#but then he tried to move out and i said no and then something changed

[enhani-ki]

fuckboy!ni-ki x reader ᡣ𐭩｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

warnings: smut, nsfw, cursing, mentions of killing, etc.

read part two here

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki likes to lie and waste time.

a game player, smooth talker, and a liar when it suited him.

ni-ki knew exactly what to say to get what he wanted. he'd tell a girl she was the only one, that she was special, that he couldn't stop thinking about her, only to turn around and send the same message to someone else.

when he got what he wanted? he gets bored.

it was always the same: a few weeks, maybe a month if they were lucky, then he'd just start pulling away. no more sweet words, no more playful texts, it's dry responses and distance until they finally took the hint.

girls will cry, get angry, some even tried to plot revenge... but ni-ki? he never felt guilty.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki doesn't believe in love.

he won't date and won't do relationships. he wasn't interested doing those late-night calls or good-morning texts, and the thought of commitment made him want to laugh.

he just likes a little flirting, a little fun, love songs, fucking then moving on before things got too serious.

they liked the chase, thinking they could be the one to change him, and the idea of being the exception.

but there are no exceptions. he'd rather catch a body than catch feelings for somebody he barely knows.

ni-ki was always clear about what he wanted, even if they refused to believe him.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki was impatient.

he's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and tight jaw. his fuck buddy is late and he hates waiting. it's not his style to sit around for anyone.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. then, he spotted a familiar silhouette approaching.

finally.

and without hesitation, he reached out, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into the shadows.

"you took your sweet time." he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear, whispering. "i should make you pay for making me wait, don't you think?" then ni-ki started talking dirty.

and your body in his grasp stiffened.

ni-ki smirked. he loves it when someone gets shy because of him but something was off.

there's no giggle or eager hands slipping on his body.

only silence.

ni-ki pulled back, his eyes locked on your wide, terrified eyes.

you're a face he had never seen before.

"who the fuck are you?!" he blurted out.

"i- i'm sorry!" you stammered, breathing heavily in shock.

ni-ki's mouth opened to say something but before he could, you ran away, you ran so fast that your belongings spilled onto the floor in your rush to escape.

ni-ki cursed under his breath, running a hand down his face.

fuck.

not only he's not gonna have sex but he also accidentally just harassed a complete stranger.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki got mad, completely ghosting and blocked his fuck buddy's number.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki wasn't the type to dwell on things. if he ever made a mistake, he moved on. simple.

what happened with you? that bothered him.

maybe it was the way your eyes looked at him, it was pure fear, like he was some kind of monster... or maybe it was because he had never been the kind of guy to force himself onto someone.

he's cocky, sure. shameless, absolutely.

but he never needed to resort to shit like that and now, he just left a random girl traumatized.

great.

ni-ki took your abandoned things from his bag, staring at them in irritation. he could've just tossed this somewhere and let you deal with it, but it's the least he could do, right?

he looked for you everywhere and when he finally spotted you walking down the hall, he didn't hesitate.

"hey."

your body stiffened instantly when you saw him, you gulped and turned to leave.

ni-ki rolled his eyes and reached out, catching your wrist before you could escape. "relax," he sighed. "i'm just here to give you these…"

you hesitated but quickly grabbed your things and muttered, "thanks."

he let go but he's also expecting you to run again though he's not letting you off easily.

his fingers wrapped around your wrist again, "i'm not done..." he said. "why are you in such a hurry?"

"i gotta go…"

"oh, really?" ni-ki scoffed but released his grip. "fine. look, i'm sorry about earlier. i thought you were someone else."

"your girlfriend?"

ni-ki chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "no, i don't do girlfriends." he teased but it wasn't meant to joke or seduce. "you forgive me?"

you smiled slightly before nodding but then you tilted your head, curious. "...but why would you say something like that to someone who isn't your girlfriend?"

he smirked and leaned in again, so close you could smell his cologne.

"mind your own business, won't you?" he said and walked away.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki found you at his playground.

parties were all the same. loud music, flashing lights, people pressed up against each other like they forgot what personal space was.

ni-ki was used to it, it's his playground.

he's sitting with his friends, a smirk on his face while some girl clung to his arm, twirling her hair and giggling at everything he said, even though he wasn't even trying to be funny.

"so, ni-ki..." she purred, leaning in close, "when are we getting out of here?"

ni-ki exhaled through his nose, he's not in the mood yet and ready to give a half-assed answer until his eyes flickered to the entrance where you walked in.

huh.

you walked in, looking... insanely good wearing a dress that hugged all the right places. it made ni-ki's fuck boy brain short-circuit for a second.

the girl beside him was still talking, but he wasn't listening. his smirk twitched and his interest became completely derailed.

"wait here..." ni-ki muttered, removing the girl's arms off of him without another word.

she sputtered in protest but ni-ki was already gone, slipping through the crowd, with eyes locked on you.

he "accidentally" bumped into you, almost knocking you off balance. his hands instinctively gripped your waist to steady you.

"wow… you're-"

you covered yourself quickly, your arms crossing over your chest, and sent him a glare before he could even think about finishing that sentence

"what do you want?" you asked, unimpressed.

he blinked, momentarily thrown off.

"nothing." he recovered quickly, slipping his hands back into his pockets.

you sighed. "have you seen my friend, f/n?"

ni-ki shook his head. "i have no idea who that is," he admitted, then quickly added, "i'll help you look."

his hand landed on your shoulder but you instantly shrugged it. ni-ki scoffed at your unfriendly action, "seriously?" he asked, rolling his eyes but followed anyway, trailing beside you like he's trying to find his friend too.

he was enjoying himself, honestly.

his eyes kept drifting to you. the way your hips swayed slightly as you walked, the way your hair swung when you turned your head... it was so distracting and ni-ki found himself grinning.

he wasn't even gonna try to flirt anymore, he was just thrilled to be by your side.

you stopped in a less crowded part of the house, scanning the room, then you were pulling at your dress subtly, adjusting the hem like you're clearly uncomfortable.

ni-ki clicked his tongue "w- why are you wearing that if you're uncomfortable?"

you turned to him sharply, eyes narrowing. "why do you care?!"

"why are you so mad at me?"

"'cause i don't know what you're trying to do."

"i'm not trying do do anything to you!"

you glared at him again, adjusting your dress.

"tch." ni-ki removed his jacket and threw it at your face.

"what the hell-"

ni-ki rolled his eyes, already regretting being nice. "wear that, idiot."

you hesitated.

he sighed and turned away, "do whatever you want."

you slipped the jacket over your shoulders then ni-ki peeked at you from the corner of his eyes where he saw you practically drowning in his jacket. you looked so tiny in it, he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling.

you finally spotted your friend near the drinks table, "f/n!" you called out, relieved.

your friend turned with a smile then her eyes immediately widened when she saw who was standing beside you.

"oh. my. God." she gasped, barely even acknowledging you because she's looking at ni-ki.

ni-ki smirked at her reaction, clearly used to it. "hi. what's up?"

you friend actually looked starstruck for a second before shaking herself out of it.

"why are you with him?" she whisper-yelled at you, leaning in like you just brought home a stray cat but the dangerous kind.

"he just helped me find you." you replied, and without another word, you grabbed her arm and practically dragged her toward the exit.

"bye, ni-ki!" your friend waved at him.

ni-ki chuckled, grinning while watching the two of you rush off.

as soon as you and your friend stepped outside, she immediately started her interrogation, eyes gleaming.

"okay," she breathed, grabbing your shoulders. "do you know how many girls would kill to be in your position?!"

you groaned. "it's not what you think!"

she gasped, dramatically covering her mouth. "wait… did you do it?"

you blinked. "what do you mean by it?"

she wiggled her eyebrows and giggled, playfully slapping your arm. "you know what I mean~"

you eyes widened in disgust. "i would never do it with anyone!"

she laughed as you pushed her lightly, still giggling like a schoolgirl.

"okay, okay, i believe you..." she teased. "but still, damn. ni-ki even gave you his jacket?"

she said, snatching the sleeve of the jacket and sniffed it.

you grabbed it back.

she gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. "it smells expensive… sexy, actually."

you gave her a disgusted look again and tightened the jacket around you, trying to ignore the fact that, yeah, it did smell good.

"don't get so weird about this." you warned.

she only laughed, linking her arm through yours. "now tell me more about you and ni-ki."

"there is no me and ni-ki!"

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki suddenly wants to prove that he wasn't actually the asshole you thought he was but ended messing it up.

he told himself it was over. he gave back your stuff, apologized (which, honestly, he never did for anyone), even gave you his jacket, and that should've been the end of it.

he tried not to be pushy 'cause he knew better now, but he still found ways to be around you. if he saw you at school, he'd just give a casual nod. if you were in the cafeteria, he'd sit nearby, pretending it was a coincidence. and if you caught him looking, you'd glare and he would quickly look away.

he was used to people chasing him, used to girls who always wants something from him, not someone who wanted nothing to do with him. and when you made it clear, he said "you really think the worst of me, huh?"

you crossed your arms. "can you blame me?"

ni-ki huffed a laugh. "i don't even do shit to you."

but then, you might just be playing hard to get, right?

he smirked, grabbing your phone and held it high.

"ni-ki, i swear- give it back!"

you jumped, reaching for it, but he was way taller. he tilted his head, watching you struggle, and then...

fuck it.

because he's ni-ki, he's reckless, stupid and didn't think things through... he kissed you.

it was quick, barely even a brush of lips.

he pulled back, expecting a reaction, but not the one he got.

your face twisted in disbelief before you hit him.

you smacked his chest repeatedly, pushing him, "what is wrong with you?! that was my first kiss, stupid!"

ni-ki's eyes widened. "wait- what? seriously?"

you fought back your tears, shoving him one last time before storming off. "don't talk to me ever again!"

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki is doing something completely out of character.

he didn't plan to kiss you. it just happened like some dumb, impulsive thought he acted on before his brain could catch up.

he wanted to reach out but what the hell was he even supposed to say?

"hey, my bad for stealing your first kiss lol?"

"i didn't think it'd be that big of a deal."

"wait, you really never kissed anyone before?"

shit, no. that was all dumb as hell.

for the next few days, ni-ki is not being himself.

he forgot his usual girls, he hadn't even been with anyone ever since he met you.

"dude, what's up with you?" one of his friends asked.

ni-ki just shrugged, flipping his phone in his hands. "nothing."

you were avoiding him like he was some virus. you look the other way when he walked past or really refusing to even glance in his direction.

so, fine. he swallowed his pride and showed up at your house.

you opened the door, immediately frowning when you saw him. "what do you want?"

ni-ki exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.

"i'm sorry, alright?" he said quickly. "i was being an idiot, i didn't think, and..."

"you're apologizing?"

ni-ki groaned, shoving his hands in his pockets. "yeah..."

you crossed your arms, unimpressed. "took you long enough."

he sighed, stepping closer. "i didn't know it was your first kiss..."

you rolled your eyes, "whatever."

then ni-ki hugged you.

you gasped, trying to make him let go. "what- what are you doing?!"

ni-ki just chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder. "saying sorry?"

"by hugging me?!"

"would you rather i kiss you again?"

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

he laughed again, pulling back slightly to look at your flustered expression.

you scowled. "you're such a pervert."

his smirk returned, teasing. "you liked being hugged though."

you smacked his chest hard. "GO HOME, NI-KI."

he grinned, backing away "but we're good now, right?"

you didn't answer, just slammed the door in his face.

ni-ki chuckled to himself, breathing in relief as he walked away.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki is trying his best to please you... and hold himself back from being a fuck boy.

ni-ki has a serious problem. these days, he found himself doing things that were completely out of character.

like waiting outside your classroom when he swore he was just going to pass by, remembering your usual order at the café near school and handing it to you in front of everyone like it was no big deal, and making sure you got home safe after study sessions.

he wasn't even trying to get anything out of it because for once in his life, he actually wanted to do things the right way. he wanted to get a girlfr- girl friend. a friend that's a girl. that's all.

totally normal. nothing weird.

but it's so frustrating because you weren't even making it easy for him.

you still roll your eyes at him when he tried to be nice. you still gave him unimpressed looks when he offered to carry your things. and the other day, when he casually said you looked cute, you hit him with a deadpan, "what do you want?"

like, damn. he was actually trying here.

then… you'll also do things that completely messed him up.

your cheeks puff out whenever you concentrate, making him desperately want to bite them.

or how we would notice your tits slightly jiggle and move whenever you're running or simply writing. suddenly, he would have to leave the room for fresh air.

when you got mad at him, all fiery and stubborn, he had the worst urge to just shut you up, not in a way that was appropriate for a friend.

ni-ki groaned, running a hand down his face.

his first thought?

"God, i wanna touch."

his second thought?

"i need help."

you left something at school. suddenly, he showed up at your door, handing your things back along with a bottle of your favorite drink.

you looked at him confused, ni-ki rolled his eyes, pushing the bag into your hands.

"you… bought this for me?"

"don't be weird!" he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "just take it."

you stared at him for a long moment before stepping aside. "you wanna come in?"

ni-ki shook his head, he knew himself. he knew that the second he got too comfortable, his usual instincts would kick in... he would start flirting, the way he always found a way to get what he wanted.

instead of smirking and stepping inside like he usually would, he just shoved his hands in his pockets, exhaling.

"nah," he said. "i'll just see you tomorrow, okay?"

a small smile formed at your lips. "thanks, ni-ki."

he turned away quickly, waving a hand over his shoulder while his heart raced so fast. "welcome."

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki who can't figure out if you're just a damsel in distress or actually bossing him around

ni-ki likes to think he's a pretty capable guy. he's used to girls needing him for things... carrying their bags, opening their drinks, giving them rides home. he didn't mind. it boosted his ego.

but every time you asked for his help, he couldn't tell if you were actually helpless or if you're just treating him like some personal assistant.

you handed him your backpack without a word while texting on your phone.

ni-ki blinked. "uh… am i supposed to carry this?"

"yeah." you replied without even looking at him.

"…please?"

you gave him a look. "i could say please, but you're already holding it."

then later you stared at a vending machine like it had personally offended you.

"what, it didn't give you your snack?"

"no..." you huffed, crossing your arms. "it won't take my bill."

ni-ki sighed, pulling out his own money and sliding in a new bill. the machine beeped, and he pressed your selection.

the the snack dropped, you grabbed it, turned on your heel, and walked away.

the way you pouted when you struggled with something, how your brows furrowed in concentration, the tiny pleased smile you gave when things worked out in your favor... it pleased him too.

so when you showed up next to him one day, shaking your phone with an exaggerated sigh, ni-ki already knew what was coming.

"my phone is dead," you said.

he smiled "finally."

you glared, "give me your charger."

ni-ki scoffed in disbelief. "you don't even pretend to be polite anymore!"

you pouted. "please?"

his eye twitched. you're so annoying. cute but mostly annoying.

ni-ki pulled out his charger and handed it to you. "i swear, don't lose it."

"i never lose things." you said, already plugging it in.

"liar." he shook his head. "you lost your AirPods case last week."

you laughed and waved him off. "that was one time."

ni-ki smiled, he felt that stupid warmth creep up his neck again when he heard your laugh.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki asked you to work out with him.

you regret this.

you had never worked out before but when ni-ki said, "come on, i'll go easy on you." you refused to back down.

big mistake.

now, here you are, struggling to breathe properly while ni-ki, just finished another set of weights, stood there looking like some Greek god.

sweat clung to his skin, his black shirt sticking slightly to his toned torso. his hair was pushed back from his forehead and sharp jawline got even more defined.

you gulped.

then he caught you staring. his lips curled into a grin. "like what you see?"

you quickly looked away. "shut up."

he only laughed.

later, back in your room, you are dying.

your muscles ached in places you didn't even know existed. you lay on your bed, groaning while ni-ki sat next to you, arms crossed.

"you're overreacting." he said.

"you tricked me," you accused. "you said you'd go easy."

"i did!" he defended, snickering.

you groaned again, moving slightly only to wince at the soreness in your legs.

ni-ki smiled. "want a massage?"

you looked at him. "you give massages?"

he smirked. "i'm really good with my hands."

you squinted and he laughed. ni-ki began to straddle your back, hands pressing into your tense shoulders.

the moment he started kneading your muscles, your body melted.

"oh… that's so good…" you whispered, voice airy.

ni-ki chuckled. "i am good, huh?"

"ah, ye- yeah, it feels so good." you mumbled, already slipping into a relaxed haze.

ni-ki's hands stilled for a second.

your voice sounded… weirdly suggestive.

he bit back a laugh. he knew you were just tired, but hearing you say that in such a soft, breathy tone? hmm.

he kept massaging, feeling the tension slowly leave your body. it wasn't long before your breathing evened out.

