

Buck caught his hands, stopping him before their lips could meet. “Tommy,” he said, his voice firm but trembling slightly. “I can’t—not like this. You’re hurting, and you’re not thinking straight. I won’t take advantage of this. You mean too much to me.” He paused, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he added, “Tomorrow, if you still want to—if you remember—we’ll talk. Properly. You and I will fix things.”

Tommy let out a strangled sob, burying his face in Buck’s shoulder. “I don’t know how to fix it—me,” he repeated, his voice breaking. “I don’t even know where to start. I keep trying, and I keep failing. I’m so tired, Evan. I’m so tired of failing.”

Buck’s arms tightened around him, his hand running soothingly up and down Tommy’s back. “You don’t have to fix everything tonight,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You don’t have to do it alone, either.”

Tommy clung to him like a lifeline, his fingers digging into Buck’s back as he cried quietly. “I just want to be enough for someone,” he whispered, his voice raw. “For you.”

Buck pulled back slightly, brushing the tears from Tommy’s cheeks with his thumbs. “Tommy, you’ve always been enough,” he said softly. “You just have to believe it.”

Tommy closed his eyes, leaning into Buck’s touch. For the first time that night, he stopped trying to fight or plead. He let out a shaky breath as his body relaxed slightly in Buck’s embrace, though his breathing hitched unevenly. His sobs grew quieter but more erratic, his body still trembling with the weight of his emotions.

Eventually, exhaustion took over. Between the waves of violent sobbing, Tommy began to doze off, his grip on Buck’s shirt loosening but not letting go entirely. Even in sleep, his body shuddered occasionally, and soft, broken sobs escaped his lips.

Buck stayed with him, his arms still wrapped securely around Tommy, offering what comfort he could. He watched as Tommy’s tears continued to slip down his cheeks, even in sleep.

Buck’s heart ached, a deep, overwhelming weight pressing against his chest. He leaned his forehead against Tommy’s for a moment, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered , his voice breaking. “I’m sorry for everything—what happened tonight, that guy and what he tried to do, for not seeing how much you’ve been hurting, for not being there when you needed me most.”

After a while, Buck gently shifted Tommy onto the couch, making sure he was lying comfortably. He tucked the blanket around him, brushing stray strands of hair from his tear-streaked face.

Tommy stirred slightly, his lips parting to mumble something. A soft sob escaped him, even in his unconscious state.

Buck stood there for a moment, watching him. The sight was almost too much to bear. Finally, he turned and quietly slipped out of the house, leaving a glass of water and a folded note on the coffee table.

*

Tommy woke up on the couch, his head pounding like a drum and his mouth as dry as sandpaper. A dull ache radiated behind his eyes, making him squint against the faint light streaming in through the window. His stomach churned violently, the nausea hitting him hard and fast.

He spotted a glass of water and a neatly folded note on the coffee table, but before he could even reach for them, his body lurched, and he barely had time to scramble off the couch. Stumbling toward the bathroom, he gripped the doorframe as he heaved into the toilet, his entire body trembling from the effort.

When it finally subsided, he sank back against the wall, his breathing ragged. “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse. “ugh at 40, I have to stop drinking. At all.”

The sour taste in his mouth only added to the misery, and he wiped his face with the back of his hand before dragging himself back toward the couch, eyeing the water like it was a lifeline.

He collapsed onto the cushions, letting his head fall back with a groan. The pounding in his skull hadn’t subsided, but it wasn’t just the hangover gnawing at him. Flashes of the previous night flickered in his mind—disjointed and hazy, but heavy enough to make his chest tighten.

He leaned forward carefully, his hands trembling as he reached for the folded note. His name stared back at him in Buck’s familiar handwriting.

Tommy, Get some rest and drink plenty of water. Call me if you need anything. but Tommy... please don’t call me if you don’t remember last night, or if you didn’t mean the things you said. - Buck Evan

He stared at the note, more fragments of the night before flashing through his mind. Buck’s arms around him, his steady voice grounding him, the gentle way he wiped away his tears. The memory made his chest ache, but it also sparked something else—a flicker of warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

But then other memories surfaced—hazy and disjointed, but vivid enough to twist his stomach. The man at the bar, his smug grin, and the way Tommy had clung to him, desperate to feel anything that might fill the emptiness inside. He remembered Buck stepping in, the sharp sound of his voice, and the flash of anger in his eyes.

And then—Tommy swallowed hard—the way he’d begged Buck, the way he’d reached for him, grasping at something he couldn’t name, pleading for something Buck couldn’t give. Shame curled in his chest, tangling with the lingering ache of loneliness and regret.

He let out a shaky breath, staring at the note again. Buck had been there. He’d stayed, even when Tommy had fallen apart. But had he stayed out of care… or obligation? The thought gnawed at him, leaving him feeling exposed.

His gaze drifted back to the glass of water on the table, the simplest of gestures that felt heavier than it should. He picked it up and took a few sips, the cool liquid doing little to soothe the dryness in his throat or the weight in his chest.

Fragments of the night before continued to flicker through his mind, uninvited and relentless. The man at the bar, his smug touch. The desperate words he’d hurled at Buck. The way Buck had looked at him—not with pity, but something deeper, steadier.

Tommy rubbed a hand over his face, groaning softly. What if Buck regretted staying? What if the note was just a polite way of drawing a line? The thought made his stomach twist.

And yet, despite the shame, despite the uncertainty, the pull to hear Buck’s voice was stronger.

Tommy reached for his phone, his hands trembling slightly. His thumb hovered over Buck’s name in his contacts. He hesitated, the words he wanted to say swirling in his mind but refusing to settle.

Finally, he typed:

Hey, coffee? Our regular place?

He stared at the message for a long moment, his heart pounding as he debated whether to press send. His finger hovered over the button, and then, with a deep breath, he tapped it.