"…did you just fall asleep?" he muttered.

silence.

ni-ki shook his head, you looked so peaceful, face slightly turned to the side, lips parted slightly.

his eyes trailed to your exposed neck, ni-ki's heart pounded while reaching out, gently brushing your hair aside.

and before he could stop himself, he leaned in, pressing soft, featherlight kisses along the curve of your nape up to your neck.

your body reacted on instinct, tilting slightly, giving him more access.

a soft, sleepy moan escaped your lips.

ni-ki's eyes widened, heart slamming against his ribs.

"…a- are you awake?" he asked.

silence.

panic surged through him. he quickly grabbed the blanket and draped it over you, standing up so fast he nearly tripped.

ni-ki ran home and the second his front door swung open, he stumbled inside, slamming it shut behind him. his fingers went straight to the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging at it while his mind still clouded with you.

the soft moan you let out, the way your body naturally tilted into his touch, the warmth of your skin beneath his lips.

his jaw clenched as he glanced down at cock, his sweatpants doing a poor job at hiding the evidence of just how badly he was losing control.

ni-ki groaned, balling his fists, fighting the instinct to just take care of it.

he grabbed his phone, scrolling through his contacts.

the phone barely rang before a familiar, flirty voice answered.

"hey, ni-"

"how fast can you get here?"

the girl on the other end giggled. "mhm, about 30, 40 minutes-"

click. that's too late.

ni-ki exhaled sharply, tossing his phone onto his bed. his hand ran through his hair, feeling the frustration throughout his body. he pulled his sweatpants back up, shaking off the temptation.

and even though he had just worked out, he grabbed a set of weights and dropped to the floor, blasting music at full volume.

push-ups. sit-ups. anything to burn the tension off.

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki looked like shit the next day.

you burst out laughing the moment you saw him.

he looked rough. dark circles under his eyes, hair a mess, slouched in his chair like he barely made it out of bed.

"what happened to you?" you grinned, poking his arm.

ni-ki groaned, brushing you off. "it's your fault."

"wha- my fault? what did i do?"

he turned his head away, eyes shutting like he couldn't even look at you right now. "just… drop it."

you leaned in, pushing him playfully. "come on, tell meee." you pouted. "fine, then at least let me make it up to you! what can I do?"

ni-ki scoffed, tilting his head back against the chair. "there's nothing you can do."

when class ended and you followed him towards the gym storage room.

"ni-ki!" you called, slipping inside right behind him.

he turned around just as the door slammed shut. the click of the lock echoed through the small space.

"…are you kidding me?" ni-ki muttered.

you tried the handle. locked.

ni-ki groaned, he sat and started rubbing his face. "i really don't have the energy for this right now."

you stepped in front of him, with hands on your hips. "you seriously won't tell me what's wrong?"

and instead of answering, ni-ki suddenly reached out, gripping your waist and pulling you close.

you froze as he rested his head against your stomach, arms wrapped around you.

"just shut up, will you?" he murmured, voice muffled against your shirt.

you brought your hand to his hair, your fingers brushing the strands. you began to comb through them slowly, your touch gentle and rhythmic.

his body relaxed against you, the tension in his grip softening. ni-ki hummed.

you began to smile while playing with his hair, twirling a few strands between your fingers before smoothing them out.

it's sweet... but your legs were starting to ache.

"okay... maybe just a little longer." you thought, shifting your weight slightly to ease the pressure on your feet.

ni-ki didn't move. if anything, his grip on your hips tightened, like a sleepy child clutching a favorite pillow.

your legs began to tremble faintly, you hoped ni-ki would notice.

but nothing, he was like a cat curled up in the perfect sunbeam.

you sighed quietly, glancing down at him. your hands still in his hair as you debated your options. "maybe if i lean a little, he'll..."

ni-ki let out a low hum, his grip loosening just slightly as he shifted his head. for a split second, you thought your prayer had been answered, until he wrapped his arms fully around your waist, pulling you down to his lap.

"ni-ki!" you hissed, barely catching yourself with your hands as you stumble forward.

his eyes cracked open, a sleepy smirk tugging at his lips. "why are you so tense?"

"because you're treating me like a body pillow!"

"you're comfy."

you groaned, glaring at the top of his head. ni-ki added "you should've leave me alone." the smirk of his returned as his arms tightened around you once more.

"you know..." he began, "let's just skip class, you wanna sleep with me?"

your eyes widened, your brain short-circuiting at his words. "wha-what do you mean sleep with you?" you stuttered, leaning back instinctively.

ni-ki flicked your forehead lightly, his smirk growing. "not like that, you idiot." he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "i meant just sleeping. me, you, sleeping here. eyes closed. that's it."

you laughed awkwardly. "right..."

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki realized that he doesn't want to be your friend.

ni-ki got annoyed the second you started talking about jungwon. he had just introduced him but he noticed the way your eyes stared at his friend.

ni-ki subtly stepped in front of your view, blocking jungwon from your sight.

"hey! move!" you hissed, trying to peer around him.

and instead of budging, ni-ki covered your eyes with his hands.

"what the?!" you immediately grabbed at his wrists, struggling.

he kept his hands firmly in place, waiting until his jungwon hyung was completely out of sight.

and when he finally let go, you blinked, looking around. "where is he?"

ni-ki smirked. "i killed him."

you smacked his arm.

later, he was sitting on his bed while you lounged across from him, "he was really nice," you said, kicking your feet. "and kinda cute too, like a cat don't you think?"

"who do you like better, me or him?"

you blinked, confused. "what kind of question is that?"

"just answer."

"i like you," you said casually. "as my friend."

ni-ki scoffed. maybe he did want to be your friend before but that isn't the case anymore.

"i'm not your friend."

"yes, you are."

ni-ki grabbed your face with both hands, tilting your head up before slamming his lips onto yours, aggressively like he was trying to erase every thought you had of jungwon. "friends don't do this."

rough and desperate, his fingers pressed into your cheeks as he devoured your mouth, refusing to let you breathe while angling your head exactly how he wanted..

you gripped his shoulders, a muffled gasp escaping your lips as he deepened the kiss.

but ni-ki wasn't just kissing you, he was already claiming you.

he groaned against your lips, hands sliding to the back of your neck. holding you in place like he didn't want you slipping away and the second your lips parted slightly, he will deepen the kiss even more, biting at your bottom lip like he wanted to ruin you.

and when ni-ki finally pulled away, his lips were already swollen.

"you were saying?" ni-ki muttered, still holding your face.

you stared at him, breathless, lips tingling.

"…huh?"

he smirked, wiping his thumb over your lower lip before leaning in again.

"that's what i thought."

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki can't keep his hands off you.

you used to slap his hands away.

his arm over your shoulder? gone.

sneaking his hands around your waist? not happening.

grabbing your wrist to pull you closer? absolutely not.

but after the kiss, you started letting him and ni-ki noticed... of course, he did.

the first time you didn't push him away when he rested an arm around your shoulders, he almost did a double take.

you also didn't immediately escape when he pulled you onto his lap and when he linked his fingers with yours? he was expecting you to smack his hands, but you didn't.

"you're getting too comfortable," you muttered, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours.

ni-ki only smirked, giving your hand a squeeze.

"you're spoiling me, you know." he murmured against your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. "if you keep this up, i'll start thinking you actually like me."

you scoffed, pushing his face half-heartedly.

ni-ki chuckled, leaning in like he was about to kiss you again. you froze, expecting the warmth of his lips- but he only brushed his nose against yours.

he pulled back, satisfied at the way you reacted. "see?"

your cheeks burned, frustration bubbling in your chest. you freed yourself from his grip and walked away, annoyed.

ni-ki watched you go with amusement. "where are you going?"

"far away from you."

✶ fuckboy!ni-ki ready to be yours.

"go put on a nice dress." ni-ki said over the phone.

you raised a brow. "why?"

he grinned. "because we're going to a restaurant."

you narrowed your eyes. "we are?"

"yeah." replied. "i made a reservation."

you got ready anyway. and when you stepped out in your dress, ni-ki scanned you up and down, "pretty." he murmured, before grabbing your hand and leading you outside.

before you both enter the restaurant, he suddenly intertwined his fingers with yours, "this is a date, okay?" he said, watching your reaction.

you blinked, caught off guard. "a what?"

ni-ki just grinned and dragged you inside.

your eyes widened as you looked around the table. all your favorite foods were there, plated beautifully under the dim, warm lights.

you turned to him, speechless.

ni-ki simply pulled out a chair for you, nodding at the seat.

the dinner was nice. way more than nice. he talked, he listened, and laughed with you.

"is this real? are you actually asking me out?"

"yes," ni-ki said, nodding. "i'm serious."

your chest tightened. you wanted to believe him but a part of you was scared.

what if he change his mind? what if you let yourself fall, only for him to break your heart once you bit into it?

ni-ki noticed your hesitation. he hated that you had to doubt him but he can't also blame why, though he wasn't just playing around.

he reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips. "just a bit more of your trust, okay?" he whispered against your skin.

you stared at him for a moment before finally leaning in to hug him.

he held you close, his lips curving against your shoulder. "you were mine the first time i kissed you."

you pulled back and laughed, playfully slapping his arm as you remembered how he stole your first kiss.

at his house, ni-ki captured your lips in a slow, passionate kiss. his mouth moved against yours, savoring every moment. he then pressed soft kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck.

he found that sensitive spot that made you moan, he latched on and sucked harder, relishing the sound of your pleasure.

ni-ki started guiding you towards his bedroom, never breaking the kiss. once inside, he gently laid you down the bed, his body still pressed against yours.

he looked up at you with intense desire in his eyes, he asked breathlessly, "can i?" his eyes flicked down to your heaving chest.

you nodded, granting him permission. ni-ki didn't hesitate, slipping his hands under your shirt to fondle and tease your sensitive nipples through the thin fabric of your bra.

you arched into his touch, panting softly. he swallowed down your needy moans as he devoured your lips again, his tongue delving deep to clash against yours.

"friends won't do this, right?" ni-ki gasped between heated kisses. he tugged your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside. his mouth moved, licking and sucking at your bare breasts.

your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him against you as he lavished all attention on your tits.

then ni-ki trailed kisses down to your stomach. hooking his fingers in your panties, he groaned at feeling soaked folds. "fuck, you're so wet for me already," he murmured, tracing his finger along your slit.

he buried his face between your thighs and began eating you out with your panties on. the fabric added delicious friction when his mouth sucked the sensitive bud, lapping at your clit.

you cried out, ni-ki removed your panties. the first swipe of his tongue directly on your pussy made you both moan. you taste even better than he imagined.

ni-ki growled. diving in for more like a starving man. his talented mouth had you writhing and gasping within moments.

he couldn't help but picture how tightly your virgin pussy would squeeze his cock when he finally got to slide inside you. he just know he wouldn't last long once he felt your walls gripping him.

his tongue darted in and out of your slick folds, making you to tug on his hair harshly.

ni-ki's fingers dug into the soft flesh of your thighs as he licked and sucked your clit with sloppy, desperate motions. sounds of your moans and gasps only served to fuel his own growing arousal with every passing second.

but he promised himself he could wait, for now, he was content to focus solely on pleasuring you, determined to make you feel as good as possible.

he sealed his lips around your clit and suckled hard, pressing two fingers inside as listened to the squelching sounds of your tight cunt.

you cried out, your back arching off the bed as he pumped them in and out. "ni-ki, i...i think I'm going to...ahhh!" your words dissolved into a wordless moan as he curled his fingers just right.

soon, your thighs clamped around his head as you came, your pussy clenching down on his fingers in rhythm.

ni-ki crawled up your trembling body to capture your lips in a deep kiss. "you taste so good," he murmured against your mouth. "i can't wait to be inside you." he said as he positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the thick head of his cock at your wet folds "i'll be gentle, baby."

"tell me if it hurts too much." he added, slowly pushing forward when he felt your walls relaxed slightly.

you let out whimpers and sharp gasps, the sting of pain clouded your eyes with tears. ni-ki paused, giving you a moment to adjust to the new feeling of being filled inside completely.

the sensation of your pussy squeezing him was unlike anything else. he wanted to fuck the shit out of you, claim you so thoroughly that you'd never forget your first time but he loves you so he has to be patient and gentle with your innocent body.

your whimpers and moans filled the room, ni-ki's heart swelled seeing you like this, breathless, desperate... he can't believe that your body is his for the taking.

your cunt began to welcome him inch by inch.

"fuck, you feel amazing." he groaned, fighting the urge to hammer into you wildly.

starting with shallow thrusts, he gradually increased his pace, still mindful of your pain. and as ni-ki doing it deeper, he leaned down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. "you're taking my cock so well..." he praised. "so fucking sexy."

your eyes fluttered shut and you tilted your head back in bliss, lost to the new pleasure and pressure building inside you. ni-ki felt your walls fluttering around him erratically. "ni-ki, i think- i'm- again..."

he knew you were close.

he increased his pace, deep strokes hitting that special spot inside you with every thrust. his hands gripped your hips enough to bruise as he fucked his dick into you, grunting with the effort of holding himself back from his own release.

and with a strangled cry, you came undone beneath him. ni-ki followed soon after with a moan of your name, pulling out before spilling his cum all over your thighs.

after cleaning up, ni-ki crawled back into bed and pulled you to his chest, kissing your face and neck but you moved and positioned yourself in his hips, where his hardening cock already poking on your sensitive, beaten entrance. "ready again?" he chuckled, wrapping his arms on your waist, his face nuzzling on your neck.

you giggled and sank down on him with a gasp. ni-ki groaned at the slick heat enveloping him again, making love with more confidence this time around.

rounds later, you're all sweaty and tired. ni-ki wondered dazedly if he'd turned his sweet, innocent girl into a sex addict. "you're so good, ni-ki..." you said, kissing him. to ni-ki, you looked like a sex god, your lips kiss-swollen, chest full of hickeys, your hair is a mess...

completely wrecked by him.

he wrapped his arms around your limp form and rolled to the side, careful not to dislodge from where he was still buried inside you.

and you're there thinking about worshipping ni-ki's body for the rest of your life.

"i'm going to fuck you all over again in the shower." he declared with a wicked grin. you answered with a moan that tells him it sounds like the perfect plan.

never knew sex could hit this different when it was out of love.

a/n: this is too long lol! enjoy <3 read PART TWO HERE

similiar: read Nishimura Riki as your boyfriend

read Nishimura Riki as your classmate

read part-timers!ni-ki x reader

read part-timers!ni-ki x reader part 2

read snitch - reader x ni-ki

read touché - ni-ki x reader

read touché - ni-ki x reader part 2

read exes - ni-ki x reader

[shyamanuensis]

Showers & Scourers - M.R

a little angsty - a little sweet - a little riddle. enjoy xo

“Has anyone tried talking to him?” “What - and enter the dorm room of that volatile little shit? No fucking way!”

This is where you came in. The friend turned lover turned ex. Your presence hadn’t exactly been a common request when it came to Mattheo Riddle since the rather explosive and episodic breakup you’d had; rumour around the castle being you broke his heart first before the poor boy even stood a chance. However, his mates were well aware of the influence that you once had on him - that you now still, had over him. As such you had been summoned by requests, pleas, and near-begging to try and talk some sense into someone you had once loved who was so far removed from reality and lost in his own thoughts that you could only describe him as emotionally erratic.

Tomes, scrolls, notepads, furniture, curtains, clothing, shoes, a trunk, bedsheets,  quills - all tossed around the dorm as if a ventus charm had been cast and let loose to cause havoc within the confines of the room. Mattheo wasn’t usually violent - or well towards you at least. In the years that you’d known him; an intimidating threat or smartass comment were his more popular choices of menacing actions than a raised wand or fist; but this - the state of everything; discarded like trash made you thankful you nor anyone else was in his firing line.

The sound of running water from the ensuite he shared with the other 7th-years had you curious. Before you knew it; you found yourself still clothed beneath a heavy cascade of warm running water; steam challenging your breath as you pried the steel scourer out of Mattheo’s hand he had swiped from the kitchens and was using vexatiously upon his skin to try and rid himself of a mark he knew all too well was permanent. 

“Stop.” “No.” “Please?” “No.”

Any attempt to turn the shower off was blocked. His eyes were as red as his skin. His cheeks flushed, lips swollen from how harshly his teeth had taken to them. There was no use trying to argue with him. Trying to talk sense into him. Trying to reason with him. Trying to use logic. The boy was blighted, busted, broken. A rare sight; one that your memory wouldn’t miss. Deprived of all sense and sensibility - too messed up, too tortured, too destroyed; your arms snaked a little too comfortably around him; Mattheo closed his eyes immediately, his body betraying him as he sunk into the comfort of your embrace. The tender ministrations of your fingertips gliding through his hair calmed the turmoil within him suddenly. When you told him that everything was okay - that everything would be alright; it was like your words were a balm to his wounds, his soul.  Mattheo’s arms around your waist tightened. His grip was firm yet so, so far from bruising. It almost felt like he feared that if he let you go, you would disappear from him like the end of a dream. 