The message sent, and he immediately felt a wave of nerves wash over him. What if Buck didn’t respond? What if last night had been too much? What if he’d just made everything worse?

But before he could spiral further, his phone buzzed in his hand.

Of course.

Tommy blinked, staring at the reply. It had come almost instantly, and the simplicity of it made his chest tighten, an ache that was equal parts relief and uncertainty.

He exhaled shakily, a small, hesitant smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t a declaration or a promise to fix everything. But it was something…

A step forward.

[tempobaekh]

Jacked and kind super soldier

Pairings: bucky barnes x civilian!f!reader

Warnings: FLUFFF, cutie, bucky being jacked and kind, maybe ooc bucky?

A/N: this trend is the cutest this everrrr. i HAD to write it for my fav super soldier. i also read a rafe cameron one somewhere a bit ago and got inspired by that lol. also I KNOW THAT IS THE HYDRA ARM IN THE PICTURE i just needed a picture of his metal arm kinda flexing.

The weekend was your sanctuary—a blissful retreat where the rest of the world melted away, leaving just you and Bucky in the warm cocoon of your apartment. The soft hum of the shower from the bathroom filled the air as you lounged on the couch, your phone in hand, scrolling through TikTok aimlessly. Alpine was curled up on the armrest, purring softly as if she, too, reveled in the peace.

As you swiped through your feed, a familiar trend popped up—a montage of strong men lifting their girlfriends effortlessly while Sabrina Carpenter’s “Slim Pickins” played in the background. The lyrics floated through your mind: “A boy who’s jacked and kind…”

Each video showed the guy flashing a proud smile, flexing an arm while the girl laughed, clearly enamored by the display of strength. A wistful sigh escaped your lips. The trend wasn’t new; you’d seen it countless times but never mustered the courage to ask Bucky to try it.

Bucky was still adjusting to modern life, often overwhelmed by the ever-changing whirlwind of social media and trends. While he was always a good sport about trying new things, you were careful not to overwhelm him, only occasionally roping him into your TikTok antics. Even then, you had maybe two or three TikToks of you both on your account.

But this trend? This trend stirred a little thrill in you. You couldn’t help but wonder—how would it feel to be hoisted onto his shoulder, his strength so effortless it was almost unfair? Would he smile that soft, proud smile you loved so much? Would he flex just to humor you?

Your lips twisted thoughtfully. Could you even ask? Would he think it was silly?

“Just ask,” you mutter to yourself, biting your lip as you stare at the video again. The sound of the shower shutting off jolts you out of your thoughts. Moments later, Bucky steps out into the living room, his dark hair damp and tousled, a gray t-shirt clinging to his broad chest. Alpine immediately perks up, trotting over to greet him.

“Hey, doll,” he says with a warm smile, rubbing a towel through his hair. “What’re you up to?”

You stand, heart thudding slightly as you approach him. “Buck, can I ask you for a favor?”

His brows furrow slightly, curiosity flickering in his stormy blue eyes. “Of course. What’s up?”

“Well...” you start, clutching your phone like it’s a lifeline. “There’s this trend on TikTok I’ve seen a lot. It’s harmless, I swear! But it involves... you lifting me. For a video.”

Bucky tilts his head, his expression a mix of amusement and confusion. “Lifting you? Like how?”

You quickly explain, pulling up the video and showing him. As he watches, you can see the flicker of understanding cross his face, followed by a soft chuckle.

“So, you want me to do that?” he asks, a teasing grin tugging at his lips.

“Yes,” you say with an embarrassed laugh, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. “But only if you’re okay with it!”

He pauses for a moment, then shrugs. “Why not? Seems harmless enough. And if it makes you happy...”

Your face lights up, and you throw your arms around him. “Thank you, Buck!"

Setting your phone up on the coffee table, you adjust the camera angle until both of you are perfectly framed. The familiar 10-second countdown begins, and you quickly fluff your hair, glancing back at Bucky, who’s standing behind you with an easy smile.

“Ready?” you ask, your voice tinged with excitement.

“Ready when you are, doll.”

The countdown hits zero, and the familiar opening notes of “Slim Pickins” filled the room. Before you can even do a little jump to help him, Bucky’s large hands—one warm, the other cool and firm—grip your waist. In one effortless motion, he hoists you onto his shoulder like you weigh nothing, his flesh arm supporting you.

“Bucky!” you gasped, laughing as you suddenly found yourself perched on his shoulder, your legs dangling. You clung to his shirt instinctively, though you knew he’d never let you fall.

He looked up at you with that soft, proud smile you adored.

Then, to your utter delight, he glances at the camera and flexes his metal arm, the vibranium glinting under the soft light. You giggle uncontrollably, your cheeks aching from the sheer happiness coursing through you.

When the music ends, he gently sets you down, his hands lingering at your waist as he looks at you with a soft smile. “How’d I do?”

“Amazing,” you say breathlessly, darting over to grab your phone and watch the video. The grin on your face only widens as you replay it.

Bucky walks over and wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’re cute when you’re excited, you know that?”

“Thank you for doing this,” you say, leaning back into his warmth.

“Anything for you, doll,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Later, as you upload the video, the comments start pouring in, and each one makes you laugh harder.

Each comment had you laughing harder, while Bucky groaned in mock exasperation. “What is wrong with people?” he muttered, though the pink tint to his ears betrayed his embarrassment.

“Oh, c’mon,” you teased, nudging him playfully. “You’re the internet’s new heartthrob. Own it.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. “As long as you’re happy, doll.”

You leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Always. Thank you for indulging me.”

“Like I said, anything for you,” he said softly, pulling you into a warm embrace.

You snuggle closer to him, your heart full as he pulls you against his chest. For a moment, the world fades away, leaving just the two of you and the easy comfort of being together.

Note: gifs, pictures, and header DOES NOT belong to me. CREDITS TO THE RIGHTFUL OWNERS!! Feedback and reblog is appreciated.<3

[ladyeyrewrites]

So many 💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭💭 s, please

@ceeceekayblog here you go!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Tommy flinches, face drawn tight in a pained expression that inexplicably makes Evan want to comfort him. And then it hits him.

“Wait, did I change my last name to yours?” Evan asks.

Tommy nods, though he doesn’t look any less distraught and Evan can’t exactly blame the guy. It’s trippy enough being on this side of the memory loss equation. What must it be like for Tommy to not be remembered?

Probably sucks.

Evan tears his eyes away from the man who’s supposedly his husband and looks to his doctor. “I guess that answers that,” he tries to keep his tone light even though tears prickle his eyes and all he really wants to do is curl into a ball and fall asleep and hope that when he wakes up this will all have been a bad dream.

Evan’s not sure which version of reality he’d rather wake up to: 2017 where he’s living an itinerant life style, barely scraping by or 2027 where he’s apparently settled down enough to have a house and a husband and his sister is free of Doug.

Who’s Evan kidding? Why would he want to go back to being alone?

The doctor’s saying something about running tests, but Evan’s not really paying attention. An overwhelming sense of grief floods through him, heart throbbing, lungs tightening, stomach heavy. God it’s been so lonely.

Ever since Maddie left and he had to resort to riskier and riskier behaivior to try and snatch the tiniest morsel of his parents’ attention, he’s been so alone. He’s tried to fill that loneliness with warm bodies, but it’s chased after him, driving him from place to place, state to state, country to country, bed to bed trying to outrun that feeling of emptiness.

But this person he’s become over the last ten years, he stopped running. He found a family.

And God, Evan wants so badly for that to be true.

Suddenly there are tears in his eyes and a sob in his throat and God, he’s lost ten years.

He doesn’t even know if they were good years or bad years.

Just that they were his and now they’re gone.

And why can’t he stop crying?

Evan squeezes his eyes shut and tries to rub the tears away with the heel of his hand but they just keep coming, hot and salty down his cheeks, dripping off his chin, mixing with snot. He’s too out of it to even care how gross it is. He can’t make it stop.

And then suddenly, he’s being held.

Arms the size of tree trunks wrap warmth around him, press his head against a solid shoulder. “It’s okay, Evan. It’s going to be okay.” He feels more than hears Tommy’s voice. It’s all around him, reverberating through him.

On instinct, he clings to Tommy, sobbing until his throat is raw and his head – already aching – feels as though it’s being squeezed in a vice.

[jayhyunglover]

Since Sylus x reader x Rafayel has been marinating in my head for a while and last Saturday was my birthday. This is a treat for myself and y'all enjoy

Sylus x reader x Rafayel

Based on this post I made 31 december (i wasn't drunk at all just horny and freezing my ass out )

"Does he really have to be here?" Rafayel asked against my lips, a small pout on his face as he glared at the silver-haired man kissing my shoulder.

"What? Artist... afraid I might steal her attention from you?"

I could feel Sylus's smirk against my shoulder, his kisses making it hard for me to focus on the purple-haired man in front of me.

Rafayel wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to his chest while his lips planted feverish kisses on my collarbone, sucking at the sensitive flesh in an attempt to draw my attention away from Sylus.

My head tilted back against Sylus's shoulder, now completely sandwiched between the two men.

"You taste so good, kitten," Sylus whispered in my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine.

"Look at me," he tilted my chin up to meet his crimson gaze before capturing my lips in a heated kiss.

It was overwhelming—the suckle of Rafayel's mouth as it traveled down my chest, still covered by my camisole; Sylus's tongue probing into my mouth while his hands caressed my sides.

A sharp bite from Rafayel caused me to moan into Sylus's mouth, my hips grinding down against Rafayel's lap in a way that had him biting back a whine.

Sylus’s lips left mine to pepper small kisses down my jaw while his large hands caressed Rafayel's hair softly before yanking him away from my chest.

"My turn now, Artist."

"Don't look so disappointed," Sylus drawled, his stubble slightly scraping my skin as his hand in Rafayel's hair started scratching his scalp, earning a soft sigh from the purple-haired man.

"We have all night, after all," he murmured before kissing my jugular. "Right, kitten?"

My eyes fell on Rafayel, who was still purring in bliss under Sylus's soft caress, his hands pinning my hips flush against his lap, his length hot and heavy resting between my thighs.

"Stay focused, kitten," Sylus tilted my head up toward him once again.

"Eyes up here," he kissed my nose before moving to my lips, his hand leaving Rafayel's hair to wrap around my neck—not hard enough to hurt me but tight enough to send my heart racing and my hips moving on their own despite the Lemurian's deathly grip.

This said Lemurian didn’t like how my attention had shifted away from him, and to show it, he bunched the material of my camisole in his hand to gain more access to my chest.

Lips, teeth, and tongue sucking, licking, and biting at the soft mounds made me pant inside Sylus's mouth, the material of my panties dampening.

"You're so needy," Sylus murmured through the kiss, tugging my bottom lip with his teeth.

"Look at you, humping him like a bitch in heat," he chuckled darkly before sucking lewdly on my bottom lip.

"She wouldn't be if you were actually doing something, you dumb crow," Rafayel scowled, his face still buried deep between my breasts.

"Oh, so the puppy can not only bark," Sylus cooed with a faux shocked expression, earning a glare from the Lemurian.

"Stop it," I warned, their banter only heightening my frustration and arousal.

To be continued

A/N : this probably will never be a full fic but Chagpt told me that everytime I feel horny to write down my fantasies.