“I know you said you never wanted this - but it’s just a mark. It doesn’t change you.”

Oh, how he so desperately wanted those words to be true. Burying his face into the crook of your neck, you felt his breath hotter than the shower’s steam burning across your sensitive skin. You began to hum his favourite song; something you’d learned a long time ago would calm his nerves and that along with the feeling of your fingers still running through his hair managed to lull him into a sense of composure, of peace, that Mattheo had almost forgotten he was capable of feeling. His hands still resting at your waist moved unconsciously; almost habitually having his fingers curl into the dampened fabric of your shirt, acting almost like an anchor on you - like a sailor would to find refuse amidst a storm.

How long the two of you stood there for? You weren’t sure. The seconds turned to minutes turned to hours and his ragged breaths and half-choked, incoherent words indicated not so subtly that in and at this moment, Mattheo needed you. His once light, once angel, once love - and little did you know with everything going in the world outside of this shower, that you, undoubtedly would need him to.

[maplegyu]

Went into this with no expectations! I just saw the tropes and summary and was like ooohhh i love all of these! I ended up rly loving the story and enjoying my read!!!

Your fingers tightened around the glass. Without thinking, you poured yourself another shot—your third, or was it the fourth? You weren’t keeping track anymore.

Mingyu let out a small chuckle, and that was it—you tipped your head back and downed the drink in one go.

Your chest tightened. Mingyu was your closest friend. Your partner for everything. The one you laughed with, teased, leaned on. Seeing her in that space, acting like she belonged, made your skin crawl. You probably were just overreacting- and yet, you just kept drinking.

Loved loved loved how this was written!!! I could really feel how reader was clinging onto the alcohol like a lifeline! The more it felt like Mingyu would be slipping through her fingers the harder she tried to be grounded by something else!

God, you were so hopelessly in love with him.

I GET U READER I WOULD BE TOO He's such a gentleman and he's sooo in tune with her feelings WHO WOULDNT FALL IN LOVE W KIM MINGYU

Of course, it wasn’t a big deal to him. But to you? It was everything. Every single thing.

GOD I CAN ONLY IMAGINE HOW MUCH THIS HURTS its like ur breaking ur own heart bc the feeling is like!! WHAT RIGHT DO I HAVE TO FEEL THIS WAY???!! i get u reader i rly get uuuu BUT UR FEELINGS ARE REAL AND VALID 😭 the hoping and yearning wow wow wow

I loved the imagery of the writing so much!!! Especially the scene outside the restaurant!!! Felt so immersed in the story and in very few scenes was already familiar with how close reader and Mingyu are and their feelings for each other.

BUT THE MORNING AFTER SCENE OH MY GOD???!?! CHEEKY MINGYU AAAAHHHHHHHHH

ON GOD!!! I AM NOT OVER THE IMAGE OF JUST WOKEN UP MINGYU, RASPY VOICE, REACHING OUT FOR READER... SMIRKING!!!!!! who wouldnt want to wake up next to this man for the rest of their lives?!

"Oh, this is fun," - im sorry. I WANT HIM SO BAD. Mingyu being a tease and being cheeky... I LOVE THIS KIND OF MINGYU GENUINELY LIKE SOME OF MY FAVORITE MINGYU TO READ!!!!!

YES HE DID BECAUSE PERHAPS!!!! HE IS IN LOVE WITH U ALSO DEAR READER?! 💘

“I know you can,” he said with that same, effortless ease, his tall, towering frame moving toward you without hesitation. “But let me.” His voice was softer this time, the teasing gone. 

MY KNEES TURNED TO JELLY FR!!!! when he is chivalrous and a gentleman but also hot as fuck 🤩

Mingyu stood at the stove, moving effortlessly like he belonged there, he changed his white shirt. His black t-shirt now clinging just enough to make you notice. The sleeves stretched over his biceps, broad and defined, flexing slightly with each movement.

IMAGINING THIS MINGYU

AND I DONT BLAME READER FOR HAVING A HARD TIME W HER FEELINGS FOR HIM

THE WAY THIS WHOLE SCENE EXCITED ME BECAUSE IT CONFIRMS THAT MINGYU DOES ACTUALLY FEEL FEELINGS FOR READER TOO!!!! ITS NOT ONE-SIDED AAAAHHHHH ✨️

Yeah. He was so screwed. 

#MAPLEGYU SCREAMS!!!!!!!!! this is everything. officially down bad. on his way to becoming a certified loverboy!!!!!!

The whole back and forth about stealing and wearing Mingyu's clothes...... THE OBVIOUS FLIRTING PLEASE I WAS RLY EATING IT UP!!!! dont u two realize ur so into each other aaahhhhhh! And then tbh at this point i thought the story (or part 1) would be over but there was more!!!!

Mingyu was still there and reader was wearing his clothes. Excuse me a whole day of domesticity with your favorite person????

The way user taesjpq painted the picture of how their night was going sent me to space actually because ITS THE LITTLE THINGS!!!! together ordinary things feel extraordinary 😭 and im sure thats what reader felt w gyu!!!! And please they never stopped flirting! Him telling her he looks good in his clothes!!?? MY BABY GIRL LET YOUR MIND GO THERE!!!! THINK ABT GYU BEING PART OF UR DAILY LIFE!!!! BELIEVE HE LIKES U BACK COS HE DOES!!!!!

He watches you with an intensity that makes the room feel smaller, more intimate. His eyes flicker to your lips, and that’s when it happens—the hesitation. Heswallows hard, fighting the urge to close the distance entirely. He’s trying—really trying—to resist, to keep this from crossing a line neither of you can come back from. But it’s impossible when you’re looking at him like that, when your body is so close, when the scent of you wrapped in his clothes makes his head spin. 

THIS MADE ME INSANE I LEGIT WASNT BREATHING

SO IMAGINE MY EXCITEMENT WHEN HE TRIED TO GO IN FOR A KISS!!!!!!! The build-up??!?! The uncertaintainty but also wanting it so bad??!?! CROSS IT CROSS THE LINE!!!! God im rooting for them i am suchhhh a sucker for bff's to lovers!!!!!!!

Thank you for writing this i really reaaally enjoyed it!!! I cant wait for the next part!!!! 💖

Jealousy part. I

genre — suggestive fluff, best friends to lovers, smut (maybe in part II) ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ pairing — female!reader x best friend!Mingyu summary — You, Hoshi, Wonwoo, and Mingyu—inseparable. Their apartment feels like your second home. But one of them makes your heart race in ways you wish it wouldn’t. He treats you like you’re special—attentive, caring, almost like a boyfriend. But he’s not your boyfriend. He’s your best friend. He treats you this way—this is just how Mingyu is, right? word count — 4,3k (part l)

Warnings and notes under the line.

WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, jealousy/insecurity, unrequited/complicated feelings, emotional distress, avoidance/coping mechanisms, mild possessiveness (towards him), possible hangover, waking up next to someone, suggestive elements/mild sexual tension, light kiss [let me know if I forgot something]

notes: san (ateez) cameo (you will better understand in part II) Hoshi, Wonwoo cameo. This is my first published ff ever, I hope you like it. I‘m actually very nervous about it, so feel free to give your opinion. I just wrote this, when I felt down bad for Mingyu again (he‘s so boyfriend istg). The question is, when i am not exactly down bad for Mingyu? He‘s the standard.

"Any plans for the weekend?"  

San held the office door open for you, his gentle smile as familiar as ever.  

You sighed quietly, relieved that the exhausting workweek was finally over. It had been chaos—half the staff out sick, leaving you drowning in double the workload.  

San had been your lifesaver, stepping in every time you thought you might break under the pressure.  

"Actually, I'm meeting my friends at a restaurant," you replied, noticing the faint flicker of something wistful in his eyes.  

"Why am I not surprised?" he teased, his grin widening as you stepped through the door.  

San had a way of always asking about your plans, like he was hoping, just once, your answer might include him. But it never did. Just: „My friends, my friends, my friends.“ 

It wasn’t a lie, though. You practically lived at their apartment. Gaming nights with Wonwoo, gym sessions with Mingyu, and endless meals with Hoshi—that was your rhythm, your second home.  

"Thanks for the coffee, San. Next time, it’s on me," you said, flashing him a grateful smile.  

"Anytime," he replied, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer before you parted ways.

 

You arrived flustered, breathless from rushing. Of course, they were already here. 

As you pushed open the door, the warm buzz of conversation and clinking plates enveloped you.  

Your eyes scanned the restaurant, locking on them almost immediately: your boys—and a girl. A girl? 

She was sitting beside Mingyu, close enough that their arms nearly brushed. Her laugh carried across the table, light and unrestrained, and something about it made your stomach twist. Who was she?  

"Finally!" Hoshi greeted you as you approached, his voice brimming with playful exasperation. "We thought you’d ditched us."  

You forced a smile, settling into the usual chaos of their teasing welcome. 

"This is Hana," Wonwoo explained casually when he caught the question in your eyes.  

"And? don’t you think she looks just like me?" Hoshi added, grinning as he gestured dramatically toward her.  

You studied her more closely, and the resemblance hit you. It was uncanny—her smile, her energy. She could’ve been his twin. 

"I’ve been crashing at their place for a few days," Hana said, extending her hand toward you. "Hoshi insisted."  

Your polite smile barely reached your eyes. Why hadn’t anyone told you?  

"Nice to meet you," you said, shaking her hand and glancing around. There wasn’t an empty chair for you.  

Mingyu noticed immediately. Without hesitation, he stood, grabbing one from a nearby table and setting it beside him.  

"Thanks, Gyu," you murmured, your voice softer than you intended.  

He nodded and gave you a gentle smile. 

Oh, how you’d missed him. His warmth, his silly jokes—the way his laughter could dissolve the stress of your week. You’d been looking forward to this, to catching up with him. But now, it seemed difficult.  

As the group settled into conversation, you tried to focus, tried to join in. But your attention kept drifting—to Hana, to how close she sat to Mingyu, to the way she leaned into him when she laughed. Her fingers grazed his arm casually, like she belonged there.  

"So, Hana, how do you like the city so far?" Wonwoo asked, drawing her attention.  

"It’s great," she said brightly. "Hoshi’s been showing me around—it’s been so much fun."  

Her hand lingered on Mingyu’s shoulder as she spoke, and your stomach knotted uncomfortably.  

Just then, the waiter arrived, placing drinks on the table. Four sojus. Your eyebrows lifted in surprise—they’d ordered before you arrived. That wasn’t how things worked. You always waited. It was a small tradition, but it mattered. Or, at least, it used to.  

"One soju for me too, please," you said quickly, catching the waiter before he walked away.  

But the unease didn’t leave. Hana’s touchiness continued—her laugh too loud, her attention on Mingyu too focused. He didn’t seem to mind, even smiled at her a few times. Yet, every so often, his eyes flicked to you, as if checking for something. 

You didn’t know why, but every time Hana’s hand brushed against his arm, you reached for your bottle. Every time she giggled a little too sweetly, your glass met your lips. The warm burn sliding down your throat was easier to deal with than the twist in your chest. 

"You should see these two at the gym," Hoshi chimed in suddenly, pointing between you and Mingyu. "They’re like workout aliens or something." 

The group laughed, and you managed a small smile, but your heart wasn’t in it. 

Hana giggled, leaning closer to Mingyu. "Maybe you can show me some moves sometime," she said, her tone playful. 

Your fingers tightened around the glass. Without thinking, you poured yourself another shot—your third, or was it the fourth? You weren’t keeping track anymore.  

Mingyu let out a small chuckle, and that was it—you tipped your head back and downed the drink in one go. 

Your chest tightened. Mingyu was your closest friend. Your partner for everything. The one you laughed with, teased, leaned on. Seeing her in that space, acting like she belonged, made your skin crawl. You probably were just overreacting- and yet, you just kept drinking. 

“I need to go to the bathroom,” you lie, the words tumbling out too quickly, barely convincing even to yourself. 

You needed space—air that wasn’t thick with your confusion, your frustration. If you stayed another second, your face would betray you, exposing the childish jealousy simmering just beneath the surface.  

The cool evening air hit you like a lifeline as you stepped outside, goosebumps forming on your arms from the crisp breeze. 

You closed your eyes briefly, letting it kiss your flushed cheeks, but it did little to soothe the ache in your chest. The dull, relentless throb of longing refused to fade.  

“This isn’t the bathroom.”  

The familiar voice sent a jolt through you, every nerve in your body suddenly on high alert. You didn’t have to turn to know who it was.  

You glanced back anyway, already masking your shock with a strained smile. Of course, it’s him. It’s always him.  

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said, forcing a lightness you didn’t feel. “This looks like a bathroom to me.”  

He chuckled, that low, warm laugh that always did things to your chest, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. And despite yourself, you smiled too, because how could you not? 

God, you were so hopelessly in love with him.  

Without a word, he steps closer, draping your jacket over your shoulders. “You’re probably freezing,” he says, his voice gentle, but with a tenderness that makes your stomach tighten.  

His hands brush lightly against your skin as he adjusts the jacket, and it sends a shiver through you—not from the cold, but from the barely-there touch. 

You look up, your breath catching in your throat as your eyes meet his. His gaze softens, a flicker of concern crossing his face.  

The silence that followed stretched taut between you, thick and heavy with unspoken words. Neither of you seemed willing to break it. The faint hum of traffic and the muffled buzz of laughter from the bar filled the empty space.  

You shifted uncomfortably, your fingers toying with the hem of your dress. Don’t say it. Don’t bring her up. Just let it go. But the question clawed its way out of you anyway.  

“I didn’t know Hana was staying at your place,” you blurted, the words sharper than you intended, laced with something raw and exposed.  

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair, his exasperation evident. “Yeah, I didn’t know either. Trust me.”  

You raise an eyebrow, still unsure. “Hoshi didn’t mention it?” 

“He forgot,” Mingyu mutters, shaking his head. What a Hoshi thing to happen, you thought.  

“I walked into my room, and she was already asleep in my bed. I didn’t have the heart to wake her, so I took the couch for the week.”  

Your stomach twisted, the weight of his explanation sitting heavy. Of course, he wouldn’t complain. He’s Mingyu—always generous, always selfless. Always giving more of himself than he should.  

“Oh,” you managed, your voice too light, too fake. “It’s just funny to think… if I showed up at your place, I’d find her instead of you.” You tried to laugh, but the sound was hollow, even to your ears.  

He shrugged, casual and unaffected. “It wasn’t a big deal for me. I worked overtime all week, so I wasn’t home much anyway.”  

Of course, it wasn’t a big deal to him. But to you? It was everything. Every single thing.  

You felt the sting of tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away quickly. Not here. Not now.  

The night had been shallow and hollow, a void you couldn’t seem to escape. All you’d wanted was a quiet evening with your friends, especially Mingyu. Just sitting beside him, leaning against his shoulder—feeling the solid warmth of him—would’ve been enough.  

But instead, you’d spent the evening watching Hana, her laughter, her touches, her presence invading spaces you’d always considered yours. Even if you don't have the right to do so. 

The ache in your chest sharpened, spreading through you like wildfire. You couldn’t stay here any longer.  

“I’m gonna head home,” you said, your voice flat, eyes fixed on the ground. “I think I need some rest after this week.”  

You felt his gaze land on you, heavy and searching, and for a moment, you wavered under its weight.  

“I’ll take you home,” he said softly, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.  

“No, it’s okay,” you replied quickly, trying to steady your tone. “I have my car.”  

“I know,” he says, stepping closer, his presence almost overwhelming. His eyes scan your face, tracing every inch of you, as if reading you in ways that make your heart race. “But you shouldn’t drive. You drank too much.” 

“I’m fine,” you muttered, frustration bubbling up. “I’m not drunk.” 

 And then, he speaks again, voice softer, more tender. 

“Your cheeks,” he murmurs, his thumb gently brushing against your flushed skin. “They’re red. That happens when you drink too much.” 

You freeze, his touch lingering. Your heart pounds in your chest, and his proximity feels like a punch to your gut. He looks even more handsome than usual—his messy hair falling over his forehead, the soft fabric of his shirt still loose and unbuttoned just enough to make your breath catch. The way he stands there, effortlessly composed, but so close that you can almost taste the air between you—his scent wrapping around you like a warm, familiar blanket. 

God, you feel weak in front of him. 

“I can’t let you drive like this,” he adds softly. 

You want to protest, but the words catch in your throat. He cares. He always does. 

“Unless…” he tilts his head slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’ve got other plans?”  

A sharp, throbbing pain pulsed through your head as you reached for your phone, your limbs feeling heavy under the weight of sleep. 

The sunlight filtering through the curtains was way too bright, making you wince as you blindly swiped to answer the call without checking the caller ID. 

“Hello…?” Your voice was hoarse, thick with exhaustion. 

“Mingyu, where are you?! I’ve been trying to reach both of you for hours!” 

Your brows furrowed, confusion washing over you like a cold wave. Mingyu? 

You pulled the phone away from your ear to check the name on the screen. Hoshi Hyung. 

Your headache made it hard to process, but one thing was clear—you would never save him like that. 

Why the hell was he even calling you about Mingyu? 

Just as the pieces of the puzzle refused to click into place, you felt it—a presence beside you. 

With a slow, sinking feeling, you turned your head to the right. 

And there he was. 

Mingyu. 

All 187 centimeters of him, sleeping peacefully under your blanket like he belonged there. His hair was tousled, his breathing deep and even, his broad chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. 

Your eyes widened, your grip on the phone tightening. You hung up immedietly.  

Fuck. 

Before you could spiral too much, Mingyu let out a deep sigh, his arm stretching out lazily—almost like he was reaching for you. His eyes, still hazy with sleep, fluttered open but instantly softening the moment they land on you,— The way you were staring at him, as if he'd just appeared out of nowhere —his lips curled into a knowing smirk. 

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice deep and rough with sleep. 

“It’s 2 p.m., Mingyu.” 

He blinked slowly before lazily glancing around the room. “Shit, really?” His voice was raspy, thick. He let out a slow breath before sinking deeper into the pillows. “I slept so fucking good.” A lazy smile tugged at his lips as he let his eyes fall shut again. 

You watched him. His dark hair was a complete mess, strands sticking out in every direction, and yet, somehow, it only made him look softer. His skin looked warm and tan against the white sheets. His lips—full, slightly swollen from sleep—parted just the tiniest bit, and for a moment, you had to fight the urge to reach out, to trace them with your fingertips, just to see if they were as soft as they looked. 

You swallowed hard. "I... uh—what happened last night?" 

Mingyu let out a soft chuckle, rolling onto his side to face you properly. “You really don’t remember?” 

Your silence was answer enough. 

“Oh, this is fun,” he mused, resting his cheek against his palm. “You were very affectionate. Like, I knew you liked me, but I didn’t expect you to cling to me like that.” 

Your face burned instantly. “Shut up.” 

He grinned wider. “You wouldn’t let go. Kept saying I couldn’t leave, that I should sleep next to you.” His voice dropped into something teasing. “Should I start staying over more often?” 

The heat in your cheeks deepened, and without thinking, you grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him. He laughed, catching it effortlessly before it could hit his face. 

“Ohhh, so violent first thing in the morning,” he teased. “Where’s all that love from last night, huh?” 

You wanted to escape the awkwardness, so you stepped away from the bed, but as you did, your gaze betrayed you—flicking toward Mingyu. His white shirt hung loosely on his frame, almost completely unbuttoned, exposing a hint of his chest and the silver chain resting just above it. The sight made your breath catch for a moment, your heart skipping. 

Mingyu caught your glance. His eyes met yours for a heartbeat, but then they dropped—slowly, unwillingly, lingering on your legs just a moment too long. 

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the fabric of your dress inching up, revealing more of your legs than you'd intended. The air between you both seemed to thicken, heavy with something unspoken. 

In an awkward flurry, Mingyu began buttoning his shirt, his movements too quick, too self-conscious, like he was suddenly aware of every inch of space between you. 

You cleared your throat, trying to fill the silence, and nervously stammered, “I—I’m making breakfast.” 

Mingyu immediately sat up, “I’ll do it.” 

You turned to glare at him, a bit sharper than you intended. “I can make it on my own.” 

“I know you can,” he said with that same, effortless ease, his tall, towering frame moving toward you without hesitation. “But let me.” His voice was softer this time, the teasing gone. 

His eyes flickered over you briefly—the exhaustion, the headache written all over your face, the way your clothes were still crumpled from last night. 

“You should take a shower,” he added, voice gentle. “It’ll help with the headache.” 

You blinked at him, and looked down on you after.  

“Yeah..probably.” 

You hesitated for a second before heading towards the bathroom, still feeling like you were stuck in some weird dream. 

The moment you stepped in front of the mirror, you almost flinch. 

Your makeup was smudged, your hair an absolute mess, strands sticking to your forehead. Your dress from last night was wrinkled and slightly loose on one side. 

You looked horrible. Greasy. Disgusting. 

Mingyu slept next to this? 

You suddenly wanted to cry. 

Taking a deep breath, you quickly peeled off your clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the weird feelings in your chest. 

By the time you were done, you felt human again. 

There was no way you were putting that dress back on, so you grabbed your bathrobe, tying it tightly around your waist before stepping out. 

Your hair was still damp, strands clinging to your skin as you walked barefoot toward the kitchen, following the smell of food. 

Mingyu stood at the stove, moving effortlessly like he belonged there, he changed his white shirt. His black t-shirt now clinging just enough to make you notice. The sleeves stretched over his biceps, broad and defined, flexing slightly with each movement.  

And then he turned around. 

For a moment, it was like time froze. 

Mingyu’s breath hitched the second his eyes landed on you. 

The damp strands of hair framing your face, the way your robe sat snugly around you, revealing the delicate curve of your collarbone—he was so unprepared for this. 

His fingers twitched around the wooden spoon, and for a split second, he forgot what he was even doing. His grip almost faltered. 

He was staring. 

Hard. 

You raised an eyebrow. “You good?” 

Mingyu swallowed, snapping out of it. “Y-Yeah. Yeah, I’m—uh, food’s almost done.” 

He forced a smile, turning back to the stove way too quickly—like he needed a second to compose himself. 

You didn’t question it, shrugging as you took a seat at the table. 

Mingyu, on the other hand, inhaled deeply, gripping the spoon like it was the only thing keeping him from completely losing his mind. 

Yeah. He was so screwed. 

“So.” Mingyu cleared his throat, a little too forcefully. “How’s your headache?” 

You barely looked up, scrolling through the endless messages from Hoshi and Wonwoo. “Hm? Oh-It still hurts. But I’m sure I’ll feel better after eating something."

A beat of silence. 

Too long. Too heavy. 

You, sitting there like that—bare-faced, hair still damp, wrapped up in your robe—he had seen you like this before. And yet, right now, it felt… different. His fingers flexed against the edge of the kitchen counter. 

He didn’t want to think about why. 

“How’s work been lately?” he asked, voice casual—too casual. “You looked exhausted yesterday. And, well… the number of drinks you had kind of spoke for itself.” 

You let out a dry laugh, stretching your legs beneath the table. “Yeah, work… Work has been insane. Feels like half the office is out sick, and I’m the lucky one picking up the slack.” 

Mingyu frowned as he turned off the stove, moving with practiced ease. “That’s bullshit.” A pause. “No wonder you were exhausted.” 

That wasn’t the reason you drank last night, but he didn’t need to know that.  

You shrugged, watching him. The way he knew where everything was. The way he moved through your kitchen like he belonged there. Because he did. 

Mingyu set a plate in front of you before settling into the chair across from you. He picked up his fork but didn’t eat right away, just watching you for a beat. 

“You really need a break,” he muttered, mostly to himself. Then, his eyes flickered to yours, and something shifted in his expression. A smirk tugged at his lips. “Or maybe just… new clothes.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

He gestured vaguely toward you. “I mean, I knew you had a couple of my things, but—” He gave you a pointed look. “At this point, half of your closet is mine. I could practically  move in here.” 

You almost choked on your food. 

That little shit. 

Mingyu leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “You know, I always wondered where my stuff kept disappearing to.” He tilted his head, pretending to think. “For a while, I actually believed I had a hole in my closet.” 

You swallowed your bite. “Weird. Sounds like a you problem.” 

He scoffed. “Oh, really?” 

You nodded, keeping your face blank. “Mhm. No clue what you’re talking about.” 

His gaze flickered over you, his smirk deepening. “So, you’re telling me my hoodies just magically disappeared? Along with my t-shirts? And my beanie? And—” 

“Okay, okay,” you cut in, groaning. “Maybe your clothes are just… way too comfortable. Not my fault they’re basically begging to be stolen.” 

“Begging,” he repeated, like he was tasting the word. 

“Yes.” You met his eyes, feigning innocence. “I don’t see the issue.” 

Mingyu let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.” 

You smirked, tilting your head. “And yet, you still let me steal your stuff.” 

He exhaled through his nose, picking at his food. “I don’t let you. You just take it.” 

“Semantics.”  

Mingyu rolled his eyes, but there was something in his expression—something warm, something familiar. 

For a moment, it almost felt normal again. Like the weird tension from before had settled into something softer. Something easier. 

But then his eyes lingered on you a second too long. 

And suddenly, it was back. 

That unspoken thing between you. 

Neither of you acknowledged it. 

You just kept eating. 

And Mingyu? 

Mingyu was so, so screwed. 

Your phone started ringing. Hoshi was calling. 

We were screwed. 

By the time evening settled in, you had changed into something comfortable—his clothes, to be exact. He was still here, lingering in your space, and for a few fleeting hours, everything felt right. As if this was how it was always meant to be. As if this was your everyday. But deep down, a small voice whispered, warning you not to get used to it. 

After dinner,  Mingyu is still here. 

You’re in the kitchen, washing dishes side by side like it’s nothing, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His hand brushes against yours when he reaches for a plate, and it’s almost too quick to register. But you don’t pull away. Neither does he. 

He leans against the counter, arms crossed loosely, watching you as you load the dishes into the dishwasher. His voice breaks the silence, low and casual, but there’s an edge to it, something like hesitation. 

“Do you still have a headache?” 

Before you can speak, he’s close. His presence fills the space between you. His left hand gently presses against your forehead.. His right hand moves to your neck, fingers brushing lightly over your skin.  

You barely notice it at first, but when you shift slightly, you feel it—your back pressing against the counter. Mingyu is so close, standing in front of you, subtly caging you in You can barely breathe. You don’t know what’s worse: the fact that he’s so close, or the fact that you want him closer.  

Your voice falters when you answer. "I’m fine now. It’s... better." You watch as Mingyu’s face softens in an instant at your words. 

Neither of you moves, standing close, too close.  

Mingyu’s lips quirk into a grin, but there’s a hint of something more in his voice. “My clothes look good on you. I should let you steal them more often.” 

You laugh, but it’s breathless. You stretch up, reaching for his face, your fingers brushing his skin. You squint your eyes, making a playful face. “I’d do it anyway. Don’t need your permission.” 

Mingyu chuckles, but his gaze shifts, sharpening just enough for you to notice. He steps closer. The warmth radiating off his body, the faint brush of his leg against yours, the way his chest is so close that if you just leaned in the smallest bit, you'd be pressed against him. It’s intoxicating. You don’t even realize you’ve stopped breathing for a second until you force yourself to inhale, only to take in the faint scent of him—clean, familiar, utterly Mingyu. 

He watches you with an intensity that makes the room feel smaller, more intimate. His eyes flicker to your lips, and that’s when it happens—the hesitation. Heswallows hard, fighting the urge to close the distance entirely. He’s trying—really trying—to resist, to keep this from crossing a line neither of you can come back from. But it’s impossible when you’re looking at him like that, when your body is so close, when the scent of you wrapped in his clothes makes his head spin. 

And then, he inches closer, almost without thinking, and his lips brush against yours—just the lightest touch, so soft that it could almost be a breath. Your body tenses, and for a second, everything stills.  

But fuck, it’s enough to send heat coursing through his veins. 

His lips are soft, teasing, brushing lightly against yours. The kiss is slow, barely there, but enough to leave you gasping for more. 

You inhale sharply, your breath mixing with his. You don’t move away. If anything, you shift closer, your body reacting before your mind can catch up. 

His lips linger, hovering, teasing. Testing. 

His self-control is hanging by a thread. 

He tells himself to stop. You were loosing yourself in it. You- 

- Ding Dong 

The sound of the doorbell rings, slicing through the tension. You both freeze. The world shifts back into focus. The heat, the closeness, everything evaporates in an instant. 

You step back, your breath coming in uneven gasps. Mingyu looks away, running a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure. 

[arxiwon]

If you | lhs

— Inspired by BIGBANG’s "If You" | Angst | Breakup | Regret | Heavy Emotions Word Count: ~1.8k

Sypnosis: Heeseung never thought he’d lose you—until he did. What started as unspoken words and silent nights turned into an irreversible distance, one he never tried to close until it was too late. He let his pride win, let his fear hold him back, and in the end, he let you walk away without a fight. But regret is a cruel thing, and as the days stretch into months, he realizes the weight of everything left unsaid. Then, one night, he sees you again—laughing, glowing, moving on with someone who isn’t him. It’s in that moment he understands the true meaning of loss. Not the kind that happens instantly, but the kind that happens slowly, painfully, with every second you spend happier without him. Now, alone in the remnants of what once was, Heeseung is left with nothing but his mistakes and the aching truth: you were never coming back. And no matter how much he whispers it into the silence, "I'm sorry" will never be enough.

The apartment still smelled like you. It was a cruel thing—how your scent still clung to the sheets, to his clothes, to every space you had once occupied. Three months had passed, yet nothing had changed. Not the untouched mug on the kitchen counter. Not the half-empty bottle of perfume you left behind. Not the ghost of you in every quiet corner of his life.

And yet, you weren’t here anymore. And you never would be again.

Heeseung sat at the edge of the bed, staring at his trembling hands. He had spent the last ninety days replaying the night you left over and over in his head. Every word he said. Every word he didn’t. Every mistake he made. The way your voice had cracked when you told him you were tired. The way your eyes had dimmed when he pretended he didn’t care. The way you had waited—waited for him to stop you, to say anything—only for him to stay silent.

He had let you walk away.

And now, he was paying the price.

"We need to talk." You had said those words so softly, so carefully, as if bracing for impact.

Heeseung had known what was coming. He had seen it in your exhausted eyes, in the way you kept wringing your hands like you were trying to hold yourself together. And yet, instead of reaching for you, instead of fixing what was breaking, he had leaned back against the couch with a sigh, as if he was bored of this conversation before it even started.

"Here we go again," he had muttered.

And just like that, he had lost you.

You had stiffened, the last shred of hope in your expression shattering right in front of him.

"I can’t do this anymore, Heeseung."

A part of him had panicked, screaming at him to move, to do something, anything, but his pride had won. His fear had won.

So he scoffed. Crossed his arms. Forced himself to look unaffected when, in reality, his heart was begging you to stay.

"Sure. Walk away. That’s what you’re good at, right?"

Your breath hitched.

For a split second, he saw it—the hurt, the hesitation. The way you were silently pleading for him to take it back. To say something real for once.

But he didn’t.

And that was it.

You nodded. Swallowed hard. Picked up your coat with hands that were trembling slightly. You didn’t yell. Didn’t cry. Didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much he had broken you.

"Goodbye, Heeseung."

It was quiet. Simple. Devastating.

And then, you were gone.

Just like that.

He had told himself you’d come back. That you were just mad, that you needed time, that eventually, you’d miss him too.

But the weeks passed.

Then the months.

And you never called.

Never texted.

Never even looked back.

And Heeseung? He had never been good at chasing.

So he let the days drag on, let the silence stretch between you like a canyon that was growing too wide to cross. Even when he missed you so badly it made him sick. Even when he found himself staring at his phone, fingers hovering over your contact, typing out messages he’d never send.

"Are you okay?"

"Do you still think of me?"

"I’m sorry. Please come back."

But in the end, he never pressed send.

Because the truth was, he didn’t deserve to.

And then came the night that crushed him completely.

He hadn’t meant to see you. He hadn’t meant to witness the moment that would finally destroy him.

But there you were—in the café that used to be yours and his, sitting across from someone else.

Heeseung had frozen in place. His breath had caught in his throat. His heart had felt like it had been ripped straight from his chest.

Because you were smiling.

A real smile.

The kind he hadn’t seen in so long. The kind he had forgotten you were even capable of. The kind that wasn’t for him anymore.

And that was the moment he knew.

You had moved on.

You had let him go.

And he—he had been a fool to think you’d wait.

That night, for the first time in his life, Park Heeseung allowed himself to cry.

Not the quiet, restrained kind.

But the kind that left him breathless.

The kind that clawed at his throat, shaking his entire body.

The kind that made him realize—this was it.

This was what regret felt like.

And it was unbearable.

The days that followed were nothing but an endless loop of what-ifs.

What if he had just held you tighter?