@jinwoosbabyboo @poisonf0rest

[phantomyre]

Images of the past flashed before Vincent’s mind, bringing him back to those days of agonizing over Lucrecia’s plight. The feeling of helplessness once again wormed its way into Vincent, gripping his throat with the pangs of regret. Her pleading voice, her trembling hands that sought to hold her beloved son, the fear of her once again being forever denied as her right to motherhood--- it tore Vincent to pieces.

Tears streamed down Lucrecia’s pale delicate skin, chilled by the breeze that carried the voices lingering in the cave. She looked as though she would collapse from the weight of emotions overwhelming her senses. It took everything in Vincent’s will-power to hold himself back from rushing to her side to engulf her in his arms. This was between her and Sephiroth; he was merely the enabler. Sephiroth’s discomfort slowly began to unveil. The more Lucrecia pleaded with Sephiroth and revealed their bond, the more Vincent could notice Sephiroth’s expression crease with disdain. Vincent was well aware that the reception wouldn’t be mutual, but the longer Vincent observed, the more he began to sense Sephiroth’s anger rise. Whether it was due to the overwhelming realization, a steadfast denial, or the cruel bending of reality by Jenova’s works, Vincent could only fathom. Seeing Sephiroth take a step back and grip his head, Lucrecia looked on helplessly, at first confused about what her son was going through. But just as her motherly instincts kicked in, Lucrecia rushed forward and extended her hand in an effort to comfort Sephiroth. But just as her hand was about to touch the soft silver tresses of Sephiroth’s head, Lucrecia froze in utter horror. That voice… what is this feeling…? Is it… Lucrecia gasped sharply in terror once she realized who the voice belonged to. Trepidation seized hold of her, and a cold shiver went down her spine. “N-no… this can’t be…” Her voice trembled, her efforts to compose herself not yielding the necessary results. “Lucrecia?!” Alerted at once to her affliction, Vincent momentarily forgot his aching legs and rushed to her side, biting back a searing pain that reminded him he was not fully healed. He caught hold of her shoulders in an attempt to steady her, but Lucrecia immediately attempted to push Vincent away. “Lucrecia, please—what’s wrong?” Vincent maintained his grip, not wanting her to fall and unwilling to let her fight this on her own. Even if Vincent couldn’t hear Jenova’s voice, just from his own experience, and knowing how Jenova cells affected their victims, he had an idea of what Lucrecia was going through. “Stop it--! You don’t own him! He’s not yours!” Lucrecia cried out in anguish, knowing her words were reaching the alien dwelling inside her, but also knowing she was mostly helpless to resist it, let alone affect its intensions. Vincent knew she was fighting a battle he couldn’t fight for her. All he could do was assure her that he was there for her. Sephiroth’s voice diverted Vincent’s gaze; the betrayal and bitterness dripping from his words in copious amounts. It cut deep into Vincent’s heart, but he knew it was searing Lucrecia’s even deeper. “Sephiroth…” Lucrecia wept, looking up at her son through a blur of tears. As painful as those words were, she didn’t have a heart to deny them. “I… I just…” Even if she had been denied access to even see Sephiroth, she knew all too well what had been done to him. After all, she was once a scientist who was all too willing to put aside morals in the name of science. That was, until she first felt the kick of her son in her womb. Vincent felt Lucrecia’s body suddenly sink under the weight of sorrow and defeat, prompting him to ease her down as she knelt on the ground, her head lowered in dejection. “I’m so sorry…” Lucrecia’s voice faded, overcome with grief and regret, allowing her tears to flow freely. She knew there was nothing she could do. Jenova’s words did little to hurt her. But Sephiroth’s tore wide the wound that had never healed. Kneeling beside Lucrecia, Vincent looked up at Sephiroth; his brow creasing pensively. “That’s not true.” He bore his eyes into Sephiroth, mainly directing his energy towards the entity he knew was striving for Sephiroth’s mind. “Professor Gast wasn’t like the others. And had you not been torn from Lucrecia, you would have known differently.” Vincent knew he couldn’t convince Sephiroth. But he wasn’t about to stand by and let Sephiroth dwell on lies, either.

It had long been Vincent’s desire to see Lucrecia smile once again; it was a strong as Lucrecia's desire to hold her son. Nevertheless, Vincent wasn’t naïve to think that bringing Sephiroth to Lucrecia could grant him that lovely smile. There was too much tension, too much sorrow and regret, and of course the issue of Jenova’s presence. If there was one individual who could understand Lucrecia’s heart, it was Vincent. Even if his love was one-sided, it didn’t matter. Her single most wanted desire was to see her son, and he would carry it out, even if it terrified him.