What if he had just swallowed his pride and begged you to stay?

What if he had just told you how much he loved you before it was too late?

But "what if" didn’t change the past.

And it wouldn’t bring you back.

So all he could do now was exist in the emptiness you left behind.

He didn’t reach out. He didn’t show up at your door. He didn’t beg for another chance.

Because it wasn’t his choice anymore.

It was yours.

And you had already made it.

So he let the rain hit the windowpane, let the city blur around him, let his regrets drown him completely.

And in the solitude of his empty apartment, he whispered the only words that mattered—the only ones he never had the courage to say when you were still there to hear them.

"I’m sorry."

"I still love you."

"And I wish you were here."

But wishes didn’t change reality.

And Heeseung?

He had lost his chance.

Forever.

[ariqxwz]

UNEXPECTED ENCOUNTER

— Gangmember!chris x rich!reader

Masterlist here…

You frowned as the GPS reset itself again, changing the route once more. Your jaw tightened, and you shoved your phone into your bag. The street was silent, empty except for a couple of homeless people sleeping on the ground. You weren’t supposed to be here. You had made dinner plans with your friend at a new restaurant in the area, but things had clearly gotten complicated.

The sound of something rustling inside a trash can pulled you from your thoughts. You turned to look at it, expecting a rat. And it was—but that didn’t stop you from taking a few steps back. You grimaced in disgust and turned away.

A gunshot echoed between the buildings. You flinched involuntarily and looked back—there was no one there. Your chest rose and fell rapidly. Your steps quickened, desperate to get out of there.

You turned a corner and crashed into something solid. A small gasp escaped your lips as your body hit the ground.

Tears threatened to spill—you felt so frustrated, so scared.

You lifted your gaze, trying to see what you had collided with. A man stood in front of you, his eyes scanning you carefully.

“Excuse me, sir, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” you stammered, stumbling as you tried to get back on your feet.

“Sir? Do I look that old to you?” His brow furrowed slightly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. Your eyes flickered past his shoulder before darting around the area.

“What are you doing here? You don’t look like you’re from around here.” His words were direct and dry, something you weren’t used to.

“I’m not, I just…”

“Got lost?” He finished the sentence for you. A rough chuckle left his lips. He glanced to the side and ran a hand over his mouth. “This is a bad place to get lost.”

You frowned in confusion. No one had ever spoken to you like this—with so little respect.

“Uhm, could you tell me where Holloway Drive is, please?”

The guy looked at you again, staying silent for a few seconds.

“Go straight, then take a right.”

You nodded and gave him a small smile.

“Thank you,” you said, bowing your head slightly. “Have a good night.” You said your goodbyes and continued walking in the direction he had given you.

The echo of your heels clicking against the asphalt faded as you walked away. He narrowed his eyes, watching you. Expensive dress, the lingering scent of perfume in the air, a straight posture despite the fear you had felt. You didn’t belong here, and it showed in every move you made.

You had wished him a “good night,” unaware that he wasn’t used to saying the same to anyone.

He ran his tongue over his teeth and smirked.

This wouldn’t be the last time he saw you.

🏷️:: @marrykisskilled @paulalovesyouu @faiyaz555

© ariqxwz

[angelsdean]

Mary is 28. The year is 2016. Her whole life has been stolen from her. Some cosmic being plucked her from Heaven, took her away from her home, her husband, her babies, and placed her in this strange new world.

Her babies are gone, replaced with strangers a foot taller than her and nearly a decade older. They call her mom in gruff voices. They are hunters, something she never wanted for them. She has to hold back tears just looking at them. She sees glimmers of herself in Dean. His hair has darkened since he was a little boy, but she sees herself in other parts. The shape of his face, his cheekbones, his smile. She sees herself in Sam too, though he feels stranger. She can't quite match her pudgy little baby to this man.

At night, she moves through the bunker like a ghost. Nothing feels quite real. She takes scissors to her hair, thinks a drastic change will make this all feel more real. Throws herself into hunting. The adrenaline helps. Her racing heart reminding her she's alive, alive, alive. This isn't a dream.

This isn't a dream.

She sobs into her pillow, as the reality of it hits once more. She will never see her babies again.

These strange men look at her like she's a wonder. She understands what they lost. Understands they never had a mother. She imagines she'd look at her babies the same way, if she could see them again.

But she doesn't know how interact with this Sam and this Dean. All she knows is rocking babies to sleep to the tune of "Hey, Jude" and cutting the crusts off PB&J's and warming up store-bought pies for her sweet little toddler. She feels like she's failing at something she never really felt she succeeded at in the first place. So she focuses on the one thing she was ever good at: hunting.

When the British Men of Letters approach her, she goes in with good intentions. She's doing this for her boys. It's the one thing she can do right, she thinks.

Except things go wrong. They always go wrong.

"Cas almost died," Dean says, a hard edge to his voice and his eyes swimming with emotion.

She feels terrible, tries to explain. "I'm doing this for you. I'm playing three decades of catch up here." She wants to say, I'm trying to fix things. If I can rid the world of monsters, if I can make it safe then you won't have to fight anymore. You can have normal lives. You can be free. But she doesn't know how to talk to them.

Mary watches Dean's expression cloud with his own grief. "And we're not? How do you think this has been for us? We're your sons, and you've been gone. Our whole lives, you've been gone," he says. And she understands. She's been gone. And her babies are gone. And it's all so unfair.

"You said that you needed time. No, you said you need space," Dean continues, and she can feel herself losing him. Them. Sam won't even look at her. "So we gave you your space. But you didn't need just space. No, you needed space from us."

He's not wrong. She told them when she left, how hard it was to be around them.

"That's not true," she lies. "Dean, I'm trying –"

"How 'bout for once, you just try to be a mom?" Dean cuts in, hurt, angry.

And it hits her harder than she expected. Because she wishes, wishes she could be a mom again. To her babies. But that's never going to happen. And if she's stuck here, then she needs to figure out some other way to be.

"I am your mother," she says, sternly, "but I am not 'just a mom.' And you are not a child." It's not fair. Part of her knows that's not what Dean was asking. Not how he meant it. She's the one wishing he were a child. Wishing she could be "just" a mom. But she can't be a mother to them. Not this Dean. Not this Sam.

Dean looks her in the eyes, his expression vacant, haunted, and says, "I never was." His lip trembles for just a moment before he regains his composure.

She was a hunter's kid once. She knows what it's like. There's little room for childhood innocence. But she also doesn't know. She had a stable home. She had two parents. She had no siblings to look after.

"So between us and them –" Dean continues, the question hanging in the chasm that has opened up between them.

"It's not like that." Can't you see I'm choosing you. This is the only way I know how to keep you safe.

"Yeah, Mary, it is." She hates how it doesn't exactly break her heart, hearing her name come from his mouth instead of "mom." It feels more normal. Because these are not her children. "You made your choice. So there's the door."

Dean walks out of the room without a second look. Sam rises from the table, averting his eyes. She understands this too. Struggling to look. To see.

But this isn't how she wanted things to go. She didn't mean to upset them. And she doesn't want to lose them completely. She just--needs more time. "Sam," she tries. Maybe it would be easier to get through to him. He never really knew her, has no memories of her.

But he tells her to go too.

And maybe part of her is glad for the easy out. This will give her more time. She just needs to focus on hunting. Save the world. Put her babies to rest. Then she can come back and they can...be a family. However that might look for them.

[nameless-jamie]

Hi, I absolutely love your writing! PA series is my absolute favourite! Would you consider writing about Y/N who's struggled with anxiety her entire life? Maybe Jamie comforts her during a stresfull situation or she helps him deal with his own anxiety?

Steady Hands

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, angst, anxiety

A/N: Thank you for the request! Let's explore a different side of Y/N! Btw this is just an in-between chapter not relevant to the timeline!

The most challenging things for Y/N to do as Jamie Tartt's assistant were his ever-changing schedule, his tendency to forget important appointments, and his occasional moments of existential dread when he thought too hard about his legacy. Y/N was usually Jamie's rock, there to comfort him and care for him...

So it was rather unusual when Jamie had to comfort her.

But life had a funny way of flipping things on their head.

Y/N had always been good at keeping things together. She had to be. Anxiety wasn’t something she could just turn off, but she’d gotten good at managing it—breathing exercises, staying organized, making lists. Keeping herself busy helped.

And working for Jamie? That definitely kept her busy.

But today, no amount of planning or deep breathing could stop the weight pressing on her chest, the way her hands trembled at her sides.

It had started with a simple mistake. One email. A scheduling error. A time slot mix-up that meant Jamie had been double-booked for an interview and a sponsorship meeting.

She’d caught it too late. The PR team was annoyed. The sponsors were furious at her. And even though Jamie himself had just shrugged and said, “S’alright, babe. We’ll just move one of ‘em, yeah?” she couldn’t stop the overwhelming guilt flooding her.

She should have caught it earlier. She should have double-checked. She should have—

“Oi.”

A voice pulled her from her spiral, and suddenly Jamie was in front of her, brow furrowed in concern.

She must have zoned out, standing frozen in the hallway outside Rebecca’s office.

His voice was softer this time. “You alright, love?”

Y/N swallowed, forcing a nod. “Yeah. Just—long day.”

Jamie didn’t look convinced. His gaze flickered to her hands—still trembling slightly, even as she tried to hide them in her pockets.

And Jamie—who was normally all charm and banter, all teasing remarks and cheeky grins—just watched her for a moment, quiet and assessing.

Then, without a word, he reached out and took her hand.

Not in the usual Jamie way, either. Not the casual, half-distracted way he sometimes grabbed her wrist to pull her toward a meeting, or the playful handshake they always did after a good game.

This was different.

His fingers curled around hers, steady and warm, grounding her.

“C’mere,” he murmured, tugging her toward the empty boot room just off the hallway.

The door shut behind them, muffling the noise of the club.

Jamie didn’t let go.

“You’re freakin’ out, love,” he said simply. Not a question—just a fact.

Y/N let out a short, humorless laugh. “You don’t have to sugarcoat it.”

Jamie tilted his head, watching her. “Ain’t sugarcoatin’ it. Just sayin’—you’re freakin’ out. And you don’t need to.”

Her breath hitched slightly. “Jamie, I fucking messed up. That’s—”

“So?” Jamie cut in, voice easy. “People mess up all the time.”

She shook her head, looking away. “Not me. I can’t mess up.”

Jamie frowned. “Why not?”

“Because.” Her voice was too sharp, too fast. She took a shaky breath. “Because if I mess up, it means I’m not good enough. And if I’m not good enough, then—”

She stopped herself.

Jamie was still holding her hand, standing right in front of her. Still watching her, his expression unreadable.

Then, quietly he says:

“That’s bollocks, you know.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

He huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head. “All that shit you just said. Bollocks. You do get to mess up, Y/N. Doesn’t mean you ain’t good enough. Just means you’re human.”

She let out a shaky breath. “Jamie—”

“Look.” He squeezed her hand, firm and steady. “I forget shit all the time. I mess up interviews, I miss appointments—you’re literally paid to fix my fuck-ups. And you do. Every time.”

She let out a small, reluctant laugh.

Jamie grinned and softly caressed her smiling cheeks. “There she is. There's my girl.”

The weight in her chest eased just a little.

Jamie’s grin softened. “You’re fuckin’ brilliant, alright? One little mistake don’t change that.”

She exhaled, shoulders loosening. “You’re… actually kind of good at this.”

Jamie smirked. “Course I am. Y’think I don’t know what it’s like?”

She frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

Jamie hesitated. Just for a second.

Then, with a small shrug.

“I get in my head sometimes too, yeah? Before big matches. When I’m knackered and feel like I ain’t doin’ enough. I start thinkin’—what if I fuck up? What if I lose? What if I ain’t good enough?”

Y/N stared at him. She’d never heard him say anything like that before.

Jamie scratched the back of his neck. “Dunno. Just—sometimes it helps when someone reminds me it’s all in my head.”

Y/N’s chest ached.

She squeezed his hand. “Jamie.”

He met her eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you this,” she said softly, “but you’re one of the strongest people I know.”

Jamie blinked, looking genuinely taken aback. “Oh.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Well. You ain’t so bad yourself.”

Y/N huffed a laugh.

Jamie squeezed her hand one last time before letting go.

“Right,” he said, stretching his arms over his head. “Now, d’you wanna get outta here? Go get some food or summat? Reckon you need a break.”

Y/N hesitated. “Jamie, I still have work to—”

“Oi. Shut up.” Jamie poked her cheek. “S’not a request. We’re goin’.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Oh my god, I hate you.”

Jamie grinned. “Yeah, yeah. Liar, you fucking love me.”

She might really fucking do...

[junoblivion]

Imagine satisfying Suguru's needs.

Contains: afab Suguru. Amab reader. Riding. Dub-con? Maybe non-con?. It's implied that Suguru drugged you. Doggy. Based on something I saw. Anal, and vaginal. Fisting(?). Someone walks in but they don't get caught!. Blow job, boobjob. OOC maybe. Spit (only once). Sub(?)top reader. Dom(?)bottom Suguru. Afab and amab anatomy described.

Imagine you were a non-sorcerer and had got caught snooping around Suguru's temple. Suguru had sent you to a dungeon where "monkeys" as he would call people like you were placed, but something was different about you.

Late at night, he entered the dungeon where he found you in your cell, passed out. He dragged you to his room where he undressed you and tied you to the bed.

When you had woken up, you were confused and felt like your mind was foggy. Why were you here? Weren't you in the dungeon waiting for your death?

All of those questions were cut when Suguru had entered the room wearing black lingerie. Under different circumstances, you would've horny at the sight but you were currently trying to understand what was going on.

Suguru had started venting to you saying how he's so annoyed that everyone kept asking for favors and appointments on his own birthday. How he never has time to satisfy his needs. Obviously from what you learned, he was sexually frustrated.

He walked up to you, got on his knees, and looked at your dick that was hardening. "You're certainly big, aren't you? However, that's no problem," he said.

Even though it was a sight to see a pretty man on his knees for you, you were uncomfortable to say the least. Your wrists wiggling to release themselves from their chains. Your wrists faltered however when Suguru had began to suck you off.

He moaned as he could feel every vein, licked the tip, pressed his tongue flat against the underside of your cock. You swore he had no gag reflex as you felt his throat swallow you deeper and deeper. Groans and moans threatening to leave your throat and throughout your lips.

Suguru had felt himself become wet and made his fingers go to his hole and inserted his fingers. He felt his eyes go back, something about blowing someone off and fingering himself felt so amazing. He felt your load down his throat and swallowed every drop.

He lifted his mouth off with a smile but it soon dropped when a small drop of semen fell on his lingerie bra. He smacked you across the face before saying," ugh, now I have to change. So annoying." He got up and left to change.

While he was gone, you broke free and tried to run. You only got passed the bed before you fell. You felt weak and your eyes were blurry. Suguru came out laughing but the only thing you could focus on was his naked body.

"did you really think I wouldn't take precautions?" The pretty man said. It sounded like gibberish to you though.

"Would you like me to cure you from your state?" He asked, and you nodded. He got to your face and let a drop of saliva fall into your mouth, and kissed you.

After the kiss, your vision was no longer blurry but you felt yourself be more aroused than usual. Suguru smiled at your slowly rising penis and pressed his man tits around it. Making his breasts up and down with his hands.

You held in your moans as Suguru was holding eye contact with you. You soon came but you were still hard, did he give you some sort of drug?

Suguru smiled once more before positioning himself above your cock. He lowered himself on your cock, letting a satisfied sigh. "It's been so long since I've had a dick in me," he mumbled.

Suguru had begun moving up and down, going faster and faster each time. You, on the other hand, were silent and watching as his pussy moved. Listening to his moans, the squelching of his cunt and your dick, and skin slapping against skin.

You watched as one of Suguru's fingers touched his clit. Suguru's moans were much louder as he stimulated himself from both pleasure points.

"fuck! I forgot how-" his moans interrupted him before continuing, "good this felt!". You didn't listen to what he was saying, you were too hypnotized by his cunt going up and down, and how he rolled his hips side to side, back and forth.

Suguru stopped as he creamed your cock. His back arching as he could feel your cum inside, painting his insides white.

Pants and body heat warmed the room.

Suguru composed himself for a moment before turning around, and riding once more. You felt your soft cock hardening.

He made you change the position and he was on all fours while you were behind, your hands around his hips. "move," he ordered, you obeyed his command and began moving at a slow pace. He let out soft moans before saying, "Mhm, go faster" he asked. You nodded and rolled your hips faster, Suguru let out wanton moans and tried meeting your hips. White creamy rings were forming around your cock

You removed one of your hands from his hips and slowly reached for his soft ebony hair. In the back of your head, you wondered, 'damn, what's his haircare routine?' you shook your head and grabbed his hair before pulling his hair. Suguru let out a loud moan, which you silently winced at (you hoped no one heard), and came. You continued your thrusts chasing your release. Suguru had become sensitive and tears left his eyes, moaning while his pussy spasmed around your dick.