The cool misty cave winds gently brushed across Sephiroth’s hair and face as if guided by the woman’s voice. Regardless of Sephiroth’s harsh tone, the voice responded just as gently as before. Sephiroth… The words were a bit clearer this time, and the Ex-SOLDIER could begin to hear emotion riddling the feminine voice. Undertones of sorrow, perplexity, and bridled happiness could be heard. “Lucrecia,” Vincent quietly called to her beyond the crystal. “Don’t be afraid. I’m right here.” He then briefly glanced over at Sephiroth with a wary eye. …This time… I won’t let you suffer. A bright light slowly began to form around the crystal, filling the cave like a flood of white. It caused Vincent to shield his eyes. The sound of soft shimmering crystals echoed in the cave as the woman’s figure began to once again take shape in front of them. Her body was encompassed with a hazy glow. Slowly but surely, the light faded away, revealing the woman standing near the base of the crystal, her silk white dress flowing free. Her hazel brown eyes were locked on Sephiroth; surfacing with all of the past years of regret in the form of tears. Silence fell between them for some time, until the woman seemed to find her voice again. “Is it really you… Sephiroth?” Tears streamed down both her cheeks. Sephiroth… her son. He was beautiful, powerful, and outwardly the pride of any mother. Her arms ached to hold him, but as a mother is want to do, she could sense the darkness resonating in him. She knew that she meant nothing to him, even if he was everything to her. She could sense the bitterness and hatred—all that Hojo had ever wanted for Sephiroth to become. Ultimately, he had won. Vincent remained silent, keenly watching them both in anticipation of anything, though challenged with the occasional reminder of the pain shooting down his abused lower body. Lucrecia finally shook her head, turning her gaze from Sephiroth to stare at the rocky ground. “How can I say I’m his true mother? Or any mother at all?” A pained furrow crossed Vincent’s brow as her words brought back every memory from that time. Lucrecia turned to look at Sephiroth once again, her heart aching every time she looked upon him. “Sephiroth,” her words tender and warm. “…It is true. I carried you in my womb. I gave birth to you. But I….” Her small hands clenched at her sides as more tears of horrible memories flooded into her mind. “Lucrecia—” Sensing where her words were headed, Vincent began to plead with her, but then held his peace, knowing he had to allow her to have closure. “If only I could have been a true mother to you. Someone to comfort and protect you, to shield you from pain…” Her voice softened into almost a whisper as she once again met Sephiroth’s eyes, seeing those eyes laden with cruelty and years of torment. “I’m not worthy of your forgiveness, and I do not ask for anything. But if you would grant me one thing…” Vincent looked up in confusion and held his breath as he listened. The woman in white took one small step forward, folding her hands over her chest pleadingly, her fingers trembling. What Lucrecia asked caused Vincent’s heart to stop. “…May I hold you? Just once?”  

[writhyv]

⋆｡°✩ your idol wants to see you again

I-800-LOVE-YOU | nishimura riki x male!reader

pairing: niki x male!reader

genre: fluff!

word count: 2.3k

notes: nothing much! hope you enjoy these povs that really frame 'your' character's feelings towards ni-ki hehe

Why does it seem so unreal talking to him? Is it really worth the risk?

Your best friend burst into your bedroom, her infectious grin lighting up the space as she flopped down onto your soft bed without a hint of hesitation.

“Any scoop on the troupe? And by that I mean the dance troupe. And by that I mean the dancer. And by that I mean Ni-ki. And by that I mean—”

“Yah! You can’t just enter a man’s bedroom!” You exclaimed, flinching at her sudden leap across the room.

“A man?!” she shot back playfully, her eyes sparkling. “You’re not just any man, you’re THE man!”

With an exaggerated roll of your eyes, you settled back onto your warm mattress, attempting to tame your disheveled hair, which had been ruffled by her enthusiastic entrance.

“And why is that?” you challenged, trying to keep your composure. “I could do anything to you.”

“Well, don’t do it to me!” she laughed, shoving you playfully. “Do it to Ni-ki!” She squealed as she grabbed pillows, playfully smothering your face with them.

“Hey, hey!” you protested, struggling to push her away. “You heard me through the walls, didn’t you?!”

“What? Am I not allowed to listen in on my own house?” She batted her eyelashes innocently. “You’re lucky I’m shipping you two!”

Groaning, you leaned back on the bed. “Listen, I really don’t understand it.” You sighed heavily, the weight of the conversation settling in. “I don’t think it’s that serious.”

She turned her body toward you, her brow arched in disbelief. “You best believe it is.”

“It’s not,” you insisted, shaking your head. “He’s an idol. Plus, he’s too young AND too famous.”

Your best friend let out a melodious chuckle, shaking her head in amusement.

“What?” you retorted, feeling defensive.

“You’re only three years older, okay?” she pointed out, her voice teasing. “And for the popularity problem, I don’t think he cares anyway.”

“He’s an idol,” you replied, looking away, the weight of your words hanging in the air. “He should.”

She moved closer, resting her head on your shoulder, her voice softening. “Just test the waters. I’m sure he’s just looking for someone, and he found you at the right moment.”

Your mind wandered back to the memory of Ni-ki holding your hands tightly, and a flutter of hope stirred within you.

“Hahh... You’re right,” you finally admitted, turning to face your friend. “He did say he wants to be friends. To be closer... more accurately.”

“See?” she grinned, her enthusiasm infectious.

“I think I can try being friends,” you said, a small smile creeping onto your face. “Nothing wrong with having a friend.”

“Exactly!” Your best friend cheered, raising her fists in triumph. “Then eventually you da—”

“Eventually he comes to a decision to stop it because I’ll be a liability to him,” you cut her off, the weight of your insecurities surfacing.

Her expression shifted, and she playfully punched your shoulder. “Don’t be such a spoiler! Rah!”

You rolled your eyes again, contemplating whether your words truly reflected the feelings swirling inside you.

Of course, you wanted a new friend. Of course, you wanted that friend to be eager to be friends with you. Of course, you’d love to spend time with someone charismatic and talented—it just happened to be that he was also a famous idol. But doubt lingered in your heart—did you truly deserve this happiness? Would it last? And what if you ruined his career, his dreams, his life? The thought sent a chill down your spine.

“God, that’s a lot of things in your head. What a mess,” you thought, feeling overwhelmed.

“I can see all the mumbling speech bubbles in the air right now,” your best friend chuckled, inching closer. “It’s not that insane, right? Just be friends with him.”

You looked at her, uncertainty etched on your face. “But what if I—”

“Just see what happens,” she urged, her eyes earnest. “If it isn’t really working, you can be honest.”

Taking a deep breath, you gazed at your hands, closing them tightly as if to gather the courage within you.

“I can do that,” you sighed, feeling a flicker of determination.

Your best friend wrapped you in a warm embrace, her genuine warmth easing the tension in your chest. “And don’t forget about me. I’m here too.”

“Mhm,” you replied softly, grateful for her support.

A good few days had passed, and a whirlwind of events had unfolded.

You started your first class right after the fan meet, brimming with joy as you taught a group of bright and eager students. They were a delight to be around, and the administration took notice, appreciating your efforts and offering various roles that came with incentives. Smiling at the opportunities that lay ahead, you signed up for most of them and dedicated yourself diligently to your work.

Meanwhile, your friendship with Ni-ki blossomed. He couldn’t wait another day and called you daily, sharing snippets of his life. He recounted how he spent his resting hours lounging in his room, playing games with his bandmates, and practicing choreography for their upcoming promotions. The two of you were growing closer, and you often found yourself wondering when you would see each other in person again.

“Well, Ni-ki does,” Jungwon said from the front seat of the van, breaking the silence that had settled after a tiring shoot for SBS Inkigayo.

The gentle rumbling of the engine accompanied the sounds of exhaustion radiating from the other members. Half the boys had already succumbed to fatigue, using pillows, eye covers, or handkerchiefs to shield their eyes from the light.

“Yeah, but—” Heeseung turned around in his seat, raising a brow. “Isn’t it already afternoon? Are there still classes this late in the day?”

“Good point,” Sunoo pouted, contemplating. “Maybe their school is a bit different? It is Seoul, after all.”

Unbothered, Ni-ki bit his lip, lost in thought as he envisioned seeing you again. His heart raced at the prospect. Moving his legs quickly, he could almost picture seeing your golden smile. Yeah, that's what he's calling it.

"Hey, stop that." Jake muttered as he lifted the eye cover from his face.

Ni-ki acted as if he couldn't hear Jake's plea. The older rolled his eyes and forced an arm to stop the younger's leg.

"No! I swear to god-"

"Oh, he's awake!" Jungwon looked over to the back, where Ni-ki and Jake sat together. Seems like Jake had been napping for quite a while.

"Ugh, yeah." Jake fixed bits of his hair to the side, revealing his sleepy set of eyes wondering around the van. "This guy ruined it with his leg yapping. What's up?"

"Is it fine if we drop Ni-ki at Yanghoon State?" Jungwon asked as he held his phone. For reference, you shared the location of your school to Ni-ki. Of course, Ni-ki could only keep that information to himself for a while, before Jake swatted his phone and sent the pinned location to their group chat.

"Oh? Yeah." Jake moved an inch closer towards the other boys. "We'll just have to keep an eye when PD-nim needs us for backup or anything."

Jake looked at Ni-ki with a sharp edged look. "You better be proper. You're missing our bro night for this."

"You're not the leader." Ni-ki grinned.

"Hey! I'm still older!" Jake jabbed Ni-ki's shoulder.

The manager raised his hand in acknowledgment. Ni-ki’s eagerness to see you excited the whole group, even the higher-ups, despite the risks involved.

“Do we still need the rental car?” Ni-ki asked, scratching his head. “Can’t we just use this van?”

Heeseung sighed, chuckling. “Bro, you already made such a big fuss in the company. Just bear with the car.”

Ni-ki swiped his hair to the side in mock frustration, realizing that his plan to impress you with the company van had come to a halt.

“He’ll love you driving a Civic,” Jake teased.

“Hyung, I can’t drive,” Ni-ki replied, exasperated.

“Oof, I feel like you’re getting UN-cooler by the minute.”

“Aish!” Ni-ki shoved Jake away playfully.

“Who’s the girl anyway?” the manager asked, curiosity piqued.

Everyone’s heads turned toward Ni-ki, who suddenly wore a serious expression. “It’s a he, okay?” he stated, emphasizing the words.

Jungwon tapped Ni-ki’s leg, smiling reassuringly. “Hey, it’s cool. He just asked.”

“Oh? Who’s the guy? I’ve only ever heard your bandmates talk about his school,” the manager said innocently, eliciting a glare from Ni-ki.

“A cool teacher he met!” Sunoo chimed in, raising his hand enthusiastically. “Ni-ki just wanted to see where he worked.”

“Must be a close friend,” the manager remarked, his grin widening. “We’re here, by the way.”

Ni-ki beamed at the news while his bandmates quietly cheered him on. As he stepped out of the van, he couldn’t shake the image of your smile from his mind.

God, he’ll be so happy, Ni-ki thought, a wave of anticipation washing over him.

“Caps! Shades! Mask!” the manager commanded, snapping Ni-ki back to reality.

“Oh, right.” Ni-ki quickly grabbed his disguise—shades and a mask—to shield himself from the public eye. After all, he was a famous idol.

Moments later, he waved goodbye to his bandmates, who drove away swiftly with their other manager.

“I’m going to find the car we rented. Should be around here somewhere. I’ve got the keys, so you just stay here,” the manager instructed firmly.

"Got it." Ni-ki nodded. As he watched the manager leave, Ni-ki couldn't stand still at his current position. His feet jerked way too many times as he anxiously waited for the car.

Today, he only planned to get a glimpse of you. But it would be much better if he gets to interact with you ... and see your smile yet again. Ni-ki vould only blush and look down on his feet as he thought of it.

To his surprise, Ni-ki turned his head as he heard the school chimes. It wasn't a big school, but it surely looked prestigious. The design of the school was an older Neoclassical style, with a large bell tower that survived wars since its been built.

Of course, Ni-ki couldn't have ever known these facts if he wasn't intent on listening to every detail you shared with him. During your calls, he can only memorize all the things you've said to him. That's how you've been occupying his mind. Just a total overload of your voice fills his heart with bliss and warmth. Totally whipped as one would say.

In no time, students of all ages began to pour out of the gates—young kids chattering with friends, slightly older students engaged in lively conversations, and older students lounging around, soaking in the afternoon sun.

Ni-ki reminisced the times when he went to school too. Seeing all the kids there reminded him of his young social life, where he would often participate in events and talk to many people, whether they were his own age or not.

This made Ni-ki smile, remembering how fun it was when he wasn't such a busy idol.