You came to a stop and pulled Suguru close, shooting your release as deep as you can which made Suguru whimper.

You both tried catching your breath, however, Suguru's heart dropped as he could distinctly hear foots coming towards his bedroom door. He pushed you out of him and dragged you behind a dressing curtain.

"Master Geto? Are you alright?" Ah, a follower of Suguru had come in to check on him.

"I-I'm alright!" Suguru said bending over to make his head peek out the curtain. "Oh, there you are. I was hoping to speak with you since the events you organized are coming up," the follower says. Suguru nodded and asked the individual to just say what they needed. The follower nodded before listing the things that needed to be done.

You, however, wanted to piss him off as revenge for throwing you in a dungeon (you had not forgotten), and slowly inserted your dick inside of him. Suguru let out a silent moan before trying to smack you. You didn't care as you rolled your hips, careful to not make any noise. Suguru gripped the curtain and hoped his follower would leave.

"and we need to take in the fact Gojo satoru doesn't know what you and your group are trying to distract everyone so you can take Yuta." The follower stated.

You raised an eyebrow as you felt Suguru's cunt squeeze you at the mention of this man 'Satoru Gojo'.

Suguru nodded at his follower's words, and mentioned something you didn't care for. You thrusted faster which made it hard for Suguru. Tears were coming from Suguru's purple eyes and begged whatever force above would make his follower leave.

Before you came, you quickly left Suguru's sticky pussy and entered his ass which made Suguru falter.

Suguru whimpered which made his follower turn around, "are you alright? Should I leave?"

"Yes!" Suguru said, slightly yelling at the end, "I mean I'm not feeling too good so-" he choked out "come back later."

The follower nodded and left.

After Suguru made sure the person was gone, he let out the moans he was holding. "Fuck! Come in me, already!" Suguru moaned. You soon came as if your body was listening and waiting for his permission.

You pulled out as cum slid out of his ass. You scooped the leaving semen and shoved it back in. Suguru was completely sobbing from pleasure, he made a note to keep you.

You thrust your fist back and forth. Suguru's eyes roll back and his tongue hangs. You stop and pull out your fist.

Suguru panted and gained his composer. Suguru cleared his throat before summoning a curse to knock you out.

Before you fell into the abyss, you heard the man say, "Do that again, and I'll make sure you'll never wake up permanently."

[aangelinakii]

one of the batboys, any of the batboys, taking care of you and helping you when you have an injury (sprained ankle, broken leg etc) Gn reader is fine, just really want warm fluffies :))

please and thank you :)))

ICEBREAKER.

— always partners.

summary : a figure skater training with your partner, you sustain an injury that could change your career forever.

note : thank you for requesting !!! sorry this took a while, and ik you wanted fluff so sorry it was a little bit angsty as well but i had this idea and ruuuughhh i just wanted to get it out !!

it's all coach's fault.

of course you were good; in fact, you were one of the best figure skaters right now — but when your coach said it would be a good idea to up the stakes, get you doing moves only one other person in the world has done right now, you were hesitant to take his advice.

double axel? fine, not easy but not so hard.

triple axel? after much trial and error, you'd finally debuted it at the last competition you and your partner, tim, performed at.

but quadruple? not so sure.

the muted blues and whites of the rink phased around you, almost a blur as you fell to the floor. tim was hurrying over almost as soon as you hit the ground, and someone was shouting but you couldn't figure out who.

frost seeped through every inch that had come in contact with the ice, but your knee was on fire.

"don't look down, don't look down!" tim was repeating as he kneeled down beside you, a kind hand placing itself on your shoulder. then he turned his head and shouted something to coach, but with the blood rushing to your ears, the only thing you could make out was the hammer of your pulse.

next thing you knew, various other pairs of hands were hauling you to your feet, muttering words you couldn't comprehend.

the only thing you could tell was that, no matter how hard you tried to move it — no matter how little — your knee was badly injured. but, like tim said, you couldn't bring yourself to look down.

you just hoped it didn't look as bad as it hurt.

although conscious the whole time you were ushered away, you only really took notice of your new surroundings once you'd come to a stop, the frost thawing as your back hit a blue paper-ridden cot, and you blinked in the white light overhead to recognise the first-aid room.

bodies hurried about on one side of the room, looking through trays and cabinets, and one person tapping away at a computer with thick keys.

but a soft hand came to rest on your shoulder again, and you instinctively leaned into it just as you had a hundred times, when he'd place it on your waist or shoulder blade to guide you around the rink with gleeful eyes awatch.

"how are you feeling?" tim's kind voice came, a contrast to the hectic around you.

shaking your head, your eyes finally trailed down to your legs, which you had tried so hard to avoid looking at. the sight caused your stomach to swell something sick.

poking from inside your flesh was one of your bones, right beneath your kneecap.

"that's disgusting," you managed to push out, mouth perpetually pulled into a frown, and you tore your gaze away. "it hurts."

"i'll bet it does," he returned with a small scoff. "i don't know what coach was thinking, trying to get you to do that axel."

your cheeks puffed out in exasperation, and your arms tucked instinctively across your chest, as if they could protect you any more.

noting your otherwise silence, tim moved around to your feet, where they were still bound by your white skates. without having to be asked, he wordlessly began to unlace the boots, careful on your injured leg. then, once he'd discarded them to the floor beneath the cot, out of the way of the arena's nurses rushing in and out, he returned to your side, taking your hand in his.

there was not much to say, not when there was the horrific question in the back of your mind, squishing into your brain, prodding it repeatedly. it was one thing to be thinking it, but to have to say it? you weren't sure you were able to.

"tim?" you finally croaked out, eyes unfocused on the cabinets before you. at the sound of his name, his grip tightened on your hand for a moment.

"yes? are you okay? can i do anything?"

so loyal, so ready to do anything you asked him to.

after years of skating together, both in the confinements of your practice rink, and then around the world in front of crowds there just to see the two of you, how could he not? he was there when you landed your first double axel, and then the triple.

he'd helped you back up each time you fell, and you for him. every single time.

"will i be able to skate again?"

even now you'd said them, the words poisoned your lips, pricked them so they trembled as you replayed them in your mind.

however, no matter how loyal he could be, tim couldn't tell you the truth. not when you peered up to him beneath watery eyes and dew-dropped lashes, not when your cheeks were pink and your hold on his hand tightened with a tremor.

keeping that hand in his, he reached his free arm around you, holding you tight, but conscious you didn't put any weight on your injured leg.

his breath was warm against the shell of your ear, against the nape of your neck, and it was difficult to ignore the shake of it, the shake of his frame.

"i don't know," he whispered against your skin.

carefully, he pulled away, the hand in yours slightly sweaty now. his free hand came up to brush hair out of your eyes, palm swooping down tenderly on the top of your head. "i'm sorry, i don't know."

that meant no.

and so you held his hand tighter.

"but i'll be with you the whole time. i won't ever find another partner. ever. you know what? i won't skate again. if you don't skate, i don't skate."

"what? no, no, no—"

tim didn't seem upset by this choice. instead, he cut you off with a smile and another soft stroke down the back of your head. "it's settled. i won't skate with another. you'll always be my partner, i don't think i could handle it."

despite not being able to find any hint of a lie in his sincere blue eyes, you still nibbled on the gum of your lip. "you can't ruin your whole career for me."

"then you coach me."

by now he was grinning, holding on so hard that you could no longer feel your hand, but it was taking your mind off your knee so that the pain was now a buzz as opposed to a horrid shooting throb.

it was difficult to not reciprocate that smile of his.

"i can't be a coach," you managed to laugh. "not like this."

"sure you can. what does coach do? he just stands around, shouting at us. you're the best skater i know. if i won't have another partner, i'll skate singles." he took a breath, grin ever-green. "but i can't let you go just like this. you still have so much ahead of you. if you don't skate, i'll skate for you."

how he could be so persuasive you didn't know; you'd never seen him like this.

but you supposed your partnership must've meant a lot.

[bitchinbarzal]

Shut Me Out | K Kaprizov

summary: kirill isn’t handling his injury well and he takes it out on his girl.

-

Kirill's days had blurred into one long cycle of frustration. His injury was still healing, but it felt like time itself was moving too slowly. Sitting in their apartment, he had spent hours watching the Wild play—just as they had done the day before and the day before that—but it wasn't the same. Not being on the ice, not feeling the rush of the game, the roar of the crowd—it was all a distant memory now. Instead, he was left here, on the couch, immobilized. And, if he were being honest, he was angry.

He was angry at the situation, at the injury, at himself.

Y/N had been trying her best to keep him company, bringing him his favorite snacks and sitting by his side. She’d even begun watching games with him, though her interest in hockey was more out of love than any genuine passion for the sport. She tried to engage him in other ways, suggesting they go for walks, or that he try watching a new show, anything to distract him. But it all felt like a blur of activity that didn’t change anything.

This morning, she had brought him coffee and sat down next to him on the couch, offering words of encouragement. But he had been distant, barely acknowledging her, his focus entirely on the TV.

"Hey," she said, sitting beside him and watching his eyes stay glued to the screen. "You’ve been watching the game for hours. Maybe we should do something else for a bit?"

He didn’t answer right away, just let out a deep sigh, and then muttered, “I'm fine.”

Y/N frowned. “You sure? I can tell you’re not feeling great.”

Kirill set the remote down and turned to her. “I’m fine, Y/N,” he repeated, his tone sharper now. “I just don’t want to talk right now.”

She recoiled, surprised at the bite in his voice. "I just want to help, Kirill. I’m worried about you. You’ve been stuck here doing nothing, and I feel like you’re pushing me away."

“I’m not pushing you away," he shot back, his voice rising. “I just don’t need you all over me. You’re treating me like I’m some fragile thing that can’t function without your help.”

Y/N’s chest tightened at his words. She had been nothing but caring, trying her hardest to support him through a tough time, and now, he was acting like it was too much.

“That’s not what I’m doing!" she snapped. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay. I don’t know what you want me to do.”

"I want you to stop treating me like I’m broken!” Kirill’s voice cracked a little, the frustration of the last few weeks pouring out. "I’m not a kid. I don’t need you constantly asking how I feel or what I need. I just... I need space."

Y/N stood up, taking a step back from him, her eyes wide with shock. “Space?” Her voice trembled. “You’ve been on the couch for days. You haven’t left this apartment, Kirill. You don’t want space, you want to shut me out.”

His expression darkened, his jaw clenched. “Maybe I do want to shut you out. I just... I just want to feel like myself again, without everyone hovering over me.”

“Everyone?" Y/N blinked, almost laughing bitterly. "I’m the only one here. I’m the only one who cares about you like this, and you're acting like I’m a nuisance."

The words hit him harder than he anticipated, and for a moment, he faltered. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing away from her, trying to control the mess of emotions swirling inside him.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” she said, her voice softening as she watched him. “I just hate seeing you like this. You’re in pain, you’re frustrated, and I want to be here for you, Kirill.”

He turned to face her, his eyes tired, and there was something vulnerable in them that he hadn’t allowed himself to show before. “I don’t want to need anyone, Y/N. I’ve always been the guy who handles things on his own. I don’t know how to lean on someone, and it’s killing me.”

Her heart clenched at his confession, the sharp edge of his words now sounding hollow and raw. "You don't have to handle it all on your own," she whispered, taking a step toward him. "But I can't help you if you don't let me in."

He stared at her, his eyes shifting from frustration to something else—something softer, regretful. "I’m sorry," he muttered, his voice quiet now. "I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know why I’m acting like this. I just... I hate feeling useless. I hate that I can’t play, that I can’t do what I love."

“I get it,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. "But that doesn’t mean you have to push me away. You’re not useless, Kirill. You’re still you. And I’m here for you, no matter what."

He let out a shaky breath, rubbing his eyes, as if trying to erase the frustration that still lingered there. He looked at her, really looked at her, and the weight of his words sank in. "I don’t know what I’d do without you," he whispered. "I’m sorry I made you feel like you weren’t helping. You’re the only person who gets it. I just... I didn’t want to seem weak."

Y/N walked over to him and gently cupped his face in her hands. “You’re not weak, Kirill. You’re human. And sometimes, even the strongest people need help.”

The apology was slow, but it was there, and she could see it in the way his shoulders sagged with relief, in the way his eyes softened.

"I don’t want to be this guy, the one who shuts you out," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I hate being like this. I hate feeling like I’m not good enough when I’m not playing."

She smiled softly, tracing her thumb along his cheek. "You’re more than good enough. You're more than hockey. You’re you. And I love you. And I’ll love you even when you’re sitting on this couch all day, feeling sorry for yourself."

He chuckled softly, his hands moving to her waist as he pulled her into a tight hug. "Thank you," he whispered into her hair. "I promise I’ll try harder to let you in. I don’t want to make you feel like you’re not important to me."

Y/N smiled into his chest, feeling the weight of the tension finally lift. "I know you’ll try," she said, breathing him in. "We’ll figure this out. Together."

And for the first time in a long while, Kirill allowed himself to believe it.

[satoruswifeyyyy]

lover, you should've come over (r. zoro x fem! reader

chapter 1

chapter 2: snuff

official playlist

masterlist

sypnosis: reader and zoro are dating but it's not the same as before- something has changed.

the night air was heavy. the silence between you and zoro was suffocating.

you waited for zoro to say something. tell you that what you had blurted out was wrong, that you were just paranoid and nothing had changed between you and him.

however, zoro didn't say anything.

you took a deep breath in, taking a deep breath and clenching your fist. your voice was barely above a whisper, as you asked the question that had been eating you alive.

“…do you not love me anymore?”

zoro tensed.

his jaw clenched, his fists tightened, but he didn’t answer.

you felt your stomach drop.

“zoro,” you tried again, stepping closer. “tell me.”

still, nothing.

for the first time in your life, you felt… desperate.

“i—” you swallowed hard. “i know things have been different. we don’t talk like we used to. you don’t even look at me like before.” your voice cracked slightly, but you forced herself to continue. “i keep trying to tell myself that it’s just in my head, that maybe you’re just stressed or tired. but…” you hesitated, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “but if you don’t love me anymore, just—just tell me.”

zoro closed his eyes, inhaled sharply… and exhaled.

then, in a voice so quiet, so wrong for someone like him, he muttered, “…i’m sorry.”

you felt the world tilt.

“…what?” you breathed, stepping back.

zoro finally looked at you. his face was unreadable. stoic. cold.

“i'm sorry,” he repeated. “i can’t do this anymore.”

a sharp, painful sting stabbed at your chest.

“no.” you shook your head. “no, what the hell does that mean?” your voice rose, panic settling in. “you can’t do what anymore? what—why?”

zoro didn’t answer. he just stood there, stiff and unmoving, as if this wasn’t killing him too.

you felt like you were suffocating.

“no,” you snapped. “you don’t get to do this—you don’t get to just leave me like this!”

your voice cracked at the end, and you hated how weak you sounded.

zoro looked away, avoiding your gaze. “it’s better this way.”

“better for who?!”

he didn’t respond.

you felt your breath hitch. your eyes burned. you gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to stay strong, to not fall apart.

“so that’s it?” you whispered. “you’re just… walking away?”

zoro didn’t say anything for a moment. then, after what felt like an eternity, he muttered, “yeah.”

you clenched your fists, nails digging into your palms.

“why?” you choked out. “just tell me why, zoro.”

he inhaled. then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said the only thing you didn’t want to hear.

“i’m sorry.”

a heavy silence fell between you and zoro.

and then—without another word, without looking back—zoro turned and walked away.

you stood frozen, your heart hammering in your chest, your breath shallow.

you wanted to scream, to yell, to chase after him—but your body wouldn’t move.

the one person who you thought would never leave you had just walked away.

and you did not even get a reason why.

a/n: i love angst. i don't know what i wrote in here, this is just pent up frustration istg 😭

[stellar-waves]

collapse

. . .

[ boondock saints : murphy + fem!reader ] fluffy february : prompt 6 ⚠ warnings: illness/comfort (or call it fluffy whump if you want), pre-canon/au whatever A/N: I'm actually officially sick, so that's why I'm behind on these. And this might be influenced by getting sick, so whoops.

. . .

“Ye okay, lass?” 

You blink, hoping that will bring Murphy’s face back into focus, but no such luck. Your head feels heavy, and you fight everything in your being to keep standing. “I’m fine,” you argue with a small voice.

Despite his blurred features, you can see Murphy’s eyes narrow with concern. “Yer a terrible liar, love.” 

You want to counter his comment because, really, you’re actually pretty good at lying. The problem is that Murphy knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. Okay, most times... all the time.

But you’re just as stubborn as he is, and you’re not about to let a stupid head cold stop you from having a good time. Tonight is the first night off you two have had together in weeks. Balancing your overlapping work schedules had been much more challenging since you picked up a second job to make ends meet. And all because you were too stubborn to let Murphy help you out. 

You must have worked around 70 hours just in the last week alone, thanks to the late late nights at the bar. You tried to sleep whenever you could—probably the only time you actually got to be with Murphy was sleeping in his arms for just a few hours here and there. You tried to remember to take your vitamin C to keep your immunity up. You washed your hands constantly until they were cracked and bleeding in the dry winter air. But you kept working and running around, and now your sinuses feel like they’re trying to squeeze your brain out from behind your eyes.

“Let’s just stay in tonight. We can go out another time,” Murphy suggests, placing his hand on your shoulder and forcing you to realize he’s holding you up. 

“But I got this new dress and everything!” you whine, looking down at your sexy black lace cocktail dress and those stupidly cute high-heeled boots to go with it. 

Murphy loops his arm around your shoulders, pulling your swaying body into him as he guides you back to your apartment building. “Next time, lass. Tonight, I’d rather just see ye in sweats and that Metallica shirt ye stole from me.” 

You make a face. “I didn’t steal it. You gave it to me.”

He laughs, that beautiful grin spreading across his face as he walks you up the stairs. “If ye say so.”

You still pout when he takes your keys and unlocks your door. This is not what you had in mind for the night, but you were grateful for Murphy’s doting and regard for your well-being. He helps you undress and change into said sweats and the oversized band t-shirt. You sit on the edge of your bed, watching through your mascara-coated lashes as he grabs the bottle of NyQuil from the bathroom. “Least ye can still take a shot of something, yeah?” he teases as he pours the thick cherry-flavored liquid into the plastic cup for you. 

You smirk, already feeling warm in Murphy’s presence before tossing the medicine down your throat. He softly kisses your forehead, then moves back to the bathroom. You desperately try to keep your head up, wanting to move back to the couch so you can watch TV together, but you fall on your side, collapsing into the bed as the NyQuil hits a little faster than you anticipated.

Murphy reappears, a soft chuckle falling from his lips as he climbs into the bed with you, holding your tired body tightly against his. “See? Yer a terrible liar,” he chuckles again, kissing the top of your head as you feel your entire being finally relax. You can feel his heartbeat against your cheek, lulling you to a deep sleep you needed so badly. 

. . .

[pascalislove]

THE CALL: Han Jeong-Won x Fem!Reader~15

Summary: Your arrival would change everything, even if Jeong-Won didn't know it yet.

Warnings: female reader, piv, , age difference(unspecified), creampie, bathroom sex unprotected sex.

The days following their first night together were full of complicit silences, intense glances, and an intimacy that broke the barriers carefully constructed by both of them.

Jeong-Won and Y/N looked for each other without realizing it, as if their bodies had forgotten the rules they had once imposed.

The kitchen, the living room, the patio, even Jeong-Won's office, became scenes for furtive encounters. Nothing new, just the way their moans broke the heavy air, the slight creak of the marble countertop under their movements, and the whisper of promises they never dared say out loud.

That morning, the sun was barely peeking through the bedroom windows when Y/N began to stretch among the rumpled sheets. Beside him, Jeong-Won was still lying, with his eyes half-closed and an expression he rarely showed: serenity.

She tried to get up, aware of the clock marking the start of a day, but before she could move away, a firm hand stopped her by the waist.—¿Where are you going? —Jeong-Won murmured, his voice hoarse with sleep. Y/N smiled, without needing to respond. He knew perfectly well that duty called him, but at that moment it seemed irrelevant. Everything fell apart when he pulled her close, burying his face in the crook of her neck, where he left a slow, lingering kiss.—I don't want to get up,— he murmured, his voice hoarse. Y/N smiled lightly, turning to him.— "If you don't get up now, you'll be late for work," —she said in an amused tone, giving him a little push on the arm. —What if I don't go? —Jeong-Won responded, without moving. —Don't be irresponsible. You're the Producer, and you have a meeting, remember? —she laughed. —Then I'll stay with me—he whispered close to her ear.— Just this morning— Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but her words caught in her throat when Jeong-Won looked directly at her, his eyes reflecting something warm and vulnerable.

—Although now that I remember, I have a meeting, I want you to accompany me—. Before she could say anything, he pulled her even closer, his lips gently brushing hers in a gesture that turned into a slow, deep kiss.

Later when the shower water finally started running, steam filling the bathroom, Y/N tried to regain some composure.

—This was your fault, we'll be late,— she said with a laugh, but Jeong-Won, already in the water, was watching her with that calm smile that made her heart beat faster. —There's still time,— he replied, offering his hand. —Are you joining?—She rolled her eyes, feigning exasperation, but couldn't resist. She took his hand and went under the water next to him. Warm drops fell on their bodies as the world seemed to fade around them.

Y/N felt Jeong-Won's hands gently slide around her waist, pulling her towards him again. Steam filled the bathroom, creating a warm and enveloping atmosphere. The water fell steadily, sliding down Y/N's skin as she settled under the stream next to Jeong-Won.

The closeness between the two seemed almost inevitable, as if the water was pushing them to stay together. —“We should hurry... we've already wasted enough time,”— Y/N whispered, although her voice lacked any real conviction. Jeong-Won, with a serene look and charged with something deeper, let his hands rest gently on her waist.

—Maybe it's not so urgent,— he replied in a low tone, slowly approaching, the water sliding down his face. The heat wasn't just coming from the shower. Y/N felt her breathing become irregular as he placed a slow kiss on her shoulder, barely grazing her skin. Her hands, firm but gentle, moved down his back as the water ran between them, creating a silent, intimate connection. —“Jeong-Won…”—she murmured, trying to sound firm, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her. —Shh,—he asked softly, capturing her lips in a kiss that left no room for doubt. It was slow at first, loaded with contained sensations, but soon it became deeper, as if time did not exist and the world was reduced to that moment between them.

The water continued to fall, mixing with their soft laughter and labored breaths. Y/N leaned lightly against the shower wall, letting Jeong-Won get even closer, his warm body pressing against hers without reservation. Their fingers intertwined as he continued to kiss her, running down her neck slowly, as if he had all the time in the world to discover every part of her. Y/N closed her eyes, letting herself be carried away by the moment, feeling any barrier between them melt away under the heat of the water.In a moment he lifted her up making her wrap her legs around his waist. Without wasting any time, he lined himself up and pushed himself inside of her.

They both moaned into each other's mouths. —God, you're so tight,— he grunted, forcing himself to move faster so they could both reach their orgasms quickly. He was thrusting into her hard and fast causing her to slide back and forth, making her back hit the wall from time to time. He tilted his hips to hit her G-spot and it worked, perfectly.

Eyes wide, he could feel his stomach tighten; by then his entire body was contracting. Jeong-Won could feel it too, starting to contract inside her too, as he got closer. Y/N screamed his name as she clenched around his cock and came hard.

That triggered her orgasm, growling her name breathlessly as he came inside her. He relaxed on top of her as they both tried to catch their breath.The intimacy they shared needed no words; It was a language of its own, made up of soft caresses, intense kisses and the perfect synchronization of their movements. Y/N felt safe, wrapped in that connection that brought them together in a way she had never imagined possible.

When the water finally began to cool, neither of them seemed willing to part. Jeong-Won placed one last kiss on her forehead, breathing deeply as he held her close.— “We will definitely… be late,”— Y/N murmured with a shaky smile. —It's worth it,— he replied, his voice soft but firm, as if nothing in the world could be more important than this moment together. The bathroom was filled with the murmur of water and soft laughter, as they both got lost in a moment that, to them, seemed eternal.

Finally, the outside world claimed her attention and as they both headed to the Big Hit Records building, since he had asked her to accompany him for an important meeting. Impeccably dressed, they looked the perfect image of a professional couple, although the spark they shared remained burning beneath the surface. The elevator arrived, empty and silent.

As soon as the doors closed, Jeong-Won grabbed Y/N by the waist, bringing her closer with a determined gesture. —"Someone can come in,"—she whispered, without much conviction. "Let them look," he replied before kissing her deeply, not caring about the possible risk.

The elevator rose slowly, but for them time stopped. Y/N slid her hands around Jeong-Won's neck, while he kept his firm grip on her waist. A sudden "ding" announced arrival at another floor. The doors opened and two employees entered, smiling politely without suspecting anything. Y/N and Jeong-Won quickly separated, trying to regain their composure. Standing on opposite sides of the elevator, their hands discreetly searched for a point of contact.

The tips of their fingers barely touched each other, trembling, but none of them dared more.When they reached his floor, Y/N got off first, shooting him an amused look over her shoulder. —"We have to be more careful,"— he whispered as they walked down the hallway. —I don't promise anything,— he replied with a barely perceptible smile. And although they didn't say more, they both knew that this was far from just a contract relationship.

This story does not follow the plot of the series, tell me if you like it and if you want me to tag you in the chapters🫶

Tag list:

@anamiad00msday , @czarinera , @beebeechaos, @muchwita , @otakusimp1

THE CALL MASTERLIST

[nowayimbored]

Restless Man

Summary: After 13 years of no contact, Sam comes knocking at your door when you least expect him.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

WC: 2,200

The leaves crunched beneath your shoulders, flattening the grass underneath. The wind jostled the trees above you, leaves floating down, down, down, until they slowly landed around you. The sun was slowly setting, golden hour quickly approaching. The autumn air was crisp and had a bit of a bite to it, but you didn’t mind. Watching the sky change colors, from blue to orange, pink, purple, and red was your favorite thing. 

Sam Winchester was your second favorite thing. You met a long time ago, almost another lifetime it seemed like. He had crashed into your life like a comet, but you had to admit he had perfect timing. You had just lost both of your parents in a car accident. Sam could commiserate with you, his brother had… well, he didn’t say. He just said he was ‘gone’, leading you to believe he was dead, or maybe missing. But he never looked for him. You tried not to dwell on it too much, as Sam never spoke much about him unless he was borderline blackout drunk. 

Sam became your best friend quickly, moving into your spare bedroom soon after you met. Things were mostly platonic, however there was a few times where the lines got a little blurry. You didn’t mind, though, you quite enjoyed it actually. In that year together, you two had grown very close. He would tell you stories that seemed farfetched, but he always retold them soberingly genuine. Stories of monsters, of a huge road trip he was on with his brother, of the end of the world…almost. They just about felt real.

You told your own stories, which were definitely very real. You told him of your family, your past, all of your wishes and hopes for your future. That was the best year of your life. It was so easy, so natural, with Sam. 

The morning he left was like any other that the two of you shared, or so it seemed. Sam would typically run a mile or two right as the sun was rising before hitting the shower, which would be just about the time you’d be getting up. That fateful morning, though, it was quieter. There was no hum of the water pipes, no bare feet padding down the stairs toward the kitchen. At first you thought he had taken a longer run than normal, but in the middle of making breakfast for the two of you, you saw the note.

‘Hey,

I don’t even know how to start this. I’ve been sitting here, staring at the page, trying to find the right words, but nothing feels right. Maybe because there isn’t a right way to say this.  I have to go. And I can’t tell you why. Not because I don’t trust you—I do. More than anyone. But because if I say too much, it could put you in danger. And that’s the last thing I’d ever want.  This past year, you’ve been my rock. You reminded me that there’s more to life than just living out on the road, more than just loss. You gave me something I haven’t had in a long time—peace. And walking away from that? From you? It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I need you to know this isn’t about you. It’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I care too much. I don’t know if or when I’ll be back. I wish I could promise you something—anything—but all I can say is that if there was any other way, I’d take it.  Please take care of yourself. Be safe. Be happy. You deserve that, shorty.

—Sam’

The note. 

You still have the note; you carry it in your bag.

Breakfast was never finished that day. Actually, breakfast was never the same. What used to be your favorite meal of the day was quickly pushed off to the wayside, your eggs slightly less sunny-side up without Sam. To this day, laying on your back in the park on 7th, you still haven’t eaten breakfast. 

It’s been 13 years.

Not much has changed for you in all of the passed time. You still wonder about Sam. After all, they say that if you love something, set it free. Except you kind of felt cheated. 

You didn’t set him free. 

You wished that you had told Sam your feelings before he left. Lord knows you tried; it seems like you called and texted him thousands of times. Not a single message was answered. Voicemail after voicemail was left, the box never giving a ‘full’ warning. All this time later, you wonder if he listened to them before he deleted them. You kept calling, until one day instead of his comforting voice before the beep, you heard a cold robotic voice chant ‘The number you have dialed is not in service. Sorry.” 

Hell, you didn’t even know if you felt the same way after all this time or if it was just the past you were stuck in. Maybe you were stuck on a last-ditch hope that he would come back. 

Maybe that’s why you never moved. 

Darkness was starting to draw closer, the last rays of sunlight nearly snubbed out. Sighing, you slowly sat up, brushing dried leaves from your hair. You felt a few flecks of water splash on your forehead, looking up, grey clouds were looming threateningly. 

You gathered your things, including the umpteenth letter you’d written to Sam but weren’t ever able to send. Fully standing up now, you started on your way home. Thankfully, the walk wasn’t too far. You cut across the corner of the park, making a beeline for the sidewalk as the rain began to fall harder. You started running, the sprinkles soon turning into a cold downpour.

By the time you reached your front porch, you were shaking and drenched by the ice-cold shower. You unlocked your door, slammed it shut to seemingly show the rain who’s boss, relocked it, and kicked your shoes off in one swift motion. 

You raced upstairs to take a warm shower, wash off all of the cold. After your shower, you threw on your favorite pair of sweatpants and a shirt of Sam’s that you found under his bed after he left. It was just one of those nights. You meandered downstairs, toward the kitchen to find something for dinner and a glass of wine.

A faint knock at the door interrupted your path.

You turned and looked at the clock on the wall. You weren’t expecting anyone tonight. Damn it, it was broken, stuck on 2:22. You made a mental note to replace the batteries on your way to the door. You unlocked and opened the door, but nobody was there. You looked to the left, then to the right, before shutting the door. Damn neighborhood kids.

You padded off toward your kitchen again, this time after your junk drawer. A louder knock interrupted you once again. A second time, you headed toward the door, a bit faster this time. You opened the door just a crack and peeked out.

Oh. My. God.

You threw open the door, revealing a wet Sam Winchester. “Sam?” you questioned, before wrapping the lumbering man in a bear hug. You didn’t need an answer to your question, you knew it was him. You clung to his wet Carhartt jacket, the tears flowing off of your cheeks and onto his already damp flannel.

He was older, his grey was starting to show. His hair was longer, but it still had the beautiful shine that was so uniquely…him. He looked war-torn and half beat. He was still the same, though. He smelled the same. The perfect mix of leather, old books, pine, gunpowder and cheap soap. Sam. Your Sam.

“Hey, shorty,” he smiled, hugging you just as tight back and kissing the top of your head. You couldn’t hold back your tears, and neither could he. “Sam…13 years…you…” you managed to stutter out as sobs racked your body. “I know, I’m sorry, I know,” he kept repeating, like his own personal mantra. You took a few deep breaths to compose yourself, then broke the hug to invite him in. 

“You came back?” you questioned. “Of course, I thought about you every day,” he replied. You beamed at him, tears welling up in your eyes again. “Don’t cry, you’ll make me cry!” he exclaimed, wiping away your tears before wiping away his own. You couldn’t help but give a short giggle. 13 years out the window, everything was just like it always had been with him. 

He followed you to your kitchen table, taking a seat as you gestured. You grabbed the bottle of your favorite whiskey down from the shelf above your fridge. “You still drink Bearproof?” he chortled. You rolled your eyes, “Of course! Apparently you still don’t have good taste.” He smiled and shook his head, accepting the short glass filled with ice you offered him. You sat down across from him at the table and reached over to fill his glass with the amber liquid. 

You took a pull from the bottle after filling your own, just something to calm your nerves you told yourself. On the surface, you looked calm, but underneath you felt like you were shaking like a leaf on a twig. You two sat in silence for a while, while it wasn’t awkward, it was heavy. The both of you would sneak glances at each other in between sips of your drinks, pretending to be oblivious to the other’s wandering eyes. Finally, you had had enough.

You topped off each of your glasses for the third or fourth time, it was starting to get hard keeping track. “Sam, riddle me this: why come back after all this time? What if I had moved, or found someone, or…” you trailed off. He dragged his finger around the rim of the glass, seemingly lost in thought. “All these years, I kept tabs on you—” “What?!” you interrupted. “All these years? I called you Sam, thousands of times. I tried tracking you down, I filed a missing person’s report for fucks sake! I wrote you letter after letter after goddamn letter I couldn’t send!”