But you know who made him smile even bigger? The sight of you, conversing with your co-teachers as you got out of the school doors. You wore a nice set of casual slacks that complemented your figure, and you had a comfy and fuzzy turtleneck that covered your otherwise impressive frame. To him, it looked like you were covered in marshmallows.

As you gazed around the school yard, you waved goodbye to your students. It was fun seeing them so involved in your class, and you couldn't be happier seeing them interact so happily with their other peers. It fulfills you, as you exhibit the life of an educator. Even though you still had so much you can dream, but can't even think of how it'll work out.

As you thread on the concrete path you stepped on, you thought of wanting to eat something from the local convenience store. A packed burrito? A sliced bread? Or a serving of dumplings? What would best satisfy you as you waited for the bus?

"Aw...” you exclaimed, scratching your head in surprise as you bumped onto a passerby. “Sorry, I—”

“No worries. I did that on purpose,” came the familiar, playful voice.

You looked up, and your heart raced as you met Ni-ki’s gaze, his handsome face adorned with a wide grin.

“Hi,” he beamed, a light of mischief in his eyes.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “You!”

“Yeah, me—”

“Damn you and your face!” You exclaimed, instinctively shoving your hands toward him, playfully pushing him back as he stumbled slightly.

“Are you crazy? There are people around!” you admonished, your arms resting on the wall, effectively cornering him.

“Sorry. I just can’t help myself,” Ni-ki smirked, clearly enjoying the flustered state he had put you in.

“You...,” you started, trying to maintain your composure. “You know you’re famous, right?”

“I don’t really care,” he replied nonchalantly.

“I do!” you shot back, meeting his cheeky gaze. “Are you always this much of a headache to your bandmates?”

Ni-ki raised an eyebrow, mock contemplation on his face. “Hmm, let me see if I’m really that silly.”

“My point is, this is a public place!” you insisted, feeling your cheeks warm.

Ni-ki held your hands gently, grounding you as he leaned in closer. “Sorry. Should’ve told you,” he said, his smile disarming.

“Aish,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I’m just your friend. Is it really worth all this trouble to see me?”

Ni-ki straightened up, his expression turning sincere. “I said I want to be closer.”

You looked away, trying to suppress the fluttering in your heart. “You did.”

“I said I want to see you often.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

“Can’t I make that effort?” Ni-ki’s eyes were unwavering, and you felt your resolve weakening.

You stammered, “I—I mean…”

“I just wanted to see you again. Is that so bad?” he asked, sincerity radiating from his every word.

At that moment, you felt the walls you had built around your heart crumbling. You sighed, knowing you couldn’t resist his charm any longer.

“You look cute,” Ni-ki complimented, his gaze warm and inviting.

You blushed fiercely. “You’re... unbearable.”

Ni-ki chuckled, tightening his grip on your hands. “Then learn to bear with me.”

You looked into his eyes, realizing that perhaps this was the beginning of something beautiful.

“Because I won’t be going anywhere.”

hope you like it HEEHEE

| masterlist! | previous | next |

[dilfismz]

gihun x reader fluff?? go crazy haha i dont have ideas 💗

Comfort in the Dark

Pairing: GiHun X reader

Warnings: Mentions of canon typical violence

The lights overhead flickered, casting long shadows over the room. The cold air felt heavier tonight, thicker somehow, as though the very walls of the dormitory knew the weight of what had happened. The violence, the betrayals, and the deaths from the day’s games still hung in the air like a thick fog.

You lay in your bunk, staring up at the ceiling, your thoughts running in circles. The fear from the tug-of-war game still clung to you. It was hard to sleep in a place like this, where every corner could hide danger and every creak of the floorboards could be the harbinger of something terrible.

You turned your head to the side, looking around the darkened room. Most of the players had already fallen into uneasy slumber, exhausted by the trials they’d endured. But you couldn’t sleep. Not yet. Your mind was racing, still haunted by the chaos and bloodshed of the day. What if something happened during the night? What if violence broke out in the dark? The thought of the games continuing even after hours of brutality made your stomach churn.

You tried to focus on the rhythmic sound of breathing around you, the only thing that kept the overwhelming fear at bay. But it didn’t help. The thought of being alone, vulnerable in the darkness, made your heart race. You needed comfort. You needed someone who understood. And there was one person who always seemed to make you feel just a little bit safer.

Gi-Hun

He was a familiar face in this nightmare, someone who had become a lifeline. You couldn’t explain it. He wasn’t the strongest, nor the most imposing player, but there was something about him that made you feel like maybe—just maybe—you could survive this together. He always knew when to give you a smile, when to say something to calm your nerves, even when he had none of his own.

You sighed, then quietly slid out of bed, careful not to wake anyone. The room was silent except for the occasional shuffle of a blanket or someone adjusting in their sleep. Moving quickly, you crossed the cold floor and approached his bed.

Gi-Hun was lying there, his body curled up in a ball, as if trying to shield himself from the weight of it all. But even from a distance, you could see the tension in his posture, the way his brow furrowed even in his sleep. The nightmare of the games never really left anyone, no matter how tired they were.

You hesitated for a moment, standing at the edge of his bed, before gently calling his name. “Gi-Hun…?”

His eyes fluttered open almost immediately, and when he saw you standing there, his expression softened. “What’s wrong?”

You bit your lip, suddenly self-conscious. It felt silly, asking him for comfort in the middle of all this chaos, but you couldn’t bring yourself to lie there in the dark any longer. “I… I can’t sleep. I’m afraid of what might happen tonight. The violence and everything. I don’t know… I just…” You trailed off, looking down at your feet, unsure of how to explain.

Gi-Hun sat up, his face filled with concern. Without saying a word, he shifted to one side of his bed, making room for you. “Come here,” he said softly. His voice, always warm, always kind, was a balm to your frayed nerves.

You didn’t hesitate this time. You climbed onto his bed, careful not to disturb the other players, and nestled against him, the heat of his body immediately comforting against your own. Gi-Hun wrapped his arm around you, pulling you in closer, offering you a sense of security you hadn’t known you needed until now.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of here,” he murmured, his voice gentle as he kissed the top of your head. “I’ll protect you. No matter what happens.”

You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. The rhythmic sound, comforting and steady, gave you something to focus on other than the fear that had been gnawing at you. The tension in your body slowly began to ease, and you felt yourself relax into the warmth of his embrace.

For the first time in what felt like ages, you didn’t feel so alone.

“I’m scared, Gi-Hun,” you confessed quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep going like this.”

Gi-Hun’s arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as if to shield you from the world outside. “I know. I’m scared too. But you’re not alone. I’m right here with you. Always.”

You let out a small breath of relief, a tear slipping from the corner of your eye, though you quickly wiped it away before he could notice. His hand stroked your hair gently, soothing you further. There was something about him—his kindness, his unwavering compassion—that made everything seem just a little bit more bearable.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Gi-Hun continued softly, his voice full of sincerity. “I promise.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words sink deep into your chest. His promise, his presence, was a lifeline in this hellhole. It wasn’t much—there was no way to guarantee that the violence wouldn’t come, that the games wouldn’t continue—but somehow, with him next to you, you felt like you could face it all.

You weren’t alone. And for tonight, that was enough.

As the night deepened, and the sounds of the others’ uneasy breaths filled the room, you both lay there in silence. You felt his chest rise and fall steadily beneath you, and the tension in your own body began to melt away. Slowly, your breathing matched his, steady and calm, and before long, the weight of exhaustion took over.

Gi-Hun, sensing that you were finally drifting off to sleep, tucked you closer into his side. He kissed the top of your head one more time, his lips lingering there, before whispering into the quiet night.

“Sweet dreams. I’ve got you.”

And as you closed your eyes, the fear didn’t feel quite as heavy. With Gi-Hun beside you, holding you, there was a fleeting sense of peace. It wouldn’t last forever. You knew that. But for now, in this fleeting moment, you found comfort in the dark, knowing you weren’t alone.

[lakebella]

Angel’s Unwell - Remus Lupin

I’m so excited to finally get round to posting on here! I hope you all like this one, and please send me any requests you might have!

WC: 700

Remus can’t find you at first when he comes home. After a long day at work, all he wants is to curl up on the sofa with his love for hours on end, but that’s proving to be difficult when he can’t actually locate her. After getting rid of his hundreds of layers of protection against the unforgiving British weather, he makes his way through your shared apartment, checking room by room in search of you. His eyebrows furrow with confusion - you weren’t working today, and surely it was too early for you to be asleep. Despite his doubts, he heads towards your bedroom, opening the door gently and poking his head in.

You’re curled up in the middle of the bed, covers sticky with sweat and twisted around your body. Your face is scrunched up, and you almost look like you’re in pain. Remus’ heart clenches at the sight of his baby hurting, and darts forward as quietly as he can, desperate to get to you. He sits down on the bed next to your sleeping form and gently pushes some hair away from your face. ‘Angel’ he murmurs, bringing his head right next to yours. ‘Wake up sweetheart, come on’. You begin to stir, stretching uncomfortably, the pained expression still displayed on your face. ‘That’s it baby, good girl’ he whispers, cupping your face as your eyelids start to lift. ‘Hi sweet girl’ he coos stroking your cheek ‘what’s going on, hmm? Why are you in bed already?’ You blink up at him, confusion lacing your features ‘What?’ You croak, your through feeling suddenly dry. ‘When are you going to work’. Remus looks down at you in concern, tilting his head to one side. ‘I’ve already been to work angel. It’s 5pm. Have you been asleep all day sweetheart?’ Now your confusion morphes into panic. All day? Surely not. You try to sit up but pain shoots through your head and you let out a groan lying back down.

Remus lays one hand on your forehead, pushing your hair back as he removes it again, frowning softly at you. ‘You’re burning up sweetheart, you’ve got a nasty fever.’ He whispers softly to you as you shut your eyes. The confusion is overwhelming, and you can barely think through the pounding of your head. ‘I don’t feel good’ you murmer, so quietly you wonder if you didn’t just think it. But Remus hears, his eyes softening as he presses a kiss to your forehead. ‘I know honey, you’re really under the weather aren’t you. Why didn’t you tell me this morning you weren’t feeling well?’ You sigh, straining to remember that morning. You can vaguely recall Remus getting up for work and kissing you goodbye. Had you felt sick then? ‘I don’t know’ is all you can muster up. The exhaustion is slowly taking over, and all you want to do is lay down with Rem and try to sleep this off. Unfortunately, he has other plans.

‘C’mon honey, up you get’ he says softly, gently pulling you up to his chest and scooping you up. You protest weakly, muttering something about wanting to sleep, but Remus carries you all the way into the kitchen and sets you down on the counter. ‘Let’s get you some medicine, then you’ll feel better okay angel?’ He gives the top of your head one last kiss as he lets you go, making his way to the sink to pour you a glass of water and get you some painkillers from the cupboard above it. After much coaxing and some gently bribery, he manages to get the medication into you and takes a step back, assessing his patient.

‘That should kick in soon Dovey. Is there anything else I can get you for now?’ His kind eyes find your droopy ones as he smiles softly at you. ‘Will you come lay with me’ you ask, looking up at him tiredly. His heart softens, as it always seems to with you, and he pulls you into him. ‘Of course I will sweet girl, anything for you honey. Couch or bed?’

Soon you’re both situated on the couch, surrounded by blankets and pillows. You curl into Remus’s side contentedly as he muses over Netflix choices, rubbing your back subconsciously. You already feel better, although somehow you don’t think it’s the medicine healing you.