He remained stoic, his finger still carefully tracing the rim. He sighed, catching you with his puppy dog eyes. “Look, I wish I could tell you the truth, but you won’t believe me.” “Try me,” you retorted. He sighed again and finished off his drink, automatically you refilled it. Sam took the bottle from you and topped up your glass. “You’re gonna need this.” 

Sam told you a story like you had never heard before. By the time he had finished, the bottle of whiskey was gone and instead a bottle of vodka took its place. You took a few minutes, maybe more, to digest everything he told you. It seemed hard to believe, but Sam wasn’t the type to lie.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, you managed to croak out, “I’m sorry about your brother. He seemed like a great man. And…thank you for your sacrifice…for saving the world.” He huffed cynically, “Yeah, sure.” You took a pull from the bottle of vodka before handing it to Sam, who happily accepted. 

The short-lived conversation died off once again, this time leading to peaceful silence. You glanced at the clock, out of habit, but it was still stuck at 2:22. That’s what you needed to do! You slowly got up, joints creaking, head slightly spinning, “Ooh, it always catches up to you when you stand.” 

Sam smiled and stood as well, offering you his hand. You gladly took it, relishing his calloused skin against your soft palm. You staggered over to the junk drawer, stabilizing yourself against the countertop. Sam tottered over and placed his hands on your hips to help support your swaying frame. 

Heat immediately rose to your cheeks. Your mind cleared of all thoughts except for what you’d like to do to him. 

What did you come over here for again?

You closed the drawer quickly, the only thing stopping it from slamming being that the cabinets were soft-closing. You spun around to face Sam, not caring if he saw your blush. “Sam, I have to tell you something.” He raised his eyebrow quizzically. “You…you heard all of my voicemails, didn’t you? Saw all of my texts?” He grinned, then looked down at his socks. “Yeah, yeah. I did.” You nodded once, trying to clear the embarrassment from your brain like an etch-a-sketch. No luck.

“Cool. Yeah, uh, cool. Um… about that…” you trailed off. “I don’t expect you to feel the same way after so long. I know we had a few drunken nights of fun way back when, but we’re different people now.” Different people? What did he mean by that? You thought about asking him, but staring at his face, you could only think of one thing. 

Fuck it.You slammed your lips into his, desperate and wanting. He kissed you back with just as much wanton. Everything felt perfect. No, everything was perfect as long as Sam was back.

[biblical-chronicles]

Sweet treat

__________________________________

where Liam bakes you summat sweet.

__________________________________

You came home earlier than usual, kicking off your shoes with a sigh, glad to finally be back. Normally, Liam would be sprawled on the couch, flipping through the telly or engage in his usual messing about, but as you stepped further inside, the living room was empty. That was strange enough on its own, but the faint noise coming from the kitchen—something clattering, followed by a sharp “Bollocks”—had you raising an eyebrow.

When you stepped inside, you froze. The kitchen was a disaster zone. Flour coated the countertops like it had been deliberately thrown rather than used for any actual purpose. A bowl sat near the sink, batter dripping sluggishly down the sides in slow, syrupy globs. Meanwhile a whisk lay abandoned on the counter, too close to the edge for comfort, as if he’d given up on it halfway through using it.

And in the middle of it all stood Liam himself.

Absolutely drenched in flour. There was a streak of it on his cheek, dusting the front of his hoodie, clinging to the ends of his hair like he’d been through some kind of baking war. He stood frozen, a mixing spoon in his hand, looking at you like a kid who’d been caught red-handed raiding the biscuit tin. You stared at him. He stared back, not moving, as if that might somehow make him invisible.

“…Right,” you said, dragging your gaze across the mess. “Do we have a toddler I wasn’t aware of? One that’s clearly taken over the kitchen?”

Liam scowled immediately, shifting where he stood, clearly preparing some kind of defensive retort. But then, just as quickly, he changed tactics entirely. Before you could react, he moved forward, grabbing you by the shoulders and turning you around in one swift motion, practically herding you out of the kitchen.

“Oi—what’re you—”

“No peeking.” he muttered, steering you straight toward the couch.

You barely had time to protest before he was plonking you down onto the cushions like a child determinedly sitting their toy somewhere specific. Then, taking a step back, he pointed a flour-covered finger at you, looking dead serious despite the streak of batter on his sleeve.

“Stay.”

You raised an eyebrow. “This is highly suspicious.”

“Yeah, well—don’t.” And with that, he turned on his heel and marched back to the kitchen, leaving you sitting there, utterly bewildered.

You shook your head, biting back a laugh. Yep. Definitely a toddler taking over the kitchen.

For the next ten minutes, you heard nothing but clattering, the sound of the oven door opening and closing, and at least two quiet curses that made you seriously question what exactly was happening in there. You considered sneaking a peek, but something about the way he had manhandled you out of the kitchen made you think he’d probably tackle you if you tried.

Then, finally—Liam reappeared.

Still dusted in flour. Still looking far too pleased with himself. But now—holding a plate.

On it sat five… well, biscuits, you supposed. Wonky, uneven, some thick, some thin, one slightly too crisp around the edges like it had barely escaped being properly burnt. And yet, Liam looked absolutely chuffed with himself, beaming as he set the plate down on the table before dropping onto the couch beside you.

As he did, a faint puff of flour ghosted into the air, leaving a small dusting on the cushion. You saw it, but he looked so proud, so pleased with himself, that you didn’t have the heart to point it out.

Instead, you just glanced at the plate, then back at him. “Go on then,” he nudged it toward you. “Try one.”

You picked up the least questionable-looking one, eyeing it for a moment before taking a small bite. Surprisingly, it wasn’t bad. A little on the chewy side, maybe, but actually decent. Definitely edible. You chewed, swallowed, then nodded. “It’s good.”

Liam shot you a look. “Why’s there surprise in your tone?”

You snorted, swallowing down another bite. “Because you’re you.”

Liam scoffed, leaning back against the couch with a smug grin. “Exactly, and that warrants greatness.”

You finished the biscuit, shaking your head with a small laugh before glancing at him. “Alright, then—what’s the occasion?”

Liam shrugged, leaning back against the couch, stretching his arm along the backrest like he hadn’t just spent the last however long absolutely destroying the kitchen. “No occasion,” he said, casual as anything. “Was flickin’ through the telly, yeah? Ended up on some moronic cookin’ channel by accident. Dunno how—one second it was the footie, next thing I know, there’s some geezer bangin’ on about ‘the perfect gift’ or whatever. Said these are the kinda biscuits you should make for someone if ya had a missus, so I thought—” He tilted his head, lips twitching. “No issue. I’ll do that.”

You blinked. Then, despite yourself, a laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. “You—” You shook your head, already moving closer, wrapping your arms around him without caring that you were about to get absolutely coated in flour. “You’re ridiculous,” you mumbled into his shoulder, squeezing him tighter. “But I love you for it.”

Liam let out a small huff, but you could feel the way he melted slightly, chin resting against the top of your head. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, but there was something softer in his tone.

You pulled back just as he grabbed one of the biscuits himself, taking a bite. He chewed, nodded in approval, then looked at you with absolute certainty. “Yeah. Perfect.”

You just shook your head again, shifting so you could lean into his side, resting your cheek against his chest. He smelled like flour and a bit of vanilla, mixed in with his usual warmth, and it was oddly comforting. His arm instinctively came around you, holding you there, and for a little while, you just stayed like that, listening to the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

Eventually, you moved to sit up—and immediately froze.

“…Are you kidding me?”

Half the biscuits were gone.

You turned your head just in time to catch Liam, mid-reach, fingers barely grazing the plate before he froze like a kid caught sneaking sweets before dinner. He blinked at you, chewing innocently.

“What?”

“What—” You gestured towards the plate. “You made those for me, and now you’re eating them all!”

Liam scoffed, sitting up straighter. “Had to entertain meself, didn’t I?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Entertain yourself?”

“Yeah! You were all snuggled up on me—nowt else to do! Couldn’t just sit here like a muppet, could I?”

You just stared at him, unimpressed. “Right. So the only logical course of action was to rob me blind?”

Liam exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Oh, relax—you got a bite, didn’t ya?”

You gave him a look. He grinned, entirely unapologetic.

“You’re so lucky I love you.”

He just leaned in, pressing a quick, flour-dusted kiss to your cheek before reaching for another biscuit. “Yeah, I am,” he muttered.

__________________________________

cute fluff for the Liam nation today, I would pay such a hefty sum to see that man on the great british bake-off, I just know it'd be brilliant.

hope you lot liked it xx

[babsworlds]

DRESS.

pairing. Tangerine x fem! reader

synopsis. being your bodyguard isn’t the easiest job.

warnings. Nothing really ig? part two for Delicate but can be read as a standalone, inspired by Dress by Taylor Swift. I also kinda hate this.

YOU WERE ON VACATION IN PARIS WITH YOUR BODYGUARD FRIENDS, Lemon and Tangerine. The city of lights was known for its luxurious brands, and part of your vacation naturally included a big shopping spree.

As you strolled down the famous Champs-Élysées, the iconic fashion houses and elegant boutiques called out to you. Lemon and Tangerine flanked you, keeping a watchful eye but also enjoying the atmosphere.

Lemon sat on the plush couch of the luxurious Chanel boutique, casually scrolling on his phone as you browsed through the latest collections. The boutique exuded elegance, with its sleek black and white decor and meticulously arranged displays of high-end fashion.

Tangerine was by your side, offering his opinions and assistance as you tried on various outfits. He handed you a stunning dress, his eyes lighting up with approval. “This one would look amazing on you,” he said, slight smirk on his face.

You playfully rolled your eyes, taking the dress from his hands and heading to the changing room.

The dress framed your curves perfectly, accentuating your figure in all the right places. The luxurious fabric felt smooth against your skin, making you feel confident and elegant.

As you admired yourself in the mirror, you realized you couldn't reach the zipper on your back. “Tan?” you called out softly from the cabin, knowing he was just outside.

“Yes, love?” he responded immediately, the nickname sending shivers down your spine.

“Can you help me?” you asked, your voice gentle and a bit vulnerable.

Tangerine stepped into the cabin, the space suddenly feeling more intimate with his presence. He moved closer, his eyes locking onto yours through the mirror. His gaze was intense, filled with a mix of admiration and something deeper.

“Please zip it up for me,” you requested, turning slightly to give him better access to the zipper.

His fingers brushed against your skin, causing goosebumps to form. You felt his warm breath on your neck, so close that it sent shivers down your spine.

Once he smoothly but slowly zipped up the dress, he didn't step back. Instead, he continued looking at you through the mirror's reflection.

“You look so beautiful,” he whispered in a husky voice as he gave light kisses on you neck, never breaking eye contact in the mirror.

You breathed out heavily, the moment between you and Tangerine charged with unspoken feelings. But before you could say something or Tangerine could continue, Lemon's voice pierced through the tension. “Tangerine! The reservation!” Lemon reminded him urgently.

Tangerine's expression shifted to one of slight annoyance, rolling his eyes at the interruption. While Tangerine watched over you, Lemon kept a vigilant eye on him to ensure he didn't do anything rash.

“I’m going to take care of it, watch over her,” Tangerine said, his voice carrying a hint of reluctance as he stepped out of the changing room.

You watched him leave, feeling a mix of emotions. Lemon gave you a reassuring smile as he stood by, making sure you were alright. Despite the moment being cut short, there was a sense of anticipation in the air, a feeling that something had shifted between you and Tangerine.

As Tangerine left the boutique to make the reservation at a luxurious restaurant, you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

Once you were ready, you took the dress and walked out of the cabin. Lemon glanced up from his phone, giving you a once-over. “You done?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded, paid for the dress, and the lady carefully placed it into the classic Chanel bag. With Lemon by your side, you left the store and stepped back onto the bustling streets of Paris.

Lemon always gave you the best advice, and with his lack of a filter, he often said more than he probably should. It was something you appreciated about him—his honesty and straightforwardness.

“Lem?” you asked as you both walked through the picturesque streets, the sound of your footsteps mingling with the distant hum of the city.

He looked at you, giving you permission to continue. “Did Tangerine say something about me?”

Lemon raised an eyebrow, his expression turning curious. “What do you mean, Y/n?” he asked, clearly intrigued by your question.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “I mean, has he ever mentioned anything... personal about me? Like how he feels?”

Lemon paused, considering your question carefully. “Well, you know Tangerine. He’s not always the best at sharing his feelings. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” he said with a knowing smile. “And trust me, it’s not just as a bodyguard.”

You were quiet, mulling over Lemon's words. “I know you like him,” Lemon said, cutting straight to the point with his characteristic bluntness.

Your eyes widened, and you tried to play it cool. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said with a smile, your cheeks flushing a deep red.

Lemon chuckled, clearly not buying your casual act. “Oh, come on. It’s written all over your face,” he teased, nudging you playfully.

You sighed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. “Is it that obvious?” you asked, knowing that your friend was right but not ready to fully admit it.

“Only to those who pay attention,” Lemon replied with a wink. “And trust me, Tangerine’s noticed too. He might not say much, but he’s got eyes, you know.”

You knew Lemon understood Tangerine better than anyone, so you decided to press on. “What should I do?” you asked, seeking his advice.

“I think your dad won’t be very happy about you dating someone he hired as a bodyguard,” Lemon pointed out, his tone practical. You rolled your eyes at the mention of your dad.

“He doesn’t even know when my birthday is,” you shrugged, dismissing the thought.

“And you’re a very good friend, and you would tell him,” you smirked playfully, teasing Lemon.

Lemon chuckled, shaking his head. “You know I’m no snitch,” he said with a grin. He started to share some advice that might work on Tangerine, from subtle compliments to little gestures that might catch his attention.

“Since when do you know so much about relationships?” you laughed, genuinely amused by his sudden expertise.

Lemon shrugged, a playful glint in his eye. “You pick up things when you’re around people all the time. Plus, I have to keep an eye on you and Tangerine, so I can’t help but notice a few things.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. It was comforting to know that you had such a supportive friend who was not only looking out for you but also offering helpful advice.

You and Lemon finally arrived at the restaurant, where Tangerine had gone earlier to make the reservation. The elegant ambiance of the place immediately set the tone for the evening.

The waiter greeted you warmly and led you to the table where Tangerine was already seated. He looked up as you approached, a smile playing on his lips. You took the seat next to him, not even realizing how naturally you gravitated towards him.

As you settled in, Tangerine's presence beside you felt reassuring. The restaurant's atmosphere was both sophisticated and inviting, with soft lighting and the gentle hum of conversation filling the air.

You loved to tease him, so you lightly started to kick him under the table, your legs playfully colliding. Tangerine shot you a look, his eyes narrowing. “Stop it,” he growled softly, trying to keep his composure as he noticed Lemon was too invested in picking his food to pay attention.

You couldn't help but smirk, enjoying the way you could rattle him just a little. Tangerine's attempt to maintain his stern demeanor only made the moment more amusing.

Lemon finally looked up from his menu, completely oblivious to the silent battle happening beneath the table. “I think I’m going with the steak,” he said decisively. “What about you two?”

You didn't stop. You kept playfully kicking him under the table, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. Tangerine tried to maintain his composure, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitching as he tried to suppress a grin.

Suddenly, you felt his large palm on your thigh, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt of surprise through you. His hand was firm, but gentle, a silent message to halt your playful antics. You looked up at him, meeting his intense gaze, and felt a shiver run down your spine.

Tangerine's eyes held a mixture of amusement and a silent warning, a look that said, "Behave." The moment was electric, charged with an undercurrent of tension and excitement.

His hand remained on your thigh, sending tingles through your skin. You were still very distracted by him, trying to keep your composure.

“And for a drink, love?” he asked, his voice casual, as if his touch wasn't sending your heart racing.

“Uh, red wine maybe?” you choked out, your voice slightly unsteady.

Tangerine gave a knowing smile, his fingers gently brushing your thigh before he lifted his hand away. “Red wine it is,” he said, signaling to the waiter.

“I’ll be right back,” Lemon said, signaling that he needed to go to the restroom.

As Lemon walked away, leaving the table, Tangerine leaned closer to you. His proximity sent a wave of anticipation through you, and his breath brushed your ear.

“Just wait till we arrive at the hotel,” he whispered, his voice low and filled with promise, causing goosebumps to rise all over your body.

The intensity in his eyes and the weight of his words sent a thrill through you, leaving you momentarily speechless. The atmosphere between you became charged, the unspoken connection growing stronger with each passing second.

Tangerine leaned back slightly, giving you a knowing smile as he resumed his casual demeanor, making it seem like nothing had happened.